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textualdesires · 1 year

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Rebound

Xavier Thorpe x gn!telekinetic!Reader, mentions of Rowan Laslow x Reader (pre-death)

Xavier does not want to be your rebound. Except being your rebound is not half as bad with what comes with it.

I love this work, I gotta say. Reader is popular and with the nightshades. This is so adorable and my heart aches for both of these soft boys. Also completely gn! smut so it can be read as male, female or any other identity!

Categories: angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut with a plot?

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of blood and murder, oral (m receiving), penetration, nudity, marking, size kink, use of powers in the bedroom, spit ig?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

Enjoy!

————————————————————————————————————

Your heart ached as you once again laid on his bed, tears streaming down your face. It’s been a few weeks since Rowan left. Or supposedly left. You knew he wouldn’t just leave. Wouldn’t just leave you behind.

You and Rowan had always been an odd couple. You were a popular telekinetic, had mastered your craft early. And he was the asthmatic kid, the outcast of outcasts.

You had first met him at the nightshades. Yoko, one of the first people you clicked with, had dragged you along soon after you joined Nevermore. He didn’t seem to fit in even there.

There was a deeper connection the two of you shared. Like even your powers were connected. Like you were meant to be together. He was rooted deep in your head. In your soul. In your head.

It had become a habit of yours to go to his dorm when you missed him. You would lie in his sheets, hold them close for as long as they still smelled like him. You didn’t come as often nowadays, but when it all became too much, you still did. It’s been so long the scent almost faded.

Xavier usually wouldn’t mind. You two had been friends for a long time. Hell, you and Rowan had been there for him when things ended with Bianca. It’s why he was there for you now.

He would always allow you to be there when you needed to. Would sit next to you and hold your hand to soothe you. Would climb into the bed with you if you hurt too much. He was there for emotional support. But this time it was him who needed it.

“Fuck!”

The door to the room swung closed hard, startling you. Xavier let his body fall against the door frame, sliding down to lean against it. You hadn’t seen him so upset in a long time. Not since Bianca.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked through teary eyes.

“Oh- I- didn’t know you were here. It’s nothing really.”

“Hey, just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I won’t listen to you.”

Softly you climbed over to him, dragging along the small blanket you had once bought Rowan. It always reminded you of the good times, of how much he loved you. It soothed you.

You wrapped it around Xaviers shoulders, sitting in front of him now. His eyes were watering with rage. You didn’t press him on telling you. He wouldn’t pressure you either. If he wanted to tell you, he would. You just put a hand on his leg, carefully looking at him.

“It’s Wednesday. She- had asked me to the Raven.”

“I remember. You were quite happy she did.”

“Yes and that’s why- ugh, I hate her.”

You knew that wasn’t true. You knew Xavier found the new girl intriguing. You couldn’t say the same for yourself. You couldn’t even look at her without being jealous. Being hurt.

You were jealous because she was the one who heard Rowan’s last words. And she was partly the reason he was gone. You believed her when she told you about what happened. You knew Rowan had slowly lost control of his powers and drifted off. You wish you could have stopped it. Could have saved him.

“She only asked me to cover for snooping around the shed. She never wanted to take me in the first place. And now I’m not sure I even want to go to that stupid ball.”

Xavier didn’t deserve this. To be treated like a last resort, or someone to play with. You grabbed his face now, forcing him to look at you.

“Xavier Thorpe. I’ve known you for so long. I know that there will be more people asking you to the dance. And I know that you’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be your date to the ball. And if Wednesday can’t see that, she’s blind.”

Xavier put his hand over yours, grabbing it as a sign of gratitude. Cause he was thankful to have you. You two had become so close lately, he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like without your soothing voice, always saying the right things. A soft smile spread on his lips.

“I can really see what Rowan saw in you. Hell, I would be just as clingy as he was.”

“Oh shut up!”

————————————————————————

It had been two weeks and the Raven was slowly approaching. It was this weekend and slowly even you were stressed. You didn’t want to go at first, but frankly, you were sick and tired of grief.

Rowan wouldn’t have wanted you to spend any night crying in his old room. He wouldn’t have wanted you to hide from the crowds on a day as important as the Raven. He probably would have even told you, how you were too beautiful and lovely not to go.

You wanted to go with your friends at first. Unfortunately they had all found dates already. They hadn’t thought you wanted to go and made other plans. You weren’t mad, it was understandable. But you really didn’t feel like playing third wheel to any of them.

You could have of course just asked out some of the other people at school. At your best, you were popular, kind and social. It was unlikely you’d get turned down. But you didn’t feel like asking a stranger.

No, frankly, this was hard enough as it was. For you to finally go out there again after pulling back from all extracurricular activities, from any social contact let alone romance? It wasn’t easy.

There was only one plausible option left.

You had spotted him once again working on one of his famous murals. You loved them really. They were beautiful, always intricate and thought through. You admired how he could just whip up something like this.

He was currently busy walking away from you. You had flat out lead with a question, asking him if he had a date to the raven yet. When he realized what you entailed he immediately walked away from you.

“Xavier, please, would you just listen?”

“No! I am not some sort of rebound that you can ask because everyone else is already gone, I am not-“

“Listen to me, goddammit!”

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to look at you. Hell, half the courtyard was probably looking at you now. You were quite loud. You didn’t even mean to yell.

“I’m not even gonna pretend you are my first choice.”

“Wow, a real confidence boost, [Y/N].”

You grabbed his wrist before he could even leave this time. You wouldn’t give up that easily, not without explaining. You had thought about this a lot.

“You know Rowan was and always will be my first choice. But he’s not here. And he won’t come back, no matter what you believe happened. I am trying to not let that affect me anymore.”

Xavier looked at you with sorry eyes. He knew how upset you still were, you had come over to cry even more in the last days. He would sometimes just find you passed out on Rowan’s bed and put a blanket over you. He felt pity for you.

“If Rowan was here right now, he would think we’re both insane for not going. Hell, his roommate and partner, skipping the school’s biggest event? He would call us idiots.”

A small laugh escaped Xaviers lungs at the mental image of Rowan yelling at the two of you. Yeah, he would have his opinions. About how being popular was a privilege that you shouldn’t risk, how you should not care about him and go anyways.

“There is no one here I would rather go to the Raven with. I’m not asking you as a rebound or a second choice. I’m asking you because I trust you. Because you’re amazing. You have been the closest person to me since Rowan… whatever happened to him, you were there to catch me before falling through the cracks.”

He looked at you now, a smile on his face. You had never told him just how much you appreciated him. It made his hurt heart warm, a fuzzy feeling in his stomach as he saw a tiny bit of a smile on your face. He had missed that on you. You used to be so very bright and for the first time in forever, there seemed to be a spark in your eyes.

“It’s a shame that Wednesday missed out on this. On you. But if she really for one second thinks you’re a bad person, she’s insane. I know you and what you’ve been doing is the kindest thing I’ve ever witnessed. So I’m asking you as a friend. Will you go to The Raven with me?”

The silence in his face drove you crazy. You hated waiting for answers. Hated seeing his emotionless face. The facade didn’t last long as he grinned. He had made his decision a long time ago. And frankly, there was no other option for him, either.

“Of course I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you! Xavier, you’re the best!”

With a screech you fell around his neck and he caught you from stumbling by snaking his arms around your waist. The full blown smile on your lips was enough to make his cheeks go warm. He softly rested his head on yours.

Had he always felt this fuzzy when around you?

———————————————————————

You looked absolutely stunning in all white. Bianca, Yoko and Kent had taken you shopping some while back and frankly, hanging out with friends was just what you needed. You were almost excited for today, even when a small part of you couldn’t help but miss Rowan.

You had worn the necklace he bought you for an anniversary once. The silver went perfectly with your white outfit. You wondered what he would have worn. A suit, of course. You would have helped him pick out accessories, would have helped him with his hair.

A soft tear slipped your eyes but you pushed it away almost immediately when you saw your friends coming to you. They had pregamed in the nightshade library, but you didn’t feel like coming. It was too painful still to go in there without him. He loved the library, loved the quietness of the place.

“Damn, [Y/N]? Is that really you?” Ajax joked and you grinned at the compliment.

“Yoko and I made our best efforts to get rid of the sadness for at least one night.” Bianca called with a grin.

It was true. Lately you’d been walking around unkempt. Your uniform way too big as you usually wore his blazer, a thing you would get in trouble for frequently. You always had the biggest dark circles, your cheeks were puffy from all the crying.

Today, none of that was present.

Xavier was in the back, a white suit hanging loosely along his wide frame. He was so much taller than Rowan, you sometimes forgot. But when you hugged him hello, it became obvious to you again. He smelled good, had put on some cologne.

“You do look amazing. It’s good to see you like this.”

He barely whispered it into your ear but it was enough to bring shivers down your spine. All the compliments, all the smiles from your friends and the way Xavier couldn’t stop looking at you. It made you feel incredible for the first time in a while.

You enjoyed yourself, dancing and drinking some of the unspiked drinks. You and your friends always kept in close proximity on the dancefloor as Xavier spun you around, making sure you only focused on him for now. God, you felt good.

Until Wednesday Addams made her entry.

You figured she wasn’t gonna wear all white. Dresscodes didn‘t matter to her. Much less did it matter to her who she took to the dance apparently. Your eyes narrowed in anger as you spotted Tyler.

You barely knew him, had met him at the coffee shop a few times. But you knew the way him and his friends would ridicule Rowan. Or Xavier. They tried with you, but stopped when you saw you weren’t affected by it.

It wasn’t fair, how they picked on the outcasts. For being different, for being someone else. To them, Rowan was an easy target. But you always defended him. And Tyler had fun being horrible to them.

You looked up at Xavier, who had just become awfully tense. His gaze was fixed on Wednesday, on the way her hips swung as she danced with Tyler. God, he was so hurt. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing his focus back to you. You would make sure he wouldn’t be bothered. Take care of his pain like he took care of yours.

“She’s not worth your attention, Xay. Don’t let that entitled brat ruin your evening. Or the stupid police chief’s son. They don’t even compare to you. They’re not worthy of your presence. Or your anger.”

Xavier looked at you in awe again. How did you always know what to say? With just one look you calmed him down. With just one look you could make him forget all about his sorrows.

Fuck. What was this feeling? And why did it have him so guilty, so torn? You were Rowan‘s partner, he never even thought of you like this until-

Until you started laying in his room. Until he noticed the way you breathed when you were asleep. Until he noticed how soft your skin was. Or how warm you felt when he pulled you plush against his body.

His hands brought you in closer. Pulled you in so you were pressed against his body tightly. You could feel your cheeks redden as you hid your head in his shoulder. A smile spread on your lips with how close you were. Had he always looked this good? Had he always been so enticing? So very handsome? You were so infatuated with Rowan, you didn’t even notice.

“I’m glad you asked me to the Raven.”

“I’m glad you said yes.”

“I would have never turned you down.”

Your voices were barely whispers as the song became slower and the two of you even closer if that was possible. His face was right above yours. You just had to tiptoe and your lips would meet his. You could see the way his eyes darted to your lips.

One move and you could ruin it all.

You inched in, stopping right before your lips could meet his. If you jumped this hurdle now, there was no return. You had ruined your friendship with Xavier. Had moved on from Rowan.

A drop on your forehead took you back into reality. You separated from Xavier as he too looked to find the source. Suddenly one drop became multiple. You could see the red stain the white cloth covering your body. Within seconds the panic started.

You didn’t even see the crowd fleeing. The red drops making it onto your skin had brought you right back. To the nightmares you had. In which you held Rowan as he bled out all over you. In which you knew the monster killed him. Tears started streaming down your face when finally you regained some sort of vision.

You didn’t have to look long to find Xavier. He was still right there, looking ahead. Your eyes followed his as you spotted her again. Wednesday, dancing in the red liquid like it was her home.

It wasn’t fair. That she was the one who got everything you ever wanted. She got to say goodbye to Rowan. Got to see who it was that hurt him. Got to see his last moments. And now she even got Xavier.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], we have to leave!”

It was Bianca that had been shaking your shoulders as people stumbled all along the floor. And suddenly you heard the screams. The panic. And it was all too much. With tears streaming down your face you ran. To the only place that gave you solace.

His bed.

———————————————————————

The door shutting had brought you back to your senses. You were still shaking, even if the tears had stopped a while ago. You immediately scrambled up, not wanting to be seen in this position.

Xavier immediately came to your side as he saw how hurt you looked again. Fuck, did you think of Rowan again? Of course you would. Going to the Raven was a stupid idea. His heart stung as he saw what a mess you still were.

“I should leave.”

“What? [Y/N], no, you can stay. I can sleep in the shed if I have to-“

“No. This is your room, I shouldn’t even be-“

“Don’t be silly. You can always come here. God, you’re still drenched. Wait, let me-“

His feet swiftly took him to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wrapping you in it. He had to chuckle at how adorable you looked as you sat down on the bed. His eyes trailed down to the sheets, a grimace on his face as he saw how stained they were.

“I’m afraid we have to wash those. I’m sorry, I know how much you enjoy that they-“

“It’s okay. They’re just sheets.”

“What?”

“They haven’t smelled like him in ages. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

Xavier looked at you now, a worried look on his face. For you to act so indifferent about the sheets when they would usually give you so much comfort? Something else was going on. Something was off.

“How about we get you out of these clothes first. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t change. I’ll give you something to wear. Then we can sit on my dry bed and talk, hm?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I want to.”

