#somna <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[jo-harrington]

Wanderlust (James "Sawyer" Ford and STFF!Reader)

Summary: You don't really know what your place was in this story. One minute you're taking your first plane ride to Australia, and the next you're stranded on a deserted island and you have a new best friend.

Word Count: 5.6k

Themes: Metafiction, AU within an AU, Isekai, Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Criticism of Media, Philosophical Ideas, Fate vs Free Will, Supernatural Elements, Time Travel, Fix-It Fic, James/Juliet Canonical Pairing, References to Other Media (NBC's Community and Heroes) but no additional knowledge needed to understand this fic, Temporary Reader Character Death

Notes: Wishing my lovely @somnambulic-thing a late happy Solar Return. Every day I get to chat with you is a gift and a treat. I love getting to pick through ideas and listen to all of the ideas that your beautiful brain has. The universe placed us, quite literally, halfway around the world from one another because if we were any closer we would be too powerful and too happy, I think. But I will take what I can get.

And I could've just sent this fic to you, but I know that there are a few others who love Sawyer as much as you who might want to read.

For anyone who else that is interested, Reader Character is from my Stranger Things Meta Isekai AU called "Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction" and is a character from a made-up 80s Cult Classic TV show that, uh, gets bounced around universes quite a bit and is aware of their fictional existence. It's hard to explain if you're not already in the know, but it is mind-fucky.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Wanderlust - a strong longing or impulse towards wandering

Day 1

You know, you'd done a lot of things in your weird, long, fictional life. Been to a lot of places. And generally, you enjoyed it. But being in a plane crash was one thing—one place—that you didn't think would ever experience.

Damn, being a passenger on a plane hadn't even been on your list until you woke up and found yourself on a flight to Australia.

You had been suspicious--for the duration of your existence in fanfiction, your trademark mode of transportation had been your Beetle--and now you felt justified of that suspicion as you woke up amid the chaos of the aftermath of a plane crash.

There was fire, explosions, people screaming, people running.

People were bleeding.

People were dead.

You didn't know what to do, what to focus on, how to help. Because people were helping, running around and hauling people further from the water, further from the wreckage. A man in a suit was doing chest compressions on an unconscious woman.

And as your consciousness settled into your body, you simply felt overwhelmed. By the sights and sounds, the soreness that you felt; there were cuts along your arms, and you felt a throbbing pain in your head.

You'd been through so much. All of your lives, all of your deaths. But this? There was nothing like this before and it was the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was your miserable existence.

What story were you a part of this time? Whose fantasy did you exist to serve now? How could you possibly find a lesson or love or...whatever...here of all places?

A young woman with blonde hair stood several meters from you, screaming and crying but not much else, and your system decided it was a good idea and that you needed to join her.

Hot tears blurred your vision and rolled down your cheeks.

Time passed, as time does, but you stayed as stagnant as you felt. The sky started turning an array of pinks and purples and oranges as the sun set.

"Hey kid, get up." A gruff voice came from behind you, and you ignored it until a hand was shoved against your shoulder and your world shifted sideways.

Your head snapped towards a man with light brown hair, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and a permanent "fuck off" stamped on his forehead. He'd been sitting next to you on the plane. You hadn't talked much, except to shuffle past each other to go to the bathroom. He had let you have both arm rests.

"Get up," he grumbled at you again. "Come on."

"What?" You sniffed and ran the back of your hand across your cheek to wipe the tears away; the grit of the sand on your skin made you want to cry more. "Why?"

The man scoffed and threw a hand out exasperatedly. "Fine. Stay there. Let the tide come in and get you wet. Drown. Starve. What do I care?"

He grumbled under his breath, something along the lines of this is why you don't help people out, no matter how pathetic they look.

You took a few deep breaths to level out your emotions, despite the pang at, once again, accepting the fact that you were alone here. On this island, in this predicament that you seemed to perpetually exist in.

Help. What a foreign concept. You hadn't ever thought to find help before. You were always in it alone, always at the mercy of the Writer who put you in their story, only serving to further their narrative. True help was rare to find; why would it be different here?

But, unlike all of the other worlds you'd visited and all of the stories you'd been a part of, you didn't feel the pull of a Writer's pen here. Only the guilt at pushing away the only person who'd noticed you sitting here.

Maybe things could be different here.

You took a few breaths and then called out to the man as he started walking away.

"Don't you think that's a bit much?" He turned back to you and raised a questioning brow. "Smoking."

He took an exaggerated drag and shrugged.

"You could just breathe in the toxic plane crash fumes if you wanted tar in your lungs," you elaborated.

He snorted a laugh; however, his expression remained generally blank. He was reluctant to find you funny, but it was still there.

"Alright, kid," he nodded. He took one last drag and then flicked the half-finished cigarette away. "No need to be a smart ass."

Day 25

You really didn't know how you fit into this story.

You were utterly and sincerely baffled.

But you could say that about a lot of the stories you found yourself in; this one felt like it was just to make you suffer, more than anything else.

"What's on your mind Wanderlust?" Sawyer groaned as he collapsed beside you on the sand. You rolled your eyes at the nickname; he liked to pick on you for how well-traveled you were, but it wasn't the worst nickname for him to give you, so you didn't complain.

He held out a water bottle--still a bit cold, meaning he'd just come back from refilling them at the caves--which you took with a grateful nod.

"You're staring into that fire as if it's about to tell you the meaning of life."

"I think that's exactly what I'm hoping it does," you told him honestly before taking a swig.

"Well if you find out," he laid back with his arms folded behind his head. "Be sure to share with the class."

You rolled your eyes at him and then kept up with your pity party.

To add to the list of things you didn't know: Sawyer was also one of them.

He was a shithead of the first degree, dangerous, shifty, rude, selfish, suspicious...and somehow the only person you consistently talked to here on the island.

You appreciated his compassion, and the subsequent companionship that he shared with you. The care. The protection. The no-strings-attached, no-questions-asked nature of your relationship. You had his back and he had yours.

"You have a boyfriend back home kid?" he asked abruptly.

Spoke too soon.

"Loaded question," you snorted, thinking back to the many loves you'd had throughout this strange life you lived.

"Always the bridesmaid?"

"Something like that." You kicked his leg. "What about you?"

