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greyias · 1 year

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I wish you would write a fic where... Theron somehow amasses a following of actual, physical porn bots droids and shenanigans ensue

I saw this prompt come in and devolved into a fit of heinous cackling. How, oh how could I resist trying to render our collective Tumblr nightmare into fictional text form?

Context: While not required reading, this is technically a sequel to this stunning crackfic, authored so long ago. If you need a refresher on the Medical Droid Love Triangle Saga, follow this link. Or this one, which is the real villain origin story of this fic. Or don't, you're already cursed if you click beyond the read more of this post.

With special thanks to @grumpyhedgehog, @sandwyrm, @storyknitter, @kitsonpaws, and @andveryginger for providing me with ideas, cursed pornbot summaries, and many cursed HoloNet websites that should never exist. You are not required to read any of this.

Technically rated T, but in reality rated N for Nobody, because no one should have to read this. I'm packing my bags, as my ride to superhell just came. Enjoy.

It had started as such a normal day -- if you could indeed have called any day on Odessen “normal”. What with the galaxy always being at the brink of some disaster or another, and their merry little band of misfits being led by the galaxy’s most notorious do-gooder, Theron’s schedule and to-do list had a tendency to get derailed on almost a daily basis.

This, however, was not how that usually happened.

He’d paused, mid-step, finger still hovering over his datapad, mid-entry as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, slowly dawning horror washing over him. His head turned slowly, like one of those doomed characters in a horror holofilm to look at the droid he’d just passed.

It was one of the new ones that had come in on a recent shipment. So new in fact, that there was still a fleet of them in the middle of being unpacked in the Logistics Wing. Shining, tall and blue, its highly polished quadranium head pivoted to look back at him.

“What,” Theron swallowed, willing his voice to sound even and not give in to the creeping dread, “what did you say?”

“Theron Shan,” the droid repeated helpfully, “is a master lover.”

“Oh no.” The words slipped out of their own accord.

“Just a moment, sir,” the droid continued, seemingly oblivious to the human’s distress, “I’m not quite done with your evaluation yet. Let’s see, where were we?”

“No no no no.”

The round flattened dome that served as its head tilted to one side, beady orange eyes sweeping over Theron from head to toe, before resuming its cheery, if horrifying report. “Subject is an exemplary specimen. In good cardiovascular health, above average muscle tone. Tall, well-built, and very clean...”

“Um,” Theron stammered. “I’m...” Flattered? Taken? Leaving? Wait--yes, that last one. “Going now!”

He didn’t give the cursed machine any more time to continue ogling him, instead taking off down the hall at a very brisk walk that nearly bordered on a jog. His mind raced at he beat a hasty retreat, trying to understand what was happening. It had been over a year since the The Incident, dubbed by some as the “Sexy Spy Virus”, and others by much more crude names, where a little harmless reprogramming had taken on a life of its own. Theron had been meticulous in his coding of the antivirus, wanting to ensure that the entire debacle would be forgotten. There was simply no way that it could crop back in on its own.

“Theron,” the brisk accented tone of one Lana Beniko burst in over his comm, “why did a droid just feel the need to inform me that they found rust on its insides during its last tune-up?”

“I don’t know,” Theron insisted, but his words were almost drowned out by a metallic clanking echoing down the corridor.

He threw a look over his shoulder, and to his horror, saw that his robotic admirer had decided to give chase.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” he quickly said into the comm as the droid picked up speed from a walk to an all out gallop.

“Theron,” she sounded both concerned and exasperated, which, considering Lana, was about par the course, “what’s going on?”

“Save me!” He shouted as he took off a dead sprint.

In his many years in the field, Theron had been threatened, sure. Shot at? Many times. He’d been drugged. Tortured. Stabbed through the gut with a lightsaber pike and lived to tell the tale. He’d run into Sith, Revanites, bounty hunters, thugs, fanatics and cultists alike. He’d been in more firefights than he could remember, and more covert ops than he cared to. He’d even been accused of being a traitor (although that was kind of the point at the time).

None of that compared right now to being chased down by a droid yelling at top volume claiming he was the best lover it had ever seen.

And this time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t actually his fault.

He rounded the corner from the corridor leading from the Logistics Wing, passing by the Commander’s (and at this point, his) Quarters. HK-55 and Z0-0M straightened to their full height at his arrival. Oh thank the Force, allies.

“Salutations: Agent Shan, you are looking quite spry today.”

“What?” he panted as he approached.

“Yes, Agent Shan, don’t believe what anyone else is saying!” Zeeyo exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. “Your undercarriage doesn’t look rusty at all!”

Mind sharp as a tack, Theron realized the implications of this just in time, and dodged to the side, ducking and rolling as the assassin-turned-bodyguard droid lunged forward to trap him in a bear hug. Not pausing to even catch his breath, as soon as his feet hit the ground he propelled himself forward and further down the hall.

“Frustration: I only wish to profess my admiration for you, Agent Shan!”

“Nope nope nope nope!” Desperation was starting to tinge the edges of his words now.

The metallic clanking intensified as more droids behind him joined in the chase, all of their vocabulators joining in unison to tell him in one way, or another, that he was in fact, the pinnacle of sexual prowess.

Theron couldn’t run forever, despite whatever their programming was forcing them to say, his stamina would give out before the lustftul droids’ power supplies. As the corridor zigged and twisted, he saw an opening in the form of a door sliding open. Without hesitation he dove in, shoving the individual there, thankfully made of flesh and bone, aside as he slammed the door controls.

The door slid securely shut just as the thunderous clanking filled the corridor beyond, their lustful words of appreciation and encouragement nearly drowned out by the racket. Theron hadn’t bothered to look or count, but he was pretty sure that the number had risen from three in the scant moments it had taken Theron to dart from one corridor to the next.

He held up a hand to his lips as he turned to thank the person who had unwittingly provided his temporary salvation. The words of gratitude died on his lips, as he realized exactly who’s room he had sought refuge in.

For a moment, Theron truly considered surrendering himself to the lusty droid mob.

Draike Highwind’s face was caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, but the latter was winning out as he started to decipher individual phrases drifting in from the corridor. A dark brow arched higher, lips twitching with undisguised mirth as the stupid blue droid that had started this whole mess yelled once again about Theron being a master lover.

More seconds passed, the ruckus quieting down, before silence descended once more, and it was finally safe to speak.

“So,” Draike drew out the word, somehow lacing it with more innuendo than all of the malfunctioning droids combined, “what ya been doing, Shan?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, voice still hushed just in case one of the droids could somehow hear.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His brother-in-law’s smirk widened into an almost feral grin, eyebrows waggling. “Sounds like you’ve been getting... busy.”