You could feel your cheeks blushing once again as Xavier grabbed your hand, squeezing it to reassure you. Gosh, how could he be so selfless even now? How could he make you feel so good even when you were at rock bottom just seconds earlier?

He stood now, pulling out some of his old clothes. It was a t-shirt that looked way too big for you. Paint stains had painted it in all types of colors. He also put a pair of sweatpants onto his bed, making sure you were comfortable.

“I’ll- I’ll go change in the bathroom. And you can change in here. You can just wrap yourself in my blankets if you feel like it. I’ll join you in a second.”

You nodded carefully as you watched Xavier leave towards the bathroom. Carefully you pushed out of your drenched outfit. You decided to just wear his shirt for now, it being too warm in his room anyways. Luckily your underwear had remained relatively dry.

You walked to his unmade bed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it around your body carefully. You had never sat on his bed, you just now realized. Had always made sure to stay in Rowan’s, not to cross any boundaries.

You realized just how much his blanket smelled of him. You had gotten used to the scent of him so much. When he would lay next to you in bed, it would lull you to sleep quietly. Something you always blamed on the exhaustion that crying brought with it.

“You can come back out if you’re done!”

You quietly shouted, knowing damn well he was too scared to impose. You knew he would never just walk out, possibly humiliating you.

You swallowed as you saw him. He was wearing just a pair of grey sweatpants, his shirt long abandoned. His hair was lose now, falling into his face, some locks still slightly wet. You blushed deeply as he walked over to you, sitting next to you.

Xavier grabbed your hand, his knuckles accidentally brushing against your thighs in the process. He didn’t even notice you abandoned the sweatpants until now. He blushed, but never hesitated to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Why are you so upset?”

“It’s silly. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Humor me.”

Your eyes shot up to his. He encouraged you to talk to him. That was new. A deep sigh escaped your lungs as you began to speak.

“I had so much fun tonight. I really forgot all the pain and what I went through. It was going so well and then- then some Normie pricks had to ruin the perfect evening.”

You swallowed hard as tears threatened to spill once more. Xavier was quick to pull you against him, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. You took it, needing some sort of comfort. But you didn’t fail to notice just how warm he was.

“That’s not silly, [Y/N]. For what it’s worth, I also enjoyed spending the evening with you.”

“Oh please.”

You scoffed at him. You couldn’t believe him, even if you wanted to. You saw the way he looked at Wednesday, saw the way she enthralled him. He grabbed you by the shoulders, holding you to look at him. Why were you doubting him all of a sudden?

“I’m sure you were happy the stupid prank saved you. God, you ogled at Wednesday as she danced in the mess.”

“[Y/N], I didn’t-“

“Didn’t what, Xavier? You were scared to be the rebound. Well guess what, right now it feels like I am.”

His eyes were shocked. He hadn’t seem you this upset with him before. And it stung, to hear your harsh words. You had gotten it all wrong. He had to explain, had to tell you what was happening. Carefully he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

“You are not a rebound. You never were. I wanted to go with you. You make me so happy. You soothe me in seconds and are an incredible person. I looked at Wednesday, sure. Cause she looked absolutely insane. I was wondering how I could have ever been upset about her when the one I really wanted was right in front of me.”

You blushed now, a soft tear spilling down your cheek. You didn’t even know how much he cared. God, you were so dumb. How could you ever doubt him, how could you ever think he didn’t want you? If it wasn’t for the prank, you’re sure he would have-

He was looking at you again. Looking straight at your lips as he inched in. He softly wiped the tear off your cheek, making sure you were no longer upset. He knew he couldn’t have you. But he wanted you so badly.

“I know you’re not ready. I know you probably thought of Rowan all night. You said it yourself, I wasn’t your first choice. But know that I’m right here if you need me. Say the word and I’m yours.”

You interrupted him with a peck to his lips. He looked at you, surprised. You had just kissed him. He wasn’t dreaming, right? Carefully he moved one of his hands to the nape of your neck as he pulled you in once again.

The kiss was slow, sensual. It was intimate in a way you haven’t felt in a while. If ever. You had missed this. Had missed the sparks flying between two people as they kissed. The way you felt like time stopped.

To say you and Rowan didn’t have your issues would have been a simple lie. He had been losing it long before Wednesday came to school and frankly, you hated the person he became then. But even then, Xavier was there to notice. To call Rowan out on how he treated you. It was why he urged the others to kick him out of the nightshades.

He had liked you for a long time. And he was sure you felt the same way. Wednesday’s arrival and Rowan’s death had held you back from acting out. Still, it brought you so much closer. Xavier pulled back, carefully catching his breath.

“We should stop. I don’t want to push you to something you’re not ready for.”

“I think I’ve been ready for ages. I was jealous when you looked at Wednesday. Because once again she got what I wanted. She had you. Or so I thought.”

Xavier couldn’t hold back now. He pushed you back, softly laying you down on his pillows as he kissed you again.

———————————————————————

You fell back as Xavier took control. The blanket had long been pushed off the bed as he softly kissed your lips, making sure you were comfortable. He was impatient, but he wanted to make sure that you were alright with every single move.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

You pulled him in by his hair, your hands tangling in them immediately. He was so gentle, so soft yet you could feel a need behind his eyes. You had every intention of unlocking that need.

You ground your hips into his, making sure to let him know you were just as needy as he was. He groaned as his hands clasped at the shirt you were wearing. Quickly he pulled it off you, discarding it to the side. You had no time to feel shame. Not when Xavier was leaving breathy kisses against your neck, causing you to breathe heavily.

You gripped his shoulders for support as he sucked softly. A grin spread on his lips at your reactions. He knew you were vocal, he had walked in on you and Rowan one too many times. But to hear you react to him instead, it gave him a newfound confidence.

He gnawed at your skin, making sure to leave marks. He didn’t even care who saw. He just wanted to make sure everyone knew that you had finally moved on. That you were once again off the market, that you were his. Were you his?

“God, please, I need you.”

He chuckled softly at your words, like you had read his mind. His kisses trailed further down your torso and down your stomach. His hands gripped your sides like a vice but he was keen on pleasing you.

With a little help from your telekinetic powers you pushed him off you, pressing him against the wall behind his bed for just a second. No, you were not gonna let him do this. Not like this. Carefully you let him go again as you stood from the bed. He looked confused, worried.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” you knelt, pulling his body to you with the snap of your wrist. “I’m not letting you take care of me again. It’s my turn to give back.”

A grin spread onto your lips as you held onto his thighs. He looked shocked, surprised even. You were really kneeling in front of him, offering to take care of him. He must be dreaming. Must be in one of his twisted wet dreams that he sometimes had, especially when you snuggled into him as you slept.

You grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants now, pulling them off his legs. He helped, keen on letting you do your work. He had skipped the underwear of course, leaving him exposed and hard in front of you. He was already dripping with precum.

You bit your lip for one second at the sight. So the rumors were true. Bianca had mentioned some things back in the day, some you never paid much attention to. But the taller the man, the bigger certain features was something that rang true.

“You don’t have to- Holy shit.”

You didn’t even let him finish as you licked along his tip, swallowing up his precum. You had some experience. You weren’t new to dating, after all. So you also knew exactly which moves to use to make a man happy.

Your tongue kept swirling around his tip, licking up and down his head. The groans escaping his body were heaven to your ears. You pulled back for a second, only to lick up his shaft, engulfing his head in your mouth.

Xavier knew then he was a goner. His hands gripped the sheets as he watched you carefully. You started bopping your head at your own pace, intended on making him have some fun. And boy, was he having it.

You pushed yourself even further onto his dick, until his tip touched the back of your throat. Xavier groaned so hard he could have cum right there. He could feel you gagging around him, could feel you trying everything to make him happy.

He pulled you off him after a while and you looked up at him with sad eyes. Did you do something wrong? Did you mess up? Did he not want you anymore? Softly he grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. A smile plastered his face as his thumb softly swiped over your lip.

“I’m not gonna last long if you’re this good to me. And I wanna feel you around me as I do.”

You could feel yourself blush as he pulled you back up the bed. He sat you on his lap, but not before pulling your underwear to the ground. Your eyes widened as he massaged your thighs, all whilst his hard dick was pressing against you.

“You’re sure you still want this?”

“More than ever.”

He didn’t have to prep you much. He knew you were ready, knew you could take him. He spat on his hand, lubing up his manhood so he could make it easier for you. He lifted your hips just slightly before he pushed you onto him.

You could feel him press against your walls, could feel the way you squeezed around him. He was slow, lowering you step by step. He did not want to hurt you. Ever. You moaned, biting your lips as he bottomed out.

“You take me so well.”

“Mhh I can feel you so deep.”

“I know. I can feel you clench around me.”

He started rolling his hips up, thrusting into you. He was slow, making sure to get you used to his size first. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible.

You didn’t even notice you were looking right at Rowan’s bed. One you had done oh so similar things in quite a few times. But you couldn’t even remember. Remember what his lips felt like, remember what he felt like. Remember his smell.

You had finally let go.

All you could smell now was Xavier. All you could feel was how his arms held you in place, how he pushed into you. The way he groaned against you. It was so much, all too much. You couldn’t even think straight, too cockdrunk as he kept thrusting into you, now harder and faster.

All you could think about was him.

Xavier. Xavier. Xavier. A few times his name even slipped out of your mouth as you neared your own release, loud moans spilling out of you. You were so close. So very close.

“Xavier, I’m gonna-“

“Cum for me. Please, let go. Take what you need.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice as your body started convulsing against his. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your high. He held you close, making sure your tired body doesn’t just topple off him to the ground. He knew the way you looked when you were exhausted. But this time it was for all the right reasons.

He stilled, waiting on you to come back to him. After a while you did and he placed soft kisses along the back of your neck. His fingers softly tapped along your thighs and you chuckled a bit at his antics.

“Why did you stop moving?”

“We don’t have to continue of you’re too spent.”

“We are not stopping until we’re both satisfied.”

You took the reigns now, holding onto his arms as you started moving your hips once again. You were overstimulated, your legs wobbly, but you wanted to have him find his own relief.

The kisses he pressed into your neck became sloppier as he met your movements with his own thrusts. You could feel he was getting close, his dick twitching every now and then and his moves becoming more uncontrolled.

With a loud groan he shot his load right into you. He pushed you into his lap as his hips stuttered, his cum filling you up. He hadn’t done this in a while. You could tell by how hard his orgasm hit him.

Xavier stilled for a while, his breathing heavy. He gave you a sign before moving you out of him, his cum spilling all over his own legs. His face distorted at the feeling, causing you to chuckle. He grabbed a few tissues from his nightstand, cleaning both you and him up.

Carefully you got back into your underwear and his shirt and he followed part, pulling his sweatpants over his hips. You didn’t know what you needed more, a shower or sleep. Xavier decided for you as he pulled you into his arms, picking up the blanket and pulling it over the two of you.

You turned to face him, looking up at his soft face. He was tired but happy. You were sure you looked similar to him, very much spent. The two of you should have done this ages ago.

“If this is what I get I will gladly be the rebound.”

“I told you, you’re not the rebound, Xavier. You always should have been my first choice.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe smut #wednesday #nightshades #rowan laslow #rowan laslow x reader

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bradshawsbaby · 4 months

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Letters to My Love // Part X

Rosie the Riveter

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Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to update this story! One of my goals for 2024 is to get this series completed. Although it's taken me so long to update, Bobby and Peach are never far from my mind and are always in my heart. I hope you enjoy this latest installment of their story!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story.

The title of this chapter is obviously a tribute to the iconic figure of Rosie the Riveter. But it was also inspired by the song of the same name by The Four Vagabonds, which you can listen to here!

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to my dear friend, Clara (@luminousnotmatter). She was the first person to listen to all my endless ramblings about this universe, and she has never stopped supporting me or believing that I can get it finished. Thank you, Clara!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to casualties of war and grief, slight angst, lots and lots of fluff.

July 8, 1943

My Dearest Peach,

I want to start by saying that I’m terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to your last letter. I think I’ve worn down the paper to nearly nothing with how many times I’ve read it, but it’s been hard to get a free moment to sit and write you the response you deserve. Things are really heating up over here, and we have to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down to start a new letter, only for us to be called up just as I set my pen to the paper.

To set your mind at ease, I want you to know that I’m alright. I’m not sure how much information they’re sharing with you all back home, but I know one of the fellas got a letter from his wife recently and she told him that three different families on their street got notified that their boys had been killed in action in just one week. It made her real scared that she was going to be the next one getting a knock on the door. I won’t lie to you, Peach, because I don’t think that’s fair—we’re losing a lot of men over here. It’s scary to think that any day now, it could be me they’re sending a flag home for.

I hate to start this letter off so morbidly, but there’s been something weighing on my mind lately, especially since my buddy got that letter from his wife. If anything happens to me over here, you won’t know. They’ll tell my family, sure, but not you. And I can’t stand the thought of you waiting for another letter that isn’t going to come. So I’ve spoken to Paul, Tommy Boy, and Benny about it. If anything happens to me over here, Peach, they’re going to write to you and let you know. It gives me some comfort to think that their words will be a little softer and kinder than the formality of Uncle Sam.

I hope this doesn’t make you sad, Peach, although I admit it makes me a bit sad to write. The truth is, I’m quite alright right now, like I said, and I don’t plan on letting anything happen to me over here. We have to take that drive to Folly Beach and get ice cream on the pier, after all. I tell you, that thought alone is enough to get me through even the hardest days over here.

Alright, enough of all this. Time to get back to your lovely letter. They’re calling us for dinner right now, but as soon as I’m finished, I’m coming right back to continue this letter. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting it to you.

