#screw this I'm not putting anymore tags this sucks

[nowandthane]

7 snippets, 7 people

thank you @vakariansvixenand @stormikins for tagging me!! <3<3<3

no pressure tagging @xoshepard @poetikat @sweetmage (feel free to not read this it's all mass effect jsdhfg) @illusivesoul @westernlarch @sillyliterature @mxanigel @menacingmetal @grim-starling

These are all gonna be from Sarani's longfic because I'm not writing anything else atm. Mostly rough and unedited too so beware xD

cw for suicidal ideation in the last two

She turned to look at him, shocked at the outburst. His eyes were wet with tears that stubbornly refused to fall. He glared back at her, as if challenging her to defy him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought that she really should. This was insubordination. But she felt so relieved that someone else was making the decisions that she just relented, turning to look back out into space in silence.

“How could I have left him behind?” she whispered, long minutes later. Her face was wet. Joker was quiet for long enough that she stopped expecting an answer — what could he have said, anyway? But he did answer.

“You were doing your job, Commander. I… I’m sorry.” And he really did sound sorry for her.

“This job fucking sucks.”

-

Finch sneered. “I can find a dozen Reds who’ll swear they saw you kill aliens for fun. Who’s going to believe you then?”

His grey eyes caught hers, and held them steadily. The world slowed down as she seriously considered whether he really did know. Even without proof, anyone who had known her then could put two and two together and figure out what she did — no one else could have done it. But no one ever cared before.

Now it was something they could use against her. And they were threatening to.

Was that was he was doing? His words saying one thing, but meaning another?

I know you killed her, but I won’t say it in front of them. As long as you do what I say, no one else will ever know.

Was that what was behind his words?

The image of her, of Nazia, crying and begging Shepard for forgiveness intruded on her mind. Her screams echoed in Shepard’s ears, her blood sticky on Shepard’s hands.

-

“Do you compare yourself to your old Captain a lot?” Garrus asked.

“Not really. Not anymore.” Shepard shook off the thoughts rattling in her head. “I know I have a screwed up moral compass. That’s just a result of my ‘upbringing’. But I don’t let that turn me into monster. I don’t want to cross any more lines, but I keep stumbling over them anyway.”

Garrus looked at her, his thoughts and emotions inscrutable. She was getting better with reading turians, but he seemed closed off to her at this moment. Silence became heavy in the air, and she did nothing to break it.

“I wonder…” Garrus finally mused, “if I killed Saren, would I be struggling with it now as you are about Finch? I don’t know what the answer to that is, and that — that kind of scares me. Am I a monster, Shepard?”

“No, Garrus.” She smiled at him a little sadly. “You’re not a monster.”

“Yet,” he said. “Don’t you ever think that it takes a monster to stop a monster?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “Mostly, it feels like an excuse.”

Garrus nodded. “Why did you get so angry when he called you by your name?”

-

“How about a new name?”

“What’s wrong with Shepard?”

“No, not that. Don’t you want to change Jane?”

“What’s wrong with Jane?” She frowned.

“Well clearly the orphanage just named you that because they couldn’t be fucked to actually care about you. Don’t you want a name more fitting for who you are?”

“I don’t want any connection to the people who threw me away like I was trash,” she said curtly.

“It’s not about your parents,” Nazia insisted. “They suck, but you have a whole culture that you come from.”

“I know nothing about it.”

“So? Don’t you want to reclaim it?”

“Well, you clearly want me to.”

“Just think about it. It can be like… like a new start for you!”

Considering it. Maybe it is better, to have a new name, one untainted by the dirtiness of her beginning. And if Nazia was the one renaming her, so much the better. She was the one who made Shepard feel like a human. And if this was important to Zi, then it was important to her.

-

“You think you know me so well?” she asked, sneering. She regretted it almost immediately when the animation that had taken hold of Garrus abruptly left him. He had seemed more alive for a brief moment there, much more like the angrily passionate man who had argued with his superior at the Presidium, or the one in Dr. Michel’s clinic, ready to take on a group of thugs alone.

As his commanding officer, it didn’t feel good to have made one of her own people feel so small. But even outside of that, she felt bad because she did think he was a good person, just misguided. And this conversation they’d just had was their first real one. They had been getting to know each other.

He was turning to leave when she said, “Wait. I’m sorry.”

He turned back to her, expectant, but now that the apology had come out of her mouth, she floundered for what else to say.

“I was trying to compliment you,” Garrus pointed out, breaking the awkward silence. “Didn’t think you’d take it so badly.”

-

“Do you still want to die?” Shepard asked.

“Do you?” Thane returned.

She had to turn away. “Sometimes.”

Leaning against the viewing window, she turned her gaze on the drive core below — pulsing, powerful, dangerous. Peripherally, she noticed Thane standing and coming to her on silent feet, but she still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“I don’t.” His presence behind her felt like a weight she couldn’t shake off. “I agreed with you, once. That perhaps those of us who have died should stay dead.”

“You never really died,” she said.

“In all the ways that matter, I did.” He touched her shoulder, so softly that she barely felt it, except that there was no atom of her existence that could ever be unaware of him. “Will you not look at me, siha?”

-

The dream begins as it always does: with the fall. Falling through the nothingness of space, the alarms in her armour chiming as she gasped desperately for oxygen. There is a breach somewhere. Probably around her torso, where pain and warmth radiated.

She flailed helplessly, heat and hurt building. But it never did reach an unbearable point. They faded away as she fell, and with them went the burdens she carried. Her legs stopped kicking and her arms stopped reaching. She fell looking at the vastness of space, that blanket of mystery she had watched so often when she was stuck on Earth, so determined to get away.

And she did. The choices she was presented with had been unacceptable to her, and so she had found another way. She became more — made herself more. She had explored the galaxy, helped people, saved lives… She’d made a difference.

For better, not worse.

When she lost consciousness, it was without pain. Without worries. Peace was not something she had ever been familiar with, but she learned what it meant, right there at the end.

If only it really was the end.

[obsessedwithdavrick]

Ten Random Lines

Thanks @goodiecornbread and @demora00 for the tag.

Rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or three), and share it! Then tag 10 people. 

It's Supposed to be Better Than Fine

“Is that what you wanted Patrick?” David took another step towards him, not losing eye contact, Patrick swallowed and felt his entire body start to heat up.

“I hadn’t really thought about it…. In detail…. I was just… I wanted to make sure……. I was just making sure you were okay.”

“You wanted to make sure I was okay?” David said softly, another step towards him.

Engagement Wine

Patrick rarely asked about the details of David’s past, so when he did David felt like he deserved to hear the longer versions of stories. He felt safe telling him knowing Patrick loved him and didn’t judge him; the proof was glittering on the fingers of his left hand.

Patrick Brewer's Day Off

David’s eyes flicked back to the rear-mirror where he gave Stevie his best look of derision, while she smiled sweetly at him in return. If anyone could convey ‘suck it’ through a smile, it was Stevie.

So Frenchy, So Adorable

David smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Et pourquoi?” (And why?)

“Je veux. C’est tu.” (What he wants to say is ‘I just wanted to. That’s all’, but what he has said is ‘I want. It’s you.’)

Paint on the Colours

Patrick watched David slink into the water. Faarrrk, he thought as he rubbed his face. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get an erection standing poolside, and that was definitely not a good look for him.

The Way to go Home

He watched David while he chewed, contemplating how little he knew about him. Just his name, that he took sugar in his coffee and what he sounded like when he came. He wanted to know so much more. “So, David. Tell me one thing about yourself? Like… I don’t know… How did you end up in a hostel in Paris?”

Death of a Socialite

“Who are you sleeping with?”

“No one! What?”

“Your face. You were like, all soft dopey smiley,” Alexis screwed up her face with a look of distaste. And then she pouted and put her hand up to her chin, her eyes fluttering in what David knew was her approximation of a wink. “Somebody is literally trying to kill you and you are still smiling, David. Must have been pretty good, is all I’m saying.”

Reservations

“No! Nothing like that,” Patrick flushed at the thought. “I’m renting the spare room. Well, it’s not spare anymore, but yes, I live here. With David. As roommates.”

Three Dates

But as Patrick put the car in reverse, David heard the dance beat of the theme tune to Alexis’ show come over the speakers.

“No!” David warned. 

Patrick burst out laughing, rolling his eyes before saying, “But it’s such a banger, David!”

Getting what you Want

So that’s how he now found himself with a spreader bar between his legs, and Georgia’s softest leather wrist restraints (one of their truly backroom items) holding him to his headboard, with Jake, Marc, Tao and Will looking on from the couch. As Patrick glanced over to take them all in, he noticed Jake was sucking on Will’s cock. And that was… he breathed out. That was fucking hot.

Tagging @alysiswriting @statueinthestone @mostlyinthemorning @mallpretzles @legalgal421 @wordthieve @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rosedavid @rmd-writes @treluna4

I don't know ho's been tagged, but ten is a lot of people to be tagged so if you have I'm sorry- but enjoy reading ten lines out of context.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Part 17

Snippet 2 - The Hand Model Part 16

Series Masterlist

Contains: LOVE. A discussion of sex, consent and BDSM. I have borrowed captain Hold for Brooklyn Nine-Nine because he is just the coolest. Protective younger brother. Fluff. I like my men feminists and allies so I write them that way.

2.4K Words

Comment if you want to be tagged

The truth is out

"You've got to be working some kind of angle. You somehow always know shit that we're not allowed to ask about, you say you're a doctor and yet you kill like an assassin and you can somehow knew all about us before we even knew your name. Why are you doing this?" You couldn't stand it anymore, it felt like you were choking.

"Because I love you, you insufferable man."

You slapped a hand over your mouth.

"Oh my God, I said that out loud, I said that out loud." Jax was standing there, mouth agape.

"Well it's out now. I love you Jackson, wholly and entirely for all that you are. Everything, the guns and the cops, the Club, all of it. I love you Jax, with all my heart."

The silence was crushing, everyone was standing there staring at you and Jax. There was only one thought in your head right now, run.

But your brother was standing at the exit.

Jax was putting his beer down and walking up to you, then your head was in his hands.

"May I kiss you?"

You huffed out a laugh and felt your eyes get wet, "I would like that very much." He giggled against your lips before pressing his to yours.

He tasted like beer and cigarettes and home, his lips were soft and warm and you could feel his calluses drift over your skin. There could have been a raging fire or a storm of locusts, you wouldn't have noticed it. You were vaguely aware of the fact that the only air you were breathing was recycled air from his lungs, but each time you went to pull away, you were being sucked back in by the feel of his skin against yours.

"I FUCKING WIN YOU BITCHES, PAY UP." That pulled you away, Jax still had you in an iron grip so all you managed to do was shift your gaze.

Chibs was skipping along collecting handfuls of cash from all the guys, you looked at Jax, who's eyes were just a little wet and he smiled at you before rubbing his nose with yours.

"I think they might have had a bet of their own."

He ran his fingertips over the very tops of your cheek, "it seems that way." He gave you another nose rub then he was leaning in to kiss you again. This one was short, just a peck, like he needed to remind himself what your lips felt like before he faced the world.

"I love you too, every part of you, with every part of me."

It had taken a while for you to extricate the truth about the betting pool, it turns out they were all in on it, including your brother. Chibs won because he said your confession would be all heartfelt and sappy and that you'd be the first one to spill the beans.

"Hey, all that cash better be going to a good cause. I can not abide cash wagers."

Jax's hand yanked you into his side and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, "you're such a dork."

You rose up a little and kissed his chin, "you're going to have to get used to leaning down all the time because I'm going to get tired of constantly craning my head to kiss you."

Jax smiled down at you and lifted a hand to brush your hair away from your face, "I think that's a fair trade to be able to kiss you whenever I want."

He kissed your lips again, soft and affectionate, before long, the hand on your side was moving across to your ribs in a far more intimate touch.

"Gross man, I'm going to have to watch my sister and one of my best friends suck face for the rest of our natural lives. I hate both of you." You pulled away from Jax to laugh before looking your brother dead in the eyes.

"Yep! All the time."

Sam screwed up his face in mock disgust, "I'm never going to be able to look at either of you in the eyes again." None of you held out long, it took one too deep breath before the Clubhouse erupted in laughter.

****

Drinks were being passed around and you and Jax separated so Jax could go outside and smoke, when he was about halfway through his cigarette, Sam wandered outside and sat next to him.

