#his quotes never get cheating allegations

[justanothercanuck]

Okay over and over and over I see posts on here and other social media sites that allege to be Bob Marley quotes. And they never are.

First off, Bob Marley was Jamaican and spoke with a heavy Jamaican accent. Which has it's own speech patterns and phrasing and wording. And none of these quotes ever match the rhythm and sound of a man from the village of Nine Mile in the country who then moved to Trenchtown, the most poverty stricken slum in Kingston. It just sounds all off. Or does he suddenly take an white European affectations and speak the King's English just for profound statments. Secondly, Bob Marley is not a man who would say something this flowery and aesthetic about women. He was Rastafarian and held strongly to the belief that women should be modest and covered up. There are numerous women who spoke of having to put on more modest clothing and remove make up and jewelry before meeting with Marley. Or he would become angry and even in a couple recorded instants violently wiped their faces and berated them. Marley was a misogynist. He cheated on his wife so much so that he had numerous children outside of his marriage because again Rastafarianism does not allow the use of birth control. He often was physically aggressive and hit women when he was upset. He also was known to demand sex whether his partner wanted it as well or not. Rape. He saw little value in women outside the home or in his case as backing singers. They were his possessions to be used when and how he wanted. He would not have sat in an interview saying this quote. There is no known location, recording or printing of this quote until Facebook came along. Zero attribution. Don't get me wrong. Marley was a brilliant man. And incredible songwriter and musician. But he was also other things. And just like other men of great talent, he is often given traits and words that are simply out of synch with their truth. Johnny Cash, John Lennon, Pablo Picasso, Ludwig Van Beethoven, Albert Einstein and etc. Have all become these beacons of light on the internet. Or they are attributed words and actions that don't mesh with their truth. It doesn't take from their talents and what they put in the world. But it isn't real. And if we are going to support women and feminism and support change, even passive misogyny needs to be confronted and that is what this is, this is a sort of quiet misogyny that allows some men to be terrible to women as long as they give you pleasure or art or meaning. And that can't work in an fair and equal world.

Here is the Snopes page on this quote - https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/perfect-woman-bob-marley/

Thought for today

Bob Marley was once asked if there was a perfect woman. He replies :

Who cares about perfection?

Even the moon is not perfect, it is full of craters.

The sea is incredibly beautiful, but salty and dark in the depths.

The sky is always infinite, but often cloudy.

So, everything that is beautiful isn't perfect, it's special.

Therefore, every woman can be special to someone.

Stop being "perfect", but try to be free and live, doing what you love, not wanting to impress others!

[rickybaby]

not to be a bitch on main but if vcarb were just yuki and liam nobody would be saying shit

call me a delusional daniel girlie but it's him on a podium they fear

Somehow Yuki’s comment which is more or less in the same vein, doesn’t get the added question mark of whether that would be good for the sport or not.

To be that b*tch, if it was Yuki and Liam, the whole narrative would have been about two young drivers getting the opportunity to fight at the front ….

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Why do rumors about Harry and Meghan don’t seem to stick but rumors about William and Kate do? I mean, among a certain demographic or type of people at least. With rumors about H&M, I only ever see people who hate them repeat those rumors, and quite frankly, sometimes they start to sound a bit extreme to me if I try to take a step back from the internet & remember I don’t actually know these people. But with rumors about William and Kate, they get traction outside the sussex squad circle, particularly on Twitter. They get made fun of a lot and I just get this heavy feeling because I feel like there’s so much anger from the sussex squad that they would literally say the worst things about W&K (I see that there’s also so much anger towards Meghan and Harry but of course I have my bias so I feel bad about the ones about W&K more. It’s annoying when some social justice warrior on Twitter say things like “these people defending Kate, do you do the same for Meghan?”. Like, I’m defending Kate because I’m a fan, duh.) l. But anyway, outside our little circle here, people don’t take seriously the rumors regarding Meghan’s kids, for example. Like, some people here say there are rumors that Harry was violent to women, but outside the little circle of extreme royalists/wales fans, nobody thinks of Harry as a violent man. But they do genuinely believe the rumors about William and Kate even though they do not have any proof or whatsoever. They genuinely believe Kate is a victim of William, that he cheats on her, that he’s a bully.

I responded to someone who was spreading some wrong information about Kate’s sick leave (they said it was weird they didn’t post a photo for her birthday — i said they don’t do that every year, they said it was weird they didn’t release a photo of william taking care of the kids/it’s weird we haven’t seen the kids — i said it’s not weird because we only see the kids a few times a year, they said 9 months was weird — i said KP never said 9 months!) I literally simply corrected the wrong information the person was spewing. And then someone responded to me that I sound like the “leave britney alone” people, perhaps implying that i am a part of the problem because I am not entertaining the idea that Kate might need help?? Just because I think before jumping into conspiracy theories? Anyway, it was just a random person on the internet and I shouldn’t be bothered, but still… lol.

That was on reddit. I probably should just avoid that place if the things people have been saying make me feel bad but I wanted to set the record straight lol. Anyway, I also saw some people there quoting articles and stuff about William’s alleged temper. And I’m just like people have been talking about Harry’s temper for years too and they’ve also been documented in articles and books! I guess the difference for them is that Harry has been so open about his therapy.

I also have a confession to make. I was curious about the nature of rumors, so I did a little experiment and sent a tip to deuxmoi to see how easy it really is for anyone to just send it whatever. I didn’t want to make up something really potentially damaging, so I sent something innocent. I just said Meghan wants to work with Greta Gerwig. It got posted but didn’t get any attention. But I feel like if someone sent it something there like Meghan has a sex kink or whatever it still wouldn’t make as much traction as whatever sexual rumor they assigned to William. It would be seen as really disgusting (and rightly so). I mean, I probably shouldn’t feel that bad for a man who would be king and has the resources to protect himself, but people have been sexualizing William perhaps since he turned 18 and the rumors sussex squad spread about him are just another way of doing that.

It’s bothering me these days to be honest. I fear logging on to the internet fearing the things I will see about W&K. I certainly need to step back lol. I also remind myself there are things beyond our control. I look at it from a historical perspective, like there are rumors Anne Boleyn had six toes. So I guess it just comes with the territory for William and Kate that people could say absolutely anything about them.

Part of it probably is that it comes with the territory for William and Kate. Everyone in positions of power have an opposition that wants to weaken their impact so they use gossip as a tool to undermine them. Celebrities, politicians, athletes, rival friend groups in school.

But there are also two other reasons to consider.

First is that we don't actually know a whole lot about William and Kate. Despite being incredibly popular and famous, they're actually pretty private. We don't really know who William and Kate (as well as George, Charlotte, and Louis) are beyond what they have said in interviews or done in public on their engagements. They also don't speak to the press, fully adhering to "never complain, never explain." So because we don't know a whole lot about them, it's easier to make things up to justify, explain, or describe what we see. It sticks because they're never going to address it: not to confirm, not to deny, not to deflect.

Unlike Meghan and Harry. They're constantly talking to the press and constantly addressing whatever is being said about them. They give us information to that justifies, explains, describes what they do. We don't need to make stuff up because they're giving it to us on a silver platter. But more than that, specifically when it comes to the more egregious rumors like the ones about their children, they go straight to the narcisstic DARVOing, which is particularly effective at getting people to stop talking about you.

Second is that the Sussexes have the power of repetition. The rumors they create and the stories they tell about the Waleses stick because they keep being told. They sell the same story to People, Page Six, The Cut, E News, the Daily Mail, and Netfilix. Then they tell the same story to Scobie, Abigail Spencer, MIsan, Oprah, Tyler Perry, CDAN, DeuxMoi, Bouzy, and the social media bots. And all those publications, all those people, all those bots talk about it so it picks up traction, everyone repeats it, and it spreads like wildfire. Because the Sussexes have told so many people, there are many sources talking about it, so the general public is more likely to believe it - "I heard it from X, Y, Z, and 1, 2, 3, so it MUST be true."

Unlike William and Kate, who don't have pet reporters or pet publications or bots to fight these battles with. At most, they talk to one reporter for an exclusive every 2-3 months, if even. So because there's no "institutional backing" to Sussex rumors that spend the time and effort to keep them in the public space (like Oprah, Netflix, People, or even the Waleses themselves) long enough for the more mainstream public to become aware, the Sussex rumors die on the vine and everyone who talks about it looks unhinged.

That's why Kensington Palace speaking to Page Six was so groundbreaking. It's the first time the Waleses met the Sussexes where they are and hints that they're aware the Sussexes may have had a hand in creating the controversy. Usually when KP speaks to Americans, they do it through traditional mainstream press (the New York Times, Washington Post, NBC, ABC, etc.). They've never gone directly and personally to a Sussex/Meghan PR mouthpiece before.

(I don't count People as a Sussex-exclusive source because the BRF has used People long before Meghan came around. People takes stories from anyone with the money to pay them.)

[mysteriesoftheunknown]

Sightings – S1E11 – Cryonics and Mummification – August 21st, 1992

“Is it possible to cheat death? Can we be brought back to life months, even years after dying? There are scientists betting on the fact that one day, death won’t be permanent – and some people are taking the biggest gamble of their lives: they’re being frozen and mummified in a quest for immortality.”

“Cryonics is an experimental process – and it’s experimental because we don’t know what the outcome is going to be. We have a different opinion on where you draw a line between life and death…”

“I think it’s misleading to people. I think it’s giving some false hopes, at least at this point…”

“Bring me back, I don’t care how. Bring me back into the future. I want to be there, I want to witness this, I want to be able to get out of this freezing suspension or whatever they put me into to get me back, I want to be able to stand there and say ‘Bill, you made it, you’re really there in the future’. If it really can be done, I’m looking at immortality.”

This segment details cryonics, the pseudoscience that was faddishly popular in the 80s-90s (enough to make it into a episode of Star Trek TNG, "The Neutral Zone"). Cryonics is a interesting pseudoscience because its unverifiability is baked right in: cryonics companies never promise it will happen, just that they might be able to preserve your body to a time where science can revive you. They spin it as, explicitly, a gamble and not a promise. It should be noted that while Alcor, the company profiled herein, still exists, many cryonics companies have closed over their years, with their bodies being thawed and "disposed of". You also don't see cryonics brought up often by death-averse rich people these days, since they've moved onto *checks notes* wondering if stealing blood from the young can keep them immortal? Yeah let's go back to freezing them

This story takes a sudden swerve into discussing mummification as a "proven" means of preserving a body. They talk to John A. Chew, a mortuary sciences professor who was director of the Institute for Funeral Service Education and Anatomy at Lynn University before his death in 2016, so a valid expert witness on mummification there. They also talk to...the head of a new religion movement called Summum that practiced modern mummification? A movement led by someone called "Amon Ra" here, but who apparently went by "Corky Ra"??? Corky Ra died in 2008 and was mummified. It doesn't seem like Summum is a cult or anything, and they're still around, mummifying people and pets.

Carlos Mondragon is said by one site to have left his post as CEO in 1993, but he's quoted as its director in a 2003 story on allegations that they're treating the remains of Ted Williams poorly, and he's listed as President in a story from 2017, so it's unclear when he left, exactly. Alcor's website lists such celebrity "members" as a "Bitcoin pioneer" and a "inventor and futurist" and no longer lists Mondragon, though it does list half of its celebrity endorsers as board members, which. It is clear though that death-afraid rich people have moved on to scams promising to help them live forever in this life instead of in a distant future.

[hostilemuppet]

PART THREE (the girls are fightingggg edition)

hickory: lovably vulgar internet grandpa (he thinks that title is concerning) who doesnt have all the right lingo but his hearts always in the right place. "if i can be a country troll raised yodeller then who cares if sam wants to be sally and sally wants to be sam". dickory is addicted to trolltube shorts conspiracy theories and wants his brother to take the red pill

branch (part 2): a misunderstanding involving hickorys (crude) tweets in favour of gay rights and branchs infamous butter fingers leads people to now think branch broke up with poppy bc hes is exclusively into men.

branch: floyd the entire internet thinks i broke up with poppy bc im gay what do i do floyd: floyd: i have a couple exs i can introduce you to- branch: NOT WHAT I MEANT.

poppy clarifies "lay off him, hes a lesbian" forgetting that she was supposed to hate him rn and also that he hadnt come out publicly yet. theres a lot of tweets saying some variation of "how can a MAN be a LESBIAN" (missing the point) and branch (tipsy) (life falling apart) (being egged on by floyd and jd) qrts on main with "bruh". barb takes the opportunity to tweet something awful which gets her SOME flack but also a lot of people admitting you "gotta hand it to her, she was making points" and floyd reads out select tweets from the "barb" trending page the next morning while branch nurses a massive headache and jd is on a breakfast run. this is happening concurrently with clay and bruce accusing him of cheating with viva btw, so the insistence he likes women comes back to bite him in the ass.

hickory vs barbtwt: barb has a field day with this convoluted lesbian homosexual gay man drama. hickory qrts (he doesnt know how to reply) one of her tweets with "you seem like a young woman who has never felt the cool breeze on your face as you hike up to the tallest point for miles just to watch the sunset, and my heart aches for you. i hope one day you find the beauty that surrounds us all" and three days later TMZ reports on barb being in rehab. he waxes poetic about how life is too short for all this vitriol and barbtwt flood his notifications with photos of dead goats, which dont affect him bc he has "seen worse when them old fences fall and the wolves get in". he doesnt tweet for a week and a half after that and barbtwt think "we got him 💪" and people who were on hickorys side begin to get worried about him until he posts a photo of him having dinner with his family (spouse, a few children, one of their pet goats, his brother might also be there i guess) captioned #blessed, cementing his victory in the idgaf war

clay (part 2): out of context quoted saying something he intended to be a teasing joke that viva was in on. This ended up being his second cancellation and third time throwing viva under the bus to save his own skin. Viva has had enough

Viva: internet famous podcaster with guest stars including chaz and (former) King peppy. Uploads a 35 mimute response video entitled "My Side of the Story" to her podcasts official trolltube channel detailing her experiences with clay, branch and poppy. It is monetised with several midroll ads and her merch linked in the description. She is doing her makeup throughout the video. A half hour after her video drops the trending tab is dominated by clay and vivas names, "CLIVA DEAD", "gaslighting", "WE'RE SORRY VIVA" and "#thicktrunkthursday" (unrelated). Clay is kicked out of his and vivas pod so he has to sleep on a sofa in branchs bunker. Floyd tweets #istandwithviva so clay demands the £50 he loaned him three months ago. Floyd is the next guest on vivas podcast and (accidentally?) reignites the homophobia allegations against clay while simultaneously becoming vivas GBF and (briefly) new cohost (he still guest stars a lot but viva noticed that people were starting to call it "Floyd's podcast" so she nipped that in the bud)

Brozone (and friends (and enemies)) twitter drama au

Collaborative between me and @squirrelpatties. Truly our magnum opus

Jd: previously a frequent twitter e-clown infamous for name searching and starting beef with people who insulted him. His fanbase thought it was hilarious in a "grandpa escaped the hospital" way. Eventually was forced to relinquish control of @/brojohndoryofficial to his pr manager (clay) after he responded to 14 y/o @/j0ndryballzweat.

