Screws and Spaceships
Author: RiaStarStruck (me!)
Rating: R
Pairing: VAM, Missy/Bam, Bam/OFC
Summary: EXTRACT: ‘Frantz called it an anxiety dream, said he was worried his marriage would fall apart like the space ship’ Bam couldn’t help feeling like there was something wrong with where his life was heading. Haunted by his dream Bam see’s his downfall at every turn, along with the shadow of a finish star.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything connected to HIM, Ville Valo, or Bam Margera except some DVDs and CDs. I don’t mean to offend anyone by this, it’s written purely for my own entertainment.
Warnings: Bam/other people, Spoilers for Bams Unholy Union
Authors Notes: I finally finished watching Bam’s Unholy Union, I’d stopped at episode 8 for some unfathomable reason. In the last episode I was intrigued by the dream Bam talks about on the morning of his wedding, and then, later Novak said something which 1) blew my mind, and 2) birthed a bunch of ideas that violently told me to WRITE!
So this is what came from that, and of course, I added a nice VAM twist.
Also, unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own, please comment!! they are love.
“You heard that dream he had; it was pretty much downfall.”
The television flickered on in front of him, the room was dark but for some reason he knew it was a hotel room. It seemed familiar somehow, and after a moment of blind pursuit it came to him, it was the hotel room he’d stayed in when shooting The Sacrament in Prague. The TV was showing a documentary on the Discovery Channel, the dry voice of the narrator droned on but Bam wasn’t listening, his eyes were fixed on footage that played in front of him. Diagrams flickered between video footage, and the dry voice talked about how the heat was so hot it would sear right through flesh, and how slowly the hundreds of screws fell from their holes. The video showed a cascade of small screws falling through the afternoon light glittering like falling stars. Then he watched in horror as the large bottom of the spaceship fell away, careening towards the ground and warped by the heat that still scorched it. Then, when he though there couldn’t be anymore, the remains of the spaceship fell through the sky, like a toolbox upended, the fuel shone in the light, brilliant liquid topaz against the powder blue sky. It seemed never ending, the waves of fuel just kept coming, and Bam could swear he could smell it in the room.
Suddenly he realised he knew the song that was playing, the familiar tunes rougher than their more recent and refined songs. The moment he became aware of the music it seemed to get louder, so loud he wanted to cover his ears from the deafening sound, as the deep voice seemed to tear a his flesh apart.
So my love your laughter is finally turning into tears
And you're begging for more though the end is getting near
come closer my love
I'll violate you in the most sensual way... until, until you drown in this love
He tried to get the remote to turn it off as the liquid topaz covered the ground and the small figures that stood there watching, he wanted to get away, to tear his gaze from the horror before him as the voice of his friend seemed to yell at him, telling him something he didn’t want to hear, but as he moved the blanket aside he realised his legs where in plasters up to his thighs, both legs broken like Novak.
He woke with a jerk, his eyes wide and his body still. He watched through the window as the night passed, he pulled the soft white blanket over him clutched it to his naked chest as though to ward of the golden fuel which was surely still falling from the sky. He took comfort in Novak’s wheezed snores and he counted then till the morning sun shone through the room and the camera crew entered.
Frantz called it an anxiety dream, said he was worried his marriage would fall apart like the spaceship, a fiery ball in the sky that glittered in its brutality. He decided not to mention the hotel room or the song, he didn’t need a shrink to tell him that was important but he couldn’t bring himself to share it with them. Frantz’s stuttered ‘only in your worst fears’ did nothing to comfort him, or to make him believe he was the only one who saw the horrible end that lay in his future.
Phil entered later, bubbling with pride like he had for Jess. His thick fingers rubbed across the tense muscles in Bam’s shoulder as he pretended to be absorbed in what was in front of him. ‘I want to give you some secret advice. Always be yourself.’ he laughed it off though it killed him to do so. The iron band that clamped around his chest squeezed and it felt like he had been slapped in the face. Be yourself. He spent so much of his time being someone else and making it believable he didn’t know if he knew who he was anymore.