One of the greatest mysteries in the galaxy was how one man could make anything sound that dirty. “I was minding my own business!”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I mean...” If looks could kill, the pilot would have melted on the spot. Unfortunately for Theron, Draike was apparently immune to that sort of thing. “How often do I get the chance?”

“Did you do this?”

“Me?” Draike let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Stars, I wish I could have thought of something this good! These are memories I will cherish forever.”

Theron massaged the bridge of his nose. “I hate my life.”

“I mean, I’m not really into droids,” Draike went on, either not knowing (or more likely caring) about his brother-in-law’s predicament, “flesh is more my kind of thing. But you know, if you and the little lady need to spice things up by bringing in a little metal--”

“Please stop. I’m begging you!”

“Begging, eh? So you’re saying you’re more into--“

“Forget it, I’m taking my chances with the sex-crazed machines roaming the halls.” His palm hovered over the door sensors.

“Theron, wait!” There was enough urgency in Draike’s voice to give him pause. “It’s dangerous out there, take this.”

At first, he was honestly afraid to look, expecting to be offered something like a condom or some other bad joke, but was surprised to see the other man holding out a stealth generator.

“To escape your fans.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“I know. I’m a genius.”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly nabbed the stealth generator before Draike could change his mind and frowned at the initials carved in the side in Aurabesh. “Is this even yours?”

“Eh, close enough.”

Whatever, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Theron would deal with those potential repercussions later. He flicked on the power to the stealth generator which let out a low, almost inaudible hum as a burst of life engulfed his form. He closed his eyes against the sudden burst of brightness, and when he opened them again, dark spots of the light pattern danced in his vision for a few seconds. He blinked a few more times before they faded away.

He waved an arm experimentally in front of his face, and only felt the slight movement of air. Draike didn’t seem to react at all, and that was probably good enough.

“Thanks,” he said, palming the sensor to the door.

Draike rolled his eyes and ambled out into the corridor, looking around with the air of a man all too used to hiding from those looking for him. Theron watched as he raised a hand to a very slowly moving GNK power droid.

“How’s it hanging?”

“GONK!”

“Oh yeah? You don’t say! I think I saw him head that way.” Draike pointed in the direction leading to cantina. “Just between you and me, I heard he’s sweet on that droid who’s a comfort enthusiast.”

“GONK! GONK! GONK!”

Still hidden underneath the stealth field, Theron had to bite down the urge to make any noise of frustration and just turned an invisible, irritated gaze at the other man’s back. As if sensing Theron’s irritation, Draike just grinned wider.

“Yeah, you know how those spy types are. Always toying with droids’ hearts. You could do better than him.”

“GONK!”

“Oh, you spicy droid! Yeah, trundle off that way, big guy. I’m sure you’ll catch him!”

With a loud clanking, the GNK droid began his slow and steady journey towards the cantina. As the echoes finally faded, Draike casually stretched, pointing towards the direction of the War Room.

Theron skulked on by, but not before giving his brother-in-law a well deserved whop upside the head. The stealth field flickered momentarily on the physical contact before shimmering back into place.

“It’d serve you right to get caught by doing that,” Draike sniffed indignantly, “after all I’ve done to help you.”

“When all of this is over--”

“Hush now,” Draike waved at the air in front of him. “You have bigger problems to deal with. Meanwhile, I will be heading to the cantina. And definitely won’t be live-streaming any brawls breaking out over the Master Lover breaking droid hearts everywhere.”

Theron snorted out an annoyed breath, and checked his urge to trip Draike as he sauntered off, hands jammed into his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune. Like the purloined stealth generator, he’d have to worry about slicing and corrupting any servers containing evidence of this mess after he figured out how to stop whatever this was from spreading any further.

The upside to this whole unfortunate side encounter, was that the stealth generator made it possible for him to quietly creep around any droids he passed in the corridor. Most seemed to be making a hasty exit for the cantina, almost as if word had spread of Drake’s false rumor about his and C2-N2’s torrid love affair and every heartbroken circuit was flocking in that direction now.

And when he thought about it like that, when exactly had this become his life? Oh, right. Like fifteen minutes ago. Or however long this nightmare had started. Time had sort of lost meaning, if he were being honest.

He managed to make it to the war room, undetected and unmolested, and quietly snuck his way towards the irritable blonde Sith, holding her head in her hands as if she were battling the world’s strongest migraine. As Theron approached the Sith, he could hear her muttering under her breath in frustration. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat, causing her to jerk her head up in surprise.

“Who’s there?”

“Quiet,” Theron hissed. “They might hear you.”

“Oh, for Sith’s sake,” she exhaled, “where in the blazes have you been?”

“Hiding,” he whispered urgently. “These droids have all gone haywire!”

“And who’s fault is that, I wonder.”

“Not me,” he insisted, “not this time!”

“Right,” she said sardonically, “and I suppose that’s why there isn’t a reality holoseries entitled ‘Programmed for Love’ currently being live-streamed in the cantina for the entire HoloNet to see.”

“Damn it, Draike!” Theron cursed. “I thought he was joking about that.”

“Of course. How did I not see that coming?” she muttered.

“I’ll slice in and scrub all of the servers after we figure out this... this... whatever this is?”

“Your insecurities laid bare in binary?” she suggested, oh so helpfully.

“Why did I come to you for help again?”

“Because--”

It was at that point, that a probe droid, currently speeding its way towards the cantina, happened to take notice of Lana talking to thin air, and veered off its intended trajectory, heading straight for Theron’s position near the back of the war room. If the loud alarms and flashing lights were any indication, it had been able to see through his stealth generator.

Wait... those weren’t alarm proximities it was flashing. As Theron watched its rapid approach, he couldn’t help but stare at it in dumb fascination, brow furrowing as he tried to make out the images it was projecting. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say it was a bizarre mixture of Aurabesh and hologlyphs.

He squinted, just able to make out: “DX-98 🤖🔥 Analytical Scanner 💋🙏 Okara Droid Factory 🔍🌌💕 Exobiology Research 🥵🍑 Top HoloFans 0.7%!”

Before he had a chance to process any of that, the droid was already upon him, pincher arms spreading wide to snap him up for some purpose far beyond its original programming. He only had milliseconds to react before the droid reached him, when an explosive force sent the droid flying backwards harmlessly, and had Theron landing ungracefully on his tailbone. The stealth field fizzled out with a pop on his impact with the ground.

A familiar figure landed between him and the droid, twin blue scarves billowing behind her dramatically, blonde ponytail swaying with the motion of her movement. A small frown of concentration bunched her forehead as his wife threw a concerned look in his direction.

“You requested rescue?” Grey asked.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor has arrived,” he quipped back.

“I am not wearing my armor.” The frown of concentration morphed into one of confusion.

