#wish all 5 directors could have been

[natashaslesbian]

Happy House | NR | I

Summary: Natasha suspects something is seriously wrong when you suddenly hand in your notice as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Content: Domestic Abuse / Verbal Abuse / Physical Abuse / Violence / Sexual Assault / Rape

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“Sorry to interrupt Director Fury, Hill said I should pass this on to you myself” you said as you snuck around the door to Nick’s office, surprised to see another agent with him. “What is it?” He said “My resignation sir” you answered, not missing the glance from the redhead at Nicks side “I’m sorry to hear that Miss Y/L/N, we will miss you in the offices” Fury sighed with full authenticity “Thank you Sir, I will work my weeks notice with the most attention” you spoke through small shakes. “Well I wish you all the best” Nick rose from his chair to shake your hand “Thank you Sir, Agent Romanoff, apologies for the interruption” you nodded to the agent and director “Not at all” you heard behind you as you closed the door. “What was that?” Natasha said the second the door was shut “what was what?” Nick questioned “you’re just gonna let her leave?” The redhead exclaimed “she’s handed in a resignation Romanoff, there’s nothing I can do” Nick said “she’s your best office agent! I mean her reports are superior not to mention her tech skills!” Natasha pleaded “Well I didn’t know you took such interest in every member of the office Nat” Nick teased with a suspecting look “shut up” Nat said as she smacked him lightly in the arm, also giggling.

You trudged home through the snow that night, having given up on your boyfriends lift home. There were no lights on, visibly from the outside of your small apartment, you hoped that Dylan would be sleeping. You crept in quietly, shaking off as much snow from your boots as you could. Walking silently through the hall you came to the living area, a sudden overhead light alerting you to someone’s presence “where have you been?” Dylan said, slurring his words “baby you scared me” you smiled, hoping to defuse the tension. “I said, where have you been?” Your boyfriend said again, rising to his feet on shaky legs “you said your shift finished at 4:30, and what time is it now?” Dylan asked “it’s 6, but you see I had to stay late there was so much to do and I-“ you began to mumble before Dylan cut you off “oh shut up!” He screamed as he launched his beer can towards your head. You managed to doge it at the last second “if I find out that you’ve been with that Romanoff, I’ll kill her, then you’ll realise what happens to bad little girls” your boyfriend raged as he closed the Space between you both. “No baby, I wasn’t” you mumbled, feeling the cold wall against your back “she doesn’t even know my name, but you know I did give in my resignation, just like you asked” you could smell the alcohol on Dylan’s breath as he leaned in to give you a harsh kiss. “Good girl” he grumbled “now why don’t you get dinner started, I’m starving” he finished as he finally backed away.

“Natasha come on” Clint groaned “you said you’d be done with the report by now” he said. “I am done with the report” Nat said, her eyes still glued to her laptop. “So what are you doing?” Clint asked, “I’m just… looking into some of our agents” the redhead said. Clint came to his best friends side hovering over her shoulders “and why would you be doing that?” He asked. Natasha paused for a moment, debating if she should tell Clint the real reason she was looking over your file. “There’s this girl, from the offices downstairs, and something just seems off” the redhead said. “How do you mean?” Clint said with intrigue. “She’s been with shield for 5 years and last week she handed in her resignation. I’ve only spoken to her a few times but she seems so dedicated like she really loves it here. She’s never had a sick day she’s always in early but in the last few months somethings changed.” Natasha explained. “How so?” Clint asked. “She’s sheepish, tired, frail. She’s different” Natasha said, keeping some of the information from her own eyes to herself. “So what are you thinking” Clint asked as he eyed the laptop screen. Nat pointed towards your relation details “she updated her profile 6 months ago, added some boyfriend as her emergency contact” the widow said. “It’s the only noticeable change along with her personality” she finished. “You think there’s something wrong?” Clint said. “Maybe” Nat sighed.

You were backed into your bedroom as Dylan walked towards you. “I told you, you’re not going out tonight” he said as he continued to stomp at you. “I got tonight off work so we could be together” he said, faux sweetness in his voice. “I know” you whispered “but my friends they wanted to throw me a leaving party” you said. “What friends?” Dylan asked as he took hold of your shoulders. “My work friends” you whimpered as his grip tightened. “Romanoff?” Dylan shouted as he twisted in his stance and threw you against the bedroom wall “I thought I told you what would happen if you went mingling with that freak” he hissed at you. “No no it’s not her, just my friends from the office” you said through shaky breaths “friends?” Dylan scoffed “who’d wanna be friends with you?” He laughed. Dylan trailed his hands down your body and pushed his fingers into your hips pinning you against the wall “I thought we’d stay here and… you know” he said as he lent forward, his breath got against your face. “Dylan I’m gonna be late, everyone’s waiting for me at the restaurant” you whispered “you are not going anywhere” your boyfriend said as he gritted his teeth. Dylan took a step back and slowly walked towards the door, pushing it shut and locking it “get on the bed” he instructed. You knew better than do disobey him.

Clint put the car into park and leaned over to stop Natasha from climbing out “I don’t think this is a good idea” he said “we can’t just crash her leaving party” Natasha shrugged “we’ll just say it’s a coincidence” she said, opening the door and jumping out before Clint could say anything else. Of course Natasha had this planned out, she had called the restaurant this morning and booked a table so it was no trouble when she walked right in dragging Clint behind her. The two were sat at a small table near the back of the small restaurant, and it didn’t take long to find out where your party was sitting, the only problem was, you weren’t there. “She’s probably just stuck in traffic” Natasha heard one of your coworkers say “no she only lives round the corner she’d usually walk” Sarah, another of your coworkers, said. Clint flashed Natasha a worried glance, having been listening in to the conversation as well.

You rolled slowly over to your side of the bed, your thighs sore and your hips throbbing. “See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Dylan said as he leaned over to kiss your cheek “it’s always best when you listen to me” he said. You pulled the duvet up above your shoulders as Dylan got up out of bed “right I’m going out” he huffed “and you are staying here” he said as he pulled the duvet off your bruised body “make me something nice to eat” he demanded. You stayed frozen as you listened to Dylan shuffling through your apartment, flinching suddenly when the front door slammed shut. You pulled your legs up to your chest as you sat up, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth as you cried. There was no way out of this hell, you’d tried again and again. Taking a job at S.H.I.E.L.D was supposed to be your ticket out but when you were passed over for a promotion to field agent you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

On his way out, Dylan took a look at your phone and found the name of the restaurant your co workers were at. He made his way down the apartment building stairs and onto the street, taking a short walk around the corner to the restaurant. He strode through the doors and brushed off the waitress flashing him a kind smile. “Dylan!” Sarah, your colleague called “what are you doing here where’s y/n?” She asked “oh she’s not feeling well, she sends her apologies and sent me along to make sure you were all having a good time” your boyfriend said as he pasted a smile across his face. “The boyfriend?” Clint quietly asked, Natasha nodded her head yes as she watched Dylan from the corner of her eyes. “Oh that’s such a shame!” One of your colleagues said as she moved to hug your boyfriend. “Somethings not right” Natasha said having been tuned into the conversation “she wouldn’t miss this, she’s too much of a people pleaser” she said. “Sounds like someone else I know” Clint remarked, attempting to defuse Natasha’s tension. The widow glared at him with a hint of humour before an idea came to her mind. “Let’s go” Natasha said as she stood up “go where?” Clint asked. “Well if Dylan’s here and y/n’s not then I have a pretty good idea where she might be, and she’s there alone” the redhead said as she stealthily made her way towards the exit.

You hobbled around the kitchen slowly, a slight limp in your steps. The room was filled with the sizzling of the steak atop the pan, you moved around on auto pilot cutting up vegetables for a salad. You focused on the throbbing pain in your hips and watched as a small purple bruise began to form along your arm. You were used to this by now, completely alienated from your body as you recovered until the next time. The kitchen fell silent as you took the steak off the heat, reminding you of the presence of the ticking clock on the wall. Too focused on the thoughts circling in your head, you failed to notice the gentle click of your front door and the almost inaudible squeak of its hinges. You winced as you opened the freezer door with your sore arm, cursing under your breath at your own stupidity. You reached for the frozen vegetables when a voice from behind startled you. “Y/n?” you spun round in shock and your eyes met the same redhead you admired so much. “Natasha?” You asked with wide eyes “what are- how did you get in here?” You stuttered as your breathing picked up a rapid pace. The widow took in your dishevelled appearance and the smudged mascara underneath your eyes. “Did he do this?” She said as she reached out for your bruised arm “what?” You shrieked as you pulled away from Natasha “who? What are you talking about?” You asked as you felt the panic rise into your chest. “Dylan” Clint said, speaking up from behind the concerned redhead. “How long has this been going on?” Natasha asked as she took a sceptical step towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you said dismissively.

Avoiding eye contact with the concerned avengers you continued to potter about the kitchen. “I think you should leave, Dylan’ll be back for his dinner soon” you said. “What, he’ll be back from your leaving party” Natasha countered as she followed your footsteps. “Yeah, I’m not feeling great so I sent him along by himself” you grumbled in annoyance. “Oh right but you’re well enough to cook him a steak” the widow said becoming increasingly more angry. “What are you implying?” You asked “I’m not implying anything, I’m telling you that I know what’s going on” the furious redhead said. “Nat” Clint warned at his friend’s increasing temper. “Nothing is going on! Get out!” You yelled “y/n look at yourself!” As she took the empty plate from your hands. “Natasha” Clint sighed as he stepped forward “how did you get that bruise?” The widow asked “and before you lie, remember what it is that I do” she said. “I…I fell over the other day” you stuttered. Natasha let out a frustrated sigh as she turned away from you, not wanting to hear anymore lies. “Y/n that’s a recent bruise” Clint said calmly. “No it’s not” you argued “and the limp? You’re gonna tell me you got that when you fell over too right?” Natasha said as she twisted around to face you again. “Ye-yes…I…tripped on the stairs” you said anxiously. “Liar!” Natasha yelled.

The room was silenced when the front door slammed with a large bang; Natasha didn’t miss the way your body flinched. “Y/n?” Dylan said as he stomped into the kitchen “what’s going on?” He asked with faux sweetness. “Sorry, I’m Clint from S.H.I.E.L.D” the archer said as he extended his hand “we just wanted to see if y/n here would consider extending her notice. She’s an exceptional agent and will be a huge loss for us” Clint said. “Well I think she’s made up her mind, right honey?” Dylan nodded as he slipped his hands back into his pocket “yeah” you huffed quickly “yeah that’s right”. Natasha watched closely during this exchange, eyes running the length of Dylan’s hand to examine them for any signs of harm. “Okay” Clint sighed “then we’ll get out of your hair” he smiled “keep in touch okay kid” he said to you as he handed over a card with his phone number. Dylan stepped aside as the two agents headed for the door “goodnight y/n” Natasha said as she turned back to you, a sad smile pasted on her face. “Goodnight” Dylan said for the both of you, silencing your words and ending the conversation. You watched as red hair cascaded down the corridor, you wondered if that would be the last time you saw Natasha.

You avoided Dylan’s gaze as you began serving up his food “dinner’s ready” you said “do you want a beer? Or is water fine?”. Your boyfriend eyed you suspiciously as you frantically ran around the kitchen. He reached for your arm as you passed him, using his fingers to dig into the fresh bruise on your skin “I don’t remember saying you could have guests over” he spat at you. “They…they were ju-just” you stuttered nervously “yeah yeah they were just asking if you’d extend your notice” Dylan said, annunciating each word with his harsh voice. “They just showed up I didn’t know they were coming” you whimpered as his grip began to hurt you. “Do you honestly think I would believe anything you say?” Dylan asked calmly, alerting you to what was coming next. “You are nothing but a lying, selfish little slut!” He suddenly screamed, releasing you from his hold but using that same arm to batter you in the stomach with each of his insults. “You were whoring yourself out to that fucking redhead weren’t you? But she didn’t want you so you invited that prick over too!” He yelled “what was the plan? They were gonna fuck you while I was out? Cause it’s all you’re good for bitch!” He continued to shout as his fits became rougher, knocking the air out of your lungs.

You managed to shuffle backwards away from your boyfriend “it wasn’t like that I swear!” You pleaded as you held your arms up in surrender, giving Dylan perfect access to wipe you out with a simple kick to your legs. You hit the floor hard, the room was starting to spin as you felt yourself being dragged across the cold tiles. This was it, he was finally going to do it. “You are the most worthless piece of shit on this planet!” Dylan spat as he placed his weight on top of your sore ribs “you know I only kept you around because you were a good fuck. I would’ve killed you a long time ago if you didn’t have anything to offer” he said as he roughly placed his hands on your chest. You had to get out of here, and not in a body bag. Your boyfriend became overwhelmed with his sexuality, lifting his weight up to lean down to your neck and litter it with harsh kisses. It was the fastest decision you ever made, but you knew it was now or never. Using all your strength you flipped your body to one side and used Dylan’s surprise to push him away. The hallway was small so it didn’t create much distance and he was sure to be even more mad at the way he hit the wall.

You scrambled to your feet as Dylan groaned on the floor. Sprinting through the house, you didn’t bother to grab anything before heading straight to the door. Your boyfriend was on his feet now, he was going to catch up unless you stalled him. When you passed through the doorway you turned on your hells and dragged down the tall cabinet leaning against the wall. It came crashing down and blocked the only exit from your apartment. You decided to take the stairs, not the elevator, there was no way you could stop now, your adrenaline wouldn’t let you stand still for one second. You finally made it to the lobby of your building and hurried straight past all the concerned faces looking your way. You came out into the cold night, wearing nothing more than shorts and an oversized shirt. You didn’t have a plan. You didn’t know where you were going. You just knew you had to run. So that’s what you did. Ran. You just ran.

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A/N: If this story has affected you in anyway please know you can always message me if you want to! Equally, there are so many resources available if you need support🤍

I’m an asshole for leaving you all with this cliffhanger before I take a break, see you in February hehe

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nev-valkyriesdottir / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @acciowriting / @hatergirl-69 / @lovelyy-moonlight

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[iceandpeaches]

Hii I was hoping you could do a Luke castellan and Dionysus reader and the iconic line of “But Daddy I love him!” Imagine that Dionysus doesn’t approve of it at first and makes sure that reader and Luke don’t have activities together and it’s miserable for Luke, so Luke goes up to Dionysus makes him listen to him and Dionysus let’s them be together but threatens him but none the least let’s them be together! It could be a angst to fluff

(Sorry if I rambled!)

ohhhh this is good i lurv it! i hope u like it!

but daddy, i love him!; luke castellan

it was great that your father, lord dionysus was the director at camp half blood. when you first came, you were claimed almost immediately since he recognised you. weird claiming, but whatever.

you would often spend time with your father, given his frequent presence at camp. it would’ve been odd not to be close to him. but there was someone else who wanted to be close to you too. luke castellan never understood why and how a demigod could love their father like you did. he found it rather fascinating, since he didn’t really like his own father much.

so at every opportunity he could, whether it be sword fighting training or just at the campfire he’d try to talk to you… which pissed off dionysus. he didn’t want his only daughter, his little girl, to be taken away by the charming hermes boy. he despised the thought of it.

from that day onward, dionysus made sure that the hermes cabin had no activities that clashed with his own cabin. he made sure that the dionysus cabin teamed up with teams other than the hermes cabin for capture the flag. he did all he could to keep luke castellan away from his darling daughter.

it infuriated you, a simmering frustration bubbling within as you observed the repeated efforts of your father to keep luke at arm's length. each instance felt like a slap to the face, a reminder of the barriers created between you and someone who sought nothing but your company. you couldn't understand why your father was so adamant about keeping you apart, especially when you wanted to get to know luke.

you saw how at every opportunity, your father seemed to push away the hermes boy’s opportunity to talk to you. you saw how miserable the boy seemed, his eyes wandering to yours before breaking eye contact with you. you sigh, getting up from your table to talk to your father who sat with the satyrs.

“daddy, why are pushing luke away?”

“it’s simple, sweetheart. i can’t have my little girl swooned by handsome jerk.”

“you don’t even know him, daddy.”

“neither do you, y/n.”

your brows furrow, with your arms crossed against your chest. you had told your father previously about your admiration toward the boy, which was probably why there was a change in his attitude.

“but daddy, i love him!”

you exclaimed, luke watching you bicker with your father from a distance before watching you storm off. wonder what they were talking about. it hurt luke to see you upset, but he did notice that your father was staring in his direction. yeah.. they definitely talked about me.

luke felt the need to talk to the god about it. he couldn’t bear being so close yet so far from you. he hated that he couldn’t be the guy you laughed with. he got up from the hermes table, making his way toward the camp director.

“lord diony–“

“you may take your leave. i don’t wish to speak to you today.”

“i’ll get you a sauvignon 1992?”

“although that sounds delicious right now, still no.”

the god walked off to find his daughter, giving up after about 5 or so minutes then retreated to his sleeping quarters. luke on the other hand, was hatching a plan to persuade dionysus. he had to get him to say yes somehow.

for luke, the next few days was full of pestering the god. for dionysus, the next few days would be some he dreaded most. he saw luke’s face first thing in the morning and last thing at night. at this point, luke was going to beat chiron’s record of being in his face at all times.

luke finally got the time to sit down with dionysus one to one after curfew, after countless times of offering him a wine he stole while out in the city.

“sir, about your daughter.”

“so this is about my daughter, huh? you’ve been a real pest all day about it.”

“let me date court her, please.”

dionysus took a sip of the wine, savouring the sweetness of the dark red liquid. he hummed, swirling it in his glass.

“prove that you’re good enough for my daughter.”

“prove.. prove it?”

“you heard me bucko.”

the following day, luke did things he thought would prove his worth to dionysus. he helped out with tasks he usually wouldn’t take up and kept his day extra busy. by the end of the day, luke had done everything at camp. there wasn’t anything else he could’ve possibly done to prove himself, right?

“luke, my table.”

he heard a familiar voice speak, turning to see you which caused him to smile. he just hoped he didn’t look too foolish. he followed you to your table, sitting across from you and dionysus who was already for you both.

“okay, my blessing is given to you to court my daughter.”

wait.. it was that easy? dionysus stared down the hermes boy, his daughter practically giggling and blushing beside him.

“you better not break her heart kiddo. if you do, you’ll be shovelling pegasus poop for the rest of your time at camp.”

luke had no desire to for the rest of his time at camp shovelling poop, not like he would break your heart anyway. he had spent so much time trying to get your father’s blessing, so why would he break the heart of the only girl he envisioned his life with?

“yes sir.”

“alright alright go before i change my mind.”

dionysus flicked his wrist in a shooing motion, luke grabbing your hand and bringing you over to the hermes table.

a/n: i know the threat isn’t that serious but… personally i wouldn’t want to shovel poop…

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 1 - The Doll That Came To Life

Chapter Summary - Y/N performs her first show as the lead ballerina, little does she know she caught the eye of an admirer.

Series Masterlist

It was no secret that the Grand Ballet Society was the best. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a part of it all, dreamed of performing in front of men and women who admired the art as much as I did. I couldn't believe it when I was offered a position at 17.

My parents hated the idea and forbade me to go. How could their eldest daughter take over the estate if she was too busy galavanting around on stage in a tutu and leotards? I didn't care though, I had a chance to have my dream and I took it.

I just wished they could see me now.

I'd been a part of the society for almost 5 years now, and not once in that time had anyone in my family come to watch me perform. At least not to my knowledge. It often left a bitter taste in my mouth when I'd think about the first few months after, how quickly my parents were to drop me the second I defied their orders. I was really just an heir.

Tonight was the opening night of the play Coppélia. It's about a doll that comes to life and captures the heart of a young man and was first created in 1870. It was one of my favorites of all time, and I got to play the lead.

I stood in my dressing room, fixing my hair to make sure it was neat and out of my face. I let out a soft exhale, opening night was always the worst. Mistakes could be made at every twist and turn and the expectations were high from the audience.

A firm knock on my door made me jump. "Y/N We're starting." The director's voice calls from the other side before his footsteps hastily retreat. I take another deep breath before rushing out to get to my position.

I brush past the male lead, Miles, who offers me a comforting smile. "Hey." He says, stopping me for a moment. "You're gonna do great, okay?"

"You too," I say, giving his arm a soft squeeze before pulling away and rushing to my starting position.

Go time.

I stumbled into my dressing room with a beaming smile. That couldn't have gone any better. I let out an excited squeal as I sat on the plush couch. Not to sound self-absorbed, but I did amazing. My excitement was short-lived as I was temporarily distracted by the bouquet of flowers sitting atop my dresser. Gifts already?

I stand and look at the pretty pure white Gardenia bunched up and placed neatly in a glass vase. I notice a note placed beside it on the counter, the words 'Pretty Ballerina' written out in neat cursive.

I pick it up with a small smile and unfold the card.

'To the pretty ballerina,

I couldn't imagine a more fitting beauty to play such a role. Please do not be deterred from the early gift, I could not help myself. You amazed me and others with your performance, even though it is opening night!

I've always been a fan of Ballet, however, this is the first time in a long time that I have been completely captivated by one of the dancers. I hope to see you continue on stage, and one day I may even show you my face. Enjoy the Gardenias, known for their purity and sweetness. I'll send you many more gifts in the future.

From, Seonghwa'

I stare at the name at the bottom of the page. Seonghwa, huh? I smile as I put the card down, my fingers lightly touching the Gardenias petals as I let the smell engulf my senses. A part of me hoped this secret admirer would come and visit, another part of me hoped he wouldn't. Either way, I assumed this wouldn't be the last I'd hear from him.

And I was right.

Over the next few weeks my apartment and dressing room slowly turned into a florist from the amount of flowers and gifts Seonghwa had sent me. They letters of admiration slowly turned into love letters, causing my heart to race with excitement after every show.

I needed to see him, needed to know who he was, and I felt like I would slowly eat myself alive. I got butterflies just from the words he wrote on paper. Would I feel the same if I saw him?

I hatched a plan to catch him. I left him a note tapped to my mirror to wait so I could see him. I didn't have high hopes at all. He'd written in his letters how he had no time to stay, how he longed to hear my voice and see my smile up close. I needed to meet him desperately, and I prayed as I danced that tonight would be the night where my wishes would be granted.

As I walked into my dressing room after yet another amazing show, I let out a soft gasp. A tall man dressed in a black suit stood by my dresser. He was handsomely pretty, his features sharp but his eyes soft. His hair was long and styled back, making him look like he walked straight out of Dorian Gray.

"Seonghwa?" I ask softly, stepping forward. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, glancing in the mirror to see a light pink hue. He smiles as he hears my voice, clearly liking his name on my lips.

"Hello, Y/N, is it?" He asks, god even his voice is pretty. Was this really the same man who sent me those letters? I smile softly and nod, moving to stand in front of him properly. "You truly are the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on." He murmurs softly, his eyes scanning my body. My cheeks were surely red by now as I lowered my head to hide away from his intense gaze.

I've been flirted with before, it's no surprise, especially in such a big city. However, no flirting attempt had ever come from a man whose beauty could compare to a Greek god. None of them actually worked either.

"You're the one who has been sending me gifts?" I ask, looking back up at him to see him beaming down at me.

"I hope you don't mind. I understand it could seem weird that I've come to every show." He says sheepishly.

"No, not at all! I've started to look forward to your letters." I say with a soft laugh. If a smile could get any brighter, his did. I couldn't help myself but to return it.