I’m back, Peach. All the fellas were teasing me in the galley because of how quickly I scarfed down my dinner, but I didn’t care because I knew I was getting back to you and your sweet words, and that means a whole lot more than the crummy food they’re serving over here. Boy, I tell you, I sure do miss home-cooked meals. They even had—I’m not lying, I promise—they even had peach cobbler for dessert tonight. It made me think of you, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as the cobbler your family makes, so I didn’t even bother giving it a taste.

Now I do have to say that you’re right, of course. I hate hearing you call yourself shy and mousey. If that’s the way you feel when I call myself boring, then I certainly promise I won’t ever do it again. It’s a deal—neither of us will talk about ourselves like that anymore.

Nothing you say could ever sound silly to me, Peach. Even though we only got to spend a few hours in each other’s company, your letters have made me feel like we’ve known each other for years and years. I’m honored that I’ve been able to make you feel seen. I do see you, Peach. You’re the most beautiful, interesting, intelligent girl I’ve ever known, and I hope you can see that in yourself. For what it’s worth, you’ve helped me to come out of my shell, too. Paul was just saying the other day that I look like a new man—that I’m standing taller and seem more confident than he’s ever seen in all the years he’s known me. I had just finished reading one of your letters when he said that. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. You’re turning me into a new man, Peach, and I like it. I like it a lot.

I’m glad that you passed along my well wishes to Emily. Even though part of me still thinks her fiancé is a dunce, I do wish them all the best. Has she heard from Eddie? I don’t know where he’s stationed, but if you’d like to find out and send the information to me, I can try to keep an ear out. How has the wedding planning been going? I’m still confident you’re going to make the prettiest bridesmaid.

I did pass along your invitation in my last letter home to my family, and my mother said she would certainly inquire after the Sheridan residence should she ever happen to find herself in Charleston. I think she’s happy that you and I are still writing to each other. She’s even happier about the thought of swapping recipes with you. Watch out—if the two of you ever do meet, I think she’ll hold you hostage in the kitchen all day.

Now I am very proud to hear about all the fine work you and Dottie have been doing with your Victory Garden. I’m sure there must have been a lot of progress since you last wrote to me! I eagerly await news about the beans, carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes. I’m sure you’ve been able to make lots of hearty soups and healthy salads. My mouth is watering at the notion. Like I said, the food in the galley has been pretty crummy lately.

I’m sorry to hear there’s been some trouble back home. I’m sure it can’t be easy for anyone, with all the rationing and the fear and the worry. I promise that we’re doing our best over here to bring this war to an end quickly so that life can return to normal for all of you over there. For us, too. We really can’t wait to be home again.

Peach, I want you to know that it is our duty, our honor, and, quite frankly, our privilege to be fighting for you over here. I know the other fellas would agree with me saying so. So I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything at home to “earn” us fighting for you. That said, I think it’s incredible that you want to contribute to the war effort in that way. I’m sure you haven’t been waiting for my response or my approval—which you shouldn’t, by the way—but I give a wholehearted yes to you applying for that position at the air station. We just recently saw Mr. Norman Rockwell’s illustration of Rosie the Riveter on the cover of the Post, and I have to say that I think you’d wear those coveralls a hundred times better.

I’m so proud of you, Peach. I want you to know that.

Speaking of the war effort, we have a couple big campaigns coming up very soon. I can’t say much more than that, but your well wishes and prayers for success would be very much appreciated. I’m always thankful for them.

Until next time, Peach! I’m already counting down the days until your next letter arrives.

Most Truly Yours,

Bobby

P.S. I almost forgot! I told Paul how much you loved the fact that he sends drawings home to Clara and Paul, Jr.—by the way, that reminds me, how is little Frankie doing?—and he was more than happy to create a few illustrations for you. He did a couple portraits—one of me and one of you, based off your beautiful photograph. He said to apologize that he’s too much of an amateur to capture all of your beauty. He did say that he thought he did a fine enough job capturing my likeness—I’m telling you, Peach, I think my friends officially like you better than they like me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

July 31, 1943

My Dearest Bobby,

Please don’t ever feel like you need to apologize for how long it takes you to write back to me. I can only imagine how difficult it is to find the time to write with everything that must be happening over there, and yet you always find the time to pen the most thoughtful and wonderful letters. I cherish each and every one of them, and I promise that I’m more than content to read your old letters as I await the new ones.

I’m so sorry to hear about how many of our boys we’re losing. Just last week, our neighbors, the Pattersons—you remember I mentioned Mrs. Patterson had helped me and Dottie with our Victory Garden?—received news that their son, Clarence was killed in action in France. It was devastating. Dottie and I had just been coming home from the grocery store when we saw the officer standing on their front steps with a telegram in hand. We knew what that meant. Mrs. Patterson has been inconsolable since. Mr. Patterson is equally devastated, but I think he’s trying to be strong for her. Dottie and I have been taking turns cooking meals for them and spending some time over at their house. We just want them to know that they’re not alone.

I admit, Bobby, that every time I hear news of someone else being lost in this war, I immediately think of you. It feels selfish, but I’m always so relieved when the news is about someone else and not you. I don’t know how I would bear it. I pray every day that I never have to receive that letter from Paul or Tommy Boy or Benny, but I am touched that you’ve thought about how I could be notified. Oh, Bobby, I hope more than anything that your parents never have to experience what the Pattersons are going through.

But you’re right—you’re going to come home safely. We have too many plans for you to do otherwise!

I’m sorry to hear that the food aboard your carrier has been so crummy lately. I wish that I could whip up a home-cooked feast and send it in the mail with my letters. Every time I sit down to dinner now, I think of all of you, and I count my blessings. Things aren’t perfect on the homefront, but I know that we certainly have no room to complain with all you boys are going through. I promise to have a peach cobbler waiting for you when you come home—and a pumpkin pie, for good measure.

If I’m turning you into a new man, Bobby, then you simply must know that you’re turning me into a new woman as well. I hardly remember the girl that I was before I met you. Can you believe that it’s been over a year now since our paths first crossed? I feel like my life is totally different now. The way that I see myself, the way I interact with others, the way that I’m not so terrified to step out of my comfort zone anymore—so much of that is thanks to you, Bobby. I’m still me, of course. But I feel like I’m a stronger, braver version of myself now. I like it, too.

It’s so kind of you to offer to keep an ear out for Eddie’s infantry! Emily received a letter from him around the same time that I received my letter from you, and he seems to be doing well, same as you, thank goodness. Eddie is part of the 1st Infantry Division. Emily said that last she knew, he was stationed somewhere near the Rhineland. The wedding planning has been going very well. Pretty much everything is set now—all we need is the groom. Emily can’t wait for Eddie to come home for good. Once he does, they’ll be able to officially set the date. Us bridesmaids are going to be wearing lilac-colored dresses. Dottie says she already knows how she’s going to style my hair. I hope that you’re home, too, when the wedding finally happens. Emily said that I could invite you to be my date. Only if you’d like that, of course.

I would be very happy to be kept hostage in the kitchen with your mother! I’m sure there’s so much I could learn from her, and it sounds like a splendid way to spend the day. I look forward to meeting her one of these days!

Oh, the Victory Garden, Bobby! You wouldn’t believe how it’s grown! Trust me, no one is more shocked than me and Dottie. Well, maybe Paddy. He knows firsthand what brown thumbs my sister and I normally have. At first, we weren’t so sure what was going to happen—the cucumbers seemed a bit small and some of the tomatoes didn’t really take. But by the end of June, everything was thriving! It’s been such a joy to watch, and I have to admit, both Dottie and I are feeling extremely accomplished. Frankie loves to spend time in the garden with us, although he spends a bit more time digging in the dirt than helping us pick vegetables, I’m afraid. Now that we’re in the middle of summer, we’re experimenting with zucchini and eggplant. We might also try radishes and turnips. We’re turning into quite the farmers! If your mother has any recipes to share, we’d be more than grateful and happy to try them out!

Now I admit that I’ve saved the most exciting news for last. At the beginning of June, I decided to go for it and I applied for the position at the air station in Goose Creek, the one Paddy told me about. I’m sure being his sister-in-law gave me a bit of an advantage, but it only took a couple days for me to hear back from them. I got the job! I’ve officially been working on the assembly line since the middle of June. It’s hard work, and I’ve never been so tired in all my life, but I have to say that I’m really proud of the work we’re doing. It’s funny that you mention Rosie the Riveter—my job these past few weeks has actually been to fasten pieces of the planes we’re assembling with rivets! So I guess you could call me Peach the Riveter. Doesn’t have quite the same ring though, does it?

I know that the chances are small that anything I’m helping to build is going to reach you specifically, Bobby, but I can’t help but smile every time we finish a new part, or get a new plane put together. I imagine you and Paul, or Tommy Boy or Benny hopping inside and it brings me more pleasure and pride than I could possibly explain. I feel like I’m doing something important, something meaningful and special. If spending hours riveting until my fingers turn numb brings you home even a day faster, then it will all have been worth it. And it gives me a real sense of purpose, driving to work each day with Paddy. I feel proud of myself.

I’ve made some new friends at work, too! Florence and Virginia—we call them Florie and Ginny—are the loveliest, kindest girls. They had already been working on the assembly line for a few months before I got the job, so they’ve been showing me the ropes and teaching me everything they know. They’ve made me feel so welcome, so a part of things. I have to admit that I was terrified my first week or so, terrified that I was going to mess something up or make a fool of myself. But I’ve settled in quite well, thankfully.

It means a lot to me to know that I have your support, Bobby. Truly, it does. Thinking of you and all that you’re doing to protect us is what really motivated me to take this job, so thank you.

Of course I’m sending all my best wishes for the campaigns you have coming up! Wherever you are right now, I pray that you’re safe and that your missions are successful.

You’re so brave, Bobby. Have I told you that lately? Even if I have, you deserve to hear it again. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re my hero.

I hope this letter gets to you soon. I wish it could grow wings and fly to you. I know time is going to pass so slowly until I’m holding a new letter from you in my hands. But until then, Bobby, I’m thinking of you and holding you in my heart.

Most Truly and Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. Paul is quite the artist!!! I now have his portraits hanging right beside the photographs you sent me. Please tell him how talented I think he is, and how much I love the drawings he made for me! I was especially touched by the little note he wrote me on the back of your portrait. I hope he’s doing well. Send my best to him and Tommy Boy and Benny!

TAGLIST: @teacupsandtopgun @saturnsbabe69 @gigisimsonmars @marchingicenotes7 @high-speed-r @cadencebeat2662 @up-thereinthesky @lostinthefandoms11 @strangerparks @sweetwhispersofchaos @callsign-magnolia @the-wayward-daughter @becks-things @jostyriggslover96 @solo-pitstop-vibes @wretchedmo @muddwheelz123 @ryebecca @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #WWII AU #1940s AU #lewis pullman

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silentglassbreak · 3 months

Text

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I’m getting some of the most amazing comments and reblogs, I thank you all so deeply!! I love this story so much. I love where I know it’s going, so please trust me?

Warnings: Good ol' fashioned misery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86

Part 4 - Graveyard

I could feel how flighty she was, like a feral cat that could scurry with any sudden movements. I held my hands out, trying to ease tension, and failing.

“Baby,” Her face was unreadable. Something between bewilderment and pure shock, but also seething rage, possibly. “nothing happened.”

She stared at me, waiting for me to say more, but I didn’t.

“That’s all you’ve got?” She was mocking me, and my stupidity. Good. I deserve it.

“Yes. Because that’s all there is.”

Her eye roll was as dramatic as they come, nearly making her head spin.

“Well, she was sure worked the fuck up, Noah. Sounded like a little more than nothing.”

The evenness in her voice contradicted her body language. She was now stood, hands in the air, confrontational.

“She’s insane.”

Her eyebrows jumped, a look of disbelief on her face.

“A girl essentially professes her love to you, and you call her insane?”

Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Leena, I’m not just being an asshole here. She has actually fucking lost it.”

I tried to mimic her calm, hoping this would steer the conversation on a healthier course.

That hope was thrown out when her voice jumped several decibels.

“Oh fuck you, Noah!” I could see them now, the hot, angry tears, rising to the surface, not quite ready to spill over. “People aren’t just so fucking obsessed with you that they make that kind of shit up!”

My eyes were staring at her, a frantic anxiety now rising inside me.

“She did! I’ve never, not fucking once, given her any ideas! She’s fucking mental, Mileena!”

“What happened at the club, Noah?” Her voice was back down, her hands hanging helpless at her sides.

“Nothing happened. We talked, and she spilled a fucking drink on me, and herself, so I-“

“Back up.” She put her hand up. “Don’t gloss over the details. Walk me through it.”

I shrugged hard. “I was alone, sitting on the couch, and she came over to talk to me. She had already had a few, and was pretty drunk when she approached me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustration bubbling. “She spilled her drink on both of us.”

“So you were sitting pretty close together?” She raised an eyebrow, her arms again crossed in front of her.

“Jesus, Mileena, it’s a club! It was loud!” I threw my hands in the air and eyed her, irritated. “Since when are you the jealous type?!”

Her mouth fell open, and I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Of course she’s not. That’s not what this was.

“The jealous type?!” How do I delete the last ten seconds? “You think this is me being jealous?!”

Ctrl + Alt + Del?! End Task?!

“You’re the one that’s fucking insane, Noah!” She turned, grabbing her phone off of the nightstand. “Let me show you how your behavior changed since that night.”

