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#j-a-is-fandom-trash

24-guy · 10 days

Note

Okay, I know I usually request Michie.

But could you maybe draw the main cast as sea monsters? No need to rush, no need to do it all in one post, I'm just really interested in how you'd design them. Steph is the main one I'm thinking of, but that's such a slippery slope to thinking about Pete, and then Ruth, and then Grace–

Of course you can!! My requests aren’t only open for michie, hah. They’re just my favourites so that’s who i ask to draw most.

This was a test in how to keep characters looking like themselves despite nearly everything about them changing. I’m not too certain on the hair or outfits but the movie didn’t really give much to show on those fronts so. Gimme a little bit of a break. :’)

#asks #lab-trash #j is talking again #still not maintagging though because im still scared of the main fandom finding me #ship wars scare me since the voltron days and im not looking to accidentally become a target

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moonbeam-b0o · 2 years

Text

New fanart! (I also realize that I forgot to colour the gem stones on Arlin’s tiara) I will edit it later.

I hope you’ll like it!

#sarah j maas #aelinandrowan #aelin galythinius #aelin x rowan #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #sjm fandom #sjm trash #throne of glass #tog fandom #tog series #tog

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mamadoe · 3 months

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🍁 The Forgotten Sister - Chapter 8

(I posted this on AO3 ages ago and forgot to post here, sorry 😬)

Partially edited, may come back and revise minor mistakes in the future.

~~~

Complete Masterlist

Also on AO3

Warning || only one bed, fluff, flirting

Word Count || 7885

~~~

The old marble floor of the barely lit throne room is a view I know all too well. My hands are that of a child’s against the cold floor. My little knees ache from holding this position for so long. Without tilting my head up, I try to glance toward the throne before me, but all I glimpse are the feet of Father’s hounds, their long, gangly legs stretched out as they lay at Father’s feet. My legs begin to scream in protest as I continue my punishment. What had I done this time to earn this treatment? I wrack my brain for it, but nothing comes. What’s the point of a punishment if I don’t know what I’m being punished for?

“Althea.” His voice is deep and gravelly, full of disdain. My skin heats from his unfiltered self being directed at me. “Look at me, child.” Eyes wide, I lift my gaze across the deep red rug that cascades down the steps leading to his throne. The hounds already sit upright in response to his voice, their brownish-grey wiry coats ragged and unkempt. Even the dogs look at him as my eyes meet his - dark as the night. They scare me. They have always scared me. He sits tall in his throne under a stark light, the only light in the room. I don’t dare speak until he gives me permission in fear of him making me kneel here longer. “Do you know what it is to be High Fae, child?” His question confuses me. Of course, I have been studying our history, but what does that have to do with this?

“High Fae are the rulers of Prythian, Father,” I meekly force out, and his unyielding glare upon me doesn’t give. My child-like voice is small and nearly gets swallowed up in the massive darkness of the throne room.

“Yes, but what else? What makes you High Fae, Althea?” I try to keep my eyes meeting his, but his question confuses me more, so I glance over his shoulder to Mother. She’s standing just behind his throne to the left, her hand resting on his shoulder and reflects white under the light’s intensity. However, the rest of her is nearly completely shrouded in darkness, and I can barely make out her features, but I can tell her expression is blank, cold even, and doesn’t reassure me in the slightest.

“Both you and Mother are High Fae, making me High Fae,” I find my words, my voice struggling to keep a stable tone as the nerves set in, and my skin begins to crawl with heat.

“Correct. High Fae do not mingle with the lower faeries. Do you understand?” His tone somehow falls deeper, harsher than before. To be honest, I don’t know what exactly he’s talking about, but I’m afraid if I tell him that, he will push my punishment further.

“Yes, Father,” I whisper, glancing down to the floor, but a loud thud of Father’s cane on the rug makes me flinch, and I glance back up to him.

“Do not ever speak with the servants again, Althea. If you so much as look at them, there will be punishment. Do you understand?” His words slice right through me. I had been talking to one of the maids in the kitchen earlier today while I was on my way to my tudor’s study. She had given me an apple and sent me on my way.

“Yes, Father,” is all I manage.

“You will not end up like him,” he commands firmly, and I can see Mother’s hand squeeze Father’s shoulder, but when I look to her, her face is now completely masked with black smoke that billows out and down her arms. Who does he mean by that?

“Y-Yes, Father. I apologize,” I weakly offer as I bow down so low that my forehead meets the cold floor.

“We will not have another one who defies me. You will abide by my rule.” I nod against the floor in understanding, but the growl of one of the hounds draws my attention. One of them is making its way down the steps toward me, head low, golden eyes glowing, a deep growl rumbling in its chest as it carries itself on its too-long legs.

“F-Father?” I whine from the floor, vulnerable for the taking like prey. The creature continues its approach, its growl morphing into something reminiscent of a garbled bark, its form shifting, expanding, deforming to be larger than life, as it now looms over my child-like form. My terror quakes me to my core as I tremble before it, its bark loud and overwhelming. The darkness of the throne room is closing in on us as it leans down over me, the shine of its bright white teeth cutting through the darkness, lips pulled back in a grotesque snarl as it prepares to sink its teeth into me.

“Wake up!” hisses through the darkness, and I am swiftly ripped from my nightmare. My breathing is heavy, and a light sweat coats my skin in the cool night air. The sky has grown almost completely dark and star flecked now that the sun has just past the horizon, and the chill of the night is setting in quickly. Irian is stooped over me, his face painted with fear and concern as he shakes me lightly. “Wake up. We gotta move quickly.” Before I can thank him for pulling me from the depths of my nightmare, I hear it - barking in the distance. I can’t pinpoint how far off they are, but for sure they are making ground and heading this way. The familiar high-pitched yaps of Father’s hounds break through the night, and I immediately feel my dinner churn in my stomach. Their barks must have carried into my dream. Irian doesn’t hesitate before pulling me up to my feet swiftly, and I almost ignore the groaning protest of my legs as I bear my weight on them, the soreness from riding having fully set in while I slept. A moment later he is securing the cloak around my neck under the cowl of the sweater and pulling the hood up, tucking my braid in to hide its identifiable red.

“How did they make it this far?” I whisper as he leads me through the dark with large strides over to Bits. Her saddle is already secured, saddle bags and all.

