#yeah whoever made that needs to go to jail asap

[lume-nosity]

who made this needa go to jail😭

Bbl minnie

…

..what is that?

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Forty-Six

Wattpad

Words: 2.6k

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

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

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

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

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

"Misunderstanding?"

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

"Who exactly handed him his ass, Vivian?"

"...A red head..."

"Vivian Sixx--"

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

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

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

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

"What did he say?" Duff asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

I don't have time to question him anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sought her out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was the one thing I had over her.

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

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

His sarcasm had me laughing and wiping my tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I decide to change the subject.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They wait for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

I miss life before the access to excess.

I miss Nikki.

Not "Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe."

Just Nikki.

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

"Viv?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Family Remains- Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,067

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Looking at the children in front of you, you took a deep breath and enjoyed the peaceful afternoon. Families walked by you as they minded their own business, dogs barked happily as they played on the grass, the sun shone brightly in the sky. It was the perfect day to be outside which is why you were sitting on the marble bench of a fountain. The wind made the light mist hit your body which cooled you down. Nothing could ruin this moment.

“You’re getting stronger,” a woman said from next to you. Looking over, you saw Amara watching the kids.

“Leave me alone,” you sighed.

“I can’t. You’re my only vessel in the world. I need to know how you’re doing.”

“How can you have more than one vessel?”

“I didn’t say anything about that,” she chuckled.

“My mom said she was having dreams about you, nightmares. Was she your vessel too?”

“And her mom, and hers, and all their mothers before them,” she nodded in confirmation.

“How?”

“I needed a vessel for when I get out. I happen to choose your bloodline from the very start. I turned average witches into the best ones. Your magic will help me achieve what I want most.”

“And what is that?” you asked as she stared at you. She shook her head, and you knew you weren’t going to get an answer from her.

“I need you to ignore what the Angels are saying about me. Forget what you think you know,” she said just as she misted away.

Opening your eyes, your body still felt a little sore from the hunt you just got off of about two hours ago. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get Amara out of your head. The number of dreams you’ve had of her was too many to count. Wherever she was, she was trying to get inside of your head which wasn’t going to happen. The only reason you haven’t told Sam and Dean about this because you didn’t want them to worry about you.

Looking at the brothers, you saw Sam resting his head against the window pane while Dean was reading some papers, no doubt, about a case.

“What are you doing, Dean?” you asked with a sigh. At the sound of your voice, Sam woke up before checking the time on his watch.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked. Sam looked at you before shifting his gaze to his brother.

“Like you’re looking for a job,” he answered for you.

“Yahtzee.” Groaning, you sat up before resting your elbow on the back of the front seat before resting your chin on your palm.

“We just finished a job like two hours ago.”

“Adrenaline's still pumping, I guess. So, what do you think... Cedar Rapids, Tulsa, or Chi-Town?”

“I am all for working. I really am, but you got us chasing cases nonstop for like a month now. We need sleep,” you yawned.

“Yeah, we can sleep when we're dead.”

“You're exhausted, Dean,” his brother chimed in.

“I'm good.”

“No, you're not. You're running on fumes, and you can't run forever.”

“And what am I running from?”

“From what you told us. Or are we pretending that never happened?” Sam asked, and you both stared at Dean, waiting for an answer.

“Stratton, Nebraska,” Dean said after a pause. Looks like he isn’t talking about it now. “Farm town. A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry.”

“Sounds like a ghost,” you sighed. Of course, he wouldn’t talk about it now. Why would he?

“Yes, it does,” Dean nodded. Sam groaned and rested his head back on the window before closing his eyes. Moving closer to Dean, you rested your chin on your hands which were laid out on the back of the front seat. Dean sighed as he thought about what his brother said, just as you kissed his jaw since that was the only thing you could reach. Pressing one more kiss to his cheek, you patted his shoulder in comfort.

“I love you,” you whispered before laying back on the back seat. If he didn’t want to talk about it, fine, but you were going to keep telling him that you were going to be there for him.

It was almost the afternoon when Dean pulled up to the old two-story house. The yard needed to be worked on badly, but you figured whoever moved in next would take care of that. The only thing you loved about it was that it was vacant. The previous owners left, and no one has bought it since which meant an easy job for the three of you.

“Boy, three bedrooms, two baths, and one homicide. This place is gonna sell like hotcakes,” Dean said as he walked into the abandoned house. Upon walking into the living room, the brothers checked out the place while you couldn’t help but think there was someone or thing watching you. Looking around, your eyes landed on a vent that was stationed on the wall. Sam walked into the kitchen first with his brother trailing behind him, but when Dean didn’t see you, he turned to see you staring at the vent.

“Sweetheart, you coming?”

“Yeah,” you muttered just as you broke your gaze. Following him into the kitchen, you stared at the disgusting pale yellow on the walls. Whoever owns this house next, you hoped they had better taste. Sam and Dean began checking the cabinets while you looked at the wall. The paint looked messed up, as if there was something behind it. Walking over to it, you ran your hand over the creases in the shape of a large square.

“Hey, check this out,” you commented, catching the brothers’ attention. Knocking on the square, you figured out it was hollow which meant something was behind it.

“It's hollow,” Dean observed.

“It's probably a dumbwaiter. All these old houses had them,” Sam explained as he walked away.

“Know-it-all,” Dean muttered which made you smile. Sam swiftly turned around since he obviously heard his brother in the empty room.

“What?”

“What?” Dean repeated, looking innocent.

“You said…”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Sam rolled his eyes before leaving the room. Dean smirked which made you giggle.

“Dork,” you chuckled, following the younger brother into another room. As soon as you walked in, Sam took out his EMF reader to try and get a feel of this place. As soon as he turned it on, the thing went crazy.

“Well, no bloodstains, fresh coat of paint, it's a bunch of bubkes,” Dean sighed.

“Needle's all over the place,” Sam said. Looking out the window, you saw a bunch of powerlines to charge the isolated houses out here.

“Yeah, power lines,” you stated. Sam sighed and turned off the reader before opening a closet door. What he saw made him jump which made you want to go check it out. What you saw sent chills down your spine.

“Well, that's super-disturbing,” you stared at the single hairless doll head.

“Think it got left behind?” Sam asked.

“By who? Unless Bill Gibson likes to play with doll heads,” Dean groaned. Suddenly, the sound of two vehicles came from outside which made you look out the window. There, you saw a white car leading a moving van straight to the house.

“I thought you said this place was still for sale,” you asked Sam.

“Apparently, it's not. Come on.” Quickly abandoning the room, you maneuvered through the rooms to the front door and exited the house where you saw a young boy playing with a dog, and three adults and once female teenager unpacking the SUV. Just about to leave the house, you saw a white card on the floor that you must have missed when you walked in. Picking it up, you saw it was a business card for a cleaning service with a Mrs. Curry and her number on it. Knowing it might mean something, you pocketed it as you left the house.

“Who are they?” you heard the teenager ask as you walked down the front porch steps.

“Can I help you?” Brian, the father, asked.

“Hi. Are you the new owner?” Sam asked as all three of you too out the badges that will work on them.

“Yeah. You guys are...?”

“This is Mr. Stanwyk. I'm Mr. Babar. She is Ms. Watson. County code enforcement,” Dean introduced the trio.

“We had the building inspected last week. Is there a problem?”

“Asbestos in the walls, a gas leak—yeah, I'd say we got a problem,” you stated.

“Asbestos? Meaning what?” Susan, the mother, wondered.

“Meaning until this house is up to code, it's uninhabitable.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're saying we can't stay here?”

“It's a health hazard. You don't want to.”

“Hold up. We just drove four hundred miles,” Ted, the uncle, started to say but Dean cut him off.

“There's a motel just down the road. Till this gets cleaned up, I suggest you stay there.”

