#he did write another letter to Vivian. but the contents of that are just for me :)

[zeebreezin]

Before leaving for the Neath, to find his daughter’s killer, August Shaw told only one person: his wife. His letter was poorly worded, rambling, and utterly incoherent. Before leaving to complete his Ambition, heading into Parabola on a quest he does not think he will return from, Shaw did not want to make the same mistake. The following messages were addressed to (In order): @neathyingenue ‘s Silvia Salcedo, @gmalaart ‘s Emon Cavendish, @elleryhart ‘s Ellery , @viric-dreams ‘s Robin Jones, @letheology ‘s Mina Azoulai, @capn-twitchery ‘s Twitch, and @t6fs, here addressed as Logan.

[You haven’t heard from Shaw in several days, any mail you sent has gone unanswered. A letter arrives out of nowhere, written in his curling handwriting. The script is messy, blotted with ink and wine.] “Dear Silvia, I apologise for the state of myself as I write this, though you must understand that this message is of the utmost importance. The time for half truths and polite obfuscation is past, between us. I will not insult you by dancing around the truth. When I first came to London, I came with only one purpose: to avenge the death of my daughter, Lenore, and to meet my own end in the process. Since then, well. I’ve found something quite worth remaining for. I set off now to end what I have started, and I may not return. For that I am so, so sorry. You have become… so much to me, Silvia. In all your endeavours, I wish you the best. Your talent and passion for what is right has inspired me, and I’m sure you have inspired many. I am proud to consider you family, a bond not forged by blood but by ink and will. I… I hope you will be well. No matter what happens. If I do not return, know that I am deeply proud of you. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[The letter does not arrive on paper. It is scrawled across the cosmogone sky, familiar handwriting curling across the surface of parabola like a rock skipping across the surface of a lake.] “My Dearest Emon, it rends my heart to know that I cannot send you this letter. I dare not post it, knowing the reflection that takes your place.” [A few words are heavily scratched out.] “I have no idea if I will see you again, you as I know you, vibrant and sharp and maddeningly brilliant. I wish, more than anything, you were at my side. If I return from the journey I now set out to take, know that I will find you. My window of opportunity is brief, and I cannot linger, though I know how selfish it must seem. I set off now to defeat the ghosts that haunt me, to lay my daughter to rest. When I began, I thought that this would be my undoing, a death I welcomed. Now, though. I must succeed. I will find you again, Emon. These words will reach you - they must. I have to return. Wherever you may be, know that… I will find you, my love. Yours, Always, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[A stained letter is delivered to you by an anonymous urchin. It’s dated to a few days after you left on your trip… the handwriting is familiar.] “Dear Ellery Hart, I hope this letter reaches you well. I’ve scheduled it to be delivered as soon as you return, as its contents are quite important to me. Once you receive this, I will have already departed on a journey. I dare not tell you where I go, or why, but know that-” [A section of text is scratched out.] “I may not return. In such a case, I… Where do I begin? You’ve come so far in the time I’ve known you, Ellery. In all senses, I’m deeply proud of the man you’ve grown into. Wherever your path takes you after this hunt, I know you will do well. If this is goodbye, then know that I count you both amongst my finest pupils, and amongst my dearest friends. Hunt well, Ellery. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[The dead drop has remained quiet for a while now. The next missive you receive from the Black Rook isn’t encoded, or tucked away - it’s left in your mailbox, like any other letter.] “Dear Jones, I apologise for the unorthodox - or perhaps more accurately, deeply orthodox - method of communication. This message has nothing to do with our work, though I understand if you dispose of it as if it was. Simply put, I am… leaving London, for a time. This journey is not one I had expected to return from for a long time, but I know that I will be fighting to return to the city now. Should all go wrong, well, I know that we have not always seen eye to eye. I know that I may never truly win back your trust, something that would be well within your rights. But I could not leave in good conscience without saying goodbye. The letters we used to send, as Suzette and Jacques, they provided me a great deal of light during my darkest days. After everything I am, in truth, not sure what to call us. But whatever you are to me, Robin Jones, I hope I get to see you again, once all this is over. Play Well, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[Shaw hasn’t been at the university for a while, now. A letter is slipped into your desk when you return to Benthic, tucked neatly into the top drawer. No cipher, plain script - this isn’t a game.] “Dear Mina, I hope the Khante has been treating you well. I’m unsure as to when you’ll be back, and a part of me hopes that this letter will be quickly corrected by my presence at your door, but nevertheless. I’m setting off on a mission, you could say, one of great personal significance. One I am unsure if I will return from. In the case I… do not return, I leave my network to you, Mina. Take this letter to Demirkan, he will know what to do. …We can do great things with this Game we play. We have done great things. I trust you to carry on that, if I cannot. You have been a great friend to me, and a most trusted confidant. I can only hope that I do not betray that trust now. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[A letter from your former protege arrives, carried by bat. It’s uncommon enough that he’s writing to you, but the contents of the letter are stranger still.] “Dear Captain Lazaret, I must apologise for the suddenness of this letter. I hope it finds you well, and in a space where you can read it without fearing immediate retribution. Though I know we only occasionally brush paths these days, it seemed unwise to not inform you of my current state of affairs. Simply put, Captain, I’m going to be away from London for some time, and I am unsure if I will ever see home waters again. For all my gripes and bristles (and indeed, all the years I fear you’ve taken off my life) I could not have become the man I am today without your guidance. I know I may have seemed ungrateful, but… well, thank you for all you taught me. And for all the times we have spent together, many of which were at the worst lows of my time down below. You are vexing, and caustic, and I dare say my days in London would be a great deal duller without knowing you. Let none of my sarcasm lead to you forgetting this fact, Captain - as you are indeed someone I owe a great deal of happiness to. I hope to see you again. Your Friend, August Shaw.”

- x - x -

[Shaw’s not home, when you return to London, but tonight, six apocyan eyes beckon you to the window. Laying out is a phonograph, one Nigel plays, though there’s no music recorded - just Shaw’s voice, thick with emotion.] “Logan, I- /ˈdæmɪt/, I hope this thing is working right. I hope you’re well? The Tomb Colonies, can be quite draining, I know. I… I’ve left this for you, as I didn’t quite trust my No`çuk" script, and… well, this is quite serious.” [A pause. The sound of drumming fingers on the table.] “This is harder to say than I thought, I, ah…” [A deep, shaky breath.] “The reason I first came to London was not a good one. My daughter had been- she had been taken from me. I came here for revenge, to find the one who’d… and, in all honesty, to lose myself in the process. Now, I’ve left to finish what I’ve started. If I do not return, I… Logan, you’ve become so dear to me. The kindness you’ve shown me, all of it… it is something I will never forget. You are impossible, magnificent… and I love you. Terribly so. What else is there to say?” [A laugh, clearly through tears.] “I will find you, if I make it back. I swear. Xïmo`tu`no` szokh, Muszhka`. If I can’t, I… no. I will. I love you, Logan.” [The recording ends there. Nigel offers it to you.]

- x - x -

[our-heroes-rise]

slip of the tongue

pairing: todoroki x bilingual! reader

request:  Hi, I want to request a scenario for Todoroki. It’s about a reader who is actually his gf, but she talks portuguese as maternal language. When she got nervous, she start to panic in Portuguese, and she’s nervous to meet Shoto’s mom. How he will help her( something like that). I hope you like this idea. 🇧🇷🇧🇷✌🏻✌🏻

hero name: @todoroki-vivian

a/n: hi, lovely! omg yes, you can aboslutely have a todoroki request, i adore this boy. and i loved this idea so much! it was so darn cute. as someone of mixed race who grew up with a heavily hispanic family i think it’s always fun to imagine bringing home one of the bnha boys/girls. seeing how they’d react to be introduced to the sort of music, food, and p a r t i e s that i grew up with. i’d be completely useless teaching them any g o o d spanish though cause my mother never taught me when i was a kid :’). i only know a couple of phrases and the bad words lol. i don’t touch on any of that here because i’m not too familiar with portuguese culture and i don’t want to offend anyone by getting something wrong because i am uneducated on the subjectttt. there’s only like two words of real portuguese in here and they are from google translate because i wasn’t sure what the difference was between the spanish pronunciation and the portuguese pronunciation. OKAY after that whole thing i hope you enjoy this little scenario, i had a lot of fun writing it and it was super duper cute. thanks for requesting baby hero!

word count: 1,717

warnings: none! this is all fluff :)

Your knee bounced with the subtle rocking of the train cart, heel occasionally tapping against the floor when the wheels ran over a bump in the tracks. No matter how hard you tried, no amount of slow deep breaths or mental reminders that everything would be fine, it would go well, would calm the ever growing bundle of nerves buzzing within the pit of your stomach. It crawled beneath your skin, flinching at the tips of your fingers which picked at the worn plastic seal of your seat, pinched at your bottom lip.

