marniepartridge-blog

[marniepartridge-blog]

ARIANNE:

      Arianne couldn’t remember the last time someone fawned over a fucking boo-boo. She couldn’t have been any older than ten, surely. It was nothing, a sting– shit she did worse to her fingers almost weekly trying to fiddle with her bike after leaving it in the sun. When she was little, her father might give it a kiss, a pat and off she went. Never drag her to the bathroom by the wrist to fuss all over her. Arianne watched her with a scrunched expression, trying not to seem off-put by the effort, though the dramatics were making her uneasy. This was lost a finger level of exertion, not nipped a cigarette. ‘ Weisz ? ’ The name didn’t ring any bells but Ari thought about the context for a moment, what had everyone been running their mouth about lately ? ‘ Oh that junkie kid who pulled his eye out ? Dumb-ass, where’d he even find that stepped on shit round Clearmont ? I’ve moved a lot of shit over the years, never seen that go down. ’ Her words were cold, detached. Like she was talking about a kid that flunked out of a scholarship rather than plucked out their eye. But that was life, she’d seen more blood than most and afterwhile, it’s all just red.

Marnie rammed the tap on, letting it gush loudly from the faucet until Ari almost caught herself laughing. The urge died out quickly as the woman shoved her hand under the icy stream, causing her to attempt to yank her wrist back, her nose wrinkling irritably. When the others hold didn’t loosen, Ari’s free hand reached for the tap, crank the warm before slowing the cold, the water taking a moment longer to become bearable. ‘ Tip for young players, don’t use cold water on a burn. Fucks you up worse… room temp– almost warm even, never freezing. ’ With all the pulling, water and god knows what else just happened, Ari didn’t notice how cramped their quarters had become until she felt Marnie’s breath on her face. Minty fresh, she should’ve expected nothing less from a pornstar.

‘ Thank you, ’ Ari offered, almost cringing at the uncomfortable nature of her words. Thank you for what ? Making her burn herself, scalding her with freezing water after shoving anal beads in her face ? Still, it only seemed polite. Not that she knew when she started giving a shit about her courtesies. She left her hand where Marnie had put it, a gesture of good faith that she was capable of not being a child about it. ‘ Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t really look like a porn girl, ’ She commented, left with little else to do when they were almost nose to nose. ‘ You got like a… a receptionist’s face. ’ Had that been her attempt at a fucking compliment ? Oh, she had to get out of here.

Instead of joking about it, Arianne poked fun at the Reaper. “Pretty crazy, though.” She said, trying not to read too much into Ari’s nonchalance. “Being fucked up enough to tear your own eye out.” She was about to tack on something about self-sabotage, before she remembered all of the skeletons she was hiding in her closet. It hadn’t been too long ago that she had reached a breaking point--big enough that it almost got her killed. This, standing in semi-sheer lingerie, was the alternative. “Guess addiction is a funny thing.” She wasn’t sure how much Arianne knew about her little problem. She didn’t want to know. 

Of course, Marnie only made everything worse. Couldn’t do a single thing right in her entire life. “My mom always said it to me. Y’know, when I’d like, jar my finger or something. Burn my hand on the curling iron. Run it under cold water. Quick.” Maybe if she talked a lot Arianne wouldn’t pull away. They could stay like this. The water, changing dramatically in temperature, had her cheeks heating up. It had to be that--ignoring the goosebumps that pricked her forearms, skin sliding against black leather. 

If Marnie had her way, this could’ve been the start of a porno.

That sort of admission was frightening. She didn’t have too long to linger on it, though, ‘cause Arianne was telling her she looked like a receptionist, not a porn star. “Oh.” Marnie immediately caved in on herself, wrapping her arms around her body in a poor attempt to hide it. Took a step back until her back was flush against the basin. Put some distance between them. She felt fucking stupid. Touching up her lipstick, practically posing for Arianne in her underwear only a minute or two earlier. She was so fucking stupid. Sometimes she got a little caught up in it all. Thinking she belonged in this world, in this town, and that she wasn’t just a piece of debt that needed to be paid off. A piece of debt, or a piece of ass--either way, she was just a pawn to these people. Not even a good one, apparently--didn’t even look like a porn girl. It was time to start acting. Marnie tried to smooth out her expression. When she couldn’t conceal the hurt on her face, she let her chin drop. “I should probably get to set.” 