Floyd (part 1): his sex tape (with a fan he didnt know was a fan but thats hardly relevant) gets leaked. For the first three days everyone's timeline was full of "do NOT share it around, dont even look for it, if someone sends it to you IGNORE it, this is a disgusting breach of privacy" until Floyd addresses it by tweeting "decided to put on a different kind of show for you guys" and all hell breaks loose. Every tweets hidden replies are full of screencaps and reuploads for a month. People edit the video so just before anything explicit happens it's replaced by a video game cutscene or meme, which Floyd retweets a lot of. His brothers ask him to stop (both for publicity and bc it makes them uncomfortable) so he starts posting thirst traps on insta. Clay yells at him so Floyd tweets "clay just asked when I'm gonna get a girlfriend :/" which brings us to-

Clay: homophobia allegations. Admittedly the least serious and would have blown over quickly if it weren't for him panic tweeting "I'm not homophobic! My girlfriend is a bi lesbian!" People were NOT happy. It takes him three days of retweeting 'helpful educational threads and carrds' on lesbianism written by 14 y/os for people to get off his back. Viva understands.

Bruce: stays off social media bc its the mind killer so he lets clay take care of @/brobruceofficial. This goes well until clay gets drunk and thinks he's on his private account but is actually on Bruce's public. When he wakes up (hungover) in the morning hes got Bruce banging on his door asking why TMZ is reporting on him cheating on his wife. Bruce tells him to clear things up but clay JUST got the lesbians off his back and can't afford to be back in the hotseat...

Branch and poppy: branch was annoyed by all the branch/poppy rpf fanfic (poppy likes them bc she thinks they're cute and funny. When brozone go on tour she reads the smutty ones) so he suggested to poppy that they stage a fake breakup. Poppy is initially against the idea until branch brings up how much fun itd be to sneak around like a couple of teenagers. Poppy scrapbooks the tabloids about their breakup. Clay and Bruce blame clays drunken tweets on branch so clay seems like the victim. Poppy acknowledges this on twitter in a way that very heavily implies they broke up bc branch was cheating on her with her own sister. Viva does not understand. This one doesn't have a resolution yet bc we moved onto:

Barb: previous lesbian icon turned reactionary transphobe. Riff stopped associating with her once she started getting really public with it and now she keeps tweeting stuff like "you-know-who left me just to work with misogynists. Really makes you think 🤔 " which he ignores.

Riff: while still working with barb he was approached to collab with creek (damage control for the... unsavoury things he said about rock trolls). The second the song released he tweeted "wow that guy was an asshole LOL" bc he didn't realise he wasn't supposed to do that. Cut contact with barb once her transphobia went from "mild, I can fix her" to "jesus fucking christ". Briefly worked with Floyd until his second controversy at which point riff tweeted "cmon, man" and turned off his phone. Riff hasn't done anything wrong and he deserves a lot better

Velvet: crafted the perfect expose thread on Floyd when she was in prison, including "pro life" "publicly sharing inappropriate sexual content" and "uses the toothpaste flag". Posts it the second she gets let out of prison and instantly becomes #1 on trending (alongside "floyd" "pro life" and "#HUGS4CLAY).

Floyd (part 2): tweets "why does it even matter that I'm pro life if I'm gay and don't 'believe' in 'voting'" before doing another line off his boyfriends torso. People bring his leaked nudes back up and start insulting his dick size and its the first time hes ever let a controversy bother him. His next tweet is "I am not ashamed of my body" and the top reply (creek pfp) is "you should be ❤". Clay is biting the skin off his own tongue.

[1ddotdhq]

👻Wed 21 Oct ‘20👻

Boobiegate begins! Celebtm has published its expose about Briana and her alleged sugar daddy, Micheal Straus. He claims that the reason he gave her thousands of dollars was because she was broke and he was raised by a single mom, so he felt bad for her. The article goes through the ways in which Briana’s OWN FAMILY called her “unstable” (pot, kettle much?) and then! AND THEN!!! Goes through babygate! They outline all of it - that people think Louis is gay and with Harry, that she’s photoshopped pregnancy pictures, that they are photoshopping pictures, that Louis never sees Freddie, ALL OF IT. In front of each claim, they quote a fan, so it cleverly seems like they themselves are not making the assertion, but as anyone who has reported anything in this fandom would know, everyone has an opinion. The ones you AMPLIFY are the ones that you legitimize, and Celebtm even went as far as linking tumblr masterposts on all things babygate if anyone wanted to dig into it. Well, better y’all than us! In the end, however, they do take a strong stand, saying:  “Whatever the truth is about Freddie’s parentage, it’s clear that Jungwirth has secrets. While the vast majority of babygate proof is speculation and fan rumor, it does paint a picture of a woman hiding something. Whether or not Tomlinson is in on the secret or being cheated remains to be seen.”  

Louis himself has said nothing, nor do I expect him to. Michael Malarkey, a former co-star of Danielle’s, posted a tweet with a picture of Louis, saying “WE LOVE YOU LOUIS” after seeing it trend on twitter and then plugged his own music. I assume that this random shout out is related to the stir that Celebtm’s article caused, but, honestly, maybe he just really loves Louis. I can certainly relate.

Liam is doing his best to steal my title of *ghost* writer, as he makes a spooky halloween account: let’s all welcome Cornelius the Ghost to this year’s Halloween shenanigans! It is unclear what Cornelius’ role in the show will be, or if this is an eroda style RPF lead up to Halloween. He is a cloaked figure who is haunting Liam for information about the Halloween LP show via Instagram. Silly ghost, you should be haunting this blog instead! We have you covered (cloaked? You get it)! MUAs on Twitter have begun to send in their Halloween looks into Liam’s competition and they are VERY spooky. I’m not a fan of horror but campy, spooky Halloween fun? Sign me TF UP!

Golden is LIVE...or is it??? Golden is impacting radio stations and climbing some radio charts, despite the Official Date of Impact being the 26th, I guess they just couldn't wait. I have not heard it on my local radio, but I’m more of a Spotify kinda gal, anyways. I think stations have started to jump the gun and are playing it, in spite of any official dates. Eroda has stirred, at any rate, and added a description to their Lighthouse attraction. They are describing it as, “Eroda’s famous lighthouse is the perfect place to catch a beautiful golden sunset”. Very nice, very romantic! The picture that immediately comes to mind is the last shot of the WMI director's cut where the cute couple walks into the sunset. Sigh, I love that music video.

Harry is VERY in LA; he’s meeting fans, taking pictures, hanging out with his costar Florence Pugh, and wearing his rings again! He didn’t have surgical gloves over them this time, so we can see that they aren’t ALL back, but his plain bands (including the peace ring!) are firmly on his fingers. One fan who met him asked him to take a picture of her and her friend, and she bought dessert for him. In return, he covered hers - or, sorry, an anonymous patron paid for her dessert - it’s always nice to see that his mother raised him well! We also got a little throwback to last Christmas (I gaaaveee you my heaaarrrttt) with Harry sitting on Santa’s Lap in an LA party, presumably around the time of Fine Line’s release. I guess those North Pole Catfishers from last month were onto something!

Niall and Capitol Records are celebrating three years of Flicker, so Happy Birthday, it should be walking on its own and forming complete sentences by now, and at least a meter tall, if Freddie is anything to go by! Niall is celebrating by spending the day in a recording studio with british singer songwriter Anne Marie, who’s dream collab was Niall! Go girl, make it happen! He was playing an acoustic guitar, and hopefully making more of that new music he’s been teasing in interviews over the last week.

[destinyc1020]

Isn’t it already established that JE only dated Joey King to get put into fame (while he already had a girlfriend in Australia that later found out about it after the movie was released), and then he cheated on JK with a model in Europe, and JK found out about the girlfriend in Australia and the model in Europe, which is why JK started posting all of those “men ain’t shit” and “never trust someone just starting into the business, because all they want is to get to the top.” and then he started dating Zendaya to get even more famous (which worked but not well), and then he cheated on Z with another European model, as well as with Kaia Gerber, which Z found out about after their break up. Which is why Darnell was posting all of those quotes about people only wanting fame and people being cheaters. Like JE is an established serial cheater and fame hungry, I don’t understand why some women are still “falling” for him, after everything that has happened and IS happening.

HOLD UP Anon..... ✋

You’re gonna have to provide some reasons on why you came to these conclusions or something because there are some things I don’t think I have ever heard anyone mention.   I knew about JE and the cheating on his Aussie gf with JK, and I knew about the model he cheated on JK with.   *****But what’s this I hear about JE CHEATING on Zendaya with some European model and with Kaia?? 🥴🥴 Where are you getting that from?? Because I have never heard that stated...not even circulating in the rumor mills.   Feel free to dm me Anon (especially if you have tea/receipts), because that’s a serious allegation, and if there isn’t any valid proof (or even receipts) of that being the case, then maybe we shouldn’t be spreading that around. 👀    

I’m just curious where you got this impression from, because everything I’ve heard around town (lol) has been very vague, and nobody knows exactly why they broke up.  But if he DID cheat on my girl Zendaya, then I will DEFINITELY feel like he’s a bigger snake than I realized.   Just let me find out this Big Foot cheated on my girl.... 

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

I finished watching Navalny’s investigation into Putin’s palace yesterday. (Title: Palace for Putin. English subtitles available). 

A brilliant and utterly devastating exposé, which is unanswerable. Right now, it has 79 million views, though it was 77 million a couple of hours ago. 

This documentary has not only laid bare the extent of Putin’s ruthless thieving, but has enraged Russians, who poured onto the streets of dozens of cities yesterday in unprecedented numbers, demanding Navalny’s release and an end to Putin’s presidency. 

The Kremlin’s spokesman, Dmitri Peskov, can always be relied upon to give a disingenuous response to these accusations. 

Peskov claims the documentary is “a bunch of nonsense”, but provided no examples of which parts were nonsensical, let alone the truth. Again, quoting Peskov: “These are all absolutely unfounded claims. This is pure nonsense.” 

Yet anyone who has watched this documentary knows that Navalny provides extensive evidence to back his allegations of bribery, including company registration documents, aerial footage, and even an interview with one of Putin’s former allies, who helped begin the palace project in the first place! 

Not only that, but former Putin ally Sergei Kolesnikov spilled the beans about Putin’s palace almost 11 years ago in an open letter and a series of original documents! 

Navalny interviews Kolesnikov and shows all the documents either signed or released by the latter confirming everything he says. Is Kolesnikov also lying, Mr. Peskov? 

Then Peskov claimed that the palace, “has nothing to do with either the president or the Kremlin so we haven’t the slightest desire to be interested.”

But in the documentary, a member of Navalny’s FBK contacted the FSB for permission to fish along the Black Sea coast. In the audio recording, a woman said that they would have to sail out into the open sea for a mile, before reaching the destination.

Who controls the FSB? 

Also from Peskov: “The Russian president declares his entire property and publishes it in [tax] declarations every year.”

The documentary-- among others-- shows that Putin hides his stolen assets through various proxies, including members of his own family and long-time friends. 

Again, Navalny provides extensive evidence to back this up, including embarrassing revelations about Putin’s finances from the Panama Papers-- leaked years before this documentary. So Peskov is telling a clever lie: of course, we could see that Putin declares his property in his tax declarations. 

However, the issue isn’t what Putin declares on his tax declarations. It is what Putin isn’t declaring, because those assets are hidden in other people’s tax declarations. 

Peskov also claimed that accusing Putin of owning a palace-- itself an accusation dating back several years-- “was a badly broken record“. He confidently asserts that the Kremlin has debunked those claims, but never explains why anyone fishing in the Black Sea has to get prior permission from the FSB, as an audio recording irrefutably demonstrates. Nor does he explain why a no-fly zone has been established over the palace. 

In a demonstration of Shakespearean irony, Peskov also had words for thsoe donating to Navalny’s FBK (Anti-Corruption Foundation): “We warn all citizens, especially given such a large number of views [on YouTube]: think before you wire money to these crooks. To me, that’s exactly the main purpose of these pseudo-studies. That’s the main scam.”

Bear in mind that Peskov has not provided a scrap of evidence contradicting what Navalny alleges in his investigation. Peskov has ignored evidence from former members of the Russian government leaked over 10 years ago, supporting the claims released in 2021. Peskov does not mention the waves of embezzlement and money laundering that have hit government-backed projects-- so much so that even Putin had to admit there was a problem, according to this Navalny investigation. 

I will also point out that Peskov’s son, Nicholas Choles, is a school drop-out with a criminal record, no current job, and outstanding child support payments. Yet according to this Navalny investigation, he lives a life of absolute luxury, thanks to his father being spokesman for the Kremlin. 

And Peskov has the audacity to accuse Navalny’s citizen-funded organisation against corruption of being funded by “crooks” and being a “scam”? Well, he has to. His job depends on deflecting suspicion away from Russia’s government for falling incomes and living standards, and onto anyone else. Putin’s Russia punishes those who tell the truth and stand up for justice, while rewarding those who cheat, lie, and steal. 

This is why Putin must be arrested, charged, and prosecuted. Sooner is better. 

[shoezuki]

Here's what Dream said in his subreddit in response to Geosquare's video + the allegations against him:

Transcript under the readmore

[Beggining of transcript:

Dream created a post roughly 2 days ago with the title "Speedrun Removal - Dream."

There's a lot of posts here about my 1.16 speedrun time removal, and some people upset with my response on Twitter. Obviously, I didn't cheat in any way and I plan on making a video to address these things. However, it will take time for me to thoroughly and completely address it, as the accusations took two months for the mods to work on. It's not something I can throw together in a day, and is going to require a lot of my attention.

To clear up misinformation though, my 1.15 record remains up and verified, and I was not banned from submitting runs. My 1.16 (16th place, but 5th place when I got it) run was unverified due to the seemingly incredible statistical odds that I could have had the luck that I did over a few day period.

