#Mainland Haunts

[buckbuckbarnesstuff]

Completed Series

Get yourself a snack, enjoy these wonderful series and leave some love for the creative writers :)

♤ - includes sexual themes

Bucky fic recs Masterlist

Also, this gif has me in a chokehold

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Something domestic [50k] @fandoms-writings

ex-military amputee!Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: Needing an escape from the loud and busy city life, Bucky comes to stay with you on your little farm. He didn’t expect you, a hardworking and beautiful woman with struggles of your own, to take his breath away and make life a little less dreary.

{personal comment: This is one of a kind and it got stuck in my head immediately. The way Bucky heals is beautifully written and I love how the animals of the farm got included}

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For the love of the game @pellucid-constellations ♤

College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

{personal comment: I love the changes Bucky goes through and the way all the characters are portrayed. This story never fails to give me butterflies every time I come back to it}

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Undisclosed @pellucid-constellations ♤

Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either. 

{personal comment: The story is so creative and I got hooked on the few hints of the reader's backstory in the first parts and how it got revealed. Overall, it was a great mix of angst, fluff and Bucky in love}

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Scars @chickenfics

Bucky x reader Western AU

Summary: Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive...

{personal comment: I'm a sucker for Western AU's and this piece of art satisfied me to no end. I love how naturally a connection bloomed between the two and the way they learned about each other. I would give so much for being able to read this for the first time again}

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A World of Our Own @shreddedparchment ♤

Bucky x Reader Castaway AU

Summary: You and a man named Bucky crash land on a deserted island. Can the two of you come together and make it until rescue comes? After you begin to fall for the mysterious Bucky Barnes, will you even want to be rescued?

{personal comment: I was astounded with the idea of this story and the creativity that came with it. It was lovely to read how Bucky and the reader grew closer over time and how they dealt with getting rescued and having to adjust to a 'normal' life on mainland again}

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Just One Kiss @sarahwroteathing

40s!Bucky x 40s!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

{personal comment: This is such a lovely series. Bucky is a sweetheart and those letters were giving me all the feels. I loved all the characters and how they are written}

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Awake My Soul [78k] @foreverindreamlandd

Bucky x reader

Summary: It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

{personal comment: The storyline of this series is so creative and I was hooked since the beginning. So much thought went into this and the background of the characters, and I'm beyond grateful I got to read this lovely piece of art}

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Burn The Witch @dreamwritesimagines ♤

Bucky x reader

Summary: The mission was simple; get closer to the Winter Soldier and start a relationship with him to get the necessary information for your superiors to use.

Everyone told you not to get your feelings involved. 

You should have listened.

{personal comment: I loved reading about how Bucky interacts with the two different personalities the reader portrays without knowing it’s the same person and how she switches between those two. The other characters are great as well and I really enjoy your writing style here]

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The Bienville @indyluckycharlie ♤

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky is the young CEO of his family’s publishing house. A year into the role and working his ass off, he’s finally taking a much needed vacation (upon the advice of his well-meaning family and friends).

Solo and feeling a little lost, Bucky finds himself getting a little attached to the front desk receptionist, a local who grew up on the islands and dreams of bigger things.

{personal comment: I've read this a few times already and will definitely do it again. I loved how Bucky relaxed more and turned so charming, and how they built that connection so naturally. I felt everything I read and it was beautiful}

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Harmless @shurisneakers

Bucky x Villan!Reader

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with.

{personal comment: I had so much fun while reading this and it’s so damn creative. It was lovely to read how they grew closer over time and the many things they did for each other]

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Heart to a Gunfight [38.3k] @lailannajacobs

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did. 

{personal comment: This is so lovely and I found myself grinning so much while reading this. But I also enjoyed the little angst in there and how they ended up together}

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Leave This Town @avengerofyourheart ♤

Mechanic!Bucky x reader

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

{personal comment: I'm a sucker for Mechanic!Bucky and I really love this creative piece of art}

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Vacant Mirrors @whirlybirbs

Bucky x reader

Summary: Shit’s been rough. Shit was rough even before the blip. Dr. Hart shares an office with dr. Raynor, and you share a waiting room with Bucky Barnes.

{personal comment: I enjoyed this so much and went through so many emotions while reading it, feeling everything so vividly. This includs all I need of Bucky Barnes and I'm in love}

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The Two of Us [39.7k] @bucky-bucket-barnes ♤

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

{personal comment: We all love a good enemies to lovers and this was really exciting to read. It got me hooked so fast and I loved it till the end}

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Everything Backwards [35.2k] @buckybabybaby

Bucky x reader

Summary: When you make-out with a ‘James’ on a night out, you don’t expect to see him again, so imagine your surprise the next day when it turns out he’ll be your new sort-of-flat-mate. As Nanny for Peggy & Steve’s three children, you’ve hit the jackpot, but now the guy across the corridor is threatening to ruin it. 

{personal comment: I really loved how Bucky softened and the way they formed a connection. The interactions with the kids are lovely, I enjoyed this so much}

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Sky full of Song [65k] @wkemeup ♤

Pirate!Bucky x Pirate/Siren!Reader

Summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed.

{personal comment: This series is amazing and the storyline has such a nice flow to it, that had me hooked so bad. Bucky's so respectful and protective and I read this so many times already, it might actually be sad. But I'm in love with this art}

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365 Days @abovethesmokestacks

Bucky x reader soulmate AU

Summary: "You all know how it is, the one constant in this hellish life: You have a soulmate. No idea who it is, no clues whatsoever, only 25 years to find them. In 364 days, my time’s up. It sounds like a lot, but so does 25 years, and look where that got me. So, for better or for worse, I’ll try. I’ve got twelve months to find whoever my soul is knit together with."

{personal comment: I didn’t think I'd be into solemate au's but this was really lovely. The small glimpses into the life of Bucky in between really piqued my interest}

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All Good Things @sagechanoafterdark

Ghost!Bucky x witch!Reader

Summary: After only three days of dealing with the annoying specter haunting you, you break the rules and accidently give a ghost a body. So what do you do when you find out the man you’re now sharing your your apartment with isn’t really a ghost and that haunted touch is a little warmer than you realized?

{personal comment: The concept of this story is so interesting and captivated me instantly. I had fun reading this and went through a lot of emotions throughout}

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Wild horses [22k] @whitewolfbumble

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now. 

{personal comment: I'm smitten with this story, it’s so nice and I found myself relate to the reader so lany aspects. It’s some lovely work}

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The Thrill of the Hunt [12k] @rookthorne ♤

Scare Actor!Bucky x reader

Summary: Ancient game of cat and mouse, a fight for survival between a predator and their prey, wasn’t a new phenomenon — it had been practised for centuries and it was an art that very, very few perfected. For years you had chased the craving to find someone that had mastered the art of the hunt, and for Halloween, you had gone all out and visited a haven unlike any other.

It was there that you found your match. 

Cloaked in nothing but black and shrouded in a sense of lethality, you would have to run from this shadow in an adrenaline fuel haze unlike any other. A chase for the ages, the very one you desired. 

And if he caught you, your world would end as you knew it.

{personal comment: This is so thrilling and was really exciting to read. The switches between him as Bucky and then his character had me reeling}

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Want one? @hootyhoobuckaroo

Demon!Bucky x reader

Summary: The reader summons a demon by accidentally drawing an occult symbol in sandwich condiments. The demon, a strange yet oddly charming being by the name of Buchanan, begins to frequent her little apartment. It’s only a matter of time until she can make her way past his guarded exterior.

{personal comment: The story had an interesting concept, and I really liked it, it’s endearing}

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Drifting @real-jane

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky saves the life of a woman when she's buried in an avalanche. Faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, Bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is... or what he's done.

How long can he hide?

{personal comment: I don’t read a lot of fics written in the third person but this did me in and I had to try. Couldn't stop, the writing style is captivating and I was really invested}

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A dish served cold @artficlly

Outlaw!Bucky x reader

Summary: After the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. Fate brings you to Crimson Junction for a reason, and that reason is Bucky Barnes. 

{personal comment: This series got me so invested. I'm loving the captor/captive energy and although I do feel bad for Bucky, I am so grateful the reader doesn’t instantly fall in love with him and forget about the reason she tracked him down for in the first place. I got so excited when they talked about what happened and I'm thrilled to find out that there is going to be a sequel}

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Salt the earth @mallowswriting

Childhoodbestfriend!Bucky x reader (best friends to enemies to allies to lovers/Road trip AU)

Summary: Brock Rumlow is a slick, charming, wise-cracking businessman that you are lucky to have a claim to. Brock Rumlow is your fiance. brock rumlow is going to suffocate you. 

Brock Rumlow is going to be surprised when you disappear, nothing left behind but a note. But once you’ve gone through with steps 1-4 of your 5 step escape plan, you find out that the ‘friend’ nat told you to meet - the ‘friend’ who is going to drive you across the country to the utopia of safety that is new york - just had to be Bucky fucking Barnes. 

“If you’re so annoyed with the music, you can drive.” 

“You’d never let me drive this car.”

“Exactly. Now shut up.” 

{personal comment: Read all this in one go, just couldn't help myself. The way that connection forms again all throughout the bickering and heartfelt conversations and the way the backstory of them both is introduced is so captivating. This was a nice read}

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Something more @tellmealovestory ♤

bestfriend!Bucky x reader

Summary: After a bad breakup you ask your best friend to take your virginity. It’s just friends with benefits. What could possibly go wrong? Modern AU

{personal comment: Bucky is such a sweetheart, so soft and considerate, I'm so smitten and I really enjoyed the way the sexy times are written}

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That Summer @tellmealovestory ♤

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’ve spent every summer since you were a child in the idyllic beach town that you call home three months out of the year. This summer should be no different except for the addition of Bucky Barnes. Sparks fly upon first meeting, but it’s only a summer fling, right? Modern AU. 

{personal comment: This made me feel so warm, it’s beautiful. I love this relationship and how it’s portrayed}

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It’s a Deal @justreadingfics ♤

boytoy!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.  

{personal comment: I love fuckboy!Bucky falling in love and this was just what I needed}

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Relationship tutor @samingtonwilson ♤

College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.  

{personal comment: Another beautifully written series. I love the many friendships, especially the little interactions with Sam. And Bucky's a lovesick idiot, and I find myself craving that a lot, so that was perfect}

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No such thing @sanguineterrain

College!Bucky x College!Journalist!Reader

Summary: You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.

{personal comment: Sassy reader here and I loved it. Their bickering is everything and I enjoyed how they grew a friendship to realizing there is more}

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Breaking the Rules @redgillan

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

{personal comment: I enjoyed this so much. It’s incedibly relatable, real and it’s enemies to lovers, so that’s a huge bonus in the first place. Bucky's backstory touched me and I love how she needed some time to process everything and not just jump at the chance to be with him}

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[dead-generations]

Your post on bluey mentioned that your biosecurity-focused customs agents are far less ideologically anti-immigration than one would expect; is there just a strong filtering for that type in whoever is enforcing the migrant detainment islands?

this is just a misunderstanding of how migration works in australia, confusing it for what happens in america. point blank: australians are not worried about illegal migration because that does not happen. australians concerned with migration are concerned with 1 quantity of perfectly legal migration (typically as a function of housing costs, sometimes as wage supression) 2 the economic dependence on student migrants specifically 3 the use of easy to access temporary visas to transition into permanent migration, mainly through (at least previously) fraudulent schools set up specifically to launder student-visa-to-permanent-residency 4 sometimes as a function of specifically anti indian racism

so the idea that airport security cares at all about why 99% of people are coming here is just silly. There just aren't people coming here without visas. They will be looking for smuggling of goods, which IS a real problem at airports. And there is a racialised element to that - lebs and yobs are screened for smuggling cigarettes, and indians, viets and chinese are profiled for smuggling in biosecurity risks. which doesn't typically lead to deportation or detention, just to your shit being trashed and being slapped with fat fines. Though ciggy smugglers do go to trial, iirc. This is universally viewed as a matter of vital national security, and frankly thats not an exaggeration. if anything we are too lax. The customs people are dickhead control freaks in my experience, with no sense of humour and a lot of self importance, which is not typical for australians

but there are the migrant islands, so lets talk about those. first, where do they come from? the only way to illegally sneak into australia is by boat - and australia has had a maximal deterrent program against boat migration for over a decade, actually since 01 i think. If you come by boat you will never, ever, ever be allowed into australia on asylum or any other pathway. they publicise this in indonesia, thailand, sri lanka etc in the native languages in posters and advertising, also emphasizing risk to your life, claims that the majority of people die and that people smugglers are lying to you.

the few boats that still come here (i dont think there have been many in YEARS) are in for a very, very bad time because they mean what they say. you are rounded up and shipped off of australia to one of a handful of island detention centers where you will waste away for god knows how long. I think some have just been abandoned forever.