You watched the blur of winter barren trees whirl past the window, not really watching at all, thinking of every way not to mess up this very important day. This very, very important day on which absolutely nothing could go wrong because this was - it was his -

A comforting warmth pressed into your shoulder, calloused fingers wiggling their way through the gaps between yours, bringing a halt to your incessant fidgeting. Striking blue and grey find your gaze, softened by the unspoken question of concern knotting his brows.

What’s wrong?

“I’m just - It’s dumb, really,” you laugh softly, able to recognize how terribly ridiculous you would sound now that the words sit at the front of your mind. “I’m just overthinking things. I’m okay.” For extra reassurance, you give his hand a small squeeze, offering a smile.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You’re not okay if something’s worrying you,” Todoroki says, head dipping to catch your eyes as you try to look away to hide your apprehension. “It might help if you talk about it.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth once again, a soft sigh blows through nose, and you lean further into his shoulder, grateful for the gentle heat that bleeds through your jacket sleeve, soothing your nerves. You drop your attention to the spot where your fingers are now intertwined sitting atop his thigh, his thumb tracing over the ridges of your knuckles, saying he’s content to wait for as long as you need.

Well, at least until the arrival of your last stop where you would inevitably have to step off the train and face the anxiety tearing through your head.

It’ll be fine, stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine, it will be fine, it will be -

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You blurt suddenly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as the eyes of a few curious strangers flicker over to you. Your face sinks further into the protective cocoon of your scarf.

His thumb pauses briefly before picking up its mindless pattern again. “What do you - ?”

“I - I mean, what if I say something wrong and end up sounding really stupid in front of her.” And the dam came crumbling down. “Your mother. The - like - the most important person in your life! I’d end up making a fool of myself in front of the most important person in your life. Then she might think ‘what’s Shoto even see in her? he could do so much better’. Which, you could, by the way. You could do worlds better but you’ve settled for me and sometimes I don’t really get it because - well - I’m me - “

“I don’t see a problem with that. I like you for you and if you are what settling is then I will gladly never settle anywhere else.”

“But what if she - “ your fingers tighten around him at the thought “- what if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you? What if she thinks we should break up because she thinks I’m rude and annoying and uneducated?”

“Uhm. . . Y/n.”

“What if she thinks I’m a bad influence on you? I don’t want to make her hate me forever, that would be the worst feeling ever because I know she means so much to you.”

“Y/n. . .”

“That would just put so much strain on our relationship and I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about what happened, ever. You don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than that, Sho. I just - “

“Meu Amor.”

The name strikes a chord in your throat, catching you breathless, butterflies swooping in to replace the recoiling knot in your stomach. You whip your head around to find the corners of Todoroki’s lips pulling up in a small fond smile, eyes light with amusement. To begin with, Todoroki wasn’t big on pet names, preferring to use your given name, claiming it was sweeter than any silly nickname could be. Though throughout the seven and a half months you two had been together, he had referred to you with the occasional ‘love’ or ‘hon’. However, the number of times he had used that name could be counted on one hand.

Three. It was three times including right now.

He asked you how to say it while you were teaching him random phrases, goofing around in the middle of what was supposed to be a study session, the question being enough to make your face burn. His pronunciation had been rocky the first time, mouth working awkwardly around the words, throwing you into a fit of flustered giggles that had him pouting adorably at you, mumbling not to make fun of him for trying. But, now? Now his near perfect pronunciation left you wondering how many times he had practiced by himself. 

Meu Amor was the Portuguese phrase for My Love. His love. His love. 

“Y-Yeah?” It’s at that very moment that realize you have slipped out of your usual Japanese tongue, rolling through the tumbling hill syllables of your maternal language. “Oh, s-sorry. I. . . I did the thing again,” you mutter, flipping back to Japanese.

Todoroki huffs a short laugh that makes your heart flutter pleasantly as the sound reverberates through your own chest. “It’s okay, I think I got the gist of what you were saying. It’s cute when you do that, anyway.” He says the last part softly, meant for himself. You press your cheeks further into your scarf, hiding your own shy smile.

Todoroki takes a minute to speak, gazing at the same window you were just a moment ago, lost in thought. 

“Y/n,” he finally says. “Meu Amor, -” four times “- frankly, my mother could care less about who you are. I think you could introduce yourself as a high school drop out with a criminal record and her main concern would still be; do we make each other happy? Do you make me happy.”

You allow yourself to absorb the impact of his words.

“And. . . I make you happy?”

He shoots you an incredulous glance, then snorts when he sees you peaking earnestly above the edge of your scarf. “Irrevocably so. Do I make you happy?”

“It’s impossible for me to think about you without smiling.” You give him a bright cheeky grin when his cheeks flare with a noticeable shade of scarlet that crawls all the way up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Good. Then that’s more than enough.” He squeezes your hand, pulling you closer into his side. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she won’t absolutely adore you the same way I do once she meets you. If she doesn’t already, of course.”

The statement piques your curiosity and you arch one brow at him. “What do you mean if she doesn’t already? Have you. . . Told her about me already -- In your letters to her?”

“I thought you already knew that,” Todoroki says, frowning in confusion. “She’s always asking about you and how you’re doing. I was pretty sure I mentioned it before.”

“What the heck? Shoto you’ve never told me that!”

“Oh.”

“So - So then she’s okay with us being together?”

“I think she’s more than okay with it,” he replies, his quiet smile returning. “It’s possible that she’s more excited than I am for you to meet her, which would be saying something.”

“That would have been nice to know before I rambled off the entire Portuguese dictionary to the whole train,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to suppress another laugh. And you really can’t stay upset with him for long.

Rough fingertips push gently at the tips of yours to splay your palm out over his, pressing them together. Lightly you run your nails down the long runs of his fingers, memorizing every bump, scratch, and scar, sweeping your forefinger along the wrinkle of his lifeline, then across his heart line. This - the way you were touching him - may not seem like much at all to anyone else, but it was worth worlds to you. It had taken Todoroki months to comfortably hold your hand, even longer while in public, then some to kiss you for the first time. PDA wasn’t what bothered him (not entirely, at least), it was the displays of affection part. Because of the way he grew up, physical affection was a foreign concept, often leaving him lost and a mess of rigid limbs and awkward apologies. But now, he could easily seek your hand in the middle of a crowded train, or wrap his arm around you in the common room, or press a kiss to the top of your head before the start of class. To know that he had made an effort to open himself up to you, allowing you to see this side of him, the side he had only shared with his mother before, made your heart melt and your eyes swim.

Shoto was right, this was more than enough.

A calm voice announces the arrival of your stop and you two stand as passengers begin to climb off the train. 

“Still nervous?” Todoroki asks, threading his fingers through yours once more now that you have both stepped into the morning rush, not wanting to lose you amongst the chaos.

Letting him guide you through the thick crowd, you smile softly, raising your conjoined hands to press your lips to the back of his.

This would always be more than enough.

“No, I think I’ll be okay now.”

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

In Your Letter (Viv x Reader)

edit: omg I totally forgot to dedicate this to @defkisshalen​ when I put this in the queue. I hope this is enough “vivian for the soul” for you girl ;D

Prompt: It’s 1983, you’re part of Def Leppard’s road crew on the Pyromania Tour, and you get a letter from your pen pal one day- a pen pal whose identity you keep a secret from everyone else. They all insist you have a huge crush on whoever this mysterious gentleman is, but you know they’re wrong.

