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swampstew · 5 months

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KillerCook Chapter 13

Welcome to Raven’s Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Join us in the family room as we sit around and celerate Straw Hat Luffy's birthday. Rated Mature for language. Minors DNI

Going Live in 3…2…1…

“Good evening everyone, thanks for tuning in. I’m Killer and this is my neighbor, Sanji.”

The two blond men sat at a slim table as they faced they audience, both waving their hands in greetings and casual small talk as viewers started joining the stream.

“Have you ever been on a live stream? Wait, are you even on social media?” Killer asked.

“Killer, we follow each other on Instagram,” the curly browed man scoffed.

“Oh the one I hardly use?” Killer asked in surprise, quick to pull out a cell phone. After scrolling for a few seconds, “Oh yeah, here you are: Sanji {censored}. Wait, THAT’s your last name? Are-are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m adopted. What about it?”

“Why would you use your full government name on the Internet, you [redacted] idiot?” Kid griped as he came into the camera’s focus, taking the third seat at the table.

“It was never a concern until you blabbed it out loud in front of 3,000 and growing listeners,” Sanji snapped at them, whipping out his cell phone from his suit. “Great, now I gotta go on private…huh…hmm…maybe, maybe I’ll just change my user name,” he quieted down suddenly.

“Ooooo-kay. Moving on - we’re switching things up a bit. Today is a friend of a friend’s birthday and, surprisingly, a few people came to us seeking advice on making cake. Did no one ever teach them to bake? So Sanji and I thought we would make it a challenge. For ours and your entertainment.”

The camera was shifted offside to the second half of the kitchen, on the massive kitchen island that was set and stationed with ingredients, counter-top ovens, and three contenders.

Franky, Usopp, and Bubblegum.

They waved at the camera before the spotlight was once again on Killer.

“Now I’m no stranger to making cake but I’m brave enough to acknowledge that when it comes to plating and food decorating, Sanji is the true expert. Heat, please bring out the birthday cakes.”

Heat walked to the camera and showed off the treat before depositing the three-tier cake, with classic yet tastefully festive decorations, on the table for the hosts. Clean calligraphy on the top declared it to be Sanji’s roommate’s name, the birthday boy. Straw Hat Luffy. Repeating the process, Heat dropped off another cake, this time the cake was designed and shaped to look like a hunk of meat. A small straw hat sat atop of the bone leg.

“Thank you, Heat. Our challenge is to have our contenders make cakes that rival Chef Sanji’s. The rules are: it has to taste well, look good, the cake must be made using the ingredients on the table - no getting creative…looking at you, Bubblegum…” Killer warned.

“Both stacked cakes are layered with buttercream frosting, and decorated with more frosting, modeling chocolate, and fondant for the details. On average it takes about 90 minutes to bake and decorate a cake with enough time for cooling and correcting for any errors. But Killer is a bit sadistic.”

“That I am. And because it’s my show, I’m only giving these guys one hour.”

Kid slammed his hands on the table, standing up to shout, “SO GET BAKING!”

A separate camera was stationed and angled to record the contenders, catching Usopp as he jumped and knocked his bowl of eggs on the ground. Shattering.

“Ooooh and we’ve suffered our first casualty already. Of course Kid caused it and OF COURSE Usopp reacted,” Killer commented.

“Yeah this is going to set him back a little but not by much, Killer. The rule of thumb is to have your eggs and butter be at room temperature so they incorporate with the ingredients better. Having to use colder eggs means his batter could come out denser than he intends,” Sanji lit a cigarette. “Oh I meant to ask, can I smoke in here?”

“It’s fine, we smoke in the house all the time,” Kid left the table and the suspicious sound of bubbling water could be heard, followed by a billow of smoke.

While Usopp rushed around Bubblegum to retrieve new eggs, Franky was fast at work setting his ingredients in order to start baking. Bubblegum was lightly dancing on his feet as he read over the written recipe they had been provided.

“We gave them base cake mix recipes so they have to decide a flavor combination on their own, which can really make or break a cake’s standing with the crowd,” Sanji piped up after taking a few drags.

“If I was given a bad cake, I’d take it personally,” Kid said menacingly, drumming his metal prosthetic fingers on the table.

“Yeah yeah the threatening and torturing, we’ve all heard it,” Killer waved him off. “Sanji, how did you make your cakes? Explain so our viewers can learn the proper way.”

While Sanji explained the intricacies of the art of baking, Bubblegum, Usopp, and Franky were hurriedly working on their creations.

Franky was whistling as he quickly mixed his ingredients, pouring the thin batter into the pans and popping them into the oven. He looked confident, with the box of butter left unopened and parchment paper forgotten. Things one would normally use to grease a baking pan and protect batter from sticking.

Bubblegum was pouring his cake batter in the pans before he froze, a worried look on his face. Looking between the oven and his station, he quickly opened a can of dulce de leche and drizzled it directly into the batter, using a fork to mix it evenly.

Usopp, in an effort to save time, was throwing all his ingredients into the bowl and mixing them together. The batter was looking a little liquidly as he stepped in place to channel his nervousness.

“While the cake is baking, you should work on your buttercream frosting, a key point in the process to keep the cake moist while you decorate. It also serves as a binding agent for folding fondant over it. We gave the contenders pre-made fondant and modeling chocolate because I have some compassion. Drape the fondant over the cake, smooth it out, and trim at the edges. For a regular cake you can mainly use buttercream, but I would recommend it for shapes like the meat cake because it can help it maintain some structure, if it’s balanced just right. Too much weight can cause it to fall off or make a dent in your cake.”

“Modeling chocolate is great for decorations and requires a less refined hand compared to buttercream calligraphy. I would knead and mold the chocolate to be a straw hat, the bone leg coming from the meat of the cake, or maybe something cute like little balloons and party hats as cake toppers,” Sanji chuckled.

“I’m going to make some predictions,” Killer folded his hands, “Franky’s cake will get stuck to the pan, Bubblegum’s cake might come out crumbled based on how hard he was forking his pan, and I’m a leeeettle concerned about salmonella from Usopp’s cake.”

“If it looks and smells fine, I’ll eat it,” Kid chipped in.

With two minutes left on the timer, Killer reminded the bakers to put their cakes under the frosted cake covers when the timer hit zero seconds.

The three judges rose to their feet as they counted down the last 10 seconds.

“3…2…1…present your cakes!”

The three contenders lifted their respective covers for both camera’s that were now hovering between all 6 men as they stood at the kitchen island.

It was…hard…to stifle the giggles and laughter coming from Killer and Sanji, while Kid looked more or less baffled with the results.

Franky’s cake was well structured like the tier cake Sanji had made, if only a little flatter and less attractive. Franky was good at making things, but not so much with decorating - at least not when it comes to cakes. His cake was layered with fondant that slightly ruffled at the edges, and his buttercream handwriting wasn’t the best. His chocolate balloons were perfectly spherical but missing their strings, so they were actually more like colorful balls.

Usopp’s cake was much, much smaller than all five cakes. His station was a mess of puddles and crumbled cake, suggesting his cakes had cooked too thin and fell apart easily. To compensate for the small stature, Usopp made an effort to recreate the meat shaped cake. It certainly looked like a meat. The cake was the same color as Sanji’s, the straw hat looked fairly decent, unfortunately it - along with the molded chocolate bone - weighed too much and fell off the side.

Bubblegum’s cake was a combination of both. He had made the tier cake, and added the straw hat and a mini-meat sized cake as the toppers for his cake. Instead of buttercream lettering, a single candle stood between the toppers.

“I don’t actually know how old he is,” the tattooed man said sheepishly.

Kid was about to say something when Killer stopped him, “Its taste testing time. Cut off a slice from each cake and we’ll let you know if it’s acceptable to give to the birthday boy…man… Is he still a teenager or in his twenties?” he whipped his head to Sanji.

Sanji lit another cigarette, “He’s a kid at heart.”

“Good enough! Let’s take a bite.”

Starting with Franky’s cake, Kid and Sanji’s faces immediately crinkled as Killer went off camera to eat his piece.

“The…the flavor,” the redhead choked out.

“It’s…certainly a unique choice but I’m not sure I can place it,” Sanji looked at Franky.

“It’s cola flavored,” the mechanic gave the camera a thumbs up.

“It certainly is,” Killer responded as he grabbed bottled water for himself, Kid and Sanji. “Your cake had us in the first half. It looked like it could be trusted, and while the cola in itself isn’t a baaaad flavor, just…when it’s in my mouth, I feel like my taste buds are screaming, ‘that shouldn’t be cake!!’”

The judges nodded in agreement before moving on to Usopp’s cake. Only this time, Killer didn’t step away to taste it.

“Usopp, your cake is somehow cooked in some layers but not in others and I’m struggling to understand how that’s possible,” Killer nudged the cake around the plate.

Sanji agreed, “You know my policy on not wasting food but I don’t think I can defend this one. Your creative skills shine wherever you take them, the cake definitely looked edible.”

Kid was the only one who ate his portion, “Can barely taste the flavor,” he shrugged, biting into the chocolate straw hat.

Moving on to the final cake, the judges tasted the generous slice presented to them.

Sanji started, “Bubblegum, I don’t know you that well but I can tell, you can make a cake on the fly. I liked your last ditch effort to flavor this cake with the caramel drizzle and it gives your cake a nice texture, especially where the cake is a little dry. Your decorations are pleasant to look at, you even went the extra mile by combining both my examples into one!”

Killer came back to the kitchen island, “He’s an overachiever, that’s our Bubbs. I even like how he made the straw hat out of rice krispie treat covered with thin layers of buttercream.

“Suck up,” Kid rolled his eyes as he finished the plate, “But its a good cake BG. You make me proud. I don’t really love fondant so I appreciate you topping the cake with frosting and leaving the fake crap to the meat topper.”

“The meat is also made of rice krispie treat,” Bubblegum chirped.

“Work smarter not harder, that’s m’boy.”

“It time to declare which cakes are acceptable to bring over for Luffy’s party,” Killer announced. The three judges took a few minutes to themselves to discuss the cakes.

Lining up in front of their contenders, Killer addressed them and the live audience at the same time, “We saw some struggles, we saw some personal challenges, and most importantly, we saw growth. Whether or not that helps you make better cake in the future is not really my problem but I hope you at least take away something meaningful from this.”

Usopp nervously giggled.

“The cakes that are acceptable—“

Killer didn’t finish his sentence, cut off as someone shouting throughout the house could be heard.

“SAAAAAANJJIIIIII? WHERE AAARRE YOOOUUUUU?” the person with a tune in his voice was coming closer to the kitchen, “C’mooonn!!! We can’t start the party without you!! Are you hiding my cake here? I promise I won’t take a bite out if it and cover it up like last time.”

The kitchen occupants were silently moving towards the backyard sliding glass door, hoping to make a clean escape. Their hopes quickly blown away as the kitchen door handle turned.

Monkey D. Luffy walked through the door, multiple cone hats sat over his trademark straw hat.

The last words the audience heard: “HOLY CRAP FIVE CAKES?!?!?!”

Before the live stream suddenly cut to black, a rabid Luffy sprinted towards the judges and contenders as they screamed in fear.

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byrdtrollsunoreversearchive · 7 months

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Blindsighted

Your name is Sereni Sotkia, and you are knocking rapidly on the door of Rollyn’s on set trailer, a suitcase held tight by your side. The noises of your frantic demand for the model's attention are drowned out by the sound of loud music and running water. It’s easy to deduce the woman is taking some kind of bath while blasting the radios top fifties. You keep knocking and frustratedly call out Rollyn’s name on occasion, struggling to be heard over Levvie Arlott lyrics played at full volume. Eventually, you hear the sound of someone slipping out of the tub and stomping around, complaining as she makes her way to the door.

“MATISE I AM NOT DUE ON SET FOR THREE HOURS!!!” They yell, before finally opening the door in an ornate fluffy bathrobe, she pauses when she realizes it’s you and not your shared manager.

“Fucking shit, what can’t wait another thirty minutes.” She says, leaning on the door dramatically.

You gesture at the suitcase by your side. “We’re leaving for tour soon” You say. “And I need to talk to you. Did that Sunset guy you dated have some kind of memory erasing voodoos?”

“What?” They frown. “Yeah- but he used them, you know, ethically, usually” She says, which earns her a long, long stare from you, a look several parts rage and many parts pity. You glance around, none of the production assistants and photographers are hovering- but it's better to be safe just in case.

“Can I come inside?” You say, and they step out of your way, shutting the door behind them as you enter the trailer.

“Rollyn” You say, “You dated that guy for longer than two months”

“I- What?” She stutters, her wings bristling defensively.

“Look, this is you guys at the VMA’s in January,” You say, showing her a photo on your phone, “And together at a cafe in lte december- and here in this fundraiser interview- I was so confused why you kept saying that shit. I think he deleted like- several months worth of your memory.” You explain.

Rollyn turns off her bluetooth speakers, the music suddenly unfitting of the atmosphere, staring at the photos you’ve shown her, struggling to keep up.

“I-No” She chokes, her breath racing as she panics, they grab the phone from your hand and start flipping through the gallery in disbelief.

“What the fuck. What the fuck” She whispers.

“That- fucking douchebag” You exclaim. “He must have done something shitty and didn’t want you to remember it, right?”

“He wouldn’t- I don’t…” They trail off. “There must be some kind of, explanation” She says, handing you back your phone, Rollyn pulls out her own, going to dial the purpleblood.

“Rol!” You snap, slapping it out of her hand. “Girl! What if he just does it to you again!”

“He must have- a reason, he wouldn’t just- do that” She insists.

“He clearly did.” You retort.

“This- goes against everything I know about his character! And I’m a good judge of it!” They say, going to pick up the phone. You put your hand over the device defensively.

“I’m not saying you’re not” You say, frustrated. “I’m not- I just, how can you judge his character if you don’t know what happened in those three months, or why he took them from you?”

Her brows furrow as she thinks on this, expression becoming more turmoiled by the minute.

“Does the press know?” She says, glancing anxiously at the shaded trailer windows. “Has everyone on Alternia just been laughing it up at my blank faced idiocy, and I had no idea?” She chokes.

“Rol. Breathe” You say, resting your hands on her shoulders.

“You let me go on TV!” She snaps. “In interviews, blabbing about my life with a chunk of it missing! Do they think I’m crazy?” They choke, making some attempt to follow your advice but struggling.

“I didn’t know” You say, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I just thought you were joking- or hiding something else. I’m sure no one noticed.”

“Somebodies noticed,” She says. “You know the internet- someone noticed” They hiss.

“It’s not your fault, okay, and you’re not an idiot. You’re gonna be fine.” You attempt.

“I- no I’m not!!” She snaps. “Have you SEEN how mutants in relationships with highbloods are talked about in the press!! They’re gonna think I’m an idiot- after all the talk I do about mutant rights- falling face first into a relationship with a clown who did something shitty to me- I’M SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER THAN THAT!!” She insists, stepping towards you, grabbing your shoulders. You raise your hands in surrender, taking a step back.

“Okay” You say. “I don’t even know how to unpack all that.”

“I mean” They let out a frustrated huff, shaking you. “I don't think that! But that’s what they’re all going to SAY! Especially with me prancing around like a dumbass on national television giving out wrong information about my own life! I can’t-” She lets go of you, and plops down on the couch, covering her face with her hands, letting out a long sigh. They take a moment to gather themself- before meeting your eyes.

“How long?” She says. “How long was I missing”

You pause, inhaling and exhaling. You never smoked around Rollyn, on account of her asthma, but moments like this sure make you miss it.

“Three months,” You say. “You dated for five months.”

“No…” She chokes. Quietly, you sit down next to her, wondering what to do with your hands. You don’t pretend to be competent in the emotional department. Being more of a bite first ask questions later kind of woman.

“I’m sorry” You say softly, opting to place a single hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault- You didn’t do anything wrong.” You reply, hands clenching in tight little fists. “It was a totally fucked up thing for that guy to do to you.”

She is silent for a long, loaded minute, before her jaw sets.

“Yeah” They manage. “Yeah, it is.”

“To hell with the press.” You say. “But also. We can decide when or if we come to them. On our own terms. And what we say. It’s up to you.”

She gives a long sigh, before reaching over and picking up her long discarded phone. “I should probably make a post” She decides. “It’s- better to get ahead of it before it gets ahead of me. I’m sure someone else has already noticed.”

“Okay” You say.

There is a long silence as Rollyn begins drafting something in her notes. The fans of the trailer whirring in a quiet buzz around you, before you’re able to voice the inklings of a plan that had been forming in your mind since last night.

“Me and Nyghte are leaving for tour” You say. “Tes Roven’s our first city. I could talk to him for you.”

She doesn’t answer for a second, before crossing her arms.

“What if he wipes your memory too?” They say.

“Then he’ll get socked in the jaw.” You retort. “I told Nyghte everything too- I wrote down a note in my phone detailing everything. We’ll still know what happened.” You say. “I go there, I talk to him, I hear his side of the story, worst comes to worst, I give him a good scare so bad he never sets foot near you again.”

“Don’t kill him” They plead.

“...Rol” you say.

“I mean it- I know, with everything-” She snaps. “I just…”

“I won’t” You say slowly, already lost on whether it's a promise you could keep. The heart to heart is interrupted by a loud rapping on the door.

“Sereni!” Matisse yells. “Hate to interrupt girl time, but what the fuck are you doing in there- You have a ship to catch!!”

Sunsets Voodoo’s have several major flaws. He had long since identified them as weaknesses to keep in careful mind.

Number one- He has to have eye contact.

Number two- He cannot work them without a verbal evocation. He had long since tried, practiced, but eventually had to give up on the idea of ever using them silently. For reasons unknown- he must always verbally outline what he wants the troll to forget.

And finally, number three- they do not work on machines. He could erase every troll's memory of, say, him walking into a bank or a guarded fleet facility, but if there were camera’s, they’d tell a different story, no matter the wiped trolls.

He is usually so careful. He is meticulous with his work. But this is not work. It’s a painful, interpersonal matter he wants as little to do with as possible. The wound of losing Rollyn is still wide open and raw. His reluctance to confront the situation makes him clumsy. Stupid. Acting quickly, and irrationally. He doesn’t know it, and neither do you, but you are about to sucker punch him in every single one of those listed weaknesses, hitting them all on the way down with the random and change agility of a cat falling down the stairs.

It is a dimly lit concert after party in a club. Your name is Sereni Sotkia and you are nursing the same Shirley Temple you’ve had since you arrived, determined to be sober and sharp on this particular night. You’re still in the many belted, steampunk kind of black scandalous outfit that had been your costume for the last number, too lazy to change. You are making small talk with a growing crowd of female admirers, but they don’t captivate you the way they normally would. You only have two shows in Tes Roven. You are trying to think of how to find Sunset in that time in such an expansive city. Unbeknownst to, and lucky for you, he is looking for you at the same time. The purpleblood had already been warned. It’s nearly midnight when you spot him, the chance glimpse of his canary colored hair across a long room. He is waiting to approach, trying to figure out his strategy. Unfortunately for him, you hold no such reservations, handing off your drink to one of your admirers.

“Could you hold this for me, baby? I’ll be right back” You say, with a coy smile, raising a single finger to your lips as you slip out onto the dance floor. Several of the fangirls dissolve into giggles, crowding around the one who has the glass, who is blushing deep rust as she stares into the beverage. You make your way across the room, shoulder checking the occasional troll as the crowd parts for you like butter. The taller purple seems to get the sense you’re coming after him, slipping further and further back into the crowd as if with intent to escape, but he’s not fast enough. You catch him by the shoulder, grinning like an animal baring it’s teeth.

“Sunset” You say, raising your voice to be heard over the music. “Can we talk?”

He pauses. “Sure!” He answers, and the two of you duck out into the hallway to the bathroom, where you can hear each other a little better. You grab the man, slamming him against the wall.

“You wiped three months of Rollyn’s memory from her mind.” You hiss. “WHY.”

He stutters. Despite all the time he had to prepare to be asked such a question, fumbling immediately at the finish line, with a clumsy, unhelpful bit of truth.

“She asked me too,” He says. “She asked.”

Your eyes narrow.

“Think you’re helping your case, clown?” You say, tilting your head. “What exactly happened between you that was so traumatic that they’d ASK for you to AXE three months of their fucking life!” You snap.

He doesn’t answer, of course, because he can’t. Not without revealing himself, not without revealing his plot against Midas. He could lie- but he doubts- knows- you are unlikely to believe him. He is backed into the same corner he’s been backed into for days. This battle was lost before it even started. How frustrating- to hate everything about the situation and your choices but see no way onward but forward. Sunset meets your gaze, eyes lighting up with a soft glow, but before he can make a sound, you make good on your promise to sock him in the jaw. The man stumbles, lights in his eyes flickering like a bad bulb.

“DON’T FUCKING TRY ME, MOTHER FUCKER” You yell. He open’s his mouth again, desperate to try again, ever more panicked now that you’re drawing more attention to him, but you slam your hand over his lips just as they start to close around the word, pulling him into a headlock, stumbling back into the club.

“You really wanna play this fucking game, huh?” You threaten as he thrashes in your arms. “I could ruin you with a tweet, you weaselly bitch. What the fuck did you do to Rollyn. Don’t fucking try me- OW!” You yelp as the man bites down on your hand, hard, he wriggles out of your grasp, slamming you into the wall, his eyes lighting up again, but thinking fast, you have simply closed your eyes. Your hands swing wildly in the darkness, throwing punches without seeing your attacker. Finally, your fists connect with flesh, and once you have your bearings on where his face is, you open your eyes, grabbing the purpleblood and slamming him onto the ground.

“Motherfucker” You growl, as a growing crowd watches the fight.

“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME” You say, grabbing him by the horn and slamming his face into the floor.

“AND YOU STAY”

“THE FUCK”

“AWAY”

“FROM ROLLYN”

“FIRLYN”

“BITCH” You say, punctuating each word with a hit. Eventually, you’re confident he won’t rise to try and wipe your mind again. You stare down at the bloodied man, trying to catch your breath, some crazed rainbow drinker banging in the walls of your chest as the scent of his blood fills the open air, you press a hand to your mouth.

“Fucking shit” You mutter, heading towards the club balcony. “Any of you girls got a light?” You say over shaky breath, pulling a pack out of your pocket as you head out into the fresh air.

Sunset rests on the floor for a long moment, trying to muster the will to rize. Get up, his brain insists. Get up, you’ve got to do damage control. But his body doesn’t listen. He has to wipe these onlookers- his logic tells him. It would be a hassle, but whatever. He needs to get up. He needs to open his eyes. But one refuses to listen, swollen, bruised, definitely black. There go his hopes of concealing this fight from his coworkers. Whatever. He’d come up with some story. He needs to open his eyes- If getting a little roughed up is the worst he paid for wiping Rollyn’s memory, fine. He could take it. He could still smooth this over- even if he didn’t get Sereni, he could wipe the trolls at this party, his struggling mind repeats in cycle, willing him forward. He comes to his feet slowly, his squinting black eye finally opening a sliver-

Only to be met with the black, glittering lights of the surrounding phone cameras, held high in the hands of curious onlookers.

#tw violence #sereni writing #sunset writing #my writing\#fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

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siberiascaravan · 2 years

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Betraying Hearts: Prologue

A quick note from the author:

To keep my fiction inclusive as possible and to make my writing better, we are going to be doing some stuff a bit different than the usual (y/n).

Using they/them pronouns. But, if you want to replace those with your pronouns as you read. I am all for it.

Instead of (Y/N) we are going to go by a ‘Code Name’ - Fern Vesper. Again, should you decide to change it to your name as you read along, totally understand 🙂

I won’t be describing skin color, eye color, or hair color/texture. However, I will say that this character isn’t bald. So, there will def be hair.

Age limit: I recommend my material be read by adults only. But, I understand it’s the internet and I was young once too. Please understand that this material might not be suitable for minors.

Happy holidays. I hope this is a good intro! More to come ♥

Enough blabbing, I just wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page ♥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrenaline rushed through your veins like an electrical current riding with the flow of your bloodstream. Each pump of your heart brought on a new wave of electricity. How long has it been since you had been brought to this room; surrounded by walls painted in an inky blue hue that made it feel as though one were suffocating in the ocean at night? A clock, the only thing in this empty holding cell sat right above the door into and out of this room; Your eyes glued to the surface, burning from lack of blinking. Maybe if you watched the clock time would go slower and whatever was about to happen would happen later rather than sooner. The heavy clunking of the gears working behind the face of the object sounded with each passing second; taunting you with an omen of what was to come.

Why did you have to open your big mouth? Was it worth all the trouble it seemed to have gotten you into? The only reason you get pulled into a room by yourself is to be fired. Or worse. A groan sounded as you ran your fingers softly down your cheeks.

The expression on his face after you had spoken up and 'corrected' him.. The memory alone was enough to tug at one corner of their mouth in a smug smirk. It wasn’t often one got to correct someone of higher standing. Especially someone like him, whom no one dared question; According to the agent who brought you in here anyways.

