the remnant trust

You can be a queen (Savitar x Reader)

Hi. May i request the flash fic pls if ur in a mood to write? Given recent episode, can u please do a savitar!barry x reader? Where reader always loves barry but he loves iris. When barrys time remnant being ignored n pushed away by everyone, reader is the only one to be nice with him. So when him back in the past as savitar, he kidnap you n said he want to change your future too. Just something angst.

Requested by: @felicitybane1412
I listened to New Found Sound by Emma Taylor during this. Also I changed little pieces of the request I hope that’s okay. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Talks of suicide, death, heartbreak, overdose, and overall angst


Originally posted by justbarryallen

Barry Allen. Fastest man alive. Iris’ soulmate. And your crush.

With everything going on you began to realize exactly how much Barry cared for Iris, and how little he cared for you. Everything she did he smiled at, and didn’t give you a second glance. But you were used to it at this point.

You had been part of the team since the beginning, working with Cisco and Caitlin even before the meta humans. Hearing endlessly about Iris, and how amazing she was. It seemed there wasn’t a time when you weren’t comparing yourself to her.

In everyone’s eyes she was perfect, and you just messed everything up.
Once you found out that Savitar was a time remnant of Barry your heart sunk. Sometime in the future Barry kills the one thing he loved most in the world, all for power.

Savitar always looked at you with pitiful glances, almost like he was seeing you for the first time in a long time.

He got in the cortex one day while you were alone, you had thought it was just Barry.

“Oh! Hey Bar. I wasn’t expecting you to be in today. Thought you were with Cisco till tomorrow,” you said taking a quick glance up then returning your gaze to the computer in front of you.

“Just thought I would stop in. Make sure you were okay,” Barry spoke from a little distance away.

“How swee-” you looked up and saw Savitar starring at you, the scarring on his face showing who he truly was.

“Hi (y/n). Miss me?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?” you ask standing up reaching for your phone but Savitar grabbed it before you could.

“Wouldn’t want you to call Barry or Cisco,” he chuckled, “Besides, I just want to talk.”

“Love and hate, they’re so close. How can you love someone, and then come to hate them?”

“I don’t know, break their heart?”

“You love Barry, is that right?”

“Ho-how would you know that?”

“Well, you see, in the future, where Iris is gone, and Barry’s lost his mind, you’re dead.”


“You kill yourself because you knew that you couldn’t live up to Iris. Wrote a note and everything.”

You had to sit down to keep yourself from falling over.


“Overdose, on pain meds and sleeping pills,” Savitar looked down at the ground.
Clamping a hand over your mouth you let a tear roll down your face.

“But we can change that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me (y/n). You won’t have to die. The team won’t have to think you betrayed them, and I’ll be happy. I realized after you were dead that I couldn’t be without you.”

“But, Iris would die.”

“This is true.”

“If we find a way to stop you, and Iris doesn’t die. Then I live.”

“Not really. Do you really think you would want to be here if Iris lives? Barry will love her even more, they’ll get married, have some kids, and where will you be? Alone, depressed, and without someone who cares for you.”

“And you could make me happy?”

“I could make you so much more than that,” he smiled, “I could make you a queen.”

“And what if I say no to all of this?”

“Then I’ll kidnap you. Can’t die if I don’t let you.”

You took a step back, he would kidnap you?

“I’d rather die trying to save the woman who everyone loves than go with the man everyone hates.”

“Funny, you were the only one who didn’t push me, a time remenant away. And now you’re saying everyone hates me?”

“Bar- Savi- whatever you go by right now. I will go with you, but only on one agreement. Iris lives.”

“If Iris doesn’t die then I’m not created sweet heart.”

“Barry has other time remnants from the past. Trust me. But she has to live.”
“You have yourself a deal (y/n).”

As long as Barry is happy with the woman he loves, everything was going to okay.

Here goes nothing.


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Also someone else asked for a Jason/Thalia reunion and it sort of came out not-quite-like-the-books-but-also-sort-of-like-the-books

and now I’m crying because Thalia Grace is one of the strongest characters in the series and I’d never really thought about it before but she is, oh she is, because she lost her two year old brother when she was only a kid and I’m imagining losing my little brother, like God, I can’t even imagine wanting to wake up ever again after, and not only did she lose him, she thought it was her mother’s fault, and that probably broke her even more because even though she hated her mom their must have been some remnant of hopeful trust still in there and just Thalia Grace okay?

And when she finally sees him, finds him, finally, after all those years she belived him to be dead, she must be sobbing inside but keeps her cool and man, we need to talk about Thalia Grace more.

(And also talk about Thalia and Jason pre Hera-abduction, being dorky little kids together aaAAAWWW)

flintsjohn  asked:

For the promt thing, silverflint + 13? Pleaaase! (I love your blog btw!)

(Um, this one is kind of angsty. Sorry! I hope that’s alright. This is set after that conversation in the cabin in 4x08, when Flint doesn’t know the chest is on board yet, and Silver is barely clinging on to his last remnants of trust in Flint’s plans. It’s got a fair bit of ot3-ness about it too, which I hope is ok as well.)  