"Married to my work, sweet pea," he grinned, eyes still closed. He must've heard you roll your eyes at him. "I'm sure you're curious about why I'm asking."

"The question crossed my mind, if you'd like to share with the class," you parroted his words.

"Might've heard through the grapevine that someone has a little crush on you."

"Hmmm." You hoped the judgment and distaste was clear.

You weren't hostile to any of the other survivors, but you couldn't say that any of them were crush-worthy either.

"Figure it was my duty as your unofficial big brother to scare them away before they started sniffing too close. 'specially if you had someone back home waiting for you."

"Well, no one's waiting," you huffed a breath. "But that doesn't mean I'm interested in a weird beach hookup."

"I figured. I'll tell 'em to scram."

"Please don't be rude about it."

His eyes popped open and he pressed a hand to his chest.

"Now when have I ever been rude?" You kicked him again. "Alright, I'll be nice."

"Thank you."

There were a few beats of silence, filled with the crackle of the fire and the roar of waves just a few yards away.

"What are you looking for then?" Sawyer's voice broke through. "If it's not sex or love or whatever. What's got you looking so deep into that fire for?"

"I think..." You took a second, because all of those things were nice. But what did you want? What did you really want?

You inhaled deeply and then turned your gaze back to him with the hint of a smile.

"I think I just need a friend."

Day 44

It was the definition of an awkward goodbye.

You knew he'd either be back, or he'd be dead.

That was the way, wasn't it? The two of you had talked about the Gilligan's Island of it all once...just once. Until he got too cranky at the implication that he'd be stuck on this island forever, and then he gave you the silent treatment for a whole 24 hours.

"It's a stupid tv show," he'd scoffed at you. "This is life, kid. Real life."

Of course, you couldn't tell him that no, actually. It was not. Not for you, at least.

If there was anyone that you'd want to go through this farce of an existence with, Sawyer wouldn't have been too bad. Unfortunately, you were still alone in your limited omniscience.

Still, as he, Jin, Michael, and Walt prepared to depart, you felt like someone should wish him well.

Because Kate certainly wasn't there to.

You were not jealous of whatever she and Sawyer had going on; in fact, you hoped the two of them would get their heads out of their asses and stop dancing around each other. But you were bitter because of Kate's reluctance to commit to her feelings and Sawyer's refusal to feel them at all led your friend to make stupid decisions. Like getting on this raft.

"You've got that forlorn look in your eye," you said, announcing your presence and effectively startling him as he stared longingly back at the beach.

"Jeez, you can't just sneak up on a guy like that," he grumbled.

"I don't think that I'm sneaking." You gestured to the crowd around you, saying their goodbyes to Jin, Michael, and Walt.

"And where did you learn a big word like forlorn, anyway? You been reading my books?"

You frowned at him. "Am I not allowed to say goodbye to you? To tell you to stay safe? Would you rather I spit in your eye?"

"Maybe." You started making a hacking sound, but Sawyer mashed a hand to the top of your head and pushed you away with a laugh. "Alright. Enough. Say your goodbyes. Tell me how much you'll miss me."

"I will miss you," you said honestly. "No one else...no one talks to me or makes this place as bearable as you have. Maybe Hugo."

"Who's Hugo?" he frowned.

"So please stay safe," you ignored him and continued. "Don't do anything stupid. I believe you're at least a little bit capable of that. And get us rescued, please. That's your responsibility as my unofficial big brother, after all."

He had the good sense to look a little misty-eyed at your words. He opened his mouth, but made the decision to close it and simply pull you into his arms in a hug instead.

Day 58

Sawyer made himself at home and burst into your tent, dropping down onto the makeshift bed with a groan.

"Who pissed in your Dharma Initiative Flaked Corn Cereal?" you asked and turned the page in your book.

"Couldn't sleep. Spent the whole day with Hurley, finding a damn frog."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you would laugh at me if I asked you to come and help me find it."

"Did you want a pet? We can barely take care of Vincent."

"No, I had to kill it." You stared at him silently and he turned his head to look back at you. "It's a long story."

You huffed a sigh and set your book aside.

"Lucky for you, we have nothing but time."

Day 76

"I'm sorry, ok?"

You looked up at him in annoyance. "What could you possibly be apologizing for?" You asked sarcastically.

He said your name in a warning tone, but you knew you needed to let him have it.

"You've barely been back for a day after being imprisoned by the Others for weeks. Surely, you've dreamed some sort of slight. It's not like you came back and blamed me for letting the others take some things in your totally not dick-headed secret stash. Or called me a pest. Or said you were grateful for the time away, that it was almost like a vacation."

"Alright, kid, I've got it. I'm a jerk. You knew this from the moment you met me."

"I do, but I want you to grovel." You shot him a perfectly innocent, angelic smile.

"Well I brought you a present, so maybe that'll be enough."

You finally noticed his hands were tucked behind his back, and you raised a brow in question.

"Remember when we were talking about getting rescued early on, and you said that you'd like nothing more than a burger and a cold beer?" he asked.

"I don't think that was me." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Sure it was. Because I made a joke about Hurley being as big as a cow if we ever got desperate, and you socked me in the arm for it."

"That does sound like me," you agreed. You hated when he made fat jokes about Hugo. "So what? Did you magically find a cow when you escaped from the others?"

"No, but...the boys and I--"

"The boys?" you snorted.

"--We found an old Dharma Van out in the forest and it was full of little surprises. A skeleton, a bunch of trash, and..."

He presented you with the dirtiest, rustiest looking can of beer that you'd ever seen in your life.

"It's warm, it's flat, it stinks, it's well-beyond expiration, and it might give you tetanus," he explained. "But it's beer."

And you wouldn't lie, you would have squirmed uncomfortably at the combination of unsettling words that had just come out of his mouth, if only he didn't have the proudest, most self-satisfied smile on his face.

You knew you were one of the few people who got to see the softer sides of Sawyer, but even this was pretty big for him.

So you took the beer from his hand with a soft "apology accepted."

Day 78

"Hey, so, I need your help with something," Hurley said to you, but not directly at you.

You were in the pantry, scrounging for a bit of breakfast, and he stood at the other end of the table staring past you, towards the beach.

It took you a second to realize he really was talking to you.

"Uh...sure, what's going on?" you asked, concerned.