[marniepartridge-blog]

ARIANNE:

      It was no secret that Arianne was fond of the ladies. More than fond, in fact, it was almost a crutch at this point.  She was never seen romantically involved with men, knowing that it damaged the clubs perception of her. Girl’s were something to be fucked and discarded, fucked and discard, fucked and discarded; over and over and over again. As long as Arianne showed the same tendencies, they would overlook that she herself would’ve been something to screw and toss away had she not earned the leather on her back. Being with a man was giving him permission to treat her as they might’ve, which in turn gave them all permission. It was toxic, but it was life. Arianne learned long ago that you don’t join a club for wholesome bonding. It was a man’s world and just because they’d finally let the girl’s play, didn’t mean that they received equal footing.

‘ Mmf. Worked my way up a while back, just don’t hang around here a lot, ’ Her tone a little defensive. Arianne could have all the fondness in the world Marnie, admittedly, she had a great deal–– or at least a healthy respect for how good she looked stripped down; even though it had been intended as a compliment, it sounded like a question of her assertion. Ari was a mess of thick curls and sharp teeth, held upright by a skeleton fused together with a starving need to prove herself. It was all she thought about at times… What others were thinking. If she could make them afraid like her father and brother could. Maybe that was the devil in her veins. Her dark eyes were trained on Marnie, watching her fiddle and fluff with keen interest. She liked to watch her hands.

As Marnie came closer, Arianne shifted from defensive to plainly tense. Maybe pornstars just made her nervous. She wouldn’t be the only one– one of their last prospect had quite literally pissed himself when one of the girls cupped him at a party. She thought she’d had it under control until her hand brushed her side, making her jump a little. Her cigarette fell from her slack jaw, burning her lightly as she made a fools move to catch it. ‘ Ah fuck ! Damn– Shit !’ She hissed, curling her hand into a fist as she squinted at whatever the hell was buzzing two inches from her nose, stomping the butt out on the floor with her boot. Her hand was stinging like hell, but she wasn’t about to whine any more than her sharp words already had, instead just keeping her stupid hand squeezed tightly. ‘ Christ, get that away from me. ’ She blanched, wriggling away from the beads, quaking so hard it was almost comical. ‘ What’s’a matter with you, could take someone’s eye out with that thing. ’

Just don’t hang around here a lot. Marnie had noticed, but she didn’t care to vocalise that. Admitting it out loud made it real, right? “Yeah, I don’t see a lot of you Devils.” Marnie commented instead. “It’s a damn shame, really.” Some of them liked to stick around and watch. The set being run the way it was allowed it to be open. The alliances between the Reapers and the MCs (something she didn’t even really understand) made Pink an easy place to hang around and gawk. Neutral territory. Marnie and the rest of the girls? Todd, and the other guys? They were probably as valuable as the weapons the Wolves ran. Just as profitable, at least. Marnie had always been so money-hungry and focused on earning more and more that it made it feel kind of funny. The Wolves and the Reapers, in the end they had to take a gamble on her. So far, it seemed to be paying off. 

Arianne cussed and practically flinched. Marnie, almost on instinct, made a grab for the other girl’s hand. Tossed the beads, still vibrating, back into the drawer. “Fuck, are you okay?” Marnie squinted through false eyelashes to examine the cigarette burn across Ari’s knuckles. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Marnie knew it was a bad idea. Not only because... because of whatever, but because bikers didn’t usually liked to be coddled. Or taken care of. Marnie was gonna look after her regardless. Arianne stomped out the smoke on the carpet of her dressing room. Marnie clutched the woman’s good hand and led her to the bathroom. It was small: a toilet and a sink. A mirror, bevelled-edged, hung above the faucet. “You shouldn’t joke about that shit. You didn’t hear about that Weisz kid?” It might not’ve been a popular discussion around the Reapers, but the Pink ladies wouldn’t stop whispering about the incident. 