"My threat still stands, if you hurt her, I will make you suffer before I kill you. And don't think I'm going to let y/n sing your praises for just being a good partner, you won't be getting a pat on the back for listing to her or helping her around the house or taking care of emotional needs and you certainly won't get one for not being a shit head." Jax went to respond but Sam kept going.

"I get that she would be pretty pissed that I'm having this conversation with you but I don't care, she deserves the world and because she loves you, she's not going to ask for it. I mean this with full offence but there's no way I'm going to let you treat her the way some of the guys treat their old ladies, you're not going to leave her with all the child care, you're not going to let other women hang all over you and you're going to treat her like, other than your son, she's the best thing that's happened to you."

The 'do you understand' was left unsaid but Jax heard it loud and clear. He had no doubt in his mind that Sam was telling the truth, he had seen flashes of a man far more brutal and cruel than what he represented to the world.

"Now I'm gonna go inside before she catches me and comes out here to chew me out." Sam tapped him on the shoulder just hard enough for Jax to know how strong he was and went inside. Jax finished his cigarette and went inside.

Jax finished his cigarette and went inside, you were talking with Gemma while showing her some kind of flyer.

"What you got there Darlin?

You held it out to him with, the paper covered in brightly coloured graphs, "we're starting a new program at the lab to teach law to enforce how to better tend to crime scenes, if an officer gets certified, they can testify to initial forensic findings." You didn't look impressed.

"I'm not happy about it, it's only going to lead to ruined evidence and problems in the courts. But again, they hold funding over my head." Jax wrapped himself around you and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"What does Holt say about it? I would have thought he could have said no to something if it took time away from casework."

You closed your eyes in frustration, "the opposite, when he first started working, they wouldn't even let him testify on account of being black and gay. If he doesn't do what the admiration wants, the whole lab will lose their ability to do our jobs and then we will never get funded."

Jax often worried if you took on too much, between working cases, doing tours and education, teaching and lecturing and now this he was concerned you hate your job and end up leaving to look for one elsewhere.

"Don't do too much, I'm sure you can work it so it only happens when you're not busy. What about only accepting cops with good records?"

You smiled at him, all affection and warmth, "that is an excellent idea Jax. I can say that it's due to expenses and staffing cost, the upside is that cops with completely clear records are very rare. Unlike the public, we can see complaints even if they've gone nowhere."

As the night wore on it, it become quieter, with one last yawn, you stood up and stretched.

"You would like to come over and stay tonight? Not to do anything, just to sleep."

Jax huffed and gave you a charming smile, "if I get to sleep on that mattress again, then answer is yes."

You looked up at him with a cheeky smile, "Who says you'll be sleeping in the bed Teller?" He leaned down to kiss you in response, using one finger to tilt your head towards his.

"You're a real brat, you know that?"

You giggled and kissed him again, "yep, and it's only going to get worse so I hope you've got a hold of your pants." Jax could tell by your facial expression that you picked up on his innuendo.

Oh you were going to be so much fun.

"Speaking of pants, we need to have a kind, sober, and fully dressed conversation about some things before they come off. Nothing scary, I promise, in fact it's all good stuff." Jax was happy you brought it up, he wouldn't hide the fact from himself nor from you that after he read the paper before the fair, he fell down a rabbit hole and read most of the stuff you wrote, including all your clinical sexology papers.

He didn't really think about it that much, it had taken a week before someone brought your degree up and you shut it down right away.

"What does a sexologist do?"

Tig was being salacious, not curious."I personally do research and education but some people run clinics or treat clients. We aren't sex surrogate, we don't touch or talk to anyone we are working with in a sexual manner."

Tig deflated a bit at that and Happy chimed in, "do you have a speciality?" His tone was curious and you reflected that in your answer.

"Yes, two. Kink, fetish and BDSM with no focus, meaning I never looked at one single aspect and my other specialty is education with a focus on consent and women's right."

You held up a hand before Tig could speak again, "just because I have a degree doesn't mean I have sex all the time or will have sex with anyone. Just because I write a paper about a kink or fetish doesn't mean I have it. I'm a sex-positive person but I'm also a very private person and unless you have a genuine question, don't talk about this subject again unless I bring it up. Do you understand?"

"I'd like that, maybe tomorrow some time?" You nodded, leaning in again to kiss him. There was a sense of relief that came with his statement. You knew how the Club treated women and you knew that Jax slept with everything with a heartbeat, but you had no idea what he was like. So his willingness to talk about his wants and needs, and hopefully yours, was a nice surprise.

****

You and Jax had arrived home a little while later. After having something to eat and a shower, you were getting ready for bed while Jax was shirtless, sitting up against the headboard.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes, I just need to go stretch before bed. If you don't know already, the toilet has a bidet so don't freak out."

Jax laughed and leaned over to grab your wrist, "I know what a bidet is Darlin, Juice talks about his all the time." You huffed and shook your head.

"Why didn't you stretch before you came to bed?" You sat down next to Jax.

"I usually do it in here before I settle down but you're here too and I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Jax rolled over so he could look at you better, "why would that make me uncomfortable, you're just stretching?" You thought for a minute before responding.

"It's not the most pleasant thing to watch, or hear for that matter. I jumped out of plans are carried very heavy things on my back for years, I also have hypermobile joints so it's less sexy and more 'crack crack, oh my God the human body isn't meant to do that.' I can do it here but only if you promise to stop me if I gross you out."

Jax ran his hand up your arm and landed on your face, "of course y/n, but I don't think anything you do could gross me out." You gave him a look like you were planning something.

"Well that brings me to my next point, we should get you set up with an ID so you can come and go at the lab without going through security each time. I pose a wager, you come to one of my practical lectures on your day off. If you can make it through twenty minutes, you win. If you don't, I win."

Jax smirked at you, "what do I get if I win?"

You kissed him before pulling away to get the maat from out of your closet, "I'm sure you can think of something over the next twenty minutes."

Jax watched you fold yourself into different positions, every now and then he would ask why you did something and you would explain what it stretched and why it felt good, his dick lasted until you got to the splits before if made it's known.

"Why do you do that?" He would hope the explanation would give him something else to focus on.

"Hip and leg flexibility is crucial to good control on a horse, a horse is sensitive enough to feel the riders heartbeat so making sure you have a good seat, how you sit on the horse, is really important. To do that, you have to have movement in your hips joints. Hense the splits, plus, it's a pretty cool trick."

The explanation helped a little, he had seen how much work you put into riding well and he was more impressed than he was turned on, "that makes sense, maybe you can take me one day." You finished up and put the mat away, climbing into bed next to him, "I would like that."

"What time will you leave for work in the morning?" Jax had your back pressed to his chest and he could feel you burying yourself into the space his body made around yours.

"Nine, I'll be home at four. It should be an easy day, I have one exam to do and then paperwork but if you want to come over for lunch, I'll be free. If you do stop by we can get your ID done while we eat."

Jax lifted his head and kissed the corner of your jaw, "ok then, I'll be there. Good night y/n."

You pulled his hand to your lips before kissing it softly, "good night beloved."

Part 18

[demonsandmischief]

Our Moment Finale

Marvel - A Captain America Fairytale AU

King! Steve Rogers x Female Reader

1.8K Words

Here's Pt 1 and Pt 2

-Part 3-

the conclusion

----

You didn't waste anytime getting home, collapsing onto your bed with a sob that you muffled with your palm. It seemed nothing good could ever truly be yours.

You glanced around the small attic space with blurry tears. The house was supposed to be for you. Your father had left it in your name, yet your step-mother was able to work her way around that.

It was the only reason you stuck around, the only reason you put up with all of it. You were over it.

Peaches was the only thing that you felt a connection to. Your father adored her, and you were honored that you got to bond with her.

You made up your mind. It was time to move on. You dried that last of your tears and began packing a bag. You carefully folded your mother's dress and put it back in the box you got it from. One day when the memories weren't as painful, you would come back for it.

You wished things could be different with your life, but mostly with Steve. You should have known better than to get tied up with the king. It was too good to be true. You felt you had done everything you could to win over his trust, but obviously not enough.

You strapped your bag to your horse. The next town was about a days ride, and you could figure out where to go from there.

---

Steve didn't hesitate to saddle his own horse as quickly as possible. He had to go after you - had to explain. He couldn't lose you. You were the only good thing to ever happen to him.

He stalled in his tracks. Explain what exactly? That his biggest fear was being used and never being loved? He shook his head.

"My king, where are you off to?" a guard asked confused.

"I have to leave."

"But the ball-"

"Tell the court I will explain when I get back."

"Wait, you can't leave without someone going with you."

Steve was already racing down the path, his heart racing along with it.

"There's no time for that," he called. He could take care of himself.

He thought of you as he followed the familiar trail. He thought of the first day you met, and all of the moments thereafter. You always made time for him, always listened to what he had to say. You were attentive and doting.

He had screwed up.

The trail became less familiar. He didn't know where he was going, or how he would find you. He swallowed down the panic. He couldn't lose you. It was a constant circling thought.

Eventually the trail ended and he slowed to a trot. He saw a house up ahead, and a royal carriage in front of it.

He slowed, finding Sam speaking to a guard.

"What are you doing here and how did you get here so fast?" Steve asked.

Sam took his horse's reins. "I know something has been up with you lately, but you can explain later. The lady you talked to at the ball is in the house."

Your step-mother. He had some words for her, but first he needed you.

"Thank you, Sam. I owe you," Steve said, heading for the door.

"Your highness, it's a pleasure to have you in our home-"

"Don't act like I don't know what is going on," he said, cutting her off. "I will deal with you later. Is she here? Where is her room?"

The lady paled even beneath the layers of powder on her cheek.

"S-She's not-" she swallowed at Steve's fierce look, before gathering her wits. "My king, she's not here. She's hardly ever here. I'll show you where she prefers to spend her time."

Steve followed her down a hallway to a door with a winding staircase. She guided him up and into the small room at the top. The ceilings were so low that he had to scrunch his shoulders.

He took in the space, feeling upset at your living conditions.

"Leave me," he demanded, unable to look away from the small bed in the corner, one that contained a single blanket and a pillow, folded neatly on the end.

The step-mother was right. It looked like someone hardly lived here, except there was a freshly cut flower on the windowsill, soaking in the low, dusty light. And the books you had borrowed from his own library sat tucked by the bed. Most importantly, the beautiful dress that he never got to say anything to you about was hanging from the sides of a box under the bed. You must have been in a haste to leave.

He frowned, bending down to pick up a folded piece of paper. Were those the things you did by yourself? What had you gone through?

Steve cursed. He wished he could have started the night over. He wished that he had gone through his original plan instead of being sucked into his own insecurities.

"Where would she have gone?" he asked impatiently to the lady who was lounging on her couch.

"If she isn't in the barn with that horse, I have no clue."

There was no sign of a horse or you. He closed his eyes, feeling the anxiety creeping in and swallowing him whole. It was dark and late, and you were somewhere all alone. It was all his fault.

"She might know someone in the next town over," Sam suggested. "We could head over tomorrow."

"That's a days journey. I'll start the route tonight."

"You're exhausted, Steve," he protested.

"Just in case," his words dropped to a hoarse whisper, his mind plunged into the darkest corners.

Sam nodded. "We will catch up with you tomorrow then. Be safe."

He nodded, already going down the dark path, his heart thudding loud in his ears.

---

You were taking a break and letting Peaches rest. The fire you built was warm and soothing on your stiff limbs. Even after the incident in the woods a while back, it didn't scare you to be out alone. The stars and the moon made it seem as though you could feel your parents, and you enjoyed the sentiment, especially after the day you had.

You rested your head on your hand, your eyes fluttering closed. They were dry and sticky from the tears that had fallen.

You gave a shuddering hiccup, unable to give into the heartbreak anymore. You were cried out. Beyond upset - a numbness covered your whole body like a scab on a wound.

You jolted, hearing steps near you and you staggered quickly to your feet.

"Thank god you're alright," Steve said, rushing towards you. He pulled you tight into his embrace, and it took everything in you not to hug him back.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" you asked confused, trying to pull away. He didn't let go, only eased back so his hand remained on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I believed her over you. I'm sorry that it took me so long to come after you. I'm sorry for everything," he said the words so sincerely that tears filled your eyes for the millionth time tonight. He caressed you cheek, using the pad of his thumb to dry a fallen drop. "And it's just Steve to you."

"But you still did it," you whispered, voice thick with tears. "You don't trust me."

"I do trust you," he said earnestly. "and I care about you. It has been a long time since I shared those emotions with anyone."