I know someone who worked at one of these detention centres, one of the processing ones before people are shipped to christmas island. she was a nurse. She was haunted by the experience. People tried to kill themselves without fail when they learned they would be going to christmas island, so no one at the facility knew these movements were happening more than 3 hours out from the transfers. They would still manage to swallow razorblades, which did nothing to stop them being shipped off. Her job was basically keeping them alive to be shipped to hell.

When she interviewed to work at the island itself, one of the interview questions was

You will have patients who you assess, correctly, as needing to go to a hospital facility only available on the mainland to save their lives. You will be denied. Will you be able to handle that?

In this case, the cruelty really is the point. It has in fact worked and stopped boat migration totally.

talking about these facilities is more or less completely taboo in australian society. we dont like to think about it. we know they are cruel but broadly speaking, people believe it to be necessary to some degree. it conflicts with our national self image and our desire to be sanctimonious to americans. And indeed it was these facilities which directly inspired trumps asylum policies, first with guatemala and now el salvador.

now to return to your question as to where dickheads work: I don't know. maybe they do work there. the person i knew who worked there was a bleeding heart who was clearly haunted. But ill tell you a story: I knew a british migrant who told me her friends would never come to australia because of a girl they knew, a scottish girl who came here with her friends on a work-holiday visa. she was staying with three other british girls in a share house, and one of them overstayed their visa. the story goes that they were black bagged by cops and shipped to queensland to do agricultural labour before being deported. I had to inform this person that no many in australia would be particularly sympathetic there.

If that sounds random - one year visas in australia can only be renewed if you spend an amount of time performing agricultural labor, typically in queensland. I have heard mixed stories, but mostly it appears to be exactly as pleasant as that sounds. I typically advise people to not do it.

Funnily enough in melbourne I would say the control freak migrant haters end up becoming fare cops on the trams. In sydney that title probably goes to the anti terrorism freaks. overall it probably goes to the AFP, the federal cops, and some sections of the state cops. A lot of cops end up being hired thugs for politicians (like the fixated persons unit targeting friendlyjordies for trolling a corrupt politician).

[bebx]

idea for In-ho whump fic that I really want to write about;

the game's no more. Jun-ho and Gi-hun both return to the mainland. Front Man is presumed dead (they can't find the body). even Jun-ho and Gi-hun both believe that In-ho is dead and his body is at the bottom of the ocean after the island exploded.

Jun-ho mourns him, but life goes on — and as hard as it is (he's lost In-ho before, only to get In-ho back very briefly before he lost him again, for real this time, he believes), he just has to continue living. he goes back to being a cop, but still keeps in touch with Gi-hun. because despite the lie (Gi-hun now knows that Jun-ho's In-ho's brother), Gi-hun is the only person who understands Jun-ho's pain and what Jun-ho goes through. and Jun-ho is the only person who understands Gi-hun's pain and what Gi-hun goes through. so Jun-ho and Gi-hun become actual friends. or maybe not outright "friends", maybe friends is too strong a word. but Gi-hun doesn't have any friend left anymore, and Jun-ho is the closest thing he has to a friend. Jun-ho doesn't have a brother anymore, and Gi-hun is the closest thing he has to a brother. so they have to stay together. (they share the same trauma, same wound, after all.)

until one day Jun-ho, as a cop, is alerted of an incident involving an individual — who appears confused, disoriented — wandering around, covered in bruises and cuts, and nearly got hit by a car. the individual was sent to the hospital after a concerned citizen alerted authorities and called an ambulance. Jun-ho's required to go check to see if there's any foul play involved.

just another day at work, Jun-ho thinks. he goes to the hospital almost bored, depressed as usual, but when the nurse takes him to see the patient — the individual who apparently suffers from amnesia and has no memories of who he is — Jun-ho just forgets how to breathe for a moment because In-ho's lying in the hospital bed. covered in bruises and cuts. and when In-ho's eyes meet Jun-ho's, there's no sign of recognition there.

In-ho doesn't remember who Jun-ho is. doesn't remember his own name. he's treated as a John Doe because he has no ID on him and no one knows who he is either. until Jun-ho. and it's just... Jun-ho's world stops right there. In-ho's alive. In-ho's here.

and then Jun-ho thinks — he has to think fast, what he'll do next that will save In-ho, because revealing In-ho's real identity means turning In-ho in, and as selfish as it is (as much as Jun-ho does believe In-ho should face consequences of his action), he's not going to lose In-ho again. his partner's with him, but he doesn't know In-ho, thankfully (it's been so long since In-ho left the force). and Jun-ho tells the partner that he can take care of this, and thankfully the guy listens to him. (it's one less paperwork for him, after all).

Jun-ho calls Gi-hun. he knows it's probably not a good idea. Gi-hun has no reason to want to help In-ho, but he and Gi-hun are (somewhat) on good terms and Jun-ho knows he can't do this alone.

Gi-hun may not be enthusiastic about this, but in the end he agrees to help keep In-ho a secret. the thing is that In-ho lost all his memories. he doesn't remember the game, doesn't remember being the Front Man, doesn't remember Jun-ho or Gi-hun, doesn't remember his own name.

and maybe it's Jun-ho who comes up with the idea. maybe it's Gi-hun. but Jun-ho and Gi-hun come to the realization that it's for In-ho's own good if he doesn't remember who he is, doesn't remember what he's done.

maybe this is the second chance In-ho needs, a chance to start over without the deaths, the violence, the pain and the guilt haunting him

"who am I?" In-ho asks. Lost.

"Your name," Jun-ho says, "is Oh Young-il."

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Saved at Sea: Part 2

Bob Floyd x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Pining, Love Triangle, War Inaccuracies, Mentions of Torture (off page) Alcohol, I think that’s it but will update as I go!

- Part 1 Here -

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18+ Only

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Bob walked back into the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses, setting them down on the coffee table while he wordlessly poured you both a drink. For a second your eyes flitted to the clock.

4:37am.

Somehow the wine didn’t seem as wrong as it should have this time of morning, as Bob sat down next to you, his weight dipping the couch cushions and you slid closer to him inadvertently.

You weren’t sure if you could still… touch him, kiss him, like you so badly wanted to. It had been months.

Months where you’d longed for his touch, longed for the softness that Bob was.

But this man sitting next to you… you weren’t even sure he was the same Bob anymore.

His arms bulged under his t-shirt sleeves as he swept a hand through his long locks, his piercing blue eyes looked haunted, but his face was still Bobs face.

You shuffled back a bit on the couch, clearing your throat as you reached for the wine and gulped down half in one go.

Bob gave you an amused grin, raising his eyebrow as he picked up his own glass.

“Alright… I guess we should just get started then.” His voice was still that silky smooth baritone, but he sounded so much more sure of himself than before.

You angled your body so that you faced him as he spoke, a bit of distance between you as you studied the new lines that framed his eyes as he smiled at you gently.

“So… as you probably know, we were flying somewhere over the South China Sea, things were going fine. As fine as they could be given the circumstances, and I think maybe we got a little too complacent, because Mickey and I, we didn’t see them closing in. We were further out than the rest of the squad, and… they got us caged in.”

Bob proceeded to tell you how they got shot down, and the next thing he remembered was being hauled onto a small fishing boat and brought ashore. Bob said he remembered feeling disoriented at the time, dizzy and starved and full of seawater which had dehydrated him to the point of hallucinating by the time he was found clinging to that fractured bit of wing.

He hadn’t questioned anything, he’d let the fishermen take him wherever without considering where he might actually have been going. He remembered feeling alone but hadn’t yet realised Mickey wasn’t there, until they threw him in the prison camp and he’d finally come to.

His first conscious thoughts were ones of terror. Alone in a dark, cold cell. Rats ran at his feet and damp coated the walls and floor, but the most agonising thought for Bob was that everyone else in his squad may have suffered a similar fate.

Over the months, Bob had encountered untold horrors, made to do things no man ever should, tortured until near breaking point. He laboured and worked until his fingers bled and took beating after beating, barely fed and watered enough to sustain his body.

Bob hatched a plan during his cold, lonely nights in his cell, one that could have gone wrong at any turn, but thankfully hadn’t.

When the guards opened his cell early that last morning, to find Bob’s limp, lifeless form in the floor, unresponsive to their booted feet colliding with his ribcage and stomach - which was a hard feat even for Bob to accomplish, laying there like he wasn’t present enough to feel them - they’d tossed his useless form out onto the streets, convinced he would perish anyway. Bob had waited hours to ensure they weren’t watching, waiting, as the deserted street grew dark, and that’s when he made a run for it.

Bob was lucky to find a kind family who housed and fed him, communicating on what little English they spoke, and worked for them in their convenience store until he’d made enough money to get a boat to the mainland and to the US Embassy.

His parents had been notified after the Navy, but only once Bob was safely back on US soil, and word had spread quickly, to everyone but you.

After checking your phone you’d realised Nat had tried to call you several times, texting you over and over, but you weren’t sure that would have done much to prepare you for seeing Bob on your doorstep anyway.

You realised, once Bob had finished speaking, that your cheeks were wet. You hadn’t realised the tears rolling down your cheeks, as you imagined the horrors he’d endured.

“Hey…” Bob whispered, reaching over and using his thumb to gently wipe a tear from your cheek. “I’m here now.”

You sniffled and wiped your face, “Bob I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I hate that you went through that.”

Bob shifted in his seat to face you, taking your hands in his. “You wanna know what kept me going?”

“What?” Your lip quivered.

“You. The thought of you waiting for me, I knew I had to make it home.”

Your heart stuttered inside you and you wanted so desperately to kiss him, to feel everything would be ok.

But something was stopping you.

You stood and began pacing the room, Bob’s eyes following you as you covered your mouth, a hand on your hip as your bare feet sunk into the plush rug.

“What is it?” Bob asked, clearly sensing your hesitation.

“Bob… I mourned you. For 6 months, I cried for you, I… I accepted that you were gone, as painful as it was. Now that you’re back, I-“

Bob stood so quickly it startled you and you took a step back. He crossed over to you and grabbed your wrists, gently but firm in his big hands.

“Y/N, I’m not saying we need to pick up where we left off, I get that it’s gonna take some time, but… you still love me don’t you?”

Your body softened, and you moved closer, resting your palms against his chest. The back of Bob’s knuckles grazed down your side, over the dip of your waist, where his hand came to rest against your hip.

“Bobby I-“

A loud and impatient knocking jolted you from whatever hold Bob had on you, and you stepped back slightly, startled.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, rushing over to the door.

You threw it open, the early morning light turning from navy blue to lavender, and Nat stood with wide, wet eyes in front of you.

“Nat are you-“

“Where is he?”

——————————

The evening was tense despite the flow of alcohol and lively music blaring from the Hard Deck’s jukebox.

You stood stiff against the wall as you watched everyone circle Bob, clinking their glasses and bottles with his as they celebrated him coming home. Everyone but you and Bradley, who stood equally as stiff across the room.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy Bob was back, it was the most relieved you’d felt since you could remember, but things felt heavy, weighted, and you weren’t sure what this meant for you.

There in the middle of the room stood the man you loved, but he was so different, it made your heart ache. Was the Bob you’d loved gone forever? Was he somewhere under this confident, boisterous exterior?

As Bob recounted his experience for the large group that began to gather around him, Bradley moved across the room and stood by your side.

“Pretty surreal, isn’t it?” He murmured against the bottle at his lips.

“That’s putting it lightly, Roo.” You breathed.

“Are you guys… you know, back to how it was before?” Bradley was talking to you but his eyes never left the centre of the room, watching as Bob lit up around everyone, confidence radiated off of him.

It had been 5 days and you and Bob hadn’t had all that much time to talk, between getting him situated in a new flat, and his parents coming to visit.

“I dunno, Brad. It’s not that simple, I feel like I need to get to know him all over again.”