"Everyone has a certain issue with a certain...let's say mutual friend..."

"So, Sawyer..." you prompted him.

"Uh...yeah." He fidgeted where he stood. "And I've come up with a plan to change their minds, but I'm gonna need some help with it. It requires a certain level of deception."

"So we're tricking Sawyer into being nice to everyone so they don't think he's such a shithead."

Hurley's gaze finally snapped to you and he threw his arms up in the air.

"Dude! How did you get that so fast?"

You dug your spoon into your bowl of cereal and smiled widely.

"Because I was thinking of doing the same thing."

Day 83

You settled down in the sand beside the newcomer.

Or, you supposed, she’d been here longer than you guys had been.

Juliet Burke, one of the Others.

You felt so stupid, just plopping beside her. When there was a whole stretch of beach you could’ve sat on.

“Hey,” you said, awkwardly.

“Hey,” she greeted with a serene smile.

What the fuck were you supposed to say?

You introduced yourselves and then both stared out at the water again.

“So, Sawyer mentioned that you’re a doctor,” you said after a stretch of silence.

“I’m a researcher, actually.”

“Oh!” Your brows jumped in surprise. You didn’t know anything about that, what could you say? “Well, you'll be a great help regardless. Jack is…nice—“ You wondered if she could sense your distaste for the doctor-turned-de-facto-leader. “But sometimes you can’t confide in a man for…certain, uh, female...medical…issues.”

What the fuck was wrong with you!

“They sent you over to keep an eye on me, huh?” She asked, trying to keep herself from laughing at you.

You debated lying, but ultimately decided that it didn’t matter.

“Technically, Hurley drew the short straw,” you explained. “But he bribed me, so here I am. He thought it would be more painful if he was here instead of me. But I don’t think I’m doing a good job.”

“Better than the rest of the Welcome Committee.” She gestured behind you, where the other survivors all roamed about camp, shooting suspicious glances at her. Sawyer, especially, was the embodiment of if looks could kill.

“Do the Others usually give out gift baskets?” You asked.

Day 91

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Punky Brewster?" You shook Sawyer's hand off your arm and scowled at him. "How many times have you said you'd rather stay here on this island? That your wanderlust has settled down some, and you'd take a nice beach and mangoes for the rest of your life over uncertainty? And now you're taking the Doc's side?"

"I'm not taking any side," you argued.

"You don't even like Jack!"

"I don't...get along with Jack."

"Then why stay with them? Why try to help them? Charlie died."

"That's right, Sawyer!" You shouted. "Charlie died trying to get a signal to that freighter so that all of us could go home!"

"And it turned out to be a lie. It's not Penny's boat. Naomi is a fraud!"

"But there's still a freighter out there!" You grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Which means there's a chance for us...them...to get home."

The Writer might've chosen this path for you, but it was a path you'd have chosen for yourself regardless. Because this was the path that would lead these people--these characters--to be able to get home; you could feel it in your gut.

But how could you tell him? How could you tell him that this was the kind of stuff that happened in TV shows? In movies? In fictional stories. And that there might be another bit of uncertainty, but in the end, they'd be able to get home safe. That there would be a happy ending.

You couldn't tell him, was the thing. Even if you wanted to. You physically could not tell him that.

"Maybe..." You swallowed hard. "Maybe one day, I'll be able to give you more of an explanation as to why I'm sticking with Jack, instead of Locke. But for now all I can say is...good luck, Sawyer."

1974

Well this was...interesting to say the least.

Time travel. You couldn't say you hated it. Hadn't you time travelled with Peter and Claire and Hiro before? This was no different.

That is, it was a lot different, because now you and your friends seemed to be stuck in 1974, with the Dharma Initiative.

"Least we're not all about to start hemorrhaging," Miles had said dismissively when you'd awoken inside the Dharma Barracks.

"We need to keep our wits about us, and wait for Sawyer, and then we figure out what happens next," Juliet tried to keep him calm.

But now you were put up in Dharma housing, eating Dharma food, given...well, they weren't Dharma clothes but they certainly weren't your clothes either.

The 70's. That's where you were from, sort of. You remembered a childhood, growing up with a station wagon and funky music like the Dharma-favorite Geronimo Jackson, cookie cutter houses in your midwestern suburb, and your mom's trendy clothes and haircuts. This place was decidedly not that, even if it tried to be some sort of facsimile of it.

Of course, everything was a facsimile of something else. This world wasn't real. Even though it was to its inhabitants. Your world wasn't real, even though it was to you. What was even real? You didn't know.

You didn't let yourself go down that spiral of thoughts very often. Any time you thought about it, you got a headache. So you generally just played your part, lived your life. But there was something so...existential about this world, about this Island, and especially now as you found yourself travelling through time, that made it all hit you like a ton of bricks.

So as soon as you'd showered and put clean clothes on, you'd gone back out and sat on the swing set in the little playground at the center of the barracks and you let yourself have your existential crisis.

Even the swing was Dharma-issued.

"Wasn't expecting to find you out here."

You ignored it and just kept swinging, pumping your legs as the set creaked under the weight of your adult body.

"Are you trying to take flight?"

"So what if I am, Juliet?" You called out to her. "That would get you off of this stupid island too."

She sighed and took the swing next to yours, but she didn't move.

"Do I need to ask James to come out here and talk to you?" she asked after a few, long minutes.

"I'm surprised he hasn't."

"You mad at him or something?" You didn't answer her. "Are you mad at me?"

You let your sneakers skid against the sand and you came to an abrupt stop, then you stared at her.

"I don't even know you, Juliet," you snapped, tears in your eyes. You let them fall freely; the first time you'd really allowed yourself to cry since Flight 815 crashed. "I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at LaFleur. I'm just mad. Ok? Am I not allowed to do that?"

She held it together for approximately one minute before she started laughing. You stared at her incredulously, then scoffed and got to your feet with a curse.

"Wait, wait," Juliet got up and chased after you. She grabbed your hand. "It's ok. I wasn't laughing at you. I was just...I said practically the same words to Ben. I was angry, I am angry. Do you think I want to be here either? I want to go home too; he kept me on this island, never let me leave...and now...now it seems impossible. So we just have to...play our parts. Alright? I've gotten really good at it over the years."