“I--never mind.” He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Thank you for the timely intervention.”

She graced him with a hint of a smile and a bob of her head in acknowledgment. “Any time.”

“As touching as all of this is,” Lana broke in sourly, “it still doesn’t solve our larger problem.”

“Yeah,” Theron rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re not wrong. It sounds like this has spread across the entire base?”

“It appears that way,” Lana said tightly. “You know, you assured me that all of this had been taken care of the last time we dealt with this issue.”

“Hey now,” he bit back, “I’m a man of my word!”

She snorted at that. “Tell that to the Umbaran Transit Authority.”

“How are you still mad about that?”

“You tazed me!”

“Focus,” Grey said, eyeing the stunned probe droid warily. “If memory serves me correct, you had a program you deployed to revert the programming of the droids the last time this happened.”

“Yes, that’s what doesn’t make sense.” He watched as the holoprojectors on the downed probe droid flickered, hologlyphs flashing rapidly in the War Room’s dim light. “I programmed it to eliminate all trace of the offending code. The only way it could be reappearing now is if someone took one of the infected droids offline before I deployed...”

Lana arrived at the same conclusion right about the time that Theron did, picking up the thought. “I seem to recall a certain someone requesting you replicate your work for less-than-legal purposes.”

Theron angrily punched the button on his comm as he growled, “Gault!”

The Devaronian’s voice came back immediately, almost a little too suave. “Theron! What a surprise to hear your dulcet tones requesting my presence.”

“Gault,” Lana managed to keep some measure of calm, “are you responsible for this current situation?”

“What situation is that?” he asked far too innocently, even as a distant call of a droid’s clanking nearly drowned out it’s loud declaration of the presence of rust on one Theron Shan’s “bolt”. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “Oh! You mean the lustful droids currently running amok on the base?”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Lana said dryly. “My original question stands.”

“I am shocked, shocked and scandalized that my name would be the first to come to mind! Might I remind you, it was one Miss Djannis who requested you create her a Shan Sexbot.”

“Yeah,” Kaliyo jumped in on the comms, clearly annoyed, the sound of metallic brawling nearly drowning out her voice, “I wanted it for hilarious crimes! Not whatever the fuck this is!”

“Gault,” a third voice, Hylo Visz, cut in. From the background noise, it seemed she was in the same location as Kaliyo. “I swear, if you don’t help us figure out how to stop this, when you’re not looking I’ll cut off your--”

“Okay, okay, geez!” He interrupted before his significant other could finish whatever that threat was. “Fine, it was me! I deactivated a droid before Theron uploaded his program.”

“Of course.” Lana rolled her eyes upwards, as if asking the Force for patience.

“In my defense,” Gault continued, “originally it was just to shut the stupid thing up! But then Kaliyo came up with that brilliant idea for the Shan Sexbot Distraction, and I thought, why not hold on to this beauty in case it came in handy for a con?”

The sound of Theron smacking his forehead in frustration echoed throughout the War Room.

“So you know, just had a fun idea come to me the other day, so I extracted the original programming and altered a few things, and tried to put it into a new droid for my plan.”

“Did that droid happen to be a blue medical monstrosity?” Theron was actively massaging his temples at this point.

“I will have you know,” Gault said, “that BL-U3 is a consummate professional. You would be lucky to have him perform a medical exam on you!”

“Yeah, that was definitely his intent,” Theron shot back. “Purely professional and not lecherous at all! Which was not in any of my code.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be very talented when it came to software programming. I may have made a mistake or two when altering your code.”

“May have?!”

“How was I supposed to know that the remnants of the Gemini Frequency code in our systems was going to work after the entire Eternal Fleet had gone offline and deploy your software STD to the entire network? Sue me!”

“I’m considering it!”

Before the mostly pointless argument could escalate any further, the sounds of metallic clanking from above, roughly from the location of the cantina, began to grow closer, the cacophony increasing in volume, until it sounded like it was coming in all directions.

“That is not a good sign,” Grey’s mutter was nearly lost to the noise.

“Hey,” Drake’s annoyed voice cut in over the comm, “my livestream is now officially ruined! I hope you’re all happy!”

“I’m afraid to even ask why,” Theron said.

“Oh, it seems all of my extremely eligible and single contestants heard your voice over the comms and abandoned challenging Seetoo Enntoo to unarmed droid combat for the right to court you, and are now all headed in your direction.”

“Oops.”

“Worry not Agent Shan,” the unusually warbly vocabulator of C2-N2 came over the comms, “I will not rest until I alone can provide you with the ultimate in comfort!”

“We should probably get a different housekeeping droid after this is all over,” he told his wife.

That seemed a lesser concern to Grey, as she had shifted into Alliance Commander mode, and was currently on the comms, shouting for every available member of the Force Enclave to get to the War Room as fast as possible to help hold off the incoming army of lustful droids.

Yeah, come to think of it, that was probably more important.

“We must use nonlethal force,” she stressed, giving a particularly severe look to Lana when she said that, getting a simple nonplussed shrug in return, “as we only need to hold the droids at bay until we can come up with a solution. They are not to blame for what’s happening.”

Theron begged to differ, but she was probably right in this case. The cost of repairing or replacing an entire base full of droids would be astronomical.

As Force users began to stream in and take up position around the room, the sound of wheels racing along the metal plating caught Theron's attention, and he looked over to see a familiar silver T7-series astromech racing into the room. He tensed up instinctively at the sight of a droid, as anyone would have in his situation.

“Teeseven!” Grey called out with a smile, clearly not as wary or droidshy.

The little astromech let out a friendly whistle and series of chirps in binary, that roughly translated to: “T7-01 = Safe! // Been off network entire morning!”

“Oh, what a relief,” she breathed, “I would have hated for you to be infected with this too!”

He let out another series of beeps: “T7-01 = still in possession of original antivirus code. // Can tweak it and upload to servers = Save the day?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Theron muttered.

“T7 = not scared!”

Grey’s expression melted into one of admiration and pride. “Teeseven, that’s incredibly brave -- but are you sure? Theron’s right, it could be very dangerous.”

“T7 = Jedi + Theron’s friend. // Helping > Risk!”

She looked at him and he returned the gaze with a small nod, realizing there wasn’t much in the way of choice. It was either that or let the droids overrun them. And then whatever happened when one of them actually got their hands on on Theron -- a prospect he wasn’t really that thrilled to explore right now.

“Fine,” he said tersely, “let’s do this!”

The two of them rushed over to the center console in the room, Theron pulling out his slicer spike as Teeseven plugged his scomplink arm into the main network terminal. The rest of their reinforcements from the Force Enclave arrived just in time and formed a ring around the two slicers. They managed to erect a large Force barrier just as the metallic clanging and clatter grew to a roar, announcing the arrival of the lecherous horde.