“They must have noticed Bits and I were gone quicker than I thought they would,” he returns as he takes me by the waist and hoists me up, my legs finding purchase on either side of her back. “I work in the Northern stable, so they must have put two-and-two together. The hounds can pick up just about any scent.” He clasps his hand around the horn of the saddle and heaves himself up, and after a brief moment of him adjusting in his seat, my arms find their hold around his waist. It’s only now that I realize he is clad in his own thick sweater in preparation for facing the cold. “All they’d need is some clothing of yours that hasn’t been washed, and they’re on the hunt,” he says under his breath as he adjusts his weight one more time as I swiftly kick my legs to unroll my pants to cover my feet. I’ll have to tie them closed later. The sound of the hounds grows closer by the second, but with a quick snap of the reins, Bits takes off into the tree line, heading north.

~~~

The night is long, only broken up by brief changes of Bits’ pace. As the fear of the chase settles in, we remain silent, as if our voices would give away our location or our pursuers don’t already have a homing beacon on our backs. All sense of time melts away as the dark night sky stretches past the horizon of the canopy of the trees, no moon to guide us. That doesn’t slow down Irian, however; his hands keep the reins moving with determination. I try to ignore the ache of my lower half as it strains to keep me secure against his ridged back, and the chill nips at my fingers as we travel higher into the mountains and the night’s air sinks into our bones. Already, the air is thinning, making my breaths short and hasty.

The fear of being caught drives him to make quick decisions - follow the path, break away here to gain just a little bit more ground, ducking down to avoid low-hanging branches. If captured, the punishment for this would be death, undoubtedly, and it isn’t in his plan to die, not today. Thankfully, his quick thinking and Bits’ stamina put adequate distance between us and them, the sound of the hounds slowly dissipating into the night. Even then, Irian doesn’t stop for anything, whispering under his breath that they can’t risk it, not again.

My hold on him is firm as I rest the side of my face against the back of his shoulder, listening carefully for anything behind us, but the only thing that my ears register are the rhythmic drumming of Bits’ hooves against the varying terrain in one ear and Irian’s steady, strong heartbeat in the other. If I weren’t trying to hold on for dear life, I could imagine myself slipping into a trance, but my heart lives in my throat as the adrenaline-fueled fear finally begins to ebb. Exhausted, I let my eyes drift close to give them a rest, tightening my arms around his waist noticeably. Irian takes notice and finally glances back at her for the first time since taking off.

“Ya okay back there?” One of his large hands finds its place on top of mine, his longer, callused fingers sliding between more delicate ones so he can give my hand a squeeze. Still bouncing from Bits’ gallop and Irian’s skilled riding, I’ve managed to match his riding rhythm, so it’s more comfortable at least.

“I suppose, considering,” I rest my chin on his shoulder, brows knit together as my eyes barely meet his. Hisonce-joyous smile hasn’t returned and instead a small frown is in its place.

“Don’t ya worry. Once we are over the mountain peaks, they won’t follow. We can find someplace to stop then, okay? Maybe get some warm food in ya, too,” he gives an assuring nod before redirecting his focus ahead, letting his hand linger clasped over mine for a moment longer before withdrawing it. Immediately I miss the touch as it’s my only comfort right now. My head remains on his shoulder as I try to look forward into the dark to see what he sees, but to me, we are darting through pitch darkness.

“How do you know where we are going?” His small laugh under his breath eases some of the tension I’m carrying between my shoulders.

“Well, it helps if you can see in the dark,” he flashes a quick smirk, “One of the perks of being part night fae. The darkness is an old friend.” I blink at that. When I had scoped out his features before, I hadn’t put two and two together. From his drooped ears to his fangs, he is characteristically a night fae.

“Like a cat then?” I tease in an attempt to keep the mood light. I can feel a laugh bubble up through his chest but he stops it from ringing clear in the night.

“Yes, very much like a cat,” he returns under his breath before slowly bringing Bits to a stop, surveying something in the dark I cannot see. Bits’ heavy breath is loud in the stillness of the night, the heaving of her rib cage prominent beneath us. I hope she can hold out until we can stop; the poor girl has already pushed so hard to get us this far. After a brief pause, Irian gives a soft huff of affirmation before casting me a less-than-assuring look. “Hold tight, princess. We’re about to be airborne.”

“What?” is all that slips from my lips before he snaps the reins and Bits immediately starts forward. My hold tightens on him, fingers gripping the material of his sweater.

“Hold on!” Just as suddenly as he commands, Bits is jumping. We are up off her back, though Irian’s feet stay firmly planted in the stirrups. I’m not so lucky, Irian being my only anchor as I lift from Bits’ back.

“Fuck!” On instinct my legs lift and close against his sides in an instant, seeking anything more to anchor myself. I can’t even see why we are jumping, but I know being this high up in the mountains, it can’t be good and would be a quick, painful death if I fall now. The jump passes in an instant but feels like an eternity as my stomach flips in knots before her hooves connect and she stumbles before they find purchase on the solid ground on the other side of whatever she jumped over, taking a few solid steps away before Irian reins her to a stop.

“Woah, good girl,” he pats her neck, a soft pant escaping his lips before he gives me an earnest glance. “You, too.” I would blush, if I had any blood left to pool in my face that isn’t already coursing through my veins, fueled by adrenaline. He laughs softly at what must be the most petrified expression on my face. My frame is trembling against his back, and it’s only when one of his hands finds the outside of my knee that’s pressed against his side that I return his glance, eyes wide and wild.

“What the fuck was that?” I whisper, unable to will myself to unfurl my grasp on him. A brief lit of a tease dances across his features, but he decides against acting on it when he realizes how terrified I am.

“Oh, nothing. Don’t even worry about it.” His thumb caresses the top of my knee for a brief moment in an attempt to calm my leg’s trembling. “Just a little detour, alright?” He turns more so I can see his face better. Even in the dark, I can make out the faint tinge of light reflection. It makes his once golden eyes have a shiny quality, tinged with silver. How he’s able to see in the dark. “Just a rock slide took out a part of the path. They won’t be able to follow us this way now, not with the dogs at least.” For the life of me, I can’t stop shaking, my adrenaline piqued.

“J-Just rocks in the path?” He can’t keep a small smirk from lifting the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, no, the path is gone,” he watches my face as I short circuit.

“What?” My voice is meek. We could have fallen there, could have died, and he has the nerve to look at me like it was nothing.

“A good chunk of the path collapsed, so they’ll need good horses to get over that. But hey, we made it!” He finally lets a laugh loose before giving the outside of my trembling thigh another pat. “Don’t think about it too hard. Just be thankful you can’t see how far the fall is.” I can’t stop the fearful gulp that feels trapped in my throat.

“Oh, don’t worry, that’s all on you.” I huff and hide my face against his shoulder, pulling another laugh from him before his hands return to the reins and he steers Bits away from what turns out to be a near-death experience. Thankfully he doesn’t pry me from his frame, instead keeping Bits’ pace moderate as we continue on the unseeable path.

“We’ll be in the Winter Court soon, and trust me, you’ll know it. I know of a small, little village not far from the border. It’s mostly a logging town, but it’s off the beaten path, and people keep to themselves. And now, without the dogs, we should be fine to stay the night, warm ourselves, get what we need, and then head out before the sun rises tomorrow, sound good?” His tone is bright as he tries to ease my tension, but I’m not letting go until I see the lights of a fire-warmed inn. All I respond with is a nod, and he chuckles once more before leading us through the dark.

~~~

Cold embraces us as soon as we cross the wards into the Winter Court, and the wind cuts right through what I initially thought were nice, warm knit clothing. The only reprieve is the wool cloak, which I secured around his shoulders and pulled the hood up over his head to keep him as warm as possible while nestling in as close as I could underneath. Our shivering bodies lean into each other, seeking any warmth we can kindle.

Even in the dark as I glance over his shoulder, I can see the faint glow of snow on the ground, and big, fluffy flakes swirl through the windy air. Any tracks we leave behind will quickly be smoothed over by new downfall and the wind, giving me some much needed relief from my growing anxiety of being followed despite Irian’s best attempt at affirming they wouldn’t follow us now that we crossed the wards. Even Bits seems to slow from the cold, much to my dismay. Irian’s large, trembling hand strokes my arms over his stomach in a feeble attempt to warm them.

“A-About there, stay with me,” he says through chattering teeth, earning a soft mumble as I bury my frozen face between his shoulder blades.

“Hope so. We can’t take this cold much longer,” my teeth chatter uncontrollably. I’ve never been so cold, as if my bones are frozen from the inside. I can’t even feel below the knee with how deeply the cold has settled. Thankfully, his promise rings true as the sound of Bits’ hooves against the ground changes - muffled heavy steps to solid thuds against snow-packed ground. I can’t help but peek over his shoulder once more. The soft light of a fae light lantern burns brightly in the distance. As we draw closer, the subtle frames of small houses melt out of the darkness, and I sigh with relief. “Finally.” Irian nods in approval, unable to will any other response as he steers Bits through what must be snow-covered roads as the small, dark houses appear closer together. As we pass under the fae light, it feels almost too bright after being in the dark for so long, my eyes squinting as I glance around. It doesn’t take long to pinpoint the small inn he was talking about before, and he wasn’t joking - it sits nestled in the corner of what must be the village’s town square, but at first glance it appears like any other of the small buildings, just two stories and bigger, and most of the windows are dark except for what must be the one in the front entry.

Teeth chattering, Irian stops Bits just shy of the walkway. After a brief moment of hyping himself up, he unclasps the cloak, and before I can protest, he slides off Bits’ back and pulls the front of the cloak closed around me.

“I-I’m going in to check if they have a room open. Stay put. I don’t want them to see you if t-they don’t have to, okay?” I nod once as he digs a small pouch that jingles of coin from one of the saddle bags.

“P-Please hurry,” I chatter under my breath, the plume of condensation thick in the freezing air. With a nod, he quickly trudges through the snow to the front door and disappears inside, leaving Bits and me in the cold and stillness that comes to a village like this at night. Trying to distract myself from the cold rising up my legs without Irian helping regulate my warmth, I glance around the bare town square. A few scattered fae lights still illuminate it to draw people stuck into the cold toward the inn. The fluffy snowflakes swirl in the glowing light as they drift toward the ground. If my body wasn’t about to give out on me, from the cold or exhaustion both, I could appreciate the view for its simple beauty.

So distracted from watching the snow, I don’t register Irian’s return until he’s stroking my leg gently, drawing my attention back to his much-more-relaxed face.

“C’mon, it’s warm in there,” he says softly as he takes a hold of my waist to help me down. Once again, I nearly collapse into the snow-covered ground, but he catches me under the arms.

