#because apparently I'm so vile no one wants to be near me

[booksmusicteaandanimals]

Rant in the tags pls ignore me. Or don't. You do what you want to.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling someone that roleplays are a two-way street and refusing to re-engage with them?

Occasionally, if I'm in the mood to write but I don't really know what, I'll browse ship tags on Omegle. Its become synonymous for roleplays, and I've found its (typically) pretty fun.

As with every social thing, there's the odd... Less than pleasant experience. Last night was one such experience. I connected to someone on a ship tag, they sent a prompt, and it was actually a pretty interesting one, so I responded.

It was an AU prompt, but I generally kept my characterisation as close to the character's canon as I could, while still matching it to roughly what someone's personality in that profession and location would be.

(E.g; if the character was a proper old-country style cowboy, or a socially awkward secretary, ect.)

It became very clear, very fast, that the other person had very, very specific ideas about the roleplay, what happens, what my character was supposed to say/do, ect. To the point where (as I later told them) they should've just written fanfic so they had complete control.

Near enough every time I responded, they'd "correct" it or argue against it both in character and in brackets as themselves. For example if I noted something about the background or story of my character, theirs would immediately say "no that's not what happened" or they'd say [hey actually can you change that, it doesn't fit/I don't like it/its not what I envisioned].

After about fifteen minutes of this I got incredibly vexed and decided I was done. I don't mind a roleplay having certain goals/main points/guidelines, but they were literally trying to control every tiny aspect of what I did. So I sent them this:

[I'm sorry, the RP sounded interesting in the prompt you sent, but its rapidly becoming clear you don't actually want a roleplay, you want to be the sole one dictating everything that happens. Honestly I think its best you turn this idea into a fanfic and not a roleplay. It kills off any enjoyment of the roleplay when I have you contradicting every tiny detail I include or dictating what I'm allowed to do or say. I'm not going to sit there waiting for you to approve of everything I intend to say. Thank you for your time, but good night.]

I disconnected, and decided I'd spend another fifteen minutes browsing the tag before I did something else. Well apparently, the other person decided they were going to spend fifteen minutes stalking the tag trying to find me again, spamming every connection with messages ranging from extreme insults and threats to demands I 'speak up again, bitch, I wanna talk' and so forth. After connecting to them for the tenth time, I sent:

[I'm not going to re-engage with you. I said what I did, and frankly, it was a valid statement. If you can't handle the fact that roleplaying means a 50/50 creative allowance with someone else, and that you can't micro-manage or bulldoze every single detail, then you shouldn't roleplay. Frankly, knowing how vile you can be from simple criticism, I'm glad I disconnected. Take a breather and re-evaluate yourself. I'd be embarrassed.]

Well. This morning I logged onto Tumblr and after some browsing, I actually came across them again. Here. By means of a post where they included screenshots of everything and are even going so far as threatening to stalk Tumblr and AO3 to 'match up the writing' so they can find me and presumably say their piece or whatever.

I talked to a friend about it, and surprisingly, they think I'm an asshole. Not for what I said in the first place, but for not re-approaching the other person (through DMs) so they'll stop filling the ship's tag with negative stuff. (They've made 3 posts about it all so far.)

I don't want to do that because it means opening up my private social media to this obviously unhinged individual. I know I can expect to be spammed, sent hate mail, have them try to track down my other socials, ect. I could make an alt account for it, but honestly that's effort I don't see the point in making. If they can't let this go, its not my problem.

AITA? Should I make an alt account just to let them get it out of their system? I don't know how to proceed with this.

What are these acronyms?

[theloveoffootball10]

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ : ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ʟ ᴠ ᴇ

m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ʟ ᴠ ᴇ

"If you two weren't so bloody cute together I'd kill you for creating extra work for me!" Chelsea says with a laugh as I walk back into the Aston Martin area. I know she's not angry but the fact people are so bothered about a kiss blows my mind. "It has literally been minutes and it's all over the paddock however I'm yet to see anything online so maybe you got lucky and paps didn't get photos. I'll talk to Lando's PR manager as well, saves you having to have the conversation"

"Chels I'll be honest, I'm not bothered who knows. Me and my mum had a conversation about Lando a few weeks ago and I spoke to my dad the other day, they're both absolutely fine about everything. My only real concern is Lando's family. I don't want them to think I'm using him"

"Lucía I've met them before, his parents aren't like that at all. They have his best interests at heart but they're the nicest people ever and they're so supportive. I don't think you have anything to worry about but talk to him about it if you're worried" I know what Chelsea is saying however I can't help but have my doubts. Maybe it's because I know the world Lando comes from, a famous Formula One driver who's earning millions and so many girls would look past the amazing human that he is for access to the fame and his money. Picking at the buffet I grab myself some food when I hear Stroll talking to one of his friends.

"Apparently she opens her legs for anyone in the paddock. It must pay more to be the paddock bike than it does to be a drivers daughter" hearing Stroll talk about me I completely flip. Slamming my hands on the table in front of him I get as close to his face as I can physically stand to be.

"Talk about me like that again and the broken wrists you had at the start of the season will be making an appearance again. At least I can say I worked my arse off for my career and I didn't need to rely on daddy's money to get a job" feeling Chelsea pull me away I look at Stroll in disgust. "You're vile. Don't ever speak about me again you have no right"

"Defensive for someone who's a whore or should I say Lando's whore. Give him a few races and he'll move on, you'll be old news"

"I'd rather be his whore than go anywhere near you"

"Call my daughter a whore again and see what happens. No one, let alone you talk about my daughter like that" it all happens so quickly but my dad charges at Stroll there's no stopping him. He's like a bull who's seen red "go on tell me to my face what you've just called her"

"Papá leave it he's not worth it" I say trying to pull my dad off Stroll who's now pinned against a wall by the scruff of his neck "come on he's not worth a fine"

"No but you're worth a fine" my dad says as he lets Stroll go. "Keep my daughters name out of your mouth you silly little boy"

"Papá you didn't have to do that" I say walking away with my dad.