~*~*~*

The day started so normal as Fern opened their eyes and went on with the same morning routine they had for years. It wasn’t much, just the basics. Hygiene, basic skin care, teeth care, you know the usual. Work had gone about the same excluding the mention of a new section of the RDA opening with employees to fill all positions. Aside from that one shred of news- It was almost like living a rerun of your life every day. Though, you would be lying if you said they didn’t love what you did for a living. Honestly, Fern Vesper was the ‘Jack-Of-All-Trades’. Combat knowledge, tech-savvy, and crafty. Another plus was Fern’s smarts; despite not having a degree- the RDA simply tested them to make sure Fern was as good of an asset as they were claiming to be. Once you passed that test it was a breeze to get a job there. Their overlooking your lack of college experience when it came to hiring was one of the reasons you joined. One of them. Another reason was due to your history. The RDA didn’t seem to mind too much either provided you didn’t cause them any issues.

The past IS the past. Nothing more needs to be said about it. People make mistakes. But, they grow from it and learn.. Still, it didn’t stop some of the guilt that ate away at you while you lie there in bed.

It was after work hours, you had been looking through work emails on your tablet. No jobs or requests meant you had all the time in the world to do what you did best: Researching whatever the hell you wanted. All information was valuable after all. The newer the discovery - the better.

This deep, rough, commanding voice echoed through the halls from an upcoming room with its door open. This wasn't typical since all information was kept on a ‘need-to-know basis. Doors were closed when in conference rooms. SO, Knowing the door wasn’t closed, you saw this as an opportunity to see what was going on. Maybe there was food involved, like a potluck. Who would miss out on free food?

‘CERTAINLY, NOT I’ you think, chuckling to yourself as both feet stopped just before the threshold. You inhaled slowly and softly, making sure you weren’t making too much noise to not alert anyone within, just in case you weren't meant to see or hear whatever was going on. Ever so slowly, hues round the corner to peek in.

The room held a ‘squad’ or ‘team’ of men and women who stood rigid unmoving towards the front of the room facing the aforementioned door. Luckily it seemed they didn’t take notice of you at the time; Their eyes never faltered from the source of the voice. Without warning a muscular body would move in front of them effectively blocking them from your view, but, facing the soldiers standing at attention. What a sight to see. The entire room still with that many bodies in there- it was kind of freaky. Like a bunch of statues.

“Alright, I’m feeling particularly jolly this evening soldiers.” He began, moving down the line of his group- “If any one of you can tell me what the most important thing is when you find yourself in new territory.. I’ll let you all go for the evening. It is Friday after all.” a dark chuckle followed as the men and women in that room looked around at one another. Finally, they all attempted to answer him but to no avail. Some even began to look disgruntled.

“I’d suggest securing a food suppl-”

“That’s not true! A shelter is the first thing you should secure!”

You cant tell who said that. It wasn't until people started to shift their attention to you that you realized that voice was YOUR voice before your brain could even process the fact your lips had moved. And with that single slip up all eyes were now on the intruder standing in the doorway. Especially his. Those icy blue hues drank in the other form. Every single detail. Every curve. He was taking a mental image to remember for later. In case this little disturbance decides to book it out of here and run. You could tell- this man was sizing them up.

Finally, his hues met yours and it felt as though you had been thrown into an icy Volcano. Like the ground beneath your feet quaked. Something had changed that day. He had narrowed his eyes, his hands still behind his back as he slowly moved to them like a serpent about to strike.

"Excuse me?"

"I-I just mean the average human body can go up to at least two weeks, if not more and while it isn't ideal-... you can use at least the first part securing a shelter and once that is taken c-care of.." It was like this man's presence sucked the air from whatever room he was in. Or maybe it was your social anxiety working itself up. Your eyes broke from the commanding body before you to look at the soldiers in the room who held no expression on their faces. A few had their brows knitted in a sort of: How could you question our leader??

A gust of breath sounded from the elder male, his pearly whites coming into view as he smiled- a smile that said: you done goofed. Lifting his left hand, he spoke:

"All of you are dismissed. Lyle, Please take our new friend into Room 2-C... I think we have some things we need to... discuss." One last look up and down before he pushed past Fern and Jones. This meant the conversation was done.

Was it worth it? Probably not. Fern never was smart when it came to social situations. They’d much rather be off alone somewhere with their nose in a book, or out in the field doing research work. But, surely they couldn’t be in too much trouble, besides they were the newbies here, Fern huffed at their internal monologue. Was only trying to make sure he understood that his men and women would be better working on a shelter and making sure everyone was okay before walking off to find food. At the same time, his statement as well could be true. But, you won't lose energy until around the two-week mark. Not the critical amount he is trying to make it seem anyways. On week two without anything accomplished one might as well accept their fate. THEN AGAIN SOME FACTORS CAN PLAY A PART TOO. Why didn't you blurt that out too?!

"I am not to be disturbed. Understood?"

Your heart began to beat in more rapid successions upon hearing the growl that fell from that man’s lips. It was enough to bring you back from your thoughts- cleverly disguised as an internal scolding. The door opened and closed in one fluid movement. Your orbs watched his massive, bulky frame fill up the room as he entered, moving around you, circling his prey in a sense, stopping just in front of you. His hand grabbed the chair seated directly across from yours and pulled it closer before he sat. Silence engulfed the room once more. Except for that massive pounding in your chest. Could he hear it? No, of course not. He was human. A dangerous-attractiv-

"What's your name?"

"Fern Vesper.. I'm a part of the research team and-"

"Awful long name. Fern Vesper, I'm a part of the research team." Visibly, you flinched as he reminded them he ONLY asked for your name.

“Fern.”

“Alright, Fern.” He retorted, his signature grin returning to his face as he leaned back, muscular arms crossing over his chest, fingers tucked under his armpits. His smile seemed to soothe you as you felt more at ease and oddly warm.. Matter of fact, it was getting warmer. Your cheeks felt as though they were on fire! Hues lifted to look back at the man as he had laughed softly, only to find that he was looking at the nervous mess in front of him known as: Y.O.U.

Shit.

“Colonel Miles Quaritch. Just joined as the leader of the-”

“Security Administration.”

Annoyance was the dullest thing the Colonel was feeling at the moment. This little pipsqueak was brave for as scrawny as Miles thought they were. Maybe he was right, only time would tell as that baggy uniform wouldn’t be what you were wearing here soon. Running his tongue across his teeth the former marine leaned forward, resting his forearms upon his knees. It caused a cold shiver to run up your spine.

“You ever heard of the old saying: ‘Think before you speak?’” The man before you finally stated, opting to ignore the obvious flushed face of yours. It was a beautiful sight for him. The blood pooling beneath your cheeks mixing with your skin tone made you radiant. And damn was he a sucker for a pretty little thing like you. “That means, shut the hell up if I am talking- until you have permission to speak. Do we understand?”

The muscles in your jaw clenched as you pursed your lips slightly. Something you did to stop yourself from speaking up and shoving your foot in your mouth. A single nod only came from you in response. That, however, was not good enough for him.

“I can't hear you nod, agent! That’s why god invented mouths, now let’s use ‘em”

“. . . Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“What..?” Confusion flooded your face as you felt the anger quickly being replaced by the aforementioned emotion. This only made Quaritch grin. He felt as though this relationship was going to be his favorite kind. The kind that would remind him of those nights in Nigeria. On the battlefield. He simply growled out to be addressed with a title. Sir or Colonel. Nothing less. Maybe it was him tilting his head to the side that made you become less- confrontational. “Yes.. Sir..”

“Now damn, was that so hard?” Straightening himself back up in his chair, his hands resting on his knees, he continued. “So, a smart person such as yourself must have a pretty good understanding of this place- right?” You could only nod as the man continued. He didn’t seriously want to hear from you preferring to have you listen. “So, I suppose you’ll be my little helper until I am settled or until I dismiss you.”

“Uhhhh- hah- what? No, listen I have-”

“The RDA has stated I may take what resources I need to help me settle in. And you by opening that trap of yours, have volunteered.” Outstretching his palms, his face twisted into an expression that said: Go ahead and argue with me. When no argument arose he slammed his massive palms together in a clap, the noise loudly echoing in the room making you jump. As he intended. “Seems like we are finally getting somewhere. Good.” came his low, growl of a voice, his boot hooking one of the legs of your chair, pulling you closer as he continued to discuss with you deep into the night..

~To Be Continued~

#Quaritch x reader #Quaritch fanfic #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #avatar #avatar 2009

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wedriftlikelonelyplanets · 6 days

Note

🍓🧃🧸🪲

🍓 - How did you get into writing fanfiction?

ALRIGHT SO I've been involved in the online RP community since I was like 15-ish...i think? Anyhow, I've been writing for literal years. I am, however, incredibly self-conscious about my own writing. I've dwelled in many a fandom space as well, honestly.

After getting into F1, I've felt like I've been kinda on the outskirts of a community I really love (not on the outskirts for a negative reason, I'm just incredibly shy and worry that I'm annoying), and it's given me kinda...I guess a little burst of confidence. I wrote my first fic after the Hungarian Grand Prix of this year because there was just...something SO COMPELLING about the dynamic between Lando and Oscar during/after that race. Since THEN I haven't been able to stop, and I've really been loving being a part of this community.

That, and the fact that the stuff that I've written has been so well received has made me more comfortable to continue writing within a fandom space.

🧃 - Share some personal lore you've never shared before

OKAY WELL THEN...Idk there's a lot I blab about on the internet so I've gotta think about this one.

I have what is probably undiagnosed hEDS (hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndrome), and likely never will be diagnosed because I'm a fat, female presenting woman. This means I experience a lot of chronic pain, and actually deal with regular shoulder subluxations that put a damper in my ability to do my job sometimes

Despite being an elder emo, I've never actually been to a music festival, despite my longing and desire. This is primarily in part due to the fact that I live in a small city in Canada that doesn't really get a lot of fun music in general

I blab about this a lot, but I'm a Registered Veterinary Technologist, and have been for 5 years, and I'm likely going back to school to actually become a vet, because I finally found a clinic that makes me love my job again!!

🧸 - what's the fastest way to become mutuals with me?

UH GREAT QUESTION. I guess interact with me, chat with me, my askbox AND my messages are always open. I don't specifically mean you need to like and comment on my fics, but like...interact with my content. I love to yap, give advice, and just chat. I've dealt with a sudden influx of followers since starting to write fanfic (this is not said to sound vain), and I feel like I can no longer just follow people willy-nilly anymore. Honestly I often do click through to the blogs of new followers, but I sometimes just get overwhelmed.

Hell, even if you just message me and are like "this song made me think of x, y and z" i'd love you forever.

And interact of anon. I love all of you darling anonymous folks that come into my ask box but i want to stroke your faces lovingly and reblog things from your tumblrs and I can't do that when I don't know who you are.

🐞 - Using this in place of the other beetle BECAUSE IT DOESN'T WORK ON MY PC but - Write 50 words for your current work in progress and then post that paragraph here

I see what you're doing, anon, keeping me on task and also getting some snippets out of me...(such a mean trick to play...jk)

“More?” Lando asks, and Oscar shakes his head. Lando places the mug back on the tray, reaches out to brush Oscar’s hair back from his face again, fingers catching in the tangled strands. Oscar leans into the touch, presses his cheek against Lando’s palm, presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist where he can reach it. Just a brush of his lips, softer than soft. It should feel infantilizing, to be cared for like this, but it soothes the part of him that makes him feel like he always has to be calm and collected, always in control

THIS IS MORE THAN 50 WORDS, MERRY CHRISTMAS.

#ask games #asks #landoscar #githhhw verse

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gate4043 · 10 months

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This was the first outfit I wore out of the house.

I was terrified. Wearing an old blue shirt I've had for years that was kinda girly but you can't really see it, it was more for me and for my confidence, a black pinafore dress, stockings, and you can't see them but just my white cheap kmart sneakers. I was also wearing breast forms (I think D cup ones) I'd bought off amazon and a shitty Bonds bra that had managed to keep them in place. I hadn't shaved my arms in a while, so I was afraid to take off the jacket. You can't see it, but my bald spot had gotten really bad, which I thankfully didn't notice until I got home.

It was a Saturday. My mum and stepdad would get back from holiday the next day, so I only had that day to do it. But it was late in the day by the time I'd actually mustered up the courage and put together an outfit. My car was parked out on the lawn, and our neighbours talked a lot with my parents and the neighbour across the street was pretty nosey and watched us a lot. I had zipped up my jacket and put on a pair of jeans so that I could drive my car into the driveway, go back inside and take my pants off, then hop back in the car and go to the only shop that was open at 9:30 something on a Saturday that people wouldn't recognise me at.

It did go wrong a little. The part of the garage that opens up to the back was a little ajar, which meant the dog ran through and out into the front yard. I panicked, pulled back into the driveway, and then ran around to the front door and desperately called him in.

I drove to the shop panicking the entire time. It was amazing, and it was scary as shit to be doing it, I assuredly accidentally broke some traffic rules out of sheer nervousness. Rolled up to the shop. Worst experience I've ever had out in public. Everyone stared. Got called a freak by a passerby whispering under his breath, to this day that's the only time that's ever fucking happened. Got inside, bunch of stares and misgendering from old cis white dudes, and everyone else in the shop was actually really lovely. Clocked the checkout as kinda queer, they were super nice about everything, headed home, freaked the fuck out.

Here I am fourteen months later in May of this year

So that's just under six months on E at the time. Went out to a friend's first year E anniversary, it was wild, there were multiple people being held by their partners with leads, there was a person in crazy makeup and a top hat and boot heels and they explained to me where they got their hat, I got to sit in a cute girl's lap and snuggle, it was great.

I wanna talk about confidence

When I was in the closet, when I was finally starting to come out, I was doing a lot more than I'd ever done before. I'd gotten clothes from my brother's fiancée, then girlfriend, which fit me, and I'd dress up around the house and run around with the lights off upstairs because the neighbours on both the front and back of the house could see through into ours and again, they talked. All it would have taken is one dickhead blabbing and suddenly a shitstorm would've broke loose.

I have an awkward body for transitioning. What's worse, I could've prevented it because I've known I was trans for that long. Shoes won't fit me, don't even bother trying, my feet are fucking massive, even for guys. My shoulders are just wide. I know the jacket didn't help, but believe me, it wasn't as thick as it looks. I have a serious body hair problem which I hope to all fuck will get sorted out in some way with hormones, but I expect before long I'll be getting full body electrolysis, damn the expense.

This is why I'm showing this stuff, is because I was not confident, I was not the kind of trans person who posts a bunch of pictures of themselves to the internet and I'm still not that and I don't think I'll ever be that. Right now it's almost 2 AM, I haven't shaved all day, the toilet's clogged and I didn't want to sit down in the water so I was forced to stand up to pee because I was busting which made me feel dysphoric and gave me impostor syndrome at the same time and I have work tomorrow. But I know seeing a trans person I can relate to helps me whenever I'm feeling down, and I felt like sharing this.

It's okay to be a mess of a person, you don't have to be like the really fucking beautiful people I see on the internet all the time. You can be a goblin that struggles to achieve humanity, let alone gender presentation, and that doesn't change who you are on the inside and that doesn't mean that you can't do everything you wanna do and be everything you wanna be. Don't let it discourage you, you're awesome. You're always gonna be awesome. G'night.

#trans #trans pride #traaaaaaannnnnnnnnns #closet stories

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.3

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Three: When I’m Over You: Spencer’s desperate attempt to move on from you doesn't quite go as planned. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

series masterlist

A/N: omg thank you for the kind kind feedback to the last chapter! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account.. but i am so glad you like the series so far, it genuinely it means a lot to me!!

A large window exposed the handsome brunette gentleman not only the restaurant goers, but also the world outside. Any average passerby could detect that he was nervous. Leg shaking underneath the table. Fingers tapping the surface. Quick glances between the watch on his wrist, and the entrance of the restaurant.

Table for two yet he currently sat alone, most likely waiting for someone. A date.

Yes, Spencer decided it was time to put himself out there once again. To really try and get over you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask his friends for advise on how to go about moving on because they would instantly figure out it had something to do with you. So instead he was forced to turn to a source he usually tried to stray from - the internet.

After hours of browsing Spencer decided majority of the tips were, for lack of a better word, shitty and didn't really apply to his situation. Don't torture yourself. Purge your pictures. No contact rule. Allow some fantasising. Visualise your future.

He was about to give up when one word caught his eye. Rebound. Although the concept seemed cruel at first, it was quite frankly the only viable option. Plus from conversations he overheard at work between his colleagues there was nothing wrong with a little causal dating.

Fast forward a couple of days and here he was, patiently waiting for his date to arrive.

Spencer was feeling anxious. He hadn't been out to dinner with a stranger like this in some time. He also couldn't help but wonder whether this would actually work.

Back when you and Ethan first got together, the brunette doctor did go out a few times. Dinners, drinks, coffee meet-ups, museum outings etc., nothing worked as effectively as he had hoped it would. Honestly, it didn't work at all.

Although, to be fair, Spencer didn't try as hard as he could have. He deliberately picked people he knew he wouldn't hit it off with. Self-sabotage. Majority of the dates he went on were cut short by him, and the ones that made it to the end... Well, there was rarely a second and never a third.

The brunette agent looked in the direction of the door once again. For a brief moment he considered walking out, texting his date to cancel - ‘Something came up. Can we reschedule?’. No harm, no foul.

He should have done that. He should have, but he didn't. Instead the person he was supposed to meet did. And as his phone buzzed on the table, an apology message illuminating the screen, Spencer’s eyes found themselves focusing instead on the last person he wanted to see right now.

You.

The air caught in his throat. His instincts told him to duck his head down yet he found himself unable to move. Eyes fixated on you. Wondering why you were here. Wondering whether you were alone. Wondering whether perhaps he should try and get your attention.

You noticed him just as you were about to leave. A kindhearted smile spread on your face the second your gaze landed on him, and Spencer waved awkwardly from his seat. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him.

“Fancy seeing you here doctor.” You said warmly.

Spencer cleared his throat. “You too.” He responded, nervously smiling back at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You directed his focus to a rather large paper gift bag you were holding. “Just collecting some things that were left behind after our engagement party.”

The brunette agent facepalmed himself mentally. Of course. How could he be so stupid to overlook that this was the same restaurant as your party.

“How about you? Are you waiting on someone?” You asked, glancing briefly at the empty seat across from him. Spencer nodded slowly. “I was yes, but they just cancelled.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” An apologetic look graced your features but the brunette doctor shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You glanced at the seat once again before lifting your hand over your shoulder and pointing back to the exit. “Well, I should go. I have a bottle of wine at home with my name on it but I will see you bright and early on Monday doctor.”

Shooting him one last warm smile, you turned around and were about to walk away when he grabbed your attention one more time.

“Would you like to join me?” Spencer asked causing you to spin back on your heel to look at him again. “I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes, holding up the table, so I kind of feel bad leaving without ordering anything.” He explained.

“Only if you promise we split the bill evenly in half.” You grinned as Spencer chuckled. “Fine, I promise.” He responded. Satisfied with his answer, you placed the paper bag next to table before taking off your jacket. The brunette doctor sprung to his feet and took the garment from you. He walked up to the nearest coat hanger as you made yourself comfortable in the empty seat.

“Where is Ethan tonight?” Spencer asked sitting back down. He signalled the waiter to bring over the menus. “I don't want to be keeping you if he’s waiting at home.” He said, even though it was a lie.

“Ethan is working.” You replied, a sad tone to your voice that Spencer detected instantly. “Which is why I’m glad you asked me to stay because otherwise my dinner would consist of frozen pizza.” You added. “Don’t forget the bottle of wine that has your name on it.” Spencer jokingly reminded and you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.

The waiter appeared shortly after. They handed you each a menu and asked whether you would like something to drink in the meantime. Since you had to drive home later, you only asked for water. Not wanting to drink alone, mainly in fear he would blab the reason he was really here in the first place, Spencer did the same.

Soon enough the two of you were lost in a naturally flowing conversation. Each of you took turns filling every breath with more interesting topics. It wasn’t strange since Spencer and you never particularly had any difficulties in that area.

You placed your orders briskly, eager to return to whatever it was that you were talking about. Even when the food arrived, if one of you paused to take a bite the other would jump in and start rambling off. It was nice to say the least.

“Can I ask you something Spencer?” You enquired while finishing your meal and placing the cutlery on top of your empty plate. “Anything.” Spencer replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

Spencer wanted to lie and say that you weren't but no matter what way he looked at it, as an ex or as a friend, it just didn't seem fair. Therefore the silence that enveloped around you was answer enough. Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

You looked out the large window next to you and let out a quiet sigh. It didn't come as a surprise that Spencer felt this way. It hurt just a little however, mainly because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that sometimes you felt the same way. That there were nights you lay awake thinking that you should have said no.

You loved Ethan, and he loved you. He made you laugh, he cared for you. If one day you’d have kids you knew that he would make a great father and that your children would get everything they could ever dream of; they wouldn't even have to ask. All of that should be enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there were days, moments, where you couldn't help but feel like something important was missing.

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked back at him. Meeting his inviting gaze, you pursed your lips into a gentle smile.

The brunette doctor leaned forward. “Do you remember that case we worked in Missoula a few years back?” He asked, changing the subject.

Before he got a chance to elaborate you cut in politely, knowing exactly which case he was talking about. “Of course I remember doctor. It was my first case with the team.” You said, fondly remembering the memory.

“Hotch asked you to play Prince Charming to the unsub, which looking back at it now makes a lot of sense to me. You do have a lot of Prince Charming qualities.” Spencer smirked softly at your comment. “I have Prince Charming qualities?” He raised a curious brow.

“Are you kidding me? Charisma, smarts, kind heart. The perfect hair, warm smile, and just overall good looks.” You chimed. The small smile on your face grew a little bigger. “You tick all the boxes my friend. Disney could use you as a blueprint.”

Spencer laughed. “Good to know.”

The two of you sat there for a second just smiling at one another.

“Why do you ask though?” You asked reaching for your water; breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer licked his lips before taking in a quick breath. “You said something to me on the plane back home that I think applies now; ‘Meant to be isn't real. It’s a concept. You can’t know if something is meant to be unless you live through it, therefore you can’t know if something is a mistake unless you give it a go. Fairy tales and happy endings are made only by people that live them.’.”

Your eyes began to gloss over with tears. Trying to fight back the floods, you chewed down on your bottom lip and swallowed your breath. You couldn't believe he remembered. Yes, he has an eidetic memory but you couldn't believe he remembered.

“You will get your happy ending Y/N.” Spencer stated confidently. “I know you will.”

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear.

Slowly, you wiped your cheeks for any tears that escaped your eyes and smiled kindly. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say doctor?”

“Years of practice as a profiler.” He answered. “Plus having an eidetic memory helps.” He joked, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, your eyes once again locking with his. This time however there was a sort of shyness surrounding it. When your heart skipped a beat, when the palms of your hands began to sweat, when you couldn't bring yourself to look away, well, that should have been an indication that you were in trouble.

And while you played off the warning signs as nothing more than a friendship bond, Spencer realised that any efforts to ‘find a rebound’ would be wasteful.

There was no-one on this planet that would come remotely close to you.

Someday, someday Some way, some way When I'm over you

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the third chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor

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kinder-writes-surprises · 4 years

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Vision Blab: Plot? Never!

Hi, writer’s block is a BITCH and I have a personal grudge against it, however I also value my terrible writing, so I’m here to dump some Vision x Reader porn :)

PS. this sucks don’t read it if you don’t want to :)

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

Word Count: 4758

It felt like you were drugged: You were absolutely and completely addicted to a computer with legs. His skin was tough like a rhinovirus, yet smooth on the outside, small patterns of hexagons only a trained eye could detect, with little bumps all over it and the chilled, metallic feeling of the outside of a gun. Sinking your teeth into that skin felt like a distant dream until the lock down.

You were used to staying in the base, but not being trapped inside. A small misunderstanding with the US Government had Captain America on the run. Stark assured all of the Avengers, including yourself, that the situation would be resolved in a few days time, and to just hunker down and perform your daily routine as usual, save for the lack of one teacher and the ability to leave and get donuts.

"I just don't see why he's gotta be up in their faces," Rhodey was clearly voicing his concerns to Sam, who hadn't been in contact with Rogers since he accidentally blew a "place" up. You were in the kitchen chopping vegetables to make a simple stew, watching them with feigned amusement. They already had this conversation two hours ago, five hours ago, and right when the facility went on lock down. You clicked your tongue, garnering their attention.

"Let the situation play out, we already know he's innocent," You went back to chopping the vegetables, throwing what you had in the pot and setting aside the others for precooking. Sam sat down with a sigh.

"Maybe, but the military doesn't know that," He raised his eyebrows, seeming apprehensive. Rhodey shook his head, hands on his hips.

"We need to step in and resolve this," He snapped, and you locked eyes with him before giving a decisive chop.

"If we step in, we risk escalating it. Your name is War Machine," You reminded him with deadpan in your eyes. He looked away with a twinge of embarrassment.

"True. This just feels wrong," He sighed, scratching the back of his head and glancing at the big pot you were adding to, "Whatcha making?"

"Stew. I figured we all needed some comfort food," A voice from the hallway behind you caught everyone's attention: a feminine, thick accent.