“M-My legs, I can’t feel them at all,” my voice trembles weakly, and the thin air of the mountains isn’t helping me regain my strength. His breath comes in a strong huff as he pulls me up, hooking at arm around my waist.

“I know, dear, but it’s just a little farther,” he pulls me flush to his side, draping my arm around his shoulder for better support as he wrestles with the straps of the saddlebags with his free hand. “Just through that door and up the stairs, and a nice, warm bed is waiting, alright?” He grunts as he slides a couple of the bags under his free arm and turns us towards the door, my legs stumbling from the shift. Just the thought of the warmth waiting for us encourages my legs to cooperate just enough to take small steps through the snow. “That’s right, keep going,” he whispers into my ear as he concentrates on making sure we don’t end up collapsing into the snow. The praise would be embarrassing if I weren’t so distracted by the feeling of needles digging into the bottoms of my almost-bare feet.

“I-Irian,” my lip quivers from the sharp pain, “I-I can’t,” I whimper pathetically, eyes screwed shut as the pain shoots up my frozen legs. His brows knit together in concern at the change in me.

“Oh, darling, yes, you can. You’ve already come so far. Look,” his voice is soft, though still shaky from the cold, as he nudges the side of my face with the tip of his frozen nose, making me look up to see that we are only feet away from the door. “Just a few more steps.” I muster a nod and force my painful feet to trudge forward, swallowing down the pain. In moments, the door swings open from a swing kick of his foot, and we are bathed in the warmth within, making my chest tighten from relief. He quickly backs me up to a chair next to the door and sits me down, dropping the saddlebags on the floor beside me. After shutting the door behind us, he quickly kneels before me, pulling the cloak’s hood tightly around my face. “That’s a good girl,” he praises as he surveys my frost-etched face. “Wait here, alright? I gotta take the old girl to the stable out back. Warm up and then I’ll help you up the stairs, yeah?” His large hand caresses the top of my head after I give him a short nod and pull the cloak around my frozen frame tightly.

“J-Just hurry,” I whisper, meeting his concerned eyes with my watery ones. The sudden change in temperature has clouded my vision with tears. He nods sharply before standing, giving my shoulder a light pat before stepping away, waving to the woman behind the front desk before stepping back out into the cold.

A large fireplace warms the main hall of the inn, and I’m so thankful it’s not far as I slowly stretch out my frozen legs toward it. The bottoms of the pants I borrowed from Irian’s bag are soaked and dirty from trudging through the snow. I’ll have to take them off to dry overnight once in our room. The hall is decorated sparingly aside from a few mounted heads of beasts from the region, and the lower faerie woman behind the front desk eyes me curiously. She’s wrapped in a large robe to stave off the cold.

“That storm’s been going for quite some time now, Miss. You must be frozen solid,” she chides as she steps out from behind the desk, revealing a small, round pregnant belly accented by how the front of the robe opens to make room. “Let me get you something warm to drink.”

“Y-You don’t need to d-do that. I’ll be warm in no time,” I try to stop her, but she waves me off with a scoff as she steps through a nearby archway, only to return in mere moments with a steaming cup of something. I won’t deny it as she offers it, my frozen hands cupping the mug closely. “T-Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles as her eyes wander over me. “You aren’t from around here, are you? You both aren’t dressed for the weather.” At first I don’t know what to say, so I bide some time by stealing a slow sip, recognizing the flavor as an aged tea mixed with honey. It melts me from within and immediately I relax back into the stiff wooden chair.

“No, we aren’t, but we are just passing through,” I say carefully. “It’s an unexpected trip.” She nods understandingly before turning to head back to her desk.

“Well, if you don’t want to wait for your husband, your room is at the top of the stairs.” A cough nearly makes me choke on the tea. What did she just say?

“Oh, um, that’s okay, I told him I’d wait for him here,” I try to keep a level head. I don’t know what he told her in order to get the room or to keep our cover, so playing along seems like the best bet at this point. She hums and gives a nod as she takes a seat behind the desk, giving me one more appraising look.

“Just bring the mug to me when you’re done, and I’ll take care of it.” Her hand goes to her swollen belly as she rests back in her chair. With a sigh, I thank her over the rim of the mug before taking another slow drink. Husband, huh? Aside from my family and the servants in the castle, I have rarely been around males, let alone one with such familiarity. So far, with Irian, it hasn’t been difficult. Being around him has felt much like being with an old friend. He has shown me nothing but kindness since leaving the castle, and it has made today’s whole ordeal easier, if only a little. However, through the lens of pretending he’s my husband, something feels… different. As my limbs warm, I finally become aware that my cheeks are flushed - from warming up or embarrassment, I’m unsure.

The back door swings open and Irian steps in, rubbing his arms for warmth, and another male follows, securing the door behind them.

“Thanks for your help. Couldn’t have done it without ya,” Irian says warmly to the male, earning a nod as he sheds his winter coat.

“Of course. That barn door sticks,” he approaches the woman behind the desk and leans in, stealing a quick kiss. “And you need to get back to bed.” She smiles up at him before taking his hand to stand.

“Get him a drink, would you?” She gives him another peck on the cheek before giving me a wave. “Change of plans! Just leave your mugs on the desk before you head up. I’ll take care of them in the morning.” With that, she slips through another door at the back of the hall. The other male nods to Irian before disappearing through the same archway the woman had before. Now alone, Irian’s gaze meets mine quickly, and he grins as he makes his way over, kneeling before me once again.

“Ah, look at you. Life’s back in your face,” his hands start with rubbing my shoulders but they end up on my knees, which are now poking out of the opening of the cloak. I give him a small smile.

“Thanks to the tea she gave me. It’s life giving,” I tease, offering him the mug to help warm his icy hands, which he takes happily. “So, husband?” It’s barely a whisper, drawing his eyes back to my face. A faint blush flushes across his face as he gauges whether I’m mad or not.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t have enough for two rooms, and it was so much easier to just say we are married to give us cover. I know it was pushing it, but-,” I cut off his hushed explanation by cupping the scarred side of his face in my hand, and he freezes under my touch, eyes widening ever so slightly. In the corner of my eye, I see the other male returning with a couple steaming mugs of tea.

“Shh, it’s okay.” I gesture with my eyes, and thankfully, he catches on, returning my mug to my free hand before turning to accept the mug offered.

“Ah, thank you. This is perfect,” he smiles warmly at the male, earning a nod as he too takes a long drink from his own mug. I let my hand linger on the side of his face briefly before letting it fall to his shoulder, giving it a gentle pat.

“Wasn’t expecting strangers this time of night, let alone in this storm. Where ya headed?” My heart jumps at his prodding, but Irian seems cool and collected.

“I have family in the Night Court. After the Mountain, I’m hoping I can find them there still,” Irian’s tone shifts to almost sadness, and the male makes an almost pained expression in return.

“Damn, that whole thing,” he sighs and his eyes slide to me. “You were there?” I don’t know what to say - I still don’t know much about the Mountain, only bits and pieces from what Galena has told me, when she had the heart to. When my voice gets lodged in my throat, Irian takes my hand and draws the male’s attention away from me.

“No, of course not, but she had family there. Unlucky bastards,” he sighs and sends a glance my way, begging me to play along. It isn’t technically a lie. I know Beron and Mother were there for nearly fifty years, though I barely noticed except for the fact that he never called for me personally.

“Mhmm, now that they’re okay, I feel better about heading that way,” though I try my best to keep my voice steady, the lie dances across my tongue and my voice doesn’t sound as confident as I had hoped.. Irian’s hand encasing mine gives me a squeeze.

“Come, dear, you’re still so cold,” he feigns a concerned pout. The other male nods in understanding and takes our mugs before bidding us goodnight and heading back into what must be the kitchen. Irian sighs through his nose as he watches him leave before quickly turning back to me, leaning in a little too close. “By the Mother, I’m sorry. I should have come up with a better idea. I hope he believed that.” His sudden anxiety earns a head tilt and I can’t help but smile slightly.

“I would have believed it,” I encourage before using his grip on my hand to pull myself to my feet, wincing softly.

“Still hurt?” his brows knit together as he stands, his hand gliding up my arm to hold me firmly under my elbow. His eyes quickly scan me as I steady myself. “I’ll check your feet once we’re in the room, alright?”

“Oh, stop,” I huff. “I’m just sore, really.” With another soft smile, I try to ease his anxiety, but it doesn’t seem to work. Sucking on his teeth for a moment as he glances at the bags and then the stairs.

