#rolling stone miniseries

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇪​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​🇪​​🇽​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇺​​🇲​-⦂❝

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧.

Notes: Miniseries my ass—Don't forget to read Part One, Two and Three! Are you ready for Wade POV :) Typical Meta and fourth wall breaking ahead. Wade gets his action sequence and reader gets some mild trauma but they're cool about it.

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, decapitation, blood and gore, unhealthy relationships, angst, explicit language, hospital mention

Words: 4k

Wade was like a gargoyle, the personal gargoyle of your shitty little apartment elevator. Stone still in the back with his arms crossed and head down—no one else daring to step into the cramped space with him anytime the doors opened. He'd been in there for the better half of the afternoon, going up and down the floors at the will of others button presses but not working up the guts to step onto your floor. Part of him hoped the doors would open and you'd be standing there, make the decision for him and pull him out of it or step in with him so you could both ride the hellevator of your relationship problems together.

The problems that he wasn't stupid enough to ignore were all his fault.

He was pissed, pissed at himself, pissed at the fuckers who got him into this mess and most of all pissed at the author for putting you two together and giving him a chance to fall so fuckin' badly in love with you. These guys never gave him a break in the love department and if he ever got his hands on them he'd shove their keyboards and pens right up their asses—It was the plot's fault that it hinged on the breakup trope, he and you the unwilling puppets strung along to amuse and entice whoever clicked on the title in their fanfic scroll.

The doors to the elevator opened and your building's security guard, Rich, stared back at him, nervous and tired as all hell. Any other day Wade would have been happy to see him. But right now he wanted to decapitate anyone who didn't have your simmering eyes, he just wanted to see you.

"Heya Wade, uh, people have been callin' the office about a thug in the elevator. Think you could uh," He gestured to the front door of the building and Wade would have tossed him out of it himself had he not soon followed up. with the fact you weren't even home. He froze, hand slapping on the closing doors and shoving them open as he barged out of the elevator.

"Where the fuck are they then?" He snapped, a sudden fear and fury overtaking him as he gripped the guard's uniform tightly. The one time he offered you some privacy and didn't follow you home of course something fucking happened, it was just his damn rotten luck. Rich trembled under his masked gaze and tried to lean back as far as humanly possible.

"I-I have no idea! Didn't come home last night, just assumed they were with you!" He yelped as Wade tossed him to the side, storming out of the building with homicidal intent rolling off of him in waves. A kidnap plot—his favourite. Note the sarcasm. He fumed as he hopped into the car he'd parked on the curb, not his, he didn't own one—he was borrowing this one. Indefinitely. He sped off, at first he was too blindsided by his anger to know where he was going but as it began to simmer realisation bit into the back of his skull like a sneaky bullet.

The fuckwads from the gig. The ones that said if he didn't behave like a good doggy they'd pop a cap in your pretty skull—He should have taken the risk and taken 'em all out Keanu style when he had the chance. But he got preoccupied by, well, you, and trying to get you as far away from him as possible. He was scared, plain and simple. Out of everyone he couldn't watch you get hurt because of him—ironic as he hurt you all the same. Maybe even worse.

After a hasty u-turn and aggressive tapping of coordinates into the shitty GPS Wade put his foot on the gas; his grip on the wheel tight enough to bend the metal beneath the silicone protection. All of this, all of the pain, the nights alone and the nights watching you cry while watching your comfort movies—all of it for nothing! The same song and dance he'd been avoiding was playing out all the same. He scowled, cursed the hostage-for macguffin-trope and promised himself he would not sit through any monologues or negotiations. He was getting you out of whatever crusty basement they had you in and taking you home and then when he had you back; he wasn't letting go.

You could hate him, throw things at him, the whole lot; but he wasn't leaving your side ever again.

He couldn't handle it even when it was self inflicted, fuck whatever your therapist said about it. Fuck whatever anyone else said about it. He needed you, more than he needed oxygen—and back in the day people called that romantic, not unhealthy or concerning.

A wire fence gave way as Wade swerved into the shady, abandoned apartment complex lot. The car sputtered in defiance as he drifted to a stop in front of the building. They knew he was coming, if they didn't they were idiots. He jumped out, heading to the front door, he wasn't going to give them a dime or a batted eyelash but he didn't have time to sneak in the back. He needed to see you were okay and if there was even a hair out of place every mother fucker in this building was going lights out for good.

The doors creaked open, his heavy steps reverberated off the walls and the prior chatter died into bated breaths. When he rounded the corner into a large open room his sights zeroed in on you immediately, tied to a chair and eyes burning with fury and panic. Blood dripped from your lips and anger flared within him before he noticed the guy beside you on the floor clutching the bloody place where his ear used to be. Oh shit. Said ear stared back at him from the puddle on the floor by your feet and he had to admit, he was impressed and dare he say, a little hard.

He wished he could've seen that.

Fuck you were awesome.

"Are you waiting for something?" You asked him, voice strained as you ignored everyone else in the room; eyes solely on Wade. You had no doubts he was getting you out of here and that made his chest swell with some emotion he couldn't quite place. Pride? Love? All of the above?

He titled his head up, noting the faded tune of 'Hit the Road Jack' coming from another room. Oh good, a backing track. He tapped his foot and nodded along for a moment as he lifted his hands, guns were on him—and you, and he chuckled. A low and dark rumble that left the room feeling colder than when he walked in. These chucklefucks had no idea how bad of an idea that was. But they would find out.

"Alrighty sluggers, you ready to dance like monkeys while I take you down in nasty ways for the author's lil action sequence?" Confused looks were shot his way and quickly dismissed as he grabbed his guns in a smooth motion. Shooting two of the guys closest to you, the bullets whizzing through the air and nailing them both in the same eye. Blood and viscera smattered the wall as their bodies went down and you winced as some of it got on you. Whoops.

"Sorry babe." He sang, receiving an unimpressed and somewhat disturbed glare from you. Yeah okay, not funny, he got it.

Wade moved on to the guys nearest to him, neither fast enough to dodge and one got a nice fat bullet to the lower jaw; ripping through skin and cracking through bone as it cut through him like a hot knife. His body fell into the guy behind him who shrugged him off with terror in his eyes. Wade loved it when they got all squirmy, made him all tingly and warm inside. It was fun—for him, anyway. The other guy got a lovely little bullet to the nose, the cartilage shattered and the middle of his face bloomed like a red rose, his body flying back until he landed on the floor looking like a Francisco Goya painting.

What was Wade if not an artist and his weapon's his tools?

Shots began to fire, none from his gun and Wade got started on the left side of the room, swerving past a baseball bat before kicking it into the air and smacking the butt of his gun into the guy's nose. Blood squirted all over the front of Wade and he didn't flinch, sheathing one gun to catch the bat and toss it across the room at one of the guys taking shots at him. It hit him square in the face, breaking his shades and it knocked him back far enough that he tripped over a chair. Wade turned back in time to knock away a punch from the guy now bleeding profusely from his bruising nose.

"You look like you just watched a naughty anime buddy, you should really be careful because the guys upstairs can see everything in your search history," He grinned at the utter despair and confusion on the other man's face, taking even greater pleasure in headbutting him and kicking him back into three of his buddies.

Two other guys ran at his side and he dodged and weaved, shooting one in the kneecap and pulling out one of his swords; decapitating the other guy in a swift motion. As his head rolled off of his body, blood and bone and muscle spilled over the floor and Wade shot the screaming man in front of him in the head. Brain matter coating his boots much to his chagrin, he pulled a face no one could see and tried to shake the shit off of him.

"Nameless bad guy number five got his brain goo all over my boot, gross."

"Wade!" Your voice cut through the pandemonium, followed by a cacophony of gunshots and Wade felt his body ripped open at multiple points. It hurt, it always did, feeling the shrapnel dig into his muscles and the bullet skid past his bones. The ones that hit his fun zone were always the worst and he made a show of bending over and groaning unhappily. His one good feature just got turned into swiss cheese. Again.

He looked up at you, making sure the fire show was reserved solely for him and there was something about the worry in your eyes that stirred something within him. You still cared, even if he wouldn't die you cared that he was getting hurt. That was something. More than enough.

He pushed himself back into action, sword swinging and cutting a guys arm off, gun lifting and blowing a guy's junk into oblivion—the howl of agony a nice backing track to the slowly fading in 'If I could Turn Back Time' by queen Cher herself. Maybe this was it, the big show that he was willing to go through hell to get back to you. Once he'd finished off these guys and untied you, you'd throw your arms around him and he'd get to whisk you off into the sunset. He smiled as he kebabified mister one arm and mister no junk in one go, their bodies tossed to the ground by inertia as he slid his sword back. He spun across the bloody pool of a floor, right into the path of a knife that twisted into his abdomen painfully—but he was too lost to his daydream to give a fuck.

He tucked his gun under the guys chin and blasted his brains out with a boyish glee, sheathing that gun as well to rip the knife out of his gut and toss it into the head of the guy who had the gall to leave the fight and start running toward you. It landed in his temple, slotting in like a perfect tetris piece and his body fell by your feet. You flinched and closed your eyes, rearing Wade back into reality somewhat. Now wasn't time to be playing, you absolutely weren't having fun so neither could he. Double time.

The last two guys went down with fierce efficiency and Wade cleaned off his sword in the crook of his elbow, sliding it back into its place as he rounded the back of your chair.

"Are you—"

"Just get me the fuck out of here Wade." Your words were sharp even though they were quiet—shaky. Wade shut his mouth with a clack of teeth. His jaw tensed as he cut the ropes on your wrists with his tactical knife and freed you from the chair. You didn't jump into his arms, more like fell limply against his chest in exhaustion as he picked you up. He could see scuffs on your skin, dried blood and scratches that made his blood boil. He'd come back and do some unspeakable performance art with these bozos corpses later, if only to make himself feel better for not being there to stop them getting you in the first place.

Having you back in his arms cemented a few things to him, cradling you to his chest and feeling the rise and fall of your own reminded him of so many nights where you were fast asleep next to him trusting your life in his hands. Something not one other person ever did, which was wise, really. But having your arm over his shoulder and knowing how you'd been so sure of him saving you; he needed that. In the world of people that saw him as a failure of a human being who was only good at killing and nothing else he needed you, who had always seen him as something more. Something that could be good, even when he did everything to prove you wrong.

He took you to the hospital despite your protests and stayed by you as they checked you over and patched you up, he threatened each and every one and you scowled and told him to shut it each and every time. It was almost like old times except you looked fatigued and sad and he was rougher and angry. When you were good to go Wade tossed around a few bills and walked out the front door hot on your heels, it was only when you started walking in the opposite direction of his car did he reach out to stop you.

"Wade—" You let him turn you around but you kept your feet planted in place and his heart twisted as your usual facade of anger had melted away into utter sadness and confusion.

"You just got kidnapped and you wanna take the bus?" He asked and you shook your head, but still didn't move. A beat of tense silence filled the space between you before you shrugged and laughed roughly, his hands hovered; wanting nothing more than to hold you again and ward off that blanket of hurt covering you.

"Were those the guys that shot you into a black hole?"

You didn't look at him as you asked and he slowly nodded.

"Yeah. I skimped on my end of the bargain and they thought they could get back at me, I'll take care of it, you'll be okay." He tried to sound reassuring, but his whole being was the opposite of that word. He would be making them all go away, that wasn't a question and he knew you wouldn't doubt that. As soon as someone went after the people he cared about, the list being very short and easy to find, they weren't destined to be in this plane of reality for much longer. They all joined the pile of the dead nameless characters only put in place to show off his wicked skills and mad devotion.

Of which he had entirely too much, he felt like he could burst at the seems from all the feelings inside him specifically labelled with your name. How could one person consume him so wholly? He had never figured it out and he doubted he ever would; despite the obvious inclination to wonder if it was the puppeteer playing him the feelings he felt were far too real and too deep to just be shrugged off as some shallow dialogue. You and him, right here and now, you were real and what you made him feel was real.

And right now he had a whole lot of fear.

You shook your head and turned away from him again, a humourless smile on your face that was hard to look at. Wade watched on carefully as you wrapped your arms around yourself and felt his arms fall to his side.