“How can anyone not be afraid of love?”

The question was apropos of nothing. A thought given voice so quietly that it barely disturbed the air around them, barely existed at all. Flint stilled, unsure of how to reply.

“The things it drives you to do,” Silver continued, his voice a murmur. “It’s not…good or gentle or generous. It’s selfish and destructive. I think perhaps I was better off without it. I think everyone else was better off without me having it too.”  

“Don’t say that,” Flint said, softly. His gaze flicked up to Silver’s face, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to try to catch his eye. Words like these asked to be heard without being seen. Even the light of the candles cast too bright an illumination on them. He would have snuffed them out if he wasn’t afraid that any movement might shatter the atmosphere of the moment. “We’re going to get her back. She and I and everyone will be better off because you won’t rest until she is safe. Because you love her.”

“But that’s not-” Silver said, curling his lip as he cut himself off. “It isn’t that simple. You know it isn’t. You’re speaking in platitudes and I didn’t ask for it. I never ask for that from you. Don’t be so fucking gentle with me.”

Flint sighed. Once, he would have had to fight to swallow his irritation at such a truculent response, but he was just too damn tired. And he knew Silver was tired too. Exhausted. His words were softly slurring round the edges, and it wasn’t with drink. He wasn’t sure from exactly which festering piece of unresolved anger this particular accusation took root, but Flint decided that it mattered little, and that straightforwardness was the only sensible way forward.

“What is it that you do want from me then?” he asked, and he finally persisted in seeking out Silver’s gaze until he had it.

Silver picked at the handle of his crutch, his focus jumping between Flint’s eyes and a point somewhere over his right shoulder.

“I want your honesty,” he said. He paused, swallowing heavily, and then continued, “Did Miranda ever hate you for the things you did for Thomas? Or the cruelties it lead to? Or the selfish choices you made on his behalf, or hers, or your own?”

Flint clenched his fingers. He tried to keep his face calm, keep from his eyes the anger that was so quick to seep out from sore old wounds, but it was barely worth the effort around Silver. If he was an open book to nobody else on Earth, he was to him. Silver could read an essay in the crease of his brow, the deepest of secrets in the twitch of his eye. He wondered whether he would ever find the cipher to allow him to read Silver in the same way, down to the very last word and those most nightmarish of secrets.

“Why?” Flint said, his teeth barely parting to let the word out.

“Because I want to know how singular she was. How uncommon. I want to know what sort of horrors and betrayals were excused because she had your love, and what was excused in return, if you had hers. I want to know what a good person might be willing to forgive. I know the things I would forgive, and the things I would not, but I am not a good person,” Silver said, his eyes now focused unwaveringly on Flint’s. “I’m not,” he added when Flint frowned and opened his mouth to disagree.

Flint twisted the ring on his little finger as he considered how to answer, and contemplated what it seemed that Silver was really asking.

“She forgave a lot of things because I loved her and because she loved me, and because she understood the way Thomas and I loved one another too. Of course she hated some of the things I did, and some of the things to which I subjected her, but she always understood why. I didn’t…I didn’t always love her well. But she forgave it all. She was singular and uncommonly good, but then so is Madi. I think Madi would forgive a great deal too,” he said, his eyes imploring Silver to believe him, as he believed it himself.

“I’m not talking about Madi,” Silver murmured, his gaze piercing and unsettling. 

Flint blinked and frowned, but before he could speak again, Silver pushed himself to standing, the effort looking monumental. Flint was worried for a brief moment that his knee might simply buckle underneath him.

“We both ought to sleep,” Silver said, as he made his way laboriously towards the door. “Whatever happens tomorrow, it will require us both to have our wits about us.”

As the door closed behind him, Flint considered his words again. He was unnerved by them, though he didn’t fully understand them, and they echoed in his mind nonetheless. He knew the things love could drive a person to; knew the corrupted ways in which it could be expressed. ‘I want to know what a good person might be willing to forgive…I’m not talking about Madi.’ The thoughts creeping around the edges of his tired mind, too fragile to withstand much scrutiny, wondered when anyone had last called him good, and what sort of generous forgiveness might be facilitated by his loving and being loved in return. Or what forgiveness might be required. And he wondered whether, just perhaps, he might even be willing to forgive enough to be defined as singular.

In trying to come to terms with the writing for 6x15, I thought I’d try to rework some detail aspects of it. This has been turning around in my head for the past couple of days, of a way to keep the same basic premise of the last episode but just adjusting some plot points and character beats that would’ve improved it’s overall reception and retain Emma’s character progression.

More than anything I just needed to get this out of my system. If you’re tired of reading my thoughts on this, feel free to skip it. This is lengthier than I had intended, and as expected has some salt sprinkled throughout, so yeah, here goes:

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But most importantly to any
person that I have ever spoken to,
shared a moment with,
made a promise to, or tried,
and I must emphasize–tried–
to know better or treat better,
do better for, or better by:

I am a contradiction to myself,
and to everything I have ever done,
or any thought I have thought,
almost to all I believe
I hold myself to be.

Don’t trust me.

—  “Why do you trust me?”