“Alright, and what if we don't?” Brian challenged.

“Well, you get a fine or you go to jail. Pick your poison,” you said with a small smile. Brian sighed before looking at his family. When his wife shrugged, he made up his mind.

“One night. One night, and I'll take care of everything, ASAP, I promise.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Dean muttered.

“Another motel? Awesome, Dad. I hope this one has hooker sheets, like the last one,” Kate, the teenager, said which got you surprised. Everyone started packing the car up, and you turned around to go back to the car to discuss this new development on the case.

“Great, we have one day to figure out what the hell is going on here. Where do we start?” Dean asked with a deep sigh.

“I’m guessing here,” you said as you pulled out the card. “I found it on the floor. Assuming it got left behind by the previous owners, I suggest we start there.”

“Good thinking,” Dean smiled before the three of you got into the car. Better to get this started as soon as possible.

“What did the room look like when you found it, Mrs. Curry?” Sam asked the woman once you found her house. One call was all it took to see her, but you knew she wasn’t expecting you three.

“I already told the local boys, there was blood everywhere,” she said through the screen door.

“And Mr. Gibson—where was he?” you asked.

“Everywhere.”

“How long have you been cleaning Mr. Gibson's house?”

“About five years.”

“So, you knew him pretty well.”

“Well, not really well. He was really private. Not the easiest man. Not that I blame him.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“His wife dies in childbirth. Daughter hangs herself in the attic twenty years later. I'd be bitter, too. I think I got some pictures,” she explained as she left the door, and returned with pictures of the daughter, his wife, and Mr. Gibson. She handed them to you before closing the screen door again.

“Thanks. Can we keep these?”

“Suit yourself.”

“Now, why'd the daughter kill herself?” you asked.

“I don't know. That was before my time.”

“Did you ever notice anything odd in the house when you were cleaning it?” Dean took over the questioning.

“Like what?”

“Like, you know, like lights going on and off, things not being where you left them, that sort of thing?”

“No. Well, maybe there was one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Sometimes, I thought I heard like a... rustling in the walls, like a rat. But, I never saw any so it might have been just me.”

“Do you happen to know where Mrs. Gibson and her daughter were buried?” Sam wondered.

“They were both cremated.”

“Thank you for your time,” you smiled before she shut the door. Walking back to the car, you thought what could be possessing the house.

“Alright. So, it probably wasn't the mom or the daughter. Whose ghost was it?” you asked.

“I don't know. But I say we give that place a real once-over and see,” Dean declared and got into the car. Let’s hope you can find out what happened before sundown. With that family out of the way, it made things easier for you.

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[qqueenofhades]

Another fic promt if you have time and want to and of course Gracy cause I trash right now: Lucy , Wyatt, and Rufus come back from a trip and Flynn in not there in the bunker anymore. Please

okay, but consider this as an alternate ending for 2x08 because. welp. yes.

The Lifeboat whirls and clanks back into existence a little harder than usual, snapping Wyatt, Rufus, Lucy, and Jiya against their seatbelts as they wince. It’s been a mess of things in 1981, they aren’t sure if they got Denise to make the right choice or not, and there was something unsettling about the sleeper agent that they didn’t have time to deal with. Altogether, Lucy can’t help feeling that they would have handled that one much better with Flynn along, but it’s too dangerous to ask him to travel somewhere he’s already alive, even if as a Croatian six-year-old who presumably does not play nice with others. She needs to ask him about the journal, she needs to ask him a lot, and – well, honestly, she just needs to see him. She undoes her seatbelt and stands up as the door opens, and starts down the stairs. “Denise? Flynn?”

“Sorry?” The man staring at her from behind the control console is neither Denise or Flynn. Lucy recognizes him only vaguely: it’s Agent Kondo, the one who came to pick up her up at home the night Mothership was first stolen. “Dr. Preston?”

Lucy stops dead, almost causing Wyatt and Rufus to run into her. They knew that was one of their shakier efforts, that a lot was riding on it, but this is not what they wanted to see on arrival. They stare at each other for a long moment. Then Lucy says, “I’m sorry, where’s Denise Christopher?”

“My colleague Denise Christopher?” Agent Kondo frowns. “How do you know about her?”

“She’s supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be the one waiting for us.” Lucy’s heart is starting to pound. She looks at Mason and Jessica, then the bunker – they’re still here, the team got convened somehow, but apparently not by Denise. Kondo is their handler and overseer, and that means – “Where’s Denise? What’s she doing? Why isn’t she here?”

“Please calm down, Dr. Preston.” Kondo has definitely kept this strictly professional. “I don’t know why you’re worried, but – “

“Oh shit,” Rufus says. “We messed something up, didn’t we?”

“Denise isn’t here. She made some other choice, we…” Lucy feels sick. “Oh God. I need to talk to Flynn right now.”

Agent Kondo stares at her with furrowed brow. “Flynn?”

“Yes! Flynn!” Lucy turns in an agitated circle. “Where is he? Flynn!” Honestly, she thought he would be right here waiting for them with Denise – except there’s no Denise, she can’t see Flynn either, and Mason looks like she’s just asked for Osama bin Laden. “Garcia Flynn. Where is he?”

“You mean the terrorist?” Kondo’s lips purse. “He’s in jail where he belongs, don’t worry. Why on earth would you think he’d be here?”

“He’s in jail?” Lucy almost screams. Yes, apparently, he would be. Got arrested and Kondo never agreed to let him out. “No, no, no. We need to get him out, he’s supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be here!”

“Wait,” Wyatt says. “Flynn’s gone too? That’s awe… awful. That’s awful.”

“Yes it is.” Lucy is almost breathing fire as she strides up to Kondo and stops short of jabbing him in the chest, but barely. “Is he in the maximum security facility in Oakland? That’s where he was last time. You get him out, you call whoever you need to, you get him out right now!”

Kondo stares between her and the others as if this is an elaborate prank show. “Get… Garcia Flynn… out of jail? You… you know he’s our enemy, don’t you? What exactly has gone on just now?”

“A lot, apparently,” Rufus says. “And… frankly, yeah. We kind of do need to talk to Flynn ASAP. So if you’ve got any extra smoke bombs, maybe this is the time to use them.”

With that, he and Lucy both look at Wyatt, who blows out a frustrated breath. Then he turns to Kondo as well. “Yeah,” he says reluctantly. “We were kind of counting on coming back and him being here.”

“I don’t – I can’t just get a terrorist out of jail at the drop of a hat, even if I was going to. Which I’m not. So I don’t – “

“You know,” Rufus says. Turns around, and starts straight back to the Lifeboat. After a final pause, Wyatt, Lucy, and Jiya hurry after him. “Looks like we’re not done with work for the day after all.”

[ayearofpike]

The Last Vampire 3: Red Dice

Pocket Books, 1995 193 pages, 17 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-87268-0 LOC: PZ7.P626 Las 1995 OCLC: 32331239 Released March 31, 1995 (per B&N)

Sita has just ended the reign of terror of a horrible sociopathic self-made vampire, but his killing spree did not escape the notice of the military. It seems they already know who and what she is, as well as her unwilling accomplice turned against his will to save his life. When he’s captured, she resolves to save him before the military can do horrible things with his blood. This mission is all the more urgent when she realizes that the scientist leading the research efforts is an old friend. Like, a REALLY old friend.

It was about here when I realized that Pike didn’t actually have a single plotted story for Sita, that he was just writing her adventures as they came to him. I might be misremembering this, but I feel like we’d been led to understand that The Last Vampire was going to be a trilogy, like Remember Me and his favorite title-drop Lord of the Rings. (I have not been keeping track of LotR references, but there’s one in almost every book. Reread @mildhorror‘s recaps if you don’t believe me.) Getting hit with another “to be continued” was sort of a gut punch.

