#I've got too much good terror content lined up

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my mind while watching this episode:

--This episode has me shook.

--Like, I truly did not remember the Hand Demon being so utterly, but fittingly horrific.

--But we'll get to that.

--First!! Urokodaki-san!! He showed up to observe the cut Tanjiro made in the rock while Tanjiro was still taking in what happened. This goes to show that Urokodaki had been nearby, watching over or checking in on Tanjiro this whole time, truly impressed with him. However, given Urokodaki's genuine shock at Tanjiro knowing Sabito & Makomo's names, this means that he had no way of sensing the presence of his 13 former students' ghosts.

--When first watching this series, it was in the peaceful moments of Urokodaki and Tanjiro spending time together that it dawned on me, "I really love and am very invested in this." In particular, it dawned on me in those moments how much I love Tanjiro and I've never looked back.

--We feel a lot of Urokodaki's love for Tanjiro in that time, too. For as gruff and distant as he's been, he really can't help but show his affection for Tanjiro, like he had for all his students. When it comes to plotting out the content for each episode, it was very nice to get this side of Urokodaki in the same episode as we get the tragic irony of how his love and concern for his students brought about their downfalls. Speaking of plotting episodes, the KnY manga has a nasty habit of introducing information very flashbacks mid-fight, in a way that sometimes interrupts the flow of a tense moment. While the anime has chosen to keep a lot of this, they chose to place Tanjiro's flashbacks to Urokodaki's explanations in the context of Tanjiro's real time experience, which I find a very good choice.

--Speaking of choices which were made... um, wow. There were a lot of choices made about the Hand Demon. We'll get to him.

--At the Final Selection, we get Tanjiro's first experience using actual Breath Technique, and Ufotable shows us with style how they're going to be doing things on this show! They chose a particular way of doing Water Breath, and it works because they lean into it, even for these first low-level demons Tanjiro faces.

--But don't relax yet, Tanjiro! Don't relax yet, viewers! We have terror looming.

--Oh man. OH MAN. The emphasis they put on Tanjiro's gut reaction to the Hand Demon. The boy is shook, rightfully so.

--AND THEN IT ATE THAT OTHER KID. OH MAN. OH MY GOSH. THE MANGA DID NOT GO THAT FAR.

--Phew... okay, so. Gotouge was still a novice mangaka at this point. There was a lot of heart put into this Final Selection arc, which is why it works. The Hand Demon has a brilliant character design, which is why it doubly works. But The action... well, it's functional. It serves its storytelling purpose. It show mechanics. Yes. It did what it needed to.

--But Ufotable read this and was like, "hmm, yes. We got you. We see what you were going for. And we are going to pick apart every action line and sound effect, read in between every panel, and animate the innate horror of this creation."

--"And we're going to get Koyasu Takehito to voice him."

--Like, seriously. I hope that when Koyasu was offered the chance to take a break from all his conventionally (or exceptionally) attractive character roles, he leaned deep into it and had a blast.

--Just... wow. Since I usually turn to the manga for art and fic reference, I had forgotten just how far the anime went on details of how the Hand Demon moves, grows, and eats. Since I haven't watched this episode since becoming such a deeply invested fan, it made my jaw drop as it hit me that this is what Sabito and Makomo suffered.

--On that point, something which is implied well enough to be a sound theory, but never really proven is how tied ghosts are to the demons which ate them. Douma implies that his victims live forever inside him, and even in this episode, Urokodaki very blatantly states that demons gain strength and grow bigger based on each human they consume, and there is a display of that in how the Hand Demon gets more engorged after he swallows that other nameless boy whole. This leads us to understanding that Sabito & Makomo's bodies contributed directly to what the Hand Demon is now, but what we don't know is how trapped their souls are in what used to be their own cells.

--Which led me to wonder... they're metaphorically talking to each other back on Mt. Sagiri, but they're ACTUALLY WATCHING THE BATTLE UNFOLD FROM WITHIN THE HORRIFIC MASS OF DEMON CELLS THEY'RE STUCK IN, AREN'T THEY

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

--And it's for reasons like that which make me encourage people to rewatch this episode if they've forgotten just what a big and horrible foe the Hand Demon was. Sorry Swamp Demon, you'll have nothing on this guy. Yahaba, Suamaru, you guys have troublesome techniques, but you're small fry compared to this guy. If Muzan bothered caring whatsoever about his demons locked away on Mt. Fujikasane, he'd probably be pleased with this demon having so aggressively survived and eaten people with such vengeance. His physical development is inelegant, but it displays his force of will in as core a way as Muzan engorging his flesh in a desperate attempt to escape the sun.

--Also, let's talk about that moment Tanjiro got hit with one bad punch and got knocked into the tree and flattened until Shigeru woke him up. We know that Tanjiro is going to go through much, much worse later on in his demon slaying career, but to date, this is the heaviest hit he's ever suffered in his life (and he's already been though a lot of hard knocks). It dealt THAT MUCH damage to his forehead (you know, TANJIRO'S forehead) that it fundamentally activated a change in the shape of his skin. Know what we do now, we could say that this was a turning point in starting to bring forth the mark, like Tanjiro subconsciously needed to draw from some of the same sources of strength in order to have the physical strength to defeat the Hand Demon.

--Like... seriously. We can never forget just how horrific and powerful this demon was. While the demons of Mt. Fujikasane were meant to have been weak demons that have only eaten a few people and could, in theory, be defeated by beginners, the Hand Demon was a terrifying anomaly. Had the Corp known that one of the demons there had gotten, erm, "out of hand," they probably would had sent a more experienced slayer to do away with it, but there were never any survivors to tell them so.

--Also, THIS IS STILL ONLY TANJIRO'S FIRST NIGHT.

#kny rewatch #my art #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #hand demon #sabito #makomo

[shrikeseams]

Thinking about Celegorm avenging Aredhel on Luthien got me thinking about… oh gosh. Somebody had a headcanon about Galadriel interacting with Aredhel. Them writing letters after Aredhel's marriage? Something like that. Sorry, I've forgotten who wrote it and most of the content. But it was interest to me, because...

At least to me, the Aredhel Situation only really works if nobody knows she's there. I mean. She's the daughter of the high king of the Noldor. The abduction/seduction only works in the first place because she vanished into Gondolin, and the people outside Gondolin don't know she's missing. I think this is why I don't think Turgon sent letters to his family on the outside until he shows up for the Union. If he was in touch with his dad, he would tell Fingolfin that Aredhel had gone missing, and approximately where-ish, and Fingolfin and Fingon and Aredhel's cousins would be posting rewards for information and organizing search parties. Fingon went into Angband for a cousin he was angry at, I'm pretty sure he'd spend at least a decade scouring the mountains of terror and surrounding territory for his little sister. I'm not sure they would have found her, but everybody would have raised too much of a ruckus for anyone associated with Eol to claim plausible deniability. (And abduction by an elf wouldn't have been on the list of possibilities! Realistically, the worries are that she's dead or that she's become Maedhros 2.0. And 'death' is only the first concern because Morgoth hasn't tried to ransom her.)

But see, the whole situation is extremely politically volatile and embarrassing, especially to Doriath. This isn't just a marriage scandal. This is, functionally, the same thing Celegorm did to Luthien. And this predates the Luthien Incident, so Doriath can't just throw this back on the Noldor. This is Doriath losing the moral high ground. This is Thingol's Family Wronging Finwe's Family in an extremely intimate way.

So if Eol tells Thingol, or lets Aredhel write to Galadriel... that puts everyone involved in a sticky situation. Now, I do not like Thingol, and I do not think highly of his politics, and I don't think he's altruistic at all. But I also don't think he'd be comfy with letting one of his kinsmen abduct the only daughter of the king of the people who are guarding his borders. The Noldor are his first defense against Morgoth, even if Melian is the more certain defense. At this point in the timeline he is still somewhat playing nice. He has no reason to think the situation will stay secret, and he only looks worse if he doesn't get in front of the issue. (And even if he's willing to do nothing, I feel like Melian would Take An Interest. Either way, that's not a scandal they can afford to go unmanaged if they want to keep the moral high ground.)

And if Galadriel knows.... very sincerely I think the situation becomes even more of a ticking political time bomb. Galadriel likes learning from Melian, and Doriath is safe, and the Iathrim haven't crossed her moral bottom line the way the kinslaying Noldor have. That last item? The moral bottom line? I'm pretty sure that goes violently out the window if a relative of Thingol's (and therefore presumably of Galadriel herself) has trapped her cousin in a questionable marriage and won't let her see or even write to her family. I'm not sure how that would shake out, but if Melian didn't respond to close door talks I can see her going nuclear and sending all the details to at least Finrod, and possibly Fingolfin.

Just. Politically, this is a powder keg, and if the full story was known outside Gondolin, then there are several political actors ( Fingolfin, Maedhros, possibly even Finrod if he's convinced it's for the greater good) who would use it to wring concessions out of Doriath, or as an excuse to cut any political obligations they had to Thingol. "Your cousin abducted and then murdered my daughter right under your nose" is a smaller scale than Alqualonde, but it's made powerful by the intimacy of the connections and by all the players being known in Beleriand.

#Tolkien #this is written with a more abduction relationship #but most of it holds if it's more of an ill-advised elopement #(which is what I think Curufin is interpreting the relationship as when he confronts Eol) #there's the potential for so many messy political AUs #and like. If you want Aredhel to live? #I still think you can acheive that easily by having her escape to *anywhere* but Gondolin or Doriath #Himring and Himland and Dorthonion and even Barad Eithel are going to be Front Line War PTSD Paranoid about patting down unfamiliar elves #Gondolin is paranoid about *secrecy* not armed attack from within by 1 elf #I guess Nargothrond could go either way #but if Curufin could have caught up to her and calmed her down enough to stay with him? #or talked her into going for deliberate misdirection and sending her east while he tells Eol she went west? #San shoots the breeze

[blametheeditor]

Are you going to continue ‘Jeremy Messed Up’?

That is a valid question. As well as an excellent reminder that the poor Jeremy was forgotten in the queue.

Please take this chapter, and the rest will be queued up for week to make up for my negligence!

Jeremy Messed Up: Chapter 6

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

Previous

Mike was just a night guard waiting to be killed by the end of the week. Now, he is the proud, and soon to be sole owner, of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Business is booming, animatronics are teeming with life, and Foxy is back in the spotlight after so many years. Even so, the dark past of Freddy's is slowly encroaching upon them. One with more ties than they could ever imagine.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and murder, want to harm someone, cursing (lots of cursing), mentions of tracking someone down. Mentions of teasing about being in a relationship when not.

And the Jeremy is back!

____________________________

"Michael."

Said man freezes with his hands up as if he was caught red-handed. And no, he wasn't doing anything that warranted such a reaction. All he's been doing is closely following behind Jeremy as he's guided through the restaurant by the only animatronic that's allowed so much as a mile radius. Of course that kind of trust means constant glances behind to ensure the person who got him into the mess is no more than a foot away at a time.

Freddy better get his ass over here so Foxy and his newest first mate don't get too far away, or else they're going to have a big problem. And not the one that ends with someone screaming in terror and therefore making all the kids panic so every parent writes an angry letter the next day saying they'll never come back. P.S. the pizza was delicious though.

Picture this. Jeremy on the floor curled up in a ball. Mike pissed his best friend has been traumatized. Freddy, deactivated for a solid week.

"Have you ever realized you're the only one who doesn't call me Mike?" the man huffs as the bear finally lumbers his way over, motioning for him to follow as a certain Cake Snatcher stares at him with the silent statement they're too far away. "Sometimes it sounds like you're not even trying to talk to me. Who is this 'Michael', and why do you love him more than me!"

"I always knew you were the jealous type," Freddy easily fires back.

No. He can't smirk with appreciation. Because it reminds him of the whole Mr. Perfect being chosen over him. Proving he is definitely the jealous type damnit!

"Why are you acting like I've done something wrong anyway?" Mike murmurs. Because from his perspective, he's only been a good friend to someone who looked like they needed it. Still haven't completed his paperwork, but usually he finishes that after the restaurant closes anyway.

Freddy doesn't respond immediately, silently scanning the restaurant, a sight that's beyond ordinary. Just the lead animatronic making sure everything's in order. The kids sprinting around screaming in joy and not fear. No guests popping up in the facial recognition system to state they're not supposed to be anywhere near children's restaurant. The only thing that makes him think something's wrong is when he locks onto something, looking almost curious.

Taking the bait he follows the line of sight to see the bear is focused on...Jeremy. A bristle proves he's still the jealous type shit! "What's wrong with Jer?"

"You're awfully fond of someone who hid in an 'employee's only' section."

Blue eyes harden at the thought of accusing the adorable kid of being anything but innocent. "So?"

A paw gently snags his shoulder to stop him. The protest the ticking time-bomb controlled solely by distance dies as Foxy pauses the tour in order to say hi to a birthday girl. And don't think he didn't catch the nods passing between them.

Fine. They can talk, Mike obediently turning himself to properly face Freddy Fazbear.

Someone who's kept him company in the late hours of the night. Told the other three to keep the bickering to a minimum if he fell asleep to drool on the paperwork properly instead of from pure boredom. Saved his life when someone tried to kill him despite having a past of pain longer than knowing a stupid kid who didn't follow the rules because he wanted to be spiteful.

Someone who's also clearly attached to his original creator. Gets annoyed from time to time and fires a few insults too close to home without paying close attention to how it's taken. Constantly tells the man they adore he's too lonely for it to be healthy, but when someone struts into his life and doesn't mind the way he acts, thinks there's something wrong.

Because everything is wrong when it comes to Mike. The way he gains a restaurant and fixes the animatronics up. The way he makes friends. The way his parents never even wanted-

He sucks in a breath sharply at such a sudden and unpleasant thought, quickly tuning back into the chaotic noise of the restaurant alight with joy, and laughter. Such a stark contrast from when he first became a night guard just over a year ago. Something he did. He made it one of the top places for children entertainment.

Freddy watches him with concern. From the looks of it, he zoned out again. But at least he didn't faint. "Michael, are you okay?"

"I'm fucking tired, Freddy," Mike softly admits as he deflates. He can't help a lazy flinch though at the thought of getting lectured with letting a curse slip while surrounded by innocent ears.

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept?" tells him he gets a pass this time.

The man rubs at his face in the attempt to clear his head enough to think about what he did last night. Hell, this morning before the wonderful surprise named Henry decided to stop by. "Can't remember."

"We haven't been keeping an eye on you," Freddy sighs. The one saying he's disappointed he hasn't been keeping up on his duties as the leader of the Fazbear Gang of which Mike had been made an honorary member the night he got invited to join them in the dining room despite only being a night guard. "You don't even leave the restaurant and yet we don't keep tabs on eating and sleeping habits."

"Honestly I'm fine," Mike promises as he straightens up to show the topic is being put on the back burner.

As much as he'd love to take a rare moment and ask for a relaxing day in which his family would be more than happy to drop everything in order to do for him, he's now the full owner of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The creator of the franchise visited an hour ago, and he needs to write a professional report stating why the demands of putting Foxy away and everyone permanently on stage during the day isn't practical. Someone who had hid inside his office and asked for help staying safe from whatever chased them down needs to be interviewed after finally calming down enough.