Marnie let the water from the sink run until it ran freezing cold. She pulled Arianne’s hand and held it under. “Sorry, I...” She shook her head. It was impossible to rationalise her behaviour, not around Ari. “That was a stupid thing to do.” Before she could utter the I don’t know why I did it excuse, Marnie swallowed down another thought. Showing off the toys was some show of strength. In her own sort of way, doing this sort of work? Her body had been opened in ways her heart or head had never been before. Not a lot of people did that. Not a lot of people liked that. Maybe if Arianne saw that type of strength... Maybe-- Marnie wasn’t sure. Shook her head again. Let her grip go of the girl’s hand. Wedged inside the bathroom, their skin was almost touching without the hand-holding.

[marniepartridge-blog]

CASH:

❛ I was thinking maybe a trip to the dog park? Xena would love that. ❜ Cash is thinking about taking it easy today, already meeting his trouble quota. ❛ Anything else, princess? ❜ He teased, turning quickly to pat an already excited puppy before they went on their way. Plus this would help him keep his mind off things that had been keeping him up at night. 

“If we do that then I’m gonna wanna go to the pound on the way home.” A pout formed on her lips. She’d never had a pet before. Her parents never bothered. It wasn’t like she could afford one now, anyway. With the food and training and supplies and vet bills? She’d be back to the debt she’d started with. Instead, she twisted in her seat and with the belt restricting her, Marnie scratched at a spot behind Xena’s ear. “Can you buy me a puppy?” Almost tacked on the word Daddy, but that was script-habit. “And that’s Princess Patty to you, thanks.” She joked, resting her feet up on the dash. 

[marniepartridge-blog]

ARIANNE:

     She had better shit to do with her day; in fact, she had a laundry list of shit she had to get done before tomorrow but here she was, up to her knee’s in pussy hanging around Pink. Between Tate, Boyd and Seb– the little catch up with the Wolves later really didn’t need her input but Arianne had always been masterful with her excuses. Club business was the best cop-out she’d ever had and it had only cost her everything to earn it. She glanced around, watching some pigeon cleaning off god knows what from the leather couches as the primped and preened the set. She put her cigarette between her teeth, using both hands to pat around for her lighter. ‘ Hijo de una puta, ’ She seethed, coming up empty-handed. She elbowed Seb before reaching down his back pocket, ignoring how he swat at her. ‘ Don’t be a baby. ’

Nicotine soothed her as her heart rate picked up, two swift sharp drags to light the thing properly before shoving it back against his calloused palm, irritably. Marnie strode out and Arianne did her best to ignore her the way her brothers in black pawed and sniffed like cotton-mouthed dogs, though she wanted to stomp their insteps and shove their tongues back in their idiot faces, however, she kept her features neutral, bordering on disinterested. She nodded for her to follow and like a well-trained pet, Ari trailed off in her direction, throwing a lazy bird back at the whistling musketeers.

Shutting the door behind her, she perched comfortably on the dresser opposite the vanity. ‘ If I wanted to see some white stump dick being tugged, ‘could’a just hung around the Wolves today, ’ She snorted, dismissing right out of hand that she’d be in this sort of place for her own jollies. As much as she strained against the thought, her eyes were traitors, zoning in on Marnie’s ass for a long moment before she caught herself staring and shifted her gaze down to the cigarette she was ashing against her boot. ‘ Marcus and his boy are rollin’ through in an hour, some chit-chat bullshit about what’s his face comin’ home. Figured I’d tag along; nothin’ better t’ do. What about you, eh ? Which clown are you blowin’ today ? ’

There was some sort of sick satisfaction in knowing that Arianne was staring. Arousal, maybe? No. No--that must’ve just been excitement to film. Marnie knew all about denial. The first thing about addiction was admitting that you had a problem. It took her a long time to get past it (she still got stuck in it sometimes) (she still got stuck in it a lot of the time). This wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. She tucked her hair behind her ear. Slapped the lipstick back down on the vanity. “You’re not wrong.” Marnie hummed, trying to play it cool. She was closer with the Wolves, if she had to admit it. Their relationship with the Reapers was what got her here in the first place. But, she noted, if it weren’t for the devil, she probably wouldn’t’ve been here, either.