But beyond that, the way it puts an old character in a new situation made me aware that this was becoming a serial rather than one story. This book doesn’t really do anything new to tie up loose ends. That door was mostly closed in the previous one, when she dispatched the original vampire. But as soon as she turned a dude, it created new loose ends that Sita now has to shear off before the story closes up. It’s a perfectly fine self-contained story, if a lot more actiony and cartoon-violent than most of Pike’s work, but it’s not exactly clear how it belongs to the previous storyline (or whether it even does).

Let’s see if I can find or assume some context for how this book ended up getting constructed.

In 1995, the public at large had just been exposed to Quentin Tarantino’s stylized violence, with Pulp Fiction coming off a controversial Oscar loss and becoming a sleeper hit. Seeing how this was received by the teens who were ostensibly Pike’s audience, it makes sense that he would have wanted to incorporate some gory battle scenes. Especially as Interview With the Vampire had also just come out — I have no doubt Pike wanted to differentiate his cool-young-adult vampire from Tom Cruise’s brooding Gothic.

Spooksville would start in October of this year. I’ve mentioned this series before, but its importance to Sita’s story is that it tells semi-related juvenile horror tales linked to a handful of main characters living in a town where this kind of stuff happens. That is to say: the main kids are the only real common link between the events. I expect that he’d already started writing the series at this point, and that the structure affected how he told The Last Vampire stories (and probably in turn his love for Sita helped him define the structure of Spooksville; after all, Goosebumps didn’t have the same protagonist in every book.)

In any case, it’s both drastically different from the suspense thrillers and mysteries that Pike’s mostly written to date, and game-changing in terms of what we would now expect about Sita stories. I think I already made this analogy: The Last Vampire is Pike’s Final Fantasy, an inspired tale about the end of an era that would seize unexpected popularity and spawn sequels unto eternity.

So let’s try to blaze through the recap, because there’s not a whole bunch of plot. Sita wakes up the day after her battle with New Vampire with a tube still stretching between her and FBI Dude. She realizes she’s been out for nearly 24 hours because it was midnight when the fight started and now it’s still dark but her watch says it’s just before twelve. But also she hears police cars, and knows that they need to escape before they’re asked a lot of questions. (I have one: if they knew what she was, which they probably did, why wouldn’t they come at NOON?) Sita prefers to keep a low profile, because she knows that if someone suspects her supernatural abilities, she’s going to get tested and dissected and someone is going to try to make more (like the coroner’s assistant already did). She doesn’t need to be responsible for that.

But since she’s dealing with a baby vampire who thinks he can use the government bureaucracy to his advantage, they don’t get out. Instead, they’re thrown into an armored van with five armed guards (three in back with them, two in the front) and a driver behind bulletproof glass. This within a caravan of armored vehicles and under surveillance from a helicopter. Of course Sita has escaped from worse situations. She’s handcuffed and shackled, but her eyes are free, and that’s what she uses to hypnotize the guards into pointing their weapons away long enough to break the ankle restraints and kick two of them dead. The third she kills just by telling him to die, which is when she realizes that Original Vampire’s blood is starting to give her new and stronger powers. Because FBI Dude is squeamish, she knocks out the other two guards and then learns from the driver that they’re not going to jail, but to a high-security government facility.

This is where the book turns into an action movie. Sita has the driver crank a turn into a narrow alley and then floor it. They makes it across two streets before smashing into a fruit truck, which gives her enough cover to jump out of the van and start shooting. This clears out a police car from ... unidentified somewhere for them to steal, and they lead the chase into the basement parking garage of a tall building, where they hop an elevator to the top floor. Then Sita breaks a window and jumps across the street to the roof of another building, and roof-hops along that side of the street to one with a helicopter pad on the roof. She steals one and comes back for FBI Dude, and they take off into the desert. So much for that low profile.

The police (or government agents, or whoever it is) pursue them but don’t try to catch up or engage. We learn why when, as they cross over southern Nevada, they’re set upon by two military combat helicopters. More questions: why not a fighter jet? Nellis is right there, and a jet is faster and more heavily armed than a chopper. But anyway, they cripple Sita’s chopper, forcing FBI Dude to bail into Lake Mead, and before she can crash it and escape herself they blow it up with a missile. When she wakes up she’s pinned underwater by the helicopter’s wreckage, but her unconscious mind has had the presence to not let her drown. She surfaces in the middle of the lake to see what’s up, and sure enough they’ve caught FBI Dude again and are throwing him in another armored van. Frickin’ baby vampires can’t do anything.

She steals a truck from a nearby campsite and follows the new military caravan out to some secure facility in the middle of the desert. She watches FBI Dude get trucked out and displayed to a uniformed general, and it’s confirmed that yes, the military knows what they are and yes, they were trying to take them alive. FBI Dude gets shunted into one of the buildings, and Sita takes special note of the scientist that the general talks to afterward. Just one scientist, yes. He leaves shortly afterward, and she goes to follow him, but realizes something weird as she gets in her truck to follow him.

She’s glowing.

That’s right, all y’all that were pissed about Edward Cullen! Pike did it first! Granted, this is in the moonlight and not the sun, but STILL.

She decides to worry about it later and follows the scientist to a casino, where he loses too much money and drinks too much, then to his house just before sunrise. If she’s going to use this dude to get close and figure out how to save her buddy, she needs to redo her identity again. So she gets her secretive business manager or whatever in New York to set her up with new ID, new credit cards, new hair, new clothes, the whole shebang. Yeah — from here until the end of the book we’re supposed to imagine her as a redhead, which is hard to do because we’ve already got two books of blonde Alisa Perne.

When the scientist goes to work, she follows him to see where he goes in, and then breaks into his house and sees a strange model. It looks like DNA, but it has twelve strands instead of two. She recognizes it immediately — it’s the same as a model made by an alchemist she knew seven hundred years ago in Italy during the Catholic Inquisition, a monk who she took as a lover, to whom she revealed the secrets of her life and her history when he watched her heal a kid’s broken spine. So if this guy has a similar model, they must have another vampire and have already been researching, which means Sita has more to save and/or destroy.

She goes back out to the military compound to try to plan an attack, and the glowing skin makes her curious, so she takes off all her clothes and watches her body light up and start to become transparent and feel lighter. She assumes this is another unexplainable power conveyed by Original Vampire’s blood, but to what end? She doesn’t have time to figure it out right now; there’s a scientist to seduce! They gamble for a while, then Sita buys him dinner and they go back to his house, where he tells her just enough about his research to make her feel both sorry for him and further set in her need to rescue FBI Dude ASAP.

While everyone’s asleep, Sita finishes the woeful tale of the alchemist. It seems that he drew some of her blood and used it to heal incurable illnesses in combination with crystals and moonlight. But then he went too far and tried to use it on someone healthy — the boy from before, in fact, with full midday sun streaming through. This ended up creating a monster ruled by fear, and Sita had to kill him, and the inquisitors took the alchemist and she never saw him again.

This wouldn’t be a Last Vampire book without two things: drinking blood and Seymour. She gets the first from a hapless high roller, first by beating him at the card table, then insulting him, then inviting him to what appears to be a desert gangbang, then scaring off his bodyguards and mercilessly drinking her fill. Seymour comes in because she’s not sure what’s coming next with the scientist and the military and the moon-glow, so she calls him to get some ideas and assistance. He says that the only way to be sure they don’t keep vampire blood is to blow up the entire base with the nuclear bombs they probably have on site, this being a secret military facility in Nevada and all.