A flash of him laughing, not his usual harsh cynical laugh, but a different softer one, as he lounged back on a rumpled hotel bed in a cold room as he gazed up at a thin tattooed man who was trying to brush his long brown hair, flickered through his mind. It was a half second memory, a moment out of a thousand where he had, for the first time in what felt like forever, been free and himself.
He ignored the advice, demeaned it to his father and held his tense body in an imitation of his usual relaxed pose. He didn’t want to look at Phil, who always seemed to know him best, no matter what Ape thought.
~*~
The staged lights that Missy spent hours deciding over shone gold along her dress, as it glittered across the shiny fabric and her gold skin; he saw the liquid topaz fuel that fell from the sky. The red velvet of the room turned to blood and the black dresses of the bridesmaids and the black tuxedoes his lifetime friends wore turned to funeral garb. He felt panic rise. Breathe, breathe, remember to breath. As he watched her thin body approach him he wondered if he could make a break for it, keep running till he hit somewhere where nobody knew his name and what a coward he was. The groomsmen clung together like a human shield, no break in their hold, maybe he could land a jump over Novak’s chair but he doubted it.
She’d refused to let him play HIM at her wedding, he hadn’t begged very hard but he had the feeling she wouldn’t have shifted her stance on this one. He longed for the soothing balm of Ville’s voice, for the familiar music that always calmed him to fill the gaping hole of the bands absence at his wedding. He knew Vile would look amazing in a suit, and that he would glow under the specially prepared lights.
He’d shrugged when Ryan had asked him why he wanted to play songs about heartache and death at his wedding. The songs weren’t about heartache to him, they were about how inevitably love tore people apart, broke them and beat them until death was the only release from the pain of endless love.
Breathe, just breathe. He tried to ignore the fuel that slicked her body, tried to not smell the poisonous liquid or feel it when he held her briefly to him. When he took his place at the altar, Reverend Fireball looking pretty much like he always did, Bam focused on that fragment of normality, on how Missy’s face was the same shape and the room full of people where his friends, and he knew every single one of them.
For some reason he didn’t want to analyse, he felt comforted by the fact she would feed the cats, whether he was there or not.
Later, when Novak pulled him aside and told him he thought his dream was about downfall, pulling his wrist towards him and turning the inside of the thin wrist up to Bam’s enquiring gaze, Bam was reminded that Novak wasn’t always the fool he played at being and that he saw the world in a very different way to everyone else, this often gave him insight that others lacked.
The edges of a thin heart outline peeked out from under his newest leather band which glittered against his skin. He didn’t need to ask him what he meant; the heart was the one thing Novak never let him forget. To Novak, Bam’s fixation with the finish rock star meant more than just a passing phase, it reminded Novak all to clearly of how Heroin had shaped his existence.
It wasn’t the first time Bam got the feeling Novak didn’t approve of his marriage, they laughed it off as retaliation for Missy’s distain for him, but they both knew there was something more to it.
~*~
Six months after the wedding he booked a flight to Finland. He didn’t tell Missy until the morning he left, when the sun wasn’t even over the horizon he woke her up and told her he’d be gone for a week. She’s mumbled sleepily and he’d left.
Hours later when he turned his phone back on after he’d landed she’d left four messages for him, and had yelled at him for twenty minutes. He checked into a hotel in the heart of Helsinki and spent the next three days drinking liquor from small bottles in his bar fridge alone. On the fourth day of his visit he slept next to the toilet, waking every so often to empty his aching stomach into the porcelain bowl. He had told nobody he was there, and as his head felt like it was attempting to explode, and his body was wracked with cold shivers and he felt tears prickle in the corner of his eyes every time he heaved, he wondered if he would die there.
What a headline that would make, Millionaire skateboarder drinks himself to death alone in anonymous Helsinki hotel.
On the fifth day he sat in the shower until it ran cold as ice, ignoring the angry knocking at his door and hummed to himself until his phone told him it was time to leave for his flight home.