Near the front of the mob, Z0-0M threw up her arms in glee and excitement as she jumped to try and catch sight of her beloved. “There you are Agent Shan! You left before we could finish our conversation -- you were saying something about oxidation?”

“Interjection: Do not listen to this hussy, Theron! You and I will make sweet explosions together!”

Theron valiantly tuned them out as he took in a feed of the original antivirus code that Teeseven shared with him. Yes, this all looked correct. Unfortunately, he was going to need get a look to see how Gault had mutilated his beautiful original coding to know how to alter it.

Teeseven was two steps ahead of him, and a stream of code flashed across the HUD in his ocular implants. He watched in horror as he saw the butchery with his own two eyes.

“Gault, where the hell did you get this code?” he asked over the comms incredulously. “HornHub?”

“Excuse you, I only frequent the classiest places on the galactic communications grid, like HoloHump!” The growl of Gault’s name from a very angry Mirialan smuggler had him quickly adding. “You know, I’m just going to shut up and let you concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Teeseven, ever the valiant worker, ignored the conversation completely, and was hard at work running diagnostics on the altered code and the best way to modify the antivirus to address it. Theron watched the stream of letters and numbers fly across the HUD at lightning speed.

The little guy was good at what he did. He let out a flurry of beeps and whistles as almost the last piece of this very lurid puzzle started to fall into place. The little droid seemed to almost be singing along with the code as he wrote it, like a mechanical maestro conducting an orchestra. They were close, so close and--

The next whistle Teeseven let out was not his normal, cheerful way of communication, much lower in timbre and more seductive.

No.

Teeseven whirled his flat head around until his visual sensor faced Theron, and let out another wolf whistle, his holoprojector lighting up to proudly display: T7-01 🤖👀🔍 Observant 👁️🔭 Scanner 🔍🏞️ Tython 🌄👏 215 🍒♎ Repairing 👅🙈 Top HoloFans 3.6%

“What was that?” Grey shouted to be heard over the droids catcalling.

“No no no no,” Theron muttered, “we’re so close! Don’t do this to me, little buddy!”

“What happened to my precious baby boy?” Grey demanded, sweat trickling down the side of her face as she struggled to maintain the Force barrier.

Beyond the barrier, the rest of the porndroid army followed suit with Teeseven, all either wildly projecting their own series of hologlyphs and random facts about themselves and their planets of origins, while others struck disturbingly seductive poses, and a scant few demanded that “ShanDaddy” start a holocall with them in private.

With no time and no recourse left, Theron dove back into the system, yanking Teeseven’s unfinished code as he was nearly overwhelmed with lewd images and thirsty hologlyphs, struggling to finish and upload the code as the volume in the War Room rose to a crescendo just as the Force users’ began to fall, one after the other, their barrier weakening by the moment.

The overwhelming cacophony of hologlyphs, lewd poses, and robotic come-ons that had filled the War Room suddenly disappeared. All eyes turned to the droids as almost in unison, as they all powered down—a sign that their malware had been neutralized. Theron slumped back in relief, his work finally done.

Grey, Lana, and the others let out a long sigh of relief, the tension leaving their bodies in a rush.

“Thank the Force,” Grey murmured, sinking down to the ground. “I do not think I could have held that barrier much longer.”

Theron nodded, feeling a similar sense of exhaustion. He leaned back against the console, closing his eyes but was unable to banish the mentally scarring series of images that were probably permanently burned into his retinas.

“Remind me,” he said faintly, “to obliterate HoloHump’s servers. Once I’m done murdering Gault.”

“You act as if there will be anything left after I find him,” Lana said darkly.

“Remember everyone,” Grey spoke in her best and most official Alliance Commander voice, “murder is bad and frowned upon in the Official Alliance Employee Handbook.”

“Query: Why are we all in the War Room?” HK-55 asked as he came back online. “And more importantly, why is that blue meddroid manipulating its medical instruments into a heart shape, as if expressing affection towards the Commander?”

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serenxanthe · 3 months

Text

After Ziost, a SWTOR Story

Part 5 (Chapters 10 - 12): The Final Part - In which Theron makes a decision.

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 4 is here.

Chapter 10

Theron didn’t get in a taxi back outside Satele’s place, it’s not like he had anywhere he needed to be, let alone wanted to be. He wandered the streets aimlessly for what seemed like days, but was probably only a few hours.

The pain in his feet from the unaccustomed amount of walking he’d done brought Theron back out of himself and he looked around. Somehow he was standing outside Seren’s apartment, their apartment for a short amount of time almost four years ago.

He knew she’d bought it from the original landlord a couple of years ago, and they’d talked about spending some quality time here together, for old time’s sake, but somehow they’d never found the time to do so. Now they never would. Theron hesitated then tried the old code they’d used back then. Somehow he was unsurprised when it worked, and the door slid open.

“Welcome home, Theron Shan.” the automated security system intoned, responding to his bioscan, and Theron suppressed a sob. Gritting his teeth to prevent tears, Theron walked around the apartment. Seren had kept the decor pretty much the same as he remembered, but it seemed like she’d added more bits and pieces, what looked like momentos from her travels around the galaxy, and some beautiful art.

He sat down on the sofa in the sitting room, trying to remember the evenings they’d spent together here, happy; enjoying each other’s company, wrapped up in each other and the all-encompassing excitement and passion of a new relationship.

Against his will, Theron’s mind drifted to the last night he’d spent on this sofa. Alone, drunk, unaccountably angry with Seren for absolutely no good reason, before he’d abandoned her without a word to head off-planet in pursuit of Zho, his old Master. The first of many times he’d sabotaged their relationship, only to be subsequently forgiven.

He’d told his father, just that afternoon, although it felt like a lifetime ago, that he’d do better at showing Seren how much he loved her. Now he never would.

Theron couldn’t stay on that sofa any longer and he got up and went into the bedroom, hoping he’d be able to focus on the good memories better in there. He looked around, it was pretty much as he remembered, bar the tasteful planetary memorabilia.

Something else was new on Seren’s bedside table. He looked more closely, there were two holo pictures in expensive looking frames.

He picked one up; it was a copy of the picture the guy with the cam had taken of them during their date at Skytower. She must have gone back to purchase the file at some point. He hadn’t known. He looked at it. They looked great; dressed up in their best clothes, so young, so shiny; but what really stood out was how happy they looked, how in love. And he had already loved her then, even though it was years before he admitted that to himself, let alone her.

The other holo picture was, wait, was that Taris of all places? They were cuddled together in an empty refugee tent, one of the moments they’d snatched together during his pursuit of Master Zho and Seren’s of the Imperial spymaster Watcher One.

