#and one more thing. I tried going in that tag and it’s ALSO a warzone of x reader fics . can I please see the normal posts

[sleeplessinseattlee]

just finished listening to the audiobook of ballad of songbirds and snakes and I’m aware that this is the point but ooohhhh my god. he’s such a little bitch baby

[hsslilly-blog]

heres overseer sakura and julian striking the vault boy pose for rad school story. the cropping looks a bit weird on the second drawing but its okay. its fine ❤️ more stuff under the cut as usual!

sakura got to be the overseer after she was chosen by the vault’s mainframe computer. she was the first one to be chosen, so she considers herself the “main” one of the bunch. such thing does not exist, but the fact she thought it did says something about her and means the experiment is working just fine. before being an overseer, though, she was the vault’s loyalty inspector. i went back and forth between this and making her a shift supervisor but i think making her the person who literally inspects if you are being “loyal” and sticking to the rules of the game vault is very sakura-like. also, adds an element to the au/vault atmosphere. no one really likes the censor.

i gave her two traits that might seem counter intuitive (and maybe they cancel out each other in the game? i didn’t check) but for the au i decided to use the traits in a more figurative sense. well at least for the vault dwellers. sakura has a lot of discipline and she has a set of principles she follows very closely, which is both a strength and a weakness. and both the great escape quest (the one this au is based on) and twelve angry classmates (best quest in game) demonstrate this very well. she has a tendency to… take things too far! even when new information that contradicts her is presented to her. whole premise of the au. so both traits work together.

tagged skills for both of these guys were hard because like i said on the other post, i didn’t want to give the vault dwellers any combat skills. i did end up giving sakura unarmed because she does some crazy physical stuff in the original quest and because she is an active person (her parents make her do all of that stuff on her backyard). this means she would have a higher endurance than the other vaulties, which would give her an advantage in a scenario where radiation finds its way into the vault. huh. speech makes sense for her role (in the vault and in the au) and repair = tinkering = cogs = steampunk. really. sorry.

julian was the second overseer to be chosen and as far as sakura is concerned, that makes him the second in command. he used to be the vault’s little league coach because of course he would. i tried making his vault suit resemble a football uniform. also his pip-boy is covered in stickers from the kids he used to coach. i think he would get really into his overseer job and he’d go along with sakura for the most part. i think his reasoning is different, though. while sakura gets stuck on procedure and then on her (stubborn) ways, i think julian truly believes this is the only option they have. he’s… trying. i don’t think he understands the whole radiation thing 100%. either sakura is keeping information from him, or he just didn’t make the connection yet (everyone is going to die because ezra is basically a ticking time bomb).

i chose loose cannon to reflect his anger issues and good natured because julian gets along with mostly everyone. this is why 6 CHA seems wrong for him but i’m trying to stick to a maximum of 40 S.P.E.C.I.A.L. points for each character (which is the limit in new vegas). i also liked making everyone extremely unlucky because lol this is NOT a fortunate situation.

julian has survival as a tagged skill because 1. he’s shown to have survival skills in multiple quests in high school story (he likes camping a lot) and 2. every game of football i’ve ever watched looks like a warzone to me. i chose unarmed for the same reason. barter… i think he’s the match to sakura’s speech in the same way wes is the complimentary barter to the mc’s diplomacy. i think it makes for an interesting overseer dynamic. also, julian used to be a bully and he’s past his days of messing with people but i think it’s a… skill. pushing people’s buttons, i mean. so. he also has a higher endurance than the other vault inhabitants.

that’s it for now. next ones will be autumn and (finally) ezra. and then vault 105 will be complete!

[fishshit]

i truly think the "a good show makes you crawl on the floor, cry and suffer" mentality tumblr (2010-2016) created is STILL affecting our perception on what is a blorbo or not.

so first of all, let's look at the urban dictionary definition of blorbo:

NOWHERE on this page is saying a blorbo should be:

toxic

miserable

chaotic

dumbass

you should have a love-hate relationship with them

i'm definitely NOT saying that a blorbo shouldn't be all those things, but these are not necessary for a character to be a blorbo. [Miette (from real life) is a perfect example of this. she's our beloved blorbo and yet she's strong, a genius and non-toxic.]

now, i know most of yall know why i'm writing this. we all are aware of the active warzone tumblr has got going on. now to get to my point,

i know voltron fandom went apeshit over ships, created langst tags and stuff. (tbh i've learned all of these recently) but let's sit and think why. i've mentioned in one of my posts or rbs that the only thing i vividly remember about voltron is the queerbaiting and i know for a fact that queerbaiting was one of the biggest factors of these... actions. now when we look at yoi, we see a rather more peaceful fandom. is it because the show had a weaker chokehold on its fans? absolutely not.

i can assure you if yoi queerbaited us the way voltron did, there would be a chaos. and i'm not saying it in the way fans going crazy is funny or shit, no. i'm saying this as in real life chaos, like fans would threaten the creators or create their own reality. they WOULD remake yoi. there aren't any ship wars because victuuri (victor nikiforov x yuuri katsuki) is the ultimate ship, like there aren't any other possible options. nearly every single fan fell straight for victuuri. now think about how many fans are there and how many of them ships victuuri like they're praying to god itself. victuuri made me cry for DAYS, the plottwist was absolutely brilliant and no, none of these emotions were negative but god knows no show on earth made me feel the way yoi did. i'm not saying yoi is the best show ever or it's flawless. we all know our shows (blorbos are from) are generally not the best medias ever. but the way me and so many other fans bonded with this show, these 2 characters (or maybe 3, i don't like yurio that much) and that ship is indescribable. after watching yoi, i've realised that your favourite show doesn't necessarly need to make you feel like you've been stabbed in the chest bazillion times and suffer. no, it also can make you feel like you're on the verge of exploding with the white and shining happiness and love. i'm also pretty sure that's what most of the yoi fans feel, and also sure that no other show would make me feel the same way i felt while watching yoi.

yuuri katsuki, the man who made me feel all those things along with his husband victor nikiforov, is:

a canon bi king who had a crush on probably the prettiest girl in his childhood town and then got engaged to his lifelong idol (also probably the prettiest man in figure skating and,, the world)

anxious disaster (like, it's canon that he has anxiety and he was quite relatable and important for the fans with anxiety) who manages to say the MOST ridiculous stuff and yet tries his best to communicate with people about his needs and weaknesses

world's one of the best skater yet he's unaware how much of an pride he is for his country, fans and family and how good he is. STILL breaks his idols (literal legend of the figure skating) score

made irl queer people cry over him and figure skaters fall for him

got drunk af on the banquet of the gpf which he lost (BECAUSE HIS DOG DIED) and drank over 16 flutes of champagne AND DID POLEDANCE WITH THE SLUTTIEST MAN EVER, DANCED WITH HIS IDOL, WON A BREAKDANCE COMPETITION WITH HIS SOON-TO-BE RIVAL AND THEN DRY HUMPED HIS IDOL WHILE ASKING HIM TO BE HIS COACH

my point is, just because a character doesn't go through hell or make you feel like shit doesn't mean that he isn't a blorbo. you still can think that lance is more of a blorbo, good for you! but i really don't think we need fantasy to feel good.

[wing-ed-thing]

Sakura Relationship Headcanons- Meeting Team 7

Tags/Warnings: Mild Discussion of a Lesbian Relationship in a Patriarchal Society, Mild Discussion of Gender Roles, Fem!Reader

💕Honestly, good for her. After everything that happened in her life and her trauma from the war, Sakura actually took a lot of time for herself. 

💕Sakura definitely acknowledges the pitfalls that she fell into during her youth, which normally shouldn’t have even been considered a pitfall. Children should be able to be children and have crushes but being thrust into a warzone would force anyone to adapt

💕This is all to say that Sakura is very health conscious, both physical and mental. She’s very socially and emotionally aware and she’s always progress-oriented, which can make all of her changes appear drastic to those around her.

💕Team 7 feel different levels of surprise to your existence at the very least and really turns all of the dynamics of the team on their head

💕Sasuke likes to claim that he doesn’t care and sticks to his usual standoffishness, but a large part of his is so used to Sakura’s unconditional loyalty and affection.

💕He struggles with no longer having it and that love and affection being directed towards someone else. Especially a girl rather than a boy that he might have been able to outcompete in some odd, competition of perceived masculinity

💕Naruto is pretty bummed, having had feelings for Sakura since childhood, but greets you warmly with open arms. Might make an insensitive sexual joke, but you and your girlfriend can handle that

💕Kakashi is more neutral. He isn’t about to make a show out of his introduction and will greet you like any other kunoichi. 

💕Is also thrown off by your gender (for a number of reasons having to do with the society in Konoha and Sakura’s historical preference for men), but tries not to let it show that there are times where he’s generally unsure how to treat you

💕The epitome of that one tweet that says something along the lines of, “All the things I used to do for male validation. I wish I could go back and beat my own ass.”

💕You develop your own kind of relationship with each of them. They are, after all, Sakura’s old team so they will be in her life forever. 

💕But the fact that she found a partner outside of the team calls into question quite a few team dynamics that the boys should reflect on. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

@brokennerdalert​

[laraplisetski]

Chishiya Request.

Request by @revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts-

my request is physically affectionate (with his gf) Chishiya, a lot of fluff, cuddling at night and/or spooning (who's the big spoon?) the reader stealing his hoodie sometimes, him being very protective of her (both from games and other creeps) and as a treat, mentions of him being a dominant top?

A/n: Thankyou for requesting this! It was very interesting to write and I had so much fun. This is one of my longer headcannons, so I hope you enjoy! Words: 1500

Tags: @revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts, @faith0518, @cheshirekitten87, @koreaweeb, @euphorianyx

Chishiya x female!reader.

oKay lOoK

Affectionate Chishiya is like my dream, imagine all the cuddles, the hand holding and also, would Chishiya be the biggest tease? Yes he would.

You guys would be standing one moment and then the next moment he would just start like nipping on your neck, and he just slides his hand around your waist to hold you in place as he just breaths your smell in and just basks in your presence.

Continuing on he would just be standing flush against you and you would just lean yourself on him. 

He might or might not have a boner.

But anywaysss.

Hand holding is a big between you two cause I dont think Chishiya would be big on pda.

Like he wouldn't hate it, but he would rather just be all affectionate in private.

Back to hand holding tho.

Chishiya’s most expressive when he's holding your hand, from that I mean that when he squeezes your hand he's either angry or he's comforting you.

One time you were supposed to go to a game with Niragi’s group.

From the first glance he would seem fine that you were in that group but from how tight he was holding your hand you knew he was going to have a word hatter later.

Also back hugsss!!! Chishiya would totally give you a back hug when you were feeling down.

Or if he saw someone too close to you he would come up to you and give you a back hug then too. 

You two would have a ritual before going to games as well.

Both of you would give the other a kiss on the cheek.

It reminded Chishiya of his mom, because she used to give him a kiss on the cheek whenever he used to leave the house.

I- why do i have to make everything so sad, btw i just made the mother story up, it's not canon.

You know when I said Chishiya likes to be affectionate in private this is what I meant.

Cuddles at night are like the most you're gonna get from Chishiya in a day.

Both of you are busy during the day so you don't get to see each other, so when it's night Chishiya just takes you in his arms and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

Both of you talk for a while and you tell him about your day and about how you and Kuina hung out and how your game went.

If you had a bad day he would listen to you and try to solve your problem or give you some advice.

But if you didn't want to talk he would just hold you and whisper how much he loves you and that he adores you so much that he doesn't like you being sad.

He would also definitely secure you in his arms when you're feeling down and keep playing with your hair and keep patting your head.

When Chishiya would have a bad day he would just hug you and just lay his head on your chest.

He would listen to your heart beats to calm himself down.

You would wrap your legs around him and have your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He would definitely be the big spoon otherwise he likes keeping you close and in his arms.

It makes both of you feel safe when your significant other is around.

Chishiya would be the type of cuddler to also not let you get up in the morning.

You would have to pry yourself out of his arms.

He would also be a really light sleeper so if you move a bit or try to get out of bed he immediately wakes up. 

So be very careful when sleeping with Chishiya.

Chishiya’s biggest pet peeve about dating you and sharing an apartment with you in general is that you steal his hoodies and never give them back.

It's not even the stealing of his hoodies that annoys Chishiya, it's the fact that you seem to never give them back.

Story time!

One time Chishiya woke up and he went to his closet to get one of his signature hoodies and there were none in it.

I also noticed that he doesn't wear anything beneath his hoodie.

With that said he didn't have a shirt or anything to wear so he snuck out, shirtless i might add, to the beaches closet grabbed a shirt from over there and went out to look for you.

You were the beach's official bartender so he guessed that you probably went to do your job. 

When he reached the outside pool where the bar was he saw you in one of his hoodies and he lost all the courage to take his hoodie back from you. 

He would definitely tease you about not having any clothes and having to tease for stealing all his hoodies. 

But internally he would find you so cute and soft.

Like his girlfriend in his hoodie. 

It also boosts his ego a bit because everyone knows that she's his now that she's wearing his hoodie.

If she tries to steal his hoodies in front of him, well that's a whole other warzone.

Reader just takes his hoodie in front of him and Chishiya just goes nope, ‘Give me back my hoodie’.

And readers just like work to get your hoodie back and then she runs away.

Chishiya then continues to chase after her for ten minutes, then proceeds to give up.

When she comes back to the apartment tho, that's a whole other story.

(I'll leave it up to your imagination, dear readers;)

Moving on to more protective Chishiya.

He doesn't like to take you to games with him because he fears he'll get a heart game and usually in a heart game only one person can survive.

He doesn't want to take that chance.

But once in a while he gets teamed up with you and oh boy.

He does not let you out of his sight, like you ain't going anywhere missy.

If he's protective 70 percent of the time mostly, he's like 150 percent protective in games.

You basically get a free visa if you go with Chishiya in games.

Like he doesn't let you do anything.

But the threat of a heart's game is always at the back of his head.

If it's a diamond game you guys are fine because Chishiya’s smart, if it's a club game you guys are fine because it's Chishiya he'll find a way.

But if it's a spade game you have to step up a bit cause no matter how much I simp for Chishiya I don't think that man is good at physical things.

Being very protective creeps150

Other than games, Chishiya goes into protective mode when people are too close for comfort.

And also by creeps you mean Niragi right.

I'm just kidding but I'm sure Niragi tried to hit on Chishiya’s girlfriend once and Chishiya just told him to fuck off and get his ass back to Aguni.

Aguni had to apologize because of Niragi to Chishiya’s s/o.

From then on, he keeps more of an eye on Niragi. 

Chishiya does not directly come for your rescue, he usually assesses the situation first to see if you can handle it or not.

If you can't then he comes forward to deal with it.

Otherwise he trusts you enough to handle it on your own, but that doesn't mean he goes away; he just keeps observing until you're out of danger.

Chishiya isn't like Niragi in terms of protectiveness, he lets you have your freedom because he knows it wouldn't be fair if you have restrictions on you because of your relationships and he doesn't. 

If somethings really bothering him or if he feels like someone doesn't have the right intentions, he just sits you down and talks to you. 

Simple as that.

Slight Nsfw warning.

So Chishiya would be pretty dominant in like daily life as well as well you know 😏

Bro Chishiya’s definitely one of those people who have a big ass ego.

Like being a sub would definitely hurt his ego (but personally i feel like he would enjoy subbing) 

(headcanons for bratty sub Chishiya anyone)

But Chishiya would be a good goddamn dom 

Like he would keep tabs on what you like and dislike.

The only downside is that he's a very big tease and just loves torturing his s/o

Anyways Chishiya would be very spontaneous and very fun to be around

(If he actually cares about you that is, if he doesn't then I mean good luck)

Cuddly Chishiya is omg I simp for him so much/10

[dessarious]

What Makes a Family? Pt15

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

Marinette couldn’t speak because it felt like her throat was locked in a vice. Instead she threw her arms around her twin knowing she’d understand. When they’d looked into each other’s eyes it was like coming home, but more. She couldn’t describe it. All of a sudden she realized a piece of her had been missing and now she was whole. When Cass hesitantly returned the hug she felt her anger spike. Her sister should not be so touch starved that a hug was abnormal.

“It’s okay.” She pulled back to pin the other girl with a dry look.

“No it’s not, but it will be. Now that we’re together we can buffer each other from the way fate and chance have been screwing with us.” Cass just gave an acknowledging hum. Looking closer Marinette could see an alarming amount of faded scars. She reached out to trace one just below her right ear. “I’m so sorry… If I had known…” What? What could she have possibly done to help? Nothing, but she couldn’t shake the guilt.

“Me too.” It took her a minute to figure out why Cass would be sorry. Then she remembered that Alfred told her Cass had escaped the League when she was eight.

“As much as I wish you had found me, you couldn’t have known. We were kept apart and kept ignorant of each other. But nothing is going to separate us again.” And anyone who tried was going to be in for a very rude awakening.

“Yeah, they’re definitely related. No one else could understand Mari’s cryptic speech patterns.” Chloe’s comment got chuckles out of Selina and Luka. Kagami and Alfred had almost identical small smiles. Poor Bruce just still looked confused. Before she could comment the Mayor exited an elevator and stormed over.

“Chloe! What have I told you about letting your friends bother guests? If you insist on bringing them here at least take them to your room.” Marinette couldn’t help the eyeroll. She wasn’t certain what had caused him to start thinking that way but every time they came to the hotel now, this was the result. “Mr. Wayne I’m so sorry. Please don’t hesitate to tell them if they’re bothering you, or call me to deal with it.” You would think a man so entrenched in politics would be able to read the room better.

“Your concern is appreciated though unnecessary Mayor Bourgeois. Your daughter has been essential in facilitating our stay and has done a wonderful job of making sure we’re all comfortable.” Bruce’s words seemed to stun the man. As she watched her father analyze the Mayor she could see why his alter ego could be deemed the world's greatest detective. She could also see the moment he decided to go for the kill shot. “Besides, given that Chloe is best friends with my daughter she could never be a bother.” She fought not to laugh as it looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.

