Post by Vivienne Daniels on Jul 11, 2024 6:53:30 GMT
“Are you proud of yourself, Dean?”
The image of Vivienne Daniels fades slowly into view, accompanied by the sound of a harshly howling wind.
“I hope you are. You have much to be proud of, after all. You cast aside your ethics, and your nobility, and proved that you were ready to admit that the ends justified your means. And so you twisted and tormented April, making her believe you were more than you were. And you sent your beloved Warren as your sacrificial lamb to distract me while you put your plan into action. How did it feel, Dean? How did it feel to once again hurt someone who believed in you? Did you feel guilt, I wonder? Did you feel any shame knowing that you were deliberately making her suffer just to lay your trap? Did you apologize to her, before or after, knowing full well what it would do to her and Brooklyn’s relationship?”
Her eyes gleam with malice as she leans toward the camera, lacing her fingers. “If you did… did you feel absolved of your sins after?”
A soft chuckle “Did you for even a single moment question whether or not it was worth it? Do you still feel proud of your victory, your saved marriage with all the blood and pain that was shed to win it?”
It is clear from her eyes that the smile is not one of happiness.
“Even if Brooklyn and April are demoralized by this latest betrayal, all it has done is motivate me. I wanted Jennie thrown down from her position as a champion for her sins against me. But now? I want her destroyed because she’s important to you. No matter who I have to fucking destroy to get my hands on her. She will pay for what you’ve done to me and mine. That’s a fucking promise, Dean.”
Vivienne was focused in the gym. Punching the punching bag with everything she had. Vivienne was angry. Angrier than she’d felt in months. All that time searching for the person responsible for hurting Rowan, Astrid, and Virginia. Interrogation. Pursuing leads. That whole mess with Birds of Prey, and for what? To find out one of her best friends not only knew the whole time who was responsible but may have instigated it?
It made her feel like screaming. She knocked the bag off the hook and let out a loud scream of frustration.
She’d been overlooked, mocked, and dismissed her whole career. A fangirl. A cupcake. A rabbit. A flower. Something delicate and easily broken. That’s all anyone had ever seen her as. A nice girl to use and discard when you were done with her. She had fought the pack, was the first to call them out on their shit. Had fought hard against them. Had thrown herself against the wall that had been Maxine, Brooklyn and Rowan multiple times. But no one remembered her. No one remembered her sacrifices, nor the lost friends who had been tormented because of her trying to end the Pack’s hold on the women’s division, no. It was only the men they remembered. Even with her beating Rowan for the belt by proving Rowan could be beaten. None of it had mattered. When she’d been given her place in the Hall of Fame people questioned if she’d ever done anything worthy to get there. She had considered retiring entirely and just doing mother and wife duties.
Was it a friend who had convinced her to get back in the ring? No. It had been Rowan. It had been Rowan who had believed in her. It had been Rowan who had pushed her to let go of the image she’d clung to and let her more aggressive side out. It had been Rowan who had told her to see the pleasure in not holding back. She had returned with The Murder because Rowan believed in her. Helped her believe in herself again.
And someone who was meant to be her friend had betrayed her so deep as to have a hand in orchestrating the removal of the one person who didn’t treat her like a stupid little girl before Cyrus? How could they do that to her? How could they just watch her panic at being without her anchor and just …
“FUCKING DICKLESS MAGGOT!” Vivienne screamed, picking up the punching bag and tossing it across the room, crashing into the weight bench. Cyrus looked over from where he sat on the weight machine, interrupted his set to check in on his uncharacteristically aggressive wife.
“You good over there, Kitten?”
“No.” Vivienne seethed, breathing hard. “It was Dean. That weasel fuck was the one who hurt Rowan, Astrid, and Virginia. And what’s worse Warren knew and didn’t tell me.” Vivienne marched over picked up the punching bag and tossed it over to the other side of the gym again, breathing hard. “I want to hit Dean where it hurts him most! I want to find this backstabbing little fuck, I want him DEAD! I want his house burned to the GROUND! I wanna go there in the middle of the night and I wanna PISS ON HIS ASHES!”
Cyrus had never seen her lose control. She sounded lost and confused, almost overwhelmed by her anger. A rage which she didn't know exactly how to channel or focus properly. Cyrus would never be accused of being the most emotionally sensitive bloke in the world, but the one emotion he knew better than any other was anger. He got up and embraced her from behind, hands locking around her waist, almost anchored her in place.