So now she’s got a plan, and she needs to figure out how to carry it out. When the scientists opens up about his concerns about their test subject and what the scary general wants to do with his blood, Sita tells him everything. Like, literally everything: what her name is, that she’s a vampire, that she’s five thousand years old, that she was turned by the original vampire who she just killed this week, that she knew Krishna, the whole nine yards. In return, he tells her where they’re keeping FBI Dude and the other vampire they’ve had for a month. Her plan is to sneak into the compound in the scientist’s trunk, pose as a tech on loan from the Pentagon, and somehow break out the two vampires.

It all goes according to plan, except there’s only one vampire in the cell. At least until Sita opens the door and goes to rescue FBI Dude, at which point the door slams shut and the scientist talks to her in Italian. Yep! The other vampire he had was her, way back in the thirteenth century! He used her blood on himself, although imperfectly, so in the last seven centuries he’s aged about twenty years. And now he’s got her right where he wants her, so he can keep doing his experiments and improving humanity through vampirism.

The general doesn’t care about any of that shit — he just wants to be stronger than anyone else. This is his weakness, knowing Sita’s power and being afraid of it until he gets it for himself. So she manipulates the guards into panic (more powers she didn’t have before, being able to hypnotize someone without even seeing them) and then breaks all the lights in the cell and starts pounding on the door. So they amass a whole fighting force and open the door, but of course Sita has used her magical vampire powers to ... hide behind it. She has to kill a guard slowly and messily to keep up the fear paralysis, and then she mows most of the rest of them down with a machine gun. All the killing is starting to upset her, or so she says, maybe because of Squeamish FBI Dude, because it doesn’t stop her from planning to nuke the joint.

The general is already upstairs, trying to escape, so Sita JUMPS THROUGH THE CEILING and shoots him in the leg so he can’t go anywhere. Then she gets him to take her to the weapons stockpile and arm a nuclear bomb with a timer, supposedly long enough for everyone to get away from the blast. She has to fry his brain with her hypnosis to get him to do it, but now Science Alchemist is in command and he’s got orders from the president to not let her get away under any circumstances. (Like he might have otherwise, right?) The nuke’s ticking down, and they’re in a standoff, but she finally convinces him to let the rest of the troops get out and away, so now it’s just Sita and FBI Dude and Fried General and Science Alchemist, waiting for the bomb to go off.

And Sita starts glowing again.

This time, she lights up all the way, becoming light itself, and floats off the ground and away in the wind, saying her goodbyes to the old monk who has stolen her blood and the new friend who she turned against his will and the military leader who she has effectively lobotomized. By the time the nuke blows, she’s long gone. 

The next thing we see is Science Alchemist’s basement. No, Pike doesn’t explain how Sita reassembled her body or whatever after floating away as a being of light. No, he doesn’t spend any time on what it means or how she should use it. Yes, it would have been a perfect time to close with an epilogue about how she’s come back to Krishna and her life is complete, along the lines of the dreams she has throughout these books. But instead, she’s in a basement in Las Vegas, where there’s a complicated array of crystals and mirrors, and she’s going to turn human with Seymour’s help (and blood). So she falls asleep doing it, and when she wakes up, someone is pounding on the door insisting she let him in. And that’s it!

So, I have to say it, and you should imagine the clapping emoji between each of the words in the following sentence: THERE WAS NO PURPOSE BEHIND SITA TURNING FBI DUDE EXCEPT TO KEEP THE AUDIENCE HANGING. Seriously, his name should have been Plot Devicerson. He gave us a springboard into the third book, he gave Sita a reason to act throughout it, and now he’s fuckin’ dead. He’s not even a tie to her life before, any more than a divorce lawyer is a tie to a marriage. The whole book could have conceivably done without him, although it would have admittedly taken a little more thought to get her out to the military installation in the first place.

You know, I wish Pike would have called a spade a spade with this series. If it had been a stand-alone serial novel set called The Last Vampire, I would have been totally fine. The stories themselves and Sita as a character I don’t necessarily have a problem with. But they DO NOT FIT TOGETHER. And by now it’s too late to retcon this into another Baby-Sitters Club or Nancy Drew type of series, so he’s stuck attemping to link one unique narrative to another.

It’s gonna be another year before we see Sita again, so I have to deduce that Pike just couldn’t bring himself to kill her off even though he didn’t know exactly what she would be doing next. And it’s OK to keep that door open — if you just admit you’re doing a serial rather than a continuance. In retrospect, I think that’s what annoyed me so much about these books, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I guess we have to wait and see if Pike can save this series as a continued story, sometime in the next ... six books GODDAMMIT.

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

The Cipher Conspiracy (3)

I was going to get straight into more action for this one, but I thought I needed to pay more attention to these bits. Also, it’s quite a bit shorter than the last one.

Adeline Marks (and her parents) belong to @hntrgurl13, and the Addiford ship belongs to @scipunk63.

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14

Chapter 3: Three Plans Made

Darkwell, Oklahoma (USA)    ∆

“Still nothin’ on Stanford Pines. Apparently he just stopped existin’ after leaving the FBI five years ago for an unknown reason,” Fiddleford said.

Addi nodded distractedly, pacing their rented room in Unassuming Hotel. Marks Incorporated. She never thought she would have to deal with them again.

“Guess it’s up to the director now. Anywho, the earliest chance we have ta practise our negotiating and/or blackmailing skills on yer parents is at – oh goody, another party. Dancin’ and everything this time,”

She’d always hated their parties when she was growing up. From the moment she turned fifteen she was paraded around like some kind of show-dog. Unfortunately, the only things her mother had been interested in flaunting her for were the perks that came with a trophy marriage to a suitably wealthy and influential man. Countless faces, all much older than she had ever been, all with a much more appraising look in their eyes than was comfortable, sped through her mind. Adeline Marks, a commodity, Constance Marks’s very own bargaining chip, ready to be spent as the owner saw fit.

“It’s their anniversary, apparently, but I s’pose you’d already know that,”

Addi reflected sadly that the nicest thing she could say about her father was that he was distantly caring. While Constance was the social interface of Marks Incorporated, James handled the analytical side. Although, Marks Incorporated was one of the biggest tech companies in the United States. Even with delegating, he didn’t really have time for anything else. Oh, he’d tried. He’d unlock her room after she had an argument with her mother, or he’d try to make breakfast for her himself, et cetera. Those were the only reasons she still called him – however brief the conversations were.

“No invites, ‘parently we contact them to ask if we can come. Well that’s more cuckoo than a clock factory. What a power-play,”

Packing her things and simply leaving when she was old enough was one of her proudest moments.

“Addi?”

“Huh?”

Fiddleford was looking at her in concern. Adeline realised she had stopped pacing and had been glaring ferociously at a wall, trying her best to bury the cold feelings of anxiety, insecurity, and even outright fear under hot layers of hurt and anger. The result was a muddled-up mess of emotions, overwhelming her even more.

Her friend stood up and gently led her to sit down on a bed, then sat beside her brought her into a one-armed hug.

“I’ll be right there with you the whole time, alright? And if ya need to leave, just say so. I can manage on my own if I haveta,”

“What, so I can miss out on all the fun?” she sniffled into his shoulder. He chuckled. “I’m fine, I am. It was just a bit … sudden,”

“A’know.” Fiddleford rubbed her arm comfortingly. “I think there’s something that’ll cheer y’up though.”

She took the bait. “Yeah?”

“There’ll be ballroom dancin’, and you know how ta wipe the floor with those uptight asses,”

Addi laughed.

Then she sighed. “I guess I should call my dad,”

Sacramento, California (USA)    ∆

Carla glared at her partner and was about to respond to this latest disaster with some suitably scathing remarks right in his smarmy English face, when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and stalked off to find the janitor’s closet, her unofficial cool-down room.

“Yes?” she said, breathing in through her nose and shutting the door behind her.

“Senior Special Agent Carla McCorkle?”

“That’s whose number you dialled,” she bit, the acrimony rising all too easily.