"I don't think I will be," you looked back at him, "I don't think we will be." That was the opposite of what Wade wanted to hear. He played through the scenario where he threw you over his shoulder and put you in the car, driving you home and ignoring everything you had to say about it. He tried to figure out if being with you and having you actively hate him and trying to get away from him was better than letting you go and getting the small moments of less than stellar small talk or worse; total silence.

Both sounded like garbage.

"I want to go home Wade."

"Then get in the car." He gestured back to the lacklustre scrap of metal and you shook your head, a small action that felt worse than the bullets that had ripped through him earlier. He felt his frustration boiling over, he wanted to rewind time and take back all of his stupid mistakes and all the angry words you'd thrown at each other the last few weeks. He just wanted you. He swore you still wanted him too.

"I can't."

For a moment Wade just stared at you, long and hard as you stepped away from him. He really felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place and definitely not in a good way. The worst way possible actually. He racked his brain for what to do and grovelling and being honest seemed the only way to move forward that didn't end in you running away from him for the rest of your life. As much as being stupid or aggressive would have been so much easier, he had enough brain left to realise that's how he ended up here in the first place.

"I can't lose you." He hated the way the words sounded so fragile in his mouth, he wanted to bite his tongue off as soon as he said it. You looked just as surprised as he was by him saying it and your mouth fell open as you failed to put together a reply. He watched as you pulled yourself together, the small physical cues he'd mesmerised showing him you were trying desperately to keep up the wall that had been slowly building up. But he wasn't gonna let you hide from him, not now.

"You already let me go, Wade."

He knew that, the reminder stung and he shook his head to rid himself of the flashes of your pained face, the tears he'd seen you shed when you thought you were alone.

"I fucked up, I'll wear that. I fuck up all the time and I'll keep fucking up but I," He sucked in a deep breath, holding his hands out to the side as he stepped forward, "I love you. You are the only good fuckin' thing in my life and I thought as long as you were okay and happy I could live without you, but I can't." He gritted out the words one after the other. God he hated this genre, he always ended up sounding like a wimp. But he wasn't lying, the only time he'd ever lied to you was when he told you to get lost on what had slowly become one of the worst days in his entire damn life.

He wished he had just told you the truth, he'd been getting pretty good at doing it before but something about seeing a reticle trained on you with a little red dot shook him hard to his core. He could disarm a guy in under a second but a drone with more than one controller was another matter and it had just wrecked him, his progress, his resolve; all of it. For that one second he'd lost you and then in the next he really did lose you. But it was in a far worse way as you were still walking around and breathing; just without him being able to be there breathing in that same air.

God this fucking sucked. Relationships always sucked, people were too complicated and he hated feeling how he felt right now. Utterly hopeless—the one guy in the world who could survive a nuclear bomb head-on couldn't handle a simple fucking relationship and like hell he knew how to salvage it in the wreckage he made. But he had no choice but to try and you weren't walking away. So he had to try, even when you didn't want him to.

"I'm always going to love you Wade," that was never a good start to a longer sentence, "I need time. I think we both do. Our relationship was never gonna be normal but there's a little unconventional and then there's our personal, hellish little train wreck that we got stuck in." You gestured between the both of you and Wade sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Please don't make me keep going with the pathetic grovelling babe please, the author sucks at writing it," He whispered, a half assed attempt to skirt around the heaviness of the conversation. He wasn't good at this, he never had been. Class clown extraordinaire whose way of dealing with conflict was stabbing pencils into eye sockets struggled with relationship talk, go figure.

"Wade can you be fucking serious please, no bullshit." You stressed, stepping forward and he nodded quickly, matching your step with his own so you were only a foot apart.

"I'm sorry, you know I ramble when I get nervous."

"Fucking hell," You groaned and covered your face with your hands, inhaling deeply before dropping your hands and seemingly giving up the fight for now. He was grateful because he wasn't really sure how much fight he had left in him. Well, for you he couldn't fight for eternity, fight with you even. But man it would wear him out.

"Okay just. You have a raw fucking moment with me here and I'll let you take me home, are you actually gonna do anything different or are you gonna sweep everything under the rug and hit me with the same shit in another two years?" Your question is valid and Wade mulled it over as he thought about what you might be looking for in terms of a change. His behaviour was never gonna get any better, neither was his potty mouth—but yours was no better so it wasn't that. He lifted a hand to hold the back of his neck, to think but also to pluck out the bullet that was starting to itch like hell.

"You want couples counselling or whatever I'll do it, I'm gonna be me about it but I'll sit the full hour. The quack might not make it but—" He waved his other hand in the air as he rattled off the one possibility he could think you'd like to hear and you were quick to follow up, a light full of hope flickering behind your tired eyes.

"And you'll talk to me? The next time shit hits the fan in a scary way you'll trust me enough to tell me instead of calling off our two year relationship with gross ass insults—which fucking hurt, by the way." You crossed your arms over your chest and Wade had never nodded so fast or so hard in his life. He jumped toward you like a man running from fire into the arms of a sexy fireman; except he was holding onto your arms and no one's feet were being whisked into the air—but still.

"I will—and i'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it, if that helps," The author didn't even write it so good luck getting him to remember what he even said. All he knew is that it was bad and left a terrible taste in his mouth, a mouldy taste that lingered and clogged up his throat. You didn't lurch away as his hands rested on your forearms but you didn't lean into him like you always used to, it was some uncomfortable thing in the middle that made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"It doesn't…" You roll your lips into a thin line before sighing and moving your feet, slipping your arms out of his hands and each step lead you back to the shit box Wade drove you here in. A small win, one he'd gladly fucking take right now.

End notes: Some movie!Wade seeped through here, I cannot deny a good backing track for a fight sequence, writing it while listening to those songs was an absolute blast—let me know if it was as fun to read as it was to write! As always, see you in the next one!

[megjameswrites]

one of these days (in a day part 2)

read someday (in a day part 1) here; part 3 here; part 4 here; part 5 here

masterlist of works here

Daryl Dixon x pagan!reader, witchy reader, crystals, herb lore

CW: none

Setting: the prison

Summary: Someday, I'd told Daryl, the rose quartz on my necklace might attract love. The obsidian had certainly provided protection, through the CDC, Hershel's farm, the long winter moving from place to place, and the war with the Governor. Now, I hoped it would protect Daryl on his overnight run while I stayed behind. One of these days, though, I'd probably end up throwing something at the infuriating man.

Note: I made it a miniseries. Just scenes between Daryl and our witchy reader, showing how in a day- even in a moment- things can shift and change.

Early morning sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the misty haze of fog laying over the prison field. Autumn was rolling back in, slowly but surely, and we'd have winter to contend with sooner than I wanted. A single crow flew over the yard, alighting on the fence to ruffle its feathers and caw once, then took to the air again. I shivered.

I hated being cold. It was what had almost taken me down last winter, before we'd found this place. Not the starving, not the running from the dead, not the constant movement and lack of safety-  the cold.

Even now, Daryl's poncho was lying beside me. I'd stolen it before heading out for my shift in the tower, in case I got cold up here. I hadn't been cold enough to put it on during the night, but I would be in another week or two, no doubt.

Besides, it had become a running joke at this point, me constantly slipping into Daryl's cell and stealing something of his, just to see if I could or he'd even notice. Sometimes it was obvious- like the poncho. Sometimes he caught me. Other times, I wore or used something of his right in front of him and he never noticed. Those were the best, because when he finally did- or someone pointed it out to him- he'd scowl and sulk until he got me back somehow.

The man himself whistled from the ground, the curious hunting trill he'd taught me to imitate on the road. I glanced down to see him looking up at me from the foot of the tower. Shift change was coming, then, and it was time for me to walk the fences quickly and make sure everything was set. I waved down, collected my rifle and his poncho, and lifted the trapdoor to head down.

He glanced at the poncho in my hand and sighed heavily, but didn't say anything about it. We wandered the fence, both of us stopping at the north corner to grimace at the sheer number of dead piling up.

"Gonna need to do something about that," I said mildly. "You here for a while now?"

He'd been on and off, sometimes here and sometimes out with Michonne or on his own, searching for the Governor. He'd stopped his long runs recently, so recently I still wasn't sure if he was seriously done or not.

He grunted. "Goin' out for supplies, but I'll mention it to the Council. Should be on it, you know."

"No thanks," I said with a grimace. "I don't want that responsibility. Where are you going?"

"Check the Big Spot, see if the the radio's still workin'. Hit a couple other places on the map. Be back tomorrow. Just goin' for the night."

I nodded, eyes on one of the dead on the fence. There was a ring on her finger, a dark colored stone I could tell from here was a garnet. Confidence, success, focus. He'd need all of those, going out on his own. I thought about taking the ring from her finger, giving it to him. But it didn't feel right.

"Be careful?" I said instead, a casual question asked often between us.

"Course," he muttered. "Could come with me, if ya wanted."

I thought about it, but- "I can't. I'm on the fence crew today and tomorrow, and with how these things look… Don't think I can justify not working them."

He nodded, and we kept going on my rounds. One of the fences shifted under the weight of the grabbing hands, and I scribbled a note on my arm of it to have the crew reinforce the post with some of the instant concrete Glenn had found at the hardware store a month ago.

"I'll bring ya a book back, if ya want. Or some more magic rocks."

I laughed. He'd been adding to both my library and my crystal collection whenever he could, including bringing me some rocks that weren't crystals by any stretch. 'For protection,' he'd always mutter, light in his eyes. 'Throw 'em real hard.'

I'd even done so on one memorable occasion, while we'd been out on a run together, and I'd been surprised shortly after he'd presented me with a palm-sized chunk of gravel. I'd launched it straight at the walker's head, where it had sunk between the eyes deep enough to drop the damn thing dead.

We'd both stared and burst into laughter, knowing I'd never be able to copy that moment if I tried every day for the next hundred years.

We'd almost made it back, and people were stirring now. Carol was in the cookhouse, Rick in the field. The next guard was up in the tower already. It looked like David, from the Decatur group Daryl had brought in a couple months ago. David tipped his rifle my way, and I raised mine back in salute.

I stopped walking, not ready to break the stillness and silence of the morning with a return to C block. I loved our little family, but between Judith being a literal baby and the sheer number of people- housing was becoming an issue, especially in D and B blocks- I got overwhelmed easily. Daryl was the same way, I knew, which was part of why he'd spend so many nights out there, away from home.

"Daryl," I said, breaking the easy silence that had descended between us.

He glanced at me, eyebrow quirking in question, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, really. I wanted- I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted him to be careful. I wanted him to come back fine. I wanted him to-

I slipped the chain over my head and handed it to him. He took it automatically, surprise on his face. "What's this fer?"

I fidgeted, scuffing the toe of my sneaker into the ground at my feet, eyes anywhere but his. "Protection. I don't know; I've just got a feeling. I saw a single crow this morning, right before you came out."

"Assume that means somethin'," he said dryly.

A glance from the corner of my eye saw him fiddling, not with the obsidian spar for protection, but with the rose quartz oval that dangled beside it. I'd added a stone he'd brought me back to the chain as well, so the three of them clattered softly when it moved around my neck. Not loud enough to attract the dead; just enough to remind me it was there.

He'd brought me a bloodstone pendant, scoffing when he'd heard its name. Strength, resilience, courage, and vitality, it promoted. He'd said it was appropriate, considering he'd fought his way out of  a subdivision for it and the massive selenite spar he'd brought me that day as well. I'd begged to go back and see what else the rather surprising owners of the cookie-cutter house had hidden as well, but he'd refused. It'd been overrun, he said, and he'd barely made it out alive. No way he'd take me there, magic rocks for protection or not.

"It means-" I hesitated, not wanting to give voice to it. Sometimes, that was all it took to cement the future in a path you didn't want. I sighed. "'One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth.' There's more to it, but- well. One for sorrow."

"Really believe all that?" he asked after a beat.

I shrugged. "Sometimes a crow is just a crow. Sometimes it's a warning. Between the stupid bird, the blood on the moon last night, and just- the feeling I've got… I don't know. Just be careful." 

Silently, he slipped the chain around his neck, tucking the stones out of sight under his shirt like I wore them. He made a face. "Shit's cold."

That made me laugh. "Give them a minute; they'll warm up. Thank you."