"You're my daughter Lucía, I'll defend you until I'm blue in the face. Are you going out with Lando tonight? I know a few drivers are planning on going out" I kind of expected my dad to ask about Lando but actually talking about it feels so foreign to me. I genuinely thought I'd have to keep everything a secret from my dad.

"I'm not sure what my plans are tonight to be honest. Are you and the boys out?"

"We'll be out with the drivers. How did your mum take the Lando news?" My dad asks probably expecting a colourful response from my mum.

"She was absolutely fine. It was kind of like she expected it. She wasn't surprised just because I'm around this kind of thing a lot" maybe it's because she's been in my position before but I didn't get half the warning about drivers that I thought I'd get but then again my mum and dad have always had an amazing relationship.

"Just wait until the day Lando has to meet her, I'll bring popcorn. I'll see you later tonight I'm going to head back to the boys in the bar" the thought of Lando meeting my mum seems wild right now and I honestly dread the day it happens.

Laying by the pool back at the villa I decide a nap would be a good idea purely because I know I'm probably going to end up out celebrating with Lando. No plans are set in stone but I know Callum and Ryan are definitely wanting to go out. Feeling my phone vibrate I don't try and hide the smile when I see Lando's name.

landonorris

Luuu will you send me your number so I can phone you plllzzz 🙏🏽🙏🏽

esmelucia

But I don't give my number to strange men on the internet

landonorris

I'll make it worth your while Esmeralda

esmelucia

Call me that again and you'll get blocked 🖕🏽

landonorris

I'm sorrry

I'm not. But I am if it means I get your number

Send me your number pleaseeee

Or I'll ask your dad for it

esmelucia

Anyone would think you're desperate for me Lando 😜

Sending Lando my number I let out a laugh when seconds later a number I don't have saved in my contacts pops up on my screen. I've never known a man so eager.

"Some might say you're obsessed with me Norris" I say biting my lip as I answer the phone.

"I think I might be. I can't get enough of you"

"I mean I don't blame you" I say with a laugh not even able to take myself seriously.

"You really are something else. I heard you went completely in on Stroll after the race" I knew what happened would get back to Lando but I'm honestly not bothered. Regardless of who Stroll is, I would act the same way with anyone else.

"I did but he was being an absolute cunt he deserved it. You know what's funny, he called me your whore at one point" I can't hold back my laugh any longer "and what he doesn't realise is I am an absolute whore for you. I like sex, sue me" I say with a shrug.

"Lucía I have no words for you. I'm pleased you appreciate good sex though" Lando says with a giggle "do I get to see you tonight?"

"I suppose I can find some time for the Miami race winner. I'll see you there tonight" ending the conversation with Lando I hang up before getting myself dressed for the night.

Arriving in the club I barely see Lando all night but, I understand he's celebrating with his team and I won't ever take that from him, he knows I'm here and he can find me if he wants me.

I notice from across the club how drunk Lando is as he makes his way towards me. For once I've kept away from alcohol wanting to take in every second of Lando's win.

"Can we get out of here? I just want to celebrate with my girl" Lando asks slurring his words but regardless my heart swells at being called his girl. We aren't official by any stretch of the imagination but I like the sound of it "you don't look drunk or am I too drunk to notice?"

"I'm not drunk Lando I haven't been drinking. I'm happy to get out of here though" I'm surprised when Lando hands me a ticket for the valet, I assumed he would have been brought here with the team but as I hand in the ticket I'm given the keys to a McLaren "you want me to drive your car?"

"It's not mine but it's a company car. I'll let you drive though. It'll get me even more hard for you than when I saw you park the Aston Martin"

"You're a dick" I say laughing as I pass Lando my heels. No matter what I can't drive in heels, I'd much rather drive barefoot.

"My dick is ready for you to ride it" looking over at Lando I bite my lip, I can't look towards his crotch or I know I'm done for. This man knows exactly what I want to hear and when I want to hear it. I'm driving back to our hired villa but I can't to be back knowing everyone is out and we have the place to ourselves.

•

•

•

I'm sorry for the Stroll hate in this story. Someone had to be a bad guy and it just works for this story that it's him 🫣

[olddirtybadfic]

Jessie Drugs James and Is Generally Abusive: Team Rocket Gets Dramatic and Not in the Fun Way (part three of four)

It's becoming apparent that twelve!me was processing some weird things when she wrote this. Nothing as bad as what Jessie, James, and Meowth are going through, but enough that this got committed to paper (that's not all that gets committed in this fic god damn it I hate my thoughts sometimes).

Part one is here.

Part two is here.

Content Warning: First-person mixed points-of-view; abuse mentions; questionable depiction of medical and psychological issues; shaky understanding of mental institutions; possibly uncomfortable thoughts on the nature of relationships; general angst; Jessie uses the r-slur; James uses the r-slur; hinting at a Pokémon/Human romantic relationship; out-of-character behavior for James and Meowth; absolute character assassination of Jessie; Jesus Hades Christ twelve!me tortured James a lot in fic (it's spreading to Meowth)

-O-o-O-o-O-

(Meowth's point of view)

James's alarm went off early. I heard it.

"Why are you up so early?" I whispered.

"Quiet, Meowth. Pretend you're dead," James whispered.