"It smells divine," The magical girl offered you a small smile, which you returned in full as you set the heat for the oil in the other pain.

"Thank you Wanda," You gave her a nod, "It'll be ready in time for dinner."

"Dinner? Oh c'mon it's lunch time!" Rhodey whined, and Sam nodded, looking to you expectantly. You scoffed, eyes wide.

"I'm not your maid, nor your mother. Make a sandwich," You chuckled, shaking your head. Wanda giggled, walking behind you to get to the fridge.

"If you slice the meats, I will make the rest," The boys were up and ready immediately, enticed by the idea of immediate food. You had to explain that stewing took time, and unbeknownst to you, a watchful eye was taking the information in, fascinated by the family recipe. Where were the instructions, rules, parameters? How did you know this all? Most human customs could be found on the internet, but not everything.

The same pair of blue eyes graced your presence for dinner, when everyone got together at the table and enjoyed the stew. Natasha commented that it reminded her of Russia, but Stark reminded her that leeks were Asian. The individual who couldn't eat tried to stay out of the conversation, but was eventually brought in as a human calculate to give Stark some closure on a bet with Rhodey.

You watched on with amusement, eyes mostly lingering around the neck of the walking AI. The way it moved when he spoke, the slow nods he gave that reminded you of a therapist gathering information. Your eyes travelled in from his broad shoulders to his collarbone, admiring the structure and wondering yet again how it tasted. The texture under your tongue would definitely be admirable, but you wondered if the robot could even have such thoughts. Surely he didn't understand the complexity of pining, wanton need, and he probably didn't even have a libido, much less one that matched yours that raged whenever he was near.

Your stolen glance at the man didn't remain unnoticed, "So, did you make the food just to distract us from you eating him with your eyes, or am I missing something?" Natasha asked cockily, and you nearly choked, turning to her with cheeks insanely dark. You were eternally grateful that she had kept her voice down, but the smug expression on her face gave most of the situation away.

"Natasha..." You scowled, face still red. She nodded, shoving a piece of stew meat into her mouth. She leaned closer from her seat beside you.

"He's a robot, subtle isn't his thing," She chuckled, and you groaned softly, looking down at your plate with complete embarrassment. You hadn't expected to be called out so obviously.

"It's my thing," You gave her wide warning eyes, to which she clicked her tongue and turned back to the boys, continuing the conversation.

You were safe from her teasing for the rest of the dinner. Most people resided to their rooms to do whatever heroes do after a long day's work and not being able to go out. Your idea had involved eating a spicy snack while watching a horror movie, but upon remembering the small smile Vision gave you during dinner, your focuses turned elsewhere.

His blue eyes, so captivating, so curious. You wondered if he was curious about the human body, if he had ever studied sex, if he'd taken a liking to any parts of it. Your hands travelled downwards, removing your bottoms and underwear. Movie and snacks forgotten, you turned the volume up a bit to cover your inevitable moans. No other ima`ginary bedroom fantasies could make you like this, but Vision? The soft soul who wishes only good on others, who yearns for friendship from everyone in the compound, who memorizes the staff's coffee orders just in case of a rainy day... You were head over heels for this man.

The rooms were mostly sound proof, but you were still paranoid, so you bit into your pillow while you worked yourself up, imagining it was his patterned, smooth hands, perhaps he would like you to match a pair of lingerie to his ruby red... well, you assumed it was skin. It was vibranium, but still.

Pumping in and out of you, figuring out what drove you mad and not stopping until he had pushed you over the edge, both of you excited for the finale. Your toes sunk into the bed sheets, your other hand roaming your body before resting on your clit, massaging it and causing your back to arch while you soft cooed the name of who you wish was your torturer.

It was a dreadful habit of his: he forgot that others couldn't phase through walls, and he ended up seeing things others would rather him not see. Half naked, them watching something out of character, etc. Alas, he was working on it...

He had stayed with Sam for a bit after dinner. He reminisced catching a sneak peak of the woman who made it, mesmerized by her harmonious movements, the quick quips back at Rhodey and Sam for wanting food sooner, and her shy humbleness during dinner when Stark complimented the dish. She was gorgeous, brave, and most of all, according to the internet, she liked him back.

She turned pink at all the right times, stumbled over her words only when speaking with him, and either is trying to violently get away from him or spend all of her time with him. He had downloaded all the information necessary to flirt, although seeing as Stark called them useless, he was back to square one.

Sam and him talked about his wings and the difference between flying with them and just having the ability to fly. Once Sam became bored, they both turned in for the night. Vision picked up after himself and went back to make sure the table was cleaned. Once he was sure everything was in order for the night, he made his way to the hall. With his enhanced hearing, he noticed what each Avenger was doing in their rooms. Bathing, watching TV, training, and some making noises he had learned meant to stay out.

Except he hadn't ever heard those noises from this particular room. It was (F/N)'s room, and he attempted to ignore them, keeping his head high and pace steady until he faintly heard his own name. He paused, then turned around elegantly to go back, standing in front of her door.

There again was his name, moaned in a long, drawn out voice that ended with more panting. It almost sounded like she was working out, but he knew from limited experience that he shouldn't take his chances. It was covered by a thick layer of music, but why would she say his name in such a way?

So he looked back down the hall, mind working a mile a minute. She was calling for him... Perhaps she was thinking about punching him? That would set his admiration scale back to below zero, like when he first met her. But the sweet sound of her voice didn't sound like it held hatred...

In fact, it sounded like it held pain. It previously felt euphoric, but it had suddenly become more desperate and higher pitched. If she was being assassinated, he would never forgive himself for not checking immediately. Her TV was also on, the assailant could be using it as a cover. He stepped through her door, making himself known before he saw her, "Miss (F/N)-"

The scream that erupted from the girl on the bed set his nerves on fire, and a few shuffles from other rooms could be heard. He stood in surprise: Her hands had been between her legs, fingers inside of herself. Her body laid out like a delicate flower, chest pushed up and muscles contracted. Upon hearing his voice, her immediate reaction was to scream and bolt upright, eyes wide and panting. She grabbed her bed sheets and covered herself, all while shouting at the shocked man.

"Fuck - oh my gods - GET OUT! Get out Vision, what the fuck? Get out!" She screamed, face beet red and clearly furious. He was given a stark reminder as to why he needed to knock.

"My apologies, I heard you calling my name and-" She didn't let him finish, instead wrapping herself in her sheets and pushing off the bed, her eyes spelling murder.

"You didn't fucking knock? What the HELL. You've got some fucking nerve, android," She snapped, stomping furiously toward him, obviously still embarrassed by her flushed expression. He put his hands up, genuinely worried that she would attack him. Instead, she stopped in front of him, "Why aren't you out? Get out!"

"I'm sorry, so sorry (F/N)," He took a hesitant step back, beginning to understand was real embarrassment was like. She was practically fuming, and before he could leave, she grabbed his arm, teeth grinding together while she tried to string a sentence together.

"Do you even - understand - how wrong.... what you did... was?" Her grip was tightening, and he observed her starting to try and calm herself down with deeper breathes.

"What you were doing was a personal, human affair," He stated with a hesitant nod, and you were about to nod with him, but you thought of a better option. When he first scared the living shit of out you, your reaction was purely instinct. Now that you were thinking straighter, you realized that if you could push your dignity to the side, perhaps you could get what you've been wanting...

You were still riled up after all, and you knew that learning how to be human was something he adored, "If you're trying to exclude yourself from that group," You took another deep breath, using your grip on his arm to steady yourself, "Technically, I mean, you can probably..." You looked down to his navel region, nodding. When your eyes snapped back up, you were met with a confused set of robotic eyes.

"I'm not following your logic, Miss (F/N)," His velvety accent wasn't doing your aching core any good. If he didn't leave soon, you might not be able to stop yourself from jumping him, "Are you saying you don't wish for me to leave you?"

"I'm not - wait, I'm just -" As he tugged away from you, you tried to pull him back, and he got closer than before, his eyes scanning your face with curiosity, "Do you remember when you first came here?"

"Yes, I remember my birth quite vividly," He nodded slowly.

"And you remember how you made clothes for yourself, then a big ol' cape?"

"Yes," His voice was a whisper now, as if he was starting to follow your reasoning, "So what you are saying is... You think I can create a penis?"

"Always straightforward, eh?" You don't think your cheeks could get any darker at this point. He so obviously stated that, as if talking about the weather. You swallowed hard, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"I could try, but I need an example," He reminded you, and you finally let go of his arm, wrapping your own around your stomach in a protective, shy manner. The corners of his mouth raised up slightly, as if amused.

"Example..." You whispered to yourself, looking at the ground, "It's uh... I mean, you don't even have to do this..."

"But (F/N), you have peaked my curiosity, and you seem to have thought about this before," He stepped forward with the confidence of a pride of lions as always, placing a hand on your arm delicately. This must be a dream - never in a hundred years did you think this situation would happen. This was something out of a cheesy porno...

"Maybe I have," You whispered, then cleared your throat, looking behind you at the loud TV, "I... Vision, this is a lot more important than you realize," You looked back at him, and he looked as placid as always. You tried to get the message to sink in, "Sex, Vision. Sex means a lot. It bonds two people, it's not just... Casual, between friends, at least it's not usually..."

"We are both unusual people," His hand traced up to your neck as he took another step forward, almost closing the gap between you. Your hand shot up to cover his own, leaning your head into it.

"I don't want this to be between friends," You sighed, glancing between his arm and his eyes, "Please."

"You wish for this to be between lovers?" He sounded almost breathless. You'd never seem him this surprised before, not even when Stark had painted his entire room pink as a prank. You nodded with wide eyes, smiling.

"Yeah, that. I'd love to do this as lovers," You stayed put, waiting for his confirmation.

"That would be... New. But you seem like a lovely teacher," You closed the gap between you, reaching up behind his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

Once your feelings were established, you brought him to the bed, sitting down on the edge with your laptop. You felt like Stark would tease you for your search history, but you typed in "Erect penis," and scrolled through a few photos before landing on one. You handed the laptop over to the robotic man, and he studied it shamelessly. As he did, he muttered, "Could you turn your TV down, I'm terribly sorry, but I must focus."

"Of course, yeah," You bolted up, rushing to the TV. You turned it off completely, and when you sat back down, you observed him nodding slowly to himself.

"The structure is fairly simple. How large is it, might you say?" The question caught you off guard, and you scrambled for an answer. It's not like you thought about penises every day.

"Uh, sizes vary, but uh, the average is about five and a half inches tall. Most guys want more, girls too I guess," You pressed your lips together, looking away from him as he closed the laptop, the silence suddenly much too loud for your liking. This was about to happen - This was about to happen. You were going to teach a robot to love the old fashion way, and your adrenaline was surging.

He looked at you with confusion, but nodded, "What would you want?"

"Oh my gosh," You whispered to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. He recognized the expression and was quick to apologize for stepping out of line, but you shook your head, "No, it's just... This is all so lewd. Like, you're asking me to choose what size... okay, um, seven inches? Is that okay?" Your voice was rising in pitch.

"Yes. Are you alright, (F/N)? You seem almost scared of me," He leaned closer to you, and out of embarrassment, you leaned away groaning and chuckling.

"I'm horny Vision, read my vitals or something," You waved him off, embarrassed, and he nodded slowly. Turning back to him with a small smile, you studied his robotic face that held that same curious emotion as always.

"My research has said I, as the male, should control the situation. Is this correct to your standards?" Your eyes widened, and you cocked a sassy eyebrow before smirking and scooting closer to him.

"You'll have to fight for control, Vision," You traced down his leathery metallic arm, "I've wanted this, I've wanted you to ruin me, but if you construct the nerves right," You swung yourself around, dropping the blanket covering you and straddling his legs, "I can ruin you," You gave him a confident smile, and he tilted his head to the side.

You were going crazy with the feeling of your bare skin against his synthesized own. You leaned closer, but before you could kiss him, he shifted his body weight and you were suddenly under him, breathless, "That wasn't much of a fight, (F/N)."

"Oh fuck me," You muttered with a voracious grin, shifting him back over and pushing him against the bed by the shoulders, taking a mouthful of his neck and biting. He gawked, then lightly pushed your head away. You were attached like a leech, however, and he chuckled nervously.

"This would break my capillaries (F/N), are you trying to-? Oh, a hickey," For a robot, he was still pretty slow on the update, "I could allow such things," Grinding against him while you bit, enjoying the fleshy, metallic taste, you were surprised when he pushed himself to sit up, and you tried to push him back down.

However, you felt his skin disappear, and you fell against the bed. Before you could turn around, his hips were pressed against your ass, and his hands holding you in place, "Please behave, (F/N)."

As hot as he sounded, you wouldn't go down without a fight. You struggled, pushing against the male. He stayed in place like a brick wall, but when you felt his "breath" against your neck, you paused, your breath hitching.

"I do hope this doesn't hurt," You cried out lewdly when he sank his teeth into the back of your neck, pressing your legs together uncomfortably and grinding back against him. You moaned as he pulled at the skin, his lips rough but gentle against your skin. His arms were on either side of your head, and through your haze of lust, you saw an opening.

You hooked an arm around his own, shifting your weight and slamming his back against the bed. You twisted expertly, straddling him and grabbing his wrists. You pushed them down, and he stared at you with wide eyes, flickering down to your lips, then back up, "You seem to prefer the power, should I let you have it?"

"Don't give up now Vision," You were panting, "The play just adds to-" He tried to slip out of your grasp, and you pulled away when his hands were free, turning around to scramble off when he grabbed your waist, pulling you back onto his lap. You clawed his arms that were wrapped around you, then melted when one travelled up to your breast, the cold metal soothing you immediately.

"Relax (F/N), this is my first time, I don't want to have to hurt you," You felt your stomach twist around with anxious glee; he was starting to get the hang of this. You needed him inside of you though, so you ground back against him, wanton and needy.

"M-Make it Vision," You whispered, and he went silent. You thought you had done something wrong, but then you felt something poke against your ass, and you immediately knew that he had succeeded.

"Mission successful," He teased, and you laughed, shaking your head, "I hope you remember to hide it after this."

"I will," He then shifted against you, the metallic penis pressed across your labia, "Will you let me aid you, (F/N), or must I fight for dominance more?"

"N-No, I'll obey," You mentally slapped yourself. It wasn't like he was your master or anything, you just wanted to give him the full treatment, "Please yourself and me, don't..." You whimpered, grinding against him for more friction, "Don't leave yourself without any pleasure."

"I must say, the amount of nerve endings in the genitalia is astounding," You laughed breathily at his words, but reached down to grab his penis, "Let me," You paused upon grabbing it, the girth and length exactly as you had specified.

"Alright," He then released his grip on you.

"Lay down," You followed his command, "Please," You chuckled at him remembering his manners. Your heart quickened when he crawled on top of you. You placed one hand on his chest, and grabbed his shoulder with the other, "Shall I?"

"Please," You leaned up to kiss him, and he met you with gentle fervour. His cold tip pressed into you, and you shivered. He then sent some sort of signal to his pelvis region, and it heated up to body-temperature, "Thanks," You chuckled.

"I forgot how cold my skin is compared to your delicate own," He pressed on, and finally he was almost completely sheathed. You would need to stretch a little to take all of him, however.

"I'm not delic-cate..." You whispered, "I'm an assassin."

He pulled back, then snapped his hips forward, sending stars across your vision and a soft whimper from your lips, "I must disagree, you are metaphorically melting underneath me."

"Fuck," You whined, and he started a rhythm, making your head spin. When he finally was able to completely sheath within you, you rolled your hips against him, "Tell me h-how you feel, Vision."

"I assumed the nerve endings would cause me to feel pain, however," He paused, "I feel a nearly overwhelming sense of oxytocin."

"Human t-terms, Vision," He started to move, and you whimpered, rolling against him again. He got the idea and started to thrust slowly and cautiously, as if testing what level of his vast strength this would take.

"It feels very good," He chuckled shortly, his usual 'laugh' due to his nearly completely nonexistent sense of humour.

"Don't la-ah..." Before you could tell him not to laugh at you, he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you, raising your voice an octave and causing your eyes to shoot open, staring into his perplexed, interested own.

"How peculiar," He whispered, and like a robot would, he adjusted to only thrusting into that particular part of you. He was also picking up the pace in a methodical way.

"It-Ah, oh my gods, oh wow..." You grabbed the sheets under you, then grabbed his shoulders, taking deep breaths to try and get a hold of yourself, "Fuck... oh my gods Vision..."

"Please calm yourself (F/N), you're becoming quite loud," He almost sounded proud of himself, that bastard. You, however, didn't have much control over your moans, and you grit yourself, pushing a shaky breath out.

"Shut me up then," You let out a particularly loud whine, and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand, the other going to grab your waist to continue his ministrations. You felt your orgasm getting closer, and you grabbed his shoulder blades, writhing around and arching against him.

When it happened, you screamed against his hand, and his eyes widened, his hips not stopping. Your chest was heaving, and your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper into you. He didn't understand what you meant, however, and continued to thrust.

When you were just whining and whimpering, he finally lifted his hand and stopped, looking you over just like when he had first seen New York: absolutely mesmerized. You were flush red, panting, arched against his cool skin, and almost completely at his mercy. Maybe with a couple more rounds you would do anything for him, but you hoped it would take a while for him to learn that. You pulled him down for another kiss, and when he pulled back, a shaky, tasteless breath graced your lips, "You are objectively beautiful."

"That's just your oxyto-so-whatever talking," You giggled, and he shook his head as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I cannot lie unless I must, and why would I lie now? I could easily win against you-"

"If you say anything more," You had to take a couple deep breaths, still finding it hard to breathe, and envying his lack of needing to, "I'll tell Stark you know how to make a penis."

He nodded, and you had to laugh, shaking your head and sighing after. With him still inside of you, you sat comfortably for about a minute, then you asked him to pull out. He obliged, "You can talk now, just not about how pretty you think I am."

"You are, I must correct," You groaned, then whined, "Just lay next to me and cuddle, I think I only had one round in me."

"Cuddle..." He trailed on, his eyes narrowing in what you knew as 'searching the internet for every reference he can,' then he floated next to you and laid one arm across your stomach. You curled around him, wrapping a leg around his waist. You felt a distinct lack of penis now, noticing that he had dematerialized it. Not commenting on it, you cuddled closer. He seemed to heat up the part of his body you were cuddled into.

"You don't have to heat up that much... I kind of like how cold you are," You murmured, "It's you, distinctly you."

"Me," You felt him shift to look down at you, "I have a trait, that of a robot, that you view as special to me?"

"Some people are really warm, some are really cold. We call them human heaters or coolers. You're just a human cooler," You nuzzled into his chest, hugging him to you. He wrapped an arm under you, and you adjusted to get comfy. It wasn't like he would lose circulation overnight, assuming he would stay for a bit.

"Thank you," He spoke quietly, as if he didn't want to break whatever train of thought brought you to your conclusion. You swallowed hard, asking the inevitable question.

"What does this make us? Like, you know what dating is, right?"

"Of course," He rubbed your back softly, and you noted that it was right where it had been sore from earlier training. That bastard and his x-ray vision, "You may choose, for I have no experience to base this from."

"Let's call it dating, but not tell the others for a while, okay?" You smiled, starting to feel sleepy.

"Very well," He stayed in that position for a couple minutes until you realized something that brought the smile back to your now sleepy face.

"Did you make a heartbeat just for me?" You whispered, and he chuckled, the sound reverberating through his metallic chest.

"I thought it would sooth you. Would you like me to turn the lights down, (F/N)?"

"It does, and yes. Do you want to stay the night?" You felt your consciousness ebb and flow, and you fought to stay awake.

"Yes, I think I will."

#vision #vision x reader #the vision #the avengers #avengers #avengers civil war #marvel #scenario #smut #mod pasta

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mooncustafer · 3 years

Text

Recover, Regroup, Roadtrip

Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in March 1989. The case is still open. Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in October 2016. The case is still open.

for @laughingpinecone /

/ @countdowntotwinpeaks‘ WONDERFULXSTRANGE 2021

“Diane, I am uncertain of the date and time, or indeed if such concepts have any meaning in this place. Nor do I have my recorder, but I find verbalizing my thoughts helps me to resist the confusion and lethargy. As for addressing my words to you, even though you’ll never hear them— well, old habits die hard.”

It pleased Wally Brando on a profound level to discover that a few pay-phones remained in Philadelphia, that reaching out was not yet the prerogative only of those who could afford a landline or a mobile. He could also have checked his email on a terminal at one of the city’s Public Libraries, and indeed, made a note to do so within the day so that he might catch up on the news of parents and former school friends. The pay phone was also blessed with both the yellow and the white pages, and the number he sought appeared under “F.” Getting transferred to Dr. Albert Rosenfield was a more complex quest, but he was persistent as well as polite, and after a few minutes he was able to speak to Dr. Rosenfield’s voice mail, if not the man himself.

He introduced himself with salutations, and was about the explain the nature of his request when a beep signalled that the allotted time had run out.

“To listen to your message, press one. To re-record your message, press two,” said the voice of the machine.

Silently cursing his volubility, Wally pressed two. This time he simplified the introduction, and asked if Dr. Rosenfield would be good enough to meet him that evening at the Morimoto Japanese restaurant not far from the FBI offices, to discuss a matter of deep concern connected, he believed, with the little town of Twin Peaks. When the beep came this time, he listened to his message and then, satisfied, hung up. The restaurant he’d named was slightly above his means, but he was meeting a friend of his godfather, and wanted to do justice to the occasion, even if the reason for it was one of peculiar anxiety to himself.

“Diane, I have tried so many times to escape— on the last attempt I really did get out into the world, but my plans, I fear, had dire repercussions for you, and to no end— my course still led me back to the Black Lodge. Some flaw in my own nature keeps trapping me in this loop; perhaps it’s what they sometimes call Saṃsāra.”

It was Agent Tammy Preston’s custom, when scraping the internet for information relevant to one or more recent cases, to check her email inbox every seven minutes— to do so every five minutes would disrupt the flow of her work, but ten-minute gaps might let something important go unanswered for too long. Just now the inbox was due another glance, and switching tabs she saw that two minutes earlier Director Bryson had replied to Tammy’s email of that morning with an invitation to come by her desk at her earliest possible convenience.

Tammy locked her screen, paused ‘Soft Fuzzy Man’ on her playlist and removed her headphones. Picking up the folder marked Missing Persons, 1989– Palmer, she slipped back into her pumps and made for Bryson’s office. The door was open but Tammy stopped at the threshold and rapped on the wall.

“Come in,” said Director Bryson, looking up from a folder. Bossa nova music played softly in the background as Tammy entered and pulled up a chair. It sometimes puzzled Tammy that apart from herself and Director Gordon Cole, no one in this particular division of the FBI seemed to have any interest in music recorded after 1979. (The first few times she’d heard ‘Du Hast’ pounding through the walls of Cole’s office, she’d wondered if this taste for metal was the result, or perhaps the cause, of his hearing loss; but after he’d joked to an unamused Agent Rosenfield about how these were difficult times and difficult times called for Dave Brubeck, she’d looked up the reference in case it was a coded message, and then the next day had overheard Gordon whistling ‘Mister Sandman,’ a song she knew primarily from an internet meme, at which point she concluded that the ear wants what it wants, regardless of demographic.)

“You told me you’d found some serious inconsistencies in the records surrounding Twin Peaks and the Palmer case?”

Tammy nodded, hesitated:

“I believe there may be inconsistencies as well in my own perceptions of the case.”

“Well now, that I find a little harder to believe.” Bryson smiled, but then her voice grew serious: “I’ve looked over the notes you made, and it confirms my own doubts about events.”

“Worse yet— the fact that I truly left the Lodge and then returned to it, will enable the beings that inhabit this place to take another twenty-five year turn in my likeness, unleashing even more evil on the world. The only thing stalling them is the doppelgänger I had MIKE make for the Jones family, but I don’t know if he’s still under the White Lodge’s protection.”

After all these months it still surprised Harry Truman there was so little physical pain, and so much boredom, to dying. Oh there’d been pain at the beginning, when he’d started treatment and had had to stop drinking; the memory of detoxing still made him shudder. But now he only felt a tiredness too huge for sleep to make any dent in it; and since he couldn’t sleep all the time, there were a great many hours during which all he could do was lie in the hospice bed or sit in one of the hospice chairs, and think.

At this point dying didn’t even sound so bad— it wasn’t like the past three decades had been all that great. He imagined going to sleep, just filling up a big bowl of silence and darkness and sinking into it, and then he felt bad for thinking that because Frank had already lost enough people without Harry lighting out too. Anyways, with the things he’d seen over the years he’d be a damn fool to think there was anything peaceful about death and whatever came after. So he’d lie awake trying to find some other topic to ponder, and that’s generally when the boredom set in.