He caught a taxi to the castle and paid the man in fifties. The castle was empty when he got there, which he was thankful for. He hid in his study, the white figure of Ville Valo looking down at him as he attempted to catch up on his work.
Missy knocked on his door some time later and asked him though gritted teeth whether he had eaten dinner or not. He nodded and she closed the door without another word.
He hadn’t eaten; the only thing he’d eaten in the past week was the meals served on the plane, but the idea of food made him feel sick. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow he would return to his regular routine.
~*~
He fucked a blonde backstage at a 69 eye concert in LA. She was leggy and tall and didn’t shut up.
He did a redhead at a skate comp in England; she clawed at him with long black nails and smelt like cheap perfume.
He let a brunette suck him off in the back of the Hummer, he’d closed his eyes and ran his fingers through her long waves as he came. Later he found smudges of red lipstick in his pubes which made him laugh hysterically until he didn’t know if he was laughing or sobbing.
When Missy found out she told Ape, who yelled at him for half an hour, following him from room to room calling him things like stupid and immature and insensitive, though the right words were Adulterer, heartless, unfaithful.
Phil stood by and watched him with an angry look, made worst by the sadness in his eyes. More than anything in that moment Bam wanted to make him understand, to beg him to stop being disappointed. He wanted to should at the usually smiling; kind face ‘I don’t know who I am anymore!’ but he said nothing.
The pouting Finish singer that adorned his walls stared at him from each room he tried to escape to with what Bam would swear was disappointment.
Bam looked, though he tried desperately not to, at his wife and he saw the marital bonds stretched tight enough to snap.
~*~
The TV was playing a documentary on the Discovery Channel about a plane crash. The wings had fallen off two hours into the flight, killing all the passengers and crew.
The narrator talked about screws and flight patterns as Bam paced in front of the screen. The hot Spanish sun shone warm gold into the room, but Bam refused to sit down, an irrational fear that the shadows would close in and his legs would break, while the remote stayed precariously on the edge of the bedside table, just out of reach.
They played video footage of the plane as it fell to pieces in midair and Bam threw up under the window. He blamed it on the half bottle of whiskey he’d downed the night before. He studiously ignored what the golden liquid had convinced him do when it was hot in his veins and made his brain hazy.
A half memory of a message he’d left on Ville’s phone taunted him from the sidelines of his memories as the golden light pooled on the hotel carpet like puddles of topaz fuel.
“I love you, I love you. I’m sorry. I don’t want all the screws to fall out, but the fuel’s covering everything and I don’t know who I am anymore, but I still love you and I miss me. I can’t stop the spaceships from falling...”
He’d turned his phone off after that and curled up on the floor next to the bed clutching a half bottle of whiskey and a worn HIM jumper, and prayed he wouldn’t wake up with broken legs.
~*~
Ville arrived at Castle Bam a week after Bam’s tour of Spain ended. In the thousand times Bam had imagined this meeting he had thought of a thousand ways of dealing with it. He’d pretty much decided he would run away, or laugh it off, or pretend he didn’t remember anything.
Instead he found himself breaking down in embarrassing choked sobs in front of his entire crew of friends.
Ville didn’t hesitate to wrap him in his long arms and hold him close to his thin frame. He looked tired and pale, but his green eyes were bright and clear. Bam felt his knees give way and he sank to the wet ground pulling the thin man down with him in the shadow of the ridiculous Ramp of Death.
His friends watched in horror as he sobbed helplessly and clawed at the back of Ville’s coat. His knees were wet from the rain that had fallen earlier, and if he let himself, he could imagine he felt the fuel burning through his jeans.
As his raking sobs died down, Ville continued to hold him, occasionally placing tender kisses to Bam’s tousled brown curls. And then, in front of his friends who had dressed in funeral garb to his weddings Ville leaned down to whisper with smoky breath in Bam’s ear.
“I know who you are Bam Bam, and though I don’t understand it, I won’t let anymore spaceships fall.”