His food and sleep deprivation can wait. Those who need him now can't.

"So maybe I latched onto Jer a little more than I intended," Mike grins. And he can see disappointment in continuing to push himself like this in the bear's eyes, but there's a promise they'll read him a bedtime story with milk and cookies later. "But how could I not. He's adorable."

There's the eyeroll saying Freddy can't believe he decided this dumbass of a human was someone he should follow straight to hell. "It's good to know your preference toward befriending someone is measured by their 'adorableness'."

"Hey, you say it, but that's why I fell in love with you guys."

"Mikey be thinkin' we're adorable!"

The man in question finds himself yanked by the back of his shirt before he can so much as blink, knowing from multiple experiences there's now a hole thanks to a hook that shouldn't be as sharp as it is, and he's about to be suffocated. Any attempts to yell for help to escape become muffled screams as arms circle around him in a hug.

"Yer adorable too, lad!"

"Can't breathe cap'n!"

"Mr. Smith!"

Mike gasps for air as he's released a lot sooner than usual, coughing out a lung as a paw pats his back-

Hang on a second. The pressure is too light for that to be an animatronic. It doesn't cover his entire back, either.

"Y-You okay?" Jeremy questions. The kid pauses the attempt to help when all he gets is a stare filled with awe, his shoulders hunching up with attitude thinking someone's about to make a joke out of him. "What?"

Mike shakes his head, body jerking with the last of his coughs slowly fading out. "Nothi,i,ing. Thanks."

"Mr. Smith!" reminds him of why he's only gasping for air instead of lying on the floor in an oxygen-less daze. The little boy tugging on his shirt finally getting the attention he deserves as the restaurant owner kneels down.

Yes, kneels down. He's taught every kid who's a regular that if they need to tell him something important, he'll listen. Just because he's taller than most ten year old's doesn't mean he can't hear their side of an argument between two parents. Or, in extremely few cases, make him aware of a shady figure who's managed to stay just below the animatronic's radar.

"What's up?"

"Mr. Smith?" Jeremy hisses.

"His last name's Schmidt, which is a bit too complicated sometimes," Freddy explains.

Mike admits he irresponsibly pauses his listening in order to smirk up at Parts And Nervous currently nodding to say he understood the explanation. It stops when he notices the attention being given toward him instead of the kid who ran up to deliver urgent news. A few seconds of glaring to say he doesn't understand when those grey eyes snap up in order to spot Freddy's own smirk.

"I-I'm still scared of you."

"Sure, Mr. Fitzgerald."

Sure, Jer- what?

"-and then I heard a loud 'BANG' on the door!" the boy exclaims, bouncing up and down with excitement.

Mike's train of thought crashes and burns as he realizes there's apparently a 'BANG'ing sound near a children's restaurant, and Freddy knows Jeremy's last name.

That's not possible because he'd only know that from-

"Which door?" the man quickly asks, shoving aside the earth-shattering idea flooding his mind in favor of focusing on what's more important.

"Back one by Foxy's cove!"

"Foxy!" Mike calls as the animatronic immediately starts moving the group of kids around his stage toward the party tables. Closer to Bonnie and Chica, and far away from a terrifying unknown. The boy is gently pushed toward the others with the promise of getting a whole pizza to take home.

He's so focused on making sure everyone's safe he misses the fact Jeremy's gone pale white. Doesn't realize the kid moved to grab his arm as he quickly moves toward the back door with Freddy right beside him.

"Where is everyone?"

"Dining area and kitchen," the bear quickly replies after mentally looping through the cameras. "No one's in the bathrooms or hallways."

"Mi-i-ike!"

"What do you think it is?"

"If it was a gun, we would've heard it."

"Some teenager hitting it with a bat or something?"

"M-Mike!"

"It's a better possibility."

"MIKE!"

The sudden yell from Jeremy makes him freeze mid-step, whirling around in time to see the shorter desperately lunge to grab his arm. He doesn't have the time to ask what's wrong when he's yanked harshly to the side. Away from the door they can now hear a soft scratching emanating from it.

"Jer, you can't-!"

"It's-s-s-s th-th-them!" the kid sobs.

Mike's fist clenches at the proclamation what made Jeremy hide like he had has followed him all the way to the restaurant. His restaurant.

He turns to the trembling figure, a hand firmly clasped onto his shoulder. "Jeremy. I need you to tell me who it is. And I promise, I won't let them lay a single finger on you."

A sob escapes as the curls still caked in mud and dirt shake vigorously. "I-I-It's him!"

Mike turns to see Jeremy pointing at...Freddy. And before he explodes at the kid, or the bear, or everyone, he takes a deep breath as a paw is placed on his own shoulder.

"Freddy," he breathes, begging for clarity.

"Th-The other one!"

Mike's anger disappears as pure confusion slams into him. Not just confusion, though. Freddy himself forcing both of them toward the West Hallway as a low growl begins.

What the hell is going on? What does 'the other one' mean? Why is the person he trusts most acting like the world is about to end? Why is the bear acting like he did whenever Mr. Seal came too close after that haunting night?

What is he protecting him from?

"Fred-"

"Get in the office," Freddy snarls. "Now."

That, in combination with Jeremy's frantic pulling, makes Mike suddenly dig his heals down in order to face toe-to-toe with the towering animatronic as his friend yelps after tripping and falling when his grasp slipped.

"No."

"Michael, I'm serious-"

"Freddy," the man begins, his voice low. "I'm not going into that damn office unless you come with me, or I see what's behind that fucking door."

The growl grows louder as the blue eyes turn into pure black orbs, a single dot of white light. For the first time ever since it was supposed to be the last thing he saw before being killed by a suit. When it was promised they'd never do it again out of respect so it won't make him scared.

Low blow using that to try and make me run away.

"Do not test me, Michael."

"I'm not a child, Freddy."

They stand there for a few minutes. The silent statement the other is going too far and they should both leave it alone.

"...let me lock the door, and I'll meet you in the office."

"I'm staying right here while you lock it."

Surprisingly, Freddy doesn't try and negotiate it, turning around to secure the back door and immediately walk back over. Mike doesn't move a muscle until the bear moves to guide him down the hallway, ducking away so he walks by himself without being touched.

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, it was a real dick move doing the one thing the man still has nightmares about. The reason he never goes home because there he's alone in the pitch-black darkness, slowly going insane because he doesn't know if he'll go back to the restaurant and find his family waiting for him, or killing machines that never cared about him. Something he's never told the others because he knows it'd break their hearts, and besides, it's just a little bit of night terrors and insomnia.

He doesn't say he forgives. Barely acknowledges Jeremy huddled in the corner with fresh tears still trailing down his face. He only glares fiercely up at Freddy who can't help but glance away.

"How the fuck do you know his last name?"

#I am so sorry for forgetting to queue the Jeremy! #I will admit there's a few more chapters written that I just hadn't transferred here to Tumblr #but I don't have any 'new' chapters to add #I was tempting to write today so we'll see if motivation feels generous ^^ #especially with those prompt roulettes... #have a great day! #Jeremy Messed Up #BTE writing #cw #content warning

[untilteddocument]

After-Action Archive Phoenix Point 2nd Gig - Corrupted Horizons

Welcome, one and all, to the After-Action Archive! This is my second playthrough for Phoenix Point, and in the interests of (comparative) brevity, I'm only doing two reports for this one, for content that was released after my previous playthrough. Suffice it to say, gameplay is pretty much the same, but there's new story stuff in play.

So, we know that humanity has largely come together into the three factions of New Jericho, Synedrion, and the Disciples of Anu. Not every line is so clearly drawn, however. There are plenty of independent havens and remnants of settlements around, all trying to do their own things, whether it's just surviving or trying to contribute to turning the tide.

In the latter case, sometimes, the effort is valiant but futile.

Other times, it goes horribly, horribly right.

We investigated a distress signal from some lab, whose affiliations, let alone their motivations, remained elusive. What we found was a new type of creature, the Acheron, a manmade Pandoran analogue that hosted a new, "corrupted" strain of the Pandoravirus that attacked our minds, sapped our willpower.

It was a terror to behold, not too offensively powerful itself but capable of calling hordes of Pandorans to its side. What's worse, it was tough to kill and highly mobile, meaning that if you weren't on the ball immediately, chasing it down past all the backup it yelled for constantly would quickly become a Herculean task.

Sure, we were able to kill the one we saw, but that wasn't the only one that got out, and soon Acherons became a regular fixture of our mission profiles. Ever-larger and more dangerous variants dogged our scavenger teams, joined in attacks on havens, roamed areas where we followed the elusive footsteps towards knowledge and with knowledge survival and victory.

All along the way, we tried to fight back any way we could. We learned a mutagenic treatment that could purge the Corruption, though it didn't protect against reinfection. We followed up on the lab's data and did some creating of our own, giving rise to the golems of our new age, the Mutoids.

Made of raw Mutagens, the Mutoids proved adaptable and capable, melding human and Pandoran abilities into an effective whole. Also importantly, they were immune to the Corruption, allowing a bit of leeway in sojourns into the mist.

Eventually, we were able to track down Specimen Zero, one of the original escapees, and while it wasn't nearly as dangerous as the variants that we'd been fighting for weeks at that point, it was more important than the lot of them, because it contained what they did not: a clue on how to end this for good.

Our investigations led us to a Pandoran Lair where the prime Acheron had come to live, and with them, the original strain of the Corruption, which we needed to create a proper vaccine. On the plus side, Synedrion was doing some investigating of their own, and we could coordinate with their agents in the field.

Roll Call

I had a feeling we would need to bring some of our best to the fray, so I sent the Cavalry Squad, our largest unit. First in the crew is Caleb Khachatryan, one of my longtime veterans. While he started as an Assault, his personal skills led him along, I felt, a more...accurate path, so I had him mix his starting skills with the Sniper's trade.

Kitted out in Synedrion-standard sniper armor, I also went in with a Synedrion Pythagoras sniper rifle and Deimos assault rifle; while they aren't as brawny as New Jericho's gauss weaponry, Synedrion laser weaponry gives a range, accuracy, and ammo capacity advantage while actually doing more damage on unarmored targets. I also included a Hera paralyzing pistol, for any instances where a live capture was more warranted than a kill. Finally, there's his Disruptor bionic head augment. Aside from a sizable accuracy boost, it also gave him the ability to, well...Disrupt a target for a turn, disorienting them such that they can't use their Willpower. Against Acherons, I've noticed that this is a crucial option.

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Next up is Alicia Murray, a recruit from a New Jericho haven. A Technician by trade, she puts her engineering chops to work operating those honkin' big robo-arms and patching up machines and meat alike. As a support unit/healer, I figured mobility would be essential, so I gave her a combination of Assault training, in large part for the Dash ability, and Propeller bionic legs for their speed boost and added Rocket Leap functionality for scaling walls and crossing gaps. Aside from that, her Remote Control ability lets her compound the efficacy of any robo-buddies on our team, which we'll get to.

Aside from her VVA-2 Tech Arms, I outfitted her with a Gorgon Eye laser PDW, a fusion of New Jericho and Synedrion weapon design, along with reloads for both. Not the biggest damage dealer, but there's more to a mission than that.

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Joining her in much the same role is Vaclav Wagner, a comparatively raw recruit who spent most of his time training and little to none in the field up to this point. Still, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed can make up for that somewhat, and his skills weren't to be scoffed at. At this point I put most of his training towards upping his stats, leaving cross-training for later.

He has the same combo of Tech Arms and PDW as Ms. Murray, but I did notice his Quarterback personal skill, which boosted his throwing range. With that in mind, I decided to outfit him with some of the other trademarks of a Technician's kit. A Watcher Gauss turret and a Scorcher laser turret (the latter from the same research that gave me the Gorgon Eye) would provide a lot of extra firepower, and his Remote Deployment skill meant he could use that throwing arm to get them to better vantage points. To make sure he could carry everything, I gave him a Neural bionic torso, which doubled his carry weight and still allowed for Tech Arms to be attached.

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

That's enough support talk, though; let's get to the damage.

Margareta Hamilton is outfitted as one of my most potent attackers. Her training mixes Assault and Heavy skillsets, with an eye towards what I call the Jedi build, a melee-focused version of the infamous "Terminator build." Like the Terminator, a Jedi exploits the Assault class's Rapid Clearance ability by cheating on the AP cost of their chosen attack, in this case melee strikes. Normally melee attacks require two Action Points, balancing out the refund from Rapid Clearance, but the Vengeance bionic torso breaks that symmetry by reducing the cost by one. Coupled with her Phoenix Shock Lance, a heavy-duty Phoenix Project original, she can carve through waves of enemies by herself, provided she can follow the kill chain well enough.

Similar to Caleb, I also equipped her with a Neurazer close-range paralyzer, for much the same reasons, and just for kicks, I had her pack on a New Jericho Deceptor heavy machine gun, in case there are times when range is more important. Speaking of kicks, I also gave her Propeller bionic legs for that extra burst of speed and mobility, giving her that much more leeway for bridging targets.

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

Last among our humanoid squad members is Emmet, currently the only Mutoid I've put into service. Named as a callback to the holy word used to animate the golem of Prague as the Jewish people's protector, I made them anything but a lumbering brute. Instead, I combined human and Pandoran skills to create a mobile and perceptive sniper, with accurate and silent attacks. In addition, I gave them the ability to Instill Frenzy onto the rest of their teammates, making them speedier and letting us press the attack.

Their kit is, I think, well-suited to their style. Wearing Styx-class infiltrator armor (mostly for fashion; without Infiltrator training, that stealth bonus isn't getting put to work), they bring a deadly combination of weaponry into battle. First is a Sanctifier acid pistol, inspired by Disciples of Anu projectile research. While it doesn't do much damage on its own, that acid will tear apart armor at first, then whatever's underneath. Next up is a New Jericho Raven piercing sniper rifle, capable of ignoring armor to bring that characteristic damage as directly as it can. Finally, they also carry a Hera paralyzer pistol, just in case.

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

Last but not least would be Zappa, a Synedrion Aspida. Capable of autonomous movement, its mobility and support features make a vital part of our team. In recent revisions, vehicles received some extra capabilities in the form of add-ons and alternate weapons, allowing for flexibility in deployment.

I stuck with the reliable default Tech Arms in this case for accuracy concerns, as the alternate laser cannons or neural turret are a touch trickier to aim, even at something as big as the Acheron. Also, the Tech Arms' ability to heal might prove important. I also installed a psychic jammer, protecting nearby allies from psychic attacks ranging from neural disruption to mind control. Lastly, experimental thrusters gave it the ability to hop over obstacles and onto ledges, a necessity for navigating the rugged terrain of a Pandoran Lair.

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

With my team assembled, I began the trek to the Corrupted Lair. The Cavalry, which is a Disciples of Anu Tiamat-class airship, isn't the fastest thing in the sky, but my faster craft did fine putting out any fires while they sauntered menacingly towards their destination. At last, in the biting cold of Antarctica, the squad deployed and prepared for a fight.