As they waited for the man to regain speech, Marinette gauged everyone else’s reactions. Chloe shot Bruce a grateful look while Alfred simply wore a proud smile. Luka and Kagami both looked like they were struggling not to laugh. Selina… she looked like it was her birthday. Cass was studying the Mayor and Marinette had a feeling it was to decide if he was a threat. Once his brain started working the Mayor’s eyes immediately darted to Cass before he put on one of the fakest smiles she’d ever seen.

“That’s wonderful to hear. Chloe you should have told us you were friends with a Wayne.” There was an edge to his voice that everyone caught. The look on Bruce and Selina’s faces was somewhere in between annoyance and disgust. Chloe had apparently just had enough of his shit.

“I’ve been friends with Mari for years and you’ve never cared.” The man glared at his daughter and Marinette almost cringed at what she knew was coming next. At least it would be entertaining.

“That’s different and you know it. She’s beneath you and you’re only friends with her because it annoys your mother. Just like you keeping this information from us is an act of immaturity. It’s time for you to grow up and stop all this nonsense.” Chloe’s face went oddly blank and she knew the girl was trying to keep her emotions in check. Mostly so she wouldn’t get Akumatized but probably a little so she didn’t attack her father. Selina pulled her into a protective side hug and glared at the Mayor. Marinette fully expected the woman to go off on him.

“So you think your daughter should only choose friends based on the amount of money or influence their parents have?” Bruce’s voice was neutral but it still made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Once again, the Mayor didn't pick up on the mood.

“There are other considerations of course. Public image and such. But surely you of all people understand worrying about people taking advantage of your children to further their own ambitions.”

“I do worry about that. I warn them extensively against attaching themselves to people like you who see nothing but what they can get out of them. In my experience the more someone has the more they want and feel entitled to. Thankfully your daughter doesn’t seem to have inherited your greed. Otherwise I’d have to advise my daughter, Marinette, to rethink their friendship.” The Mayor’s eyes darted to her and Marinette just smiled sweetly at him. He paled drastically and she could see him trying to come up with something to fix the situation. When that didn’t seem to work he mumbled something about needing to see to city business and went back the way he’d come. Cass snickered beside her but Chloe looked worried.

“Why don’t we go up to your suite? That way the boys won't be able to find us, we’ll have more privacy, and you can pack anything you’re afraid your parents will mess with.” Selina’s suggestion helped Chloe relax. Luka and Kagami were trading looks again before Kagami spoke.

“We can help her with that so you can speak to Mr. Wayne and your sister.” They obviously knew she was keeping things from them, but at least they trusted her enough to not push the issue. As much as she hated unnecessary secrets, she couldn’t just out other heroes without their permission.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll make sure the boys stay occupied until you’re ready for them.” Alfred’s statement caused a slightly panicked expression to appear on Bruce’s face. The older man just pinned him with a stern look. “You’ll have Miss Kyle to act as a buffer. Not to mention Miss Marinette is far less feral than most of your children.”

“I said I’d have the kitchen redone however you wish. It was due for a remodel anyway.” Alfred just glared at him before making his way to the elevator. 

“Honestly Bruce, he was only gone for a few days and that kitchen turned into a warzone. I still want to know how Jason managed to set the fridge on fire.” Selina’s amusement brought a glare from Bruce and given the way his posture stiffened Alfred heard her too. Marinette couldn’t wait to hear that story.

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

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[rebelwrites]

It’s Me Or Her - Part Two

Clay Spenser x Reader

Part One

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

“Wait what?” Clay said sharply “You are making me choose between you or my best friend who is also my team mate which means you are asking me to choose you or Bravo”

“Basically yes” Jenny snapped “So just answer the question, because I need to know if I am wasting my time here or not”

Clays jaw clenched as he took Jenny’s deminor, there were no questions about this, he didn’t need time to think, he knew the answer.

“I choose Y/N and the team” Clay nodded “Thank you for showing me you true fucking colours, I can’t believe I let you come between the one person who means the fucking world to me.”

“Get the fuck out of my garden” Eric snapped “You are not welcome here”

“I can’t believe this” Jenny sulked “I thought you loved me Clay”

“Then you made me choose, that is just low Jenny.” Clay spat before whistling Cerberus over to him. “No you have 10 seconds to get out of this garden before we do a little training exercise with Cerb”

No one moved as they watched Jenny leave the garden, Clay’s heart was pounding against his chest right now, he saw you storm off with a bottle of whiskey, this wasn’t going to end well.

“Does anyone know where Y/N/N went?” He asked, running his hand over his face.

“I think it’s best if you just let her cool off okay” Sonny said slapping Clay’s back. “There is more anger there than you realise”

“How bad were things after the last op?” Clay asked, guilt running through his veins at the fact that his best friend needed him and he blew her off.

“Bad, it took both me and Blackburn to talk her down from leaving the team” Sonny sighed. “Why do you think she took a week off, missing the training for the next op, she wasn’t in a fit state to operate”

“I fucked up” Clay whispered.

“She will come around” Sonny said “You guys have been through hell together and come out of the other side, but you will haven to prove that you have her six no matter what”

Morning soon rolled around but so did the hangover. Why did you think drinking a whole bottle of Jack the night before you flew out to J-Bad was a good idea? You weren't in the mood to deal with people today, all you wanted to do was get on the plane and shut the world out. You had no idea what Clay’s response was, and at this point you didn’t know if you wanted to know.

You were the first person on base, well apart from Blackburn. Pulling your car into your usual spot, you grabbed your backpack and iced coffee before climbing out, locking the car behind you before you made your way onto the air craft. Normally you would hang around to see everyone and head on board together but not today. You wanted to shut everyone out for as long as possible.

“You are early kiddo” Eric said as you dumped your bag on the bench.

“Yeah don’t really wanna deal with people today you know” You shrugged as you started setting up your hammock. “Not after last night”

“Say no more” he smiled softly at you “But all I will say is maybe it’s worth speaking to Clay, I need my two strongest snipers working together not at each other's throats”

“Don’t worry I can be professional” You nodded as you climbed into the hammock, grabbing your blanket, headphone and phone from your backpack, once you got settled you pulled your cap over your face and tried to catch up on so much needed sleep.

By some miracle you had managed to avoid Clay for the whole day, it was now around 9pm and everyone was gathered around the firepit for the first night of deployment drinks. All you wanted to do was hide away but once again Sonny found you.

“Just speak to him princess” He said, poking your arm.

“Did he make his choice?” You asked.

“You heard?” he sighed. “Is that why you have been icing us all out?”

“Yeah I heard Sonny, and I’m guessing by the fact I haven’t heard from him, no calls, no texts or anything that he chose her over his best friend of ten years” You sniffed as tears burned your eyes.

“Just speak to him Y/N” Sonny pleaded “We need the team functioning as one”

“Fine” You huffed jumping off the bed. “But if someone ends up getting punched tonight it’s on you Sonny Quinn”

Storming out of the hooch you went to find Clay, it wasn’t hard seen as he was sitting by himself around the fire pit whilst everyone else was around the makeshift bar. Taking a deep breath you took the few steps over to him, not saying a word as you sat down next to him. You didn’t know where to start or what to say, you didn’t need to get into a screaming match in the middle of a warzone. The moment Clay realised that you had sat down next to him he looked up from the fire with tears in his eyes and smiled sadly at you.

“I’m sorry” he whispered as he pulled you into a hug, he didn't’ know if you would accept the hug but it was his olive branch to you. He was slightly surprised when you didn’t resist the contact, in fact you practically buried your face into his chest as he held you tight. “I am so fuckking sorry, I should have listened to you from the start, she showed her true colours last night. I never meant to let things get in between us. I know I have been a shit friend and I know I can never make that time up”

“I just need to know one thing” You sniffed as you grabbed a fist full of his hoodie needing confirmation of who he chose. “Who did you choose?”

“I chose you” Clay whispered resting his chin on your head, as he felt you let out the breath you were holding. “I will always choose you, over anyone and anything. You are my number one girl and I am sorry if I made you feel anything less. No one else compares to you, you understand me like no one else does, and they never will. I know I am going to need to earn your trust back but just know I will always have your six, I am never going to make you feel like second best ever again but you will always be my number one girl”

You didn’t know what to say, the tears were flowing as you both sat in silence, Clay’s arms wrapped protectively around you. You didn’t need to say anything though, everything had been said, there was no need in arguing as in that moment you knew he would always have your six and wouldn’t let anything or anyone come in between the two of you again.

Nothing more got mentioned about you confessing your feelings to Clay but little did you know he felt the exact same and by the end of this deployment a sneaky kiss would be shared out of sight of the rest of the team as Clay grew the balls to admit his true feelings for you.

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @ohitsnicolexo @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace

[chemicalpink]

Do you think /beebtstarot is telling the truth 👀 they madea longk asssss post but I still don’t trust them

Lmao I really am about to get myself out there after just getting my blog back in order. A disclaimer first: this isn’t drama okay, I’m not spilling tea and I’m just talking to people that are consumers of tarot content. Also, this is the first and last time I’m touching this topic bc I really don’t want to lose this blog.

So I’ve seen that blog a few times around, I’ve seen people trying to expose them or whatever. Honestly I couldn’t care less about their content bc what I’m here for is for you guys that consume the content. So let’s set a few things straight. (Disclaimer 2: this is in no way meant to be rude to you anon, I just really don’t want to talk about it further so I tried to write as much as I could)

1. Everyone’s craft is different, utopically, us readers are very well prepared and have a strong moral compass before putting our work out there for public consumption, that doesn’t happen regularly (unfortunately) but having different ways of doing your craft doesn’t make it any less valid (unless you know, they’re blatantly lying on their content)

2. If you’ve been following me for a while or you’ve been snooping around my blog, you know my stance regarding love readings, specifically, soulmates, specially, BTS’ or any other celebrities, we are fans, just that. And even more so than fans we are people with our own personal journeys to fulfill, there’s really no gain in getting so invested in information that has a lot more to it than just spreads or charts, the ultimate truth regarding these things can only be known by the person whose journey it is.

3. Tarot, Astrology, Divination, Spirituality, are just a tiny part of what makes us human, we cannot define any part of a person just by using them. People are multidimensional and intersectional beings with a lot more to them than what cards, stars, or whatever means that we might want to use can even begin to tell us. Sure, they’re fun, and they are an amazing tool for personal use, if it’s not personal, then it’s a great entertainment tool but that’s about it.

4. I am the BIGGEST advocate on you guys consuming content responsibly. Really. There’s a shit ton of content out there, and they all cater different tastes, please don’t feel like you have to consume someone’s content just because they’re all over some tag, or they have a lot of notes or they seem to know what they’re doing. The only way to tell whether you should or shouldn’t consume someone’s content is yourself. It’s a two way road, as much as (in this case) tarot readers should know what they’re doing, it’s also your responsibility as content consumers to know whether you find it okay to consume someone’s content given their professional/personal values on the topic, and there’s nothing wrong with double checking and questioning content creators about it. Don’t let people believe that they can force feed you content as it is just because they’re doing it for free.

5. Now, given all that, would I, Marinette, personally, consume this person’s content? No I wouldn’t. Why? Because their content doesn’t align to my personal values of respecting people’s spiritual journeys* (even if done in good faith) and because their content doesn’t fall into the standards of what I would consider to give an accurate reading while still entertaining (even if tea isn’t as spilled) but again that’s me, you guys could consume their content all you’d like if it caters to you.

On a very very last note, there are a lot of great astrologists/tarotists out there that would be able to fulfill your tarot tea needs, you just gotta find them and protect them. It has been rough for us, this place has become a warzone of petty people starting drama, accusing us of things, calling us pathetic and delusional, just because our content doesn’t cater to them so, just please be nice and be aware that responsibility of content consuming is yours only.

*if you’ve read this far, congrats! You’ve found the small letters, some people are gonna say oh Marinette but you talk about respecting people’s journeys yet you’ve done love readings for celebrities in the past, I see you, and I’ve always been transparent about it (I’ve dedicated a lot to trying to get people to understand but hey, some of them will still talk) all my works have disclaimers on them, I do not respond to soulmates asks, rather do “significant others” readings bc that’s how I can provide people a more accurate reading. Whether said s/o is or isn’t someone’s soulmate eh not our place to know. And I’ve always said that I don’t put on here everything that comes out in readings, it’s spilling the tea responsibly, spilling the tea without being as invasive.

***let’s look at it this way: some empathy exercise. If you were to come to me for a reading for the first time (or send me an ask saying ohhh expose me), I could read you inside out in one go, traumas, troubles, insecurities, but would you really like all of that to be out in the open? Or for a complete stranger to know about it? No right? So I just use a general overview, I still expose you, but within boundaries (I don’t dig to deep, I evade the deep things that might come afloat) bc at the end of the day I’m really just another stranger on the internet and you’re just trying to have some fun.

[officialthiamlibrary]

Got any canon fics set post 6B?

Here you go! A mix of older fics and some within the last month, I hope you’ll enjoy them!

Ocean Front Property and Yoda Wisdom by Diary (Teen | Complete | 1.3K) Tags: Frenemies, angst and feels Summary: Post-canon. Theo has issues, Stiles cares about Liam, and these facts interconnect. Complete. A Peek Inside: “I still don’t like or trust you. Okay, I never will. But you’ve been good for him. And I gotta admit, seeing you in love is an interesting thing.”

Hold Me. I’ve Lost My Anchor. by SterekShipper (General | Complete | 5K) Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, there is a second fic that follows this one Summary: Once again Liam and Theo had been in a fight. There was nothing unusual about that. It happened all the time. It was a natural part of their relationship. This fight however, had a different ending. A Peek Inside: It was just a fight. There was never a reason. Not really. Their relationship consisted of bickering and playful jibes. A bond had formed the night of the hospital. The night Theo had faced the Ghost Riders head on, fully intending to sacrifice himself. All to save him.

Stones by cherrysprite (General | Complete | 2.6K) Tags: First kiss, Theo introspection Summary: Theo begins to find his place as a normal nineteen year old with an accidental rock collection. A Peek Inside: One day, he sees a man sitting outside that said cafe, playing his guitar softly while people walk past without a second thought. It’s one of the more jarring parts of Theo’s detachment, he realizes. If he were normal, he would be able to grasp how people managed to pick up on hobbies and skills. It was like Mason and his love of reading, Corey and his talent with writing, and Liam spending his weekends playing lacrosse or working out. He just always finds himself perplexed at how they’d each figured out that what they were doing was good to them.

in the hospital after the war by snaeken (General | Complete | 1.5K) Tags: Summary: "I can wipe the blood off my own face, Liam," he snarks, mainly because he doesn't know what else to do; because it's comfortable, familiar, as far as the two of them are concerned. He doesn't pull away though. "I know. But I want to." Liam looks up at him, ocean blue eyes boring into his own. Theo's breath would probably catch, if he was breathing at all. "Let me." A Peek Inside: The hospital is, well. A bit like the aftermath of a warzone. Doctors and nurses and deputies everywhere, armed with handcuffs and body bags, making arrests and treating the wounded; Theo's own wolfsbane-laced bullet wound in his shoulder was treated by Deaton, while Liam regrouped with his pack and had his own wounds treated by Argent.

it’s you, sweet baby by axebastard (Teen | Complete | 1.9K) Tags: Pining, getting together Summary: In which Theo eats a s'more for the first time and Liam isn't quite as subtle as he'd like to be. A Peek Inside: Theo blinked, one corner of his mouth twitching. So Liam was inviting him somewhere. On purpose. He didn't know whether to feel honored or suspicious.

To Take One’s Pain by Endraking (Teen | Complete | 2.5K) Tags: Minor character death, angst, sick children Summary: Liam wanders the Hospital as he does a sweep. Memories come back to him about Theo since the chimera hadn't been seen since Gabe died and Monroe fled. While walking the halls, Liam learns something that will change his perspective about Theo. A Peek Inside: Liam walked the halls of Beacon Memorial Hospital.  It wasn't that long ago that it was a battleground and not a place for the sick and injured to heal.  Memories of those times, memories of hunters killing supernaturals, memories of the Riders, memories of the chimera and the Dread Doctors pull him to wander the halls.  He's not a patient though he would garner a little less attention if he put on one of the hospital gowns.  The lights were dimmed, something the hospital did either to save money or remind some of the more active patients that it was indeed nighttime.  He moved down one hall to the next, walking up the stairs and repeating the process until he makes it to the roof.  Then he hopped into the elevator and repeated.  He was making sweeps of the hospital, but it wasn't from any present issue but his worry over his stepfather.  Doing sweeps in the preserve was one thing but it was almost too easy for the pack to forget that things attack the hospital regularly and Melissa and Dr. Geyer were right in the line of fire.  That brought him to the halls, but his mind was a million miles away as he wandered to the morgue

i know all sorts of things i don't believe by eneiryu (Explicit | Complete | 80K) Tags: Post finale, Theo Raeken centric, getting together, pack dynamics Summary: So, anyway. That’s how Theo becomes pack-mom to Scott’s merry band of supernatural misfits. A Peek Inside: Scott gets this narrow-eyed look like he knows what Theo’s thinking, but humors him regardless, “I was hoping you’d agree to stay here, help protect the town.” (...) “Okay,” Theo blurts out, cutting him off before he can speak, suddenly irrationally afraid that Scott‘s going to take it back, say nevermind, forget it, “Just until you find Monroe, right?” Scott nods, still looking perturbed but thankfully silent, “Okay. I’ll stay until then.”

you want me to hold your hand and kiss it better? by xxDreamFilledEyesxx (Mature | Complete | 3.9K) Tags: angst and feels Summary: Set after the Teen Wolf series finale: After taking Gabe's pain away, Theo thought Liam might be glad to see that he cares, so why has he been acting so strange? A Peek Inside: A few feet away stood Melissa, her face covered in pity for the life the boy on the floor had lost in a war that wasn’t his to fight. Theo's heart skipped a beat as his gaze turned to the person standing next to her. Liam.