And Bam believed him.
Rating: R
Pairing: VAM, Missy/Bam, Bam/OFC
Summary: EXTRACT: ‘Frantz called it an anxiety dream, said he was worried his marriage would fall apart like the space ship’ Bam couldn’t help feeling like there was something wrong with where his life was heading. Haunted by his dream Bam see’s his downfall at every turn, along with the shadow of a finish star.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything connected to HIM, Ville Valo, or Bam Margera except some DVDs and CDs. I don’t mean to offend anyone by this, it’s written purely for my own entertainment.
Warnings: Bam/other people, Spoilers for Bams Unholy Union
Authors Notes: I finally finished watching Bam’s Unholy Union, I’d stopped at episode 8 for some unfathomable reason. In the last episode I was intrigued by the dream Bam talks about on the morning of his wedding, and then, later Novak said something which 1) blew my mind, and 2) birthed a bunch of ideas that violently told me to WRITE!
So this is what came from that, and of course, I added a nice VAM twist.
Also, unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own, please comment!! they are love.
“You heard that dream he had; it was pretty much downfall.”
The television flickered on in front of him, the room was dark but for some reason he knew it was a hotel room. It seemed familiar somehow, and after a moment of blind pursuit it came to him, it was the hotel room he’d stayed in when shooting The Sacrament in Prague. The TV was showing a documentary on the Discovery Channel, the dry voice of the narrator droned on but Bam wasn’t listening, his eyes were fixed on footage that played in front of him. Diagrams flickered between video footage, and the dry voice talked about how the heat was so hot it would sear right through flesh, and how slowly the hundreds of screws fell from their holes. The video showed a cascade of small screws falling through the afternoon light glittering like falling stars. Then he watched in horror as the large bottom of the spaceship fell away, careening towards the ground and warped by the heat that still scorched it. Then, when he though there couldn’t be anymore, the remains of the spaceship fell through the sky, like a toolbox upended, the fuel shone in the light, brilliant liquid topaz against the powder blue sky. It seemed never ending, the waves of fuel just kept coming, and Bam could swear he could smell it in the room.
Suddenly he realised he knew the song that was playing, the familiar tunes rougher than their more recent and refined songs. The moment he became aware of the music it seemed to get louder, so loud he wanted to cover his ears from the deafening sound, as the deep voice seemed to tear a his flesh apart.
So my love your laughter is finally turning into tears
And you're begging for more though the end is getting near
come closer my love
I'll violate you in the most sensual way... until, until you drown in this love
He tried to get the remote to turn it off as the liquid topaz covered the ground and the small figures that stood there watching, he wanted to get away, to tear his gaze from the horror before him as the voice of his friend seemed to yell at him, telling him something he didn’t want to hear, but as he moved the blanket aside he realised his legs where in plasters up to his thighs, both legs broken like Novak.
He woke with a jerk, his eyes wide and his body still. He watched through the window as the night passed, he pulled the soft white blanket over him clutched it to his naked chest as though to ward of the golden fuel which was surely still falling from the sky. He took comfort in Novak’s wheezed snores and he counted then till the morning sun shone through the room and the camera crew entered.
Frantz called it an anxiety dream, said he was worried his marriage would fall apart like the spaceship, a fiery ball in the sky that glittered in its brutality. He decided not to mention the hotel room or the song, he didn’t need a shrink to tell him that was important but he couldn’t bring himself to share it with them. Frantz’s stuttered ‘only in your worst fears’ did nothing to comfort him, or to make him believe he was the only one who saw the horrible end that lay in his future.
Phil entered later, bubbling with pride like he had for Jess. His thick fingers rubbed across the tense muscles in Bam’s shoulder as he pretended to be absorbed in what was in front of him. ‘I want to give you some secret advice. Always be yourself.’ he laughed it off though it killed him to do so. The iron band that clamped around his chest squeezed and it felt like he had been slapped in the face. Be yourself. He spent so much of his time being someone else and making it believable he didn’t know if he knew who he was anymore.