As I didn't cheat, I know that there's going to be a way to disprove the statistics, but again, I'm not a mathematician and I don't know how. I'm going to be most likely hiring multiple well renowned statisticians to look at the numbers, and most likely have a roll in my response. On top of that, most likely talking with Minecraft developers, as well as other prominent figures regarding it.

I understand that the numbers presented look suspicious, because they are not numbers you would ever expect to see during a non-glitched series of speedruns. I don't disagree with that, but I do have doubts that these numbers are entirely accurate, and I have doubts about the mods intent to fairly investigate my side.

As for addressing the physical side of "how" I may have cheated, I can completely and fully beyond a reasonable doubt prove that I did not use a mod or datapack during my speedruns, and how I can prove that will obviously be talked about in the video. It's not related to the statistics, but it does show that it is much much more likely that the statistics are off (or that there is some other contributing factor).

As for the video made by Geosquare, there was certain bits of misleading information, like the lie that I said that I "delete my mod contents regularly" (something that was never said). It made it seem like I was not cooperating with the investigation. I fully cooperated and provided every file that was ever requested from me, and I will be making those files public at some point in the future. On top of that, it was stated that I am a mod developer, when I have never developed a mod in my life, and do not know how to develop a mod. I can also reasonably prove this, and I offered the mod team at multiple points all of my development related files so they can tell that I did not code anything related to Minecraft RNG. It was also stated that it made it suspicious that I had "Fabric API" loaded, without mentioning why I had it loaded. I had provided the information of why I had Fabric API downloaded well before any suspicion involving Fabric API was brought forward. I volunteered the information that I did in fact have Fabric API downloaded, as I had nothing to hide. The log files that they showed in the video were again, volunteered by myself, as I had nothing to hide.

So as for the numbers, they seem very high, but they're most likely completely wrong. When working with numbers this big, one small mistake and it drops by orders of magnitudes. The numbers have fluctuated throughout the investigation, and according to inside sources where being debated internally up until minutes before the post. Numbers can be misleading, and have been used to falsely convict people in the justice system (unrelated to Minecraft), tens of thousands of times in the past, until later conflicting reports come out. I advise anyone that thinks that it's "1 in 10 trillion" or whatever was said, to hold your tongue and wait until I'm able to get statisticians to provide most likely more accurate numbers. In their paper there are a few obvious things I can point out, like the fact that they use "1000 speedrunners" as a quote "generous upper bound" for their statistics, when there are over 900 submitted runs on 1.16 Java edition alone, not to mention the around 10,000 people in the speedrun discord, and the tens of thousand of other people that speedrun. While constantly stating that these calculations are "biased towards me" and that they used numbers "favorable to me", they call things like that an "upper bound", when I would point out that it is nearly a "lower bound" because we at bare minimum 1000% know there are at least that many speedrunners.

As well as addressing the things above in the video, I also do have to address the harassment from the mods and verifiers that I received throughout the investigation. Although not important to the statistics, it is very important to the conclusion, as statistics can be interpreted one way or another. It's also important to me, and definitely helps explain my less thought out more agitated responses. There's a lot that almost no one knows about that went on behind the scenes, and I'll definitely be talking about that. It's not me whining about bias when it's not there, there is genuine bias, but that doesn't invalidate the statistics.

Otherwise, for now, sit tight. You've heard one argument that took 60 days to prepare, from a group of volunteers. I'll try and make sure that my response touches on all the important things, but I will need time to put it together. Hope this clears my thought process up a little bit though.

End of transcript.]

[dystopiandilfs]

Regarding the speedrunning drama. It's not about cheating. Cheating hasn't been the reason for weeks. The bias has been the biggest issue and the alleged cheating is the cover. They've repeated the same stuff for 2 months never really giving reasons or explanation. The verification team has been super unprofessional in general. Yes Dream didn't need to tweet about it but I would have gone on a much longer rant than him way before he did. I know some of the vteam and a lot of them don't think he cheated and think it's ridiculous but they simply don't have the power the legitimate his time.

It's not a top 10 WR so I genuinely don't know why they care so much. If you 100% thought he was cheating then you'd finalize results, temp ban him from speedrunning and that would be it. They're dragging it out unnecessarily purely because it gives an excuse to drag Dream and piss him off. The problem is that the vteam have been projecting it on Reddit and Discord in places where people who hate Dream band together.

Like how can you willingly waste so much time hating someone. The Dreamanti(formally the boycott Dandtm) Reddit group chat still exists. The speedrunning discord is essentially the F Dream discord. There's the group on Twitter/Instagram that watch all his stuff to find quotes to take out of context to try and get him cancelled. And most of the vteam have been projecting the whole thing around these groups

I think the best solution for Dream is to keep quiet but collect the receipts. I think the team were stupidly bias and it needs to be re-reviewed by unbiased people (maybe a few other speedrunners. Like a mix of people with better times and people with worse times. But it stays anonymous so people can be honest without fear of targeted harassment.)

Tldr: the situation should have been professional and private from the start it wasn't and now it's in this bias mess.

[makerkenzie]

What is the taste of disappointment?

Going off this post here, I still want to know: what did Aunt Genna do that so disappointed Tywin?

Quote: “It was not a game for girls. I was my father’s precious princess…and Tywin’s too, until I disappointed him. My brother never learned to like to taste of disappointment.”

Right. What exactly was this unforgivable disappointment that cost Genna her “precious princess” status with her formidable eldest brother?

By all accounts, Aunt Genna seems to have been nothing but an endlessly loyal daughter of House Lannister for all her life. 

There was that incident in which she told Tywin that Tyrion was his true son (as opposed to Jaime), and he didn’t talk to her for half a year. As I said before, though, I think that’s a separate issue from the big disappointment. 

I think this is bigger than any particular conversation between siblings. 

Was it her marriage to Emmon Frey? Clearly not. She was all of seven years old and had no say in the matter. Tywin’s objection to the match was a disagreement with his father, not with his little sister. 

Was it that she grew too fond of Emmon? Going by her current behavior, nah. She clearly is the dominant partner in that relationship, and she just tolerates her husband. I don’t think she disappointed her brother with too much affection for Ser Emmon.

Did she cuckold Ser Emmon? Though Jaime alludes to the possibility...I doubt it. If she did cheat on Emmon, it was likely with another Frey. And if you’re gonna fuck a Frey, it might as well be your spouse. Either way, she’s had at least one son who looks like her husband, so I don’t think she’s brought suspicion of infidelity on House Lannister.

(If she actually fucked some other guy, I don’t think Tywin would hold that against her. Emmon’s beneath her, remember.)

Did she side with the Reynes and Tarbecks over Tywin? Clearly not. She relishes the memory of the castle falling down on Ellyn “that scheming bitch” Tarbeck’s head.

Did she take the side of the royalists in Robert’s Rebellion? There’s no sign of that.

Did she mistreat Tywin’s kids? Going by their POV chapters, Genna was nothing but an engaged, affectionate aunt. (And let’s be real, I doubt Tywin would’ve noticed if she’d been otherwise.)

Did she blow a bunch of House Lannister’s gold on frivolous bullshit? I mean...beyond what House Lannister already spends on frivolous bullshit? No sign of that.

Did she oppose him in the War of Five Kings? Going by her actions in AFFC, seems she didn’t.

Did she tell Tywin that his golden twins were fucking each other? Again, no sign of that. Her scenes in AFFC give no hint that she even knew about the twincest, and I’m not sure Tywin ever caught wind of the relationship. Heard the allegations from Stannis, sure, but knew the twincest was real? I’m not getting that from the text.

Did she try to position her own sons ahead of Tywin’s kids? Again, no sign of that. If she’d tried it, I don’t think Tywin would have experienced that as a “disappointment” so much as a “betrayal” and he would have exiled Genna to the ruins of Valyria.

Did she tell him he needed to pay better attention to his own children after Joanna died? Maaaaybe, but again, I feel like the disappointment is bigger than that. It’s more than a family disagreement. It feels like a political or economic decision on her part.

Did Tywin give her a chance to set aside her marriage to Emmon Frey, and she refused? I mean...I’m kind of split in 3 directions about this. OTOH, IF Tywin offered to let Genna out of her marriage after she was grown up with kids, I think she’d refuse, and that would annoy Tywin. HOWEVER. if Tywin found a way to annul his sister’s marriage, would he even need her consent? He didn’t need Tyrion’s consent to undo his marriage to Tysha. Mainly, this just feels too boring to be the big disappointment. 

Back to Robert’s Rebellion: did she tell him something he didn’t want to hear? Maybe? He sat out most of the war. Being totally honest, there was no way Tywin was going to take the royalist side UNLESS and UNTIL it became obvious that the royals were winning. After all the shit he caught from Aerys, no way was Tywin sticking his neck out for the Targs. But he also didn’t stick his neck out for the rebels. By that point Genna was long since married to Emmon, and the Freys were in no hurry to pick a side, either. Was there something Tywin was hoping to get from the war, and Genna told him that wasn’t a battle worth fighting? If that was it, I think the disagreement was on a topic that Tywin didn’t win. Like, if Genna argued it wasn’t a good idea for Cersei to be queen, I think Tywin would get over it after Cersei became queen. Because Tywin sat out most of the war, there’s space for some tensions to develop with family members. Was that it, though? I’m drawing a blank on the locus of his disappointment with Genna. 

What else is there?

[petalsmooth]

Cole Sprouse earlier this year:

“To love one’s self while being in love,” he captioned the photo. “To seek a validation of your spirit in another, while honoring a confidence of self. To be true to one’s self in the sacrifice of compromise. A little Tuesday give and take.” 

This is probably the closest we’ll come, at least in immediate future, into Cole’s insight of what issues they were having. I can’t claim to know either of them really beyond what they choose to let people see or hear. I may have some suppositions but nothing confirmed. It doesn’t ever really matter because I have no right to know but in regards to this never ending drama from one parties part I’ll relate a few thoughts.

I have no means of verifying who broke up with whom, or if it was actually a “mutual” decision or one someone wanted more than the other did. I can just say if I were an outsider, which I am, and now knowing per Cole the final break came at some point in March (we don’t know when during that month) that based on Lili’s actions he likely took the lead on it. Based on inferences her mother made in DM’s/Lili’s own words I think it’s reasonable to assume there was the “feeling” that Cole “betrayed” her in some way. 

Given Cole’s brief released statement, and he is a smart man, he made a deliberate attempt to delineate when they were in a relationship and when they were not. He’s also made it clear he is not a cheater. My supposition? Cole knew of the rumors/allegations made via social grapevine. I don’t know if he has had any one night stands during the separation or since the final breakup but my guess is Lili at some point thought he did at very least hence her temperamental behavior. 

Now everyone has different feelings on sex. Some see it as physical release, some as an emotional bond, some as spiritual bonding, some as about procreation etc....I’m not here to get into what your views, theirs or mine are on it. It’s really no one’s business. I’d personally advise given the disparate views on the matter if you hold out any hope/wish of reuniting with someone that it may not be in your best interest to pursue that physical relationship with anyone until you fully resolve your intentions with someone else to avoid any messiness but it doesn’t make someone a cheat if they don’t.

At any point I think he released that information to 1) reinforce he was free to be with anyone (be it as a friend or something more) as not together and therefore no one had the right to judge or question that and 2) make it clear it was no one’s business/leave the people he spends time with alone.

Now what does this have to do with anything? I think Lili maybe held out hope of reconciliation and Cole’s appearance of moving on, whether did in any fashion or not, triggered her. I think in some ways they have very different views on these matters so the feeling of “betrayal”, the enhancement of bitter feelings, the need to put on a show that she is just fine without him that lasted a few weeks. The typical things women tend to do in breakups like leaning on her affection for her dog, spending more time in her personal gym in an effort to feel better about herself, self help books. Common things women do post break. I even think she may have cycled back briefly to thinking maybe they could still worked things out given shown may have misjudged earlier impressions hence reaching out to his friends/family more and other weird things that didn’t and still don’t make sense. Also think he firmly put that idea to bed with his statement and so we again get the spiraling in the recent interviews, recent attempts to find herself in spiritual fads and renewed bitterness.

And you know...most of this is fine by me if true. Except the interaction with the fans and the whole doxxing of Cole’s location TWICE, ....and the trying to hook young fans into getting scammed with this reiku business, She’s allowed to feel however she wants about a breakup especially if she didn’t initiate it. It usually stands to reason a person who initiates, while still may be mess themselves, may be further along in the acceptance of its end. I can even on some level understand it’s easier said than done to be a professional and get over having to portray a loving couple with your immediate ex. As upset as I am with her more so over this Barchie stance than anything with Cole (minus the doxxing), I get it. Kissing a guy for work you were intimate with who probably initiated the breakup, one you may not be over, it would be tough. I actually get it.

I don’t think they have to be best friends or she has to be fine with it. What I can’t get over is why it had to be public. Why the fans had to be dragged into this for 6 months. None of this public messiness ever had to occur. It could have been contained to just family, friends and co-workers. Even the social entertainment world has been largely muzzled on digging further. The only reason we have any insight to any of this is because she and her mother couldn’t keep their mouth shut. And in the end this is what *I* am bitter and disappointed in because foolish me I thought she was better than this.

As for Cole? If we ever do get further insight than that quote it’ll likely be when removed from his current environment and doubt will be a full fledged tell all. And I don’t by any means think he is perfect and issues were all owned by Lili. But that quote does suggest despite whatever self doubts she may have about herself it had nothing to do with how she looked or wanting someone else as some of her fans accused him of. Seems the issue from his perspective in at least some fashion had to with feeling he was compromising himself/his desires to make someone else happy and maybe in end not too happy himself. But, this is all, as always, no more and no less...my supposition and could be entirely wrong or partially (probably am) wrong.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 23. Grief is just love with nowhere to go

‘These are the days that must happen to you.' Walt Whitman

One week later, Cadie was still confused about how I managed to pull it off. I was too.

But as grateful as she was to have her old job back, and as respectful as Auguste was of hierarchy, neither was happy to be working together. Auguste was still a little too liberal with his passive aggressiveness, and Cadie was not above having him do small tasks in revenge.

My father’s staff, on their end, now managed to look at me with even more judgement on their faces, and less of an effort to conceal it. Unfortunately for them, I was around more now. Unfortunately for all of us, it was due to bad news.

The first happened that first week, days after our big meeting. The Savoy Express online published an article detailing my breakup with Christopher in what they described as a 'dramatic shouting match the halls of Callois Palace hadn't seen since the days of World War II’. They seemed to know not only about the breakup, but also about the proposal that preceded it.