You let out another scoff, that turned into even more tears. Until you she was preaching to the choir. You had a part to play, even now. She pulled you forward, into her arms, into a hug.

You stayed like that for a while, a comforting embrace as you cried. You even felt your shoulder get wet as she started to shed her own tears.

You had been indifferent to Juliet before that moment. You didn't know her, just like you said. The former-Other was nice enough, courageous enough, but even when you'd sided with Jack, you kept your distance from her. Now...she was stepping up. Supporting Sawyer, supporting you...when she didn't need to.

"But it'll be ok," she finally whispered to you. "You keep fighting, you keep surviving. And one day...one day something good will happen. You'll meet someone who changes your life, or...or you'll do something that will be the most important thing you'll ever do."

"Will it?" you sniffed.

"Yeah."

"Did it happen to you?" you asked.

She squeezed you tightly, but didn't say anything else.

1977

"If I never meet you, then I never have to lose you."

You waited until Juliet stomped away before you called out to Sawyer. "You really fucked that one up."

"What, did you come to take a cheap shot out of me now too, kid?" Sawyer growled at you.

You pushed through the foliage until you were out in the clearing with him.

"Was that a cheap shot?" you questioned. "Or was Juliet telling you how you made her feel and you're too much of an idiot to get it? I'm just here to drill the point home."

"Am I an idiot?"

"Yes."

"Because I might have...lamented over the opportunities I lost with Kate?"

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched at him. "You're lucky Jack beat the shit out of you, otherwise I would have to take a hit right now. Lamented? How many romance novels have you been reading lately?"

Sawyer said your name sternly, but you ignored him and continued.

"There is no lost opportunity with Kate," you explained to him. "Not while there's a Juliet. Do you get that? Because if there is, that invalidates every moment that you've shared with Jules. Every time you've kissed, every time you've said I love you. She thinks...she knows...that you've been wondering how it would've been if Kate was in her place instead."

"But that's not how it was!"

"Then why didn't you tell her that! Why did you say the wrong things!"

"When did you suddenly become the expert on relationships?" He let out a sarcastic laugh, but you held your ground. "What was I supposed to say?"

"That Kate means nothing to you."

"I thought I said that."

"You said..." You stepped right up to him and poked him in the chest. "You said it didn't matter who you looked at. That you were with Juliet. It doesn't mean the same thing, James! And I know you've been too busy trying to keep everything under control the last few days since the others have been back, but Juliet has been falling apart for days and not once did you reassure her. She knows how much you love her...you just made her feel like you would rather love someone else instead."

"Oh, like she told you?" He snorted.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, she did."

That took him aback. Like, it visibly shook him to his core.

He didn't say anything after that, as you trekked back to join the rest of your friends to accompany Jack on his suicide mission. It was the quietest you'd ever seen him.

And then you knew.

You'd been on this island and in this universe for almost 1200 days--yes, you'd been keeping track--and you always wondered what it was that you were here for.

Why was there a writer out there who picked...you, a silly kid from Port Geneva, to be a part of this story when there was no real use of you.

You'd made friends, family, been a shoulder to cry on, been shot at more than once, experienced all manner of wild, supernatural encounters. But there was no obvious reason that you were supposed to be here.

Juliet had told you, once, that the Others believed that a mysterious Jacob brought people to the Island that needed to be here.

"Is he like a God?" you had asked.

"Something like that," she responded. "But I suppose there's more to it than that. We're not really supposed to ask, or think about it too much."

As if that had been really helpful.

But you thought, as you watched the chaos unfold at the Swan construction site, that maybe there was no writer this time. That maybe this was real, and Jacob had brought you here to fix something that otherwise would not have happened.

He brought you here for them.

Everything moved in slow motion when the magnetic pulse pulled the chains towards the drill; it was unfortunate that Juliet just happened to be in their way.

They knocked her to the ground and dragged her towards the mining shaft. Her blood-curdling scream made time stop, and then spurred everyone into action. Sawyer, Kate, and you.

Kate tried her best to hold the chains back, to pull Juliet up.

Sawyer dove and gripped onto Juliet’s hand with a gruff “where d’you think you’re going blondie.”

You acted on instinct, without a care in the world for your own safety. You weren’t the most athletic, weren’t the smartest, but you climbed your way into that shaft and through the twisted mining equipment like they were monkey bars to get to her.

“What are you doing?” She sobbed.

Your purpose was clear, filtered into your mind by Jacob or by a Writer or maybe you were just ingenious enough to figure it out yourself, the adrenaline of hanging over the precipice of certain death enough to drive you.

Untangling a necklace would be easier than trying to figure out how to unwind the chains from where they were wound around her waist and her legs with one hand. And she was dangling, being pulled into the void, with only Sawyer to hold her.

“Kate, try to help her get those chains off,” he barked, nodding to you. She slid under an I-beam and tried to reach for Juliet but she was careful, full of self preservation. Unlike you.

This was what you came here for. To save Juliet. To save Sawyer’s heart.

“It's ok,” you whispered to Juliet with each whimper. One chain came free and plummeted down the shaft. The piece of scaffolding that you were clinging to shifted and you held on for dear life. Juliet sobbed and you cried out to her. “It’s ok! It’ll be ok!”

“Hold on,” Sawyer growled at her. “You hold on to me.”

“I can’t, I can’t.” She cried weakly.

“You can,” you grit your teeth and worked her free.

“I’ve got you,” Sawyer ground out, gritting his teeth. “You hold on.” He looked at you now. “Work faster. Come on.”

And you did, until Juliet was free. Until Sawyer could haul her as you pushed her bloody, bruised body upwards. They fell backwards and vanished from your sight, and as you heard their cries of relief, you felt a sense of fulfillment wash over you.

Kate called your name and stretched to grab the back of your shirt to pull you up as the scaffolding you clung to groaned. Then Sawyer appeared again, cheeks wet with tears, with a huge grateful smile stretched across his lips.

“Come on, Wanderlust, let’s get you out of there,” he laughed.

It was a glorious sight.

And the last you would see of him as the magnetism grew too strong, and the metal around you finally snapped.

You closed your eyes as you fell, the crashing sound drowned out his screams.

And then…flash.

Greendale Community College - April 2011

“Perfect timing!” Abed said instead of a greeting as you walked into the study room. “We were about to finish the final episode of LOST.”