She unlocked her phone, opened our thread, and began scrolling. I didn’t even need to be close to see, my texts were back to back, five to six at a time, or paragraph long messages. She switched to her call logs, which was just my name over and over the past several days.

I would like to hand in my resignation to life now, please.

“Since that night, you’ve been blowing me up, and being extra affectionate, and clingy.” She scoffed, locking her phone and tossing it on the bed. “First I thought you just missed me but-“

“I did miss you!”

“You felt fucking guilty, Noah!” Her voice was nearing a scream. “Now quit pussy-footing around it and tell me what fucking happened that night!”

I sat down in the bed, and took a deep breath.

“Please believe me when I tell you, nothing actually happened.”

She stayed planted, several feet away.

“We left the club, I gave her a ride because she was going to Uber, and that wasn’t safe.” She was deathly silent. “Car ride took about thirty minutes because of traffic. We just listened to music, sang the songs on the radio.”

“She made a bit of a pass at me before she got out, saying something like she wanted to get to know me better? Or something like that. I don’t remember verbatim.”

“Then?”

“I went back to the club.”

She shifted her weight, leaning back on the desk against the wall. “That’s it? That’s all?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “No.”

She visibly tensed, so I just went on.

“She texted me later. Said she left her vape in the car.” I looked up at her, trying to earn some kind of emotion. I was met with nothing but ice. “So I went to go get it.”

“She couldn’t get it herself?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. She could’ve. She offered.

“I found it, and took it to her room.” Her face almost looked like it was turning a sickly shade of green. “She opened the door, in her underwear, and a crop top.”

Her fingers were gripping the edge of the desk so hard that it was likely to snap if she didn’t let up.

“She invited me in. I left. Went back to my room. And avoided her ever since.”

Her hands eased ever so gently, but she didn’t let up her gaze. Seeing she wasn’t satisfied with that, I swiped my own phone from the table, and opened to Rachel’s text thread, handing her the phone.

“See? Nothing.”

She scrolled, eyes reading the one-sided conversation from the last few days.

“Only other thing I can tell you is that Folio told me that she said some shit to him at the bar, that she liked me? Or wanted to sleep with me?” I sighed. “I don’t know, and I don’t really care.”

She nodded, locking my phone, but still had yet to speak. She was thinking, going over it in her head, checking for holes, but there were none. That was all of it. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“I have only one question.” She handed my phone back to me, and I just nodded. “In the hall, she asked you if you considered it, going in her room. If you thought about it.”

My stomach dropped, my mouth went dry, and my heart stopped, all in the same fraction of a second before her next words came out.

“Did you?”

Where do I go from here? My brain, my heart, and all of my senses screamed at me to lie.

But I couldn’t.

Last time I lied to Mileena, I was drinking. And she left me. And who would know? Who could prove me wrong?

But…I couldn’t.

“Yes.”

I saw something, I can’t say what exactly, break behind her eyes. A tear finally spilled out over her cheek, and I saw her jaw clench under her skin. I felt as though I had just cut a cord on a rope bridge that held me up, and now I was just falling. Plummeting.

“Oh…” Her voice was so small now, and I felt something inside me shredding. Screaming. I’m such a fucking idiot.

Good one, Sebastian. Way to take it to your grave, dumbass.

But this was a grave, that I somehow ended up in, that I didn’t even fucking dig. It was fucking aggravating.

I stood up, reaching for her, but she flinched, putting an arm up between us, and squeezed her lids closed. More tears leaked from her eyes, and she only cracked them open for a second.

“Can you, uh, give me a few minutes?” She averted her eyes away, and I backed away from her out of respect. “I’m just…” She waved her hands around her head. “processing.”

I nodded. “Of course.” Shrugging, I pulled my shirt off. “I can take a shower? And we can talk more after?”

She only nodded in response, wiping her face.

I made my way into the bathroom, leaving the door open. I decided to take a quick shower, trying to wash the anxiety off of me. It was out in the open now, the fun part was working through it, and reminding Leena that no one else compared to her, and my idiotic brain was never going to turn on me like that again.

Imagine my shock when I stepped out of the bathroom, and my hotel room was empty, her bag, phone, and shoes gone. I ran over to my cell, opening it to call her when it began ringing, Nick’s face flashing.

I opened the call with haste. “What’s up?” My voice was frantic.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?!”

My fist was slamming into the door harder with each swing, the phone up to my ear telling me I was getting voicemail, again.

I growled, and beat on the door harder. “Open the fucking door, Rachel!”

I felt a set of hands on my shoulders, tugging backward.

“Noah! Calm the fuck down!” I fought back against Folio, as the door to the room swung open.

Rachel’s eyes were still thick with sleep, her hair hanging in a low ponytail. This time, she was fully clothed. Hilarious.

“You fucking psychopath!” My logical brain was gone, and I was fully primal, as I lunged toward her. Several hands had me around the waist, arms, and one on my chest. Nick’s face came into my line of vision.

“Noah, stop! Fucking stop!”

“No! She’s fucking insane! She knows what the fuck she’s doing!” I was baring my teeth like an animal, my hands balled into fists.

She stared at me, terrified, eyes blown wide and nearly hiding behind the door.

“W-What are you talking about?” Her words were timid, which only enraged me further.

“Don’t pull that bullshit! You knew she’d hear you! You manipulative bitch!”

A hard slap came across my cheek, and I glared over at Nick, who had taken a defensive step back.

As angry as I should’ve been, I was instead brought back to reality, realizing it was at least 1AM, in a hotel hallway.

“You good, dude?” My eyes stared at his, my body softening with each passing second. Eventually, the hands holding me loosened, and I shrugged away from them.

I nodded at Nick, who pushed my shoulder down the hallway toward another door. “C’mon dude, let’s go talk.”

“Is he drunk?” I could hear Rachel’s voice behind me, and I snarled, almost turning around before I heard Folio.

“Oh shut up, Rachel. You’ve done enough.”

Safely inside the room, I sat heavily on the bed, and dropped my head in my hands. My friends stood around me, staring down at me.

“She left?” Folio’s voice was sad, and I just nodded, staring at the floor.

“She came and got Laura about half an hour ago. She was crying. Said they had to leave.”

I picked my head up. “Laura was in your room?”

Nick raised his brows at me. “Is that really your concern right now?”

I heaved a breath and flopped back onto the bed, covering my face with both arms.

“She’s not answering my calls.”

“Fill us in, man.” Jolly sat next to me.

I had to go through all of the details again, them all asking various questions. By the end, I was more calm, but still so fucking angry.

“I’ve got to get home, man. I can’t ride back with her.”

Nick nodded. “We can rent a car in the morning? Drive back alone?”

“Pfft, and leave us with the wicked witch?”

I snorted at Folio’s comment.

“What the fuck am I going to do?”

“For starters, I’m calling Sumerian tomorrow. Figure out our options, legally.” Leave it to Jolly to use his right mind. “For now, you need to stay away from her.”

Standing up, I moved toward the bedroom door, squeezing the handle before opening it. “Not a problem. Just keep her the fuck away from me.”

Back in my room, I promptly blocked Rachel’s number from my phone, electing not to send her a last scathing text message.

I then, profusely, called Mileena. I was met with voicemail, leaving a few in my endeavor to reach her. I must have done this for hours before finally falling asleep, fully clothed, on top of the comforter.

When I awoke, Nick was jostling my shoulder, a duffel hanging from his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty. I’ve got the rental downstairs.”

I obeyed, gathering my things haphazardly, and following him to the lobby, not bothering to stop to brush my teeth or comb my hair. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered.

The drive back to Calabasas was long, hot, and irritating. I was slumped in the passenger’s seat while Nick drove. About half an hour in, I finally spoke.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

Nick scoffed. “Please.” I glanced at him inquisitively. “She’s forgiven you for worse.”

I bumped my head back into the headrest repeatedly, groaning. “I hate this.”

“I know. But it’ll all work out, dude. Mileena loves you, and she’s a reasonable person.”

I nodded, accepting that answer.

“So…” He turned to look at me for a second. “You and Laura?” This made him crack a smile, that I returned.

“She’s fucking cool, dude.”

I slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Damn good baker, too.”

He nodded. “Yeah, she made me this cheesecake for my birthday? Fuck, man. Amazing!”

My mouth fell open. “Your birthday was five months ago!”

He laughed. “Dude, you miss a lot.”

I shook my head. “You little shit, couldn’t tell your best friend?!”

“Sure, if my best friend wasn’t always so wrapped up in his own drama.”

I punched a fist at his shoulder, laughing.

“Jackass.”

I opened the front door, and was met with overwhelming silence. No Angel barking. No TV playing. No voices. Nothing.

I moved slowly into the house, feeling an overwhelming nausea, as I bound up the stairs toward my room to deposit my bag. It was clear no one was here, but I didn’t know what to expect the further into the house I got.

The note was laying on the middle of the bed, but I didn’t pick it up immediately. I set my bag down and opened one of the dresser drawers, Leena’s pants drawer, which was empty. I then walked into the closet, where all I found were empty hangers on her side. I jogged down the hall to Addie’s room, where I found her walker, diapers, wipes, and clothes were gone. Even Angel’s bed that was always laid in the corner was gone.

My heart sunk, and I walked slowly back to my room, picking up the folded paper on the blanket, opening it to see her clean script.

Addie, Angel, and I will be staying at Laura’s for a while. Dad left this morning. When you’re ready to come see the baby, text Laura.

-Leena

I dropped the note, it falling gently back to the bed. Without thinking, my hand grabbed the lamp on the side table, slinging it at the wall behind the dresser, causing it to shatter.

“God damn it!” I screamed, my words echoing around the empty house. The tears fell hot onto the bed, my teeth grinding tightly together.

I let a few hours pass, taking a cold shower, and forcing myself to calm down. I ate a bowl of cereal, choking down each bite while fighting against the nausea settled in my gut. After I had gotten dressed, and relaxed enough to know I wouldn't explode at any given moment, I texted Laura.

Me: Hey

I didn't have to wait long.

Laura: Hey

Me: Can I come see Addie?

Laura: Of course

The drive to her house took about twenty minutes. I had rehearsed over and over what I would say to Leena, how I would convince her to come back home with me. How we could move past this.

But when I pulled up to the house, I was disappointed to see only Laura's car in the driveway, Leena's Tahoe nowhere in sight.

When Laura answered the door, she had Addison on her hip, who gave a large, single-toothed smile as soon as she saw me. Any hesitation and anxiety I had melted the very second I laid eyes on my daughter. I hadn't held her in months, and right now, all that mattered was her.

"Hey baby girl!" She reached her little arms out for me, and I scooped her up enthusiastically, planting a long, hard kiss on her cheek. She squealed in excitement. "Ugh, I missed you so much."

I squeezed her into my chest, her hands grabbing at my hair. She smelled so sweet, the baby scent still having a full effect on me. Laura moved to the side to let me in, and Angel ran up, barking in excitement.

"Hey buddy!" I squatted down, still holding Addie, and ran a hand over Angel, who licked me with fervor. "Been taking care of my girls?"

He barked in response.

I stood back up, and gave Laura a smile, not entirely sure where we stood. She returned it, a warm look in her eyes. I felt some relief, knowing I had someone on my side.

"Hey Noah." She gave me a one-armed hug, almost sympathetically, and shut the door behind me.

I walked over to the couch, sitting and letting Addie down. She began walking on wobbly legs toward her toys sprawled across the rug, Angel right behind, always watching.

"She's not here?" I looked up at Laura, who had sat cross-legged across from me on the floor. She just shook her head sadly. "Can I ask where she is?"

She just sighed. "She's asked me not to say. She wants to be alone."

I nodded, not surprised. "I don't know what to do Laura."

She leaned back on her palms, stretching her legs. "I wish I could tell you, hon. But I don't know. She's hurt."

I huffed, frustrated. "I didn't do anything. I was good, I didn't cheat on her, I didn't fuck around."

Laura eyed me, unamused. "Noah, you admitted you thought about sleeping with another woman." She put her hand up, gesturing to me. "Can you say you'd feel different if she did that to you?"

I considered this, realizing I hadn't thought about it that way at all. She had a valid point.

"Fair. I just want the chance to explain that it doesn't matter. I love her, no one else. I don't want anyone else."

Her eyes were so soft. Laura heard me, which I appreciated. Hopefully she could convince Leena of the same.

I spent two hours playing with Addie, and feeding her lunch, before Laura excused herself to the bedroom to take a phone call. I had just cleaned up Addison, and was removing her from the highchair when Laura walked back in, her phone in hand.

"Here, let me change her clothes, you take this." She handed me the cell and I looked down to see the call open, Leena's face on the screen.

I looked at Laura, who just nodded while she turned and took Addison in the next room.

"Hey!" My voice was so jumpy, I cleared my throat to calm it down. "Where are you?"

"I went to a meeting." Her words were stale, no feeling behind them.

"Oh, that's good." I stepped out the back door, pulling it closed behind me. "Are you going to come back? I really need to see you."

Her breath was loud on the other end, slightly ragged. "Noah, I don't want to see you."

What is the feeling when you feel like your skin is going to melt off, but your insides are completely frozen? Is there a name for that? Panic, maybe?

"You don't." It wasn't a question. She didn't respond. "Okay, uh," I kicked at the dirt under my feet. "I don't know what to say to that."

"I don't know if I can do this, Noah."

Shattered? Devastated? There's a fucking name for it.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't bring my words above a whisper, given the wind had been knocked right out of me. She wasn't saying what I thought she was, was she?

"There's always going to be a tour. Time away. Me home with Addie. A girl who throws herself at you. Lots of them."