Because my relationship with Christopher ended before an engagement, however, there was no need to confirm or deny rumors. The Palace merely released a statement saying they ‘would not comment on the Crown Princess’ personal life’ and that was, at least on our side, the end. On the press’ side, there was no end.

They wrote and wrote about this alleged proposal, about why I would say not, about cheating rumors, about the possibility the palace hadn’t allowed me to marry him, that I thought he wasn’t good enough for me.

Cadie thought we should release a proper statement, Auguste disagreed. To appease my own selfish discomfort, I decided not to. What I did want to know was how they could possibly know so much about that night.

“They know there was a proposal, they know he used his family ring, they know I said no and that there was yelling. How do they know so much?”

“I hate to bring up this possibility,” Cadie started, “but the most logical conclusion is Christopher himself must have told someone.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t he?” She asked. “Didn’t Stella know about it before it happened?”

“Because he wanted to ask about my ring size.” I shrugged. “His family and mine have been friends for generations. He would never.”

But other than someone who had been in that room leaking it, there was no other possibility. Therefore, there was nothing to be done.

I did, however, have to deal with texts from most of my friends demanding to know why I didn’t tell them about the breakup.

“A lot happened at the same time.” I said, time and time again, shrugging it off. “It just slipped my mind. “We thought you were getting engaged!” Stella whined. “And you broke up with him! How can it have slipped your mind?!” “We actually talked the next day after it happened!” Constance complained. “And all you wanted to talk about was work!” “Guys,” I sighed, “the truth is we never even got back together officially. Eventually the issues we had were bound to come back.”

They demanded a dinner, to talk in person, which we had to do in the palace as I wasn’t allowed to leave until my new security detail took over. In person, I assured them I was very comfortable with my decision, and it was final. They asked if there was someone else, and once again, I couldn’t answer.

The truth was too complicated. The truth was I still wasn’t able to stop thinking about Harry’s soft, gentle plea for me to not marry Christopher. The truth was I wasn’t able to go to sleep without hugging one of my pillows, remembering the way I had slept in his arms, in his bed, on the floor of his living room. But the truth was that, after a text assuring him I was home safe, we hadn’t spoken again. The truth was I felt incredibly guilty for having tried to kiss him for the first time hours after burying my brother. The truth was I also felt incredibly guilty for having actually kissed him while still having a boyfriend.

But the bigger truth, the more uncomfortable truth, was that he was the first thought on my mind when I woke up, and the last one that made me smile before falling asleep. The truth was I wanted to talk to him about everything that was happening in my life -- every detail of the meeting, every horrible threat I had read on my security file, every new discovery I made while researching the work I wanted to do. I wanted to text him about the delicious spinach ricotta cannelloni the royal chef had made last tuesday. And I couldn’t. 

Not only because of the guilt. Not only because I was so busy. But because I knew that after the meeting, having gotten most of what I wanted, I had to give it my best effort. And giving it my best effort included heading the words of everyone around me who had, in the past or present, hinted that Harry was simply too complicated to work. Not only was he foreign, he represented a different throne. The intricacies were too delicate. 

So, whenever I felt like texting him, instead I grabbed the book he had sneaked into my bag. And that’s how I started reading Harry Potter for the first time at 25 years-old to try and keep sane.

The first couple of weeks after the meeting saw a lot of other meetings with the Head of Outreach Relations, Caesar Bisset. We started by fully researching the Claire Bauton Foundation, which had been started in the nineties by Claire Bauton’s daughter Emilie Bauton, to be a shelter for women and children survivors of domestic violence. So, while Mr. Bisset did what was essentially market research – even if he didn’t call it that –, I spent a few days having meetings with experts of the field of domestic abuse: researchers, activists, and lawmakers, learning as much as I could beyond the initial research I had done on the subject myself.

With their perspectives on what the best way to help would be, we were able to make plans on how to cause the biggest positive impact. Right when we were planning my first visit to one of the foundation centers, we had another issue that took priority.

It started when news broke of Lourdes being suspended due to ‘possession of illicit substances prohibited on school grounds’. Somehow, the press had gotten hold of her record and that was how school administration had registered that she was caught with the group of kids smoking.

“Cigarettes!” She complained. “They make it sound like cocaine!”

Suddenly, day time shows were having whole panels debating the ‘issue’. Think pieces were written about teenagers smoking earlier and earlier. Op-eds were released about, and I quote, the ‘fragility of the Monarchy when one of the King’s daughters leans towards a life of consequences and the other must lead from a life of no consequence.’

“Poetic.” I said, sarcastic, in the meeting where my father and I were given the details on how the press was reacting to it even days after it broke.

“I’m afraid if there aren’t consequences, this might grow bigger, sir.” Said Edwald Dupont, Head of Palace Communications.

“What consequences?” I asked, “she’s a teenager. It was cigarettes.”

“Unfortunately, ma’am, if the Palace isn’t at least seen as strongly discouraging the Princess’ behavior, the negative impact of the story could affect His Majesty, as well.”

My father sighed, heavily.

“Send the plane for the Princess.”

“So, as punishment for being suspended for cutting class and hanging out with kids who were smoking last month, you’re… keeping Lourdes home from school again? How does that help anyone?”

My father looked at Mr. Dupont, who nodded, taking notes.

“We can strongly imply the message that our intention is separating the Princess from negative influences.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I said. “Lourdes can’t be influenced. She’s too strong headed.”

“They don’t know that.” My father said. “Besides, she’s always asking to be homeschooled.”

Although the plan was ridiculous, it opened an interesting door.

After Lourdes got home from school, we got caught up while walking my dogs through the Palace Gardens. She didn’t seem to be upset about our father dragging her from school because of bad publicity. She didn’t seem to be upset that mom wasn’t even consulted, as she was now too engulfed into planning a way to memorialize our brother. In fact, my sister didn’t seem bothered about anything at all. She seemed… perfectly absent from herself.

She wasn’t even upset that I had gotten her an extra protection officer – which made her safer but, sure enough, was very invasive.

It shouldn’t have been surprising when she told me she wasn’t going to go back to ice skating.

“It’s been months… I don’t really have the energy to make up for lost time.”

“Really?” I asked, trying to mask the utter despair her words and general demeanor awakened in me. “But, you’re home for a few days so you could spend a lot of time doing it.”

“I just don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired of it.” She shrugged.

“But… but you love it.”

“It was a hobby. I outgrew it.”

“Lourdes, you love skating. You were going to the Olympics.”

She smiled, so utterly humorless it terrified me.

“That was a dream, Maggie. I’m over it.”

I had no idea what to do.

My father just seemed so tired, all the time, about Louis, me, all of it, that discussing it with him was fruitless. I knew what the solution was.

I hadn’t had a proper conversation with my mother since my return from London. If her disapproving words after the proposal fiasco could be described as a talk, then that was the last time we spoke. After that, we exchanged a few words during meals, and nothing else. It made no sense that she didn’t berate me for running away in London, or for not seeing her when she came over. But not a lot about my mother made sense currently.

For instance, though she was out of her self-imposed exile after Louis died, she still spent all her time working on ways to memorialize him. Her lead ideas were a garden, a statue, or a new charitable organization in his memory – at times, it was all of it at the same time. All of her patronages and work had since been relegated to her Secretary, Madaleign Qadir, and on occasion, my father and me.

That day, after Lourdes went to her room after our walk, I marched to my mother’s office.

Ms. Qadir herself opened the door; it appeared she was doing some work from a table, while my mother was going over old pictures of my brother brought over by the Royal Archive.

“Maman.” I greeted. “Can we speak privately?”

“If it’s fast.” She granted. “I must finish these boxes today, Marie-Margueritte. I still have a lot to go through.”

Madaleign gathered her things and excused herself with a curtsey.

“Lourdes-Abigail is home.” I told her.

“I know, Qadir was telling me.” She replied, not looking up from the pictures. “Two weeks according to your father. Should be good for her, she likes staying home from school.”

“Yes, remember how many times she asked to be homeschooled and you said no?”

“I do.” She nodded. “Which is why I know she’ll enjoy it.”

“You wanted her to have a normal, full education.” I reminded her. “This isn’t very normal.”

“Not a lot we do is normal.”

“Maman.” I pleaded. “I don’t think she’s doing well. She’s… apathetic. Tired all the time. She’s… avoiding talking about her feelings, giving up things she enjoyed doing… that’s not normal.”

“Her grades are fine. She’s healthy, normal… she’s doing good.” “She wants to give up ice skating for good.” I told her.

“Your sister is fine.” She said, turning a page on a leather-bound album. “She’s a big girl, we can’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

“Mom.” I said, forcefully. “Lourdes is hurting. She’s loved ice skating her whole life! This is – this is just her grief–”

“We’re all grieving, Maggie.” She sighed, removing her glasses to scratch her eyes. “We all have to do what we can right now, so if quitting will help your sister, then we have to support her.”

She closed the album after turning one last page, placing it inside a box, neatly. She got up, and moved to a shelf by the wall to find another photo album, which she brought back to the table, starting to flip it. She was finding the pictures of Louis; every time she found a new one, she admired it for a few seconds before making notes on a notebook.

‘She’s hurting too’, I reminded myself, trying to make conscientious choices to have compassion on her.

Instead, what I asked was, “Do you even want to help her?!”

She was quiet for long enough that I wondered if she had heard me. “…Of course I do. I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re doing what you can, and what you can do is shut yourself off and let us figure out our own problems.”

She looked at me, harshly. “You’re an adult, Margueritte. The attitude was cute as a child, but you’re just sounding petulant now.”

“I’m sorry, attitude?!”

“Yes, attitude. You don’t need me to hold your hand every hour of every day, I think you can take care of yourself.”

“Yes, I can!” I said, louder than I was able to control. “But Lourdes is a child! She’s not even fourteen, Maman! She needs you!”

“Your sister-” She returned, interrupting just as loudly, “is fine. Believe it or not, you are not needed to save the day, Margueritte.”

“Right. Because we’re all fine?!” I laughed, humorless. “Dad is shut off in his office, you’re shut off here, Lourdes is giving up the only thing she’s ever loved to do, and–” I felt more than heard my own voice break in a cry, “and my life is up in the air-”

“My son died!” She yelled, hands shaking, staring at the photos in front of her. “I’m sorry we’re not responding to it to your liking.”

She got up again, and walked over to a tea tray someone had left for her on a chest of drawers near the windows.

“You’re a big girl, Margueritte, you need to understand that there are mature ways to handle things you disagree with. You cannot confront everything you don’t like. Some things you can just accept.”

I laughed, sarcastic, “Are you serious?”

I felt… lonely. So desperately lonely as I realized our hearts were aching for the same reason, and yet she had no idea what I was feeling.

She poured herself tea and started to stir it. I marched to the tea tray just as she held up her own teacup, grabbed the tray and threw the whole thing out the window, watching the liquid, sugar and cream splash to the ground amid the broken china.

She was silent when I looked back, staring at me, wide eyes, mouth agape, and confused. I felt tears starting to pool in my eyes, but forced myself to stand firm.

“You are not the only one who lost him.” I said, on a low, slow, angry, trembling tone. “We’re hurting, too. And Lourdes, your daughter, is a child who needs you. You can’t do anything more for Louis, but you can help her. And every day that you shut yourself in your room, with pictures of him, instead of just asking how she’s feeling and how you can help, is another day she convinces herself you care more about Louis dead than about her alive.”

She walked over, slowly. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” I shrugged. “How could we know? You’re not saying any different.”

A tear strolled down her cheek as she screamed now. “I am in pain!”

“So am I!” I yelled back, “You don’t think I wanted to stay in bed all day and open the door to no one?! You don’t think I wanted to cry for a whole week? You think I wanted to decide what fucking flowers to decorate the church with? Or what songs we sang to say goodbye to him? You think I cared which fucking priest did the readings?!”

“Language, Marg-” She sobbed.

“I was devastated! I was crushed! I was heartbroken!” I yelled over her, trying to dry the tears as they fell from my eyes, “I wanted to shut myself away in my room instead of having to force a smile and mediate Aunt Marilou and Aunt Katherine, and tell the staff how many rooms to prepare for the guests! But someone had to make the decisions, and you were not there!”

I stepped away, breathing heavily. I dried my face, sobbing slightly, and looked down the window, where the mess was still on the ground. I ran a hand over my hair, shutting my eyes forcefully.

“...Did it hit someone?”

I sighed. “I don’t think so.”

We were silent. 

“Is this you or your British boyfriend speaking, Margueritte?” I scoffed, humorless. “Really?” “Because it sounds an awful lot like him.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I agree with him. He was right, you know?”

“You think he was right to speak to me like that?” “I was there, Maman. I heard how hard he tried to be polite to you.”

“Where is this coming from, Maggie?” She asked, whispery. “You’re not like this.”

I walked over to where she stood near the sofa.

“Like this what, Maman? Honest?”

“You’re my lovely girl.” She said, shaking her head. “You don’t… pick fights, try to hurt people-”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just didn’t realize you were still capable of feeling anything that was unrelated to Louis-”

“Maggie-” She sighed, drying her own tears. “This isn’t your brother’s fault.”

“I’m aware.” I replied, quickly. “It’s yours. And dad’s. You’re the parents! You were supposed to know you don’t have just one child to take care of!”

She sat down; not in her usual, stiff, shoulders back way. She looked… defeated. Tired. I felt the same way.

Before my brother died, my parents had always been so loving. My mother in particular had strived to give us a normal childhood, without the cold, traditional ways of the monarchy. In her house, we weren’t sent to eat in a separate room just because we hadn’t learnt table manners yet. We weren’t put to bed or bathed by nannies. She didn’t just take those tasks at hand, as she would had she married a normal man, she made my father do them, too. She might have married a future king, she said, but he married her, too. He married a normal woman and she couldn’t be the only one to adapt. 

My parents couldn’t do it every day, but they always tried to put us to bed, read us a story, kiss us goodnight. They kissed our wounds and hugged us in celebration when we won a game. A lot of my family thought badly of my mother for these commoner traits. But she stood her ground. The way she saw it, she had to teach us etiquette, but her most important job was to teach us love. 

Now I couldn’t remember the last time she hugged me. It was in the hospital, I thought. Before she started hiding away from everything and everyone -- including us.

She sighed, longingly. “I love you and your sister more than-”

“Then why aren’t you fighting for her?!” I screamed, crying again and angry at myself for it. “She is not okay! Did you even know that she was starving herself when Louis died?! Did you know she slept in his bed every night after he went to the hospital?!”