A flash of him laughing, not his usual harsh cynical laugh, but a different softer one, as he lounged back on a rumpled hotel bed in a cold room as he gazed up at a thin tattooed man who was trying to brush his long brown hair, flickered through his mind. It was a half second memory, a moment out of a thousand where he had, for the first time in what felt like forever, been free and himself.
He ignored the advice, demeaned it to his father and held his tense body in an imitation of his usual relaxed pose. He didn’t want to look at Phil, who always seemed to know him best, no matter what Ape thought.
~*~
The staged lights that Missy spent hours deciding over shone gold along her dress, as it glittered across the shiny fabric and her gold skin; he saw the liquid topaz fuel that fell from the sky. The red velvet of the room turned to blood and the black dresses of the bridesmaids and the black tuxedoes his lifetime friends wore turned to funeral garb. He felt panic rise. Breathe, breathe, remember to breath. As he watched her thin body approach him he wondered if he could make a break for it, keep running till he hit somewhere where nobody knew his name and what a coward he was. The groomsmen clung together like a human shield, no break in their hold, maybe he could land a jump over Novak’s chair but he doubted it.
She’d refused to let him play HIM at her wedding, he hadn’t begged very hard but he had the feeling she wouldn’t have shifted her stance on this one. He longed for the soothing balm of Ville’s voice, for the familiar music that always calmed him to fill the gaping hole of the bands absence at his wedding. He knew Vile would look amazing in a suit, and that he would glow under the specially prepared lights.
He’d shrugged when Ryan had asked him why he wanted to play songs about heartache and death at his wedding. The songs weren’t about heartache to him, they were about how inevitably love tore people apart, broke them and beat them until death was the only release from the pain of endless love.
Breathe, just breathe. He tried to ignore the fuel that slicked her body, tried to not smell the poisonous liquid or feel it when he held her briefly to him. When he took his place at the altar, Reverend Fireball looking pretty much like he always did, Bam focused on that fragment of normality, on how Missy’s face was the same shape and the room full of people where his friends, and he knew every single one of them.
For some reason he didn’t want to analyse, he felt comforted by the fact she would feed the cats, whether he was there or not.
Later, when Novak pulled him aside and told him he thought his dream was about downfall, pulling his wrist towards him and turning the inside of the thin wrist up to Bam’s enquiring gaze, Bam was reminded that Novak wasn’t always the fool he played at being and that he saw the world in a very different way to everyone else, this often gave him insight that others lacked.
The edges of a thin heart outline peeked out from under his newest leather band which glittered against his skin. He didn’t need to ask him what he meant; the heart was the one thing Novak never let him forget. To Novak, Bam’s fixation with the finish rock star meant more than just a passing phase, it reminded Novak all to clearly of how Heroin had shaped his existence.
It wasn’t the first time Bam got the feeling Novak didn’t approve of his marriage, they laughed it off as retaliation for Missy’s distain for him, but they both knew there was something more to it.
~*~
Six months after the wedding he booked a flight to Finland. He didn’t tell Missy until the morning he left, when the sun wasn’t even over the horizon he woke her up and told her he’d be gone for a week. She’s mumbled sleepily and he’d left.
Hours later when he turned his phone back on after he’d landed she’d left four messages for him, and had yelled at him for twenty minutes. He checked into a hotel in the heart of Helsinki and spent the next three days drinking liquor from small bottles in his bar fridge alone. On the fourth day of his visit he slept next to the toilet, waking every so often to empty his aching stomach into the porcelain bowl. He had told nobody he was there, and as his head felt like it was attempting to explode, and his body was wracked with cold shivers and he felt tears prickle in the corner of his eyes every time he heaved, he wondered if he would die there.
What a headline that would make, Millionaire skateboarder drinks himself to death alone in anonymous Helsinki hotel.
On the fifth day he sat in the shower until it ran cold as ice, ignoring the angry knocking at his door and hummed to himself until his phone told him it was time to leave for his flight home.