Sun Is Up, I’m A Mess by IThinkWeHaveAnEmergency (General | Complete | 5.1K) Tags: College, mutual pining Summary: Liam transfers to San Francisco State and on his first day, runs into a face he hasn't seen in a long time. A Peek Inside: Liam steps closer to the man he hasn't seen in almost two years, his campus security guard uniform clear.

A Chimera’s First Heart by Auddieliz09 (Mature | Complete | 22K) Tags: Mild smut, first kiss Summary: Theo wouldn’t go so far as to say that everything is perfect in the months after the War, but, for him, it’s just about as perfect as his life can get. However, when someone from his past shows up on Scott's doorstep, Theo's life takes a new turn. But will it be for better or worse? A Peek Inside: When they left the hospital that night, Liam had looked at him in a way he never had before. Like he was seeing Theo for the first time without his past hanging over him. He was seeing Theo for the man he was trying to become. A man worthy of being his friend, maybe more. Theo became an official ally to the pack and began to hang out with Liam and his friends.

five punch knock out by I_write_fanfiction_sometimes (Teen | Complete | 2.4K) Tags: 5+1 Summary: Five times Liam asked what he was doing, and one time the answer was 'being happy' A Peek Inside: Theo squeezes his eyes shut and barely holds back a groan. Mint foam drips into the sink from the handle of his toothbrush and burns around the edge of his mouth. Of course it had to be Liam. Fucking Mason wouldn’t ask questions, he’d just walk right back out. Somehow though, Liam has decided he wasn’t scary.

Change of Plans by never_love_a_wild_thing (Teen | Complete | 69K) Tags: Fake relationship, light angst Summary: When Hayden breaks up with Liam minutes before his very public proposal was planned, Theo steps up to save him the embarrassment of being rejected in front of the pack. In order not to disappoint their Alpha, Theo and Liam decide to carry on faking their relationship until they can think of a good way to end it and keep everybody happy. In which Theo is crushing hard and neither of them plan things out well enough (or at all, really). A Peek Inside: Theo opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He had argued with Liam over Hayden too many times to think that it was worth it anymore. “I just think that you should maybe figure out how she feels about it before you go and ask her to marry you in front of your entire pack,” he said.

Only you can look at me the way you do by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee (Explicit | Complete | 57K) Tags: Smut Summary: But Liam knows that tonight's gonna be one of the nights where he caves in and he doesn't care. A Peek Inside: They hadn't turned up anything so why not blow off some steam and then check back later? Scott'll never know the difference.

The Truth Will Set You Free by tabbytabbytabby (Teen | Complete | 1.6K) Tags: Light angst, misunderstandings Summary: Theo realizes he has feelings for Liam, but before he can tell him he sees Liam with a girl from his class and assumes they're dating, and that Liam could never be interested in him. He makes a decision to help himself find some peace, but first, he needs to tell Liam how he feels. Liam's response surprises him. A Peek Inside: A normal morning in mid-March, standing in the Geyer’s kitchen, watching as Liam tried and mostly failed at making pancakes. He’d stood there with pancake batter all over himself, looking sleep-rumpled and adorable and the thought just struck Theo so suddenly.

The Curse of Batman and Robin by songbvrd (No Rating | Complete | 10K) Tags: Bodyswap Summary: Liam and Theo are friends. Sort of. They live together and spend a lot of time together, but they also fight. Constantly. When a body swapping curse leaves them having to pretend to be each other, shenanigans ensue. A Peek Inside: It never lasted, because as annoyed as he was by Theo, he did also like him. He would never tell him that, god forbid the already painfully egotistical chimera get another boost on his account.

The Big Bad Chimera by OTP_fandom_shipper (Teen | Complete | 643) Tags: Fluff Summary: Theo falls asleep on Liam's shoulder, so he takes a picture. Needless to say, Theo is not very happy and wants it deleted. Que the "wrestling" session in the living room. A Peek Inside: Theo arrived back at Liam’s around 5:00. The beta’s family had been gracious enough to let Theo stay with them after they found out that he had been living in his truck. He did get a job not too long ago since he had graduated high school and wanted to make his own money. He was saving to get a place of his own. Theo didn’t want to stay too long with the Geyers.

Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours by voices_in_my_head (Mature | Complete | 7.3K) Tags: Pornstar Theo Summary: ""And you, Theo, what did you do during the week?" Scott asks, clearly trying to bring him into the conversation, which no one has done aside from Liam (they talked about the new The Good Place episode, because surprise surprise, Theo got addicted to Netflix once he found out what it was) and Corey (who actually seems to enjoy Theo's presence and Liam knows they've hanged out just the two of them. Which he obviously is not jealous about, pff, why would he be? Corey has a boyfriend. ... And Liam isn't interested in Theo that way, obviously.) Theo smirks before answering, to which Liam's heart does a slight jump, hoping that no one noticed or, if they did, will be kind enough to pretend otherwise. "I did a porno."" A Peek Inside: Liam isn't entirely sure how he feels about it. Theo seems to really have turned a new leaf, and Liam is pretty sure he would have died in the hospital if he hadn't been there, but he also can't forget the way he played them all, the way Liam almost killed Scott because of him.

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 65)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 1.6k words

Warning: swearing, mention of murder and sex

Down Below Masterlist

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With everything that was going on with Octavia and Wonkru, it seemed that the least of my problems was what was happening at Shallow Valley. After catching up with what had happened since we lost contact with them, apparently Diyoza was getting kicked out of her group by her own people & McCreary was their leader now.

He was much worse than Diyoza; In the beginning she was willing to even offer us half of the Valley. Only if Octavia surrendered of course, which at that time I thought that was a sign of weakness. Now I felt dumb, wishing we took that choice when we could've.

Now it was confirmed that Clarke was helping McCreary defeat us after her and Madi left the bunker. It was selfish of me to even hate Clarke for siding with the psychopath considering the things I've done down at the bunker, but this was an absolute shit situation.

The worst of all was that I overheard people saying that Marcus was by their side as well. The hate I had for him from when we were down at the bunker grew stronger, wondering how he can just sit there and help McCreary kill us. Or even kill me, for that matter. I knew I was awful but surely he doesn't want me dead, does he?

Whatever McCreary & his new crew were planning to do to us, we heard everything, thanks to Diyoza and Echo. We knew what we had to do to try to take over the last liable land on Earth. We had to make this right because our life depended on it.

The plan to blindside McCreary was genius; not going to lie, having Echo on our side nowadays was painful to process but she sure was good at what she does.

'Make sure you all know your parts in the plan. Any questions?' Bellamy rested his hands on his hips as he looked around the tent.

'Tell Echo good work with this.' Octavia added.

Bellamy rolled his eyes at his sister, 'In two hours you can tell her yourself.'

She kept a straight face as him and the other warriors walked out of the tent but I could tell she was hurting. Spending six years with her by my side, I've learned so much about her.

Octavia and I became close down in the bunker, especially because we had no one to trust but each other. Which was why it hurt so much when she told me she never asked for help from Abby.

I did feel bad for Octavia about the way Bellamy was treating her; It wasn't fair for him to give her the cold shoulder after what happened between me and him couple hours ago.

'Y/N.' Octavia mumbled, 'The reason why I knew to burn everything was because I overheard you and Monty talking about the hydrofarm. You asked me why I did it but you'll see when we get the Valley.'

'We've sacrificed a lot to save our people. I'm not proud of the day I killed innocent people but I did it so that I can save you from Abby. What do we gain from burning down the one thing we needed to live?'

Octavia stood, 'You'll know once we get there. I promise you.'

I looked down, disappointed in myself because I knew that all of this was my fault. This whole massacre started when I started killing people at the bunker. Blodreina and Skafaiya wouldn't exist without my mistake in the cafeteria that day.

'I'm sorry about what I said, Y/N. I'm glad I had you with me at the bunker.' Octavia sighed. 'Okay?'

Without making eye contact with her, I slowly nodded and left the tent. It was tough to process, I didn't know what to say or how to respond. The truth of the matter was, I became broken from that turn of event and I'll live with that regret for the rest of my life.

Needing to get ready before the battle, I approached my tent to get all my gear. After feeling a light tap on my shoulder, I turned around.

'Hey, how're you holding up?' Bellamy smiled lightly which made my heart full. It's been a long time since I've seen his cute, freckles face. Most importantly, he was smiling at me.

What happened between us a few hours back suddenly made me nervous; It's been a long time since I've been intimate with someone, I felt so shy in front of Bellamy.

Especially after the huge fight we had over Wonkru, I didn't know how he felt about everything now. 'I'm doing alright. You?'

'Good. I really hope this battle against McCreary's men goes well.'

'Me too.' I mumbled as I thought about whether I should say what I felt. Knowing that it would distract me during the fight, I decided to ask. 'Uhm, I know this is sudden but... what are we doing?'

'We have three groups of-'

'No, I meant about us.' I gulped, scared of his reaction and answer. It was hard having "casual sex" with someone you deeply cared about and loved. If it was nothing, I had to know for my own sake.

Bellamy paused, unsure of what he should say. The facial expression on his face made my heart drop, knowing that whatever he was thinking wasn't good news for me.

'I-I don't know. I want us to go back to how it used to be but it's hard.'

Fiddling with my shirt, I sighed. 'Yeah, I get it. I just didn't want my hopes up so I wanted to know exactly what was on your mind.'

'We should just take it slow... see where it goes. If that's alright with you?' Bellamy suggested.

'Sounds fair.' Inside, I was dying of happiness since I knew that this was too good to be true. It was as if I was given a second chance that I didn't deserve. This time, it was going to be different.

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As the group split up, Octavia, Bellamy, me and a few other warriors marched into the battleground. With nothing but sand and a huge wall of dirt around us, we kept walking to position ourselves.

Bellamy looked through his scope in his gun, searching for the enemies on the top of the cliff. 'Just like Echo said...'

The sound of bullets rang from the other side of the cliff, realizing that it was Echo, John, Emori and Raven fighting off McCreary's men.

'Echo was right.' Bellamy mumbled, continuing to look around for more men that was possibly hiding our nearby. 'Let's do this.'

Octavia signaled Wonkru to charge, which immediately had all the warriors march through the rest of the warfield. Following the Wonkru warriors, I marched right behind them as I gripped my submachine gun tightly.

She came right next to me as if she rushed and tried to catch up. 'Y/N?'

'What is it?' I asked politely yet uninvitingly. The whole argument with Octavia was going to be hard to get over considering she was the closest thing I had to a family down at the bunker.

'Are you still mad at me?' That was a direct question I would've never expected from Blodreina. Perhaps she was scrubbing of her dark days just as I was.

Not knowing how to put my feelings into words, I kept it simple. 'I'm just disappointed.'

'Well, I-' Immediately, we were interrupted by gun shots from the opposite side. It felt like thousands of McCreary's men all fired their weapons at once, trying to wipe out every one of the people that was left of us.

Quickly aiming my gun to where the fires were coming from, I started shooting. It was unclear of who was exactly firing as all of their men were hiding but I could tell I got a few hits as I heard groaning everytime I shot at them.

Wonkru wasn't enough to fight these men because our people were getting killed left and right. Feeling the rage in me, I started to fire my gun in the air, hoping to get any McCreary men I can injure or kill. Soon enough, I felt a sharp pain in my thigh which caused me to fall to the ground.

'Reyes, take cover!' Bellamy immediately rushes towards me and grabbed onto me, basically dragging me to the safest place he could find.

We took cover, hiding behind a boulder and watching Wonkru getting slain one after the other. Far up ahead, I spotted Octavia with a gun, firing at our opponents.

'Blake, we have to help Octavia.' She was out in the open, they could target her at any moment and possibly kill her.

'Even after what she'd done?'

Flailing my nose from frustration, I shook my head. I was as guilty as Octavia at the bunker; why was he able to try to forgive me but not his own sister?

Without thinking about the pain in my thigh, I quickly got up and ran towards Octavia. Bellamy yelled out my name but with all the noises from gunshots and screaming from pained warriors, I was unable to hear him. Even if I heard him, it wouldn't have made a difference; I was going to save my friend.

Finally catching up to Octavia, I pulled on her shoulder. 'Come on, we need to hide until this clears out.'

'I'm saving us out of here, I need to lead Wonkru to Shallow Valley.'

'Y/N!' As I heard Bellamy's voice, I also heard an unfamiliar noise coming from McCreary's men. It was a huge gun-like war machine, whatever that was it did not sound good. 'Y/N, lets go.'

'You can go, I'm not leaving without Octavia.' I shouted back.

Bellamy grunted, instantly grabbing onto my arm and ran the opposite direction from McCreary's men. Turning around, I saw Octavia chasing us from behind.

The next thing we knew, a electronic pressure of some sort blasted from the drill-like weapon which caused the people in the area to fly off the ground. Then the rest of the warzone was in silence.

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

tag list; @jodiereedus22, @coffeebooksandfandom, @bellamyblakemorley, @wisestydia-15, @dbtvluv , @hurricane–amelia , @lexalexy , @olkathefoxi, @lena-davina, @kellbell44, @thehakunamatara, @akelly4477, @morgannope, @littlegirl-fox, @captainam-erika-trash, @greygarbage, @nathaliabakes, @eternallyvenus, @rauwz, @broco8, @eridanuswave, @minamisulemisa, @lilacs-lavender

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 6/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!

First chapter in series. Previous chapter.

Chapter 6:  A day in the life of Bucky, while he watches over your grief-stricken sleeping body.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot Warnings: major triggers for death of loved ones and grief, possible trigger for food, prescription medication

Note: Okay, so Bucky’s suite in Stark Tower is mapped out in my mind. I have a sketched floorplan if you wanna see it? Lemme know in the reblogs/replies/messages. Also, there is a note at the end of this chapter; pls read. Love yas!

So Far Away Chapter 6/?

Gasping for air, you sat up, scrambled around in the darkness and screamed for your mum.

The lamp came on, lighting up the bedroom and bringing Bucky into focus. "Y/N, Y/N, come here. Come on." His arms were around you, pulling you to him. "Stop. Stop. You're gonna hurt yourself." He kept trying to secure your broken hand, but you were still yelling, trying to crawl away. Not sure what else to do, he let you go. You pushed yourself right off the bed, landing half the right way up. Standing, you looked around. What were you trying to do? Where were you trying to go?

You studied everything in the room, looking for clues.

Door. You ran, stood at the threshold, finding no answers in the darkness beyond. A dresser covered in books and journals. A record player, and stacks of vinyl. Beside table. Glass and of water. Clock. 3:27 am. A city behind a window wall. A bed. Huge. Bucky, sitting with his legs arched, defeated.

He watched you walk around the room lost and confused. But, maybe it was progress.

 …

 After you balled up against the wall in the lounge room, screamed until your throat burnt, you passed out. It took hours though. Bucky considered calling for Cecilia. A sedative might have eased your pain. But, your pain was so new, so private. He decided it wasn't his place to invite anyone else into it yet. So, he waited.

Once you'd fallen asleep and he promised to look after you, he carried you to the bed and sat by your side. It was quiet in the bedroom; Bucky hadn't felt the calm of quiet for a while. He missed it. So too had Alpine, apparently. The cat came slinking into the room, refusing to look at Bucky.

"Fuck," Bucky said under his breath. "Where have you been hiding?"

Sometimes, when he knew nobody was around, Bucky would talk to the cat like he knew what he was saying. That night, while you slept, he told Alpine about you. As he heaped a double serving of food into a bowl, he apologised for forgetting breakfast. It was the first time he'd ever forgotten a meal. When he went out on missions, there was a roster of people tasked with looking after the fluffy white thing that lived with The Winter Soldier.

"Don't like having someone else here, huh?" Alpine tended to hide around people he didn't know. He was a bit of a myth to the Tower. "Promise you'll like this one," Bucky told him back in the bedroom, climbing onto the bed to sit by your side. Alpine joined him. "Think she's probably got a bit of crying to do yet though."

By about three in the morning, when Bucky felt sure you were going to sleep the whole night through, he settled down next to you and let himself sleep. Alpine was curled into his back, warm and loving.

Bucky woke at first light, an old habit he was slowly unlearning with the help of excellent blinds and strict orders to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not let anyone come calling. That morning was different though. He got out of bed, put biscuits out for Alpine, checked in with the team, then spoke to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"That index of Y/N's friends - does that have phone numbers?"

Bucky sat outside the bedroom, on the floor where he could see if you stirred but not wake you with his conversations.

Bonnie, owner of Glory café; boss and friend; answered in two rings. "Hello?" Her voice was already desperate.

Bucky then realised he should have practiced or asked someone else to do it. By his own admission, as he dragged you to safety through the crumbling streets of D.C., he wasn't really a people person. Although, you'd very much disagree with that now.

"Um, hi. My name is… James. I'm a… search and rescue… officer," he tried. Bonnie was tired, but hopeful; she didn't question what he was saying. "I'm notifying… friends of Y/N L/N that she's alive and safe,"

"What?! She's- Does she- Where-"

"I can't provide any more detail than that. Sorry," Bucky said, hitting his palm to his head. Idiot.

"What? Why? Who is-"

"Please pass the information on to the others that work with her," Bucky added. Before Bonnie could ask how a 'search and rescue officer' knew about your job, Bucky said, "Thank you. Goodbye," and hung up. "Fuck!"

Bucky was unsure of when he'd last done something so profoundly stupid.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., who else is in the tower?"

 …

 "I don't know… This is a lot to take on, man," Sam said seriously, leaning against the bedroom door frame.

"I know," Bucky agreed, watching you roll over in your sleep.