"It doesn't matter," you successfully pull away. His hands drop dejectedly to his side. "You're a king, and I'm me. It would have never worked out."

It was quiet a moment. "Why didn't you tell me what you were going through at home?"

You sat down and Steve followed. "I didn't want you to think I was using you. I guess we both have our own insecurities."

He looked into the dimming flames of the fire. "Insecurities or not, I shouldn't have accused. I'm sorry I hurt you."

He waited, but you said nothing. "We're both exhausted and need sleep. Why don't we head back?" He stood, holding out his hand to you.

You shook your head, "I'm not going back."

He paused, fully expecting that response, but it still took him aback. He definitely wasn't going to leave you alone in the middle of nowhere though.

"Okay," he nodded, heading to his horse.

You frowned.

He turned with a blanket, draping it over you, before tending to the fire. Finally, he sat next to you with a sigh. His body was pressed against yours and you couldn't help but sag in relief at the support.

"You can't stay. You have to get back," you protested.

"Shh," he eased, kissing your forehead ever so softly. "Sleep a bit and then we will talk."

---

Gentle light breaking through the trees awoke you from your slumber. You shivered from the damp cold, curling closer to the source of warmth beneath you. Your eyes fluttered and you realized you were practically laying on top of Steve.

You called his name, shaking him gently.

"We fell asleep," you told him with a yawn, falling back onto his chest. It was the best sleep you ever had.

He hummed, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I'm sorry. You must be freezing," he said coming to, easing the both of you up. Your cheeks heated and you moved to get off of his lap.

He adjusted the blanket so it was pulled tight over your shoulders.

"Come back with me, please," he whispered, turning your chin to look at him. "You can stay with me. I just want to be with you."

"You want me to stay with you?" you asked.

"We could get married in the summer," he grinned, the first genuine smile you had seen in a while.

"Married?" you asked, biting back a smile.

He nodded eagerly. "I'm falling in love with you."

---

Epilogue:

"Come on," Steve encouraged, pulling you eagerly down the hall to your favorite room in the palace.

Things were working out good, really good, between the two of you.

"What are we doing?"

"Close your eyes," he smiled, taking his large warm hands and covering them for you.

He pulled them off with an exaggerated ta-da, revealing a new shelf next to his in the library.

"Now you have your own spot for all of your favorites."

"Thank you," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "I love it. I love you."

And they lived happily ever after.

---

Hope you enjoyed 💕

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[five-rivers]

I posted 3,294 times in 2021

1934 posts created (59%)

1360 posts reblogged (41%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.7 posts.

I added 5,976 tags in 2021

#answer - 1460 posts

#ask - 1460 posts

#danny phantom - 1432 posts

#reblog - 707 posts

#ramble - 201 posts

#bnha - 191 posts

#ask game - 174 posts

#eldritch abomination au - 143 posts

#catboy vlad - 108 posts

#cursed - 100 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#(he did not sell good copper we only know about him because we found a bunch of hate mail addressed to him apparently in his own house)

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Me, in a fic: Hagakure is buff. As buff as Midoriya.

Some people: A cited essay about why that can't be the case.

Just for this, I'm going to figure out how to shove buff Hagakure into every BNHA fic I write. Just watch me.

1212 notes • Posted 2021-07-19 00:45:46 GMT

#4

If the portal is the cause of the ghost attacks (or if it increases ghost attacks) then why doesn't anyone turn it off or put more safeguards on it? Especially with Danny's obsession being protection in most headcanons, wouldn't that be everyone's first move?

This is the biggest plot hole in the entire series.

Various fixes (needless to say, Phantom Planet doesn't exist):

The portal can't be turned off.

The portal can't be turned off because it'll explode if you try.

The portal can be turned off, but it doesn't matter because it screwed with reality badly enough for natural portals to form frequently in Amity Park.

The portal can be turned off, but it doesn't matter because natural portals have always formed in Amity Park.

The portal can be turned off, but if you turned it off, more natural portals would show up because it's acting as some kind of pressure release.

The portal can be turned off, but Jack and Maddie don't think about it and Danny doesn't do it because he gives his parents too much credit and/or doesn't want to die again.

The portal can be turned off, but Jack and Maddie won't, because it'd be the end of their life's work.

The portal can be turned off, but the government wants it to stay on.

The portal can be turned off, but, well. The button's on the inside...

Feel free to add on your ideas!

1261 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 05:01:09 GMT

#3

If the Fentons made a ghost version of CAPTCHA to mass screen Amity Park citizens for ghosts would Danny pass or fail the test?

I’ve spent half an hour thinking about this, and considering how often I, a human, fail various CAPTCHA or ‘write what this image says’ tests, I have to image that at least a thousand people fail the untested ghost CAPTCHA and are then hunted for sport by the Fentons until they’re finally convinced that they aren’t ghosts by Jack failing the CAPTCHA.  

Danny gets Jazz to do it for him.  

1627 notes • Posted 2021-04-24 05:10:00 GMT

#2

Prompt: People now know that Danny Fenton is a ghost/half-ghost, but not that he’s Phantom. People assume that Danny is a fairly weak ghost. People are about to be proven very, very wrong.

"So," asked Mikey, "have you ever been to the Ghost Zone?"

"We've all been to the Ghost Zone," said Danny, raising an eyebrow. "The whole town was sucked in, remember?"

"That doesn't count," said Mikey. "We stayed in town the whole time. We didn't go anywhere."

Danny sighed and put down his sandwich. This was going to be another Q&A session. "Yes, I've been to the Ghost Zone."

"Is it scary there?" asked Star, leaning in.

Danny leaned back, and Sam and Tucker nudged him with their elbows, a silent promise to back him up if he wanted to run for it. He'd been outed as a half-ghost a week ago, thanks to one of his parents' inventions, not long enough for the novelty to wear off. He wasn't, quite, popular, but by some strange alchemy of social pressures and the local fascination with ghosts, he wasn't a complete outcast anymore, either.

"I mean, it is full of ghosts and there are some dangerous spots, but... Not really. It can actually be calming to float there."

"You can float?" asked Mikey, eagerly.

"Yes...?" said Danny.

"Do you have any friends there?" asked Star.

"Yeah!" said Danny, distracted from Mikey apparently not knowing he could fly. "A bunch! Most of the ghosts that come here are the really aggressive ones who are looking for a fight. But most ghosts in the GZ just want to be left alone to do their own thing, really, just like humans."

"What are they like?" asked Star. "Have you met any cool people?"

"Hah!" shouted Dash, who was passing by. "Fenton couldn't meet cool people if it killed him!"

"Wow," drawled Danny, resting his cheek on his fist. "What does that say about you, I wonder?"

"Huh?"

"Never change, Dash?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The bell rang. Danny sighed. Time for class, he supposed. He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

"That's gross, Danny," said Sam.

Danny shrugged in response, mouth too full to properly respond. They walked out into the courtyard.

Then Danny's ghost sense went off, an interesting sensation with a full mouth. He swallowed.

"Great," he said. "Hey, everyone! There's about to be a ghost attack! Or, at least, a ghost will be here. Soon."

"Wait, is that how you always run off right before there's a ghost attack?" asked Mikey.

"I'm not exactly running off-"

"Alright, everyone evacuate!" said Mr. Lancer, who had been the lunch monitor today. "You know your plans! And you can come with us for once, Mr. Fenton."

"But I've got to fight the ghost?" said Danny gesturing.

"I know you have a few special abilities from your condition, but this really isn't the time," said Mr. Lancer.

Danny stared as other students ran from the courtyard. "Okay, what? I feel like we're missing something here. A few powers?"

"Today will be the day, whelp!"

Shaking off the strangeness, Danny turned to his enemy. And transformed. Because why not? Everyone knew he was half-ghost, now.

.

"Are you seriously telling me that no one knew I was Phantom? It's been a week."

"We know," said Principal Ishiyama, tiredly.

"And you're telling me the school was okay with me being half-ghost, but they're drawing the line at me being Phantom."

"Well, we obviously had a very different conception of what half-ghost meant," said Principal Ishiyama, rubbing her temples, "and you aren't expelled or suspended or anything. Just. We feel like it would be better for you to go home early today. For us all to... process. Besides, your... life? Your life was threatened by a dangerous ghost today."

"He does that once a week," said Danny, unamused.

"Still. You can come back on Monday. Please."

The office door slammed open, revealing Jack and Maddie.

"YOU'RE PHANTOM?"

"How did you guys also miss that?"

2707 notes • Posted 2021-07-14 00:23:31 GMT

#1

"I could fix him," "I could make him worse." Well, honey, I could give him consistent characterization.

16544 notes • Posted 2021-08-12 02:55:44 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[moonstrider9904]

Aren't you the least bit concerned a certain someone will see you're back?

Nah, nonnie, not in the least. I've made sure to block the people who harrassed and bullied me in the first place, so to my knowledge, I should be safe from all of them.

I wound up rambling a little bit so I'm putting this underneath a cut; these are just a lot of my thoughts on the matter that I want to get off my chest--nothing bad, just words from my mind.

Okay so--I'm pretty sure if any of them is going to figure out I'm back on tumblr, they already know by now(?). And nothing's happened up until this point, either because the drama's truly dead or because I've done a good job blocking. Either way, whether they wanted to do something else or not, I've not even given them a chance to and it's just the way it should be.

And hey, even if they know I'm back and are bitter because they can't do anything about it because they earned themselves an instant block for being awful people, the most they'll do is talk behind my back within their little clique, and that is just. Very sad for them. Patrick Stump very accurately sang "I don't care what you think as long as it's about me" and if they're still investing their energy in me, joke's on them because they're only hurting themselves with all that hate, and I'm not even seeing any of it :3

I know I messed up too, honestly, but I learned from how badly I screwed up those days, and I'm in peace with that. I don't really need much more than that. The people who hurt me will get what they deserve one way or another; I'm a woman who very firmly believes in the universe and its laws. Karma's real and she's a bitch ;)

For now, I coudn't be happier to be back because sharing my writing and my creativity is my biggest passion and I've found wonderful, friendly, talented people to share it with and still will along the way. It's better this way and it all has to do with not hiding or fearing anymore.

The first while I had this blog I had a different name, different URL, and it never felt right. Then I realized I didn't want to keep hiding. I didn't want to keep being scared of that clique to the point where I couldn't share my writing, where I couldn't complete my stories with the same love, the same amount of attention, to the point where every time I placed my other URL somewhere it felt like I had a mask on. moonstrider is a very dear word to me, and 9904, well, you know how much he means to me. I didn't want to put that aside and the more I did it, the more crushing it felt to be on this site. So I could either leave for good and stop writing, or I could refuse to give these people any sort of power over me.

As you can see, I chose the latter. And people welcomed me. People reached out, said they were glad I was back. I've felt so much support and love, and I doubtlessly found myself again. I've made new friends! I'm very glad I came back with no more masks because this is the way it should be.

And if someone doesn't want to see me, it's as simple as blocking me. And if I don't want to see someone, it's as simple as me blocking them! I learned the hard way that online fandom drama leaves nothing good in its trace, and I'm a bigger person now.

So no, I'm not the least bit concerned. It sucks to see these people still being such big hypocrites--I happened to make a post about this recently where I ranted in the tags--and at times I feel some resentment, but that's normal, no human being puts behind a negative experience that quickly. I know I'm on a path to growing and I'm determined to keep this blog safe, positive, and creative.

Thank you for the concern, nonnie. Sorry if my answer was like suuuper long compared to what you were expecting but I don't want there to still be an elephant in the room. Blessed be and have a nice day!

[julietnterein]

•| Violacea I. chp. 12 |•

A/U: I'm finally free from my uni assignments, so now I will try to be much more active here! I have one more story prepared for you and I was thinking giving you a little taste from a first chapter? What do you think? :)

Our training group grew over the days into a small amount of people. It wasn't just me and Clint anymore, now even Wanda and Pietro were regularly joining our group and sometimes Natasha came along, even though she wasn't able to train yet, and occasionally Bruce came as well, but it was always only for a couple of minutes. They never really left me and Pietro or Wanda alone in the gym, they always tried to supervise us with one of the agents.

Clint was teaching me how to shoot on the shooting range, which I always thought I was really getting better at, but when I was there with Natasha she always convinced me otherwise. The red haired woman always found something that I could have worked on and I was really glad that she was criticizing me and giving me some feedback, but it gets annoying with time and when it's only something like having my arms more stretched it gets on my nerves even more.

„A mistake like that, can cost you your own life.” She always says when she is giving me some feedback.