Bradley nodded and took another swig, “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

You went quiet as you watched everyone celebrate Bob, and you felt bad for not getting involved, but something felt strange, and you couldn’t shake it. You still felt as though you were dreaming, too scared to get excited in case you woke up to an empty bed again.

Bob stood on a chair in the centre of the room and his presence was commanding enough for everyone to fall silent, as you watched with wide eyes.

“Hi everyone, I just wanted to thank you all for such a warm welcome home, and to each and every one of my squad for never letting my name go forgotten.” His eyes briefly landed on Bradley’s and you swore you could see Bob’s eyes lose all their light, his lips a tight line as his jaw ticked. But then he smiled again and his eyes met yours.

“And to my darling Y/N… you and only you got me through months of agony. The thought of coming home to you, it made it all worth it. I love you.” He raised his bottle to you and your face flushed bright red as the rest of the room followed suit and an eruption of “cheers” echoed through the room.

Bradley shifted uncomfortably beside you as Bob got off of the chair and made his way over to you, his large hand snaking around the back of your neck as he pulled you forward, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“I enjoyed your speech.” You grinned nervously as you looked up at him. His eyes shone as he smiled down at you.

“I meant every word, princess.”

Bradley cleared his throat as he pushed off the wall and made his way to the glass sliding doors. “Yeah, great speech man.” But his voice said otherwise.

You watched Bradley make his way out into the dark outside, and you looked up at Bob apologetically.

“Hey, I need to go and make sure he’s okay, I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” You wanted to spend time with Bob, but he seemed far less vulnerable than you initially thought he would have been.

He nodded and stroked your cheekbone affectionately. “Sure, come find me when you’re back.”

You followed Bradley out the back of the Hard Deck, and found him with his jeans rolled up and his feet ankle deep in the water, beer bottle resting carefully in between two fingers as he stared out at the water.

You slipped off your sandals and walked over, the cool water helping dissipate the heat in your cheeks.

“You okay?” You asked, eyes trained on the moon that slowly shifted across the horizon.

Bradley’s shoulders straightened back for a second and then slumped back down. “Is it selfish if I say no?”

“A little, yeah.” You joked, grinning softly up at him.

Bradley’s lip twitched into a smile as he gave you a side eye, and he shook his head, hiding his grin behind the bottle that he brought up to his lips.

“Why aren’t you okay?” You prodded.

He sighed, digging his toes into the wet sand, “I think you know why.”

You looked back up at the moon, unsure how to respond.

“For what it’s worth… I’m not okay either.”

Bradley looked over at you, his thick brows knitting together. “I would have thought you’d be happier than anyone.”

“I am!” You defended, “I’m relieved, happy he’s home safe, but… I dunno… it’s stupid.”

Bradley’s hand snuck into yours and he tugged you gently, pulling you further down the beach. “It’s not stupid, tell me.”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to put what you felt into words. “He feels like a stranger, you know? I had this fantasy that he’d come back and it would be exactly like it was before, but I wasn’t expecting to feel like this.”

Bradley shrugged next to you, “Well… that’s fair. You mourned him and the guy came back different, it’s gonna take time to get used to it.”

You nodded, “Yeah, I know. I just don’t wanna seem ungrateful, because I’m not, but I dunno, he makes me kinda nervous.”

Bradley snorted next to you, his white teeth glinting in the moon light.

“What about me? Am I just a big old teddy bear you don’t mind walking in the dark with?” He joked.

You looked over at Bradley with soft eyes, the music from the bar getting quieter the further down the beach you walked.

“I feel safe with you, Roo. I’m glad you’re here.” You admitted.

Bradley’s hand tightened briefly around yours, and then he let go to sling a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“Good. You aren’t getting rid of me any time soon, kid.”

——————————

By the time you and Bradley walked back into the Hard Deck, the atmosphere had changed dramatically.

Nat hurried over to you and took your hand, dragging you towards the front door.

“Bob’s about to knock some guys jaw off, he won’t listen to any of us.” She huffed as you stared at her with wide eyes.

You pushed open the front door and sure enough, Bob and another aviator you had yet to meet, were face to face in the parking lot, circling one another like vultures fighting over scraps.

“What’s going on?” You asked, your skin prickling.

“Parker said Bob had been gone too long and now you’re fair game. Babe, he’s had too much to drink, you need to get him home.” Nat huffed.

You sighed as you pushed through the small crowd as Bradley made his way outside, confusion etched across his face.

“Aw look, your girlfriends come to save you, Floyd. Or… is she even your girlfriend anymore? I forget.” Parker smirked as he walked in circles across from Bob.

Bob lunged and grabbed Parker by his lapels, slamming a heavy fist into his nose.

“Fucker!” Bob yelled, shoving him to the ground.

“Bob! Stop, let’s just go!” You cried from behind him.

Parker was on his feet before you could move to Bob’s side and he threw his entire weight behind his own punch, fist landing right below Bob’s eye.

Another punch landed against Parker’s jaw and sent him staggering backwards, and Bob moved to follow him, chest heaving and eyes wild, but you grabbed his shoulder hard and pulled.

Bob swung around and you were startled by the look on his face, pulling your hand back as though he’d burnt you.

His face fell and he held his hands out, “I’m sorry… sorry.” He panted.

You crossed your arms over your chest to comfort yourself, “Bob let’s go. Please? You can stay with me tonight.”

Bob nodded, swiping his wild hair back off of his face. “Yeah… I’m sorry.”

You turned and started walking to your car, only stopping to look and Nat and Bradley apologetically before you unlocked the car and climbed in.

You waited for Bob to climb in, and silently started the car.

You could feel Bob’s eyes on you as you drove in silence, your heart thudding against your chest.

“What?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road.

“Do I scare you?” Bob asked, leaning against the passenger door to face you.

“Is it bad if I say yes?” You sighed.

You felt Bob shift next to you, and then a soft breathy chuckle left his lips.

“No.”

You took a deep breath through your nose. “You’re just… different, Bob. It’s gonna take some time to feel… comfortable again.”

Silence fell between you and you swore you could hear your blood rushing in your ears.

“Do you still love me?” He asked suddenly, running his fingers through his hair again.

“Painfully so.” You admitted.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

You pulled the car into your drive and cut the engine, sitting back in your seat with a heavy sigh.

“Because I mourned the death of the Bob I knew… and then he came back a different man.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. “You’re a stranger to me now, Bob. It’s crazy, I love you but I don’t… I don’t know this version of you, but you also make me so nervous and flustered and-“

Bob’s lips twisted into a crooked grin, and his hand slid over your thigh. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his calloused fingers brushing the bare skin under your dress.

He leaned in close, his lips nearly touching your ear, as he whispered lowly.

“I’m not scared of a challenge, princess. I’ll win you back.”

His fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh as his lips pressed against your pulsing throat.

He pulled back, and his eyes were dark and hooded, his smirk tantalising.

“One way or another.”

—————————

- Part 3 Here -

Taglist:

@sarah-bear706318 @swightops @midnightmagpiemama @gardenof-venus @mrsrobert-bob-floyd @lolo-925 @frozenhuntress67 @beebeerockknot @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

[lyculuscaelus]

Ok now maybe imagine if it didn’t take too long for Odysseus to finish the oar quest as instructed by Teiresias, say, a year or two (maybe three but tops I swear) from when he sailed from Ithaca to the mainland and went all the way northwards, until he at last finished the ritual and then returned once more back to his homeland.

It wasn’t a woeful journey, this time—just receiving Xenia from different cities, meeting some old faces and new faces (cue Acarnan and Amphoterus sons of Alcmaeon in Acarnania; maybe catching up with his brother-in-law Alyzeus in the city of Alyzia; maybe visiting Amphilochus in Amphilochia cuz why not; maybe helping out a young Thesprotian prince Polypoetes son of Pheidon the deceased king in a war and having to sign an adoption contract), disguising as an old man, lying his way northward—“hey look I’m just a simple Cretan but I can tell you about Odysseus if you want” (turns out all those non-Homeric traditions are stories Odysseus in disguise told to those Epirotes along the way), maybe all the way to Buthrotum where Helenus and Andromache welcomed him unaware of his identity (as he yapped about how he was a Ciconian whose hometown Ismarus was destroyed by cruel Odysseus as he was brought along the way until getting marooned in Thrinacia and something something Phoenicians and stuff) as they traded stories and ended up lamenting the fall of Troy and talking shit on Odysseus—including Odysseus himself (“fun,” says Odysseus as he continues throwing slanders on himself, “now shall I tell you how he died by some guy named Telegonus, someone born to him on Aeaea though I didn’t see anything”), maybe reaching the land of Illyrians where he heard about their history from Cadmus’s arrival to the not-so-recent Epigonoi war (and all Odysseus can think about is his bestie), maybe finding his way past the Riphean Mountains to Hyperborea where he finally performed the ritual (I mean, no ship, no salt…sounds like it).

Then maybe he’s picking a path south-east to visit some old friends (*snaps* what did you say Nauplius has done again *picks up a rock* alr say it again), maybe traversing the rest of Greece from Thessaly (didn’t see you back in war—how are y’all faring, O so many sons of Heracles?) to Mycenae (your dad sends his regards from hell, Orestes) to Argos (wait where the heck is my Diomedes) to Sparta (Menelaus: hehehehe I knew you’d make it old buddy oh btw your son has your thighs) to Pylos where Nestor finally gave him a ship to go home cuz he had no oar left (Nestor: also Peisistratus my boy I know you want to go to Ithaca for some…*coughs* specific reasons so here’s the ship and you’re the captain).

Back to Ithaca! Telemachus celebrated Odysseus’s return with joy (and was surprised by Peisistratus’s arrival). During his father’s absence he had run the kingdom well—a good job continuing to reestablish the class of nobility in Cephalonia as Odysseus willed it. Then Odysseus found Penelope waiting at the olive tree, as she met his gaze and smiled—and the world was again back into shape, for Odysseus, the great craftsman.

And this time, Odysseus finally realized he was this old, this tired, after all the years of traveling. The world of wanderings, in the end, had become too much, too far away, for the man of twists and turns. Not even the world of reality could mend the scars left in his heart, a mind forever haunted by shadows of the past. But for now, a world of home would do—it’d be everything for him, really—just a man with his family, and the peaceful days he had long craved.

So he swore to stay, here by the side of his love ones, never again to be apart. So he stayed, for the rest of his life, till death in the coming days did them part…

He’d inherit his father’s farm after old Laërtes’s death, and teach Telemachus the art of gardening, to take care of all the grape vines, fig trees, pear trees, apple trees, and…olive trees. He’d sing his tales to the new generation of Ithacan children, mentoring them on the virtues of Xenia, of bravery, of love. And he’d go back to his old habit of carving, sculpting figurines out of wood—oh, but he’d make so many wonders—the monsters of legends (that he had seen), the faces of old acquaintances (that he would never forget), the images of gods (that he had stolen)…and he’d show them all to his family, and sometimes, to his people struck by curiosity.

Meanwhile, Telemachus would be so delighted to indulge a father who had long missed the chance to raise his own child, as a son who had never got the chance to make any childhood memory with his father. And so often would they roam around in the forests, catching up days forever lost to them both. Meanwhile, Penelope would be so enamored of her husband’s passion, as the one who knew his mind best (oh, what a blessing of homophrosyne). And so often would they pace around in the farm, chattering at length from the rosy-fingered Dawn till the star-filled night…

Maybe at some point, the memories would prove to be too heavy for the old king. Days and nights his family would find him whispering commands that went unheard, words of comfort that he no longer needed—or that he needed the most. All he saw were illusions of the horror he had once witnessed. All he heard were hallucinations of the Siren song he had once heard. Maybe after all these years, ptsd had finally caught up with him. Maybe it went even worse after Penelope’s passing…

Until one day, a stranger knocked the gate of Odysseus’s palace open.

Prince Telemachus offered him food—he politely refused, asking to meet the old king right away.

Odysseus came out, fixing his gaze on the visitor’s face—it seemed foreign, yet strangely familiar—it was as if he had known him so long ago, in a place he couldn’t quite name. But the stranger only moved forward, meeting Odysseus’s eyes.

“Come,” he said gently. “Time to join the rest of them…time to join her.”

And Odysseus knew.