Right now, courtesy of the nap he’d had in the afternoon after today’s treatment had left him especially exhausted, he was lying awake in the wee small hours. 3:52 am, said the clock on his bedside table beside the stack of paperbacks Frank had brought him on his visits— Harry wasn’t afraid of e-readers the way Lucy was of cellular phones, but he found the smell of paper comforting. It reminded him of the Bookhouse. The hospice tended to smell of disinfectants and sweat and soup. The food actually wasn’t as bad as the food at the hospital in Twin Peaks used to be, not that any food could be as bad as the hospital food in Twin Peaks used to be, but it made no difference to Harry, whose appetite had been gone for months. Frank always brought a slice of Norma’s pie too, carefully sealed in an old cookie tin to keep it fresh, but Harry could never manage more than a couple of bites, and they didn’t always stay down.

Being awake in the middle of the night in a hospice wasn’t as bad as being awake in the middle of the night when you were alone at home— the occasional voices or footsteps from the corridors beyond were reminders that whatever might be happening to Harry, life went on for the staff; and the lights from the city outside showed that life went on for others outside the hospice walls. When he’d first arrived, those city lights had made it hard to sleep, but now they substituted for the starry sky above Twin Peaks. There were fewer birds to watch in the city, though sparrows, pigeons or a starling sometimes lit on the ledge outside his window and peered in at him, or maybe at their own reflections. The frequent rain pattering against the glass— well, that sounded the same here as it did in a cabin.

Frank had called to tell him about Margaret Lanterman. Harry sometimes wondered if he should have stayed in Twin Peaks and died in his own home like her, instead of lingering in this hospice like the doomed heroine of some nineteenth-century novel. Or like Annie Blackburn. Or Audrey Horne.

The rain was spattering now against Harry’s window, bending the light from the Japanese stone lantern in the pocket-sized garden below. Harry couldn’t remember what the hospice building looked like from the outside, but he guessed it was similar in style to the mid-century one next door where the day-patients came for their treatments. A flash silhouetted the roofline; five seconds later came the thunder-crack. Harry settled back and closed his eyes.

Sleep pulled him into dreams of an espresso machine, like the one in the coffee place down in the lobby next to the gift shop for visitors. This machine filled a whole room, metal pipes feeding back on themselves like some kind of espressouroboros, neither steam nor coffee escaping from the grotesque contraption. Agent Cooper stood wearily before it with two empty coffee-cups. Harry was just wondering who the second cup was for, when Coop looked up and met his eyes:

“What year is this?!”

Harry sat up in bed, listened intently for two full minutes, but he didn’t hear Coop’s voice again. He sighed. Sometimes the mind pulls imaginary sounds out of the background noise. False pattern recognition or something— Coop would have known a word for it. Harry had little hope left they’d ever find Cooper, or if they did, that he’d still be the man he’d known. Yet he’d carried on, more (he told himself) out of habit than any real hope. He’d kept in touch with Agent Rosenfield, even when it meant letting him know about the cancer— not that Albert would blab the secret to anyone in Twin Peaks.

“Hello?”

“Good, you’re still alive.” Albert’s personality hadn’t mellowed with the years, exactly, but familiarity had worn the edges off his jibes.

“Shut up, Albert. So what have you found?” Albert’s calls generally came every three months, but never at nine in the morning, and he’d last spoken to Harry only two weeks back. Something important must have happened.

“Actually, Sheriff Truman, I’m the one coming to you for information.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, it’s not easy to do investigations from a hospital bed. What can I tell you that you can’t get from other sources?”

“I need you to summarize the Laura Palmer case back in 1989, and the actions of Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks at that time.”

“Albert, is this one of your damn cognitive tests? You already know—”

“We’re both too tired to argue, just humor me.”

“How detailed do you want?”

“An outline will suffice.”

Harry took a deep breath and briefly listed the finding of Laura’s body, and the living but dazed and injured Ronnette, and the arrival of Agent Dale Cooper to lead the investigation. He skimmed over the crimes of Jacques Reneault and some of the other peripheral drama that had occurred in the town around that time, noted that Leland Palmer had murdered his own daughter, albeit while not fully himself, and was beginning to recount Cooper’s temporary suspension and Windom Earle’s campaign of terror, when Albert interrupted:

“You’ve still got the unofficial version, then.”

“Unofficial?”

“According to FBI records and your colleagues at the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Office, Laura Palmer is an unsolved missing-person case.”

Harry began to feel sick.

“Goddammit, Albert, you did the autopsy. I punched you and you fell across her body. You found a broken poker chip in her stomach—” Albert broke in:

“I hadn’t disclosed that detail to anybody I’ve questioned about this.” His voice was a little shaky. “Listen, Harry,” he continued. “Last Friday I was contacted by a young man wearing motorcycle leathers and talking like Jack Kerouac on quaaludes.”

“Wally.”

“Naturally I supposed him to be from your iodine-deficient neck of the woods even before he introduced himself as your godson and the offspring of those lieutenants of yours. He told me he’d come because he wasn’t sure where else to turn. Apparently he keeps in touch with his parents as he rides across the continent, but in their most recent conversation he’d noticed their memories of certain events had become confused. I was about to tell him I wasn’t the least bit surprised, when he added that he’d checked with other townsfolk, including your brother, and they all seemed to have had the same— how’d he put it? ‘The walls of their memory painted over like a childhood bedroom converted to a study.’”

”That sounds like Wally, all right.”

”Eventually he got round to explaining why he’d come to me. The message that had prompted him to call home was from Lucy; she said she’d shot a suspect who was attacking your brother Frank. She’d also mentioned some FBI agents arriving a few minutes later.”

Harry swallowed. He tried to imagine Lucy shooting anyone:

“Frank never said anything about this.”

“And when Wally called home, Andy and Lucy not only denied it had happened, they had no idea what he was talking about, not that I’d guess that to be an unusual state of affairs. Anyway, after I sent your godson away, I began to have contradictory memories myself of what Cooper had told me about the case. I remembered the poker chip after waking in the middle of the night from the worst dreams I’d had since medical school. I’ve been telling myself it was a false memory, maybe a composite of all the young female murder victims I’ve had to examine in my career, but I told myself I’d make one more phone call, just to check. And now you confirm it. Also, in my recall you knocked me across Leo Johnson’s body. Thanks for the correction. Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, glad he was already sitting on his bed.

“Now that that’s established,” said Albert’s voice on the other end of the phone: “here’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: when do you remember Agent Cooper disappearing?”

“March 1989.” Harry tried to keep his voice steady, as though he was giving evidence in court. He briefly explained about the Black Lodge and Coop’s reappearance and unsettling behaviour and how he’d checked himself out of the hospital and was never heard from again. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “Are you still there, Albert?”

“According to FBI records and, up until two days ago, my own memories: Coop disappeared this past October while driving to Odessa, Texas for a case. The last record of him was a credit-card charge at a motel just outside the city.”

“What was he investigating in Odessa?”

“Missing person. I’ve tried looking into that case, but it seems to be a dead end, especially since Coop never seems to have arrived at the diner where the man he was looking for had allegedly been running drugs.”

“Sounds like the kind of establishment where nobody’d admit anything. Maybe Coop did get to the diner.”

“Gee, you’ve cracked it Sheriff, we would never have thought of that. The diner was old-school, but not so old-school they didn’t have a security camera trained on the front counter. We went over three days worth of footage. I admit we can’t be sure he didn’t slip in through the back for some reason; but you knew Coop— can you honestly picture him entering a diner and not ordering a coffee?”

“Not the Coop I knew, but— I already told you he was acting pretty erratically just before he took off.”

Harry heard Albert sigh.

“I’ve been checking with a few of my colleagues who were involved in the original Palmer investigation. I think Gordon knows something, but being Gordon he’s saying nothing, and as loudly as possible. Denise— Director Bryson, now— remembers the unofficial version, and according to her so does Agent Preston— oh right, you never met Agent Tammy Preston, the poker-faced glamazon computer hacker— I’m not sure she was even born yet in 1989, but she was on a case in Twin Peaks in October 2016, and during the course of the subsequent paperwork, she started noticing a lot of records and statements didn’t match up, and then she realized her own memories didn’t match up. Which brings up another problem with trying to reason this out by conventional methods: something in that Salem’s Pacific-Northwest Lot of yours is rewriting memories, documents, maybe the facts themselves. But so far it’s predominantly affected the people who were on the spot this past October.” Albert’s voice rasped a little from the long phone call, and he paused to clear his throat. “Unfortunately, that also means the people most likely to remember the original version of events are people who weren’t in the Sheriff’s Office during the incident that seems to have triggered the change. At the risk of sounding like one of those bullshit shows on the History Channel, we may never know exactly what happened that night.”

“Wait, what even was the case that brought you all back in 2016?”

“That’s the problem— I’m one of the people who was there, and I only have vague and disconnected memories of a British man with a gardening glove, the chorus of Guys and Dolls, Agent Cooper leaving the room with Diane, his secretary who quit the FBI decades ago, and Gordon, and only Gordon coming back.” Albert paused again. “It goes against my personal feelings and medical opinions, but would you be willing to let me visit you in person? I’ve some vacation time and enough frequent-flyer miles that the trip will probably cost less than the long-distance charges if we continue this conversation.”

Harry opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out the key to Coop’s old hotel room:

“Yeah, come by.”

“Diane, I am currently alone. I realize that statement implies that I’m not always alone here, and indeed I sometimes have a companion, who I still think of as Laura Palmer, though I don’t know if that’s her identity anymore; I’d hoped, after my last attempt, that Laura would no longer be in this place at all. She comes and goes, or perhaps we both come and go and our orbits occasionally intersect. I’ve tried to find some pattern to it, but with no reliable way to measure time, I’ve had little success.

The last time we met she told me about a room she hadn’t seen before, all white walls, in which a dark-haired woman was contemplating a mirror with a puzzled look. I can’t help but feel this parallels my own situation.”

“Frank sent me this last month. But when I thanked him the next time he called, he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.” Albert hesitated before taking the room key:

“Great Northern Hotel,” he read, turning it over. “Twin Peaks. Isn’t the front desk going to want this back?”

“Unless I miss my guess, it’s from 1989 when Coop was staying there.”

Albert’s ears stuck out more noticeably, or perhaps it was his face that was thinner. He’d spent the first part of his visit scrutinizing Harry and questioning him about his case and what the doctors were doing for it, until Harry told him to quit it or he’d run out of time to discuss Coop’s disappearance before visiting hours ended, and anyway weren’t Albert’s patients usually dead to begin with?

The trouble with the subsequent discussion was that it went in a circle— the people who’d been present for the 2016 Unknown Event had uncertain memories of what had actually happened; and the people who clearly recalled the 1989 Palmer case as a murder hadn’t been present for the Unknown Event. The one thing that seemed likely was that there was some connection between the 1989 case and the 2016 case, particularly since both had been followed by the unsolved disappearance of one Agent Dale Cooper.

“I hate to say it, Albert, but I’ve given up hope on ever finding Coop.”

“What’s hope got to do with it?” Albert asked. His tone was not sarcastic.

“Diane, I’ve decided that, if only to keep my mind occupied, I will go looking for the white room and the woman with the mirror. I’d feel happier if I had a ball of twine or some breadcrumbs to leave as a trail back to the waiting room, but I’m coming to terms with the idea that’s there’s no advantage to remaining or returning here— it’s not as if I need food or drink in this place, and I cannot be any more lost than I already am.

So far, I believe I’ve walked down five identical red-curtained hallways, and turned left five times. It therefore seems likely that I’m following a counterclockwise, roughly spiral path, although I’m uncertain if I’m proceeding inwards or outwards.”

“If this search is going to require juggling two sets of memories, then I’d better come along so you don’t get brainwashed again.”

“Sheriff Truman, if you haven’t noticed by now, you’re in a cancer hospice.”

“I just finished a round of treatments, I’ve got a couple of weeks free.” Albert snorted and Harry added: “You can monitor my health while we’re on the road.”

“I’m already thinking of your health. You’re immunocompromised, travel is too risky.”

“We’re crossing a few state lines, not going to the other side of the world.”

Albert pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. I’m driving. Which also means I get to choose the music.”

In fact, they went most of the way by plane, after Albert weighed the odds and decided five hours in a tube of recycled air would still be easier on Harry than a two-day road trip. Some of the passengers threw suspicious looks at Harry’s N95 mask, but they’d cleared it in advance with the airline, and Harry had briefly removed it when he went through TSA, and Albert was prepared to flash his FBI badge, but the flight crew were understanding.

They picked up a car at Midland International. Someone, presumably an employee of the car-rental company, had left a bundle of tourist-attraction pamphlets on the front passenger seat.

“According to these, Odessa has replicas of the Globe Theatre and Stonehenge,” Harry observed once he’d got himself settled.

“Why?” Albert asked.

“Got me there. The pamphlets don’t explain the motivation.”

Albert reached up and pulled down the car’s sunshade on Harry’s side, though the Sheriff insisted his cowboy hat was protection enough for his pale scalp:

“We’re not in the northwest where it rains every fifteen minutes,” he muttered, “and I’ve been looking up the side effects of your meds— you sunburn easily now.” Albert’s driving skirted the city, and they did not pass the Globe or Stonehenge.

The Pearblossom Motel, last recorded location of Agent Cooper, proved to be closed down. They’d noticed the papered-over windows as they pulled up, the sign unlit, not even to say NO VACANCY, but Albert got out to knock anyway. Harry watched him from the car; eventually he clambered out and slowly walked over to join him.

Albert was peering through a spot where the paper had torn away behind the window-glass. He stepped aside for Harry, and the sheriff took a look into the motel’s dim interior. He saw an ordinary, rather old-fashioned registration office, wood-grain panelling on the walls along with a few faded posters for local attractions. Rows of keys still hung on a board behind the desk, and a daily calendar read October 15, presumably the date the motel had closed, or the approximate date— Harry could imagine a concierge might not bother to keep tearing off the pages if they knew it was their last week on the job.

“I now realize that despite everything, I’ve still been harbouring hopes of finding my way back to the waiting room, hence my continual choosing of left-hand turns, as if attempting to mathematically navigate a maze. I must make a true leap of faith if intuition is to guide me, so I’ve closed my eyes and spun around several times in this corridor, first clockwise and then counterclockwise.

Now that I no longer can tell which direction I’ve come from… Diane, can you hear that? Of course you can’t, I don’t really have my tape recorder. I’m going to fall silent and listen for a bit.”

There seemed little else of interest at the motel (Harry, feeling a bit silly, had even tried the Great Northern’s room key on all the doors), so they turned back towards Odessa to look for the diner Cooper had been investigating. The motel was only a mile behind when they saw, ahead of them, a tall woman walking along the highway, her fire-engine-red hair, black t-shirt and pencil skirt out of place in a locale that was rural to the point of emptiness. Albert swore under his breath.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” he told Harry. “Roll down your window, I’m pulling over.” But the woman only threw a glance at the car as it slowed, flipped them the bird, and kept walking, though she stepped gingerly and Harry noticed she was barefoot on the asphalt. Albert leant across him and stuck his head out the window:

“Diane!”

“Fuck off, guys. I’m not Diane, and whoever she is I bet she’d tell you the same.” Harry gently pushed Albert back and leant out the window himself:

“Sorry, ma’am, mistaken identity. Are you all right though? I see you’ve mislaid your shoes.”

“Looks like somebody ran off with them,” the woman answered, her tone mocking despite the tired set of her shoulders. “I haven’t been up to anything illegal, officer. Just a bit of fooling around.”

“We can give you a ride into town,” Harry offered. “If it helps, you’ll be alone in the back seat— means you can get the drop on us if you start to feel nervous.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at the offer, then abruptly barked out a laugh and opened the back door of the car, took a seat and folded her long legs in after her. “Only because I need a lift,” she insisted, rubbing her bare feet. “I knew office romances were a bad idea, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. Nothing to do now but go home and drown my sorrows in Hallowe’en candy.”

“You’ve still got candy left over from Hallowe’en?” In the mirror above the dashboard, Harry saw Albert raise an eyebrow and the woman in the back seat frowned, insulted:

“No! I may not have a maternal bone in my body, but I’m not going to give the trick-or-treaters candy that’s a year old.”

“Ma’am,” Harry asked, thinking about the calendar back in the Pearblossom Motel office, “what date d’you think it is?”

“Mid-October,” she began. Harry saw her reach into her purse with her black-and-white nails and pull out a mobile phone. Her eyes widened at the date: “No, it’s March. The fuck?—” She ran a hand through her scarlet hair. Harry wondered if it was dyed or a wig. Perhaps she was bald too. “Must be losing it. I was so sure it was October. And it’s not like I’ve could’ve been wandering around this desert for five months.” She tapped her phone screen. “5,230 messages?!” She looked frightened now, raising her head to meet their gaze in the mirror. “Where the hell have I been? And you guys— you’re feds, aren’t you?”

“No,” Harry began.

“I am,” said Albert. “He’s not.”

“Well, can you tell me what’s going on? Or is it classified? God, it’s not aliens, is it? I always assumed alien conspiracies were bullshit to cover up real conspiracies.”

“It’s probably not aliens,” Harry answered, unable to keep doubt from his voice as he remembered Major Briggs, “but I afraid it’s not going to sound any less weird.”

“To start with, we’re in the area investigating a colleague who disappeared in October,” began Albert, “and then you turn up, apparently amnesiac since that date.”

“And with my messages unchecked since then.”

“Yes, but there’s another detail— you look exactly like a former colleague of mine who was close to our missing man. That’s why I called you Diane when I slowed down.”

“I need a smoke.”

“No.”

“Albert,” Harry interrupted, “I’ve already got cancer, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Do you want me to answer that in detail?”

“No I don’t.” Harry turned to look over his shoulder at the woman in the back: “Just roll down your window first.”

“We’ll pull over and she can step away from the car,” said Albert.

He stopped on a shoulder, and their passenger got out and lit a cigarette. Examining the packet, she called to them:

“Three left. That’s fewer than I remember having on me in October, but not by much.” Albert, meanwhile, had pulled a shopping bag from the back seat:

“You should eat something,” he said to Harry, producing a sealed cup of applesauce and a box of plastic spoons. Between rounds of treatment, Harry’s nausea receded, but his appetite was still pretty weak. “There’s saltine crackers, too.” Harry chuckled in spite of himself as he tore the foil off the applesauce:

“This all makes me feel like I’m home from school with the ‘flu.”

“You’ll have to watch Roadrunner cartoons on your own phone, I’m not paying for the data,” Albert snapped.

“I’m surprised we even get reception out here.” The red-haired woman had strolled back to the car with her cigarette, though she took care to stay downwind from Harry’s rolled-down window. “Guys, is it just me or is this highway really deserted— like, Rod-Serling-voiceover deserted?”

“We were just thinking Roadrunner cartoons.”

“Can’t be, there’s no weird rocks.” She flicked ash onto the pavement, “Though it does feel like if someone painted a tunnel entrance on a wall around here, you might be able to drive into it. If you weren’t a coyote.” She took another drag and glanced at the power lines humming above their heads. “Maybe it’s the hum from those wires that’s giving us brain cancer— oh sorry, dude.” She broke off and looked at Harry in apology.

“It’s all right, ma’am,” he said when he’d finished swallowing his mouthful of applesauce. “I’ve got leukaemia, not brain cancer. And the sound from those lines is unpleasant. Like the whine of mosquitoes in the woods.” As he spoke the hum intensified, becoming a loud crackle. Albert glanced up as a shadow fell over the three travellers and their car.

In the sky a dark, nebulous shape twisted, circled, formed a comma or an apostrophe, and dove towards them.

The first few grackles, out of thousands, came down on the roof and hood of the car. Harry could see one pecking at the windscreen and glaring at him with hard yellow eyes. He suddenly remembered Coop had been afraid of birds; until now, he’d never been able to imagine why. He turned and pushed open the back door as the woman dove inside the vehicle. Around them, the flock blotted out the landscape.

“Hope they don’t scratch up the finish,” Albert shouted over the sound of wing-beats, “or I’m not getting my deposit back.”

“Is this nesting season? I mean, are the grackles round here normally this—”

“Oh fuck, one got in!” came a yell from the back seat. Eardrums ringing, Harry turned to see a small black shape ricocheting around the car’s interior as the woman flailed her long, bare arms. The grackle made for the gap between Albert’s seat and headrest.

And got stuck, its beak not quite touching the back of Albert’s neck.

Harry reached for the little feathered body, thinking of how to pin the wings against the bird’s sides to avoid injury to it or the surrounding humans, but the moment his fingers touched it, it crumbled. At the same time the din outside the car ceased.

“That— that’s not natural.” Their passenger was covering her mouth with her hand. Even Albert looked shocked. Harry stared at the palmful of ash that was all that was left of the grackle.

“Let me get a sample bag,” Albert muttered. He pulled out a small clear plastic bag, and held it out while Harry poured the remains in. Then he handed him a packet of wet wipes. “You all right, Diane?” The woman in the back seat did not correct him on the name this time.

“Couple of scratches,” she said, examining her right arm. Albert passed her a mini first-aid kit. Got to give him his dues, he prepares for everything, thought Harry, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Y’know,” he said, “This could be a good sign. In that it’s any kind of sign. There’s nothing worse than working in the dark, waiting for some hint you’re getting warmer or colder— that’s the kind of thing makes you wonder if the thing you’re looking for is even out there at all. But this—”

“Someone tipped their hand, you mean, when they tried throwing a Hitchcock movie in our faces,” Albert cut in. “But what exactly did we do to worry them?” His glance, and Harry’s, moved to the dashboard mirror’s reflection of their passenger.

“You think the birds were after me, or wanted to break up our merry band?” She raised an eyebrow. “Trouble is I know a token effort when I see one.”

“Or a warning.”

“We found the Pearblossom Motel;” Harry thought he saw the woman flinch at the name. “And then left it, to head for Odessa.”

“Are you suggesting we drive around in circles and see if they attack again?” Albert muttered.

“I think that’d be a little unfair to our passenger.” Harry turned to her: “Ma’am, I believe Albert when he says he knows you; but I also believe you when you say you don’t remember him. We can drop you anywhere you like— your call.”

“Give me a few minutes, fellas. Given all the weird shit I’ve just been through, I’ve got to think about whether I’m safer away from you two, or sticking close by. Plus I’ve got messages to check.” She took her phone out again. Without taking his eyes off the road, Albert pulled his own phone from his suit jacket, passing it to Harry:

“You’d better check mine. Maybe Tammy’s got some news—she’s been looking up everyone connected with events in Twin Peaks, but not living in the area. She even emailed some couple in Japan, though I’m still not sure what they’ve got to do with this.”

Harry peered at Albert’s phone screen, occasionally commenting if something looked to be of interest:

“Gordon’s sent a grudging OK, tells you to be careful. Also tells you to look after me. I’d always imagined he’d type in uppercase— didn’t realize it was him at first. Hm. Do you know a coroner?”

“I know lots of coroners, we get together for an annual poker tournament and lucky draw. And when I say draw…”

“Do you know a Dr. Talbot in Buckhorn?” Harry interrupted. “Autopsied a headless body last September that turned out to be Major— wait, he— is this one of those revised timeline things?”

“Not exactly.” Albert brought Harry up to date as best he could on Major Briggs’ disappearance and decades-later reappearance. “I certainly remember meeting Constance,” he added, after a pause, and cleared his throat again. “According to Tammy, I made a favourable impression on her, which is… unusual among my acquaintances, even those who share my profession. So what does she have to say?”

“Something about a wedding ring and Schrödinger’s Cat?” Harry looked at the message again. “She says Tammy spoke to her, and was going to contact you too… a gold ring they found on Briggs… sorry, in Briggs… keeps disappearing from her office’s records and the FBI’s evidence files, then coming back again?”

Albert frowned in thought as he drove: “Does it have anything engraved on it?” Harry tapped a message on the phone screen, CC-ing Constance and Tammy.

Outside the car, suburbs, or at least car dealerships and big-box stores, were beginning to sprout up along the highway.

Albert’s phone pinged and Harry read the message from Constance:

“Yes, scribbled it down last time I could find the record. This ring any (wedding) bells? TO DOUGIE, WITH LOVE, JANEY-E”

“Janey-E,” said Diane from the back seat, and Harry heard her drop her phone. Turning around he saw her wringing her hands, the nails now robin’s-egg blue. “Albert,” she gasped, “Oh, Albert, I was almost lost again.”

“I believe the change in method may have led to a breakthrough: I haven’t found any rooms leading off of the corridor I’m following, but the decor has gradually changed from black-and-white flooring and red curtains, to dark brown linoleum flooring and institutional green walls hung with large relief maps of different parts of the world. The maps appear to have been manufactured some time between 1954 and 1965, as they show North and South Vietnam as separate nations. I’m just passing the continent of Antarctica, now, and… oh. I think there might be…

Diane, I found the white room, and when I call it that, I’m not simply echoing Laura’s name for it. It was like a cross between a sanatorium and a snow cave, if a snow cave had furniture. There was a bed with white blankets and a white metal frame like a hospital bed. Audrey was sitting on one end of it, wrapped in a white bathrobe and looking at a round mirror that stood on a little white table. She turned as I entered, and her face was older, drawn and, for a moment, frightened. Then she looked at me again and relaxed, saying ‘Oh, it’s really you.’ I fear she must have met one of my nastier doppelgängers at some point.”