"For what? Just puttin' on a damn necklace. Ain't no bother, if it makes ya worry less."

"It does," I admitted. He didn't make fun of me for it, which I appreciated. They all teased me gently, about signs and omens and magic rocks and other things, but everyone had been surprisingly accepting of my beliefs. The sole exception had been Hershel, who'd frowned in unhappiness when I'd come running into the room where he'd been treating Carl with my yarrow stash and calendula salve, as well as a clear quartz and a tiger's eye that I tucked under the kid's mattress.

But he'd accepted my beliefs without preaching to me, which I'd appreciated. I'd refrained from any 'witchcraft' inside his home- accept for the crystals I'd left under the kids' bed- and medicinal properties of herbs were commonly known.

Daryl's hand brushed down my cheek, then his thumb smoothed my forehead between my eyes. I glared at him and he smiled faintly. "Stopped ya frownin', didn't i?"

"One of these days, I'm going to get very annoyed with you," I informed him.

His smile grew. "One a these days, ya gonna be somethin' with me, sure."

"The fuck does that mean?" I demanded.

"Hey, Daryl!"

The voice calling Daryl's name had him looking beyond me to wave in answer. "Comin'! Just a sec!"

He glanced back at me, eyes dancing. "Gotta get on with it, I guess. Bring ya back another magic rock, Witchy Woman. Maybe another one of them love potion ones."

I rolled my eyes at the other everlasting inside joke. "Fight me. The rose quartz also promotes loving oneself, idiot."

"Sure, sure," he agreed. "Not what ya said first."

"Fuck off now," I said pleasantly.

He leaned over, kissed my cheek in a shockingly unexpected brush of warm lips, and tapped the stones under his shirt. "Maybe I will. Got the love magic an' all the protection I need, right?"

I glared after him, ignoring the simultaneous churning and fluttering in my stomach as he headed up toward where Glenn, Hershel, Sasha, and Carol had gathered, waiting for him. "Idiot," I muttered to myself. "He's an idiot. One of these days, I'll probably throw a rock at him."

Probably not. But still.

[pisshandkerchief]

top five tv shows (that you(‘ve) watch(ed) )

Supernatural. what can I say. is it good? no. is watching it an indelible experience I wouldn't trade for anything in the world? yes.

this weird creepy ass british miniseries I watched when I was a kid called Children Of The Stones. my dad watched it because he thought it was about the Rolling Stones but it turns out it was actually this fantasy series about kids who live in this weird town located near a Stonehenge-esque monument that is apparently brainwashing people and turning them into rocks. I think there was eventually time travel involved? idk it's been years since I've seen it but it was freaking wild and I kinda wanna rewatch it now

Star Wars: The Clone Wars is really good trust me. I recommend watching it how I first watched it as a 12 year old: by finding all the episodes broken down into little clips on YouTube and pirating them that way. definitely adds to the experience

The Golden Girls (one of those TV shows I watched with my parents when I was too young to actually get it and then watched again later and went damn. guess that's why I'm gay)

The original 1960's Batman TV series. it's really bad, like actually lame as fuck, but damn is it funny

[wikiuntamed]

Top 5 @Wikipedia pages from yesterday: Monday, 22nd April 2024

Welcome, sveiki, ongi etorri, fàilte 🤗 What were the top pages visited on @Wikipedia (22nd April 2024) 🏆🌟🔥?

1️⃣: Indian Premier League "The Indian Premier League (IPL), also known as the TATA IPL for sponsorship reasons, is a men's Twenty20 (T20) cricket league held annually in India. Founded by the BCCI in 2007, the league features ten city-based franchise teams. The IPL usually takes place during the summer, between March and May..."

2️⃣: List of one-hit wonders in the United States "A one-hit wonder is a musical artist who is successful with one hit song, but without a comparable subsequent hit. The term may also be applied to an artist who is remembered for only one hit despite other successes (such as "Take On Me" by A-ha in the United States, which topped a Rolling Stone..."

3️⃣: Richard Gadd "Richard Robert Steven Gadd (born 11 May 1989) is a Scottish writer, actor and comedian. He created and starred in the 2024 Netflix drama series Baby Reindeer, based on his one-man show and real-life experience. ..."

4️⃣: Baby Reindeer "Baby Reindeer is a British drama-thriller miniseries created by and starring Richard Gadd. An adaptation of Gadd's autobiographical one-man show of the same name, the series is based on Gadd's real life experience of being stalked and sexually assaulted in his 20s. The series consists of seven..."

5️⃣: Fallout (American TV series) "Fallout is an American post-apocalyptic drama television series created by Graham Wagner and Geneva Robertson-Dworet for Amazon Prime Video. Based on the role-playing video game franchise created by Tim Cain and Leonard Boyarsky, the series stars Ella Purnell, Aaron Moten, Kyle MacLachlan, Moisés..."

[titanicfreija]

~good old violence, by the way

~

She wanted her guns. She wanted her guns so bad, she wanted her guns, and they were in her dad's ship in the fucking hangar who knew where--

Saris swept in circles and changed pace randomly as she sprinted away from the manor, feet pounding through the tall grass as she set a course for the cove. Ages away, hiding spots, cover, maybe--

The trip down the cliffs was way too slow, but she was out of line of sight and line of fire. She scrambled along the narrow ledges on boots made for marble floors. And she still didn't have a gun.

The first shot that hit was to the back of her shoulder, through to the top of her chest, and she staggered but kept her footing. That was probably going to kill her all by itself. They were still shooting but missed.

The run was going to kill her, she was certain of it. Another shot hit her calf and sent her tumbling down the cliffs. She barrel rolled as best she could, continuing into the mists.

"You. Idiot," gasped a voice. The sun was behind a cliff, she could keep that to her left...

"I thought there was more than one!"

"Why?!"

Saris wondered briefly if she was at least distracting these two from every else. Too late for her family. Too late for a lot of the family. Too late. They were dead already.

She was dying, too.

"There you are," growled one, and Saris felt a fist close on her coat. A second joined it and together they dragged her back to the cliffs. They didn't want to get lost in the mist, she guessed.

Saris could hardly feel her legs anymore, but she kept her knees after they dropped her. She had been here every day the last month--even wounded and staggering, she followed the jagged path up the cliff. She wanted to die somewhere nice, dammit.

I'm going to die.

I did good things. I helped.

I don't want to die.

Too bad.

The path got worse before it got better. A fall wouldn't kill them but it would finish her. She had to watch the horizon to manage the vertigo. It was a nice view of the sun falling over the clouds.

She reached the cove and stopped, knowing it was over and still wanting to die somewhere nice. She waited for the gunshot wounds to do the job, listening to her heart slow.

The sluggish push quickened when Saris heard her pursuants on their way after her. They must have fallen down the cliff at some point to take that long. Saris hoped they gave up.

She closed her hand on a sharp stone, dragged herself to her feet, and hid behind a rock formation.

One ran right into her. She slammed her improvised weapon into his head with all her might, shattering the rock, smashing the helmet, and gouging his forehead. The other pursuant lunged and tackled Saris, taking her down.

The woman's fist met her cheek so hard she saw stars. Her vision flooded with red light as her assailant struck again and again. Her teeth cut the inside of her cheek and lips, her eyes swelled, her vision filled with spots and stars. Her mouth filled with blood.

The other kicked at Saris's legs, apparently having recovered. He tried to stomp on her hip but couldn't get a good shot with his partner in the way.

The purple woman got up and kicked Saris's back, driving her a foot along the rocks on her side. She tried to crawl away but one kicked her shoulder, knocking her sprawling. The other stepped on her arm to push her flat.

One stomped on her head until it bounced. Stars flashed red and black in her vision and the pain grew so much that she found herself unable to feel it anymore, taken out of her body by the sheer overwhelm. The other one was stomping on her hands and arms, moving on to the next part only when they were satisfied with the crunching.

Her ribs broke. She wasn't sure when. Her legs never did but it didn't matter, she wasn't going anywhere.

She couldn't be sure when they stopped. The pain no longer faded between strikes, she could hardly move, and her vision was blurry in the eye that worked.

Her broken hands trembled as she rocked side to side. She couldn't even tell if she was on her back or her belly. Slowly, she got her elbows under her, trying with all her might just to sit up.

Her murderers dropped an enormous boulder on her torso. The resultant crunch and squeal of pain satisfied their sadism, and they nodded to one another before walking off.

She couldn't cry out. She couldn't cry. She couldn't breathe. It hurt. She lay in a tiny cove on the cliffside of the Dreaming City, broken and bloody, crushed. She was alone. Her parents and sisters were probably dead. She would never find out, and soon she would be too dead to care.

Maybe someone got lucky.

She pushed the rock with her elbow and wiggled until it rolled off her, but breathing didn't get any easier. A cough wracked her body, striking like lightning. She tried to cry out, producing only a weak moan.

She wanted to worry about her family but didn't have the strength. The cold ache was winning. She missed Earth. Her heart was the only sound. Breathing didn't hurt because she couldn't anymore. She had a good time. She loved. Was loved. Helped.

Say goodbye, Sarah. Then rest.

Goodbye, Sarah. Ha ha.

Her working eye locked on the moonrise, foggy and obscured. The clouds shimmered, shining beneath dancing starlight, warm glows enveloping them all, ripples of brilliant pastel colors stretching into the infinite beyond.

Nice.

~

~

Another dramatic miniseries

Sarah's Death (long) <- you are here

Curious (medium)

Search (long)

Uncover (medium)

Insisting (medium)

Learn (medium)

Move on (long)

Every Second (short)

[sbrown82]

I know, this shit was so dramatic. I would love to see a Rolling Stones bio miniseries like they did with the Jacksons. Plus, don’t worry…part 2 is on its way…and it’s even more juicy!!!! ☕️☕️☕️

THE FULL HISTORY OF THE MICK JAGGER & MARSHA HUNT (A.K.A.”BROWN SUGAR”) RELATIONSHIP!!!

First, some background on the model, singer, actress, novelist, playwright, activist, icon, 60s goddess, and the woman who inspired one of the Rolling Stones’ greatest hits, “Brown Sugar”, Marsha Hunt. She is often described as London’s own Josephine Baker and is celebrating her 77th birthday today!:

Marsha Hunt was born on April 15, 1946 in Philadelphia, PA and is the youngest of 3 siblings. Her mother, Inez “Ikey” Hunt, worked in an airplane factory during World War II, and her father Blair Hunt Jr. graduated from Harvard and was one of America’s first Black psychiatrists.

She was raised mostly by her mother, aunt and grandmother who had roots in the deep south (Mississippi delta) and who she’s described as an “extremely aggressive and ass-kicking independent woman.” Her father later committed suicide when she was 9 years old (but she never found out how or why).

After moving out west to California with her family, she graduated high school at the top of her class and later attended UC, Berkeley in the mid-60s where she wanted to study psychological anthropology.

While at Berkeley, she became friends with a slew of interesting people like activist Mario Savio and Huey P. Newton, who later became one of the founders of the Black Panther Party.

[TOP LEFT: Marsha’s mother Inez Hunt; TOP RIGHT: Marsha’s father, Blair Hunt Jr.; BOTTOM LEFT: Marsha at her home in Philly with her father & siblings, Pamala & Dennis; BOTTOM RIGHT: Marsha’s high school graduation photo in 1964.]

Even though she thrived academically and was very involved in student activities, she became bored with college life and wanted to experience life outside of the country and pursue her real passion – music. In early 1966, she sold her car and some books, and trailed off to London with only $1.83 in her pocket.

Around that time, London was THE city to be in, and was even dubbed “Swinging London” for being the epicenter of art, culture, fashion and of course music due to the popularity of famous acts like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

When Marsha first arrived, she slept on the floors of mutual friends, took odd jobs (including one as an au pair), and even appeared as an extra in Michelangelo Antonioni’s box office hit film, “Blow-Up,” which also featured the British rock band, the Yardbirds.

SHOCKINGLY, in that same year she actually saw the Rolling Stones for the first time during their UK tour at the Royal Albert Hall in London because she wanted to see Ike & Tina who were the supporting act on the bill. Girls were going crazy over the Stones, but of course, she was more impressed by Tina’s show-stopping performance! (Purrrrr 💅🏿)

[LEFT: Marsha in 1966; RIGHT: The Rolling Stones performing at the Royal Albert Hall in London with Marsha in attendance.]