"Are you free tomorrow? For brunch?" He asks, holding out a card between his middle and index finger for me to take.

"Is this you asking me out on a date?" I ask, taking the card from his hand, making sure to brush my fingers against his. He purses his lips at the contact, trying to suppress his growing smile.

"It can be a date if you want it to." He says, his voice like honey as his hand lingers for a moment.

"I'll give you a call." I say, holding his card tightly as he nods.

"I wish I could stay longer. However, work calls." He apologizes, tilting his head as he moves away, taking his warmth with him. I wondered what he did. He had to make a lot of money to come to every single one of these shows because they sure as hell weren't cheap.

"I'll see you around then?" My words came out as a question rather then a statement.

"Definitely." He says, bowing like a gentleman before he turns to leave. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked down at his card. His phone number was written in neat font with his name 'Park Seonghwa' written above it. Below his number was a company name; ATZ Corp.

I recognized the name; ATZ Corp was a company started by an old money family, the Kims. I knew their son, Hongjoong, had taken over the company a few years ago and had hired a few of his close friends from college to help run it. They worked with real estate mostly, however, I had heard rumors that they also did work in the underground. After finally meeting Seonghwa, I didn't really believe it. He looked far too neat in his appearance to work for a gang, let alone the mafia.

I turn back to my mirror and laugh softly at the fresh bouquet of Gardenias waiting for me. He never bought fake flowers and never anything other than the same pure white Gardenias. They must be his favourite, or he assumed they were mine.

The sound of the director calling us for a briefing snapped me out of my haze. Quickly tucking the card into my purse, I rushed out of my dressing room to meet with the cast.

I tried my best to pay attention. However, my brain kept sweeping me back to Seonghwa. His smile, his warm aura, the excitement that bubbled up inside me as our hands touched even if it was brief. I couldn't help but let my mind wonder into what could be.

[godhandler]

Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now. 

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 700 words, desi-coded reader|

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Satoru flashes his 24-carat grin ear to ear when you come to. “All this 'cause you don’t take iron supplements. How many times have I told you again?” He shakes his head. “Your voodoo spicy diarrhoea jar won’t fix everything, you know.”

The human body has two directors of the nervous system. While mostly the wondrous brain lords over man, there come times that the castle of the body comes under attack by such impossibility (like a rampage by demonic forces or worse, the ghost of your terrible ex come alive) that the coward brain hides and the spinal cord, which does not have the complexity to understand emotional duress, takes control. 

“Don’t insult Chawanprash.”  Satoru might be a translucent mist after his untimely death floating in front of you and breaking all existing laws of physics. But your spinal cord does not care for such trivialities. “I’m not even anaemic anymore.” 

“Is that why a silly surprise sent you lying on the floor?” 

Ghost boy correct, says your spinal cord. Get up body, cook dinner. 

“I have to get up and cook dinner.” Your voice is too hollow for Satoru. It’s the shock sending you to robotic autopilot, he hopes, you’ve been out for a couple hours after all. It’s 2 am now. “Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

My love. Satoru called you that. He used to call you that. It’s been 5 years. The floor is cold. It’s Christmas. The sofa you grab to pull yourself up is soft, the walls you lean on your path to the kitchen hard. Satoru is here. Satoru called you his love. The stove is hot.  My love. Satoru’s love. 5 years ago he called the wedding off. Oven is steamy inside, a fully baked cinnamon cake sweet. Your mouth is full of cake. Warm and sweet. You created the recipe for Satoru. Satoru is a ghost now. He called you- My love. Satoru is dead. 

“Satoru is dead.” Disbelieving words slip through your mouth. You stare straight ahead at the kitchen wall, refusing to look at the ghost floating behind your shoulder. 

He doesn’t reply. 

“How are you dead? Satoru?” 

Nothing. 

“Is it that terrorist in Shibuya? I guessed it was something curse related. But I still don’t understand. How could you die?”

Nothing but a slight swish as the ghost moves. 

“How could you die?” 

Another swish– “I wish I could taste the cake, it looks incredible. Say, we could sprinkle powdered sugar on it too. And honey. Cookie crumbs, red bean paste, chocolate syrup.” 

Ah. Infinity is nothing compared to the emotional barrier Satoru surrounds himself with. Even to you. Even after death.

Not a big deal. It’s just that you’ve known him since you were in kindergarten together as babies, grew up playing together, still kept in touch even after he went away to study jujutsu and you to business college, supported him through the pit he fell into after Geto’s defection, officially dated for four years and engaged for one until he called it quits. 

But hey, it’s not like your story ended there. It wasn't all so tragic. Break ups happen everyday.

Life goes on. He had his life and you had yours. The work report was due on Saturday. Your elderly neighbour needed help moving their fridge. Satoru blocked you on everything a week later. Your cousin had a baby shower. Taxes have to be filed soon. Your mom broke her hip, needed to be driven to the hospital. Whispers said that he’s found a woman to marry, that she’s the one, some said it’s all idle gossip, they’re just close friends and nothing more. You got a promotion at work. The washing machine had to be fixed. Mom needed help getting around so you moved in with her temporarily. Taxes again. Your cousin had another baby shower, a little girl this time. Life goes on. 

It’s fine. 

You sit with your mug of mulled wine and cinnamon cake at the dinner table. You’ve kept the same apartment all these years, it’s a familiar memory as Satoru pulls a chair to sit beside you. His hand goes right through the cake to his despair. You laugh. He giggles.

It’s fine. 

[aplaceinthedark]

ANYTHING > HUMAN

Summary: A friend calls on Noah to say goodbye

Word Count: 15.8k

CW: Main content warnings: Supernatural themes, Loss of parental figure/guardian, gun/weapon violence, mild mind-control, brainwashing, kidnapping, racism, Enemies to lovers to Enemies, Mind Fuckery (unreliable Narrator), attempted drowning, Bad People getting Thanos- Snapped, body disfiguration (third-degree? burns) House Fire, Character Death, Graphic Depiction of an Autopsy. Sexual content Warnings: Oral (Fem receiving), teasing, fingering, implied squirting, implied overstimulation, intentional marking (Noah likes to leave mementos), size kink if you squint, Protected PnV, Unprotected PnV, a position might be anatomically incorrect.

A/N: This is RPF, and thus contains real people, but events have been changed. Other than the Bad Omens crew, names and looks have been charged, and any likeness to actual real people is coincidental. I do not write real people's trauma in my fanfiction. If this does not sit well with you, then please press the back button and leave in peace.

Dividers by @astrumaur and @saradika-graphics

THREAT ENTITY DATABASE ENTRY

THREAT ID: P K LTE-2995-CHESHIREMORPH-PURPLE “ANYTHING > HUMAN”

AUTHORIZED RESPONSE LEVEL: 1 (Minimal Threat) 5 (Immediate Threat) N/A (Liquidated, File Archived)

DESCRIPTION: Subject was a Caucasian female approximately twenty-six (26) years of age and a Type Purple (Subtype Phase IV) Threat Entity. Subject once worked for the Universal Paranatural Alliance as a Security Level 4 PSYCHE Researcher for the Department of Ontokinetics.

LIQUIDATION PROCEDURES: Due to Concealment concerns, liquidation authorization at Response Level 5 was given on 8/14/24. Subject evaded all strike task forces for three months.

On 10/31/24, subject broke into ATT-5292-Templum-Alexandria. Director of Site Security and Strike Task Forces, Colonel Sumerian, signed off on a one man mission to eliminate the target, sending in STF Theta-777 Team Commander Agent SAMHAIN.

Subject successfully liquidated on 10/31/24 by Agent SAMHAIN.

>CONTINUE?

I dream in Hell and wake up screaming, wishing that I was someone else…

He twists and bucks against the hand that holds him under the water that devours him. He knows it isn’t really water, that it’s something much worse, but right now, that’s all it feels like. It’s something worse than the hoarfrost that coats his being. He normally enjoys the cold when he can wrap up in hoodies and blankets, but when he’s as naked as the day he was born, the cold isn’t very enjoyable. And this cold…

There’s no warmth that could banish this cold away.

The Empty, he had heard them call it. It didn’t feel empty. The… Not-Water pressed against his skin. There was no beginning, no end. Just… Not-Water. Normally he would have a better idea as to what he could describe what he was drowning in, but the cold and lack of oxygen was depriving his brain of any function other than live.

His lungs finally give up the fight and he gasps for air, but instead gets a mouthful of the Not-Water. Now he can finally think of a better descriptor for it: the Burning. Because the Burning spreads through his body like lava, slow and painful and unbearably hot, and it’s so heavy that it weighs him down, so he sinks into forever.

The Burning spreads through his veins, boiling the blood in them until it evaporates. He opens his mouth to scream in agony, but the vacuum of the realm steals the sound from his lungs. Any air he had left escapes in the bubbles that leave his mouth, and more Burning enters his lungs this time, collapsing them with a familiarity that he knows all too well.

He thrashes in the darkness, not content to die like this. He seeks out the entity that had pushed and held him under the surface so he can seek retribution; so he can grab a hold of them and either pull himself out or pull them in to suffer with him. Except there’s no hand to bite. It’s just nothingness above him; nothingness below him, nothingness around him. He’s all alone.

Only a single thought crosses his mind; Was this how she felt?

And that crystallizing clear thought finally makes him panic.

Noah opens his mouth to scream again, his body wrenching upwards hard enough that he feels like he might’ve pulled a muscle in his stomach. This time the sound travels. He opens his eyes and frantically casts his gaze around.

He’s no longer in the Empty. He’s in his home in Cooper’s Rock. And like the past several months, he’s alone.

He takes in a long, shaky breath that is thankfully free of liquid, but the air still burns as it goes down his raw throat. He collapses back onto his bed, cursing and rubbing his face. He must’ve been screaming or something like that in his sleep again.

Again. He’s had this nightmare for several months now. And it’s starting to drive him insane.

He’s startled when his phone rings, splitting the silence with its shrill tone. He kicks at the sweat-soaked sheets that are tangled and twisted around his naked legs, gives up when he only manages to get them down to his ankles. He grabs his phone and presses it to his ear.

Though he knows what the phone call has to be about when he sees the caller ID, he still snaps. “What?!” Like the caller had woken him up from a deep sleep. As if that were possible for him these days.

“There’s been a breach at the Site.”

Noah sighs at the tone of the Director Site Security’s voice. His nightmare is still haunting him when he asks, “It’s her, isn’t it?” with no preamble.

“I don’t know what manner of—”

His grip on the phone tightens as well as his free hand in the sheets. “You wouldn’t be calling me at three in the morning if it wasn’t her,” Noah snaps. He then lets out the tension that has formed in the past minute. It comes out as a huff. “Me and the team will be there in fifteen.”

“Make it ten.” The line goes dead.

Time to go to work.

Noah Sebastian does not take threats quietly. The last time he did, the man he called father was killed in the explosion that took his house. Since then, Noah jumped feet first into every Threat Engagement he was assigned to. He would not – could not – lose another loved one.

But he had never prepared to face the fact that a loved one might become one of those Threat Engagements.

The night shift had her confined to one wing of the library on Level 3 of the Site. The only reason they hadn’t completely rounded her up was due to the shield of ultraviolet light that encompassed her and a small section of the shelves. Any who attempted to breach the light was met with a harsh heat that melted through their Titan-Kevlar gloves. She wouldn’t take the shield down until they met her one demand.

And of course, her one demand was Noah.

What felt like the entire Site’s crew of Task Forces was on that level, and they all part like the sea when he passes through. He can feel their eyes on him as he’s briefed. He rolls his eyes before lighting his hand and letting it hover close to the blue-violet light. “It’s me,” he calls out. “I’m here, like you asked.”

The light flickers in acknowledgement, and he presses his hand to the shield. It goes right through. He peers behind him one last time at his partner. Nicholas nods. Noah then turns back around, putting his helmet on, and walks through the shield.

Noah unholsters his service pistol and loads it with FUSCHIA-grade bullets. Normally, he liked to have his long-range rifle, but it would be useless coming face to face with her. Just in case, he had strapped his katana to his back.

This place had always been peaceful for him, despite being in the middle of Site-6. He tries to think of a plan on how to take this Threat Entity out, but all he could think about was the irony of ending it where it all began.

Noah finally finds her pacing back and forth in front of a shelf. He holds up his pistol and flicks the safety off. The sound causes her to halt, her back facing him.

“Turn around. Slowly,” he says. The figure holds up her hands, almost as in a surrender gesture, as she slowly turns around.

“Hello, Noah.”

“Hey, Mab,” he says, exhaling her name.

He catches a flash of light in her eyes, but before she could open her mouth, he fires a warning shot. It doesn’t even graze her shoulder, but she doesn’t react. She didn’t even attempt to stop it, either by catching it mid-air or stopping it dead in its tracks. She probably doesn’t even think he has it in him to kill her.

She was wrong.

“It’s been a while,” Mab says softly.

Noah gives her a quick glance over. She’s wearing the black tactical dress uniform he last saw her in; a uniform similar to what he was currently wearing. The knee-high boots, fitted pants, and tac vest over a long-sleeve turtleneck doesn’t hide that she seems to be thinner than last time. Her bright red hair pulled into a bun does nothing but accent the shadows under her eyes. She doesn’t look nearly as bad as how she looked back when they first met, but it was close.

If he could take a gamble on what she was going through, it was that she was as tired as he was. Not physically tired; Type Purples never got tired like that. She had to be mentally exhausted; tired of playing the game.

Maybe Noah could be the one to end it for her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his pistol never lowering.

“I wanted to see you,” she says.

Internally, he rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just come over to the house if that’s all you wanted. You know, say hello to your old teammates? I’m pretty sure the cats miss you, too.”

He’s certain that the reason she hasn’t tried to show her face near their place, or Cooper’s Rock for that matter, was because of the uncertainty whether they might turn her in or not. And she has to know that he would do it in a heartbeat for what she did.

She makes a sound that confirms his theory. “Fine. Since you have me so well figured out, I came here to steal—”

“So what? You just decided to rejoin your old friends after what they did to you? Or are you starting a new cult since you killed the old one?” he asks bitterly.

Mab looks at him with outrage clearly written across her face. “I’m not stealing a book on behalf of that horrendous Serpent,” she hisses.

“Yeah, right. You really think the UPA would keep the Book of the Black in here? In an unrestricted section?’ Noah asks. Mab looks at him, shocked. “Oh, I know that’s what you would be looking for. It probably has Admin-level clearance after everything that went down.”

“Samhain, what’s your status?”

Matt’s voice in his commset was a welcome relief. He was probably worried about the sound of the gunshot.

Noah subvocalized back, “Crystal clear. Code Wraith.”

Matt’s answer was two small light-blips in the corner of Noah’s visor, and the small camera symbol designating that his helmet camera was broadcasting video feed to the higher-ups vanished. They’d be scrambling to turn it back on, which means he had ten minutes alone with Mab with no UPA hovering over the two of them.

He lowers his gun fully. Mab’s facial expression doesn't change, even as he lifts an empty, gloved hand out to her. “Come on, Firefly. It’s time to come home.”

The nickname only temporarily takes her off guard. Her eyes flick down to his outstretched hand and then back up to his visor. “It stopped being my home a while ago. We both know that.”

“Just… please, Mab. We can work something out if you would just turn yourself—”

“Turn myself into the people who want me dead?” she asks incredulously. “You and I both know that if I walk out of here with you, I’ll end up dead. Or worse, in a containment cell at the bottom of Site-1 with that thing for the rest of my life.”

I’m just trying to make this easier on you, Noah thinks as she takes in a deep breath to calm herself. He can hear the shake of it as she exhales, which makes him realize how close they are. A small part of him wishes he could comfort her like he used to, but he squashes the feeling immediately.

“Besides, I’m here to do the opposite.”

Noah lowers his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Noah, I can’t hide in Cooper’s Rock anymore. There’s only so much of the bubble left for the Spooks to comb over. I… I can’t stay,” she says, choking on the last word. Unlike him, she could never hide her emotions. Especially with him around.

“You were hiding in Cooper’s Rock this whole time? Where?” he asks. Her lips thin, but he continues. “They’re not watching. It’s just us, okay?’ Matt will delete the local storage before anyone can see this.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. And there’s others I need to protect,” she says.

His composure finally snaps at that. “Oh, you’ll protect your new buddies, but you won’t stay and protect us? Your family?” he shouts. He should keep his voice low, but his anger gets the best of him.

“What did the UPA tell you? That I killed all those people? That I went back to the Cult of Orobos after everything they did to me?” she asks. “The UPA went after me, Noah. They saw me as too much of a threat after I got shoved into the Empty. They were the ones who killed all those people in an attempt to kill me!”

Noah steels himself in case she goes Phase IV. “The UPA didn’t do that. Don’t try to manipulate me.”

Her face falls. “Really? You’ll believe them, but not me?’

“What does the UPA need to put the blame on you? Why would they lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The organization that has a history of lying to cover-up anomalies might be lying to cover up this anomaly?” she points at herself.

“Seriously, Mab? What are you trying to accomplish here? You wanted to see me; here I am.” He spreads his arms wide.

Hurt flashes across her face as her eyes flick between him and the area. “I’m not really seeing you,” she states. “Can’t you just take off your helmet?”

He knows he shouldn’t give in to her demands. The helmet was the only thing standing between her and him, the only thing stopping her from killing him instantly. He’s seen her do it, go into peoples’ minds and flick their light switch off. She might still love him, but what was stopping her from saving her own skin?

But he lets her get close to him. From this short distance, he can really see how hard the past several months have treated her. Her lilac-colored eyes don’t seem as bright as they used to be. Her skin seems pallid and sunken in. She really seems to be a shadow of her former self.

Her hands reach up and unbuckle the chin strap, and she lifts up the helmet. When it’s finally off his head, she lets it drop to the ground. He hears it hit with a dull thud as well as a crack as the visor breaks. Her fingers are soft against his skin as she pulls the cloth mask down to expose his face fully.

Steady…

Mab’s eyes scan Noah’s face, as if she was slowly memorizing his features one last time. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes shine with unshed tears, and he hates how he can’t say that his aren’t the same. Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and he can’t help the flutter of his eyelids before they close. He admits to himself that he missed her touch.

Steady…

“I’m so sorry.”

At those words, his eyes snap open. He sees her eyes flash. He can barely get out a shout before he’s blinded by a sharp stab of pain to the front of his brain, and his vision goes dark as his head fills with static.

The static leaves me in a catatonic peace. I want to finally sleep now.

She’s so thin.

That was the first thing Noah thought of when he could see all of her, which of course wasn’t a whole lot. And she’s tiny as well, probably a foot shorter than him. He couldn’t really tell all of this when she was up so high on the bookshelf.

He and Nicholas had heard a noise several minutes ago, and after losing a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, Noah had to go check. He had almost missed her at first, until he had the sense to look up. And there she was.

“Having fun up there?” he asked.

He knew he startled her. What he didn’t expect was that he did it so well that she would slip. He rushed to catch her. He was right; she did weigh nothing in his arms.

Then she opened her eyes.

Noah had been trained to not show emotions on the field, and he was glad of that. Because she had purple eyes. He was currently holding a Type Purple Threat Entity in his arms and for some reason, he wasn’t dead.

Yet.

“Hi, princess,” he said.

His words seemed to snap her out of her stupor, and she started trying to escape. He tried to maintain a tight grip on her, but it was like trying to grab water; she seemed to be able to slip out of his grasp every time he thought he had a sound hold on her.

It wasn’t until he had wrestled her to the ground, pinning her down with his full body weight, did he get his first real look at her. Besides her frail stature, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, nor cleaned herself in as long. Her violet eyes seemed to swim with tears.

“Lemme go!” she hissed with a hint of fear lacing her words.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna let someone who’s broken into a secure facility g—”

That’s when the strangeness happened. The room seemed to darken around them, like the edges of his vision were going black. He thought he was about to pass out until the darkness almost… consumed her. Then it just… slipped out of his hands. She materialized a few feet away from him, the light coming back to him.

Luckily, he was still wearing his helmet, otherwise the girl would’ve seen his jaw drop. They both stared at each other in shock for a few seconds; he could’ve sworn that she was just as shocked as he was. But she recovered faster than he did, and she darted off with a swish of her long, red hair.

“Hey!” Noah yelped, getting to his feet and running after her. He wasn’t fast enough though, and as quickly as she appeared in his life, she disappeared.

But it certainly wasn’t the last time he saw her.

The next time was six months later, and it pretty much started and ended the same. He was just getting off duty and was handing security over to the next shift. Clocking in these long hours was rough, but if he wanted to be a part of his own task force, he had to do them.

Just as he was ready to go to the Site barracks and take a nap, he turned the corner around a bookshelf and saw her.

He learned his lesson from last time, though. He was unaware that he was behind her, so he snuck up on her. He threw one hand over her mouth, stifling her scream in his glove, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He hauled her up, kicking and flailing, until he stumbled to an unoccupied room.

In the dim lighting, her eyes almost seemed to glow. He panicked for a second, because he had forgotten that she was a reality-bender and that she could probably warp him out of existence. But when that same light in her eyes died out, he realized something else.

She’s wasting away.

He felt something close to remorse for her, which is a really bad thing. There’s a reason why Type Purple Threat Anomalies are nicknamed Type Violent by Special GRAVE Agents.

Never talk to the target. Never look them in the eye. Never do anything that will allow yourself to humanize them. When the time comes to make the kill, you must be direct, forceful, and without mercy. Don’t do anything that will make that harder.

Except this anomaly seems like the polar opposite. She barely looks like she could hold herself up without collapsing.

He offered her an olive branch; a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, courtesy of his roommate. And despite the fact that she’s trapped in a room with someone who could most likely kill her or hand her over to authorities that could, she takes it.

“So, do you have a name?” Noah asked.

“Mab,” she answered, mouth still full.

Just Mab. It wasn’t even her real name. She couldn’t remember her life before five years ago; only flashes of a fire. She was brought to the Grey Library to recuperate, and in exchange for saving her life, she became an indentured servant to the Cult of Orobos. Their leader’s orders were the reason she was stealing from the Site-6 library.

Noah had had his own run-ins with the Cult, none of them pleasant. He knows they’re responsible for the death of his guardian when he was only fifteen. The UPA had standing orders to shoot them on sight. So that meant he’d violated two shoot-on-sight orders.

After the small interrogation, he offered to keep her in Cooper’s Rock, to save her from essentially killing herself to keep her “masters” happy. But the Cult has their claws too deep in her. Neither of them leaves that storage closet satisfied.

“Guess no more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for you,” Noah said, turning away from Mab.

He hadn’t even taken two steps when he was hit in the back of the head with something so hard, it knocked his helmet off. He whipped around, fury spitting from between his teeth. Her eyes met his, wide from shock and fear, and she turned and darted off. He looked down at the projectile.

A fucking book.

“So that went well,” his partner, Nicholas, joked from behind him.

Not too long after that meeting, she came to him this time. Mab’s just as hungry, but this time she was covered in bruises. She collapsed in his arms, and he had no choice but to bring her back to his dorm. Luckily the only one there was Nicholas, who just rolled with the fact that Noah was hiding a member of a terrorist organization in their cramped quarters.

“It’s only for tonight,” he told Nicholas. “I’ll figure out something in the morning.”

He had no idea how he was going to figure something out by tomorrow morning.