Marnie fingered the corner of her mouth to remove any excess lipstick. Her hand hadn’t exactly been steady. Straightening her spine, Marnie tugged at her underwear in the reflection. Pulled at it until it looked perfect on her body. Until she thought Arianne would be happy with what she saw. No. No--her aim was to please. Please everybody. Not Ari. Not only Ari, but everybody--if Marnie had a purpose in life, she’d learned it was that. “Oh, right. The welcome home party for Woody.” That made sense. It must’ve been disappointment that she was feeling, then. Knowing she hadn’t just come for the sake of it. It was club business. “Guess you’re movin’ on up the ranks then, huh? If you’re here with the rest of ‘em?” Marnie finally turned to face her. Arianne was stretched out with her back to Marnie’s dresser, hair a perfect mess of curls. Marnie gripped the vanity to keep herself steady in her high heels.

“Todd.” She said simply. Slowly, Marnie crossed the room to access the dresser. The side of her palm brushed the leather of her cut, reaching to pull open a drawer. Inside, she fished out the beads. Flicked the switch until it started vibrating. Held it up for Arianne to inspect. “And then there’s this little guy.” She said, focusing on the way the silicone moved to a blur at a high volume instead of how close she was now standing to Arianne.

[marniepartridge-blog]

[marniepartridge-blog]

“Only if you tell me where we’re going.” She teased, but got in the car regardless. “Hi, puppy!” Marnie swung around to coo at the dog in the backseat of Cash’s car. She snapped her belt buckle in and rolled her window down. “And only if we can shakes on the way. I’m craving something strawberry.” 

☠ ┇ O P E N !

❛ Are you coming? ❜ Cash opened the drivers side door and climbed in, greeting his beloved pit xena in the backseat. There was something he wanted to show them, if they were interested of course. Though riding his bike would be ideal, this quick trip required the quietness of a car rather than the roar of a harley. 

[marniepartridge-blog]

@diablaborn

AT A SPORTS BAR, 10:23PM

She hadn’t bet anything yet. Sat there with her phone and an Old Fashioned on the bar top. The app was open on her phone, the light from the screen blinding her eyes. Maybe that was the alcohol. It probably was. Marnie took another sip from her drink. That and some sort of will power was the only thing keeping her from falling down the rabbit hole. The Reapers had taken care of her credit cards. She was down to one bank account, with only a small portion of her own hard-earned money on it. It was enough to pay for meals, new clothes, if she wanted. Living with her father meant not having to pay rent (not that it mattered, she hardly ever stayed at home.) The Reapers paid for everything else, and she was paying them back in spades. 

The very last person she wanted to see sat down at the bar beside her. “Maria.” Marnie said, straightening her spine. Her struggles, as of late, had started right here. A drunken kiss at a party. A taste she could never quite get off her tongue. Marnie turned her attention back to the TV screen propped up in the corner, where the greyhounds were racing. She couldn’t remember what number or name she was betting on in her brain. “What are you doin’ here?” She asked without looking the other woman in the eye. 

[marniepartridge-blog]

[marniepartridge-blog]

@ariannesblanco

Clad in lingerie, Marnie walked out of her dressing room. A few Devil’s were gathered around the studio while the scene was being set up. More leather than anything Marnie had ever seen in a scene, all wearing their cuts and patches. She felt naked in a way she hadn’t since she’d started the job and almost instinctively went to cover her body with her hands. Arianne was the only one she looked at, the only one she noticed. The only one that made her want to hide. When she caught her eyes from across the room, Marnie gestured with a tilt of her head toward the dressing room, and went back inside the closet. 

She tried to make herself look busy, rearranging the make-up on the vanity. “What are you doing here?” Marnie said, eyes down, when she heard the door click open. “Come to see the show?” As if she was an actress in a play, not a porno. Today was nothing special. Just her and Todd and some toys. She reapplied lipstick in the mirror, eyes darting to Arianne quickly in the reflection. For some reason, Marnie made sure to arch her back. Suck in her stomach, stick out her ass. Rubbed her lips together and popped. 

[marniepartridge-blog]

@dcminicspada

WOLVES MOTOR INN MOTEL, 2:39AM

“Thanks for comin’ to visit me.” Marnie tucked her hair behind her ear and sat back down on the mattress beside him. With the holidays coming to an end, her shifts started to seem longer and longer. Nobody was checking in this early (or this late, depending on how you looked at it) when Marnie was manning the reception desk. One perk? Access to room keys. The Reapers liked working their escorts out of the motel, making Marnie valuable for more than her body of work at Pink. For once, Marnie swiped a room and a key for herself. For her and Dom. 