“Think you can handle those?” My eyes follow his gaze, and I’d be lying if I said yes.

“It’ll be a slow climb, but I can manage,” with a wave of my hand, I gently bat his hand away and take my first few steps on semi-warmed feet. The needle-like feeling is still present, but manageable. Hopefully they’re not frostbitten. Maybe he should check over them after all. With a hand on the railing and the other holding my loose skirts, now untucked from the pants, and the cloak out of the way, the first few steps are slow. Irian quickly scoops up the bags and moves to stand just a few steps behind me, and I feel how his free hand still manages to find me just between my shoulderblades.

“Take your time. I won’t let you fall,” his voice is soft and assuring, and I nod. While it doesn’t take long, I definitely take my time. From the thinner air to my legs being absolutely exhausted, I’m thoroughly worn out, and even with Irian’s sweet affirmations, I refuse to let myself collapse for a third time today. By the time we make it to the top, my legs are trembling painfully, my breath being sucked between gritted teeth. Irian pauses, giving me a quick once over before pushing our door open, keeping a guiding hand on me always.

“C’mon, you’re so close,” he says softly as to not disturb anyone else who may be sleeping upstairs alongside us. With the last of my energy, I will my legs to walk and step into the dark, warm room. It’s small with a full size bed taking up most of the space, a small wood stove nestled in the corner next to a wash basin. After dropping the bags on the foot of the bed and guiding me to join them, gingerly helping me sit, he sets to work getting a fire going. My eyes flit after him as I let the bed cradle my sore lower half.

“I’ll never complain about a bed being uncomfortable ever again,” I sigh contently. His laugh is soft as he snaps twigs from a kindling basket and stacks them neatly in the fireplace.

“And I’ll never complain about the cold,” he shoots me a smile over his shoulder. “Go ahead and get changed. I’ll hang the cloak and pants near the fire to dry.” A blush flushes my cheeks as I recognize the implications of getting undressed, but I nod.

“Alright. Just keep those wandering eyes to yourself,” I tease in a stern tone as my fingers fiddle with the cloak’s fastening. He laughs and returns his focus back to the stove.

“Yes, ma’am,” he teases in return. With a steadying breath, I begin peeling the layers away, first the cloak, then the sweater, his wet and dirty pants. When I get to loosening the lacings on my stays, I can’t help but give him a shy glance, and sure enough, he’s mindfully ignoring me, trying to get a spark to take on the dried twigs. This is fine, I think. We have been fine all evening, so why does this feel… different. I sigh softly as the stays give way, and my breasts sag slightly, no longer supported by the semi-rigid frame of the stays. I never liked having to wear the traditional shapewear the women of the Autumn Court found so attractive. Then again, since I rarely wear them, they hurt me when I do. With quick hands I untie the sash on the skirt and stand to let it pool at my feet, now left in only my chemise and underwear. Again, I glance at Irian, and like he promised, his back is still firmly angled toward me, much to my relief. However, the nervous feeling that pools in my belly triggers me to pick at the skin of my finger. Feeling too naked, I pull the sweater back over my head, my red braid still tucked into the cowl collar.

“Okay, I’m done,” I whisper as I bend to pick up the pants and cloak, leaving my other clothing on the end of the bed. Irian glances back over his shoulder, offering his hand for the wet clothing.

“I’ll have the fire started in just a sec-,” he hesitates as his eyes trail over my bare calves. My heart leaps into my throat when they linger on my feet.

“W-What?”

“Shit, I knew I should have stopped to wrap your toes,” he groans as he turns to appraise my nearly blue skin. “Do they hurt still?” He glances up at me from the floor, and I shyly twiddle with the loose hem of one of the sweater sleeves.

“No, not really. I mean, they sting, but it’s not that bad now we’ve been inside for a bit,” I lean to look down at my feet with him. His large, warm hand ghosts over my still-chilled skin, making me shiver.

“Hm, okay. Sit here,” he directs with a pat on the edge of the bed closest to the stove, which I oblige. “We’ll get these warmed up in no time,” he gives a gentle, reassuring smile before turning back to the stove, doubling his efforts to get the fire going, which doesn’t take long. When a small fire springs to life in the hearth, he quickly fuels it with his breath and some smaller kindling. As it grows, he adds more fuel to the fire - a small stick, then a bigger stick, then a small log once the fire is steady on its own. By the time he closes the door on the stove, leaving the damper slightly open to let the heart out and the air in to keep the fire going, this side of the room is finally starting to warm. I twiddle my feet together to create some movement and friction to get the blood moving again, but when he kneels in front of me once more and takes one into his hands, lifting it up to check the bottoms of them, I can’t stop the blush that rises to my cheeks.

“What are you doing?” I ask softly, trying to resist the urge to pull away as his ginger traces along the tender skin.

“Can you feel that?” he glances up at me once more, his finger continuing to caress the same spot.

“Y-Yeah, a little bit.” I squint to attempt to see what he’s looking at. He hums softly before deepening his touch.

“This then?” Considering I nearly jump out of my skin to pull my foot back from his hold, he takes that as a yes and laughs softly. “Right, okay. I think you’ll be alright with some rest and proper shoes. I’ll make a trade in the morning.” He repeats his test on my other foot and sure enough, by his second press, my leg jerks back. His eyes trace from the discolored skin of my feet up my calves as his touch follows the path his eyes go, only stopping at my knees, which are now bare since my chemise shifted up from my attempts to pull away. Only when his eyes meet mine do I feel completely vulnerable, his hands steadfast on my knees. “How do your legs feel?” It takes a moment to catch my breath.

“Better,” I breathe softly, and he nods.

“Good.” He smiles as he stands upright. “Stay put by the fire, dear. My turn to change.” He steps around the end of the bed to the packs. By now, I’m sure my blush is noticeable, and I’m thankful he doesn’t tease me for it. Focusing my gaze on the subtle glow of the fire that bleeds from the open damper door, I lift my feet up onto the bed, tugging the chemise back down over my legs before hugging them to my chest. Try as I might, I can’t help but listen intently as he fumbles through his bag, and not long after, those sounds are replaced by ones of him unlacing his own clothing, unbuckling his belt, the subtle shifting as he pulls his sweater off just as I just did. In the small room, it’s hard to ignore. Did he listen to me the way I am listening to him? Biting my lip, I try to refocus on the crackle of the fire but fail when the bed dips from the other side as he sits and tugs his boots off and they land with two solid thuds on the wood floor. His content sigh is soft and short-lived before he stands once more, finishing his undressing before pulling on a fresh change of clothes. The blush continues to creep from my cheeks to the tips of my ears, try as I might to settle my nerves. Why does this feel so weird? I’ve been with people before, females mostly, but this isn’t even like that. It’s only when the bed shifts once more as he pulls the blanket back to lay down that my attention is brought back to him.

“I hope sharing a bed isn’t a bother,” he says apologetically as he sits.

“No, it’s fine,” I send a shy glance over my shoulder to find he let his hair out of his ponytail, his fingers working to comb out the knots that formed from it being windswept aggressively for hours.. I shift to face him, gesturing from him to let me help. After a moment of consideration, he nods and turns to offer his back to me, and I meet him halfway on the bed before starting to unpick the knots by hand. His fingers play with the tie that originally kept it secure as I work, that comfortable silence stretching between us. Working from the bottom and making my way up, it takes a few tries but soon my fingers are able to rake through his hair with relative ease, and he sighs contentedly.

“Thank you, princess,” he barely whispers as my fingers make one more pass, finally meeting his scalp, earning a soft soft as he leans into my touch.

“‘Princess,’ huh?” I dig into the tease as I begin to braid his hair loosely to keep it from tangling in his sleep. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that earlier, too.” His laugh is warm and quiet so as to keep from waking our neighbors.

“Oh, you remember that?” he glances over his shoulder. I nod and cast him a stern yet playful glance with a head tilt.

“I’m not a princess, Irian,” I say firmly as I offer my hand for his tie.

“Think of it as a more of a pet name,” he smirks as he hands the tie off over his shoulder, and I secure his hair, giving the braid a quick pet before pulling away.

“There. Shouldn’t be as much trouble tomorrow at least.” I pull back the covers on my side and slide my legs under, being met with the warmth that has built up while I was sitting on top of them. His hand on my arm gives me pause.