And exactly the same thing she did just now, when she skilfully sends me to the ground, because she was finally free from the cast one her hand, so she started training with us as soon as she could. I heard how Pietro's sucked his breath in when he saw my fall, again.

„Stand up.” Says Natasha, while I'm still on the ground, breathing through the pain.

„We are training for two hours already and-...” I try but she interrupts me quickly.

„And you are not even trying.” Natasha grabs her bottle that was lying next to the training mat.

„Excuse me?” I sit up and look up at her with an annoyed look.

„You heard me.” She takes a few sips from the bottle before she sets it down again. „C'mon, let's go.” She gestures towards me, so I have to stand up again.

I put on a fighting stance, that is probably the worst one I have ever done, I can feel all my sore muscles pulsing through my body.

„And try harder this time.” She winks at me when she is raising her fists. I make the first move, I'm throwing a punch, but she easily catches me and throws a low blow into my ribs. My breath hitch with pain and I staggered to the left, and that's when Natasha round kicked me from the left side that I left revealed when I staggered and I fell to my knees. She is not waiting for anything else, when she throws a punch in my revealed face, that sends me hard into the mat. I tried to pick myself up but when I see Natasha preparing for another punch I'm covering my head quickly and shout:

„That's enough! Red! Stop it!” It takes me a second to think of the safe word that we have to use, when something goes to the point where one of the trainees can't handle it anymore, and colors are probably the simplest thing.

„You are too afraid to be hit.” She snorts out a little.

„Well I wonder why?!” I bark in her direction and I can feel my blood boiling.

„Your stance sucks, you don't even think about your punches when you throw them and you don't even try to hit hard.” She names all the stuff. „A mistake like t-...”

„-That can cost me my life, I know!” I interrupt her quickly.

„Then why are you not trying?” She frowned at me.

Her voice is cold as ice and I can't help myself with my next comment:

„Not everyone here was trained to kill people!”

Her green eyes are turning dark really quickly and they are stabbing me like a knife right now. I know I shouldn't have said that but I'm so angry right now.

„Because some of us were literally developed just for that.” She whispers so quietly into the silence of the gym, but she knows damn right I will catch that. She knows that it will hit me into the right spot. That's when I can feel the weird warmth in my fingertips.

Pietro was probably the quickest one to notice the small amount of purple slightly glowing around my fingers, that's when he ran up to Natasha and grabbed her by the waist to pull her away from me. I can feel the lights flicker above our heads.

Wanda jumped right to me, creating quickly a red wall that would safe everyone on the outside from me causing them any harm.

„Andy, listen to me…” She says out my name, while my head is in complete haze and I can feel all the anger bubbling inside me, ready to be set free. She steps closer to me, slowly, one hand holding the red wall and the other slowly reached out for mine.

I'm trying to catch my own breath, holding myself on all four.

„I'm here with you.” She says quietly while she kneels in front of me slowly, because she doesn't want to startle me with any quick movements. I know that if I would have blown up again, like I did before with Natasha, she would be screwed, she put everyone into the safe zone except for herself. „You don't want to hurt anyone, right, Andy?” She was still talking to me, which felt really soothing to me as I had something to hold onto. „I know you can do this.” She finally grabbed my hand slowly into her hand, drawing small circles with her thumb over my hand. With every circle I felt my body slowly calming, like it was her touch that was pouring a iced water over my boiled nerves, that were ready to blow up.

All the lights above our heads went crazy as I felt my body absorbing their energy and there was this thick purple mist floating around my hands.

„I trust you.” She whispers. It takes her words a really long time before they start to make sense in my brain.

„You heard me. That's right.” She continues as she reads my mind. I could felt my muscles slowly loosen it's flexed position. „You are my family now.” She whispers so quietly but she knows damn right that I can hear it. „And I know you don't want to hurt any of us. We are all in this together.” With really deep breaths I'm raising my head up, looking for her eyes, that are following my every movement. She smiles at me. „You can do it.” She grabs me and pulls me into a huge hug when she starts hearing my thoughts much more clearly than before. My body fell into her hug, exhausted from all the energy it took from the lights and then how much energy it took me to put it right back in instead of blowing up into every direction. Everything is coming back into the picture with each and every breath in and out. Wanda no longer holds the red wall around us, but she holds me really close to her chest, understanding what I'm going through right now.

„It's okay. Deep breaths in and out, exactly like that.” She rubs my back soothingly. I can see all the purple mist finally disappearing from around my palms and that's when I return her the hug properly, burying my face into her shoulder.

„She did it.” I hear Pietro in the background. „She didn't blow up.” I can see him coming towards us with a huge smile on his face.

„Only thanks to Wanda.” I smile at her, as I slowly pull myself from her hug.

„But you hold it in yourself.” She squeezes my shoulder. „And that's progress.” She smiles at me.

I nod and then I frown at Natasha standing a couple meters away from us. „I know, I know.” She raises her arms in a defensive gesture. „But you could be a little nicer yourself.”

„I'm sorry.” I nod at her.

„So am I, I didn't mean for this to happen.” She says and before I can say anything else, Pietro quickly ruffle my hair before he heads back to his own training. Wanda just waves at me as she gives me and Natasha space to talk this through.

„Do you want to continue?” Asks Natasha carefully.

„No, because I would have to broke your arm again to feel a little better.” I roll my eyes.

„Whoa, whoa… hold up…” She stops me when I'm about to leave the gym. „Now it's my turn to break you something.”

„Try me and next time it's going to be a brick wall instead of glass.” I look at her seriously but can't hold it any longer as my ruin this up.

She can't help herself and smiles at me as well: „I call red on that.”

Chp. 13

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[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Three [PT. 1]

Words: 3k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse

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NIKKI

1987

I throw another drink back not long after yelling obscurities at Viv as she stomped out of VIP to leave and go home, between more lines of blow, a trip to the bathroom to get a fix and some drinks, we decide to take the party to Steven's new place. 

"You guys just can't be too loud, though, got it?" He says as sternly as he can as we get inside and he fumbles for his key. 

"Alright, alright, alright," I mumble, stepping inside, grabbing his bottle of Jack off the counter before getting comfortable on the floor by the window. 

We all talk--as best we can--for a little while, Steven and the boys making some calls to get some dealers here, and the only thing on my mind is getting a potent fix, until I hear something...very faint, very familiar...very, very, familiar...I furrow my brows to focus more, ignoring the guys' laughter and voices, my eyes training on the wall opposite of me. 

My subconscious puts it together before my conscious does, like smelling a blanket from a childhood home and immediately being taken back before your brain can quite grasp the feeling. 

Multiple memories shrouding that sound of Vivian that only she can really pull off. 

It doesn't take rocket science equation solving skills to put together why I'm currently hearing her soft, pretty moans carry on next door. 

I'm pretty sure more members of Guns, aside from Steven, are staying here right now. 

Apparently Stevie hears it not long after and slips into the next suite, where the sound is coming from, that's connected to his suite. 

I don't hear it anymore after he gets back in here. 

"Dealer's coming or what?" I ask Steven, my high starting to get blowed from the fact that my wife is next door on her back for someone who isn't me. 

I'd be jealous if I weren't numb to it by now.

"They're all tied up, man." Steven tells me and I groan, thinking for a second. 

An idea comes to mind that makes me want to bang my head against the wall, but I'm desperate and left with no option at this point. 

"I know a guy," I mumble, dragging myself up to the phone in the little kitchen area, reluctantly dialing a number I never wanted to dial again. 

It rings once...twice...three times… 

"Hello?" He answers and I roll my eyes. 

"'Sup man, it's Nikki." I reply, trying to put on my best "friendly" voice, even though it's making my blood boil that the bastard I could see myself killing is ultimately the one that's gonna be able to save the day. 

"Hey, dude." He replies. 

"Me and a few buddies of mine are out here at the Franklin Plaza Suites and need a few things." I rub the back of my neck. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

It's quiet, and he reluctantly breathes out. 

"I'll see what I can do." I can hear the satisfaction in his voice that I'm having to call him. 

Within the next forty minutes there's more people here than I'm comfortable with, groupies, and hangerson, and other drug adoring morons, and then my saving grace comes through the door once Steven lets him in. 

Slash is already slipping into a Jack induced stupor. Sally came in a few minutes ago screaming at all of us guys for leaving her at the Cat House. 

We didn't even realize we'd forgotten her. 

She's in the bathroom, probably keeping herself in there to keep from starting an argument with Slash in front of everyone. 

Robbin's on the phone with Laurie.

Apparently it's just in men's nature to get fucked up, call our wives, and profess our undying love for them despite the fact we cheat on them nearly every time we hangout with our friends. 

I wonder what would happen if I went in there on her and Duff right now. 

What would she say? 

Probably nothing. 

She'd just look at the floor and try not to cry, probably. 

What would I do? 

I know that I know what's going on between them, but if I actually walked in and saw them together, caught in the act…

I'd either be a pussy and cry over it, or kill them both--him first and make her watch, and then just slowly torture her or something. God, I'm fucked up. Even though I'm pretty sure being married to me is torture enough to her. 

I know it's torture to me, too. 

"Here dude," Sparkie hands me a syringe and a spoon, and I look at him, too out of focus to concentrate on getting it right. 

"Fix me." I say to him and he scoffs. 

"Okay, dude." He starts getting it ready and I look at that wall again. Staring at it, taking a sip of my drink. 

Fucking Vivian. 

Of course. Her. Of all the women I've hooked up with and dated in my life, she--the most harmless, at least in my dumbfuck mind when I first met her--is the one to screw me over like this. 

And I've let her. 

If I did what Vince does to Sharise and have that whole, "no hanging out with your boy friends without me" rule, this wouldn't even be an issue. 

That's the problem. Somewhere along the way I loosened her leash a little too much and now she's chewed her way through it entirely. 

"You look like you're in hell, you know," Sparkie tells me, fixing the tourniquet around my arm… "But that's okay, you're about to be in heaven in just a few seconds." He assures me. 

I know he's right. I just need to hang on to that. 

In just a few seconds, I'll be--

I hear Vivian, again, and I reach around my neck and grab onto her cross I've been wearing for weeks, now, squeezing it at the sting of the needle going into my skin. 

I feel him shoot me up, my mind waiting to chase and catch the high that I just know is about to come. 

My fingers slip from the crucifix, and I feel myself fall back before a weightless feeling washes over me.

Present

I keep rereading the damn paper, repeatedly, trying my hardest not to throw a fit...

Nikki Sixx and his wife, Vivian, recently confirmed that she is indeed pregnant issuing a simple and straightforward,"Yes, it's true," statement earlier this week through Nikki's manager, and--as speculated--her pregnancy is not with Nikki. Many fans and some friends of the couple are blown out of the water by this sudden turn of events, others who are familiar with the rockstar and his band but never really paid much attention to his personal relationships, are now curious as to who exactly Vivian Sixx is. Well, in an open letter, rumored to be intended for print in Rolling Stone, a few anonymous former roadies of Mötley Crüe--who partook on their Girls, Girls, Girls, tour in 1987--are here to introduce who they saw behind the scenes of flashing cameras and public sweet moments with husband Nikki. 