"Leena-"

"And, it's just too hard, Noah."

Shaking. I was fucking shaking.

"No, babe-"

"I can't do it. Not now. Not with Addie. I thought I could. I really, really did."

"Leena, listen-" I was yelling now, but she just kept talking.

"I love you too much. And I love us. But we can't be us. Because you're a rockstar. And you have a career, and a life."

"I have you! And Addison! I'll quit right fucking now, Mileena! I will call Sumerian right now and tell them I'm out. Forever. I'll ghost write. I'll produce from home. I'll never tour again!" I was desperate. I was begging.

"No, you won't, Noah. You love it. It's your dream. I won't let you."

"I love you! I won't lose you over this! Rachel is nothing! Nothing!"

"It's not just her. How many more Rachels will there be?" I heard her voice cracking. "And I'll be at home, with Addison. We can't go on tour with you. I can't always be there. Noah, I just can't."

"Mileena, I'll do anything. Please."

"Take Addie for the night. Or a couple days. She missed you."

"God damn it Leena, stop and listen to me!"

"We can work out me having her while you're on tour. You can have her when you're home, or we can split the time if it's not a heavy year." She sighed. "We don't need to worry about custody."

"Custody?!" I was full-blown screaming. "Mileena! You're overreacting! Please!"

"I'm sure you think so. But you haven't been where I am. You haven't seen what I have! You haven't been left behind! I was, Noah! And I supported you! Through it all! I happily stayed home with Addison while you chased your dreams, and became the success you are! And when I finally have you back, I hear you almost slept with another woman?! You considered it?!" She stopped abruptly, her words blurring together, sobs shaking her words.

She took a moment to compose, which was fine, because trying to swallow everything she had just said was proving to be more difficult than I expected.

"I'm not going to do this." She paused for only a beat. "Take Addison. Let me know when I can come pick her up. The car seat should still be in your truck."

I couldn't speak, my mind was blank. My brain was flattened.

"Just be gone by six." And the line went dead, the phone beeping, signaling the end of the call.

Oh. That's what this feeling was.

Pain.

#noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #noah sebastian fic #fanfic

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 2 months

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My goodbye to Rooster Teeth.

I know this isn’t exactly recent news anymore, but yeah. Rooster Teeth is closing. It hit me hard when I heard that. I’m not going to lie, I haven’t watched much of their content at all in the past 6-7 years. Not since I was just starting college back in like 2018/2019.

I was also late to the party in the first place. I didn’t start watching Rooster Teeth until like 2013-2015? I believe it was the Minecraft let’s plays with Achievement City or the Rage Quit Series that got me started. RWBY, one of my all time favorite shows, came later. And after that, it was the podcasts, and Red vs. Blue. I only got to about season 15 I think, but it was definitely awe inspiring.

But despite that, RT was a huge part of my teenage years. I would come home from school and just watch countless videos from them. Sometimes stuff all the way back to their first years of creating things.

Now, it's all kind of just... over. I kind of feel like I've known some of them for so long, it hurts hearing this happen to them. Geoff especially hurt me... I cried as soon as I heard him on their response video thing. That man put his life, mind, heart, body, and soul into that company and now it's just gone. That feels so wrong to me. I hope all the employees will find great ways to keep following their passions and express all the creativity that they have shown over the last two decades. I know that no company can really last forever, but that doesn't make this any easier.

Obviously, I don't know what's going to happen to their intellectual properties, but I hope they don't end, RWBY in particular. It's been such a long journey for its creators and fans, this just can't be the end. I really do hope that it's continued. If not by Kerry or its other current writers and animators, then someone else. I heard that dillongoo, a former animator from RWBY (who makes really cool animations on youtube too), was interested in possibly buying the rights to RWBY which would be fitting in my opinion. We will all just have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I went and downloaded as much RWBY content as I could find and also some RT Animated Adventures because I don’t know what’s going to happen when the official shutdown comes. If the website and youtube channel gets shut down too then I don't want those to be lost for good. I wish I could download a lot more to save it all, but I just don't have that kind of time or storage space

I don't know what will happen in a few months after they're officially shut down, but regardless...

ROOSTER TEETH!

Thank you for the 21 years of joy, sadness, laughs, tears, comfort, suspense, adventure, inspiration, and family you gave us.

I wish you all the absolute best in your futures!

#rooster teeth #rwby #red vs blue #rvb #original post #personal rant #personal #goodbye rooster teeth #thank you #sfw

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tommykinard6 · 12 days

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I don't mean to pile onto your bad day but I've been seeing a lot of creators on tiktok complain/compare the bucktommy and henren tags/fic count on ao3 because there's almost more bucktommy fics then there are henren fics. The number one claim is always that bucktommy writers are racist because we don't write for henren. But like, that's not correct at all? People can write fanfiction for whatever they want to. If they want to see more henren stuff then they can write it on their own.

We can coexist without fighting each other. I'm just tired of people screaming about how bucktommy is anti this or anti that, when we're just vibing by ourselves and don't want the drama but the drama finds us anyway because Sucky People are loud and get heard the most.

You’re good, anon. It actually gave me something to think about during work.

As a quick disclaimer, before we begin, I’m not a POC. I am not speaking for anyone in the Black community and am not attempting to speak over them. My following thoughts are as a queer woman-ish who is also a writer.

I think it must be noted that Hen and Karen have been overlooked since day one. The fact that Buck coming out made it the “gay firefighter show” when we’ve had a beautiful canonical lesbian couple since the very beginning? Is only proof. Is this proof of racism in the fandom? Maybe. Quite possibly. I would argue that it comes from a misogynistic point as well.

If you look in any fandom, regardless of the color of their skin, any wlw ship is horribly overlooked. I’ve done some tag searching on ao3. Straight and mlm ships battle for dominance while there are canonical and fanonical wlw ships that have a drastic difference in numbers. This isn’t a good thing. But it’s an experience that spans fandoms.

I find it sad that BuckTommy has almost more fics, with only two episodes under their belt, than Henren with 7 seasons. However, this isn’t a reason to hate on BuckTommy. The ship didn’t do anything wrong. Comparison is the thief of joy and it’s also rage bait. I think that some creators simply are using anything they can to hate on BuckTommy. Which that makes it sadder, that they aren’t concerned about Henren other than pushing their own agenda.

This isn’t to say all creators who are speaking about this are doing this, but I guarantee some are.

Now, let me speak as a writer.

As someone with 62 published fics on ao3, I write almost exclusively mlm ships. This isn’t because I hate women. And as a queer woman-ish, don’t even start about homophobia. But for some reason, I find it so much easier to write men than I do to write women. This is true for straight and wlw ships and also just in general. I love Henren, but I don’t have the faintest idea about how to write them.

It’s hard enough to write as it is and I’m already writing on ships that are easy for me. I try to write women and it just hasn’t come out right. I want to challenge myself, branch out, and maybe I’ll write for Henren to do that. But I say all this to point out that for some people like me, writing some ships and demographics of ships are just a little more difficult.

That leads me into something else.

I, as a white person, worry about accidentally writing non-white characters wrong. And this was reinforced not too long ago when we had that whole thing on ao3 with deliberate racism in 9-1-1 fics. If anyone has resources or advice for writing non-white characters, I would love to hear that! The last thing I want to do is cause any harm.

I feel like I’ve spoken a lot about me, but that’s because I can’t really speak for anyone else. I can only speak from my experience.

We already have a ship war between BuckTommy and Buddie. We don’t need to pit more people against each other. I think we can love BuckTommy while agreeing that Henren needs to be seen and appreciated and treated equally.

End note to say: I tried to speak as delicately and as sensitively as I could, but if anything came out wrong, please feel free to point it out (kindly). Again, I speak for no one but my very little section of the world. I’m interested to hear what people of other backgrounds have to add!

#911 abc #911 show #9-1-1 #tommy kinard #bucktommy #evan buckley #lou ferrigno jr #911 season 7 #tk6 answers #oliver stark #henren #henrietta wilson #hen wilson #karen wilson

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vivisection-and-vampyrism · 5 months

Text

Home Sweet Home part two

Content Warnings: burns, muzzles, restraints, general threats of violence, Stockholm Syndrome, captivity, escape plans, rats, spiders, pet whump, vampire whumpees, human whumper, vampire hunter whumper

Chapter summary, brought to you by TV Tropes (I'm so so sorry for this) 1 2 3 4 5

"We need to find a way out of here," Odessa said. "I know you won't really help us. But you can at least tell us how to get out of this basement."

"You can't," October said. "We're solidly underground. The only door is solid silver, including the lock and hinges. The only way out is to earn enough trust to be let upstairs, then hope you can get out from under Falkner's direct line of sight."

"Fuck you!" Odessa's burnt and blistering face contorted with rage under her muzzle. "I want to go home!"

"Shouting isn't helping," Pavel said. "Do you want Falkner to come back down here?"

Odessa took a deep breath before snapping at October, much quieter now. "Put on a shirt, won't you? You're distracting me."

Despite the highly limited amount of blood in its veins, October still managed to blush. Years had passed since it last gave thought to concepts like modesty.

But its initial embarrassment was soon replaced with anger. What gave Odessa, of all people, the right to talk like that? She was new. No better than a guest in October's home.

"Eyes to yourself then," it snarled. "I don't owe you jack shit."

"Leave it alone," Pavel said. "We have bigger things to worry about."

October quickly changed the subject. "If you guys promise to behave, I can call Falkner down here to untie your hands. No promises about the muzzles."

"We won't make any progress with our hands tied," Pavel argued, sensing his sister's hostility towards the idea. "If you can keep your mouth shut, we'll stand a better chance at freedom."

"Fine," Odessa said. "I'll sit still and look pretty for a few minutes. But that doesn't mean I'll like it."

October plopped down on the anvil again. "First, I want to tell you a few rules. You'll be punished less if you can follow them."

"Sure," Pavel said. "Thanks a million for trying to help us."

Odessa remained silent, but her disapproval was as obvious as the muzzle obscuring half her face.

"I know this'll be hard," October said, knowing how painfully bad of a start it had chosen, "but you've got to be respectful. If you lash out, Falkner is just going to beat you into submission. And no, he isn't bluffing about putting you out in the sun. It hurts like a bitch and takes weeks to heal. I don't want you going through that."

"I'm scared," Pavel admitted, staring down at his lap.

"You should be scared. This is a dangerous situation. Fear will keep you alive." It cleared its throat. "Besides, this is home. At least, it will be. Years of captivity will wear down on you. After half a decade, you won't even want to escape."

"Then we'd better escape before we end up like you," Odessa said resolutely. "I'm not giving in. Not for a fucking minute. You hear me?"

"Listen to the rules then, if you want to stay alive long enough to achieve your little pipe dream."

"We're listening," Pavel said. "Keep going."

"Falkner lives upstairs. He hardly ever leaves, except when he's out hunting or on the occasional date. He lets me hang around with him sometimes. But that's because I earned his trust. You won't be out of this basement for a long time."

"Why does he bother with letting you up there?" Odessa asked. "If you're supposed to be a prisoner."

October considered its response. It had never been able to confide in anyone before. But now that it had the opportunity, it found the truth hard to force off its tongue.

"He likes spending time with me," it said. Not quite a lie, but only half-truth. "He's grown fond of me over the years we've spent together. I'm his most beloved pet, don't you know?"

"I'll buy that," Pavel said, before his sister had a chance to respond. "But why is he keeping you down here, if he loves you so much? It's hardly prime real estate."

He stood up and gestured around the unfinished basement that had grown so familiar to October over the last eight years. It had once hated the place, but now it felt right at home within the mold covered walls and uneven concrete floor.

"No bed," he continued. "Or any furniture for that matter. An infestation of rats and spiders and every other filthy thing. I don't even see a source of water. The place reeks of decay. How do you live like this?"

"The rats are my pets," October said. "Spiders too. So you can stop being rude. And Falkner doesn't always keep me down here. I spend nights at a time upstairs with him. But he's always kept me here. I like it. If I want a bed, I'll sleep in his. If I want water, I'll ask him for some. They're privileges that I've earned."

"You're crazy," Odessa said, now shocked rather than angry. "Here I just thought you were a bootlicker, turns out you're an overqualified maniac."

"I was trying to help you. Why are you complaining so much?"

Odessa ignored this question in favor of her own. "How'd you end up here? I think we deserve to know. You're awful docile for someone who's been held captive for eight bloody years."

"You know what they say." October gave Odessa a crooked smile. "No good deed goes unpunished."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I saved his life. Didn't realize he was a hunter. He showed his appreciation in a way I hadn't expected. Is that enough for you?"

"Plenty."

"Is there anything else we need to know?" Pavel said. His main strategy for avoiding conflict seemed to be awkwardly changing the subject of conversation. "I really appreciate you trying to help, October."

"Well, some things you'll just have to learn as you go. The way I did. He doesn't just plop down a list of rules and ask you to read them. But I can tell you that he doesn't like there being any noise when he's trying to sleep. And that trying to fight him is a damn good way to make sure you get left in the sun for a week. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I think I'll be more cooperative when my wrists don't feel like they're on fire," Odessa complained.

October took the hint, and walked up the creaky stairs leading to the upstairs. It was careful not to burn itself on the silver door, but stood as close as it could before calling out.

"Falkner, I'm sorry to bother you, but they want to talk. I think I've convinced them to cooperate."

It heard Falkner's heavy footsteps, and stayed perfectly still on the stairs, its head bowed for a show of submission.

Before it had worried about Falkner preferring his newer pets, but after meeting them it felt more secure than ever in its place as his favorite.