First thing they saw coming in was two Acheron Achlys Champions, advanced variants. Just to show you the kind of bullshit that meant they'd be dealing with:

That's a heck of a scroll bar. All those abilities, twice over. I knew that we'd have to hustle and neutralize them as soon as possible. On top of that, nearby was a Terror Sentinel, a sessile living alarm system that lets loose a psionic scream if anyone encroaches on its turf, and it was close enough that we'd need to deal with it if we wanted to go anywhere. Thankfully, those aforementioned Synedrion soldiers were near enough that they could lend their assistance.

They set to work throwing some poison grenades at the fellow on our left, so we put some more focus on the one in front of us. I saw that this Acheron variant is able to trap people with immobilizing goo, which I wanted to research to devise a countermeasure, so I resolved to paralyze one for capture.

I sent Zappa forward and started hammering it with jolts from the Tech Arms, which ran afoul of one of the more annoying abilities of the Acheron; every time it takes some form of damage, it becomes resistant to it until the next round. This meant that every hit of paralysis past the first was working at half efficiency, so this would be somewhat uphill. Still, we brought more than it could take, and a round or two later, we had the Acheron fully paralyzed and ready to be dragged to containment.

While we were busy with that one, I had Caleb spare a moment to disorient the Acheron on our left with his Disruptor head, which stopped most of its shenanigans for that turn, but didn't stop it from dousing Zappa and Margareta with immobilizing goo. Thankfully, both of them were equipped to leap out of it, so it wasn't too onerous.

On their end, the Synedrion pair was doing well enough, but they were starting to split their attention between their target and my capture, so I ran one of my folks over to them to brief them on our plan and have them follow our lead. The other Acheron then played host to a series of precision shots from them and us, putting it down with more fuss than we'd hope, but less than we dreaded. After that was the Terror Sentinel. It wasn't a pushover, of course, but a few good sniper shots and a final swing from Margareta's shock lance put it down before it could scream at us.

In the process of all this, we also caught sight of the core to any lair: the Spawnery.

A massive living structure, it contained egg pods that maintained the Pandoran population. Its armor was impressive, though fortunately for us, it had no aggressive capability. It was just a matter of bringing more kick than it had ass.

Problem was, even with the two Acherons taken care of, the lair had plenty of Pandorans to defend it, as they quickly demonstrated. The Synedrion soldiers quickly started taking fire from Triton snipers at the far end of the map, while a trio of Arthrons (one heavily-armored Shieldbearer and two agile Brutes) loped around the Spawnery's chamber and made for our squad with killing intent. I could also see further reinforcements on the way, so if we just stalled for time, it would not be in our favor.

Worse, Margareta had used up a lot of her Willpower getting to and cutting down the Terror Sentinel, and I didn't think I could spare a turn for her to Recover. It would require too much for her to intercept the Arthrons from where she was. Emmet and Caleb were in good sniping positions, but they were putting their shields to use after every move, so sniping them was tricky. I also needed to assist the Synedrion troops, who were pinned by Triton sniper fire and about to get smashed by closer-range reinforcement. The Pandorans had the terrain advantage, and we couldn't get good shots in without exposing ourselves to danger.

Thankfully, this was within expectations.

Vaclav's time to shine was now. I had him throw one of his turrets up onto a high ledge. Not only did this provide a good view of the Spawnery if it had a spare moment to direct fire that way, but it had a clear shot at one of the sniper Tritons, and by any power you wanna name, I took that shot. This led to one of the big advantages of turrets. They can only fire once a turn, but that burst is much meatier than any assault rifle, more than a problem for anyone in its sights even if some of the bullets miss.

The best part is, Technicians snap this limitation in half.

Even with flagging Willpower reserves, I put as much of it as I could into my Technicians' Remote Control ability, which lets them give a target vehicle or turret a free attack, or an extra turn's worth of movement to a spider drone. With those extra bursts, I was able to take down that sniper, and Margareta put some of her reserves to use leaping across to help with a shotgun-wielding Triton giving our Synedrion buddies trouble. It was a quick takedown, but the damage was done; the Synedrion sniper's head was actually disabled, so I rushed them over to my Technicians to patch them up.

All the while, I was hammering at the Spawnery with whatever I could spare. A stray shot from Emmet brought down a section of the wall covering the Spawnery, so I had a decent shot in, but trying to brute force it like that usually requires far too much attention. The usual trick is to disable the egg pods lining its sides, but I could only disable half of them without being in range of another Terror Sentinel, plus a Triton with an armor-piercing assault rifle. It took a bit, but with sustained whacking from Margareta, a good burst or two from the turret, and spare sniper and PDW fire, it finally went down. Now, the only thing left was to pack up and get the hell out.

Easier said than done.

Fresh reinforcements were already starting to push in, though the terrain gave us plenty of cover. Honestly, if we just ran out at top speed, my team would have made it pretty handily.

However, the Synedrion troops weren't nearly as mobile, and I just couldn't leave them behind.

I had Alicia pick up Vaclav's turret and join Zappa to scout out ahead and make sure our escape route was clear. Meantime, Margareta doubled back to pick off an Arthron Myrmidon and a Triton coming up on our rears, and the rest of my crew fought a decently-paced running battle. The way confirmed clear, I had Zappa double back and pick up the Synedrion sniper, being slower than their comrade, and hopped it back towards the exit. Keeping our Synedrion buddies safe was slower going, but before too long we were home free. Not unscathed, sure, but we had everything to show for it.

#phoenix point #after-action archive #2nd gig #long post

[venushasvixens]

October 20th - Gun Play (Spike Spiegel x Reader) / Kinktober 2021

[A/N] this one was a little risky, just saying

WARNING: 18+, contains adult content, including the use of a gun in a dangerous fashion

“Games up, (y/n).”

Lounging on the chaste chair in the VIP section of the club, you hazily glanced up at the tall, slender in the doorway. The idiot who had been on your trail finally caught up with you. Your reign of terror was not going to come to an end because of one lousy bounty hunter, you still had some work to do. Taking a sip from your martini glass, you got up lazily.

“I really don’t think so, Spiegel, but it is for you.” You muttered, giving a good stretch.

The figure huffed. “Can you tell me why?”

He circled the weird placement of couches and cocktail tables, trying to find the right time to strike. You weren’t too scared though, your weapon was in reach. It worked every time.

“I’m just too cute.” You smiled, grinning ear to ear. “I've seen the way you look at me. Can’t even look me in the eye because they’re always somewhere else.”

Spike scoffed, his gun down. “Go ahead, think that. I’m really looking for that million woolong you stole.”

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the silver lined mirrors that surrounded the room, you adored your blood red lipstick and scantily clad dress. This was your weapon.

“A million woolong isn’t much for a full hunt around the solar system. Planet to planet, asteroid to asteroid. All the way to the ends of the universe for me.” You smirked, plopping down onto your chair. “Only a man could be so desperate.”

It was evident on Spike’s face that you were onto his scheme. “Ask my partner in crime back on the ship, he’d tell you about all the lengths we went through for this single bounty. I’m only in it for the money.”

“Sure.” You laughed. “Spiegel, I think you want to fuck me.”

He stood still. His lips a thin line, with absolutely no expression whatsoever. “No.”

“No?” You got up, hands on your hips. “I bet you get so hard from the sheer thought of me, you love the chase if I’m the prey. How you want to eat me up.”

“Shut it.” He muttered, voice low and scary.

“Yes, yes thats it. You can’t wait to lock me on your big, scary ship just to fuck my brains out. My tits bouncing, spanking my ass until its too sore-“

“Enough!” Spike shouted, his gun taking aim at your forehead.

Holding out your hands in defeat, you inched closer to him. “I have nothing on me, so this wouldn’t really be a fair fight. How pathetic.”

By now, you are a step or two away from him. His eyes roam over your body, landing firmly on your cleavage. He really was trying to undress you with his eyes. Fear and adrenaline ran through your hand as you gently grabbed the barrel of the gun, bringing it down closer to you. It was still warm from the last shots fired from earlier, when Spike had lost you in your successful escape attempt.

Bringing your lips to the barrel, you wrapped your mouth around it, nodding your head up and down. Spike’s face turned from bewilderment to lustful. It was surely messed up that someone was getting too excited from giving head to a high powered weapon. You made sure to give a few long licks to the exit hole, a metallic taste spreading on your tongue.

“See?” You leered, backing away. “You get so hot for me.”

Without warning, Spike grabs the back of your neck, his lips immediately on yours. He slipped his tongue in, tangling it with your own. It was with such force, you felt your lips tingling from the impact. Small sounds emitted from Spike as he kissed you. You felt like melting in his arms, ready to give into him, until you felt the hard metal of the gun pressed underneath your jaw.

Terrifying shivers ran down your back, but the aching heat in between your legs piped that fear down. Pulling back, you admired the smear of lipstick on Spike while trying not to show your panic at a fully loaded gun, splotching his mouth and chin. Damn, he was beautiful.

“I gotta have you now.” He grunted, flipping you around and pushing you onto one of the velvet couches. You bunches your mini skirt up around your waist, showing off your bare ass and pussy. You heard a small hiss as Spike took notice, his fingers softly trailing on your ass cheeks to in between your wet folds. You let out a soft moan as he did, your breath hitching as he slid a finger inside of you before leaving you empty.

You yelped as he gave both sides of your ass a good, hard slap, warming you up nicely. “Let me see your hands.”

Surprised and excited at his kinkiness, you happily obliged. You could hear the belt buckle cankling as he took it off, bounding both of your hands together. It felt too tight, but that’s how you liked it. Face planted on the seat of the couch, you waited in anticipation of his yearning.

“I-I need to eat you out, please?” He begged as you spread your legs apart best you could. Spike moved your cheeks apart, stroking the entrance throbbing pussy. Using just the tip of his tongue, it gave the right amount of pleasure in the spot you needed it the most. Time was limited, but you wouldn’t mind if this could last forever. You had Spike Spiegel under your whim, and by the end of this, the chance of freedom was right in your corner.

“F-fuck me, Spike,” you moaned, arching your back.

That’s all you had to say before being split in half with Spike’s thick, hard cock. The rough and fast slapping of skins showed his need, his want for you. He grunted and snarled as his slid in and out of you, his hips thrusting wildly. You tried to moan, instead being caught in the back of your throat. Suddenly, he stopped.

Whining as he did, you tried to turn around. The click of his gun stopped you, pushed against the base of your skull. You breathed deeply as Spike yanked your head back.

“Ah!” You yelped as Spike whispered into your ear.

“If this is a trap, it’s not a very good one.” He muttered, giving a harsh reminder that this still was a strange arrangement between a bounty head and hunter. “One move, and it’s over. I don’t want to hear one fucking sound out of you, understand?”

You nodded frivolously, cold sweat covering the back of your neck and hair. You were terrified, but that mix of danger and ecstasy is what you lived for. It made to be a perfect combination, wanting more but with deadly consequences. You will do as he said, as any good fuck toy would.

Gripping on hand on your hip, Spike’s hips began to thrust once more. His pace picked up once again, seemingly not giving a fuck that your life was right on the line. You bit down on your bottom lip as your pleasure was building up, your pussy clenching in response. You wanted so badly to moan and cry, to let go of yourself. Holding yourself together, you pushed down your bodily demand.

It was a full pounding, tearing you apart. He filled you up entirely, pumping himself in and out tortuously. Each push into you was full of anger and relief, his search finally coming to a peak. The thrusts grew sloppy, but still at high speed. He wasn’t going to let down now, it was too soon.

A deep drawled out moan from Spike let you know that he was inching closer to cumming, his speed picking up. You didn’t want this to end, you wanted him to keep fucking you until every last drop was shot inside you.

One, two, three rough thrusts was all that you could handle before having that ball of fire explode, cumming on Spike’s cock. You knew you couldn’t do much, your control slipping away as you let out a pained moan.

Spike let out one last powerful thrust inside you, a deep guttural snarl filling your ears. Feeling the hot gush of cum threatening to spill as he pulled out of your wrecked hole. You felt yourself gaping, used just as you desired.

As both of your highs died down, you attempted to get up, but to no avail.

“Alright, you naughty boy, you could untie me now.”

Silence.

“You can untie me now.”

You seemed to forget that there was still a gun to your head, now realizing that there was a sense of capture. Spike had not moved, instead clicking in on his ear piece.

“Jet, it’s Spike. I got her.”

Fuck.

#fanfiction #cowboy bebop #faye valentine #90s anime #jet black #see you space cowboy #radio free mars #spike spiegel requests #spike spiegel headcanons #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #kinktober2021 #kinktober

[eddiemunson-thehero]

hey there I've an idea for a bucky request, just an idea though if you don't wanna write it that's completely fine! : ) so im thinking super angst with a sprinkle of fluff maybe? bucky either has a nightmare or some type of episode as the winter solider and attacks reader but doesn't remember doing it, then when he sees reader again he keeps pestering her asking what happened to her bcuz he can see that she's injured. she doesn't want him to feel bad so she tries her best not to tell him but he keeps asking and wanting to talk to her to see if she's okay and she eventually tells him that he did it

Why of course! I hope this is something along the lines of what you requested. I ended up getting a bit carried away hahaha.

Here is Line Without A Hook

You, Bucky, and the rest of the team had just returned from a grueling mission infiltrating a Hydra base in Russia. To be expected Bucky was a bit shaken by being back there, he was quiet most of the ride back in the Quinjet. Deciding that a nice scalding long shower would not only ease your tension but also Bucky’s, you began to light sweet smelling candles along the sink and warm two towels in the dryer.

“Bucky come here my love,” you called out as you were discarding your tactical gear and stepping into the shower. After a few minutes of no response from your blue-eyed lover, you peek your head around the shower curtain, glancing around the room in search of Bucky. Not being able to find him made your heart drop to the depths of your body, slipping out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel, setting off to find him.

When you enter your shared bedroom that is attached to the bathroom your nerves settle, finding your lover stationed stagnant on the bed as if he had fallen asleep sitting up. You walk over and place your hand on his shoulder, only to be met with his metal hand gripping your wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and up against his chest. 

“Bucky what’s going on?” you question, confused by the sudden force of violence he has used upon you. Apparently talking to him wasn’t the right move, seeing as you were now being shoved face-first against your bedroom wall, picture frames falling down from the force, glass shattering around the two of you. Gashes and cuts litter your face as blood begins to trickle down, seeping its way onto the white towel.

Your blood begins to run cold, soon realizing what exactly was going on, the mission had affected Bucky more than he had let on, more than you had realized. Being back in the cold of Russia, in the Hydra base had weakened Bucky, letting The Winter Soldier take main control of his mind and body. Struggling against the grasp that he had on you was no use, as the Soldat roughly turns you around shoving your back against the wall, bringing his metal appendage to wrap around your throat. Before his grasp became too tight you let out a blood-curdling scream, hoping someone would hear and come to your rescue. Black spots begin to speckle across your vision, breathing becoming more ragged as your limp body falls from the grasp of your lover.

________________________

Bright shining lights, hushed conversations, and the scent of sterilized tools are what you awoke to. Blinking slowly, allowing your eyes to adjust to the light you saw that you were in the infirmary located in the compound. Steve and Nat were at the door, indulging in a hushed conversation that you weren’t able to make out. Gently raising your body to sit up caused alarms to sound on the countless monitors that you were hooked up to, which made Steve and Nat’s heads whip around to see your terrified eyes.