"This is a letter to Mötley Crüe fans, we're a mere handful of people out of the many who witnessed monstrosities behind the scenes while on tour with the Crüe since Summer of 1987, none of which were caused by the band or any members, themselves, but one woman in particular. We had no reason to really bring any of this up, but in light of recent news, we are disheartened and angered of the betrayal against one of the four men who gave us an opportunity to live several months in our lives that will forever impact us in the best way known, and provide heartwarming memories by the dozen. This is not an attack on Nikki Sixx, especially given his past struggles with opioid addiction, alcoholism, as well as his abusive wife. The first time we met Vivian, she was polite and friendly, but very assertive. It was obvious it would be her way or no way,  and often times she and Nikki would go back and forth with who was running things. It was obvious Nikki was unwell at times, whether it'd be hungover, sick from withdrawal or simply tired from a show the night before. Vivian would choose these times when he was at his most exhausted to pick fights with him. He'd tell her to go away or 'f**k off,' and she'd continue to verbally and mentally beat him down more than he clearly already was. When Rolling Stone came to interview the band shortly after the wild rumor Vanity started publicly, we were told Vivian had tried to physically attack the reporter working on the story, simply because he made the comment that Pepsi wasn't good for her. Small things like that would often set her off, leaving security, managers, and band members to try to dodge fists while pulling her off of her unsuspecting victim, who was typically Nikki. Many times we'd hear them arguing in the hotel rooms, dressing rooms, bathrooms, tour bus, etc., usually followed by sounds of what we can only describe as 'pitchy, hungry, pornstar moans' on her part--clearly using her body to get back in his good graces after wearing him down. After their fights, Nikki would always have a bottle of alcohol on hand, some kind of drug, and would keep to himself. Our comradery with him soon began to dwindle with each month because it was obvious she was beginning to suck the life out of him. He was more introverted overtime, and higher more often than he was at the beginning of the tour. It really got bad when Guns N' Roses came on tour for a month, because Vivian's attacks on him and the other members of Mötley Crüe, began to pop off as randomly and explosively as fireworks. We'd witness some foul exchange (brought on by Vivian)  between her and Nikki backstage, either verbal or physical, nearly every night. People can talk down on the Crüe for being bad boys, but they've shown everybody that's helped them on tour, gratitude. All the wives and girlfriends that would come on that we'd offer food and drinks to would always express gratitude with a smile and a warm heart, but Vivian would always stay silent and cold towards us. She's a trashy, bitchy, whiney, hateful, spiteful, conniving, plotting python that now has her cold-blooded grasp around not only Nikki's neck, but also Duff's. Her game is to find the most well rounded guys while maintaining under her guise that she's a kind, Christianly woman, and see how far she can push them until they work themselves to death, literally, with trying to please her. We aren't surprised that she's pregnant, she probably video taped herself conceiving the damn thing and sent it to Nikki. We hope she did so it can be practice  for her inevitable low-budget porn career when she runs out of rockstars to f**k and kill, as we've mentioned, she already sounds like one in the throws of passion. Anyway, Nikki, we're hoping you decide to kick her aside and start fresh. Duff, get a paternity test, dude. Crüe fans, don't let that red-headed bitch fool you."

"Who the hell is Page Six to give these bastards a platform in the first place, Doc?!" I snap.

"Nikki, I am handling it, I'm on it--"

"--You tell the L.A. Times and Rolling fucking Stone if they take this shit and run with it, too, I'm personally coming to their offices and fucking them up. Not the publications themselves, but the people trying to put this out there in print, individually." I hiss.

"Nikki, just--" 

"--And who the hell--what roadies did this?!" 

"I don't know, Nikki, but I'm trying my hardest to get it cleaned up." He assures me. 

"'She's a trashy, bitchy, whiney, hateful, spiteful, conniving, plotting python that now has her cold-blooded grasp around not only Nikki's neck, but also Duff's. Her game is to find the most well rounded guys while maintaining under her guise that she's a kind, Christianly woman, and see how far she can push them until they work themselves to death, literally, with trying to please her'?!" I read that snippet, just so he can be reminded how fucked this is, trying my hardest not to start pitching a fucking fit. 

"Fucking AJaxx isn't even cleaning this up! Press mongrels are gonna be humping these bastards legs for giving them sales for the next nine months!" I outburst. 

"Sixx, don't worry about it, alright? It won't go past this shitty Page Six story, okay?" 

"It's fucking horse shit." I ignore him, trying to keep my cool. "Fuck." I kick at the leg of the table, running a hand through my hair.

"I guess one decently positive thing is that Viv doesn't know about this," he says next and I shake my head a little, feeling a migraine starting to come on, strong. 

I was tempted then to check myself out of rehab and 'handle' it myself, but decided it wouldn't be worth it. I hoped it would go away and it would all blow over eventually.

"Vivian, don't listen to any of it, alright? Me and you and everyone on that tour know damn well it wasn't just you being a bitch and us being the innocent victims." I say through the phone as Viv tries to calm down, her breathing shaky and ragged from crying so much. 

"I know that but the fans and other people don't know that." She says to me, her voice quiet and tired. "I'm so embarrassed, Nikki." She adds. "I'm already embarrassed that everybody knows I cheated on you but now this whole thing…" she trails off and I feel guilt tug at my heart. 

I don't know what the fuck to say. 

I'm used to criticism from the press, but none of them have tore into me or any of the guys--except Vince after the Razzle accident--so personally and extensively as they're tearing at her. 

Calling me a devil worshipper and saying my music is shitty gets annoying and frustrating and even infuriating at times, but attacking my wife and calling her a low budget porn star and telling me to kick her aside? 

Fuck that. 

"I'm sorry, Viv. I really am." I assure her, honestly, closing my eyes when I hear her stifle a little sob out. "Where are you at right now?" I ask. 

"Duff wanted me to meet his family." She tells me. "I'll be back Saturday." 

I'm relieved she actually has a reason for not being here, but I'm also hurt that she didn't give me a heads up. But I don't want to talk about it right now. I think she's been punished enough today. 

"Okay...you didn't show yesterday and I was just worried." I admit. 

"I know, it was just a spur of the moment thing. He asked me last week and I didn't think it'd be an issue." 

"Oh." 

I glance around and let out a breath. 

"I, um, I'm gonna go. I got a group thing with the guys at 3:00." I tell her. 

"Okay." 

"Are you gonna be okay or do I need to break out and kick someone's ass?" I ask her, half-joking, and she laughs, making me smile. 

"I'll be okay." She tells me. 

"I'll see you next week, Sixx." 

I can practically hear the smile in her voice when she says, "see you next week." 

We hang up and I rub my lips together, taking a few deep breaths before heading to where me and the guys meet with Amber three times a week now. 

Tommy and Vince are waiting for me, and I plop down beside them, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, hands running over my face…

"Psst," Tommy nudges me and I look at him as Vince gets up to grab a cup of coffee. 

"What?" I ask him, and he puts his finger over his mouth. 

"You seen the shit they're on Vivian for?" He whispers and I furrow my brows, looking around. 

"The room is empty except us, dude, why are you--"

"--Shh," he says. 

"Why are you whispering?" I finish my sentence. 

"Because they probably have this motherfucker bugged out the ass." He replies, glancing around again. "I'm thinking of breaking outta here, man." He whispers very, very quietly. 

"You do know we're not being held here by legal obligation, right? They won't chase us down and have the cops on us if we just check ourselves out." I point out and he furrows his brows a little. 

"Oh." 

"Why do you wanna 'break out'?" I ask. 

"I miss Heather and my dogs and I wanna be able to be there Viv, dude. She fucking needs us right now and we're, like, over an hour away--disconnected from shit. I mean we wouldn't even know what the fuck was going on in the world if Doc wasn't keeping us in the loop, ya know?" 

I think about it for a second. 

"We're over a month into our three month stay, dude." I state. "We can't just throw in the towel, now." 

"I don't mean ditch it and stay gone. I just mean check out for a few days, go back home, see what all is going on and come back." He shrugs. 

It seems oddly appealing. 

Way too appealing, actually. 

"I don't know, Tommy…" I rub the back of my neck.

"I already talked to Vince about it and he's down."

"Of course he is." 

"And we wouldn't be doing it tomorrow or anything. I'm thinking next week." 

"Does Doc know?" I ask. 

"Fuck Doc." He scoffs. 

"Agreed." I nod, chuckling. 

"So, you in or not, man?" 

"Just for a few days?" 

"Just for a few days." 

"Then we're all coming back in?" 

"Like we never left to begin with." 

"No drugs, no parties, not even alcohol." 

"Just spending time with our families and then back to the grindstone." He states. 

"...I'm in."

 ...You know when you're on a shitty diet, eating boring, tasteless, "healthy" food, and then decide you've been stuck to your diet long enough that you can have one slice of cake because you're disciplined enough to control yourself? And now, two years later, you're still telling yourself you'll get back on your diet because after that slice of cake you just said, "fuck it," and never thought about forcing yourself to eat lettuce again? Let's just say leaving rehab prematurely works the same damn way.

[ohhicas]

I've only been into comics for a few years, but I've read enough of the old Flash stuff where I adore the classic incarnations of the Rogues. Honestly curious here: what's it like to be a fan of James Jesse back when he was retgonned around 10 years ago and see him brought back but now all mwahaha crazy evil? I'm way more used to Axel (and all that off-panel character development in Nu52, thanks DC) but even I find this kinda weird. Was James ever crazy evil in any arc?

^- me 90% of the time someone says James is coming back to recent media & it’s not a direct continuation of the comics prior to 2004

[ Warning: this is gonna get long and be full of a lot of assumptions. I can never form solid statements and things will get jumbled, because I suck at presenting things ]

[ this is my can of worms hill and you opened it so I’m dYING HERE ]

I mean, back in the earliest ages, no Rogue had a real personality to speak of? They were just “1960s Bad Guy in a different outfit” at the very start, with quirks! Like James having a thing for toys and nuclear powered flying tricycles. It wasn’t until that era ended that they started getting real distinct and into what a lot of ‘classic’ James fans loved and appreciated? 

(I think at least, I’m just One Person here pretending like I even understand HALF of what the ‘classic’ fandom enjoyed. I’m wildly speculating just going off what fanworks I’ve seen produced.)

(I don’t have all my scans anymore but I’ll toss in scans when I have them)

But that’s when we started getting things like James actually having specified friendships with certain people

or clear distaste towards others, and when you could tell he was more of a wild card than the others. Or when he decided to fuck off and hang out in Hollywood with Blue Devil for a bit, even siding with Kid Devil to deck out Captain Boomerang. 

Or when he decided to fuck off to Gotham, to mess with Catwoman by pretending he didn’t know who she was, but absolutely knew who she was because of how she walked and carried herself, but James being James was like “mmmmm long con, nope”

hey lil Cold, gimme all ur guns and don’t question why I’m in drag xoxo

Even then, he wasn’t shown to be vicious yet! He’d hopped around various places, was still considered A Rogue, A Criminal, and as far as any comic reader could tell by trying to count up how many civilians may have been crossfired at, he had no On Purpose deaths racked? Like, the only thing you could really argue was he may have made someone drive their car off a cliff once, but I’m like 98% sure they’re fine. He’s not a murderer, he’s just here for a laugh and a long-con for funsies because he know he can get away with it!

AND THEN WE GET A LITTLE OLDER, LITTLE DARKER

[ I’M PUTTING A CUT HERE CAUSE AFTER I THREW IT INTO DRAFTS, I REALIZED I GOT REALLY LONG, I’M SORRY IF MY LAYOUT SUCKS ASS FOR THIS. ]

little more 90s Hair. Little more 90s stereotypical “But what if EVERYONE WENT TO HELL” demon plots against Satanic Hockey Hair Neron. And James? still wasn’t evil? He was a little dismissive when everyone ELSE died sure but he still in the end turned around like “nghgng I’m THE ONLY ONE”, purposely got his ass down there, regretted it, and then beat Neron at his own game to save the entire fucking world. Because! He could! And he did it so well. STILL NOT EVIL, even when he had a chance right then and there to take over everything alongside Neron should he so desire. Like, two words, maybe some under the table BJs depending on how you feel about that pairing (I don’t), and bam. He would’ve bested nearly any other villain in the DCU save like, Satan himself. Or i guess one of those world destroyers. But we’ll get back around to those BOY HOWDY WE WILL GET AROUND TO THOSE. 

So James! Saves! The world! Sorta! Later they fight Neron again and his kid he somehow had somewhere down the road (it sounds like I’m complaining, i’m not, I love Billy and Mindy both I just wish they showed up like… ever again?) and he sTILL SAVES EVERYONE. 

Piper helps by their 90s ponytails combined. 

Somewhere around here, because dates and timing aren’t my strong suit, he also goes and messes with Bart for a bit. It’s pretty much a Spy Vs Spy episode, but with less bloodshed. 

ANYWAY IT’S AFTER THIS POINT THAT THINGS GET… where I think the majority of “James is a Low Rate Joker” comes from? 

For some unknown goddamn reason, in between issues (James wasn’t a Super Frequent Rogue? He’d show up, sure, but in the huge run of the series he’d just kind of vanish for 20 issues at a time and you’d go “welp, guess he’s still alive”) James went super-cop? like, the FBI? For some reason? Hired James “I am a probably still wanted felon, a man who has escaped jail numerous times, probably never served a full sentence, known Trickster and liar” Jesse. to the FBI. And for so many issues it’s like he legit just. Did this. He threatens to shoot Piper who he was up until this very moment, considerably very close friends with (as far as comics would show Rogue/Rogue friendships), unwilling to help his friend clearly framed for murder of his parents and losing his mind by the day. Despite James talking Hart down a little on the whole ‘THE MAYOR IS ROSCOE ADN NOBODY BELIEVES MEEEEEEEE” thing. 