After roaming the city, making new friends and trying to find steady work, Marsha ended up auditioning for a blues band fronted by British blues musician, Alexis Korner, who was looking for backup singers. Coincidentally, he was the exact same guy who gave the Rolling Stones their start back in 1962. Later on, she was offered another backing gig for Long John Baldry’s band, Bluesology. John is also a longtime friend of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

Though she loved music and worked really hard at it, Marsha always claimed that she was never a good singer. People in England just assumed she was because they thought all Black Americans had talent.

She then lived with English blues singer, John Mayall, who actually wrote a few songs about her including, “Marsha’s Mood” and another song coincidentally called “Brown Sugar”. Around this time, she also became good friends with the founding members of Fleetwood Mac, famed British artist Kaffe Fassett, and keyboard player for Bluesology, Reg Dwight (a.k.a Elton John).

[LEFT: 19 year old Marsha sporting a wig in London; RIGHT: Marsha with a young Elton John].

Around the time Marsha broke things off with John, he was also putting a new band together, which included a young guitarist named Mick Taylor, who showed up at the audition without a guitar. He later became another good friend of Marsha’s.

In late 1966, Marsha met musician Mike Ratledge from the British rock band, Soft Machine. She was having trouble getting a visa extension to stay in England, so they got married on her 21st birthday. She later claimed it was a marriage in name only as they “never held hands and never kissed".

[LEFT: Guitarist Mick Taylor & John Mayall in the mid-60s; RIGHT: Marsha’s “husband” Mike Ratledge of Soft Machine.]

That same year, Marsha’s hair started to fall out from using chemical relaxers, and after wearing wigs for a while, she finally cut it all off and vowed to never straighten it again. Hence, she started sporting her iconic afro hairstyle making her quite a showstopper in London.

In 1968, she found luck when she was cast in a buzzy new rock musical with an ensemble cast called “Hair.” The musical became an instant hit in London’s famed West End. And even though her character “Dionne” only had two lines, she became the face (or the hair) of “Hair”. The show was an instant success, and also became a sensation and social landmark because it highlighted controversial subjects like drugs, casual sex, cursing, nudity, and anti-war rhetoric. While there, she met another close friend, actor Tim Curry.

[BOTTOM: A poster of the hist musical “Hair” that debuted in the Shaftesbury Theatre in the West End, 1968.]

Her life completely changed overnight and she instantly became a PHENOMENON, attracting wide media attention. In fact, after the musical’s opening night, the editor of British Vogue sent her a huge bouquet of flowers and wanted her to pose for a photo session, which ended up being a 4-page spread with a written profile. Marsha was also the first Black woman to appear on the cover of Queen magazine as well.

[LEFT: Marsha the first Black woman on the cover of Queen magazine; RIGHT: Marsha photographed for British Vogue in 1969.]

She immediately became a sex symbol, celebrity, and the face of the “Black is Beautiful’’ movement, which was already taking over America in the mid-60s. This helped her snag lots of modeling gigs and everyone wanted to photograph her. (I mean, sis was booked & busy!!!)

[BOTTOM: More of Marsha’s most iconic shots. *The melanin was melanating, 4C afro was on deck, eyelashes poppin’, lips bussin’…she was a *bad bitch*!!!]

In March 1969, she signed a contract with Track Records, the same independent label that also repped the British rock band, The Who and Jimi Hendrix, and later said, “There was one luxury that London celebrity afforded me: the freedom to be myself without a single apology for my gap, my freaked-out hair, my brown skin, my slave-class ancestors or my radical views.” Around this time, she also had a short love affair with Marc Bolan, the singer and founder of the English rock band, T-Rex (even though he was much shorter than her 😂.)

She scored a few minor hits during her underrated music career with singles like a cover of T-Rex’s “Desdemona” and her debut single, a cover of “Walk on Gilded Splinters”. 

[BOTTOM: Marsha performing the T-Rex cover “Desdemona” live in 1970.]

The record soon went to the charts and that spring, she was asked to perform on various shows, including a popular British TV program called, “Top of the Pops” where during her live performance the tight bolero suede top she wore nearly came undone and partially exposed her breasts, giving her the reputation as a “bad girl.”

NOW…Here’s the part y’all have been waiting for. Get your popcorn. Y’all got it? Ready? Good!!! 🍿

After her performance aired, Marsha received a phone call out of the blue from Jo Bergman, the then secretary for the Rolling Stones on behalf of Mick Jagger who was actually watching live, asking her to pose semi–nude for a publicity photo to promote the band’s new single, “Honky Tonk Women”. She said, “The picture was going to be of a girl dressed like a sleaze bag standing in a bar with the Stones and they wanted me to be the girl.”

[BOTTOM: Marsha performing “Walk on Gilded Splinters” on ‘Top of the Pops’ in May 1969. This was also the exact moment Mick Jagger first laid eyes on her!]

Marsha, who was not a Stones fan, was already established and didn’t really need the extra exposure. She declined because she had her reputation to think about and said she “didn’t want to look like [she’d] just been had by all the Rolling Stones.” She also claimed, “The last thing [Black women] needed was for me to denigrate us by dressing up like a whore” among a band of white men.

ENTER MICK JAGGER:

When she tried to get in touch with Mick to say, “thank you, but no thank you”, he later returned her call in an attempt to change her mind and suggested he come over as he was very intrigued that a girl would turn him down.

Mick then showed up at her apartment around midnight as she claims, “He was framed by the doorway as he stood grinning with a dark coat … He drew one hand out of his pocket and pointed it at me like a pistol. His silly ‘Bang’ was precisely the icebreaker we needed to get over my ungracious hesitation before I invited him in, not sure how to salute a notorious rogue who rings me just before midnight and suggests he pop round on a pretext of loneliness.”

They talked for HOURS, well until the sun came up about any and everything from music to social issues and politics, and according to her, Mick “made me squeal whenever he used Melanigian slang (aka Black vernacular/AAVE)”. 🙄🤦🏾‍♀️

Marsha didn’t really find Mick physically attractive at first: “He wasn’t beautiful or even striking” however, he was boyish, open, direct, yet seemed quite awkward and shy. She found it a relief that he was nothing like other musicians she’d known or the image the media had of him. He was charming, intelligent, funny, radical and straddled the racial line, much like she did. She also noticed that he had a penchant for Black women, as he claimed “they [Black women] just do something to me”.

The two of them just clicked right off the bat. And things eventually turned hot as they ended up having sex. From there, they embarked on a passionate, but very private, deep romance and year-long affair, at a time when an interracial relationships weren’t widely accepted yet.

She didn’t expect to hear from him again, as he had a wide selection of women to choose from, but he wanted to see her and talk all the time because he could count on her. Marsha said, “He knew that I adored him and that he could depend on me…he realized I respected him as I respected myself.”

Mick’s friend and interior designer Christopher Gibbs once said often when he dined with Mick, women who had slept with him would come up to the table and ”he’d have absolutely no idea who they were.”

[LEFT: Mick photographed at the ​​Shaftesbury Theatre in London to see the new musical ‘Hair’ for the first time; RIGHT: Marsha performing in the show.]

1969 was a very rough year for Mick. He was having trouble with his band (which he was practically running by himself) because the founder and guitarist of the Rolling Stones, Brian Jones, was becoming increasingly unreliable and spiraling out of control due to his deep drug addiction and legal troubles which led to him having problems getting a US work visa to go on an upcoming tour. His personal life was also a mess because his long-term girlfriend at the time, pop singer Marianne Faithfull, was also a very serious (and sloppy) drug addict, who often embarrassed Mick and became more difficult to be around. Things had gotten so bad between them, their relationship grew strictly platonic by this time.

Mick and Marianne were quite destructive together and often found themselves in legal troubles due to drugs. Marianne was also quite messy as she previously slept with Mick’s bandmates Brian Jones, Keith Richards and even left her husband John Dunbar for Mick, who was dating Black soul singer & former Ikette, P.P. Arnold, when they met. P.P. later became pregnant with Mick’s baby in 1967, but had an abortion due to his growing relationship with Marianne.

[BELOW: Mick arriving at a courthouse with his then girlfriend, singer Marianne Faithfull in 1969.]

Marsha on the other hand, was stone-cold sober and didn’t do any drugs (NOT ONE), which was like a breath of fresh air for Mick, though he dabbled himself. But unlike those around him, he was able to control his habit.

Even though their relationship quickly turned sexual, they were really, really close friends. Mick often retreated to her home to relax, he told her all his secrets, his troubles – he just trusted her. He was completely enamored of Marsha, who many describe as warm, intelligent, sensitive, funny and very easy to talk to. He liked that she didn’t go gooey-eyed and weak-kneed in his presence like most (white) women/female fans did. Instead she had a crisply forthright manner and was almost quite “butch”. The Rolling Stones then manager was even quoted as saying that Mick was “obsessed” with her as she was very exotic and even gave her the nickname “Miss Fuzzy” due to her afro hairstyle.

Ironically, Marsha enjoyed their well-kept relationship and is one of the only people who often calls him Michael instead of Mick, to distinguish him from his Rolling Stones persona.

Since Marsha was a fellow recording artist, they could also be seen together in public without any arousing suspicion—in any case, London still had almost no paparazzi. They would often go to the same parties or events, even with Mick’s girlfriend there, and no one questioned it.

Mick would often pop into some of Marsha’s studio recordings with her band White Trash, and everyone around would be in awe of him.

After officially firing Brian Jones from the band, Mick and the rest of the Stones needed a new guitarist. Marsha promptly suggested her good friend, Mick Taylor (Yes, Stones fans – thank Marsha Hunt for that one!), as a replacement for Brian just days before his mysterious death (he sadly drowned in a swimming pool at his home) on July 3, 1969.

Additionally, when Mick sought a replacement for Jo Bergman, the secretary who handled all the Rolling Stones affairs, Marsha also suggested her friend and tour manager, Peter Rudge - (The same guy responsible for getting the Stones all those huge tours in massive stadiums. Again, thank Marsha!)

Two days after Brian’s death, the Stones played a free concert before a crowd of over 250,000 people in Hyde Park, London, which was previously planned to debut their new guitarist, but turned into a memorial/funeral for Brian. Mick invited both Marianne (who looked to’ up and was in withdrawal from heroin at the time), and Marsha who showed up looking sexy af with titties bustin’ out of her buckskin suit to the concert, and rudely and distastefully opened the show with a the song called, “I’m Yours and I’m Hers.”

[BELOW: Mick & Marsha at the Rolling Stones tribute concert to Brian Jones in Hyde Park, London on July 5, 1969.]

Marianne who sat on the other end of the stage with her 4-year old son Nicholas and the other Stones wives/girlfriends, actually saw Marsha that day as she was placed right above the stage in the scaffold VIP section so Mick could look at her while he performed. She later said, “I saw her [Marsha] you know. And she was stunning…If I’d been Mick in that situation, I might have done exactly the same thing.”

Mick arrived at the concert with Marianne, but left with Marsha and spent the night at her place.

A day after the concert, Mick kissed Marsha goodbye, and flew with Marianne to Australia to shoot a biographical film they were both cast in called Ned Kelly, based on the infamous bushranger. However, Marianne who was reeling from the death of Brian Jones and a horrible miscarriage a few months earlier, overdosed on 150 Tuinal barbiturates while traveling with Jagger and fell into a coma in their hotel room.

[LEFT & RIGHT: Mick & Marianne arriving in Australia to film “Ned Kelly.” Marianne slipped into a coma just hours later from an attempted suicide.]

At the last minute, Mick was forced to film the movie without her, but phoned and wrote to Marsha, who was extremely frantic and worried about his mental health and emotional well-being, almost everyday. He sent Marsha over 10 handwritten letters (some even written on the same headed stationery paper of Chevron Hotel where his girlfriend just tried to kill herself) about his deep feelings, his experience filming, being in the Australian outback, his interests, the historic day of the moon landing of 1969, future career plans, his regret at missing her performance at the famous Isle of Wight Festival and other aspects of pop culture including (“…John & Yoko boring everybody…”). The letters also reference the recent death of Brian Jones, his increasingly difficult relationship with Marianne, and another letter even had the full original lyrics for the Rolling Stones song “Monkey Man”, which was later rewritten.