“Your turn,” he gestures to my messy braid hidden away in the collar of the sweater. Though I hesitate for a moment, I nod and shift to turn. His hand slips under the base of the braid to unfurl it from the collar, and I realize his hand could easily dwarf the back of my head. His touch is feather-light as he unties the end and begins combing out my soft curls with his long fingers. His soft hum fuels my blush, which I’m thankful I can hide facing away. “So soft.”

“One of the perks of having handmaidens - they take really good care of me,” I pause, the words stinging like a wound as soon as they are said. “They did, at least.” His hands linger for a moment, gently caressing my back as a comfort before returning to combing. “Do you think-,” I swallow back the sudden tears that burn at my water lines. “Do you think Galena is okay?” His response takes longer than I’d like.

“She stayed behind because she knew she could distract or redirect. She’s a strong one, and she is devoted to you,” his words are soft as his fingers begin to caress the back of my scalp before dividing my hair into sections to braid. “If anyone can get through that, it’d be her.” The sudden lump in my throat is hard to swallow as I take slow, shaky breaths to steady myself. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if she is already following in our tracks.” Without another word, I nod, and Irian slowly finishes the braid. “Now, it’s not a masterpiece, but at least it’s a little neater than it was,” he teases, giving my back a soft push. When I pull it over my shoulder to inspect his work, I can’t help but chuckle. It’s uneven, wonky, and small ends stick out along the length of it, but sure enough, it’s secure enough to sleep in.

“Thank you.” We meet eyes for a moment, and he gives an affirming smile before sliding under the covers.

“Get some rest, Althea. Tomorrow will be another long day.” I nod again before slinking in to join him, keeping a gap between us to respect each other’s space. It doesn’t take long for Irian to quickly doze off, his breathing leveling out. However, despite my exhaustion, sleep evades me. The fear, the worry, the anxiety of everything that is happening all at once swirls through my mind like a storm now that I have a moment of stillness, and for the life of me, I can’t sleep. As time ticks by, I find myself curled up on my side, blanket pulled all the way up to my chin, watching the fire flicker in the stove. The dance of its sparks and its warm cast on the room is comforting. If I were back at the castle, by now, I would be in bed with Galena by my side, snuggled up in a cocoon of warmth fast asleep after yet another long day of looking for letters. That existence feels like an eternity ago.

Irian’s soft groan grabs my attention, but it’s his arm snaking around my waist that makes me flinch.

“Aren’t you tired?” he mumbles half asleep still as he draws me closer to the middle of the bed, pressing himself against my back. My blush returns in full force as his nose brushes the ridge of my shoulder.

“S-Sorry, did I wake you?” A slight shake of his head for a no before he nestles in, his eyes closing as sleep takes over.

“You cold?”

“N-Not exactly. I just can’t sleep.” His arm secures me to his bubble of warmth.

“Close your eyes. Sleep will take you in no time.” And just like that his slumber-weighted breath returns. I’m not going to lie, the warmth radiating off him is nice, unlike my own body which barely seems to have heated under the blankets on its own. With a resigned sigh, I close my eyes, and I don’t remember sleep pulling me under. ~~~

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter to be continued

#acotar #the forgotten sister #acotar fluff #acotar oc #vanserra sister #sjm fandom #sjm trash #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #fanfic #sarah j maas #fluff #we're heading north bbies

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littlequeen7 · 1 year

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I would honestly appreciate any responses to this, I would love to get people's opinions and/or start a discourse. I'm sorry if any of this is controversial, I've just had this on my mind a lot lately.

Okay, so I grew up with Harry Potter. It was one of the first "big kid" books that I read as a child, I was an early reader and an undiagnosed neurodivergent kid so I immersed myself fully in the universe. It became one of my special interests and it has continued to be so for most of my life. It was an escape from an abusive upbringing, and a focus of my maladaptive day dreaming, a safe space. I spent a great deal of time with the books, films and video games. As such, I am very much attached to the series.

That being said, I understand all of the controversy surrounding the series and it's creator. I understand the insensitive racial stereotypes that were written into the books, and I know that the author turned out to be an awful person. I am nonbinary and my brother is trans, so the transphobia that JKR is so open about is very disturbing to me (it would be even if I wasn't a part of the community, but it hits very close to home). I regretfully went to Harry Potter world when I was at Universal Studios a few years ago, and I regret giving any money to JKR or her cronies. Other than the trip to Universal Studios, I have not spent any money on the HP fandom directly since JKR came out with her transphobic views.

I have talked to my brother about the upcoming HP Legacy video game, where I expressed my excitement of having a modern version of the OOTP video game I obsessed over when I was younger, but also expressed trepidation at wanting to spend any money that would directly or indirectly line JKR's pockets. He encouraged me to go through with buying the game anyway (or asking for it as a birthday present), saying I could recognize that I disagreed with her beliefs while still getting to enjoy something I had been looking forward to for years. I still don't know where I stand on this.

Even aside from the moral implications of spending money on the franchise, I have seen a lot of hate on Tumblr for people that still enjoy being a part of the fandom, regardless of if they financially contribute to it or not. I saw a popular post saying they wish the entire fandom would "disappear off the face of the earth" or something like that.

At this point, I use an already paid for HBO subscription to watch the films, and read a LOT of fanfiction, and that is the extent to my interaction with the fandom. What are people's viewpoints on interacting with the fandom without contributing financially towards JKR's bigotry? I honestly find pride in the HP fanfiction community, because they have reclaimed something that meant so much to them, and removed that awful transphobe from the community entirely.

I would love to hear anybody's ideas on this, regardless of where you stand on the issue. I don't know if this will even get views or not, but I would like to learn more and hear more people's opinions. And not in an "I'm too lazy to Google why transphobia's bad" way, in a "I genuinely want to hear from individual people that feel passionately about this" way.

If anyone does reply to or reblog this, I appreciate it!

#harry potter #j k rowling #jkr is trash #fandom #fanfiction #discourse #opinion #lgbtqia #trans rights #tw transphobia

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ur-local-ghostie · 2 years

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Maedhros and Fingon

TW: general angst and recovery after Angband(i really don’t think there’s anything else but please let me know if i should add anything)

Characters: (I use their Quenyan names so i made a short list of whose in here so it’s not yk too confusing)

Findekano— Fingon, also called Kano or Finno (only by Maedhros though), is generally a sweetheart

Neylafinwe– Maedhros// Neylo, lefthanded because he doesn't have a right (hand), is kind of done with life, Finno’s half-cousin

Moriwfinwe– Caranthir the Dark (his dad thought he was being funny ok but my boy took it way too seriously), anger issues, middle child, the drama

Finedekano rapped lightly on the wooden door before opening it after a slight struggle. His arms were full of books.

“Neylo? Are you awake? I brought you some–” he stopped short, his sentence trailing off as he took in the sight in front of him, lips parting slightly in shock.

For there stood Neylo, swaying on his bare feet. The sunlight coming through the window flung freckles of gold across the bridge of his nose, in sharp contrast to his pale–almost translucent– skin. His fists were clenched at his sides and he spat out a single bitter word.

“U-bedo.” Shut up.

But not at the newcomer.

The object of Neylo’s ire happened to be Morifinwe. The fourth son of Feanor. Morifinwe scowled at his brother, crossing his arms, anger flushing his fair face.

All this Kano saw in a moment’s glance. And then the books fell from his hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud as he lept across the room. He reached Neylo just as the elf slumped, his green eyes glazing over.

“Neylo? Neylo!”

There was no answer. Kano carefully lifted Neylo’s bandaged arm and placed it over his own shoulder, supporting the elf’s limp body.

Neylo’s head sagged against him, pieces of choppy red hair falling into his line of vision.

An aching throb filled Kano’s lungs.

He turned on Neylo’s brother, taking a deep breath to keep from losing his temper at the younger elf, who had watched Neylo fall with vague interest and made no move to help.

“Mori. What happened? Why was he out of bed? You know the healers said he has not fully healed yet.”

Mori turned his cool gaze on the hand around Neylo’s waist and the other on his arm. He arched an eyebrow. “I did not know Neylo was your wife, Lord Kano.”

Kano flushed and he exhaled sharply, momentarily at a loss for words. He had forgotten exactly how biting Mori’s words could be. “For your sake and that of your brother’s, it mayhaps is best for you to leave,” he murmured.

Mori gave him a cold smile. “And leave you two alone?”

Kano did his best to resist the urge to scream, instead shooting the insufferable elf a withering glance and with slow footsteps, half-carried Neylo back to the bed. He carefully lay the elf down, trying to ignore Mori’s soft snickering in the background.