I didn't know why he wanted me to do this at the time, but I did it anyway. I almost went back to sleep. I heard James packing our bags and tents.

"Where are you going?" I heard Jessie ask.

"To bury him," James said.

To bury him?!

I opened my eyes slightly. Jessie had gone back to sleep. James put his backpack on and put my backpack on me. I looked around. Only Jessie's tent was up.

James started running. It started to rain. It was extra cold because we were up so early.

I saw a town. James slowed and then stopped.

"We made it," I heard him say. James fell to his knees. He was obviously very tired from running so early.

James began to cry. "Don't worry, James. Whatever it is, it'll probably work out," I said, trying to comfort him.

"I hope so, Meowth. I hope so."

-O-o-O-

We got into a motel even though it was so early. James and I closed the curtains in our room and locked the door. We got in bed.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Jessie wanted me to poison you," James said. He swallowed, probably at what he was asked to do.

"And?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

"I couldn't and didn't," James said.

That's a relief, I thought. My next thought was: Wait a minute, no that's not!

"James? Did you drink any of the poison?" I asked.

"No. I was thinking about it, but the smell was so vile, I poured it into a hole and buried it," James said.

"What if Jessie finds us?"

"She won't. I'm turning her in to the mental institution."

"But….she's our friend."

"I don't care." James's voice broke. He started to cry quietly.

"Maybe if you turn her into the mental institution, you'll save her from being arrested. So you won't be betraying her," I said.

James smiled warmly at me. It was like the sun came out. "That's so sweet of you, Meowth," he said softly.

"Anything to soothe your pain, James," I said.

(James's point of view)

The day we got into the motel was the day we turned Jessie in.

I'll leave out the horrible details: the fight, the hitting, the scratching, the screaming.

The last I heard from Jessie before they put her in the truck was these words: "I'll get you, James and Meowth! Even if it's the last thing I do!"

Our motel was near the mental institution, so we could visit Jessie easily.

I wasn't sure I wanted to.

This was exactly why I didn't want to fall in love. I knew I'd get hurt. I was stupid for a second to think I wouldn't. If Jessie, who I thought was my best friend, could hurt me so badly, how much damage could a boyfriend do? Especially a boyfriend who might be my other best friend and someone I was ordered to kill? I couldn't fall further in love. I couldn't risk getting hurt again.

As I was thinking this, a feeling of hate and pain was overcoming me. I wanted to hate Jessie for putting me through all of this. I wanted to hate myself for turning her in. I wanted to hate myself for loving who I did.

I remembered a time when I had no reason to hate anyone except for Jessiebelle.

Remembering that time brought tears to my eyes. The tears washed away the hate and healed the pain.

I couldn't hate Jessie and I couldn't hate myself.

Because I was too busy loving Meowth.

(Meowth's point of view)

We waited a long time before we visited Jessie.

James spent a long time in the bathroom, staring at the wall before we visited. When I told him maybe we should go tomorrow, he said he might not have the courage to go the next day.

I still remember the fight Jessie started. I think she almost ripped off her straitjacket.

"What are you bitches doing here?" She practically yelled this.

"We're just making sure you're safe," James said. He was clutching his upper body with both arms.

"I was safe until you turned me in, traitor," Jessie said.

That didn't make any sense.

Next to me, James was trembling. The poor boy looked like he was going to run out of the room.

"I turned you in to save you," James whispered.

"Save me?! From what?"

"Killing yourself."

"How would I kill myself?" Jessie yelled.

"You're….You're unstable," James whispered. He looked at the floor.

"What about you? Fucking crying at the drop of a hat, lying to me about plans. You're the unstable one," Jessie said.

"Stop it!" I yelled suddenly. "Stop picking on James. He brought you here to protect you. He didn't want any of us to die or get arrested. Just lay off him, okay? He protected me and I'm going to protect him. Screw with that, and you know what'll happen."

"What do you know?! You're just a little freak Meowth who doesn't know shit about shit. You're both retards!" Jessie yelled.

"Don't you dare call Meowth a retard!" James yelled. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but you better stop it. We're not risking our lives going back to Team Rocket until you're out of here. Until then, you will not abuse Meowth or me emotionally, mentally, physically, or sexually."

I was surprised at James. He was so meek and he rarely yelled. I didn't expect him to scream like this.

Especially at Jessie.

All Jessie did was roll her eyes and say, "Fuck that. Fuck you too. Both of you. I should've handled the poison myself. Meowth is a retarded waste of flesh and blood."

I burst into tears.

James picked me up and tried to comfort me. He looked at Jessie with a mixture of anger and pain in his eyes.

"How could you hurt him like this?" he whispered. He ran out the door with me.

When we got to our room, James put me down on the bed. He went into the bathroom.

He didn't come out for a long time.

(James's point of view)

I cried for a long time. Why did Jessie hurt us like that? Do all psychopaths do this? I never found the answer. I only found more tears.

That was the worst fight I ever had with Jessie. I guess I'll never get her forgiveness. I shouldn't have even hoped for it.

How could Jessie call Meowth a waste of flesh and blood? He was anything but that. He was my….friend. My other best friend.

I couldn't bear to think about us going further than that. Don't even hope for it.

Meowth knocked on the door. "James, are you all right?"

I looked in the mirror. My eyes were glazed over. My hair was a mess. I had dark circles under my eyes, which were swollen from crying.

"I'm fine," I said.

I walked into the bedroom and collapsed into bed. Meowth put a wet rag on my forehead.

After a while, I fell asleep. I had a horrifyingly realistic dream about Jessie breaking out of her cell. I woke up screaming.

"What's wrong?" Meowth asked.