Jagger’s letters also went on to mention the foul Australian winter weather and an unpleasant virus that swept through the unit, a fire that destroyed most of the film’s costumes and along with various accidents – including a prop gun that backfired in his right hand. He was just having a real shitty time. So, he found solace writing to Marsha.

Mick’s letters to Marsha showed how pensive and romantic he was. He said things like,“… I feel with you something so unsung there is no need to sing it…” and “If I sailed with you around the world, all my sails would be unfurled”. He also thanked her for being “so nice to an evil old man like me”. In another steamy note, Mick promises Marsha: "I will kiss you softly. And bite your mouth too.”

[RIGHT & LEFT: Photos of Mick’s private letters sent to Marsha while filming in Australia in the late summer of 1969.]

Mick also celebrated his 26th birthday while filming in Australia and Marsha sent him a huge package of books (which he loves) and albums, including her friend John Mayall’s record “Brown Sugar.” Along with it was a note stating how she missed him desperately.

While still trying to rehabilitate his hand from the prop accident, Mick toyed with a new guitar and started work on a song, which was partly inspired by Marsha, that he initially titled “Black Pussy.” He decided that was a little too direct and changed it to “Brown Sugar” with the lyrics:

[Verse 1]

Gold coast slave ship bound for cotton fields  Sold in the market down in New Orleans  Scarred old slaver knows he’s doing alright  Hear him whip the women just around midnight 

[Chorus] 

Brown sugar, how come you taste so good?  Uh huh Brown sugar, just like a young girl should

[BOTTOM: Recording of “Brown Sugar” by The Rolling Stones later released on their Sticky Fingers album in 1971.]

Mick later confirmed in a 1995 Rolling Stone magazine interview that the song is a double-entendre: “brown sugar” being the street name for unrefined heroin and of course – sex with a Black woman. The song was a huge commercial success and ended up becoming a #1 hit around the world, making it one of the Rolling Stones’ best-selling records.

[TOP: A movie poster of Ned Kelly which was released in June 1970; BOTTOM: Mick with his guitar composing “Brown Sugar” in the middle of filming.]

While Mick was still filming overseas, Marsha was booked to perform at the iconic 3-day outdoor concert, the Isle of Wight Festival on August 30th, 1969. It was the biggest open-air concert in music history and she was the only female singer billed to perform. She was there alongside acts like The Who, Joe Cocker and even Bob Dylan who hadn’t been onstage in 3 years.

Mick told her in a letter that he was so proud of her and promised her that he was “there in my head and in my heart.” Charlie Watts and his wife Shirley, Keith Richards and Jo Bergman were also in the audience watching Marsha perform.

Marsha also wore custom-made leather shorts to which the press ran with it and by the next fashion season, short shorts were featured. She was the first person to popularize “hot pants”.

[BELOW: Marsha performing with her band White Trash at the Isle of Wight Festival on August 30th, 1969 with members of the Rolling Stones looking on  in the audience.]

After Mick came back from Australia, Marsha was offered a part in a film called “Welcome to the Club” which is a comedy about three Black USO performers sent to Hiroshima in the 1940s to entertain the troops on an all-white base. The film was being directed by Walter Shenson, who had produced the Beatles’ films “A Hard Day’s Night” and “Help” and shot entirely in Copenhagen.

She was also asked to fly back to London to shoot another cover for American Vogue which was shot by photographer Patrick Litchfield. (They ‘d never had a Black woman on the cover before.)

Mick began touring in America again, his first since 1966, and with the number of girls he had access to, she knew he was keeping himself busy on and off stage.

[LEFT: Mick on stage at Madison Square Garden during the Stones’ 1969 tour; RIGHT: Marsha filming “Welcome to the Club” in Copenhagen.]

He even started a short-lived relationship with singer and Ikette Claudia Lennear, as well sparking up a short fling with Devon Wilson, a notorious rock & roll groupie and the girlfriend of Jimi Hendrix who famously wrote the song “Dolly Dagger” about their affair.

But on December 6, 1969 - everything changed dramatically when an 18-year old concertgoer was stabbed and killed during the Stones’ free performance at the Altamont Speedway in California by the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club, who was the band’s security. Members of the Hells Angels blamed Mick for the incident and subsequent to the concert, put a hit out and threatened to murder him. This marked the third major tragedy to happen since they’d known each other.

[BELOW: A scared Mick looks on as 18-year old Meredith Hunter is stabbed to death by the Hell’s Angels in front of the stage while the Stones performed at Altamont Speedway.]

Marsha stayed with Mick after the chaos at Altamont, which the media dubbed “The Death of the 60s”. By this time, he had officially split up with Marianne and moved Marsha into his house on Cheyne Walk where she helped him to transition and readjust his life. It was then their relationship intensified!

This is around the time she got a chance to meet Mick’s friends who lived on the same road, Keith Richards and his girlfriend, actress Anita Pallenberg, who just had a son, but was hooked on heroin. She thought they were nice, but they’d visit or show up unannounced all the time. Their hard drug-taking also scared Marsha, so she kept her distance and didn’t voice her opinion. 

She also met Mick’s parents, Eva and Joe Jagger, along with his little brother Chris who was a bit of a hippie and had just returned from India with his American girlfriend. They had no work, no money and nowhere to stay, so Marsha kindly gave them a job painting her new apartment.

That Christmas, Marsha got Mick a puppy and Mick, for the first time, told her that he loved her.

Marsha was in a good place. Opportunities were coming to her fast, she had a new apartment, and she was in love with Mick. She had newfound stability and independence. 

In January 1970, they were having dinner at the hotspot restaurant Mr. Chow’s when Mick said that she’d be a good mother and that they should have a baby together. Prior to this Marsha thought she was just another girl he fancied, as he was a notorious womanizer. But the talk of having a baby made her feel special to him. 

She knew Marianne miscarried around the same time Keith Richards’ son Marlon was born. Mick also missed family life with Marianne’s son Nicholas, so wanted to give having a baby a second try.

This fool literally made her take out her IUD coil, they had sex like rabbits and when she found out she was 3 weeks pregnant, she told Mick who was ecstatic.

Marsha literally said to him, listen “if you’re not ready and you changed your mind about this, it’s okay.” She was totally ready to get an abortion. But he assured her that’s what he wanted and he was happy.

They had their first argument when it came to naming the baby. Mick wanted a boy who he could send to the prestigious Eton School (the all-boys school where Prince William & Prince Prince Harry went), and he proposed that they call the baby ‘Midnight Dream’. Marsha wasn’t having it and even said, “Imagine sticking your head out of a window to call your child home and yelling, ‘Midnight. Midnight! Time for tea.”

She’d known that he and the band were leaving England for tax reasons and moving to France in the coming year. The Stones were also gearing up for their upcoming European tour.

Even though she loved Mick, he was young and claimed she was “all for Mick doing his own thing”. They were supposed to be the sophisticated embodiment of an alternative social ideal — parent-hood shared between loving friends living separate lives.

This was around the time of the sexual revolution and people were exploring different types of relationships. Marsha didn’t find gratification in being ‘Mr. So and So’s’ wife, plus Mick was the type of guy to get up at 2pm to start his day - so marriage was sort of off the table. She claimed their relationship “thrived off her being supportive” and she loved to see him “run free”. And since she grew up in a matriarchy, the ideal of a man and woman living together seemed nice but unnecessary. They agreed that Mick would be a good absent father while he toured with the Rolling Stones and Marsha could still have her own career. It was all very modern!

Marsha also feared that her association with Mick would crowd out her own identity. She didn’t like the limelight because it was a discomfort. She also never wanted to be known as Mick Jagger’s girlfriend (can you blame her? Like 2 of his girlfriends tried to commit suicide). Like him, she wanted her own independence.

By June 1969, Marsha told her band and the press that she was pregnant, but did not give up the name of the father. Though one little clever reporter found out it was Mick and threatened to print it. She thought of suing but asked the Stones PR team to link him to another girl. She managed to get through her pregnancy without a media frenzy or being linked to Mick even though they had stepped out together many times and he was ready to have it reported. 

While Mick was away touring in Europe, his phone calls got less frequent. The tour was a bit crazy, and although Mick invited her to go to Paris, he knew she’d refuse – she didn’t want to get caught up. But he told her he was lonely and had met someone in Paris that he was taking to Italy. Her name was Bianca. She was Nicaraguan and spoke little English. Mick didn’t mention her again, but after the tour Marsha knew that she moved to his house in England. 

His publicist sent her an invite to the premiere of his corny movie, “Ned Kelly,” but he didn’t show up. He also invited his parents to the event and it was there she realized that he didn’t tell them that he had a baby on the way. Mick hardly lavished praise on his parents and even once told the press, “I owe them nothing. They are my parents, that is that…but there are no dues to be made by me to them!”

By the end of her third trimester, having a baby became her whole reality and his passing fancy. He started to forget that the baby was HIS idea. 

Marsha was put in a difficult position because it was too late to go back and sometimes he’d phone like nothing ever happened. She claimed he mood would change so quickly, he was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She also said, “I’ve discovered that he can burn hot and suddenly cool to below zero.“

She started to worry that he didn’t care anymore, so she tried to squeeze in any and every piece of work she possibly could to hold her up during and past her pregnancy (tv shows, photoshoots, etc.). She also volunteered at a local mental-care center in the autistic unit caring for a 12 year old boy to keep from feeling useless.

[BELOW: A heavily pregnant Marsha performing in late 1970.]

At the same time Mick also did a lot of peculiar interviews, either stating he wasn’t interested in having children or flat out dissing Marsha. During a 1970 interview with London’s Daily Mail newspaper he even said, “For me, life has always got to be on the move and exciting. I love kids, I really do…but it’s not something I’m thinking about.” He of course failed to mention that Marsha was expecting their first child.

[BELOW: Mick during an interview referencing Marsha & Karis in 1970.]

Once it was time for Marsha to give birth, she was ashamed to ask him for any contribution because he never offered. Mick ultimately gave her a measly £200 to get by, which came with a note saying “I know I haven’t done right by you” and he “loaned” her a ring he always wore.

She had initially planned a natural home delivery to keep the press at bay and because it was the “it” thing to do at the time, but was told by her OB-GYN that her baby was in danger and she had to go to the hospital the next day. 

On November 3rd, she hailed a taxi to the hospital only to be told there weren’t enough beds. Panicked and scared, she went back home sure she was going to die from an unassisted childbirth.

When she went back to the hospital the next day for an induced labor, she checked in with her married name “Ratledge” to protect herself (and Mick). After hours of labor, she gave birth to a girl she named Karis Hunt Jagger on November 4, 1970 and phoned Mick first and then her mother. That day was the first time Mick actually told his now girlfriend Bianca that Marsha and a baby existed.

When she checked out, Mick sent a bouquet of red roses, brought a miniature muse figurine for the baby and a silver spoon and some cheap Indian earrings for Marsha. He “dropped by” two days later to see his baby but was in a hurry to be somewhere else.

10 days later, he paid another rushed visit, but she took him to the side and was like, “What’s up with you? Why don’t you call or come around more often for the baby” in which he snapped and yelled at her, “I never loved you” and that she was “mad to think that he had”. Of course Marsha, stitches still in, burning and all, started to cry which only made him more mad and he threatened to take Karis away from her if he chose. She stopped and said, “Try it! I’d blow your brains out!!”

In that moment, the loyalty she had for him was gone and she pushed forward and tried to find as much work as she could to support herself and her baby.

[BELOW: Marsha & Mick after the birth of their first child Karis Hunt Jagger in late 1970.]

AND THIS IS JUST PART 1….☕️☕️☕️

[littledarlinwrites]

Black Velvet Miniseries Masterlist

Author's Note: This was written for the wonderful @kentuckybarnes 3k Writing Challenge! Thank you so much Hannah for hosting this challenge and for my chance to participate! Also, congrats on the followers, you deserve them and the world! My prompt was: “I don’t want to sound too sexy, but under my clothes, I am naked.”

Special thanks to @lokissoul for being an amazing beta reader for me. I could never thank you enough dear!

This also covers my Rockstar AU square for @star-spangled-bingo!