His brow furrowed as Neylo’s head rolled back onto the pillow, the golden light catching on the newly-healed scars that stretched across his face.

Kano drew the blankets over his cousin, covering the stump of Neylo’s bandaged hand. Yet Kano did not move and remained standing over Neylo, indecision and pain warring inside him. Then, with a tentative hand, he brushed a strand of red hair out of his cousin’s face.

“I did not think he would collapse like that,” Mori muttered beside Kano, making the elf jump a little. He held the books Kano had dropped.

Kano gave him a sideways glance. Mori’s dark head was bowed, but the hands clutching the books were strained, the nails biting into the covers.

“What did you say to him, Mori?”

Mori shrugged. “I told him that he lost a hand, not a leg. He should be walking again by now.”

A shudder of anger passed through Kano and he barely stopped himself from shaking the young elf. His tone, however, was measured as he responded. “You do not know what evil Neylo has suffered. Mayhaps you should keep that in mind.”

Mori stiffened. “I do not know?” he whispered to himself. Then louder, “Very well, lord. Here are your books. Since you seem to know so much more about my brother than I do, I will leave you to watch over him.”

Dropping the books onto the floor, Mori stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Kano stifled a curse and moved to follow him before he did something rash.

“--Finno?” the raspy question and old nickname halted Kano in midstep. He turned, dropping to his knees beside the bed.

“Neylo! Are you alright?”

Neylo pushed himself upright, his gaze wandering. “What– what was that?”

Kano sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Grabbing an extra blanket, he draped it over Neylo’s shoulders like a cloak.

“Do not worry about it. ‘Twas nothing.”

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chorus-communities · 1 year

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yh i refuse to watch the new spiderverse because a. its an epilepsy shitshow that would kill my autistic ass and b. if i meet any of the posers that are buying spiderverse merch or like. shien "punk" shit just because they think the million-dollar company's 'punk spider' is cool or hot i am actually going to get charged with aggrevated assault again.

#FUCKING POOOOOOSERS #sorry my demons #nah i fucking despise the waves of fake fandom punks. it was the same with that eddie guy from st i met so many “punks” who would just #try to dress the part with corporate merch and then be pussies. none of you would go to a protest none of you could handle a bin fire and #half of you are either homophobic or do oppression olympics. appaling pieces of human trash kys now #sorry my demons /j

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justauthoring · 1 year

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Running, Freedom, Salvation (Alternate Ending)

Prompt: “Run, run, run. That’s all we ever do. All we’ve ever done.” You paused, feeling the wind brush through your hair. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself and met his eyes. “Do you think it’ll finally stop?”

Maze Runner: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

Scorch Trials: one - two - three - four - five - six

Death Cure: one - two - three - four - five

A/N: I honestly cannot believe i'm adding another part to RFS... but i'm finally giving people the ending they deserve lol. I honestly had so much fun writing this and I just... ahhh I wish we could go back to when I first wrote this series.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Tag List: @blackbrokerosey - @some-fantasy-thoughts - @ilovemymoose - @alienadvocate - @itsfangirlmendes - @thatproffessionalfangirl - @nightingalethewriter - @143amberrose - @joycewrites - @floweryukheii - @hey-margot - @hippieballs - @wearegoldeninthenight - @betcoop - @crystalshines2909 - @darthweasley7 - @desired-love- - @honeymoonavenue - @legit-fandom-trash - @musicandbeat - @thespeedofwind - @sellinxhs - @sumlariss - @togetherlikepeanutbutterandjelly - @sarcasmdunbar - @strangerthingsluv - @mythicalamphitrite - @thisishowieroll - @independentgirl - @heathernsweets - @illumminated - @highly-uncomfortable-titles - @ktminn01 - @awkwardlyarts - @j-marvel-memester - @mdgrdians - @writingandhotcocoa - @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven - @verkyun - @luvelyxp - @minninugget

You don't think you've ever ran so fast.

The burn in your lungs was a familiar sensation, one you hadn't felt since you'd left the maze -- and that sense of fear? The one coursing through your veins, striking your heart and making it hard to think straight, eyes blurring with unshed tears... It was unlike anything you'd ever felt.

Please. Please make it in time.

You had... You had to make it in time. If you didn't, you didn't know what you'd do. The mere thought of losing Newt was enough to make your heart feel like it was ripping apart. He was your whole world, and you'd never once doubted that fact.

There was no time to think. No time to look back. The clock was ticking towards his inevitable death, and you refused to let the time run out.

You're gripping the serum so tightly in your hands that you're surprised it doesn't crack from the sheer pressure. But you were afraid of letting it go, of dropping it, of breaking it and every little chance of saving Newt disappearing within seconds right before your eyes. The serum in your hand was his last hope.

You can't breathe, but you continue to run. And you don't stop. Until you see Newt and Thomas, the both of them and there's a split second of relief, your feet slowing beneath you, before you blink and properly process what's happening in front of you. Newt's crouched over Thomas, a knife in his hands, inching closer and closer to piercing Thomas' chest.

And his name leaves your lips without thought, a deep guttural cry breaking past your lips that sounds so unlike you you barely register it as you screaming for him.

"Newt!"

Thomas looks at you at the sound of your voice, a sense of relief flooding his gaze, before a cry leaves his lips. The one second of him looking away had allowed Newt to gain the advantage, piercing Thomas in the chest and sinking the knife deeper and deeper in his chest.

You move without thinking, breaking out into a run once again as Newt's name leaves your lips in a shrieking cry.

This time, Newt hears you as well, head snapping to the right and eyes falling on you. You don't realize that it isn't Newt staring back at you, and rather the virus taking control of his body and so when he lunges at you, you're completely unprepared. He slams into you, you just barely managing to dodge the knife still held tightly in his hands, swiping across your face before you lose your footing, falling to the ground with a loud thud.

"Y/N!"

It's Thomas calling for you, but can't see him. Newt is on you, pressing on you enough that you can't breathe, unable to catch your breath as he moves to stab you; just like he'd tried to with Thomas.

Your hands come before you in a panic, the serum slipping from your hands and rolling away from you.

"Thomas!" You cry, using all your strength to hold Newt back; "the serum! Thomas, get the serum!"

You can't see him but you distantly hear him call out in response, before your attention is stolen back by Newt. He's too strong for you, you realize with a panic, the knife growing closer and closer, and you don't have the strength to hold him back anymore; your arms are shaking and you can't breathe properly with the weight of him on top of you.

You see a shadow fall behind Newt, hope flooding you, just as your strength gives out and you just manage to shift in time, the knife lodging itself in your upper left arm instead of your chest. A cry leaves your lips in response, pain erupting up your arm, but as you blink, you realize the weight on top of you has lifted.

"Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

Thomas is suddenly in front of you. hands flittering from your cheeks to your arm, now profusely bleeding, helping you sit up as your eyes dance around, confused, until they finally settle on Newt beside you, slumped over.

"It's okay, it's okay," Thomas' breathes, pulling your gaze back on him, "I got the serum, look." He holds the empty vile in front of your face, you blinking at the sight of it before falling back on Newt. "You did it, Y/N. You saved him."

Lips parting, you turn to Thomas, feeling the tears in your eyes finally fall as you let out a sob.

"It's okay," Thomas soothes.

Your eyes fall back on Newt once again, eyes flickering across him, slumped over to his side; but you see the soft rise and fall of his body and it's enough to assure you he's okay.

Hot pain erupts from your arm, causing you to hiss, looking down only to see blood bleeding into your shirt, soaking it.

"Here," Thomas calls, moving to rip off a strip of his shirt, wrapping it around your arm, pulling it tight. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let him go after you like that."

Smiling softly, you turn to meet Thomas' eyes. "It's not your fault, Thomas. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here with the serum. If he'd hurt you..."

Thomas shakes his head; "all that matters is you did, yeah? Newt's okay."

You nod, letting your hand fall over your injured arm. Distantly, you see Thomas glance over his shoulder and you're reminded of Teresa's message. Smiling gently, you set your hand on Thomas' shoulder, pulling his gaze on you as you nod; "go," you assure. "I'll be okay."

"No, Y/N, I'm not gonna--"

"Go."

One more look at you, and then frowning, Thomas nods, moving to stand up. You send him one last smile before he turns, rushing off, and watch his figure disappear, you slowly shift, being careful not to put any pressure on your injured arm. You move until you're right next to Newt, pulling him back and towards you, right into your lap, until his face is staring up at your own.