After she woke up and took a shower, he handed her a pair of Nicholas’ shorts and a shirt Noah hardly wore anymore: a simple white tee with a picture of Jesus Christ and Satan playing basketball. It swallowed her thin frame, and if it were anyone else, he would laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. But she looked so small and fragile he let it slide.

He learned that she’s a dreamer; she loves fantasy and fairy tales. She got her name from her favorite book. When he told her that he’s half-Sidhe Tumuli, an elven offshoot of the faeries, her whole face lit up. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only things he inherited from his long-dead mother was his tall figure, thick hair, and dark eyes.

As far as Noah was concerned, he might as well be nothing more than human.

He didn’t have to wait until morning to figure out what to do with her, because the Cult raided the Site in the middle of the night to bring her back.

He followed her screams as they dragged her back to the Grey. It’s the only thing that gave him direction, because the Grey is a maze; a seemingly infinite space filled with every book ever written, to be written, and not thought to be written. If Mab wasn’t screaming her head off, he would have gotten lost instantly.

When he found her again, she was strapped to a table, cocooned in a blanket of her shadows while everyone around her was dead. He picked her up and cradled her close, despite the darkness around her chilling him to the bone.

Noah took her back to baseline reality, back to absolute hell. He was forced to hand her over to Site authorities, and she was taken to Level 2 to Research and Containment. And he’s sad because he knows he’ll never see her again.

Except he does.

After almost five years, he’s finally the commander of his own Strike Task Force. Theta-777, otherwise known as “Bad Omens.” He still served Site-6, but the team traveled around the world so much he’s hardly ever there. But no matter how many of the other Sites he saw, he found no trace of Mab.

It’s after the team loses another PSYCHE consultant to a Threat Anomaly in China that he saw her. Just her file, but it's enough. It’s after he stalled long enough that a PSYCHE consultant was assigned to the team without his approval, and he went through their file.

There, on his computer, is her picture, along with her title: RESEARCHER MAB GREY, PSYCHE CONSULTANT OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ONTOKINETICS. They’d hidden her in Site-2B for the past two years, working as a glorified secretary in the NExUS Records. But under him, she’ll be a reality-bender working for the Department of Tactical Theology.

If he was a believer, he’d say that it was fate that brought her back to him.

Later that month, he was on his way back to the United States from the temporary Area set up in the Prefecture, wrapping up the Research and Engagement of the anomaly that got her predecessor to retire early. He headed to the team’s office, where the AMITY Ambassador of the team, Joakim, is debriefing her. He’s nearly knocked over by the sight of her.

Mab no longer looked like she was on Death’s door. She filled out the PSYCHE uniform of a black coat that’s a mix between a lab coat and trench coat, but she’s foregone the pencil skirt in favor of black slacks. She cut her thick red hair to shoulder length, but right now she had it in a high bun.

Noah went over to envelope her in a hug, but stopped when he saw her facial expression. He was reminded of the adage “if looks could kill” because he’s certain that she could make it a reality.

He grew more and more confused as she treated the others formally, but she barely gave him the time of day. He even looked into having her reassigned at one point. A team can’t function properly if team members can’t work together. But the others insist that he let her warm up to him.

And the High Command denied his request, anyway.

Noah just needed to know why she hated him, then he could work with her. It was only after their first time alone together that he made any sort of headway.

Noah never understood why everyone in the UPA hated Type Purples. How they were portrayed in seminars seemed too… unreal. That they could rewrite reality, become gods if they wanted to, seemed too drastic. And after spending the past three months with Mab, who was afraid of the dark, he knew that people around here had nothing to be afraid of.

But when Mab had to take a trip out to Site-1 in London, and he had to accompany her – standard protocol – he learned that everyone’s hatred for Type Purples ran deeper than he thought possible.

Mab hadn’t been thrilled when she found out that he was her security detail. At Site-1, she could barely shake him off. “I don’t need a babysitter, Noah,” she said.

She actually did.

At the meeting she was summoned to London for, she was practically attacked on all sides. Noah was shocked at how Mab was treated, but she just waved off the insults and continued on. He could barely concentrate on anything that wasn’t her.

And then the universe threw another loop at him.

At the same meeting, before it had even started, several members of STF Alpha-1, the “FANTOM” Force, had filed in. They were the most prestigious task force in the UPA, meant to be bodyguards and enactors of the Administrator Council. If they were there, then an Admin was nearby.

But what threw Noah for a loop was when their team leader threw his arms around Mab. And she responded in kind. She practically lit up when she saw him. The two practically made Noah feel like a third wheel.

“Oh, Oli, this is Noah,” Mab finally introduced him.

Oliver was shocked to see him, like he had thought that Mab had made Noah up. “Look at that, you do exist.”

Noah tried pressing Mab about it after the meeting, but she had basically shut down. She only said that they met at Site-2, and nothing else. He was going to prod her more about it, but they were interrupted.

It wasn’t until they were back in the sleeping quarters they had been given for the weekend did he finally get to talk again. “You wanna talk about what happened out there?” Noah asked, closing the door behind him. He started unbuttoning his BLACK jacket; hers was already tossed over the back of a chair.

Mab opened her mouth, but then hesitated. For several moments, she seemed to contemplate what she was going to say next, until she closed her mouth and only said one word: “No.”

The simplicity of the denial nearly caused him to see red. Instead, he snorted in a way that he knew would annoy the ice queen. “Whatever you say, Princess.” The only inclination that he got under her skin was the way her jaw clenched.

Fine. Let her be that way. It irked him something fierce, even if he wouldn’t admit it – to her or to himself.

Except now he couldn’t sit still to save his life, and the room is way too small to contain the tension between them. So instead of trying to talk it out like how normal adults would, he escaped into the bathroom to take a shower.

He shed the rest of his BLACK uniform. The ink etched down the front of his upper half is stark against the backdrop of the white tile behind him when he looked in the mirror. He stared at his reflection as the water heated up, until the steam fogged up the mirror.

Once in the shower, he let the hot water hit his back to try to ease the tension that plagued him since that morning. He should be worried about Administrators being in the same Site; should be worried that he’ll make a fool out of himself in front of the wrong people. But all he was worried about was how Oliver could Make Mab smile, when he couldn’t even get her to look at him.

His mind continued to race, which didn’t help the knot in between his shoulder blades. He shut off the water before he passed out from heat stroke or whatever it was called. He toweled off and pulled on a clean pair of joggers before heading back out into the room.

Mab also must’ve changed while he was in the bathroom, but that wasn’t what made his feet come to a screeching halt. She was now wearing her hair down, while a large shirt swallowed her frame. He knew that shirt. He thought he lost it between Engagements – it wasn’t unlike him to forget something in New Mexico or Japan – but looking at it now he remembered the last time he saw it.

“Nice shirt,” Noah said before he could catch it.

Mab looked up from her book like she was surprised he was still in the room. He caught her look catch on his naked chest before she looked down at her shirt. “Uh… okay? It’s from my time at the Center, I think.”

Her response made his blood heat up. “’You think’?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I don’t remember exactly where I got it.”

Noah didn’t believe her. There was no way Mab “Remembers Every Line From ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’” Grey forgot where she got a shirt.

His feet moved him faster than his brain could stop him, and the next thing he knew was his fingers had plucked the book from hers.

“Hey! What’re you—”

“What are you reading?” he asked, thumbing through the pages.

“None of your business! You’ll make me lose my—” she seethed, reaching out for it.

“Oooh, is it a spicy book?” he asked as he stepped backwards out of her reach. He started to take a closer look at the words on the pages. “’Even in the grey moonlight, her eyes were the deep blue of a September sky. He’d known them to be blue before, but now they were like two brilliantly lit univer—’ OW!”

He had been so caught up in humiliating her, he hadn’t noticed she had jumped off her bed and was not practically climbing him.

He held the book high above his head. “Give. It. Back!” she growled, reaching for it.

“No. Not until you tell me how you and Agent Sykes know each other,” he blurted out.

His words made her halt. She slowly slid down until her feet hit the floor. “Why? Why are you so pressed about him?” she asked. “We hung out for like a week at Site-2. That’s it.”

That is NOT it, he thought. Her eyes narrowed, and he thought he actually said it out loud. She then rolled her eyes. “Fine. We had sex one time, for the love of—”

“I knew it.” He grinned widely. Her eyes widened at the ferality of his tone. An acidic feeling churned in his gut at her confession.

Of course she hooked up with the commander of the most prestigious strike task force in all of the UPA.

Mab shoved away from him finally, her book long forgotten. “So what? It was one time,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

“Only one time?” Noah asked, his voice coming out low. He dropped the book onto her bed, and the soft thump it made startled her, like it was a gunshot.

He watched her throat bob nervously. “Yes… one time,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“If it didn’t mean anything, why’d you do it?” he asked. He didn’t know why he was having this conversation, let alone having it this close to her. She must’ve thought so as well, because she tried to take a step back. She glanced behind her before nervously turning back to face him.

He was vaguely aware that the back of her knees were pressed against her bed. One push and she could’ve been spread out for him. His hand twitched up, almost betraying his intrusive thoughts, but he reeled himself back in.

“Noah—”

“No, we’re going to settle this now,” he said, gripping her arm. Something in his brain yelled at him that this wasn’t the way to do this, but he chose to ignore it. “Why do you hate me, after everything that happened?”

She blinked twice. “I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “Ever since you saw that I was your Commander, you’ve been anything but respectful to me. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. After everything we’ve been through?”

Her head suddenly tilted. “What we’ve been through? We haven’t gone through anything. You might think you saved me by pulling me out of the Grey, but ever since then I’ve had to fend for myself in an organization that hates what I am,” she snapped. “You saw how they treated me at that meeting. Imagine that, but for the last five years.”

“Mab—”

“Some days I wondered if I really had escaped that Cult, because the UPA really likes to keep me on a leash as well. And at least in the Grey, the hand holding it didn’t want me dead!”

He watched a range of emotions cross her face. And then she delivered the stab to the gut. “Sometimes I wish you never rescued me! I wish you and I never met in the first place!”

Noah took a step back, whether it was from the hurt in her confession or to give her room to breathe, he couldn’t say. She swayed a little, like a reed in a sudden gust of wind, and he thought she was about to have a mental breakdown. But she straightened suddenly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She straightened the hem of her – his – shirt. She then spun on her heel, brushing past him to grab her shoes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need some air,” she snapped, her voice cracking on the last word.

“Mab, it’s not safe—” he managed to say, but he was cut off by the door slamming closed.

He stood there for a moment, her words pulsing through him. He stewed in the regret and anger at himself for cornering her until she snapped. But he didn’t go after her. He stayed in the dorm, letting the guilt trickle in.

He was worried, still. He called her cell every five minutes. It wasn’t until after midnight that his phone rings, and it's her calling him. It was practically pressed to his ear before the first note ended. “Hello?”

“Noah—”

“Mab, where the fuck are you?” he asked in a rush. “I called you seven fucking times.”

He heard her sigh, and there was a few moments pause. He hated that she wasn’t in front of him, because he couldn’t hear her over the phone. Did he scare her with his questions? Is she thinking about what to say? Is she going to leave?

Is she going to leave him?

“Mab, where are you?” Noah asked again, softer this time.

There was more silence, and he had to check his phone to make sure the line was still connected. He almost missed her answer, it was so quiet. “I don’t know—”

“What do you mean—” His voice rose without him meaning to, but he reigned himself back in. “Describe your surroundings, Mab. Details.”

“Noah, it’s dark, it’s raining, and I’m sure I’ve never been in this part of the Site before,” she said.

“Come on, Mab. Use that beautiful brain of yours,” he said, pulling on a hoodie. He booted up the tracking program on his phone and inputed Mab’s code while she went into minute detail.

“Alright, I’m coming. Just for the love of fuck, don’t move.”

“Noah—”

Three quick beeps interrupted her, and her location suddenly disappeared from his screen. He swore. She probably didn’t have time to charge her phone after they got back from being in meetings all day long. She could use his EVE tracker mode, but there was no way Site-1 didn’t have a few Reality Anchors floating around somewhere. Without her phone online, she was basically invisible.

He pulled on his shoes and strapped on some easily concealable weapons, even though they’re on Site grounds. He knew there was at least one person that would love to see Mab dead, and he wouldn’t risk the chance of that guy finding her.

He grabbed another hoodie and an umbrella, and made his way outside.

He shouldn’t be surprised that London was cold at this time of the year. He definitely wasn’t surprised that it was raining. He was more surprised that the logical and overthinking Mab Grey would storm off in the middle of a rainstorm.

How bad did she want to be away from him that she was willing to walk into this deluge rather than be in the same room as him?

Noah had the entire walk to think about what he could say. But the whole time, he told himself that he was only out here looking for her because he’s supposed to be protecting her. Not because he was scared he could lose her.

Thirty minutes later, he finally spied the reality bender. Curled up on a bench, absolutely soaking wet, and looking miserable.

“Well, look at that. You can actually listen to instructions.”

Goddammit Noah, you fucking idiot.

She peered up at him with the ghost of annoyance, but he could tell she’d been crying. He started to feel bad until she opened her mouth. “Don’t get used to it,” she mumbled, barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“You gonna sit there all night or are you gonna come with me?” he asked.

She thankfully stood up, though not before letting him wait a few more moments. When she stepped into the dry space underneath the umbrella, he handed her the extra hoodie. She pulled it on, and it enveloped her. It fell below mid-thigh on her, leaving her legs bare.

As they walked back to their dorm, he noticed how she was trying hard to avoid touching him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and he could almost feel the vibrations of her shivering form. He shook his head, wrapping an arm around her. He expected some resistance, but she melted into his side.

For a few moments, he let himself wonder what they might look like if someone were to pass them. Two lovers taking a leisurely stroll through the paths of Site-1? Or something else?

Back in their room, he expected her to say something. Instead, she quietly sat down in the chair where her BLACK coat had been thrown onto. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting ready for bed. What’s it look like, Noah?” Mab snapped. Her fingers fumbled over her shoelaces, either from being cold and stiff, or from pure frustration. It might be a combination of the two, as it looked like she just made it worse when he saw the knots that she formed.

He looked up at her face. It had scrunched up, and he could see how her eyes shone. “Mab.” His voice cut through to her.

“What?” she snapped. She didn’t look up at him.

“Would you just calm down for a second?” Noah asked.

“I’m fine, okay?” she said.

“That was a rhetorical question, Firefly,” he said, crossing the room towards her in two strides. He kneeled down in front of her and gently brushed her fingers out of the way. She tried to pull her foot out of his grasp, but he gripped her ankle firmly, keeping it in place.

“Noah, I can take care of myself,” she protested.

“I know you can, but I didn’t ask you to, did I?” He slid that shoe off and started working on untying the other.

When he was done, he looked up at her to see that her gaze was rooted firmly to the ground. “Hey. Mab, look at me.” He reached up to put a finger under her chin, and tilted her face up. Her violet eyes casted downward, still avoiding him.

“Look at me, Firefly,” he said again. He brushed her cheekbone with his thumb, which passed through a wet patch. “Firefly…”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of the hoodie.

Noah gently tugged her forward out of the chair and cradled her. The sound she let out as she clutched a fist in his hoodie felt like an arrow had pierced him.     

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her wet hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. If I had known where they casted you off to, I would’ve been there to guide you. And I can do that now, Mab, but you gotta let me in.” He kissed the crown of her head. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

She didn’t say anything. He let her shower and change into dry clothes, but she continued to wear his hoodie. He thought that it was a great start, that she’d warm up to him eventually, but when he settled down to finally sleep, she wordlessly crawled under the covers of his bed.

“Night, Mab,” he said, lips curling into a small smile.

“Good night, Noah,” she replied softly, barely audible, from her side of the bed.

Normally, Mab Grey was all sharp angles: sharp mind, sharp tongue; a habit learned when you’re an anomaly that worked for an organization that liquidates anomalies like you. But behind the curtain, she was all soft. Soft skin under Noah’s hands, soft breath against his feverish skin. He was the only one who got to see this side of her, and he reveled in it.

“Noah—” She breathed into the space between their mouths, before Noah encased her lips with his own and swallowed down the rest of her words.

They were always like this. A professional relationship at the Site, their feelings towards each other only known to those of Bad Omens they could trust. When it was just the two of them, they frantically tore at each other’s clothes. There hadn’t been a visit to her place that didn’t end up with the two having sex on some surface.

Mab straddled Noah’s hips as he leaned back on his hands. He wanted to touch her; let his fingers roam over every inch of her until she was like melted wax in his grasp. It took every ounce of his meager self-control to keep his hands to himself, but it was worth it to watch Mab lose it. And it doesn’t take long. Her fingers dug into the meat above his hips, and she rocked down against his hardening cock.

His hands moved to glide up the sides of her waist. When his fingers traced the skin they left behind, he could feel the goosebumps that had formed in their wake. She was tense above him, shuddering in anticipation. He trailed his hands back down, down until he could grab two handfuls of her ass over her shorts. He then forced her core to drag down over the front of his sweatpants, and the movement sent him over the moon, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull.

She gasped his name at the same time, and he mentally stowed the sound for another time. He moved only one hand up to curl around her cheek and the back of her head, and he licked into her mouth in a dominant kiss that he knew she would reciprocate.

A while ago, he had read about Type Purples in order to learn more about Mab. In that information, he read about Purple’s tendencies to use their powers to manipulate others for sex and love. He had brought it up to Mab once, back when they first started working together, but after the visceral reaction he had gotten from her, he never brought it up again.

A lot of other people brought it up instead. “You’ll wake up one day and realize she’s using you, son.” Noah never got over that; how it was said to him while Mab was standing right next to him. It had taken every ounce of training to not beat their faces into a bloody pulp.

Noah’s will was his own. He protected Mab because he wanted to.

Noah and Mab continued to kiss, heavily and messily, and he felt her fingers tugging at the band of his sweatpants. He pulled her hands away and searched blindly for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up over her head, sending her hair in every direction. He took a moment to admire the beauty of her tits in his face, before ducking his head and encasing one nipple between his lips. He swirled his tongue around it, and then sucked hard enough that her back arched. After having a little nibble, he hurriedly released it with a wet pop to do the same process to the other.

He didn’t stop until both of her tits had been worshiped enough; red from his lips and teeth, and she was a mess on his lap. She’d tugged at the short hairs at the back of his neck for some time now, and he was sure it stuck up all over the place.

Her skin tasted unholy, but all he could think of was how he had to have his mouth on her pussy in the next few seconds or he’d combust. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up off his lap. The loss of friction made her whine softly. “I know sweetheart I know,” he mumbled into her clavicle, pulling his legs out from under her. “Lie back, lemme taste you. Please.”

He let her go and she fell backwards. He couldn’t help but admire how her hair fanned out like flames licking the sheets below her. Her hands joined his as he pulled down her shorts. Even before he glanced back down, he could tell that she was wet and ready for him. He tore at her underwear with more urgency than he had with her shorts. Maybe he was under a spell, but he was sure it wasn’t her reality shaping powers.

Purple-Type Reality Bender or not, she was his goddess, and he would kneel at her altar for as long as he lived.

Noah threw her thighs over his shoulders, hooking his arms around them as he dug his fingers into her skin. He dove straight in, not even bothering to tease her with soft kisses to her inner thighs and outer lips. He barely even took a second to admire how pretty and perfect her pussy was. He wrapped his lips around the bud of her clit and sucked it in between his teeth, causing her to loudly whine above his head. He felt her fingers wind into his hair, and he moaned against her folds when she tugged at his roots.

He pulled away slightly to run the flat of his tongue up her slit, and she wore as she shuddered and grinded her pussy against his face. When he moved back up to her flit, he slowly rubbed at her entrance with a single finger, prodding it in up to the knuckle. When he crooked it up, her body bent like a bow, tensed to snap at any moment.

She swore as he circled her clit with his tongue, flicking it up and down. The hand not in his hair found its way to his bicep, and he felt a sharp pain that traveled down his body and caused his dick to twitch. His hips involuntarily sought friction by rutting against her bed.

Mab wasn’t very vocal when it came to dirty talking during sex, or talking at all. Noah had to learn her tells, but luckily they fucked so often that it didn’t take long. She wasn’t a swearer, nor a babbler. Her tells were all physical. So when he felt her thighs tense beneath his hand, and when her breathing picked up, he doubled down until her thighs caged his head and she came. Hard.

He drank it up like a man dying in Death Valley. He was a feral with his tongue, not stopping until he was sure she was about to come again. He groaned at the thought that he could suffocate between her legs, and as cliché as it sounded, he knew he’d die happy.

The vibration from his moan sent her into another climax, but he still didn’t stop until he consumed everything she gave him. Pretty soon, she was squirming from the stimulation and pulling him up by his hair. He reluctantly parted from her and rose to greet her with a grin that she would normally wipe off his face if she wasn’t so drunk off her orgasms.

“Speechless?” he asked, and she finally glared at him. “It’s a cute look for you.”

“Shut up,” she muttered. Her bare tits rose as she tried to draw in air.

While she was distracted, Noah quickly shed his sweats and boxers. He searched for a condom, fumbling with tearing the foil packaging until he gave up and tore it open with his teeth. After the rubber was rolled on, he crawled on top of Mab. Her breathing had nearly returned to normal.

He held himself up with one hand and then leaned down to kiss her. She hummed a sound as he slipped his tongue past her lips. He thought to himself that every part of her tastes amazing.

His hips rocked against hers, his cock running through the slickness between her thighs. Her breath hitches. “Not gonna last too much longer, sweetheart,” he said with a breathy groan. When he rutted against her again, she met him at the same pace. He wasn't even inside her yet and he could nearly cum right there and then.

He pulled back a bit and wrapped his fingers around her jaw as he said, “Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

They popped open as he dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. He could never get enough of her eyes. Despite the color almost being obliterated by her dilated pupils, he could still see the flecks of sky blue interspersed amongst the lavender irises, like a violet starscape. My shooting star, he had once called her on the top of the townhouse as they watched a meteor shower. She didn’t hear him at the time, but he was okay with that. It could be just his little secret.

He had no idea how accurate that name was.

Noah held her jaw in an iron grip as he slowly entered her. He reveled in the feeling of her chest rising as she gasped; the way her eyes widened more. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes as she fluttered around him, and instead his breath came out as a deep rumble from somewhere in his chest.

He didn't break eye contact until he was flush with her, their hips pressed together snugly. He rested his forehead against hers, peering down at their bodies. He nearly blocked hers out with how big he was compared to her, and the feeling of being so much larger than her ignited another fire in his belly. Instead of giving into that fire, he kissed her again, slowly this time, giving her time to adjust.

Her patience though doesn’t let him stay still for long. “Noah,” she whimpered, her fingers flexing into his ribs as if to urge him to move.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said. “Let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

After taking a deep breath, he withdrew until he was almost out. He then hitched her legs up to where her thighs rested over his hips. He rocked back in with a sharp thrust and hit a spot in her that had her gasp aloud. The sound made him lose his composure. 

“You’re all mine,” he blurted out. “Say it.”

There was a pause after his words, and the silence nearly deafened him.  He knew he hadn't even said the L-Word yet, and here he is, claiming her as if she belonged to him. He just wanted to hear her say it, just so he knew that she was real.

“I’m yours.” Mab whispered. “I’ve always been yours.”

Noah thrusted again, and her hands sought out for something. They pulled at the sheets, the pillows under her head, finally curling under his arms and gripping his shoulders.  With every one of his thrusts, her nails sunk deeper and deeper into his back, until she tore at his skin and practically drew blood.