Or, are they...?

---------

July 21st, 1983. Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

Checking for the post turned out to be a joyous decision, and you knew right away it would probably be the best decision you'd make all day. As you shuffled through the pile of mail in the back hallway of the venue, you couldn't hide the giddy smile that appeared once you saw the envelope that was addressed to you. Just like that, the day was off to a great start. 

It was made out to a "Ms. Y/n L/n" like always. The gentleman-like flattery never failed to touch your heart, and it never failed to signify who had sent the piece of mail your way.

Concealing the envelope under your arm and throwing the other mail on a table for everyone else, you scurried off to a different room for some privacy. This wasn't exactly something you wanted to keep a secret from your surrounding crowd, but you thought it was for the best that you did. You were teased enough already by the crew and the band about your pen pal, and you could only imagine how much worse it would get once they actually knew who you had been writing to (and how often he was writing you back).

You shut the door and quickly threw yourself into a chair, kicking your legs out of excitement as you tore open the envelope. After you extracted the letter, you didn't hesitate another second before unfolding it and slowing down your impulse to carefully read the familiar handwriting.

"Hi, Y/N! I hope this got to you at the right place- since you said this Victoria address would be the one to send to around this time. Either way, it won't be a problem. You know we always make things work somehow. Now normally in this space I'd be answering questions from your last letter, or writing about all the exciting things I've been up to with the band, but I'd rather tell you in person. Yes, you heard me! Surprise! I'll be in Victoria on the 20th and 21st for some promotional reasons, and I'd love to catch up with you when you get there (as long as you're not too busy with Leppard things)! My tour starts on the 23rd, so this will be the only opportunity to meet up for a while. I wrote the number of the hotel I'll be staying at below, so give me a call when you get this, okay? If I don't hear from you by 1pm on the 21st then I'll give your venue a ring just in case you didn't get this letter. We'll sort out details over the phone. Can't wait to talk!! 

See you soon (hopefully)! Xx

-V.C.

P.S, Hope you like the candy I sent! Something sweet for the sweetest person I know : )"

There was an arrow pointing to a small wrapped candy he'd taped to the paper, and an unwanted blush washed over you. Despite the bashfulness, you felt yourself bouncing in your seat.

You glanced up at the time to check that wasn't 1 o'clock yet. Luckily, it was only 12:14.

"Still got time," you whispered aloud, just before hearing a muffled cough from somewhere in the room.

You turned around in a snap, squinting, and eventually spotting Phil, Steve, and Malvin hiding behind the coat racks in the room.

"Guys!" you whined as you tried to conceal the contents of the letter, "How long have you been there for?"

"Long before you came in," Malvin stood still, despite knowing you were aware of his presence. Steve poked his head out, "You looked so excited that we didn't wanna ask why-" Phil came all the way out, smirking evilly, "But now we can see..." "You didn't see anything!" you scolded them, but paused and went on in a hushed tone to continue, "Did you...?" "Not a thing," Malvin answered in a truthful tone. It was easier to believe him more than the other two. "But this has to be another letter from your mysterious boyfriend, am I right?" Phil teased. "You make it so obvious!" Steve walked out from hiding with Malvin, "What's the bloke sayin' now?" "For your information, he is not my boyfriend." Phil rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Alright, maybe he's not your boyfriend, but you've gotta admit you have been crushing on him pretty hard the past few months..." "I've gotta agree with them," Malvin chimed in, "You do make it quite obvious." "Says you!" you objected, your voice going higher than you wanted it to, "Can't you just leave us alone? Besides, he also plays guitar- maybe even better than you. Both of you." "Oh yeah?" Phil drew back to feign offense, "Maybe we should meet this bloke and have it out for your hand- being as you've got a thing for guitarists, anyhow." You scoffed and gathered everything up to head back out, "Yeah, you wish I did!" There wasn't any time to waste bickering with them; you now had an important phone call to make, and an important reunion to arrange and follow through with before the show that night. "'Boyfriend'," your mind scoffed at them, "What do they know?"