He remembered now; Seren had been showing him her new probe droid, BX-23, Theron laughing at her, jokingly accusing her of picking tech on the basis that it came in her favourite colour of green. Seren had got it, or ‘him’ as she insisted on calling the droid, to take a still of them cuddling on a camp bed, clothes and faces grubby from the swampy mud of Taris, but still smiling. He’d never seen the result, but at some point Seren must have had the file converted to a holo picture and framed.

Theron confronted an uncomfortable possibility. Had Seren really loved him more than he loved her, like Jace had implied? He’d thought they were on the same page all along, but… Theron thought about all the times he’d seen Seren swallow her words, or pretend that she hadn’t seen the negative reaction on his face to any mention of too much commitment, too much intensity of feeling. He’d been grateful that she understood and regulated her own responses, he thought, disgusted with himself.

Had it taken her… death for him to realise that she was the centre of his galaxy? Not the Republic, not the SIS; her. His beloved.

Theron kicked his boots off, shrugged out of his jacket, and lay down on what had been his side of the bed. Still clutching the holo picture of them on Taris, he grabbed Seren’s pillow and curled into it. He didn’t expect for one moment that he’d be able to sleep, but somehow he slept almost instantly; his body worn out by shock and grief.

Chapter 11

The trilling of his communicator woke Theron at 6am. Probably Satele or Jace calling to check he was ‘safe’, he thought. His head was pounding like he’d drunk a bottle of whisky last night, even though he hadn’t touched a drop in days.

Theron rolled off the bed and headed into the kitchen, hoping there was still caf making equipment and supplies here. There was a huge shiny top of the range caf machine and Theron sighed in relief. But wait, it wasn’t the one that had been here when the apartment had been leased. Seren didn’t drink caf, but she must have bought it… the realisation sent another stab of intense pain to his heart; she’d bought it for him, in anticipation of him finding the time to stay here with her. Because gods forbid I’d bother to make the time, right? he berated himself bitterly.

His communicator was still trilling, why wouldn’t they just leave him alone? He gave in and answered it. Theron was astonished to see Director Trant standing there, looking harassed.

“Shan, I need you in the office straight away this morning.” Trant said without preamble, or even a greeting.

“What?” Theron said, “What do you mean?”

Trant sighed impatiently. “Obviously you’re reinstated, Theron.” he told him. “We need every agent working round the clock to counter this new threat, and Saresh agreed you’ve been punished enough now for Ziost and the Sixth Line.”

He’d been reinstated? Just like that. Theron didn’t know how he’d expected to feel hearing the news he’d been hoping for, plotting to achieve, for the past two months, but it wasn’t this. He felt nothing. “Sure, Director.” he said, “I’ll be in soon.”

The Director snorted, “By soon, you’d better not mean two hours later this time, Theron!” Marcus suddenly realised what he’d said; having spotted where Theron was standing, properly looked at the expression on his face.

“I’m sorry about Seren.” Marcus told Theron with genuine, if belated, sympathy. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

The blank expression on Theron’s face was instantly replaced by one of anger. “She meant a lot to me? My girlfriend of years, the only person I’ve ever loved, meant a lot to me?

Trant held his hand out to Theron in apology, “Theron I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

Theron interrupted him angrily, “She meant, she means, everything to me, Director. Everything. In fact, yeah, you know what? Screw your job, I don’t care. I resign.”

Trant felt a flash of anger himself. “If that’s really true, Theron, why weren’t you on that flagship too? Why did you spend the last two months here on Coruscant begging for your job back instead of out in wild space with her?”

Theron’s face had gone white with shock, but Marcus didn’t relent. “If you need to tell yourself that she meant literally everything to you, that you don’t care about your job at all, to make yourself feel better, less guilty, then fine; whatever. But do it in your own time, and in the meantime get into the office like I said. The SIS, and the Republic, need you.”

Theron said nothing, just cut the call and switched off his communicator. He could feel a call coming in via his implants. Trant again. He bit down to sever the connection.

Theron spent the morning wandering the streets and back alleys of Coruscant again. He didn’t have a plan, a destination in mind, but the exercise, and the endless need for caution traversing the dangerous gang lands in parts of Coruscant at least provided some sort of distraction from his misery. Was he looking for a fight? For an excuse to take his rage, his grief, out on some lowlife? Theron considered; maybe.

Suddenly, another notification came through on Theron’s implants. The Defender was seeking permission to land at the Jedi dock here on Coruscant.

Of course! The journey back to the core from wild space was long. If they’d been travelling through hyperspace this whole time, they’d have been unable to use comms. Maybe Seren was on board! Maybe it hadn’t been her voice ordering the evacuation just before the ship was destroyed, this Corporal barely knew her after all! Theron stuck out his hand and hailed one of the taxis whizzing past overhead and headed to the spaceport to meet the Defender.

Please let her be on board. Theron begged desperately inside his own head. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll never leave her side again. Ever.

Chapter 12

The Defender’s crew was disembarking as Theron arrived at the landing pad. He couldn’t see Seren. Maybe she’s still inside? He reasoned desperately to himself. He knew, he knew, that that wasn’t true, but he wanted to cling on to that last desperate glimmer of hope for a few more moments.

Kira suddenly turned and spotted him, probably having sensed him through the Force, he realised, and her face tightened, red-rimmed eyes narrowing as she regarded him. She nudged Doc, the first time Theron had ever seen her touch the man. He and the rest of the crew turned to regard Theron, none of them speaking.

Kira broke the silence, “Come to get your ship? That was fast.”

Her voice was harsh with suppressed rage, and her words made no sense to Theron.

Kira must have seen the confusion in his face, as she continued, “You’re the sole beneficiary of her will. Didn’t you know?” She suddenly swept into a low exaggerated bow, “Welcome to your new ship, your lordship, I’m sorry we didn’t have time to clean the floors.” Her grief made her usual sardonic sarcasm excoriatingly vicious.

Theron physically flinched when he understood what she was telling him. He unconsciously stepped back, holding up his hands in denial. “I don’t want her ship Kira, I want…” he swallowed then continued shakily, “Are you… sure? I mean, did you see..?”

“No we didn’t see, but if you think we didn’t go back to check, didn’t look for her? How fucking… dare you?” Kira broke off and looked away, blinking back tears.

Theron was visibly close to tears himself, but Doc had no sympathy for him, given how he’d treated Seren after Ziost. “Still…” he drawled, “at least now you’ll be able to focus on your job.”

Theron swallowed a gasp of shock at the horrible truth of Doc’s jibe, but unfortunately for him, Doc wasn’t finished yet.

“At least you’ll be able to keep working for the SIS rather than joining Seren to raise your child on the Defender.” Doc said.