“You’re Mine.” He enunciated every word with a thrust that had her tits bouncing. “Mine. Mine. Mine.” 

“I'm… yours,” She gasped. “Oh, god - N-Noah-!”

“You’re so good for me,” he growled into her ear. “So fucking good around me. Fucking made for this cock, fucking made for me.” He rambled on. 

He looked down at where they connected again. The sight of her smooth, blank skin against his heavily decorated torso nearly doing him in. He grinded his teeth together so hard he could feel a muscle spasm in his cheek.  He focused on that so he wouldn’t blow his load before he cums. Except when he looked back up at her, he saw that she was looking as well, her lips forming a perfect “o”.

This had to end now or he’d end up embarrassing himself. He quickly pressed his thumb down on her clit, and luckily, with little encouragement, she came. She came with a cry that caused her to nearly lift off the bed. 

The noise, the feeling of her wrapping around himself, it was all too much for him. With a shudder and a groan, he emptied into the condom. His arms nearly gave out, but he caught himself before he fell on top of her. Catching his breath, he slipped out of her despite her protest. Fighting his body's natural habit to stay, he turned over to dispose of the condom and to grab something to clean themselves with. He wanted to do more, but the hand clinging onto his arm made collapse back onto the bed. 

She almost materialized on top of him. This kiss is nothing but soft; something to reassure him that she was thankful for him. It almost felt like a reminder that he's only human… well, half-human.

When they parted again, she laid her head on his chest, her body tucking into his side as he held her tightly to his warm, wide torso.  She whispered something into his skin, slick with sweat still cooling off, but when he made an inquiring noise that asked what it was she said, she pretended that she hadn’t said anything. He didn’t let on that he had heard her clearly. 

“You're mine, too,” she had whispered.

Noah watched as Mab fought against the cultist; she clawed against the hand around her throat, kicking her legs wildly. The cultist held her out as far as his arm would let him, but her feet still made contact with his legs. Still, he stood unphased. 

“Put her in,” the Serpent said, his black eyes cold and unyielding.

Noah tried to scream, tried to crawl his way to her to save her from whatever watery grave they were going to send her to. But his body, as torn up as it was, refused to move.  The most he could do was moan and reach his hand out for her. Despite the short distance between them, he couldn't do anything. 

He was going to watch Mab die, just like he watched Kennedy die.

“Dad! DAD!”

Noah’s eyes met Mab’s, and the fear in them almost made him throw up.

The cultist tried to let her go, tried to drop her into the pool, but her grip on him was too great. He then tried to shove her in. The minute her skin made contact with the water, she let out a shriek that sounded more like it belonged to a mortally wounded animal. She certainly fought like one; the water of the pool flew everywhere as she thrashed.

Some of that black water hit Noah’s ravaged skin. He hissed at the icy burn, certain that frost formed where it made contact. 

The cultist then held Mab’s head down under the water with his free hand. After a while, the ripples she formed lessened until they stopped completely. Noah watched, horrified, as the cultist pulled his hands out of the water. They looked like they were completely frostbitten.

The serpent turned towards the Bad Omens. “Now, we can—”

There was a flash of violet in the corner of Noah’s eyes. Before the Serpent could finish whatever he was going to say, the pool erupted like a geyser, shooting up its contents as a figure flew out of it. 

Noah could barely describe what he was seeing. It was like looking through a two-dimensional hole in three-dimensional space, but the hole was in the shape of a humanoid woman. Where eyes would be, there instead were two galaxies, swirling clouds of blue and purple, combining in a cosmic force. When he looked through her, he could see stars dotting the expanse, some spinning around each other or tumbling to some far corner of space he couldn’t see.

The being then moved her hands, and suddenly the room exploded. 

Jolly threw himself over Noah at the same time Folio ducked and rolled against an overturned table.  Noah felt a great weight settle over him, but it had nothing to do with Jolly. It was like gravity was pulling and pushing him at the same time, with equal amounts of force, cementing him to his spot. 

Fighting this gravity, Noah managed to turn his head towards the center of the chaos. He was just in time to see the guards and cultists get vaporized by the Entity’s power.  The Serpent screamed as he was sucked into a black hole; an actual hole, held by the starry figure. The hole then imploded, sending another explosion through the room. 

And as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Silence fell over the hall, leaving just his fire team and whatever just decimated the cult of Orobos. 

That’s when those violet galaxies turned onto him. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Folio lift his gun. He watched the figure glance over, and he knew he had to get in the middle. He somehow found the strength to move out from under Jolly, onto his feet, and in front of Folio before he was blinded in his right eye. He felt that raw power brush past his face, or maybe he was just feeling the skin boil and fuse with the neoprene mask. 

“NOAH! NOAH! NOAH!” 

Everything around him slowly dissolved, floating upward until it was only him and the god-shaped hole in front of him.  Fog permeated the outside of his vision, like it was creating a barrier between them and the rest of the world. Or maybe it was the figure who created it.

Noah…

He heard his name being spoken into his mind rather than out loud. “I know you’re in there,” he said, turning to face it. “You wouldn’t hurt us willingly.”

Noah. 

“Come on, Mab,” he said, holding his arms out. He slowly approached her.  “Come back to us.” 

The edges of the figure rippled at his words, like it was trying to reassemble itself into a form it might recognize. Noah didn’t stop until he was practically pressed against it, feeling the cold nothing radiating out of it. He tentatively placed his hands on its waist, and almost immediately his fingers turned purple. 

“Please, Mab,” he pleaded. “Come back to me.” 

Noah? 

Noah blinked at the sound of his name. He looked up and behind him towards the doorway, where Nicholas stood. 

“Anything?” Noah asked. Nicholas only shook his head. 

Noah looked down at his phone in his hand. The text screen was still pulled up.

Picking up some Thai and we can watch whatever you want to tonight. That OK?

Ok.

You OK Firefly?

I'm fine.

I know it's been a rough couple of days recently.

I'm OK.

Ok then… Be there in 15.

He had sent that message five minutes before he led the strike team to raid Mab’s place.

It had been a rough few days ever since they got back from the Grey. Noah had to undergo several surgeries to get himself back to normal, including surgery to repair the half of his face that had been burnt. Jolly had called him “Two Face” at one point. 

After the surgery and the anesthesia wore off, he woke up to what he thought was Hell. Jolly, Oliver, and another person had come into his recovery room to tell him what had happened. “She killed an entire strike team trying to bring her in for questioning,” Jolly had said. They weren’t there for questioning; they were there for an extermination. “She’s too dangerous to be out in the open anymore.” That doesn’t justify sending a drone to kill someone and any witnesses. 

Whatever Administrator he was (why else would someone from Alpha-1 be in the room?) debriefed Noah on what Mab had essentially become: a Phase V Reality-Bender, a myth come true. And she killed fifteen people to save her skin. The UPA Killed them!  

As he had walked through Mab’s place, he couldn’t help but notice how it had been scrubbed clean. Nothing of her had been left behind, not even a fingerprint. It was like she never lived here in the first place. When he went into her room, he knew it would be just like the rest of the place, but he still had to check. He scoured every inch to try and find something of her of them.

Nothing.

He had collapsed onto the mattress, the sheets gone. He pulled his helmet off and pulled the mask down before hanging his head in defeat. Half of his hair hung in front of his face; the other half would take months to grow back. And that’s where Nicholas had found him.

Noah’s thumbs shook as he typed out the message: Mab, we need to talk. But his blood boiled at the return message: 

THE NUMBER YOU ARE TRYING TO REACH HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED. 

He threw his phone against the wall. It fell to the ground in several pieces, broken beyond repair. Next was his helmet; it put a large dent in the wall’s plaster. When he was about to put his fist through the wall, Nicholas’ hand materialized out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist mid-swing. “You just got that hand fixed,” Nicholas said. 

The anger in Noah's veins evaporated, and he collapsed to the floor. He let out an animalistic scream to vent whatever steam he had left. Mab was gone. 

He loved her, but she was gone.  He was too late.

Noah… 

He looked up at the mess he had made. A single photo had fluttered out of the inside of his helmet, out of the tiny nook he had tucked it into. “That way you’re always on my mind,” he had told her.

“Wow. Cheesy,” she had replied. What was in that photo, Noah?

Noah turned his head towards the voice that spoke from next to him. Mab sat on the edge of the roof, kicking her legs back and forth. It almost reminded him of times from long ago when they first met. 

“I still can’t believe that Cooper’s Rock has the exact same stars as the rest of the world,” Mab said, dreamily looking up at the night sky.

“What, you expected something else?”  Noah asked.

“It’s a Nexus field! They shouldn’t be able to replicate every single star as exact as the outside world! Yet everything…” 

As Mab went on, Noah could only focus on how her face reacted to the words coming out of her mouth. How her nose would scrunch up occasionally. How her lips would pout when she frowned. 

He could absolutely kiss those lips right now.

“… at least, that’s what Dustin told me.” She sighed. She looked down at him. “Uh, Noah? You alright?” 

“Er, yeah,” Noah coughed, catching himself. “Do you make it a habit to remember everything a guy tells you?”  Mab elbowed him in the arm. “When he's talking about my field, yes.”

“I thought he was the religion guy.”

“No! That's T.J.! Honestly, do you ever pay attention to a word I say?”

He does, actually. He knows Tobias is the Religion Guy, because he’s worked with him numerous times over the past two years. But he liked to tease her if it meant she was talking to him.  Better than how they were several months ago. 

He changed the subject. “Our next engagement will take us to the other hemisphere,” he said. “I could show you a whole other sky of stars.” 

The promise took her by surprise.  Her eyes widened, and thanks to the soft glow of the streetlamps below, he caught the tinge of pink spreading across her cheeks. 

And that’s when he got the thing he wanted the most from her: a smile, pure and dazzling. “I’d like that,” she said. 

no no no it’s too much no no

He tore his gaze away from her smile to look up at the sky, and at the same time a meteorite streaked across the night. It left behind a glittering trail of purple. 

He felt warm all over, like he was blushing or something. But the heat rose, and rose, until it was unbearable. A sound from behind him made him turn his gaze away from the sky. 

Everything was on fire. 

No, no no no no no… Not this.

“Dad! DAD!”

Noah heard a scream as some of the roof caved in, and he sobbed.  His singed hands burned as he tried to wipe away his tears. He couldn’t do anything to save the man who raised him since—

Wait. Why were his hands burned? 

He heard another scream, much like the first but it was different than he remembered. He looked away from the fire and saw the flash of red as the figure from his nightmares fled the scene. 

It was like a dream where he was in his body, but not controlling it. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! He wants to scream.

He rushed towards the figure, his mind racing at the thought of seeing its face for the first time. Even though he knew who it was, thanks to the UPA declassifying the files—

Except a different scene unfolded before him. 

The Administrator in the hospital had told him that it was Mab that had caused the fire, killing his guardian and almost taking Noah with him. It was so easy for Noah to throw that love for her away, almost like he had been brainwashed. 

As he chased the figure, he saw that she wasn’t running away, she was being carried; she was unconscious. 

“Hold on! I’ll get you out!” He shouted as the girl screamed. His hands grabbed the flaming post, the adrenaline numbing the pain and giving him the strength to lift it. He then reached her, picked her up and helped her out.

This person carrying them, he’d seen them before. He was there when Mab was tossed into the Empty. A cultist of Orobos? What were they doing here?

His hands grabbed the redhead and pulled. “Let her go!” he screamed. Despite his lack of strength, he managed to pull her free. He clutched onto her until the cultist tore her away from him. 

Mab hadn’t set the fire. 

The cultist had. 

Mab didn’t kill his guardian. 

Noah’s head exploded in pain.  He screamed as it felt like his brain was short-circuiting and melting from the confusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn’t stop him from seeing the jumble of images melding together: 

Mab wrapped in shadow.

Mab drenched in rain.

Mad covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Mab made of nothing but night and stars.   

Mab emerged from a forest, young and naked, wide-eyed and confused as to who or what she was. 

“Who are you?” his 15-year-old self asked. 

“Ah… s-star…” She muttered, pointing behind her. Where Noah had been handing to check out the meteor. Her violet eyes glowed as she looked back at him. 

“NOW DO YOU REMEMBER?” she asked, but her voice sounded so much older.

Suddenly, he was back in the Grey, standing before the starry Entity. He was frozen to the spot as its galaxy eyes stared him down.

Noah felt tears falling down his face, suddenly unmarred. “I remember…”

The figure – Mab – cupped his face. It’s touch was bitingly cold, like the water from the pool; like the Burning Not-Water from his nightmare. The figure’s form flickered again, changing shape and form for a brief moment, like a slideshow: 

A figure wrapped in shadows. 

A figure drenched in rain. 

A figure wrapped in stars. 

A figure with pale skin, black hair, and brown eyes—

Wait.

The image of the mystery woman gave him enough clarity to wrench free from the Entity’s grasp. And with a sorrowful scream, Noah raised his service weapon and pulled the trigger.

Within the silence of this illusion, is there anything more than human?

Suddenly, everything rushes back to Noah with startling, painful clarity. The shock causes him to double over as Mab stumbles away from him. He dry heaves for a few seconds before hurriedly recuperating.

He looks up to see her shocked face. She’s holding her side where the bullet hit her. It hadn’t penetrated the uniform, he has the UPA to thank for that. But it did manage to tear her concentration away from him. 

“You fucking shot me,” she says incredulously. 

“Yeah, well, don’t try your mind shit on me,” he groans, standing up. “Or at least pay attention to the finger that’s on the trigger, just in case something like this happens again.”

She’s still incredulous and he would find the look comical if the situation were different. “After all that I just showed you, you still think I would hurt you.”

He shrugs, pulling his mask back over his nose. He can’t tell how long time has passed since she initiated that walk down memory lane.  For all he knows, the UPA is back to watching his every move.

He reaches down for his helmet, but it vanishes under his fingertips. He sighs and turns back to Mab. “Really? You do that now?” 

“Noah, listen to me,” she pleads. “I don't have much more time. I was serious when I said that I didn't kill all those operatives. I didn't kill anyone.” 

"Who's to say that you fabricated all those memories?” he says, drawing his katana. Her eyes widen as he leaps at her, but she's still able to throw up a shield so the blade bounces off harmlessly. He attacks again, and once more she blocks with the violet light at the last second. 

“Noah, please!" she pleads as he swings again and again. Her blocks are sloppy compared to her previous combat. It's almost like she's distracted, or her body can't keep up with what her mind wants. 

Eventually she comes around and blasts Noah backwards. He hits a shelf hard enough to lose grip on his katana, and he and the sword both hit the floor hard. 

As he pushes himself up, she walks up to him. He half expects a boot to connect with his face, but instead she stops a foot away from him. She crouches down into a squat, and she’s now level with him as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Her eyes are level with his, the black piercing his—

Wait. No, her eyes are all wrong. It’s like they’re bleeding purple down her face, draining the irises of their color. 

Maybe unknowing of her condition, Mab brushes the strands of his dark brown locks away that have fallen into his face off his sweaty brow. “This can only end one way, Noah; only one way to free us from this nightmare.” 

“Then do it already,” he says, lifting up his chin in stubborn defiance. 

She sighs. “I told you, I’m not a murderer, Noah.”

“Then who are you?”

His question catches her off-guard. “What?” she asks.

“You can't fool me anymore,” he says.

With a force that makes him dizzy with pain afterwards, he headbutts the Type Purple humanoid. With a curse, she falls backwards, giving him enough time to roll over and grab his gun. The two stand up quickly at the same time, but he aims the gun at her, much like how this all started. 

“Noah…”

“Do you trust me?” Noah asks.

She pauses, then smiles as she catches up to what he knows. “I always do.”

“Goodbye, Mab.”

And the gunshot echoes through Level 3. 

Noah drops the smoking gun, and it hits the floor at the same time the body does. He follows quickly after. 

It doesn't take long for the other task forces to flood the space now that Mab’s shield wasn’t preventing them from doing so. Noah watches them numbly as they do their job: Scan the area, test for EVE radiation, check for abnormal Hume readings. They only scan him long enough to make sure he’s physically alright, and he’s not under a cognition hazard, and they move on to the dead body. This process is familiar to him, as he’s done it himself.  It’s just part of what a GRAVE operative does.  

It's not until Matt and Nick hook their arms under his and help him onto his feet does he move. He turns away from the scene, not even looking back once.

“Noah—"

“It’s not Mab; not anymore,” Noah says curtly, and keeps walking.

There’s still more to do, but for him? 

It’s all over.

I never needed you to be anything more than human.

“And you're sure you killed her?" 

Noah swallows thickly, resting his head in the palm of his hand. He was dead tired. “Yes,” he replied.

“You're sure of—"

"I don't miss my shots. Check on service record,” Noah snaps, catching himself at the last second. "Sir." 

Noah hates debriefing interviews. It's a bunch of repetitive bullshit, just the interviewers asking the same five questions over and over again in hopes that he'll spill something he wasn't meant to. He can guess why they're coming down especially hard on him. Besides the relationship he had with Mab, there was the broadcasting hiccup along with no recoverable footage, they only had his word to go on.   

And of all people they could've pulled to interview him, they pulled the doctor that hated him the most. Dr. Altef hated Type Purples with an almost racist passion.  He hated Mab so much; he was the reason why Mab was transferred to Site-6. Noah was sure he would be here for hours still. 

“I’m not doubting your aim, Agent Sebastian,” Dr. Altef says, thumbing through a folder thick with paper. Noah bristles at the title, the lack of one obviously a slant against him. “I'm doubting your… motives.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Noah asks, not caring that the man in front of him has more authority and more clearance than him and the rest of Bad Omens put together. 

“It’s no secret that you and LTE-2995-Cheshiremorph-Violet were… involved with each other,” the director says, distaste dripping from his words, “despite the UPA rulings against team relationships.”

Noah feels a mix of anger and sorrows in his gut. Anger at the use of Mab’s entry name instead of her actual human name, and sorrow for the change of the first letter. L meant Liquidated, Liquidated meant exterminated. 

It meant she was dead. 

Noah had hoped that the person he killed would’ve turned back to its original form. But even hours later, it remained the same. He had shot Man. He had killed Mab. 

Talk about some kind of Greek tragedy… 

He reigns in his emotions before they could get the best of him. “So what, that bullet hole in the middle of her forehead just materialized out of nowhere?” he sneers. A second later, the thought of how Mab probably could materialize a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead, but he keeps that thought to himself.

“We’re trying to get all the facts here, Agent Sebastian,” Dr. Altef sighs in annoyance. 

“We haven’t been seeing each other since the L’Engle event,” Noah finally admits. “Last night was the first time I saw her since.”

“So you say,” Dr. Altef says. He tries to say more, and honestly risks getting his face bashed in, but a knock at the door of the interrogation room tears both of their attentions away. The director goes over to the door and talks briefly with whoever was on the other side. Meanwhile, Noah finishes his coffee, which has gone cold since the start of the interrogation.

Altef returns, looking slightly more smug.  Noah doesn’t like where this might be going. “What?” he asks.

“You’re coming with me,” Altef says. “Why? Where are we going?” Noah asks.

“To the medical ward on Level 2,” Altef says. Noah feels his body go cold as ice. "We're going to watch the autopsy.” 

Unfortunately for Noah, the UPA works fast.   

Not even twelve hours after a bullet was put in it, the corpse was ready for dissection. Noah wasn’t sure why he was being dragged to see this, nor why they were doing an autopsy in the first place. It was clear to see how she obviously died.

Died.

Before the interrogation, when he had been cleared to go home and sleep, he immediately had fallen face-first into his pillows, probably asleep before his face had even hit them. Not once was he interrupted by dreams. When he woke up later that morning, the realization of having a nightmare-free night hit him like a truck, and he broke down at the implication.

She was really gone.

This had to be some kind of punishment. Making him watch as they open and disassemble the body? That alone had to be its own kind of special hell.

Noah looks down from the raised platform he stands on, behind bulletproof glass. Two medical examiners had wheeled the covered body in and moved it to an examination table. They withdrew the white sheet, finally uncovering her.

Despite saying that they hadn’t done anything to her yet, they had already shaved her head of the copper hair that had made her so distinct from everyone else. Noah clenches his fists so hard that he could feel his nails in his palms, despite wearing gloves.

“Type Purple procedure,” Altef says from beside him. “Can’t be too careful.” Like the explanation was supposed to calm the anger slowly boiling inside of Noah.

“Let's get this over with,” the director says. Noah shoots him a glare from the corner of his eyes quickly, then schools his face back into one of indifference.

Noah’s fists clench even more as the examiners direct machinery into position, and the laser makes the first incision. They cut a precise line straight down the body, from the suprasternal notch down to her navel. The laser then split, going opposite ways and then back together to form flaps. The other arms of the machine pull back the skin and muscle. The whole process takes less than ten seconds.

Noah can tell something was wrong just by the examiner's stances. They had paused after looking inside, and they seemed confused as they poke around in the chest cavity for some time, talking to each other.

Dr. Altef gets impatient. “What’s the hold up?” he snaps.

The examiners ignore him, and take out some of the organs. Noah might’ve been an average student growing up, but even he knew that the organs looked… off. Discolored.

Finally, the examiners turn up to the two men peering down at them from the observation room. “We have a problem,” one says, their voice being piped through an intercom.

“What? What is it?” the director snaps. Noah fails to suppress his eye roll.

“This body has… clear signs of atrophy and necrosis. Severely. This body has been dead for a while.”

“I’d put it as being dead for at least a week,” the other examiner says.

Noah can’t help the hoot of laughter he lets out at the director’s incredulous face. “Are you saying that—” Dr. Altef sputters.

“We can run DNA tests, but I’m positive that this isn’t the body of our LTE-2995.”

As the director swears up a storm, Noah allows the smallest smirk he could make without getting noticed.

It wasn’t Mab’s body.

The changes had been superficial. Deep down, the body’s DNA betrayed the fact that it was the body of some random woman that just so happened to match the description of a corpse that had gone missing recently. Mab’s reality-bending powers never ceased to amaze Noah.

And so did her stealth abilities. The second he stepped back into his room after that disaster of a day, he could sense something was off. Usually he kept his room tidy, therefore his eyes immediately zoned in on what was off. A drawer, slightly opened, when he knew it had been shut before he left. An old shirt was missing, and in its place was a single violet tucked into a note.

The next three months were almost unbearable, as it took that long for the UPA to stop scrutinizing Noah’s every movement. After the investigation and he was cleared of any “helping KTE-2995-Cheshiremorph-Purple in her break-in”, he took some long overdue time off. Thanks to some help from Matt, he basically disappeared from sight.

Now, under the disguise of visiting his home country, he thanks the truck driver for bringing him out to this small coastal village in western Ireland. He shells out twice the amount he had promised in thanks. He shoulders his duffel bag and turns the collar of his black trench coat up against the January wind, and walks through the town.

The locals tell him of a small cottage that had mysteriously appeared overnight, and the nice “witch” that soon occupied it. They point him in the direction, and indeed he eventually finds himself trekking down the path towards it. It has a clear line of vision all around it, so there was no way someone could sneak up on her.

The cottage also has a clear view of the ocean, but right now the weather has turned everything gray. Noah squints his eyes, as if he could see through the mists to his birthplace of Hy-Brasil, despite there still being a couple of years before the mists would part for that one day.