Whoever was on the other end was unfazed by her rudeness. “I assume the Cipher Wheel investigation is not going as smoothly as you had hoped?”

Carla froze. “Who is this?”

“Are you in a secure location?”

She looked around at various cleaning supplies and shelves. Who would bug this place? “Yeah,”

“Is your phone secure?”

“It’s FBI issue,”

“I know. Is your phone secure?”

“Yes, very. I did some work on it myself,” Carla frowned.

“I knew you were the right choice. My name is Jheselbraum,”

“Do you have a last name? Or a first name?”

“No,”

“… continue,” said Carla after a moment.

“We are both investigating the organisation known as the Cipher Wheel, albeit myself in a rather more secretive manner. The US government has presented me with the resources of an entire agency, known as Oracle Division, in order to do this. Neither of us have had any luck so far, so I want you to consider a proposal: inter-agency collaboration,”

“How convenient,”

Was she really supposed to believe this? Right when she needed it, an offer of help supposedly from people whose sole purpose it was to handle this? What a happy miracle. No, there must have been a severe security breach, and someone had got their hands on classified material. Whoever this person was, they needed to be arrested and brought in for questioning. They could be a prank, or a foreign spy, or maybe even someone involved in the Cipher Wheel itself.

“Listen to me very carefully. You have committed a serious crime, stealing from the FBI, and you are looking at a very long jail sentence. If you want any hope of getting out of this, you will give me your real name, you will tell me where you are, and you will not move. When you are brought in for questioning, you will cooperate. You will not do anything to further jeopardise your position. And you will tell me everything you know about the Cipher Wheel,”

“I’m intending to, Agent McCorkle.” Carla could almost hear a smile on the other end of the phone. “I understand that this must seem very unlikely. You need proof of who I say I am. Something that shows you my status and my reach, as well as my lawful involvement in your affairs. Fortunately, I have just the thing. Have you heard of a material called shimmern?”

“Of course I have,” said Carla, making a mental note to look up what the heck it was when she got back to her desk.

“Sure. I’d advise you to look at Interpol’s recent case files for Italy, then, and know this: it isn’t over. You’ll be hearing from me soon,”

Jheselbraum, or whoever it was, hung up.

Carla made her way to her office, sidestepping Agent Wexler as he nearly ran into her when his own office phone rang. She fumed as he surreptitiously closed the door behind him so she wouldn’t listen in. Like she even wanted to. Her new partner was not making it easy to like him.

There were no recent news articles or reports regarding Italy and shimmern, other than science journalists applauding how the presentation had lived up to their expectations. Whatever had happened was therefore being hidden, if Jheselbraum was to be believed.

She sent an email to a contact in Interpol, who responded in minutes with an attached document. It was a case file from yesterday. Apparently this amazing, valuable, extraordinary new material had been stolen. Go figure.

Carla didn’t really care much about the theft itself; she had far too much on her plate without worrying about Interpol’s problems too. What did grab her attention and cause her stomach to bottom out was the realisation that this was classified information, and that there were two conclusions which could be drawn.

One was that the security breach Carla had originally suspected was far more serious than she’d imagined: it affected not only the FBI, but Interpol as well, and had to be dealt with ASAP. On the other hand … how likely was it that someone could have compromised two large law enforcement agencies without setting off any alarms at all?

The second option was that Jheselbraum was telling the truth. A miracle agency really had appeared out of nowhere to help her, like an angel complete with a sword of justice. Lord knows she needed one. Considering how sensitive and guarded both FBI and Interpol databases were, this option was much more likely than someone hacking in.

Okay. I’m interested.

The next time Jheselbraum called, Carla would be ready to accept the offer. In the meantime, she’d keep all this to herself until she was positive it was for real.

Nodding as she made the decision, Carla’s eyes drifted once more across the screen, and came to rest on a description (from a someone known only as AM) of the perpetrator.

American . . . Caucasian … brown hair/eyes … glasses … square jaw … approximately six feet tall …

That was as far as Carla got before she was snatching up her phone and calling Stanley Pines.

Stan, I swear to God, if you’ve gone back to being a criminal, I will hunt you down and arrest you myself. And this time I will NOT be cutting any deals or going on any dates with you!

She would have wondered briefly why he’d been wearing glasses, but mostly what she was concerned with was why he was stealing scientific achievements.

Darkwell, Oklahoma (USA)    ∆

Stan stared at his brother across the table. Ford was concentrating hard on his computer, not paying any attention to the sandwich at his elbow. The diner they were in had just the right balance of not too many customers who could overhear their conversation, and not too little that the staff would pay special attention to them. While this was good, Stan had been hoping that they would at least have gotten a motel room to stay in since touching down at the airport. But no, Ford was insisting on sitting at this diner until he finished going through whatever plan his boss had sent him. Apparently, life as a spy wasn’t as glamorous as Stan had thought it was. Or maybe it was just Ford’s spy life that was like this. Maybe normal spies really did get hotel rooms, and beds to lie on, and time to sleep off the jetlag …

“Hey, Ford. You gonna tell me this plan any time soon? It’d better be really good if you’re making me wait this long for it,”

“Hmm? Oh no, this isn’t the plan. I finalised that hours ago. I was just performing a search for Adeline Marks. I thought if we knew more about her then we would have a better chance of defeating her, but no luck. There’s no record of her after she left her parents’ home when she was eighteen,”

Stan groaned and thumped his head on the table. “I’ve just been sitting here for no reason? Thanks a lot.” He swiped Ford’s sandwich and got even more miffed when his brother didn’t complain. “Sixer, you better give me something to hit soon, or you’re up,”

“Hopefully you won’t be hitting anybody. B – I mean, my employer, has arranged an opportunity for us to take the shimmern necklace back. Using his considerable influence, he has convinced Marks Incorporated to release a few of Dr Hansen’s other inventions ahead of schedule, which, you can be assured, has ruffled the feathers of quite a few people in high-up places,”

“Has it,” said Stan dispassionately, looking tiredly into his empty coffee cup.

“It has. Hopefully, this will incite Agent Marks to attend her parents’ anniversary party tomorrow, on the orders from her superiors, and convince them to go back to the original schedule,”

“I’m gonna be totally honest here. The only reason I can think of why you’re bringing up her parents is so you can meet them, because for all you know, once you kiss someone you’re dating them,”

“Her parents own Marks Incorporated. Keep up Stanley,”

“No,” he said spitefully.

Ford continued on, steamrolling over Stan’s interruption. “We will also be going to the party, and that is where we’ll take back the necklace. Also, since we now know there are other people interested in taking it for themselves, we also need to reclaim the method for creating shimmern, if only to prevent them from having it.” Ford turned his laptop around and showed Stan a photo of a small, empty vault room. “This is a vault James Marks had installed in his house. It is open for use by all guests to the party, and is where I am certain we will find the necklace. Mr Marks keeps the key card on his person at all times, so there’s a pickpocketing job involved.”

“Nice,” said Stan, becoming more interested now that the details were emerging.

“Meanwhile, the method is going to be harder to obtain. That will most likely be stored either on a computer in the Marks’ mansion, if Agent Marks is staying there, or off-site completely, if she isn’t. My employer will notify us as soon as he finds out where Agent Marks is, but Darkwell is a big city. We might be at the party when that happens,”

“You keep saying party.” Stan said, starting to grin. “Do you mean like an actual party? With dancing?”

Ford looked at the webpage announcing James and Constance Marks anniversary. “Ballroom dancing. I think the Marks are quite traditional,”

At Stan’s laugh, Ford asked, “You like dancing?”

“Eh, not as much as Carla, but it’s okay. I’m just remembering the last time we were at a dance together. Prom, wasn’t it?”

Ford grinned too. “Ma was so mad we ruined those suits,”

“The suits? Remember the photos!”