Alpine, who had been asleep at the end of the bed, maybe trusting Bucky's word that he'd like you, woke up. He looked at the men in the doorway for a good couple of seconds before trotting over to them. Bucky lent down and scooped the cat up. He nodded to Sam to move back to the lounge.

"So what do you need help with?"

"I tried to call her boss. You know, start to let people know where she is - that she's alive."

Sam smirked. "And how'd that go?"

"About as good as you're thinking. I froze. Made up some really fuckin' stupid cover story,"

"Wasn't smooth?"

"Wasn't smooth," Bucky confirmed, letting Alpine jump from his arms onto the kitchenette counter.

"Did you think about telling the truth?" Sam asked, watching Alpine with distrust.

Bucky snorted. "Hi, The Winter Soldier here. I've got Y/N. Don't worry, she's passed out in my bed."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You and Steve are made for each other. Pair of drama queens,"

"Okay, what do I say then?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam sighed, looked around the space. "Where'd she puke?" he asked.

"Over by the plant," Bucky replied.

Sam nodded, thought some more. "I don't know, man. You've just got to be honest. This-" he motioned to Bucky vaguely, "-is a good thing. You're doing a good thing. They're gonna be happy,"

"But what if they don't believe me?"

"Aliens just attacked their city. They're living and breathing the unbelievable."

Bucky nodded; Sam was right.

They talked some more, catching up and checking on each other in that subtle way soldiers do. When Sam left to find food, Bucky sat on the couch and stared at his phone.

Bonnie, again, picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" she greeted, sounding more tired than before.

"Hi… Um, I called before, about Y/N…" Bucky expected her to say something, but she didn't. He took a breath and continued, "I just wanted to apologise. I, um, didn't really…"

"Who are you?" she cut in.

"My name is James, but most people call me Bucky. Barnes."

Bonnie laughed. "Bucky Barnes? Like, metal arm, Captain America's Bucky Barnes?"

"I'm not Captain America's… but, yeah. That's me,"

"Is this a joke?" she asked.

"No. Um, I can video call if you want proof?" Bucky asked. Sam's suggestion.

"God, no. I look awful… I just… Yeah, okay. So… What do you have to do with Y/N?"

"I… rescued her, on the day of the attack. And, uh, she's here with me now,"

"Right, of course you did. And she's okay?"

"She busted her hand up pretty bad but it's in a cast. But, ah, she knows… about Carly and Ellie… and… both her parents-"

"No!" Bonnie gasped.

"She's asleep. I'm just gonna look after her here,"

"Yeah, well… Can't really imagine anywhere safer than with the Avengers."

Bucky felt less anxious as the call went on. When Bonnie didn't wrap up the conversation, he kept answering her questions. He asked if there was anything he could do for her. She declined; insurance would rebuild Glory and everyone she loved was accounted for. And, there was nothing Bucky could do about the dead. 

Bonnie was just relieved to talk to someone who didn't tell her everything was going to be okay. By the time they ran out of things to say, they said goodbye and Bucky promised to call again with an update.

Bonnie had given Bucky enough courage to call Luke, then Elizabeth. Elizabeth sobbed, both in joy that you were alive, and in grief for your parents. All up, Bucky spent about ninety minutes on the phone. He knew more about you, had a little insight into your life before him. By all accounts you were living a life of relative happiness. Whatever it took, he'd get you back to that. However long it took.

 …

 Lunchtime rolled around and you'd not woken up. Or, if you did, you had passed back out pretty quickly.

Dr Cecilia Reyes came to check on you. Like Sam, she stood at the door of the bedroom and put on a worried expression. "Wilson swung by," she said.

"Told you about her family?" Bucky guessed.

"Yeah. Think he's just worried about you, taking this all on,"

"I'm fine,"

"I know that. She won't be though… I brought her these." Out of her pocket, she produced a pack of triazolam. "They'll knock her out, but won't keep her asleep. She'll do that herself. When she's up, try to get her to eat something. And drink water,"

"Should she… I mean, is there anything else?"

Cecilia sighed. "Unfortunately not, Barnes. You're doing everything already. But, you know… you should probably decide where she's going." She pushed off the doorway and made her way back through the suite.

Bucky followed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, is she going to stay with anyone you spoke to today? Or family somewhere?" Cecilia looked at Bucky. "Were you… You're just gonna keep her here?"

Not once since meeting you and bringing you home had Bucky even thought of an alternative to you staying with him. Cecilia saw Bucky's blank expression.

"Oh,"

"I mean-" Bucky went to say.

"No, no. It's fine-"

"But I-"

"Barnes, it's fine," she said, putting her hands up. "You don't need to explain. Let me know if either you need anything else, okay?"

Bucky sighed. "Thanks, Doc. Will do… Most of the team are back tonight, so you might be a bit busy,"

"I've always got time for you, doll," she replied, grinning.

 …

 Bucky Barnes spent most of his time reading. He liked non-fiction best. He read about machines, history, revolutions, and bugs. That's what he did all day, waiting for you to wake up. But, you didn't.

He ate the freezer out of ice cream, and the suite out of any other food. There wasn't much. "Gotta go shoppin', hey fluff?"

It was around four in the afternoon when Steve Rogers walked in, carrying what looked like an entire supermarket's stock.

"Buddy, you are my hero," Bucky said, pulling things from the bags before Steve had a chance to put them on the kitchenette counter.

Steve laughed. "Figured your kitchen would be as empty as mine,"

"Mmmm. S'like your psychic,"

"And word is that nobody's been in or out here all day," Steve said, reminding Bucky a lot of Sarah Rogers and her disapproving tone.

"Maybe people should mind their business,"

"People are looking out for you, Buck. Can't be mad at that."

Steve and Bucky cooked together. An early dinner or late lunch. Something that made them feel like kids in Brooklyn, living together with not much between them.

Alpine sat in Steve's lap while Bucky told him about you - the whole story, from start to finish in much detail. At the end, Steve rocked on his chair, tried to hold back a trademark shit-eating grin.

"What? What's that look for?" Bucky asked, throwing a piece of food across the table at his best friend.

"You-" and he stretched that one word out, "-like her."

Immediately, Bucky started to ramble. "Course I like her. She's… sweet. Doc likes her. She's got friends that love her. Doesn't deserve to be all messed up because-"

"No, nope," Steve interrupted. "Not what I mean, and you know it. You like her,"

"Steve, I've known her for a couple days. Most of that time she's been passed out,"

"So?"

"So, we aren't all the love at first sight, one true love, I'm gonna die alone, hopeless romantic, ya know?"

Steve snorted. "You get so bitchy when you're embarrassed,"

"I'm not embarrassed!" Bucky almost-squeaked. Steve's eyebrows raised dramatically. "Fuck off,"

"Whatever. I can see it in your face. You like her."

There was no use arguing with Steve. Bucky conceded. "She's… I don’t know,"

"I remember when you used to know exactly what you liked about a dame you were sweet on… You'd go on about how she laughed at your jokes, or her red lips, or how she drank whiskey,"

"Dame," Bucky repeated. Steve was an anachronism, still. "Guess it's more complicated now,"

"Guess so," Steve agreed. "Glad you found her,"

"Yeah, me too. She'd probably be dead if-"

"No, Buck. I mean, her. Specifically. I'm glad there's something good comin' out of this one,"

"Getting sappy in your old age, punk."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. The men shared a look that said they were on the same page, jokes aside.

"So, you gonna hang around for a  bit?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah. We got that meeting at seven, but I'll stay 'till then. Should I tell 'em you're not coming?”

"Yep," Bucky said, standing up and relocating himself to the couch. Alpine jumped from Steve and followed Bucky, finding a new place to nap.

 …

 Bucky spent the rest of the night watching things on his list. He started with Hercules, like you'd mentioned, then Sam's recommendation of The Princess Bride. Bucky fell asleep on the couch, old episodes of The X-Files lulling him to sleep.

At two am Bucky woke, ate a bowl of Cheerios, then checked on you. You were still passed out, so he climbed onto the bed and watched your back rise and fall as you slept on your stomach.

3:27 am and you woke up gasping for air. After the screaming and crawling, and after you'd taken inventory of the entire bedroom, you looked Bucky.

"You're safe. Do you know where you are?"

Your breathing was heavy, laboured; you had to push the air out through the gunk stuck in your throat. "Yeah…"

Bucky waited, not moving from where he was sitting on the bed.

The headache and haze of too much sleep had clouded your mind for those first few minutes. You were confused, stuck in your nightmare, but seeing Bucky focused you. You were alive.

But not everybody was.

Tears began to pour down your face again.

"Darlin'," Bucky whispered, sitting up on his knees and holding his arms open. With no hesitation, you threw yourself into him. "I know, I know," he said, holding you, letting you collapse into him.

For thirty more minutes, you sobbed. When you sat up on your own, Bucky held a glass of water to your lips. You put your hands around his and let him help you drink.

"What do you need?" Bucky asked, trying to read your expression and body language. You wanted to answer but were, in all honesty, numb, save for the pounding headache. "If you can, you should try to eat something."

Although you nodded, you had a vacant and faraway glassiness to your eyes. For a second, Bucky considered just getting you back into bed and to sleep, but who knew when you'd wake up again.

Out in the suite, you sat at the round table and looked over at Bucky as he stood in the middle of the kitchenette. "Sandwich, maybe? How 'bout… Anything, actually. Fully stocked. Thanks to Stevie." Bucky lined up jars of peanut butter, strawberry jam, Nutella, and marshmallow Fluff.

Something about the benign normality of a simple sandwich made you feel, at the very least, okay. It wasn't easy to stand up, but you did. You walked to the jars and picked up the peanut butter and Fluff.

"Girl after my own heart."

Bucky made fluffernutter sandwiches, handing you a spoon of Fluff halfway through. You stood at the counter, slowly eating. In the time it took you to finish your sandwich, Bucky ate his, made a second, and ate that too. It made you smile.

"I'll make a cup of tea, and we'll get you back to bed," Bucky said, quiet, soft.

Part of you wanted him to act normal. Be a little bit more cheeky, or something. The other part of you was so sure you'd never be functional again, that you were more than happy to let Bucky take total control.

"Okay,"

"'Kay. Milk, two sugars," he checked.

"How do you know that?"

"Café. We had tea,"

"Oh," you said, nodding, trying to remember something that had happened less than 24 hours ago.

Bucky started to make tea. You watched his movements, your eyes following him around the kitchen. When done, he nodded to the bedroom, and you began to walk.

Without conversation, you got into bed and sat against the headboard. Bucky held out the mugs of tea to you. He climbed in next to you and took his mug, blowing on the top of it.

You snickered at the action. It made Bucky's stomach flip.

"Excuse me?" he said, whipping his head around to face you.

"What's the point in that? Doesn't do anything,"

"Alright, well, I ain't making you do it," Bucky replied, grinning. You smiled back.

It had just gone 4:15. The sun would be up soon but the light wouldn't easily find its way in. Bucky finished his tea, fished his phone of the bedside table. "Sleep music," he said, looking up briefly. From speakers you couldn't see, a familiar sound began.

"You listen to lo-fi hip hop streams?" you asked, the disbelief in your voice animating you in a way Bucky hadn't seen since you woke up.

"Yeah, so?" he said, one eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. "Full of surprises."

Bucky smiled.

When your tea was gone and you were tucked into bed, that's when you started to think again. Feel it again. Bucky could sense the shift. "Here," he said, sitting up and grabbing the box Cecilia had left. He punched two pills out of the sheet. You lifted your head just enough to let Bucky put them on your tongue, then help you wash them down with water. You didn't ask what they were, but were grateful when you felt the swelling pressure of forced sleep shut down your brain.

Chapter 7

NOTE: Two things. Firstly, I'm thinking I might jump ahead in time, because logically the next step for Y/N would be to see her extended family, attend funerals, possibly even help with the planning. I'm not sure that this is something that would be entirely enjoyable for you as the reader of this fic. Let me know what you think? If you do want the painful reality of death mapped out like that, I can do it. Choose your own sad adventure lol.

Secondly, and still on the topic of grief, I just wanted to, I don't know, just maybe say that because of my own experiences with grief and loss (most recently and most painfully, my big brother), I know how weird it is. It comes in waves, all the bad feelings, and sometimes you can sit there totally normal, even joke, and sometimes you don't move for an entire day. I'm definitely using my own experiences to shape how Y/N is behaving. So, it's not that I'm writing her as inconsistently sad, it's that grief is an inconsistent effector of mood. I don't know why I felt like I had to explain that, but I feel better for having done it. *shrugging girl emoji lol*

TAGLISTS (open, msg me) So Far Away: @animegirlgeeky @howthehellisbucky @dumbubblegum @chipilerendi All my work: @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @just-kara-no-hats @fairislesheets (IT LET ME TAG YOU!)

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 2.5)

It had been a long day. 

That was Nino’s only thought as he laid along one of the benches in the boys locker room. His arms dangling off the side as he stared at the ceiling tiles. 

The day started out with him waking up to a text from his best friend informing him that he would not be in school for the next week and a half. Apparently Adrien’s old man had been in deep talks with some sort of fashion god from America, and now Adrien was going to be one of her star models in her next collection. 

The deal closed last night and the Agreste crew was on a jet at five in the morning to get to Steel City USA as quickly as possible. Gabriel had apparently decided it was fine to not even tell his son about it. Adrien’s text had explained that he learned he would be going to America roughly twenty minutes before they left for the airfield. 

Nino, of course, told Adrien to have a good time, keep him updated, and that he would email Adrien every assignment and all the notes he missed. And because he was a good friend like that, Adrien promised him lots of photos and a cool souvenir. 

But Nino hadn’t been prepared for class without Adrien. 

Going to class in general he rarely felt prepared for anymore. It was a full on warzone the minute the seats were filled. With Marinette and her crew taking up the back of the far side of the classroom and Lila and her girls sitting towards the front on Nino’s side. Adiren and he still have their original seats though, as did Chloé. But today, Nino was the only one in the front row. 

No one really commented on Chloé’s absence, the girl’s appearances were getting fewer and farther between as the year went on. He suspected she might be working on a transfer of some kind, seeing as how she and Lila didn’t get on well and the blonde would rather die before joining Marinette’s side. Of course everyone asked were Adrien was, and Nino happily informed any who asked. 

But then he made a mistake. 

Nino had mentioned how Adrian was going to be doing this new collection with Damian Wayne. And as expected, Lila went off. 

Apparently, Lila and Damian were childhood best friends. Her parents had known Bruce forever and the two couldn’t wait to set up their children on playdates whenever they could. In fact, Lila was practically an honorary Wayne. Bruce called her his future daughter-in-law because she and Damian were practically engaged. Though Lila wasn’t sure if she had romantic feelings for the notoriously stoic boy, he was very much in love with her. Damian had been chasing after her for years, apparently. 

Nino was so done. 

He then mentioned the campaign was for one Edna Mode. Now, Nino knew very little about fashion, he would admit this to anyone who asked. He would never pretend to know about fashion. But he did know that Edna Mode was the biggest name their was. Not only did she design the highest end clothing, she also designed superhero costumes! And she was well known as some kind of god to all in the fashion world. 

Cue Lila mentioning how she, of course, new Edna. They’d met during Milan Fashion Week several years ago. Apparently Edna drew immediate inspiration from the Italian girl. Lila had been Edna’s personal muse ever since. Edna would fly her to fashion shows all over the world. Lila would be Edna’s star model, the face of Mode, if her mother hadn’t thought Lila too young when they first met. Also, Edna liked to send her cloths, you know, Mode exclusives that literally coast more than all of Paris!

Apparently, Edna was like a grandmother to the girl.

The worst part of Nino’s day so far had to be the fact that, while Marinette’s crew tried to immediately disprove Lila’s statements, Marinette herself wasn’t in class. Nino still wasn’t sure where the girl was. He hadn’t seen her all day, and he was honestly a little worried. He texted her a few times but his messages didn’t go through. His mind was racing with possibilities of what Lila could have done. 

And now, he was sitting in the boys locker room. Alya, Rose, Mylène, Juleka and Sabrina were out in the cafeteria, hanging on every word of Lila’s story. It was about how she saved Ace, Bruce Wayne’s personal therapy dog, from oncoming traffic in Gotham City two summers ago. Nino had needed a break. And the boys locker room was perfect, seeing as all the boys Nino knew, and thus would interact with him, didn’t believe a word that came out of Lila’s mouth.  

“You look rough bud.” Nino’s head lifted slightly, seeing Kim leaning against the set of lockers to his right.

“Feel rough dude.” 

Kim laughed before sitting down next to his friend. “Needed a little break from the rat queen and her pack?” He asked. 

“Yeah…” Nino closed his eyes. “Please do not call my girlfriend a rat.” 

“Sorry.” 

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Kim was the first person, after Marinette, to find out that Nino was working undercover for the girl. He’d even changed Nino’s contact name in his phone to The MoleTM. And the two had rekindled their childhood friendship rather quickly. Kim was the person Nino had known second longest out of everyone in Bustier’s class, the first being Marinette. 

Kim also took the liberty of informing the rest of Mari’s crew where Nino’s true loyalty lied. It was nice having his old friends back, especially because he missed hanging out with the boys. Still sucked that they had to keep up an act anywhere Lila could possibly be though.

“DC texted me last night.” Kim said. “Asked me to spread the word. She’s gonna be out of town for a little while.” 

Nino slowly sat up, removing his hat as it began to fall and placing it in his lap. “Out of town?” He asked. “Where’d she go?”

“America.” 

“Dang.” 

“Yeah,” Kim scratched the back of his head. “She said that she had totally spaced about letting anyone know. Apparently she’s got a Great Aunt who lives overseas and she’s gonna go spend some time with her. She’s also gonna get to see one of her cousins. She sounded really pumped.” 

“Why didn’t she just text everyone?” Nino asked. 