Turning to his son, Odysseus muttered a few words of comfort. Somehow, Telemachus knew this to be a farewell—he embraced his father one last time, smiling in tears.

The prince of Ithaca watched the two of them walk away, to the sea where the stranger came from, as he suddenly leapt, spreading a pair of wings, carrying Odysseus off quickly. Realization struck him finally.

The stranger was none other than fearful Thanatos.

So this is the Death that comes to him from the sea, in such a gentle way.

[jadeazora]

Currently, the last of the Gen3 beta Mons that have been posted. Genuinely upset we almost got a haunted painting Pokemon that got cut.

Another batch of Gen5 beta designs for the Unova fossils, Basculin, Karrablast and its cut evolution, and 2/3 Unova monkeys. Fat Simisear is way cuter imo, the skinny torso and wide hips don't look right on the design we would end up getting.

Another one of the cut Gen3 Mon. I wonder if this artist still works for Gamefreak? Their art style was really cool!

Beta Gen3 protagonists! I like the hair for this May a lot better. It looks a bit like Hilda's with those chunky sides.

Correction, these are actually Gen5. So that's why the hair reminds me of Hilda's 😂

Edit: It turns out the protagonists were fake. Some people did put out some troll "leaks" when the leaks were coming out.

Concept art of Unova!

And there was apparently supposed to be a water route connecting the Sinnoh mainland to the postgame area in DP!

[vodkassassin]

Amity Park didn’t return to Illinois after they were transported to the ghost zone.

After all, the Zone is fickle even in transporting singular entities like the smallest blob ghost. How about an entire town, with all those people in it?

Instead of Illinois, they end up slightly off the coast of New Jersey, a long time before Amity Park, Illinois ever existed.

Fixing damages that happened to the town during the transfer is considered a total loss, so they scrap everything and rebuild. Since the ghost issue seems to not be going anywhere ever, the decision to lean into the aesthetic and embrace it instead of denying and fighting it is nearly unanimous (save for a few ghost hunters here and there, but they are the minority).

It’s easy to slide into their new existence. Things are very different from the modern life they’re all used to, but much is still the same.

Phantom is always there to protect.

Hauntings are a part of their very foundations.

Amity Park was always pretty isolated, all things considered. So they continue on.

Tucker later on becomes mayor of the new town Gotham (Sam has a heavy hand in convincing everyone to go along with the name). He holds his position much longer and with far higher approval ratings than his predecessor.

Sam eventually marries someone who moved to the newly established Gotham from the mainland, on a business venture, whose last name is Wayne.

Together, they inherit what’s left of the immense Manson wealth.

People from the mainland come and go, providing economy. Not a lot of them stick around, too uneasy of the supernaturally dreary atmosphere of Gotham Island and it’s frankly hostile architecture. The Amitians — Gothamites now — don’t really get it. What’s wrong with ghosts??

The original townspeople are so saturated with ectoplasm at this point that they’ve ceased aging. They die eventually, but immediately become ghosts and just make the trip through the portal to become citizens of Phantom’s kingdom in the Infinite Realms. All things considered, nothing much changes after death, either.

However, it’s soon decided that before any more new people can move to Gotham, the portal must be closed and locked for the safety of the regular humans who are not as immune to the influence of the Zone.

So the portal is buried and hidden, locked and guarded by the eternal soldiers of the Ghost King, the key safely kept on the King’s person at all times.

Life goes on. Years pass. The true origins of Gotham fall into the realm of the forgotten. Eventually, it becomes what it is today.

Batman and all.

The Batcave is more home to Bruce Wayne than even the manor that caps it. That’s because in the cave, he is a step closer to a portal to the Infinite Realms that has been locked and hidden deep underneath the land that once belonged to his ancestors, the Manson-Waynes.

As a direct descendant of one of the original Amity Park townspeople, and one who was (is) so closely tied to the haunt of the Ghost King himself, Bruce has always had a special and innate connection to the town and the land that his city is built on, but never really knew why.

He just thinks of it as his father Thomas explained it to him; the Manson-Waynes, later the Waynes, had been one of the founding families families of Gotham — alongside the Fenton, Baxter, and Sanchez families. Since the other families have long since died out, it’s up to the Waynes to uphold their legacy, and that duty falls to Bruce.

Or so that’s how Thomas, who knew nothing of Gotham’s ghostly, Amitian origins, understood it.

It’s not until Jason, back from the dead, becomes a regular part of the family again, that Bruce starts feeling as if something is different about the cave, and then later the city at large.

Almost as if it’s been awakened, somehow.

[synthetickitsune]

Siren!Vernon (SVT) | Lighthouse angst | 0.9k | gn!reader tw: drowning/freezing to death -> mermay masterlist

It’s barely been two weeks.

The clock is ticking, the boxes of the calendar hanging on the wall are precisely crossed. They’re laughing at you. Mocking you. Taunting you for your weakness.

You’ve been warned that this wouldn’t be an easy job. Maybe it was foolish to think it’s exactly what you need, that this is what you’re meant to do, but it felt right. It still does when the moment of weakness ebbs away. The picture on the calendar shows the same lighthouse standing not too far from the house.

You have to look away, have to get up and go outside. You pull your coat tighter to your body to keep from shivering in the cold night air. The waves crash against the rock and the wind howls in your ears but it’s a relief anyway. Lately you’ve been thinking, how can you be sure the time passes as you think it does? With the nature’s assault on your senses, you don’t need to think. You just have to survive.

Still, the everpresent chill and knowledge that you’re out here alone fills you with unsettling emotions. You barely register opening the door, walking up the stairs. You only notice that you’ve climbed up the lighthouse when the quiet sadness of being left behind hits you as you stare in the direction of the mainland. Why are you here? The light that signals home, the light that protects, cannot embrace you. You’re the shadow too dark to be saved by the light.

And suddenly, your heart stops.

It pauses its beat. Your lungs cease breathing. 

The sea sings. The waves hurl at the shore and break over the rocks. The wind howls. Yet above all, the depths of the ocean serenade you.

You can’t swallow, you’re being choked by the song. The wistful melody without words rising from the ocean floor. The water is too dark to see but you’ve heard the tales, you grew up listening to all the stories. You know the creatures are real - half human, half fish. The merfolk. 

You’ve been warned.

There’s no escape. The song haunts you when you’re awake and creeps into your dreams. No matter how much you resist, it’s wrapped around you like the appendages of a leviathan sinking a ship.

Your legs carry you against your will to the shore. You’ve been chosen. Marked. The moment you picked up that barnacle encrusted knife. You cut your hand on the handle - and you’re certain it was a curse. There was no reason for you to start bleeding. It feels like that was the moment your fate was sealed.

Was he waiting by the shore? Was he lapping up the ocean water stained with your blood? You know it’s a he. In your dreams, you see him. Waiting. Circling the island. You’ve seen the creature nuzzling his face against the blood-soaked gravel, begging for more. Crawling towards you. He’s so slow out of the water, yet you couldn’t run away from those piercing eyes. The silver eyes, the silver hair and the silver scales of his tail.

He should shine like the stars in the dark skies, yet you can’t see him in the water. You can sense him. You always know where he is, but he’s hiding out of sight. In depths that would crush you. Is it a test? Does he want to lure you there?

The water washes over your bare feet. Strange. You don’t remember taking off your boots. Or your clothes. Your hands cover your chest, you hug yourself to keep warm, bending and curling into yourself. Your will is no longer your own. The song has taken you.

The ocean is still. You see the ripples dance across the surface. The source? You know without looking. You feel him coming closer. 

The moon is full and bright. He glows just like it. 

You no longer feel cold, your feet and legs already went numb. The water laps at your thighs. He swims closer. If the light reflected by his scales wasn’t so bright, he’d look just like a human. A young man lost at sea seeking the hope and comfort of the lighthouse. 

His hands reach out and you take them. He feels so cold despite you slowly freezing. Your body gave up on shivering. He pulls you closer. Closer. The water hugs your waist. His arms follow. His hands are cold but his tail is pure ice. You think of the moon again.

Before you know it you’re floating. The endless space above you, the infinite depths below. He’s your moon, the water drops sparkling in the silver light your stars. With his chest against yours, you’re paralyzed. He looks curious above all. You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t that. You kick your feet to stay afloat even though he holds you. You feel the nothingness stretching down. Peace settles in your soul. Is there any other option than to reconcile with what’s to come?

He leans forward and kisses you. You don’t even know his name. He’s gentle. His sharp teeth don’t bite, don’t draw blood, despite the threat being there. The creature is surprisingly tender, you realize. He holds you like you’re made of glass. It feels like it, like you could shatter; your body is nearly frozen through. 

Slowly, he pulls you underwater with him. You don’t know how he does it. It feels like the abyss takes you both - him no more than a slave to the ocean depths than you were to the land. He doesn’t leave a breath of space between you. You barely feel anything when you inhale the freezing water. 

And you wonder, was this his way of showing mercy? They say freezing is a gentler way to go than drowning.

[niterose]

I’m sorry, but I’m here to share my horribly cracky Inhun/Saleshun/…Junhun? smut-take:

Jun-ho, In-ho, and the Salesman are in charge of running the games together. Everything is going great until a certain Player 456 enters the 33rd games.

Suddenly Jun-ho can’t find his brother or the Salesman anywhere— he feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. But then he catches a glimpse of a triangle guard leering over Player 456 in the second round, seemingly transfixed on how the man desperately licks the dalgona beneath him, and somehow, Jun-ho knows.

After the game concludes, Jun-ho thinks that will be the end of it. The Salesman reappears in the control room like nothing ever happened and Jun-ho lets out a sigh of relief.

Only, In-ho is still missing.

The players are returned to the dormitory; Jun-ho’s eyes scan the camera feeds, searching. He finds Player 456 seated with 218, 199, and 067. Something in Jun-ho relaxes to see the man exactly where he is supposed to be.

He takes a swig of whiskey pilfered from his brother’s stash. If the man is going to disappear, then he deserves to have his liquor stolen. He doesn’t have long to savour the taste though before something on the camera causes him to choke, spraying the expensive alcohol everywhere. Because, there, sauntering up to 456’s group is the wrong Player 132. Jun-ho watches in horror as his brother plonks himself down beside 456, so close that their sides brush together.

It gets worse. Suddenly In-ho and the Salesman are making absurd requests and last minute changes to the games. There’s no way the Salesman needs ten new camera angles in the players’ dormitory. Even more baffling is Jun-ho’s experience of watching his brother order the guards to serve chocolate milk for the players’ breakfast.

And Jun-ho doesn’t even want to think about what happens when 456 gets dragged away by a certain guard between rounds— he can’t find them on any of the surveillance feeds. Maybe that’s for the best; Jun-ho thinks he will forever be haunted by the movements he witnessed on the infrared cameras after his brother sneaks into the dormitory during lights out.

Jun-ho comes to the realization that he needs to do something before these two idiots bring the games crumbling down on their heads.

One night, when In-ho and the Salesman are distracted, Jun-ho slips into the dormitory. He grabs Player 456 and drags him out of the room. They navigate through the maze-like hallways until Jun-ho leads them into a room loaded with diving gear.

”I’m getting you out of here.” Jun-ho says to a very confused looking 456. “You’ll need to swim, but I have a boat waiting outside this cave to take you back to the mainland.”

He hands the man a mask and oxygen tank, “You need to be quick, 456. I don’t know how long it’ll be before they realize you’re missing.”

Player 456 doesn’t ask who ‘they’ are, but Jun-ho thinks he probably knows from the way his face goes red right to the tips of his ears. Jun-ho turns to keep watch while the player shucks on the equipment, but a hand catches his wrist. Jun-ho starts at the contact and turns back around.

The way the man stares at him, eyes bright and kind, does something funny to Jun-ho’s stomach.

”You can call me Gi-hun, and thank you.” Gi-hun squeezes Jun-ho’s wrist gently, and Jun-ho’s heartbeat stutters.

Oh no.

———

We don’t want crack with our smut you say? Unfortunately that’s how my brain works.

[hawkpartys]

talk shit about central Asian buteos to me 👀

STOP SPLITTING CENTRAL ASIAN BUTEOS. WE HAVE SPLIT ENOUGH SPECIES OF CENTRAL ASIAN BUTEO

one time a fellow accipitriforme identifier and Bird Knower said that we should lump every single altai region buteo into "steppe buzzard" and call it a day and while some may call that extreme, i think hes right.