“That was all your fault. The entire night was terrible,” Ford said, but with his smile still in place.

“Well, I had a great time. And how was it all my fault? You got punch thrown on you all by yourself,”

“Because of a pick-up line you suggested. If you’d just let me talk to a girl like a normal person-”

“Ford, normal for you is so far from normal for everyone else. She might have called the police,”

“What – it wouldn’t have been – well – okay – shut up-” Ford spluttered before they were both overcome with laughing fits, remembering what they’d been like as teenagers.

“So, it’s settled,” Stan managed after a few moments. “I’ll go dancing, with a side of pickpocketing, and you can skulk at the edge of the room until you find a computer. Actually yeah, this is gonna be exactly like prom,”

They dissolved into hysterical giggles again, and a waitress gave them a strange look as she filled up their coffee. Stan didn’t care. This was feeling so much like home again it was starting to hurt.

Sacramento, Califoria (USA)    ∆

“How’s it hangin’, Blind I?”

“All according to plan. Agent McCorkle is gaining no leads whatsoever,”

“Good, keep it up bud, if you know what’s good for you, ha ha. But really,”

“Understood, sir,”

“That��s why I like you, Ivan. Complete obedience, no pesky initiative or ambition, unlike another certain upstart I could mention. You do what you’re told, no questions asked, and even better, you don’t screw it up! Wish you had some sparks of brilliance in that greymatter of yours though. Then you’d be perfect,”

“Do you want me to address the problem with Pines?”

“No, no, stay where you are for now. I still need him to get me that shimmern and assemble the gun. I gotta admit, he does occasionally lay a golden egg, so to speak. I’ll see how he does on this one, and if it goes well, we’ll keep him around. The brother though, he needs to go. Gotta get our genius back on track! I’ll let you know if I need ya,”

“Yes sir,”

“Oh, and you know what happened with this conversation right?”

“It is unseen,”

“And unheard, I’ll bet. Catch ya later!”

[ksj2008]

Some Hamburr prompts

Is that how you call it? Prompts?

I have two, probably going to write them out eventually before my love towards Hamilton fades (which probably won't happen for a while gg)

1st one

Lawyers modern au.

Washington & Jefferson law firm

Divorced Burr taking care of Theo, one day got phone call that Theo got into fight with another kid. The kid turned out to be Phillip. The two kids fighting over who's dad is the most amazing lawyer in the world. Burr met Hamilton for the first time, irritated by how smart ass and quick witted the person is. (why do you assume you are the smartest in the room?)

The second day, Washington brought his new hire lawyer, turned out to be Hamilton.

Burr:......

Burr and Ham working on same case, a homophobia rich client who Burr kinda need to please so ignored all the offensive comment he made.

Burr is bi, technically, but he cheated with a guy while marrying with Theodosia. Theodosia was furious and divorce right away. Because her job requires her constantly working overseas in different countries, she didn't get the custody of Theo. It's been 4 years now they are good friend ish. Mutual custody over Theo.

Anyway, Burr got frustrated with the client and decided to go to a bar and have some fun. He ran into one of his previous friend with benefit and when they were having some intimacy outside of the bar in back alley, Hamilton showed up from another bar with his friends and saw Burr with this teenage looking kid (the guy is 26 but he looks like a teenage kid) and Ham punched Burr in the face.

Second morning Ham apologize to Burr, Burr ignores him.

Then ham decided to be friend with Burr, he felt bad, and also Burr is really smart and they sometimes really click.

Then one day client being homophobia again and wanted to fire burr because he discovered burr is bi. Ham got mad over the client and almost caused them to lose the client.

Burr: dafaq, can you mind your own business.

Ham: I never understand you, how can you let that guy talk shit to you like that? Love is love is love is love, nothing is wrong with being in love with the person you truly love.

Burr: you fucking serious.

And Burr kissed Ham.

Burr: now you want to say I can love whoever I want?

Ham:.......

And Ham run away.

He then messaged Burr saying that he is recently widowed and he can't really accept anyone to his life yet and he does not have feeling for Burr that exceeds friendship.

Burr : challenge accepted.

Anyway some fluff office romance where Washington really feeling awkward that 4 of his lawyers are in office romance under his eyes (yes jeffmads) but Martha talked him out from worrying about this.

And some angst with Ham's past and Angelica is furious with Ham.

2nd

Police detective Ham and CIA undercover Burr.

They met on scene. Ham caught Burr and took him to precinct.

I want to write ties tied to Leslie's writs that's why.

Anyway, Washington told Ham that's an undercover CIA agent and ordered ham and burr working together.

Jefferson be like :LOL

Burr and Ham not really working well. Ham got caught by this drug lord or whatever crime association burr is undercover in. Burr took over the interrogation role and tortured ham. Ham is like : dafaq why are you so serious with your role!?

Burr:.....

Burr already took easy on ham he did much worse when he was in CIA but ham never got interrogated before so he didn't know.

Anyway, laurens and others rescued ham out, and Ham shot burr for a payback.

Laurens told Ham that burr planned all the escape and stuff, he also know that ham is going to shoot him so everything worked out, the boss is going to trust him even more.

Ham was a bit angry. At himself for not realizing burrs intention and for not trusting burr. Laurens suggest he apologize after burr come back.

Burr came back after the mission is over and stayed in the hospital for about 1 month. Ham went visiting and taking care of burr while he's still recover from two gun wounds (one from the criminals and one from ham)

Ham listened to jefferson and bought a tie for Burr for recovery gift and gesture of friendship.

Burr:....... (did no one tell this kid that tie means he wants me to wear it and take it off by himself... Like sex intention??)

Jefferson: heehee

Burr and Ham still argues and not really working well. But eventually they got along, and burr actually wants to ask ham out for dinner.

I want to introduce Burr's twin brother, Peter Collier form Person of Interest!

Collier : my twin brother my other half of the soul join me for vigilance!

Burr:.... Interesting

So burr asked ham for dinner, they actually had really good time. Ham sneaked a pic of burr while he was ordering wine cuz he looked so sexy.

Later they walked home and burr kissed Ham's cheek for goodbye. Ham started thinking of the next date.

The next morning he got a news that burr is committed treason and ran away with Peter collier the infamous terrorist.

Ham: dafaq

Some really dramatic gun fights.

Burr got boring with colliers work. He has no principals and he doesn't see a difference between what collier is doing and what cia is doing. And he misses hamilton.

Collier doesn't like his twin brothers thought, so he went to meet ham dressed up as burr. He wants to see how ham thinks of burr.

Didn't really get answer because ham wanted to arrest him and begs him to turn himself in.

Burr asked his brother: how bored are you. And keep the fuck away from ham.

Anyway, more dramatic gun fights, collier shot ham, ham went to hospital. Collier locked burr away (Romeo and Juliette hahaha). Burr is worried sick of how ham is so he decided to self escape. And he succeeded. He's a cia after all.

Burr went to hospital and saw ham recovering well. Then he learned that ham lost his memory.

Burr thought for a bit and betrayed his brother and turned himself in. He went to jail.

Ham still works as police detective because Washington really can't find anyone better than him with his animal instincts and logics and deductions.

Madison constantly calls burr and give him information about ham.

(since when did you guys become BFF? Jefferson is confused)

Ham started recovering his memory and he got his phone back and saw that there's a photo of a guy, really hot guy, definitely his type of guy, in the album. He wonders who that person is. Then he saw the news that Peter collier got caught, and he was like : dafaq

Jefferson being jefferson: yeah you dated a terrorist

Madison kicked jefferson to shut him up.

And Madison told Ham to go visit burr in jail.

Ham went, Burr is nervous af

They sat down across the table. Ham stared at burr. Burr doesn't talk because usually ham does the talking.