Steve rushed to your side, “Y/N, are you okay? How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to realize the tightness and dryness in your throat. Slowly you reached over to grasp the cup of water next to your bed, bringing it to your lips carefully, gulping down its contents quickly. “I’m okay, what happened” you rasped.

“You don’t remember?” Nat questioned, leading you to shake your head no. “Bucky attacked you, something from the mission…” she hesitated, “caused him to lose control on his mind and body, allowing for the Winter Soldier to resurface.” 

“Where is he?” you didn’t care what had happened to you, bruises and cuts would heal with time, the emotional turmoil this would cause Bucky would simply break him. You needed to get to him before he realized what the Winter Soldier had done to you, ripping out your IV and removing your nose cannula, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed ready to find him.

Steve grasped your arm, pulling you back into bed, “He’s in bed, he hasn’t woken up yet, he doesn’t know…” 

“Don’t tell him,” you begged, “Please don’t tell him, he will never forgive himself, let me handle it.” Steve and Nat shared a concerning glance between each other before slowly nodding, knowing that if and when Bucky finds out what happened, he would never forgive himself and would surely disappear. 

After a few hours of tests, you were discharged and were able to go back to your room. Walking down the hallway your breath hitched as you hesitated opening up the door to your shared bedroom with your lover. Hearing his soft snores is what pulled you from the trance, twisting the knob and slipping in quietly. Discarding your clothing in the laundry basket, you crawled your way into bed, next to the man you recognized, smiling peacefully to yourself, you know in your heart that you two will be able to overcome this, as long as he never finds out he was the one to inflict so much harm upon you.

____________________________

The next morning you awoke to soft feather-light kisses being pressed along your spine. Contently you rolled over to snuggle closer to the warmth that radiated off of Bucky, welcoming arms encased you bringing you closer to his chest. Opening your eyes and slowly looking up at Bucky, you heard him inhale harshly, eyes filled with terror and worry. “What the hell happened to you doll?” he stuttered.

“Oh you don’t remember?” you questioned hesitantly, “I got caught up during the mission, some Hydra agents got to me but, you rescued me, my knight in shining armor you.” Letting out a breath you did not know you were holding, you stared at Bucky, praying to God that he believed you.

“No, I don’t remember that, I don’t remember much of the mission…” he trailed off, looking at you questionably. Slowly removing yourself from his grasp, you left the warmth of your bed, extending a hand out to him. “Come on, let's go eat,” you whispered, hoping he would drop the subject. Bucky intertwined his hand with yours, pulling himself out of bed, trekking down the hall to the kitchen where Steve, Nat, and Tony were chatting over breakfast.

“Good morning everyone,” cheerfully you skipped over to the fridge to get out the jam while Bucky grabbed the bread and peanut butter for your breakfast meal.

“Y/N what the hell happened to you?” Tony gasped when your mangled neck and face came into view.

“Oh nothing, just a few scratches from the mission, don’t worry I’m okay,” you replied, hoping everyone would just drop the subject.

“It wasn’t on the debrief, I read it just a few moments ago, care to explain this?” you felt four sets of eyes on you as you slowly turned around, hesitating on your next sentence you locked eyes with Nat and Steve wordlessly begging them for their help.

“Doll…” Bucky moved slowly near you, grabbing both of your hands, pulling you to look at him but, you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Steve and Nat ushered Tony out of the kitchen with hushed whispers. A metal hand reached under your chin, lifting it and making you hold eye contact with Bucky. You open your mouth to start to try and explain but nothing comes out as tears slip down your cheeks. That was an answer enough for Bucky, to realize that the gashes and cuts on your face, the bruise that cascaded down your neck was him. “Did I…” Bucky’s eyes shifted to the floors, dropping your hands from his as he began to step back from you.

“Buck, honey it’s okay I’m okay,” you rushed out moving towards him, which only caused him to back himself up against the wall away from you. “It wasn’t you, this wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know how going there would affect you, no one could have predicted this.” As soon as those words slipped from your lips he was gone, rushing away from you. 

_________________________

You didn’t see Bucky for the rest of the day, you decided to give him the space he needed, hoping that by the end of the night he would come back to you. Wait, that was all you were able to do. When dusk fell your day spent walled up in your room became unbearable, you slipped out of bed, letting your legs carry you to the living room of the compound where you found Steve. Sitting next to him startled him, causing him to look up at you with glossy bloodshot eyes.

“Steve, where’s Bucky?” you question, unsure why the soldier broke down in front of you. Mindlessly you wrapped your arms around him, cooing gently to him.

“He’s gone…” he muttered, “Bucky left this afternoon, to Wakanda.” Steve glanced up at you to see a play-by-play of your heart-shattering. “Shuri said she could get the Winter Soldier program out of him within some time, so he left.”

Wordlessly you curled into Steve’s arms, slowly realizing that the love of your life left you, without even saying goodbye or a promise of returning.

#bucky barnes fluff #soft bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst #marvel #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #seb stan #tfatws

[pleasancies]

Justifying The Aftermath

wordcount : 2.1k+

warning : mention of animal abuse, emeto

content : lashing out, electrocution, vomiting, whumper!caretaker, lady whump, lab whump, whumper pov, manhandling

This is it! The last day of Summer of Whump. It's been fun, writing and reading more whump from this event. Can't wait for next year! Tagging : @summer-of-whump

***

Previous Chapter

"Breathe deeply, Fenrir."

Her stare was full of contempt. There was still a sharp edge on her two fangs. Blue veins jutting out under her arms and legs. She was much older than John, late in her twenties. Prior affiliation indicated if she wasn't a murderer or an arsonist then she's an accomplice to one. He didn't dare to take a step further. Even when her left arm was tucked in a sling, the other connected to an IV, the general scrapes and bruises on her face, or the fact that she couldn't sit up so the infirmary nurse had to raise her bed to prevent her lungs collapsing in on itself.

Fenrir spat, and it hit him in the chest despite the distance.

John took out his napkin, "I mean it for your well-being. Your rib fracture wasn't severe, but your recovery will be greatly stalled if you manage to get yourself pneumonia."

"And then what? Brainwashing? I had to be Empire's hunting dog? I'd rather die."

"You're contributing to the public good. We're not lying."

"You think turning people into living weapons is for the greater good?" Fenrir grinned, covering the upper half of her face with her palm. "Rich kids are easy to brainwash."

"We were forced. If terrorist groups like those Heretics you love so much doesn't terrorize the managers then we wouldn't have to spend so much time on defense!"

John watched the rise of Fenrir's chest as she spoke. Her breath was fast and shallow.

"Heretics are a new thing. The humans living in the Orients and the Border Islands have existed long before the Ship fell into our grounds. The Empire wasn't reacting to them when they sent out the first Seed and they sure as hell does not need a living monster to weed out a bunch of poors with a handmade grenade. What the Empire doing is never defense, child. They're hungry for control."

Child. It filled him contempt. He might have been younger than her but look who had their life sorted out? An internship with the smartest minds of the earth, a girl waiting back home, and a few years worth of savings. John is more mature, educated in things other than the vulgarity of drink and merrymaking.

Forgetting his fear, John leaned on the side of Fenrir's bed. He loomed above her. "Your problem is that you're uneducated. You had a brilliant mind, but you didn't go to school or truly learn how to think the big picture. The facts you learned was baseless. The Radicals got to you first and I'm sorry for that."

The glare she gave sharpened, and for a second John believed she's going to lunge at him. Luckily she was only taking a deep breath.

"Uneducated? I've written essays, planned raids, and build gardens! I might not be an engineer, but I know more about the world than you."

"This is a waste of time. You're insulting instead of discussing."

"Explain how calling me uneducated isn't an insult."

John run his fingers through his hair, "I'm here only to look at your progress. Look, I think Heretics are too caught up in their pain. They experienced bad things and blame the Empire. But it's just the world. You need to struggle and work and-"

"Mind if I cut in?" Fenrir doesn't wait for John. "Since you want an argument, I want to acknowledge we both had a different view of reality. It's just our sources. But you need to think about what they taught you. I assume you're referring to the workhouses."

"Yes. That, and the jails. I know most of you are former convicts."

She ramped up in intensity. Fenrir raised her voice. "They might told you it's just a struggle, but have you even been there? Eat the rat-pissed grain and get yelled off for sitting? Have you ever questioned if the papers telling their story reflects reality? Managers owned the workhouses. They owned the papers. Of course they only said good things about it. They got away with untold evil because you trust them!"

The long histrionic rant left Fenrir with a coughing fit. John's answer were simple.

"Who's to say you didn't lie to me to sympathize with them?"

"Ask ten men working in the poor house. If anecdotes don't phase you then read some statistics my group works on."

"I'll do it." If John had the time, which was virtually nonexistent. If he had the guts because none of his friends including him know a guy like that, and approaching workhouse residents can get you robbed "Later. Wartimes are a bitch."

Fenrir chuckled, her mood has lightened up. "Aren't we all united under a single flag? Why is there still a war?"

A rhetorical question and a trap. Why is Fenrir likes to anger herself so much? Either way, he's not taking the bait. What a sad life, suspecting every thing you hear might be misinformation. The Empire could never lie about something so grave. They had principles. John had seen firsthand how his life have been easy because his family knows the rules and how go around the proceedings. It's imperfect, but it's definitely better than whatever the Heretics are going for.

For a week, John and Lisette have been adjusting. Visiting Fenrir separately, taking notes of trigger buttons and quirks. This Fenrir was different, and the way she was exposed to the substance made a different sort of Dog, besides the mutations. They need to re-do experiments, test new things, even change up their approach. Fenrir was always angry, and there's this restless energy around her. Avoiding certain topics and sneaking up sweets for her seem to calm her down a little, but that restless edge was still there.

Not a concern. Not since Fenrir's ribs and shoulder had mostly healed. Not after they've think up strategies to temper her prickly disposition and contain the emotional outburst after her first testing. Not when they drug her when she's already asleep before transporting her to the forest.

They were expecting a tantrum. The soldiers prepared stun guns, flash bangs, anything that could assault her heightened senses. Professor Clayton personally stitched the taser cuffs on her ankle. Something John had spent a great deal of time debating against. He was overruled. Lisette took their superior's side. In the end, the shock collar was necessary.

"I think she's getting through to you," Lisette teased.

"Oh shut up. I was trying to meet her halfway." The image in their cameras are somehow better. Some were blank, filled with static courtesy of Fenrir's rampage. But the few that left thrived, vivid contrasts and colours detailing her figure among the half-eaten animal. Alien techs are on another level. "She was taught to expect cruelty from us. We can't reform her if we proved her right."

"I think that's unfair. She'd done bad things, just because she was radicalized to do so doesn't mean she's exempt from punishment."

John leaned on his chair, "But we're not judges. We're scientists. We should refrain from any cruelty unless it's sanctioned by the State."

"Yeah, right." The speakers blared with a distorted buzz of a helicopter. They were silent as it lands at the edge of the forest. Lisette went on, "so you've already told the King you'll stitch Fenrir's wound without anesthetic?"

"You're missing the point."

"What is it then? Don't get me wrong, I think she deserves it. She was a terrorist. But I won't delude myself that they'll bring her to court. No, the way this goes is she'll work for us and be given an honorary medal when all of our testing eventually gives her brain damage."

Lisette leaned closer to the screen. Her expression unreadable. Professor and his soldiers had found Fenrir. She haven't moved from her position. Still kneeling, dirty blonde hair matted with blood. They practically jumped at her. Seizing the shoulders, heaving her up, and kicking her in the legs to disturb her balance. Two men at the side, another sticking a gun on the back of her head. Professor Clayton kept his distance, the switch for the taser cuffs firmly in his pocket.

She glanced at John. The silence of the room grows opressive. He leaned to his microphone, eyes still intently looking at the screen. Fenrir let her feet dragged against the ground. Her head hung low, eyes half-lidded. Not looking at anything at particular. Quiet.

That period of trepidation passes. Fenrir doesn't fight, doesn't even squirm as they put the earmuffs and blindfold on her. She arrives, her knees buckling and fall on the floor. The strength had gone out of her.

First test passed with flying colors. The trigger serum worked. They didn't have to kept her half-dead to maintain her beast form. But the devil is in the details, how much does she have to lose? It was John's assignment to figure it out.

On first glance, Fenrir seemed to have crossed that line. John could smell death from her. Her entire body is covered in dried blood, yet she didn't seem bothered. She stared at the desk, gripping the towel they gave and picking at the threads.

"Fenrir."

"My name is Avis."

John kneeled in front of her, taking the towel. She was shivering, and her fingers were shaking in a way that suggest it was more than the cold. He wrapped the bloodied cloth around her shoulders.

"You're supposed to cover yourself like this," John brings the ends of the towel to her two hands. He hold her clasped arms, gently pulling it so the fabric would cover more of her body.

"I know that," Fenrir absently murmured.

Looking closer, it was a grisly sight. Blood runs from her gums. Pieces of the camera were stuck under her long nails. Dust and dirt were sticking under the coat of dried blood. The shock bracelet was still there.

"I was going to give you a few test before we took you to the infirmary again but maybe you need medical help and a shower first. How's that?"

She looked at him. The hateful stare was still there. "Do you think this is justified?"

"We needed to test your power. Your blood could save millions, only if we know what to do with it."

Fenrir burst into a laugh, "Making me ate two dogs alive could save people?!"

"Fenrir—"

"Don't call me that!" She stood, still taller from the transformation. Her eyes were burning from tears she's desperately holding back. Her stomach hurts. The smell of her body made her sick. Even more disgusting when it reminds her of what she'd done. "I'm not fucking stupid. I'm going to be a warbeast and the only thing I'll save is the Empire's stolen property!"

"Sit down. Please. Let's get you a bath and we'll talk this out, alright?"

Fenrir took a step back. John wished they bother to bring in her handcuffs, if only for his piece of mind. "How could you see me out there and think this is okay?"

"You're right. It's not okay."

It's justified. But John was at lost for words. He nodded, "I know you're in distress. I hear you. Let me help."

"Then leave!" Fenrir yelled. "Acknowledge for once that this entire operation is senseless violence!"

John throw his testing papers on to the desk. His voice grew cold, "You're a hypocrite. You burned houses, destroyed machines, terrorize my friend's families. How could you do all of that and think this is bad?"

"You didn't know, no, you refuse to see the destruction and terror they've caused. And when it became too big for you to ignore, you're going to pretend they've hid it from you all this time or you've got no choice but to follow their orders."

Fenrir reached for the papers, and for the next thing they both now was that her screamed reverbrate through the room. She was on the floor. Seizing. Her limbs jerked, hitting the nearby table. Blood runs from her ankles, and John looked at the door to find his mentor leaning against the frame with the remote.

"Get her a bath, John."

He nodded. She was too weak to fight him off. Little aftershocks plagued her body even as he helped her sit.

"Come on, we should go."

"No, wait." Fenrir hold the leg of the desk in a vice grip. She kept her mouth tightly shut, and there's a bit a green around the outlines of her face. She felt her cheeks burning. Saliva pooling in her mouth. John shook her shoulders. The movement was a straw that broke the camel's back.