This will be a three part miniseries (though I may be convinced to write more parts eventually.

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Reader

Warnings: A bit of angst, fluff, puns, and Bucky being a "sexy, hot bassist." See individual parts for accurate and detailed warnings.

Summary: The Avengers, a rock band in New York, had just made it when tragedy sets them back to the beginning. It isn't until Bucky meets a certain photographer that he finds himself again.

Recently Featured in Black Velvet:

Part 1 - Kickstart My Heart

Part 2 - You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Part 3 - Rolling Stone

[artistjojo1228]

First, Leo’s face is a meme. Second, he does NOT look like a seventeen-year-old (hell, he couldn’t even pass for a twenty-seven-year-old. Third, he still looks nothing like Brian Jones 

[based-bobcat]

I'll go into to much detail for a bit;

Injustice was a pretty fun game with a rather trite story. It was also a successful game. So, because DC is a company that thinks that the moment a character/series on on a screen people will immediately throw all their cash at your local LCS, DC wanted to capitalize on it.

They decided to make a tie-in miniseries/comic. But giving it to an established writer/artist means investing more money than it was worth. So they decide to give the series to the newbiest of newbies; Tom Taylor (I think it's like one of his first works for DC if it's not his actual first)

Now the plot of Injustice is a bit out there; Superman goes evil after haha-man kills Lois. The game's lore establishes a few things like certain characters (Dick Grayson) dying. Tom probably got an outline of 'do whatever lol' and was tasked to write the years between Lois's surprise liposuction and Evil Superman going full Thatcher. With free reign to do whatever the fuck he wanted, with the only rule being that the Game's roster stayed alive, Tom went to work. It was gloriously stupid, rushed, had the worst characterization of Wonder Woman since the dawn of time and rifled with shit art (because it's an online-only tie-in DC cut corners)

Art like that^ and story beats like below

Why yes that is Nightwing being million dollar baby'd thanks to a random stick being thrown by Damian Wayne

Anyway as stupid as it was. It was entertaining. Very entertaining.

It had everything! Evil!Superman meme before it went mainstream so the concept was fresh, Batman as the person who was always right, B and C-Listers getting time to shine, stupid jokes like Riddler refusing to kill an unconscious Batman because he didn't have a good riddle, an actual Harley Quinn redemption arc and it had scenes like Alfred curb stomping Superman. See link

Anyway, arriving at year three of the tie-in comic nobody expected to make it past year 0.5, somebody must've told Tom that Superman is weak to magic, right? So where were the magic users?

Enter John Constantine (and the rest of DC's magical cast but who cares)

You probably know who he is, so I won't bother with the details. All you need to know is that before 2010 John's interaction with the main DC universe was non-existent aside from Zatanna being his ex-girlfriend and John pissing on Phantom Stranger's shoes in a drunken stupor.

DC decided to kill the publishing line that released John's book, so John got rolled into the main DC universe. As a result he got rebooted into being a more comicky hero, something he wasn't even close to being, and now he interacted/went toe-to-toe with superheroes like Superman and Batman, and worst of all; they decided to have people who weren't British write his book. (The only runs of his original series everybody agrees were bad were written by non!brits.) iirc Constantine barely was in the UK in his own fucking series, while his original series is basically UK writes complains about the dark side of the UK using horror as analogy how can you fuck up so hard

All-in-all, pretty rough for Conjob fans

Anyway, Johnny boy was added to the injustice cast and Taylor utilized him pretty well for the setting he was in. He had a huge chip on his shoulder, mocked every cape relentlessly (humor) AND he a good reason for actually doing something. (But he wasn't the flawed, bastard of a man called John Constantine, this was a more light, not morally gray character.)

Too bad that most this was his introduction to a lot of DC fans who barely even heard of him, and he spends half his time hanging out with Batman. So people who haven't read Hellblazer go to Wikipedia to search who he is. Wow he's Bi! Wow! he's a broken emotionally complex man! Wow he is a little rat of a bastard-man! Lets ship him with the Straight-laced Batman! What would happen if this generalized, ironed-out version of this character would adopt Billy Batson or Danny Phantom he fucking wouldn't)

TL;DR. The Injustice comic introduced less than a shell version of John Constantine to the masses and they ate it all up, while his hardened, more assholish, 'real' version got left in the dust.

i'm feeling salty this week

[interact-if]

Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

 We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!!  😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty  

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well! 

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go!  I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm... 

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe. 

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical  zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell. 

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so... 

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10? 

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10) 

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late. 

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

5.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

[karlandolivia4ever]

“Get To Know Me” Tag Game! I was tagged by @glitter-mouse. Thanks for including me.

Fave ship: Gentlebeard. I have absolute brain rot for those gay pirates.

First ship: Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe (Anne of Green Gables). I watched the CBC miniseries when I was a kid and then read all the books. I was obsessed.

Last Song: She’s a Rainbow by The Rolling Stones. I became obsessed with it after it was on Ted Lasso.

Currently Reading: The Silmarillion - JRR Tolkien. I got a beautiful hard cover illustrated copy from my parents for Christmas. My dad looked up what it was about and it only made him more confused haha

Last Movie: Go (1999) I’m a huge Timothy Olyphant stan and he just oozes sex as Todd the drug dealer. It came out in April 1999, but it’s definitely a Christmas movie. I’m really showing my age with my choices.

Currently Watching: Atlanta season 4 and just finished OFMD for about the seventh (?) time.

Consuming: Earl Grey tea - always drinking tea.

Currently Working On: Marking technology essays for my introductory computer science class. Sorry, I don’t do anything fun like fanfic or fan art.

[leupagus]

aw, yay prompts! Star Wars/Rogue One - Luke/Bodhi and summer hook up AU or urban street magic AU. Or Jannah/Rose - Heist AU. Or Rivers of London - anything with Molly for that food truck AU. Definitely just pick and choose as interested, or I can send these as separate asks, lol

Star Wars - summer hookup & urban street magic AU

Bodhi ducked down another alleyway, pulled off his hoodie and tossed it in a convenient bin. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, hands in pockets, trying to look casual. It probably wouldn't work. yn had been trying to teach him about sneaking around — "it's called spycraft," she'd sigh at him — but Bodhi couldn't ever shake the feeling that he was always himself, no matter who he was pretending to be.

Sure enough, he turned right out of the alley and ran smack into the someone.

"You all right?" said the voice, concerned and warm and — familiar, but who the hells did he know in this godsforsaken city? Other than the Jedi, who hopefully was still back at the square with his thumb up his arse.

Bodhi looked up into the face of — "Luke," he said, his face going hot and gods, this is why he shouldn't be given any kind of responsibilities! He was good at Imbuing, not Wayfinding; although maybe this was an aspect of his abilities, that ensured he'd escape the Jedi but get caught by the one person he'd like to see even less.

Though that wasn't accurate, really, it was more that he didn't think Luke wanted to see him, after that night last summer and waking up the next morning to an empty bed and—

Bodhi was still mid-spiral when he caught sight of the rest of Luke's getup — a black cape and black suit underneath, one hand loosely cradling a saber.

Luke's eyes were wide and blue and still just as beautiful as Bodhi remembered. "Oh, shit," Luke said. "You're the Rogue?"

"You're the Jedi!" Bodhi protested, but even while his inner Jyn was screaming at him to run or kick Luke in the balls or pull that stupid cape over his head, he could feel himself starting to smile.

Because Luke was beaming at him, radiant as the sun. "Well," he said, tossing his straw-blonde hair out of his face, "I had to get your attention somehow."

Star Wars - Heist AU

"Please put your heads on your hand," said Rose, trying for "calm and authoritative." She might have even hit it.

The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You mean my hands on my head?" she offered, and demonstrated.

"Right, yeah, sorry. This is my first day," Rose said, which probably wasn't the right thing to tell a robber? But also she could hear Finn in her earpiece telling her that he was thirty seconds away and also that she was doing great, which was reassuring, even if the woman in front of her was still holding the...whatever she was holding. "Um, actually if you want to put the thingy down on the floor, that would probably be good," she added.

"Oh god," she thought she heard Finn mutter, as he put on an extra burst of speed.

"The thingy," said the woman, sounding a little offended. "Honestly, if you can't even—"

Just then another woman, white with her hair up in odd little pigtails, came careening into the room. "Let's go!" she yelled without slowing down.

"Catch," said the first woman, throwing the thingy at her.

It was gold and kind of heavy, and Rose dropped it immediately, but they were already gone. "Well, fudge."

Finn's footsteps echoed in the hallway and he burst into the room, holding a taser in one hand and a flashlight in the other. "You okay?" he asked, breathing hard.

"They got away," she said. "Um, I don't know if they were really trying to steal—"

Just then the police started turning up, and the fire department, and all in all it was almost an hour later when Rose was shown the thing that the woman threw at her, now safely ensconced in an evidence bag. "It's a — oh shit," she said.

The detective, some old guy with an accent that might have been Midwestern or might have been just lazy, gave her a slight smile. "Yeah, it's oh shit all right," he agreed. "And guess what else they left behind."

The next morning, Finn came in with an actual physical copy of the Boston Globe; there on the front page was the two of them and Director Organa at the impromptu press conference in front of the museum. Underneath the photo was an array of each returned art piece, or at least pictures of what they'd looked like before. Rose had seen some of the rolled-up paintings and knew it would be months, if not years, before any of them were ready to be displayed again.

"We look good, though," she said, and Finn handed her some copies of the paper so she could send them to her sister and parents.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Return Heist was the subject of months of news stories, three documentaries, and a Netflix miniseries, but it wasn't until almost five years later, when Rose matched with a beautiful woman who liked crossword puzzles and base jumping on Nerdster, that they had the first indication of who exactly had brought the artwork back.

Rivers of London - food truck AU

They always came at dusk, the two of them looking like something out of a supernatural anime about demonic domestic staff. They systematically worked their way through the entire menu, which took them about two weeks, and if the rumours were right, then they'd bugger off.

The food truck community, insofar as there is one in London, operates mostly through mutual follows on social media, uneasy alliances at the various festivals and fairs that require our services, and ruthless undercutting when it comes to the best spots in the City to ply our wares during the lunchtime rush. But word gets around about certain customers, and it went around like wildfire about these two. They always paid cash, tipped lavishly, and only the man ate, but the woman would sit or stand next to him with a notepad, scribbling furiously as he quietly talked to her — describing the food, maybe, or plotting world domination. It was generally understood that they were a pair of stone cold freaks who you prayed would just finish up their weird assessment of your food truck and leave.

Only, the day before they sampled the last item on the menu — one of our sides, a fried plantain that Bev swears could make the dead get up out of their graves with demands for seconds — I let them know that there'd be a special on offer tomorrow.

I could hear Abigail snickering behind me as the gentleman — with those suits and that cane, it was the best epithet I could come up with — lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what will this special be?"

"Well, it's special, isn't it?" I said, laying on the Kentish Town charm with a grin and a shovel. "You'll have to come back and try it. Otherwise you won't have a complete understanding of the menu."

The woman nodded, solemn as ever, but the gentleman looked suspicious. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, with another squint at me.

Abigail joined me at the window to watch them go, arm-in-arm into the fog like something out of Casablanca. "So has anyone figured out what website they work for?" she asked.

"I don't think they do," I said, as the fog swallowed them up. "I think they're just weirdos."

"Weirdos you invited back for a special that you haven't even invented yet," said Abigail, with the kind of insight that makes her a great line cook and a really annoying cousin.

"Well, good-looking weirdos," I allowed.

[rabbit-land]

@macchiatosdumptruck tagged me (itemri) ty! 💚

Rules: tag 9 people you would like to get to know better/catch up with

Last song: Road Head - Japanese Breakfast

Currently watching: Landscapers -- it is a HBO drama/comedy miniseries with Olivia Colman & David Thewlis. It is only 4 episodes, has some really creative cinematography, and I've really enjoyed it so far.

Last tv show: Peacemaker. Which I never thought I would watch bc of multiple reasons (I don't enjoy supe media, don't really like sci fi either) but all my friends liked it so I gave in and found it on P/utlocker, bc J/ames G/unn can eat glass, and ended up watching the entire season in 1 day haha

Currently reading: uhhhh well I'm currently looking at the huge backlog of updates and saved fics-to-leave-comments-on in my email that I hope to get to this weekend 😅I'm not reading a physical book right now but the last one I read was Generation Kill, which is a firsthand account from a Rolling Stones journalist who went into combat with recon marines in the iraq war.