“I got ya, Kitten,” he assured her. “I understand, even if nobody else will. I know how much ya owe Rowan, how she saved your life and set you free and gave you the confidence to be who you are, who I love. And I will support ya in whatever ya wanna do from here. Just let me know how I can help channel that rage you’re feelin’ right now, okay?”
“Abigail is my friend…But Jennie is important to Dean. And if I rip her face off that will hurt him just as much. So I need to not hold back and rip my way through this tournament and fucking end her. It would hurt more if I could get my hands on Warren. But he isn’t answering my calls, and I don’t know if I could hurt him anyway, even though right now I really want to. Hurting Warren would draw Dean out from whatever rock he is hiding under.” Vivienne seethed. “But channeling it right now so I stop destroying the gym… I want you not to hold back.”
“Where would ya like ta start?” He asked softly. He assumed she meant in helping her train for her next match.
Vivienne looked up at him. “I want to see you unleashed. I want to feel everything you can do. I want you to dominate me completely. I can take it.”
“Oh? We ain’t talkin’ trainin’ are we?”
“No. Please?” Vivienne pressed her butt against him. She felt him stiffen as a low groan escaped him. They were in a public gym so he had to be more disciplined and restrained. She was his and his alone. He would take her but it would be on his time and his terms. Away from envious eyes and jealous hearts, she belonged to him exclusively and would be undone in privacy where he could take his time and look after her properly. She wasn’t a trophy, she was his wife and that was a privilege nobody else would ever get to share in.
“Let me finish my set, Kitten, and then I’ll take care of you,” he bit her cheek and teasingly whispered. “I promise.”
"Abigail. we have fought each other before. I know what you feel. What you always feel. Despite the achievements of your past. Despite the bodies that you dropped and the greatness you achieved. They looked down their noses at you. They do not see you. They see a pretender. A seat warmer. A fake. A transitional champion. But you are more than that. Much, much more than that. You always have been."
"Many have criticized you for being a woman with your thoughts too limited. Ever the faithful along with your true flame. Ever the one to let your faith guide you. We used to have that in common. Not that I have given up my faith. Some may assume because I did not make my husband convert I have given up on that. Or because I stood side by side with the self-proclaimed Yetzer Hara. Part of being Jewish means I know who I am. A common Jewish saying is that we would fight G-d in a Wafflehouse parking lot at 3 am. My faith is complicated. And not something I need to explain to anyone else. Free Palestine. The same is true for you Abigail. Both our faiths have been used by zealots to do terrible things. Both of them in a more hardcore and traditional sense would consider us to be pariahs. But we keep the faith, don’t we?”
“Faith is all we had in dark times. In times when there was no one else to chase away the monsters.”
She tilts her head. "But we both found comfort in people no one thought was right for us, didn’t we? Even I doubted it once. But I apologized for not understanding. If anyone can understand my becoming it should be you.”
"You know what it is like to have someone see you, the real you, and encourage it out of you. Some might blame Cyrus for who I am. But we both know who showed me the truth.”
“Rowan. She guided me to the Abyss. When I found the Abyss... I jumped in and let it take me for its own. All that darkness, that fear... all the demons of my mind that sent me screaming for the covers as a child? They are my friends now, Abby. They are my home. You may deny what I’ve become at your heart's content, find ways to convince yourself that I will wake up and go back to the girl I was before ... but in the back of your mind, where your love for Eternity has always burned like a flame? That part of you knows the truth. That part of you knows this is who I am.”
She laughs, "But I have little doubt you will deny your fear, and throw your accomplishments in my face. You will likely toss your accolades, your victories, and your... faith. You are, after all, my friend. I know you well. You are a Women's World Champion, and your reign was much longer than my own."
She smiles, "I am burdened with a quest you see, Abby. You wish to prove yourself once more as being worthy of the title, and while I share that. I have something much more to prove now. You struggled in the tournament while I thrived. You had a poor hand dealt to you, I’ll give you that. You beat Rini. But I am not her. I am not even the girl I was last time we fought and you beat me. I am not someone who believes in going easy on you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will not let you win this match. I want to win so I can get what I want. I am fueled not by self-doubt and worry like you. I am driven by something purer. Rage.”
She leans into the camera, "That is what I represent now Abigail. Rage. Vengeance. I want to get to the top and I will not mourn what I do to you to get there. I care for you, but I will not let you keep me from what I want.”