I looked at the coffee table now, just to avoid looking at her, and my eyes fell on a picture of myself sitting on an armchair, holding baby Louis in my arms.

“And me? Well.” I laughed again, sniffing. “Let’s see, did you hear I had to sit through a Council meeting just hours after he died? Dad’s new heir, so I had to just… sit there as if my heart wasn’t being ripped from my chest! Did dad tell you he sent me to my work so I could quit my job and everyone could know, just to distract the press from the Adrien-Faye fiasco?! Did my security tell you about the condescending looks and wishes of success I had to take from everyone?! Have you heard that the press has been writing a new article almost every day about how I am not good enough to be Queen?! Apparently I’m the talk of the country! Sources close to the Prime Minister say there is a high level of apprehension among elected officials about the new Crown Princess!”

She was looking at me, finally, but now I couldn’t look at her.

“Did you hear they rearranged my security team? They took Joyce, who had been working with me for years, and gave me two guys with the training necessary to protect a member of this family that actually matters now, apparently.”

“Maggie...” She sniffed.

“Did Papa show you the threats? Apparently we have always received them, but they have increased now. They have creepy pictures of me. The unlisted numbers from inside the palace. My routine down to the minutes and where I used to park my car! And now, apparently, I need security that is actually properly trained. Fuck Lourdes, though, I guess.” “Marie-Margueritte! I--”

“And as to me not picking fights, mom, I don’t know what to tell you.” I shrugged. “I spent my whole life doing exactly what you needed me to do. I spoke softly, I wore dresses, I smiled, I said no to almost every party I was invited to thinking it was too much of a risk. Can’t risk people finding out a member of the royal family is just a normal girl inside! I–” I stuttered, stifling a sob, “I kept every opinion to myself, I studied hard, I said no to jobs and trips, I never even took a selfie in my life, all because I kept telling myself that there would be time for that later! I could be young and fun later! Just be the good, well behaved girl now, so Louis can live his life, and as soon as he is back it’ll be my turn! I’ll be able to live my life, finally! And now he’s gone and the life I spent years planning, dreaming, has been taken from me, and I have never and will never do anything! Did you know that?!”

I couldn’t see her reaction; my vision was too fuzzy with the tears. There was a knot on my throat that made breathing too hard.

“So, yeah, I’m sorry for the terrible offense of… having an opinion, Mom, but I’ve been making sure I am not a problem all my life, because I figured you had enough on your plate, so I am sorry, but it is a little upsetting that you can’t pay attention to the one child you have left that still actually needs you– what, I–”

She walked over to me, and pulled me into a hug I fought. But even in my state, even as I yelled about doing what I was taught to do, I couldn’t push her away. Not just because if felt… indelicate, but because she hadn’t held me like this since we were standing around Louis’ bed in the hospital. I missed it.

“I’m sorry, my baby.” She whispered, holding me tightly as I let myself sob. “I’m so sorry.”

She pulled me in until we sat on the sofa, but her arms only tightened more around me. I laid in her lap as she caressed my hair, whispering calming words in french until my sobs slowed and my breathing started to even out.

“I’m so tired.” I confessed. “I know.” She replied. “Me too.”

I couldn’t tell how much time passed, but my cheeks had nearly dried when I took in a long breath.

“What are we going to do about Lourdes?” I asked.

“Sh, It’s okay, my love,” she whispered, caressing my hair, “we’ll figure it out. We’re taking care of you now.”

--- ---- ---

In March, Harry announced his Invictus Games. In March, my mother hugged me -- really hugged me -- for the first time in many months.

In April, I attended my first engagement as the Crown Princess of Savoy. It was a visit to the Claire Bauton Foundation Center in Neunant, where I publicly met with the staff and some former  survivors who had now become volunteers. I wore a purple dress and shoes, the color of the Foundation’s logo, and shook from head to toe from the moment we left the Palace to the moment we were back.

Somehow, after our dramatic moment, my mother had decided it was time to become overly invested in my life again. So, she gave me a lot of suggestions on what to wear, to which my only response was trying to go to the other end of the spectrum completely and end up looking bizarrely like a punk teen version of myself. 

“I want to try to work with a stylist.” I told my team -- at this point, just Auguste and Cadie. “I don’t know if starting to wear a lot of designer brands would be a positive change, ma’am.” Auguste said.

“Stylists work with the client’s taste, don’t just make them wear something they do not want.” Cadie interjected. “I think I need help figuring out what my taste is. I’m either too traditional, or too modern. I have no idea.” “I’ll make some calls.” Cadie promised.

The engagement went well, if their recollection of it was to be believed. I was so nervous throughout the whole thing I could barely remember most of it. I had once been good at it, but now it just felt like there was too much riding in the balance. Too many people were watching. Too many people were even there.

I remember arriving, almost twisting my foot getting out of the car, having to force myself to smile through the flashes of photographers standing by, and breathing a sigh of relief once inside. I remembered the itinerary more than the actual event, which is how I knew I must have received a tour of the center, before meeting former survivors who were current volunteers. I remembered vaguely sitting down with a woman who told me her story -- a story of physical violence slow but steady, with no one believing her and the eventual kidnapping of her children by her ex-husband. I remember having to dab my eyes more than once to keep the tears from falling, looking away from where I knew we were being watched by the accompanying press. I remember the visceral reaction from hearing from the on-call lawyers about the times they had to run to a hospital in the middle of the night to assist clients who were attacked after a judge denied them restraining orders.

I remember looking down, knowing the press couldn’t see me losing it so much in my first outing.

I spent at least half an hour before leaving shaking the hands of well-wishers who came by to watch me in and out of the center. It was both terrifying and heartwarming -- seeing the faces of people who, for reasons I couldn’t understand, seemed to believe in me.

“I’m so sorry about your brother.” A lot of them said. “You’re doing a really good job.”

It didn’t feel like it.

My father agreed that the numerous pictures of me tearing up were too dramatic. My mother still thought I should have dressed more elegantly. But the results spoke for themselves: in the press, there was a lot of positive commentary of my ‘connection with the public’, my ‘sensitivity towards the delicate issue’, and even my ‘bright, modern look’, a ‘departure from more modest, boring choices of the past’.

It only made my stomach turn more. It only made me want to text Harry more. But my father was so pleasantly surprised he started talking about announcing my confirmation ceremony.

“Do I need one?” I asked, struggling against a tug of anxiety in my stomach. “That’s for heirs at 21 years-old, isn’t it?” “You weren’t the heir at 21. But you still need a confirmation if you’re the heir now.” He replied. “We’ll do it when you come home from the Olympics.”

“That should give us enough time to plan it, sir.” Montennon agreed. “And do some research on public opinion.”

My father rose from his chair behind the desk and walked around it towards us. Wordlessly, Montennon got up from his chair and stood back. My father took his seat.

“What is it?” He asked me, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

I sighed, smoothing the fabric of my dress with my hands. “I don’t know.” “You looked wonderful, regardless of what your mother thinks, you connected with the people, you highlighted the work… you did a great job, Margueritte.” I smiled, sheepishly. “I… I guess.” “Do you miss the law?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not--” I sighed. “It just feels… wrong.” “Helping an organization that helps people?”

“No, just…” I whispered, fidgeting with my hands, trying to stop them from shaking. “Just all of it… Him not being here. Being praised for the work he should have done. It feels wrong.”

He looked down, at his hands. He fidgeted, too.

“It’s not your fault he isn’t here to do that work, Margueritte.”

“I know.” I nodded. “I think I know… I just… I hate the way they talk about it. The press, I mean… the critics sound like they just don’t think I’m cut out for this because I’m not Louis. The praise sounds as if they’re just glad I’m not Louis... It doesn’t feel like a win.”

My father rose from his chair, slightly, and dragged it forward, nearer to me. He held my hand. “Margueritte, you will make a lot of mistakes in the road ahead.” He started. “But this is not one of them. I know you were nervous, I know it was tough, but you went there, you stood tall, you listened… you did a good job. You did better than any of us thought you would, if I’m being honest.” “That doesn’t help.” He grinned. “You’ll be fine, chérie. I am so confident about it that I want to release the statement about the confirmation next week.” “Already?” “Yes.” He sighed, letting go of my hand to lean back in his chair. “And I think we can do better than that. The V. E. Day celebration in May. Montennon?” “Yes, sir?” “Let’s have the Crown Princess make a speech.” “Me?” He smiled. “Yes, Marie-Margueritte. You. You’re doing a good job. Just keep at it.”

Keep at it. I can do that, I thought. I can be a good Crown Princess. I can keep learning, researching, working hard to highlight the good work of the people of Savoy. I can continue to look good and connect with the people. I can make a speech on V. E. Day. about the importance of the world coming together, about how much stronger we are together. I can do that. It’s a military ceremony about World War II, reasonably one of the things most of the world agrees on is that winning World War II was a good thing. I can do it. What could go wrong?

For instance, what are the odds that of all his family members, the chosen representative the British Royal Family would send to the V. E. Day celebration on Savoy would be… the one my whole family wanted me to stay as far away from as possible?

--- ---- ---

Outfit!

[A/N: Hey, all! How have you been this week? I know what you’re thinking: Natalia, literally how dare you give us 2 chapters in a row without Harry?! I know, I know, I’m just as upset as you are! But here’s my excuse: this was all important stuff i had to get out of the way. NEXT WEEK: A HARRY FEST! I promise, there’ll be so much Harry! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I really appreciate it, and also if you could let me know your thoughts (suggestions? critics? all welcome!) it’d make me so happy! THANKS AND SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!]

[outlikethat]

scent: slumberhouse mond

so apparently the full bottles of this have already sold out twice on luckyscent. I barely managed to get my extortionately priced (with exchange and canadian shipping) tiny dabber sample. and am wearing it today. notes (as quoted from josh lobb’s somewhat florid original account, I believe) are an olfactory electuary properly anointed with honey, rubescent spices (whatever those might be), morello cherry and sapwood, quarender apple peel, accords of mavrodaphne and marchpane, chicory, pipe tobacco casing tincture (amaretto, plum, vanilla), balsam incarnadine, pillowy amber notes, sandalwood, raspberry, guaiacwood, foin coupe bordeaux accord (wat???), pumpkin and cream.

it’s nice enough, although “nice” is not really what I look for in my slumberhouse. I’ve seen comparisons to “yankee candle”, which honestly is fair. certainly one would expect more from something described as “an olfactory electuary”. what it mostly smells like (shoves nose into arm) (I’m also wearing it, but I’ve put some on the dear old left forearm for easy analysis) is sova, heavily diluted with cream, with the addition of just a touch of a kind of sweet heaviness I associate with baque. a honeyed kind of vanilla/pipe tobacco/balsam, mellow and slightly rounded. there’s maybe a kind of traditional german holiday spice cookie vibe? I’m not getting much, if any, of the alleged fruits (which is great, frankly, there are very few fruity perfumes I truly enjoy)

though I love baque and sova and have full bottles of both, I find them somewhat... situational fragrances; they absolutely cannot be worn in hot weather or if I think I’m going to sweat, because they get utterly oppressive, and even on a normal day, they’re constantly and gently insistent, and I never forget I’m wearing them. they’re dense and enfolding and sweet and warm all in themselves. and sova in particular has a powerful dark raw honey sharpness.

so on the face of it, a diluted, creamy sova with a little bump of baque doesn’t sound like a bad thing. in practice, though, it’s kind of whatever, and very holiday smells at the mall. it also doesn’t last very long. I cheated and wore it once before, and it was gone by noon, which... slumberhouse? rly? and I checked, and sniffed the clothes I wore in case I’d just gone noseblind, and no, it was just gone. (generally, if you wear a slumberhouse, you will wear it faintly again in those clothes until you wash them or have them cleaned, which is another thing I’m conscious of with regards to sova and baque and garments like blazers or coats.)

so in short, nice, and maybe a great slumberhouse for all the many people I’ve seen say, of other slumberhouses, “it’s probably great but what an OVERWHELMING BEAST I couldn’t POSSIBLY wear this in public this fragrance is really CHALLENGING,” which despite what I said above of sova and baque I have never really found myself.

it’s probably a good thing I’m not that crazy about it. honestly I didn’t love sadanne and hated zahd when I tried them, and didn’t even bother with new sibet, or sixes and sevens (and wasn’t paying enough attention to hear about fjerne when it happened). besides which the “surprise drops” and instant sellouts are tiresome hypebeast nonsense, AND the scents are about to be unaffordable as well as unobtainable; josh lobb is discontinuing the 30mL bottles in favour of only 50mL, which are going to sell for $260! (USD!).

ahahahahaha sour grapes much? I mean kinda I guess? it’s less about the unobtainium aspect and more about the style, though. you know when an author you loved and followed for years suddenly does an about-face and starts writing weird... christian fictional parables or something? that mid-period slumberhouse was and is so exactly what I love and adore, and I hoped josh would keep making more magnificent, magical things and I’d love each one. but his creative focus has shifted into things I’m honestly not that interested in or excited about.

but there really isn’t anyone else? my tastes are so specific, and in combination with all the various annoying allergies and sensitivities, my fragrance requirements are thereby so constrained, that everything else, even when it sounds like something I’d enjoy, is actually a crapshoot of “maybe? or maybe they’ll have used one of the things that makes my throat close and I’ll be tossing it and scrubbing nearby surfaces with alcohol”.

oh. but. remember “red grev”, which I mentioned a while ago? it was a hoax. josh made it up. got to admit that is pretty funny.

(image id: a screenshot of instagram desktop from the @slumberhouse account with a lot of fragrance ramblings in white text on a black background; pertinent excerpt: “Lastly, The whole “Red Grev” thing was a joke (the image was simply water + red dye). Some of you seemed suspicious and vaguely aware that it was a bit of misdirection, but I mostly just wanted to keep Mond a secret til the last second. So yes, for those waiting for a Red Grev, it doesn’t exist (be thankful, it probably would’ve singed nose hairs and caused instant brain freeze).”

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

M*A*S*H: The Characters, Part 2: Trapper McIntyre, Henry Blake, and Margaret Houlihan

Trapper (Wayne Rogers) was a similar type of character to Hawkeye: a trickster Deadpan Snarker who had had his fill of the war by the time the show started.  Originally beginning the show as Hawkeye’s equal, he unfortunately fell to the position of ‘sidekick’ more often than not, a natural side-effect of Alan Alda’s magnetic performance and Hawkeye’s overpowering personality.  But where Hawkeye was unattached and had more potential for sincerity, Trapper was married, (but still playing a Casanova) and tended to be more lighthearted.