At Diane’s request, they stopped to eat at a fast-food chain before approaching the diner Coop had been investigating in at least one timeline.

“I’m hungry, but I’d be too nervous to eat at the place where Dale might have… well, if they’re a front for something, then the food’s either spectacular or terrible, and I’m not feeling lucky right now. I want to be someplace as bland and mundane as possible for a while, so I can regroup.”

“Well this place has a twenty-minute limit.” Albert jerked his thumb at the sign.

“That’ll do.” Diane curled up beside Harry in the booth as Albert went up to the counter to place their orders. She still wore her pencil skirt, but on on of their stops she’d purchased tennis shoes and a couple of fresh t-shirts— the one she was wearing at the moment read NOT TODAY in flowery letters. “Now he’s got two of us to worry about,” she said under her breath. Harry decided to reply:

“Someone needs to worry about him.” Diane nodded, and Harry offered his hand: “Sorry, we never did the proper introductions did we? Harry S. Truman.”

“I know.” Her expression relaxed slightly. “I see why he likes you.”

“Not sure Albert likes anybody, exactly—”

“That’s not who I was talking about.”

Albert returned with a eye-searingly-orange plastic tray:

“Mushroom burger, cheeseburger, buttered biscuit for you, Harry, because they can’t just serve toast like a real restaurant and those things they claim are bagels are made out of lies.”

“Don’t worry Albert, I’ll survive a biscuit.” Harry picked up one half of the baked item and took a bite. It wasn’t too bad, actually.

“Diane, the ring that jogged your memory—”

“My half-sister and her husband. Don’t ask me how they’d be mixed up in this though, Janey-E’s aggressively normal.”

“And her husband?”

“Never actually met him. Janey-E and I don’t talk much,” she explained. “But from her comments he’s… passively normal. Works for an insurance company, drinks too much sometimes, the whole man-in-the-gray-flannel-suit thing.”

“I’ve been talking with Audrey, or the version of her that existed in the white room. You’ll notice I use the past tense. Still sitting on the bed, she raised a finger and pointed to the mirror in front of her, saying:

‘The other me— she ran away from home, like she thought Laura had done. I’m amazed she survived her first year in the big city, but look:’

Diane, I saw Audrey searching records online, tailing suspects, testifying in civil and sometimes criminal courts. It’s a life that can make a cynic of the kindest soul, but there are situations the police don’t or can’t investigate, and those were— are, I suppose— Audrey’s bread and butter, in that mirror world. And they seem to pay well enough she can afford to do some pro bono cases.

‘I wish I were out there,’ she said, and the mirror clouded and shifted. She patted the bedspread, and I sat down beside her. ‘You know how,’ she began, ‘when you’re a kid, and you’re reading your favourite book, and a little after the halfway point, you start to think ‘I’m getting near the end of the book?’ And really, you’re not— there are pages and pages left of scenes and pictures. You’re always surprised just how much more there is. But it’s not enough to shake the feeling it’s putting off the inevitable. Dawdling before bedtime.’ She stood up suddenly, bent and kissed me on the brow. ‘Say hello to the other me, if you ever run into her.’ And then she was gone, Diane. Not in flame or fadeout, just gone.”

I look up, and Laura is beside me.

The diner, when they found it, was not what Harry’d pictured. Instead of a lonely Edward Hopper tableau, or a grimy spoon where toughs whispered to each other along the lunch counter and cast knowing glances in the direction of the men’s room, “Wispy Dreams Cafe” was a blandly cheerful donut shop, the logo rather obviously altered from that of a national chain.

“Looks like they’re under new management.” Diane observed as they got out of the car. “Or else they got tired of paying for the franchise?” The three of them made their way across the parking lot the cafe shared with the landscaping company next door. Inside, the sound of chattering customers and a hum from the coffee machine both soothed and overwhelmed. Harry steadied himself against a gleaming, cream-colored formica counter. The woman on the other side— not a fresh-faced high-school senior or a kindly-faced matron, just a woman with her hair in a ponytail and circles under her eyes, doing her best to smile— threw him a glance and Harry nodded.

“I’m ok. Albert, Diane, what do you two want?”

A couple of minutes later, they sat by the window, feigning interest in their donuts and coffee.

“Well, we’re living the cop cliché,” whispered Albert. “So, what do you think? Soulless suburban hangout, or den of villainy?”

Harry gingerly sipped the brew in his cardboard cup and eyed the other customers. You couldn’t say the place wasn’t busy; the woman at the counter had already served a family of four in the time it had taken Harry, Albert and Diane to seat themselves with their coffees, and another customer had just come in the door.

“That counter’s been installed recently. Deep-fat fryer’s been replaced too.”

“And they don’t know how to use it yet. You could wax skis with these donuts. That’s hardly a crime, though.” Diane looked around at the blue and yellow walls painted with large trompe l’oeil sprinkles. “Doesn’t seem to be anything else funny about the place— I hate to say it but this place might be legit.”

Harry watched the new customer lean in to the counter. Harry couldn’t quite make out what he was saying— presumably the man was placing his order, but it seemed to be taking a while and there was something tense in the woman’s expression. Beside him he heard Diane swear under her breath, and faster than he could turn his head, his peripheral vision took in that she was getting up. She strode towards the counter and Harry had a glimpse of the angry red scratch on her arm as he struggled to his feet.

Diane was leaning on the counter now, trying to insert herself between the customer and the worker.

“What did you just say to her?” she was asking.

“Look, I come in here all the time, we joke around. What makes you think it’s your fucking business?”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Harry loomed up behind the customer— he might have only half his usual strength but he was still a good six inches taller than the other man. Behind him, he guessed, Albert was approaching. Harry knew the agent was unwilling to use physical force and not exactly skilled at defusing situations through diplomacy, so he turned his gaze on the customer with all the quiet confidence he’d used as Sheriff. In his ear Diane hissed:

“It’s nothing to do with the case, this asshole’s just creeping on the staff.” She must’ve locked eyes with the man too, for he was staring at her now, his bland pink features shifting expression from anger to terrified fascination.

Rather an unimpressive face, thought Harry, and then, what’s Diane doing? He turned to look at her sharp, smiling profile, and saw a tear slide from her eye.

“No,” she said loudly and abruptly, and blinked hard. “Do you want us to escort him out?” she asked the woman behind the counter; but the man was already out the door and running for his car.

“Diane,” Harry whispered.

“Diane,” whispered Albert. Diane was passing one hand across her eyes.

“I could have fried him. Just now. Something wanted me to; but I just wanted him to back off.” She beamed at them as Albert held out an arm for her to steady herself. “I think I’m back to normal. Well, normal for me.”

“Are we the only two left here now?”

“I’m not even here anymore.”

“I don’t know how to get back to the waiting room.”

“It doesn’t matter, the coffee’s cold.”

Somehow, the white room has become even more featureless, despite that being both a logical and a grammatical impossibility. Only the bed, the table and Audrey’s mirror remain. A moment in the glass catches my eye, and I look to see— oh Diane, I’m so glad you escaped! I see you travelling with Albert, and… oh, Harry…

…the cafe’s fluorescent lights flickered as the background hum, noticeable since their arrival, now rose to an ear-splitting volume then died away just as suddenly. As the three of them looked on, an old-fashioned hospital bed, its steel frame painted white, materialized between the counter and the booths, replacing two unoccupied tables. At one end of it sat Agent Dale Cooper, fully dressed in his suit and tie, a look on his face of mild surprise that turned to the familiar joy as his gaze met theirs. Coop had grown older like the rest of them, sharper angles in his face, but he looked hale and well, and his eyes did not have the cruel gleam that chilled Harry’s memories of their last meeting.

“Harry,” he said, as though a quarter-century hadn’t passed. In response Harry silently doffed his cowboy hat, revealing his pallor, his naked scalp. Coop’s smiled wavered a little. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he whispered, and rose from the white bed. In the background, the cafe staff and patrons continued to chat and serve and drink and eat coffee and donuts as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on right in front of them. Albert made a hesitant noise in his throat and Coop raised his hand in that just a moment gesture he always used to make, and in that moment Harry knew his friend really was back from wherever he’d been all those years.

“Apologies for being brusque,” Coop said, “but there’s a family in Las Vegas who I’ve reason to believe are in danger right now—”

“Janey-E?” Diane asked.

“Right on the button. For personal reasons which I’ll explain later, I can’t get in touch with them myself. The Mitchell brothers might be able to help, but I don’t know how much they’ll be able to recall of our last meeting.”

“Tammy and Constance are already on it.”

“Good,” Coop looked relieved, and Harry stepped forward, shaking a little in spite of himself, and as if the motion had at last given him permission, Coop sailed forward and embraced him— very gently, as if he feared Harry might break. He’s gauging by touch how much weight I’ve lost, thought Harry, but it’s all right. He’d forgotten how warm Coop was. He became aware of Albert and Diane joining in, arms circling his shoulders and Coop’s. If I died right here and now, it’d be all right.

But this embrace was not an epitaph, or an epilogue. Outside, somewhere else in the city, was an imitation of an ancient stone monument; and a copy of an old theatre where real audiences watched real actors. Somewhere the forces that had sent the dark cloud of grackles prepared another attack, and somewhere Tammy Preston was moving to protect Janey-E and Dougie Jones. Elsewhere Audrey Horne walked the mean streets and was not herself mean. This was an interlude, but let them have it for a while.

A couple of patrons turned their heads to smile at the reunion going in their midst.

#wonderfulxstrange #@laughingpineapple #twin peaks #@laughingpinecone

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my-love-jake-love · 4 years

Text

I'll save you (MC's strange premonition 2)

*in the interrogation room*

FBI Chief: How did you meet Jake?

MC: ...

FBI Chief: What do you know about him? What did he tell you?

MC: ...

FBI Chief: who are you to him?

MC: ...

FBI Chief: why did you book a hotel room anonymously?

MC: ...

FBI Chief: SPEAK!!!

* MC is crying*

Chief FSB: well, we have plenty of time... sit here, maybe you'll change your mind…

* The FBI chief leaves the office*

FBI Chief: Is there any information about Jake on her phone?

Programmer: No, just conversations with friends. She told her relatives that they had gone to New YORK. They don't even know she's texting them.

FBI Chief: hmm…

Programmer: here, it turns out she wanted to surprise her friends, so the room was booked anonymously, here she writes so Lilly.

FBI Chief: Do you believe that? Why would she book a room anonymously? It doesn't make sense. Only if you don't want to be overlooked by the authorities, do you? Do you still remember Lilly's video? There were MC and Jake's data…

Programmer: Yes, but it could have been a misunderstanding. Because there is nothing about the hacker, no message, no information that they know each other.

FBI Chief: but how did Lilly and the others meet her then?

Programmer: I can't figure it out. Something is blocking access to her data. Or maybe he'd already deleted all the conversations from her phone

Chief of the FBI: You try to recover all the messages

Programmer: But nothing happens, her phone is protected from «attack»

FBI Chief: YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT I TOLD YOU!!! I'M NOT INTERESTED IN HOW YOU DO IT. SO THAT I HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION IN MY HANDS UNTIL TOMORROW! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Programmer: Yes, of course.

* The FBI chief leaves the programmer's office*

FBI Chief: Bring in everyone who has corresponded with MC tomorrow. it is necessary to interview them too, if the MC does not tell anything, then someone will definitely let it slip.

FBI: OK!

*At this time, all MC friends receive the same text message from Jake *

The text message read: "You may all be taken to the police station for questioning tomorrow. You all have to say that you don't know who I am and MC doesn't know who I am. You met her on the Internet. She wanted to help in the search for Hannah. This is necessary in order to save MC. Be careful when answering, do not blab. After reading the text message, after 5 minutes, your phone will turn off and clear. Don't call anyone, stay at home. You may have someone already watching you"

*everyone's phone goes dead*

Everyone except Lilly: WTF... SO WAIT, MC IN DUSKWOOD?

*The Chief of the FBI enters the interview room*

FBI Chief: Well, what did you think? Will you answer our questions?

MC: NO!

FBI Chief: well, if you don't want it good, it will be bad. Take her to a solitary cell and let her spend the night there.

* 8 a.m. The FBI takes everyone to the station *

* talking to Jessy*

Chief of the FBI: So Jessy… How did you meet MС?

Jessy: On the Internet, she wanted to help us find Hannah

FBI Chief: Okay, Jessy, do you know who Jake is? Or do you know if MC knows him,

JESSY: Jake? No, I don't know who he is. MS and I are best friends; she would tell me if she knew him.

FBI Chief: Hmm ... Jessy do you know where the MC is now?

Jessy: Probably in his own city. And what?

Chief of the FBI: Look at this…

* The FBI chief shows Jessy a surveillance video of MC lying unconscious. *

Jessy: MC!? What did you do with her!?

FBI Chief: now you understand that every lie you make will be disastrous for MC

Jessy: I'M TELLING YOU SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHO JAKE IS! LET HER GO!!!

FBI Chief: We'll let her go if we find out she's innocent, In the meantime, you can go. Your mobile phones will remain with us

*In this way, all were interrogated*

*all friends gather at Jessy's*

JESSY: Did anyone know MC was here? When did she get here?"

RICHY: I didn't know. It's you we should ask, you're MC's best friend

Jessy: Yes, but she didn't tell me anything

Lilly: Now you know everything, so there's no point in hiding it from you.

Jessy: What are you talking about?

Lilly: I knew MC was coming here. She asked me not to tell you. She said it was dangerous.

JESSY: But why did she tell you? You hated each other

LILLY: Yes, but we reconciled a week ago, and I'm sure she told me because she wanted to book the room anonymously so no one would know.

Dan: Yeah… I told her to stay away from this hacker, but she didn't listen to me…

* phone rings*

RICHY: Is that the phone ringing? They didn't take it from you?

Jessy: Taken away

Cleo: The sound comes from Lilly's bag

LILLY: What? I don't have a phone

* goes and checks*

Lilly: And the truth is the phone is here. But from where? It's not my phone.

*15 minutes ago*

Lilly: I need to get to Jessie's house faster, because it's already dark...

* collides with someone *

Lilly: LOOK AROUND!

JESSY: Pick up the phone!

Dan: and turn it up

Lilly: Alo…

Jake: I'm... the hacker, Jake ... don't worry no one from the FBI can hear you they won't be able to pick up our connection… How's MC? Is she all right?" I'm very worried about her…

DAN: OH YOU ... GIVE ME THE PHONE HERE ... HEY YOU HEAR ME HERE!!! MC IS SUFFERING THERE BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU KNOW. I TOLD HER TO STAY AWAY FROM YOU....

Jake: But…

DAN: BUT NO, SHE SAID, HE'S GOOD, HE WON'T HURT ME. I CAN SEE HOW YOU PROTECT HER…

Jake: I…

DAN: YOU SIT THERE AND LET HER SUFFER, DON'T YOU?

* Jake is heard crying; everyone is silent*

Thomas: You said I was just such a crybaby; do you hear your hacker crying too…

JESSY: Give me the phone.

Jake: It's... all... because of me… What have I done... I ... better give up, yes I will! Then they will release the MC.

JESSY: Stop, Jake! Calm down ... MC will be fine… Yes, it's your fault too, but we need you to find Hannah. During the interrogation, I talked to them and they said they would let her go if it turned out that she was innocent. We did everything you told us to do. So they should let her go soon.

Jake: You're just saying that to comfort me, aren't you?

JESSY : No, I'm telling the truth. Let's wait at least two days... if they don't let her go, then you'll have to give up.

Cleo: What are you saying... a lot can happen in these two days…

Phil: She's right…

Lilly: There's another side to it, if they're doing it on purpose to catch Jake. And if it's a trap, they'll catch you and MC not let you go. We can also go to jail for lying.

Richy: Lilly's right, we just have to wait…

Jessy: Did you hear everything, Jake? We'll let you know if there's any news

Jake: Okay, then we'll wait. Hide this phone so that no one can find it

Jessy: Okay, I know a place like this

Dan: If anything happens to MC, I'll find you and kill you myself, JAKE!

Jake: Don't worry, if something happens to her because of me, I won't let myself live!

*At this time in the police station, a conversation between the Programmer and the Head of the FBI*

Chief FBI: They're all repeating the same thing... it's too suspicious… Did you find anything in MC's phone?

Programmer: No, nothing new. But I found an interesting phone conversation between MC and Jessy.

But the MC didn't have that conversation. So the video shows someone in a mask attacking Jessy. I looked it up on the internet and found out that it was a "man without a face" mask from the legend of Duskwood. From their personal conversations, it is clear that a person without a face needs MC. If we can't find the hacker with MC, we can at least find Hannah!

FBI Chief: Hmm ... good idea

FBI Chief: Bring the MC to the interview room.

Chief FBI: So we'll let you go if you tell us about the man without a face

MС: I won't tell you anything! Don't even dream!

FBI Chief: Don't you want to find Hannah? This is what you wanted, isn't it?

MS: what's in it for me!? FBI

Chief: Freedom... we won't touch you again. And we'll also find Hannah

MC: Okay, if you want it so badly, I'll tell you everything if you stop "hunting" Jake!!!

FBI Chief: So you do know each other. Why do you need it? You're suffering here because of him.

MС: YES, I KNOW WHO HE IS!!! EVERYONE IS HAPPY!!! Either you stop hunting him, or I won't tell you anything.

FBI Chief: I SET THE CONDITIONS HERE!!! YOU HELP US FIND HANNAH, OR WE'LL KILL YOU!

MС: Then I choose DEATH!!!

FBI Chief: LOCK HER UP IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT!!! LET HER STARVE TO DEATH THERE!!!

* MC in solitary confinement*

MC: Jake, I won't let them hurt you. I promise.

* Jake in his hideout*

Jake: MC, I won't let them hurt you. I'll save you. I promise.

END OF THE SECOND PART

#I'll save you #MC&JAKE #MC #DUSKWOOD #MC's strange premonition 2

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seimeinotaka · 4 years

Text

Movie Review (Vil x MC Fic)

(Cross-posted from AO3)

His confidence shaking, Vil keeps pondering over himself and why he keeps losing to Neige. It somehow ends in a discussion with Ann about Type-casting, the role of an actor, and focusing on what is truly important.

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

The kitchen was empty, for everyone had gone to bed, having learned that crossing Vil and breaking the rules wasn’t something to take lightly. Twenty minutes before curfew, Vil was washing the cup he had just used. He needed water to clear his head. Beating Neige in the VDC, being the fairest of them all. He had these goals in mind, but no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough. The water from the faucet couldn’t flush his thoughts away, as it flowed down his hands, so cold but Vil hadn’t even noticed either.

“-senpai?”

Why?

Why couldn’t he beat Neige?

What did Neige have that he lacked?

The cute character he always showed? Was it just that? Something he couldn’t even work with?

The hero, the beautiful holder of the Legendary sword. That was Neige’s role.

The cold beautiful villain. That was Vil’s role.

The water stopped.

“!”

Vil suddenly realized someone was next to him, having been struck slightly by their elbow, as this person turned off the faucet.

“Schoenheit-senpai, are you alright?” It was Ann, who had taken him out of his trance.

“Manager…yes, I’m fine,” he replied, still in a daze. He hadn’t meant to get so carried away in his thoughts that anyone saw him like this.

He wasn’t as annoyed as before with her, since she seemingly didn’t insult him and had apologized for whatever she had meant to say, though he was far from being on friendly terms with her. She seemed to be treating him with a certain distance, since their discussion had ended abruptly when she stormed off. He was perfectly fine with this unspoken arrangement.

Ann didn’t reply to his calm reassurance, but her expression let him know she wasn’t buying his words. She could keep her worry to herself, channeling it to win the VDC instead.

“…There’s something I wanted to talk to you about…” she finally said, after taking a deep breath to break the awkward silence. “It’s not about Epel…it’s about you…”

For a second there, she seemed to hesitate. Actually, this expression was the same one she had been wearing ever since she apologized when they crossed paths. As if she had something to say but feared doing so. Vil had never intended to ask her anything, ignoring her gaze if she had nothing to add to their discussions or practice.

“…Go on.” He prepared himself mentally, he was going to end up annoyed, but if he didn’t pretend to hear her now, she would be nagging him later on. He could certainly do without that, so he would take the lesser of the two evils.

She took a deep breath, and somehow bluntly stated, “You are going to get angry at me, but I might have heard your conversation with that Adella woman. About a film where Neige Leblanche got the lead and they wanted you to play the villain.” And just as that, she looked at him, ready to face her punishment.

He would have actually punished her, if he hadn’t been taken by surprise.

“How…?”

He had been extremely careful in answering his calls, only twice had he been contacted, and she wasn’t around then. Had Rook told her something? Rook had fine ears and he might have heard the phone calls, but he doubted his vice dorm leader would betray him and tell that private information to her.

“The other day… at the end of practice. I forgot my tablet after we uhhhh…had a discussion.” She grimaced, and forced herself to look at him. “I left it there but you were talking on the phone and I couldn’t just enter.”

“So, you decided to eavesdrop instead,” he coldly replied.

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to! By the time I had realized what was happening, you left the room and I didn’t know what to do,” she hurried to add, stepping back defensively. “I’ve been thinking hard if I should talk to you about it but… Whatever. You are angry anyway, so, before you kill me for eavesdropping, lemme ask the following: Is Neige really that good? Or was it because he looks like the good hero?”

She was extremely right in him wanting to kill her in that moment, though her second question took him by surprise. “What do you think, Manager?” He was not going to talk about Neige.

“So, it’s the second…. I had a gut feeling it was like that. I looked around the internet, he’s mentioned a lot, I guess, but he just looks cute to me. I honestly don’t see why everyone goes wild about him. But I guess he does have the appeal to play the good-natured hero, just as you do look like a good fit for a handsome villain.”

He certainly did not need to have her rub salt on his wound, it was bad enough that Rook would blab and praise Neige. Clenching his fist, he was wondering how to curse her to make her stop.

“That’s pretty disappointing and boring, actually,” she said flatly.

“…What?”

“What do you mean what?” She looked at him confused, unaware that she was the one not making any sense at all. “I looked up the Legendary Sword, it’s supposed to be a groundbreaking film series, right? But if they go for such basic casting, is it really groundbreaking?”

Vil stared at her for a moment, a mix of extreme annoyance and deep confusion because what did one thing have to do with another? Not to mention, it was a series he loved.

"Have you even watched the first one?!"

How dared she say that.

"....No, but that's not really my point."

He gave her a scornful smile, as he said, “Of course, Manager. Here you go again, please give me your opinion on things you don’t know the least about.”

"I don’t need to watch a film to get a sense of what they are going for. I can get the aesthetic they are going for, and usually that goes in hand with the setting.” She shrugged her shoulders. “From what I heard of your conversation, yeah I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, you didn’t get to audition, so they offered you the role. Probably the same happened with Neige, so it means they are basing the casting on your physical appearance.”

It wasn’t his physical appearance entirely, but she wasn’t that wrong actually. He was almost impressed she could have figured it out. And that meant he had to be more careful than he thought. Though he should have suspected something, if she managed to dupe Azul.

“That’s pretty disappointing, they aren't taking your acting skills into consideration. A true actor can make the audience believe in their character, no matter how they look. That's strength of their histrionics."

"Don't you realize you're being overly idealistic? You didn't strike me as the type," he interjected, arching an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to do, but he was almost curious to see how farfetched her ramble would go.

"But, am I wrong? Also, you got a point. The plot and allegiances, the roles of the characters shouldn't be spelled out from appearances. That actually lessens the strength of your acting. It kills the story when I can see someone and know exactly that he is the bad guy just because he wears purple and looks cold. That’s not creative, it’s extremely boring. I thought that as a fashion model and probably a trendsetter, you would prefer to break the rules."

He wouldn’t deign to give her an answer, but she didn’t look at him like she was expecting one.

"The fact that you said I didn't look the type, that's exactly my point. I prefer when my characters are deeper than what they only look. When they surprise me because someone looks cute but isn’t the cute type, that keeps me on my toes. To subvert the expectations of the audience, while showing them a story they can't predict, that's what I would call legendary. Surely, a movie like that should have a legendary casting too."

"I see you keep taking about things you do not know. You keep talking about a movie you haven't seen and the casting of a sequel you don't know."

"...You have a fair point, but I can tell that the casting is very safe. To cast the cute actor as the protagonist and the beautiful sexy one as the villain. They didn't really take any risks."

"Perhaps you weren't paying attention to what I said before,” he groaned. “You have to understand the visuals that suit the atmosphere. A group of elementary children singing metal will look off."

"I actually want to hear that."

"Forget it, your taste is too extreme to understand my point," he grimaced, giving up on trying to get through her thick skull.

“I guess… though I find it sad that for all the boldness you have, you’re stuck with mainstream ideals. Though it seems to come with the industry. They are the ones with the money.”

"Suppose you are in charge of casting, Manager. Do you mean you would have me as lead instead?"

"I wouldn't have a prince charming as the lead in the first place. But the role would go to the one who acts the part better. Not just looks."

Vil looked at her with a stony expression, somehow her words stung and he felt uncomfortable.