Just tagging a few ppl and no pressure to do it!

Tagging @brucecampbell @youandthemountains @karatekidiii @chwheeler

[alj4890]

Six Sentence Sunday

I'm behind on so much due to life in general, LOL. But to show that I am working on things here is a sneak peek into the next parts of Delicate (which this should be the last chapter of this short series), And Then I Left You, and a few drabbles I have in my WIP folder.

tagging a few that might be interested  @jooous @krsnlove @nomadics-stuff   @twinkleallnight @motorcitymademadame @gkittylove99 @darley1101  @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles t @lodberg​   @my-heart-beats-for-ya​ @aworldoffandoms​ @flyawayboo​  @trappedinfanfiction​ @everythingmarvelsherlockspn​  @sophxwithers​ @esmckenzie​ 

Delicate

This might be the first ball in the history of Drake's years in Cordonia to actually cause a certain excitement. He usually put up with the pomp and traditions to simply be with those he cared about. For years it was to support Liam, then going meant he could hang out with Riley, Hana, and Maxwell.

And then there were his activities in secret for a year with Olivia.

He knew she would be arriving soon. Her absence from Cordonia had been one he felt more acutely than any other. His failure in telling her how he felt about her, his inability to have a civil conversation, even his voicemail had kept him fixated on this date.

He intended for this new year to involve a new relationship with Olivia. He simply needed to find a moment alone with her.

Which as he entered the drawing room Riley and Liam used frequently for their closest friends, he realized that was going to be more difficult than he originally thought. All their friends had come home for the ball.

"I can't believe they gave us that ridiculous moniker." Thomas shook his head.

"The press isn't always known for their intelligence." Liam said, fighting a smile.

"Thomanda." Amanda laughed just saying it. "It sounds like some weird foot fungus cream."

"The press have had five years to come up with anything better than that." Thomas wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. "They should have combined our last names. Brunt is more tolerable than Thomanda."

Maxwell rolled off the couch laughing. "We now have to come up with crazy couple names for all of us!"

"We were given Riam." Riley replied. "Personally I prefer Liley, but Riam stuck."

"Naxwell or Madia." Amanda said between giggles while pointing at Maxwell and Nadia. "That's your possible couple's name."

"Naxwell sounds like a snack cake or cookie." Riley added with a chuckle.

"We are sweet." Maxwell responded, cuddling Nadia close.

Hana sighed at seeing them all so happy together. "What would mine and Rashad's be?"

"Rashana?" Riley offered.

"Oh I like that so much better than what I thought." Amanda laughed. "I at first thought Hahad."

The group burst into laughter while more couple names were bandied about.

"So what do we dub Olivia and Ethan?" Liam asked.

"Ethalivia?" Hana offered.

"Olithan?" Maxwell added.

"Oooh! Olithan!" Riley exclaimed. "Sounds like a sea monster. Olivia will love it!"

**************

And Then I Left You

Thomas had worried that first day how they would handle the hotel situations he believed they were bound to encounter. He had gotten used to Olivia's secret passageways allowing him to see Amanda whenever he wanted.

He should have known that the intelligent lady he adored had already solved that problem.

Pulling onto a gravel road, she drove him toward a cottage that sat alone in a rolling meadow dotted here and there with trees. The two-story, thatched roof building sat amidst large Cordonian oak trees. Roses twined around a drain pipe while wisteria grew in wild abandon adding even more beauty to the rough stone walls.

"I know we could stay somewhere different with each place we visit," Amanda explained. "But then I thought we could stay our entire time somewhere in the middle of it all. It will mean more driving each day, but we will have nothing but privacy here."

Thomas stepped out and followed her inside. The cottage was just as charming on the inside as it was on the outside. Much of the furniture was designed strictly for comfort and a few for whimsy. The wooden floors creaked with each step as he explored the different rooms.

Upstairs, there were two bedrooms directly across from one another with a bathroom dividing them.

His lips curved at knowing he wouldn't have to find a way to sneak around and see her whenever they weren't out in public.

"What do you think?" She asked, a bit nervous from his silence.

"It's charming." He set his arms around her waist. "And perfect for our needs."

******************

This next sneak peek is a second part to the Liam angst I posted earlier 😬 So sorry how dark that went. Since many wanted to see how Liam is after losing Riley, Drake and Maxwell, here is some of how it is going for him. Let’s just say it isn’t easy and will take some special persuasion from those left behind to help him.

Liam ignored all of it. He went to his chambers and remained secluded from the world for days. He refused entry to anyone who knocked. He simply sat there staring at the few mementos he had of those he had lost.

He flipped through the photographs Maxwell had insisted on taking of the three of them through the years. He paused at the few his mother was in, wishing she was here now to tell him how to move on from something like this. She had encouraged his friendships with Maxwell and Drake, knowing he would need them to face life in the public eye.

And now he would never have them again.

Setting the old album aside, he reached for the key chain Riley had given him the night of the Coronation. Thinking of that night and their confessions of love only to be cruelly parted...his head dropped as he carefully set it back on the table. Next he picked up the pearl he had given her. The plans and hopes they had while meeting in secret. It had helped him through every moment he was kept from her side.

He then lifted the photograph Anna had taken of them for their engagement. Liam's fingers trembled as they brushed against the image of Riley. Her smile so warm. Her eyes so filled with joy.

Reaching for a decanter, he attempted to metaphorically drown his sorrows. In one night he had lost everything he had held dear. How was he to go on from this? There was no enemy to slay, no way to find those he loved and rescue them. Nothing. Nothing except funerals to attend. Nothing but giving them to the cold, unforgiving dirt.

All he had ahead of him was visits to graveyards. He knew his father didn't have much longer to live. It would be just one more loss in his already devastated heart.

Death was what his life had become. He had feared that when his mother was poisoned. Many a night he would wake up crying at the thought of being completely and utterly alone. This long forgotten fear rose up within him, showing that it hadn't been a mere nightmare. It had been a premonition.

Dropping his head in his hands, he sobbed into the void that had become his only companion.

****************

This next peek is a miniseries idea that will be called, Mixed Signals, that hit after that last Open Heart Chapter. It will focus on my MC Chris getting closer to Tobias (and gah, I am wishing now she could dump all the LI's and be with him. His humor and confidence have won me completely over). It will take place in both books 2 and 3 and focus on her frustration with Ethan and Bryce never committing or saying how they truly feel about her. Since, especially in the chapters before the Hawaii trip, they both would randomly act romantic towards her then friend zone her in the next scene, I'm letting this series show her choosing to step back and see what she wants and needs from a significant other. This begins after the attack and Chris has yet to return to work. She goes to Mass Kenmore to thank Tobias for coming to help find a cure for her and ends up opening up to him a bit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tobias asked softly, gently squeezing her close.

"Not really." Chris admitted. "Everyone keeps telling me to give myself time and all." She eased back. "I wish they would leave me alone."

He kept his hands on her waist while studying her. "Then tell them."

"Ha. You've met them." She snorted. "They don't take orders like that well."

"True." He replied. "You want me to do it?" His smirk brought a grin to her face. "Ethan already considers me a pain in his ass. What's one more mark against me?"

She laughed, while dabbing at her eyes and nose. "After what you did for me? No way am I letting you continue to be the bad guy."

"Aww shucks, Valentine." Tobias teased. "You're going to give me a big head."

"As if it wasn't already big enough." She teased back. Tilting her head, she pretended to study him. "How do you lift it?"

"I work out." He winked then stood up. "I'm glad you came by."

"Me too." She held her hand out.

He shook his head. "You already hugged me. I figure that could be our thing."

"Our thing?"

Tobias pulled her back into his embrace.

"Yeah." He hugged her close. "Now that you won't let me be the big bad guy, I think this means you want us to be friends."

"Whoa. I'm merely a girl coming to thank a guy for saving her life." She teased. "Don't be thinking this means more than that."

"Sorry. Thought is already there." He countered, letting her go. "You're stuck with me now Chris whether you like it or not."

"Ugh, fine." She playfully grumbled. "I already deal with so many ego maniacs. What's one more?"

He opened his office door for her. "I knew you would agree."

"Just because you won this round doesn't mean you'll win them all, Dr. Carrick." Chris warned.

"Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Dr. Valentine," he leaned down close to whisper. "I win all the rounds that are important to me." Swiping up the folder he had previously been studying, he saluted her. "See you soon."

***************

And finally another miniseries "What if" for Thomas Hunt and my OC. I've been inspired by rewriting And Then I Met You and decided to do the same with their story in Second Chances. Here's a peek of Amanda actually telling Thomas she is pregnant instead of storming out of his office. I've yet to come up with a title I like for it, LOL, so we'll just wait on that.

Amanda ignored the words Thomas was saying. She didn't want to hear that he had fallen for an actress. All she could focus on was her pain turning into fury. How could he have moved on so quickly?

She wanted to hit him. Never in her life had she ever wanted to hurt someone so much as she did Thomas.

She felt sick to her stomach thinking about him and Kara. The nausea reminded her that she couldn't give in to her desire. She had someone else to think of. Someone who deserved every sacrifice she knew she would have to make to keep Thomas in their child's life.

"...and that's why I am sending Kara flowers." Thomas stepped closer to her when he noticed how pale she was. "Amanda?"

Her eyes lifted to his. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out the reason she came to his office.

"I'm pregnant."

She watched as her words slowly registered. The shock of her announcement caused him to collapse in the chair she had been sitting in.

"Pregnant." He breathed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." Amanda clasped her hands in front of her. "I wouldn't have come here if I had not had it confirmed by a doctor."

Thomas knew she wouldn't have darkened his door for anything. If there was one characteristic they shared, it was pride. Neither ever wanted to appear foolish.

He got up and took a step toward her, uncertain how he was supposed to react. "What do you intend to do?"

Tears sparked her eyes. "Well, I am going to keep the baby and I hoped..." She bit her lip while lowering her eyes. Seems he had no intention to get back together with her. "I hope you will want to be a part of our child's life."

Thomas reached for her hand. Just because he wasn't sure whether or not to try a romantic relationship with her again, it didn't mean that he didn't want to be there for her.

"I will." He promised.

Her head jerked up and she noticed that there was no condemnation towards her reflected in his expression. Though the surprise announcement had knocked him for a loop, he was at least trying to do the right thing.

Though she had hoped to hear that he wanted to try again, she was vastly relieved to hear his promise.

"Are you planning on staying in L.A. for a while?" He asked.

"I could stay a few days." She wiped her tears with her fingers. A nervous laugh escaped her. "I wasn't sure if you would want me to after I told you about the baby."

"I would like to discuss how we will work this out." He squeezed her hand before urging her to sit down. "I have some meetings that I don't think I'll be able to get out of, but how about dinner tonight at my home?"

"I don't want to interrupt your date." She struggled with the word. "I can--"

"I'm not dating anyone." Thomas explained. "That's why I told you the flowers were more of a professional courtesy than romantic in nature."

"So you and Kara Bennett?" Amanda felt a brief spark of hope. "You're not--"

"No. She's one of the actresses on an upcoming film I'm directing." He replied.

"I see." She mumbled.

"Does 7:30 sound good?" He asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Should I pick you up?" He remembered she was staying at a hotel.

"No, I'll call for a car." She got to her feet again and held her hand out. "I know you have work and a lot to think over." Her lips curved into a sad smile. "But thank you for meeting with me and hearing me out."

He came around his desk and pulled her into a hug. Realizing how hard it was for her to come here, touched something within his heart. She seemed so fragile that he felt the need to comfort her.

Hugging her was the safest way in his opinion.

She trembled in his arms before returning his hug. Struggling with her tears, she laughed.

"Forgive me. I haven't had control of my emotions these last few months. These pregnancy hormones have a mind of their own."

Thomas handed her some tissues. "No need to apologize."

She thanked him as she dabbed under her eyes. "If I'm not crying then I am losing my temper. Poor Maxwell. I practically jumped down his throat for drinking the last Sprite on the way here."