“We just rewatched the whole series,” Troy explained. “God, what a perfect show.”

“Ehhh, I have a list of continuity errors.” Abed tapped a notebook on the table and then pointed at Troy. “We can compare notes later.”

“Lost?” You shook your head. “Never heard of it.”

You tuned out his and Troy’s enthusiastic explanation and admonishment that you’d never heard about the “hit ABC show” as you pulled up a chair and stared at the laptop screen. This wasn’t the first time that they’d told you about some must-watch program that you couldn’t care less about.

The camera was focused on a scrungly, sparkly eyed pilot as he prepared to take off. Then his face shifted to incredulity as he announced some “late arrivals” and the scene cut to people running on a grassy runway.

And then you froze as the shot returned to the cockpit and the pilot, and a man wearing eyeliner, and…

“Miles?” You muttered, causing Troy and Abed to pause their rambling.

“So you have seen Lost!” Abed cheered.

“Shh, shh, shut up!” You exclaimed and scooted closer to the table, eagerly pulling the laptop to the edge.

The scene cut to a dying Jack struggling to move a rock in a pit of smoke and glowing lava—wow, what an oddly fitting, if Sisyphean, conclusion to Jack’s story—then back to the plane where Miles and the Guyliner guy hauled the late arrivals up into the plane.

Claire—Claire was alive—and Kate.

Then Juliet…and finally Sawyer.

You covered your mouth with your hands in disbelief as tears built at the corners of your eyes.

It had been…years since you’d been on the island. Since you died on the island. But you’d always wondered what happened, if James and Juliet had made it off the island and been able to live their lives. You’d always hoped, but there was no way to know until now.

“Way to wait til the last second, Jim,” Miles scolded him and pulled the plane’s door shut again.

“Good to see you too, Enos,” Sawyer greeted gruffly.

The scene flashed with uncertainty as they all said and waited for the plane to take off, as the Island cracked and died around them. Claire and Kate held hands. James and Juliet pressed their foreheads together. Miles gripped his armrests tightly.

The music swelled as the plane took off and banked to the left over the highest peak of the island.

“Hey wait a minute,” Abed flipped the pages in his notebook. "I swear I thought Juliet died in the Swan Incident."

He listed off events that he had taken notes on--the mine shaft, the bomb, the flash-sideways to the alternate universes--and kept saying that this wasn't the right ending.

"Maybe this was a deleted scene," Troy offered. "O-or...what if...what if we're in an alternate universe."

You were oblivious to the rest of their discussion about alternate timelines and Mandela Effects. Instead you basked in the sight of your friends getting their wish.

Making it off the island. Alive.

“We did it Blondie,” Sawyer said gruffly and closed his eyes in relief. “We did it.”

“We’re going home,” Juliet smiled, tears in her eyes.

You choked on your tears, but couldn't help but grin as they kissed and the scene faded to black for a commercial.

Tagging @undead-supernova @fkinkindagauche @alwaysurvalentine

[ghost-proofbaby]

I shall chant it with you!

<3<3<3

THANK YOU SOMNA!!! i need them to get me with all those original vibes that made me fall in love with the show in season 1, that originally drew my attention in. not everything should be epic marvel levels and i feel like it’s something the entertainment industry just struggles to understand 😭

[jo-harrington]

I think this was an extra really special one because you posted it on leap day too Somna. I love coming back to this headcanon so fucking much.

some nerds in love, anybody?

You call Eddie Jupiter - the planet, not the god - and depending on who asks him why exactly that is, he either answers 'None of your business,' or 'Because I'm massive' with a stupidly smug grin that is so incredibly stupidly smug because it's not even a lie albeit not all of the story.

Jupiter spins faster than any other planet in our solar system and so does Eddie's mind, manifesting in ever-tapping feet and fingers and the quickest mouth around.

Jupiter has many, many moons most of them small; like his Hellfire kids. What started out as collecting strays in High School has now become a project hosted by the local youth club and you have long lost count over how many kids orbit him on the regular. And then there are the big moons: Ganymede (Jeff), Io (Erica), Europa (Ronnie) and Callisto (Gareth, who's also amazing on guitar, as it turns out)

Jupiter has Rings. Fainter than those of Saturn but Eddie's ring collection changes from big, loud and clunky to... less big and... less clunky over the years.

Jupiter's magnetic field is the strongest in our solar system and you just can't fucking stay away from him... (It's not called Eddy Currents for nothing, right?) (Same goes for gravity, of course.)

Jupiter's days only last 10 hours and time fucking flies when you're with him, always seems to pass too fast.

"And Jupiter is fucking beautiful," you say and Eddie tries to hide the blush high on his cheeks by pressing a kiss to your temple. "There is more!"

"Hmmm, there is always more inside that head of yours," he cups your cheeks, presses two quick kisses to your lips and your foreheads together. "But I have to shut you up now... feel like crashing into the sun..."

[runningupthatvecna]

guten morgen <3

for those I'd like 8. 11. and 14.

:3

aaaaaaah somnaaaaaa guten morgen and thank you for askinggg <3

8. do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home? i do, mainly because berlin is so filthy that i don't want to lay in bed or on my couch with my 'street clothes' haha. it's some baggy shirt and more comfortable pants or none at all lol.

11. anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

a whole container of trauma, yeah. i have a teddy bear in my drawers. legend says someone gave that one to me when i was born. another plushie (which is a cute frog) and i still have a game boy from 1986 which belonged to my mother and my grandparents gifted that to me when i was like eight maybe, can't recall. it still functions which is cool and probably worth a fortune in a few years so i'm holding on to it for now hehe

14. do you think you’re dehydrated?

uh, yeah. i've always struggled with drinking enough, it's just that i consciously need to make the decision to drink sth, and most of the time i just forget ._. it's something i'm working on lol because water is life

[awkward-hugs]

The Sea Dragon "Somna", A sleepy beast who lives willingly in an aquarium, under magi-researchers close gaze. Once a fearsome civilization ender, the people of Toru figured out a rather nice agreement of providing offerings and comfortable living space in return for peace. Now if only they could find some way of directing the now dormant destructive capabilities to defend themselves...