"I just had the worst nightmare about Jessie breaking out of her cell." I was sobbing quietly. Meowth comforted me. I then spoke three words I never thought I'd say.

"I hate Jessie."

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Don't try to force your best friend to poison their other best friend; you'll get in trouble (and make it double).

[wilwheaton]

I was a fan of yours for years. I unfollowed you because I was concerned you were unsympathetic to victims of sexism. I am incredibly disappointed to see confirmation of that. "Now that abortions are essentially banned in Texas, what are they mistresses of Republican lawmakers going to do when they get pregnant?" This is an abominably sexist tweet. It treats women not as human beings, but as an extension of men. It reduces them to their sex lives. And it takes a phenomenally concerning issue, the complete potential loss of women's bodily autonomy, an issue that is currently destroying women's lives in Texas - and it treats it as a fucking joke. And not only did you NOT condemn this joke, YOU DOUBLED DOWN ON IT. If you had read a single article about the insanity currently going on near and around Texas, about the insanity affecting every woman who's ever had sex with man, with or without consent, I cannot believe you would've written something so cruel, unfeeling, disdainful, vile. Bodily autonomy affects all women you misogynistic garbage can. Most women, including the overwhelmingly majority of WHITE women, can't afford to take a week off of work, arrange childcare, if necessary, rearrange their whole lives, in order to retain their bodies and futures. You're in goddamn Hollywood. You are surrounded by wealthy white women who have never been protected by either their race or their class. We literally just started hearing all about how constantly raped and sexually harassed they are in the 21st century. Do you think none of this happened because actually they're in the same categories as you? There's one important difference. It's the difference that decides whether or not you experience sexism. Your response was fucking embarrassing. It was unbelievably misogynistic. It indicated not a single bit of EMPATHY or concern for women's bodily autonomy, for their human dignity. You are a wealthy white man. Not only are you responsible for your role in upholding white privilege, you are responsible for you role in upholding all misogyny. How do you get off claiming women don’t experience misogyny, that their class or race somehow undoes thousands of years of marginalization and oppression. "Rich" white women couldn't have their own finances, they could be legally raped by their spouses, and they couldn't escape until RECENT laws. Some of them only a few decades old. And even today, THEY DO NOT HAVE GUARANTEED BODILY AUTONOMY.

I would say "Do better." I would ask for basic empathy for all women. But if you've reached your age, and privilege, and level of education, and you still don't give a single shit about women, if you take the first opportunity given to treat them like they're still just property of men, to undermine the most serious recent destruction of their rights - then is there even a possibility of you trying to be fucking better? I doubt it. But hopefully you think twice the next time you fucking undermine the entire history of the fight for women's rights to fucking live in order to make a joke about Republicans. You might as well be one of them, since you apparently share their views regarding women. You don’t think misogyny’s a real issue, not unless it’s compounded by race or class (you know, issues that affect the real humans - men.) Do you consider women human beings, do you understand that they live independent of men, they aren’t just Mrs Man? If you don’t understand or care, but want to keep a reputation as not an asshole to 50%+ of the population, I’d recommend not writing with such obvious disdain about the women you yourself hold systemic power over, regardless of if they’re just as white as you.

It’s not ally ship with people of color or with impoverished people. It’s just misogyny. And it’s despicable.

You have made so many presumptions about me, I don't even know where to begin.

I say this gently and respectfully: you don't know anything about me, and while your anger is clear and undeniable, I'm not your enemy.

[yandere-daydreams]

I'm not sure if this has been ask before, but I'd like to request Izuku and Shinsou sharing a darling.

They’re two very sweet boys, but I never thought I’d have a chance to put them in the same place. Their Darling would be so lucky!

TW: Mind-Control, Slight Violence, Non-Consensual Pet-Play (?)

“Sweetheart, stop moving.”

Struggling had always been instinctive, but these days, you were particularly passionate, kicking and thrashing and biting whenever Izuku put his hands on you, or talked to you, or breathed near you. Even as he tried to straddle your waist, one fist firmly planted around your neck while the other fiddled with the strip of leather laid over your neck, you lashed out whenever you saw the opportunity, snapping at his fingers or hitting his chest, just trying to make contact with something solid. 

He’d have some new bruises tomorrow, but if Izuku cared, he didn’t show it. The most you got was a soft grunt, even as your nails dug into his hands, tearing into healed scars as you tried desperately to keep him from doing whatever fucked up shit he had in mind for today. And if the cutesy, over-complicated outfit you’d already been forced into was any indication, you already knew you things wouldn’t improve once Shinsou got home.

“You’re fucking crazy!” You yelled, not caring about the fingers trying to smother you, or the way he pulled the make-shift buckle a little tighter with every word. You kicked up, attempting to plant your knee into something sensitive, but Izuku only glared, gritting his teeth at your petty defiance. “Let me go! I’m not your fucking pet!”

He growled, the collar now a little more restrained, a little more choking. The only thing that kept you hopeful was how difficult clipping the accessory seemed to be, a process you took pride in making much, much harder than it had to be. “(Y/n), I’m trying to be patient.” His voice was low, not threateningly so, but he was clearly frustrated. Predictably, his disposition didn’t exactly improve as you knuckles made contact with his cheekbone. “But, you’re not making it easy for me.”

The noise must’ve attracted your… less passionate partner, because the next time you gained to confidence to look up, Shinsou was draped over Izuku’s shoulders, rubbing idle circles in the boy’s back while Izuku took a few ragged breaths. Izuku tried to calm down as Shinsou stared at you with those glassy, tired, blank eyes, scanning you over, his gaze soon falling on the collar around your neck, on clothes (or lack thereof, really) that Izuku had picked-out. He’d just gotten home, apparently, his Capture Weapon still around his neck and the dark circles under his eyes nearly darker than his eyes. You stopped moving as he grinned, toothy and wide and only growing as he leaned down, kissing his partner’s cheek before straightening his back. You barely had time to squirm before two hands were on your wrists, forcing you down without a second thought. 