*** Despite the casual air you and your faraway friend always had, you felt an invisible pressure to be sufficiently presentable for him. It was a special occasion, regardless of what the others thought, so with limited time and resources, you ended up slipping into the Leppards' dressing room and snagging some makeup for your own use. You agreed to meet up for dinner with your pen pal (as you still had things to do prior to the show), and you snuck out of the venue at five without being seen or stopped by anyone. Before you knew it, you were approaching the restaurant that was agreed to host the rendezvous. Somewhere in the back of your mind, part of you felt like you were headed to a date. "Ugh, that's Phil and Steve's fault. All that 'Is he your boyfriend?' and 'You've been crushing on him' bullshit." You had long convinced yourself into thinking the guitarists were wrong about the second half of that. You had been writing back and forth to this friend for the better part of 6 months, and during the run of those 6 months, your heart never failed to flutter whenever you interacted with each other. To you, that didn't mean you were "crushing" on him (as Phil had so bluntly put it); you were just excited! When your hand touched the door of the restaurant, you felt your heart accelerate, and your mind was suddenly flooded with all the reasons why you couldn't wait to see him again. You had every reason to be as thrilled as you were. After all, he was an interesting guy, you never got tired while talking to him, he had such a sweet way with words and a guitar, and even just thinking of his accent and eyes made your heart melt- You froze, realizing you were getting too caught up in yourself. You pushed open the door and stood in the entrance, glancing around the establishment to see if he'd arrived yet. The sound of Since You're Gone patted against your eardrums as you looked around the warm, chestnut interior of the restaurant. The instant you found him was sure to make your heart soar with joy, but as luck would have it, he found you first. "Y/N! Over here!" an Irish brogue caressed the words that were called out to you. When your eyes found him, you felt yourself lift off the ground at the happy sight. There he was, sitting in a booth, quickly getting up to greet you. There he was, the curly-haired, bright-eyed Dio guitarist himself. There he was, your dearest Vivian Campbell. You embraced and cheerfully greeted each other before you could get to the table. He kissed your cheek, and you stood on your toes when you hugged him back, feeling as if you somehow found a home away from home. "How did you manage to get this set up on such short notice?" you asked, amazed at how everything fell into place. "Carefulness and luck?" he chuckled before pulling back and eyeing up your whole appearance, "Wow... you look wonderful, Y/N. I swear you've gotten taller, too- cos' I could've sworn I had more height on you last time we met..." "Oh really? And I could've sworn you were less Irish when we last met!" you teased him back. He put his arm around you, leading you back to the table, "I guess when you travel so much, you wanna get back in touch with your roots a bit." "Oh, don't you change a bit," you warned as you took a seat across from him, "You're the only thing that keeps me sane, you know. The entertainment industry can be a little too entertaining at times." "Oh, I know what you mean," Viv started to pour water into the two empty glasses on the table, "We're on different sides of the same coin; the performers and the road crew." "It's nice to sit down and do something simple that's not related to the tour for once, you know? Just so there's a reminder that our typical lives still exist outside of all that." He pushed one glass of water towards you, softly smiling, "Couldn't have said it better myself." "Well then," you raised your glass towards him to make a small toast, "To sanity." He raised his own glass to add on, "And to a conversation that's not on paper for once." *** The sunset had completely taken over the sky once you and Viv were finished with dinner. Both knowing that you had to leave for the Leppard show soon, you took a short walk up to the quiet rooftop terrace of the restaurant to continue your conversation. Sitting next to each other on a bench and overlooking the city in the evening glow, an imminent 'parting of ways' sensation was in the air. You nearly felt like a modern-day Cinderella; the clock nearing the fated time where you had to scurry off from the ball and leave your prince. "Prince?" you nagged yourself, "God, there I go again! Those Leppard boys are getting too much into my head. Talk about having evil stepsisters..." It seemed all there was left for you and your Irish 'prince' to do was reflect on whatever was to come next in your lives. With the tour getting kicked up a notch for you, and his just beginning, it was impossible to know exactly what directions both of you were headed in. Given that, not knowing when you'd see each other again should've been the main topic at this point in the evening, but neither of you wanted to bring it up. It seemed like a future problem, not a problem for the present, so all things on that matter were quieted. "So, do you think this tour is gonna keep Def Leppard on the rise?" Viv asked you, breaking the silence at one point, "I hear they're getting bigger and bigger, and as far I'm concerned, they deserve it." "Oh you have no idea- things seem to get crazier every night, I swear! The word 'rise' is putting it delicately. 'Domination' is more like it. I just hope it doesn't go to their heads..." "You've got enough messes to clean up already, I get it. You're like the mum of the whole band." You let your eyes float upwards to the clouds as you got more lost in the thought, "Why does everyone always say that to me...?" "I'm just speculating-" Viv put up his hands, laughing guiltily, "I've never heard anyone say that before..." "I suppose that is one way to put it... those guys can be a handful, but sometimes I exaggerate too much about them." "You tend to talk about them a lot too, I've noticed." "Well- then I suppose I am their mum. They're well-behaved compared to some other musicians. But they're still crazy in their own ways, let me tell you," you chuckled and added, "I can only imagine that you'd fit into their mix pretty well." Viv laughed with his arms around his stomach. The sound of him, the look of his handsome and toothy smile, plus the surrounding golden pink glow of the sunset stirred up your emotions in a strange way. Maybe it was happiness, maybe it was appreciation, or maybe it was nostalgia for something you knew you were going to miss. "Are you calling me crazy?" he scoffed at you, his laughter persisting, "I thought tonight was supposed to keep us sane?" "Am I wrong, though?" "No, no, you're not wrong," he straightened up, "Guess I've got more in common with those guys than I know." "You're so different in your own way, but you'd be surprised at how much you remind me of them. Maybe all young rockers are just- alike." He brushed his hair back when you glanced at him, and that's when the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye. You let your eyes focus on it, and before you knew it, you were staring, and your heart was softening even more. Now that you noticed the small detail, you had no idea how you didn't notice it sooner. "What?" Viv asked, oblivious and looking around for what you were fixed on. You blinked as you were broken from the trance, but still continued to stare at him, "I just- I noticed you were wearing the bracelet I made you..." He held up his wrist so you'd have a clear view of it, "Oh yeah, I wear it all the time! Wanted to be sure I was wearing it when I saw you tonight, though." Again, you fought against the rising flush that wanted to be visible on you. "Shit, why is that making me blush? He's just being a good friend." "I'll admit, I'm touched and surprised that you remembered," you looked back out at the sunset over the city. Viv shrugged, turning to look at the sunset respectively, "'Course I did. We're always so far apart, so it's nice to have a little part of you with me sometimes. Can't exactly carry your letters with me onstage if I want to." The flush couldn't be held back now. Viv's flattery was too much for your heart, and too much to not grin at. "But don't people talk?" you purposely teased him the way your crew did to you. "Talk about what?" "Well-" you tried to accurately express the emotions you felt towards the Terror Twins, "For example: the people I work with call you my 'boyfriend' simply because I write to you. Don't people wonder why you suddenly started wearing that bracelet and disappearing to meet with a woman you call your 'pen pal'?" "Now that you mention it," he rubbed his chin, "I'm surprised no one does... guess people don't care enough to tease. Or maybe I got lucky?" You scoffed and shook your head, "Lucky? Absolutely. I had to keep it a secret that I was coming here just to enjoy myself!" "That's awful that they won't leave you alone," he frowned. "Don't worry," you looked over at him and made a swatting motion with your hand, "It's easy enough to get back at them. All you gotta do is eat their lunch and blame it on someone else." "Is that so?" "It's either that, or let a mouse loose in the showers. Works every time." You both cracked up with laughter, each resting back against the bench then hunching over. "This is why I like meeting up with you- you're such great company!" Viv put his hands flat on the bench, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. "You could say that again," you mimicked the posture, keeping a smile on your face, "It's nice to see the face of a rock star that I don't work with, and one that doesn't need me to throw away his dirty tissues." Viv looked up at the clouds and snickered, "I could give you some of mine if that's what you want." "Don't you start, mister," you threatened him, breaking up into soft giggles again. You paused, and let yourself sigh to him, "God, I'm gonna miss you. After tonight, I mean. I know we'll keep writing and all, but it sucks that we can't see each other that often." His hand found yours, casually patting and resting on top of it, "Oh, I know. But tours, right? What can you do about 'em?" You smiled down at your joined hands, slowly moving yours from underneath Viv's, adjusting the position so you were now holding his instead. "You just gotta go with it and hope there's days that they cross paths." From the corner of your eye, you saw him look at you with a gentle grin, then turn away. He gently gave your hand a squeeze, and you hoped to god he couldn't feel your heartbeat through your fingers, as he would've noticed it was speeding up. Silence fell between both of you for a moment. The only things you could hear were the sounds of the street below, and the breeze around you. Your thumb moved back and forth on his skin as you let your sight fall back down to the way you were holding hands. He slowly looked back down, too, not letting his sight trail away to anything else. When the pause was broken, Viv's voice was softer than it'd been. "Y/n, can I..." "Mmhm?" "Can I be honest with you?" Your voice went gentler as you suddenly felt a new sensation in the air, "Of course." His eyes slowly drifted upwards until he was looking at you, "I think I wanna kiss you..." There was no use hiding the coy smile when it took over. You instinctively looked down for a second to break the eye contact. "...can I?" he sweetly asked when you looked back up at him, his eyes looking reminiscent of a polite puppy, "Is that okay...?" You carefully lifted your eyes back up to meet his again. You nodded and whispered, "Okay." When you granted the permission, you swore you noticed redness on Viv's cheeks. It was good to know that you weren't the only one being bashful for once. Still keeping the hold on your hand, Viv slowly began to lean in, briefly glancing at your lips before letting his eyes close. You did the same, welcoming the warm lips onto your own. The initial contact was deeper than you'd anticipated, but he prolonged it into a softer, more tender kiss. Although a kiss is all it was, you felt- almost literally- swept off your feet. You gently put your other hand on the side of his face, wanting to absorb whatever feeling of glory was being created. Some of his soft curls brushed up against your hand as they lightly trembled in the breeze. Viv broke the embrace slowly, still trying to fight a shy smile. "He never gave me any indication of being shy before... wow, what did I do to him?" You went back to facing the urban view, but broke the hold on Viv's hand to rest your head on his shoulder instead. "Yeah..." you sighed dreamily, "Can't do that in a letter." He silently chuckled against you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "I could've just written an 'x' on your lips instead..." *** The sunset was nearly over and done with as you took a cab back to the venue. The crowd for the Leppards' show would be almost completely filled in by the time you got back, meaning you'd have work to do. "Cinderella's gotta get back to unfinished work," you concluded to yourself, smiling as you stared at the remaining orange streaks in the sky. You and Viv wanted nothing more than another date to arrange a meetup, but you both knew it'd be impossible for the time being; tours rarely crossed paths. As the cab drove on, you felt your path get further and further away from his. No bother, though. You'd write each other as soon as you could. The paths would cross again someday. While the imprint of his lips still ghosted over your own, you didn't want to think too much into it. After all, you wouldn't see or speak to each other for a while yet; the kiss would probably mean nothing in the near future, because that's just how life unfolds around things like that. But for that same evening, though, it meant almost everything. You just wanted to remember that. You got back to the venue in time before the show, a gentle, goofy smile stuck on your face. Your eyes didn't dare look at anything but your feet as your legs dreamily floated you back to a break room. In the back of your mind, you couldn't help but worry that someone- somehow- had seen what you were up to. You put down your purse and flopped into a chair with a thick exhale. Upon remembering how the incident with the Twins and Malvin went earlier, you looked around, and confirmed to yourself that you were alone. Calmer now, you closed your eyes. You could still picture the light of the golden-pink sunset gently vignetting Vivian's face. "A conversation that's not on paper," you recalled the toast from earlier in a whisper. "And a kiss that wasn't on paper either..." You would've never guessed when you woke up this morning that you'd end up kissing your pen pal in such a romantic way. It was crazy how events unfolded in this backstage life. When all seemed settled, and your personal chapter for the day had ended, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," your head went upright again. The door creaked open, and Malvin came inside. You greeted him tiredly, "Hey." "Where have you been?" he asked as he went to a vending machine, "Can't just disappear like that and not tell me what you're up to..." A shrug was all you could think to reply with. "It was nothing. I went to get dinner." "Really? And with who?" "How do you know if I went with someone?" "The shade of red on your face tells me otherwise." You scoffed at him, "You're making that up." "Maybe I am," he teased you, "Better get up there in the next ten minutes though, everyone's wondering where you've been." "I'll be up there in six." Malvin took his drink and nodded, heading towards the door. He took a sip, but stopped himself before he could get to the room's exit. There came a playful nag from him, "Oh, and I haven't told the others this yet, but you've got some explaining to do!" "I do?" "Yeah," he affirmed, going on in a lower tone of disbelief, "You've been writing to Viv Campbell?!" Your heart leapt up, then proceeded to drop into the pit of your stomach.