The cottage itself looks like something out of a fairy tale. Cobbled stone walls, but with a shingle roof. The windows are lined with intricate stained glass, and violets are blooming in the garden despite the weather. It looks exactly like something she would like.

Noah knocks on the door three times. The inside must be as small as it looks, because he can hear her scrambling towards the front. “Hold on! I’m coming, I’m com—” Several locks turn and the door opens, and the sole occupant stops mid-sentence when she sees him standing there.

“Hi Mab,” Noah says.

Mab Grey remains silent, almost like she’s having a hard time believing he was standing in front of her. She looks exactly like the last time he saw her; the real her. She’s wearing dark leggings and a thick gray sweater, letting her hair and eyes account for the lack of color.

“You’re here,” she whispers as she exhales.

Noah steps inside, ducking through the doorway. “Well, you extended the invitation,” he says, dropping his bag near the door.

Her lips curl into a coy smile. “Well, I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure it out,” she teases.

“Oh please, I knew exactly what you meant,” he shoots back, slowly crowding her backwards until her back hits the wall.

“Damn, I was hoping I was being clever,” she airily laughs, tilting her head back to stare directly into his eyes. Hers sparkle with happiness and anticipation.

“Really?’ he asks, leaning down. “I can wait for you at the bottom.” He kisses the space between her brows. “I can stay away if you want me to.” He kisses the tip of her nose. “I can wait for years if I have to.” He lightly pecks her lips. “Heaven knows I will never get over you,” he finishes quietly, lips hovering over hers.

“Noah…” she sighs.

“So no hard feelings?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “You shot me.”

“Mmmmm… If I’m thinking correctly, that wasn’t you, just a puppet,” he says. “But let me make it up to you?”

“I like the sound of that.” She smiles as he cups her face and finally kisses her.

After almost a year of being apart, they meet in a kiss that consumes the both of them. Mab surges up to meet him, standing on her tiptoes to try and make the distance less. Noah ducks down, his hands blindly seeking her thighs, long fingers wrapping around the back of them. He picks her up, wrapping her legs around his hips, and she wraps her arms around his neck to get closer to him, as if they weren’t already fused together into one being.

He pulls her away from the wall, and blindly carries her to the tiny bedroom. He tries to ease her down onto the bed, but she grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him down. It doesn’t take long for them to shed their shirts, and when her offending piece of clothing is discarded, he wraps his lips around the peak of one breast, sucking until her nipple hardens and she squirms against him, letting out sweet whimpers. His fingers tease the other one, matching the motion of his tongue.

Her fingers thread through the hair on the back of his head and she gives a small tug; not enough to make his body react, but just enough to get his attention. He pulls away from her skin, looking up at her through his lashes. “I missed you,” he says. “I missed this.”

“Then show me how much you’ve missed me,” she says.

He grins devilishly at the challenge.

Noah moves away from Mab, kneeling at her feet. He takes one in his hand and kisses her ankle, trailing his lips along the skin of her leg until he gets close to her center. He bypasses it, kissing her hipbone instead. She lets out a huff, and he chuckles darkly.

“Someone’s needy,” he says. He kisses the soft swell of her tummy.

“Well, someone is being a tease,” she shoots back.

“Well, fine. I just wanted to play with my food for a bit,” he says with a mocking huff to match hers. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, running the backs of them along the sensitive skin. “But if you insist…” He yanks her leggings down, tugging her panties along with them.

Fuck. He really had missed her.

He slowly leans down, letting his tongue hang out as he watches her watch him. He licks the bundle of nerves until he sucks her clit between his lips. She lets out a sharp, loud noise, encouraging Noah to speed up his movements while keeping up his rhythm.

Her laboring breath picks up the pace, and he moves one of his hands to replace his tongue with his fingers, rubbing tiny circles around the bundle of nerves as he explores her entrance with his tongue. Her hips jerk at the new contact, and not before long she tenses and cums with a shudder and his name on her tongue.

He nips at the soft sensitive skin of her inner thighs, willing red marks to appear so she can have bruises to remember him by. He only has a week until he has to go back to “hunting” her, and he plans on making the most of it.

“Noah…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks before licking her wet slit once to gather her release on his tongue.

She squeaks in surprise, hips jerking at the overstimulation. “Oh my god, get up here already.” She pulls on his hair, but he’s already crawling up to cover her with his body.

This kiss is practically bruising. Mab holds him down as their tongues fight for dominance. He tries to wrestle his pants down, but both of their patience is thin so he only manages to get them and his underwear down past the crease of his ass before he gives up. 

“Mab, hold on, let me—” 

“I wanna feel you. Now.” Her hand dips between them to take his length in hand, and he sighs against her lips.  His breath rate increases as her strokes increase. 

“Damn, you really did miss me,” she says, grinning.

“Play later,” he growls, taking her wrist in his hand. She doesn’t let go, so they both guide his cock to her entrance. They moan simultaneously as he slowly slides in. 

After a few thrusts, he feels the problem. His zipper is rubbing against him uncomfortably, making him wince. Mab must feel it too, because after a bit she pulls away and asks to stop.  She laughs as he frustratingly kicks his remaining clothes down his legs and throws them as if they personally offended him.

“God, I love you,” she says. 

Noah pauses, and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Noah crashes his lips back onto Mab’s, putting their mishap behind them.  It takes a few moments to get back into the mood, a few gropes and a few moans, but soon he’s sliding back in, causing her body to bend. And he has every intention to make her break. 

He braces his knees between her legs and pulls her up along with him.  “Noah, what—” she manages to get out before he quickly thrusts up, causing her words to choke off into a moan.  One of her legs wraps around him while her other keeps her up for support, but she has to wrap her arms around his neck as he pounds her into oblivion. 

“I love you,” he whispers lowly into the space of her neck below her ear.

He feels her pussy tighten at the words and it sends them both toppling over the edge. Mab clutches onto him as she buries her face into the crook of his neck. Her shoulders shake as he sinks down onto the bed.

They hold each other as if the other would dissipate it they let go. 

“Please… stay…” Mab sobs. 

“As always,” Noah replies.  

Featured Creatures: 

@shilohrosechicken, @comforting-madness, @ladyveronikawrites, @roley-poley-foley, @sitkowski

@deathblacksmoke, @darksigns-exe, @dominuslunae, @into-the-grey, @nojoyontheburn

@baddestomens, @lilhobgobbler, @hedonists

“Global Occult Coalition Casefiles” by DrClef, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/goc-hub-page. Licensed under CC-BY-SA

“GOC Codewords” by unknown author, from the SCP Sandbox Wiki. Source: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/collab:goc-codewords#. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. 

Content relating to the SCP Foundation is licensed under creative commons sharealike 3.0 and all concepts originated from https://scpwiki.com/ and its authors. “ANYTHING > HUMAN”, being derived from this content, is hereby also released under Creative commons Sharealike 3.0

An excerpt from “The Prox Transmissions” is included in this article. “The Prox Transmissions” (2016) was written and is owned by Dustin Bates and The Starset Society.

[collapsedsquid]

Her life was completely upended in early November of 2018, amid one of the driest autumns on record in the Sierra Nevada, when the deadly Camp Fire swept into her hometown of Paradise, Calif., killing 85 people and destroying nearly 19,000 structures — the most expensive climate-related disaster in the world that year. "There are positives," she says. "My family got out alive." But Foudray's family home, a two-bedroom two-bath mobile, was a total loss. Five years later, she's still mostly living in an RV on her burned-out lot, hoping to get a new home within the next year.

[...] In the weeks and months immediately after the Camp Fire, survivors were anxious to get home. They soon became frustrated, angry about the slow pace of even just removing the fire debris. Then as the months dragged on, the scope of what was ahead began to settle in. It took nine months just to remove all the hazardous toxins and debris piles before the first homes could be rebuilt. Paradise's recovery had a lot stacked against it from the beginning due to its largely elderly and low-income population. Many were forced to leave in search of affordable housing.

[...] Originally built out into dense forests, Paradise today is a changed land. One million trees have been removed; the coastal range to the west and Sawmill Peak and the Sierra foothills to the east are now visible. Roads are being newly paved or reconfigured and blocked by flaggers. Utility crews are digging trenches and burying all the new power lines underground. And main thoroughfares are clogged with construction traffic. All the new homes have to meet tougher wildfire codes, including a new local ordinance that bans any porches or other fixtures built from combustible materials in the immediate perimeter of houses.

[...] This costs a lot of money. And it turns out a lot of the aid coming into disaster areas — like the millions pouring into Lahaina right now — tends to go to rebuilding infrastructure, not individual private homes. "We're not good at this in our country," says Ed Mayer, executive director of the Housing Authority for Butte County, which includes Paradise. "Our history of disasters, and no fault of their own, FEMA sort of has a one size fits all approach." The U.S. government typically comes in and tries to help people find temporary housing quickly while disaster victims figure out how to rebuild. But Mayer says that doesn't work in states like California and Hawaii where there has been a worsening affordable housing crisis for years. "Our wish at the very outset of this disaster was, hey, we want some soap bubble housing," Mayer says. "And when I say soap bubble housing, we want some housing we can erect tomorrow."

Still, five years later, Mayer's office is celebrating some successes. There are some 3,000 affordable housing units now in development in the county, thanks in large part to housing officials leveraging aid and various grants. Most are not in Paradise, however, and officials say it's probably a fraction of what's actually needed. In the days after the fire, an estimated 35,000 displaced people flooded into nearby cities like Chico.

[marshmellin]

Star and Stone, Ch. 6 | Preparations

In one swift motion, he lowered his head and kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or uncertain. She had quite literally landed in his lap, and in doing so, erased his hesitation. The soft silk of her dress felt cool as his hand slid to her hip, but he could feel the heat of her skin as he pulled her closer.

They had kissed several times by now. Tender moments under the stars. A stolen embrace in his study.

That was not this.

-> COMPLETE! F FOR FIX IT: Explicit for rare smut (🔥) between consenting partners. All other content is Mature for language and canon-typical descriptions of angst/violence. Gil-galad x female OC Sindarin elf, Occurs between the Fall of Ost-in-Edhel in Eregion and the Battle of the Last Alliance. Contains references to other Tolkien lore and the Silmarillion with author notes for full explanations.

Repeat: Happily Ever After; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I try to be as canon-compliant as possible except for the whole 'keeping Gil-galad alive part.' No beta, we die like Mirdania.

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

You are here -> Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West

//

"...and if the request from King Oropher had been handled with diplomacy instead of arrogance, perhaps we would not be questioning alliances at such a crucial hour!" Ristarion’s voice rang out, his hand slamming down on the polished table for emphasis.

Gil-galad paused just inside the door, eyes sweeping over the council. Elrond sat stone-faced, arms crossed, while Arminas leaned back casually in his chair, observing but remaining silent. The other lords and advisors around the table shifted uneasily in their seats, glancing between Ristarion and the High King.

“It seems we have already begun,” Gil-galad said as he took his place at the head of the table. “Lord Ristarion, was there a point you wished to raise?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

If I have to hear about grain one more fucking time… 

“The king of Greenwood feels ignored, his needs cast aside in favor of Lindon’s priorities. Your priorities,” Ristarion said, his voice tinged with implied blame.

Fantastic. We’re all going to die because I can not make crops grow in winter.

Gil-galad could feel, rather than see, the I told you so look that was blooming on Elrond’s face. But, Gil-galad had become quite accustomed to the expression, so he did not need the reminder.

“Do you suggest that the loyalty of the Sindarin realms is so fragile that a single rebuke threatens it?” he asked, his voice even, spreading his hands. 

“I suggest,” Ristarion said, his tone hardening, “that you do not have their loyalty. To them, you are but another elven king among many – a high king, but not their high king.”

“And you, alone, can earn their loyalty?” Gil-galad asked, leaning back in his chair.

Ristarion snapped back, his voice rising slightly. “I can speak plainly without Noldorin pride clouding my meaning.”

Most of the lords here are Noldo, in whole or in part. His eyes flicked to Elrond, whose face all but glared his disapproval at this conversation taking place in his council hall.

So Ristarion isn’t interested in making friends here.

Ristarion pressed on. “Oropher and Amdír are hesitant. Their people whisper: when have the Noldor truly stopped the darkness? They brought this evil back.”

An angry murmur passed through the room.

Gil-galad’s gaze never wavered, but he cocked his head. “As you say, I do expect hesitation from the Sindarin realms to declare an alliance for open war.” His voice softened dangerously and steel entered his brown eyes. “The Sindar have always done well by hiding behind their walls. Until their walls fall.”

Ristarion did not miss the insult, but Gil-galad pressed on. “I recognize I ask much of them, though I am ‘but another elven king,’ but know that I do not ask it lightly.” 

Ristarion’s jaw was set, his eyes ablaze. He met Gil-galad’s threat. “Is dry wit and paperwork the only blade you offer them?” 

The silence that followed was heavy. Elrond scowled, his displeasure almost making his hair vibrate with anger. Arminas, his dark eyes fixed on Ristarion’s, moved his hand to rest on the hilt of the dagger at his belt—an unsubtle gesture declaring: No. Wit is not the only blade my high king offers.

Gil-galad felt a headache threatening to form behind his eyes. We are not all of us from the House of Fëanor. No bloodshed in this hall. At the very least. 

Posture relaxed, his hands rested lightly on the table, his voice cold. “Your boldness is noted, Lord Ristarion. If you believe you can succeed with the Sindarian realms where others have failed, then by all means, make your overtures. But do not mistake my allowance for approval.”

Ristarion’s expression darkened, but he inclined his head. “As you command, High King. I will accomplish what must be done.”

Gil-galad’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, weighing his options. Elaniel’s suggestion to bring Aeglos to council meetings seemed more and more appealing.  

Or I could let Arminas loose at the man and be done with it. 

Instead of pulling out a blade, he chose a different weapon. He turned to Elrond, gesturing for the meeting to continue.

“My lords,” Elrond said, his face still flushed with anger but his tone diplomatic as he shuffled maps and stacks of reports on the polished stone surface. “Perhaps we can revisit the specifics of diplomatic efforts with Kings Oropher and Amdír in a future session.”

The rest of the meeting proceeded awkwardly, the undercurrent of tension distracting every advisor present. As the council adjourned, Ristarion lingered for a moment, his eyes cold as they met Gil-galad’s before he swept out of the room.

Gil-galad stood at the head of the long table, his broad fingers tracing the cool edge of the polished stone as he stared at the doorway where Rastarion had exited. Elrond moved around the table to stand next to him, his shoulders tense. Gil-galad acknowledged him with a tilt of his head. ”Do you think Oropher or Amdír had a hand in this? Or is Ristarion acting on his own?”

Elrond all but shrugged, expression thoughtful as he followed Gil-galad’s eyes to the door. “I do not know why he plays this game or what he gains from it, but I think he seeks to back you into a corner—  whatever corner he can find. And the divisions of our kin run deep.”

Elven memories do not dim. And some wounds do not heal.

Gil-galad nodded. “And that is what troubles me most. If he undermines the fragile trust between our realms, it will not stop there. The Men who look to us will see our divisions and begin to doubt us as well.”

His eyes darkened at the thought. 

Why will no one listen? 

This is our only way forward.

//

In a place of honor in Gil-galad’s private study, near a large arched window that overlooked the palace gardens, stood a new addition: a drafting table, its smooth, wooden surface gleaming in the dying sunlight. It was new, the scent of freshly carved maple lingering in the room.

It was not a standard drafting table; it had been tailored for Elaniel. In her workshop, she had nailed a scrap piece of wood with some simple dividers as a makeshift way to keep items she used most close at hand. Now, the dividers were built into the top of the desk, each container hand-carved with patterns of stars — a much more ornate solution. 

Elaniel stood before it now, her fingers lightly tracing the curved edge of the table, her eyes gleaming as she took in the drafting tools, filed in a neat row. “It is beautiful. You did not have to go to so much trouble, Ereinion,” she breathed, turning to face him. 

The knot in his chest tugged again. He could not stop looking at her, at the open joy on her face as her fingers brushed lightly against the polished wood. The gratefulness in her tone, the way her cheeks burned cherry-red. The way she softly murmured his name. 

He thought his heart would hammer through his chest. 

“No, I did not,” Gil-galad replied, forcing his voice to stay steady. “But I found I wished to do so. For you. This is my” – our – “private study, which is” – secluded and secret – “guarded as part of my chambers. I thought I could offer” – a place for us to finally be alone together –  “another space that is not so public. I decided to make this space” - good enough for you - “fitting for your craft.”

She turned to him, her eyes sparkling. “Are you suggesting my humble workshop is unfit?”

“Not unfit,” he teased, tilting his head as walked toward her, smile blooming across his face. “But perhaps…your tools have minds of their own, ilmarë. They do seem to travel...”

Elaniel laughed as he scooped up her hands in his, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “I can not be held accountable for where they wander. Perhaps they seek creative inspiration. Who am I to stop them?”

He placed a chaste kiss against her knuckles, smiling broadly as she took her seat at the desk. He walked to his own as they settled in to their late afternoon routine.

“You’ve been busy,” she said after a moment, her tone casual. “I have not seen you in over a week.”

“As have you,” he countered gently. “Elrond tells me your review of the southern watchtower’s safety protocols was meticulous.”

“It’s necessary,” she murmured without looking up from her work. “I have no intention of letting small oversights lead to larger problems.”

He nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. “Alenya has spoken highly of you as well. She mentioned how often you visit the watchtowers to speak with the workers directly.”

Elaniel smiled. “Alenya has become a friend. She convinced me to join her for sparring practice —though I suspect she was simply curious how much of a fight I’d put up.”

Gil-galad’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “And? How did you fare?”

“I held my own,” she said with a laugh. “Barely. I know she used a light hand.”

“It pleases me that you stayed standing,” he said, a note of pride in his tone. “Though I wish I had the chance to observe you. It would only have been fair, after the last session…”

She turned her head over her shoulder to peek at him, eyes bright. “Maybe next time. I do not have armor or experience – I can not put on the same type of show that you can, morconinya.” She paused, turning back to her desk. “Yet, there are other skills I think I would fare better at. Perhaps we can learn them together.”

He felt his face heat again and he started organizing a stack of correspondence on his desk, hiding his joy at the way she said the name she made for him. Only for him. And at her implication.

If we are deciding to learn new skills….

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire burning low in the hearth. Elaniel perched happily on a stool near the drafting table, pulling a blank sheet of parchment from a stack and smoothing it out with practiced hands. Gil-galad settled into his desk nearby, carefully picking up a quill to write a reply to a note from Anarion of Arnor. 

The evening stretched on in the quiet sanctuary of the study. Surrounded by the warmth of firelight and the soft rustle of parchment, they found something rare and precious: a moment of peace.

“Do you realize what they say about you?” she asked, her tone mischievous as she spun her chair to face him. 

Gil-galad paused, glancing at her with a confused expression. “Who?” 

He could feel that quiet peace they had built shattering, but he found did not care. The correspondence could wait…

“Oh, everyone,” she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “I hear things around Lindon.” She pretended to assess him, setting her pencil down. “I confess, I do not know if all I hear is true.”

He laughed, the deep sound bouncing off the walls of the study. “And what things do you hear from everyone? That I have a tendency to chastise ambassadors? Because I assure you, that was necessary...”

Elaniel moved to the chair next to his desk, settling cross-legged on the velvet cushion, arranging her deep blue skirts on her lap. She tapped a finger to her chin in mock thought. “Mmm, nothing about that. I have heard that your hair shimmers in the darkest hours of night because the Valar granted you a gift – you can absorb the radiance of the stars. I am told this is how you received the name Gil-galad, but I confess the story does get murky from there.”

He sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair as if to shield it from scrutiny. “That is not how-- it is hair. Normal hair.”

Elaniel smiled again, her tone still teasing as she reached out to play with a few long stands that had fallen over his shoulder. “Ah-ah, I have not inspected it thoroughly and it is not yet the deep night, so I can neither confirm nor deny the claim. And anyway, why ruin the mystery? Alenya told me she overheard two soldiers debating whether your crown is enchanted to make you appear more graceful. And taller,” she added as an afterthought.

Gil-galad tilted his head, allowing her to brush her hands along his neck, sweeping the rest of his hair over his shoulder. Her fingers carded through the dark strands gently and he leaned toward her, chasing the feel of her hands without realizing it. “First starlit hair and now enchanted grace?”

“And height. According to some, yes, that is the report,” she said with mock seriousness, tucking a lock firmly behind his ear. He fought not to shudder at the touch as she traced her finger down his neck before returning to his hair. “I did not say that I endorsed these observations. I believe you come by your height honestly.” 

“Well, I’ll be sure to let Círdan know I owe my ‘grace’ to him yelling at me for slouching when I was younger.” Her fingers brushed the tip of his ear again as she wound another strand around her finger and his eyes fluttered closed. 

“After watching you spill a full inkpot in the workshop – all over my latest sketches and your own robes, may I add – I do not know that you should thank anyone for grace you do not have…” 

“I find myself more prone to accidents around you than others, ilmarënín,” he said with an amused huff. “Though I can not imagine why I am so distracted—”

She moved fluidly, rising from her chair, and Gil-galad did not have time to register what she was doing before she was already sitting sideways in his lap. Elaniel gripped his forearms, steadying herself as her skirts cascaded across his legs, deep blue silk covering them both.

They both paused for a moment, grey eyes meeting brown. He could feel his heart pounding as he forced himself to breathe steadily, to ignore the heat starting to coil low in his stomach. 

Elaniel grinned at him, her shoulders moving in a small shrug. Her cheeks were bright red, and that same lock of hair that always escaped her bun had fallen over her forehead.

And whatever thin thread of resolve he had snapped. 

In one swift motion, he lowered his head and kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or uncertain. She had quite literally landed in his lap, and in doing so, erased his hesitation. The soft silk of her dress felt cool as his hand slid to her hip, but he could feel the heat of her skin as he pulled her closer.

They had kissed several times by now. Tender moments under the stars. A stolen embrace in his study. 

That was not this.

The fire cast flickering light around the room, making her eyes shine. He could feel her breath quicken as her arms wound around his shoulders, drawing herself up against him to kiss him again. Her hands tangled in his hair as she shifted her legs to bracket his thighs and now she was higher up than he was, craning down to grab his chin and tilt his head up for her. She moved like she was a wild thing finally released. 

As she was, judging by the – quite pleasing – noises she made. Each time he touched her, hands roving over her back, her hips, her waist, up her sides, she moaned for him. Small, contented sounds from the back of her throat, humming into his skin. All he could focus on was learning how to make her moan again. 

Elaniel had not stilled either, kissing down the column of his neck, fingers grazing his jaw. Breathing softly, she kissed his ear, nibbling gently on his earlobe before kissing her way to the tip of his ear. He rewarded her with a shuddering moan of his own, pulling her tighter against him. Her hips started to roll against him and he moaned again. He felt the tight heat in his core spread.

If I do not stop….I will not be able to stop.

To his own irritation, he pulled back first.

“It is late,” he whispered, craning back to look at her. 

“I have time,” she whispered back playfully, her fingers still curled in his tunic. “And yet,” she sighed. “And yet you are right,” she whispered, planting a small kiss on his temple before untangling herself from him. He immediately missed the warm weight of her and he bit back a sigh. She let her fingers trail down his arm before calmly – how is she calm right now? – returning to her desk and picking up her pencil again. 