Like this kind of thing was normal for him.

He didn’t have to ask, Izuku letting out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair, now that he wasn’t preoccupied with fighting his lovely, lovely captive. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” He explained, almost sheepishly. It shocked you, how loving they were, even while ‘sharing’ a living, breathing human. But, you couldn’t complain. Not while Shinsou was hovering over you, looking more euphoric with every passing second. “You’ve been so stressed from work, lately, with your new homeroom and all… I didn’t know you’d be home so early, I’m sorry-”

“This is more than enough, Midoriya.” You couldn’t stop yourself from scowling, the flat purr in his tone impossible to ignore. Without bothering to acknowledge your pained whimpers, he made quick work of your hands, his favored weapon soon binding your arms to the headboard, leaving Shinsou free to run his hands over the frills and layers of Izuku’s chosen outfit, fingertips lingering on the exposed strip of skin beneath your diaphragm. He took his time, playfully riding up the thin, thin fabric covering your thighs, his smile morphing into something more playful. More vile.

“Our kitten doesn’t seem to think so.” Always the needy one, Izuku let out an exhausted sigh, moving to your side and reaching down to comb through your hair. You didn’t struggle, this time, only averting your eyes and squirming. You tried not to fight him, not while you were so… outnumbered. Shinsou only laughed, his free hand tracing over the collar you’d almost forgotten. The fabric was far too rough for you to ever really ignore it. “We’ve been at this for an hour, now… I don’t think they like your present very much.”

Shinsou only laughed, meeting your eyes with a lull of his head. “Is that so, love?”

“I… I didn’t want to…” You trailed off, the numb, freezing wave of Shinsou’s quirk washing over you. It was a loose control, just enough to keep you motionless and limp, letting you remain lucid, even if you were beginning to wish his quirk was a little more merciful. It was why you feared him more than Izuku, why you hated him more. Izuku could break your bones, or snap your neck, or kill you, but Shinsou…

Shinsou made you wish you were dead.

Still, your breath hitched as he untied your arms, letting them fall to your sides as Izuku only readjusted his hold on you, encircling your shaking frame and pulling you into his side. “Now, apologize for being such a brat, and we can forget this ever happened,” He commanded, kissing your forehead as the words fell from your mouth, a monotone drawl as emotionless and as dead as one could expect from someone in your situation. But, they both seemed satisfied. Part of you was thankful, even if a bigger, louder part of you was more disgusted than anything else.

As his control faded, Izuku hummed, calmly using his one hand to lock his oh-so-precious collar into place, the cold, metal dog-tags scraping against your skin as it fell into place. Distantly, you knew he was saying something, Shinsou responding with smiles and laughs all around, but you didn’t think you could bring yourself to care.

Even if you tried to deny it, the truth was becoming undeniable. You weren’t their partner, their compansion, or even a hostage they respected. At best, you were the product of misplaced affection, and at worst…

And if you being honest, you were a pet. A pet to two Heroes, neither of which seemed to care when you began to cry.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Nine

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Eight

Read here on wattpad

Word count: 4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse

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PMRC DEMANDS CENSORSHIP, DEVELOPES A LIST OF THE "FILTHY 15."

1. Prince, "Darling Nikki", flagged for sex/masturbation

2. Sheena Easton, "Sugar Walls", flagged for sex

3. Judas Priest, "Eat Me Alive", flagged for Sex/Violence

4. Vanity, "Strap On Robbie Baby", flagged for sex

5. Mötley Crüe, "Bastard", flagged for violence/language

6. AC/DC, "Let Me Put My Love Into You", flagged for sex

7. Twisted Sister, "We're Not Gonna Take It", flagged for violence

8. Madonna, "Dress You Up", flagged for sex

9. W.A.S.P., "Animal (Fuck Like a Beast)", flagged for sex/language/violence

10. Def Leppard, "High 'n' Dry (Saturday Night)", flagged for drug/alcohol use

11. Mercyful Fate, "Into the Coven", flagged for occult themes

12. Black Sabbath, "Trashed", flagged for drug/alcohol use

13. Mary Jane Girls, "In My House", flagged for sex

14. Venom, "Possessed", flagged for occult themes

15. Cyndi Lauper, "She Bop", flagged for sex/masturbation

Tipper freaking Gore, the wife of the senator at the time, Al Gore, and bunch of other political housewives got their panties in a twist in 1985 and decided to demand artists either censor themselves when creating music, leaving no room for even the slightest hint at sex, drugs, alcohol, satanism, occultism, violence, language, or anything else almost every artist uses one of to express themselves in their music.

When musicians across the board practically told Tipper, the other wives, and everyone else that called themselves a member of the Parents Music Resource Center, to go fuck themselves, they decided to slap censorship stickers on records that contained any of the mentioned offenses.

Even John Denver got hit with censorship for his song "Rocky Mountain High."

It didn't shock me when my mother was photographed with Tipper after attending one of the hearings.

Mötley was invited to a hearing to defend their content and speak their opinions with a handful of others being censored, but they never batted an eye when the news first came out because they knew having an "X" or "XX" or "XXX" rating for violence, language, sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. would only make kids buy the record more. And it did.

"It's bullshit." I state, tossing the news paper article aside.

"It's politics." Fred replies taking a bite of his bagel.