Theron was unable to formulate a thought, let alone a response, for several moments.

“A child?” he eventually said angrily, “What child? Seren’s not… she wasn’t pregnant, she would have told me. And why the hells would she confide in you anyway?”

“She didn’t confide in me, genius! I’m her… I was her doctor.” Doc told Theron.

“She did confide in me, Theron, and it’s true.” Kira’s tone of voice was calmer and more even now, but it certainly wasn’t kind. “That’s why she asked you to join her on the Defender, not so you could be her sidekick.”

Theron flinched again at the reminder of what he’d said to Seren, how he’d spoken to her.

“And thanks for the insight into your level of respect for the rest of us who did decide to join her crew, I guess.” finished Kira.

Theron’s head was swimming with shock, he hardly heard Kira’s jibe. “But why didn’t she tell me?” he said forlornly.

Kira gave a short bitter laugh, then said, “You know what else she confided in me about Theron? How she felt having to beg her boyfriend to show the tiniest bit of care that she almost died on Ziost, the tiniest bit of affection. You couldn’t even be bothered to stick around on Carrick Station long enough to go for a quick drink with her! When was she supposed to tell you? And how do you think that conversation would have gone, anyway?”

Kira shook her head and spoke into Theron’s silence, “You know what? Doc’s right, Seren being gone is going to work out better for you. For your career. Now, unless you want the ship, I think you should go. There’s nothing for you here, and we’re needed for a meeting at the Senate.”

Theron looked at Seren’s crew, her ‘sidekicks’ as he’d so dismissively put it; Kira and Doc visibly grieving, Scourge and Rusk staring at him with impassive stoicism, and turned to leave. As he did so he heard a mournful series of beeps from T7. The astromech wheeled over to him, and somehow Theron somehow found himself crouching down to the droid and patting him comfortingly, blinking back tears.

“T7 go with spy. T7 rejoin SIS. T7 + spy = find who killed Jedi.”

Theron looked up questioningly at Kira.

She shrugged, “T7 is his own droid as far as I’m concerned, and like I told you, he’s your property now; everything is.”

Minutes later, Theron found himself in a taxi, T7 at his side. He took a deep breath, switched on his communicator, programmed in Director Trant’s frequency, and hit connect. He would find out who had killed Seren, and then he’d make them pay.

#swtor #theron shan #swtor jedi knight #swtor oc #my ocs #my writing #fanfic #star wars the old republic #angst #established couple #kira carsen #Doc kimble #T7

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mydearburkhart · 1 year

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soooo,

"after hours" is almost finished, and I was thinking, since I wrote in both english and portuguese (pt-br), should I post both versions?

and I wrote a little something to include red and kitty (my beloved couple) because I love them so much ❤️

let me know what you think! xx

#that 70s show #70s show #t7s #that '70s show #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #zenmasters #burkhyde #fanfic writing #fanfic #mila kunis

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that90sshowgoldencouple · 1 year

Text

Sneak Peek-Kelso and Brooke in T9S

Here's a peek at my upcoming fic. It was requested anonymous with the line: “I’m sorry, it’s just, you make me k-kinda nervous and wow is it hot in here? It does take place in the That '90s Show Universe as we know it, which I believe does include Brooke and Betsy, but the series just didn't have time to mention them very much this season. Wait for season 2, I think and hope we'll at least get a mention of them. Fic is untitled right now because well, I stink at titles. But as soon as I have a good one. I'll post it :D

~*~

“Jay did a report on it last year and I was in the room when he was reading it to Jackie.”

“Wow,” Brooke seemed to lightly snort a laugh while she shook her head. “You really got lucky that both your kids got their brains from their moms.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Kelso nodded but midway stopped and eyed Brooke up and down. “Wait a minute…was that a burn?”

She almost seemed to blush at the index finger her pointed at her. “Maybe…”

“Come on,” he began to coax, a growing grin on his own face. “You know what to do!”

Brooke rolled her eyes and shook her head but had on a smile the whole time. Then finally she said it.

“Burn.”

Though it wasn’t in his typical loud volume or enthusiasm, Kelso was excited just to hear her say it. She’s need a little more practice but she was a natural.

“Yeah!” he cheered her own, smiling away. “It was a good one too.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” she replied.

Kelso shrugged and smirked smugly. “I am pretty good.”

#that 70s show #that 90s show #michael kelso #kelso and brooke #Brooke and betsy #sneak peek #t7s drabbles #red and kitty #jackie burkhart #jay kelso #my fanfiction #upcoming fanfic

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anchanted-one · 1 year

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Legend of Lightning Chapter 76. Battle of the Makaran plains

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/118574104

Vajra watched Kira floating in a Kolto tank. Her hair formed a red halo around her head. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t need this, but kolto was not yet readily available, even with all the stocks seized from the… enemy. Which was why they were using kolto-infused water instead.

At least Kira was getting some much-needed sleep.

Vajra pressed his head against the transparisteel and sighed. He wrestled with his guilt. He’d flippantly told the surrendered enemies—the Balmorrans—that he’d not killed many of their family. And on the surface, that was true. But that hid the fact that he had killed a hundred-and-eighty-three people. He’d felt nothing when he killed them all, but now… what was wrong with him?

Did it truly matter so little to him, when he’d thought he was slaughtering Imperials? Were their lives of less value than Republic ones? How the frick could he have thought something so shallow?! All life was sacred, all life had to be treasured and protected… and he had simply chosen to kill so many.

How many is that, now? He asked himself. Not counting the Colicoids, six thousand, nine-hundred-and-twenty-two. He yearned for any help whatsoever… but he couldn’t contact Master Satele and Jasme, and Kira was unconscious! “Tee Seven? I need help, buddy. I’m lost. I feel so isolated. Weak.”

The droid whistled encouragingly, and Vajra hugged it tight. “Thank you.”

#star wars #swtor #star wars the old republic #the old republic #tor #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #archiveofourown #ao3 #jedi knight #hero of tython #darth marr #kira carsen #t7-01

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thestupidhelmet · 2 years

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This is sort of a weird question, so i'll start out saying i'm on the autistic spectrum, and I wanted to write a fanfiction where Eric and Donna's daughter is as well. So my question is, how do you think Eric and Donna would react to having an autistic child? Do you think they'd feel over protective? Maybe even guilty? Not that they should, but as parents they just can't help it. I really would love to write this because there's isn't a lot of female representation when it comes to autism.

You, for sure, should write this if it's in your heart to write! ❤️❤️❤️

Other people might have different but equally valid interpretations of how Eric and Donna would react, but this is mine, based on my understanding of the characters.