She gagged, heaving out a gush of acid and pre-digested flesh. The chunks of meat triggered another bout of vomiting. Each wave of nausea more stronger than the last.

"It's alright," John said, rubbing her back, "Let it out. You'll feel better."

Soon enough, her stomach was empty. She was nodding off, her eyes glassy with tears. John the only thing keeping her from slumping down on her own sick.

"You're a monster," Fenrir muttered.

Next Chapter

#summerofwhump30 #summer of whump #lady whump #lashing out #lab whump #electrocution #emeto cw #animal abuse mention #whumper as caretaker #futuristic whump #manhandling

[grasslandgirl]

okay so i've never seen American Vandal, that being said, poop crime?

YESSS ABBY PLEASE ALLOW ME TO ENLIGHTEN YOU

American vandal is a netflix original series mockumentary-style true crime tv show, kind of along the lines of Serial, only set in a high school! It’s basically a satire of the current influx of true crime content in media rn, but AV is fully acted and scripted. There are two seasons (we got cancelled 😔) and the first one follows a vandalism at the main characters’ high school where a kid got expelled and charged for vandalizing 28 faculty cars with spray painted ducks during a teacher work day (and the second season is about then investigating some anonymous person terrorizing a prep school with poop crimes- putting a diuretic in the school lemonade, firing cat poop out of a t shirt launcher at a pep rally)! Technically it’s a comedy show and it’s very light hearted and ridiculous for the most part, but it’s also got some of the most compelling writing and acting of modern day teenagers I’ve Ever Seen. Almost every character- teachers and students alike- has that energy of Oh I Know That Person, yk? Like they’re exaggerated but there’s a core of really compelling honesty to all of the performances. The show itself is side-splittingly funny, and also has a lot of really good emotional moments because you as the audience and the guy running the in-fiction documentary get really attached to the guy possibly framed for the vandalism (different guy in the first and second seasons) as you try to figure out whether or not they really did it. There’s also a really good commentary on teenagers’ relationship on social media and the internet, and it’s not one of those Wow The Internet Is Evil type sitches, it really plays both sides, about how we maybe depend on it too much but also it allows us so much freedom and self expression and opportunity for connection but too much of those freedoms online can become really stifling. It also has a really insightful look into the incarceration system on a lower level, and how faculty and adults tend to peg certain types of students into roles and expectations- the weird kid, the outsider, the fuck up, the burn out, etc- and how those things only serve to drive students further away and force them back into stereotypes they might not have been in, given better opportunities and support.

All that to say, haha yes poop crimes! American Vandal lives forever in my head rent free and I will never escape it it’s maybe the best show ever please watch it I’ll love you forever 💛💛

#American vandal #I should........ rewatch 💛 #also TECHNICALLY the main characters from my part of the post you’re talking about are not canonically gay or dating or trans 😔 #but also? there are So Many Vibes #(but the other character referenced in the addition to the post w the bit about poop crimes is a canonical lesbian!! #she’s a bitch and I love her so much!) #looking back this got VERY out of hand I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings ajdbsjdbsidb sorry

[gayregis]

I've listened to the part where Geralt talks with a very ill Cahir about Ciri and vengeance... it was one of the most emotional parts of the book by itself but also thanks to your take about the lost innocence of Ciri ! I felt it thrice hard in the feelings! Also, do you have thoughts on the declared love of Cahir for Ciri? Personally I see it as disturbingly romantic, let's say. Thank you for your commitment to the books and sorry to bother you

omg thank you for the ask. first of all i have to say you’re not bothering me!! tbh i have been loving getting asks because it gives me an opportunity to like bring more discussion to the witcher community... 

i feel like although reblogging pretty gifs of characters/landscapes from tw3 and any good fanart i can find is nice, my FAVORITE thing to do is write or read a really long textpost about the witcher books, i really like the discussion aspect of fandoms where people post their reactions and opinions to the content they like, because you get a bunch of shared reactions and differing opinions.

so no this is NOT a bother at all, and its nice especially to get asks about topics that i have strong feelings about but have not made posts about yet, like this one

ok, as for the actual topic: i hate forced heterosexuality, so you KNOW i hate that canon cahiri! it was out of line from sapkowski and imo, it came out of absolutely nowhere in tower of the swallow, it wasn’t something built up to or foreshadowed at all, so it felt not only weird in context but weird for sapkowski as an author.

my main problem with canon cahiri: i think it’s super creepy!

first of all, let’s discuss the age difference. cahir in baptism of fire is estimated to be “not over 25,” which i see as putting him around 20 to 25 years old, and i usually take the median of this which is around 23. while this “not over 25″ comment is said in the context of the hansa to remark upon how young cahir is (i believe it’s thought of by either geralt or dandelion, and geralt is around 60 years old and as a witcher he looks 45, and dandelion is 38 in tower of the swallow), and how cahir is described as a young man in time of contempt to illustrate that he has a sense of innocence to him as ciri cuts him down, his age gap with ciri is super innappropriate for anything to occur between them, since she is 10 or 11 during the massacre of cintra (as stated by geralt in something more), so she would be around 14 at thanedd, and 15-16 during baptism of fire to lady of the lake. so sapkowski deemed it fit to pair a 23 year old man with a 16 year old girl. this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this, what with essi being “not over 18″ and shani also bein around 18 / college age, and yennefer canonically looking around 20. listen, the man has some messed up values when it comes to women’s ages. we have to take it upon ourselves as people who like the not-weird parts of canon to understand how worldviews and personal biases affect one’s writing, and change it for ourselves to make it right so we can continue interacting with it, if we so choose (tldr: retcon some shit when it’s fucked up in canon).

now, before someone argues that “it’s fantasy medieval world, medieval relationships between men and women were just like that,” believe me, i am aware. i study ancient greece/rome and men who were in their 30s were most often paired with women in their teens as part of their arranged marriages. that is how their ancient societies functioned more than 2000 years ago. the issue is that this is a fantasy world, in which societal norms and laws do not have to conform to real-life earth history, and this is the work of a modern writer writing in the 1990s. it’s not “just how the times were,” it’s deliberately choosing to include an age gap like that to be something canonically acceptable by their society/ies.

also, one could argue that the age gap would be fine once they are older, like, when ciri becomes an adult she is already medievally-style betrothed to cahir so they start dating when she’s like 20 and he’s like 27. eh... that’s still an uncomfortable age gap, at least for when they’re in their 20s. people in their older 20s have more life experience than people in their younger 20s. but at least it wouldn’t land cahir in modern-day jail.

it’s still just an uncomfortably large age gap, and if you think about it, it’s even creepier considering that cahir met ciri when she was a helpless child around 10 - 11 and it just makes the bathing scene excruciatingly creepy too if you put it in the context that he eventually would fall in love with her. it even begins to not be about strictly age, but about life experience, development, and power imbalance within the relationship. i mean, he did literally kidnap her.

cahir in tos calls ciri a “woman” when she is like, 15 or 16 (with the rose tattoo) (to anyone reading, please don’t come at me with that “the age of consent is 15 in poland, just because it’s 18 in the US doesn’t mean your laws and culture apply to everyone” ... please do not try and justify this with laws, legality is not morality. only saying this because i’ve seen it in other posts). like.... hm! don’t like that! she is a teenager... he is in his 20s... this should not be occuring.

sorry for the loooong explanation, but every time someone brings up the subject of age gaps on tumblr it turns into crazy discourse with everyone trying to justify it.

but yeah, CANONICALLY cahir would have been 16-21 (median 18) when he met ciri at 10-11, and 20-25 (median 23) when he declares his love for her at 15-16. that’s ... not good ... to put it more into perspective, these are their ages on a traditional school system path: a 18 year old is a high school senior, an 11 year old is a 6th grader. a 23 year old has been out of college for 2 years, a 16 year old is a high school sophomore. ITS NOT GOOD

my other problem with canon cahiri: it’s boring and contradicts sapkowski at his own game.

all of the witcher is about taking fantasy tropes and inverting them, like you can’t have some random peasant kill a dragon, you’d need a professional, and also guess what, the dragon isn’t evil but a dad trying to protect his wife and child.

all of the characters in the hansa (as well as the four main characters of geralt, yennefer, ciri, and dandelion) are inversions of the tropes they represent. for some examples, milva’s trope is something like the hot action girl who only exists to be the only girl in the company and to be sexy eye candy. instead of falling into this, she is actually an action girl, not bothering with sexiness and appeal to the gaze of a male audience but a “get shit done” type, who also dresses and acts “like a man.” regis’ trope is all vampire tropes ever. he/vampires in the witcher doesn’t/don’t fall into any of the traditional european vampire myths like burning in sunlight, needing to drink blood to stay alive, being disdainful of humanity, having aversions to garlic, belonging to a super-secret orderful society that lurks in the shadows and controls everything like puppetmasters, etc... instead, he is the epitome of redemption arcs and overall “goody-goodiness,” understands humanity perfectly and does things out of his good nature. i already talk about regis too much, so i’ll quit it. 

cahir is an inversion of every knight trope ever, particularly the evil knight. he scars ciri’s memory as a night terror, but actually is not ... a bad person. he’s just some guy, pressured by his family and his society to do what he saw as an assignment like a college kid might see their final essay assignment posted on canvas. except you know. the final exam was to kidnap a girl. and he got an F on that and failed the course (ie got thrown in prison). ANYWAYS, cahir is meant to be this inversion of the knight tropes, so WHY, WHY, WHY make him become the knight trope of being the one to romance and to save a hapless princess? if we’ve learned anything about ciri, it’s that she’s the inversion of the princess trope! she KILLS PEOPLE. she ALMOST KILLED CAHIR. she can defend herself and kill for herself, she doesn’t need the knight trope going to protect her! 

heterosexual romance as the Big Reason and Motivation behind all of a character’s actions is tiring, annoying, boring, and not well-thought out. it’s so base and not unique, it doesn’t fit in with everything else about the witcher.

how i would fix it: not make them fall in love.

cahir already HAS a motivation to find ciri and to help her. he needs to APOLOGIZE. he needs to say, hey, i’m sorry i kidnapped you and ruined your life, i made peace with your dad, he doesn’t wanna kill me anymore, i can only hope that you can forgive me too after i SET THINGS RIGHT. 

as opposed to regis’s arc (i swear i am not playing favorites with regis, i just tend to compare and contrast regis and cahir’s redemptions because they are quite different yet they join the hansa side by side so they’re bound to be compared), cahir actually can find the one (not many) people he wronged, and set things right on his own accord, not go forth with a larger mission to assist all humanity, or whatever.

i think cahir also had this WONDERFULLY UNDERUTILIZED anti-imperialist message as part of his character that pains me to see being swept under the rug for some cheap lame romance story. sapkowski already created some anti-war sentiments with the battle of the bridge in baptism of fire, and he tried to create anti-racism sentiments throughout the book/at the end of lady of the lake. anti-imperialism fits with the rest of the saga as a message.

the fact that cahir was instructed by his family to hate the northern kingdoms, despite the fact that they were related to northerners, is really profound as something to happen to a character, and holds a lot of meaning in today’s society. the fact that he broke, finally, after he lost ciri, just completely lost his mind and had to be restrained because he was wailing so hard, because of the pressure that this society put him under to succeed and achieve pride for his family, is such a great example of the tragedies of society. then he speaks out against his leader and is jailed... and yet, after this, he gets to learn from his mistakes and redeem himself as a good person, and his character has developed SO much. he is not doing what his country wants him to do, he is not doing what his family wants him to do. he is doing what he wants to do because it is the RIGHT thing to do. that already is such a powerful message, he doesn’t need anymore character motivation!

so yep that’s my thoughts on why cahir is a good character asides from all that forced romance biz

#ask #cahir #ciri #master-dellamorte

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Nine

Table of Content or Part Forty-Eight

Wattpad

Word count: 3.9K

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

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Vanity: something that is vain, empty, or valueless.

I watch with my water in hand as Vanity and Tansy dance like wasted strippers on the bar...granted they are wasted.

Sparkie and Nikki are in the bathroom, Vince is occupied with a bundle of groupies who waved him over, we're still waiting for Tommy to get here since it was date night with Heather but he still wanted to come out, so I'm sitting in silence with Mick and giving glances at anyone that looks like they may be interested in approaching me because I don't necessarily want to speak to anyone right now.

"So..."   I start, finishing me water. "...How've you been?"

Mick takes a sip of his drink and nods a little bit.

"Not too bad." He tells me. "What about you? Did you and asshole work your shit out?" He asks and I scoff.

"Yeah." I tell him, smiling a little. "We're good."

I honestly believed we were at that moment. Stupid of me.

"Good." He replies.

Nikki, Tommy and Sparkie all show up simultaneously, Nikki and Sparkie heavily under the influence of more tha just alcohol.

"Hey, man." Nikki smiles to Tommy, patting him on the back. "Haven't seen you since the wedding...over two months ago." His dimpled smile is a nice cover up to to underlying anger and bitterness woven into his words.

Tommy has been nearly disconnected from everyone since Heather and he got married.

I'm glad they're getting along that well, but life doesn't revolve around one person.

Even my codependent ass can leave Nikki to spend time with my other friends, and vice versa.

"Oh, yeah, dude, we've been really busy." Tommy tells him as they sit by Mick and I. "We just bought a new house and she's had some time off so we've been just enjoying it before she starts on a new project and the album gets going for us." He explains.

"Nah, I get it." Nikki scoffs, glancing at me. "Being married changes shit around."

"That's why I'm not marrying Tansy." Sparkie says out of nowhere, looking at the blonde as she and Vanity are a compiled of booze and giggles, nearly tripping and falling off the bar in their heels.

"Just depends on the person, I guess. I like being married." Tommy shrugs. "I'm about to grab a drink. Mick, you want another?" He gets up from his seat, motioning to the empty glass of vodka Mick's finished.

"Sure." Mick tells him.

"Get Saint Vivian another water while you're at it." Sparkie tells him, his tone a degrading scrape at me for not drinking, and the look he gives me stamps the confirmation of his aggravating attempt to rile me up some.

Nikki shoots him an unamused glare and I can practically see him cowering back into his shell out of fear of pissing Nikki off.

My ego gets a pat on the head.

He might have worn more makeup than me at times, been spazzing on coke one minute and nodding off on smack the next, but he could still kick ass up one end and down the other over me.

Tommy comes back with drinks for him and Mick, bringing Vanity and Tansy back with him.

The two girls sit down, hand in hand, whispering and laughing among themselves as they try to catch their breath.

"Where'd Vince go?" Tansy asks us, running a hand through her platinum hair and Vanity looks around.

"Oh, he's socializing." Vanity lets out and Tansy glances over in her line of sight to see Vince making out with a tan blonde in a mini skirt.

Before Tansy can say anything else, Vanity's reaching across the little cocktail table with a beaming smile directed at Tommy.

"Hi, I'm Vanity." She pipes and Tommy looks as if he knows who she is, but is still confused as to why she's hanging out with us. 

"Tommy." He replies, shaking her hand. 

"I'm Tansalyn's and Nikki's friend." She adds for explanation and he raises his brows a little, quickly shifting his eyes to Nikki, whose expression I can't quiet read...he looks kind of nervous.