Trapper started out as ‘The Lancer’, a supporting role that got plenty of screentime and action, and despite only being on the show for three seasons, a fair amount of character development.  While he was never as depressed a character as Hawkeye, Trapper did have his moments of darkness, such as being tempted to kill a North Korean POW(who had unintentionally cost the life of one of Trapper’s patients) or punching out Hawkeye in an attempt to rush home.  Episodes like “Kim” and “Check Up” do give Trapper a spot in the limelight, but in the end, over the grand scheme of the show, Trapper’s chief influence came after he’d left.

Between seasons three and four, Trapper acquired enough points to get sent home, which he did while Hawkeye was on R&R.  This event signaled the second gut punch of the show, as Trapper’s departure occurred directly after Colonel Henry Blake left the show the episode prior.  But while Blake had a send-off (a heartbreaking one that we’ll come back to in a minute), Trapper…didn’t.  He just left.  No note, no message, nothing but a peck on the cheek for Hawkeye, his best friend.

Unlike most sitcoms on at the time, where Trapper’s departure would have been largely overlooked for the rest of the show, the hole that Trapper left in the camp, and notably in Hawkeye, was felt for the remainder of the series.  He is often mentioned in episodes after he’s gone, and the impact of his exit (and the lack of goodbye) is felt even by characters who never met him, such as his replacement, B.J. (more on him later).  Trapper was an early staple, who, despite his short time with the series, made a difference, just like real people do, and in the end, he was one of the lucky ones: he got to go home.  Trapper returned to his wife and kids, and left Korea behind, and left the 4077th a little emptier as a result.

And he wasn’t the only one.

For the first three seasons, the 4077th was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake, (McLean Stevenson) hailing from Bloomington, Illinois.  Henry was a skilled, caring doctor…and a terrible colonel.

Very much ‘The Alleged Boss’, Henry freely admitted that he wasn’t an army man.  He was a surgeon, with a practice at home.  Extremely Mildly Military, (frequently out of uniform and sporting a fishing hat) Henry left the running of the camp to Radar O’Reilly, the company clerk, and tended to try as hard as he could to not make command decisions.

With that said, Henry was a very kind man, understandably frustrated with his situation and missing his own wife and family back in the states (though, like Trapper, he did cheat on his wife a few times during the course of the show, with little remorse.  He was a Father to His Men, (especially Radar), and despite his typically goofy, down-to-earth nature, he had his moments of wisdom.

Hawkeye: “I haven’t cried once since I came to this crummy place. Why am I crying for him? Why not any of these other kids?”

Henry: “If I had the answer to that, I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. Does this look like the Mayo Clinic to you? All I know is what they taught me in command school. There are certain rules about a war. Rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is doctors can’t change rule number one.”

He was well-liked among the camp (except by Frank Burns and Margaret Houlihan), and in the end, his departure was a celebrated event…at first.

We can’t discuss Henry Blake without talking about “Abysinnia, Henry”.

The season 3 finale, “Abysinnia Henry”, was television history, for one major reason (at first): Henry Blake was going home.

By season 3, M*A*S*H mattered to people.  It was doing well in the ratings, many people were watching it, so when season 3 rolled around and the news hit that Henry Blake was going to go home, many people were, just as they are in the episode, elated for him.  The episode is a funny, heartfelt goodbye to the commanding officer, complete with a touching goodbye from each character.  Henry gets on the chopper, takes off…and the war goes on.

Until the final scene.

Radar O’Reilly, company clerk and son-figure to Henry Blake, barges into surgery in a state of dazed distress, reading off a note:

“I have a message… Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake’s plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors.”

That was a gut punch, and audiences, as well as the characters, felt it keenly.

To quote the video essay: “Lightning in a Bottle – a M*A*S*H* Video Essay” by Ladyknightthebrave:

“Before this, characters did not die on half-hour situational comedies.  Not main characters anyway, and certainly not like this.  This moment changed television.”

It’s true.  In the 1970s, main characters did not die on sitcoms, and they certainly didn’t die on the way home from a war to be reunited with their families.  It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t right.  Henry was almost home…and in the end, it didn’t matter.

While we often point to the episode “Sometimes You Hear the Bullet” as the moment M*A*S*H’s Cerberus Syndrome kicked in, there is an undeniable level of gravity that entered the scene the moment the news of Henry’s death entered the world of the 4077th.  All of a sudden, M*A*S*H went from ‘zany military hospital sitcom’ to coming face-to-face with the horrible reality that not everyone gets to go home at the end.

And like with Trapper, Henry’s shadow hung over the rest of the show.  

“They’ll never stop coming, you know. Trapper left, and they’re still coming. Henry got killed, and they’re still coming. Wherever they come from, they’ll never run out.”

At the end of season three, M*A*S*H lost both of these major players, and the loss was keenly felt, by the characters as much as by the audience.  Again, in the early 1970s, sitcom characters didn’t just leave, much less die, especially like that.  But the show had to go on, much as the war would, and instead of leaving two gaping holes in the command structure, replacements were sent in for the missing crew:

“Trapper John goes. No problem, there’s plenty more where he came from.  B.J. Hunnicutt. Same size, same shape.  Frank Burns out, Winchester in. Only a hair’s difference.  Henry Blake… Rest in peace, Henry. Incoming, Sherman Potter.”

But we’ll get to that later.  You see, while these characters would fade out and bring replacements in their wake, other characters, besides Hawkeye, remained staples of the show from beginning to end.

Characters like Margaret Houlihan.

While Hawkeye, Trapper, and Henry got by through Mildly Military antics and a blatant disregard or incompetence when it came to the army way of doing things, Major Margaret Houlihan (Loretta Swit) was a born soldier and head-nurse.  A strict, by-the-book Battleaxe Nurse and an ex-Military Brat, Margaret Houlihan was the definitive Defrosting Ice Queen, matching Hawkeye, and even outpassing him in terms of character development.

Margaret started the show as a one-note, one-joke caricature, much like most characters did.  Originally wholly unlikeable and serving as an antagonist to the rest of the main cast, Margaret was a Gung Holier Than Thou exaggeration of a character…early on, anyway.  Beginning the show as an entirely unsympathetic person, partner to Frank Burns (romantically involved with him, despite the fact that he was a married man), Margaret’s early personality left few positives to be seen…at first, anyway.

“I don’t fall over, captain. Everything around here will be just fine if there’s a little less leaning and a lot more leadership. We need obedience. We need discipline, not this chaos. Doctors like you constantly out of uniform. Nurses who don’t belong in uniform. Dogs running around loose in camp…they’re getting run over by jeeps.”

While there were glimmers of character development early on, as seasons went by, slowly, Margaret started to change, for the better.

Starting in season 5, with her engagement to Lt. Col. Donald Penobscott and dumping of Major Frank Burns, Margaret began to lose a number of her sharp, hard edges, becoming a warmer person, proving herself Not So Above it All, with plenty of Pet the Dog moments becoming more and more prominent as the show continued.  Slowly, she began to demonstrate real humanity, and a desire to be accepted.

“Did you ever show me any kind of friendship? Ask my help with a personal problem? Include me in one of your little bull sessions? Can you imagine what it feels like to walk by this tent and hear you laughing and know I’m not welcome? Did you ever once ever offer me a lousy cup of coffee?”

Despite this growth coinciding with her marriage, things were to change yet again for Margaret in season seven.

After a tumultuous marriage to her high-ranking husband, (a type she has demonstrated an attraction to in the past) a frustrated, exhausted, and cheated-on Margaret makes the decision to divorce her husband, a decision that would stick through to the end of the show.  Margaret remained single to the end, growing out of her role as stickler and love-interest, and becoming a full-fledged, strong character in her own right, as a Vitriolic Best-Bud to Hawkeye and B.J., and a compassionate, kind, strong, woman who learns to define herself, not only by the army, but by her own terms as a person.

Easily one of the most dynamic characters of the show, arguably the most dynamic, Margaret managed to become one of the most human characters on the show, without becoming perfect.  Her edges were smoothed somewhat, but never taken away, and she ended the show a deeper, richer person than she had been at the start.

Which is more than we can say for Major Frank Burns.

(Join us next time for Part 3: Frank Burns, Radar O’Reilly, Maxwell Klinger, and more!)

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Seven

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual situations, violence, abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion  @sinningsixx  @edwardtriggerhandzz  @lemmyjelly  @haileynicoleseavey17  @cierrasixx19  @oskea93  @mgkobsessed  @vamprlestat  @sharon6713  @itsametaphorbriansblog  @miriampraez  @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx  @rebeccaphillips14  @nicholeh7  @fandomshit6000  @lilmou5ie  @tamedhearts  @divaanya  @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx  @ratedrkohardychick91  @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog  @thanks2pete  @abaldboi  @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium  @caos18blog  @ytwahsog  @shamlessobsession @scarecrowmax  @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471  @solohqrry  @loveofmyloif  @sparxx27  @kaitieskidmore1  @cruecifymesixx  @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor  @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter  @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg  @girlnight-terror  @mcnibberachi

@fancywasmyname1  @teller258316  @ggorehorror  @blowinmeupwithherlove  @xrosegoldwolfx  @mylifeisjustafeverdream  @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

"Vivian, c'mon." Fred pleads, as I grip the headboard of the hotel bed as he tugs at my ankles. 

"I'm not talking to that freaking reporter." I protest.

"Vivian."

"Rolling Stone can suck my clit." I argue back, trying to maintain my grip.

"Vivian, you are acting like a crazy person." 

"I'm pretty sane compared to the other motherfuckers." I wince, my joint in my ankle popping. 

"It's not gonna be that bad, Viv--"

"--He's gonna ask about Vanity."

"So, let him, you and Nikki already know how to handle the Vanity questions." He insists. "We spent an hour going over it yesterday." 

"Fred, I can't."

"Viv, babe, c'mon, now. Please." He begs again. "For me, please." 

I think about it for a moment, before letting go of the head board, gaining a relieved sigh from him. 

"Thank you." He tells me as I pull my heels on and smooth my hair over. 

The nightmare of that freaking Rolling Stone journalist following us around for days, picking and prodding, was everything everybody thought it would be. Possibly the deepest question he asked, about the actual craft of Mötley Crüe's talent, was, "so how is the amount of chicks you guys fuck incorporated into the songs?"

As if they would even answer that honestly being that three of them were married and one of the three had a toddler at home with his wife.

And I was particularly annoyed because me and Nikki had to act like the most in love people in the world to debunk the Vanity bullshit.

I hold my breath the second the question leaves his lips, but nobody can trip up on the inevitable topic that we knew would come up at some point. 

Nikki's clearing his throat to cover the pause after "so, obviously there's buzz going on about the bombshell Vanity dropped on the Arsenio Hall Show" leaves Cal, our reporter's, lips.

"That whole thing was just...bullshit." Nikki tells him, laughing it off, looking at me.

I laugh along, too, although we both know it's the farthest thing from funny. 

"I heard it was a 'misunderstanding' or something like that." Cal adds. 

"It's not really hard to have misunderstandings with her, honestly." Nikki admits, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 

"So, there was never an engagement?"

"I think she's let Hollywood get straight to her head." Nikki tells him. "I'm not trying to be an ass but that really put us," he motions between himself and I, "in a really fucked position for a couple days because obviously you hear one of your girlfriends say, you know, 'hey, I'm engaged to so-n-so', and you're married to 'so-n-so', and then have that added stigma about guys like your husband not being able to commit because all the girls around and everything…" He trails off. "And, look, I'm not upset that Vivian was thinking there could've been some truth to it, ya know? But even after Viv realized it was all shit, it was all out there and people were--and still probably are--thinking that it's true. So the media is constantly, wherever we go, asking about my 'alleged' engagement and if we're still even married or got divorced a while ago and so on. And I could give a fuck about public scrutiny, myself, because I knew what I was signing up for when I started a band. I took everything into consideration, but she didn't sign up for people calling her 'stupid' and looking at her to do something, when Vanity--who has no idea what the fuck she's saying or how heavy the allegations she's throwing around are--convinces people that she's engaged to me." Nikki goes on. 

"So, Vanity was lying?"

"Vanity was lying." Nikki shrugs. 

"You opened up a little bit earlier about your past struggles with heroin--you didn't accidentally propose to her when--"

"Write this down word for word, and put it as the fucking cover quote if you want to: I, Nikki Sixx, would have to be on a high dose of pure horse tranquilizer in order to be so fucked that I'd willingly propose, or agree to get married, to Vanity." Nikki says matter-of-fact. "And that's married or single." 

I felt horrible. I wasn't happy with Vanity, I was livid with her...but I knew what it felt like to feel crazy as a result of Nikki switching the story. The drugs were already taunting her sanity, and we just fucking added to it by saying something--that so obviously happened--never happened.

We were both so full of shit.

I let out a breath as I we get off the bus when we reach the venue, needing to get away from Cal and Nikki's lies for a couple minutes. 

I catch up to Mick and Emi, who're having a conversation, Emi's girlish giggling has me raising a brow, and I feel someone tap on my shoulder. 

Tansy. 

"Fuck off." I snap at her and she looks like she's going to cry. 

"Vi--"

"--You knew she was fucking him, and then protected them by keeping it from me. Fuck. Off." I clench through my teeth. 

This is enough to get her off my back as we head inside, as Emi let's out more laughter. 

Mick and Emi--who had a husband of 6 months back home--were growing closer and closer, oddly enough. I kind of knew something was up, but of course I never told anyone. I knew Nikki would give them hell for it, especially Mick, since he specifically told him, Tommy and Vince when they hired Donna and Emi, not to sleep with them/have a relationship with any of them because, "you don't shit in your own yard." 

So I kept my mouth shut, but Nikki and the guys eventually caught on to what was happening, anyway, and he and Tommy set loose a wrath on them any chance they felt like it.

I keep my expression neutral as the guys make their way by to go on once Doc tells them it's time. 

I avert my gaze from Nikki when he walks by,  being that Cal isn't even paying attention. 

But Nikki ensures the upkeep of our facade--his hand grasping my jaw, not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention, as he presses a solid, passionate, knee-weakening kiss on my lips. 

When he's pulling away, he looks like he wasn't quite expecting it to be that good, but he's brushing it off in no time, giving me a smirk and a wink before grabbing his bass from his tech and getting where he needs to be for set, leaving me stunned in my spot. 