Shit.

The end.

------ “Since You’re Gone” by The Cars

[writernomore]

Wake. Prolouge.

Quick A/n: Hello there I am back from the dead, I have decided to put onhold my ongoing stories and made another one called wake the one you’re about to start reading. You can get early updates in my wattpad .

Vivian MacQuoih or what they preferred to be called; Vinnie was a college student studying their major subjects that will allow them to work in a job in their prescribed setting and capable for the best of their abilities.

They had to move countries all alone on their own to a different country to study in Winston college, so their brother or you could say their twin brother took care of the house and helped their parents if needed be.

They would also be keeping in contact with their family as to not distance themselves with their family just because they were in a different country studying.

Anyways, Vinnie worked a job that helped paying their appartment rent each month and sent some money to their family- even though their brother Johan or JD told them not to and just said they should use it to buy something for themselves like clothes or a little treat.

Thinking back now they stare down at the clothes they wore, a hoodie and shorts that they always wore when their in closed doors because it was like a safe haven from all things bad and anything that disrupted their peace.

They needed it to be honest, running around with a bunch of homework in hand and some cardboard cartolinas they had to stuff in their backpack to write down a report they wrote down and write it with black markers and cut excess paper from the pictures they printed yesterday.

They never really thought about not making a powerpoint and lived to regret it now since making a powerpoint was easier since it was basically copy and paste, do research and just paste in the important bits because noone has time to read it all and it was easier as well since it would all be in their laptop.

Reaching in to the popcorn bowl they looked back up to the T.V and continued watching their movie, it was the weekend and thankfully their brother had sent them the full dvd cds of the Harry Potter movies along with some of their favorite snacks that their brother had miraculously remembered and along with some pictures of him and their parents.

Vinnie put them on their wall clipped onto a string along with different pictures they brought from home or pictures their brother had sent to them thinking they would miss home very much.

They were watching the 3rd movie Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, they weren't able to focus on the movie properly because they kept on losing track and paused the movie first to rack their brain if their forgetting for something, silently they pulled their phone out and checked their notes if they had forgotten to do something, and it seemed they had forgotten to write an essay.

"My gut feeling is always there to help me thankfully." they said to themself in a quiet tone.

They stood up and brushed off anything from their shorts and went to go to their room to get their notebook and pen to start writing an essay, the essay was about Books about fantasies and Action and write down if their beneficial and why.

The teacher from their Homeroom subject was very curious on the books they read and asked what kind of books some of the students answered Adventure, Action and Fantasy.

And the Teacher decided to ask the class to make an essay about Fantasy and Action.

Vinnie was getting tired so they just decided to resume the 3rd movie tomorrow since it was the weekend and they didn't want to mess with their healthy sleep schedule even though it was a tempting offer when all they wanted to do was just watch Harry Potter all night and probably go back to tumblr and binge the fanfics in the Harry Potter x reader tag, they weren't much biased towards the characters and read fanfics with any character they could think of because it gave off such feelings they long craved for.

But if someone were to ask who their favorite really was they would answer with the name; Viktor Krum.

He was one of the really nice characters, He was seen as scary and intimidating towards his other peers but when he was Hermione during the Yule ball they would've melted if they were Hermione and it was just absolutely cute when he asked for Hermione to write to him!

He didn't love Hermione for her body, It was her smarts, kindness and beauty.

They really grew high standards because of fictional men but they didn't really need to find the perfect partner, they just wanted someone who they could love and someone who would accept them just as they are and love them as they are.

They longed for someone like that, someone who would understand.

They snapped back to reality and realized they just finished their essay, they scanned it twice before closing the notebook and returned the notebook and pen.

They went back to the livingroom and cleaned up their mess and popped out the Cd and place it back in it's case carefully.

They turned off the T.V and closed the light in their livingroom they walked to their room and plugged their phone into the charger before going to the bathroom they went to their closet and took out a white tank top and long blue pajama wear.

Going over to the bathroom they opened the lights and went to undress and brush their teeth.

They checked if their alarm was set to wake them up early in the morning in case they would forget again and stay in bed late.

They pulled back the covers and layed in bed trapping themself in a little warm cocoon underneath their comforters.

They always had a little trouble in sleeping so they just stared at the ceiling but since it's been a few minutes now and it's getting them nowhere they threw back the comforters and walked over to the livingroom to just continue watching the 3rd movie.

'Screw sleep then' they thought as they watched all the Triwizard contestants dive down in the water.

Ever since the first movies had released they longed to be like one of the characters and to be apart of all their adventures.

So Harry Potter was like a big part of their life that helped them through thick and thin dressing up as wizards with their friends and waving the wands Vinnie and their friends made on their own, begging their parents to get an owl thinking they'll get their letter soon from Hogwarts.

Their eyelids getting heavy they slowly lied down on the couch and fell asleep.

........

They opened their eyes and was in a black void, looking down it was like there was water on the floor but it didn't feel like it since there wasn't this wet feeling beneath their feet.

They started to walk around the void, they know well they won't be able to get anywhere but they tried anyways to see it would get them anywhere.

"Hello." They jumped in surprise and turned around to be face to face with...a boy?

"Uh...Hi?" "You aren't much of a talker hm?" The boy- nah Entity said smirking down at Vinnie.

The entity stood up straight to it's full height.

Damn...And they thought they were tall being 5'11 but they just encountered people the same age and height as them since they don't go out to much at crowded places.

They didn't like crowded places that much...

"Hey!" The entity snaps their fingers infront of Vinnie's face, shaking their head they stared back up to the entity infront of them.

Now that you think of it, the entity has long jet black hair tied into a loose braid and eyes red like rubies he wore a seemingly majestic like outfit, white fabric and lined with gold and a cape designed to replicate the galaxy to top it all off.

Vinnie took a step back look at the man more with furrowed eyebrows.

'Stranger danger' They thought to themselves and tried looking around "Don't worry I'm not here to hurt you." The entity says looking back at them they had their hands up in surrender and eyes closed.

Opening their eyes there was this aura that surrounded them as they stared at Vinnie's soul with such malice "Atleast....not yet.." The entity erupted in dark laughter as it sent chills to Vinnie's spine as they took another step back and wrapped their arms around themself as in to protect themself or atleast in a sense of comfort.

"Why...Why am I here then?" they said to the Entity.

The entity crossed their arms and put a hand to their chin as if pretending to be in thought then looked directly at Vinnie and said "I don't know what do you think...Vivian." Vinnie stilled and stared at the entity with furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes "Don't call me that." they said with gritted teeth.

"Oh? Did I struck a nerve Vivian?" The entity once again started chuckling at their reaction.

"That name's dead." They glared at the entity.

"Hm...alright then.." The entity crossed their arms over their chest and sighed.

"Can we just cut to the chase?" Vinnie huffed and crossed their arms and looked away at the entity.

 "Aren't you a snappy one." Entity chuckled.

The Entity snapped their fingers and they were floating on mid air, Vinnie made a surprised yelp and all the entity could do was chuckle and shake their head 'This one's going to be much more interesting than the others'.

The entity snapped their fingers again and Vinnie began falling, they screamed at them "Weird entity!" " It's Calcifer!" The entity just stared down as they fell with a horrified expression on their face, They looked down at Vinnie and smiled and waved at them.