The image of Vivienne Daniels fades slowly into view, accompanied by the sound of a harshly howling wind.
“I hope you are. You have much to be proud of, after all. You cast aside your ethics, and your nobility, and proved that you were ready to admit that the ends justified your means. And so you twisted and tormented April, making her believe you were more than you were. And you sent your beloved Warren as your sacrificial lamb to distract me while you put your plan into action. How did it feel, Dean? How did it feel to once again hurt someone who believed in you? Did you feel guilt, I wonder? Did you feel any shame knowing that you were deliberately making her suffer just to lay your trap? Did you apologize to her, before or after, knowing full well what it would do to her and Brooklyn’s relationship?”
Her eyes gleam with malice as she leans toward the camera, lacing her fingers. “If you did… did you feel absolved of your sins after?”
A soft chuckle “Did you for even a single moment question whether or not it was worth it? Do you still feel proud of your victory, your saved marriage with all the blood and pain that was shed to win it?”
It is clear from her eyes that the smile is not one of happiness.
“Even if Brooklyn and April are demoralized by this latest betrayal, all it has done is motivate me. I wanted Jennie thrown down from her position as a champion for her sins against me. But now? I want her destroyed because she’s important to you. No matter who I have to fucking destroy to get my hands on her. She will pay for what you’ve done to me and mine. That’s a fucking promise, Dean.”
Vivienne was focused in the gym. Punching the punching bag with everything she had. Vivienne was angry. Angrier than she’d felt in months. All that time searching for the person responsible for hurting Rowan, Astrid, and Virginia. Interrogation. Pursuing leads. That whole mess with Birds of Prey, and for what? To find out one of her best friends not only knew the whole time who was responsible but may have instigated it?
It made her feel like screaming. She knocked the bag off the hook and let out a loud scream of frustration.
She’d been overlooked, mocked, and dismissed her whole career. A fangirl. A cupcake. A rabbit. A flower. Something delicate and easily broken. That’s all anyone had ever seen her as. A nice girl to use and discard when you were done with her. She had fought the pack, was the first to call them out on their shit. Had fought hard against them. Had thrown herself against the wall that had been Maxine, Brooklyn and Rowan multiple times. But no one remembered her. No one remembered her sacrifices, nor the lost friends who had been tormented because of her trying to end the Pack’s hold on the women’s division, no. It was only the men they remembered. Even with her beating Rowan for the belt by proving Rowan could be beaten. None of it had mattered. When she’d been given her place in the Hall of Fame people questioned if she’d ever done anything worthy to get there. She had considered retiring entirely and just doing mother and wife duties.
Was it a friend who had convinced her to get back in the ring? No. It had been Rowan. It had been Rowan who had believed in her. It had been Rowan who had pushed her to let go of the image she’d clung to and let her more aggressive side out. It had been Rowan who had told her to see the pleasure in not holding back. She had returned with The Murder because Rowan believed in her. Helped her believe in herself again.
And someone who was meant to be her friend had betrayed her so deep as to have a hand in orchestrating the removal of the one person who didn’t treat her like a stupid little girl before Cyrus? How could they do that to her? How could they just watch her panic at being without her anchor and just …
“FUCKING DICKLESS MAGGOT!” Vivienne screamed, picking up the punching bag and tossing it across the room, crashing into the weight bench. Cyrus looked over from where he sat on the weight machine, interrupted his set to check in on his uncharacteristically aggressive wife.
“You good over there, Kitten?”
“No.” Vivienne seethed, breathing hard. “It was Dean. That weasel fuck was the one who hurt Rowan, Astrid, and Virginia. And what’s worse Warren knew and didn’t tell me.” Vivienne marched over picked up the punching bag and tossed it over to the other side of the gym again, breathing hard. “I want to hit Dean where it hurts him most! I want to find this backstabbing little fuck, I want him DEAD! I want his house burned to the GROUND! I wanna go there in the middle of the night and I wanna PISS ON HIS ASHES!”
Cyrus had never seen her lose control. She sounded lost and confused, almost overwhelmed by her anger. A rage which she didn't know exactly how to channel or focus properly. Cyrus would never be accused of being the most emotionally sensitive bloke in the world, but the one emotion he knew better than any other was anger. He got up and embraced her from behind, hands locking around her waist, almost anchored her in place.