[loetise]

i do believe in fairies, i do, i do. i do believe in fairies, i do, i do ( if we say this enough times will she be a solo-blog girlie again asking for a friend )

PIHOUGYIWFDTUCGVHBNPOJIEHWUGYFVCHKBLONWC

[urhoneycombwitch]

rommate thoughts

getting up early in the morning to go to the bathroom and the world slows down down down to a viscous quality when you pass your roommate's door... are they still asleep? or will you bear witness to early morning noises? and what story will tell you? the sharp clicking and clacking of hurried dressing and rushed getting ready? lazy yawns and rustling sheets as they turn around for ten more minutes? maybe soft singing to shoo some lingering nightmares away? or other... soft things?

you know? <3

foreword: oh, Somna. I needed this softness today. this one goes out to those who might need it, too <3

cw: mentions of prescription drugs and weed

wc: 1.2k

___

When the last of the summer sun slips behind the edge of the city, you and Eddie open all the windows in the apartment.

Moving with practiced fluidity, you slide the little window above the sink into place, the larger one by the breakfast nook gets the same treatment; Eddie’s tall enough to reach the hand crank for the pane overlooking the shower, then ducks into both of your rooms to undo the last two latches. 

You talk the whole time, exchanging laughter and comments even on opposite ends of the apartment. Cool night air floods the whole space, lush and floral from the hydrangea bush on the ground floor. This is the only ritual that makes sleeping in the summer months bearable. 

Some nights, Eddie rolls up and you choose the record, legs slung over each other laps, talking over the hazy smoke and crooning speakers. Others, you get takeout and watch whatever’s good on TV, Eddie’s legs making the perfect lean-to for your back. 

Some nights, you fall asleep on the couch- when this happens, come morning, there’s always a blanket tucked carefully around your form. Others, Eddie’s the first to drop- cheek smushed to your thigh, snoring lightly. You’re always gentle with him, rubbing his shoulder to get him up and in the comfort of his own bed, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walk him down the hall.

Last night, both of you turned in early. Eddie’s got a bad case of allergies, and you were tired from work, so you took your respective medicine and leave, evening ritual shortened and performed apart with just the bedroom windows.

In the morning, the air of your room is still cool. Birds twitter with the rise of the sun. Soon, it will be time to close everything up, to keep the temperature down and the summer heat out. For now, you yawn, stretch, kick your way out of the comforter, and pad down the hall.

Eddie’s door is slightly ajar. His room is dark, but you can just make out the tangle of his curls on his pillow, sheets tucked under his chin covering the length of his body. You move on carpeted footsteps, approaching bedside with quiet intention.

Without his eyes on you, it’s easier to indulge, taking your time to drink in his sleeping face. You sink to your knees beside the head of the bed for a better look- in the muted morning light peeking through his blackout curtains, Eddie looks peaceful. 

His normal is theatrics, raised brows, sweeping expressions that draw you in and ebb like tides. In dreamland, he looks years younger, smoothed brow and lips parted slightly, breathing steady and sure. 

“Hey.” It’s barely a whisper. You pair it with a soft touch just under his bangs, skimming your fingertip across his forehead. “Eddie. Gonna wake up?”

He must have taken Benadryl last night- he’s usually first to wake, tapping on your door with breakfast options and being a hurricane of noise until you’re forced to join the party. 

You have the simple joy of watching Eddie’s face as he returns to you, to the waking world- a twitch of his lip, a couple of long, slow blinks. Consciousness crawls to the surface, leaves him rosy-cheeked and frowning, chasing your hand with his temple like a puppy.

You lay your fingers flat to his skull, thumb at the indent of his nose, and Eddie sighs, content. His eyes flutter shut again when you speak again. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm.” The sheets shift as he lifts a heavy arm to stretch over his head, revealing a bare torso littered with ink. “Z’you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Good. ‘M gonna… get up ‘n make breakfast…” His words are clunky, slurred and stuck to each other, lids heavy with sleep still. 

From the floor, you sink a bit lower, scratching softly at the back of his head, grinning with amusement. “I don’t think you’re allowed to operate a stove while under the influence.”

His frown deepens, but he won’t make it stick, not for any length of time around you. Faux-upset ebbs, recedes, floods into a tired smile that takes up half his face. “Uh-huh. Might burn my eyebrows off. Would you still love me?”

Pretending to give it some serious thought, your hand slides down, a familiar weight at the side of his neck. “Hmm. Maybe we should stick to cereal today.”

“Asshole,” Eddie replies, fond and trying to draw out the jokes, sliding his own hand to your wrist to keep it in place. “What the hell. Can’t a guy lose his brows in peace?”

“We’ve got Cheerios, Golden Crisp, Cocoa Puffs-” Your valiant attempt to keep on track is overturned when Eddie tugs at your wrist with a whine.

“Christ. My brain is soup, maybe you can eat that ‘nd it’ll tide you over until I can move.” More insistent now, Eddie pulls at your elbow, then your upper arm, your other hand snapping out to brace on his mattress before you tip. “Jus’... lay with me for a bit.”

Closer now, your breath fanning over his ear as he pulls and you give your last bit of resistance- “You’re wearing boxers, right?”

“Jesus. You really think I’d subject you to the Morning Wood Show?”

“Okay.” You don’t sound half as exasperated as you’d like, moving with the help of his gravity; you sidle close to the wall, lying on your side and over the covers, propping your head up with one arm. “This bed really wasn’t made for two people.”

“Sure it is.” Eddie reaches for you again, and you go easy, let him pull you to his chest. Under your ear, his heart thumps, whooshing like a seashell that’s captured the sounds of the ocean. “See? Now will you kindly shut up. I’ve got meds to sleep off.”

“Coffee would help.” It’s a baiting tease. You don’t actually want to get up- far too comfy with the curve of his bicep across the blades of your shoulders. With your nose pressed to the hollow of his throat, you can smell everything that his skin has kept overnight- faded cologne, bar soap, sweat and earthy sleep.

“Shhhhutthefuckup before I eat your brains.” He already sounds like a faded version of himself, rasp lowering into that pre-dream tone. For comedic effect, Eddie opens his jaw to press the outline of his teeth to the crown of your scalp.

It makes you tremble with giggles, burrowing further into his body to get away. He soothes a palm down your back, and you settle again. 