As Vinnie was closing in with the hard ground....

They woke up.

 ------------------

This is what he have for now!

So how’d you guys like the prolouge I am not very good in writing but I know some stuff with what I shouldn’t and should do.

Anyways, Calcifer is just a dick here.

If you want more content like this. Consider giving me a follow;) 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Three

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Two

Word Count: 3.4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, Domestic abuse, Minor sexual situations

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

I stare at Nikki, the breath knocked out of my body.

"Wh-What?" I ask, but there's no use in lying, he can read me like a book.

His hand, slightly shaking with anger, slides along the kitchen counter, picking up an envelope that's been torn open.

He picks the folded piece of paper out of it, and waves it at me before unfolding it.

"Viv, happy birthday. It's been damn near killing me to keep this from you. I hope you had a good day. Duff." He quotes the letter and then pulls out a second piece of paper, handing it to me.

It's proof of payment for that ticket I got.

He must have mailed it in.

"So not only did you lie to me about that fucking tail light, you also let another man pay for it!" Nikki's throwing at me and I keep myself calm.

"Nikki, why're you mad? That's just $350.00 you didn't have to pay—"

"Because you're my wife! You're my responsibility! You could have told me the truth and just let me handle it, but instead, you looked me in the eye and lied to my fuckin' face!"

Glass slashes at my skin when he throws his whiskey bottle against the wall, blood rolling down my leg to my foot as a hiss of pain cuts through my teeth.

"Yeah. I could have told the truth so you could have blown up on me then like you're doing now!" I fight back.

"I would've been irritated, Vivian, but I would have gotten over it! It's gonna take me a while get over this bullshit, though!" He points at me, letting a beat pass between us before he rubs his forehead. "I-I don't even wanna know who this dude is, right now, I just am too pissed off—"

"Nikki—"

"Don't, Viv!" He spits out, harshly. "I-I can't even be around you right now." His voice cracks a little, and I rub my lips together as he pushes past me to grab his keys and jacket.

"Just talk to me about this instead of running off and getting messed up, Nikki!" I follow him to the door.

"Fuck you!" He shoots, seething. "That's about all the fucking talking you're gonna get from me right now."

He slams the door, leaving me to myself, and I take several deep breaths to convince myself not to wreck our new house.

He didn't come back for a couple of days, and the only reason he did come back was because Robbin made him.

"All he's doing is moping around and shooting up and talking about how he misses you but refuses to call you when I tell him to, so here." Robbin says, trying to keep a nodding-off-Nikki up as he walks him to the couch and drops him on the cushions.

"Thank you." I say to him.

"Whatever you did, whoever that dude is, he had a right to know, Viv." Robbin tells me.

"It's completely innocent, Robbin. I swear. I didn't tell him because I knew he'd want to make a big deal about him and meet him so he could size him up." I roll my eyes and he raises his brows.

"If Nikki had a girl friend that he hid from you, you would claw his eyes out, and her's. I know you don't think he's overreacting. Just talk to him and own up to it." He advises and I nod a little. "I love you. Good luck." He pats my head.

"I love you, too." I reply as he steps to his car, and I shut the door and walk to the living room to wait for Nikki to sleep off his high.

The next several days are spent with him attempting to ignore me, but doing a shitty job of it when he sees me fresh out of the shower or changing clothes or coming back inside from the hot tub.

This time, I'm coming back inside from laying by the pool for a few minutes, and the sunscreen I slathered all over my body before going out, has created a light glisten over my skin and he's looking up from his bass, eyes rolling down my body and back up, lingering on my chest for a few seconds before pretending he wasn't just checking me out.

I just step to the kitchen and get some water before deciding to attempt a conversation.

"So, what do you wanna do for New Years?" I ask Nikki.

No response.

"I was thinking maybe we could call the guys and hang out with them since we haven't seen them in a few weeks and we can all go out or something." I suggest. "Or Tommy and Mick ateast...I don't think Vince feels like it."

Nothing.

"I could invite Duff so you can meet him." I offer and he stops writing, his jaw rolling.

It's ironic he was so pissed off at me when the first time I found out he and Vanity even knew each other it was because I walked in our house to see her on our couch, dressed for a night out with all of us, Tansy and Sparkie.

I never asked him then how they met because the chances I wouldn't like the answer were pretty high.

I leave him to be pissed, taking a shower and dressing in a t-shirt and panties before he comes in to get ready to go out.

"I won't be back tonight." He tells me blankly and I raise a brow.

"May I ask 'why'?" I ask.

"You can ask. Doesn't mean I owe you a fucking explanation." He snaps, and grabs his keys.

"I'm your wife so you kind of do when you tell me you won't be back tonight." I argue, losing my patience.

He ignores me, leaving the room and I follow him.

"I'm speaking to you, Nikki!" I hiss.

"Trust me, I know, I'm just hoping you'll shut the fuck up and hop the fuck off." He coldly cuts and my hand is grabbing at his arm, roughly, pulling him to a halt.

"Nikki, can we just talk about this?!"

He snaps around to face me, shaking my hand off of him like I've got a contagious disease.

"Talk about you lying to me or talk about you hiding an entirely different dude from me, because both make me want to set you pretty fuckin' straight, Vivian!" He bites and I shake my head.

"Of all the things you've lied to me about and hid from me?! For Christ's sake, Nikki, I had to find your used needle-farm before you admitted to shooting heroin for eight months!"

"I can't fuck heroin, Vivian!" He barks, balling his fists up, getting in my face.

"You think I'm sleeping with this guy?!" I scream, completely engulfed with outrage.

"Why the fuck else would you not tell me about him?!" He's got tears in his eyes, despite his loud, graveling tone.

Hurt roots itself in my chest, the fact that he thinks I would do that to him making me nearly see red.

"Careful, Nikki, your abandonment issues are showing!" I throw out, cruelly, regretting it the second it leaves my mouth, just before his fist is connecting with the wall inches away from my face, leaving a hole.

His hand is around my throat before I can say anything else.

"I want you out of my house by the time I get back. Or I'll kick you out myself." He puts it as calmly as he possibly can, anger seeping from every pore as he shakes, tense from probably keeping himself from strangling me.

I know, I know. "How do you come back from that?" The answer is simply, "the only way we knew how."

I stumble to the bathroom, cum and traces of blood running down my legs, my scalp sore from the tension of my hair being yanked around and my bottom lip is busted where Nikki bit in to it.

Some of Nikki's skin and blood is under my nails and when I look in the mirror, my face is tear stained and flushed from crying through indescribable ecstasy.

We would get into explosive fights, then screw the hell out of each other in the most aggressive and degrading ways.

Our eventual marriage counselor later explained to us it was because we felt we had no control over ourselves, the things around us, and each other, but one thing we did have control over, and the only time we felt we had control over each other, was sex.

If it was a decently mild fight—well, mild for us—Nikki would just storm out and stay gone for a while.

If it involved enough screaming, me hitting him, him calling me offensive names, me pouring out liquor, flushing his drugs, the both of us threatening divorce or packing our shit to leave the other person, it would come to a halt just for us to start ripping at clothes, scratching and biting at each other, him putting his prick wherever he could get it in the fastest, and me accepting every inch at the inevitable barbaric rhythm we fell in to that would always result in me having some internal bruising in some form or fashion.

By the time New Year's rolled around, it was like we never fought to begin with, which would have been great if we actually talked about the fight and genuinely resolved it instead of pretending it never happend.

Nikki grasps my hand as he helps me out of his car, whistling when I get out and I roll my eyes with a shy grin and nudge him with my elbow before he's pressing his lips to mine for a second. When we pull away we head to the Rainbow to meet Tommy and Duff.

When we're inside, I see Tommy at our usual booth, chatting away with Duff, who has newly bleached hair, as the two of them drink a beer, despite Duff being underage until next month.

I can already sense Nikki sizing him up before we even get to the table.

"There they are." Tommy tells him, motioning to us and I smile hesitantly while a smug, shit eating smirk adorns Nikki's face.

"Hey." Duff greets me, not even noticing Nikki yet, dopey smile on his face.

"Hey." I reply as Nikki clears his throat.