"Yeah, I've seen you on T.V. some." Tommy strikes up conversation with her and she just glows at the fact she's well-known. "And a few magazines." He adds.

"I've done several differing magazine issues." She informs in, nodding. 

"Everything from fashion to Playboy." Tansy cuts in, grinning a little.

"So, that's how you two met?" I ask.

"Well, not exactly." Vanity explains. "We knew some people, who knew some people, who knew some people, who thought we'd be great friends and got us together and..." Her beautiful brown eyes catch on Nikki, who's nervousness seems more apparent, despite his neutral expression as he watches her. "...we just clicked from the beginning." She says softly, blinking at him before she quickly averts her attention back at Tansy, her hand squeezing at her's affectionately. "And have been great ever since." She adds.

"Agreed." Tansy nods, smiling at her.

"I need another drink." Nikki mumbles standing up. 

"Can you get me some more water, please?" I ask him and he nods, stepping to the bar.

"Why's he so tense?" Tommy asks once he's out of earshot.

"Must be the blow." Sparkie suggests with a shrug. "He spent good money on it and it wasn't worth a damn." 

I take it without question.

Vince is stepping to us before long, lip stick smudged on his lips as he tries to wipe it off before going home to his wife and child. 

I just give him a ball busting look and he raises his brows.

"Go ahead and say it, Viv." He tells me, sighing.

"Swine." He and I say at the same time, except he's being a smart ass and I'm being serious.

"So, how did you and Nikki meet, exactly?" Vanity asks me out of nowhere and my water glass is merely slammed down in front of me, causing the liquid to slosh out a little, and causing me to jump out of my skin, as Nikki sits back down beside me with an entire bottle of Jack.

He's giving Vanity a surly look and she doesn't even flinch, her curious expression focused on me.

"Tommy introduced us." Nikki shortly states before I can explain it myself.

"Well, that's not just what happened, Nikki, I mean, you two are married aren't you?" She argues politely to him. "I want the whole story."

"Tommy introduced us, dated a couple years, engaged, married, here we are." Nikki, again, interrupts me.

"Baby, it's not that big of a deal." I mumble to him, wondering why he's being rude to her.

"Yeah, baby, it's not that big of a deal." She repeats me, and I can't tell if she's mocking me or just being flirtatious with the way she says "baby."

He rolls his eyes, irritated.

Vince seems to be studying Nikki as Vanity and Tansy change the subject to the album.

I don't listen very much, neither does Nikki, apparently, because it takes Tommy repeating his name three times, and me nudging his leg with mine to get his attention.

"Yeah?" He asks Tommy and Tansy and Vanity let out some more cocktail induced laughter as his lack of enthusiasm.

"Tansy was just talkin' to you." He tells him.

"Oh, what Tans?" Nikki asks, sighing out a little.

"I was just wondering if you've gotten any songs up yet for the album?"

"No? Why would I? There's not even a concept." He states, borderline abrasive.

"You had some songs for 'Theater of Pain' written before the concept was decided on." I remind him and he just let's out a breath.

"Well, there goes that conversation." Tansy exhales, playing it off like Nikki didn't hurt her feelings.

Vince is now giving the slightest hint of a smirk to Nikki before it suddenly disappears from his lips and he's excusing himself to go get a beer.

Game recognizes game. And Vince--being the cheating bastard he was--had sat there and put together what he needed to in order to figure out Nikki either fucked Vanity, was fucking her, or planned on fucking her until further notice. The answer was all three. And he made no attempt to tell me...not even when Nikki later told him and confirmed it.

"We're still working on figuring everything out, Tans." Tommy tells her in a more polite way than Nikki.

"Like you would know what's going on since you've been up Heather's ass all this time. Literally." Nikki stifles out and I look at him.

"What is wrong, Nikki?" I snap.

He just lets out an exaggerated breath before getting up and heading outside.

"He's always moody." Vanity cuts in, rolling her eyes, lighting a cigarette.

I ignore her and follow after him.

"Nikki." I say, my heels clicking against the wet pavement as fine rain sprinkles down on us.

"What?" He asks, going to where we parked.

"What's wrong with you?" I gently pull at his hand, stopping him.

"Nothing."

"Nikki, c'mon, now, I'm not stupid." I argue, crossing my arms. "You're an asshole but I know when you're an out of character asshole."

He just unlocks his Corvette and slides into the driver seat, shutting the door.

Before he can crank it and get his window rolled up, I'm 'Dukes of Hazzard'-ing his shit and putting my legs through the window, scooting into his lap, my feet in the passenger seat, and he leans his head back and let's out a loud groan of irritation.

I just crank the car for him and roll the window up to avoid getting rained on, before turning the car off and waiting patiently for him to start talking, blinking up at him.

"Alright..." he gives up, rubbing his face before resting his arm behind me on the sill of the window. "...fine." he sighs. "I shoulda gone to the funeral, I guess. And I thought I was ready to go out and see everybody but it just--Vince is being Vince. And Tommy hasn't even acknowledged anybody since he got married. Good for him he's so fucking happy in his relationship he can't even call his best friend every once in a while but whatever. And Vanity--Jesus Christ--Vanity." He grumbles. "Like dragging my balls against shards of fucking glass anytime she opens her mouth."

"Then why're you friends with her?" I ask him, chuckling, and he rubs his lips together, looking at me.

"We're into the same thing." He tells me and I don't have to ask what he means.

"So, she's a drug buddy." I say as his fingers trace along my kneecap.

"Yeah." He replies quietly.

"Well, I think she's nice." I admit and he looks at me crookedly.

"No. You can't be friends with her, Viv." He chuckles with obvious distaste of the idea, and I raise a brow.

"Why not? She seems like a sweet girl."

"As much as I'm a sweet guy." He scoffs out. "People like her aren't good friends to keep."

"Tansy's like her." I argue. "You're like her and we're married."

"I never claimed that Tansy's a good friend or that I'm a good husband, did I?" He asks me in a stern tone, avoiding my gaze.

"Why do you think you're such a bad husband, Nikki?" I furrow my brows.

"I'm not getting in to--"

"'--No, baby, I'm serious. It's like your default when you're high is apologizing to me for being a shitty husband." I point out and he shakes his head a little.

"I just feel like I let you down a lot." He shrugs.

"I'm not perfect, Nikki, I let you down more than you do me." I assure him.

"No..." he looks as if he's thinking about something for a moment. "...you don't. I promise."

I was too caught up in Nikki's mood to notice the hole in the story Tansy had told me of Tommy taking Nikki out for our anniversary. But it was the first red flag that popped up in hindsight while assessing the situation after I found out he was having an affair.

Tansy had told me Tommy was taking Nikki out for our anniversary that year, that was the night me and the guys got locked up for a little bit.

That first night back out with Mötley and Vanity Nikki mentioned not seeing or talking to Tommy since his wedding...over two months prior.

What really happened on our anniversary: Vanity came to our house and was still there when Nikki came to pick me up from jail. Which is why he wasn't too eager for me to go back home with him.

My finger tips lightly brush over the scratch of his unshaven cheek and I give him my best smile, hoping it will cheer him up.

He just keeps his near frown and I decide to do to him what he does to me when he's trying to cheer me up.

My lips press to his cheek softly, then pepper random kisses all over his face until he's smiling, finishing off with one, long, passionate kiss to his lips.

"Okay." I breathe out, about to find a way to get out of his lap so we can go back inside.

He puts his arm across my legs, though and stops me, giving me a devious grin.

"We don't have time." I giggle, squealing a little as his fingers trail up the inside of my leg, going up my skirt as he says:

"There's always time."

Just before he can breach the fabric of my panties, a loud knock on our window has us both jolting.

It's Tommy.

Nikki sighs out cranking the car and rolling the window down.

"The girls are hungry." He explains to us.

"And?" Nikki asks.

"They want food, dude, c'mon." Tommy chuckles, nudging his arm.

"What're you kids up to?" I hear Vince next, and I lean my head back to lay on the open window frame so I can look up to see him and Tommy.

"Guys, let's go!" I hear Sparkie shout from the entrance of the club we were in and me, Vince, Nikki, and even Tommy, all share a collective eyeroll.

I think it's safe to say we simply tolerate the greasy bastard at this point.

"Ignore it, it'll go away." Nikki says, rubbing his eye.

"Guys!" Vanity calls next, the bubbliness of her personality in her tone.

"Why the hell is she so perky?" Vince asks next.

"She's been on a three day bender of base. That's why." Nikki replies flatly, rolling his eyes at the sound of heels coming towards us and my ears perk up, deciding to put the question on the tip of my tongue away for now.

He opens his door and Tommy helps me out of the car, Tansy and Vanity hand in hand.

"We're starving." Tansy tells us.

"The Rainbows's our best bet." Tommy suggests.

"Okay, let's go." Tansy shrugs, pulling gently at Vanity's hand, and Vanity's hand grasps at mine and pulls me along with them as we head to the Rainbow.

I wasn't good at making girl friends. Tansy came into my life before I adapted to mainly being around guys, so it was never hard to form a close friendship with her, but I got along better with men because Tansy, Tommy and Vince were the only people I really ever had relationship with before meeting Nikki, and Mick and my other friends I gained through them.

To this day, my list of close girl friends consists of Tansy, Susan--who I was motivated to get to be friends with because she's the step mother of Monroe, Brittany--who's married to Tommy...and is young enough to be one of mine and Nikki's miscarried children so I view her more like a daughter than a friend--and Sharise and I are still very close, despite her being divorced from Vince for 27 years.

Of course, over the years, I've had to adapt at being friends with everyone's girlfriends and wives until they split.

And most of them were sweet girls, so after a while it got annoying because I'd get attached to them and really like them, and then BAM! Divorce or sudden break up.

I learned not to get too attached to new lovers of any of my male friends. They wouldn't be around for long.

That being said, one of my girl friends, believe it or not, was actually my husband's mistress, for an entire year.

She just had a...er...learning curve, if you will.

I watch as Nikki goes back and forth from our bedroom, to the front door, going outside, coming back inside, and repeating.

"Uh...babe?" I call, raising a brow and he stops by the living room where I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas, reading "The Art of War" and eating a granola bar.

"Yeah?" He raises his brows.

"Whatcha doin'?" I ask curiously.

"It's been over a month since Tansy was asking about the album concept and I realized I needed to start writing for the album, like, a month ago, so I'm cleaning up my shit in our closet and bedroom and kicking drugs so I can focus." He explains, walking back to our bedroom and I raise my brows, a little surprised.

"Do you wanna read my book?!" I offer.

"Nope, got my own strategy!" He replies.

"But is it on Sun Tsu's level?!"

"I'm getting a dog!" He explains and I furrow my brows, putting my book down and walking to meet him in the bedroom.

"A what?" I cross my arms as he's putting needles and trash into a garbage bag.

"It'll be like having a kid around, so I'll have more incentive--aside from you, and working on the album--not to shoot smack and keep away from blow." He goes on.

"A dog?" I repeat.

"Yep."

"You know if you're serious about kicking it this time, you're gonna have to distance yourself from some of your friends." I remind him. "No more Jason or any other dealers, no more Izzy--"

"--You're friends with Izzy, too." He argues.

"I'm not trying to get off drugs." I tell him. "And Tansy and Vanity."

"Okay, you three have sleepovers like fucking high school girls. How the hell am I suppose to avoid them when they're at my house all the time?"

"Well...Tansy doesn't have a house here in L.A. and Vanity's apartment gives me a God-awful feeling everytime I step foot in there." I inform him.

"Right, and I'm the paranoid one." He mumbles.

"Babe. When you're lying in bed and feel someone get into bed with you and start breathing down your neck, and nobody's freaking in bed with you when you turn to see who it is, you kinda never want to even think about going into the apartment it took place in ever again." I state and he chuckles.

"I would've asked it for a blow job." He comments.

"Nikki, I'm serious."

"I am, too." He defends himself and I give him an unamused look. "Alright, fine, for entertainment sake, let's say she has monsters under her bed. What sense would that make? She's up Jesus' ass as far as you are and I highly doubt dark shit stays around God fanatics." He brushes me off.

"Um, hard, mind altering drugs are a pretty good invitation for quote unquote 'dark shit' to hang around people. It makes it easier to get in their heads, break them down, and try to kill them."

"Kill them?" He tries not to laugh. "Are you on drugs?"

"Nikki, I'm being serious. I'm worried about our friend."

"Which friend? We've got, like, all of them on the highway to hell right now." He scoffs, tying off the full garbage bag.

"She's got a lot of shit she's carrying on her, Nikki, and I'm scared for her. And Tansy can say 'everything's fine' but I know she's got a lot of shit happening behind closed doors that she won't open up about, too."

"Everyone has shit going on behind closed doors, babe. That's life in this business. Smiles and good times out on the town, and demon filled bedrooms when we get back home." He shrugs.

"Is that not sad to you?" I ask and he sighs, stepping to me.

"Just pray about it. Like everything else you worry with." He wraps his arms around me and I roll my eyes, taking it as sarcasm. "Get all quiet and soft sounding so you don't wake me up, and start talking to the ceiling about bullshit that won't matter a month from now..." He grins, pressing a kiss to my neck and I refuse the urge to push him away from me because he's making fun of me. "...and after an hour of wasting your breath, you end it in 'in Jesus' name I pray, amen'. And then I think, 'wow, she's really has me fooled to believe she isn't on something, too'." He laughs out.

"Find it funny all you want. My prayers for your's and everyone else's bullshit doesn't fall on deaf ears or one of you would be dead by now." I state.

He smirks, before a lightbulb goes off in his eyes before walking to the closet.

"I'm glad we're on this topic of conversation because it's great foreplay for this." He pulls out a raunchy mockery of a catholic school girl uniform I completely forgot we had and I cross my arms.

"You don't get to insult my religious beliefs and then turn around and fantasize about a concept attached to a denomination of said religion."

"You can put it on and talk to me about getting on your knees all you want." He keeps his smirk and I grab the uniform off the bed, about to go hide it somewhere else in the house.

"We have plenty of film of me with this on to choose from. There's no need for a live show." I peck him on the lips and walk out of our bedroom with the skimpy clothing.

"I meant getting on your knees to pray!" He tries to tell me to get me to bring the outfit back and I laugh.

He was serious about quitting...but once he started getting dope sick, he got desperate enough to go out in the middle of the night, get the garbage bags full of used cottons and needles, and use the rinses of cotton to ring the smallest fix out of them before getting Jason back over as soon as possible.

And I knew he got back on crack when I came home from seeing Sharise and Skylar, to him and Vanity locked in our bedroom.

When I finally picked the lock, Vanity was having a base fueled arts and crafts session on the bed--wearing my clothes that I'd left in the floor--trying to explain the inspiration of her art was Jesus coming back for the rapture, while Nikki was screaming about his late grandmother, in the closet.

And that's typically what I would walk in on if they were at our house. It always appeared like they were way too far gone in their minds to even think about sex. So I honestly never thought anything about it.

But if there's a will, there's a way, and in the midst of Nikki waving a gun around, screaming, and Vanity laughing like a maniac while plastering glitter, styrofoam peanuts and Nikki's used cottons on a piece of construction paper, the two of them had the will and found a way to kickstart the demise of my already fragile marriage.