Taglist: @sulnusoup13 @heavenlyeden @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @excessive-vampires @pigeonwhumps

#pet whump #vampire whumpees #vampire hunter whumper #Whump #Pet whump #pet whumpees #nonhuman whumpee #whump writing #Whumpblr #Whump series #Stockholm Syndrome

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woodchipp · 2 months

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Ngl, a big reason I'm obsessed with OMORI so much (and why it's as infuriating as it is to me) is because it had a lot of potential to be, at the very least, a decently compelling story and seeing said potential be so spectacularly wasted is just. horrible

I know that Mari and Hero are the group's "mom" and the "dad" only because the main cast needed to be pigeonholed into Tumblr found family roles, but the implication that Sunny views them as more of a mom and dad than his real parents - his biological mother and father only appear in portraits scattered throughout remote corners of his dream world - is pretty interesting! The game could've made a point that the financial well-being of Sunny and Mari's family came at the price of the parents failing to properly connect with their children; sure, their jobs are well-paying, but they're married to them, so to speak.

Mari could've felt compelled to care for Sunny as if she was his mom (with Hero trying his best to help her out whenever he can because he notices how exhausted she is) since their parents weren't around much in general. Alternatively, when their parents did have the time to get involved in their children's lives, they only pushed Sunny and Mari to perform well academically without paying attention to how it impacted their children mentally.

Maybe that could've been the whole reason Mari is a perfectionist, the emotional distance of her parents convincing her that she'll never measure up to what they expect of her and making her push herself to achieve an impossible ideal. Maybe that would've allowed Sunny to be characterized as a people-pleaser, always putting others' needs above himself because seeing Mari's hard work receiving praise from their parents gradually convinced him that being useful to others is the same thing as being genuinely loved.

What if Mari's knee injury forcing her to quit softball was indirectly caused by her own overworking? What if it was a significant blow to her already shaky self-esteem and she took up piano practice to compensate? What if her drowning herself in work made her more and more distant from Sunny? What if that made Sunny obsessively try his best to make his friends happy to the point of suppressing his own needs because he didn't consider himself important ("my parents clearly like Mari more and she's the reason why my friends are my friends in the first place, so why would I matter?") and because he was secretly afraid that Mari distanced himself from him since he wasn't good enough for her?

That way, their big argument would have probably been the result of their issues boiling over; Mari's perfectionism becomes unreasonable due to being exacerbated by her fear of the upcoming recital (with Sunny feeling that she wants the precision of a machine from him) and Sunny's long-suppressed needs finally make themselves known via him impulsively destroying the violin and starting the argument himself. Maybe Sunny could've put his hands on Mari in his rage (without shoving her down the stairs lmao) or viceversa.

And, well. Maybe that argument could've been the straw that broke the camel's back for Mari, the final push she needed to hang herself.

If Sunny was the one to put his hands on Mari, he could've blamed himself for making her feel unloved and erroneously assumed that she hanged herself because of him. If Mari was the one to put her hands on Sunny, he could've blamed himself for not recognizing that as a sign that she wasn't doing well. Either way, his situation would've probably become more genuinely tragic since he's beating himself up for circumstances he never had much control over. I think that'd have very neatly explained his status as a silent protagonist too - from his point of view, his beloved sister died the last time he dared to open his mouth, so he chose to deliberately flatten himself out because he's afraid of hurting anyone ever again.

Maybe the game could've subtly conveyed Sunny's efforts to move on from his grief via Mari's grave in the church's cemetery. Since I believe that the game would've had more time to properly pace its content if the events took at least five days, the idea could've been executed like this:

on the first day, Sunny wouldn't even see the door to the cemetery just like he doesn't see the closet room's door and like he makes the door to Basil's room disappear when he sees the latter's corpse

on the second and third days, the door to the cemetery would be visible if you visit the church, but trying to interact with it will just have Sunny shaking his head

on the fourth day, the cemetery would finally become accessible… except for Mari's grave. it would have collision, like there's a sprite supposed to be there, but it'd be invisible the exact same way Mari's piano is on the Hikikomori route, and when interacted with, Sunny would just say that "There is nothing here."

finally, on the fifth day, you'll get to see the grave and even lay flowers on it if you want

Maybe Black Space could've been an anti-Memory Lane of sorts instead of being a YN rip-off - if Memory Lane was supposed to represent Sunny's most cherished memories, Black Space should've represented the worst ones he had. What if Black Space actually provided set-up for the argument by chronicling the gradual deterioration of his relationship with Mari over the course of their practicing? It'd make sense that he'd try to bury these as deep inside of his mind as possible. There was a nice story here. It's gone now.

#frankly I consider this incoherent horseshit but whatever #i finally found the courage to write these ideas out at least lol #omori #omori game #omori sunny #omori mari #I hate the original story but I am Rotating the characters in my brain. I'd like my brain to stop but I Do Not control what my brain does #i have a brain and i must scream

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starryeyedadmirer · 11 months

Note

Mpreg edits / headcanons of Damiano David please?? 😭

• Dami is extra, extra sentimental nowadays… now that the baby’s got him in the feels, and his hormones are all out of whack. He wants everyone/everything around him to know how much he loves and appreciates them, and he’ll stop at nothing to show them how deeply that he cares for them. He’s become a huge hugger in the last few weeks, and he’ll put his lips on everything that will accept his endless showers of kisses… oh, and God forbid you tell him to stop being so clingy… it’ll surely make him cry. He would hate for you to think that he’s not giving you the space that you want… or, on the opposite hand, that he’s failed to express the full magnitude of the love that he has for you. It eats him up inside, knowing that he’s never going to find the perfect balance in that, but he can always try to correct it. If you need anything — anything at all — he’s the single person that you want to avoid… because he’ll lose sleep trying to fix whatever is wrong, even if it’s something that he can’t fix. The baby has convinced him that he’s some kind of empath, who can sense the slightest changes in energy, so there’s no way for him to find his own peace until you find yours. His sensitivity isn’t limited to just humans either. He chases his cats around like they’re little mice… talks to them, and checks in on them when he thinks that something is wrong… and if you thought that the way he treats the people around him is insane, it’s got nothing on the way he cares for his fur-babies. A stray side-eye from one of his cats will break his heart… and, again, he won’t stop bawling until he finds out what’s wrong, and solve the issue.

• Now that he can’t smoke anymore, for the baby’s sake, he’s got a huge problem with fidgeting. Withdrawal hit him pretty hard when he stopped smoking cold turkey… and he’s been restless ever since. At any given moment, you can find him twiddling his thumbs, biting at his bottom lip, picking at his skin with the ends of his fingernails, or tapping his toes on the floor… and, as annoying as it can be, you’d rather put up with his irritating replacement habits than have him put your baby’s health at risk. Sometimes, it gets so bad that Dami looks like a crazy person in public. He catches loads of concerned stares from people; often compelling them to try and give him money, or refer him to doctors who can help him out. One time, his foot-tapping got so out of control that an old woman offered to adopt the baby from the two of you — right there on the spot — and gave him a long lecture about how drug use and homelessness are destroying the younger generations. You try to block it out — all of the negative reactions from strangers, and the lectures from people who simply need to mind their own business — but, no matter what you do to save yourself the embarrassment of being seen with him when he’s got it bad, you can never quite keep your composure around others. You just want to jump on them sometimes… rough them up a little, so that they’ll go away… but you know that it would only make things worse. He never seems to be bothered by those kinds of encounters, but they always get to you. Maybe you’ve both got issues that you have to overcome in the future — you, your security and rage… and Dami, his addictions (which aren’t all that serious, anyway) — but you’re just glad that he decided to put your baby’s wellbeing first. It takes a lot of sacrifice to make a decision that tough, and stick to it after all this time… and he’s dealing with it in the best ways that he can.

• Dami eats like his stomach is a big black hole, just sucking in everything that falls down his gullet. He’s always got something in his mouth… whether he’s chowing down on a hefty meal, binging on something light, or nibbling on you and the cats. He can’t go five minutes without having to eat or snack… and if he does, he gets super pissy. You’ve only ever seen him hangry a few times before… and it wasn’t pretty at all. He won’t talk or move, and he gets this look in his eyes… like he’s some kind of zombie. The only way to get him to perk up is to get off your ass and cook for him, so that he can smell the food in the air… then, he’s happy. With his insane eating habits, it’s a wonder that he hasn’t gained at least a hundred pounds already. The biggest thing on him is his belly… but you’re sure that the rest of him will fill out soon. That extra baby fat has to go somewhere other than his gut eventually.

• Dami’s feet are incredibly swollen now. They’ve always been quite meaty, in your opinion… but, these days, they’re visibly more puffy. He does his best to refrain from complaining about how much they hurt him, as to not worry you, but you can always tell when they’ve been bothering him. It’s the subtle things that tip you off… like when he starts standing with one of his feet pressed to the opposite ankle, or shifts his weight from one leg to another every few seconds, or locks his knees in place… once he starts doing that, there’s no amount of denial that convince you that he’s not in pain. As a way to help him find relief, get the swelling to subside, and move some of the fluid out of his feet, you spend at least two hours a day massaging them — just kneading the muscles, in areas where they seem to be to full; rubbing his aching soles; and pulling the tension out of his toes, so that their arches don’t get too tight. Of course, you can never resist putting your mouth on them — giving them kisses, running them along your taste buds, or sucking on his toes for a while — but that comes with the territory… and, anyway, Dami says it makes him feel even better. In addition to being so swollen, his feet are extra sensitive… and what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t take full advantage of that, and experiment with them a little?

#starry eyes #starry’s headcanons #thanks for the ask!#damiano david #damiano david mpreg

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the-black-dragons-den · 9 months

Text

seeking advice if you have experience with cannabis cessation, addiction recovery, substance use disorder, and/or mental health issues, specifically depression, anxiety, and/or borderline personality disorder

tldr; I have to quit cannabis and i'm having a hard time because of my mental health symptoms, specifically being irritable as fuck and i need help/advice on how to get a handle on that

even if you don't have any advice for me, please reblog

background info:

so i've been diagnosed with major depressive disorder (highly treatment resistant), generalized anxiety disorder, and borderline personality disorder.

for the past several years, i've been using cannabis quite effectively to combat the various symptoms of my mental health diagnoses. but in my state, you can't get a medical marijuana card for mental health diagnoses.

i'm starting a trade training program soon, and it's free, and part of the requirement is to be drug-free, including cannabis, since it's still federally illegal. it's not like a "fail-once-you're-out" kind of thing (for cannabis), it's that over a series of drug tests, your levels have to start going down, and they want you clean by the 3rd week of the program.

the program starts at the beginning of september. i've had one drug test at orientation that I definitely failed, but i've been reducing my intake dramatically. used to smoke several bowls a day and in the course of a month, i've gotten myself off of flower entirely. i hit a concentrate pen a couple times a day, and i'm weaning myself off of that too.

lucky for me the withdrawal symptoms from cannabis are basically the mental health symptoms i use cannabis to combat

the difficulty:

i've definitely been feeling the effects of lessening my intake. the anxiety hasn't been too much of an issue but the depression is creeping in. however. i have lived in the pit of depression and anxiety for so long that that stuff doesn't even worry me any more. i'll be able to deal with that okay. i've also come too fucking far with my mental health to give up now, depression is a weak bitch and i've grown strong.

what i'm struggling with is a particular symptom of the BPD. overreactive emotions, particularly irritation. i get irritated by. the littlest things.

like if someone's rude to me (or if i perceive it that way). or if someone's going under the speed limit. or when they stock the shelves too full at the store and stuff falls on me while i'm working. or not getting enough sleep. when someone in the apartment parking lot thinks the "no back-in parking" rule doesn't apply to them. the AC being broken in my car, during our fucking 90 degree summer. little stuff.

it sticks into my brain like a metaphorical porcupine spine and it lives there the rest of the day. and by the end of the day i have like 85 porcupine spines in my brain and i'm ready to lose my shit. it feels, in a way, like my brain is on fire - raw and exposed and vulnerable and like the tiniest thing is going to make it melt entirely.

this is going to sound like an overreaction (but hey that's BPD for you) but i feel like the world has been designed to be sandpaper against my brain, and i'm not allowed to show any signs of discomfort. i am doing my best to put into words how fucking uncomfortable it is for me to live like this, and the words do not feel like enough.

being 100% sober from cannabis is actual hell for me, because the cannabis is the only thing i've been able to find that calms that rage, the irritation, the frustration. it lets the porcupine spines slide out. it puts out the flame and puts a balm on the raw, sandpapered embodiment of my resilience.

this morning i had a tough morning. slept terribly, woke up sweaty and cold, had the worst headache of my life last night. the meat we set out (in the fridge) to thaw for the crockpot didn't thaw. went to work exhausted. aforementioned overstocked-things-fall-on-me. scanner shits out 45 minutes into my day. customers asking me for things when i clearly am not an actual store employee. that's like 8 porcupine spines by 9 am. by the time i had my break, i was overwhelmed, totally pissed off, totally irritated, just rage-swirling in my brain. on my break, i took a hearty puff from my concentrate pen. and then. i was fine. for pretty much the rest of the day. like irritations still came up but they didn't stick like they did before, they rolled off much easier. because that's what cannabis does for me.

but i don't get to use cannabis to de-rage anymore. and that's the problem.

the advice/help i need:

suggestions for handling irritation in the moment so it doesn't get to the point of being overwhelming, therapy tricks, etc

suggestions on anything natural i can take or introduce into my diet that will help with the withdrawal

suggestions on how to avoid going back to cannabis (and therefore blowing my chance for this program)

basically any anger management suggestions

i really ought to get back into therapy, but since i'm not working while i'm taking the class, i can't super afford therapy right now

this is a sincere plea. most people think i'm a really nice person and they don't realize that it's because i'm on at least a little bit of cannabis almost all the time. without it, i'm such a bitch, and not because i want to be a bitch but because i feel like my brain is getting clawed to pieces and i just react, because, BPD.

anything you've got. help. please.