"Though, if we have a hero like that, to cast you as the prince charming, the good hero they are picking Neige for... I would honestly prefer that. It's a risky decision, and many would question your casting, but if you were to sweep everyone's minds with your performance, you would win even more than if you went with a typical casting. There's a higher risk, but an even higher reward."

"Fufu, you still have no idea what you're talking about. Unfortunately, as much as your ridiculous idea sounds compelling, the truth is, Neige was cast as the main character."

"If it makes you feel better, I can write you as a main character in a story I make."

He smiled mockingly at her. "Ara, should I be touched? That a mere potato acting as a manager makes me her main character in her story? Focus on your studies."

"I mean, we can’t change things now, but if you were the hero and people questioned it, it's your job as the actor to prove them wrong."

"You sound awfully confident in my abilities."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Vil was taken back. That was the most unexpected way to compliment someone, though he couldn't say he hated it. That said, she was incredibly annoying.

"You do enjoy talking about things you have no clue about."

"What I don't have a clue about? If I look carefully at you, I can tell you've honed yourself a lot."

"...what?"

"It's the way you conduct yourself. To be this knowledgeable about food and skin care, about music too. Dancing styles, dance moves. There's a limit to natural talent. You could understand things in theory but you call them by their names, that doesn't come from simple experience. Your pose is always perfect, both when you're walking and when you're fighting. To be able to have that degree of grace, you can't always do it unless you've trained yourself to be graceful. I get the feeling you're always pushing yourself to be perfect in any way. No matter what. Like you could be wearing burning shoes and you wouldn't show your pain."

He looked at her, she liked saying the oddest things. Why was she focusing on that? Normally, people commented directly on his beauty. He wasn’t used to being told this, he was doing only the necessary things to achieve his goal. The obvious things that no one focused on. That no one praised.

You didn't praise the method, you praised the results. The finished product. It didn't matter if you did your best when you failed. The result was all that mattered.

Just as he couldn’t beat Neige.

However, her words made him uncomfortable. Was she offering a cheap clap on the back as his fate, and he hated that word, was to be the loser? Some cheap, meaningless sympathy as an equally miserable bandage to his mortally wounded pride?

"What is your game, Manager? Is this some attempt to get along with me to further your goals?"

She huffed, visibly frustrated and annoyed at him, when he should be the one groaning at her and her nonsensical questioning. "You know, you're really smart but you're horribly stubborn. I'm not dissing you. Damn this school. You're all a huge bunch of weirdos, you're always focusing on the oddest stuff."

"As if you can truly say that to me."

"Really? Riddle got so angry about breaking even the most ridiculous inconsequential rules that the Queen of Hearts made. I get things like ‘Don't run with scissors in the hall’, because you can actually get hurt, but the color of roses? The tea you serve after 6? That's just showing off your power in meaningless bullshit. It alienates people instead of making them like you. He is devoted and meticulous, except he's focusing on the stupid stuff.

“Leona is capable, he's actually smart and he could be an excellent student and magift player but he can't be bothered to do anything because he doesn't want to be compared to others. Well, duh, you're always going to be compared. Damned if you do it, damned if you don’t, it’s way better to be damned for doing your thing. The rest can go fuck off. It’s not like they are going to do things for you, and they won’t live your life.”

Was she trying to get on his good side by dissing everyone?

“Azul, for all the intelligence he has, is a big idiot. All the effort he made to hide his past, just to crumble because of a photo. Why would you want to alter it so much that you're no longer yourself? I don't understand. He could see how far he had come and how much he had improved himself, that the Azul in that picture, who was extremely cute mind you, would be just proud of who he had grown into. But no, he had to drag everyone with those shady contracts, trick everyone to profit off them, try to trick me instead of asking for help like a fucking normal person. I would have helped him without any of this idiot contract bullshit if he was just sincere and not an incredibly fucking shady yakuza.

“Jamil. Don't get me started on him, I'm still salty about it. It's a custom in his country, I understand that. His parents were in the wrong, I understand that but. Did he really have to try to fucking kill us? In the bloody desert?! Not to mention, he had Kalim, KALIM! Kalim wouldn't have minded that Jamil told him the truth about him having to play the incompetent servant when he's like a fucking genius. Getting average grades on purpose is really hard, you have to be super smart to do that! Hell, Kalim would have been the first one to support him if he knew the truth! Kalim trusted him, Jamil was his best friend. He even forgave him. With Kalim at his side, things would have been different. But no, Jamil had to fake this shady nice persona to get us to like him, then use everyone for his stupid nonsense and instead of talking! Like normal people! Attempted murder! Of course that is the right answer."

Her rant made him furious. It wasn’t her ranting about the others, as several of them, like Leona, were annoying in many degrees. It was because it showed how she saw the other students, and it made him wonder how she would later see him.

How would she casually dismiss all his struggles?

"I wish I had this much drive to care about stupid shit."

"You are exactly as Leona and Azul said you were,” he replied, wanting furiously to slap her, to make her shut up, “an obnoxious brat who talks as if she knows everything. Casually dissing everyone while supposedly praising them? I thought you were supposed to be a good quiet prefect. Your opinion doesn't matter."

"It does matter because when you die, you can't do anything of these things. You could fall off your broom next class, crack your skull and die, but all you worried about was an idiot meaningless thing, instead of doing what you really wanted."

Vil stared at her, shocked for a moment, her words a slap to his face. He didn't expect them nor the tone she used, a clear-headed but extremely heartfelt answer. It was rational, not spat out in the heat of the moment, almost a product of actual experience.

It was in that moment he realized she genuinely meant what she said before. She was genuinely praising his efforts, the things no one else even considered. And he wasn’t sure how he should feel. He was feeling annoyed, he could imagine her ranting about him next. 'You are an idiot, trying to best Neige in being the fairest.'

But what was the thing she would compliment him on as well?

The answer would have to haunt him, because he was not going to ask her about himself. He was scared of that answer. He was scared of being focused on something wrong, of being told his path was wrong from the start.

He had devoted himself to being the fairest of them all for so long, just to be told it was an impossible task from the start. The effort he put into it would be absolutely meaningless, as they weren’t in a fairy tale, and even if they were, they weren’t its main characters.

“Manager,” he said in a tone that he himself couldn’t discern. It was such, though, that Ann quickly cooled down from her rant, going from emboldened to suddenly stay silent, and hesitant. “I will not repeat myself. Stop talking as if you understand my feelings. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. All you need to know is that you have to devote yourself to the VDC.”

“But… I thought-”

“Yes, you always ‘thought’. Whatever you thought, you are wrong. Stop delving into others’ personal affairs.”

He saw her opening her mouth, but he wouldn’t entertain her any longer. She had damaged him enough, making him fear for a moment of his own goals, to let her destroy his shaking beliefs and crumbling confidence. With a fierce glare, hiding his inner turmoil as he had always done, the iron mask befitting a queen, he looked down on her once before leaving her alone, with only the wind to listen to whatever useless opinion she had to share.

This was a challenging fic to write given the limited information we’re given, at the time ofc, about Neige and the nature of the casting, as well as his personality. It was also interesting for me because it’s part of the culmination of the previous chapters. Vil is a very perceptive person and he would normally recognize when someone is genuinely praising him. However, in an overblotting state, where he is stressed and second-guessing himself, it wouldn’t be that hard to see that he finds it difficult to trust strangers, especially someone like Ann.

Ann herself is not entirely right either. She has good points about the others and about Vil, but she tends to see things from her own perspective and how she strongly feels, in particular to people like Azul due to her own personal reasons and past. Hence, she can’t sometimes really relate to things that oppose to what she believes and feels. Because she is also blunt, while well-intentioned, she can come off as obnoxious and intrusive, especially with how she words things. Basically both right now are not well emotionally and logically to reach an agreement and see each others’ points. But Vil wouldn’t be well right now because we’re in the middle of Pomefiore arc, F.

Thank you for reading!

#twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil x mc #twst oc #twst

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siren-theories · 4 years

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Maddie Bishop's treatment by the writers in Season 3

(tl, dr: Maddie deserved better this season) SPOILER WARNING: This post includes spoilers up to and including Episode 308 “Till Death do us part”. I apologise to the readers for - after a long hiatus - not writing another analysis post first. But I felt the way Maddie was written in Season 3 deserves its own post. So let us take a look at the the way Maddie was written in Season 3, the inconsistencies with her earlier established character traits and the possible justifications for this treatment of her by the writers.

I. Introduction

I generally do not like to post about a show which has not finished its current season. That is because a lot of developments only make sense in retrospect and only then the viewer can know why the writers decided to emphasize certain developments. As such, I am usually trying not to write episode reviews and engage in wild speculation about what will happen next episode. I much prefer writing after the end of a season.

Looking back on all the shows I have seen in my life, there are only a few that come to mind that had a great third season. The West Wing and the Wire are the prominent examples that come to mind.

(Shameless West Wing Plug. I so miss this show and its intelligent characters, especially in the current political climate).

Other shows meanwhile go completely off the rails (like Andromeda, which never recovered from its Season 3). So in general I tend to be very forgiving to shows entering their third season, not expecting much. Thus I would usually not write something like this.

But: I worry about the treatment of a character I feel very protective of, the chracter who is my favourite character in the show: Maddie Bishop.

(Vivat regina.)

Her being my favourite character might be surprising to the reader considering most of the posts on this tumblr are about Ryn (and to a lesser degree Ben), while I have written only sparingly about Maddie. But that is simply because Ryn and Ben are more interesting characters to analyze. Emotionally, they tick the "lets root for them" box for me, despite - and because of - their character flaws. Those flaws always add to the story in a fascinating and dramatic way.

But Maddie Bishop I RESPECTED right from the start. This is in no small part because I always felt drawn to her analytical, logical, scientific side. In cheesy terms, I felt a bond with her because I could easily think of me acting the same way she did in many situations. For me, she was easy to emphatize with, easy to like and very easy to root for.

But this season has been hard to swallow in some respects.

In the words of the Godfather:

(Tremble in awe of my awesome MS Paint skills)

Note that this does not apply to all of Maddie's actions. In fact, the vast majority of her actions this season are no big deal to me and fit her character. Many of the actions Maddie seems to catch a lot of flak for on other parts of the internet seem perfectly justifiable to me as they do not go against the core traits of her character.

I have no issues with many major decisions Maddie made this season, including but not limited to:

She is totally right to re-evaluate her relationship with Ben. Everybody should probably do so when their boyfriend confesses that he let somebody intentionally drown. (It also is not the first time they have broken up. One breakup per season seems to be the norm with those two, not the exception.)

Her hiding the fact of Ryn being her girlfriend to Robb was the right and logical choice. Most people do not talk about their sexuality in face-to-face situations with strangers. Let’s remember that they all agreed to hide their relationship even when having dinner with Ben's family...so why would people expect Maddie to refer to Ryn as her girlfriend to strangers?

I am also okay with her deciding to pursue a relationship with Robb. Even though I view him as a giant waste of screentime he seems like a good guy in total. (I really hope his introduction pays off in future seasons because right now it feels as if he has taken double or triple the screentime he should.)

I could go on but I feel the point has been made. What I am however definitely not okay with are the instances where Maddie acts like a complete idiot. Those show a massive failure to respect established character traits by the writers.

Because one thing Maddie Bishop is not is an idiot.

She probably is the smartest character on the whole show. And she is definitely not a hypocrite - in fact, her strong moral core is what made her that great of a character in Season 1 and 2.

Let me just highlight a few situation this season where I disliked heavily how Maddie was written.

II. Revealing the secrets of the Sirens and their existence to a total stranger ?

“Remember this big secret people are literally getting killed over? I wonder if I should talk about it to this guy I met for a few coffees...not like letting other people knowing about it has ever hurt somebody....Ian? What is an Ian?”

Over the span of a few days, Maddie does the following in Season 3:

Reveal information about the Sirens to a total stranger, even going so far as to show him secret Siren history in the cave

Bring a complete stranger into the maritime laboratory (what exactly could have been her thought process here, what did she hope to gain by this?)

Doing the above despite being repeatedly warned not to do so

I can live with Ben being an idiot and refusing to heed warnings until it almost kills him because that is who his character is - somebody who lets his emotion, empathy and character flaws get the better of him at times despite his good intentions. Him taking stem cells is thus consistent with his character and at the very least a justifiable writers decision. To a lesser degree this also applies to Ryn and her total lack of impulse control. Ben and Ryn making bad decisions it is very consistent with their characters - and yes, this even applies to making stupid decisions. (For Ryn, agreeing to work with the military in Episode 207 “Entrapment” is but one example).

But this is NOT Maddie and never was.

The Maddie from previous seasons was so very invested in keeping the secret that she hid it from her own father in Season 1. This led to the awesome scene between her, her father Dale and Ryn In episode 107: “Dead in the water”.

She hid this secret from her own mother in Season 2 (heck, she even hid her relationship with Ryn from her). She hid Ryn from her best friends, her former boyfriend and her coworker. And yet, suddenly some stranger from outside town waltzes in and within the span of a few coffee dates she goes and spills the beans to him? After being explicitly warned not to do so? Without even being in a relationship with Robb at that point and knowing next to nothing about him? If you had held a gun to my head and forced me to pick somebody who would be dumb enough to just reveal the secret of the Sirens to outsiders, Maddie Bishop never would have been my answer.

I could see Ben “Bad Judgement” Pownall and Ryn “No brakes on this train” Fisher doing so. I expect Xander and Calvin to be trash at keeping secrets because that is consistent with their past behaviour. But Maddie? No. Not Maddie. Not the girl who hid her mother’s addiction from the world as best she could. Not the woman who was okay keeping Ryn a secret from her own father. And not to a total stranger.

This is Ben-level stupidity. Actually, it is worse than that. Blabbing about the mermaids to a total stranger without being under any kind of duress is by far the most stupid thing any character has ever done in this show. It risks not only Maddie herself, but also the Sirens as a species. It is even worse than Xander telling Nicole about Helen's family burials at the end of season 2. It is irresponsible and completely outside Maddie's established character traits and her past actions. It is unbelievable.

III. Killing is different when my (animal) girlfriend does it

Besides turning her into an idiot, the writers also turned Maddie into a hypocrite in stating Ryn letting Ian drown is different than Ben doing the same. Nevermind the fact that Ryn has actively killed people (and probably will continue doing so).

(Why is it different when two people react exactly the same?Because.....reasons. The best reasons. People tell me they are the best reasons. My uncle went to MIT and invented these reasons. Big brain time.)

So the writers had Maddie claim it is different when Ryn does exactly the same thing as Ben. It also is okay for Ryn to kill somebody who was no real threat to Ryn (or Maddie with Ryn being there). Remember when Ryn killed the drug dealer in Episode 205? Ryn was toying with the guy throughout the whole fight and clearly enjoyed killing him in a brutal manner. She even grins during the fight once she realizes the guy has no chance against her.

And yet, Maddie was okay with this. But it is not okay for Ben to let somebody drown who was a) a homocidal maniac who used his car as a deadly weapon, having attempted to run Ben over twice previously b) somebody who could not be trusted c) who had just kidnapped a drugged-up Ryn.

I cannot remember when I ever groaned in frustration at anything Maddie had done or said throughout the course of the show. This must have been the first time and it is especially jarring in response to the following scene in 206:

(Ryn does not. The writers might.) As I said above, I am more than okay with Maddie evaluating her relationship with Ben, what I am not okay with is her immediate declaration that Ryn killing people is different...because she is Ryn? And I hate how it has one particularly ugly implication - that to Maddie, Ryn killing people is just what she does. The conclusion to be drawn from that is that Ryn is indeed a predator/animal first to Maddie than a human being.

And this is obviously inconsistent with Maddie's earlier actions.

First, she did not mind somebody eliminating threats before. She was okay with potentially having to hurt people in order to defeat the sonic cannon in Season 2. She was “willing to fight” to protect Ryn and her species. And several times Maddie carried loaded guns and was ready to use them herself in the series.

She also always believed in Ryn's humanity. I am sure the many scenes between Ryn and Maddie in Season 1 and 2 are fresh in everyone's mind. Suffice to say that Maddie has always believed in the humanity of Ryn, starting with the car scene between the two in Episode 102 or the trust scene in Episode 103, which I have linked below.

youtube

(and where did this dynamic go btw?) Which ties in neatly with my next point:

IV. The Marginalization of Maddie regarding Ryn and Ben

Let me start by saying that breaking up the trio to focus on Ben/Ryn (and probably continuing to focus on those two) is not something I want to critize from a storytelling perspective. Final judgement on the storytelling will be reserved until the end of the series. As this issue is inextricably linked with “shipping” preferences, I think at this point I have to explain where I stand on the issue. I would prefer Polymarine as I think it really fits the characters best...but I can live with Ben/Ryn. This is in no small part due to Eline Powell and Alex Roe doing some of their greatest work on this show playing off each other. See for example how in Episode 306 they improvised with her hair sticking to his body after a hug and turned that into a tender gesture...great impromptu acting without breaking character. If the writers want to explore this (or any other) relationship further I can respect that decision from a storytelling perspective because I think the payoff will be satisfying to me as a viewer. Even though I feel it would have been better to explore Ben/Ryn in the context of Polymarine I begrudgingly accept the right of the writers to tell the story the way they want to.

And If nothing else it leads to stunning visuals - image credit to @crayonboxhearts, more gifs from this scene at the link.

But I dislike the way in which the writers set it up and executed it this season because (as outlined above) it sacrificed some of Maddie’s core character tenets and had her acting out of character.

Having the trio become a duo on its own in an organic way without the above would have been preferable IMO. There were enough angles the writers could have chosen to facilitate that in a believable manner. They could have focused on the connection Ryn has with Ben, they could have had family reasons...et cetera pp. And they also could have used some of the issues Maddie has in her own past to justify a breakup. All of this would have been (IMO) preferable to what we got.

What we got was something that felt as if it was written to check some boxes to set up the future plotlines and in doing so marginalized Maddie with regards to her importance to Ryn, Ben and the overall story.

Granted, the show tried to show Maddie and Ryn's feelings for each other and they spent some time showing Ben moping after her - but in light of the significant strides made in the Ben/Ryn dynamic these scenes feel more than a bit hollow.

And anybody who has watched episodes 308 could just see the role of Maddie as it relates to interacting with Ryn and Ben getting smaller by the minute. Ryn and Ben now have their own little circle, one which only seems to include Maddie on the periphery. Nowhevere was this stronger on display than in Episode 308, with Ben and Ryn making lifelong promises to each other.

Ryn: “I will live on Land. With you.” Ben: “On land. You mean, stay human?” Ryn: “Yes. Here. Together. Human.” Ben: “What about Hope?” Ryn: “She can be with us. As a family.” Ben: “I can’t ask you to do that.” Ryn: “It is my choice. When it is time, I will be human with you.”

Notice how Maddie was not even mentioned once during that conversation? And yes maybe it would have been a bit weird to include her in the dialogue . However this is not an isolated incident. Later on Maddie is not even in the same frame when Ryn and Ben actually exchange a wedding ring and make a “til death do us part” promise. Let me repreat this: They are exchanging wedding vows and Maddie is not even in the frame.

(Yes, technically not wedding vows, but only due to the circumstances surrounding them - the sentiment and meaning was there. FFS, she is even wearing white).

And sometimes it is something as simple as Ryn in 308 kissing Maddie on the cheeks and Ben straight on the lips.

There could not have been a more clearer message than the contrast here. And this was clearly intentional on part of the director considering these frames followed each other immediately.

And then of course we get the followup scene on the docks where Ben is literally standing in the middle between Maddie and Ryn, before turning and following Ryn, both leaving Maddie behind. Observe the contrast between that scene and the pier scene in Episode 203.

203:

308:

(Ngl,seeing her standing alone there in the dark hurt) And some of that can be viewed as a logical development of Maddie no longer being in a relationship with Ben (and whatever kind of relationship Maddie has with Ryn, it is clear that Ryn is not staying at Maddie’s place at all). Siren has always been about the relationship of the main characters within the tight-knit circle and it is clear that at this point in the story Maddie is not part of the inner circle anymore.

V: Maddie’s role in the story

And if Maddie would be doing something else, something central to the story of Bristol Cove, something that would valiate her character and make her essential to the plot in other ways, it might be enough for me or at least end up softening the blow. But is that the case?

The side characters that have the closest connection with her (Dale and her mother Susan) have not even appeared once this season. And we had Xander replace her in her role as the gun-carrying backup which Ben calls first when stuff goes down in episode 306. So far there has not been a critical “Maddie moment” this season that was absolutely essential to the plot. She figured out the reason why the pool was not working in Episode 307 but it was Ben who came up with an actual solution to the problem.

(A caveat: Ben usually is the one who figures out solutions in the show (cf 208) so I might just be overreacting here.) But what exactly is left of the crucial role that Maddie had at the start of this season? Is she still as important as the other two main characters with regards to story development? I really hope the Finale will make me look like a fool for even asking that question. But I hate having arrived at a point where it even is a question once can ask legitimately.

VI: Previous acts of plot

This is not the first time the writers have decided to ignore established character traits in order to tell a certain story. I have written before how it made no sense for certain storylines of Season 2 to play out the way they did in Episode 214 and 215 - except in the context of them serving the overarching plot.

Specifically, Ryn not knowing Ben's last name despite living together for weeks and months and suddenly going haywire after hearing it made little sense. And yet it was clear why it had to happen - because the writers wanted to tell a specific story. (A longer argument for what happpened and why can be found in the middle of this post if you do not want to take my word for it.) They wanted to do so because it led to great payoffs for the viewer:

1) We had an awesome discussion between Maddie and Ryn in Episode 214

(Remember how emotionally intelligent Maddie was in that situation? Where did scenes like that go?)

2.) It led to several great scenes between Ben and Ryn and also provided further justification for Ben’s choices in 216.

In retrospect, the plot contrivances of 214 were done by writer's fiat to setup a scenario that would test the relationship of the trio. This created more drama and paved the way for a satisfying payoff at the end of Episode 215/216. In doing so, the writers allowed character inconsistencies and plot contrivances to steer the story towards a predetermined outcome, to the detriment of character logic and past character developments.

And we can see a similar trend developing here. The end goal of the writers seems to have been the rock scene between Ben and Ryn at the end of Episode 308.

And if you assume this to be the end goal in the current plot development...if the goal was to focus on Ben and Ryn...then there needs to be a breakup. Because huge parts of the storyline (stemcells, them going swimming, them making promises to each other etc.) do not work with Maddie in the picture.

But was it necessary to sacrifice parts of her character and have her acting in a manner inconsistent with her established traits in order to do so? (Maybe they had to rush it because of lack of episode time, but then why waste so much time on Robb and Helen’s ghost stories?).

And there is another problem: The success of this plot development will heavily depend on whether it will fit the personal preferences of the viewership. As I said above, while I would have preferred Polymarine I can live with and enjoy Ben/Ryn or Maddie/Robb.

But for die-hard polymarine and Maddie/Ryn shippers, I feel the results might be somewhat different. And this is only made worse by Maddie being unfairly treated by the writers in order to facilitate the overall plot development. I suspect many Maddie fans (regardless of their shipping preference) will have been disheartened about how the writers made Maddie behave this season.

I know I was.

VII: The parallels between Episodes 108 and 308 - and why they worry me

And there is another meta-reason why I am deeply worried about Maddie and her role going forward. And this has to do with the way in which Siren’s previous ten-episode season has been set up. In Season 1, it was Episode 108 that cemented the character development happening in that season. Episodes 109 and 110 served to defeat the big bad of the season and to introduce temporary setbacks that had to be solved at the start of the following season before the characters returned to the dynamics establied in 108.

In short, while Episodes 9 and 10 were exciting, Episode 8 of Season 1 is the pivotal episode of the season. Ryn’s desire to learn and to stay on land, her first steps into human society...all those happened in that episode. There are also strong parallels in the way 108 and 308 treated Ryn’s relationship with Ben, even ending their screentime in the episode with a impactful scene between the two (”Will you sing to me” / “Til death do us part”). Other parallels include both episodes featuring an important event in a human’s life (a wake/a marriage), both episodes involving the whole Bristol Cove community etc.

And like 108, 308 was (IMO) a near-perfect episode in terms of performances, pivotal scenes and dialogue. Just by the sheer number of extras, costumes etc. involved the writers clearly wanted it to be important. And it was important. It greatly drove forward the plot and I personally rate it as one of my favourite episodes of the show on its own for that reason.

But there is one major difference that seperates 108 and 308: Maddie was very much still in the picture (literally) and a plot-driving force in her own right.

And this worries me.

I expect the final two episodes will be about defeating the big bad of the season, as it was with Season 1. Maybe the season will even end the same way as Season 1 - with Ryn being on her own for a bit. Maybe she even goes back to the water for a longer time (or is forced to do so due to circumstances). But I also expect character development in season 4 to largely use 308 as its base.

And now you can see why I am getting concerned here about Maddie’s diminished role. I really hope the writers have not forgotten what a wonderful character they created in her and find better ways to use her in season 4.

There are plenty of options within Siren to give her meaningful screentime again (her spending more time with Xander and Calvin for example would also give more screentime to those two, which I would love to see). But whatever the writers chose to do in the future, I really hope that it does not involve Maddie acting out of character again.