They truly were functioning addicts.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Eight

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Seven

Read here on wattpad

A/N: Question — what song do you think of when you think of Nikki and Viv? I'm trying to see something

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Sexual situations, Drug abuse

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My bare feet hook underneath his thighs the second I realize he's about to  finish and he gives a crooked smirk up at me, his breathing beginning to shallow.

Nikki holds my hips still, groaning out as his cum coats the inside of me, causing me to let out a hazey moan, my mind cloudy from our rather lengthy round.

Once he's finished, I'm getting off of him and falling beside him, catching my breath as we recover is silence fore several minutes.

"Are you on birth control or something?" He asks me out of nowhere and I tense up, looking at him.

"Why're you asking?"

"I've been thinking about it since Vince and Sharise had Skylar, for some reason. I mean, I haven't used a rubber since we started dating and most of the time I don't pull out, and we've only had one pregnancy scare in the past, what, like, four years?"

"You've managed to keep track of how long we've been together?" I ask him, pretending to be shocked and he gently hits my arm with the back of his hand, and I chuckle, rolling over to face him, my lips pressing to his bicep for a moment.

I think I'm in the clear, dodging his question, but I'm not.

"I'm being serious, Viv, are you on something or...?" He asks and I lick my lips.

"Maybe my antidepressant affects fertility, I don't know." I shrug, lying through my teeth. "Drugs can cause issues on your end, too, so maybe that's another reason."

"Oh." He replies.

I avoid looking at him, sitting up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed before reaching down to grab his shirt by my feet.

You know those lies, that start simple and small, and then snowball more and more over time and explode in flames from hell that melt the snow and turn it into scalding hot water that leaves third-degree burns on the person that's being lied to? Yeah, we both had lots of those, and that was one of mine.

I

take a shower and brush my teeth, excited for my plans tonight, and as I start putting makeup up on, Nikki's getting in the shower.

"Are you and Robin going out tonight?" I ask him.

"Uh, yeah. Sparkie's coming, too." He replies and I roll my eyes.

I know they'll go out to a club and hide in the bathroom, shooting up and snorting blow a  majority of the time, only leaving to get some drinks.

"My doctor was really curious as to why I needed a refill so soon being that he gave me a month supply a week before Sparkie traded it." I comment to remind him Sparkie's a piece of shit.

"Sparkie learned his lesson, baby." He tells me in a half-chuckle and I raise my brows at myself in the mirror and turn the sink on.

"Jesus fuck, Viv!" He screams, being bombarded with ice cold water for a moment.

"Awe, I'm sorry, maybe Sparkie can sympathize with you." I reply smartly.

He's getting out of the shower, covered in suds, glaring at me, and I take off running with him chasing close behind.

"Spoiled brat!" He calls at me, the both of us naked as jaybirds.

"Trader bastard!" I say back, right before he catches me, pulling me against his wet, soapy body, his hands not skipping a moment to start tickling me.

I squeal, the both of us falling to the floor, my feet and legs kicking out of instinct.

"Don't you do it." He threatens. "Remember what happened last time."

"Not my fault you're a pussy." I reply, immediately regretting it when he starts tickling me again, this time, getting on top of me to pin me down.

He doesn't let up until I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, and he's tired of struggling with me.

We look at each other for a minute, before he grins and kisses me.

"I gotta finish getting ready." He tells me, getting off of me and helping me up.

"Yeah, I do, too."

I decided a nice trip to Malibu would be a great thing for GN'R. I mean, go to Tansy's house there, have her invite over some of her single girl friends to mingle with the guys, stay over night so they don't have to worry about whether or not they'd be able to crash at their stripper friends' apartment and sleep on the floor that night, have a nice breakfast together the next morning, and just give Axl and Izzy time to really get to know Tansy, because they haven't hung out with her very much, while Slash, Duff and Steven see her almost more than I do.

I glance around the living room of Tansy's Malibu beach house, seeing beach bunnies all around with perfectly tanned skin, bombshell hair and perfect smiles, then look at Steven and Slash, who seem to be having a pretty good time.

They both look like they're in heaven, girls on either side of them, obviously fans of their work on the Sunset Strip back in L.A.

Izzy took a girl up to the guest bedroom long ago, while Axl's just nursing a bottle of Jack, with a beautiful brunette chattering his ear off while he's pretending not to care about what Tansy's doing as she talks to one of her girl friends across the room.

I do a mental head count, and notice my 6'4 blonde is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he found a girl or two of his own and followed in Izzy's footsteps, taking over a spare room?

I brush it off, deciding it's none of my business and step to the kitchen to grab a Pepsi out of the fridge. 

When I pass by the doors that lead to the balcony over looking the ocean, though, I see the outline of someone sitting in the lounge chair. 

Recognizing the slender frame, I grab my soda and head outside, Duff looking over his shoulder to see who I am, before smiling at me innocently, bottle of Vodka by his foot and pack of Marlboros on one knee as a sketch pad and pen are being supported by his other.

"Hi." I say as he scoots over to make room for me. "Mr. Social Butterfly." I add, sarcastically.

"Hey." He replies, moving his Vodka over so I won't knock it down with my foot.

"I figured you be eating that up." I motion to the door, referring to the gorgeous girls inside and he chuckles a little.

"I don't know, I haven't really been feeling chicks lately." He tells me and I furrow my brows a little.

"Well, I'm sure she has some boy friends, too, if you're feeling something different." I inform him, knowing what he meant, but he laughs and shakes his head.

"Not like that, Viv." He tells me and I pull my red hair behind my shoulders to get it out of my face, before taking a sip of my drink. "I've been, uh, working on something new, kinda. The lyrics have been going off left and right in my head, I just thought I'd better get somewhere quiet and write them down before I lose them." He explains, holding up his notepad.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I feel like I've intruded, or messed up his groove, about to leave him alone to finish but he puts his hand on my knee to stop me from standing up.

"No, no, it's fine." He insists, taking his hand off of me, not thinking anything of it, despite me feeling warmth radiate from where he touched me.

I ignore it.

"I've already gotten everything I had in mind, so far." He explains. "Just a verse and chorus."

"What's the name of it?" I ask, and he scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't know if I need to tell you. I'm superstitious about this stuff, Viv." He tells me, even though he's completely full of shit.

He just wants to aggravate me.

"It's just the title, Duff. You let me hear you say 'turn around, bitch, I gotta use for you' and this can't be worse than that." I point out and he chuckles, licking his lips before looking at me.

His hand covers the lyrics, exposing the title line of the page.

"Paradise City" is scribbled in his writing and I smile when he moves his hand and let's me read  the chorus, and verse that he's gotten so far, a giant smile pulling at my lips.

"Who the hell inspired this?" I ask him, raising my brows.

"Nobody particular." He shrugs. "You like it?"

"I already love it." I tell him.

Not to compare two completely different bands who earned their names all on their own, but there are a few song parallels between Guns N' Rose's Appetite for Destruction, and Mötley Crüe's Girls, Girls, Girls albums.

Guns' Welcome to the Jungle was like Mötley's Wild Side. Paradise City was like Girls, Girls, Girls. Mr. Brownstone was like Dancing on Glass. But my favorite parallel has to be Sweet Child O Mine and You're All I Need.

I remember Nikki had given me a tape of You're All I Need after we got into a massive argument because he thought I was spending too much time with Duff. But he had practically accused me of having feelings for Duff, and even acting on them (which was pretty hypocritical being that he'd been screwing Vanity since 1986 at that point.)

A few weeks later, Nikki convinced me to come down to the studio so he could personally give me a copy of a song he had written me, and me--being excited--decided I wanted the guys to hear it, too.

I went to the Franklin Plaza where Steven, Duff, Slash, Izzy and Axl were hanging out, discussing a meeting they'd had with their label.

When I told them Nikki wrote a love song about me (thinking it was his way of trying to patch up our marriage and say to the world "I love this woman") the guys had to hear it, not believing me.

The ballad started beautifully, tears coming to my eyes, but my warmed heart quickly began boiling in my chest by the time the second chorus ended.

"I don't think this is a love song." Izzy stated, while shaking his head a little.

"Yeah, uh...he's talking about killing you." Axl had told me, everyone seemed slightly disturbed.

"Your girlfriends get Sweet Child O Mine and what does the dedicated wife that has done nothing but love this sick bastard get?! A song dedicated to his deep desire to murder me!"

"Dude, hasn't he actually tried to kill you before?" Steven asked.

Which made the song even more ironic, along with the last line of the chorus, "and I loved you but you didn't love me" which in itself was slap in the fucking face.

I didn't hear the full song at that time because Duff had took it out of the player and stomped it under his cowboy boot.

That pretty much set the tone for the months to come.

"You're also incredibly biased." He replies in the same tone and I nudge him with my elbow.

"You don't know how many songs I have actually had to tear out of Nikki's hand and hide them from him because they were so bad I just could not allow them to be recorded." I tell him.

"Oh, please." He brushes me off.

"Have you heard 'Theater of Pain'?" I ask him with raised brows.

"Yeah."

"Home Sweet Home and Smokin' in the Boy's Room were the only really good ones. And Smokin' in the Boy's Room was a cover. The other songs were songs I didn't know were written, or I would have hid them from him, too." I state and he tries not to laugh, but fails, making himself snort, which kickstarts my laughter. 

Once we settle down, he clears his throat, and gets a kind of serious expression on his face.

"I really wish he wasn't on that shit, Viv." He tells me and I don't even have to ask who he's talking about. "I mean, I'm not judging him or whatever because Izzy and Slash are in on that stuff, too, but...I just hate to see he's on it, because it's kinda hard to manage it once you hit a certain point, ya know?" He asks and I nod a little. "I think he's a pretty cool guy...so it sucks to see him act like that."

"It's not that bad, right now." I tell him, completely in denial. "He's still Nikki, he just does stuff he's not suppose to. That's nothing new to me."

"I'm just a little worried, is all." He admits.

"There's no need to be." I reassure him. "He's got a handle on things."

Dear God did I eat those words a week later in Dallas, Texas.

It's like watching a fucking car accident. 

Except instead of a car, it's my husband, and instead of a car accident, it's him losing his ever loving mind, crouched on the hotel room desk, as he babbles on, making absolutely no sense as he shouts at his parents who aren't even present.

I just came back from the pool, got a shower, and came in to him doing this.

"Nikki!" I try to get him out of whatever drug-induced show he's on.

"I'm not me! I'm not Nikki! I'm someone else!" He insists, hands yanking at his hair, his eyes completely taken over by an entirely different beast. 

I panic, immediately calling Fred.

"The fuck is wrong?!" He asks when I open the door, hearing Nikki's screaming and carrying on and I try to keep the absolute fear that's locking up my system from showing.

"I-I don't know. I got in from the pool and he was kinda jittery but I thought he'd done some blow, but then he started screaming when I was in the shower and now he's--"

Fred gets tired of hearing Nikki's meaningless shrieks at people who aren't in the room with us, and snatches him off the desk.

Nikki hits the floor, and a switch is flipped, sending him into strong convulsions, opting thick, white foam to pour from his mouth.

"Fuck, Sixx!" Fred lets out, turning him on his side. "Get me a roll of toilet-paper." He barks at me and I do as I'm told, saying a very colorful, silent prayer in my head. 

He tries to get Nikki to bite down on it to keep him from biting his tongue, but Nikki can't do it. screaming instead.

When I think I can't take the confused, scared, out-of-character shrill, it's like God himself knocks Nikki out, leaving Fred and I in complete silence, riddled with what just happened.

Fred checks his pulse and sighs in relief, looking at me.

"Viv, are you alright?" He asks me, taking deep breaths.

"Y-yeah." I say, nodding, even though I know it's written all over my face that I can't be further from "alright."

"Vivian--"

"I just need a second." I tell him, standing up to go to the bathroom, disguising oncoming tears in a strong, steady voice that's physically uncomfortable to push past the lump in my throat.

I lock myself inside the bathroom and turn the water back on, gripping the counter before I find myself in the floor, quiet sobs rocking through me.

I just want my Nikki back...not this tainted demon nesting himself in Nikki's skin, festering his bullshit in Nikki's mind.

By the time I'm worn down from crying, and tired from lying on the bathroom floor, I pull myself up and open the bathroom door, stepping into the room.

I guess Fred put Nikki in the bed before he left, because Nikki's still passed out, just tucked in the covers. 

I get pajamas on, scared to even touch him because I don't want him to start seizing again.

Cautiously getting closer to him, nestling my forehead against his arm, I thank God for the feeling of his pulse under my finger tips in the crook of his arm, and find myself passing out with utter exhaustion.

The next morning, Nikki's really quiet.

I'm not sure if he remembers what happened last night, but I'm not asking him. 

After finding a needle and evidence of an 8-ball of coke, he can lick my twat if he thinks I'm talking to him anytime soon. 

The video shoot for Home Sweet Home is happening today, and a limo picks Nikki and I up at the hotel, driving us to the venue, neither of us acknowledging the other. 

Once we get there, someone's dressing Nikki like a damn toddler, because he's too fucked from last night to dress himself in his done up stage costume.

Nikki was so, so, so, obviously, utterly fucked up when they filmed the music video for Home Sweet Home. 

The entire time, he was chugging Jack to try to calm himself down from a high he later described felt like, "being on acid and speed at the same time" and with the way he was acting like he couldn't see a damn thing, I believe it. 

He kept sunglasses on a majority of the time so people couldn't see how his eye were practically doing cartwheels. 

"Viv, we're about to start, where's Nikki?" His bass tech asks me and I glance around, furrowing my brows a little.

"I haven't seen in him about an hour. He went over there by the stage...at least I think he did." I tell him, stepping over to the last place I saw him. "He was here and..." I trail off, hearing Nikki having a full blown conversation, his voice coming from underneath the stage.

The two of us sit and listen for a moment, realizing Nikki's just talking, taking long pauses, then answering a question that was never asked by anybody, not even himself.

"Who is he talking to?" His tech asks me under his breath so Nikki won't hear.

I roll my jaw, getting fed up.

"Probably the fucking demon he sees and befriends every time he gets high." I state, fully believing that at this point, there is indeed a demon following him around, breathing down his neck, stripping him of his control and cheering him on with each grain of coke, bottle of Jack, cc of heroin and prescription-grade pill.

"Nikki," His tech starts. "Who're you talking to?"

"I'm talking. Leave me alone." Nikki argues.

"Nikki." I state, looking at him. 

It's the first time he's heard my voice all day.

"There's nobody there, baby. C'mon." I motion my hand for him to get out from under the stage.

"Leave me alone!" He snaps at me, nearly hissing.

"Dude, calm down, you're freaking out." His tech tells him. 

"Nikki, get your ass out from under there or so help me God, I will come in and drag you out by your dick." I promise him. 

He puffs up like a pissed off rooster and stomps out, passing by us, grumbling under his breath.

Do you wanna know what was really fucked up about that time? Vince couldn't have a beer without someone losing their mind. He was supposed to be sober. Nikki would bust Vince's balls if he even saw him looking at a bottle...but then Nikki would load anything and everything into his body, simultaneously.