Also he steals Digger’s dead ass corpse? 

FBI James is a fucking enigma. Here he is standing up for Gay Rights even though Piper is like “mm maybe I should forgive my abuser??”

BUT. AFTER THIS? WE GET COUNTDOWN WHICH IS JUST. Countdown is. IT’s a problem. James’s personality is IMMEDIATELY HORRIBLY u-turned into “well we need SOMEONE to be the Bad Guy to Piper’s Good!” DESPITE. ALL THESE YEARS OF COMICS.This is the shit you’ll see people who don’t know better or just want a reason to hate the Trickster (despite being 100% okay for them to just say he’s annoying/they don’t like his tights/acrobats are stupid) reference. James is, suddenly, very abruptly, a homophobe. Like an “ew don’t touch me” level homophobe because I’m pretty sure DC snorts cocaine and threw a dart at a board for “how could they make these two fight” and landed on GAY RIGHTS IS TRENDING. 

BUTSTILL IN THE FUCKING END OF ALL OF THIS?After so many issues of James being a complete fuckass prick? 

springboards himself from his current job of being railroad face putty to catching bullets to make sure Piper wasn’t gonna die. Without knowing the proceedings of this entire plotline, James out of nowhere after so much gaybashing, still finds it in him to leap into the path of multiple bullets and save Piper. Because, yknow, he’s evil!

Later it’s shown he’s been working to take everyone down (y’know, like when he was in the FBI) and left Piper specific helpful notes to do it himself. Because Evil Bad Guy! Helping his gone-good friend! Take down bad guys! 

DC I STILL HAVE SO MANY GODDMAN QUESTOINgsd

But yeah that’s. That’s where we last saw James. in 2007, dead, after saving Piper when he could have easily pulled a Joker and ripped HIM down to take hte bullets and etcetc, y’know. Something a Very Bad Person would’ve done, like the characterization we’ve seen now. 

His ghost (easily argued as Piper’s own mental construction of James sassing him) sasses Hartley to even, in his mental state, saw off James’s hand so Piper doesn’t have to lug his weight around and has a fighting chance at living. And in the end, when Piper’s fighting the thing that can destroy the fucking world, it’s shown only Piper was the one who could save them? Because his flute, and his musical ability, and [enter DC comic science here]. You could argue this was James, once again, somehow knowing the long-con at play here, getting screwed over at EVERY turn, and sacrificing himself so they ‘good’ team had a fighting chance.You could also argue this is me losing my mind trying to make sense of the things they made James do. (my running argument is he was purposely a prick to push Piper away, so he could keep him safe) 

Also Piper plays James a Swan Song of Queen as the final boss explodes and he’s fully prepared to die. So like. There’s that. 

AND THATS BASICALLY THE COMICS? The main, ‘canon timeline’ comics. I’m missing a LOT of little things here and there, but I’m not missing anything like body counts, or murder attempts, beyond the old Silver Age “Bad guy of the week” things like trying to make Flash’s head explode, or you know. Other “nobody really has a personality, we just have quirks”. 

MY NUMBER ONE GUESS TO WHERE THIS NEW PERSONALITY TREND COMES FROM?

Mark Hamil|’s OG run as him in the old live action show. That characterization was fun, for the time, and I even enjoyed it cause it was just that off the wall and you could tell it was what they used to decide he should be the Joker for the BATS Joker. Consider it a prototype (combined with all the previous comic jokers but that’s not for this long ass post) 

And if it’d stayed there, that’d be it! That’s it! But then JLU came along, and they referenced the old show for their version of James with a sprinkling of early-era comics, and a lot of people loved and watched that show. That was their version of the Trickster, because it was their first meeting with him! And I can’t fault that! But that guy was clearly off his rocker and I’m sure if the JLU allowed a higher rating, it would’ve been even closer to the old TV show. 

And both of THOSE were heavily, heavily referenced for the CW version, which as I’m at this point now means I need to slap my usual anti-CW tag onto things. I hate the CW James. There is so little comic in him it’s almost disgusting, and they ramped up so much of the Joker side of JLU & OGTV he might as well just be the Joker. It’s not a good representation of him at all. I have, also, only seen his first appearance episode, so maybe I’m wrong? But when you fuck up hard on the first run, why would I return for round 2? 

So with ALL THIS– 

REBOOT TIME. Whatever the newnew remake is calling itself. 

At first! With how James was! In the first panel flash of him clearly behind the scenes tugging so many wires and lines, watching everything with a bucket of popcorn while pulling others to his side, sitting pretty in an old museum? warehouse? highlighted in purples and vintage toys, I was like “holy shit this it. This is My Boy, back from the goddamn limbo-dead. It’s him.” But then“taking over the city entirely” to do? What? Turn it into the world’s biggest Trickster themepark? Make everyone wear striped leggings and combat boots? Martial Law of murder if you don’t carry rubber chickens? This is already veering from anything major James has ever done. As it stands I can’t see the gag here. Its’ weirdly dark and edgy, and way too close to something we saw the 90s TV show Trickster do, in the episode where he basically took over the place. The previews show him being what I’m assuming a Judge, Jury, & Executioner joke– and unless this spins into a Clopin song and dance number and his little hand puppet crops up to slam the button on the guillotine, I’m not having it, DC. 

They’re trying to tie him back into the CW, despite the writer saying he really enjoyed the Neron-era things with James (if I’m remembering the interview correctly). And it’s also why you may see me constantly saying “Well I sure as fuck hope Neron shows up” at anything new that’s released, to explain away all of… this.

This isn’t him. If they wanted a murderous Trickster, they should’ve just used Axel. The kid, canonly, tied explosives to stray dogs and homeless people. AXEL is the not-good Trickster, the murderous Trickster, the one you aren’t suppose to feel sorry for beyond being in way over his head due to his young age. 

i think I somehow didn’t answer your question

TL;DR

it sucks? it’s also great because there’s a .5% chance that maybe they’ll do it right and won’t reference the fucking 90s noncomic media. But then they do. And all I can do is laugh and shrug like ‘welp I expected nothing’. But when they get it RIGHT it’s like christmas came early.

[sheikah]

I'm really wodnering what the haters wil be saying after boatsex happens(seriosully why isn't it called shipse since they're tecnically on a ship not a boat,LOL) since they're still in such denial over Jonerys happening I mean I would like to think that scene between Jon and Melissandre from s5 was put there to show Jon doesn't just screw anybody and him going to Dany and sleeping with her would be a big character moment for him

I don’t want to speak too soon because if boat sex DOESN’T happen I’m going to be shocked and disturbed lol.

So I don’t want to gloat and rub it in the faces of people who will be shocked and disturbed if it DOES. It must suck to see the show going in a direction you hate :/

At the same time, the people who can’t just dislike boatsex in peace, the ones who have to come and complain to me about it, pollute our tag, and try to stamp out the hype … Well, those people aren’t going to know what to do with themselves lol. They’re going to be so pissed, and I can’t imagine what they’re going to do all day if they can’t troll us anymore.

Just kidding. I know exactly what they’re going to do. They’re still going to troll us and claim that despite the boatsex Jon doesn’t love Dany. Because they are miserable people who hate joy.

Oh, and on the term “boatsex,” I don’t like “shipsex” lol that sounds weird. Personally I’m a fan of “boatBANG.” Nice alliteration and sounds sillier haha.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Six

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Warning(s): Explicit language, explicit sexual situations, drug abuse, violence, domestic abuse

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I glance over as Emi starts on God, seeing her absentmindedly fumble with her cross as Mick listens intently, a small smile coming to my face. 

She's as enthusiastic about her beliefs as I am. It's a little more comforting having someone around that's on the same page as I am. 

That is until Nikki gets tired of hearing her go on and on about Christ. 

It's probably giving him flashbacks of conversations with Vanity. 

"Can you shut the fuck up?!" He yells back here to her, and she abruptly stops, looking at him. 

"Sixx, you're not even back here, just mind your own business." Mick boldly replies, too tired to fight about it. 

"What did you just say to me?" He cuts his eyes sharply. 

"He said mind your own business! It's not our fault your blood starts boiling and combusts into flames anytime someone mentions God! Shut up and deal with it and stop being a little bitch!" I state and he glares at me. 

A Jack Daniel's bottle is hurtling my way in no time, and I duck, causing it to hit Mick and Emi, soaking them in Jack. 

"Fuck you!" Nikki yells at me. "And you know what?! If God is so real why doesn't he just strike us out of the sky right fucking now?!" 

This sends Emi into a frenzy, grabbing her crucifix, praying, while Tommy and Vince join in on further terrorizing her, dropping their pants, along with Nikki, while they all shout on about how God needs to suck their dicks. 

I'd be offended if I knew God was. He's more than likely just looking down at them, shaking his head, wondering why he decided to create them in the first place when all they're doing is wasting their lives on booze, used pussy, and any drugs they can get their hands on. 

All the sudden, Tommy disappears into the pilots cabin, and within seconds we're doing a barrel roll, making Emi start screaming and crying. 

Once we get level, I'm taking a few deep breaths before coming to my feet. 

"Vivian." Fred scolds me, knowing what's coming, but I ignore him, marching to Nikki, Vince and Tommy, punching them both in the back of the head as hard as I can before slapping Vince with the same energy, Fred and Doc getting in the way before they can come back at me. 

"Fucking bitch!" Nikki barks at me. 

"Heard that one too many times, it's starting to bore me!" I bite back as Doc pulls me to the back of the plane. 

"See how boring my fingers around your neck are gonna be when I get ahold of you again!" He yells after me, Fred shoving him into a seat. 

"Maybe you'll kill me this time and do us both a favor!" I reply. 

"We have a gun at home just put it in your mouth and fire a-fucking-way!" 

"I would if I didn't know it'd make you so freaking happy, you sick junkie!" 

"God forbid you do anything to make me happy!"

"I sacrificed my dancing and my schooling to make you happy!" I throw at him.

"You threw out your chance to go to school and do what you were passionate about for me when I never even wanted you to do that! I wanted you to go to school, I wanted you to keep dancing but you didn't because you were too much of a pussy to leave 'cause you thought I'd break up with you!" 

"And we see where that fucking got me, don't me?! Married to a sick man who has no qualms about screwing his wife's best friend for over a year in the house he bought for her, in the bed they share!" 

"If that sick man didn't marry such a selfish, evil, farm fresh cunt from hell he wouldn't have felt the need to step out on her!" 

"You stepped out on me for drug love!" 

"I stepped out because I was bored with you and she fucked good!" He's venomously snapping at me. 

I want to say, "trust me, I know the feeling!" but decide not to. 

"Just be sure to mention that to our lawyers when you get back from Japan because I'm sick and tired of being married to you!" I shout. 

"Fuck you!" He screams. 

"Fuck both of you!" Doc snaps at us, heaving heavy breaths. "Now, I've had it, dammit!" He screams. 

We're all silent for a moment, before I'm glaring at Nikki. 

"See what you did, asshole?!" I accuse him. 

"What I did?!" He yells back, brows furrowing.

"Yes, what you did, since the only thing you're good at is stressing people out!" I shout at him. 

"I stress people out?! I stress people out?!" He starts laughing humorlessly. "I turned to fucking smack to escape your stress inducing bullshit, you delusional, rabid cunt!" He barks at me as Fred tugs me to the bathroom before I can get the last word in, locking me in until it's time to land. 

By the time we get to Fort Lauderdale, we've both calmed down enough to tolerate each once again, which is good considering paparazzi is on us like flees to a dog. 

"Vivian, Nikki!" Press shouts as cameras flash, Nikki reluctantly grasping at my hand as Fred clears a path in the people to car. 

When they see Vince, Tommy, Mick and Tansy behind us, they go after them next, giving me and Nikki time to duck into the car. 

"Geez." I sigh out, fixing my hair as Nikki moves across from me the second the door shuts. 

He leans his head back, cursing under his breath, raking a hand down his face. 

"You okay?" I ask him, genuinely, and he sneers, his eyes still closed as he catches his breath. 

"No, Vivian, no, I'm not okay." He huffs out with a sharp scoff, and I rub my lips together. 

"It's hard on me, too, you know. You aren't by yourse--"

"--Bab--Vivian, just shh." He catches himself before he says, "baby," and my heart tenses up in my chest. 

"Would you rather me scream at you and start an argument?" I ask him and he sits up, looking at me with smeared, running eyeliner, circles under his eyes, and ghostly skin. 

"I'd rather you just keep your mouth shut." He states, fumbling with his boot, pulling some tar, a spoon and a syringe out. 