Conclusion:

The way the writers wrote Maddie in Season 3 is not something that I agree with, nor does her diminished role in the central dynamics of the story sit well with me. Did it completely ruin the show for me? No. The mysteries of the sirens, the Pownell family saga, the question of whether Ryn has to permanently return to the sea, her child and the whole Ryn/Ben dynamic kept me entertained - and will do so in the future.

But Maddie being this off-base and not being in the main picture definitely does diminish the show for me - and I think I am not alone in this. When I look at the failed opportunities for her character it saddens me in a major way. Even though Season 3 is still an enjoyable and entertaining season for me, it could have been much more.

#siren #siren freeform #maddie bishop #maddie #ryn #polymarine #character analysis

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hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon · 5 years

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Okay Tumblr, I’m about to do a stupid thing and ask for validation on some of my original writing. I’ve been working on a novel for a while now, and while I don’t have nearly as much to show for it as I would like, I do have this prologue.

The story it is is attached to is long and complicated and queer and magical and I love it. My question to you fine internet denizens is: after reading this prologue, would you keep reading this book?

(If you have follow up questions about this story at all, please ask because I love blabbing about this and I’m considering making a side blog just about this story because I want to develop it and hopefully get it published one day)

My buds: @a-l-ias @madre-des-leones @books-andbiscuits @chihuahuapowersgo @oopstheregoesthatlifeofmine @ivneess @elissastillstands @i-am-triple-a @becca-becky @goddess-of-fluff (You are all under absolutely no obligation to read this, I just think you’ll get a kick out of it)

So, without any further ado, I give you the prologue to Cheshire Moon:

Prologue: In Which It’s The End of the World As We Know It

Here is the boy on his bicycle. It is a dark and stormy night, a strange night for a bike ride. A Monday night as it would happen. Just goes to show that even after the events collectively referred to as “the Apocalypse” have ravaged the Earth and destroyed the capitalist institutions such as bureaucratic schools and offices that made certain weekdays widely hated, Mondays are still, and will always be, awful.

So here is the boy on a bicycle twenty years after the Apocalypse. He is pedaling madly through woods that had once been somewhat tamed. The woods were made of pine and maple and oak, the staples of a Northeast American forest, but they were also more than that. See, when nature is left to its own devices, even forests once populated with such things as marked hiking trails and outdoor recreation areas can turn into something quite different. This forest, once a nature preserve belonging to the state of New York, was now a wildwood. Things not quite friendly and not quite mundane and things not evil but also certainly not kind to trespassers lived in the dark spaces between these trees.

So here is the boy on a bicycle, riding through a wildwood full of dangerous things not kind to humans on a stormy Monday night twenty years after the Apocalypse. This is odd for three reasons.

First, as previously mentioned, it was a rainy night. And not a little drizzle, May-Day morning kind of rain that you barely needed an umbrella for, but a sky-splitting, earth-shaking, world-flooding howler of a storm. Each bolt of lightning ripped the sky apart; every roll of thunder shook the ground; the howling wind threatened to send even the oldest trees crashing to the ground. Surrounded by all of this, beneath the trees and in the mud, was the boy on his bicycle.

The bicycle was the second odd thing. Despite the absolute hell it’s rider was currently putting it through (he wasn’t biking on a path, you see, just careening through the underbrush as it suited him; scratching the paint, splattering it with mud, and getting half a forest worth of sticks stuck in the wheel spokes), it was a very nice bike. A ten-speed, all-terrain, for-serious-athletes-only sort of bicycle. In another life, it would have been the property of some over-achieving businesswoman, the sort who did triathlons on the weekends and polished it with special bicycle wax three times a week. In this lifetime it had been stolen from an abandoned sporting goods store and aggressively spray-painted black because its new owner had been in a mood that day. There was also a laptop precariously duct-taped to the handlebars. Surrounding the ancient laptop was a clear plastic container, which several hours earlier had been looted from an old Target store and taped over the handlebars with extreme prejudice to protect the computer from the coming rain.

The third odd thing was what the rider of this bike was doing. He wasn’t just soaked to the bone while pedaling full speed through the dark and rain and underbrush, with no light to guide him other than the faint glow of the computer screen. He was also singing at the top of his lungs.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it! It’s the end of the world as we know!-oh!-” He swerves to avoid a tree- “Oh, it! It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I FEEEEEEL FINEEEE!” He had a deranged smile on his face, the kind adrenaline junkies get when they’re doing something supremely idiotic while enjoying themselves immensely, and couldn't be damned to care about the consequences. He was quite possibly insane, more likely sleep-deprived.

Just then, the computer started beeping. The boy quickly brought the bike to a stop, crashing through a puddle and narrowly missing a large rock that would have brought this story to an end much quicker. Still singing nonsensical lyrics to himself- “Lenny Bruce, Lester Bangs, birthday party, cheesecake”- he dismounted, taking something small and electrical out of the bag he wore over his shoulder. He hit the device a few times, cursed twice, and hit it again before it finally turned on with a beep and a few flashing lights. The light illuminated his face, pale and tired and shivering. Splashes of mud on his face gave the appearance of more freckles than he actually had. He wiped his long, rain-drenched hair out of his eyes to peer at the computer screen before punching some coordinates into the handheld device. A map appeared on the smaller screen. Blue vector lines appear, joined by two small dots, one green, one red. As he moved, the red dot moved. “Excellent,” he whispered to himself before walking deeper into the woods, leaving his bike behind. It would be the last time he saw that bike.

Walking through the rain was much harder than biking through it. Every minute or so, he had to stop and pull his boots out of the shin-deep mud. Twice he slipped, spreading mud all over his front. He refused to think about the state of his hair, despite the fact that it smelled like some of the wet matter coating it might not be mud. He slipped a third time, and the device in his hand went flying off into the wet night, never to be seen again. He paused for a moment, staring pitifully at where his device had disappeared before proceeding to curse loudly and creatively in at least three languages; insulting not only the stupid forest and the gods-damned rain, but his own stupidity and the idiocy of his informant for failing to tell him about this job before it became a time-sensitive matter that resulted in him being covered in enough mud to pass as a very short golem……

He went on like that for awhile before continuing his walk. The past few days had been incredibly frustrating, and there was a lot of bottled up anger to be released. As absolutely no one listened, he cursed the Trader caravan who treated him worse than the dirt on their boots, the scavengers who’d stolen his good knife last week, and the state of his life in general, gods give him a sign that he shouldn’t end it all right now, just climb up a tree and get struck by lightning…

A particularly loud crack of thunder erupted just then, followed by a bright burst of lightning that was a bit too close for comfort. It seemed like the gods were calling him on his bluff. With a world-weary sigh, he shoved his frustrations back down and continued walking into the woods. First and foremost was the mission, he reminded himself. There would be time for pity parties later.

It seemed like the universe was mocking him at that moment; as he gathered his convictions, the storm worsened. He would have said it was impossible, but the rain came down harder, as if trying to tell him that just lying down in the mud forever was so much simpler than trying to be a hero, who was he anyway, to try and save the world…He began to sing again, attempting to combat the darkness of the weather and his mind. “Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn, world serves its own needs, don’t miserve your own needs…” He walks to the tune of the highly appropriate song, keeping his head up and eyes peeled for his destination.Finding anything in this weather would take nothing short of divine intervention, possibly by multiple gods, but find something he does. There, on his right, almost outside his field of vision, a faint glow in the darkness of the night. He smiled, a wild thing, before running full tilt towards the glow.

As he got closer, it became clear that the glow was coming from the ground itself, a golden line stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction. The glow is slowly intensifying, but he’s arrived in time. He takes another device out of his bag, this one about the size of his head. It looked like if someone had melted down several computers, a tacky bachelor’s pad worth of chrome plating, and a rotary phone before mashing them all together and drenching the entire thing in white paint. That really wasn’t far off from the actual process used to create the gadget, which was of his own invention. He was rather proud of it, especially as it was one of a select few of his projects that had been completed without any magical assistance whatsoever.

With the golden glow lighting his way, he steps forward and gently places the SaviorBlob(that was what he had named the blobby thing) directly onto the line, aligning one of the sticky-outy metal bits towards magnetic north. Then he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, taking a second SaviorBlob out of his bag and placing it on the line. Again, he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, watching his feet while taking a third and final SaviorBlob out of his bag. He’s adjusting the magnetic alignment when he hears a loud grunt. He looks up. Then he starts running.

A roar erupts from the massive creature straddling the line. Something vaguely resembling the idea of an arm erupts from the darkness, grabbing the boy by the back of his jacket and bringing him face to face with the rotting corpse of something that had never been properly alive. Desperate, he throws the remaining SaviorBlob at the creature’s face with surprising force, but it bounces off harmlessly. The creature roars again, throwing the boy up in the air only to snatch him up again, this time around the waist. With another arm, it sweeps the SaviorBlobs off the line, sending them flying into the night.

Satisfied, it returns its attention to the boy trying to free himself, slowly pulling him closer as it opens it’s stinking maw wide. The boy watches, eyes wide, heart pounding. He waits. He waits. Then he strikes. A second before the darkness would swallow him whole, he pulls a knife from his boot and drives it deep into a mass of twisted flesh.

As the creature flails, he rips off one of his many necklaces and shoves it down the creatures throat, kicking away at the same time and falling to the ground. His jacket is torn to pieces, tangling around the arm covered in dark acid from the creature’s mouth.

The creature roars and lashes out, clawing at it’s wound with one arm and pinning the boy by his leg with another. The touch is dirty and so cold it burns, the antithesis of everything alive. The boy screams for the first time. Another twisted and corrupted limb is pressed to the glowing line, and the creature rears its head and sings, a single high piercing note a human could never hope to replicate.

The boy struggles, trying to pull away from the pain, but he’s stuck fast. As the creature continues to sing, the light of the line grows brighter, turning from golden to white hot. The air itself is resonating with the impossibly high note, the whole world shaking as the boy tries to twist free and cover his ears from the onslaught of pure noise. With a final cry of pain, he escapes the creature’s hold, trying to run, trying to get as far away as possible...BOOM. The world goes white. He flies through the air, hitting a tree with a CRACK. Darkness falls immediately.

------------------

I WILL TAKE ANY AND ALL CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

I WANT TO MAKE THIS GOOD

I WILL ALSO BLAB ABOUT THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH, SPOILER THEY”RE ALL QUEER AND MOST ARE POC.

#Cheshire Moon #Cazi's Writing #my writing #original writing #Marcelo Doran #Artemesia Benitez #Miriam 'Chevy' Johnston #Jashik Agni #Kals Katsaros #okay writing my OC's names as tags for the first time gave me such a rush #like #they're real and they matter

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years

Text

Love and Leather /part thirty five/

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: Ya’ll, my feelings are fucking hurt after writing this. Please enjoy.

Warnings: Drugs, language, alcohol, extreme angst

Taglist: @brideofdraculana, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @annthebonelessm @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @nikkisixxsixxsixx, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @marvelismylifffe, @zoenicoles, @pfft-halsey, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults @cruebaby, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @emmaelizabeth2014

“Time to wake up! It’s noon and your guests will be here in a few hours!” Mom was over exuberant as she opened my bedroom door. I groaned as I sat up in bed noticing Nikki was already gone. I rubbed my eyes and looked up at her.

“Where’s Nikki?” I asked her, she smiled sweetly at me while walking over to my bed as she sat down at the foot of it, “He’s downstairs, the boys are enjoying the pool.” I nodded as I got out of the bed, starting to rummage through the closet for what I could wear today.

“Are you dating him?” I exhaled deeply, I didn’t want the interrogation this early in the morning, or afternoon I should say. “We’re just friends, mom.” I replied, getting irritated because nothing looked good to wear.

“And you have...sex with him?” She asked, trying to clarify for herself, “Yes mom, we’re friends and I sleep with him.”

“Well, why aren’t you dating him? I saw the way you two interact last night and from an outsider looking in, you two act like you’re already in love.” I rolled my eyes as I sat down at the vanity, ha. I wiped off the remaining smudges of make up that were from last night.

“No we don’t, we’re just best friends, I know everything about him, and he knows everything about me. I’m not in love with Nikki.” I explained, as she let out a huff, “Well does he love you?” I shook my head, “No, he doesn’t. He’s even said it. We’ve already talked about it mom, just let it go.” I knew by the way mom looked at me she knew I was getting upset.

“Why are you getting mad?” She asked, walking over to me as she helped fix my hair from the rats nest it was in.

“I’m not, just everyone thinks Nikki and I are more than what we are and it’s annoying. Why can’t a guy and a girl just be friends?” I asked, she let out a laugh, “Honey, they usually don’t sleep together when they are friends.” I rolled my eyes, “I trust Nikki, and he’s there for me whenever I need him.” Sighing in contempt as I thought about him.

“But are you there for him?” Mom asked, “Thats the important part, I know you are very skeptical about relationships.” She continued on, “I try to be. He’s very difficult sometimes, and it’s frustrating.” I explained as I finished brushing my hair, now parting it for two French braids.

“Why’s it frustrating?” I put the brush down, turning around to look at her, “Cause mom! He says things sometimes! And he does things that only a boyfriend should be saying and doing! Like every time he’s away on tour, he calls and we tell each other how much we miss one another! And I spend hours into the nights with him just talking about everything and anything! And he, he just looks at me a certain way sometimes, and when he does that I can’t breathe.”

Mom smiled, “Sounds to me like you two have something to talk about.” I shook my head, “I’d be so scared to be in a relationship with him. He’s one of rock n rolls biggest bad boys and I see what he does on a daily basis.” I confessed to her as I finished the braids and as Nikki walked through the closed bedroom door.

“Oh, you’re already up.” He says, smiling at me as he leaned against the door. Mom looked back and forth between him and I. “Well, I’m gonna talk to Loretta and see when catering will be here.” She said, scooting pass Nikki and leaving.

“What was that about?” He asked coming over and kissing the top of my head, “Just a mother and daughter talk.” I mumbled, as he nodded and sat down on the bed.

I think what I said last night made things awkward.

“We’re okay, right?” I questioned, looking at him through the mirror.

“Why do you ask that?” He seemed curious, but the smirk on his pink lips said otherwise. I shrugged my shoulders, “Dunno, just asking.”

I stood up and walked over to my closet, grabbing a pink bikini and putting it on quickly. “Can you tie these?” I asked Nikki, turning my back towards him as he grabbed the strings. When he was done, he lowered his head and kissed my bare shoulder.

“We are fine, Princess. Don’t worry.” He reassured me, I quickly nodded as he gave me a smile. “I just think eventually, we will have to have a conversation you don’t want to have.” My gaze met his, “Not now.” I quickly spoke, stepping away from his embrace. I saw him roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye.

“Just...not right now.” I breathed out, pulling on a pair of short daisy dukes. “When?” Nikki asked, I groaned as i opened up my bedroom door.

“I don’t know. Just forget I said anything last night.” I muttered, looking down at the white carpet then back up to him. “I think you’re just scared of being happy with me.” I scoffed at his response.

“I am going downstairs and I’m not talking about this again, Nikki.” I roughly spoke as I turned my back to him, hearing him mumble under his breath all the way down the stairs.

“Good morning sweetheart, I have breakfast for you outside. Your guests should start arriving in around two hours.” Loretta explained, placing a cup of coffee in my hand, “Are you bringing your kids today? I always liked hanging around Jason and Brandon.” I asked, smirking as a I saw Nikki’s glare when he walked behind Loretta to grab a water.

“Yes, they both will be here. You know they have such a soft spot for you.” I smiled, nodding as Nikki’s face turned sour. I watched him quickly leave the kitchen, slamming the back door before going outside.

I was quickly sidelined by a towel being swatted against my arm, “Ow, Loretta.” I yelped, rubbing the red spot on my arm, “I saw you two last night in the hot tub.” I felt my face get warm, “Uh...we were just...um..” I couldn’t muster a sentence as she smirked at me.

“I was really drunk last night.” I explained, but she waved me off, “Greyson already blabbed about it, seems you are a wild child, hermosa.” She retorted, “The boy seems...nice. Gloomy. But nice.” I scratched the top of my head, awkwardly standing next to her.

“We’re just friends.” She laughed at me when I said that, “Ingenuo, ingenuo, ingueno.” She cackled, continuing to chop up some stuff for later.

“I am not naive!” I defended myself, “As much as I love your mother, she is naive just like you are. I don’t believe you for one second when you tell me you and him are just friends.” She explained.

“It’s in the eyes, Bonita. The eyes never lie.” I rolled my eyes, “Don’t roll your eyes at me, or I’m telling your mother you stole the key to get the booze.” I immediately stopped, “Sorry..” I quietly apologized to her.

I shortly left the kitchen. I went outside walking past the boys as I felt their eyes follow my ass. I sat down with Mick at the table.

“How many chicks have you fucked so far?” I had heard Nikki ask Vince, “Uh...three.” I looked at Mick as we both rolled our eyes.

“No not today, on the tour.” Nikki clarified as I started eating the fruit and English muffin on the plate in front of me, “Oh...I lost count after that gang bang in Salt Lake City.” I forced the vomit back down, “That was fun.” Nikki laughed, lounging back on the pool chair.

“How about you old man?” Vince giggled as he asked Mick.

“Don’t you guys realize that the girls you fuck, probably fuck every rockstar that comes through town?” Mick questioned, making all three of those idiots bust out in laughter.

“We’re like pussy brothers with the whole scene.” Tommy added on, making the other two laugh again.

“Unlike you clowns, I happen to respect the females of our species.” Mick retorted, “Thanks, glad to know there’s still gentleman out there.” I added on making Mick give me a sweet smile.

I watched as mom, and I’m assuming the party planner arrange yellow and white balloons around the backyard.

“Whose ready to have some fucking fun?” Greyson yelled walking out in swim trunks, “Grey, don’t cuss!” Mom was quick to correct his behavior.

“We need to get him laid.” Tommy pointed out, “He’s still a virgin?!” Vince laughed, as I rolled my eyes.

“He’s never even had a girlfriend.” I told them, “Dude...set him up with one of your friends.” Tommy said, nudging my arm.

“I have tried, but he’s really shy around girls.” I explained.

“Hey Vanity, you want to go for a swim?” Greyson snickered, “Fuck you.” I retorted, standing up to go see what mom was planning.

“No, we’re going!” Greyson shouted, wrapping me up and dangling me over the deep end of the pool.

“Greyson! Stop!” I shouted, but he started lowering me into the water, “Mom!!!” I yelled for her but she wasn’t doing anything about it.

“Oh come on, Vanity! You’re twenty six years old now! It’s time to get over the fear of water!” Greyson yelled in my ear.

“ Greyson, c’mon, put her down.” Nikki spoke up,

“Lucky your boyfriend is here.” Greyson whispered, putting my feet down on the concrete that surrounded the pool.

“Asshole!” I shouted before shoving him in.

I shook it off, walking over to mom and the party planner as they were discussing things. “I think we should have the music over here, that way everyone is not tripping over wires.” I looked at the papers they were going over.

“Why hire someone when we have the band, I’m sure they would perform for us?” I asked Mom, “Oh, no, no. We hired another band.” The party planner spoke out. “A cover band.” I rolled my eyes.

“A fucking cover band? Really?” I scoffed, “Vanity.” Mom muttered my name sternly. “This is the food you’re getting? I don’t like half the stuff on here.” I pointed out, becoming upset as Mom knew all these things.

“Red velvet cake?! Mom, I hate red velvet! I told you I wanted white cake with yellow and pink frosting.” I whined, knowing I was on the edge of throwing a tantrum.

“I love red velvet.” Nikki said, walking up behind me, placing his hand on my lower back. “Well it’s my party, and I don’t want it.” I defended myself.

“Princess, don’t be a brat. Your mom is just doing something nice for you.” Nikki sided with my mom.

“We can perform a few songs, if you wanted.” Nikki added on, “They hired a cover band.” I explained, watching the expression on his face twist to annoyance.

“A cover band? Just hire a real band.” Nikki laughed, “They better not cover any of my songs.” Nikki mumbled.

“Just go away. You’re complicating everything, Vanity.” Mom spoke to me as I rolled my eyes, “Well maybe if you asked me beforehand, I wouldn’t be complicating things.” I snapped at her, but she ignored me.

I huffed as Nikki trailed his hand up and down my back, “Come.” He said, wrapping his hand around mine and pulling me to the pool.

I laughed, “You have me so fucked up, right now.” I watched as he stepped into the pool, trying to pull me in with him.

“Nikki, no.” I let go of his hand as he gave me a stern look, “I’m not taking no for an answer, you’re getting in the pool. Look it’s shallow.” He motioned as I grumbled. I unbuttoned the shorts I was wearing, getting a whistle from Tommy and Vince as I pulled them down my legs, before throwing it at them.

The shallow part of the pool was already waist deep for me. “I’m not going any further.” I protested, crossing my arms against my chest.

“Doll, just...c’mere.” He spoke softly, taking my hand and pulling me towards him. I was hesitant as he started pulling me towards deeper water.

“No..no...” I said, trying to push away from him but his arms were wrapped around me like a vise grip. My hands gripped his shoulders as I was barely touching the bottom of the pool.

“See, it’s fine. I got you.” He reassured me, pressing a soft kiss against my cheek.

“Nikki and Vanity sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” I groaned when my annoying sister came outside. I quickly splashed water towards her to get her to shut up.

Nikki mumbled, placing kisses along my shoulder. His hands slid down to pick me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he moved us to the deep end of the pool.

I clutched on to him as I stared at the bottom of the pool. “See? It’s not that bad.” Nikki chuckled, his hands gently rubbing my ass.

“You’re right, it’s actually quite worse.” I groaned, not breaking away from looking at the six foot deep pool, but to me it looked as if it went on forever.

Nikki’s hands let go of the back of my thighs, “No, Nikki. Please don’t.” I whined, clutching to him tighter as he laughed.

He pried my arms away from his neck, “Just relax...” He cooed, slowly taking my legs from the position they were in, he still had a hold around my waist.

I closed my eyes, muttering under my breath to try and calm myself down. I felt his arm unravel from my waist, “Nikki, I swear.” I groaned as he slowly pushed away from me leaving me in the middle of the deep end as he backed himself up to the wall of the pool.

I saw his stupid smile under his stupid sunglasses, “You’re literally the fucking devil.” I chimed in, as he laughed loudly, “But look at you, swimming in a deep pool. I’m proud of you.” He replied, giving me a wide a grin as I swam over to him.

I was quick to splash water in his face. He groaned, taking off his glasses and pushing them up. When the hair was out of his face I could actually see all of his facial features, his eyes were my favorite.

“You have gorgeous eyes.” I expressed as he laughed, shyly shaking his head as he put them back down on his face, “Hey man, it’s one. Didn’t you say you were going to meet Doc?” Tommy spoke out, “Huh? What are you talking about?” Nikki said, confused as Tommy gave him a look.

“oh..yeah, yes you’re right.” Nikki said, leaving me in the pool as he pulled himself up out and grabbed a towel.

“Where you going?” I asked following his movements, “Nikki?” I questioned again as he didn’t answer me, “I gotta...I gotta go see Doc.” He was quick to speak as he pulled a shirt on.

“My party starts in an hour....” I trailed off as he gave me a quick glance, “I know, I know. I’ll be back.” Nikki said, I backed up from him as he started walking to the door, but I followed him anyways.

“Nik...can’t it wait?” I asked, tugging on his wrist to get him to stop as he was in a hurry, but he didn’t even budge.

“Babe?” I spoke softly as he turned around to face me, “Princess, I’ll be back okay? I just gotta talk to him about stuff.” I huffed, giving myself a hug as I became cold outside of the water.

“Didn’t you guys talk enough last night? What else is there to talk about?” Nikki stood up tall as he looked down at me, “Nikki, I’m not dumb. Where are you going?” I was straight forward with him, not buying his bullshit for one moment.

“Vanity, it’s none of your damn business. I will be back.” Nikki snapped, swiftly opening up the door and closing it.

I went back outside and straight to T-bone, “Where is he going?” I asked, standing over him with hands on my hips, “Uh...to talk to Doc, duh. Didn’t you hear me?” Tommy giggled.

I rolled my eyes, quickly taking off his sunglasses, “Where is Nikki going?” I demanded, noticing that he couldn’t look at me. “T-bone. I won’t be mad, just tell me.” I said sweetly, my hand brushing over his thigh.

“I Uh...Sixx...um-“ “He went to go get you a present, he was telling me about it this morning.” Vince butted in, “Some jewelry place, I think.” He continued.

I felt rather stupid that I was getting worked up over it, “It’s okay, kid.” Tommy nudged my chin with his fist gently, “Sixx drives all the girls crazy.” He says with a laugh as I push him back against the chair.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, I suggest you two do the same. You’re fine Mick.” I ordered, looking at them as I went back inside to get ready.

*Micks POV*

“You two shouldn’t of lied to her.” I mumbled, taking a swig out of my vodka filled water bottle.

“She’s gonna freak out when he comes back high.” I continued, “She’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He said he was just gonna score some more smack and then be right back here. It’s fine.” Vince retorted, continuing to sunbathe.