Vince quickly became the odd man out, and had been ever since that night with Razzle. There was this vibe, this tension, that Vince was only kept in the band at that time, because they were getting hotter and hotter, and each member was the ticket to reach their full potential as a band. Each member was important.

Without Tommy, there was no band. Without Mick, there was no band. Without Nikki, there was no band.

And without Vince, there was no band...that was the one that really didn't sit too well with Sikki.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #mick mars #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Six

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Five

Read on wattpad here.

Word count: 3.3k

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

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"If you weren't such an asshole, he wouldn't have to take up for me!" I bark at Nikki as he tipsily stumbles around, ranting at me about my "fucking friend not minding his own god damn business" nearly a week ago, as the guys and Doc just look on, not knowing what the hell either of us are talking about.

"I'm an asshole?! Like you don't get me riled up and then play victim?!" He throws at me.

"Like it takes very much to get your tweaked-out ass riled up!" I point at him.

"Bitch!" He sneers out.

"Fuck up!" I hiss back.

Duff wasn't even out of line with Nikki. He had kept calm and advised Nikki to cool down and then come back and talk to me instead of getting himself and me upset.

Nikki hadn't let on if he minded Duff's intervening to defend me, until a week later, because he was taking it as Duff trying to tell him how to be married to me as if he knew me better than Nikki did, which wasn't at all Duff's intention.

Compared to the number I've seen Duff do on guys during a fist fight, Nikki was lucky he didn't lay him out in the driveway. However, he would eventually know what it felt like to be punched in the face by Duff during the "Girls" tour.

Duff was good at keeping his cool until the people he cared about became involved, and if he had been drinking a lot--which, towards the early 90s, that was the case--his temper could surpass mine, and he worried less about legalities and just started decking people as hard as he could.

I knew he struggled with the band, they weren't as close, Steven had been replaced by Matt Sorum, Izzy got sober and began distancing himself to stay sober, and to top off the disconnect from each other, Axl had become God in his own mind, which caused the fans, the band, and the people around him to suffer.

Once I realized his drinking and drug use became so overzealous, our agreement which was arranged out of court, that each of us have two weeks with Monroe a piece, became an arrangement that I had sole custody but took Monroe to visit his father for a few days out of the month. Duff was struggling so badly to keep it together with his mental health, addiction, and ailing of his band, that he didn't really notice I had our son more than he did.

If he had been a baby and wouldn't remember his father throwing back Solo cup after Solo cup of vodka, putting cocaine in the end of his cigarette and smoking it, and not acting like himself, I would have just left Monroe in the care of Tansy (since she was fully sober then) and let him stay around for two weeks.

But he was four when Duff started speeding down hill, and he was picking up on when his dad wasn't talking right and when he was acting weird, everything he saw that no one knew he was paying attention to...then he'd come back to me and Nikki after visiting and tell us about everything he had absorbed like a sponge: uncle Izzy traveling separately from the band, Dad being really cold and shivering until he got some water, uncle Axl not singing until a lot of people went home...that's when I decided to cut back time spent with his father and accompany him through his visits.

At first I thought I would be fine staying the two weeks out of the month with Monroe, but Axl and I couldn't quit fighting a majority of the time (because he was a jackass) and I came to the conclusion that Duff had enough on his plate and didn't need me to add to it by trying to punch Axl every chance I got for two weeks straight. So I cut it back to about five days out the month while they were on tour. When they weren't touring and I didn't have to be around Axl, Monroe and I would stay with Duff for about a week and a half.

Being that Nikki was more conscious than Duff, he took up where Duff had left off in the fathering department from '92-'94. This isn't me bashing the dad of my first child, either. Duff is and always will be a phenomenal father, but he stumbled for a few years, leaving Nikki to become the father Duff was supposed to be until Duff got his shit together, like Duff became the man for me that Nikki was suppose to be until Nikki got his shit together.

"Um..." Vince says, causing the both of us to glare at him. "...Can we rehearse now?"

He, Tommy, Mick and Doc were all patiently waiting for Nikki and I to finish our quarrel.

"Yeah." I sigh out. "Have a good rehearsal. I'll be at Tansy's." I head to the door.

"I hope you crash." Nikki gets one last jab in.

"I hope you OD." I leave them with the slamming of the studio door and step to my car.

Of course I didn't actually want him to OD, I just wanted to hurt him. And I did.

By the time it was time for the U.S. tour of Theater of Pain, our hands were being pinned behind our backs, and Doc was giving us a "get along or there's no Vivian Sixx on the tour" promise.

Although we were in the middle of a small battle and wanted nothing more than for the other person to wave their white flag and beg for forgiveness, Nikki didn't want to imagine going months without seeing me, and I was scared if I wasn't on tour to keep an eye on him, he would take his issues too far.

So we made up for the sake of each other's sanity, but again, never discussed what exactly happened to make us fight to begin with, and just harbored resentment we didn't realize we were holding onto until we started taking it out on each other later on.

The tour starts in upstate New York, then to Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and all went great...until Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Nikki's coming to the side of the stage where me and his tech are standing, and I think he's reaching for some water while Tommy plays his drum solo, but before I can reach down and grab a bottle from the cooler behind me, Nikki's saying words I always dread hearing.

"Help me, dude." He tells his tech, starting to pull his arm out of his navy and white polka-dotted costume.

"What?" I ask Nikki, before my face pales, seeing him pull a needle out of his boot, and a spoon before handing the lump of tar to him. "You cannot be fucking serious?" I spout over the booming of Tommy's playing.

"Nobody out there can fucking see me, Viv, chill out." He tells me as a piece of tar is melted down with a lighter underneath the spoon.

The fact that it's so casual for him to do this in front of me, is startling.

"Nikki, this can't wait?" I try to reason with him as the spoon is discarded to the floor once the gold is sucked up through the needle.

The syringe is handed back to him, and Tommy's solo is nearly over.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head as Nikki plunges the needle into his skin, throws up, then stumbles back on stage, nearly missing his cue.

When the drugs started to override his need for a great performance, I knew he was gone.

I get out of the shower, ringing my hair out and running my fingers through it, hearing the phone in the hotel room ring.

When I go to answer it, Nikki and Tommy are grabbing at it, shewing me away.

"Hello?" They both obnoxiously say and I roll my eyes.

The person on the other side of the phone says something.

"Oh, hey, Duff." Nikki smirks, glancing at me and I give him a "you better be fucking nice" look.

"Hey, Buddy." Tommy adds.

"Viv? Yeah, she's here." Nikki tells him and I step to them, reaching my hand out to grab the phone, thinking he's going to give it to me. "Well, she can't really talk right now with my dick down her throat."

My eyes bug out of my head as I tackle Nikki and yank the phone from him while he and Tommy laugh loudly.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hey, s-sorry to interrupt but I was just gonna call and check how it's been going." Duff replies.

"It's great." I assure him, leaving out the heavy drinking and drug binge Nikki and Tommy have been on.

"How's Nikki been? Is he still pissed at me?"

"No, no, he's been..." I think of what to say. Shooting heroin on stage? Coked out and shooting Jack Daniels with Tommy? "...great." I finally say, seeing Nikki and Tommy biting each others ankles like dogs.

"I'm sorry again if I overstepped, Viv. I didn't mean to, I just got a little pissed." He tells me.

"Duff, he's fine, I promise." I state, seeing Tommy and Nikki start wrestling, completely oblivious to my conversation. "It's fine. I'm use to his tantrums."

"I don't think that's healthy, Viv." He tells me calmly and I let out a breath.

"He's just stressed out, they all are. It'll get better once this tour is done."

"And what happens next tour?" He asks me.

Nikki's affair is outed on television, I try to kill him, your band comes on tour with them, and you get me knocked up...

"I'm hoping he'll be over this hellion phase by then." I admit, Tommy and Nikki each have handfuls of each other's hair, yanking on it, still not paying me any attention.

"Maybe it's not my place, but from outside looking in, I'm worried about you, Viv."

"I know, I know, but there's no need to." I reassure him.

He let's out a breath, knowing he can't win, and gives up for now.

"I feel like the fucking brick wall you argue with." He tells me and I smile, rubbing my lips together, before seeing Nikki and Tommy finish their play fighting, standing up, looking like they're about to leave.

"Hey, I gotta go but I'll call you when we get to the next city, alright?" I tell him.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds good." He replies. "Goodnight, love you."

"Love you, too." I reply before hanging up just as Nikki and Tommy sneak to the door. "Where do you two think you're going?" I ask and they freeze.

"Uh, well..." Tommy stutters to come up with an excuse, but Nikki just doesn't give a shit.

"Score some stuff." He tells me and I cross my arms over my towel.

"Nikki--"

"Tommy, can you give us a second?" Nikki says it like the answer can't be "no."

Tommy just raises his brows a little and nods.

"Sure, man, I'll be in my room when you're ready." He tells him, stepping out.

Nikki shuts the door behind him and I wait for him to start a fight, my brow raised, an expression of "can't wait to hear what audacious bullshit comes out of your mouth this time" is plastered all over my face when he turns around.

As far as I can tell, he hasn't snorted, shot up or smoked anything in the past hour and a half, which means I'm not facing the absolute devil that goes by the name "Sikki" and is Nikki's evil, drug loaded, irritable, mean, scary, abusive, demonic, sadistic, cruel, vindictive, disgusting alter-ego.

Nikki rolls his jaw a little with each step to me, but I don't cower back, waiting for him to say whatever it is he is going to say.

His hands bunch at my towel, pulling me against him.

He doesn't say a word, and I keep my arms crossed until he holds back the inkling of a smirk, leaning down to press a small kiss where my shoulder and neck meet.

I know what he's doing, because I do it to him all the time: using sex to get what he wants.

I bite my tongue to keep from moaning when we realizes I'm not budging and ups the anti, the tip of his tongue making slow, figure-eights in the same spot.

I feel like someone's knocked the back of my knees loose with a baseball bat, and I have to uncross my arms and hold tightly to him to keep from falling down.

He completely engulfs me in his arms at the sound of me letting out a whimper, my fingers grabbing at his hair, my legs rubbing themselves together to aid some relief.

His hands pull at my towel, discarding it to the floor, pressing his lips along my chest, over my breast, running his tongue around my nipple skillfully.

Hands run themselves between my legs while teeth carnally tug and bruise my skin, sending a wave of heat from my chest to my dripping core.

His mouth moves to my other nipple, but my real undoing is when his teeth trail down to the rib below my right breast, and bite down.

I gasp out, arching into him, my head tips back as he adds a bruise to the skin there that's already scarred with his teeth imprints collected over the years.

He smooths his tongue over the bite before trailing down my stomach, pressing to my pubic bone.

He pulls one of my legs over his shoulder as he gets on his knees, pressing gentle kisses down my inner thigh.

My chest is heaving with loss of breath as he looks me in the eyes and runs tongue from my entrance to my clit.

I dig my nails into his hands that hold steady at my waist as the slick sound and euphoric feeling of his tongue lacing back and forth and side to side against the sensitive nerve endings.

He pulls away for a moment, only to spit between my legs and suck it off my pussy, making my one standing leg go numb at the sensation.

Shallow pants leave my mouth as I start moving in rhythm with him, one of my hands reaching for his hair, pulling at it.

He takes one of his hands from me before rubbing it against my folds, getting his fingers wet, and sliding them into me.

The thick, fullness has my walls tightening around the two digits, eager to please myself as his tongue massages my clit, and my fingers come up to play with my own nipples.

"Nikki." I let out shakily, his fingers curling inside of me, pulling back out, pushing back in only to repeat. "Fuck, you do it so good." I praise hoarsely, one of my hands going back to his hair.

His tongue picks up it's pace, sending my heart rate into overdrive as his fingers keep up with the pace.

He knows exactly what he's doing, smirking up at me when his fingers hit the spot, my throat unable to contain the loud but curt moan that the people in the room next to us can probably hear as I milk his fingers as if they're his cock and my orgasm gets closer and closer.

He pulls his mouth away, licking his lips, before using the pad of his thumb from his other hand to rapidly rub at my swollen flesh.

I grip around his fingers so tightly it falters his ability to move them as well, and he lets out a little groan.

"I wish I could be three places at one time." He comments.

If he could be three places in me at one time I would be wrapped around him 24/7.

"C'mon, Viv, I'm getting really thirsty here." He says gruffly, that fucking smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth, as I throw my head back, letting out another loud moan, so close to my end I can taste it.

His hazel eyes looking up at me in adoration as I curl my toes and come so hard I see black dots.

He's taking his fingers out of me, grabbing at my ass with both hands, pulling me into him and licking every last drop of cum from me before I collapse on top of him, the both of us landing on the floor.

He let's out a laugh as I try to catch my breath, my chest pressed against his, my hands holding at his biceps.

"Are you okay?" He asks me, proudly, and I nod.

"I just need a minute..." I can barely get out in a rasp.

After about five minutes, I'm getting off of him and pulling myself onto the foot of the bed.

He stands up, too, stepping to my suitcase, tossing me one of his shirts he gave to me.

"Thank you." I say to him quietly and pull it on and when he pulls his jacket on, I know he's about to go out to get some more smack.

This terrifies me and tears come to my eyes.

"I'll be back in..." He stops talking, furrowing his brows, looking at me. "...Viv?"

I shake my head a little, waving him off.

"I'm fine, babe." I try to tell him.

"Vivian, why're crying." He asks me.

"I-I think I'm about to start my period." I lie, sniffling. "I'm just being over-emotional."

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"I'll be back in a couple hours, alright?"

I nod again.

"Alright, I'll see you later." He tells me, wiping my tears with his thumb before pressing his lips to mine for a few seconds, and walking out the door.

When I envisioned my life when I was little, getting married at nineteen, having three miscarriages by the time I was twenty-one, having an addict husband, and spending a majority of my nights sleeping alone—which is one thing I absolutely hated to do—was not at all how I dreamt of my life being when I grew up.

But there I was.

Night after night.

City after city.

Alone.

In pain.

Broken.

Silent.

With not a single soul knowing about it.

It's been four hours and Nikki still isn't back.

Restless, I turn over to read the digital alarm clock.

4:02a.m.

Sighing out, I get out of the bed and go to my suitcase to grab a pair of panties and slip them on, before grabbing one of Nikki's shirts from his bag that smells like him.

I leave the hotel room and head next door to Vince's room, knocking on the door.

After several attempts, the door opens to reveal a very confused, half asleep, blonde girl that isn't Sharise—who's baby is due any day now.

"Hi." I say, hushly, pushing past her. "Did you guys do anything in the bed?" I ask her once I'm standing by the bed and she rubs her eyes, still in a haze.

She mumbles something that sounds like "the shower" and I hold out my room key to her.

"You can go sleep in my bed. Room 223." I say.

She doesn't ask questions, she just wants to go back to sleep.

Once she shuts the door, I'm patting around the mattress to avoid laying on Vince.

I slip in where she was, Vince's back to me.

I seperate his naked body from me by laying on top of the sheet, just letting the comforter guard me from the cool air from the vent, and actually snuggle closer to him, my forehead pressing against his back as I hold Nikki's shirt close to me like it's my sacred baby blanket, and drift off.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #the dirt