"Oh, you aren't serious..." I say to him, raising a brow. 

"Me,Tansy, Izzy, Andy, Michael...don't act like you haven't seen someone shoot up before, Viv. If it makes you pussy out just close your eyes. I'll be done in a few seconds." He mumbles, about to start heating it in the spoon. 

I do just that, until I decide I'm not sitting around and let him kill himself anymore. 

I go to snatch the syringe and lump of smack away from him before he can stop me, opening the sunroof and throwing it out, going for his syringe next. 

"Stop!" He barks at me, guarding it, the both of us ending up on the floor of the limousine. 

"Nikki!" I scream, fighting with him to get it, but a sharp pain is soon shooting through my pointer finger as the needle stabs through the underside of my finger and out the top. 

It was by accident, being that he wasn't even holding the needle. 

"Motherfucker!" I scream to myself, Nikki's face paling further at the sight, as he lays underneath me while my tears are rolling down my cheeks as stinging pain spread through the nerves of my fingers, followed by the buzzing of the micro-amount of heroin on the tip of the needle that pierced my skin. 

I hiss as I pull it out and aim the needle at the car's carpet, getting rid of the shot, holding my bleeding finger as I sit up, Nikki still looking sick as I get off of him. 

"That shit wasn't cheap." He tells me, pulling himself up.

I don't pay him any attention, my finger starting to throb. 

He stares at me while I have my little pity party, before he takes a long sigh and grabs at my hurt finger, making me sniffle. 

"It's not like it went through the bone, Viv." He says dismissively, although he still holds to my finger as if trying to make it better. 

"Just shut up." I snatch away from him, frustrated.

"You shut up." He replies in the same harsh tone. 

"You fuck off." I kick my heel into his knee and he grabs my ankle and tugs at me, causing me to slide into the limo floor again. "Nikki!" I kick again with my other foot, this time, missing his crotch by mere centimeters. 

He slides to the other side of the seating to get away from me. 

When we stop at the next light, I'm reaching for the door handle and opening it up, causing him to pounce on me, and slam the door as I open it, yelling, "goddamnit, Sixx!" pinning me under him to keep me from opening it again. 

We both take heavy breaths, looking at each other...he smells repulsive, but I've missed the presence of his close proximity. 

The door opens suddenly, Doc and Fred looking down at us. 

Apparently we didn't stop at a red light, but our destination.

We both look up at them like guilty puppies, piled on each other, Fred, in particular, eyeing me like a hawk. 

"We're here." Doc informs us as we pull ourselves out of the car, and I brush off as Doc and Nikki walk ahead of me and Fred. 

"Don't say a word." I tell Fred.

"Wasn't going to." He assures me.

"It wasn't what it looked like." I say next. 

"Never said it was." He replies.

"Yeah, but, I know what it looked like, and--"

"--Viv, I'm not saying a word about it." He reassures me as we walk into the venue to see Steven, Slash, and Izzy sitting on the stage. 

Stevie sees me and makes a beeline for me, making a point to hug me. 

Steven was like Vince, but a hell of a lot more genuine and wholesome. He just loved love, affection, flirting, and women--especially women.

"Duff's really upset over what happened, Viv." He tells me in my ear. 

"I'll talk to him." I reply with a slight nod. 

"I don't know if just talking it out is gonna help much of anything, babe." He says lowly and I let out a breath. 

"I'll talk to him." I repeat, brushing off his warning. 

When I get on the bus, Duff's got his shirt off, shuffling through his bag, glancing at me. 

"Hey." I say to him.

"Hey." He mumbles back, grabbing another tshirt to put on. 

"Steven said you were still pretty upset about last night." I tell him, stepping a little closer. 

"Not with you...just...the situation." He explains in a low, frustrated tone. 

"Well, do you wanna talk about it?" I offer. 

He looks at me, letting out a breath, licking his lips.

"You've already said you guys are getting divorced, so, it's not like it really matters." He shrugs. "Just having a little trouble pretending like he didn't damn near kill you, but..." he trails off, seeing the look on me face before saying, "I'll get over it, Viv, alright? Don't worry about me jumping on him again or anything like that." 

"I'm not worried about that." I assure him, grasping at his hand, tugging him closer to me in the aisle, a small smile on his lips as his hand runs through my hair, our eyes locked. 

"I love you." He tells me, my arms wrapping around his waist. 

"I love you, too." I grin, and he presses his lips to mine, sweetly, before I'm pulling away. 

"Alright, your show starts in an hour and a half." I inform him. 

"Okay." He says dismissively, kissing me again. 

"Duff, we gotta go." I giggle, his lips kissing at my cheek, then my neck. 

"We will." He says against my skin, chuckling. 

"If you're late, Axl's gonna kill us both." I remind him, kissing him again. 

As always, one thing led to another, and then…

"Duff," I whimper out, my bare back wet with sweat from the humidity in the Florida air, my thighs spread as he pushes his fingers in and out of me on the table of the empty tour bus--my dress discarded to the floor, leaving me in only my heels since I wasn't wear a bra or panties, specifically prepared for this moment. 

The wet sounds of his fingers toying with my soaked pussy reverberate off the walls of the bus, only making the ache in me more hungry. 

His tongue swirls around my nipple, and he bites it teasingly, making arch into him, his fingers plunging deeply into me, purposely brushing that spot. 

I runny fingers through his hair as he goes to my other nipple, doing the same to it, making me sigh out in pleasure. 

He kisses my lips before grinning, taking a step back to look between my legs as if admiring me, his bare torso tensing with each breath in, his hand raking over his blonde hair. 

I pull my lip into my mouth, placing my heel on his chest, gently pushing him to sit down across the aisle, and I look at him smugly as he watches me, his hand palming at his crotch. 

I turn over to my hands and knees on the table, arching my ass up and my face down before reaching my hand underneath me to rub at my clit, watching over my shoulder as he takes heavy breaths. 

Two of my fingers tease at my entrance, and I moan out as they slide into me, my walls tightening around my digits as pleasure prickles up my spine. 

He keeps his eyes glued to me as I move my other hand to my clit, my toes curling as I eventually bring myself to orgasm, but I don't have time to recover before Duff's hands are grabbing my hips and his tongue is lapping at my center, sucking at my clit from behind. 

I gasp, my hand reaching back to hold his face to me, my body moving in rhythm with his tongue. 

Moans and whimpers come from me, and he pulls away for a moment, only to pull me into the aisle and push at my back until I've got my hands on the floor, completely bent over as he gets a better angle at eating me out. 

I nearly scream at the sudden accessibility he's got, on his knees, lips and tongue going to work. 

"I'm gonna come." I gasp out and he presses one more kiss to my clit before two of his fingers thrust into my cunt, making my eyes roll back at their demanding pace, curling to hit against my g-spot. 

He stands up, never pulling his hand away as the other hand holds at my hip, leaving to run over my ass cheek for a moment as I begin to spasm around his fingers, my legs shaking as cum runs down them. 

He pulls his fingers from me and I'm standing and turning to face him, sucking them into my mouth and he curses under his breath as I keep them in my mouth, my hand unbuckling his belt and pulling his hard cock out of his jeans, wanting him down my throat at the sight of precum beading at his tip. 

I keep my control, letting his fingers from my mouth as I'm licking my lips and rubbing my thighs together. 

I sit on the edge of the table, my legs spread, my hand between my legs as he steps to me, grabbing his prick and rubbing it against my sensitive folds. 

"Fuck, Vivian." He says softly, smile on his lips as if he still can't believe he's sleeping with me. 

I just grin at him and pull him down to kiss me. 

I cry out when he takes the time to push into me, hitting as deep as he can with a few more inches to spare. 

"Make me take all of it." I tell him after he thrusts a few times. 

He watches my face as he slowly inches it further and further into me, his tip hitting my cervix and pressing against it, making it give way little by little until he's buried in me to the hilt and I feel like he's in my stomach, tears in my eyes from the painful pleasure. 

"This is how deep I want you to go when you come." I tell him, sweat beading between my breasts and he watches it, leaning forward to lick it off my skin. 

"You want me to come in you?" He asks me, knowing the answer but wanting to hear me say it. 

"Yes." I nod, gasping. 

"Why?" He asks and I look down, his shaft disappearing into me and coming out glistening with my juices. 

"Because it feels so good." I reply and he grabs my jaw, his tongue meeting mine in a sloppy, passionate kiss as he picks up his pace. 

I grab his hand and guide it to my bruised throat. 

He almost pulls his hand away but stops when I look at him. 

"You're not gonna--fuck--hurt me." I assure him, my hungry pussy being fed the way its needed, making my eyes roll back and my lids close as my head tilts back.

He slowly grasps my throat, harder and harder, and the sensation sends sharp pleasure straight to my clit. 

My fingers go to play with it, but his fingers move mine from his way, staying in fast rhythm with his thrusts.

"I'm--" I can't finish what I'm saying before he moans out with me tightening around him, further wetting him with my juices as I finish

Within a couple more minutes he's breathing out, his dick twitching before he fits all of his length into my cunt and my body's being christened with his hot cum. 

Once I cool down and clean myself up, I'm going back to him. 

I pull my shirt back over my head as his hand runs up and down my back, his lips catching on the space between my shoulder blades before the fabric of my shirt can cover me, making me laugh. 

"Duff, we--" 

"Dude, we eat on that table!" We hear Stevie pipe, and turn to see him and Izzy looking at us in horror, by the door, where we're sitting on the table. 

"So did Duff, apparently." Izzy says with a crooked smile, cigarette smoke cascading past his lips as he finds it amusing. 

"Sorry." I say to them, quickly getting dressed as Duff gets up to pull his pants on. 

"We didn't see anything, don't worry. We just waited for the screaming to subside." Izzy lets out. "Axl's wondering where you guys are."

"Of course he is." I roll my eyes. 

"Not for that reason. I think he wants to talk to you about Tansy." He adds. 

"Tansy? What about her?" 

"What do you think?" 

"She's not going to rehab until she wants to." I immediately know what he's referring to. "And being that she's not enthusiastic about living, I doubt she cares whether she dies or not." 

"Well, Axl's all worried and googly eyed and gross." Izzy huffs out. 

"Plus, she's our friend, too, and we've all been trying to talk to her about getting some help." Steven tells me, next.

I get my shoes on and step past them to the door. 

"See ya in a few." Duff tells me. 

"See ya in a few." I reply, smiling at him, before going to find Axl.

The irony of anybody from Guns being worried for Tansy due to her drug addiction was exactly that: ironic. 

But I don't blame Axl for not wanting to see the girl he was miserably in love with (well, obsessed and unhealthily infatuated with) on the brink of her own final destruction. I guess because I'd been there with Nikki, myself, and knew how scary it was--even if big, bad, mean machine Axl refused to admit he was scared, I knew he was.

"Have you seen Axl?" I ask Doc as I pass him by, and he furrows his brows. 

"Might check their dressing room, I think." He replies and I nod. 

"Oh, and I'm sorry for mine and Nikki's fight earlier." I say before he can walk off. 

"Don't worry about it, Vivian." He nods a little as I offer a small smile and head to the guys' dressing room. 

The ginger isn't in there and I groan, heading to Mötley's dressing room to check in there, coming face to face with Sparkie. 

"What the hell are you doing in here?" I ask him, cutting my eyes. 

"Waiting for Nikki to get back from the bathroom...what about you?" He replies smugly. 

"Wondering why you're back when Nikki and Axl have both made it clear they don't want to see you again." I state. 

"The bitchy redhead isn't getting in the way of my business." He says, referring to dealing to Nikki. 

"You're so sick." I hiss out in disgust, turning to leave. 

"I'm kinda wanting to add a few drops of fuel to the fire, ya know...tell him about you and Duff." He starts, and I tense up, slowly looking at him. "End the last show of this leg of the tour with a bang." 

"He won't believe you." I try to say it confidently, but my voice cracks just slightly. 

"I don't think you're giving him enough credit, Viv. Sure he's high a lot of the time, but it's not hard to believe when almost all of your time is spent with Duff in some form or fashion--not to mention you lied about your friendship with him from the start, so…" he points out. 

"What gets you off about seeing people in pain? If you're not helping them destroy themselves, you're making things a lot worse for their life." I grit out. 

"I'm not making things worse for his life by telling him about your inability to keep your legs closed. You did--well, still are doing--the crime, I'm just giving him a heads up about it because he's my friend, and my friend needs to know what kind of snake his wife really is." He remarks and I grind my teeth, turning to go again, but he grabs my wrist. 