“You better pray you are right about that one, blondie.” I retorted, groaning as the guys weren’t even listening anymore.

“I hope there’s some hot babes that come that will make me cum.” Vince said, making Tommy laugh as I rolled my eyes.

I continued drinking, hoping that Sixx wouldn’t come back fucked up. And if he did? I hope he knows what the hell he’s doing.

Vanity may be naive at certain times, but she can read through Nikki’s façade faster than anyone surrounding him. She knows when he’s high and when he’s not. I mean, except for last night…but she was just really fucked up.

Nikki likes to joke that he has this other side of him, almost another personality when he’s high and super fucked up. He calls it Sikki Nixx. And I hope for Vanity’s well being, he doesn’t make an appearance. I don’t know what she would do if she ever saw that side of him.

*Vanity’s POV*

I pulled up the yellow flowery dress that stopped not even mid thigh. I glanced down at my cleavage, “Nice.” I mumbled to myself before taking out the braids I had put in earlier, letting the loose waves dangle down to below my shoulders.

I put a touch of make up, the deep red shade filled out my lips, while the light golden eye shadow made my hazel eyes pop. I spritzed on some perfume before clasping the bracelet from Nikki around my wrist.

I walked downstairs, hearing music from the backyard and people chatting.

“There you are, honey! Come on, your guests are here.” I gulped, putting on a smile as I walked towards her, “Best behavior.” Mom whispered into my ear, as I nodded.

It was the same thing at every party. Every business fundraiser, every black tie gala I’ve ever been too. Mom always told me to be on my best behavior, to impress everyone and anyone. To put on my best million dollar smile and fake laugh at every joke a man said who is old enough to be my grandfather, ‘that’s where the money is, those are the investors’. Dads words echoed through my head.

Yeah it was a birthday party to celebrate me, but at the end of the day, it was for mom to prove that the Blackwoods’ were still the richest family in the American oil industry.

The first person to approach me was Melanie Smith, I went to private school with her. She’s an okay gal when she’s not drunk on three dry martinis.

“Oh Vanity, it’s so wonderful to see you. How have you been? I heard you were living in Los Angeles now?” I was about to answer her but she continued anyways.

“I was just in Los Angeles seeing a fabulous doctor, he worked on my nose.” She said, gripping my shoulders as she whispered the last part, “It looks great, Melanie.” I lied, I couldn’t tell the difference.

“If you can excuse me.” I said, seeing the boys laughing with Greyson across the yard. I didn’t see Nikki though.

I was cut off by Warren G. Davidson, he was still handsome as ever. Even if he was thirty years older then me, had four children and I think he was on his fifth wife…he could still get it anytime, anyplace, anywhere.

He was daddy’s right hand man, he was there at his bedside with us when he took his last breath.

“How are you sugar?” He said pulling me into a hug, I could smell the scotch on his breath.

I pulled away from his embrace, hands gripping his forearms as I looked at him, “I’m doing wonderful, I’m so happy you could be here.” I smiled joyfully, he was one of the few business people I could stand.

“As am I, I’m happy you came home. You’re mom has been telling me wild stories of you hanging out with a deranged group of guys.” The smile quickly left my face.

Has she told everyone about the band? Or about me and Nikki? Even if there wasn’t a me and Nikki?

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. They’re right over there, so excuse me.” I smiled apologetically as I let go of him.

“And there’s that fine piece of ass, come give me some love.” I groaned when I heard that voice.

“Roman, it’s not a pleasure to see you.” I grumbled as he pulled me into a tight squeeze.

Roman Davidson, Warrens second oldest son. And the guy I gave my first blow job too in the back of his Chevy truck. He is convinced we are meant to be. Soulmates is the word I believed he said one time.

His hand reached down to my ass, “Hands off.” I spoke up, gently pushing him away from me, “C’mon baby, stop denying me. I’ll make you feel like a million bucks.” I rolled my eyes as I walked away from him.

I was almost to the boys when my least favorite pair of blonde haired twins stopped me. Francesca and Andrea Copeland. They were the second richest family in the oil industry. They were also at the top of the socialite list here in Dallas. Apparently Vince has fucked one of them, or both. He said he couldn’t remember. It was back when Motley was still in their ‘Shout at the Devil’ days because they were virgins at the time, and that’s what Nikki and Vince wanted. Nikki swears up and down he didn’t fuck them. Did I believe him? No.

And when I mean virgins, I mean they only did it anally up until they met Vince fucking Neil.

“Please tell us how you found yourself wrapped up with Mötley Crüe?” Francesca asked me, I shrugged as I tried walking past them but they blocked me.

Did I mention that they use to pick on me in school? Daddy almost sued their family.

“We fucked them before you did.” Andrea spoke up, “Vince, Nikki and Tommy. Not that weird little one.”

“Hey, watch your fucking mouth! Don’t talk about Mick like that!” I snapped at them, “Guess she still has anger issues.” Andrea whispered into her sisters ear.

“And is now a little skank.” Francesca said, motioning to the dress I was wearing, before pointing to the bruise from Nikki on my neck.

I let out a sigh of relief as Tommy grabbed my arm, “Hello ladies, excuse me but I need to borrow little miss birthday princess for a moment.”

“Tommy, you remember me right?” Andrea said flirtatiously, as she stuck out her chest. “Uh….no.”

Tommy quickly dragged me inside, “You don’t understand how-“ I stopped talking when I saw Nikki being held up by both Vince and Greyson.

“Oh, baby…there you are. C’mere.” Nikki said, pushing away from the guys as he stepped towards me, wobbling on his feet.

“You’re fucked up.” I laughed bitterly, “I…yes..but let me explain.” Nikki said, holding up his finger as I waited for the great explanation this time.

“You told me…you told me to go find it. So I did.” He slurred his words, his eyes were all pupil and no color.

“You went to go find smack!?!” I screamed at him, shoving him against my front door, “Yes, cause you told me too. You didn’t fucking care.” He spat back.

“Oh fuck you, Nikki! You know that’s not what I fucking meant!!” I yelled at him, “Okay…just take a breath. People are looking.” Greyson got in between us.

I took a deep breath in and nodded, “Get your fucking act together, Nikki.” I warned him, shoving him against the door once more.

I quickly walked outside, going over to the make shift bar Mom had hired, “Shot of Jack.” I ordered, quickly shooting it down as he handed it to me.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that?” I smiled, recognizing their voice.

“I’ll take what she’s having.” My smile grew wider as I turned around, almost crying because I’ve missed them so much.

“Lucia! Tonya!” I shouted, quickly pulling both of them into a hug, “I can’t belie-you guys are are really here! Who talked to you!?” I shouted, pulling away from them, “Vinny and T-Bone, they called us a few days ago.” Tonya clarified.

“Well…spill it. How has life on the road been the last few months?” I laughed, “Round of Jack please.” I said looking at the bartender. “I don’t even know where to begin…” I trailed off, running my black painted nails through my hair.

“To sum it all up-“ I turned towards them, lifting up my dress so they could see the tattoo on my ass. They immediately started laughing, “Thats how it’s been.” I spoke, quickly fixing my dress and putting it down.

The girls stopped smiling when Nikki stumbled over, bumping into me and knocking over the glass, “Pull yourself together, you’re embarrassing me.” I said, grabbing onto his arm to make him stand up straight.

“I’m embarrassing? Cool.” He rolled his eyes, “Jack and Coke. Now.” He ordered, impatiently waiting as the man made his drink, “Hurry the fuck up. Don’t you know who I fucking am?” Nikki’s voice was full of rage.

The girls gave me a sympathetic look, “Nikki, please?” I begged him, “Pull it together.” His eyes wandered to the brunette that walked up to the bar.

“Hey, not in front of me.” I said, gripping his chin to make him look at me, “I’m not you’re fucking boyfriend.” He snarled, roughly pulling my hand away from his face.

I couldn’t fucking believe him. How dare he use that against me!

Nikki quickly brushed me off as he put up a front and acted completely sober as he talked to this chick. Lucia and Tonya quickly pulled me away from him.

“What the hell was that?” Tonya demanded to know, as I just shook my head, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” I explained, as she rolled her eyes.

“It didn’t look like nothing? Is he drunk?” She asked me, “He’s high.” I said disappointed, “Really fucking high.” I bit my lip as I watched him get handsy with this girl. I’ve never felt a single ounce of jealousy once when it comes to the girls that surround him. I knew what I meant to him, even if it was unspoken between us. I knew that I had him and that he had me.

I pulled it together when Damien Hampton walked up to me. His great, great grandfather developed most of the houses on the historic district of Dallas. His family was oozing with money. And boy, was he a walking piece of sex.

“It’s nice to see you. Happy late birthday.” His words were smooth as he clutched a bottle of Heineken. His hand went through his slicked back black hair as he gave me a smoldering gaze.

“Thank you, thanks for coming. How is your mom?” He showed me his pearly whites through a side grin, “Shes good. She sends her best wishes. She had to take a trip to Miami for business.”

“Damien, this is Lucia and Tonya, they’re my friends from Los Angeles.” I introduced them, noticing the imaginary drool dripping out of their mouth as they Gawked at him.

“Hello ladies.” He said, sending a wink to both of them. He knew how hot he was and he used it to his advantages.

“Y’know, I never did get you that drink I promised you.” I laughed at his words, “That was three years ago. I’m surprised you remembered.” I retorted.

“Of course I remember baby girl. You were wearing a blue dress with black heels, your hair was curled in an up-do. And you looked sexy as hell. Still do. I like this dress.” He stated, his fingers fumbling with the bottom hem of the dress as he pressed his other hand to my lower back.

I felt the heat creep across my cheeks as he looked at me. He had killer blue eyes that I was currently drowning in. His lips tugged into a smirk that never faded away from his face.

“We’re gonna go talk to the guys.” Tonya said, “Yeah, go ahead.” I shooed them away as Damien and I continued talking.

“How about you and I take a trip up to your room real quick.” His breath was hot in my ear as he lowered his head down to me, “Like last time when you snuck me in.” I smiled, biting my lip as I thought about his offer.

“To hear those noises from you again, man.” He breathed out, loosening up his tie a little bit. I licked my lips as my hand ran over the front of his pants, teasing him just a little bit, “Maybe you can-“

“Hey baby, whose this?” I glared at Nikki as he clutched a bottle of beer, “Baby?” Damien asked, confused, taking a step away from me.

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” Damien questioned, looking at Nikki, I could tell he was judging him. “He’s not-“

“Yeah I’m her boyfriend, she’s kinda shy about it.” Nikki interrupted me, roughly pulling me to his side, “Who are you?” Nikki asked, throwing an arm over my shoulder and taking a sip of his beer.

“Damien Hampton…And you’re Uh….Nikki Sixx. Big fan, dude.” I tried leaving Nikki’s side, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Nikki, stop.” I whispered into his ear, “Didn’t think you’d find yourself with a rockstar.” Damien chuckled.

“I’m lucky aren’t I? Isn’t she a nice piece of ass?” Nikki spoke out, roughly grabbing my bottom.

“Yeah, She is. We hooked up a few years ago.” I hated when guys talked about me like this. It made me feel like nothing but a piece of meat.

“Guess we won’t be taking a trip upstairs, now will we?” Damien smirked, as I could feel Nikki glaring at me. “It was nice talking to you.” Nikki abruptly put an end to the conversation as he pulled me away.

“God, you’re acting like a fucking pig.” I said, shoving him away from me as I scoffed in disgust at his actions.

Nikki laughed, “Now you want to speak up? I always talk like this.” I rolled my eyes, “No, you don’t. Not to me at least. I’m not one of these whores you fuck daily, Sixx.” I spat my frustrations out at him.

“You sure keep acting like it. I watched you throw yourself all over him.” He pointed out, making it seem like it was my fault.

“Unbelievable.” I muttered, exhaling as I tried to relax.

“Nikki…” I spoke softly as I cupped his jaw, “Please, I am begging you. Don’t ruin my party.” I pleaded with him, as he rolled his eyes.

“I know you’re mad at me.” He mumbled, “You’re right. I am extremely pissed off, livid even. You said you haven’t touched heroin in a few days, so what gives?”

“You told me to go find it.” I scoffed, “Nikki, that’s not what I meant. You know that.” I said, taking my hands off his face as he stepped away from me.

“You didn’t care when I told you, so don’t fucking start now. And don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you in front of all your rich, snobby friends. I’m probably gonna fuck a few of them later.” He grinned like the devil himself. I couldn’t stand the look on his face. I didn’t recognize anything about him. Usually it was tolerable as he would shoot up, pass out, wake up and say sorry for getting high. But this was different.

“Okay…” I said quietly as I watched him walk away from me.

I kept my eye on Nikki throughout every conversation I had, at one point he went inside with a blonde and came back out fifteen minutes later with a redhead. Then eventually he went inside by himself, only to come back out ten minutes later stumbling around even more.

I watched Mick pull him aside to talk to him, hopefully speaking some god damn sense to Nikki. I saw Nikki try to put up a fight, but Mick more then likely got stern with him as he shut down.

“Excuse me…I need another drink.” I said to the group of people I was pretending to listen too as I walked over to the bar

“Parties fun.” Tommy said, nudging my shoulder. I nodded, trying to put on a smile.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” I spoke, as I ordered another glass of champagne. It wasn’t cutting it. But mom said ladies don’t drink beer when I tried to order one.

“I’m sorry about Nikki….I know he’s super fucked up right now.” Tommy gave me a sincere apology for his behavior, “Why would he even do this? He knew today was important.” I whined, trying not to get worked up and start crying in front of T-bone.

“I wanted to introduce him to some important people, but I can’t when he’s like this.” I explained to Tommy, feeling sorry for myself. I fucking knew better then to trust him.

“I don’t get him sometimes. Like last night he asked me to be his date to your wedding, and he was really sweet even after what I did at the strip club…and then he just does this? Like I’m nothing to him.” I vented my frustrations to Tommy. He started rubbing my back as he could tell I was getting worked up.

“I don’t know. He’s just being selfish…and clearly a fucking idiot. He’ll regret it when he finally passes out…but I don’t see that happening for a while. He’s pretty loaded, he said he shot up both coke and smack.”

“He’s gonna end up killing himself.” I said worrisome, “He’s fine. I think we’ll get him in rehab before that were to ever happen.” Tommy said, laughing at his own words.

“Rehab…right. Cause that would go over well.” I rolled my eyes, laughing with Tommy. “I see Vince has found himself some entertainment.” I added on, pointing to Vince and the four chicks that were in the pool with him.

“I give it an hour, he’ll probably take them all to the tour bus.” Tommy spoke, my attention being taken away as the band mom and the party planner hired started to play to the beat of ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.’ I actually really fucking hated this song.

“A fucking cover band? Really?” Mick said, walking up to us as clutched a glass of vodka, “Your mother always seems to amazes me. Really? A cover band? She couldn’t just ask us to play a few songs?” Mick exasperated, I shrugged. “I’m sure you guys could, but Nikki.” I motioned over to him, “He’s played fucked up before. Doesn’t sound good. But he’s done it.” Mick pointed out.

Nikki soon stumbled his way over to the three of us, “Hey man, get it together.” Tommy said, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a stern look.

“What? I’m fine. It’s all good T-bone.” Nikki retorted, I noticed smeared lipstick on the side of his neck.

“You’re certainly not all good, man.” Tommy spoke back, making Nikki roll his eyes, “Lighten up man. Stop fucking running to my band mates.” Nikki was quick to jump down my throat.

“You do it all the fucking time, it’s annoying.” Nikki continued as the guys looked at him unimpressed, “Leave her alone. You’re being an idiot.” Mick replied, jumping to my defenses.

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. She’s being a cunt.” I was quick to shove Nikki when he called me that.

“Knock it off or i’m kicking you out.” I threatened him, “Yeah? So you can be a fucking slut without me around? I’ve bet you’ve already fucked half the guys here.” Nikki’s words were cold as he glared at me.

“Y’know What Nikki? Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go sit on someone else’s dick.” I retorted, noticing his jaw clench and fist balled at his sides.

“Don’t test him, he will snap.” Tommy said, putting his arm around my waist as he slyly whispered into my ear. I smirked at his words as I lightly pushed T-bone away from me.

“Yeah, maybe that’s what I’ll do. Go find a dick to suck since I’m such a big slut and have been with no other guy but you. Yeah, sounds good to me.” I was being petty as I slapped the side of Nikki’s shoulder before walking away from them.

Shortly after I found myself sitting on Duke Mitchell’s lap. His mom developed a program for under privileged youth. They get free meals over the summer when there’s no school, school supplies in the fall, and jackets when winter comes around.

Duke was also a rebound after Julian got arrested, maybe Nikki was right. I have fucked plenty of guys that were socializing in my back yard. Rebound after Julian, and now a guy to piss Nikki off. And I think it was working as his eyes haven’t left me once.

I felt Duke nibble on my ear, “Come back to my house when the parties over.” He whispered as he placed a gentle kiss on the side of my neck. His hands were getting dangerously close as he was rubbing my outer thigh.

“Let’s just go upstairs right now.” I muttered, running one hand through his blonde hair and the other over the tattoo he had on his chest that was peaking out of the half buttoned shirt.

“I like the idea of that.” He responded with a smirk as I got off his lap, reaching for his hand as we started walking inside.

I stopped when the microphone echoed, causing a loud piercing noise to sound off, “Shit, you’re short.” I heard Nikki’s voice through the amplifier, I am going to fucking kill him before the heroin has a chance too.

“Hello? Hey, yeah sorry about the noise.” Nikki grumbled into the mic, “Excuse me.” I said letting go of Dukes hand as I walked over to Tommy, Mick and Vince as they watched Nikki stumble around on stage.

Nikki adjusted the mic, “Ah, that’s better. As I was saying sorry for the noise. It’s not like it was as bad as they have been….you fucked up a lot of good songs.” I cursed under my breath, glaring at him as he looked at me.

“I just…I just wanted to say a few things to the birthday girl, give it up to Vanity!” Nikki clapped for me, as everyone followed his lead.

“Man, this girl…I swear…” Nikki said, pointing at me as he had a bottle of beer in his hand.

I saw a smirk spread across his lips as he leaned into the mic, “This girl…she pretends like she’s so god damn perfect, it’s honestly such an act. You deserve an Oscar, Van.” Nikki grumbled as the smile I was starting to get faded away.

He glared at me as he continued, “She doesn’t care about anyone here. She can’t stand any of you, she never fucking did. She cares about no one but herself. She might care about you when you put your dick inside of her to keep her busy.”

My lips parted as I scoffed, ignoring the judgmental looks I was getting and the whispers among everyone.

“But man, she’s got some grade A pussy. I’ve fucked a lot of chicks all over the world. But Vanity Blackwood’s pussy is the tightest I’ve ever had.” Nikki spoke out roughly, chugging the rest of his beer as he tossed the bottle down by my feet.

I bit my lip, shaking my head at him as I felt tears starting to stream down my face. Both Tommy and Vince tried consoling me, telling me it’s just the drugs but I pushed them away.

Nikki looked over at me, “Aw, baby. Don’t cry…it’s okay. But I get it, I’m not good enough for you. Never have been and never will be, that’s why you string me along, right?” I shook my head as he chuckled darkly.

“Some CEO fuckwad would make everyone happy, including you. Can’t be with someone who will be in his grave sooner than the world knows. I’m just crashing and burning, doll.” Nikki stares at me, his eyes rolling as he shook his head.

“Why the fuck are you crying? I’m just a good fuck to you…enjoy the ride while it last Vanity. Cause I know you don’t give two shits about me, probably dealt with me for the drinks and the drugs and cause you know I fuck you better than anyone else you’ll ever meet.”

“Nikki, stop.” I cried to him, my voice breaking, but he continued his rant, “Going around the world for free just as long as you suck my cock, right?”

“Get him off the fucking stage. Now.” Greyson walked up, pulling me to him as I sobbed into his chest.

“Fuck you man, I’m not done.” I watched as Tommy and Vince try to wrestle him off the stage, but Nikki wasn’t moving.

I saw Mick throw his glass down on the grass, “Get off the fucking stage. You’ve done enough, sixx.” Mick said to him, forcefully grabbing Nikki by his arm and shoving him off.

“Get the fuck off me!!” Nikki shouted, shoving Vince away from him.

“Always gotta stop for the princess, right?” Nikki said, stumbling over to me but Greyson shoved him away.

I saw the look on Nikki’s face as he approached my brother, “Stop!!” I yelled at him, shoving him back, “Oh stop with the fucking tears, nobody fucking believes them!” Nikki growled as he gripped my arm roughly, pulling me to his chest.

“You act so fucking innocent and you’re not!! If it’s not the blow it’s the alcohol!” Nikki yelled in my face, his hot breath left me scorned.

“Let go of me!” I yelled back at him, shoving him away. He stumbled backwards, falling into a table that had gifts and my birthday cake on it, sending everything to the ground. Nikki looked at the presents, holding one up as he saw it was smashed under him. Nikki quickly glanced up at me seeing the tears and discomfort he’s caused.

“Vanity…I…babe, fuck.” He groaned, pulling himself off the table as he had icing all over him.

“I want him out.” I told Greyson as I began walking away from them. “Van, Vanity. Please wait.” Nikki chased after me, I turned around to see him stumble and bump into people. The guys quickly followed behind him.

“I want you out of my house!! I never want to see your face again!!” I screamed at him, his face winced at my words, “I…I’m sorry…I…Vanity please.” Nikki begged, reaching for my hand but I smacked his arm away from me.

“I hate you.” I scolded him, “Van, no you don’t…please, doll. Don’t kick me out.” His voice cracked, I could feel the sadness coming from him.

“I wish I never fucking met you, Nikki. Get out of my house. All of you. I’m done. This is done.” I spewed my anger out at him. For how pissed off I was, I’m very surprised with myself that I hadn’t hit him or broke something.

Nikki looked away from me, his jaw clenching as he nodded.

“Have them get their stuff, and get them out.” I told Greyson. “Parties over…it’s so fucking over.” I mumbled before going inside the house.

I was quick to get Nikki’s suitcase together and drag it out of my room. I carried it to the stairs, noticing Greyson escort the band out as Tommy and Vince tried to get him to reason. Nikki glanced up at me and when he did I threw his belongings over the railing, making it hit the floor with a loud thud. “Oh dude..” I heard Tommy speak quietly for once.

I grabbed his bass out of my room, and took it to the stairs, “Vanity.” Greyson said my name, rather as a warning as he shook his head. I exhaled as I walked down the stairs. I watched Nikki hunch over, picking up all his stuff.

I handed the bass to Mick as he took it, “One more thing.” I spoke out bitterly, unclasping the bracelet around my wrist. I fumbled with it before throwing it at Nikki’s boots.

I stormed upstairs, slamming my bedroom door so hard it split the wood. I quickly locked the door and sat against it for I don’t know how long.

*Nikki’s POV*

I fucked up. I royally fucked up. I fucked up the only good thing I’ve ever had, I mean minus the band. I fucked it up. I could feel everyone’s anger as we sat on the tour bus. We had left her house about forty minutes ago and we’re driving to Arizona for one last show, then home thank god.

I sat on the couch, clutching the bracelet, trying to control myself from locking myself away and shooting up needle after needle.

“I am sorry.” I spoke quietly.

“Shut the fuck up, Sixx. I don’t want to hear your fucking voice right now.” Mick growled, throwing down his guitar as he pulled himself out of the recliner, pouring himself a glass of vodka.

“She’ll forgive you-“ Tommy tried looking at the bright side as usual. “No she fucking won’t!!! Look at everything you have done to her! And to do this!? In front of her family and peers!?” Vince, for once was sounding like an adult.

“I fucked up and-“ “I said to shut up!!” Mick yelled at me, he always had a way to make me feel like a scared little boy.

“You even fucking told me you think you’re in love with her!! And yet you still do this shit to her!!!” Mick screamed at me, throwing the glass of vodka on the floor.

“You what?” Tommy perked up, “Dude. I fucking knew it.” He added on, slapping my arm.

“Nice one, Nikki. It’s like you don’t want to be happy.” Vince chuckled as he sipped on his beer.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore. She hates me and that’s it. It’s done. We’re done.” I closed my eyes, leaning my head back onto the couch.

“Well good, cause it’s what you fucking deserve.” Vince mumbled. I groaned as I stood up and went to my room.

“Yeah, go shoot up some more Sixx, cause that will make everything fucking great.” Tommy yelled out after me. I quietly shut the door and locked it.

I laid in the middle of the bed, clutching a pillow. Is this what heartbreak felt like? If I’m feeling like this I could only imagine how she’s feeling. Fuck, I can’t even picture it. I hope she didn’t destroy anything, just as everything was going fine between her and me, I fuck it up.

I just…it wasn’t me. I mean it was me, but it’s what the drugs do to me. I saw her with that guy and how she was laughing with him and how his hands were exploring her body, it just made me snap.

I wiped my face as I felt tears run down the corner of my eye. My gaze slowly moved to the needle that was perched up on the nightstand. I really was trying to fight the urge but Vanity’s words and tears were taking up every free space in my fucked up head.

I needed a relief, and if she wasn’t here to give it to me, then heroin it is.

Nice going, Sikki.

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