I need you to understand the state of things. all of these shown below are considered different species. Most of them have range overlap. Most of them have significant morphological overlap and severe plumage variability. The only one exempt from this is rough legged buzzard, who is consistently identifiable and also my only hoe.

Common(Steppe) Buzzard, Upland Buzzard, Eastern Buzzard

Himalayan Buzzard, Long Legged Buzzard, Rough Legged Buzzard

I genuinely cannot tell you What they are even trying to accomplish with all the recent taxonomy fiddling there. I read a paper recently that a lot of the genetic analysis used to split/combine the species in this region may have been too overzealous and that the genetic differences they cited were within the range of variability in a species. I don't know nearly enough about this kind of analysis to say if that's correct or not so I'm just going to bitch about the current state of things.

Himalayan, (Mainland)Eastern and Steppe buzzards are morphologically identical and overlap in range but were split into different species because of [checks notes] vibes? I guess? Steppe got rolled into Common, but Eastern's outside of Japan are still considered a separate species. In my humble opinion the only way to truly identify an Eastern Buzzard is if it is actively in Japan. Otherwise it might as well be identical to Steppe's.

Himayalan Buzzards should not exist. They should not be a taxa. They are morphologically and genetically identical to mainland Easterns. Why were these split. Why do you hate me.

Upland Buzzards at least have morphological differences from steppe(plumage patterns, feathered tarsi), but I've also been told by people who did not elaborate that they have hybridized with Long Legged enough that it has actively begun fucking this shit up. I genuinely have no idea what to think about that, it haunts my dream like that one guy who told me dark morph Uplands sometimes have unfeathered tarsi and then ghosted me. I cannot find sources for this, but I also cannot find sources for a lot of Central Asian buteo things because there fuckin' aren't any. It's almost as bad as African Accipiters

Frankly Long Legged could be rolled into Steppe in my opinion but genetic analysis on this one says it is at least a little justified, even if identifying them makes me want to bite people. They get a pass for now but should stop looking exactly like light-morph Steppes

In conclusion

oh also fuck cape buzzards. they arent technically relevant but still. fuck them

[jude457]

something that genuinely haunts me: does inho cut his own hair??? like. does he stand in front of a foggy mirror in that dimly lit bathroom, scissors in hand, snipping in absolute silence?? because i cannot—cannot—imagine this man taking a boat to the mainland, walking into some normal-ass salon, and making small talk while getting a trim.

and yet… his hair is always perfectly styled. every strand in place.

[cosmerelists]

The Other Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse But Make It Cosmere

As requested by @round-hatches-are-terrifying. :)

In the Good Omens novel, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (War, Famine, Pollution, and Death), who are bikers, are followed by four other biker dudes who chose their own names to be, uh, equally ominous:

Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty to Animals, Really Cool People, and Treading In Dogshit (formerly All Foreigners Especially The French, formerly Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping, never actually No Alcohol Lager, briefly Embarrassing Personal Problems, and finally People Covered in Fish)

So let's say we had other Horsemen on various Cosmere planets. What would they be named?

1. Roshar (Stormlight Archive)

The Main Horsemen: War, Famine, Desolation, and Death

The Other Horsemen: Man-Eating Giant Crabs, Running Out Of Stormlight Right In The Middle of the Weeping, Ill-Conceived Boons, and Reified Gender Norms (formerly Men Reading, formerly Predicting the Future But Not Like Storm Wardens Do Because That's Just Math Basically, briefly just Predicting the Future)

2. Scadrial (Era 1) (Mistborn)

The Main Horsemen: Famine, Pestilence, Ash, and Death

The Other Horsemen: Child Abuse, Dangerous Piercings, Trying to Keep Literally Anything Clean, and Getting Hit in The Head With A Coin Like Every Night Because of Those Blasted Mistborn Flying About Everywhere

3. Scadrial (Era 2) (Mistborn)

The Main Horsemen: War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death

The Other Horsemen: Social Unrest, Rich Bastards, ACAB, and Getting Hit in The Head With A Coin Like Every Night Because of Those Blasted Coinshots Flying About Everywhere

4. Nalthis (Warbreaker)

The Main Horsemen: War, Famine, Death, and Second Death

The Other Horsemen: Undead Squirrel Attacks, Being Out of Breath, The Haunting Realization that the Gods Who Live Among Us Are Actually Pretty Daft, and All Foreigners But Especially the Idrians

5. Threnody (Shadows for Silence)

The Main Horsemen: Fire, Blood, Running, and Death

The Other Horsemen: Fortfolk-Acting-Too-Big-For-Their-Britches, Withering-That-Does-Not-Kill-You-But-Does-Make-Life-Just-That-Much-Harder-Forever, Ghost-Grandmother, and Adonalsium-May-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually-But-For-Now-It-Is-Pretty-Bleak-Out-Here-Guys

6. Komashi (Yumi and the Nightmare Painter)

The Main Horsemen: Nightmares, Famine, Pestilence, and Death

The Other Horsemen: Artist's Block, Being Straight on a Planet Where Even the Lighting is Bisexual, AI Art, and A Stiff Breeze Coming At Exactly The Wrong Time Noooo My Rock Stacks

7. First of the Sun (Sixth of Dusk)

The Main Horsemen: Bad Death, Worst Death, Quick Death, and Slow Death

The Other Horsemen: Mainlanders, Mainlander Capitalism, Kids These Days, and Suspicious Invaders (?) From Outer Space

8. Sel (Elantris)

The Main Horsemen: War, Famine, the Shaod, and Death

The Other Horsemen: Aggressive Proselytizers, Stubbing your Toe, People Who Do Not Accept The Word of Shu-Dereth And So Seal For Themselves Their Own Inevitable Doom, and I'm With The First Guy Who Said Proselytizers (formerly People Covered in Slime)

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 13.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, graphic depictions of violence, death

story playlist

The tailwind brought them over the bay and the Gullet with ease, the gargantuan body of Vhagar looming over Driftmark as they passed over the island. 

Aemond looked at the churning seas below them, the mood of the tides changing like a coin flip. A few Velaryon ships were going to port in Dragonstone as they approached the ancient isle, no doubt rife with supplies and workers of importance to the pretender’s cause. 

“Dracarys, Vhagar,” he hummed low, his form prone to the saddle as his dragon unleashed molten fire from her maw, bathing the Velaryon ships in her cleansing flame. 

Sunfyre trilled from the clouds above, settling upon the craggy cliffs of the mainland that overlooked Dragonstone. Vhagar, once dispatching the remainder of the ships, followed. The older dragon settled in the soft grasses, smoke trailing from her nostrils. 

Aemond descended from his perch on her back, looking to his brother, who was staring over the water to the island. 

“Your predictions of the weather patterns were right,” Aegon said, gesturing to the unobstructed view of Dragonstone from their vantage point. There wasn’t a low hanging cloud, nor fog. The hulking bulwark of a keep was as visible to the two brothers as they were to it— moreso, visible to the denizens inside. “They should be able to see us loud and clear, I’d wager. I suppose all of your effort in being the scholarly worm paid off.” 

“They’ll have to look from two sides, however,” Aemond responded as he watched over the skyline as a fleet of ships came into view. “The signal of smoke from the Velaryon fleet burning is as good of an indication as any.” 

The ships flew the flag of the Triarchy, three sigils to represent the Three Daughters— the cities of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh. They crossed the narrow sea with a vengeance, wishing to give the Sea Snake a message in salt, sea, and blood. 

The alliance between the infamous Triarchy and the King didn’t come without a price— the Stepstones would be awarded to them after the war was finished, as well as a sizable amount of coin. 

The Stepstones were an easy give, as the blasted shore of rocks and stone were nothing more than a watery graveyard, fought over for too long. Its debated governance, or lack thereof, had haunted the council room before Aegon was even born. It seemed an easy enough decision to give the islands to someone who actually had the means and knowhow to manage it— in Aegon’s mind, at least. Aemond knew it would be an issue to deal with in the future.

The two brothers watched as the foreign fleet encircled the passage of water between Dragonstone and Driftmark, skirmishing close with some of the smaller Velaryon vessels. The proximity of the two opposing forces would make it difficult for any of Rhaenyra’s dragonriders to dispatch the Triarchy— not without severe losses to the supply and size of the Sea Snake’s brigade. 

It was a delicate balance now, the Triarchy cutting off supplies and passage to Dragonstone, while keeping Driftmark at heel. The former was effectively sealed off, dragon flight being the only way off of the island. 

This is where Aemond’s careful planning of the weather and their positioning across the cliffs came into play— it was a clear message, a threat. The giant mossy colored dragon, coupled with the distinctive golden dragon, were a side unmissed on the crags. 

The missive was unmistakable in its intention; ‘We are watching.’

“Although,” Aegon looked to the ancient stronghold, built upon a volcano that housed and borne fire-bellied beasts. “It would be easier if we just…” he slammed his hand into his other fist, making a crude explosion sound.

“You’re the one who stopped me from going down that route,” Aemond’s tone was flat, unamused by his brother’s antics. “We made our choice— we play the long game now.”

“Suddenly showing restraint now, Aemond? How unlike you,” his brother sneered. “You’d burn the entire continent if someone gave you passage to do so.” 

Aemond shoots Aegon a look, violet eye sharp like a dagger. His jaw clenched, followed by an acute sting of pain in his eye socket, the nerves within lighting like a mass of torches. A storm swirls inside of his head, words flowing from his mouth on their own. “It’s difficult…” he swallows, looking almost sheepish as he speaks, a look that doesn’t quite suit him. “It is difficult to show restraint. To quell myself.” It isn’t exactly what he wished to say— the vulnerability was too much.

He screamed to himself, the searing agony of his socket drilling it into him. She is a few moments away upon Vhagar and I cannot get her. I have the largest dragon in the world and I’m still powerless when it matters. Powerless, powerless. It was moments like these where he felt like a child with no dragon again, two-eyed and physically whole but grasping at any semblance of his heritage, of his bloodline. He was bereft of it except for name and likeness alone.

“We’ll get her back, brother. I promise you that– as your King. And… as your brother too, I suppose.” Aegon didn’t look at his younger sibling, he didn’t need to, he could feel the torment swirling within him. It was familiar to all of them.

—

“Undefended! You left the city undefended whilst you two traipsed to Dragonstone to… taunt Rhaenyra? Primp yourselves like benign peacocks?” Otto was as furious as his two grandsons had ever seen him, apples of his cheeks red with anger. “I expected this foolishness from you, Aegon, but not you Aemond. You’ve been taught better than this!” 

Aemond let his grandsire rant and rave, only cutting in when the older man stopped to regain his breath. “To clarify, the city wasn’t undefended. The queen was watching over upon Dreamfyre. I’m sure the smallfolk were pleased to see their queen among them, defending them so stalwartly.” 

“The smallfolk? What would they do if Rhaenyra and Daemon came upon their two dragons and took the city after slaughtering your sister? How do the smallfolk amount to dragons with lords atop them, Aemond?” 

Aemond closed his mouth, looking over at his skulking brother. Even though he wore the crown and held the power of the Kingdoms in his hands, he was still so easily torn down by a tongue lashing from his grandsire. Aegon was turned away, collapsed into himself as he bit at his already stubby nails. 

“Thank you for your insight, lord hand. I will see you at first light for the council meeting. I suspect we’ll have much to discuss in terms of next moves now that Dragonstone has been cut off.” the prince, in so many words, dismissed his grandsire.

Otto narrowed his gaze but said nothing, leaving the two brothers alone. 

Silence stretched between them until Aegon looked to his brother. “Do you think I’m foolish?” 

“Depends on the situation.”

“You see I am trying, don’t you? I am the fucking King and yet I am still treated like less than a lecher by him, by them.” 

Aemond began to loosen his riding gloves, finger by finger. “The plan was well executed, Aegon. I think you may find that there are many people grateful for their King’s valiance,” he said, glancing towards the open balcony that overlooked the sprawling city. 

Aegon considered him for a moment, locking eyes with his brother before his expression softened. “War isn’t only fought by lords. I’ve spent enough time in those streets to know. Once, when I was coming back from the Silk, I saw a mass of people tear a raper limb from limb. ‘Twas deep in Flea Bottom, no lords or guards or laws there, only the code and anger of those who live there,” he paused, “A dragon can kill thousands— but thousands can kill a dragon, too. Their unrest shouldn’t be underestimated.”