“I got ya, Kitten,” he assured her. “I understand, even if nobody else will. I know how much ya owe Rowan, how she saved your life and set you free and gave you the confidence to be who you are, who I love. And I will support ya in whatever ya wanna do from here. Just let me know how I can help channel that rage you’re feelin’ right now, okay?”
“Abigail is my friend…But Jennie is important to Dean. And if I rip her face off that will hurt him just as much. So I need to not hold back and rip my way through this tournament and fucking end her. It would hurt more if I could get my hands on Warren. But he isn’t answering my calls, and I don’t know if I could hurt him anyway, even though right now I really want to. Hurting Warren would draw Dean out from whatever rock he is hiding under.” Vivienne seethed. “But channeling it right now so I stop destroying the gym… I want you not to hold back.”
“Where would ya like ta start?” He asked softly. He assumed she meant in helping her train for her next match.
Vivienne looked up at him. “I want to see you unleashed. I want to feel everything you can do. I want you to dominate me completely. I can take it.”
“Oh? We ain’t talkin’ trainin’ are we?”
“No. Please?” Vivienne pressed her butt against him. She felt him stiffen as a low groan escaped him. They were in a public gym so he had to be more disciplined and restrained. She was his and his alone. He would take her but it would be on his time and his terms. Away from envious eyes and jealous hearts, she belonged to him exclusively and would be undone in privacy where he could take his time and look after her properly. She wasn’t a trophy, she was his wife and that was a privilege nobody else would ever get to share in.
“Let me finish my set, Kitten, and then I’ll take care of you,” he bit her cheek and teasingly whispered. “I promise.”
"Abigail. we have fought each other before. I know what you feel. What you always feel. Despite the achievements of your past. Despite the bodies that you dropped and the greatness you achieved. They looked down their noses at you. They do not see you. They see a pretender. A seat warmer. A fake. A transitional champion. But you are more than that. Much, much more than that. You always have been."
"Many have criticized you for being a woman with your thoughts too limited. Ever the faithful along with your true flame. Ever the one to let your faith guide you. We used to have that in common. Not that I have given up my faith. Some may assume because I did not make my husband convert I have given up on that. Or because I stood side by side with the self-proclaimed Yetzer Hara. Part of being Jewish means I know who I am. A common Jewish saying is that we would fight G-d in a Wafflehouse parking lot at 3 am. My faith is complicated. And not something I need to explain to anyone else. Free Palestine. The same is true for you Abigail. Both our faiths have been used by zealots to do terrible things. Both of them in a more hardcore and traditional sense would consider us to be pariahs. But we keep the faith, don’t we?”
“Faith is all we had in dark times. In times when there was no one else to chase away the monsters.”
She tilts her head. "But we both found comfort in people no one thought was right for us, didn’t we? Even I doubted it once. But I apologized for not understanding. If anyone can understand my becoming it should be you.”
"You know what it is like to have someone see you, the real you, and encourage it out of you. Some might blame Cyrus for who I am. But we both know who showed me the truth.”
“Rowan. She guided me to the Abyss. When I found the Abyss... I jumped in and let it take me for its own. All that darkness, that fear... all the demons of my mind that sent me screaming for the covers as a child? They are my friends now, Abby. They are my home. You may deny what I’ve become at your heart's content, find ways to convince yourself that I will wake up and go back to the girl I was before ... but in the back of your mind, where your love for Eternity has always burned like a flame? That part of you knows the truth. That part of you knows this is who I am.”
She laughs, "But I have little doubt you will deny your fear, and throw your accomplishments in my face. You will likely toss your accolades, your victories, and your... faith. You are, after all, my friend. I know you well. You are a Women's World Champion, and your reign was much longer than my own."
She smiles, "I am burdened with a quest you see, Abby. You wish to prove yourself once more as being worthy of the title, and while I share that. I have something much more to prove now. You struggled in the tournament while I thrived. You had a poor hand dealt to you, I’ll give you that. You beat Rini. But I am not her. I am not even the girl I was last time we fought and you beat me. I am not someone who believes in going easy on you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will not let you win this match. I want to win so I can get what I want. I am fueled not by self-doubt and worry like you. I am driven by something purer. Rage.”
She leans into the camera, "That is what I represent now Abigail. Rage. Vengeance. I want to get to the top and I will not mourn what I do to you to get there. I care for you, but I will not let you keep me from what I want.”
Well howdy there pardner.