#personal #addiction recovery #borderline personality disorder #cannabis #weed #mental health #smoking cessation

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fandomscraziness22 · 5 months

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22 and 46 for end thb locklyle!

hi friend!!! you gave me a sorta specific idea for this prompt, so hopefully it lives up to that, even though it's not *exactly* the same! also apparently it's the anniversary of Lucy leaving? so like, happy anniversary i guess????? lol

to distract (22), because they’re running out of time (46)

“My Talent….”

Lucy trails off in front of him, and Lockwood could finish that sentence a million ways. Your Talent is the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. Your Talent is maddening. Your Talent is dangerous, but that’s why you have a team with you. Your Talent is not the real reason we’re still arguing.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he scoffs and says, “We both know your Talent isn’t going anywhere, Luce. You’re just being a coward.”

And maybe that was the wrong say, because Lucy’s face goes white, and then she grabs her coat. “I am many things, Mr. Lockwood. But a coward is not one of them,” she snarls.

Lockwood’s taken aback by the ferocity of the statement, not to mention the formal way she addressed him, so it takes him a second too long to realize Lucy has left the cafe. Their tea cups remain full, and Lockwood swears he can see the liquid trembling from Lucy’s pure rage.

I need to go after her, he can’t help thinking. She can’t leave.

Lockwood scrambles for his coat and rushes to the door, ignoring the curious looks everyone is giving him. Right now, he doesn't give a damn about what he looks like to the general public—all he cares about is getting to Lucy.

“Lucy!” he calls down the street, seeing her walking fast against the chilly November wind. She doesn’t turn, but he knows she heard him. His brain is racing as he catches up to her. What else can he say that he hasn’t already said in the past two hours?

Well, there is one thing, and it’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to say to a living person. But he might have to.

Lockwood stops in front of Lucy, causing her to pull up abruptly, a scowl on her face. “Lockwood, what the hell?” she gripes.

The light of the ghost lamp they’ve stopped under gives her an ethereal glow, and if he wasn’t in the middle of begging her to stay, Lockwood would marvel at how beautiful she looks. But there’s no time for that.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” Lucy asks, close to angry tears. Lockwood knows she doesn’t cry very easily, and he hates that this is all making her feel like that, but he also knows himself. And he knows, with absolute certainty, that if she leaves like this, he will never recover.

“Because, Lucy, we need you with us. I need you with us. With me.” It comes out halting, in fits and starts, because Lockwood is no good at talking about his feelings. He’s better with action (though he’s terrified to do what he’s been thinking about since Lucy went on that first case with them so long ago).

She blinks at him, a hint of surprise showing through her otherwise impassive face. She’s quite good at that—making Lockwood question what he originally thought was a good idea, because she’s getting ready to yell at him for what he just said.

Lockwood doesn’t let her get a word in. They’re already so close, it’s not hard to reach for her cheek, to softly pull her even closer.

“I need you,” he repeats in a whisper. “Please, Luce.”

Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the nonexistent space between them, maybe it’s desperation (okay, it’s definitely that last one). Lockwood looks into her eyes one more time, and he spots the glimmer of hope he was looking for. So he closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers.

He meant for it to stay gentle; a plea, a request to stay, to give him another chance.

Lucy has something else in mind.

She pulls away just for a second to mumble a “Finally,” against his lips before pulling him to her and crushing her mouth to his.

Lockwood’s squeak (that he will deny forever ever happened) is muffled in the movement of their lips against each other.

He’s the first to break off, only because his body needs air. Lockwood presses his forehead to Lucy’s, keeping his eyes closed as he says, “That was a long time coming.”

Lucy giggles, half in shock and half in delight. “You absolute tosser,” she scolds him fondly. “I can’t believe you waited till now.”

Lockwood pulls away slightly to really look at her. “Lucy, will you stay? We can work out whatever problems you think you’re saving us from by leaving.”

Her nod is the best movement in the entire world. (Well, maybe second best, he thinks, as he leans down to kiss her again.)

send me a ship and a kiss!

#lockwood and co #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood

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wiltf · 1 year

Text

rowan shouldn’t have been the one to find you, but he does.

careful with his movements now, while the glass makes that funky crackling noise under his shoes that would normally itched your brain just right. but the bottle in your hand, held against your head, has long since gone warm.

and you’re mad. sad. hurt, sore, scratchy throat and bottled rage and you want to scream all over again, yet you don’t know if you have it in you anymore. it all left you, all that real, raw feeling, when seven slammed the door behind him.

you’re an asshole and a shithead and the worst person in the world. voting no didn’t count for shit and you’ve lost your fucking other half.

so rowan walks in where he shouldn’t have. crouched down where seven would normally be. invading that space like on a whole other level. don’t open your eyes, don’t look at him, there’s mascara fucking up your tears and if you look, you’ll say.

nothing, really.

“jen, i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

bite down that bile. that angry, broiling bile, that wants to tell him to shove his apology up his ass. grind your back teeth as you finally spare a look out the corner of your eye.

fuck, you think. my contacts. all messed up from all the eye rubbing you’ve been doing. somewhere in the back of your head now probably, just floating there. gotta fix that. gonna hurt in the morning.

maybe there’s something on your face, with how rowan settles now, rocking back on his feet until he’s landed, pulling his knees against his chest. still looking at you. can’t make out his face because you can’t see for shit, and seven had your spare contacts and glasses in his jacket, and he’s fucking gone, and you’re out here, crying your goddamn eyes out and—

breathe, girl, breathe. gotta treat yourself like a fucked up horse. in through the nose, out through the mouth.

“i—i just… it’ll work out, i know it will.” with the way he says it, it’s like he’s trying to convince himself. but he voted yes, and you voted no, so guess who threw his hat in the wrong ring. “we’ll get our shit together and smash out some new songs, revamp ourselves. relentless caller to—two point oh.”

“he chose that name. we need to rebrand.” god, you sound like shit. croaky and hoarse but it gets the message across. “can’t use his fucking name.”

“i mean… you came up with it too, right?”

something in the way rowan says that, like it is a harmless question. sure, hell, they both came up with the name. jennifer and seven, off to take over the goddamn world. scared shitless at sixteen by some telemarketer with perfect timing during a horror movie marathon. but it’s that niggling, itching thought. bubbling over. “kick him out the band, steal his name? was that the plan?”

“jen! you know that’s not true!” arguably, that shock was real. but you can’t see it, so who’s to say.

“could’a convinced me.” god, warm beer is gross. matches everything else about you. so much mascara on your hands. eugh.

“i am so sorry, seriously, i didn’t—we didn’t think he would take it that hard, i mean, he had to have known it was gonna happe—”

you don’t quite recall throwing the bottle, just seeing it shatter into a million pieces as it hits the brick fence. sway to your feet, and you are. a shithead. an asshole. a bitch and a liar. you are the worst person in the world but you stare down at rowan, in that moment, and sure. your heart was broken into more pieces than that bottle, and you’ve spent the last few hours going over it all in your head.

but,

“don’t. you fucking. dare.”

“hey, jen, come on—“

“no, rowan. don’t you dare say that shit to me. what we did to him? what we did to seven? i will never forgive myself for it. so you better take that back, and you better make this shit,” a point now, to the finger he’s sporting, with that goddamn logo staring up at you, “worthwhile. or i am done.”

because, as you turn, you remember. it’s the way it all came down, drowning out your ears. how they tried to convince you, really tried. how your voice appealed more, and how you were more palatable. seven was too hit and miss and people wanted you, not him. a mix of pleasantries and backhanded compliments.

the party stopped somewhere between the screaming and the crying. people had long since filtered out, and those who remained were sitting in awkward drunk silence. watching you, as you stumbled through, throwing back a red cup of something that burns all the way down. two — no, three — more beers.

you’re gonna drink and maybe litter on the way home. and cry and wail and sing at the goddamn top of your lungs. tempted to stand under his window with a boombox that you don’t have.

the beer tastes gross. you manage to rub one of your contacts back around. but your feet carry you home, because someone has to be sad and responsible. and your key clicks in place, no one else is home, but there’s that stupid keychain he bought you, and it’s his posters on your walls, and his shirt that you sleep in.

and you think you deserve this, this fucked up reality where you won’t be able to really ever leave it behind.

after all, you may have voted no. but you never considered walking at the first suggestion.

#infamous if #oc: jennifer lamb #c: rowan hart #post: fanfic #semi-charmed life played while i wrote this lmao

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silvcrsxng · 1 year

Text

GOD SAVE THE PROM QUEEN Larissa Weems x oc

A/N: Hello everyone! Soo I had a lot of ideas about a Larissa Weems x oc story, so I decided to turn it into a little fanfic - or even some oneshots. Today I will upload the first part, but I have to ask you for indulgence, because English is not my native language. Without further rambling on my part I would like to start now though - so here you go, have fun while reading!

♕

The Day of the Rave'N. It was depressing to some extent to see how excited Nevermores' students seemed to be about this special evening. A joy which she herself had probably also fully felt - been able to comprehend - a few years ago. But now there was nothing. Nothing, except this hatred and the rage, which sprouted in her. They blazed, like a fire that had just been lit, which had the complete power to destroy everything.

Of course, it was years ago. But the pain about that long ago evening was still deep.

With difficulty, the young woman made her way through the crowd of students who were talking loudly with their friends, standing together in groups, laughing together or playing tricks on each other. A nostalgic sight, considering that she herself was one of those students back then. No, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't quite deny that her school days at this academy had been quite passable. Well, apart from many small exceptions, which had left their mark. But as they say? Scars remind us of what we have experienced, but they do not define our future. So, or something like that - although it was not exactly easy for her to stick to that saying. Because no matter how hard she tried, she could not prevent that everything that had happened still had an influence on her future. It had been the kind of experience that one unconsciously kept in the back of one's mind without even realizing it.

"Elura? Elura McBentley?" a very familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and instantly she raised her head, looking around for the person who had just addressed her. And there she stood. That tall blonde, who had been so beautiful even then and had attracted everyone's attention. Sympathetic, pretty, smart and successful - that's how she could have been described. But she was so much more.

Larissa Weems.

Warm-hearted, charming, fierce, courageous … but above all, she was the most loyal person Elura had ever met. The shock was probably literally written all over her face to see her here. To see her so suddenly. The blonde's warm, friendly smile gradually faded, and a hint of worry crept into her gaze. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have frightened you so much …" Momentarily, the young woman shook her head, dispelling the shock and disbelief from her face, before she too began to smile slightly. "No, please You don't have to apologize for that. I was merely … surprised. After all, it has been some time since we last saw each other, hasn't it?" replied Elura, tilting her head slightly as a way of greeting. Larissa had also put on her smile again - though the worry in her gaze had not entirely disappeared. "True enough. But I am very happy to meet you here again. It was less of a coincidence than an intention that you are here, wasn't it?" she also asked immediately, her interlocutor by no means missing that knowing spark in the tall woman's blue eyes.

"I was in town on personal business - so it was a natural thing to revisit the school after that time. Admittedly … I didn't expect to meet you here," Elura's answer followed immediately, whereupon she gave the blonde an inquiring look. But before she could answer, she was interrupted by one of the many students. "Good morning, Principal Weems!" he greeted her kindly before sprinting down to his friends. "Principal it is. A wise decision, I think - the school is in safe and good hands with you." With hands folded in front of her stomach and a warm smile, she considered the blonde - scrutinizing her expression, memorizing every single detail of her face. She seemed embarrassed for a moment, a soft pink stealing onto her cheeks as she lowered her head slightly. "It's nice that you think so. I thank you for those kind-hearted words."

Silence. Not one of the awkward kind, though, in which no one knows what should be said. There was much to say - much to catch up on. First and foremost … also things that needed to be cleared up. Or at least they should be. But Elura by no means thought of confronting her directly - of confronting her at all. After all, she had never had a single problem with Larissa. She had always liked her - more than she ever should have. And exactly those feelings had been the reason why it had hurt so much in retrospect.

Briefly, a shadow of pain flitted across the young woman's face, causing Principal Weems to clear her throat slightly and avert her gaze, which had only been on the face of her interlocutor for that short time. "Your appearance is quite fitting. Today is the day of the Rave'N - and despite the fact that you are neither a teacher nor a student of this school, I would like to ask you for a small favor," she finally broke the silence, put on a professional expression and gestured Elura to follow her. She did so, without any hesitation.

"A colleague, who was originally also supposed to supervise the festivity, has unfortunately dropped out. Now I have to rely on a replacement - but I hardly need to explain to you how difficult it is to find someone to take over at such short notice," Weems explained, casting a quick sideways glance at her companion. She returned the look, thinking whether it was really such a good idea to stay - even if it was only for this one evening. But she had never, even in her school days, been able to refuse even one favor from Larissa Weems. "You don't have to find anyone else. Provided it would be okay with you, I'd be happy to help you out." The words found their way past her lips before she could have even thought about saying them. It had taken on a life of its own - completely without her consent.