He forced himself to pace his breathing as she tilted her head to look back at him. He was slouching in his chair with his tunic askew, hair tangled. He could tell he looked half-debauched.

Her eyes were still bright with mischief and something else. Something he had never seen in her before. “Do not become too accustomed to winning, morconinya.”

//

Gil-galad rode alone, the rhythmic clatter of hooves blending with the soft murmur of the river that ran alongside the path to the Grey Havens. Overhead, the cries of gulls echoed faintly. As he rounded a bend, his gaze drifted to one of the distant watchtower sites. The scaffolding looked delicate against the dense green of the forest, and he could see the builders at home with their craft. Pride swelled in him as he softly pulled his horse back to the trail. The watchtowers were beautiful, and they reminded him of her. 

After following the trail up a small rise, Gil-galad entered the workshop, the familiar salt air surrounding him. The scent of cedar dust. A long table was spread with tools, curls of shaved wood littering the table.

One of the first places I found safety… 

Círdan had always been a steady guide—a father in all but name. And while Gil-galad’s thoughts spun in circles, Círdan had always calmly pointed toward surefooted paths. He had a way to simplify the complex. 

 Círdan stood by the window, gazing out at the sea, his silver hair catching the light.

“You’re troubled, High King,” Círdan said without turning.

“I have been shattering the very alliances that I am tasked to create, unable to unify the elven realms, much less the kingdoms of Men. My political opponents are recklessly using the troubled history of Noldor and Sindar to drive division at the one time I need unity most. And because of it, we may all fall to darkness.” He paused. “Oh. And half of my days revolve around trade routes for grain.”

He heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, soft brown eyes vulnerable as he stared at the man who all but raised him. “Why would I be troubled, Círdan?”

Círdan turned, his eyes solemn but his voice light. “Anything else? Groundshakes? Invasion by the Dwarven kingdoms across the mountains? Have the Valar finally raised the sea?”

“If there is a checklist, all three are likely to be next.” Gil-galad sighed, stepping closer. He hesitated, running a hand through his dark hair. “The Sindarin elves. Or rather, Oropher and Amdír. They resist my efforts to unite us. And I…I would seek your counsel. Both as a mentor and as a leader of the Sindar. I cannot afford to lose their loyalty.”

Círdan gestured to two chairs by the window, where the sea breeze drifted through. Gil-galad obeyed, sitting heavily as his shoulders slumped, resignation in every line of his face.

Círdan studied him for a long moment. “You speak of loyalty? What does loyalty mean to you?”

The question gave Gil-galad pause. He frowned slightly. “Reliance. Confidence that they will stand with us and not abandon us when our need is greatest.”

“You speak as though you already know their choice, Erienion,” Círdan said, lowering himself into the other chair. “Have they given you cause to doubt them?”

“Not directly. But they do not hide their disdain for the Noldor. The wounds of the past run deep.”

Círdan’s expression softened. “What purpose does it serve to dwell on that past?”

“It serves to remind me why they refuse to offer me their loyalty now. They murmur that the Sindar realms will not trust a Noldo king.” Gil-galad frowned.

“Perhaps. But you can not stop being a Noldo, just as they can not stop being Sindar. Is your fight truly with them, I wonder? Who do you seek to defeat?”

Gil-galad blinked and his brow furrowed, surprised by the shift. “My fight is against Sauron.”

“Then do not make Oropher and Amdír your enemies,” Círdan said firmly, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. “Even if they doubt you, even if they disobey you. Your task is to stand against the Shadow. Do so, regardless of who stands with you.”

The words sank deep into Gil-galad’s chest, but he found a kernel of annoyance there. “I do not understand why they will not stand with me. I have offered them strength. Unity. Protection.”

“And still they hesitate,” Círdan said gently. “Because what you offer, they cannot yet see. The Noldor have made offers before...the Sindar remember.”

“I can not bear the sins of all the High Kings before me,” Gil-galad said quickly, irritation laced in his tone. “I have followed through on my promises. I have been true to my word in every way. What else must I do to show them I am not Fëanor?”

“You can listen,” Círdan replied simply, with a small shrug. “It is the one thing you have not yet done. Not just to Oropher or Amdír, but to those among their people who speak plainly. Elaniel, she is a Sindarin woman, yes? She seems to have a frankness about her, one shared by our kin.” Círdan’s eyes glittered.

And you know of her…..how do you know of her, old man? 

I think he gossips with Ossë and Uinen through the waves.

Gil-galad smiled despite himself. “She does. Though I fear her temper and, ah, way with words can rival my own. She may not offer the most prudent political advice…and I will be tempted to take it anyway.”

“Temper can be tempered,” Círdan replied, his tone lightening. “And she seems to be learning that balance, from what Elrond has shared. Perhaps you could learn it too.”

Ah, so then nothing so poetic as Ossë and Uinen. Just gossiping with Elrond. 

Of course it was Elrond…

Gil-galad’s own problematic (part) Maia. 

“I think,” Círdan continued, “that she speaks to you with openness because she trusts you enough to do so. And because you have allowed her space to trust you. Perhaps it is time to offer the same space to the other elven kings.”

Gil-galad stilled, absorbing the advice. He found he often did not feel heard. Or certainly not heeded, despite carrying the burden and authority to lead. 

Perhaps Oropher and Amdír felt the same. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. 

Finally, Círdan spoke again, his tone softer. “Ah, I did wish to tell you,” he smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “If you’re waiting for Ulmo himself to come out of the water and bid you to wed her, I must warn you, such sightings are extremely rare.”

Gil-galad blinked at the change in topic. "Wed her?" he repeated, as if the words themselves were in a different language. He quickly turned his gaze out toward the distant sea, as though it might offer him some escape from this conversation. 

He knew it wouldn’t. 

“I don’t…”

Círdan, ever calm, only raised an eyebrow. "It is written across your face, plain for all to see—though I imagine Elaniel sees more than the rest of us. Your next step is simple. So see it done.”

Still unable to meet his mentor’s eyes, Gil-galad sighed. "I care for her,” he finally admitted, his voice low. “Deeply. But the timing is…impossible. If I ask her to wed me, as I desperately wish to do, I’m unsure how to tell her to plan my funeral in the same breath. It is not simple.”

"And yet, it is simple," Círdan replied, tone unyielding. "Your heart is hers. Your choice is made. What action will you take?”

Gil-galad stared at his Círdan, his face lined with worry. “My fear is that no path I choose will…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I am unsure. What is best. For her.”

Círdan smiled, his eyes full of starlight as he clasped a hand to Gil-galad’s shoulder. “Ask her, Ereinion. Not what is best, but what she wishes. Do not choose for her. Choose with her.”

Gil-galad breathed in deeply, nodding his head. Círdan was right. Elrond was right. His heart told him it was right.

Why can I not simply allow it to happen? 

With a deep inhale, Gil-galad stood. “Thank you, Círdan. As always, your words ring true. I will…consider it.”

All I ever do is consider it.

“There is one more thing…” Círdan rose swiftly, walking to his large desk in the corner. He grabbed a scrap of paper and began writing quickly. “Rúmil has some obscure collections of poetry focused quite intently on, ah, couples. I’ve written the names of some of the more tasteful volumes housed in your library. They may prove enlightening.” 

Several thoughts bounced in Gil-galad’s head at once as he felt his eyebrows raise.

More tasteful volumes? There are less tasteful volumes? 

Why does he know what books are in my library? Why do I not know what books are in my library?

…….are they illustrated?

“Ah.” Gil-galad kept his face impossibly still as he accepted the scrap of paper. Resisting the urge to glance at it, he tucked it into his robes as he turned to leave the workshop. 

“Mae glenno, Ereinion,” Círdan called out as Gil-galad mounted his horse, his voice still tinged with amusement.

//

It was chaos.

Elaniel stood in the center of the village, roaring flames almost drowning out the relentless growls of approaching orcs. The air reeked of smoke and blood.

She moved through the wreckage of a crumbled wall, her face streaked with soot and resolve. A child cried out, cowering beneath a collapsed beam. Elaniel jerked around, glancing over her shoulder as the orcs closed in. Her eyes were steel as she dove toward the child, shielding their tiny form as a massive orc bore down on them both with a twisted, serrated blade.

“NO!” his voice carried, shrill and desperate against the crackling flames.

From a distance, Gil-galad reached out, but he could not reach her in time. She dissolved in front of him and he felt the world shift.

He was on a battlefield now, the ground beneath his feet littered with ash and mud and blood. He could hear the dying groans of Elves and Men around him, the grunts of orcs roving across the field to find and kill remaining survivors as dusk fell. A Man he did not recognize, but clearly a strong fighter with the bearing of a king, lay crumpled next to him. The blade of his sword was broken in pieces, the hilt falling from his hands. 

A great shadow loomed over them — Sauron. His armor gleamed like blackened steel in the dying light. Something bright glowed in his hand.

Gil-galad spun Aeglos in an arc, sharp blades whirling as he aimed for a joint in the Shadow’s armor, but he was not fast enough. A gauntleted hand snatched out, gripping Gil-galad by the throat, lifting him in the air. He could not breathe as the metal seared into him, as the silver plates of his armor melted through his gambeson and into his flesh. He heard agonized screaming — the loudest death knell he had heard in over three thousand years of his existence — and wondered where it came from.

Then he realized the sound had been ripped from his own burning throat. 

The world flickered, bathed in a white heat he could not escape. 

—

Gil-galad woke with a sharp intake of breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. His rooms were quiet, the light of the moon barely breaking through the windows. He panted, bare chest heaving, as he sat up. Night air brushed over his fevered skin from the open window, but he barely felt it. His hand jumped instinctively to his throat, but his skin was cool and whole. 

The pain of searing metal. The pain of watching Elaniel as she faced death

He could barely breathe. 

Gil-galad stared at the empty space before him without seeing, his heart gripped in a fear he did not know how to name. 

He did not fear pain. He did not fear death. 

But he feared what he had just seen. 

He rose abruptly, walking to the balcony. Through his life, he had found comfort in starlight. The stars simply were. They offered him no answers, but also asked him no questions. They gave him space to think. To examine how he felt.

Leaning against the railing, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. His hands sought the cool stone as though it might ground him.

The vows of Men said “until death,” and death or divorce released them from their oaths. But the Eldar did not make oaths lightly. They wed once, and their vows were unbreakable, even beyond death. Partners would be reunited in the Undying Lands, to live together until the remaking of the world. 

If they said their vows now and he were slain, Elaniel would be left alone in Middle Earth until she came to him in Valinor. They would reunite, yes, but she might spend Ages alone, parted from him in a land stained by grief and a growing darkness. The darkness he fell trying to defeat.

I cannot make her my widow before I make her my wife. I cannot. 

A question came, unbidden, from a frightened corner of his mind: Could I live with her death? The image of Elaniel falling beneath the blade of an orc haunted him. 

The answer came quickly, pain lancing through him: No. I cannot. 

He stared up at the stars, hoping that, just this once, they would give him an answer. As his thoughts deepened, a peculiar sensation brushed against his mind. Gil-galad froze, recognizing the faint touch of another’s thoughts. It was not deliberate — elves rarely opened their minds to another without the intent to share thoughts — but ósanwe could sometimes manifest without warning.

He caught a fleeting image: The edges of the vision shimmered with the golden warmth of dreams. Elaniel was carving a simple wooden horse, her expression soft. He could not see the child for whom she crafted the toy, but the knot in his chest tugged at the sight of her.

The image faded as quickly as it had come. His eyes fluttered as he came back to the present. She is dreaming, he thought gently as he smiled. He hoped her dreams were always so peaceful. Even in her sleep she can not stop creating. 

And then – finally, under the silver light of the stars – the truth of it settled over him.

Our fëa are bound. 

Vows or not, they were connected. The tugging in his chest would be unbroken by time or distance or death. It would gnaw at them both until Arda was remade.

If he fell, she would feel it. If she fell, he would follow. His early resolve to protect her seemed almost laughable now.

Ah, yes, my sound strategy to keep her safely separated from me by visiting her workshop and kissing her as often as she will allow.

He turned back into the study, his eyes falling on the scattered plans and documents that spoke of war and alliances, of a future that seemed ever more dangerous. He sank into the chair, his head falling into his hands. 

I am a fool.

//

“So, I think we have reached the point where we should discuss it,” Gil-galad said suddenly one evening, looking across the study. ‘Or, more plainly, we are well past that point.”

“Mmm?” Her eyes were still firmly glued on her paperwork.

He had not fully captured her attention. She always murmured when she did not focus – or when she was too focused. 

“Elaniel?”

“Hmmm?” 

He arched an eyebrow, a glint in his eyes. She looked very distracted. Beautiful. Focused on applying her formidable talents to her work. 

But very distracted. 

“Elaniel, I suggest we outfit the barracks with platters of cake, replaced daily.” He kept his voice steady, despite the glint of mischief in his eyes — a glint she would not notice, because she did not look up at him, as he had predicted. “Raspberry is preferred by the Lindon archers, to my understanding, though the Silvans from Greenwood will accept plain if there are no other options. The Edain have no preference as long as it is far too sweet for elvish tastes. “

“Mmm,” she murmured in absent agreement, turning from the worktable to search through a small pile of scrolls on the bench next to her.

Does she think she agreed to the cake or the archers, I wonder. 

Gil-galad could not stop himself from smiling as he leaned back, appraising her. He waited patiently, studying the column of her neck, that same lock of hair that always fell out of her bun, as though a few strands had been cut too short. The curves of her body, occasionally hidden behind the leather apron she wore on her worksites, were now highlighted in firelight. The soft glow illuminated her sky-blue dress from behind and he could see the silhouette of her body.

“Elaniel,” he kept his voice as flat and uninterested as he could. “My question is relatively urgent, I find.”

She didn’t look up but moved back to her worktable, her eyes narrowing. She was flipping between two pages, confusion on her brow. 

Then, as if her brain had simply needed a few more moments to catch up, she looked up from the drawings in her hand. “Did you just ask me a question about cake?”

He laughed loudly, unable to contain the joy that she caused to well up inside him. He stood from his desk and moved around it, walking toward her. 

“Yes, I did.”

Elaniel’s eyes flicked to the side, her brow furrowed. “I’ve missed something. Why are you asking about cake?”

“Because you were not paying attention, and I want you to hear me very clearly the first time I tell you I love you,” he said smoothly, as if discussing the weather, as he stood in front of her. 

“I thought it best, rather than risk confusion.” He lazily waved a finger back and forth in the space between his chest and hers. “The kind of confusion that is happening right now,” he huffed slightly. 

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he felt the tugging in his chest pull harder. He would have fallen to his knees if he was not fighting the pull. 

“So, I will state it plainly, Elaniel.” He scooped up her hands. “I love you, deeply, in a way I have never loved another being. I hope you feel the same. But if you do not, I accept your choice, and we would not need to speak of it again.”

Another moment. 

And then…

he waited 

through 

the longest pause 

he had ever 

experienced 

in the entirety

of his already

long life.

Until Elaniel burst out laughing, tugging her hands from his to throw her arms around his shoulders. Her body melted into his as his hands settled on her hips. “You hope I feel the same? Hope?” Bright gray eyes peered up at him, her voice light. “Do you think I often let strange men lurk in my workshop claiming to seek solitude? Or to watch the stars? Or your study…” She blushed furiously.

Gil-galad had the good sense to dip his head in a bashful apology as he felt his cheeks redden at his own insecurity and hesitation. He pulled her closer, hands settling in the small of her back, pressing her against him.  

“It is upsetting that you do not realize we are already in a committed relationship, Ereinion.” She narrowed her eyes in an imitation of anger as she swatted playfully at his shoulder. “And then — then! — to say you wanted to avoid confusion! By talking about archers and cake? You are the most infuriating man…” 

He smiled patiently, brown eyes crinkling as he let her finish her tirade. He knew her well, and he knew how this conversation would end. 

The joy was in getting there.

Elaniel ended her mock outrage in a huff. “Of course I love you,” she whispered softly, fingers playing with a long strand of his hair, smoothing it over his shoulder. “I’m saddened you had any room to question it, when I feel it so strongly,” she said, pressing her hand against his chest. 

“Why didn’t you say anything,” he murmured. “If you felt it too…” 

He had held himself back for so long. He had held back so much. And she…

“Oh,” she said quietly, a small smile on her lips. “I thought we might…it was clear we...Our people don’t wed in times of war…I thought we would continue as we have until we decided the time was right,” she ended awkwardly as she blushed, her cheeks turning bright red.

He blinked. 

She smiled at him. 

He blinked again. 

Too many ideas bounced in his mind at once. He wanted to scream, to kiss her, to marry her immediately, to mutter against her lips and ask why this had taken them so long – why did this take so long? – to mourn the time he had wasted, to laugh until he cried, to throw something (most likely at himself or in a sparring ring), to pick her up and take her to his bedroom.

I am a fu–

She craned up on her toes, pulling him down by the nape of his neck, capturing his lips in a kiss, her hands fisting in his hair again.

He found he no longer cared, because they were together now. 

And that was all that mattered. 

 //

--- Author's Notes:

A few notes, since I feel I threw in some context and insults between characters that don't quite hit right:

The Noldor are notorious for being Kinslayers. They killed other elves - in multiple incidents - and famous Noldo Fëanor's life could be subtitled "Elves behaving badly," or even "Fëanor, NO!"

While not all Noldo are related to Fëanor's line, if there's one thing a Noldo can and WILL do, it's fight you.

The Sindar are notorious for not liking the Noldor because of the aforementioned "they slaughtered us to steal our boats and also killed us multiple other times" situation. But they have also needed the Noldor to support them and provide protection. Which the Noldor did.

Gil-galad's quip about walls is referring to Doriath, a Sindarin realm that was protected by a magical barrier put up by a part-Maia (Elrond's momma) using a Silmaril. From Gil-galad's point of view, the Sindar used the Girdle of Melian to hide from the Shadow in safety while the Noldor and other realms fought battles and died without their support or protection.

Gil-ga-daddy is noting their tendency to hide until they are forced to fight, while firmly arguing the time to fight has come.

Círdan is a Sindar man, and had his own Sindarin realm before it was destroyed. He is one of the oldest elves, and he took in Gil-galad and his mother while their city fell. While we do not get much of his relationship with Gil-galad in the books, it would be easy to suggest their relationship is similar to Elrond and Aragorn's -- a mentor figure who took in a young man to keep him safe.

Laws and Customs of the Eldar is an in-universe document that states that two elves can marry immediately if they have "bodily union." So basically, if they had sex in this scene, they would have been married by the end of it -- and they both know this. I am working to keep this novella relatively canon-compliant, so they aren't going to have sex until they are ready to be married. (They're gonna have sexy smutty times before then, tho, don't fear).

//

✨ Star and Stone: Complete Chapter List

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

You are here -> Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Ch. 10: Where He Dwelleth, None Can Say

Ch. 11: Of Whom the Harpers Sing 🔥 [Explicit scene]

Ch. 12: Last High King of the Elves of the West

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

[rainbowsky]

GQ & ADLAD CPN

@accio-victuuri has a post about some of the CPN from the GQ feature on GG. There are a couple more CPNs that I wanted to talk about because - with the exception of a couple of tidbits - I haven't seen turtles talking about some things that really stood out to me.

Both of the tidbits being discussed by BXG are based on fake rumors from the past.

Godly Back

Turtles feel that the backless jacket might be what was referred to in the recent LRLG rumor (Apparently wangwang senbei can be a homophone sounding like 'godly back').

In this context, "You saw what I wore, can you please choose something normal" becomes hilarious. 😅

If he really was talking about GG's back, well... DD, the rest of the internet agrees with you given the hotsearch that was trending on both the main and entertainment hotsearches. 😅

Xiao Zhan's back ditch is so deep

GGDD and ADLAD

This one I wanted to dig more deeply into because it's connected to a few different CPN from a long time ago, and a lot of turtles might not be aware of all these connections.

In the GQ interview GG mentioned he was really nervous for the first performance of ADLAD.

At the time a LRLG rumor came out with some exchanges between GG and DD in the days leading up to that first show. GG talks about being nervous, DD and his staff video call him to wish him Jiayou, and at one point - presumably the last time they talk before that first show - DD video calls with GG and closes off by giving him a high 5.

The day after the first show, GG posted on Weibo.

At the time there was a lot of speculation about what that second photo was. One of the theories was that GG had screen capped DD's hand high-5-ing his phone. Some fans even tried doing that themselves (screencapping their hands up against their phone cameras to see what would happen) with somewhat similar results - photos that were an ombre of pale pink to red.

Some additional CPN

When I saw GG talking in GQ about the first ADLAD show and how nervous he was and I saw turtles looking back over the LRLG rumors from that time, I decided to look over those rumors myself. I found a couple things there that really hit me in the gut, but which I haven't seen other turtles discussing.

Magician DD

One thing that stood out to me from the ADLAD LRLG rumor was when DD told GG he could do magic, and told his staff that only GG believed him.

Back in 2021 a series of pages called the 300G were released, which claimed to be transcripts of some of the best unseen moments from The Untamed BTS (300GB of BTS footage was reportedly sold to BXG fansites). They were translated by an all-star team of some of the best BXG translators and overall fandom MVP on Twitter back in the day (god I miss those days of Twitter 😢).

Disclaimer: We must remember that these are unconfirmed transcripts. As far as I know, none of the footage that could substantiate these transcripts has ever been released, so it could just be someone's fanfic.

Anyway, my absolute favorite moment in those transcripts was an exchange between GG and DD, when GG had been struggling with nailing a scene. My synopsis from a post I made about GG and DD's personalities a while back:

GG is having a hard time getting a take right for a scene, and the director tells him to take a break. DD scoots over to where GG is resting and holds out his two fists facing downward in front of GG and asks him to pick one for a surprise. GG agonizes a bit over which one to choose, but finally picks a hand. DD gives GG a mysterious smile and asks GG to hold out his hand. GG does, and DD opens his fingers over GG’s palm. There’s nothing there. DD says, “I’ve just given you some luck, so that on your next take, you will succeed.” GG asks what is in the other hand and DD turns it over and opens it and says, “See, there’s nothing there! Zhan-ge is so good, you guessed right on the first try!” GG rolls his eyes at DD and says, “WYB, in your heart, do you think I’m more than 10 years old?” On the next take, GG nails the scene.

So it's just possible that DD and GG have a long history of this type of exchange, of DD giving GG his 'magical' support. GG is just superstitious enough that it might genuinely help him, and anyway, who could fail to be soothed by such sweet magic? 🥹

GG and Sleep

Another thing that stood out to me is when GG talked about being unable to sleep. Honestly this part of the interview really got me because I have always struggled with extreme insomnia and I could totally feel his pain. I've tried so many of the things that he's tried, and have had similarly mixed/poor results.

Anyway, aside from the aromatherapy candle CPN that's been heavily discussed in the fandom, what stood out to me CPN-wise was the fact that LRLG rumors have (I think this has happened at least a few times, but I can't recall specifics), featured moments where it seemed like GG and DD left their phone/video calls active to keep each other company when the other one was sleeping.

In the ADLAD LRLG rumor there's a moment when it seems like GG might be having difficulty sleeping and DD keeps him company.

Find someone who will keep you company over the phone while you try to take a nap. 🥹

Firecrackers

Just another quick thing from that same rumor, DD talks about wanting to set off some firecrackers for GG, which... ugh, so sweet. My god.