"Unless she wants to persuade me to keep her secret?" He suggests, his cruddy eyes traveling up my body like they always do. "Last chance, Viv." He adds. "If he finds out, it'll completely shatter him. You don't want that on your hands, do you?" He keeps on, stepping closer to me, his arm sliding around my waist slowly as I stand still, frozen, as my heart pounds in my chest. "It'll just take a few minutes, and then you can go on your merry way, and I won't say a word." He grins, the tip of his nose touching mine, his chapped lips grazing mine as the door opens, revealing Nikki. 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Forty-Six

Wattpad

Words: 2.6k

Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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"...Viv, I can't afford to bail anyone out of jail right now." Doc sighs out sleepily and I roll my jaw.

"Well, none of the guys have enough money either. We're in a bind."

"How'd you even get arrested?" He asks me and I rub my lips together.

"This douche face was being obnoxious and creepy and we had a misunderstanding." I explain.

"Misunderstanding?"

"Okay he got his ass handed to him and security called the cops." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"Who exactly handed him his ass, Vivian?"

"...A red head..."

"Vivian Sixx--"

"--Um, Axl's locked up, too, it coulda been either one of us!" I defend myself. "If one of the guys called you from jail, you'd bail them out asap." I add.

A moment of silence passes as I pray in my mind that he agrees to something.

"Alright, Viv, alright. I'll handle it." He sighs out.

He hangs up and I put the phone back on the hook as the officer escorts me back to the holding cell Axl, Duff, Izzy, Slash, Steven and Tansy are in.

"What did he say?" Duff asks.

"He's handling it." I say to him.

"Oh, I'm sure." Axl mumbles, his head leaned back against the block wall, sunglasses covering his eyes up. "Must be nice to snap your fingers and get what you want."

"Oh, damn." Stevie says under his breath, knowing this is about to cause an argument.

Slash is busy tying the laces of his boots with Tansy's, Izzy's trying to catch a nap, and Duff is scooting over on the floor so I can sit next to him.

"I get it even faster using 'Sixx'." I don't even deny Axl's accusation and he scoffs.

"Coulda used that card to keep us from getting arrested in the first place."

"No, you could've kept us from getting arrested had you kept your temper together instead of punching the guy." I snap.

"And like you threatening the police officer helped." He shoots back at me.

"I didn't threaten him." I argue.

"You told him you'd break your foot off in his ass." Steven points out, rubbing his tired eyes.

"It was a promise, not a threat, and I wouldn't have said it if he wouldn't have been unnecessarily aggressive." I scoff.

"Yeah, well it got everyone else in trouble for being associated with us. So next time keep your fuckin' mouth shut." He states.

"There won't be a 'next time' because I refuse to be locked in a tiny space with you ever again." I roll my eyes.

There was a "next time" a couple years later.

It was my first time out since having Monroe when a paparazzi so boldly called me a "passaround" and asked me what other bassists I had "sucked and fucked."

Axl and I both went for him without realizing the other person was throwing a punch, and he got double the trouble.

We were deemed "Twin Tornados" after that because apparently were both loud, aggressive, unpredictable, and could make a mess.

Within an hour and a half, it's five in the morning, and Duff is nudging me awake.

"Hmm?" I sit up from laying against his arm.

"I think Doc's here." He tells me, nudging everyone else awake.

Within a few more minutes an officer is stepping to us, unlocking the cell.

Once we get our stuff back and go to the lobby, bitterly glare at Doc...

Nikki's leaned against the counter, leather jacket clad arms are crossed, and I can just feel his hazel eyes looking me up and down from behind his blacked out sunglasses.

I ignore him the best I can, stepping outside, only for Doc to trail behind me as Nikki and the guys make small talk as they walk out after us.

"Viv, I didn't have any other choice." Doc tells me and I turn to face him.

"Vince, Tommy...?" I ask. "They would've come and got us out. You just went to Nikki because you were pissed I inconvenienced you."

"I went to Nikki because once the two of you said 'I do', you promised to take care of each other. He wanted to come make sure you were alright. Regardless of this dumb separation you two have going on, you're still his wife."

"Dumb separation he insisted on." I point out, tears swelling in my eyes.

"Well, he's not exactly singing that song anymore." He tells me lowly and I furrow my brows.

"What?"

"Just believe me. He misses you." He mumbles.

I don't have time to question him anymore.

"Can we go home now?" Steven yawns, stretching.

"I can take you guys home." Doc offers. "Viv, you can go back with Nikki." He suggests and I raise my brow as tension collects in the air.

Everyone looks at me knowingly, waiting for me to answer.

"I can't do that." I argue, crossing my arms.

"It's been a month, Viv." Doc states, his eyes flickering to Nikki for a second.

"Which means we have two more to go." I raise my brows.

"Vivian." He says more sternly. "Stop being ridiculous."

"He wanted to get away from me for three months. He's getting what he wants, like he always does." I laugh without humor.

"You didn't really expect him to go that long with his wife--"

"--Oh, I did. He was oh so sure he wanted to be separated for that long." I cut Doc off, looking at Nikki. "I'll see you in two months. Whether it's with open arms or divorce papers, is up to you. I could give a damn at this point."

I wanted to punish him. He hurt me by making me feel like he didn't care. He didn't throw "ninety days" out there to have that much time to gather his thoughts and reflect and do better by me, he threw out that number so he could have more time to do whatever the hell he wanted to without his wife in the house.

And he did whatever and whoever the hell he wanted to do the entire time.

For years I blamed my reluctance and pettiness as the main contributor to his affair with Vanity.

After that night at the police station, I refused to come home, even when he called the apartment, fucked up and crying, repeating "I'm sorry."

Had I come home, it might have decreased their time spent together or something. At least that's how I felt for years after the actual affair took place.

I didn't realize he wasn't calling and saying "sorry" because he regretted suggesting we be apart for that long...but because he'd slept with another woman. Another woman he found himself becoming slightly emotionally connected to, and knew, almost immediately, wouldn't just be a one-night stand or a fling, but would become "the other woman."

And she would hold that position, without my knowledge, for an entire year and a half.

Of course when I found out I was angry at the both of them, but I was more angry at him.

He sought her out.

He saw her in Vanity 6's "Nasty Gal" video, called his people at the office, they contacted her people, and set up a date for them to meet. Just like that. And he wasn't even thinking of me because I wasn't even living in the house with him.

So to me, for a long time, I was just as much to blame as Nikki and Vanity.

And that doesn't even count the many times I blamed myself for his straying after staring in a mirror and comparing myself to her.

We were on the complete opposite sides of the spectrum in looks, personality, how we carried ourselves, and hobbies.

And it's not like she was Nikki's outlet to an entirely different lifestyle than he had with me.

It wasn't like he was a sober, church going, family man who kept things vanilla and just visited her when he needed a wild night of smoking crack, shooting heroin and screwing around.

He was the same person with her as he was with me.

The only reason they stayed together so long is because she never made him feel bad for fucking himself up. She encouraged it.

And that was the one thing I had over her.

Well that, and, according to Izzy, "she's a ten but the drugs make her a five. And her being batshit crazy knocks her to a solid two...on a good day. You're a ten."

He followed that up with, "don't compare yourself to a fucking crack addict when there's barely anything left of her to compare to. The only thing she can say she's got on you, is screwing your husband, and she brags about it because strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize."

His sarcasm had me laughing and wiping my tears.

I was tempted to get "strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize" tattooed on me, but decided not to.

The door opens and Slash and Steven come in, chuckling, as I scrub the last cup in the sink.

"Wow, it's only three in the afternoon and you're up?" I ask them.

"We took Tans to the airport." Stevie explains. "I don't know why she doesn't just move back here." He adds.

"She works out of New York." I say with a shrug.

"She's alright got Miss 1985. The hell else is there left for her to do?" He sighs, pouting a little and I rub my lips together.

"Hustler magazine called her a few days ago." I tell them and they look at each other.

"Hustler's more graphic than Playboy..." Steven points out with slight distaste.

"I think the wrong people have their feet on her neck, and there's not a damn thing any of us can do about it." I tell him, rubbing my forehead.

"Oh." He says lowly, a sad expression on his face.

I decide to change the subject.

"So." I start, sitting on the counter. "Any idea for an album yet?"

"We got plenty of songs. We're looking for a producer." Slash informs me, sitting on the couch. "Tom wants to bring in Paul Stanley."

"Ugh." I can't hide my wrinkling nose at the idea of Paul Stanley producing Guns N' Roses.

"What's wrong with that?" Steven asks me.

"I like Paul but KISS isn't Guns N' Roses. I don't think he would give you a sound that's signature to you guys' style."

"Yeah, that's what the guys think." Stevie replies, sighing out. "It's still cool we got his attention."

"Yeah, it is." I agree. "You just gotta stick to what your sound is, is all."

"Well, who produced Mötley's first big album?"

"Oh, it wa--" I stop myself abruptly after the name completely leaves my mind. I furrow my brows, knowing that I know who produced it, but I can't. "I'm not crazy. I know who produced it."

They wait for a moment.

"Did they even have a producer?" I mumble to myself. "Well then who the hell produced 'Shout at the Devil' and 'Theater of Pain'?" I ask myself, thinking harder than I should be. "You're telling me you were the only sober one around and you can't even remember who the hell was working with them?" I keep talking to myself and I can see Steven and Slash looking at each other from the corner of my eye. "I give up. I can't remember. I'm not crazy." I tell them and Stevie spins his pointer finger beside his temple to signal to Slash that I'm looney and I throw the dish towel at him, hitting him in the face, causing him to chuckle some more.

"I'm gonna go get a shower." I tell them, trying to calm my laughter spell with them as I step to the bathroom and start the shower before undressing and getting in.

I've been fine, actually getting out of bed at a reasonable time every day and cleaning up the apartment while the guys are out doing whatever. I haven't missed any doses of my medicine in a while, and that's helping my mood more than I thought it would.

I've been slowly starting to dance again. I'm not sure if Mandy is aware Duff sneaks me to her band's rehearsal space almost every other night, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

I still miss Nikki--and it's been two weeks since we last saw each other--but it's not a "can't breathe without you" feeling, I just miss his company, his smart-ass comments, his teasing, his laugh, his smile, his eyes, the sound of his bass as he fumbles with it to recreate a riff he thought up in his head at some point, the way he would do tiny things to help me around the house, our conversations in the dead of night about stupid things he would think up under the influence...I miss him sneaking into my bedroom window at night and the two of us trying not to wake up my parents with our laughter, I miss feeling like I never wanted to leave the apartment he shared with Vince and Tommy because I'd have to leave his bed, I miss not having the weight of the world on my shoulders, not constantly thinking "you're his wife, people are looking at you, dress like this, look like this, act like this, look happy, be sexy, fuck him good, and he won't give groupies a second glance."

I miss life before the access to excess.

I miss Nikki.

Not "Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe."

Just Nikki.

I'm rinsing shampoo from my hair when someone knocks at the door.

"Viv?"

Speaking of Mandy, her voice sounds from the other side of the door.

"Yeah?" I reply, hearing the door open a little.

"You've got a phone call. He says it's an emergency." She tells me. "He says it's about your husband." She adds.

I'm nearly breaking my neck to scramble out of the shower, not bothering with taking the time to wrap up in the towel, rushing past her and my heart sinks to my stomach.

"Emergency" and "Nikki" are never good in the same sentence.

Duff is holding the phone for me, mouthing "Doc" to me as I take it, trying to convince myself not to start crying before I even know what exactly is going on.

"H-Hello?" I ask into the phone, my body shaking. I don't know if it's due to anxiousness or the cold air clinging to my wet skin.

Duff's draping my shoulders with his jacket, and Mandy pulls it shut so I'm not flashing Slash or Steven, who're in front of us, sitting on the couch.

"Viv, I need you to break that fucking bullshit you have for therapy and go back home." Doc orders me.

"Why? What happened? What's wrong? Is Nikki okay?" I frantically ask one after the other.

"I don't know, I'm about to head over there and make sure." He says.

"Doc, what the hell happened? What's wrong?" I demand, getting more and more impatient.

He's quiet on the other end, hesitating for some reason, only pissing me off more and more because I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack.

"Doc!" I bark, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"His grandfather, Tom, just called me so I could pass the message on to you. He's already called Nikki." He starts, pausing as if what he's about to say is a tough thing to get out. "Nikki's grandmother has passed away, Vivian."