Then when time is almost up, ham asked burr: I think you still owe me a date right?

Burr almost cried.

Then he realized that he had been so scared that he will never have ham ever again.

He took a min to calm down then said : yeah I do. You pick the place.

Ham: okie

And Burr decided to get a lawyer and sign some agreement to get himself out of the prison asap.

Man I love Hamburr.

[thorne93]

What Are We Gonna Do? (Part 4)

Prompt: Imagine that you’re Spencer Reid’s wife, and you get the news of his arrest in Mexico. But you’ve been keeping something from him and the team. How will it affect Spencer?

Word Count: 1256

Warnings: Language, violence, anger, drama, angst

Notes: This picks up right at the beginning of Season 12, episode 13. Spoilers from here till then. Thanks to my beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​

Tags: @ultrarebelheart​ @cocosierra94 @marvel-imagines-yes-please

~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you made it into the office and informed Rossi, JJ, and Garcia of his mom’s state and how he was doing.

 “So what’s our next step?” Garcia asked.

 Rossi informed her of the bail pending trial. “And no matter how high they set the bail, I’m springing for it,” Rossi offered.

Tears pricked your eyes as you leaped to hug him. “Thank you so much, Dave. You really don’t have to do that.”

 “Sure I do.”

 “Are you sure you wanna be here, Y/N?” JJ asked gingerly as she stroked your back softly. “No one would judge you if you wanted to be home.”

 “I think it’s better if I’m here,” you said. “Except if I keep crying,” you laughed.

 “You cried all night, didn’t you?” JJ wondered sympathetically.

 “Yeah,” you said with a nod and the tears started flowing again.

 “Aw sweetie, your eyes are so puffy.”

 “I know.” You laughed as you tried to wipe all the tears away.

 “Why don’t you go with Emily?” JJ offered.

 “Okay.” You nodded and gathered your things to meet Emily at the federal jail. God, just saying those words and applying them to Spencer sent ice straight into your chest. You focused on driving and checking in and when you found Emily you two went back to see him.

 Seeing him in that cell...the cell...Not just a holding cell in some shitty Mexican jail. The real deal, iron bars, solitary...it was enough to bring you to your knees. You’d give anything to trade places with him.

 “How’s Mom?” Spence asked.

 “She’s good. Cassie’s keeping her medicated.”

 “Good.”

“JJ brought the kids by, she really enjoyed that,” you tried, your throat already swelling.

 “Hey, hey, don’t cry,” Spence pleaded.

 “I’m sorry, babe, I can’t help it. Seeing you like this...knowing you’re in here alone, it’s killing me.”

 “Maybe you should go home? Or go back to the office to occupy your mind? I know how agitated you get when you aren’t doing something,” he said with a half smile.

 “No, I want to be here with you.”

 “I know. I’m such an idiot.”

 “Don’t, Spencer, don’t,” Emily chastised, saving you from having to yell at your husband. “You were trying to help your mother.”

 “And I fell right into Scratch’s trap.”

 “He won’t win,” Emily vowed.

 “He already has.”

 “Hey, what did I say about giving up?” you demanded, fearing that his short time inside this hellhole had already started to mess with his beautiful mind.

 “I know, Y/N, but it’s so hard. Look at where we are. He’s going to win.”

 “No, no he’s not,” you promised with dark intent, your mind running wild with fantasies on how to torture that little prick when you got your hands on him. “Mr. Scratch? How do you like your face scratched off with rusty nails?” you thought evilly.

 “We all know you didn’t do anything wrong,” Emily continued, snapping you out of your violent daydream.

 “We know that doesn’t matter. What matters is what the prosecutor can prove and Scratch has stacked the deck against me.”

 You were searching for some sign of hope in your husband’s brown eyes but none came. If there was a flicker, it was being snuffed out rapidly. Prentiss and Spence talked legal consult, asking your opinion. You said it was Spence’s life and his choice to choose whoever he wanted to represent him. He agreed to use Fiona and you felt relief. Emily left you to say goodbye to him alone.

 “You have to hold onto hope, for me, okay?” you begged. “Please, Spence, I can’t do this alone,” you said a tear rolling down your cheek.

 “It’s so hard,” he admitted.

 “I know. Just...you have something to look forward to when you get out, okay? Focus on that,” you said.

 “Alright. Tell Mom I love her and I miss her,” he requested.

 “I will,” you vowed.

 “And I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 You smiled at him. “Spencer Reid, if I have to start World War III just to get you out of here, I will not hesitate to do that. I love you.”

 He smiled at you and you begrudgingly left with Prentiss. She made the call to her friend as you worked on paperwork in the office and by lunch time, you were ready to meet with her.

 “Hi, Fiona, this is Dr. Y/N Reid. Spencer’s wife and a member of the BAU,” Emily introduced as you stood in a small room together.

 “Hi, nice to meet you.”

 “Are you going to help my husband?” you asked once you let go of her hand.

 “I’m going to try. I want to see how he responds first and we’ll see if we work as a client-attorney relationship.”

 “He didn’t do this,” you asserted.

 “We just need to be able to prove that in court,” she said.

 “Then I’ll make sure that happens,” you vowed, your eyes steely on hers as she and Emily began to talk.

 A few minutes later, Spencer was escorted into the room and after the introductions were over, she asked that she be alone with him. You wanted to object but you knew you couldn’t. You left with Emily into the hall, watching Spence every second. The interview was going well at first, but then you saw Spence getting upset. His brow was perched up and his neck was getting red, he was angry. Your protective nature started to kick into overdrive as you watched. The scene escalated as Spence slammed his hand down on the table, his voice raising. She handed him her card and they seemed to be working something out then she left.

 You raced up to her as she came out. “So? What does it look like?”

 “I’ll get the arraignment scheduled asap and he’s pleading not guilty,” she informed you.

 “Then what?”

 “Then we move for posting bail pending trial.”

 “Okay,” you said numbly as you nodded.

 ---------------

 Emily tried to get you to eat something but you couldn’t. You knew you should be, given the circumstances but you just couldn’t fathom the thought of anything in your stomach. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d eaten. She took you to a restaurant and asked how you were holding up. You shrugged numbly, not sure how to answer that.

 When you got home, you nearly collapsed. The sights, the smells, the everything that was Spencer Reid. First thing was to check on Diana. You and Cassie tended to her before you started to clean. You cleaned the kitchen, dining room, living room, both bathrooms, and the master. It seemed like it was taking you forever but it only took an hour and a half.  

 After that, you decided to shower, relishing in some moments alone to wallow in your fears and worries. You cried a lot in the shower, thankful that no one would bother you or see you cry. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, but the hot water had turned to freezing cold but you did nothing but stand there. After that, you tried to watch TV, just to rid your mind of all of the questions and concerns running through it, but it did nothing but intensify your worries. You laid down, more tears hitting the pillow as you laid in the empty bed.

 None of it felt real, and you prayed it wouldn’t ever feel real.

[inmed]

Obsgyn Hell in Pati

Would you fly in an airplane if you were told the pilots have been forced to work 32 hour non-stop shifts? No. You wouldn’t. Even a child can tell you that we need 8 hours of sleep in every 24 hour period. Common sense: skipping sleep immediately becomes evident as the senses dull, memory gets hazy, mood gets irritable, and decision-making ability goes down the hole. Do these symptoms sound familiar? Yeah, the same thing happens to people drunk on alcohol. A sleep-deprived pilot is no better than a drunk pilot. And nobody will be at ease in an airplane knowing the guy in the cockpit is drunk or sleep-deprived.

If we wouldn’t trust a sleep-deprived pilot, why do we trust sleep-deprived doctors? We can’t blame the passengers and we can’t blame the patients. They probably have no clue and they blindly place their trust in the hands of the professionals.