The prince looked at Aegon, blinking slowly. The king did have a unique perspective on the smallfolk, and mayhaps he cared more for them than the monarchs that came before him. It may prove to be useful in the future, if Aegon was ever given the breadth to make his own choices. Aemond thought his brother sloven and foolhardy at best— inept, brainless and sinful at worst— but the few days of his reign had changed his view ever so slightly. He was still lazy like a fat tom cat, and yet, a fat tom cat may still catch as many mice as any other cat. He just may have a different way of doing it. 

—

The lucidity was too much. It was too bright, she wanted to go back to sleep. 

Bright, too bright. Shera sobbed silently, tears falling across her cheeks without any toil. Stars and figments of candle flame danced before her eyes, igniting a phantom pain in her eye that she thought gone. Her suffering that stemmed from Driftmark didn’t manifest in nerve pain in her eye like Aemond’s, but rather pain in her throat and her seizing episodes. She just wished for darkness and Aemond. 

“P-pl… please let me go back… to the weirwood,” she mumbled. “He was waiting… for me…”

Her hand was in Jacaerys’, held together by a sash that bound them as husband and wife. It was colored with red and gray thread, the color of their two houses. 

Shera felt… exposed. Exposed and cold, like a terrible draft was whistling through her, using her bones like windchimes. 

The room was barren, save for Rhaenyra and the two newlyweds. It was dark, too, the only light dancing from candles and dragon heralded sconces. The brightness that tortured Shera was her nerves on fire, a deep throbbing pain coming from her scar. The man who had officiated had left, the only semblance of his presence being the words that continued to echo in Shera’s mind. 

The union of Jacaerys Velaryon and Shera Stark is now absolute, in every respect. They are wed in the eyes of the Old Gods and the new.

It felt like a curse— a curse she knew was coming, a curse she had been waiting for. Something she thought thwarted by giving into her heart’s throes with Aemond.

How silly of an idea to avoid fate.

Her stomach was in knots, or mayhaps not there at all. “Jacaerys,” Shera whispered, a familiar feeling of weightlessness catching up to her. “I’m going to fall,” she squeaked, “Please don’t let me fall.” her plea wasn’t out of want for comfort, but rather necessity.

The prince untied the sash and supported Shera with a hand on the small of her back. “Like this?” 

“My… my hip,” she continued. “It is where… where Moongeist holds himself.” she lamented to be touched any further, her skin on fire and writhing with each misplaced caress. But she would hate to fall, legs crumbling beneath her like a newborn fawn. She felt like a tortured child, her feelings all too large for such a small body to handle. Her mind went back to the basest of needs— she wanted Aemond, she wanted Helaena, she wanted Moongeist. 

Jacaerys adjusted his hold with a confused and slightly anguished look. “Mother,” he addressed Rhaenyra, who looked on in stoic concern. “She needs… she needs a cane, or… or something.” 

Rhaenyra’s face didn’t crease in traditional consternation, her features unmoved. There was only a twitch of her brow and the dilation of her pupils that gave away the inner turmoil. “Go fetch the maester. He will have something made up for her, surely. I will escort her to your chambers.” 

Your chambers. Your chambers. No, not hers. Jacaerys’ chambers. The realization and panic washed over her as unforgivingly as a riptide. Was she expected to consummate the marriage?

“N-no, please,” Shera blubbered as Jace helped her into the arms of his mother. “I want to go home, I want to go home.” 

There was a solemn hollowness in Rhaenyra’s voice as she helped Shera walk down the corridors. “You are home now, dearest,” her voice was fauxly soothing, “I know it is difficult. I wouldn’t have wanted this for you— not… not like this,” there was something inherently warm about her touch that broke through any outward reservation, her hand caressed Shera in a way that could only be described as maternal. “I will do everything in my power to see to your comfort. You’re safe now, Shera.” 

Her body and mind were at odds with one another. Her brain told her that this wasn’t right, it wasn’t— it was all a facade, it had to be. Her body, however, leaned into Rhaenyra’s hold, her gentleness stirring something long dormant inside of Shera. 

She never really had a mother, in truth. Her life was riddled with surrogate mothers like Alicent and whomever her father had assigned to take care of her when she was a babe. Alicent did her best, of course, but there was always a fine line separating Shera from her own borne children. The nursemaids and stewardesses alike at Winterfell never had a gentle touch or affectionate words— not like a real mother would. Out of Shera’s myriad of issues, the mother-shaped hole in her heart was the least of her worries, easily pushed and locked away like a bad memory. 

But times like these— times where Shera’s constitution of mind and body were being tested, broken past her already fragile limits, the hole turned into a chasm, swallowing up the earth beneath her feet and making any further pain unbearable. 

As Rhaenyra sat Shera down on the feather-filled bed, she pushed a stray auburn lock from her face. 

Shera grasped at her hand, holding it with both of hers. “P-please, don’t go,” she whispered, her voice broken and far-away. She hardly recognized it as her own, thinking it more alike to that of a young child. “P…please, I do not… I don’t wish to be alone… n-not yet.” 

“Jacaerys will return quickly, dearest, you won’t be alone for long,” Rhaenyra replied, letting the frightened woman hold her hand, head cocked in slight confusion.

“N-no, no,” she cried, squeezing tighter upon the queen’s hand— a plea, a cry of a child long gone, forgotten. “Please.”

Rhaenyra was quiet for long enough that Shera thought she might’ve left, even if she was still holding her hand. A soft breath left her nose as she shifted, sitting down next to her now good-daughter and wrapping both arms around her, taking her into an all-enveloping embrace. 

No more words were exchanged, only the sound of Shera’s wheezing breaths, shaking body wracked with sobs filled the room. 

Jacaerys did return to his chambers, with the cane in hand, but upon seeing his weeping wife and mother, he bowed his head out and didn’t return that night. 

Rhaenyra stayed with the poor girl all eve and into the early hours of the morning, shifting Shera into a lying position on the bed and covering her with a blanket. It gave her some despair to see her cry herself into exhaustion and eventual sleep. 

As the queen left the room, her mind was flooded with thoughts, swirling like tumultuous waves. 

Have I done the right thing? Am I righteous in my choice? 

She passed her son in the halls, Jacaerys bowing his head to her. “Is she… alright?” he asked, eyes dark as he already knew the answer.

“You know her better than I,” Rhaenyra looked back to the closed chamber doors. “Is that… her normal air?”

“No, it isn’t her usual demeanor. She is very… morose, of course, but this– what exactly are you letting Daemon give her to render her so?” his tone took a turn, almost accusatory in its nature. 

The queen was taken aback by the snap in his words– it was unlike him, always the dutiful and polite son. Courtiers walked by them in the hall, their gazes averted, but she knew they were staring, listening. She pulled Jacaerys into an alcove. “Daemon has been dealt with for making such rash decisions without my consent,” she hissed, “You must trust in me, Jacaerys— as your mother and your queen. This is just one of the many pieces moving on the board, moving towards my ascension, to my throne.” 

“Shera is just a pawn, then? A means to an end? And by marrying her to me, am I not the same?” Jace folded his arms over his chest, moving back from his mother. “Am I merely fodder for your fight against the usurpers? Usurpers, amongst whom is your dearest childhood friend? You and Daemon talk so openly of war, but you had cast the first stone with Shera’s… abduction!” 

“What would you have me do? Ask kindly for my birthright back? Chalk it up to a misunderstanding and give them pats upon their backs and a place at my court?” Rhaenyra scoffed. A thorn lodged in her heart at Jace’s implication of Alicent, a ghost who had haunted the queen’s very thoughts since she heard news of Aegon’s crowning. “My father was a great King in many ways, his reign one of peace— but he was blind with inaction. I will not stay my hand when the time comes to strike. I will have my throne, in fire and blood if I must.”

Indignation flashed in Jacaerys’ deep brown eyes— but like a storm, it dissipated into calm waters and clear skies. “You’re right, mother,” he murmured, bowing his head. “Your grace.” 

— 

Shera finally felt well enough to walk by herself. Although, her legs felt cold and wobbly without Moongeist. It was midday, the skies clear around the island. The sun was even shining, warming her skin just a touch.

The maester upon Dragonstone had prepared a walking cane for her— an instrument hewn from dark gnarled cherrywood. The exterior was a deep brown, whilst the inside was a deep, bloody red. She had worn small grooves on the top of the handle with her nails, exposing the inner layer of cherry, the color staining her fingertips sanguine. 

Rhaenyra had instructed Shera’s handmaidens to dress her in a more Valyrian-style wardrobe to ‘help her adjust’. She felt like an impostor wearing the garments, usually tailored in red, black and gold, coupled with intricately braided hairstyles, fashioned to her head with a dragon pin. A small veil was afforded to her after much pleading, one that only concealed her eyes and left her nose and mouth barren. Her choker was replaced by looping golden chains, imbued with rubies. 

Shera’s nails laid in the indents of her cane as she arrived into the dining hall. The Queen apparently likened to having her family lunch with her at least once a week— a tradition that became more sparse when the war began. 

She slunk into the hall as quietly as possible, the scattered sounds of Viserys and Aegon playing, as well as Lucerys and Joffrey conversing animatedly about swords and dragons, muffled the noise of her cane hitting the stone floor. She settled into her seat next to Jace, who looked irritated, a mood that befell him more often than not as of late, as he tried to serve in his mother’s war council, but was met with blockage after blockage from the other courtiers— something that Shera didn’t hear the end of for at least a fortnight. 

Despite the newly wed couple’s proximity to one another, Shera sleeping next to Jacaerys each night, they weren’t intimate in any way. They had come to an understanding, knowing their souls were each entwined with another’s. They didn’t need to muddy the waters any further with meaningless sex. 

That being said, they did confide in one another to some extent. Or rather, Jacaerys would vent his frustrations of the day, of the bickering of the council, of Daemon’s recklessness, of his own mother’s discounting of his skill— and Shera would listen intently. 

“Wife,” Jace murmured, clasping a hand over Shera’s as she took her seat. His jaw was clenched, bone grinding against bone. “Thank the Gods you’ve come.” 

“Has something… happened?” she whispered, glancing around the table. The children were unphased— but the older ones had an air of ice around them. Baela had both hands on the table, head angled downward as she bore holes through a wall. Rhaena was despondent, looking down at her hands. 

Daemon, however, was lazed. He leaned back in his chair, inspecting a singular grape as if he had no care in the world. “Shera,” he said, not meeting her gaze. Rather, he addressed her with such informality that it made her cringe. “A Valyrian vision you look to be. Mayhaps we should send her into the Dragonmont to bond with a dragon, since she now looks so much the part.” 

“A sheep changes wool rather easily,” she began picking at some fruit on her plate, stabbing her fork into a juicy piece of cantaloupe. 

“Ah, yes. Our wolf in sheep’s clothing, is it? Or mayhaps, a wolf in dragon’s clothing, better yet,” he squeezed the grape until it burst between his fingers.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra cut in, hand up to stop him from saying anything further. “How are you doing this morn, Shera?” 

“I’m… well,” Shera kept her eyes down at her plate, wishing to shrink into nothingness. 

“Enjoy the fruit while it lasts,” Baela piped up. “They’re blockading the island.” 

What? Blockading? Her mind raced with the possibilities, but she stayed quiet. 

“I’m sure we can go without such frivolous things like fruit,” Jace scoffed, pushing his plate away. 

“Fruit, grain, most meat, silks,” Daemon drawled. “I don’t understand why we don’t stop the situation.” 

“Do we wish to go toe-to-toe with Vhagar? Sunfyre can be easily dispatched by Syrax, but do you believe Caraxes can survive her?” Rhaenyra snapped, placing down her cutlery on the table. 

“That hoary old bitch is cumbersome,” he continued, dismissing any shred of Rhaenyra’s concern as if it were nothing. 

Vhagar. Sunfyre. Something bubbled in Shera’s chest at the mention of the two dragons, who were undoubtedly with their riders. She continued to stare down at her hands, trying to contain a smile, biting her lip until it bled. 

“Cumbersome she may be, but her jaws could snap any of our dragons with ease. Mayhaps Caraxes and Meleys may pose a threat to her but…” the queen’s voice trailed off, her fingers drumming on the table. 