His staff encourages him to do it, and he says he will be 'taken away' if he does (maybe get into trouble, likely exaggerated a bit), and his staff says he'll cover for DD.

In Chinese culture (and in fact, in many cultures), firecrackers are considered very lucky because they are believed to drive away evil spirits and bad luck (which is why they're such a feature of Spring Festival celebrations).

GG and DD always look out for each other, and this CPN around ADLAD and around GG's sleep struggles really hit me hard. I love them both so damn much!

[myoddessy]

CONEY ISLAND | cl16 —THE PRELUDE.

series masterlist

summary —an article on y/n l/n and all that entails.

WHO IS Y/N L/N? by Louise Kelly

April 29th 2017.

By now, everyone and their mother has heard the name Y/n L/n. With the awards and the acclaims, it's a surprise to find that she isn't an old Hollywood legend, but instead an 19 year old girl with raw, unfiltered talent.

Although, as brilliant as L/n's work is, many fans and followers have noticed a distinct pattern in her projects: she releases something legendary (i.e. an Academy Award for directing after her debut, topping charts with her first album, etc.) and ghosts all media for six months minimum before returning with another knockout. This reputation has lead many tabloids and reporters to refer to her as "Star" an abbreviated version of what was "The Shooting Star" in reference to the fleeting moments of brightness of her career.

Many people over the years have speculated that this nature has been brought on by a lack of media privacy, as paparazzi and obsessive fans alike tracked her down and documented what was near to her every move in the two years before she began her complete media lockdown—outside of promotions, of course.

Due to this private nature of hers, there's a lot of room for speculation when it comes to her life—something news outlets and tabloids such as enews and entertainment weekly have taken advantage of too many times to count over the years by starting rumors and spreading gossip through clickbaited headlines.

In fact, most things people have come to know for certain about the young woman are through speeches she makes or posts from her friends and family's accounts.

In her 2013 Oscar acceptance speech, she went out of her way to thank her mother and brothers, saying they were the only reason she was standing there and their support meant more than any award ever could. Since then, she's never skipped a chance to praise and credit them for her success.

She has also spoken very fondly of her boyfriend and racing car driver, Charles Leclerc, with whom she's been dating for little over three years and grew up living beside. While she does not credit him by name in her speeches, she often dedicates her awards to "her love". Because of this, most information on the pair's relationship has come through both party's instagram accounts, and the accounts of their friends.

Y/n's closest friend, Amalie Billard, has been the public's window into the life of L/n, sharing sweet and funny moments through Instagram stories and posts. Amalie herself is a photographer who grew up with Y/n and has worked closely with her since an internship and ELLE magazine two years ago. Y/n has been the subject of a vast majority of Billard's work and has said that she "feels more comfortable around Amalie than she has with anyone else in the industry and treasures that bond greatly."

Gossip and drama aside, Y/n has build up an impressive reputation in the world's of cinema and music. She has won a total of 5 Academy Awards; Best Leading Actress (2012), Best Supporting actress (2014), Best Leading Actress (2016), Best Director (2017), Best Supporting Actress (2017). And has one 4 Grammys for her music; Pop Solo Performance (2014), Pop Vocal Album (2014), New Artist (2014), Best Alternative Music Album (2017).

She's been praised by some of Hollywood's greatest over the years for both her work ethic and work itself. "She's an incredibly talented young woman who has the sort of grace you'd see in Old Hollywood and the humour you wish you'd see in everyone now. She's truly a great role model for all—young and old." Said Meryl Streep in an interview for "Call for me", a film that she and Y/n starred in in 2015.

taglist— @whoetoshaw @formula-hamilton @lilsiz @sad1esgf @deviltsunoda @tall-tanned-tattoo @briboweee @uh-oh-spaghetti-oh-my-gosh @meetmeaftersix

if you would like to be tagged in future series parts, either comment, dm me, or send a message into my inbox! 💞💞

[srbachchan]

DAY 5982

Jalsa, Mumbai July 4/July 5, 2024 Thu/Fri 10:52 am

Birthday .. Ef Sweta Prasad .. July 5, 2024 .. all our good wishes and love ❤️

🪔 ,

July 05 .. birthday greetings to Ef Shashikant Pedwal from Pune .. and Rajat Watel from Jammu .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

.. a 3rd viewing for me and twice for many that came on an invite .. the experience just keeps building .. every time you notice and admire the pains taken by the Director in putting this massive vision into fructification , and presenting it in a manner that makes the film historic .. historic not just in its commercial prospects, but historic in its values of the audacious mind of the Director in metamorphosing the legend of the Mahabharat with its manifestation after 6000 years , into the viewage of modern day humans that go to see the film TODAY in 2024 ..

2024 ... centuries away from 2898 ( in the title of the film) .. which has been calculated after references to the Puran and Ved to be the moment of the reincarnation of Krishna - the Avatar that shall be born at the ending of the Kalyug - when all the atrocities, lies and irregularities of the World to be exhausted and overcome ..

The brilliance of interpreting a mythological Epic - the Mahabharata, which comprises of over 1 lakh 40 thousand verses , the largest epic ever in the history - and bringing it to modern day - well modern meaning 2898 AD - and to embellish it with the subtle nuances, which govern the past with what is to happen after the Mahabharata is over - the war between the Kauravas and the Pandav armies that lasted 18 days ..

SO WHAT NEXT .. WHAT HAPPENED AFTER IT WAS OVER ..

does life remain in its stagnancy or there is more ..

WELL FIND OUT BY SEEING KALKI .. and revel in its vast and massive presentation .. and to live till the FINALITY of its story-telling in the wait of the Part 2 ..

SO .. had a wonderful chat with Nag Ashwin for the camera and it should be out soon hopefully as a Podcast or on the TV channels , soon ..

Yes the film is a massive spectacle .. but it is also a learning .. a learning of the merger of myth and reality .. and a learning to the film makers on the process of putting this mammoth together for a viewing audience ..

It is humbling and perhaps not in my league to speak of a project which has been involved with me also , but at times it does become unavoidable .. such be its magnification in its discuss ...

The chat, or as some prominent journalists have titled previous effort with me and the cast of the film as the Kalki Chronicles , could well be titled the Kalki Director Chronicles ..

And I do wish that the Production be swift in putting it out as a PodCast , for it to be viewed and heard by several more ..

I retire now as the night was long and the morning early .. but shall slumber in the essence of Kalki , irrespective of the yay's and nay's of the World for it ..

My love 😍

Amitabh Bachchan

[wellcomeoneileen]

Why does Randy Harrison deserve compensation? What happened to him? You can DM me if it's not okay to be public

Hey! No it’s totally okay.

⚠️disclaimer - I am a NEW fan and so I am NOT the most informed at all. Other people like @brian-kinney-apologist like really know shit. I initially found things bc watching S4 made me go oh there is bts shit going on for sure and googled, and then when I got on tumblr I saw a bunch of posts talking about it, too.

Lots of older sources are harder to find now bc they didn’t do a digital preservation or the website is expired, but here is what I’ve found, from heated Advocate articles whilst the show aired and then from more measured reflections from podcasts around 2016.

Randy was young and it was his first TV show - when he started he didn’t even have an agent, and really didn’t know what he was getting into. He had done sex scenes on stage and thought that he was pretty prepared for what was to come.

However, he has stated he ended up feeling pretty objectified, such as hearing “we need more shots of Justin’s ass” regularly or expressing a desire to not to go-go dancing type scenes (King of Babylon upset him) and then even more go-go dancing being added (S2 Sap scenes). He was also told to act less gay by casting directors for the show, and to “try to be more butch because Justin isn’t out of the closet”

The show pre-dates intimacy coordinators and there have been allusions, including from the actresses Thea and Michelle, that the sex scenes could be uncomfortable to film.

There was BTS clashing, with producer Tony Jones !!reportedly!!! Saying that Randy was a bitch to work with and “showrunners” “reportedly” saying they would never work with Randy again. There are two interview clips, one from when the show was airing, and one from 2016, when CowLip say they wanted all actors to be comfortable on set, and in BOTH clips , like 15 years apart, Randy kinda like laugh/roll his eyes and Gale looks at him very bemusedly. They had bigger reactions in the ~2003 clip.

He was openly pretty angry as the show went on. He told the Advocate that he would never be friends with or respect Justin if real. He disapproved of the Britin relationship. He said he had to fight to include the scene of Justin topping Brian, which was very important to him. Leading into season 5 he stated he hoped Justin was killed off by getting hit by a truck (obviously being glib, but like he was mad lol)

He has said that lots of scenes needed to be reshot because he struggled to do them so much, like the Cody sexy gun scene that made him so uncomfortable, and then either he or Gale said S5 sex scenes were reshot a lot because they just couldn’t stop laughing at that point anymore.

Peter and Scott recently have said the only time anyone asked for actors’ opinions was right after season 1 ended, and to ME they sounded kinda cheeky about it, all these years later, so perhaps it was a cast sticking point? Unsure, and it wasn’t even Randy who said that. Fat grain of salt.

He has more recently reflected on this time period and expressed regret he went out the way he did, and he understands things better and honors his craft more (heavy paraphrasing!) bc he was mentally checked out by the end and wishes he had finished strong instead.

Also, the cast didn’t realize when signing on how isolated they would be from The Industry. Randy has spoken about this in an unrelated podcast, as have the actors who play Ted and Emmett. NYC or LA are where you want to be for networking, and then signing on to spend the majority of the year in Toronto negatively impacted their careers, they feel. Randy has said he had to start from scratch after the show ended, and Peter and Scott have said Showtime had no idea how to market the show nor their stars, and so they had to just watch as all the initial hype fizzled and nothing was done with them. They were contracted to work too much to seriously be involved elsewhere, while simultaneously not getting good exposure, which I IMAGINE created a dire sort of mood and morale on set. < personal interpretation and fictionalizing history.

Meaning, Randy probably at the very least FELT like he had spent five years on a show that didn’t respect him and it was largely for nothing. He has since stated he appreciates the opportunity and it is the reason he was finically secure, for which he is deeply grateful.

And then finally the fans! He had stalker(s?) and tons of creepy people and was heavily typecast and people would come up to him frequently, which made him uncomfy, and would furthermore act like he was actually Justin, which made him super uncomfy. He was kinda like Chappell Roan!! He was like hey I’m not Justin I’m a person and y’all are freaks. He has publicially declined to speak on the stalking issues, which given his vocal responses to other issues, indicates to ME that it’s pretty personal and upsetting (I mean it’s stalking it’s obviously horrible but you know what I mean). During the show he had a boyfriend that fans like tormented online and even on posters (that bit comes from Tumblr or another forum, so not like verified info on my part at all) because they shipped “Gandy” so hard. I know I’ve read on tumblr about the insane Gandy people but all I remember is they were intense and insane and negatively impacted Randy’s actual real life. Again, that’s info from fans that I haven’t read in article or heard from out of his mouth. Secondary source lol.

This point is PURE speculation, but early interviews with the whole cast were super excited, and they all talked about how excited they were for something ground breaking. By the end, people were angry or giving fluff responses, or in Peter’s case; calmly stating the show was a soap opera and that’s okay. I FEEL like everyone thought they were signing up for something more real/gritty/positive impact to society and then were like oh I’m here to look hot in this show that only moms watch to get them turned on to have sex with their husband. Cool.

Now, do I agree with that - no. But, the show audience was vastly different than expected, and the artistic direction might have been too, both of which might have really disappointed people. Esp Randy and maybe Gale. Randy was a capital T theatre person, and Gale was too and had lots of experimental work and like performance art. Randy has ALSO expressed displeasure with some theater work he did because he didn’t think it was fresh and the audience was only older wealthy white people, so we do know that this sort of thing does matter to his sense of fulfillment at work.

TLDR; had to shoot scenes he didn’t want to, several times, felt objectified on set, disagreed with his character’s direction, maybe felt like he wasn’t being listened to artistically, was cut off from other work opportunities, didn’t appear to get along with leadership, had bad fans, was young and in deep over his head, and at the very least *started* with no career or social support system.

Again!! Am not the most knowledgeable person !!! I do NOT want to spread misinformation so hopefully I’ve tagged where I’m reading into things vs actual quotes but also people who have actually been around pls feel free to say 🙋um actuallllyyyyy

[putschki1969]

Fake News? 🚨REAL🚨Kalafina Reunion?

An interesting Nikkan Sports article has been floating around so I thought I'd share it with you. Please take everything with a grain of salt. I wouldn't consider Nikkan Sports a particularly gossip-y newspaper but none of this makes any sense. [Note: The initial Kalafina disbandment article was released in Sponichi I think] And there hasn't been a single official announcement so my best guess is that all of this is fake news. I'd assume it's a direct response to the most recent Kalafina hype after the Fate/stay night "ring your bell" performance. But hey, a girl can dream. Anyway, without further ado, here's the article〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Kalafina Reuinion After Disbandment in 2019

The trio with a unique harmony is determined to reunite in response to fans' wishes [October 3, 2024, 5:00 AM]

Kalafina is making a comeback. It was announced on October 2nd [Note: I am aware of no such announcement!] that the three-member vocal unit Kalafina, which disbanded in March 2019, will make a comeback. While Keiko (38), Hikaru (37), and Wakana (39) continue their solo activities, they have reunited in response to the voices of fans who have been waiting for their comeback. A special "Kalafina Anniversary LIVE 2025" will be held at Tokyo Garden Theater on January 25th (Sat) (15th)next year. Satoshi Takebe (67) will serve as the music director. Kalafina, who shone uniquely in the Japanese music scene with their gorgeous beauty and magnificent harmony, are back. The three members revealed that they decided to make a comeback, encouraged by the fans' feelings, saying, "We have received the feelings of everyone who cares for Kalafina even while doing solo activities, and have decided to sing together again as a trio." [Note: Again, no idea what the source for this could possibly be] Kalafina have been on a hiatus since February 2018, with Keiko leaving the agency in April and Hikaru leaving in October of the same year. On March 13, 2019, the group announced their disbandment on their official website, stating, "We have considered all possibilities, but it is difficult to resume activities." According to several music industry sources, the reason for the disbandment was differences of opinion among the production staff. However, the three members have not broken up, and have reunited in response to the passionate feelings of their fans. This will be the first time in seven years that the group will hold a solo concert since their 10th Anniversary Live held at Nippon Budokan in Tokyo in January 2018. The person who will support their comeback is Satoshi Takebe, who is deeply connected to the group. He served as musical director at the Toyosu Music Collaboration Team Smile Tohoku Earthquake Reconstruction Support LIVE in which Kalafina appeared with other artists in March 2018. He also produced Wakana's album "Sono Saki e" in 2023. "I will be participating as the musical director for the comeback live. The three of them will come together again and create a wonderful harmony that is unique to Kalafina. We will do our best to make it a premium live," he said enthusiastically. The three members shared, "We look forward to seeing you at the venue!" Their powerful words of anticipation raise excitement for the comeback live and their activities beyond. [Note: Not a single mention of Yuki Kajiura throughout the entire article. Very suspicious]

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Predictions

So we’ve been speculating wildly what the remainder of The Sandman might look like on here and in our community (join us!) for a while.

And I thought it would be fun to put my predictions to paper (so to speak) so I can be embarrassed about them later and laugh at how wrong they were 🙈

Taking all the casting announcements and BTS in consideration I’ve collected like a magpie (check out my #sandman S2 tag), I will have a stab at it…

Only 12 Episodes or Aiming for Renewal?

Both is possible, but I am more and more leaning we’ll get the whole thing in twelve episodes in two batches of five each with two wraparound episodes (one will be AGoY/THCoL in the middle, one the last three issues of The Wake).

We know the episode names for six episodes that are directed by Jamie Childs. That doesn’t mean they were in order, or that there won’t be other directors involved. It wouldn’t surprise me if they at least went for female writers/directors for AGoY/THCoL, and if that’ll be the episode that separates (or rather connects) SoM and Brief Lives. So here comes my totally unhinged prediction for 12 episodes, including the titles we know (mind you, they might also be working titles). The chapters from the comics are to be seen as fluid and not absolute, because there are a lot of scenes that are not linear in chronological terms and will probably be shuffled around a bit:

Batch One

“More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold” (that title is a direct quote from AMND): A Midsummer Night’s Dream, SoM Prologue & Tales in the Sand flashback

“Season of Mists”: SoM ch. 1-3, ch. 4 is getting dropped

“The Ruler of Hell”: SoM ch. 5 through Epilogue

TBA: AGoY & THCoL “Brief Lives”: Brief Lives ch. 1-3. Maybe the first parts of Thermidor (could also be ep. 5).

“Brief Lives”: Brief Lives ch. 1-5 “The Song of Orpheus”: Brief Lives ch. 4-6 and The Song of Orpheus segueing into

“The Song of Orpheus”: Brief Lives ch. 6. Bast is an excellent cut to SoO. “Family Blood”: Brief Lives ch. 7-9. Parts of Thermidor will also be in there.

Batch Two

“Family Blood”: Brief Lives ch. 7-9 TBA: TKO ch. 1-4

TBA: TKO ch. 1-4 TBA: TKO ch. 5-7

TBA: TKO ch. 5-8 TBA: TKO ch. 8-10

TBA: TKO ch. 11-13

TBA: The Wake (all of it apart from…)

TBA: Sunday Mourning/Exiles/The Tempest

Edit 19/09:

[strikeouts in text done on same day]

So I’ve read The High Cost of Living again over the past few days because it didn’t want to leave me alone, and I’ve now convinced myself we’ll get it as a side-plot to Brief Lives in episodes 4-6, and that we’ll get tiny bits of AGoY, (mostly to set up Wanda/Ruby for Brief Lives and Hazel/Foxglove for THCoL) as a side plot to SoM in episodes 1-3. Spoilers ahead, so skip if that’s not your thing:

Both Sexton and Orpheus have a death wish. I don’t want to drag this out too much because the post is long enough as it is, but suffice it to say, Sexton rethinks after spending a day with Didi/Death, while Orpheus is granted his wish. And this is what ultimately sets Morpheus on his own path. The meaning of “So live” would be beautifully contrasted that way because it has different meaning to different people, depending on their own experience. Add to that Death spending a “brief life” for one day herself, and I can somewhat see the vision.

Failing this, THCoL could also be a special in episode 13 that hasn’t been announced yet (I’d rather have Overture though if I’m honest).

In more detail:

A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest will be bookends, one before SoM, one after The Wake (they don’t necessarily have to be full episodes, they could be half each and make up roughly an hour combined. It really depends on overall runtime).

We’ll kick off batch one with Season of Mists (maybe the prologue and will also be in episode 1–there are several points in AMND that would make good cuts into SoM), and Tales in the Sand won’t be a full episode but incorporated as flashbacks (maybe around the family dinner). After we conclude SoM, we’ll get one episode of AGoY will be a side-plot to SoM, as per above (if it happens at all), and leads into THCoL as a side-plot to Brief Lives as per my edit above, because there’s a through-line in there for Fox and Hazel, plus we can set up Wanda/Ruby for Brief Lives.

Bonus 1:

Johanna will be somehow involved in SoM (she’s the Hellblazer after all), and we’ll get her to hook up with Murphy. No need for a longwinded introduction of Thessaly. Or, failing that, we just cut out the love interest completely, Morpheus does his moping session because Nada rebuffs him again, but Jo will still take Thessaly’s place as the crone.

We’ll move into roughly three episodes of Song of Orpheus/Thermidor and Brief Lives from there. Wanda will die in Brief Lives like Ruby, not in AGoY.

We finish the first batch with Morpheus alone on his chair after you-know-what 😩

Second batch: TKO and The Wake. Little bits of World’s End will be woven in where it fits, maybe already in the first batch as well. Same goes for little bits of standalone issues from Fables and Reflections.

Jo will take Thessaly’s place and protect Lyta because she’d just believe it’s the right thing to do (she also sympathises because she lost Astra). Whether she also holds a deeper grudge depends on if they set them up as having an affair or not.

My guess is four episodes TKO and one for the Wake. Sunday Mourning and Exiles will be done in one episode. The movie concept art that Jill Thompson did ages ago showed Daniel in the distance on the beach with the other three, and I think that’s a good tie-in point to lead into Exiles. Even the Tempest might fit in there if they make the last episode more feature-length. And you’ve got your two Shakespeare bookends.

Bonus 2:

Hob will be reinstalled to his narrative purpose because at least half the fandom will drop him like a hot potato and ship Morpheus x Cluracan instead. Because:

If you think 12 episodes are tight: Yes, if you want to see every detail and issue of the comics. But not everything you see in a graphic novel translates well to screen, plus you don’t perceive time the same way. What takes ages to read can be something like 30 seconds in a film. Add to this that the movie that never happened was conceptualised as a trilogy if I’m not mistaken, so probably 6-8 hours planned runtime in total. So they always had a definite idea how to streamline it, and they were planning for it before. 12 episodes with 45 to 60min each give us more to play with than a movie-trilogy (plus we can already take the time off that we spent on S1). I think it’s doable, but of course it means tightening arcs and dropping stuff.

However, I’ll be honest with you: With all that’s been going on, and having seen that they filmed right through until the end, I’d rather have them wrap up now. Because I honestly can’t see a S3 happening after all that’s already been cancelled and put on hold because of you-know-what (I’m thinking of Disney shelving The Graveyard Book and Amazon putting GO on hold and sitting on the Audible despite it being finished).

But also: These decisions have likely been made long before these considerations even became an issue: Renewal was on a knife’s edge, and choices were made back then we can only guess at. Scripts aren’t written over night, neither are sets changed around wildly on a whim (plus actors aren’t just tied to one project and can’t just willy-nilly change their schedules). And some sets for TKO were already confirmed and booked in May. So they were always going to do what we’ve seen in BTS shots. It’s not a sudden development.

In any case: If they aimed for more seasons than two, I think this prediction could still hold in general, we’ll just get it more fleshed out. In that case, I’d say 10 episodes of SoM and Brief Lives (5 each), and A Midsummer Night’s Dream and THCoL as standalones with the rest as side-plots woven in (that includes AGoY). Then S3 comprising TKO and The Wake with more space for standalone episodes and World’s End. Maybe even Overture as a special. I very much doubt they would go for more than three seasons in total though.

So these are my predictions, now I’d love to hear yours…

[atlaculture]

Live-Action Promo Pics - Katara

I’ve been hesitant to comment much on the the live-action series, as most of the discourse has revolved around the casting. I’ve already made my ideal ATLA fancast pretty well-known and I don’t feel comfortable harshly critiquing children/teens for not looking like my favorite cartoon characters. At the end of the day, it’s the casting directors that we should hold responsible, not working actors trying to make a living.

However, I have no problem reviewing the costumes--- which I presume were made by industry professionals of adult age. In fact, I’d say the goals of this blog obligate me to give my two cents. So, enjoy my completely subjective take on the promotional costumes:

Katara

What I Liked

Braided hair loopies! This has been fanon for years now, so it’s nice to finally see it done in an official adaption.

They did a good job of translating the wave pattern on Katara’s coat into something more elaborate.

The fur trim is good, although I wish the fluff around her hood was a bit fuller and thicker.

I like her hair beads.

What I Didn’t Care For

It feels like cosplay. Mind you, I love cosplay, but it’s a very different beast from movie costuming. Cosplay is about imitating the 2D designs as closely as possible; movie costuming is about taking the 2D designs and making them functional.