Sadly, the people who made the decisions to have doctors work 32-hour shifts are doctors themselves: the experts of human physiology! These are the very same professionals who prescribe rest more than any other medicine! Isn’t that ironic and amazingly stupid?

Well, whoever that decided that koas have to pull 32-hour shifts must have the IQ of a ping-pong ball who has failed at understanding the most basic physiological aspect of humans other than the need to breathe: the need to sleep. Not only should this person be stripped of their medical license, they should also be jailed for putting patient’s lives at risk. If I was the chief of an airline company and I demanded that my pilots shall work 32-hour shifts without sleep, and people found out: I would deserve to be jailed. Why should this practice be accepted in the hospital?

Okay, now that I’ve made my four paragraph preamble to set the mood for what’s to come, let me start my diary-like blog entry:

Obsgyn is my first big station. I had Forensic before this. Forensic was basically a load of paperwork and waiting 24/7 for the inevitable: a dead body in the hospital requiring an autopsy ASAP so the family can bury it in the morning. So even though there were just around 10 autopsies during the four week period, the constant stress was irritating: sleeping with the ringtone volume on max. There’s not much else to say about Forensics: it was stinky, we didn’t do much other than get strained wrists from writing endless reports. 

Ok, back to Obsgyn. It is 10 weeks long. That’s two and a half times as long as a small department (such as ENT, Neurology, Forensics, etc.) The first couple of weeks we were in Sardjito. The following three weeks were spent in RSUD Sleman, my favorite hospital so far. Those three weeks were alright despite the 32-hour shifts thanks to the many opportunities to sleep in the comfortable koas room or just quietly escape the hospital. Still, 32 hours are 32 hours and it is absolutely exhausting.  I would say “daily” but a day only has 24 hours. Our 32 hour shifts were “daily” in the sense that when one ended (at around 2pm), we’d go home and then be back the very next morning at 6am for the next 32-hour shift. There is no such thing as “weekends” or “holidays”. Let me give you a run-down of what one shift looks like:

5 am: wake up. shower. call a GoCar by 5:30. 6 am: arrive at RSUD Sleman. Go up to the 3rd floor where the Obsgyn stuff is. Start going through all the patient’s medical records in both the ward and the “VK” (birthing room) and noting down the “SOAP” along with some other important info in my notebook. 7 am: the doctor arrives for a “visit”. Basically a walk through the ward and VK to see all his patients for up to a couple minutes each. We scuttle behind him and try to mumble out the patient’s information that we jotted down earlier. The doctor ignores most of this and asks us simple questions about the patient: “when was the last time hemoglobin was checked? how much is it?” - and usually we wouldn’t know the answer. 8 am: the doctor sits at the nurse station to write stuff in the medical records and the koas stand there waiting for questions. These questions tend to be more about theory and are quite difficult. 9 am: the doctor goes to the poly-clinic. Two of the koas who started their shift the day before follow him. I remain in the ward with one other koas. 10 am: we chat with the nurses and midwives about random things. 11 am: we walk down to the cafeteria and eat something. I buy some bottles of water. 12 noon: we try to nap in the koas room. there are two beds and it’s airconditioned.  1 pm: unable to sleep, I walk into the VK. I notice two women in labor. I sit down at the mini nurse station there and start chatting with the midwives. 1:30 pm: the midwives order me to do “DJJ” (fetal heart rate monitor) on all the patients. Now there’s four suddenly. 2 pm: Finished with the DJJ, I sit back down only for the resident doctor to walk in and ask me to set up the USG and wheel the patient in. 3 pm: My koas partner wakes up and walks into the VK. We sit together with the midwives, talking. 4 pm: One patient seems to be going into the active phase. The midwife orders me to do more DJJ. We start wondering who will assist with the delivery. 5 pm: Another patient is brought in. Suddenly the VK is full. 6 pm: Hungry. The cafeteria is way past closed. What to eat? I start flipping through the GoFood options when suddenly I hear loud noises from behind one of the separator curtains in the VK. I peer in and see that the midwife is already in position to help the patient deliver the baby. She looks at me and asks if I’m going to join or not. Of course I say yes and put gloves and apron on. I feel useless because the midwife is capable of doing everything herself and I’m just standing there watching. 7 pm: The baby is out and I take my gloves off. The gloves never really touched the baby. Instead, I was left to pull the placenta out. Boring. It’s all boring. And I’m quite hungry by now. Back to GoFood options. We walk to the ward’s large nurse station and sit down there, chatting with the midwives. It gets boring quickly. 8 pm: Food is on the way still. And we walk back to the VK. The midwife there tells us that a woman had already delivered while we were absent. We act surprised at how quick it was. A new patient is wheeled in. “God damn it, why do women have to give birth so much?” is written all over my face. I get told to do DJJ and take blood pressure. The GoFood has arrived at the lobby. I run down to get it. 9 pm: We finish eating in the koas room. I waste time on my laptop and my partner sleeps again. I wish I was good at falling asleep, but I’m not. 11 pm: I put my laptop away. I walk to the VK. 12 midnight: another woman starts giving birth. 1 am: the same lady is still giving birth. We all keep glancing at the clock because we know that the baby is stuck. The resident is woken up. I’m drowsy and want to sleep but of course, I can’t. I’m watching the midwives and the resident doctor try to encourage the woman. They start discussing the medications given to the woman. 2 am: the resident finally gives up and decides he will operate for SC (cesarean section). I’m ordered to follow the resident. 3 am: the operation finally begins. I get to help out a bit by holding the suction and passing some instruments to the doctor. I don’t feel sleepy but the core of my bones feel sore. 4 am: the operation ends. the resident is annoyed it took so long. there was bleeding. Small chat with the resident ensues and we walk back to the VK. 5 am: I lay down on the bed in the koas room. Exhausted. 6 am: My alarm rings and I walk over to the ward to go through the medical records again. 7 am: the doctor arrives for a “visit”. I’m wearing the same clothes as I did the last time (yesterday) when he came. He’s wearing fresh new clothes, hair still wet from his shower. 8 am: the doctor asks questions. 9 am: the two of us follow the doctor to the poly-clinic where we do anamnesis and watch how the doctor handles each patient. What was a sort of dull headache becomes a full fledged one: I’m trying to figure out if it’s due to low blood sugar levels or dehydration or because I only got like an hour of sleep. 12 Noon: the patients finally finish. The nurse makes small talk for a bit. We then walk upstairs towards the koas room. The midwives there make more small talk. 1 pm: My GoCar arrives. I feel lucky that the poly-clinic ended earlier than I hoped. 10 minutes later I arrive at home. I finally shower, shave, brush, and then eat (my maid’s cooking). 2 pm: My head touches the pillow and I fall asleep. 9 pm: I wake up. Most restaurants are closed. I can’t go out at this point. I guess I have to call GoFood again to order something from somewhere that’s open late. 10 pm: I eat and then wonder what to do. I can’t sleep again because I just woke up.  I try to work on the PowerPoint to present for my Refkas (case reflection) tomorrow. 2 am: I fall asleep anyways. 5 am: Wake up. And the whole process repeats again.

So, this happened for a total of three weeks in RSUD Sleman. Then, about two weeks ago, I was sent here to RSUD Pati for a total of four weeks. The shift is the same length but the content of the shift is different. Here in Pati, we can’t just relax that much. We’re expected to do a lot more deliveries (by mostly ourselves), suturing episiotomies and ruptures, filling in medical records, doing loads of little tasks such as taking blood, installing IVs, installing IV pumps, and of course studying. After Pati, RSUD Sleman looks like a holiday. 

It is midnight now. Tomorrow morning I have to be at the hospital for another day in hell. So I’m going to leave it there.

Hopefully I get time again to discuss Pati. It’s an interesting place with interesting hospital and I have a lot to say about it.