With only silence surrounding you, you brush back the strands of hair that had fallen into his face, biting your lip.

The tears build up before you can stop them, a slight shake to your shoulders as you stare down at him, his peaceful expression staring back up at your own. The only trace of what had just happened being the sweat and grime stuck to his face, and the light traces of his veins popping over his pale skin.

"Thank God..." you breathe out, unable to stop the shake of your voice as you curl into yourself, letting your head fall on his chest as you sob. "Thank God you're okay..."

Rolling over, your hand instinctively reaches out, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of another body beside you, only to fall on the mildly cold, empty sheet.

Eyes peeling open, you sigh.

Pushing yourself up, you rub at your face, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you let yourself slowly wake up, taking in your surroundings. It's quiet, telling you that it's still early and nobody else is awake.

Eyes falling back on the empty spot next to you, you shake your head.

Except for one.

You move to a stand, relishing in the way the cool sand feels against your bare feet, before you push yourself up. You grab a sweater on your way out, wrapping it around you to protect yourself from the cool morning wind, pushing the flap of your tent open, eyeing both ways, before your gaze falls on a familiar figure off to the side, by the far end of the ocean.

Swallowing thickly, you make your way over, footsteps quiet so as not to wake anyone else up, silently sitting down right next to Newt.

He glances at you briefly, before looking back ahead of himself.

"You weren't in bed this morning."

"Couldn't sleep."

Frowning at his short reply, you bring your knees to your chest, hugging them. "I... I missed you."

Newt glances over at you, finally meeting your gaze, before he sighs; "YN..."

"No, Newt," you argue, shaking your head. "You've been so distant ever since we got here... and you won't tell me why. You wake up early, you go to bed late. You're always busy during the day that I never see you. You... You won't even look at me."

You can't help the way your voice chokes up, the distress of everything building as you bite your lip. "It's like you don't even love me anymore."

Newt starts at that, body straightening as he turns to look at you. His eyes are wide and his lips part, as if to argue, before his gaze flickers past your face, lower, and all the fight leaves his eyes as his shoulders slump.

Your lips part, to say something, most of all to ignore the hurt that burns deep inside of you at his complete dismissal of your words. But he's pushing himself to a stand before you can, avoiding your gaze and refusing to look at you as he walks off, without a single word.

Lips left parted, the hurt bubbles up enough to pull a sob from your lips, chest burning at the fact that he'd just walked away from you like that. Without a word.

It had been on your mind for weeks since you'd all arrived here... the second all of you had made it to the safe haven, Newt had been distant. What had started from just being quiet and avoiding your touches occassionally, had turned into him refusing to talk to you, avoiding you at all costs and all together ignoring you.

You hadn't wanted to believe it, but it really was starting to feel like he'd... just fallen out of love with you.

You sit there for a while, holding yourself as you let yourself cry, listening to your own raggid breathing and the sounds of the ocean waves, before the distinct sound of chatter reached your ears and you realized everyone else was getting up. Getting started with their day.

Sniffling, you hastily wipe at your tears, brushing your fingers along your cheeks and ignoring the heavy weight in your chest as you move to stand.

You promised you'd help Brenda with breakfast this morning, so there was no time for tears.

Brenda can tell there's something wrong but any time she tries to ask you, you just brush her off.

She liked to think the two of you were close, that being the only two girls of your group had helped the both of you bond. And if she asked you, you would of course say the same -- but, she didn't know you like the rest. And if you weren't going to tell her, she figured the next best bet was them.

It wasn't hard for anyone with eyes to tell that you and Newt had been distant, estranged and Brenda had a pretty big suspicion that that was the source of your problems. She'd known enough not to talk to Newt, but the boy had been pretty isolated recently, so it wasn't hard to reach Thomas and Minho alone.

"I need your guys' help."

The two boys glance at each other, before turning back to Brenda. "Yeah?"

"There's something wrong with Newt and Y/N."

Minho's eyes instantly light up in recognition, and his shoulders slump; "you noticed too, huh?"

Thomas, ever so oblivious, blinks; "noticed what?"

Both Brenda and Minho turn to him with deadpanned expressions. "They've been weird with each other. Newt has been distant with all of us, but it's like he's avoiding Y/N. He ignores her whenever she tries to talk to him, and I can tell it's hurting Y/N."

"She barely spoke this morning while we were making breakfast. She also looked like she'd been crying," Brenda explains with a frown. "And she wouldn't tell me what's wrong. But I could've sworn I saw Newt and her at the beach when I woke up this morning."

Thomas frowns; "I didn't see them."

Brenda rolls her eyes; "that's because you were half asleep."

"I'll talk to Newt," Minho offers, frowning. "Neither of you were there, but this is just like after Y/N had her accident in the maze."

Brenda's brows furrow; "the maze?"

Thomas nods; "back in the glade."

"She'd just been promoted to runner," Minho explains, "and we got separated. She said she saw a griever, but it hadn't attacked her, just stared. And then when she moved, it did, knocking her off a high pillar. I'd found her, passed out, with a broken arm and leg. I thought she was dead..." Sighing, Minho shook his head; "when I brought her back to the glade, Newt was a mess. Nobody could calm him down until we knew she was alright and then..."

"And then?"

"And then he just stopped talking to her," Minho shrugs, "he would avoid her, like he was scared of hurting her or--" Pausing, Minho's eyes widen.

Thomas shakes his head; "what?"

"He's afraid of hurting her," Minho repeats, "when he was infected, before he got the serum, Thomas, didn't he hurt Y/N?"

Blinking, Thomas nods; "yeah. He lunged at her before I could stop him, trying to kill her. Then, just as I stabbed him with the serum, he stabbed Y/N in the arm. She still has the scar." Then, pausing, Thomas adds; "but it's not like he did it on purpose. It was the flare."

"Yeah, but Newt would still feel guilty."

Brenda nods, "that's gotta be it. Minho, Thomas, you talked to Newt, i'll find Y/N. Get him to talk to her, okay?"

They both nod.

"Brenda--"

"Y/N."

Huffing, you roll your eyes; "I promised Aris I'd help him with dinner, I can't just--"

"I'll help him," Brenda cuts you off once again. "You looked tired this morning. You've been working so hard, you deserve a break. Me and the guys decided it."

"No more then everyone else," you sigh, "and besides, Minho and Thomas don't know what they're talking about. I'm pretty sure i've not seen Thomas stop moving all day, so really--" You pause your own rambling as you reach your tent, blinking in confusion as both Thomas and Minho make their way out of said tent. They look briefly panicked at the sight of you, you missing the glare that Brenda sends them, before they offer a smile and a wave, rushing off.

"What were--"

"No worries," Brenda cuts you off, again, "just get some rest, okay?"

With a simple slap to the back, she all but shoves you inside, not giving you any time to argue before she flips the flap of your tent shut behind you. "What the...--" Pausing at the sound of someone else, your head turns, panicked, before falling on; "Newt..."

Thomas and Minho...

It all makes sense then.

"They forced you in here, didn't they?"

Meeting your gaze, Newt nods, but doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, not sure what else to say. You haven't spoken to him since this morning, and even then it hadn't been much of a conversation. Not to mention, anything before that had been short and brief as well.

You didn't know how to talk to Newt anymore.

"I don't know what they were thinking or Brenda for that--"

"I still love you."

Lips snapping shut, your body tenses at his words.

"I do love you," Newt continues, voice soft. "I'll always love you."

Shoulders falling, you glance at your feet; "then..." and you trail off, but you know Newt knows what you're talking about.

He stands then, crossing the short distance of your tent over to you. Your eyes fall on him as he stands in front of you, oddly feeling nervous, choosing to say silent as he simply reaches forward, taking your hand in his and pulling your arm up. His free hand pushes up the sleeve of your shirt, before his fingers trace across the scar there.

"I hurt you."

Confused, you shake your head; "but you weren't in control... it was the flare, Newt."

"I still hurt you," he argues, "something I promised I'd never do."

"Newt..."

"I can't be around you because I hurt you... I can't forgive myself and... i'm better off de--"

"Don't," you cut in, eyes falling shut as you shake your head. "Don't you dare say that."

"But it's true."

"It's not," you cry, unable to stop the way your voice rises, desperation sinking in. "It will never be true." Reaching forward, you push Newt's hand away from your arm, moving to cup his cheeks. "I thought I was going to lose you, Newt and if I had, I don't think I would've been able to live. You are... everything to me. There is no one I trust more, no one I would rather be with. You are my whole world."

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Newt shakes his head. "Y/N..."