Once I snap out of my little trance, I’m going to the bathroom to fix my smudged lipstick.

I let out a heavy breath as I look at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. “He cheated on you.” I tell myself. “He lied, he slept with one of your friends, and he cheated on  you.” I repeat, trying to hammer my level head back into place as opposed to letting it run wild with fantasies over stupid little kiss...which is easier said than done.

As I’m stepping out of the bathroom, I’m running smack-dab into Sparkie, and I roll my eyes at his mere presence.

“Sorry.” I mumble, stepping by him, only to hear him walking behind me. 

“So, I’ve been thinking…” He starts and I exhale deeply, ignoring him, until he’s grabbing at my wrist, stopping me. “...I was gonna offer you a belated anniversary present but I guess you aren’t interested.” He states, dead, sunken in eyes cutting at me. 

“I’m not interested. Fuck off.” I hiss.

“You weren’t whistling that note last night.” He echoes and I snap around, shushing him so the people around us won’t hear what else he’s about to say. He just gets this smug smile on his face.

“Oh, right, I forgot people would flip their shit if they knew Saint Vivian was interested in scoring.” He slyly smiles, his decaying teeth making me grimace. How the hell does Tansy kiss him?

“I wasn’t interested in scoring--”

“--Why the hell else would you show up to my room at three in the morning, Viv?” He cuts me short, and I let out a breath. “Unless you wanted to fuck or something…”

“You really are on drugs, huh?” I sarcastically shoot back in reference to him being so insane to think I would actually want to sleep with him. 

“I’ve seen pictures of some cute little tricks you can do.” He says again, his fingers grazing at my cheek.

“Want me to go tell Nikki that?” I ask him--knowing I honestly should because Nikki would probably kill him if Tommy, Vince, or Fred, didn’t beat him to it--and he smiles.

“Sure, why not. It’ll be the perfect conversation starter as to why his precious, purely clean wife was in my hotel room after everybody was passed out.” He whispers, his atrocious breath is purely smoke and alcohol, before he’s rubbing his hand down my stomach, nearly getting between my legs before I force him away from me, controlling my urge to hit him as I turn and walk away. 

There was no way to explain why I went to Sparkie in the middle of the night, without it sounding like I was up to no good--not just because Sparkie is the physical embodiment of “no good”, but because I actually was up to no good.

I wipe more of my tears, dotting cold water from the bathroom sink under my eyes to try to calm the puffiness before grabbing some toilet paper and blowing my nose. 

I can’t fucking sleep, once again.

I dig in my toiletry bag to see if I packed any benadryl to help me sleep...but all I see is my bottle of Nardil.

I roll my jaw and feel frustration fill me before I’m unscrewing the cap and throw the bottle at the mirror, the pills strewing all over the bathroom counter. My hand is swiping against the cold counter, knocking a majority of the pills into the toilet before I’m flushing them.

They’re just a fucking waste of money. I’m realizing now they quit working a while ago, I was just so bombarded with loving Nikki in our perfect little bubble, but now it’s been popped, and I’m crashing down from my codependent high--that was disguised as genuine happiness and the lie that my antidepressant was working--is now gone.

A deep breath leaves my lips and I wipe my tears, again, deciding to just get something to put me to sleep. 

One fucking ambien or quaalude won’t kill me. 

The last place I want to be is pacing in front of Sparkie and Tansy’s room door but here the hell I am. 

I knock on the door, quietly, hoping he isn’t completely smacked out or he won’t come answer.

When the door swings open, he’s in tattered underwear, his bloodshot eyes looking at me, confused.

The bitter smell of burning heroin and coke flows past him into the hallway, cutting at my nose, and I grimace.

“I can’t sleep.” I tell him, quietly. 

“And?”

“I need something to help me sleep.” I explain.

My skin crawls when his eyes snake up my bare legs, his tongue running on the inside of his lips.

“I might have something for you.” He grins. “What’re you willing to give for it, though?”

I’m repulsed by him, but I don’t show my disgust.

“Nikki’s got plenty of money.” I state. “I can pay you back later.” He thinks a moment, before smirking. 

“The satisfaction of giving you your first ‘big girl’ drug is enough.” He says, stepping aside, and I cross my arms and step into the room, seeing Tansy knocked out cold on the bed, her naked body looking like a skeleton.

He’s plopping his suitcase on the bed, opening it, and I feel a sick feeling in my stomach at the sight of insane amounts--in bulk--in coke, heroin--at least two different kinds, judging by what I've seen Nikki with the past few years--and a copious amount of pills. 

I'm eyeing the pills, but when he reaches for a lump of tar, and looks at me deviously, I have to hold back vomit. 

"If you want to hold up the Sixx reputation, I highly recommend this." He says as if it's a fucking joke my husband is strung out. 

My eyes dart from the heroin, to the needles in a ziplock stored in the zipper compartment of the luggage. 

"I just need a pill to help me sleep." I tell him and he holds back laughter before holding his hand up as if telling me to hold on for a second as he goes to Tansy's purse. 

I hear him open a bottle and the rustling of pills, before he's bringing me back a pill and handing it to me.

Seeing it in the light, I realize it's a tylenol. 

"Come back when you're actually fun enough to maybe keep Nikki's eyes from straying." He mocks me and I roll my jaw before throwing the pill across the room and storming out. 

I didn't get any sleep that night.

I shake away at the memory, a single, stray tear rolling down my cheek before I'm quickly swiping it away as "Dancing on Glass" booms from the stage. 

I was so fucking sad. I wish there was a way to describe it that didn't sound so mundane...but that's what it was. Just fucking sadness being suppressed constantly with makeup and a decent smile, knowing I wasn't good enough. I felt like I was living with my mom all over again.

After the show's over, we head back to the hotel with Cal in tow, shooting off questions left and right that have nothing to do with the show itself.

"I gotta go to the bathroom." Nikki mumbles, standing up and I know he's just going to get away from Cal, and decide I'd rather be trapped in a small bathroom with Nikki, than hear another question along the lines of "so what drug is your favorite?" 

As Nikki's shutting the door, I'm getting my foot in, stopping him and he looks at me confused, before reluctantly letting me in. 

We wait in awkward silence before I'm pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Don't kiss me like that again." I tell him, sternly but politely, looking up at him and he pretends to be infatuated with the sink's water knobs. "Nikki."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Oh, right. We hate each other, how stupid of me to forget that." He hisses. 

"I don't hate you." I quietly say, and he lets out a breath. 

"Not yet, at least." He scoffs. 

"Nikki, you fucked up, that doesn't mean I hate you."

"But you're still filing for divorce the second Doc gives you the greenlight, right?" I don't say anything. "That's what I thought." 

He slips past me and leaves me to myself, causing me to close my eyes for a moment, and glance in the mirror before joining everybody else. 

He was right. I didn't hate him, yet.

The next day the guys are due to take the cover photo for their Rollingstone issue with Cal continuing to breathe down everybody's necks. 

"Are you not worried about stomach ulcers?" Cal asks me as I take a sip of Pepsi as we wait for the guys to get dressed for the shoot, and I raise my brows at him. "You have at least three of those a day and it's unhealthy, isn't it?" He adds, trying to sugarcoat it with laughter.

"I drink more water than I do soda...would you rather me be snorting rails of coke or smoking crack or shooting heroin?" I bite and his face falls. "If I want to drink three Pepsi's a day--if I wanna drink 300 Pepsi's a day--I will." Apparently I'm raising my voice, because Doc and Fred are turning their heads in my direction and I can see them slowly making their way to me. 

"Umm…" Cal says nervously as I show no sign of easing up on him. 

"I've earned the right to drink as much fucking Pepsi I want, Cal, sorry it's not as aesthetically pleasing as Jack or vodka, or chain smoking Marlboros, or isn't as romantically tragedized as junk--"

"--Vivian." Doc starts as I continue.

"But I like it, it's not the worst thing I could possibly drink on a daily basis, and if I want to fucking drink it, I will!" 

He looks like a scared weasel, backed into a corner, his eyes wide as he leans away from me slightly. 

I didn't realize how close to him I am right now, I'm practically in his face, bitching him out over a fucking Pepsi. 

"Vivian!" Doc's barking at me.

I'm backing off, with the help of Fred pulling me away from him.

I'm surprised Cal isn't pissing his pants currently, the look on his face says he's heavily considering it. 

"Get him the fuck out of here." I tell Doc, motioning to Cal. 

"Vivia--"

"--No, who the fuck does he think he is?" I argue with Fred when he tries to calm me down.

"What's going on?" Nikki and Tommy ask, coming over here.

"Nothing's going on, alright? Vivian's just--"

"--Vivian's just what?" I snap at Doc. 

"I'm so sorry, she gets neurotic." Doc ignores me as he tries to reassure Cal and I'm slinging my soda out of the bottle, onto him and Cal, as I yell, "oh, I'm fucking neurotic?!" 

"Viv!" Doc scolds me as I throw the bottle down and it breaks. 

"Viv," Tommy starts and I snap around to him. 

"Fucking say it, Tommy. I dare you." I grit out, the look in my eyes telling him, "say anything else, and I'll tell everything about Vanity and Nikki." 

"It was a misunderstanding, alright?" I hear Cal explain to Doc.

"No, no." Fred sighs as he's keeping me from hitting Cal, pulling me away as Cal flinches to get as far from me as possible, looking at me like I'm crazy. 

"Don't leave this out of your fucking article! It might just save the entire damn thing since your fucking journalism sucks more ball-pubes than your wife while you've been out here with your nose up our fucking asses!" I throw at him, and Doc closes his eyes and gives out a deep, disappointed sigh, while Fred's tugging me to the bathroom with Nikki on his heels. 

The second the door is closed, Nikki's snatching me away from Fred, his hand wrapping around my throat--not enough to hurt, but enough to catch my attention--and he pushes me against the wall roughly, seering down at me.

"The fuck is your problem?!" He demands.

"Hey, cut it out!" Fred cuts in, separating us, glaring at Nikki. "Don't fucking grab at her like that, I don't care how fucking pissed you are, Sixx, you got it?" He points at him. "And you," he looks at me now, "I don't know what the fucking hell you are tripping on, or if you're on the rag, or what the hell kind of demon possessed you recently but you're being fucking ridiculous." He snaps at me. 

My eyes are honing in on the rosary around Nikki's neck and I cut my eyes. 

"Is that one of mine?" I ask him and he looks down at it. 

"Maybe."

"For someone who hates God you really don't mind representing him."

"It's called a mockery, Vivian, get over yourself." 

"Give it back." I hold my hand out.

"Fuck off." He replies, going for the bathroom door. 

"I said, 'give it back!'" I scream.

"And I said, 'fuck off!'" He yells back. 

"It's a fucking string of beads with a fucking cross on it!" Fred outbursts louder than either of us and we look at him. "You have like four, Viv, what the fuck does it matter? He's always worn them." He points out next and I huff out a breath. 

I didn't mind when Nikki wore rosaries or crucifixes, I knew he was kind of mocking when he wore them, for the irony of a "devil worshiper" wearing one, but even when we got bad off I didn't mind...in fact as he got worse with his addiction, I hoped the spirituality that they represented would rub off on him and snap him out of his addiction. 

It was stupid and I know better now, but Charlette Kinston was my mother. I did have a small speck of her in me, even when I tried not to.

Later that night--more like the middle of the night--I'm still unable to sleep and end up tossing and turning for hours before getting a bath, hoping the warm water will relax me and calm my racing mind. 

Once I get out and get back into bed, I furrow my brows at the sound of something weird in my room, and I quickly realize what it is. 

The unsettling sound of the door knob twisting and turning throughout the dark hotel room, catches my attention and makes my spine prickle. 

I eye the walkie-talkie on my nightstand, and reach my hand out, turning it on. “2.” I say lowly.

“What, 6 and a half?” Fred’s exhausted voice replies.

“20.” I say, which is code for "where are you?"

“101." He grumbles back, "101" meaning the hotel. "In bed. Like you should be.” He says.

“There’s someone at my door.” I reply.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know what’s why I’m calling you.” 

“You want me to get outta bed just to come see who’s at your door, when you haven’t even checked?”

“...Good point.”

“Just look and see, and then let me know if I need to come, alright?”

“Got it.”

I get out of bed, hearing the door knob still rustling, and I tiptoe to the door, peeping out the peephole, to see Nikki, drunkenly fumbling with his room key, trying to put it in my door.

“It’s nobody, they’re gone. Goodnight.” I say to Fred.

“G’night, Vivian. Get some fucking sleep, you need it.” He adds and I roll my eyes.

“I would if I could.” I mumble, swinging the door open to face Nikki. He doesn’t say anything to me before stepping in, his bottle of wine sloshing onto the carpet.

“This key doesn’t fucking work.” He says, tossing it across the room. 

“Because it’s my room, not yours. Your key works for your room only...across the hall...where you should be.” I cross my arms as he takes another swig of his drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when some of it trails down his chin. 

“Are you strung out?” I blurt, wanting to know whether I should be ready to fight with Sikki or not.

“No, and I haven’t fucking shot up in a long time.” He points his finger in my face. “Just been chasing the Dragon.”

“I can tell.” I state.

“I’m not high, smartass. I came down an hour ago.” He sits the wine down on my nightstand and I raise my brows. 

There’s a silent pause and I wait awkwardly for him to explain why he’s here, but as soon as I open my mouth to ask him, he’s saying, “you wanna go swimming?” I furrow my brows, confused.

“W-What?” I ask.

“You wanna go swimming?” He repeats, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like hangout or something.”

“Nikki, we’re separated. We don’t ‘hangout or something’ anymore.”

“No, but I’m not thinking straight due to the wine and heroin smoke, and you’re not thinking clearly because you can’t fucking sleep, so let’s just not think straight together--bonding experience--and pretend we’re at least friends.” He vouches, and I raise my brows, thinking about it. 

“The pool’s closed. It’s nearly 4:00am.” I tell him and he scoffs.

“We’re Sixxes, Viv, we can do whatever the hell we want.” He says it as if it’s common sense. “And it’d be nice to practice being around each other without screaming each other’s heads off.”

I give it one last thought, before letting out a sigh.

“Fine.” I relent. 

I was worried his sick plan was to drown me, and finally kill me, but soon after we put swimsuits on, and broke into the pool’s patio, I realized he was genuine about just wanting to “hangout or something” and it made me feel a little better that he missed me as much as I was missing him, even if he played it off smoother than I did at times.

“Is it cold?” I ask him as he wades through the shallow end seamlessly.

“No.” He tells me.