“… there’s been no news from grandmother, nor Driftmark, your grace,” Baela sighed. “The ships appear to be… dispatching any ravens attempting to cross the Gullet.” 

“We will just have to wait, then. They cannot fare forever against Corlys’ fleet. Jacaerys, any word from the Greyjoys?” 

Jacaerys shook his head. “Our letters have gone unanswered.” 

“Lord Greyjoy is just a boy of sixteen, Rhaenyra, no older than Lucerys. Untested in the matter of war, unblooded. We must seize Harrenhal and raise a land army.” Daemon stared at his wife, brow furrowed in agitation. “I will go with or without your leave. I have no need for passage.” 

There was a long stretch of silence, the chatter of the children stopped— it was as if the whole of the table held its breath. 

“We will speak upon it later, Daemon.” Rhaenyra finally said, the bags under her eyes more prominent than usual. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but was overcome with a strangled sigh. “Gods,” she whispered, clutching her stomach. It was almost easy to forget that she was in her last days of pregnancy, belly round with child, all whilst the war was being waged just outside. She writhed slightly, face pinched.

“Mother?” Joffrey spoke, his voice small and scared. 

The entirety of the table erupted as handmaidens, maesters and nursemaids alike were summoned, gathering around the queen as her labors began. 

Shera stayed sitting, watching as Daemon glanced over the situation before leaving the room, no doubt off to skulk. 

Soon enough, the room was empty. She blocked out the cacophony of agonized screams echoing from the corridors as she stood up to leave. A small pool of blood was beginning to dry in Rhaenyra’s seat. A chill passed through Shera then as she turned to the window, leaning against the sill. 

A green dragonfly rested upon the trellis of growing vines on the wall of the keep, the leaves withered and crusted in salt. 

Hordes of boats were littered in the sea, arcing around the island like a noose. Glancing to the cliffs, she sees a glint of gold off in the distance, coupled with a hulking mountain that almost reminds her of… 

No, it couldn’t be. 

It isn’t.

She wouldn’t let herself look again, she knew it would only end in disappointment.

As she went to walk away, something pulled her back. She clung to the window, peering out as if in hiding. 

Her hopes were true as the golden vision of Sunfyre came into view, the sun shining off his pale yellow and pink scales. Next to the gorgeous beast laid a stirring mass— the Queen of all dragons. Vhagar. 

Shera’s heart raced, thumping against her ribcage like a caged bird. Aemond— Aemond and Aegon had come to save her, they had! She vowed to never let herself be separated from Aemond again, never to let them be apart. Surely Aegon would dissolve her marriage to Jacaerys and let them marry, wouldn’t he? Oh, of course he would. 

The giddiness she felt was elating, her swimming pain and sorrow temporarily abated. She watched as Sunfyre took to the skies, Vhagar behind in a slower pace. They’re coming to get me now, they are! 

The dragons climbed in altitude and drifted off from the bay— in the opposite direction of Dragonstone. They were flying away from Shera. She stood still for what felt like an eternity, not breathing. That can’t be right.

Any semblance of happiness was crushed instantaneously, her feverish pulse stopping for a beat. They were leaving. They were leaving without her. They weren’t coming to get her. 

[deliciousangelfestival]

Secret Sorrows || Bodyguard AU

Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.

Words Count: 2,253

Warning: Death character.

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing within the mystery theme. I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

In Antarctica's vast, frozen expanse, where researchers braved the harshest conditions, Bucky, a former military man seeking solitude in the icy isolation, served as the stern yet vigilant security presence.

One frosty day, Bucky diligently checked the storage temperatures, surrounded by the frigid air that mirrored the chill in his own heart. 

As he focused on his task, he was approached by Chef Jack, who had recently returned from the mainland to visit his grandchildren.

Bundled in layers against the biting cold, Chef Jack grinned at Bucky. "You're a charming man, Bucky. Why are you still single? The female scientists who work here have been flirting with you.”

Bucky, his breath visible in the freezing air, chuckled softly. "I just haven't found the one."

Chef Jack, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of age, patted Bucky on the shoulder. "I see. Still can't forget the former? I understand."

Bucky's gaze dropped to the snowy ground and fell into a heavy silence. He nodded subtly, not wanting to delve into the painful memories beneath the icy surface of his stoic demeanor.

In a sudden turn of events, Bucky received an emergency alert: "We need backup."

Without hesitation, he swiftly responded over the radio, "On my way," and rushed towards his waiting car.

Emergencies were a rare occurrence in this remote location, and deaths resulting from foul play were even more uncommon. 

Upon arrival at the scene, Bucky was met with a chilling sight – two in orange swimming suits, eerily floating in the icy waters. 

Drowning was the cause, an unusual and unsettling occurrence in this frozen realm. The onlooking tourists, shaken and fearful, murmured amongst themselves.

The atmosphere was tense as one tourist anxiously mentioned, "They have a kid, right? Where is their son?"

Bucky, now profoundly concerned, hadn't even seen the faces of the victims yet. His focus shifted to the potential tragedy of a child being left alone in such extreme conditions. 

Ignoring the bitter cold, he resolved to search for any sign of the missing child, determined to navigate through the frigid wilderness in a race against time.

Bucky, determined to find the missing child, declared, "I'm going to find their kid."

Meanwhile, young Ethan, feeling out of place in the freezing Antarctic surroundings, had been running away from the group. He voiced his displeasure about being on the tour, unable to comprehend why his parents insisted on such a cold adventure.

"Why did Mom and Dad want to come here? And who was that scary man looking at me?”

As Ethan blew on his cold hands, a sudden shadow engulfed him, casting a momentary relief from the harsh Antarctic winds. 

Looking up, he found himself face to face with a tall man, his piercing blue eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"Hey buddy. My name is Bucky. I'm here to get you safe," Bucky reassured him.

Still shivering from the cold and the frightful encounter, Ethan stammered, "Sa-save me."

Sensing the depth of the child's fear, Bucky draped a warm blanket over him and gently scooped him into his protective arms. Ethan, seeking comfort, curled up against Bucky, his small frame shivering against the chill.

"I want my grandma," Ethan mumbled, his voice barely audible over the Antarctic wind.

With a reassuring tone, Bucky responded, "You will, buddy," holding the frightened child close.

Bucky, carrying the shivering Ethan to his car, couldn't escape the grim reality as he passed the body bag containing the deceased. 

In an impulse, he took a brief, painful glance before it closed – a glimpse that nearly brought him to his knees. The face inside, now concealed, triggered a rush of memories from his past, a haunting connection he hadn't expected.

Iris Aston. His first love. 

The weight of the revelation hit Bucky hard, but he refocused on the scared child in his arms. The realization struck him – Ethan was Iris's son. 

As he gently placed the child on the office couch, Bucky's mind raced, processing the unexpected intersection of his past and the present.

Bucky tried to steady himself by pouring a cup of hot chocolate for Ethan. "What's your name, buddy?" he asked, his voice revealing the underlying shock.

"Ethan Van Alen," came the soft reply, intensifying Bucky's internal turmoil. After separating from Iris, he had heard about her marrying into an old-money family – the Van Alens.

Bucky, grappling with the revelation, inquired about Ethan's aunt, hoping for some grounding in this unexpected twist. "Is your grandma here too?"

Ethan shook his head, his eyes reflecting fear and uncertainty. "No, she's not.”

"I'm sure she will come here as soon as possible," he assured.

As Bucky received a call from his concerned colleagues requesting assistance, Ethan, overcome with fear, clung desperately to Bucky's leg. "No. Don't leave me," he pleaded, his small frame trembling with anxiety.

Bucky's colleagues, now understanding the gravity of the situation, exchanged somber glances. The shocking reality dawned on Bucky as he realized that the couple who had tragically perished was none other than Ethan's parents.

Sensitive to the child's distress, Bucky, without hesitation, scooped Ethan into his arms, providing the solace the orphaned boy desperately sought. Now cradled in the safety of Bucky's strong arms, Ethan felt a sense of reassurance that had eluded him before.

Bucky entered the empty storage room where Iris's lifeless body was being kept. As he gazed upon her, memories flooded back – of a time when they were inseparable, studying together at the military academy. 

Their connection ran deep, but Iris had abruptly left, and her icy rejection had marked the last encounter.

He could still hear her words, cutting through him like a bitter wind, "Who do you think you are? Don't touch me!" A painful reminder of the social gap between them, a gap that fate had widened.

Looking down at Iris now, her once bright smile extinguished, Bucky couldn't shake the heartbreak that lingered from their past.

His colleagues reported no visible signs of trauma on Iris's body, adding a layer of mystery to her sudden demise. Seeking answers, Bucky turned to the only witness – young Ethan.

Ethan joined the conversation, his voice shaky but determined. "After my dad and mom drank something, they walked funny and fell into the water. And... and..."

Bucky, offering a reassuring presence, prompted, "What happened next, Ethan?”

The boy hesitated before continuing, "A scary man looked at me and walked towards me. That's why I ran." 

Bucky's colleagues updated him, saying, "The tour guide has called the family. They already sent someone."

Still in Bucky's comforting presence, Ethan inquired with hope, “Grandma is coming?"

Bucky gently patted the kid on the back, assuring him, "Yes."

Finding solace in the knowledge that his grandma was on the way, Ethan felt a wave of relief wash over him. 

Bucky thought, never underestimate the power of money, expecting the relatives to arrive by ship. However, a large plane unexpectedly landed. Bucky, still carrying Ethan, and others anxiously awaited the arrival of the guests.

As the plane's door opened, Bucky, from a distance, couldn't discern who was stepping out. Restlessness overcame Ethan, and he wanted to get down. "Grandma," he exclaimed when he saw a familiar figure.

But Ethan abruptly halted in his tracks. The unexpected figure approaching him wasn't his grandma but his aunt. A surge of fear gripped him. He had always been scared of her.

Bucky, equally taken aback, felt a shockwave of disbelief. He had witnessed her lifeless form in the cold storage room, and now she stood before him – alive, breathing. 

How come Iris came back to live?

Is he seeing a ghost? Or a zombie?

Unable to conceal his astonishment, he stammered, "Iris?”

Ethan suddenly chimed in, "That's my mother's name. This person is my aunt. Her name is Y/N.”

Y/N's reply was devoid of emotion as she spoke in a cold, matter-of-fact tone, "I'm her twin sister." 

Twin sister? Iris has a twin sister? She never mentioned this to him. Bucky was shocked by this revelation

Y/N's demeanor showed no signs of sadness or grief. "I'm here to collect their bodies and bring Ethan back home."

Offering his condolences, Bucky expressed, "My name is Bucky. I'm sorry for what happened to your sister. It sounds crazy, but I knew your sister from the military academy."

Y/N's response was detached, "I see. Could you show my assistant which documents to sign so we could leave?" 

Her request held no trace of emotion, contrasting sharply with the heartfelt sentiments Bucky had just conveyed.

Taken aback by the stark difference between Y/N and Iris, Bucky found himself grappling with the realization that, despite their identical faces, their personalities were worlds apart. 

As the simple yet somber process unfolded, the body bags were carefully loaded onto the plane. Before departing, Ethan looked at Bucky, a silent exchange containing layers of unspoken emotions. 

Ethan glanced at Bucky, hope flickering in his eyes; he asked, "Can brother come with us?"

Y/N, who was busy with her phone, responded, "If he wants too."

Struggling to fully comprehend the stark differences between Y/N and Iris, Bucky leaned down to Ethan and softly said, "I hope we meet again someday." 

The words hung in the air, a wistful expression of the unexpected bond formed amidst the cold Antarctic challenges.

Absorbing the sentiment, Ethan offered a slow nod, the weight of recent events etched across his young face. 

Y/N didn't spare Bucky a glance as she entered the plane, her demeanor as cold as the Antarctic winds. 

Today, Bucky encountering his first love only to find her lifeless, meeting her son, and discovering the existence of her twin sister.

Despite Y/N's demeanor, icy as the landscape around them, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. It wasn't just the shared face with Iris; there was an unspoken connection, an elusive something more that lingered in the air. 

Bucky had a bunch of questions swirling in his head. He couldn't determine why Iris never told him about her twin sister. Even though he wanted answers, he hesitated to ask.

He wished he could talk more to Y/N.