Duff takes notice and respectfully stands up and extends his hand.

"Nikki Sixx." Nikki introduces himself. "Vivian's husband." He emphasizes.

It doesn't phase Duff a bit.

"Oh, I know, dude. It's an honor." Duff replies. "Duff McKagan." He adds and I look between the two of them before we sit down in the booth, Nikki still studying Duff to decide how threatened he should be.

He eases up when he learns Duff is from Seattle, he plays bass, and has the same music taste as him.

Dear God did I have a type or what?

"Did you know," Duff starts, blowing cigarette smoke through his lips. "That your wife is a disgrace to punk?" Duff asks and I raise my brows.

"Man, I know, she doesn't like the Sex Pistols." Nikki tells him.

"I never said I didn't necessarily like them, I just think Sid killed Nancy." I argue and Duff and Nikki look at me with the same expression because this argument has been had plenty of times.

"He did not!" They simultaneously tell me.

"Why would he kill her? That would be like me killing you." Nikki states.

"I've told you he probably didn't intentionally do it." I reply. "They were both fucked up and he more than likely was hallucinating and did it on accident."

He just looks at me and shakes his head.

Sid was one of Nikki's heroes. So of course he didn't even entertain the idea of him killing the woman he was in love with...until Nikki tried to kill me two different times, both times when he was tripping after days of freebasing.

It's not fun waking up to your husband strangling you in a panic, or shooting at you.

"And she likes Bon Jovi." Nikki adds.

"Because they make good music." I say.

"They go with the grain." Duff tells me, shaking his head.

"Exactly!" Nikki enthusiastically agrees.

"Tommy, tell them Bon Jovi is good." I look to Tommy and he just opens his mouth to speak only to close it again.

"They're kinda..." Tommy starts after a moment and I look at him.

"...They suck." Nikki finishes his sentence.

"Oh, like Mötley Crüe can do any better." I smart off and Nikki and Tommy are looking at me with cut eyes.

"We are, actually." Tommy tells me. "Me and Nikki are currently working on a fucking masterpiece."

"You haven't talked to each other in weeks. How collaborative can you be when you haven't been talking? Communicate via carrier pigeon?" I ask them and a little tension settles around us.

I realize I've unintentionally brought up the accident and how it effected the band, and Duff's painting over my screw up in no time.

"What kind of masterpiece, if it's okay for me to ask." Duff seems interested and even excited to hear about it and Nikki and Tommy light up like Christmas trees as they explain a song called "Home Sweet Home" that is slowly coming to life off a random piano melody that's been in Tommy's mind for some time that he showed Nikki about a month ago and they've both been writing lyrics for it seperately.

By the time 10:58pm hits, we've migrated to a strip joint called the Seventh Veil, and Tommy and Duff are practically joined at the hip in terms of how well they get along.

I suppose it's because they're both easy going and just go with the flow of things and have really good senses of humor.

Nikki, however, is too busy trying to drunkenly get me in the mood.

I step out of the bathroom stall to wash my hands in the the sink, Nikki stays against the wall behind me until I'm done, then he's running his hand over my ass that's being contained by tight jeans.

"Baby, quit." I laugh out, trying to shrug him off before his hand is pulling at the top of my tank crop top, getting a grab at my boob. "Stop trying to feel me up." I scold him lightheartedly, even though I enjoy his unfiltered want for me.

"I wanna fill you up, though." He snickers against my neck, turning me around and putting me on the sink.

"I said 'feel' not 'fill'." I correct him, trying not to chuckle, my hands resting on his arms as he nestles himself between my legs.

"Well, I wanna do both." He says, nipping the skin of my neck between his teeth lightly, causing a breath to catch in my throat.

"When we get home." I assure him, using all of my will power not to take him up on his offer now.

"Fuck it, let's go home, then." He smiles, reaching in his pocket for his keys.

"We can't, baby, we're with Tommy and Duff remember? We can't just ditch them." I remind him.

"I like your him." He tells me out of nowhere and I furrow my brows a little.

"What?"

"Duff. He's cool."

"Really?"

"He doesn't wanna fuck you." He tells me. "Guys know when a dude wants to fuck their girl. Vince and Sparklette do. Robbin use to. But he doesn't wanna fuck you." He motions to the door as he refers to Duff.

He was right.

A few years ago Duff was asked what he meant about a comment he made about me being "in a whole other league" than most women he knew way back then, he answered: "I never looked at her and thought 'Oh my God, I've gotta sleep with her.' Sex was never the focus, even when our relationship became physical. I mean yeah she was beautiful but it was hard to think about her in the typical-rockstar debauched way because she wasn't a shallow groupie with a hot body and hungry for attention anyway she could get it. Like, she was just Viv and she's still Viv. That's what I meant. She's always been in a different league. We've been friends for, what, like, thirty-one years now, and I felt lucky to just know her, then, of course now I feel even more lucky because I've had the privilege of raising a son with her."

It explained a lot for how he treated me.

In a few hours, long after the New Year is rung in, I'm attempting to get a nearly passed out Nikki into the passenger seat of his corvette, with Duff's help, being that Nikki could barely walk after a few minutes in the bathroom which I know were spent shooting up.

I carefully shut the passenger side door, Nikki unconscious and Duff about to head to his car.

"Thanks for inviting me out, tonight. I had a lot of fun." He says, resting against the hood of the car and I do the same, rubbing my lips together.

"I'm sorry if Nikki was a little stand-offish to begin with." I tell him.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I get it." He assures me. "It was really cool to meet him and Tommy, though. Maybe some other time I can meet Mick and Vince."

"Absolutely. After Vince's trial and everything goes back to normal they'll be inseperable again and can get you into whatever trouble you want." I chuckle out and he laughs.

"I hope by then I'll have my own gang of trouble makers." He admits.

"Me too." I agree, exhaling.

A minute of silence passes by before I'm looking at him.

"You paid for that damn ticket anyway." I state, and he nods.

"I paid for that damn ticket anyway." He repeats smugly.

"I'll pay you back." I promise and he shakes his head.

"It was an early birthday present. You can't owe someone when they give you a present."

"You paid it in October and 'gave' it to me as a present last week." I point out. "That doesn't count."

"It does if your birthday is the only loophole I could come up with to avoid you insisting on paying it back." He argues and I just look at him, still feeling a little bad that he paid it. "Viv. I just met Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee and they might even consider me one of their buddies." He tells me. "That in itself is payment back."

"Thank you." I say in reference to my birthday present from him.

He nudges me with his elbow and smiles.

"Anytime."

It wasn't long after that, that I realized I had an angel bassist on one shoulder, and a fucking demon bassist on the other.

1985 tore around the corner and by the time May was in tow, Vince had been 30 days in rehab (the label gave him a Rolex if he agreed to stay sober for at least three months), Mötley Crüe were regularly in the studio recording "Entertainment or Death", and Duff had found his band, and Tansy...well...

Screams sound through the house, causing me to startle out of my nap.

I rush to the bedroom door and swing it open to see Tansy standing at our phone in the living room, tears streaming down her face, Nikki and Tommy looking at each other, worried.

"Wh-what did they say?!" Tansy asks, frantically, rubbing her forehead, and we all look at each other as anxiousness starts up within me.

A few moments pass as whoever she's on the phone with speaks.

"Oh, God, mama, I can't..." She sobs softly. "...I can't believe this."

I step to her, my brows furrowing.

"Alright, I gotta tell Viv and the guys before they think something's wrong." She laughs out through her tears and I let out a sigh of relief. "I love you, too. I'll call you later tonight. Bye."

She hangs up and immediately and starts crying again, gripping my hand.

"Tans, what's up?" Tommy asks, coming to us and she looks up at him and starts smiling, shock washing over her face.

"I got it." She tells us.

Everything she had worked her ass off for, took her clothes of for, got taken advantage of for, got abused for, got high for, hid her truth for, grinned and beared it for, entertained for, for years, had finally paid off.

Tansy Lyn was Playmate of The Year: Miss 1985.

[supernovaautism]

How a Little Magazine Went Around the World

It is written by Reader’s Digest Editors, and originally published in January 1997 issue.