I think Eric might worry before Donna does when their child's autism first presents itself. Donna might misinterpret the signs as their child being in the later range of normal for certain milestones. Eric would speak to Kitty about it anyway, and Kitty would suggest having her granddaughter checked by a specialist and suggest a number of reasons for (what's being perceived as) a developmental delay.

Eric would tell Donna what Kitty told him. Donna might be angry at first that Eric "went behind her back," and say, "I thought we both agreed to give our daughter some more time."

Eric: No, you agreed. I just kept quiet. We have to get her checked to at least rule out certain diagnoses. That's not going to hurt her.

Donna will struggle with her denial because she doesn't want her daughter to have any struggles in life. Her denial comes from love, but she's ultimately convinced to make the appointment with the doctor Kitty recommends.

Once their daughter is properly diagnosed, Eric is scared. Donna wants to know e v e r y t h i n g. She reads books, reaches out to other parents with autistic children, talks to specialists, and is very proactive.

Eric, now, is emotionally where Donna was before the diagnosis. He's scared for his daughter's quality of life and future. And, yes, he probably would blame himself -- in part because of how Red's life-long criticism made him feel inadequate as a man and as a person.

Donna, having done the research, reassures him and encourages him to talk to the new acquaintances she's made, parents of autistic children, so that he can learn that their daughter can live a fulfilling life with the right support and care.

Donna would go from a place of denial to strength. But she'd have trouble letting herself be vulnerable because she feels she has to be constantly strong for her daughter. Eric would help her with that, be Donna's safe place to have her fears.

Together, with Kitty (and other resources they've gotten), Eric and Donna would find their way raising an autistic child, celebrate the victories and support each other through any setbacks, and always make sure their child knows how loved she is.

And when a friend, stranger, or teacher who doesn't understand autism gives them (and/or their daughter) any crap, Eric and Donna would be amazing advocates for their child.

Red, too, would learn about autism from Kitty. He'd love his granddaughter immensely and be very protective of her. So he and Kitty would support Eric and Donna in giving their kid / grandkid the best and safest childhood possible.

I hope that helps!

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Eric x Donna #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Ask #Anon #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #T7S Writing Advice #Writing Advice #Fanfic Writing Advice #T7S Fanfic Writing Advice

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eclectic-mania · 2 years

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world on fire

1. tell me you'll never more roam

(read it here on ao3!)

Once upon a time, Jackie Burkhart loved Christmas in Point Place.

Well, once upon a time, she loved Christmas; it just happened that at that point, she had spent all her Christmases in Point Place.

Though Wisconsin winters were more than brutal, she loved how bright and shiny the snow made everything look. She enjoyed hot chocolate and catching snowflakes on her tongue. She adored looking at the Christmas lights her neighbors would put up. She relished the feeling of goodwill and was elated by how happy and peppy it made everyone, even the resident Scrooges.

Most of all, though, she loved celebrating the holiday with people that loved her, her family.

Not the Burkharts, of course; Jack had become negligent long before going to jail, and Pam had never bothered to care for her only daughter while they were in the same country, let alone different ones. No, Jackie’s family consisted of Red and Kitty Forman and, for a brief but shining moment, Bob Pinciotti. Once upon a time, she would even consider the basement gang to be a part of that family: Donna, her best friend and the closest thing she had to a sister; Eric, the nerdy almost-brother that tormented and teased her as if she really was his sister; Michael, her loveable but stupid ex-boyfriend; Fez, the girliest and best guy-friend she ever had; and Steven, the absolute love of her life. She loved spending time with them, even if they were just sitting around the stinky old basement. These people made the holidays worth it, and the holiday season wasn’t complete without seeing them.

But that was all once upon a time. Christmas in Point Place was something out of a fairy tale, and Jackie had long since learned that fairy tales weren’t real.

She knew better than to go back now.

It’s not like she had the time to do so, anyway. She was a busy and respected fashion designer, one of several in a pretty prestigious fashion house in New York City. She was in the middle of designing her very first solo collection; it was a big task but not something that she necessarily had to be in the city for at this stage. Still, it was better if she was, just in case anything went awry.

She could take a few days off if she wanted, but why should she? She clawed her way up the ladder on nothing but her own merit and had far too many responsibilities to tend to out here to ensure her status was maintained, or so she claimed to Kitty whenever the inevitable invitation would come. Beyond work, too, she had an apartment to take care of, plants to water, elderly neighbors to cook for, and no desire to see the people she purposefully left behind.

Kitty Forman never accepted that Jackie never wanted to come back, and Jackie never gave in to her mother figure’s pleading to come home.

Well, not until this year, anyway.

“I really can’t, Mrs. Forman,” Jackie insisted on their weekly phone call one November night, a hint of desperation in her voice. “I’m so busy with the studio. We’re working on a mock-up of the design concept, and one of the seamstresses needs emergency surgery, so we’re already down a hand, and—”

“Now, Jackie.” Kitty’s voice crackled through the phone, her own tell-tale signs of desperation seeping into her voice. “I have been very patient with you, young lady, but this has gone on long enough. Now, you need us, Jackie, especially after this year you’ve had. And besides, it’s been how many years since we’ve had you over for Christmas?”

“Not that long,” Jackie muttered.

“Christmas of ‘78! That was your last Christmas here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Forman, but—”

“And Fez will be here,” Kitty continued, trying her hardest to make her case. “You still talk to him, don’t you? Won’t it be so nice to see him again?”

“Of course, Mrs. Forman, but I don’t—”

“And Eric will be here since he still lives here, but Laurie won’t be, so you can have her room!” Kitty laughed nervously, hoping this sold her on the idea. It didn’t; Jackie had no desire to sleep on a mattress that had seen more action than a bed at the Playboy mansion. “Well? What do you say?”

Jackie took a long pause to collect all her strength for what was coming next. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Forman.”

“Oh.” There was another pause, a long one, and then a sniffle. “Well, honey, you’ve left me no choice. Red,” she called away, and Jackie instantly groaned.

“No, Mrs. Forman, don’t—”

“Loud One,” Red grunted into the phone. “Why is my wife crying?”

Jackie rolled her eyes. Of course she was crying. “I told her I couldn’t make it out for Christmas and New Year’s this year.”

“And why the hell not? I know for a fact you have paid time off that you haven’t used, young lady, so I suggest you use it for this holiday season because Kitty won’t take no for an answer.”

“I took some time off,” she argued half-heartedly. “Whenever Eric visits, I take time off to see him. Remember when Eric’s layover landed here after the rest of his Africa teaching gig? I was the one who showed him around the city, Mr. Forman.”

“That was years ago, Loud One, and it was just three days you took off. If you can take time off for the dumbass, you can sure as hell take time off for us. We—I mean, Kitty misses you, okay?”

She sighed and pressed her forehead against the wall, eyes closed tight. “I don’t want to see them again, Mr. Forman.”