The Van Alen and Aston household seemed full of secrets. The news about the company heir's death hit the headlines, and it got crazier when someone tried to kidnap Ethan, the heir's son.

Something felt off to Bucky. First, Iris died, and now there's a danger to Ethan. Y/N, who looked like Iris, came to mind. He worried someone might go after Y/N, too.

Not willing to let harm come to them, Bucky packed up and left Antarctica, arriving in a warm New York. He headed to the Van Alen residence, seeing many cars and guests offering condolences.

Thinking he couldn't get in, Bucky was surprised there was no security. But then he learned that Ethan had gone missing – a kidnap attempt had just happened. Ethan is missing from his room.

As Bucky approached the Van Alen residence, he noticed the branch of a nearby tree shaking. Looking up, he sighed, realizing it was Ethan.

"Ethan?" Bucky called out.

"Bro? Bucky? Is that you?" Ethan responded from the tree.

"What are you doing?" Bucky inquired.

Ethan explained, frustration in his voice, "I hate everyone. No one talks to me!"

Feeling a pang of sympathy for the grieving child, Bucky opened his arms, saying, "Come down. Everyone is worried about you."

Reluctantly, Ethan descended from the tree, landing in Bucky's protective embrace. As they stood together, security personnel, witnessing the scene, moved forward, intending to detain Bucky.

Before they could intervene, Ethan intervened, proclaiming, "No. He's my bodyguard." The unexpected declaration left the security team momentarily puzzled, but Ethan's insistence shielded Bucky from further scrutiny. 

"You've created unnecessary chaos," Y/N stated, appearing with five people behind her, resembling assistants and bodyguards. 

Bucky couldn't help but think that Y/N, Ethan's aunt, was too cold. She didn't even make an effort to coax her own nephew.

In a burst of emotion, Ethan exclaimed, "Nobody cares for me. Everyone wishes I was gone so Aunt has everything!"

Bucky, taken aback by Ethan's outburst, never expected him to yell like this. Y/N remained silent, eventually sighing, "Be grateful you're still breathing."

Ethan flinched and cried in Bucky's arms, expressing, "Huuu, nobody in this house loves me.”

Bucky tried to comfort the distressed child, saying, "I will talk to your aunt." 

Bucky followed Y/N, expressing concern that Ethan was grieving and suggesting she should be with her nephew during this challenging time.

Y/N's bodyguard attempted to push Bucky away, but she raised her left hand, signaling him to stop.

At that moment, Bucky noticed a small tattoo on Y/N's left fourth finger. His eyes widened as he recognized the same tattoo he and Iris had gotten together back in the day. 

How was it possible that Y/N also had the same tattoo?

Y/N calmly remarked, "Seeing you so eager to protect Ethan, I'll hire you as his bodyguard. He's the reason you're here, right?"

Bucky didn't argue, though his motive extended beyond protecting Ethan; he was also there to find Iris's killer and the person behind the attempt to kidnap Ethan.

Y/N continued, "I'll take that as a yes. My assistant will draw up the contract."

Surprised by her trust, Bucky questioned, "You trust me?"

Y/N replied, "Your effort in coming here to protect Ethan is enough to judge that you're sincere." Bucky was taken aback by her astute judgment. Y/N was not as ignorant as he had initially thought.

Before Bucky could delve further, Y/N declared, "That's good. I need a trusted person to protect Ethan because that kid's life is more important than mine." Bucky sensed a hint of self-pity in her words. 

Before leaving, Y/N added, "Back then, Iris trusted you. I hope I can feel the same. Don't disappoint me, Barnes." Her words hint at a sense of expectation and reliance on Bucky's capabilities.

As he pondered asking her about it, Y/N departed with her entourage, leaving Bucky with lingering questions and a newfound role as Ethan's protector.

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Author Note: Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

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[edutainer2022]

So I survived the first ten hours of today's carpet bombing (yay!). The jury's still out on the rest of it. As a distraction, I've tinkered with yet another thing set to explore the Mechanic and Scott as foils. In the middle of the night, after a rescue gone bad the Mechanic gets some unsolicited insights and food for thought. Many, many thanks to @janetm74 for cheering me on!

SILENCES IN BETWEEN

One landing down in the hangar was not easy to miss, yet he tried to habitually tune the noise out. The disembarking mechanisms would soon shift the Thunderbird's pilot either up through the shute or to the lockers area. Either way the Commander would be out of his hair soon enough. He just needed to brace himself and weather the landing without confrontation. It was the dead of night. The island was silent. The big green bird and its pilots were out on the mainland, along with the kid and the Hood's niece. Brains called it a day after nine hours straight of futile struggle over the T-drive calculations. The stubborn faulty numbers were currently keeping the Mechanic awake. He heard One leave for a call out, but didn't follow the rescue chatter. Now it was obviously over and if he was lucky, the Commander wouldn't rile him up over yet another delay. He just needed to sit tight for several minutes more and then go back to work. It was in the forced tense interval that he noticed the sounds that usually heralded the pilot leaving for upper levels of the villa never came. No levers creaking, no footsteps. Just the eery quiet.

If asked, he'd deny worry ever entered the rationale of his peeking out of the T-drive platform into the vaster hangars area. Not worry for Scott Tracy, at least. Maybe worry for his time-sensitive work being potentially derailed by the idiot having faceplanted from the landing patch.

Scott Tracy was standing on solid ground, however. If maybe leaning too heavily on One's landing berth, eyes squeezed shut. Blue neoprene on one of his arms was torn through, saturated liberally with blood. The eyes that opened next gave the Mechanic pause - usually bright color was almost black with strain, vacant, like the IR Commander was seeing ghosts. The ashen face contorted against a scream, threatening to break containment. The Mechanic was surprised to witness such raw, undiluted grief in someone he had chalked up to be too full of holier than thou grandeur. Scott Tracy swayed on his feet and the Mechanic felt himself rushing down the platform scaffolding.

"That looks like it might need a clean-up."

The voice that would usually have the Commander up in arms clearly didn't register. The younger man flinched instinctively from his reaching arm, but the gaze was still glazed over, unseeing. Haunted. Scott Tracy going into shock on him definitely trumped the faceplant. The Mechanic tightened the grip on the man's good arm and steered him to the workshop allocated to him personally. First aid kits were in more ample supply on the island than palm trees. Scott didn't object per se, but did struggle to put one foot in front of the other. He was yet to utter a sound. Somehow that worried the Mechanic more.

He finished up tying the bandages and once again nodded towards the syringe of painkillers only to receive another headshake no. In between the two of them they managed to unclasp the baldric and to peel off the top of the IR uniform which was now tied around Scott's waist - the good sleeve and the blood-stained stump the Mechanic cut off with cahelium sheers. By the time he was done with the patchwork of the wounds, the Commander was pale to the point of looking grey and the Mechanic could swear he heard the younger man's teeth grit. There was nothing much more to say.

Scott moved to stand up and the Mechanic just about managed to catch the blanched Thunderbird by the midriff.

"Whoa! Easy there!"

"I'm fine."

That was the first full sentence Scott had uttered so far and it was such a blatant lie the Mechanic had to stifle a snort.

"Not by my standard you're not! Which is a pretty low threshold, I gotta tell you."

He shifted Scott's torso in the general direction of the cot he got set up in his private working area for long nights of calculations or insomnia.

"There! How about you lie down a bit?"

He wasn't a Good Samaritan by any stretch of imagination or by trade, but the idea of chaperoning the barely coherent Commander all the way up to the residential floor (and possibly holding vigil, because nobody else was readily available and the guy just wouldn't let himself black out safely) didn't exactly appeal to him. It would also take precious time off the T-drive. Murky blue eyes blinked up at him, owlishly.

"They're dead. I didn't save them."

The Mechanic figured as much. If he felt like it he could probably hack into the rescue records or video feed, but it was pretty self evident. Thunderbird One failed. What didn't quite compute for him was the sheer GUILT that came with the territory. Not self-pity but punishment, the need to deny oneself basic care or consolation. He didn't yet know what to do with the fact Scott Tracy unironically believed he owed the world to save it.

The man in his hold was trembling, literally standing on his last leg.

"Do I need to call your Grandma?"

Another small headshake nearly got the blue eyes rolling back. The Mechanic took a hasty stride and helped deposit Scott's frame onto the cot. He then turned away, giving his unexpected guest room to feel he probably wouldn't get, if surrounded by family. Well-meaning and obviously caring, they were, nevertheless, bearing down with an expectation of a happy resolution to pain. An endgame. An ever after. The Mechanic was developing a hunch he and Scott Tracy were at the opposite ends of the same tether, though - an ignition cord of shame, loathing, despair, self-destruction. Each holding a lighter.

The stifled sobs came soon enough and he busied himself with the holo projections of T-drive specs. When the quiet weeping subsided into keening and then faded into even, if labored, breathing, the Mechanic moved to turn around. He made a quick errand to the adjacent workshop, favored by Brains, and came back with a tattered, lopsided knitted blanket. It was obviously designed for someone shorter and younger than Scott Tracy, but it would have to do. The young man's face was stricken with tear marks and there were beads of sweat on the forhead. The Mechanic paused to consider his options and reached to check for fever. The frown of the pallid features deepened as a tear escaped from the closed lids.

"I'm sorry, Dad! I'm so sorry..."

He froze, hand hovering over the clammy skin. The low grade fever was definitely in place and the Mechanic really wished someone intervened and took Mr. No Painkillers off his plate lest it got worse. But the island was still calm and appeared deserted at that hour. Fifty two thousands miles above Thunderbird Five was probably busy dealing with whatever tragedy had unraveled, or grieving too, in the aftermath. The Mechanic was, therefore, it. Oh, the irony!

The rest of the night was a blur of studiously avoided fever mumbles, a minor breakthrough with the T-drive calibrations, and general exhaustion. He stumbled off at the crack of dawn to grab a shower and an early coffee before the island erupted with frenzy, catching up with the night events. Coming back with a steaming mug, he found his nook empty. Cut off neoprene and bloody gauze was cleared out. The cot was made neatly and the flimsy blanket folded with military precision.

The Mechanic shrugged, took a liberal gulp of coffee and fired the holo console back up. He would need to show Brains the new results once the engineer was done fawning over the distressed Commander. He knew the cleanest break from the whole conundrum would be to never speak of it again. The dopey DIY cover taking up permanent residence in his workshop went uncontested.

[maybankslover]

seven- rafe cameron

rafe cameron x middle class mainland!reader

I think i found the love of my life blurb

warnings: shitty family, rafe isn't a psycho

playlist: matilda by harry styles and seven by taylor swift

rafe knew something was wrong when on his spotify appeared that his girlfriend was listening to a playlist she only listened when she was truly sad, he paid extra attention for a while. matilda by harry styles getting replayed over and over again. her family was being shitty at her again, saddly it was a common thing.

rafey: hey sunshine how's everything going?

was sent at 16.55 in the afternoon, at 19.00 it was still unanswered.

rafey: y/n/n baby, is everything alright?" at 19.01

19.30 he finally got a text back

y/n/n💘: hi, yeah all good just had a crappy afternoon at home. didn't want to worry you, I'm sorry for not answering earlier rafey

rafey: do you want me to come and get you?

y/n/n💘: no baby, you are studying for your finals and at this time and traffic you'll loose and hour to come and another to go

rafey: already on my way, get your bag and things you are staying with me for the next few days.

y/n/n💘: rafey they are gonna kill me if I go

rafey: they are already being shitty to you, I don't want you there. i love you so much my love to the moon and to saturn, you don't deserve anything they've said to you

y/n/n💘: I love you more, I'll wait for you

foury five minutes later rafe was there. getting out of his car to help his girlfriend get everything in and get her home, his home. the place she felt safe from the very first minute.

it was almost midnight, he held her in his arms while she cried her heart out. laying his bed, correction, their bed according to rafe. that bed became theirs the second she laid there.

"you know I always thought my house was haunted, when i was little and i couldn't fall asleep afraid a monster would be under my bed. now I think my house is haunted cause my parents are always mad." her breath hitched. "and I think it's my fault you know." her boyfriend's heart broke into a million little pieces, his arms hugged her tighter and kissed her head a few times.

"I promise when we live together it'll never feel like that. I love you so much my sweet girl, you don't deserve any of that treatment they give you. not now not ever."

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