When Roumyana Vekilov and her husband emigrated from Bulgaria in 1993 and settled in Huntsville, Ala., she wanted desperately to understand and become a part of the America she saw around her. But she couldn't speak English. Then her husband brought home a copy of Reader's Digest. Using her Bulgarian/English dictionary she began translating the magazine "word by word, sentence by sentence, article after article." Month after month she learned "not only the language but also about the American customs, traditions, history, problems, meals and to understand more the American people and the way they look at life." She calls The Digest "my American life-style teacher, my English language textbook, my friend."

We like that. And especially those last two words.

Get past all the statistics--the 49 editions in 21 languages reaching 100 million readers around the world each month--and the real essence of who we are, the real fun of being Reader's Digest, is the friends we have made.

That's why, even as we celebrate our 95th anniversary (1922-2017), we feel so young. As we've grown, we've evolved and we keep making new friends. Funny thing is, we make new friends by remaining what we have always been--a magazine that connects with its readers.

That was part of the genius of our founder, DeWitt Wallace (1889-1981). The breathtaking growth of what he called his "Little Magazine" came about precisely because he never saw readers as some vast mass, but as distinct individuals with whom he wished to build a strong bond.

That's why the apostrophe is before the "s" in our name.

Whether in Huntsville or Hammerfest, Keokuk or Kathmandu, we aim to turn readers into friends. They take us along with them wherever they go. You'll find us dogeared in the doctor's office, grease-stained at the lunch counter, tucked in the fisherman's tackle box, the soldier's duffel, the businesswoman's briefcase.

We jog their minds, tickle their funny bones, warn them against dangers and even save their lives.

David Weiss, 29, of Suisun City, Calif., awoke with pains in his chest, arm and shoulder. He went to a local emergency room. An EKG revealed nothing abnormal. But he was still feeling the pains the next day when his cousin, who had just read our article "Little-Known Signs of a Heart Attack" (May 1993), said his symptoms sounded like those listed in The Digest. David's brother drove him to the hospital again, where he was found to be in the midst of a heart attack. The article "saved my son's life," wrote Vivian Weiss.

We have received thousands of such letters over the years as the result of articles on heart disease, skin cancer, little-known health dangers and important discoveries in science and medicine presented in clear, concise language. "Reader's Digest has to be the most popular magazine on the planet. We have never seen such a response," says Dr. Irwin Goldstein, professor of urology at Boston University School of Medicine, reacting to more than a thousand inquiries about an article we published on male sexual dysfunction.

Navy Commander George Farrar was stationed in Ireland when he called his wife, who told him about their 12-year-old daughter, Sarah. She had been bitten by something in their yard. Mrs. Farrar took her to the doctor, who diagnosed "an infected fleabite." Now Sarah's leg was swelling. As it happened, Farrar had read a Reader's Digest article about the highly poisonous brown recluse spider. "Get the magazine and read the article," he said. She did. "As soon as I read it, I knew that a spider had bitten Sarah." Mrs. Farrar took her to the hospital and took our article along to show the doctors. Sarah was hospitalized for six days but escaped any serious permanent damage. Says Mrs. Farrar, "I just can't tell you how much I appreciate Reader's Digest coming to the rescue."

Sometimes our effect on people's health and well-being is more long-range. Dr. Maria Compte writes from New York to say we inspired her to become a doctor. She was 15 years old when she read an article in The Digest about Dr. Tom Dooley's pioneering work among poor villagers in Southeast Asia. "Today, almost exactly 20 years after that summer day, I am writing these lines while sitting at a desk at Dooley Foundation-Intermed."

When GeorgiaAnn Camara's husband went to sea as an engineer aboard a nuclear submarine, he would be unreachable for 90 days or more. But he took something very special with him. It was a journal his wife prepared so that they could "visit" with each other every day they were apart. Attached to each day's entry from her was an item from our magazine. "I attach a story, a quote or a point to each day and I share with him what these words have meant to me," says Mrs. Camara. When her husband returned from a voyage, he gave her the journal filled out with his daily thoughts on each of his wife's entries and attachments. "You have helped give me the gift of conversation with my husband though he is thousands of miles away."

When Mad magazine published its parody of "Reader's Disgust" (the table of contents promised a two-page condensation of the Encyclopaedia Britannica) it really began to dawn on us that we weren't just any magazine. Reach a certain level of acceptance and you're in for a lot of ribbing. Actually, we enjoy the jokes--whether it's a parody from National Lampoon, or that episode of "The Simpsons" where Homer gets so head-over-heels smitten with the "Reading Digest."

The droll cartoonist Guindon once drew a young couple, back from vacation, explaining to their mailman that "we were at one of those cabins up north where Reader's Digests go when they die."

J. J. Bushnell, from Tigard, Ore., actually stumbled upon one of "those cabins" when he was lost and injured in the Canadian woods near Vancouver. The man and his wife who lived there gave him food and shelter and helped him recover from his ankle injury. To entertain him they loaned him "an old single copy of Reader's Digest," which he devoured from cover to cover. Bushnell was hooked. Once back home he became a lifelong reader.

So you see, copies of Reader's Digest never die. Sometimes, however, they're pressed into service in odd ways. We don't mind being used to level a tilting desk, insulate a wall (it's been done) or keep two water pipes from knocking (folding it lengthwise provides just enough tension and usually does the trick). Roy Valitchka was on a hike with his oldest son, Scott, in the Porcupine Mountains of Michigan. Scott had the latest Reader's Digest in his backpack for lunchtime reading. When Roy injured his knee, that copy of The Digest "was just the right length, width and rigidity necessary to immobilize the knee joint. A length of surgical tape held the magazine in place at the pivot point and two bandannas secured the top and bottom." At the end of the 18-mile trek, Scott praised his dad for toughing out the final miles but insisted that he buy a new copy of The Digest to replace the "disfigured, sweat-soaked copy that saved the day."

We've even become a kind of underground currency in Africa. "I once mortgaged 20 Digests to a 'Digestophile' just to raise enough transport fare to visit my sick uncle," writes Muktar Ali, from Chad. He tells us copies of the magazine are so precious they are "purchased and sold, repurchased, read and resold or borrowed and reborrowed continuously" and are "exchanged for a variety of items or favors."

Over the years we have sometimes been chided for being too optimistic. We stand guilty as charged. We believe in solutions. We believe in the capacity of human beings to overcome. When Nelson Mandela was in prison in South Africa, he gained resolve and inspiration from Reader's Digest articles "showing people overcoming great odds and difficult challenges." In his autobiography, the late Egyptian President Anwar Sadat remembered that when he was serving time in a British prison, our magazine provided a turning point for him. "It was thanks to an article contributed by an American psychologist to the Reader's Digest that I succeeded in getting over my troubles." He writes that the article helped him renew his faith in God and in himself. "My relations with the entire universe began to be reshaped."

The world continues to change and we do too. We're publishing in places we've never been before, such as Thailand and the Czech Republic. Now, hundreds of thousands of people are getting to know us through our interactive Web site. Wherever you find us, we'll still be, as one subscriber recently called us, "a friend maker, a keep-you- up-to-dater."

One of our longtime readers, Frank Mara, of Hopatcong, N.J., wrote to tell us about his father, James, who had graduated high school at the height of the Depression, served in the Navy during World War II, then worked as a truck driver until his retirement. "He instilled in us the desire to read and to never stop learning. He used The Digest as his chief tool. There was always The Digest, every month, year in and year out, and always discussions or arguments about one article or another."

As the kids grew up he kept sending them gift subscriptions. "It's been good for me," he explained, "and I haven't done too bad for a broken- down truck driver." When James Mara died at the age of 77 he left behind his wife and four children (a teacher, a surveyor/architect, a Navy senior chief petty officer and an engineer), 13 grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. His son writes:

"I was not aware of the impact of my dad and his love for The Digest until last month, when I saw my ten-year- old son reading the last issue of Dad's last gift." Mara thought about his dad's words, "It's been good for me." So he sent us a check for his subscription and asked that we "please say a prayer that I can do as well as that broken-down truck driver for my kids."

That explains as well as anything what we mean by making new friends ... and keeping old ones.