The blue color-coding in the show works for a cartoon, but less so in real life. A coat for a live-action Katara should look like it was made from real animal furs, and synthetic blue fur is just never going to give that effect.

The coat looks too new. It should look more worn, considering this is everyday wear for her.

In general, the coat looks nice but cheaply made. Like it could be a costume you’d buy for Halloween called “Arctic Water Girl”.

Overall, I give it 5 water whips out of 10.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

Click below for links to how I wish her coat looked.

I had a feeling this would be the direction they would take with the Water Tribe, but I still can’t help but feel disappointed. I’ve been spoiled by the better realized interpretations I’ve seen in fanart, with more realistic fur parkas and blue detailing. This is all personal preference, of course, but just take a look at all of the beautiful interpretations of Water Tribe clothing out there:

https://www.tumblr.com/ash-and-starlight/704817804388548608?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/ash-and-starlight/693847558563430400?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/chiptrillino/717611956655325184?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/chiptrillino/698450671239921664?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/chiptrillino/692656226353463296?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/chiptrillino/642057819823243264?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/atlaculture/719418204708061184?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/bernard-the-rabbit/705601232213049344?source=share

[imtryingbuck]

Come back

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: The team lose their friend (I’m bad at summaries sorry)

Word count: 3,919

Warnings: Angst. Sad times. Swearing. A grave gets dug up. Brock Rumlow. 

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

  In Loving Memory Of Y/n L/n

    Killed In Action Saving 5 Innocent Children

    Dedicated Agent

    Friend To Everyone

 10/05/1990 - 10/05/2017

“Pass me a donut will ya”

Everyday since the plaque went up 5 years ago, Bucky always reads it. Everyday a small chuckle will leave his lips when reading the quote Tony made sure was engraved in the marble. ‘She always said it and she did tell me once that when she died to have it on the plaque they HAD to give her’ Tony repeated that conversation when they deciding what would be put on the plaque. It was true, did she always say it. He can hear her voice saying the words he reads every day. 

Putting his two fingers to his lips he lightly kisses them, the gently places his fingers on her photo. Her ID photo took 8 tries to take because she wouldn’t sit still or she wouldn’t keep a straight face. In the end they settled on the final one, her with a huge smile on her face. She told Bucky once when he had asked-

‘why are you smiling in your photo?’

‘Because a smile a day keeps the dentist at bay’ 

‘That’s not an expression’

‘Well it should be’

He missed her more and more every day. Today however left a bitter taste in his mouth, today was the anniversary of her death. 

Every year since they watched their friend die, the team makes sure they don’t have missions just so they can celebrated her death as well as her birthday.

Every year on that painful day they gather in the common room and watch all of her favourite films and play all the board games she went crazy over, they would order and/or cook her favourite food. Then they would each blow out a candle on the large donut Tony had specially made for her birthday. 

He remembers that day when Tony surprised her with it a few years before her death. Her squeals made everyone laugh, she made everyone blow out one candle ‘it’s my birthday and I want everyone to get a wish’ and as the years passed they still did it.

They were halfway through the third film when director Fury walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but you guys need to hear this”

“What is it?” Tony asks sitting up from where he was slouching.

“Earlier today there was an attack at SHIELD headquarters”

“How many are dead?” Steve asks. 

“The real question you need to ask is how many are alive Rogers”

“Well?” Natasha speaks up from where she sits next to Wanda.

“None. 28 people are in critical condition” each member of the team murmur their different abbreviations of ‘oh god’.

“Who was it do you know?” Steve questions. 

Walking around the sofa and sitting down on the lone chair Fury sighs “There’s was only one person. With a symbol on their back, take a wild guess which one”

“Hydra” They all speak at the same time.

“Yep. Now heres the reason why I’m here. The computers were tampered with, the IT department has managed to find out what was deleted”

“Go on” Tony says when Fury trails off.

“The file.. the only file to be downloaded and deleted was Y/n’s.”

The teams reaction was different from one another’s however Bucky, Bucky’s heart stopped, he’d gone cold and clammy at the same time, so many questions circled his mind. Why hers? Why now? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Why her of all agents?

It was as if Steve could read his mind because it was him that asked “Why hers? She’s been dead for 6 years now. Why would Hydra want her file?”

“We-I don’t know. Now here’s the part you guys are not going to like. Ross wants Y/n’s body to be dug up”

Before anyone get say anything “Absolutely fucking not! You touch her grave I’ll kill you myself!” Bucky shouts.

“Then I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again” booms Thor.

“Listen to me, I don’t want to do this! Ro-“

“I don’t care what Ross wants. It’s bad enough her headstone needs to be replaced every two months because of arseholes keep wanting a piece of it, now you want to dig her up? It nearly killed all of us watching her coffin go into that hole now you want us to watch it come back up?” Bucky’s left hand is balled tight in a fist as he paces back and forth.

“You don’t have to watch and you need to watch your tone” Fury shot back.

“What are you going to do with her?” Wanda asks before Bucky can say anything.

“We’ll put her somewhere different- safer. It’s just a precaution and we have no idea what they want with her file. We don’t know why they picked her out of all active agents and Barnes I don’t like this anymore than you do, Y/n was” taking in a deep breath “I miss her too. I’m sorry but I’m going to give Ross the go ahead on this. You guys don’t have to to be there when it happens and when we find out what’s going on we’ll bury her again. I promise”

For a full 20 minutes after Fury left they were sitting in complete silence each trying to wrap their heads around the information they were just given. SHIELD headquarters had been attacked by Hydra - using just one person to assassinate so many agents. Out of all the Agents of SHIELD alive or dead they pick their friends file, their friend who they loved and adored the same friend who always had a smile on her face no matter what, the one person who could light up a room just by walking inside of it. A person who was so full of happiness and sunshine yet deadly and damn right terrifying when she needed to be. 

Now said friend who they have grieved for, for the past 6 years was about to have her resting place disturbed. Like Bucky had said to Fury, it nearly killed each and everyone of the Avengers and the Guardians - who came to Earth just to attend her funeral - they knew that the probability of dying on the job was high, of course they did, they just never expected it to happen to her, they had to watch as their friend, confidant, colleague, the better half to all of them lay in a box surrounded with 4 camera crews broadcasting their every move just so the whole world could watch them in their most vulnerable moment. They watched as her coffin was gently placed into the ground, knowing that it was going to be the last time they would ever see her after the soil would cover her.

They broke. Plain and simple, they broke. Worst part of it was is that the world lapped it up, the images of Natasha more famously known as the Black Widow standing at the grave of her best friend in bright colour clothing crying, was every where - people joked about how the deadly assassin was crying, saying she wasn’t as strong as everyone made her out to be because she cried. Y/n was undoubtedly the only person Nat felt comfortable with, the one person who saw Natasha as Natasha, not the Black Widow but her friend Natty. She was actually the first person in a very long time to see Nat cry, it was when the goldfish - that Y/n had brought her after she found out that Nat had always wanted one - had died, she felt so unbelievably stupid for crying over it but all Y/n did was hold her, told her to stop being silly for calling herself stupid. They buried it near the lake, just the two of them. Y/n even had bagpipes playing on her phone which made the redhead chuckle.

Wanda was called a crybaby because guess what? She was crying, she was crying because she was burying her best friend! The first person other than Steve to treat her like a human being. The first person to show her that not all people were bad, the one person who wasn’t scared of her that time when Wanda had lost control of her powers making people run in fear, not Y/n though nope she was the one who managed to help Wanda ground herself.

Steve was also mocked for crying for the loss of his friend, ‘Captain America weeps at funeral’, ‘Captain America is weak’, ‘Steve Rogers needs to give up the shield’. Y/n was the one who taught him how to use technology, showed him how the modern world worked and operated. She was the first person on his side when he wanted to track Bucky down. He loved her, not romantically, but he loved her so much. She made him feel normal, she never treat him like he was nearing a 100 years old who was missing 70 years of his life, like he actually was.

Sam just like the rest was called weak for crying at his friends funeral. The two of them drove the whole team insane when they were together (which was pretty much all the time) Like Steve he loved Y/n, she was his sister, his angel as he always called her. She was his best friend, favourite person in the world. The photo of Sam falling to his knees at the side of his angels grave was blasted all over the internet.

The photos of Tony clinging on to his now wife Pepper made front pages as well. ‘Billionaire Tony Stark cries at funeral of dead agent’. ‘Billionaire Tony Stark has to be held up by woman at funeral’. He saw Y/n as his daughter - shit she called him dad and he introduced her to anyone as his daughter. She didn’t see him as a bank, nope she hated it when he would give her money, one time she had to ask him if she could borrow money from him doing it with tears in her eyes because she felt ashamed of herself for asking. A few weeks later she gave him the money back with interest, when he told her to stop being silly and for her to keep it they argued for nearly 3 hours. She managed to slip the money into his pocket without him even realising it. Tony loved her so deeply, when he and Pepper found out they was having a baby girl they already had her name picked out - Morgan, Y/n’s middle name.

‘God of Thunder Thor spotted crying at funeral’ Like everyone else of course he was crying he lost his friend, she made him laugh, she made confused - once she convinced him that she was invisible and that he was the only person who could see or hear her, for 3 weeks he was absolutely convinced he was the only person on planet Earth who could see her. It wasn’t until Sam got back from a mission that the whole jig was up. He was truly captivated by her but even more so especially after she was able to lift Mjölnir higher up than Steve was able to, waved his hammer around like it weighed nothing. He, like Bucky, blamed himself for her death, he thought no believed it was his fault she was no longer with them. So yes of course he cried.

Bruce wasn’t allowed to attend his friends funeral because when she died he couldn’t control the big green beefy fella - as Y/n called him - from coming out. Fury and Ross said it would be bad and take the attention away from Y/n if the Hulk was there. He agreed. Y/n loved Hulk like she loved Bruce, she wasn’t afraid of the Hulk - Christ she once tried to have an arm wrestle with him! She didn’t once make Bruce feel like he was a freak or a dangerous monster as small minded people called him. No she treat him with respect and kindness. It took 2 months for him to go from being Hulk to being Bruce again.

Clint turned his hearing aids off for months after her death, he remembered her asking him to teach her how to sign language just so he didn’t have to always wear them. That was an interesting experience to say the very least. Clint adored her, adored the spark she carried around, adored the warmth and tranquillity she oozed. Her strength, willpower and willingness that no one could dream of having been one of the many things he loved about her, and what he misses. The day after she died he went home, home to his wife and children where he collapsed in Laura’s arms and cried himself to sleep that night. He too was mocked for being weak.

Then there was the photos of Bucky who was struggling to stand strong. ‘The world’s deadliest assassin cries’ was the headline on magazine’s for weeks or his personal favourite one ‘Winter Soldier more like Weak Soldier’ Like Nat he too was mocked because he wasn’t wearing all black but bright colours - hell they all were, it was what she wanted and whatever Y/n wanted, she got. Her death hit him the hardest. He loved her. He still loves her after 6 years of her being gone. ‘True love is what them two idiots have’ Tony would say. He blamed himself for what had happened to her, he had just turned his back for a second to hand a child to an agent when the whole building came down trapping her inside, he should of done more he always tells himself. Other than Steve she was his best friend, the one person who wasn’t afraid off his arm, the only person who could calm him down after a nightmare. She was the first person he opened up to and not once did she judge him or called him names, after he finished telling her all the things he remembered she got up and walked over to him and pulled him in for a hug, crying her heart out and apologising over and over again. The worst part for Bucky other than losing her was that he never got to tell her how madly in love he was with her. 

“It doesn’t make sense” Steve was the one who broke the silence.

“Which part?” Tony asks.

“Everything. The attack, Y/n’s file, Ross wanting her to be dug up. Nothing makes sense”

“We need to figure this out. We can’t let them do this to her” Sam shakes his head, whilst trying to keep the tears he was fighting back at bay.

“Fury let me into his thoughts. They think they’re trying to find out how to recreate her genes.” Wanda finally speaks.

Once again the room went quiet. Y/n back story was still a bit of a mystery to the team. It was just something she never spoke about, they knew of the scars that covered the majority of her body and they did know of her mutant gene and that was it. 

Y/n was exactly like Logan, better known as Wolverine. Though Logan’s a Beta level mutant whereas Y/n was an Alpha level, the only one of her kind. She had complete control over her abilities, her fighting skills were untouchable and unmatched. She was a part of the Weapon X program, when she was a young child she was taken from the orphanage she was placed at as a baby - and unknown to the team she was subjected to the worst abuse imaginable at the hands of The Facility. Unlike Logan though her Adamantium claws weren’t poisonous.

And what made Y/n even stronger was just like Wanda she had telekinesis abilities, though Y/n was a bit stronger than the other woman.

They didn’t know that Logan had found her when she was 16, with a chain wrapped around her neck that was connected to the wall, in a dark room that only had a toilet - nothing else. Logan had managed to get her out, which wasn’t easy considering she didn’t trust him and he wasn’t her handler. Logan kept her with him for roughly three years, moving around place to place, keeping each other safe. He was growing weak and unable to keep his promise to her, promise being he’d keep her safe. With a heavy heart he took her to Fury, begging the other man to take care of her. And since then she was a highly respected SHIELD agent and member of the Avengers.

They knew if Hydra were trying to recreate her genes they would have an army that would be unstoppable.

“But why dig her up? Hydra has her file so therefore they… they…”

“Tony? You okay?”

“Other than finding out my daughters grave will be disturbed, I’m fine”. He gets up and walks away.

One by one they follow his lead, leaving Bucky and Thor to blow out the candles - making the same wish as the previous years.

For her to come back.

The very next day they all gather at the cemetery and watched with a heavy heart as her grave gets dug up.

Three days later Fury gets a phone call “Fury you need to come to the Pentagon as soon as you can and don’t tell anyone”

“On my way”.

As soon as he got there he meets with Ross. “What’s all this about?”

“It’s not her”

“What are you talking about Ross?”

“Y/n… it’s not her in the coffin.”

“Hold on, you fucking lied to me you told me you wasn’t going to touch her!”

“Fury we brought a dead agent to the Pentagon for a reason”.

“A dead agent? Remember that dead agent saved you life how many times? Oh yeah six. Six fucking times she saved your arse Ross.” The anger coming off Fury made everyone in the room shift foot to foot.

“Sorry, we brought Y/n to the Pentagon for a reason”

“Why?”

“Simple. We wanted to make sure that they hadn’t gotten to her so we checked, and it’s not her. If-if you just look to your left Nick you’ll see the body that was in her coffin”

Fury stood there for a few minutes just staring at Ross before he looked over to where he had pointed. 

There laid the decaying body of a woman, that was most definitely not Y/n.

“H-how is this possible?”

“We don’t know. It’s a possibility that Hydra got her body first, but it doesn’t explain why they would put this person in her place”

“Or she could be alive?” Fury asked hopefully.

“She’s not” Ross puts a hand to Fury’s shoulder “I checked the footage of the attack and it’s not her, I asked some of the agents that could talk if the person had claws and they all said no” Ross hated himself for calling her ‘a dead agent’ even if she was just that, but like Fury had said, she saved his life more times than one. When Y/n was introduced to him, he had to admit he was intimidated by her. But as time went on they gained each others trust and respect.

“Fury you can’t tell the Winter Soldier about this”

“James. His name is James and you honestly expect me not to say anything to the team?”

“We have no idea how any of them will react, especially him and Thor”

He hated to admit that Ross did have a point, there was no idea how the two men who blamed themselves for her death, would react.

Sighing “What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s just hope and pray that they don’t have her I guess”.

The screams of pure terror coming from civilians were muffled by the gunfire and explosions, the bodies of civilians and SHIELD agents scattered amongst the wreckage. Hydra made another attack on the Capital.

The Avengers were able to stop Hydra agents from pushing further forwards. But when the ground started to shake they all looked at each other.

Both Steve and Bucky gulped at the sight of the Uber Tank, memories of seeing it during the war flashed through their minds.

“What the fuck is that!” Tony questioned.

“T-that’s Hydras Tank - I thought I destroyed it” Steve answers.

The rain pour of gunfire came to a stop on both sides, agents of Hydra smirked, agents of SHIELD looked terrified. The rumbling stopped, the only sound that could be heard was rubble still falling in the background.

When the hatch came open they waited with bated breath. Rumlow.

Brock Rumlow climbed up and out of the tank, standing on top with a megaphone.

“Do you like her? She’s a real beauty isn’t she? Took us longer than I care to admit to rebuild her but here she is!” He laughs “Hey so the attack the other week on your headquarters, sorry about that. We just needed something, take a wild guess what” Not receiving an answer he sighs and tilts his head to the side “It was to get your friends file! Jesus do I have to do all the work around here?”

“I’ve got a clean shot” Voiced Clint from where ever he was at.

“Not yet” Steve says.

“Truth to be told guys we didn’t need her file, we just wanted to give you a heads up to what was going to come” Waving his arms towards to chaos “I knew if we took her file it would get your attention, and it did didn’t it. I also know that her coffin was taken to the Pentagon, and I also know that Fury’s been keeping a secret from the almighty Avengers”

“What are you talking about?” Steve shouted.

Rumlow chuckles “It’s about time you spoke Captain America, the secret is… how about I just show you huh?” Stomping three times on the Uber Tank “Little bird why don’t you come out so you can play”

The hatch comes open again, a figure all in black - very similar outfit that the Winter Soldier use to wear - emerged and moving their way to stand next to Rumlow.

“Our little bird here is even stronger than she once was. We gave her the serum and it just enhanced her strength.” Moving closer to the person he whispers something none of them could hear. “Look I’ve gotta go, don’t worry I’ll be taking this beauty with me so no need to cry. I’ll let little bird have all the fun, she deserves it” Placing a kiss to the side of the woman’s head, he pushes her off. “Good luck everyone, you’re gonna need it” Climbing back into the tank, the tracks started to rumble once again before leaving the same way it came.

Nobody moved even long after Rumlow and the Uber Tank had gone. That was until some Hydra agents started to drop to the floor with foam spilling from their mouths.

Little bird as Rumlow called her took one step in front of the other until she was roughly 100 feet on the Avengers.

Her hand slowly came up to her face, removing the bottom half of her mask then the glasses.

They couldn’t believe it.

They didn’t want to believe it.

“Y/n?”

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @bethexo07 @doublebassallie

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[voicesknewmyghosts]

Jealous Jealous Jealous

Jenna gets a little jealous of you and Melissa (Anon Prompt)

You can feel her eyes boring holes into the back of your head as you walk onto set. You know what’s coming; the script has slowly been building tension between yours’ and Melissa’s characters over the weeks and months you’ve been shooting, and today is the day they finally realise the feelings they have for each other. 

To say Jenna is particularly enthusiastic about watching you make out with someone she considers her sister is far from the truth, to say the least. 

She decided to stay to watch, even though she was done for the day. Whether it was out of curiosity; or a way to torture herself; or to ensure no funny business occurred; you weren’t sure. Besides, having her there always made you feel more secure in your abilities: her presence alone, whether on the sidelines, in a scene with you or simply just being in the same room always fills you with a hidden confidence only Jenna can make appear. 

However, feeling the daggers she’s currently shooting into your back, you feel a little more nervous to film this scene than you did before you and Jenna confessed your love for each other at the beginning of shooting Scream 6. 

You two had met on the set of Scream 5, quickly becoming inseparable after discovering you shared the same dark, dry humour the smaller girl had become famous for. Over time, you had grown closer and closer, until, on the second day of shooting for Scream 6, Jenna had taken you for a moonlit picnic by a lake, where she soon told you the feelings she’d been harbouring for you from the day she met you. 

She was nervous, that you could tell. She’s always been quiet around those she feels comfortable with and like she doesn’t have to perform for, but that night she looked smaller than usual.  She looked like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and only after you kissed her gently did she look strong and confident again, almost like you were the one with the power over her; capable of making her feel like she could take on the world. 

Ever since that night you two had tried keeping your relationship a secret, at least until filming was wrapped up. 

That was until you had to kiss Melissa, and Jenna decided all bets were off the table. 

The scene was simple. Your character walks into the empty apartment - save for Sam - and confesses their undying love for her, how the Ghostface killings made life seem too short and vulnerable to be keeping a secret that big and important to yourself. 

And, with this being a movie, Sam moves in and takes your head in her hands and kisses you with a ferocity so powerful the scene ends with you falling to the ground, the aftermath left to the imagination. 

You thought you were prepared.

You were not. 

You said your lines, delivering them with as much conviction as you could, even shedding a tear or two as your character describes the hell the group have been through with Ghostface. Melissa is staring at you with a soft gaze, the corners of her mouth slowly turning into a small smile before she’s moving, grabbing your head in her hands and telling you she loves you too. And then her mouth is on yours, her hands forming a tight grip in your hair like she’s scared you’re going to leave, and then you’re falling to the floor, dragging Melissa down with you and then, mercifully, the Director yells cut. 

It was a good take; but you had to repeat it 4 more times for the Director to finally be happy with the camera angles, much to the chagrin of the figure in the corner of the room, unable to keep her eyes off of the scene in front of her. 

5 times she watched Melissa attack your face. 

5 times she had to keep her mouth shut every time the Director called for “just one more, I want the cameras moved more to the left.” 

5 times she wished she could just drag you away and claim you as hers. 

She’s not angry with you nor Melissa; that would be insane. No, she’s angry with the little goblin inside of her that makes itself known any time someone shows you attention only she should be giving you. 

And that little goblin is certainly making its presence known today. 

Jenna sees the relief in your face as you finally finish for the day. She knows how tired you are; mentally and physically, from how hard you work here. She doesn’t want to make your life harder or make things awkward with Melissa, but when you start walking towards her, that cute sleepy smile on your face? She can’t help it. 

She rushes you. All of her 5-foot-nothing body comes barrelling towards you out of the darkness, slamming you up against the wall and smashing her mouth with yours. 

You don’t have a second to breathe; Jenna is all over you like an animal; claiming what’s hers and reminding you who you belong to. 

Not that that was in any doubt to begin with, of course. She just can’t help the goblin inside of her egging her on to show you just who you belong to, no matter who sees. 

You can feel the bruises forming on your lips from how hard Jenna is kissing you. You don’t fight it, even though you know the whole cast and crew are probably trying their hardest to get out of the room as quickly as possible lest anything unsavoury happens in front of their eyes. 

As much as you wish that Jenna had perhaps saved this little show of jealousy for inside the privacy of your bedroom; you’re not complaining. The fierce show of dominance over you is enough to make you want to drag her home so you can continue this escapade in private, no holding back.

A cough from beside you startles you both out of your daze. Jenna quickly lets her tight grip on your shirt go and steps away, embarrassment evident in her body language. 

“Don’t worry Jen, i’m not stealing your girl.” Melissa chuckles before grabbing her stuff and walking towards the exit. “Carry on.” 

You can hear Melissa laughing to herself all the way down the corridor, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between you and Jenna as you both start to giggle at the situation. 

Giggles turn into full belly laughs as you slide down the wall, Jenna following, and laugh until it hurts, tears stinging your eyes. 

It takes a while to calm down, what with every time you think about what the crew must have looked like when Jenna grabbed you setting you off again, but eventually, calm silence falls between the two of you. 

You both catch your breaths before you turn to the girl next to you. 

“So, want to finish what you started?” 

A dark smirk replaces the smile. She stands and offers her hand to you. 

“First one home gets to top.”