“Mari said that when she hit my contact, she thought she was texting in the groupchat. She only realized after she sent it, so she quickly asked me to spread the news. Apparently she was texting from the plane before they took off. She left real late last night.” He shrugged. “Anyway, she doesn’t have international coverage, so it’s gonna be radio silence for the next ten or so days.” 

“Ten days?” Nino questioned. 

“Hey, she got permission from her parents, and all the work she’ll miss from teachers.” Kim twisted to be facing Nino directly. “More importantly, I overheard that sunshine’s gone too.” 

Nino nodded slowly, unsure of where this was now heading. 

“Adrien, despite taking a stance as Switzerland, is one of Lila’s biggest buffers. Still not sure what the kid’s got on her, but whatever it is, it keeps her a least a little in check. And with DC gone, who knows what she’ll do.” 

Nino nodded, suddenly aware of just how serious this could get. Of course if Lila said anything Mari’s crew would come to her defense, but rumors involving Marinette always seemed more potent and to have a harsher affect when the girl wasn’t around to directly defend herself. This would be a very dangerous week. 

“I’m on guard.” Nino said sternly. “Everything I hear, no matter who it’s from, is going straight to you guys.” 

Kim gave a sad half smile. “Remember when school didn’t feel like some sort of secret war?” He asked. “When all we had to worry about was if Chloé would accidently akumatize someone and if whatever they were serving in the caf was edible that day.” 

Nino responded with his own half hearted smile. “Ah the good ol days, may they return to us at some point.” 

Kim stood, patting Nino’s shoulder. “Keep us posted my dude, you’re our only life line in these trying times.” He watched his friend walk out of the locker room. He’d give it a few more minutes before he left and returned to that most cursed lunch table. 

This week was going to be hell. And something absolutely awful would happen before it was up, he could feel it in his gut. And despite what most people thought of him upon first glance, his gut was never wrong. 

He pondered briefly about what would have happened had he listened to it when the Liar first showed up. Oh how different things could have been. 

… 

His knee bounced rapidly, foot tapping against the carpeted floor of the Wayne Enterprise Jet. His fingers rhythmically pounding against the small table set between his seat and the two across from him. His green eyes glaring back at him in the reflection of the window. It wasn’t that he hated flying, or that it really even bothered him, he just enjoyed it more when he was the one in control of the plane.

He had asked, of course, but his father had said no. Even though he knew how, and his father was perfectly aware of how good of a pilot Damian was.

Yes, he didn’t like this pilot. The flight to Smallville had been fine, he supposed, they only hit a minor patch of turbulence that he was sure they would have avoided if he had been piloting, but it was fine. They had gone to Smallville to pick up Jon who was helping his grandmother with some big event happening at the Kent Farm. All the supers were there though, so when Bruce had called and asked Clark if Jon could tag along this week, his father agreed. He was already out of school anyway. 

Now they were flying to Steel City so he could be forced to model with some famous Parisian and his lovely cousin and some other girl who’s name he’d already forgotten. Damian never really modeled before, but Edna seemed confident in him. It was also an excuse to see his cousin. He hadn’t seen her in person for a long time. 

The knot in his stomach tightened and the rhythm of his fingers increased. 

Finally his ears popped, just as a hand softly rested over his own. His fingers flattened out against the table as Damian slowly glanced to his side. Sitting next to him was a sixteen year old boy who was rarely pegged for his age.

Colin Wilkes looked almost nothing like his ten-year-old self that Damian had met six years ago. The venom coursing through him had long since began to alter the boy’s body, making him function as a better host. He was very muscular, with a physique that rivaled that of a professional football player. He had also gotten taller, coming just an inch or so above Damian’s new height. Colin’s face was the one thing that never seemed to change, still round and doughy with stubborn baby fat persistently clinging to his cheeks. His tan skin coated in freckles, the number of which would very depending on the season. His scraggly bright orange hair still hung in his eyes, the bright hazel irises were currently searching Damian for something, some sort of chink in his armor. 

Colin’s eyes were very good at finding chinks in his armor. That is, after all, how they got into this whole mess.

“Everything okay Damian?” His voice was soft, it didn’t sound like it belonged in his body, but Damian knew just how low and threatening it could become. 

“Course.” Damian tried to break eye contact but found himself failing. Colin’s own eyes squinted as he pushed his bangs out of his face. He knew Damian was lying, he was good at that, he just hoped the boy wouldn’t push it. 

With a sigh the red head removed his hand. “Okay,” He breathed, standing from his seat next to the darker skinned teen. “We can talk about it later.” Damian’s eyes remained trained on him as he raised his hands above his head and stretched before saying “I’m going to run to the restroom.” 

Damian watched as Colin walked back to the jet’s small bathroom. Once the door was closed, he turned back around, immediately locking with a set of wide crystal blue eyes. “You alright Damian?” 

Why was everyone asking him that today?

“‘m fine, Jon.” He looked away from the half Kryptonian, back out the window. After many years of knowing the boy he’d discovered that Jon’s lie detector only worked when he was making eye contact with his target.

“Colin sure didn’t seem to think so.” The boy murmured. “Are you upset that I tagged along?” He asked, eyes downcast.

“Jon I invited you,” Damian scoffed out. “Why would I be upset that you are here when it was my idea?” He crossed his arms instead of going back to tapping his fingers.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanted to be alone with Colin…” 

Damian and Jon had a very unique relationship. While Colin had been the first friend Damian ever made, Jon was his second, and more importantly he was the son of Superman. Damian and Jon shared a legacy, a duty to their neighboring cities. They were both very much like their fathers, and very much stuck in the mens’ shadows. Ever since they met though, Damian found that they only ever help to pull one another out of those dark casts. 

Clark and Bruce were friends, of course, but not like Damian and Jon were. Jon, like Marinette, felt very much like the other side of Damian’s internal coin. They balanced one another so nicely. He was also one of the few people Damian actually cared for, let alone trusted. Jon was the third person he ever came out to, the first being Tim and the second being Marinette. 

Jon was also the one who encouraged Damian to pursue his feelings for Colin. That had been almost three years ago. Now the two boys were rapidly approaching their three year anniversary, and Jon was still their biggest supporter. 

The knot in Damian’s stomach tightened again.  

“I just,” He sighed leaning his head back. “You’ll be meeting my cousin.” Damian began, pausing to check and see if the boy was listening. Jon’s eyes were wide and attentive, as they typically were when Damian spoke. “She’s, very, how do I put this?” 

“Is she mean?”

“No.” 

“Hard to get along with?” 

“Hardly,” he laughed. “I’d say she’s the easiest person in our family to get along with. Easier than Grayson, and that’s really saying something.” Damian undid his arms. “She’s just got this sixth sense, she can read people. It’s eerie sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Jon’s head tilted slightly. No matter how old they got, the half Kryptonian always had this look, it was that of a lost puppy. Tim often mentioned that it was the reason Damian decided to be Jon’s friend, because he reminded him of his animals. Jon had also filled out the older they got, taking on the more traditional physique of the super family. His face was chiseled and square, like his father’s with a softer nose resembling his mother’s. He adopted the traditional Kent glasses and was even currently wearing a red flannel, but the one thing that helped him stand out from the rest of the family was how he gelled his hair up into spikes Damian found the hair choice a tad ridiculous but often opted not to comment on it. 

“The last time I saw Marinette in person she happened to meet one of Grayson’s girlfriends. Her name was Kattie something, I don’t really remember. But I do remember how much Grayson liked her, even thought he loved her.” Damian recalled the day in his mind. “She met her for ten seconds, tops. Shook her hand, they introduced themselves, Grayson and Kattie left.” Damian’s eyes moved downwards, focusing on the table between him and his friend. “After they were gone, Marinette turned to me and told me that Kattie was cruel and would break his heart before the month was up.” 

“And?” 

“Two weeks later Grayson woke up and she was gone, along with all the money in his wallet and his credit cards. All of the watches Bruce had bought him over the years were gone too. She also took his car.” Damian shrugged. “Course, it didn’t take us long to track the bitch down, but still. Grayson was heart broken.” 

Jon nodded slowly. “You’re afraid Marinette isn’t going to like Colin.” It wasn’t a question. Another reason why Damian thought their friendship was so strong, Jon had learned how to read him. 

“It’s not that I think she won’t like him, I mean it’s Colin.” Damian’s hands pulled at the bottom of his jacket. “But, I don’t know, she’s predicted at least four breakups in my family and she didn’t even meet those people! It was just based off my brothers describing them. Hell, she even predicted Stephanie and Tim’s break up.” 

“What has she said when you’ve talked to her about Colin in the past?” Jon asked leaning heavily on the table. 

“I, well, I have talked to her about him before but, briefly. It’s not like I’ve gone into long exaggerating details about him. I’m not exactly a gusher, Jon.” 

“Well I know that.” Jon’s head tilted again. “She knows you have a boyfriend though, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“And that it’s Colin?” 

“Yes.” 

“What else?” Jon sat back in his seat, Damian could see Lois Lane in his eyes. 

“She knows how we met, that he’s a meta, and that he’s a redhead.” Damian tried thinking back to whenever he had mentioned the boy. “She knows that he doesn’t have any family ties, that I like him, and that we do vigilante stuff together.” Damian’s eyes raised to see an unimpressed look on Jon’s face. 

“You got to get better at expressing yourself Dami.” He said flatly. 

“Something I’ve been telling him for years.” They both looked up as Colin retook his seat, quickly taking Damian’s right hand in his left. “What are we talking about?”

“Noth-”

“Damian’s worried that his cousin isn’t going to like you.” Jon said, voice mostly flat but slightly amused. 

“Kent, are you aware of what my family does to snitches?” Damian asked, eyes narrowing as he felt Colin squeeze his hand.

Both of the other boys laughed. “I only ever snitch to Colin though! And that’s Colin! Usually it’s fine! And only the important stuff, I know when not to repeat you to him.” Jon’s laugh grew, catching the attention of Bruce who was sitting on the opposite side of the jet. 

“I appreciate it Jon. Your information is always good.” Collin mused. “And Dames, you don’t need to worry. If your cousin doesn’t like me, then she doesn’t like me, not a big deal.” He shrugged. “But, since it is obviously important to you, I will be on my best behavior.” Colin leaned over and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” 

“Famous last words.” Damian grumbled out, face quickly returning to the window. While his friends laughed and began a new conversation Damian’s grip on his boyfriend’s hand tightened. The knot in his stomach felt like it was going to explode.

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5) - Here (part 3)

If you have any questions about the story / AU feel free to ask! And if you want to be tagged, let me know! I have no set posting schedule I just upload whenever I get something done, I doubt updates will come this fast in the future, but it helps when I see everyone’s interest in it! Makes me really excited to write and keeps my mind flowing with ideas! Also, I know not everyone is a fan of Damian and Colin as a ship, and if that is not your thing that’s totally fine, but please do not be rude or send hate about it just because it isn’t your personal preference. 

Also this is part 2.5 because it still involves the key players for this au getting to where the story is actually taking place and I wanted to wait for Part 3 to be when they all start actually interacting with one another.

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @bamagirl513​ @vixen-uchiha @beaversuenightly @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @todaylillypads @laurakinneylance @vgirl-10123

[greyias]

FIC: The Waiting Game

Title: The Waiting Game Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Angsty angst angst Synopsis: The worst part about all of this was the waiting. Theron hated standing on the sidelines as everyone else risked their lives. He needed something to do. Anything to keep him distracted from his own thoughts. Spoilers: So many spoilers. For the end of Onslaught and its epilogue, for 6.1/“The Task at Hand” and for the upcoming storyline in 6.2. Warnings: Considering what’s going on in the world right now, I’m tagging this as “Covid19 related”, as parts of this may be uncomfortably familiar with the current state of events. There’s also a lot about Theron and his very fraught and complicated relationship with Satele in this. So if you’re not a fan of her, or you just think she’s the worst, you should probably skip this. Because I love her and their very complicated dynamic.

Crossposted to AO3

The crash was loud enough to hear from the senior staff meeting room.

It pulled Theron from the datapad he’d gotten lost in, and had him poking his head out the door into the hallway. He managed to just catch sight of Scourge’s dark armor disappearing around the corner as the Sith stormed off. Not that Theron hadn’t gotten used to Sith temper tantrums since coming to live on Odessen, but it still was enough to pique his curiosity.

Stepping out further into the hallway, he could just make out both Kira and his wife talking solemnly at the door that Scourge had stalked away from. Whatever the conversation was, both Jedi were clearly concerned. Grey gave the little astromech at her side an affectionate pat on the head, before she looked up, squinting down the hall until she caught sight of him. They were all far enough away where Theron couldn’t see their expressions clearly or even eavesdrop on what they were talking about, but the tense postures let him know that something was amiss.

As he walked up, he could see the remains of the crates that had splintered upon impact with the wall, and the rows of cracked monitors ringing the room. He quirked an eyebrow as he looked back at both Jedi. “You guys felt like redecorating? Not sure that ‘Warzone Nouveau’ is going to catch on as an aesthetic.”

Kira shot him a look, but he couldn’t quite decipher what it meant. Maybe she didn’t find his joke funny. Of course, he’d gotten that look a lot. Things had been a little awkward since she and Scourge formally joined the Alliance, but Theron hadn’t been able to figure out if they were just having a difficult time adjusting or if something else was going on.

He was saved from pondering on that further by his wife gently laying her hand on his arm. “Let’s take a walk.”

A familiar feeling of dread settled in his gut, and he swallowed before fixing a smile in place. Even if he had a feeling what this was about, he could pretend for a few moments more. They were quiet as they made their way to the elevator, and were about halfway down when he finally decided to break the silence.

“So, are we walking to any particular place?”

“I thought a stroll in the woods might be nice.”

“Are we going on an adventure?” His humor was a little forced, but he was trying for normalcy here. It’d been a while since they had that. About as long as since Kira and Scourge arrived on Odessen.

“Not the same type of adventure as the last time,” she said, a lilt of amusement tinging her voice.

“Pity.” Even if they were alone in the elevator, his voice was just a murmur as he leaned in closer.

He wasn’t really planning on doing anything inappropriate, was just angling on getting a reaction out of her, but the lift’s doors opened up onto the crowded walkway before he could push it any further. He let out a frustrated sigh and straightened up before anyone saw and got any ideas. The last thing he needed was to start rumors about improprieties in the lifts. Not that he really cared about the rumors about himself, but he’d already caused Grey enough trouble with his undercover stint. He didn’t need to give people more reasons to whisper about them.

Even if they were married.

They ambled on out, towards the cantina. He was trying to act casual, normal even, but Grey hadn’t said anything about what that conversation with Kira was about. Or why Scourge felt the need to redecorate the room quite so violently. But Theron had an idea anyway. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because her hand found his and intertwined their fingers together.

When Theron had gone undercover, Grey had still been wearing the armor from her time before her carbonite sleep. Sometimes he’d wondered if she had worn the giant pauldrons, embroidered cape, and heavy gauntlets as some sort of armor against all the change in her life. But since his return, she’d adopted a new outfit. A much simpler garb, a deep blue tunic that was very Jedi in fashion. As silly as it sounded, it felt like some sort of evolution — like she was somehow more comfortable in her skin and her role in a way that she hadn’t been before. 

He liked it though, from the way the color of blue set off her eyes, to how the long trailing scarves on the tunic liked to pick up the wind when they stepped outside. The change from the heavy gauntlets to fingerless gloves was also a benefit, and especially nice in moments like these, as he was able to feel the warmth of her fingertips against his.

Of course, he’d also changed things up a little too. The long gray overcoat had long been discarded — the charred hole in the back where he’d been stabbed wasn’t a keepsake he wanted to hold onto. While he hadn’t abandoned his old style completely—his old, faithful red and black jacket was definitely still around—Theron had felt the need to integrate a little bit more variety into his style. Like the lighter coat he was wearing now, with a set of fingerless gloves of his own.

They were a little more comfortable to wear when he was just working around the base, and the tactile feedback of his bare hands was nice. He was of course referring to the fingers intertwined with his. For a few moments at least, the soft reassuring pressure and warmth of her touch chased away the anxiety welling up in the pit of his stomach. Although he supposed the gloves helped with the coding too, and his endless research with the HoloNet and beyond.

The sight of the two of them walking hand-in-hand didn’t raise too many eyebrows at this point. There had been a time where he’d tried to strictly keep the personal side of their relationship behind closed doors — but that had gone out the window a long, long time ago. At this point, Theron was pretty sure that the only person who scoffed at the public displays of affection was Lana, and that was just habit. Well, and maybe Grey’s older brother would make a comment or two about how disgusting and saccharine they were. But the jerk was probably just trying to get a rise out either of them with that sort of thing, because he got bored easily. It was like having a large, very old and very loud toddler as a brother-in-law. Sometimes Theron was thankful that he was an only child.

For now though, he and Grey were content to walk in companionable silence, meandering through the cantina, and out into the woods. It was springtime on Odessen, and it was a nice day. The variations in the season on the planet was still something that Theron was adjusting to, even years later.  If he had to pick a favorite, though, it would be spring. The fields beyond the military hangar would fill with these beautiful white flowers, and the sight of them brought to mind his homecoming from Nathema. The frequent rains kept the air humid, especially out here in the forest where there was less sunlight filtering through the canopy to speed up the evaporation. It made the ground smell fresh and new — and it reminded him of life.

These days, he really liked that reminder.

The temperature was still just cool enough where wearing a jacket outside wasn’t uncomfortable and gave him an excuse to draw his wife in a little closer under the guise of sharing warmth. She leaned into the embrace, and was happy to just walk along in ambling steps for a few more moments and let this quiet moment of peace linger. 

Then she let out a sigh, long and wearied, and it told him that whatever she was about to say next wasn’t going to be good news. But he’d already suspected that from Scourge’s temper tantrum.

“The quarantine has failed.” Her voice was quiet, ringing with an air of defeat she let show where no one but him could see.