"Please, Newt," you cry, "please..."

Breath shaky, Newt finally allows himself to lean into your touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you...."

"I know," you whisper, "I've never once blamed you."

"I love you so much."

The relief that coarses through you at that is undeniable. Just to hear those words, the words you've been so desperate to hear, is enough to make everything better.

"I love you too," you whisper, glancing up at Newt. "And nothing will ever change that."

"Well, that was a success."

Smiling, Minho nods at Brenda; "a complete success."

"He's getting a little handsy, though, so--"

"Dude," Minho huffs, grabbing Thomas' shoulder and tugging him back before he can go stomping into your tent. "Leave them alone."

"That's my sister--"

"Yeah, yeah."

#the maze runner #maze runner #the maze runner x reader #maze runner x reader #tmr #tmr x reader #tmr imagines #newt #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt #thomas brodie sangster

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nestaismommy · 1 year

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Feysand gives me Leonardo DiCaprio and his supposed 19 girlfriend vibes.

☠️☠️☠️ no because it’s so freaking icky

I’m not against Feyre having children, I love mama Feyre but she was like….21 and compared to Rhysand, who is 500+ years old, she’s basically a child. It just rubs me the wrong way. Throughout the whole series, it never felt like I was reading about an adult, she is so young and isn’t really that mature. Which is why her being high lady never made sense. She’s so easily manipulated, she makes a lot of bad decisions, she assumes all the time, she changes her mind 24/7. She’s bad at communicating and relies on mind-raping people, When someone just shows her a little bit of kindness, she automatically thinks they are good. She makes so many mistakes, and she thinks she’s right when she isn’t. She’s so me. And I’m seventeen.

It’s kind of similar with Elain too, because she’s such a baby and I genuinely don’t mean that in a bad way, I don’t hate her or anything but compared to Azriel, he’s so mature, he’s a grown up, and she’s like a kid. It makes me uncomfy. Or maybe I misunderstood and I just need to read from her POV

#acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #anti sjm #sjm trash #sjm fandom #sjmass #anti sarah j maas

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moth-yknowtheartist · 11 months

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substitute subsect of the puppet history fandom did u miss me? admit it you missed me /j

watched the season premiere on Friday and the prospect of not just possible substitute return, but VICTORY ALGORITHM THROWN IN THE TRASH WITH HIM?? VICTORY ALGORITHM VENGEANCE?? immediately loved the idea of a teamup so I've been working on this comic for the past couple days. plan on making more following their Antics

color palette used is Disorient!

#gonna give this a name for organizational purposes when i make more so #ph: business partners #puppet history #puppet history spoilers #the substitute #the complex victory algorithm

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moonbeam-b0o · 2 years

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The last 100 pages of House of Sky and Breath be like

#sarah j maas #sjm fandom #sjm memes #sjm trash #hosab spoilers #hosab memes #hosab #ruhn daanan #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #rhys #rhysand

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tinadablackthorn · 8 months

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hello my little non alien friends

welcome to my blog, where you'll see:

random crap i post

book rants

MOODBOARDS

my shitposts

my moots (in no particular order. pls don’t hate me): @queenie-blackthorn @itadori-yujiii @greenmanwiththesauce @veryquoteablepng @hijabi-desi-bookworm @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @reyna-obsessed @aylin-hijabi @the-ascendant-doodler @1tomie1 @loife1m @a-pessimistic-swiftie @sadcharactersrmykryptonite @sad-trash-pigeon @shelfthe-reader @fallout-new-mudkip @riordanverseaddict @catastrxblues @levizzzzzzzs @piney-45 @michaelholdenenjoyer @carpe-astrae @sensitivesublime @dambluefood @fairyxm @trolliworms @randomfanboy22 @v3d1ka-5u6h3d4r @labaguetteisdabest @emails-i-can-sendpdf @nerdy-girl3791 @bluechest-blog @zuninona @zechaosapple @ashlakh @aprilakbas @stranglingfigs @dpynk @emilylikesthingz @whentheysaidspeaknowww13 @iumblr @whatcha-thinkin @queenpiranhadon @torifuckingspring

and those of you in which tumblr won’t let me add because there’s too much: @someonewhogotanaccount @nyx-the-god @wisegirl06 @violet92959

abt me is below

name: tina (not my real name, and i will not be revealing my real name)

fav color: green>>>>

sign: sagittarius (but i don’t believe in that shit cuz it ain’t accurate)

birthday: december 13

fav series book: either agggtm or the ascendance series

fav movie: ponyo =)

mbti: istp

fav singer: A L E C B E N J A M I N

fav things to do: read, listen to music, scroll on tumblr for an unhealthy healthy amount of hours instead of studying

things i like: music, aesthetic, reading ofc, watching tv, minecraft

dni if you are: islamophobic (i’m muslim)ableist, sexist (that counts as misogyny OR supporting #killallmen), racist, religiophobic, xenophobic, sexualise minors, pro zionist (stolen from @queenie-blackthorn so credit to her because i’m too lazy xoxo)

ps: i am a minor, pedos n creeps will be blocked n reported

if you wanna see my posts about: moodboards (#moodboards) responding to asks (#tina responds) asks you (my moots) have sent me (moots—*insert username here*) just to make it easier for y’all lol

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21ducky · 2 months

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HELLLLO THEREEE

Hihihihiih I'm 21Ducky, you can just call me Duck or Ducky tho.

Trying my hand at an intro post at 12:16 in the morning, wish me luck lol

I am an enjoyer of MANY things INCLUUUUUDING; Transformers :D Undertale and its AUs Drawing (Ha, you fools, you thought I was only talking about Fandoms!) Doing a silly Flowey voice (Trust me, it's fun :D) Talking to my friendos @thatoneguyfromtheantivoid @intothevoid125 @nullneo @ecofmaster @lostfollower (and @kc-form-the-stars we don't interact often, but she's really cool :D) My friendos in general B] and a LOT of other things lol

I am a person 🤯 (wowzers, who knew?)

My pronouns are She/her, but you can use whatever :D I'm also a minor! (If the bored child thing wasn't a give away)

Anyway, you can ask me to draw things if you're willing to wait 80 years. You can also just ask me for headcanons or thoughts on shows, fandoms, etc. I'm just some bored child doing random things on the internet to satisfy their trash attention span lol Anywho, if you can't tell from this intro post, I'm a big ol' nerdy weirdo :D

Interact at your own risk >:]

(/j)

#It's me :DDD #Hihihihhihihuuhubfudjbuihufdvib #Welcome #I'm surviving purely off of iced tea #chaos #spite #and the blood of my enemies :D #Oh yeah and fandoms but that comes after the blood of my enemies ngl #Anywho #have fun and welcome to CHAOS >:D #I finally did an intro post holy snickers :0

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randoimago · 1 year

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hey! can you do A, J, and O for Nagito komeada for the alphabet thing? thank you!

Alphabet Headcanons

Fandom: Danganronpa

Character(s): Nagito Komaeda

Type of Request: Alphabet Headcanons

Note(s): Ngl I keep forgetting how much I love Komaeda's character. He's just so freaking interesting

Nagito

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Not too affectionate because he doesn't want to annoy you. He's lucky he has you so he's not going to push his luck. If you want to be cuddly and overly affectionate then he's more than happy to go along with it, but he's not one to initiate.

Komaeda would absolutely bring you things to show affection. His luck just keeps throwing cool things in his lap so he'll give you all of those while he keeps whatever garbage that his bad luck gives him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Honestly Komaeda jealous is just him going, "I knew you'd want to go for someone that wasn't trash such as him." He's not mad, just has a lot of self loathing. If he sees you flirting back or whatever then he's a tad happy? At least his tone of voice is happier as if he knew this would happen because why would anyone waste time on him.

Okay but the only time he'd be angry or annoyed is if Hajime is spending a bit too much time with you. If there's anything more trash than Komaeda then it's Hajime.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Komaeda is an open book to his S/O. Why would he hide anything from you? Even if he tried then his awful luck would cause it to be revealed. That said, there probably are quite a few secrets about Komaeda but he's not intentionally trying to hide things, it's his luck that's made it so you haven't even thought to ask more concerning questions or have caused things to come up so you can't ask some questions.

Honestly, he's happy to answer any question you have, but he won't really just tell you things. He doesn't think there's anything noteworthy or interesting about himself so you would be the one to dig for the information, that he's willing to give but you have to ask.

#danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #komaeda x reader #kats alphabet headcanons

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