“And you won’t,” he said without missing a beat. It was almost as if he expected this point to be brought up. “The neighbor girl doesn’t come around as much now that she and the dumbass are broken up, the kettlehead has his own family to take care of now, and the hophead is going to Christmas dinner at his dad’s. You won’t be seeing anyone you don’t want to, Loud One. We’ll make sure of it.” Then, in a much softer voice, he spoke again. “Come home, Jackie.”

She sighed again, cradling her head in her hand. Her resolve had been firm until those last three words, but now, thinking of Point Place as her home was suddenly appealing again. “Do you think we could work on the cars together while I’m there?”

“Well, you twisted my arm,” he gruffed, but the smile in his voice was clear as day.

To say Jackie was apprehensive about this trip was one hell of an understatement. She didn’t even remember the plane ride from New York to Milwaukee save for all the worrying she did, burning through two separate cassettes on her Walkman without even realizing it. She was so out of it, in fact, that Jackie nearly did an about-face once she hit the arrivals terminal of Milwaukee International Airport. Still, a familiar face stopped her in her tracks.

Well, that’s not entirely true. A sign that was thrust high in the air stopped Jackie in her tracks, with Devil written on it in big red block letters. Jackie’s eyes locked onto that sign and instantly shifted to the face of the man holding it, a smile immediately pulling at her lips in response to the giant grin on his.

“There she is, back to make my life a living hell,” he called, not caring about the attention it was bringing him in the crowded airport terminal.

Jackie didn’t care either, pulling her bag behind her as she ran up and into Eric’s arms. “String Bean,” she said warmly, “Merry Christmas Eve! It’s so good to see you! I didn’t know you were picking me up.”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he grinned, taking her bag from her. “Well, Red didn’t want you to take a taxi. You know how he is. You’re his favorite.”

“Hell yeah, I am,” she laughed, falling into step beside him.

Her friendship with Eric surprised everyone, given that they had always been antagonistic toward each other when he left. Sure, they both knew that it came from a place of affection, but this was apparently news to everyone else.

Jackie was one of the few people who wrote to Eric regularly when he was in Africa, keeping him involved and up-to-date in all things happening in Point Place until she left in December of ‘79. She told him about Chicago, about Sam the Stripper, about Randy. Then, after she had moved, Jackie filled him in on the two-day stay in the hospital when she had to be treated for pneumonia after falling into the creek after the county fair and how that had been the driving force to finally do the damn thing she was meant to do and move away already.

And, though Jackie never expected a response, she got one almost every time. Each letter was another deep dive into his life in Africa, his thoughts on what he saw out there, and all the things Jackie was telling him. In each response, Eric was thoughtful and considerate and only a little snarky, which Jackie greatly appreciated. He showed genuine concern for her physical and mental health and even offered up a number for her to call him when she could.

Then all of a sudden, they had a weekly call scheduled, and when Eric was due to come back, he even planned his trip back so that he had a few days of layover in New York City. He’d been back once or twice since then, usually on weekends to accommodate his teacher’s schedule, and so Jackie didn’t have to take time off during her tumultuous first months as a designer.

She was the first one he spoke to when he was trying to figure out his next steps after Africa and to gush about his crush on a fellow teacher; he was the first one she called about her new collection and the only one to fly out when she was going through a tough breakup. They supported each other through ups and downs; it was the most healthy and fulfilling friendship Jackie had ever had.

Remembering how much he meant to her was the only thing keeping Jackie from frogging Eric now, though, because his conversation topics were terrible. “He asks about you, you know?”

“I don’t care,” she said flatly, staring out the window. “You know better than to tell him anything.”

“I know,” he soothed, his voice only slightly higher-pitched. Jackie knew how much Eric hated lying to his friends, but this was important to her. “He knows we talk and that I’ve visited you, but I don’t tell him anything, and neither does Fez, I think. I just wanted you to know that he asks.”

“And I just want you to know I don’t care.”

Eric snorted but said nothing else for the next ten minutes. However, when he broke his silence again, Jackie genuinely wished he hadn’t. “I mean, he’s really sorry about the whole thing.”

“Eric,” she groaned, “seriously, String Bean, you need to can it. He should be sorry. I was in the hospital because of him! Not to mention all the vile stuff he was saying to me the entire time before that. You weren’t there, Eric. You don’t know.”

“I know what you told me,” he insisted, “and I know what he tells me, and I’m telling you, he’s not just sorry about the creek. It might be worth giving him another chance.”

“Stop the car.”

“What?”

“Stop the car, Eric!”

As the Vista Cruiser screeched to a halt, he looked quizzically at his passenger. “What’s your deal, Devil?”

She sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m only going to say this once because being in Wisconsin pulls my old self out just a little bit, and the old me hated begging, but I’m begging you not to bring him up again. I know he’s your brother,” she added hurriedly when Eric’s mouth opened again, “and that you love him, yadda yadda, whatever. Still, I have no intention of hearing about him or anyone else while I’m here. Red and Kitty know this already, so you need to get it through your thick skull like yesterday. Are we clear?”

Eric stared out the windshield, unseeing. “Is it really that painful?”

“Yes,” she shot back immediately. “Those months you left us in that basement... god, Eric, they were the worst months of my life. And that’s counting going broke and losing my parents. Even the stuff with Brian...” She gulped. “All of it. Chicago and the stripper and the freakin’ pneumonia that landed me in the hospital, hell, those burns they kept shooting at me too, all of it... it broke me, broke me to the point that even Brian didn’t manage to get to yet.”

The look Eric gave her, the heartbroken horror of remembering seeing Jackie in the aftermath of the Brian ordeal, had Jackie reaching out for his hand. He gave it to her without hesitation.

“He’s dead to me, Eric. Steven Hyde is dead to me, and I’m pretty sure he thinks of me the same way, no matter what he tells you to save face. I mean, he nearly killed me, remember?”

“He never wanted that,” Eric said softly, squeezing her hand. “Seriously, you won’t even see him again? Jackie, I think he still lo—”

“Hell no.” In an instant, Jackie had her fingers in her ears. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Eric Forman, or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be tasting leather for weeks.”

The threat pulled a startled laugh from the guy. “Jeez, with your Forman Rage and the foot-in-the-ass threats, it’s a wonder we’re not actually related.”

“What can I say? There’s a reason Red loves me,” she smirked. “Now drive, String Bean. Our parents are waiting for me.”

“God, it’s like having a more tolerable Laurie around,” he groaned, but he drove off anyway, knowing his parents were just as eager to see their pseudo-daughter again.

#that 70's show #t7s #that 70's show fanfiction #world on fire #jackie x hyde #jackie burkhart #fanfic #zombie apocolypse au #eventually

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