His blood froze in his veins, his own steps slowing to a halt. “What do you mean ‘failed’?”

“The transport with Satele—where the infected were being contained—it’s not responding to our signals, and there was no sign of it at the next scheduled stop.”

That certainly explained the Sithly destruction. Theron couldn’t even blame Scourge, as a thousand conflicted feelings began to well up within himself. For the past few weeks, he’d been trying his best to keep them tied up. Like he was rolling every single thread of worry and anger and anxiety around each other, like it was some nervous ball of string. He wouldn’t let it unwind, he couldn’t. But the news picked at the fraying edge near the end, and if Theron wasn’t careful it could unspool into a mess that he’d have no hope of cleaning up.

The breath he blew out was long, whistling past clenched teeth. He needed to say something, because Grey was staring at him in the way she always did. Full of concern and warmth and understanding — and he loved being on the receiving end of that but also hated it because it just picked at that loose thread more. Her fingers shifted in his, holding him just a little tighter, and he let out another breath, giving her hand a squeeze in return. He swallowed, forcing the rising lump in his throat to go back down where it belonged, and managed to seize that thread of unease before it snagged on something and undid the tattered fabric of his composure.

He was fine. He just needed to focus. That was all. Preferably on the problem at hand.

So that’s what he did. “What’s our next step?”

“Right now Teeseven is heading out with an escort and as many probe droids we can spare. They can scan and sort through the data faster than we can.”

“And there’s no chance of them getting infected,” Theron pointed out sourly.

“That too,” she added with a sigh. “It’s just safer this way.”

She was right. Of course she was. The droids could do the job faster than anyone, cybernetics or no. He just hated being on the sidelines. Doing nothing.

“Do we know… how the ship disappeared?” He hated the hesitation in his voice, in the question itself. Hated the emotion in betrayed, even if he was sharing it with the safest person in the galaxy.

“No.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

He’d had a nightmare last night. Where that ship of the damned had landed in some busy spaceport. Some place like Kuat. Or Nar Shaddaa. Or even Coruscant. And as the passengers of the transport walked out among the unsuspecting, all of the hapless victims fell into line one by one. And at the front of the crowd was someone that looked remarkably like his mother — but was definitely not her. The woman with Satele’s face had sightless, unseeing eyes that glowed with a malevolence. When she spoke, it was not the soft, calm measured tones he’d come to know, but with a deep chilling voice of a long vanquished ghost that Theron had first heard back on Yavin. Then the woman that was not his mother had turned on the unseen watcher and attacked.

Theron had awoken with a start. A fine sheen of sweat soaking through the thin sheet covering him. Somehow he hadn’t made enough noise to stir the woman sleeping next to him, still cocooned in all of the blankets and comforters on the bed. It had taken him a few moments to reorient in the darkness of their bedroom, let the familiar stone walls ground him back in reality. To remind himself that the dream had just been that. He hadn’t wanted to wake his wife to talk about the nightmare, even if he’d lain awake for a long time afterwards. Trying to shake the images from his head.

If someone were to ask him, Theron would tell them that he didn’t believe in ill omens. The timing of the dream with today’s news was just a coincidence. Or it was the product of a stressed mind trying to cope. His subconscious just trying to get him to pay attention to the things he kept pushing to the back of his mind during his waking hours.

In the light of day, he could see more clearly what was wrong with the dream. The last time the ship was seen, everyone on it was in a comatose state. Trapped in both a nightmarish slumber and stasis. The only thing amiss before today was the Force rumblings from Kira and Scourge that some thing was joining the consciousnesses of the infected together. His subconscious had just morphed that into something familiar — something a lot like Ziost. Another thing he didn’t like to think about.

There were a lot of things he didn’t like to think about. Too many mistakes and unpleasant things in his past to dwell on — and getting through the day right now sometimes felt like walking a very winding and narrow path to keep his thoughts focused and productive. Rather than take one of the branching paths into speculation about what was waiting for them when the ship was found.

As much as he tried to stay focused though, his mind still strayed. And he thought about Satele. A lot. He’d thought he’d excised that particular bad habit a long time ago. When he was growing up, he and Ngani Zho had talked about his mother, of course. Zho had never kept her a secret from Theron, and had told his young charge about his favorite student. For the longest time, Theron had this image built up in his head of this perfect, heroic Jedi that he’d someday meet. If he just tried hard enough, focused enough, and applied himself enough, he’d finally be able to wield the Force, and he’d have a chance of meeting the fabled woman that Zho talked about.

Even when both he and Zho had still been foolish enough to think that Theron had a chance at becoming a Jedi, they had never talked about mother and son ever being able to have that type of relationship. It would have been against those strict detachment edicts, as would have Satele taking her flesh and blood on as a Padawan. Even if the Force had deigned to grant him the ability to wield it like the rest of Revan’s bloodline, he probably would have had someone else train him. Maybe someone like Gnost-Dural. But if Theron was being honest with himself, not something he did often, in some of his more carefree moments as a child he’d imagined the two of them fighting side-by-side with lightsabers in hand.

He’d tried to scatter those stupid, childish notions away when he’d left Haashimut. Along with the selfish, immature longing for his mythical heroic mother to come save the teenage runaway when the shadows grew too dark during the night. He told himself that at thirteen he was too old to be wanting his mommy, especially since he’d never even met her. He reminded himself at fourteen too. By fifteen, he’d just about beaten that feeling away with bitterness. And at sixteen, he’d just learned to forget he’d ever even had the want to begin with.

Theron was approaching forty years old now. He was married and mostly happy with his life. There was still a small part of him, a part of him that he liked to pretend didn’t exist — to pretend had never existed — that still wanted his mother. Maybe not the one that he had, but that mythical, heroic figure of his childhood musings. Perhaps it was human nature, he thought, to crave the security and comfort provided by a parent.

A long time ago, before Ziost and Zakuul, before he’d even met the woman at his side, Satele had told her son that she would always be there for him if he needed her. All he had to do was ask. That same part of him he liked to pretend didn’t exist panicked at the thought that he might not have that anymore.

They’d never had a chance at a normal relationship. Not when Theron had been a young boy, dreaming of being that idealized Jedi like his mother before him. Definitely not as a bitter teenager out to prove that the galaxy was wrong about him. Nor even as adults, when they were working towards a common cause. Outside of a professional capacity, almost all of their conversations devolved into arguments — and since Theron was being honest with himself at the moment — a lot, though not all, of those had been started by him. Clinging to that old bitter feeling because the alternative meant opening himself up to being that scared, vulnerable kid again.

But not everything had been bad. They were precious few, but he did have a few pleasant memories with Satele. Most of them had been after Yavin, but before the Ziost incident. 

Mostly he remembers taking afternoon tea on Coruscanti terraces, a pleasant breeze teasing the air. He and Satele would take a break between the endless debriefs on the Revanite incident. Even during these moments of downtime, Satele would sit straight, posture perfectly poised as if she’d forgotten how to relax. Theron would sprawl back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table just to see if he could get a reaction out of her. Maybe get her to lecture him on proper decorum. He’d been careful not to kick any of the serving ware, just act like a bit of an uncouth ass.

She hadn’t lectured him though, just let a small smile quirk at the corner of her mouth. As if his attempt to rile her was both transparent and amusing. She would ask him politely about work, careful to keep the subject on something he was comfortable with. As if just the act of having this time together was enough for her, even if they never said anything of substance. 

It was funny. He hadn’t realized how much he’d actually enjoyed those quiet moments. At the time he’d just been focused on how awkward it was, trying to navigate the weirdness that was getting to know this stranger who was somehow not so strange. Now when he looked back on it, the awkwardness had faded, and the good stood out more. Time had a funny way of distorting things.

Theron didn’t know what he wanted at the end of all of this. He wasn’t sure if he and Satele could ever really have those quiet moments out on a Coruscant terrace now. Hell, he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to maintain a civil conversation. All he knew, as that when he was faced with the prospect of it, it crystalized in his mind clearly — he didn’t want his mother to die. She would one day, he knew that, by old age if nothing else. But he just wasn’t ready for that eventuality yet — even if they didn’t talk or hug or do any of the things normal families did. 

He was just not ready to live in a world where he didn’t have the opportunity to… do something different. And he didn’t want the last things expressed between them to be anger and bitterness. He didn’t want her to leave life thinking that he hated her. Because he didn’t. He just… just…

Without even realizing it, Theron started walking again. His pace brisk as if he could somehow escape the place that his mind had taken him to. Grey’s grip around him tightened but she kept in step with him, despite the fact that his legs were much longer than his and she was practically jogging to keep in stride. She was just there, a quiet, comforting presence at his side. Willing to wait on him to be ready to talk, always so patient and understanding.

He didn’t say anything yet, but slowed his steps a little so she didn’t have to try so hard to keep up even as he lifted his eyes up to the canopy. Counting the branches above as a way to think about something else.

Several years ago, this was the path that Grey had disappeared on when she had tried and failed to get intel from Valkorion for a mission. Where that ghost had stranded her out in the wilds. Where had Satele had found her, taken care of her — brought her to the ship that the former Jedi Grand Master had called home. Grey had eventually told him about all of what had happened, including all of the belongings and keepsakes that had been stowed away. Including some old toys Theron had when he was a child — and a locket with a picture of him after he’d joined the SIS. For a woman who had based so much of her life on not clinging to attachments, Satele apparently had quite a lot of things she was attached to. 

He still hadn’t figured that part out. Most people wouldn’t hoard the past possessions of children they didn’t want. Nor steal holos from sealed government files to have a memento of their long-lost son. There was a part of him that wanted to see Satele again so he could demand why she had those. The rational part of him knew it would be a stupid question, because there was really only one logical explanation.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if hearing her say it aloud would make it better or worse. Hearing his mother actually tell him in words that she cared for him — maybe even loved him — would it make it easier or harder to accept whatever her fate was?

And beyond everything to do with Satele, and all of his stupidly complicated family drama, there was the woman at his side. His wife, his partner. One of the few people who was immune to the sickness that had overtaken his mother. The one who supposedly could walk into the heart of the contagion without fear of infection. Theron should have all the faith in the galaxy that she would save the day. Because she had never let him down, not once since they’d met. 

Yet the question still hovered. What if? What if she’s not immune? What if whatever had taken over Satele and all those following her took Grey too? 

Theron couldn’t lose his wife. He just couldn’t.

He knew that he would lose some unquantifiable part of his life if his mother died, even if he didn’t understand what that would look like until it happened. But he knew what his life would be like without the woman at his side. He’d already lived through that hell for nearly five years. He knew the emptiness of waking up each morning alone. Of the anger and impotent rage that never went away. Of the grief that bled away the brighter, happier moments. How even sleep wasn’t an escape, because then the day would just start over the moment he woke up.

It was why he’d so willingly thrown himself into danger when someone was conspiring to kill her. Better him than her, he’d thought. It was both a selfless and selfish desire. Keep her safe from harm — save himself from the pain again.

When he looked down from the canopy, it took him a moment to realize how far they’d walked. He blinked, breathed, and tried to reorient himself. Reminded himself to not pick at that thread of anxiety and what ifs. To not look too far beyond this moment. The future wasn’t guaranteed, only the present.

“Is there anything that I can do?” he finally asked, deciding not to ruminate on how long they’d probably been walking in silence.

“Right now, the safest thing to do is let Teeseven do his work.”

“So all we can do is wait?”

“It could be a few days. Or weeks. Or months. I can’t give you any certainties.” She let out a sigh. “I know it’s not ideal.”

Of course it wasn’t. Theron wasn’t good at waiting. For all his childhood training, all of the meditation techniques and special education that Zho had given him, he’d never quite been able to cure Theron of his natural impatience. His drive to just do. It was probably written somewhere in his SIS personnel file, hell, Lana had probably scribbled it in every single margin of his Alliance personnel file too. “Impatient.” ”Impulsive.” “Keep away from trains.”

Theron hated standing on the sidelines as everyone else risked their lives. Or in this case, as a bunch of droids did the searching for him. He needed something to do. Anything to keep him distracted from his own thoughts.

He hated this.

The waiting was killing him. Part of him wanted this to just be over. See where the cards fell and then let life get back to normal. He was also dreading the end of the waiting. The moment it ended, it meant that the danger arrived. Whatever this infection was building towards, something in his life was going to change. He could lose his mother. He could lose his wife. He could lose them both.

So the waiting was a blessing. And it was a curse. And right now, it was all he had. All he could do was focus on the present, even as the future came barreling towards them.

“You know, we’re already in the woods,” he said.

“We are.”

“What do you say we get lost here for a while…” Theron let his voice drop low, and watched as a little warmth raced into Grey’s cheeks. “We could have us another adventure.”

She snuggled in closer, laying her head on his shoulder. The proximity lit up a fire in his gut, and for a few moments, it knocked away that fraying thread of unease. In this moment, it was just the two of them.

“You know, I think that sounds like a good way to spend our time.”

And so they walked on, hand in hand. Still waiting. Together.

[bubonickitten]

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter 3 is up! 

Chapter 1 (tumblr // AO3) | Chapter 2 (tumblr // AO3)

Full text + content warnings under the cut.

CW: brief claustrophobia; some grief and loss stuff; a few more instances of casual misgendering (not malicious; just some wrong pronouns here and there due to the speaking-in-statements thing, but thought I'd mention it just in case); a single LORGE spider. Also, Jon gets to do one (1) swear, as a treat. SPOILERS through MAG 169.

   Chapter 3: Rift

   Jon doesn’t remember the hill being this steep.

  Or maybe he’s just winded from the long trek through the wasteland. He’d had to pass through a long stretch of territory fought over by the Buried and the Vast. The ground there was practically a minefield, pockmarked with sinkholes. They would start out as quicksand traps and suffocating tunnel entrances, only to be hollowed out into yawning chasms and cenotes, then ultimately collapsed all over again by a retaliation-minded Choke. It was an endless cycle of petty rivalry and animosity, and passing so near their battlegrounds left Jon breathless with a discordant mix of claustrophobia and agoraphobia.

  Worse was when the Dark managed to sneak its way into the mix. Whether it was Too Close I Cannot Breathe or the Vast’s abyss, the Dark could always find a way to exploit subterranean spaces – and it could never resist reaching out to needle at an Avatar of the Eye, no matter how inadvisable it was to cross the Archive these days.

  As Jon drew closer to Hill Top Road, he left the warzone behind for a mostly featureless landscape punctuated with the occasional foxholes of the Slaughter and pockets of the Forsaken’s fog. Eventually those too gave way to a seemingly endless dust bowl of soot and ash – a sprawling domain claimed by the Lightless Flame.

  The house at Hill Top Road is the only thing still standing in the midst of kilometres of Desolation-scorched earth. The charred terrain stops abruptly at the foot of the hill, a stark line demarcating the boundary between the Blackened Earth and the territory that Annabelle Cane has staked out as her own. Jon had half-expected an invisible barrier to stop him there as well – the last time he was here, Annabelle had forbidden him from returning – but there had been no resistance when he stepped over the border.

  As he hikes up the incline now, he finds himself worrying over what that might mean. Is Annabelle expecting him, inviting him in? Is she simply tolerating his presence, curious to see what he’s up to? Could he be powerful enough now that even she cannot stop him? Or is he once again wrapped up in the Web’s machinations, doing exactly what the Mother of Puppets wants?

  He shakes his head. No. He and Martin talked about this. There’s no point in obsessing over the Web’s motivations, letting the memory of Annabelle’s statement paralyze him with indecision. Better to just… keep moving forward.

  And it’s not like he has anything left to lose. 

  Jon continues up the hill, increasingly winded, his bad leg throbbing angrily, and he thinks to himself again: he really, really doesn’t remember it being this steep.

   Before long, he’s standing at the threshold of the house at Hill Top Road. The dread permeating the place is just as palpable as he remembered.

  He waits for the Distortion’s inevitable appearance, determined not to let her startle him this time. As if on cue, a door creaks open on the ceiling above him.

  “Interesting.” Without preamble, Helen lands noiselessly on her feet beside Jon and peers around curiously. “I wondered whether Annabelle would let me in.”

  So did Jon. Maybe he should be concerned about – no. He shuts down that train of thought before it can pull out of the station.    

  “You still haven’t explained what exactly you plan on doing here.”

  Honestly, that’s mostly because Jon hasn’t figured it out yet, either. He only Knows that this is where he needs to be.

  The Eye wants things to change – as much as it can be said to want anything. Setting the question of its sentience or lack thereof aside, at the Panopticon he had been able to Know things that the Beholding had previously withheld from him. He might be stronger than the other Avatars and monsters lurking about the world, but he’s not arrogant enough to believe he could overpower any of the Fears themselves. If the Ceaseless Watcher gives him access to knowledge, it’s because his Knowing will facilitate – or at least not inhibit – its plans, which means that he must have the Eye’s… blessing, to be here? He shakes his head; he’s getting caught up on semantics again.

  Point is: he Asked a question and – as usual – he was given a scrap of an answer and left to puzzle the rest out for himself. All he Knows for certain is what he wants to happen, and that this is where he needs to be in order to make it happen.

  “Jonathan.” Helen says his name with a playful lilt and leans further into his personal space. “Are you going to share with the class?” 

  Without a word, he sidesteps around her and walks further into the house. In her statement, Anya Villette had mentioned a door under the stairs leading to the basement, but the last time Jon was here, it was nowhere to be seen. He hopes it’s there this time.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Jon drags one hand down his face and sighs. Having Helen tag along is like taking a road trip through hell with an easily bored and… well, deeply annoying child. Huh.   

  “I won’t be ignored, Jon –”  

  Jon bristles, redirects his gaze, and stares daggers at her with a few more eyes than strictly necessary. “Some magically appearing door.”  

  “You aren’t being very kind to me right now, you know.” She tries to sound wounded, but really she just sounds pleased to have gotten a reaction from him.