His eyebrows lifted. "Maxwell came with you?"

"Everyone came with me." She shook her head in exasperation. "They were worried that you--" she winced. "They came to support me."

"I see." He replied. Reaching out, he gently grasped her arm. "I hate to rush you, but--"

"Of course." She gathered her things. "I'll see you this evening."

He smiled at her. "I look forward to it."

[drzoro]

I got tagged by @gloriouszeta! Thank you and happy belated birthday!!

1. Nickname: Jimmy, Jim, Jimjam, and any other variation lol

2. Gender: whats gender haha

3. Star sign: Capricorn

4. Height: 5′4″

5. Time: 7:14 PM

6. Birthday: January 15

7. Favorite bands: ELP, Pink Floyd, The Who, Journey, Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, etc (if it’s dad rock i probably like it. But i also listen to and enjoy almost anything else)

8. Favorite solo artist: I’m not sure. Maybe K.D. Lang

9. Song stuck in my head: The Ballad of John Henry, but just random lines bc I don’t know all the words

10. Last movie: The Matrix 3

11. Last show: His Dark Materials miniseries

12. When I made this blog: 2013 ish

13. What I post: ~aesthetic~ and whatever else is funny or interesting to me. I used to post about more specific interests/fandom but now I have sideblogs for that lol

14. Last thing I googled: the phone number for my local donut shop

15. Other blogs: I’m not really active on my sideblogs except @ted-limpwrist-logan and sometimes @engayge

16. Do I get asks: on rare occasions

17. What made you choose this blog name: it’s the username I use for everything

18. Following: ...2141

19. Followers: 795

20. Average hours of sleep: Like 7

21. Lucky number: 4 or 9

22. Instruments: guitar, piano, mandolin, ukulele, harmonica

23. What I’m wearing: cowboy bandana, led zeppelin t shirt, oversized orange shirt-jacket thing, black boot cut pants

24. Dream Job: historical reenactor or food historian

25. Dream trip: Japan

26. Favorite food: I love too many foods

27. Nationality: American

28. Favorite song: never ask me this unless u want me to list 87 different songs I like and then short-circuit

29. Last book I read: Dune (which I’m not finished with lol)

30. Fictional Universe I’d like to live in: hmmm maybe whatever universe the dragon quest games take place in. Or the Zelda universe. A fantasy RPG video game world

Thanks again for the tag! I always love these things. I tag @auroreamethyste @softanimedads @spaghet-dad @goldenhornets @allieinwonderland0 @richardwrights @kbgw1234 @sundogsam and @kunstlich if y’all want to do it!

[intoanothermind]

The Glue - Part Two

T H E   G L U E

Word Count: 1.9k words

Synopsis: Glue or Variable? This is the big question about Frankie’s existence. Assigned to the same role as Newt in WCKD’s Lethal Experiments, Frankie suddenly realizes that she will become just a variable to activate brain reactions in her former Group A friends. Without memories and being the only girl among several boys, she has the feeling of already knowing some of them. The new question that matters to WCKD is: will Frankie play her role as a variable correctly?

- Newt x OC (Frankie)

Masterlist

<Part 1 | Part 3>

(This will be a miniseries of Newt from Maze Runner. It will consist of 7 parts and a spin-off. I won’t do a reader insert as usual, but you will soon understand why.)

—

P A R T   T W O

The girl, at the age of three, was shaking in her small body. She looked around scared; to the white room where she was, to the technology around her, to the other children on her right and left - as scared as she was - and to the people in lab coats. Not only had she been snatched from her mother's arms, she was still required to act as a guinea pig for a bunch of scientists who were working hard to find a cure for The Flare - even if she didn't know what that meant yet.

One woman stood out from the group of scientists stepping forward. She was tall and blond, her tired expression making clear the hard work she'd been doing.

“From now on, your life will no longer be the same.” She said, her voice cold and steady, spreading through the room. “You will have new names and new goals, all aimed at the search for healing.”

Meanwhile, a man in a lab coat passed by the children, whispering something to them and then jotting it down on a clipboard. When he reached the girl, her heart was racing.

“Your name will be Rosalind Franklin, in reference to the biophysics crucial to DNA knowledge.” He wrote something down on the drawing board shortly afterwards and moved on while the little girl was still paralyzed with terror.

When everyone was nominated, the blonde woman spoke again.

“Now everything will change. But always remember: WICKED is good.”

The girl instinctively held the boy's hand to her right. When she realized it she felt embarrassed and thought about letting go, but the boy wouldn't allow it. She looked at him - his blond hair falling over his forehead and his brown eyes staring at her - and remembered the name that had been whispered to him and she had been able to hear: Isaac Newton.

~ * ~

“Hey, Frypan!” Newt shouted as he approached what, by appearance and smell, I assumed was their kitchen.

It was small, but seemed to have what it needed to make a good meal. A large stove, a microwave, a dishwasher, two tables. It looked old and worn, but clean. A rather plump boy with a leather apron appeared smiling.

“Hey, Newt!” greeted the boy. “Minho!”

“Is there anything there for the Newbie?” Newt asked, nodding at me.

I blushed and bit my lower lip.

“Ah, yes, the troublemaker Shebean!” Exclaimed Frypan and, despite the roughness of the words, I noticed a sympathetic smile on his lips.

“I'm not a troublemaker.” I muttered, frowning.

“Oh sure, because you don't even have your hand on the machete as if you would rip off the arm of whoever dared to touch you!” Minho commented sarcastically, with an arched eyebrow.

I looked down and realized he was right. I jerked my hand away from the handle as if it had shocked me. The boys laughed.

“Well, I only cook for this bunch of klunks, but I must have something here for you, Shebean.” Said Frypan, walking away.

“What is klunk?” I asked, confused, to Newt and Minho.

Minho scowled. "Believe me, you don't want to know, Shebean!"

I rolled my eyes as Newt laughed at me.

“Here, Newbie!” Exclaimed Frypan, approaching again, a plate in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Don't call me that, I have a name.” I muttered, taking the plate he was offering.

Minho and Frypan arched an eyebrow, as if daring me to say my name.

“Frankie.” I said, and they frowned. “My name: Frankie.”

They grinned, all of them, and Newt put a hand on my shoulder, which sent electric currents all over my body.

"Welcome to the Glade, Frankie."

~ * ~

"Why didn't you say it hurt before?" Newt asked once more, frowning and the worried glint in his brown eyes.

I bit my lip when the med-jack who took care of my arm pulled the bandage tightly on my forearm.

“Because it didn't matter.” I said, looking away from his intense gaze. The med-jack has finished his work and smiles slightly in thanks. "Thanks ... Jeff, right?" I ventured, and earned a smile in confirmation.

“That's right, Shebean.” He said, and I held back not to roll my eyes, but Newt didn't hold back the laugh. "It won't infect or anything, so you don't have to worry."

I smiled again, rising from my chair in the middle of the Homestead. “Thanks again, Jeff.”

“You're welcome, Shebean!”

"Will you never stop calling me that?" I muttered as I left Homestead with Newt by my side.

The Homestead was nothing but wood. The door was a crazy and even creative replacement for a dark, sun-beaten wooden slate. Crooked stairs, twisted stairs and railings in all directions, and the walls were covered with dark paper, but already worn at some points. Nothing at the Homestead seemed inviting - it seemed haunted, if you want to know the truth - but I had to admit that, despite everything, those boys did a good job.

"Maybe next month, when a new unlucky slinthead arrives in the box." Newt said, pointing to the elevator I came from. Or where he would be if the Box hadn't come down again. "Or not ... You'll always be the first Shebean in here, Frankie."

For some reason, I smiled.

“I like it when you call me Frankie.” I blurted out, and my cheeks flushed immediately.

"But I'd rather call you Greenie." He said, smiling mischievously.

I widened my eyes, gaping.

“The audacity!” I exclaimed jokingly and punched him weakly in the arm.

Newt laughed, hugging me by the shoulders. I smiled wistfully, feeling the familiarity, the confidence, and the security he conveyed to me hitting me full in the chest.

“Why do I feel like I know you?” He asked, stopping suddenly and stepping in front of me.

I had the impression that my eyes looked bigger than they really were. I was surprised and scared. I had thought that the feeling of familiarity had come only from me. But no! Newt was there, right in front of me, saying that he also felt he knew me.

I opened my mouth at least twice before giving him any concrete answer.

"What if I said I feel the same way?" I said, smirking, his head slightly bowed in shame.

Then I felt Newt's fingers under my chin, lifting my face so that I could look him in the eye. Brown eyes so deep and intense I felt unable to look away. His eyes held mine like a magnet, and when I realized he was slowly approaching. I could have ran away, but one thing I noticed when his nose brushed mine was that I didn't want to run away. I realized that from the moment I laid eyes on Newt still in the Box, running would never become an option for me. I smiled to feel our breaths merging and our lips had the first contact, even if only one brush. I felt Newt's hands migrating to my waist and tightened my shirt over his shoulders.

I surpassed the inch that separated us the moment a loud crash rumbled through the Glade, followed by the harsh, slurred sound. I walked away from Newt quickly, confused and scared, until I located the source of the noise. I noticed that the walls closed, really closed. We were close to one of the openings, which seemed to be about twenty feet wide. On the left side, deep holes several inches in diameter, the space would be almost six meters long and carved into the stone, starting at the ground and continuing upward. On the right side, 30 centimeters wide bars protruded from the edge of the wall, also several centimeters in diameter, on the same pattern as the holes on the other side.

And at that moment they would play their part.

The huge wall of stone slid across the earth, scattering sparks and dust as they beat stone to stone. The right wall reached the end of its path, its bars finding their mark and entering unhindered, the echo of an explosion echoing in the clearing as the four openings were closed at night.

“Newt.” I muttered, tugging at his shirt sleeve. He still didn't look at me, keeping his gaze fixed on the opening that had just closed, but took his other hand in mine, squeezing it lightly. “What was that?” I asked, afraid I would get an answer or not.

"It was the doors closing, like every night." said Newt, lowering his head slightly before turning to me with a reassuring smile that even then , I did not feel to be real. "We'd better get you a hammock." Must be tired and is too klunk to assimilate.

Even if I didn't feel tiredness overwhelming me, I knew that sooner or later Newt would be right. So I just agreed to just go. We soon found a short, plump little boy who seemed to be the youngest of them all. He looked playful, and that pleased me almost immediately, as was Newt. Perhaps the most annoying, but certainly the most intelligent. The curls fell over his face, and every time he tried to push it away, I insisted he looked cute.

“Hey, Chuck!” Exclaimed Newt, smiling at the smaller one. "Can you get a sleeping bag for Frankie?" Chuck just listened and already went looking for one .

I smiled again when I heard my name on Newt's lips.

“Here it is, Newt.” Replied the boy, panting, Chuck. “Hello, Newbie.”

“Hello, Chuck.” I said, smiling friendly. I knew I would have to get used to them by calling me negative names. And I was starting to not care about that.

“Where do you want to sleep?” Asked Newt.

“You can keep me company, it's not like me to have many friends here.” Suggested Chuck sadly.

I looked around, seeing that most of the boys chose to sleep on a lawn near the gardens. I bit my front lip, going over my options. Until a few boys nearby waved perversely, and I had no idea how I could handle it until overnight. I chose to decline Chuck's offer.

“Far away, please.” I asked in a whisper, and Newt seemed to realize what I was thinking, and it was only a matter of time before the other boys messed with me. Boys were weird. "But I promise I'll sleep with you some other day." I assured Chuck just before we left.

Newt walked with me to the edge of the woods there, and I took shelter in the by a tree. I hoped that nothing unusual like a rain would happen.

“Don't worry, Frankie.” Newt said, smiling slightly and with his hand on my shoulder. "I wish you were going to the Homestead, but it's only for the Keepers and there's not enough room for everyone. But I'll try to talk to Alby and see if the opportunity arises for you to go there.”

I smiled in thanks, and he was about to turn to the Homestead when I held his wrist. Newt looks at me intrigued, and I took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Newt.” I whispered, truly grateful.

Newt smiled, that smile that melted me and made me want to smile along. He approached me and placed a kiss on my cheek, incredibly close to my mouth.

“You're welcome, Frankie.”