She was back in her underwear, something black and lacy, and curled up under the covers. Her head against his chest, Marnie let her eyes flutter shut. “Can I ask you something?” Her hand on his bare thigh, stroking to keep herself relatively distracted. There were only a handful of people she could trust. Sex was one thing, but intimacy was something else entirely. And Marnie always felt soft after spending the night with Dom, enough that she allowed herself to believe (hope, maybe?) that it was something genuine. That her cared about her past her debt and her role as a porn star and her father’s daughter. Enough that they could talk about something real. She just really hoped she wasn’t wrong about him. 

“Have you... ever kissed a guy before?” Marnie tilted her chin up to get a good look at his face. “I mean, would the club even allow that? Or would you be castrated?” Using humour as a sort of coping mechanism, she grinned at him and let her fingers wander back down between his legs for emphasis. 

[marniepartridge-blog]

@wntersarrival

just like a tattoo i’ll always have you

Even with the truce in tact, it was strange to show up at the Devil’s clubhouse. It was weird being in Wexton. She parked on the other side of the street, and got catcalled walking across the road. Mickey was, luckily, waiting for her out by the gate. “Hi, gorgeous,” Marnie greeted him with a smile and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “How are you? Ready to do this?” She’d only ever gotten the one tattoo before. Eighteen and a way to commemorate her mother while also defying her father. A band of hearts spread out in the space at her spine. Her father didn’t even notice. Or care enough to comment on it. 

The first time hurt. Enough to make her cry and will the pain to stop. But she was a new person, now. She’d done things she’d never imagined herself ever doing. She could handle this, right? Marnie took a breath, shoulders visibly rising and falling. “You drew up my design okay?”

[marniepartridge-blog]

For once she had the night off at the motel. Even with her limited trust in people, it was always rare for Marnie to be left alone. She didn’t like it. Time spent on her own meant time to get stuck in her own thoughts. Urges. If she were alone, she knew she’d end up at a bar, betting on greyhound races. Hitching a ride to Vegas for some slot machines. Maybe even picking up a scratchie, or four, at the 7/11 around the corner. Wine was a much safer option. And despite everything, Tenley was one of the few people that Marnie did actually trust. That she loved, actually. Ten saved her life. And even before that, Marnie trusted her with protecting it. 

She took a swig of red from her glass, fingers curled around its neck. Scoffed. “You’d think they’d know by now? Who the fuck you are?” The town garnered quite a lot of attention--and tourists--because of the Wolves. People still made the mistake of not knowing who was who or what was what. And although Tenley’s threat might’ve been veiled by her alcohol consumption, Marnie wouldn’t’ve put it past her, or any of the Wolves for that matter, in putting the bitch in her place. “Did she end up goin’ home with anybody? I sure hope not.” Maybe after a few more drinks they’d go back to the bar and see if she’d make a second appearance. 

Putting her feet up on the coffee table, Marnie threw her head back. “We probably shouldn’t be jokin’ about that. You didn’t hear about what happened to one of the Reapers? Dude tripped and literally gauged his own eye out.” She’d seen him around set a lot, the guy always watching or putting in some commentary behind the camera. 

JANUARY 4TH, 2019. in HER LIVING ROOM with @marniepartridge.

“Can you believe she had the nerve to tell me to move last night? All because she’s hopin’ to fuck her way to a property patch,” never mind who it even came from, “and I took the last seat at the bar?” The woman in question was one of the newer vultures to show up around the clubhouse, of course. On a normal day Ten mostly ignored that crowd - they were of little importance to her - but there were a few special exceptions that garnered attention now and then. In this case, not for good reasons, either. “I’m not kidding—” she continued to proclaim, somewhat encouraged by the heavy splash of wine in her glass— “the next time she opens her mouth within fifty-feet of me I’m stabbin’ her eyes out, Marn. Swear on my daddy’s ‘77 shovelhead, I will. I’ll wear ‘em around my neck like a trophy, too…” 