He caught a taxi to the castle and paid the man in fifties. The castle was empty when he got there, which he was thankful for. He hid in his study, the white figure of Ville Valo looking down at him as he attempted to catch up on his work.
Missy knocked on his door some time later and asked him though gritted teeth whether he had eaten dinner or not. He nodded and she closed the door without another word.
He hadn’t eaten; the only thing he’d eaten in the past week was the meals served on the plane, but the idea of food made him feel sick. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow he would return to his regular routine.
~*~
He fucked a blonde backstage at a 69 eye concert in LA. She was leggy and tall and didn’t shut up.
He did a redhead at a skate comp in England; she clawed at him with long black nails and smelt like cheap perfume.
He let a brunette suck him off in the back of the Hummer, he’d closed his eyes and ran his fingers through her long waves as he came. Later he found smudges of red lipstick in his pubes which made him laugh hysterically until he didn’t know if he was laughing or sobbing.
When Missy found out she told Ape, who yelled at him for half an hour, following him from room to room calling him things like stupid and immature and insensitive, though the right words were Adulterer, heartless, unfaithful.
Phil stood by and watched him with an angry look, made worst by the sadness in his eyes. More than anything in that moment Bam wanted to make him understand, to beg him to stop being disappointed. He wanted to should at the usually smiling; kind face ‘I don’t know who I am anymore!’ but he said nothing.
The pouting Finish singer that adorned his walls stared at him from each room he tried to escape to with what Bam would swear was disappointment.
Bam looked, though he tried desperately not to, at his wife and he saw the marital bonds stretched tight enough to snap.
~*~
The TV was playing a documentary on the Discovery Channel about a plane crash. The wings had fallen off two hours into the flight, killing all the passengers and crew.
The narrator talked about screws and flight patterns as Bam paced in front of the screen. The hot Spanish sun shone warm gold into the room, but Bam refused to sit down, an irrational fear that the shadows would close in and his legs would break, while the remote stayed precariously on the edge of the bedside table, just out of reach.
They played video footage of the plane as it fell to pieces in midair and Bam threw up under the window. He blamed it on the half bottle of whiskey he’d downed the night before. He studiously ignored what the golden liquid had convinced him do when it was hot in his veins and made his brain hazy.
A half memory of a message he’d left on Ville’s phone taunted him from the sidelines of his memories as the golden light pooled on the hotel carpet like puddles of topaz fuel.
“I love you, I love you. I’m sorry. I don’t want all the screws to fall out, but the fuel’s covering everything and I don’t know who I am anymore, but I still love you and I miss me. I can’t stop the spaceships from falling...”
He’d turned his phone off after that and curled up on the floor next to the bed clutching a half bottle of whiskey and a worn HIM jumper, and prayed he wouldn’t wake up with broken legs.
~*~
Ville arrived at Castle Bam a week after Bam’s tour of Spain ended. In the thousand times Bam had imagined this meeting he had thought of a thousand ways of dealing with it. He’d pretty much decided he would run away, or laugh it off, or pretend he didn’t remember anything.
Instead he found himself breaking down in embarrassing choked sobs in front of his entire crew of friends.
Ville didn’t hesitate to wrap him in his long arms and hold him close to his thin frame. He looked tired and pale, but his green eyes were bright and clear. Bam felt his knees give way and he sank to the wet ground pulling the thin man down with him in the shadow of the ridiculous Ramp of Death.
His friends watched in horror as he sobbed helplessly and clawed at the back of Ville’s coat. His knees were wet from the rain that had fallen earlier, and if he let himself, he could imagine he felt the fuel burning through his jeans.
As his raking sobs died down, Ville continued to hold him, occasionally placing tender kisses to Bam’s tousled brown curls. And then, in front of his friends who had dressed in funeral garb to his weddings Ville leaned down to whisper with smoky breath in Bam’s ear.
“I know who you are Bam Bam, and though I don’t understand it, I won’t let anymore spaceships fall.”
And Bam believed him.