"These womens' sex lives must be atrocious or else they'd be spending more time on their husbands' dicks and less time on these people's." I motion to the article with the list on it.

"Babe--"

"If these polotical lunatics spent as much energy taking care of their own damn kids, as they're spending attempting to villainize artists who're expressing themselves, they would realize that it's not Mötley Crüe's or anyone else's job to raise their children. If you're so scared of your kids trying all this stuff, have a conversation with them about it and tell them about it, honestly, instead of relying on the music they listen to, to properly teach them about it. And at the end of the day, they're gonna buy the record whether their parents want them to or not, and they're going to try all kinds of stuff, no matter who talks to them about it, if they really want to try it." I continue my rant, Fred, Doc, Nikki, Vince, Tommy and Mick all looking at me, waiting for me to be done.

"Are you done, Sister Christian?" Vince asks me and I glare at him.

"Viv, it's publicity. Who gives a fuck?" Nikki asks me. "The kids are gonna go for the nastiest rated album anyway. The more 'X's the better."

"Yeah, but the audacity of--" Tommy's teaching his hand around my shoulder and covering my mouth before I can continue and I look at him where he's beside me.

"I've got a headache. I'm hungover, Viv. I love you, but I don't need to hear a Vivian Bitch Fit right now." Tommy explains to me.

I just look at him like he's lost his mind for shutting me up, and he cautiously moves his hand away.

I give him a ten second reprieve before shouting, at the top of my lungs:

"The audacity of these people pisses me off!" I finish what I was going to say and Tommy and Nikki are both jumping out of their seats a little at the sudden shouting, covering their ears, wincing, before Nikki's looking at me, sharply.

I roll my eyes at him and he grabs roughly at my thigh under the table, uncomfortably sinking the tips of his fingers into my flesh.

Ignoring him, I take a sip of my coffee, as he glances around and stands up.

"I gotta piss." He tells us, but I know why he's going to the bathroom.

I wait for him to disappear past the "Men's Room" sign in the Denny's before I get up and follow after him.

I walk in, catching the tail end of him snorting a line, and I cross my arms, waiting outside of the stall he's in.

I hear the familiar "click" of a needle being uncapped.

"Nikki. It's 10:00 in the morning." I tell him.

"Fuck off."

"Nikki."

"Fuck off."

"Nikk--"

"Fuck off."

"Make me."

I wait for him to come out of the stall and do what I dared him to, but I just hear the sound of him sighing out in relief as opiate hits his system, drowning out whatever argument we were about to get into.

When he didn't want to hear me complain or try to talk him out of stuff, he would run to his favorite room in his mind: his heroin den.

If we were at home, he'd lock himself in the closet, with me begging him to come out.

He'd open the door for me right before passing out so he could at least say he tried.

If we were in public or at a hotel, he'd lock himself in the bathroom and do the same thing.

The sound of vomit smattering the floor has me wincing as he mumbles "fuck it" and opens the stall door, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't fuckin' give me that hit dog look." He tells me, moving past me to the sink, splashing some water on his face, smearing his already smeared eyeliner that makes him look like a raccoon that's been digging around in a dumpster.

"I'm not giving you any kind of look." I mumble, forcing him to look at me as I wet a paper towel and wipe his black-coated eyelids clean.

The smell of his vomit infiltrates my nostrils and I throw the paper towel away before pulling at his wrist to leave. 

Being that he's perfected his magical potion, he isn't too jittery from the coke or nodding off from the heroin.

He's just quiet.

We leave Denny's and head straight to the airport to head back home, being they wrapped up the last show of the U.S. tour last night.

Next is Europe.

Once we land in L.A., Christmas music blares through the speakers of the airport and reminds me that it's already nearing the end of December.

Apparently Vince is reading my mind because he mumbles, "apparently time flies when you're in hell."

Amen, Vince. A-fucking-men.

The second Nikki and I get into the limo to take us to our house, he's busting out a vile of blow that's nearly empty.

"Fuck, I gotta get Jason over, asap." He tells himself and I rub my lips together.

"You know, we haven't even bought a Christmas tree since we've been married." I tell him, trying to distract myself from his previous comment.

"Yeah." He says, basically blowing me off and I reach the toe of my sneaker out and nudge him on the kneecap as he gets the tip of our house key and scoops some from the bindle, snorting a bump.

"Babe." I continue to tap his kneecap until he's got his hand around my ankle, loosely, stopping me.

"What, Viv?"

"What did I just say?" I ask him, crossing my arms.

He just blinks at me, smirking a little.

"I'll gladly tell you when I finish this." He holds the bindle up.

I lean forward and take it from him, holding it hostage when he attempts to take it.

"You'll get it back when I get a Christmas tree." I tell him, raising my brows.

"Are you fucking me right now?" He asks, chuckling, not thinking I'm serious.

"No...but now that you mention it, I want that, too. Then you can get it back." I add and he smirks.

By the time we get to a department store, get my clothes back on and his pants zipped back up, grab an artificial tree, lights and ornaments, and finally get to the house, it's nearly one in the morning.

"Okay, Saint Vivian, gimme my shit back." Nikki states, carrying the boxed up tree while I carry the bags of lights and ornaments.

"Put the tree up so I can decorate it and I will." I reply.

"That wasn't apart of the deal." He argues, his tone still light.

"Well now it is." I reply.

"That's cheating."

"I made the deal. I make the rules." I shrug.

"You're making me work for something that's already mine." His free hand pulls at my waist, turning me to him and I grin mischievously as he shakes his head a little. "That's it, Sixx." He tells me before crouching enough to wrap his arm around my thighs and throw me over his shoulder.