  Jon gives an irritated huff and continues forward through the entrance hall. He treads softly, all too aware of every subtle creak of a floorboard. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering muffling his footsteps. It doesn’t matter how quiet he is; Annabelle will know – probably already knows – that he’s here regardless. Still, there’s just something about the house that demands a certain amount of fearful reverence. Disturbing the silence just feels like a bad idea. 

  Helen doesn’t appear to have the same concerns. In fact, it almost seems like she’s going out of her way to announce their presence. Of course.

  Jon catches a glimpse of the staircase as he rounds the corner and – yes, there’s a door under the stairs. A plain, painted white door with a brass handle, otherwise unremarkable and entirely unassuming.

  And yet…

  As he tries to approach it, he finds himself rooted to the spot, overcome with a sense of trepidation. He feels his breath coming faster, shallower; feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Every one of the Archive’s eyes locks onto the doorknob and for a moment he swears he feels tiny, feather-light legs scurrying down his spine. He pulls his pack tight against him, using the physical weight of it to dampen the tactile hallucination.     

  “I hate it,” Helen says darkly. Jon jumps just slightly at the break in the silence, and a few of the Archive’s eyes suspend their rapt scrutiny of the door handle to glance in her direction. Her posture is tense where she stands, staring warily at the door as if it might lunge at them. Jon has never seen the Distortion look so… unsettled.    

  She’s right, though. The door is wrong. More than that, it’s the exact same flavor of wrongness that he felt the first time he saw A Guest for Mr. Spider, and again when he reached out to knock on the monster’s door.

  Back then, he hadn’t known that the concept of wrongness could be broken down into so many distinct subtypes: the uncanny disquietude of the Stranger feels fundamentally different from the compulsion of the coffin, the sensation of worms tunneling through flesh, the Distortion’s nonsensical corridors, the Lonely’s suffocating fog.

  The pull of the Web is in a class of its own, and the sight of the door in front of him drops him right back into the memory of the day he opened the book – the day he took the first step on the winding path that led him, inevitably, to this exact moment. It’s such a fitting parallel, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was orchestrated down to the finest detail. He knows the Web plays a long game, but precisely how much of what has happened was in perfect accordance with the Web’s plans? What even is the Web’s –

  No. Stop fixating on the Spider, he reprimands himself for the umpteenth time this… day? Whatever; it’s not important. He forces his legs to move.

  “You’re sticking your hand in a bear trap, I hope you know.” 

  “I knew opening the door was a stupid thing to do,” Jon says, nonchalant. “So I opened the door.”  

  Helen breathes a surprised laugh. “Was that a joke?”

  “The idea that this is all some grand cosmic joke,” Jon rattles off drily, “thousands of us running around spread horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible unknowing things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we caused –”  

  “Terrible.” Helen groans and puts her head in her hands. “Here I was, ready to compliment you on finally finding a sense of humor, and you have to ruin the moment with – with existentialist brooding.”

  Jon chuckles quietly to himself and takes another step forward.  

  “Wait.” Helen reaches one long-fingered hand in Jon’s direction, then falters and pulls back. For a moment, she seems to wrestle with whether or not to continue. “What’s behind the door?”

  “A scar in reality –”  

  “Yes, I know about the rift. What do you expect to find in it? An answer? An escape? A means of suicide?”

  “A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time.”  

  Jon pauses, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks inward and browses through his catalog.

  “It bends and twists and returns to what it was,” he settles on eventually.  

  “I told you not to use my words.” Helen gives him a warning look, but it’s fleeting, because a moment later his meaning sinks in and she huffs out a short laugh of disbelief. “Wait – wait, wait, wait. You think you can… what, turn back time?”

  Jon grimaces and makes a noncommittal seesawing motion with one hand.

  “…could emerge back into the world that she remembered.”   

  Helen starts laughing in earnest now. “You think you can time travel?”

  Jon just shrugs, unashamed. He knows he should feel embarrassed – back when he first took the position as Head Archivist, he would have scoffed at anyone making such a suggestion – but at this point, is it any more or less unrealistic than anything else that’s happened?

  “Alright,” Helen says, stifling another giggle, “I’ll grant you that there’s a rift in space and time. People have traveled through it before.”

  Jon gives an enthusiastic nod. After her encounter with the crack in the house's foundation, Anya Villette had found herself temporally displaced. What would stop Jon from also –

  “However,” Helen continues, “what makes you think you’ll just rewind your position on this timeline? It could just take you to a parallel world, leaving this one behind to suffer and decay. Would you abandon what remains of humanity like that?”

  Seeing as Anya Villette appeared to have also been spatially displaced, Jon has already considered this possibility. Helen probably knows that, too – she’s well-acquainted with his tendency to overthink things. She’s just trying to tap into his chronic self-loathing, demoralize him, make him doubt his own perceptions. It’s a familiar pattern, one Jon used to submit to far too easily.

  “…better than staying here with this strange woman.”  

  “Ouch.” Helen brings a hand to her chest in mock offense. “You’re being awfully cruel today.”

  Jon flashes an entirely unapologetic smile.

  “I was being serious, you know.” A knowing mischief creeps into Helen’s eyes. “You’ve always been selfish, but would you really run away from your mistakes, save yourself and damn the rest?”

  Unfortunately for Helen, she’s arrived too late to this particular debate. Jon already spent the entire trip here berating himself and second-guessing his conclusions, and he’s just about gotten it out of his system for the time being. Self-recrimination as an inoculation against the Distortion’s manipulations – now there’s a concept, he thinks wryly.  

  “Do you honestly believe you deserve to escape an apocalypse that you brought about?”

  God, she’s persistent.

  “Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value,” he says simply. “That I love. And I cannot lose him.”  

  It’s the truth: the final deciding factor for him was, as it so often is, Martin.

  “You would potentially forsake this entire world just to reverse your own loss?”

  “There was nothing left to save.”  

  It never gets easier to admit it out loud, but that doesn’t change the truth of it. This world is already forsaken. Humanity is dying out, slowly but surely, and Jon harbors a guilty feeling of relief that their torment will not be eternal after all. As far as he can See, there’s no way for him to save the ones who remain. There never was.

  His power was never meant to help anyone. For a long time, the only action within his grasp was to hurt – and so, he went after those who deserved to be hurt, because the only other option was doing nothing at all. But seeking revenge never saved anyone, never even made himself feel any better. If anything, it only made him feel emptier, more and more alienated from whatever human part of him still lingered – and that was a very dangerous place to be.

  And when he and Martin decided together that he needed to slow down, to maintain some distance between himself and the Eye? Well… nothing substantial changed in the slightest. He didn’t get any worse, but he also didn’t get better. The world continued to suffer just as much as if he were to sit down and take no action at all. Nothing he did or did not do made any impact whatsoever.

  He Knows intimately that he cannot banish the Entities from this world as long as one person remains to feel fear. Once that last person dies, there will be no one left to save. Hell, depending on how human he still is by that time, he may very well be that last person, and the Dread Powers will just have to ration him. And why shouldn’t they? They’ve all had a taste of him more than once. He’s an unfinished meal. They could just resume hacking away at him, demanding their respective pounds of flesh one after the other until nothing remains – until finally, mercifully, the Fears themselves would wither and die as well. He just doesn’t want to consider how long that could take – no. Best not to dwell on it.   

  The point is, there is no future for this world. There is nothing left for him to do here. His only hope is to prevent all of this from coming to pass in the first place, and this… this is the only lead he has. And besides, Martin –

  “You do realize that you have a vanishingly small chance of seeing him again, don’t you?”

  “I decided to take a risk and try it anyway.”  

  Helen looks put out at his easy dismissal, but she really ought to know better by now, Jon thinks. He might be chronically plagued by self-hate and a visceral fear of being controlled, but Martin is his anchor in more ways than one. Their relationship is proof of Jon’s own capacity for free will, and his decision to go after Martin in the Lonely remains one of the only things he’s done where he’s never once wondered whether he made the right choice. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more confident about anything than he is about their love for each other, even if he doesn’t always feel like he deserves it. Helen really couldn’t pick a worse seed with which to sow self-doubt.

  When she sees that Jon isn’t taking the bait, she changes tack. 

  “And assuming this scheme somehow works as you hope it does, and doesn’t just get you shunted to some hellish pocket dimension – which it almost certainly will – you do realize that your little scene with Jonah Magnus will mean nothing, don’t you? This future will be erased, he will not suffer for eternity – he won’t even remember that it was ever a possibility.”

  “For all her anger, there was no thirst for revenge in the Archivist, only an eagerness to expunge an infection that had gone unnoticed for too long.”  

  “Then why bother confronting him? I know it wasn’t for closure – if you were at all capable of letting go or moving on, you would never have been a candidate for the Beholding in the first place, and we wouldn’t be here now.” Jon just barely manages to not flinch at that. Luckily, Helen doesn’t seem to notice that she struck a nerve, instead staring up at the ceiling in contemplation, as if trying to decipher Jon’s motivations on her own. “So, why? All those messy emotions it dredged up and for what – the drama of it all?”  

  “I live for the monologue,” he deadpans. 

  “Jonathan!” Helen gapes at him in exaggerated shock. “Was that another joke?”

  She could stand to tone down the condescension, Jon thinks. It isn’t his fault if people overlook his sense of humor just because they never think to listen for it.   

  “Are you certain about this, Archivist? You have a history of reaching these points of no return and choosing the worst imaginable path.”

  Even at the very end, the Distortion just can’t resist one last chance at undermining his confidence. Despite the cockiness underlying her taunt, Helen has a hungry, almost pleading look in her eye – desperate, like everything else in this place that feeds on fear, for scraps in the midst of a famine that will never be remedied.

  Jon reaches out and grips the doorknob with one hand.

  “Even the end of the world can’t stop you throwing yourself on a grenade. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m not following you in there, though.”

  “Thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose.”   

  “I am trying to have a heartfelt goodbye, Jonathan,” Helen says, not sounding sincere in the slightest. “I doubt this will go as you hope it will, but I’m fairly certain that no matter what happens, I won’t be seeing you again. I won’t wish you luck, but… well, it will be interesting to see whether one of your half-assed plans might pan out for once – not that they ever have gone according to plan.” When Jon’s resolve remains strong, Helen sighs – and this time, her disappointment does sound genuine. “Well, if you’re sure…” She trails off, giving him one last hopeful look – once last chance to fall apart under her skillful denigrations – before her shoulders slump in resignation.

  Not content to leave it at that, though, she does offer one last parting shot: “Do say hello to the Spider for me, won’t you?”

  An involuntary shudder courses down Jon’s spine as he remembers Anya Villette’s statement – the massive spider legs reaching up to pull her into the crack in the foundation – and compares it with his own memory of the book, the door, and the monster lurking within. Helen breathes a contented sigh at his ripple of unease – basically a snack for her, at Jon’s expense. Fine. She can have that last little morsel of fear from him, as a parting gift.  

  “Sometimes you just have to leave,” Jon says firmly, turning the handle. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”  

  And, oh, it does.

  Miraculously, Helen allows him to have the last word. As he pushes open the door to the basement, he hears Helen’s door creak open in unison. By the time he’s staring down the stairs into the dark, her door has snapped shut and popped out of existence. 

   The staircase pitches down, down, down, stretching far deeper than it should. It’s too dark to see much of anything, and it takes a full minute of descent until he notices that there’s a slight curve to it. With every step, the air grows warmer and more stifling. The revolting sensation of walking through cobwebs becomes a constant, but any time he reaches up to brush away the web clinging to him, he feels nothing but his own bare skin.

  A few minutes in, his bad leg starts twinging again, and he holds on to the wall to steady himself. Before long, his mind begins to wander to the horrifying possibility that the staircase is interminable, and he’s overcome by an image of a funnel web spider waiting patiently for unsuspecting prey. He tries to push the thought away. Just keep moving.

  Between the lack of visibility and being lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice the sharp turn in the staircase until he plows right into the wall, a sharp pain erupting in his left shoulder from the collision. He throws one hand back to steady himself and only barely manages to stay on his feet, his bad leg protesting as he throws his weight into it. After briefly taking inventory of himself and experimentally putting weight on his leg again – painful, but not unbearable – he gropes blindly for the wall again and uses it to guide himself forward, more slowly this time. It isn’t long before the stone of the wall gives way to cool, damp earth, and he shivers with the memory of the Buried.

  After several more sharp, nearly 90-degree twists and turns, a faint glow starts to permeate the darkness. A few minutes later, the staircase opens up into a large, dimly-lit space, garlanded with spider silk. The ceiling, walls, and floor are composed of tightly-packed dirt, and Jon has to fight back a rush of claustrophobic panic at the thought of being surrounded on all sides by the crushing earth. It’s short-lived, as it’s crowded out by a much deeper, more primal fear when he sees the fissure in the ground ahead.

  It’s a repulsive, crooked thing, oozing with a pervasive, tangible feeling of wrongness. It should not be there. It cannot be there. And yet there it is, boldly existing where it has no right or reason to be, a gnawing, open, inflamed wound in the fabric of reality, pulling him toward it like a black hole. It’s a compulsion stronger than the coffin, an abomination more uncanny than the Stranger, a malice deeper than any Dark, an inevitability on par with Terminus itself.

  Jon hates it. At his first glimpse of it, every one of the Archive’s eyes fly open, greedily drinking in the oppressive presence of something so unfamiliar and anomalous, leeching off of Jon’s terror as he beholds it. The scrutiny is fleeting, though, as the sight of it turns corrosive and blistering; all at once, the eyes shrink away and retreat, like a school of fish spotting a bird of prey swooping down for a meal. It takes some of the edge off, having fewer eyes with which to see the thing, but it still weighs him down with dread and revulsion.

  Jon doesn’t know how long he’s stood there, staring unblinkingly at the fault line, before he senses a presence – something colossal and hungry and wrong, malevolence and foreboding given physical form – climbing inexorably toward him. He hears a faint rustling, the whisper of tiny avalanches of dirt scraped loose and sent sliding down the walls of the crevice. He knows exactly what to expect, and still he isn’t prepared when the first of the spider’s legs peeks up over the lip of the fissure.

     How is it that after a lifetime to process a childhood trauma, it still throttles his heart and squeezes the air from his lungs at the mere thought of it? How is it that, despite being the most formidable thing in this world outside of Fear itself, he feels as small and helpless now as he did on the day he met his first of many monsters? Why is he just standing here, letting those hairy, spindly limbs hover and curl around him like an enormous clawed hand, waiting for a fate that is as unknowable as it is inevitable?

  Focus, Jon thinks to himself. Listen to the quiet.

  He slowly reaches into his jacket and breathes a sigh of relief as his fingers close around the notebook safeguarded there. It’s Martin’s, full of poems and sketches and stream-of-consciousness journal entries. Jon has had it with him for a long time now, but he’s never been able to bring himself to look inside it. Martin would occasionally share its contents with him – mostly completed poems, and only occasionally works in progress, as he was always self-conscious about his creative process – but Jon doesn’t want to accidentally see something that Martin would have preferred to keep to himself. Martin might not be beside him right now, but he still deserves to have his privacy respected.

  Still, for Jon, just having it with him is a physical reminder of his anchor, and running his thumb over the cover grounds him in the present. He closes his eyes and looks inward.  

  The Archive gropes blindly for something solid amidst the noise, some elemental truth to serve as a starting point in the chaotic tangle choking this place. The edges of his mind brush against thread after thread and none of them are what he’s looking for. They stick to him, filling his head with cotton, making him sluggish and confused, obfuscating his sight. The Spider watches as he flails, becoming more and more snarled in the web.

  “I closed my eyes and remembered in as much detail and with as much love as I could muster in my despair,” he whispers to himself, anchoring himself in the truth of the statement. He swallows a terrified whimper as something coarse and fuzzy brushes against his face, and he weaves a command into his next words: “Eventually, I opened my eyes again –” 

  The Archive obeys, hundreds of eyes materializing on his skin and blinking open in the space around him, grotesque satellites of varying sizes all seizing on single question, and suddenly he can See –

  There.

  A single thread, out of place among the rest, pulled taut and leading down into the deep gloom of the chasm. He spares a brief thought as to its origin point – Is its anchor here, now, or do its roots begin on the other side? – before silencing it. It’s not a question that needs answering right now. The Beholding objects; Jon reflexively shuts it down and takes an aggravated swipe at the nearest cluster of eyes he can reach, like swatting at a swarm of mosquitoes. He doesn’t think it actually does anything concrete, but when they disperse it brings him a small measure of satisfaction all the same.

  He gives an experimental tug on the thread and – it feels right. That’s good, right? Well, he supposes it could be the Web trying to trick him into –

  God, he’s like a dog with a bone. He could be trapped in a burning building and find part of his mind wandering off to idly ponder the melting point of steel –

  …around 1370 °C for carbon steel; between 1400 and 1530°C for stainless steel, depending on the specific alloy and grade…

  – which, yes, he has done. It’s a good way to dissociate from a crisis. Unfortunately, it’s also a good way to get killed, and the giant spider is still there, Jonathan, focus.    

  He holds fast to the thread – make a path for yourself, tune it to the frequency you need –

  “Everything about being with him felt so natural that when he told me he loved me,” he tells himself, louder this time, “it only came as a surprise to realize that we hadn’t said it already.”  

  – and he follows it, stepping carefully around and between the spider’s legs. He has no idea why it isn’t attacking him – what if this is exactly what Annabelle – no. He shakes his head as if it will jostle the thought loose. Just be thankful for it and keep moving before the damn thing changes its mind.

  Moments or hours or perhaps days later, he’s standing at the precipice of the fissure and looking down. Several eyes are riveted on the massive hairy form poised above him, but most are staring into the unknowable darkness with a gnawing, longing fascination. He stands frozen in place, torn between an overwhelming urge to flee and an overpowering need to Know what’s down there: something new, something fresh, something different – any reprieve at all from the excruciating monotony of this nightmare world.