“Are you sure?” I question and he looks at me as I dip my toe in. “Nikki, it’s cold.” “Quit being a pussy and get in the water.” He says. “It’s not that bad, Viv.”

I dip my foot in, up to my ankle, and wrinkle my nose.

“Vivian Estine Sixx, get in the water.” He tries to hold back a laugh, keeping his stern facade. 

“It’s not cold to you because you have more body heat.” I cross my arms. 

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m saying you’re thicker than me.” I correct him.

“You can always take your bikini off to get used to the water quicker.” He says and I raise my brows.

“That makes no sense.” I argue.

“No, but it’d sure make me happy.” He grins and I splash him with water. 

I quickly regret it as he’s getting out of the pool, about to come after me. 

“Nikki, stop!” I whisper yell and he catches up and wraps his arms around me before hurling the both of us into the deep end. 

My body is shocked with the cold water, and the second I get my head above water, I’m gasping and shivering.

The second his head pops up beside me, I’m hitting at him.

“Jackass!” I scold him, and he laughs, brushing his wet hair out of his face. “It’s not funny.” I snap, swimming to the shallow and he follows me, still laughing.

“It’s so fun to piss you off.” He chuckles, running his hand over his face to get the drops of water from his eyelashes and I raise my hand to smack at him again but he raises his brows at me. “Fuck it off, Sixx.” He stops me before I even start.

“You started it, Sixx.” I reply, mimicking his voice. 

“What's new…" He says with a small smirk, thinking about something before the corners of his mouth fall slowly. "...I've done a lot of shit." He starts and I look at him. "Shit I'm not proud of. I don't fucking know when to just do something a little bit. I can't have a bump, I've gotta go through an eight ball as fast as possible. I can't have a drink, I gotta drink the place dry. I can't have a serious girlfriend, I've gotta marry her." He says, and I glance at him and he shakes his head. "I can't just have a one-night stand, I gotta have a fucking affair." He finishes and I lick my lips, keeping my tears back. "This might be fucked up, but I've realized I don't feel like I shouldn't have had anything with her." He says in reference to Vanity and I furrow my brows. "I just feel like we shouldn't have gotten married to begin with."

It hurts like a bitch, but I know it's the truth, because I feel the same way. 

"Me too." I admit and he finally looks at me. 

"I wouldn't change it, though. I wouldn't go back and change it." He clarifies and I smile softly, my tears unable to keep at bay. 

"I wouldn't either." I assure him. 

He stares at me for a moment, looking from my eyes to my lips, standing up straight, before leaning down. 

It's a sweet, simple kiss, that only lasts a moment. 

It took me back to our first kiss. It was odd, because when we first kissed we couldn't stand each other very much, like we couldn't at that moment in our marriage, either. I don't know if that nostalgic feeling crossed the wires in our brains to convince us to chase one last high together, but one thing led to another and got out of hand like it always tended to do with anything a Sixx did.

I grin in the mirror at him as he mercilessly pounds into me to the hilt with each thrust, my right knee hiked up on the bathroom counter, my left foot standing on tip-toes as his right hand is around my throat, his left hand holding at my waist.

My original intent was to get a shower and leave the kiss at the pool, like it was: just a kiss. 

But when we came back to his room where I had left my room key when I went with him so he could get his swimsuit on, and now I'm bent over his sink, tears in my eyes from the pleasuring pressure building up in me, the feeling of my wetness running down my legs at Nikki's doing, is something I've missed.

"Do you really fuck yourself or did you tell me that to piss me off?" He asks me, his dark eyes staring at me, causing me to clench down tighter onto him. 

"I really do." I reply as he holds himself against my cervix, causing me to grab at the counter as the delicious pain causes a high pitched groan to leave my throat. 

"Do you pretend I'm fucking you?" He questions next, deliberately slowing his pace, the friction of his skin inside my slick pussy satiating the hunger I've been feeling the past several days.

"Yes." I whimper out, my eyes rolling back for a moment. 

"Who do you imagine playing with your pretty," his left hand snakes between my legs, calloused, rough, fingers rubbing at my slick flesh, and I back back into him, biting my lip, humming, "perfect clit?" He asks me and I let out a ragged breath. 

"You." I confess, my knuckles turning white with how tightly I'm gripping the side of the counter. 

"Whose cock do you imagine stretching your tight, hot, wet pussy out?" He asks next, and I'm almost considering trying to get away from him because I don't think I can handle this much ecstasy at one time.

"You." I say again, his hand holding my throat harder in his grip, making my breathing a little shallower, but it only makes me more turned on, another wave of my juices coating his length as he starts picking his pace back up, making me cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming. 

"Whose name do you scream out in your pillow when you come?" He asks finally, a couple more stray tears rolling down my cheeks as my body is overcome with my orgasm, his hand taking my hand from my mouth as I moan out, loudly, "Nikki", causing him to smile proudly at me in the mirror.

Within a couple more minutes he's finishing in me, and stumbling back a little, a dopey, satisfied smile on his face, while we both come down from our sexbuzz and catch our breath, before going another round.

Nikki's said before, "you know you're addicted when you start lying to yourself about how you're not addicted."

I couldn't agree more.

But the real kicker is waking up to your husband the next morning after having sex, and the both of you pretend like you're strangers, not exchanging a single word before you grab your shit and get the hell out of their as fast as possible before anyone else realizes what happened. 

For the first time in his career, Nikki Sixx treated me like a groupie. 

And you know what? 

It was better that way, because it left no room for, "Oh, well, we had sex which means we made up so we're good now." 

We woke up, didn't look each other in the eye, I got off the floor, put my swimsuit back on so I wouldn't be naked, grabbed my key, and left without a word or a second glance.

There was nothing more to say. 

We'd said "goodbye" to our relationship, the same way we had said "hello" to it in 1981: with sex that meant nothing, but meant everything, all at once.

We're back in L.A. a couple days later, and apparently Karen got some help cleaning mine and Nikki's room up where I completely trashed it, because when we get in the house, all of our photos are back up, his awards are nice and neat on the wall, and our room looks untouched. 

The only give away that something happened is the broken mirror on the ceilings, but he doesn't seem to pay them any mind.

I guess he knew I would inevitably break something. 

I keep my lips sealed tightly together as I hear our bedroom door open, initiating Nikki to walk by with a slight, hungover, stumble, as he makes his way to the kitchen, not saying a word to me, not that I expect him to. 

He's coming into the living room a moment later, my bag of gummy worms I bought yesterday, in hand, and I roll my jaw, not wanting to start a fight over fucking candy…

...But go big, or go the fuck home, right?

"Those are mine." I tell him, pretending to be reading the newspaper I was reading earlier, and he looks me directly in the eye, opening the bag, taking one out, and eating it. 

"My money, my groceries." He states, chewing it, and I exhale.

"I'm gonna go take a walk." Karen comments, sighing as she gets up and walks to the back yard, knowing this is going to get ugly. 

"You're right. It is your money." I tell him, not arguing the valid point. "And if you keep splurging on heroin, you won't have any of it left." I add and he death glares me. 

"I'm not on fucking smack." He argues sternly. 

"You only eat sweets when you're trying to cut back smack." I say and he looks away from me. "At least you're trying to cut it, though." I mumble. 

The bag of candy is suddenly colliding with my leg as he throws it at my lap, spitefully, standing up. 

"Nikki, you can hav--"

"--It's yours. You have it." He hisses, going back to our bedroom, slamming the door loud enough to sound almost like a gunshot, causing me to jump in my seat. 

Nikki: 1, Viv: 1

I decide to shower later on, opting for the guest bathroom to avoid having to see Nikki by walking through our bedroom to get to our bathroom. 

I'm only under the running water before I hear the locked door knob twist, before loud banging on the door. 

"Vivian!" He screams on the other side.

"Yes, dear?!" I call back, annoyed. 

"What the fuck happened to my fucking cars and bikes?!" 

I raise my brows, actually forgetting what I did to his precious vehicles until now. 

"Open the fucking door!" He demands and I roll my eyes. 

"Don't you have better things to do?! Like cleaning the fermented wine--that's been rotting in the hot heat of our garage--from the interior of your cars?!" 

I hear the door knob move some more, and I peek out the curtain to see the knob twist completely, the door opening, and I see the little key in his hand.

We both stare at each other for one good second before I'm screaming as he comes for me, but I'm ducking under his arm and trying not to trip and fall on my wet feet as I scurry out of the room. 

"I'm gonna kill you, Sixx!" He threatens and I panic a little.

"What the hell is going on?!" Karen asks us, keeping Nikki back when she steps out of the kitchen to stop him from chasing after me any further. 

"She completely vandalized my fucking cars and my bikes!" He points at me. 

"I didn't touch the Jeep." I argue and he nearly shoves Karen out of the way but she holds her ground.

"I'm about to call Doc if you two don't calm down." She threatens.

"I'm calling the cops and having her ass locked up." Nikki states. 

"Do it." I boldly snap. 

"No, no, no one's calling the cops." She says, letting out a breath. 

"Do you wanna go see what the fuck she did to my fucking stuff?!" He raises his voice at her, motioning in the direction of the garage. 

"Have you stopped to think that's a result of what you've done to her?" Karen questions him and he rolls his jaw. "I know you're not used to having repercussions and consequences to your actions, but it's a simple theory called 'cause and effect'." She states and he cuts his eyes at her, probably thinking she's full of shit. "The 'scorned wife effect.' You cheat, she destroys your belongings." She finishes, giving him a quick, sarcastic smile, before stepping out of his way. "If I hear either one of you screaming, again, I'm calling Doc."

He pushes past me, and I go back to my shower. 

When I get out, Nikki's nowhere to be seen and the Jeep is gone so I assume he got out of the house for a few minutes, and when I leave our room, going to the living room, I stop in my tracks. 

I see her from the corner of my eye, in the foyer, staring at me, and I turn to fully look at her.

She looks like she's been on a binge the past few days, her brown eyes wild and body slightly jittery, her hands gripping tightly to the sneakers I let her borrow a few months ago. 

All I could do was stare at her, just knowing Nikki was going to have to come home and clean up the mess that he made.

“Vanity.” I acknowledge her, but not for long before I’m walking into the kitchen, hearing an oncoming storm approach as thunder rattles in the distance. 

I grab a Pepsi from the fridge, hearing her slowly creep into the kitchen with me, and my eyes slowly find the knife block only an arms length away from me on the kitchen counter.

Sober Vanity wouldn’t think of hurting a fly. Coked out, crazy, reckless Vanity on the other hand…

“Do you have anything to say to me?” She asks me, shakily.

“Was it good, at least?” I reply, leaning against the counter, staring at her. “When you fucked my husband...knowing he was married...was it good?”

Apparently I’m striking a chord, because she’s got angry tears coming to her eyes, her jaw clenching.

“For someone who’s all about Jesus--”

“--He came to me.” She states, shakily, and I keep my face neutral, although I feel my heart tighten in my chest. “During your time apart last year, he saw me in a Vanity 6 video, and within two hours, I was getting a call from my manager telling me Nikki Sixx wanted a date night.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better about it?” I ask, raising my brows. “‘He came to me, I didn’t go to him’? Because at the end of the day, he’s married, and you knew he was married, and instead of turning him away, you welcomed him with open arms.” I point out. 

“Have you ever thought perhaps I’m your punishment for not appreciating him?” She asks me, a tear breaking past her lashes.

“Excuse me?”

“God punishes his children when they’re not obedient. You made a promise to God to be the best wife to Nikki you could be, and you broke that promise more than enough times.” She adds.

“So you’re saying God used you--having an affair with my husband--to punish me?” I ask her to clarify. She stays silent, looking at me with pure hatred, and I nod a little, calmly.

My glass bottle is hitting her square in the chest before I can even stop myself, a look of utter shock on her face as Pepsi splashes all over her, her hand holding at the inevitable severely bruised skin bound to form from where it made impact.

Technically, since she wanted to get biblical, I was supposed to stone her to death. Being I didn’t have any rocks, and God frowns upon such things, I opted for a one-time thing that still hurt her but not enough to kill her.

I guess Karen heard the Pepsi bottle shatter on the floor, because she's coming in, with a concerned look on her face...before her skin goes sheet white upon seeing Vanity. 

"W-What's going on?" She asks me.

"Vanity was just leaving." I state, rolling my jaw and Vanity looks at me like she's ready to attack.

"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to him." She hisses. 

I hear the front door open, and I smile at her. 

"Now's your chance." I smugly say, stepping past her, my shoes crackling on the glass as I take my sneakers from her hands, going to our room to put them up, saying, "I suggest you go to your room to avoid getting caught in the crossfire", to Karen as I pass by her. 

When I get in our room, that's when shit hits the fan. 

"You'd have to be on horse tranquilizer before marrying me?!" I hear her scream. "Huh?! You break up with me over the phone and then act like I'm crazy and embarrass me?!"

"You are crazy!" Nikki screams back. 

I hear her shriek, before the sound of skin violently smacking against skin, as Vanity barks out, "if you hate me, hit me! If you just fucking hate me so much!" 

I run in to see her hitting at Nikki while he tries to keep his patience.

"Vanity!" I scold, trying to pull her off of him. 

Her left hand is suddenly coming back in a fist, hitting me square in the eye. 

This does it. 

She's knocked to the floor, and her nose is bleeding, Nikki's fist is clenched and smattered with Vanity's blood, and his eyes have a look in them I haven't seen before. 

Vanity's now screaming and crying, kicking and clawing at him as he tries to grab her wrist to pull her up, so he instead grabs her hair and drags her out of the house.

"Nikki!" I protest, catching up to him when he's already got her down our front steps. 

He let's her go and glares at me, before he stomps back in, slamming the door, locking us both outside. 

Vanity's crying, a stream of blood running down her face, my own nose spilling red, but I can't help but crouch beside her and wipe the blood from her face and angle her head back as she sobs. 

"Just pinch your nose." I mumble, taking her hand, that's raw from slapping Nikki, and pinching it at her nose. 

I had never seen Nikki that angry. He later described his altercation with Vanity, as "hitting her like a man." 

I'm not sure if he actually hit her just because she attacked him, because I attacked him multiple times, and he never hit me--the most he did was push me, or grab my wrists or my throat, and even that wasn't enough to really hurt me, just enough to get my attention. 

I think everything was put into that single episode. 

Every time she made his life harder from the moment she stepped in to it, and even his own self-hate for letting things get the way they did between them, all the anger he had felt for himself and her were packed into that single punch. 

And none of it should have ever fucking happened.