I laugh manically, partially out of fear that he'll drop me, but also because this is the Nikki I fell in love with.

Playful, lighthearted, aggravating but meaning well, Nikki.

He manages to dig his house key out again and unlock the door before stepping in and turning on the lights in the foyer.

"Baby, put the bags down for now." He tells me and I drop them as carefully as I can while he puts the box the tree is in, down.

He's walking us to the living room, laughing when he pretends to trip and I gasp, digging my nails into him like a cat holding onto its owner to avoid a bathtub full of water.

When he flips the next light on, he stops immediately.

My mind is in shambles for a moment as I try to put together why so many people are in my house once Nikki's nearly dropping me out of shock, not even hearing them all scream out, "surprise!"

Steven and Tansy are at the forefront of people as the explosion of glitter, a mixture of neon and pastel decor, an abundance of various alcohol options, scantily clad women, a handful of Nikki's friends he hangs out with outside of Mötley Crüe, and a big ass, two-tier cake with every curse word known to man written in pristine is cursive font on the sides of it is soaked in by mine and Nikki's eyes.

Steven's wearing a beer hat, smiling widely, while Tansy looks like a sallow Barbie doll, but she's still forcing out a grin for the sake of us, and everyone's waiting for mine and Nikki's reactions.

Nikki and I exchange looks, confused as ever.

"Why is it a surprise?" I finally ask, deciding it's best if I ask instead of Nikki, because all he wanted to do was come in, shoot up, have a few lines, fuck around with me some more, and pass out.

But instead he's being forced to socialize in his own house.

His safe place has been infested.

Steven and Tansy seem horrified that we don't understand the reason for the apparent party.

"...Because it's your birthday?" Tansy reminds me.

"And Nikki's was a couple weeks ago, but he wasn't here to celebrate it." Steven adds, his smile is long gone, his eyes focused on Nikki who looks like he could kill someone right now.

"Oh, right!" I pretend that I know that it's my birthday today, and everyone seems to let out a breath of relief. "It's been a long day." I explain, stepping to the two blondes, hugging them both tightly. "Thank you so much."

While everyone else starts going on with the party, music starting to blare throughout the house on the stereo speakers, cracking open beer, whiskey, and vodka, as girls strip down to bikinis to go swimming, Nikki's still standing at the door, the look on his face is a mixture or pissed off, disappointed, and "I need another dose."

"Babe." I say gently to grab his attention, hazel eyes looking to me as a jaw tightens. "C'mon, just for a couple hours."

"I'll be right back." He tells me, shoving through people to get to our bedroom.

I brush off his attitude the second I feel hands on my shoulders, squeezing them a little and I snap around to meet Duff's chest.

"Hey, birthday girl." He greets me cooly, and I'm hugging him before I can stop myself.

Something wet falls on my hand when I pull away, and just as I'm about to look around for whatever it was, his fingers that are sticking out of leather gloves that just cover his palms, are brushing at my face.

"What's up?" He asks me, furrowing his brows a little.

What is up? Why the hell are you crying?

"I-I'm happy." Is all I can say, chuckling, wiping more tears.

He knew it was bullshit. I was happy, sure. Happy to get the fuck off the road. Happy to get a break from Nikki and Tommy harassing Vince. Happy to get away from Doc's constant pressing for more tour dates to milk as much money as possible. Happy to be able to hangout with balls of optimism and sunshine like Duff and Steven and have Slash show me his pet snakes like he'd been meaning to, and for Izzy to tell me what music I should have been listening to, and for Axl to go on and on about Tansy but then completely deny he was interested in her because he was too much of a dork to just ask her out.

"I'll be right back, alright?" I tell Duff, looking around to see Nikki's nowhere to be seen.

"Okay." He tells me, swigging from a bottle of vodka.

I thread through people who tell me "happy birthday" and I thank each of them, genuinely, before opening up the bedroom door, and shutting it behind me, stepping to our bathroom.

"Baby?" I ask, seeing Nikki standing at the mirror, teasing his hair some more. "I had no idea they would do this." I tell him.

"I had no fucking idea it was even your birthday, apparently." He grumbles. "Shows how much I care, right? Husband of the year. Something else to be hung over my head anytime we get into a fight." 

"Hey, I didn't even know it was my birthday. The guys didn't either. You've all been busy and working hard and tired. I'm not going to hold this over you, Nikki." I assure him, fixing a piece of his hair for him.

I didn't realize his pride was so hurt by the gesture Steven and Tansy made.

I found out later it was Duff who brought up the idea to Tansy, who recruited the Ken to her Barbie: Steven, to help her orchestrate it.

That was another indication to Nikki that he needed to slow down, forgetting his own wife's birthday, but he didn't listen to it a bit.

"I really don't want to do this shit, Vivian." He tells me, rubbing his eyes.

"And I do?"

"They're your friends." He sighs.

"What's mine is your's." I say as I kiss his cheek and he groans.

"You owe me." He tells me as I step out of the bathroom. "Matter of fact, I want my coke back."

"Um, I can't hear you, babe. I'm sure I will when these people leave." I tell him.

"Viv--"

"I-I think you're breaking up, I'll talk to you later." I keep going, walking to the bedroom door.

"I'll break something up when these people get the fuck outta my house!" He calls back and I shut the door behind me.

The night goes on as people play beer pong on the dining room table, dance on whatever and whoever they can, snort lines off any flat surface available, and chug whatever is in their cups, drowning pain and becoming oblivious.

I hate to break it to Nikki, but I don't want these people driving in their condition, so they'll have to stay here tonight or call cabs.

After a few hours, people are either pairing off or grouping off to go get laid, passed out, or too high to function properly and are just chilling out.