The blonde stopped again, turning to Elura with a relieved smile. "I was hoping to hear those words from you. You've always been dependable, and it looks like that's still the case today." Those words warmed her heart. It was nice to hear that she trusted her - even after all these years. "I would never let you down, Larissa." Words. Words which did not leave her mouth, however. "Yes, I guess so." she answered instead - regretting that she hadn't simply spoken her previous thoughts. For a brief moment, the blonde's smile distorted, though it was only for a few seconds. It had been barely visible, attracting no attention for that very reason.

"Well then, then … I'll see you tonight. Please be here promptly at seven." Distant. That was what those words were. They hurt in an inexplicable way - not only the young woman who had just heard them. No, also the blonde who had uttered them. "Of course. I'll be there."

Larissa merely nodded, finally turning on her heel and disappearing up the stairs. Standing back, the young woman watched her go until she could fully accept that she would not return. Not then, and not now.

A heavy sigh left her lips before she turned back as well. What had she gotten herself into again?

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #wednesday #oc x canon #fanfic #wednesday netflix #principal weems #larissa weems x oc #nevermore

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zrtranscripts · 9 months

Text

Season 10, Mission 4: Can't Stop the Boss

Not My Apocalypse

[van creaks]

BRENT VALMONT: Alright, Five. Let’s hash this out. I really hate to show my temper, but you’ve left me no choice. Are you sitting comfortably in the back of that van? Got your Valmont headset tight? Good, because I know you’ll want to hear who I’ve got speaking next.

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: Five? Five, it’s me. It’s Sam. It’s going to be okay, Five. Everything’s going to be alright.

[tape recorder clicks]

BRENT VALMONT: Spoiler alert: it’s not.

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: Valmont said I have to tape this message. I... I don’t know how long it’s been since Tunisia. He showed me the footage of your last run to the Maghreb border. Oh, you were so fast, leaving the whole Red Scorpion Army behind! They never would have caught you... if he hadn’t have been waiting in that boat. Amelia always said we shouldn’t trust him. Of all the ways to find out she was right.

Valmont says he’s got a mission for you, Five. He showed me the brief. It’s just a simple item grab. I don’t have every detail, but nobody’s about, nobody gets hurt... and what they’ll do to you if you refuse... I think you have to do it, Five. Just this once, I think you have to do his run.

[tape recorder clicks]

BRENT VALMONT: I know you miss him, Five. I can see it on your face. Those Valmont headcams work both ways! So I’ll make this really simple for you. You turned down all my other jobs. The assassination in Bolivia, the firebombing in Berlin! But this one’s non-negotiable. Get it done within the hour or Sam loses a thumb.

[van door slides open]

Back of the trucks’ cracking open. Look at all that daylight spilling in! I know I’ve got you fighting mad, so let’s channel that rage! Down the ramp, full speed ahead, just follow the street, straight along the cobbles, under the big stone arches. Don’t think of it as helping me. Think of it as saving him. Here, I’ll even let Sam play you out!

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: It’ll be okay, Five. I know it will. Remember what Janine’s always saying? When things are at their darkest, a runner strikes a match. You keep the hope. No matter what, you keep that flame alive. And promise me, the first chance you get, promise me you’ll run.

[birds coo, wings flap]

BRENT VALMONT: Mind the pigeons, Five! But take in the sights! Italy, the Vatican, St Peter’s Square itself. Look at those grand colonnades on either side, the great Egyptian spire in the middle. Though the basilica’s looking a bit dowdy, isn’t it, the way the dome’s collapsed in? Head straight for its entrance, past the burned-out popemobile. It’s through those great big pillars where the tourists used to queue.

It’s been hard on landmarks, Five, the end of the world. The Eiffel Tower, Washington DC, poor old Red Square. Not exactly sitting pretty since Van Ark’s Armageddon did the renovators in. Oh, I know. I told you the apocalypse was mine. I didn’t mean it literally. It was Sigrid’s passion project, Van Arks’ silly plague. [sighs] He was such a stupid genius, wasn’t he? Took the blame for the disease to please that humorless wife of his. Invented immortality, but he couldn’t get the hang of spin.

ANNIE knew what they were planning, Five, long before it happened. I had her watching Sigrid, Van Ark, Moonchild, too. You don’t become a billionaire without probing your rivals. We caught their little scheme to end the world, and yes, I could have stopped it, it’s true, but I know a bargain when I see one. The whole world on fire sale! I’m not the one made the end, but I like to think I’m who it’s for.

[door clatters open] This is a grand old entrance, isn’t it? That distant gilded ceiling, the sunswept marble floor. All those saintly statues watching with white eyes. [building creaks] Careful! Sidestep to your left. The ceiling isn’t stable. Some of it’s coming down.

You, me, mortal peril! It’s just like the old times, eh? Admit it, I was quite the charmer, running with your Abel crew. You were all so wonderfully obliging. I always needed Sigrid gone, and V-types can be a pain, but I never lied about it being a good time, Five. As far as handy decoys go, your lot were the best.

See that body, beneath the fallen pillar? That’s Valmont Runner Sixty-Four. Last one in before you. I warned her that this mission was a risk, but still, she volunteered! It’s amazing, the loyalty people give you in a post-apocalyptic world. So much for so little. You dig them out of burning rubble, offer them beans and a bed, and suddenly their life is yours. I used to run orphanages on the same principle. Shame my finest runner’s busy on assignment. She’d have at least survived the masonry, unlike poor old Sixty-Four.

I know what you’re thinking, Five. How many have gone in ahead of you? Oh, I’ve lost count! There’s something I need in that city, something hard to find, but you’ve got an advantage. You’ve seen it before. We just need to be careful, with all that panacea in your blood. My doctors have been draining what, a pint of plasma at a time over the last few months? That’s plenty of samples. Your body’s a little panacea factory now, thanks to that injection you stole! But we’ve got big ambitions. Things will go much smoother if they can harvest a whole lot more!

[building creaks] Better get a move on, Five! That building really doesn’t like my people. The ceiling almost sounds upset! Turn right at the papal altar, take the tour guide passage to the Sistine Chapel. And ignore the fallen runners up ahead. There’s no point dwelling on them, Five. There’s no profit counting the dead.

BRENT VALMONT: Look up at the ceiling, Five! Soak that culture in. The Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo’s masterpiece! All those gorgeous frescoes painted on the walls. Saints, sinners, serpents. And Adam, on the ceiling, about to high five God! [sighs] I was planning to steal this, but ANNIE says it wouldn’t survive the airlift. [sighs] Follow the frescoes down the corridor, the one with all the maps. Try to find an open window. You need to get outside.

Moonchild used to say my collections were “bad karma,” that it was wrong to try to cage the world. This, from Lady Mind Control. She reminded me of my mother, Five. Ghastly, hippy-drippy woman. Stole my father’s fortune, frittered it on “charity.” Said the world was full of wonders, but not a single one was ours! A thing’s not beautiful until you own it, that’s the dirty, ugly truth. Knowing something might be taken is a spoiling blemish. I used to tell Amelia that. Maybe when I take her world, she’ll learn.

It’s hard to find people who understand, Five. I wake up every morning with this screaming hunger in my heart, the torture of ambition. No matter what I have, no matter who I own, I know I can do better. It’s like an engine in my belly. I know I can own more!

There, an open window. Climb out to the courtyard, quick! Have you heard much lately from that Moonchild in your head? I bet you haven’t. Maybe my panacea killed her. Maybe she’s finally dead. The Cortile del Belvedere A pope once paraded his elephant here. That’s my kind of style! Just parked cars and a broken fountain now. See that big beige building over there? That’s the Vatican library with the Apostolic Archives next door. Those archives hold the secret storeroom of the Catholic church, and what we want’s inside.

[laughs] I know what you’re hoping, Legs. You think my wife will come and save you, Amelia and the rest. But the truth is, they’re not even in the game. I’ve got decoys with your shirt on from Peru to Paraguay, corpses with your DNA slung into shallow graves. I’ve got moles in the Maghreb, spies in the UK. I’ve got Amelia spun in circles, always looking the wrong way.

Sigrid, Van Ark, Moonchild, they were all small fry. Couldn’t even keep their Armageddon to a timetable. ANNIE didn’t expect their gray plague to get loose so soon. I wasn’t quite ready to put the Ministry straight down. But I was miles ahead in stockpiling, and I’ve had eons to prep since. I knocked down half the satellites, razed the global village. No more cheap communications, no calling distant ears for help. The market should be nice and manageable, survivors stuck in isolated pockets. I’ve got bases like Red Scorpion all over the world, allies in armies you’ve never heard. I know what happened to the last aircraft carrier, why zombies scream on roads. I am a one-man superpower. Your friends don’t have a chance!

Uh-oh! Zombie priests crawling out of the cars, and those look like Swiss Guards lurching from the buildings, the elite protectors of the Vatican with feathered caps and halberds high. Well, that one’s got halberd sticking through his chest, but what can you expect from zoms? They’re closing in behind you, still guarding the library even in death. There’s a car crashed through the archive wall. That’s your way inside. Get into that building, then down to the basement. Do not let them catch you! Go!

BRENT VALMONT: That’s it, Five. Keep going straight. They call this part of the archive the Bunker, where the most precious texts are kept. Frankly, I’m disappointed. I expected flaming torches, spotlights, demons dancing around the Holy Grail, not just endless dusty bookshelves. [zombie growls] Careful, there are zombies crushed together between some of those shelves. Stay clear of the books. Their arms are clawing out between them.

Do you know what the worst part of this church is, Five? It’s that it isn’t dead. There’s a whole new pope in Istanbul readying teams to nab these treasures, and they’re not the only holdouts. There are still rabbis, and imams, Buddhist monks, Mormons, Quakers, Sikhs. People who believe in gods, or hope, or just each other, joining hands to cope. Little groups like Abel brightening the dark.

It makes me so damn angry! It’s... not the apocalypse I bought! I wanted Mad Max, the Walking Dead, the first bit of The Road! Ruins, misery, hopeless dread, and I’d swoop in with my hoarded cans and lift the peons up, have them rebuild in my image, grateful for the helping hand. ANNIE predicted overwhelming collapse, once the dust settled. You were supposed to get nuked offing Sigrids or implode like Sage. Those Last Riders had the right idea, until they turned V-type. But no, you had to flourish, didn’t you? All over the world. The groups that defy the odds. The Maghreb, Arcadia, Abel, Vashisht. That galling, glowing 1% like aniseed in the stew!

There, see that staircase behind the red cordon with a vault door in the bottom? That’s the hidden heart of this bunker. A room that’s not on any maps. If there were demons locked away, that’s where they’d be. It’s time for the big drum roll, Five. The reveal of why you’re here. Remember your trip to Moore Island, the [red god] and the cult? Amelia never let me read the Edda, but the church has another copy hidden in their vault. Moonchild stole a partial transcript before they upped security. My runners don’t know what it looks like, but you’ve seen it before.

[zombies moan] Damn! Coming up the stairs, are those - red robes and pointy hats. Oh no, lots of zombie cardinals, and they’re in your way. The others are closing in behind you, too. Swiss Guards, priests, tourists in backpacks. There’s no going back. Forward is your only shot. Those are halberds lying on the floor. The guards must have made a stand here. Quickly, pick one up. [metal clinks] You’re going to have to rush them straight down to the vault. I can hack the door with ANNIE. That blade looks blunt, but you can at least push them back. Move it, Five, get down the stairs! Not sure what a zombie bite will do with all those Valmont patents in your blood. Don’t let the cardinals grab you. Run!

[door clatters open]

BRENT VALMONT: Now this is more like it! Big, oblong chamber full of sealed glass cases. Ancient scrolls, mysterious parchments. No sign of the Holy Grail, but I bet it’s around here somewhere. Find my Edda, Five. You don’t have much time.

[alarm blares]

This room is pumped full of an inert gas to preserve the relics. We don’t have the proper codes. I can’t hold it open long. See those dead runners on the floor? They all thought they’d find my prize, and they all died choking anyway. Funny thing, Five. None of them blamed me. Now that’s lasting ownership, the kind that leaves them dying but still feeling the love.

Aha, you’ve spotted something. The big tome on the plinth. Smash the casing and grab it! Use that halberd, now! [glass breaks, alarm beeps, zombies growl] Those zoms are pouring in behind you, they’re blocking the way out. There’s another vault door straight ahead, right across the archive. Move it, Five, and hold the Edda tight! If you die of oxygen deprivation, Sam’s the one I’m sending in there next. Speed up, before the door snaps shut. Run!

[birds caw, wings flap]

BRENT VALMONT: You did it, Legs! You’re clear of the archive and clear of the Vatican, footloose on the streets of Rome. And you’ve got my Edda. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, you could destroy it, tear it up and run, but what would happen to poor Sam, and Janine, and Peter, too? That’s right.

[engine rumbles] My truck’s approaching. Drop the halberd, get inside. [metal clinks, van door slides open] There you go, Five. Straight into the back. I’ll see you get a raise for this. That means extra cushions in your cell!

The apocalypse hasn’t gone as planned, it’s true. But I’ve had a fix brewing for years. You pushed up my timeline with that scramble through Tunisia. I was worried we might not pull it off, but now I’ve got the panacea and the Edda. I’m all set for the apocalypse, take two.

The panacea, Five, that’s my little joke. You see, it is a cure, of sorts. The cure for all my ills. Soon, I won’t have any rivals. The whole world will be my orphanage. Amelia, Abel, and the rest, they’ll be swept away, or transformed, replaced by broken, helpless, loving people. Like Adam on the ceiling, Five. They’ll all be looking up... to me.

#zombies run #zrs10 #s10m4 #can't stop the boss #zr transcript #zrs10 spoilers

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