  The spider shifts above him. It’s now or never. He has nothing to lose, and if there’s any chance at all of changing this doomed future – of seeing Martin again…

  “Sometimes you just have to leave,” he reminds himself, shutting his human eyes tight, one hand clutching the notebook and the other clenching into a fist until the fingernails cut into the palm. “Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”  

  He takes one last deep breath, thinks of Martin – safe hands, warm eyes, gentle touch – and he takes a leap of faith.

   Jon can’t see anything. He can’t See, either. There is an incessant, high-pitched whine screaming in his ears and drowning out his thoughts. When he moves to put his hands over his ears, he realizes all at once that he can’t feel his body. He has no sense of up or down, no fingers to flex, no breath to hold, and – and he can’t See.

  It’s… terrifying. It’s liberating. It hurts, but in the same way that his first gulp of fresh air hurt after three days asphyxiating in the Buried.

  He doesn’t know how long he floats there in that near-senseless limbo, but between one moment and the next a blanket of fog drops over him and the shrill static is muffled. Through the haze, he can just barely make out a voice, coming from so far away – like he’s drowning, and someone is speaking to him from above the water’s surface. He drifts and listens in a daze as the voice cuts in and out.

  “– just – thought I’d – by. Check in – how you’re –”

  It’s a nice voice.

  “– really need you –”

  A safe voice.  

  “– Jon.”

  Wait.

  “– bad. I – how much longer we can –”

  Wait, it’s – that’s Martin’s voice.

  “We – I need you.”

  It’s Martin. Martin!

  Martin is here, he’s here – Jon doesn’t know where here is, but it doesn’t matter, because Martin is here, and – and Jon is so overwhelmed with euphoria that he isn’t actually processing what’s being said. Calm down, focus – focus on the words –    

  “And I – I know that you’re not –”

  Oh.

  “I know there’s no way to –”

  Oh, no.

  “But we need you, Jon.”

  All at once, Jon knows where – when he is.

  “Jon, please, just – please.”

  No. No, no, no, no –

  “If – if there’s anything left in you that can still see us, or –”

  Martin, I’m here! 

  “– or some power that you’ve still got, or –”

  I’m here, I’m here, I’m here –

  “– or, or something, anything, please! Please.”

  Martin’s voice breaks, and Jon’s heart fractures with it.

  “I – I can’t –”

  Jon can just barely make out the buzz of a phone and – oh.

  “I’m – I’m actually with him now.”

  Martin!  

  “You were right.” A pause, and a heavy sigh. “I – will they be safe?”

  Peter Lukas. It’s Peter Lukas. Peter Lukas is still alive, Peter Lukas is hunting Martin, Peter Lukas wants to feed him to the Lonely, Peter Lukas is –

  “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Martin, don’t –

  “Yeah. Sure thing.”  

  Martin!

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jon tries to scream, to reach out, to do anything at all, but he doesn’t have a body and he doesn’t have a voice and he can’t See –

  “Goodbye, Jon.”

  Martin, look at me! Hear me, please - see me! 

  He tries to thread a command through the words, but the compulsion doesn't come through, and - 

  Jon hears the rustle of clothing as Martin stands to leave, followed by the soft click of the door as it closes behind him. 

  Fuck. 

   End Notes:

me: i could go into some long-winded exposition about the space-time continuum  also me: OR, alternatively, i can handwave it and say It's The Power Of Love, Don't Even Worry About It

anyway, my gay little heart knows what it's about.

 - Jon’s dialogue is taken from the statements in the following episodes: MAG 146; 054; 151; 139; 168; 101; 134; 010; 037; 008; 019; 167; 108; 103; 146; 048; 013; 146.

- Jon gets some original verbal dialogue starting next chapter. Thought I'd mention it just in case anyone is getting tired of the Archive-speak (though there will still be some of that). :P

- Psst, if you want to read a detour about Jon and Martin's talk about Annabelle and free will and Not Obsessing Over The Web, I wrote that here. (I'm linking it here because it actually originally started as part of this fic but I decided to make it its own thing because my ADHD brain ran with it and it was waaaaay too much of a tangent sdsdhshgh)

[mischiefsmanaged]

Pick your top 10 OTPs without reading the questions. (ships are in no particular order. thank you @louvegoods​ for tagging meeee 💕💕)

hermione x ron (hp)

peeta x katniss (thg) 

amy x jake (b99)

zuko x mai (atla)

scorpius x rose (hp)

eleven x mike (stranger things)

james x lily (hp)

percy x annabeth (pjo)

pam x jim the office (the office)

leslie x ben (parks & rec) 

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6? -- honestly, im not sure of the exact moment i started shipping them.. i just found them super adorable and i loved how much chemistry they had together <3 

2. Have you ever read a fanfic about 2? -- absolutely

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr screen saver? -- no hahaha 

4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be? -- omg let’s not pls.... 

5. Why is 1 so important? -- because they were probably the first ship that i was so deeply invested in from a young age!!! 

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship? -- i think they are great mix! they have their cute/hilarious moments (esp when they pull pranks together), but you can also see how serious they are about each other :) 

7. Out of all the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry? -- pam x jim, leslie x ben or amy x jake 

8. Out of all your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond? -- hermione x ron i think 

9. How many times have you read/watched the 10’s fandom? -- i’ve re-read hp twice now, watched atla twice now, the office is a classic so whenever i get a chance, parks and rec, thg, stranger things and pjo not more than the one time! 

10. Which ship has lasted the longest? -- probs hermione x ron

11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up? -- once if i remember it correctly haha

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8? -- omg 2 for sure, they literally got together in the middle of a warzone

13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason? -- in the fanfics i like, all the time ahah 

14. Is 4 still together? -- yis till death do them part

15. Is 10 canon? -- yessss

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win? -- ooo its a toughie but it’d either be peeta x katniss, hermione x ron,  eleve/mike, or amy x jake 

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship? -- sure in fanfics

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond? --  all of them!

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page? -- haha not actively! but alot of blogs i follow post about them so is niec

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all forever, which ship would you sink? -- probs scorp x rose 

tagging some mutuals: @toothlessismypatronus @ivashkov @perseusannabeth @bloodybarons @hsermione @lucypcvensie + anyone else! (no pressure to do this as usual!)

[katsmonsterblog]

Lost and Found

So!! This is a story I wrote with mine and @serenitydusk‘s characters a while back now. I wanted to post it because it was really good, something I’m proud of. ^w^

WARNINGS!!!! - blood, angst, torture(mild)   

my character’s : Balthazar, Chevelle, Andras, Sydney, Nicholas, Arcturus (Arc), Warrick

@serenitydusk‘s characters: Dusk, Ash, Roan

Tagging: @no-need-to-apply @thejellyflux @sunrisehoneybee @junepop45

Four months. It had been four months and still… nothing. Arc was still gone. Four months ago when he had vanished, it had been a normal day. Kian and Wren had come to visit, all for the world newly in love and it was infectious, everyone had been in the best mood and Annwn.. was normal. 

It wasn't until the evening fell and everyone in their ever growing family gathered at Dusk's home for a meal that.. something felt wrong. Roan kept rubbing his chest, it ached and he naturally looked to Arc who.. wasn't there? In fact it had been hours since he had decided to go train and Roan excused himself to head out after his male. As if sensing that he was worried, Ash headed out with him. He tried to tell himself that the hot headed flame wielder that stole his heart had once again just.. lost track of time. But his footsteps spurred on faster. 

The training ground was a bit secluded.. and usually close enough to the house to warrant being safe.. but what Ash and Roan found there was a warzone. There were bits of charred earth, trees and grass. The discarded weapons and clothes said that Arc had been here but.. one guard was dead near the path, having most likely been keeping an eye on the male. Ash claimed that it had been an ambush.. the guard taken out first then… whoever it was fought.. and took Arc. They must have excelled at concealing magic for no one to have sensed it.

Roan didn't really remember much about what happened after that. He had been so enraged, so filled with panic and pain and anger that Arc was in danger and maybe hurt that.. he blacked out for a moment… It was raining when he came too. Ash calmed him down gently and told him that he had to be strong. 

~~~

That was four months ago… and they had pulled all they had, every resource, every single favor.. to find him. Roan was exhausted.. mentally, physically, and emotionally drained.. they even went to his father which proved in vain as well. It wore on everyone, Ash and Kian widened their search to cover every inch of Annwn though.. if Arc was there then Dusk should have sensed him but there were always blind spots. Nic and Andras were putting out favors and calling in more, checking with all they knew in the human world to see if any leads turned up. How the hell anyone got into Annwn and took out a member of the royal guard and then left without a word of it… was a mystery that had royally pissed off Ash and Dusk.  They had done… all they could...

It was exhausting.. 

Roan was sure he looked as shit as he felt when he sat at the kitchen table, too early to be fully awake -not that he slept much, if at all- but also too late to even try heading back to bed. Hair a mess, his normally bright blue gaze dulled to an almost angry black color, and he was pale. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t add to help any of that. He cradled a cup of coffee, watching the steam and not caring that it didn’t have an ounce of sugar or creamer. He had been so zoned that it almost startled him to have Dusk pad barefoot into the room, or heard that she had spoken to him. 

“I’m fine.” Was that even his own voice? Did it matter? He had to contact Sydney.. See if she had found a proper locating spell and-

“Roan.” Dusk stood in his way as he stood and abandoned his coffee. “You need to rest. You do no good to him if you push yourself too far.” Her voice was a gentle scolding and full of concern and.. Anger bubbled up. 

“I said I’m fine.” He didn’t need to be coddled, but he could see the stubbornness in her face. 

“...Roan.. I know..-”

‘I SAID I’M FINE!” He roared, the coffee in his cup and the water in the kettle blasting out in a hot scalding spray that both of them were taken off guard with but Dusk had manages to freeze the spray before it hit them. There was silence… Roan’s shoulders hunching in as he realized.. He’d just yelled at Dusk… “...I’m… Gods.. Dusk.. I’m sorry…” He choked and then she was holding him as he buckled and sobbed. She held him as he broke and when he was done, he was half in her lap on the floor of the kitchen as she stroked his hair. He and Dusk were close and often with them, touch was comfort. 

“There is no need to apologize Roan.. We’re all here for you and none of us will stop looking for him… but you need rest..” There was no arguing that tone and he was too tired to do so. Another presence filled the kitchen and Chevelle appeared from shadow and darkness, curling around them. He nuzzled Dusk and then scooped Roan up like he was no more than a doll. A part of him wished he had the strength to protest but instead he curled into the soft black fur and felt himself being carried away. He was asleep before he made it to his bed. 

~~

It was… strange. To realize you were most definitely dreaming but.. Not really knowing how or why you know it. Roan stood in the middle of a long hall. It was it ...somehow and there were doors for as long as he could see down either direction. He didn’t really know if he should pick a way to go or not but before he could, a familiar black beast rose up, white skull materializing to stare at him. Ah. That’s how he knew he was dreaming. 

“Chev..? Why are we in the dreamscape?” He asked, moving closer. Chev hunched so that he could be closer to the siren. 

“You needed rest… and I… need to show you.” He spoke low and gravely. Show him? Show him what? Even in the dream he seemed to feel tired but Chev motioned for him to follow down the hall and the world around them changed. It was colder here… darker. Chev stopped and Roan looked around the area. He couldn’t see anythi- 

He froze, heart thudding as he saw the male. At first.. He had thought it was Arc.. but the stubble and the bulky shoulders….

“Warrik?” He gasped and the ghost flickered, a tired smile crossing his face. Arc’s older brother was faded, nothing like how he had appeared before and it sent dread through him. 

“We don’t have much time….” Chevelle said, causing more panic to fill him. A soothing warmth wrapped around him as the beast hugged him. “It took… far too long.. This place.. the in-between.. The space between dream… and death…” The words did nothing to reassure Roan but Warrick flickered again and spoke up. 

“Roan… They’re killing him.. Slowly..” He said, his voice faint and it was all Roan could do to hold onto Chevelle as he shook. 

“Who? Tell me where he is!” Roan’s voice was hoarse. “My clan.. Like the beast said, we don’t have much time. I will show you where it is.. I can give you the knowledge but you must hurry.. He’s… he’s weak.” Warrik reached out and with an icy cold touch, images and knowledge filled his brain. In an instant, images and thoughts that weren’t his own filled his head. He knew how to get to Arc and… oh gods.. Oh fuckin gods what had they done to him...? The next instant, Warrik pulled back, eyes clearly weak and filled with sorrow.  “I wish… I could have kept you from seeing that.. But he won’t last much longer.” Chevelle pulled on Roan and the world began to fade. 

“Warrik! Tell Arc! I’ll find him...” and like that, Roan was gasping awake in his bed, Chevelle perched like some great cat at the foot, watching him. A million things wracked his brain as he tore from the bed to get Dressed. Chevelle’s voice made him pause. 

“I am sorry… that it took so long… to find him.” A sad smile graced Roan’s features. 

“But you found him Chev. Thank you.” He said, pushing past to find Dusk and realizing he’d slept through the whole day.. Though it had seemed like only minutes….

~~

Finding where the hidden village was cloaked was fairly easy, the tip of northern Ireland and blanketed with a field of magic so thick that they had all but skipped it twice. Once they found it however… the hard part was getting in. Roan explained to Nic, Balthazar, Andras, Ash, Dusk and Kian that they needed blood from the clan to open the gate. They didn’t have time to weed out one of the followers that could be.. literally anywhere… but they luckily didn’t have to. 

“Nic.. what do you remember of your father..?” Roan stared at the vampire lord and Nic frowned.. But quickly caught on. 

“To be honest.. I don’t really. But My mother said my use of magic came from him...Are you saying my bloodline is tied to that clan? Will it work if I’m.. a vampire? From what I hear they hunt our kind.” He mused, one hand smoothing over Dusk’s almost as if it were compulsion. The stress in the room was high. 

“We can only hope. What choice do we have..?” Balthazar answered but Roan clenched his fist. 

“I won’t lose him.” Roan said, his voice held no argument, the ache in his chest an almost permanent fixture. Silence was his answer, a steel resolve set among them. 

~~

Chaos.. Utter chaos. The humans were.. Well equipped. They wielded magic and weapons, the air stunk of death and iron and blood and… worse. However well equipped they were, none of them could have prepared for the onslaught of the fae, vampire, and demon alike that paved the way for Roan and Dusk. They made it, the underground bunker area that smelled like a furnace and felt like hell lay behind the doors. And when they finally came into the dank blackness….

Neither of them recognized the man chained to the concrete and steel. “Arc….” that broken whisper left Roan’s lips. If Warrik hadn’t shown him this image… he’d have sworn that man wasn’t his mate… but it was and his heart knew it. 

On his knees in the middle of an Iron contraption, they had pierced his hands and bolted him to a concrete block. There were chains connected to a collar around his neck that also served as a muzzle over his mouth and nose… and his hair shaved off to reveal dead eyes that didn’t even blink when they entered. The worst… was the machines they had hooked to him as he took labored breaths, skin ablaze and the heat was… suffocating. Dusk could feel how weak he was and.. Gods if they didn’t get him out now he wouldn’t make it another night. She wasn’t in Annwn… and she was surrounded by metal that clogged her throat but she pushed it away and stepped forward. She called earth to her the land that was Ireland… and it answered, rolling and cracking the stones, she reached out to Ash so he could aide in quelling the fire that Arc wielded. 

 Arc… couldn’t remember how to think.. All he felt was pain.. All he knew.. No… he knew he had to stay alive.. He had.. He had to stay strong.. For Roan… Roan. he heard voices, felt more pain surge through him as he was moved, his body protested and he screamed, fire pushing out only to be quenched.. Stilled. It felt.. Oh it felt familiar. 

“Arc! Baby.. stay with me.. Listen to me.. Breathe..” Oh.. oh that voice. He tried to move, to fight, He had to get to.. 

Everything went black. 

~~ 

Days flew by… six to be exact, since they got him out of there. He was.. Roan hung his head,, swallowing harshly. He was still asleep, washed up and mostly… mostly healed. Four months he’d been in their hands and the damage… looking back up, his first reaction to make sure Arc was still breathing...but what caught his eye was a pair of pale ones staring back. 

Arc was sure that he’d died this time.. Roan.. Roan was there so close. His vision blurred and he tried to move, to wipe his eyes but he was so slow, so sluggish. And it didn’t matter because in a heartbeat, his love was on him, cupping his face and rubbing the tears away. 

“Mo chridhe. Arc..” he sighed, clinging to him carefully, as if he might shatter like a dream. Arc could only tremble, grasping weakly at him.

“Roan…” He whispered, voice hoarse and rough and deeper than the last he’d remembered. “Am.. am I in heaven…?” he asked. There was a second where he watched pain and joy streak across Roan’s face, tears falling and his love probably didn’t even notice. Those words had been the first thing Arc had said when Roan found him washed ashore. 

“No.. No mo chridhe, you’re alive..” Roan moved Arc’s scarred hand to his chest, feeling the weight and the thump of his heart. “See?” his voice broke and then he was sobbing into his boyfriend’s arms, Arc holding him as tight as he could. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so.. I never..” Arc shushed him, his own body trembling as he cried silently. He didn’t have the voice right now to tell him that the only thing that had kept him alive that whole time was the thought of him, the ache in his chest that let him know Roan was looking for him. The two ended up in the same bed, touching each other and pressing kisses to every inch of skin. Roan helped him drink water and Dusk had cried when she came to check on him. Now Roan ran a hand over the fuzz that covered his head instead of the wild mane of golden hair. 

“.....I’ll grow it back…” Arc’s voice was soft. It was timid and Roan knew that tone… it would take a while to heal from what was done to him but the first thing he wanted to remedy. 

“You’re beautiful Arc..” He lifted his chin so he could see those pale eyes. He could see the disbelief there. “You are beautiful to me.. Always… and mine.. I won’t let you go again.