“… They’ll be a ‘dumb bitch’ reminder that without some respect the only thing spankin’ your ass at the end of the night is a boot out the door…”

[marniepartridge-blog]

@myriam-moussa

She wasn’t even close to paying off her debt to the Reapers, but almost 18 months into her gig at Pink, Marnie wasn’t so sure that was the point anymore. They had become like family. The trust might’ve been forced, at first, but now it almost felt natural. She started trying new things. Her scenes started at played-out “first meetings.” Lots of time with her knees dug into the carpet. Shots of her body (and anatomy) that she was surprised at the sight of. Then came the harder stuff. “Eat my ass” was no longer a thing she said out of spite, or when she stubbed her toe at the reception desk at the motel. The threesomes were as far as she’d take it. Her and two guys. Their attempt to push her at girl-on-girl porn had her filming a BDSM scene with a guy and another girl. This, Marnie thought, would be the first and last time in such a situation--acting or not.

It was only a few of them in the room. They’d given a rookie the position of cameraman, and thus the title of director--she’d been told something about the rest of the gang and the Desert Wolves and a huge weapons deal in passing. It made for an empty set, but it allowed Marnie moments to relax. Put a little bit more of herself into the sex, something beyond acting. It might’ve looked amateur, but with the rookie directing it was bound to be crappy quality anyway. These were the excuses she made for enjoying herself. 

The other girl in the scene, Jessica, was sitting on the guy’s chest. Marnie had done plenty of videos with him before, with Mike. She was busying herself with the lower half of his body, while Jess wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed. In an attempt not to keep her eyeline on Jessica’s bare backside, Marnie concentrated on keeping her mouth full. On trying not to gag. She didn’t realise anything was wrong until Mike’s body started shaking, and Jessica was slapping his cheeks. “What the--” Marnie lifted her head, licking her lips. Jessica was shaking Mike’s shoulders. “Mike?!” The cameraman took a step back. Marnie scrambled on her hands and knees to sit beside Jessica and shake their co-star. 

“Is he dead?” Marnie asked, incredibly confused. “What the fuck, Jess--didn’t he say a safe word?” Her cheeks were flushed. She shook him again. Put two fingers on his pulse point to check. When she couldn’t feel a heartbeat, when she couldn’t feel a fucking thing, Marnie fell back. “Oh my God.” She sputtered. “We fucking killed him.” She’d never cried on camera before. Her eyes had watered, sure, but now Marnie was shaking. Shaking the same way Jessica kept moving Mike’s shoulders, willing him to wake up. Marnie turned to the rookie, who was slowly baking away. He looked terrified. There’d be some sort of price to pay for this. 

“Don’t just fucking stand there! Call someone! I don’t give a fuck if they’re on a run!” With her knees trembling, Marnie got to her feet. “You need to get someone here right fuckin’ now.”

[marniepartridge-blog]

[marniepartridge-blog]

‪What part of “i don’t wanna spend anymore money” don’t I understand

[marniepartridge-blog]

[marniepartridge-blog]

here are some quick Marnie Partridge facts for you:

Her day job is porn. Her night time job is working the reception desk at the Wolf’s Motor Inn motel.

She only acts in m/f porn, but the Reapers are pushing for her to start f/f. 

Marnie is hesitant to do f/f porn because she thinks she might be into girls... Spin the bottle in high school had her feeling all the things.

Her porn name is Patty. CRINGE. It’s also her father’s nickname. I hate myself for making this a headcanon.

Her mother died in a shooting when she was in middle school. Her father has been a prison guard her entire life.

She’s hesitant about opening up to people ‘cause they’re mostly only friendly with her for her body or for an in with her father.

Her start in porn was practically forced. She owed some bad people a whole lotta money. They offered her an ultimatum: punishment or a different kind of payment.

She has a very big gambling problem. She is in and out of Gambler’s Anonymous meetings. Marnie is in a lot of denial about her addiction.

It started out with scratchies when she was a teenager. It’s only ever escalated from there. (Vegas is her favourite place in the world. Disneyland eat your heart out.)

The Reapers have become like family to her. 

I’ve made up a CONNECTIONS PAGE and I’ll be messaging everyone shortly to start plotting!