Steven's observing his work, drinking from his beer cans perched in his hat when I approach him, looking for Duff.

"Have you seen Duff?" I say over the music and he nods.

"Yeah, I think he's by the pool." He tells me.

"The pool?"

"Yep."

I furrow my brows, stepping to the French doors leading outside, seeing Duff and Tansy sitting down on the pool deck, talking

"Is he pissed?" She asks me, referring to Nikki, after I sit next to her.

"I would say go see for yourself but I don't want to toss you into the lion's den." I admit. "He hasn't come out all night."

"I'll go talk to him." She says. "If he's mean to me I'll just cry and make him feel bad like I do to Vince."

Duff and I exchange looks at her confident words before she's walking away in her neon pink bikini.

"Everyone calming down?" Duff asks in a slur, and I nod, glancing through the doors to look at the guests for a few seconds. "How does it feel to be twenty-two?" He adds, rubbing his nose and I raise my brows a little, glancing at the bottle of vodka he's been working on all night.

"It's weird." I mumble. "I was a senior in high school five years ago." The reality hits me and he raises his brows. "God, I'm old."

"You were seventeen your senior year?"

"In pre-k my teacher decided I was too smart for the class and vouched for me to be moved up to kindergarten, and it didn't take my kindergarten teacher long to convince the principle of the elementary school to let me start in the first grade since they hadn't really started in on their curriculum for the year." I explain.

"I couldn't even meet the basic requirements of alternative school." He tells me.

"You're a freaking genius, you just didn't apply yourself." I tell him and he shrugs.

"I had more important things to get done.

"I guess you did." I agree, gently scoring the bottle of alcohol away from him.

"I know you're tired of me saying this, but, Viv, you gotta get back to dancing."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah. I mean, imagine me giving up music for someone I'm in a relationship with so I can hold their hand or fucking babysit them or whatever. I mean, sure it shows I love them a lot, but it would just make who ever I was with look like a fucking bitch. And I've talked to Nikki before and he told me he didn't want you to quit dance and he wanted you to go to school." He explains. "Why didn't you?"

"I had more important things to get done." I repeat him.

"I don't know if you're selfless sometimes, or just not thinking." He says, before his face suddenly falls. "I sound like an asshole right now, I'm sorry." He apologizes and I shake my head.

"I'm not upset, I know what you mean." I assure him.

"Okay." He rubs his eyes again like a sleepy child.

"Do you need me to help you to bed?" I offer and he waves his hand at me a couple times.

"No, no, I got it." He assures me, standing up.

He nearly falls over.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." I comment, helping him inside as he apologizes.

"I'm sorry I'm being out of hand right now, Viv, I don't get like this every night." He tells me as I open our guest bedroom and thank God nobody's in here, although it's obvious someone has been screwed to oblivion on the bed.

I just throw the blanket on the edge of the bed over the mattress and help him lay down.

"Thank you." He says as I pull his boots off and set them nice and neat on the floor at the foot of his bed.

"You're welcome." I reply, setting the garbage can beside him incase he needs it. "Goodnight."

I'm about to leave, but his hand gently grasps at my hand, stopping me.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"I'm really glad we met and we're friends, Viv." He tells me, grasping my hand in his like I'm going to walk out anyway and not listen to what he's got to say.

"I am, too, Duff." I say back, smiling a little. "Sleep tight, okay?"

"Yeah." He nods his head.

"Alright, goodnight."

I go to kiss him "goodnight" on the cheek, but my entire system and body locks up the second he misreads my intentions, and kisses me.

This sounds so counteractive to who I am now and what I stand for currently, and it was ignorant of me to think such a way back then, when so many people close to me were heavily affected, some of them even dying, by drugs and alcohol...but I use to wish I liked alcohol or drugs, or even felt drawn to them.

By '87 I'd had several miscarriages, my marriage was hanging by a thread after only being married for four years, I was having an identity crisis and my entire world was seeming to fall apart and it became routine to buy a bottle of vodka or whiskey, or pills, or blow and just stare at it--trying to convince myself to go for it--for an hour before pouring it out or flushing it.

The people around me, which by that point was mainly Duff and his band, started to pick up on this struggle I had. And although they knew I had to be in some kind of extreme pain to be considering reaching such lows, they carried an "if you don't laugh about it, you'll cry" method of pulling me out of such spells.

Anytime we would be hanging out and I'd opt to try something they were doing, they would call it the "Golden Question Game" because the "Golden Question" was always "is Vivian actually gonna do it this time?" and they wouldn't argue with me about it or try to stop me because they knew the answer would always be "no" even if I didn't think it would be.

I even made the reckless suggestion to try heroin, and got as far as Izzy getting it in the syringe for me, trying to explain to me how to shoot it, how to angle it, how to know I'd hit a vein, with Steven, Slash and Duff all waiting to see if I was that desperate for an escape.

Like everything else I would think about doing, I just sat on the floor next to Izzy and stared at the golden liquid in the syringe and thought, "who the fuck are you to get pissed and angry at Nikki and Tansy for their addiction to this shit, and how it's destroying them, and then turn around and do it yourself?"

I shot it into the air away from me, handed the empty syringe back Izzy, thanked him for letting me waste his time and dose of smack, went to the bathroom with Duff at my heels, and cried.

I never went through with any of it because I knew I would never, ever, come back from it.

I would've drank myself to death or drugged myself past the point of no return and would have ended up a statistic.

I just needed a new escape because my original high became a heroin addict, and December 23, 1985, had me realizing more about Duff than what I had noticed before: Vodka was a hell of a lot easier to be around than heroin.