Under your ear, his heart beats slower, then slower still, until you can feel the rumble of a snore build. Your lashes brush against his bare skin, lulled by the stillness of the room, the shared warmth of your bodies even through the layers of fabric.

When late morning arrives, you’ll make the coffee, and Eddie will do the dishes. For now, the air stays cool and ushers in the sort of slumber that only comes from sharing space with someone precious. 

[nevver]

Somna, Tula Lotay & Becky Cloonan

[librarycomic]

Somna: A Bedtime Story by Beckly Cloon and Tula Lotay. DSTLRY, 2024. 9781962265010. 168pp. Contains #1 - #3. Publisher's Rating: Mature

Roland is the town bailiff in a small English village where he has developed a reputation as a witch hunter. His relationship with his wife, Ingrid, is distant, and he's often away from her because of his duties. Ingrid has started to have erotic dreams, visions that seem supernatural and that feature a handsome man who is clearly not human. He offers her the sexual pleasure she craves. Is he a demon? Does this make her a witch? As she invites him into her dreams (and her life) she finds out a friend is having an affair. With everyone ready to blame witches for their misfortune, it feels like something disastrous is likely to befall her friend and perhaps Ingrid, too. And then there's a murder, which raises tensions and suspicions as Ingrid's husband returns home.

Cloonan and Lotay both illustrate the graphic novel; their artistic styles create amazing contrasts between the dreamlike scenes involving Ingrid and her supernatural lover (illustrated by Lotay) and everyday life in the English village (illustrated by Cloonan). This is one of the best historical graphic novels I've ever read, it's easily my favorite graphic paranormal romance, and it's an example of how amazing comics can be. Pick up a copy even if paranormal romance isn't your thing -- I don't read much of it, either, but this book is fantastic.

[smashpages]

Somna #3 (DSTLRY, March 2024) variant covers by Emma Ríos, Anwita Citriya and Pernille Ørum

[comicsandrecords]

Somna 1-3

[pickled-dice]

I’ve been playing around with the idea of multiple planes in my worlds Iris and Iron, inspired by both D&D and Warhammer.

Basically, here’s how my planes work (for now, I’m still workshopping it). There are 3 planes, Terra, Somna, and Patha.

Terra, the Plane of Earth, is where all the shit happens. All the wars, all the farming, all the people. Basically, it is the normal place, it is the plane of action.

Somna, the Plane of Sleep, is where all thought coalesces. You have an idea, it’s somewhere in Somna, might not be super powerful or tangible cause you’re just one person, but its somewhere. Faith takes root here too. Celestial creatures are born here from the faith of the religion that spawned them.

Patha, the Plane of Magic, is where emotion reigns supreme. Much like the Warp in Warhammer, emotion takes its form here. This is where your elementals and your demons and other spirits first form.

These 3 planes aren’t like, separate worlds, they’re all the same world in essence. Terra is like the body of the world. Somna is like the mind of the world. And Patha is like the soul of the world.

At least that’s how it is in Iris. Iron doesn’t have Somna or Patha. Patha sprung a leak from Iris into Fate’s next world over, Iron. This caused Iron to start growing its own Patha, and more slowly, it’s own Somna. Now this caused all the monsters and magic and shit to start appearing in Iron. And it’s only gonna get worse (or better, depends on how you look at it). Because as Iron’s Patha grows, magic (the Rot as they call it) spreads and becomes more potent until eventually, it’ll equalise and be just as magically potent as Iris.

This process is only expedited due to the worldwide war(s) in Iron. Tensions are high, emotions are high, which just build Patha faster. And as Patha gets built, it makes a staging ground for Somna to grow.

Who knows, sometime soon, the gods might return.

[starryknight-dragonarts]

Cherry Gender: Female Background: Cherry's species are a distant descendant of the ancient Tannin Luminous and Cerebral branch species, crossed with a different dragon race native to the Eastern Continent. The Ancient Tannin did not have Elemental powers but had adaptations based on the element they were influenced by. Cherry is a former noble whose family holdings were lost during a recent uprising. Unlike most of her fellow nobles she sided with the rebels, in most part due to having a close relationship with one rebel in particular. She’s often credited with keeping members of her cell from fighting and was responsible for some of the more daring tactics during the war. After the revolution she helped restructure the government, and her love feel like he belongs, eventually marrying him. Personality: Cherry is free spirited and doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind. She is very playful and quite mischievous. It’s easy for her to get people to like, but she does have a certain venom and sass to her that she rarely shows, though may let out a glimpse to potential rivals who she perceives as trying to steal her husband. Strengths: Reliable, Loyal, free spirited Weaknesses: Jealous, non-confrontational, very free spirited Powers: Dream breath, Dream weaving Stats Stamina: 6/10 She doesn’t use her powers as much as she should. Thus her stamina has weakened quite a bit. Control: 9/10 She hasn’t quite reached the full potential of a Somna dragon but her ability to manipulate dreams is magnificent. Intelligence: 8/10 She has a good education and good understanding of social situations. However she’s not exactly quick to learn and can be a bit dense at times. Combat Ability: 3/10 Without backup she is terrible in a fight. The only reason she’s not lower I due to her dream breath being very good in combat and she has the good sense to avoid it.

[maxeine-txt]

TAG GAME DU RPG

règles du jeu : créer un nouveau billet en copiant-collant les questions ci-dessous, y répondre, puis tagger d'autres rpgistes !

Au début, j'avais un peu la flemme. Puis, j'ai reçu un deuxième tag (merci @timuschaos et @dynamiiiight <3). Au pire, comme j'suis un peu nouvelle dans les parages, ça fera une introduction à ce qu'il y a dans ma tête.

Depuis combien de temps fais-tu du rp? — 6 piges, je crois ? Plus ou moins. Et ça fait qu'un peu plus d'une année que je traine sur les forums.

Quel était le premier personnage que tu as créé? — Pallas, ado devenue trop vite adulte ; directrice d'une cathédrale vivante, peut lire dans ta te-tê et broder littéralement les émotions. Elle est sous les traits de Steffy Argelich et aujourd'hui, c'est la protagoniste de mon premier roman (oops).

Quels sont les faceclaims que tu utilisais souvent à tes débuts? — Mes fcs sont toujours équivoque à un perso dans ma tête. Mais je rejoue tout le temps les mêmes persos (et puis c'est encore mes débuts, j'étais sur de l'illustré avant d'arriver sur forum) ; du coup : Kate Snap & Anna Somna, mon duo de fc que je traine partout.

Y a-t-il un genre/univers dans lequel tu n'aimes pas du tout rp? — Le medfan, la fantaisie un peu (un certain univers avec des sorciers aussi) ; j'suis plus dystopie, cyberpunk, goudron, néon, "are you lonely? let me fix that".

Quelles sont les dynamiques entre personnages/types de liens que tu aimes le plus? — Les romances, les trucs durs qui finissent bien. Les familles choisies, les fratries qui essaient de survivre entre eux. Oh, et les figures paternelles pour mes persos. J'aime bien les trucs un peu tristes qui tendent vers le mieux. J'écris jamais de bad ending.

Dans quels fandoms ou univers aimes-tu le plus rp? — Mon petit rêve, c'est d'ouvrir un forum dans l'univers de The Last Of Us. J'ai déjà tout dans ma tête, j'ai même commencé à faire le graphisme. Mais j'sais pas coder mdrr. Sinon, comme j'ai dit plus haut ; cyberpunk, dystopie. Oh et j'adore les conneries avec des super-pouvoirs (que ce soit plus vibe Miss Peregrine ou carrément du capepunk).

Un personnage que tu ne joues plus actuellement mais que tu aimerais reprendre? — Niamh, une ex trop jeune taularde qui peut parler aux morts. Du coup, elle gagne sa vie en se la jouant GussDX. Sous les traits de Sophie Thatcher.

Y a-t-il des archétypes de personnages que tu joues souvent? — Des meufs qui peuvent être ton daron. Plein de défauts. Crades ; plein de poils sur les jambes et plein de tatouages sur les bras. Sinon, je parle souvent de trucs que j'ai vécu. J'ai un aspect assez thérapeutique et cathartique avec l'écriture et le RP. Donc ; je parle souvent quand on confond la faim et une envie de fumer, quand ta chambre à coucher c'est le canapé des potes, quand ta caboche c'est pas ta meilleure pote.

Y a-t-il un livre ou un écrit autre qui t'as beaucoup influencé·e pour écrire? — Le rap français. Même les textes autotunés qu'on juge comme pas bien écrit parce que ça sort pas de l'Académie Française (promis, on a capté que le "p" dans rap ça voulait dire poésie). Mon Hugo à moi, c'est Wallace Cleaver et sa mélancolie. Ma Voltairine de Cleyre, c'est Asinine et sa female rage. Mon Rimbaud, c'est l'autotune de Selug et $enar. Mon Camus, c'est Okis et ses réfs de foot.

Une recommandation pour finir (livre, film, ou pourquoi pas un forum)? — L'album Le plus beau des Monstres de Surprise. Ma rappeuse préférée avec Asinine, j'me reconnais énormément dans ces textes. Oh et L'INVERSE pour mon son préféré. Allez, hop, hop, on soutient les meufs dans l'industrie et on va écouter.

Putain, c'est qu'elle débite la conne.

☞ je tague : @byzantium-pearl @frierenart @montmarays + ceux qui veulent, hein ; soyez pas timide.

[simmie-stories]

Gen 3. Aurora #34 The Catacombs

The family headed to Tartosa to visit the White Legacy cemetery.

Sim Cemetary & Catacombs by EA ID sambamsims. I couldn't figure out how to get rid of the spring decor :(

"This is where everyone in our legacy is laid to rest."

"These are your grandparents. They died when I was young, but they gave me the happiest childhood memories."

Ella took Aurora to visit their memorial. "Your grandmother Snow loved to cross-stitch. I guess I took after her a little, since I loved to knit." "Oh yes, the knits! I played with Claire the Bear and Yarny all my life, but about that sweater...." "Did you like it? It was my masterpiece." "..."

"These were my grandparents on my father's side... your great-grandparents and Uncle Soren, who was the King of Tartosa before he passed."

"And these are Grandma Snow's parents, the Queen and King of the Bramblewood. They loved to cross-stitch too."

"Your oldest uncle Doug and his wife both Ashley died of old age, but it was so tragic. Their eldest two daughters died in accidents. They have one living daughter, Krysta."

"My favorite sister Joy and her husband Taylor. Joy was electrocuted when their 4 kids were young. You'll meet them at your celebration."

Aurora's cousin Noe Bianchi happened to be at the catacombs visiting his parents, who had died of old age. Shylee had been the longest living of the 7 "dwarfs."

"N-nice to meet you."

"Uncle Hayden was quite accomplished. Both him and his wife died elderly, but Uncle Hayden's twin Raphael died by falling from a cliff when he was 50. Another tragic end. He hadn't ever gotten married."

"Uncle Dwight and Aunt Somna were the musical ones in the family. In fact, Aunt Somna was an award-winning violinist! Both died in their old age as well."

"I can't believe I had this many Uncles and Aunts, and I never got to meet them." *Pained silence* "We will meet some of your other cousins at your welcoming banquet."

I hope I can keep this up for the whole legacy... Love @ravasheencc Sims Portrait maker and Photographic Memory 2.0 mods; makes it so much easier to do this! L. was going around collecting urns every time we got a notice of death.

The family took an awkward family photo on their way out.

@theroyalsims Awesome Foursome pose

Main Back Next

[onecontinuoussigh]

My media this week (29-4th Jan 2025)

READS!

📚 Started Book 3 of the Simon Snow trilogy from Rainbow Rowell!

🔥I read some great Stucky kink smut from @succulent-hyena

🧹 SOMNA from Becky Cloonan and Tula Lotay - sexy and spooky and moody and excellent!

WATCHING!

👩‍⚖️ The Good Place! Finished! I definitely thought I had finished it before but turns out I had not, and the ending made me cry. I feel like there were some pacing issues here and there but overall I love the show SO much.

PLAYING!

⚔️ So much BG3 still! I'm up to about 250 hours and still haven't beat the game. 😶

PODCASTS!

❌ @thisweekinfandomhistory episode about Kielle and the CBFFAs - something I knew NOTHING about! Subreality?? What a fun concept, and part of X-men fan history I missed entirely!

If you made it this far here's a meme I saved on my phone: