#albie's corner

[zorlok-if]

Hello!

First of all, to those of you who celebrate, hope you had a lovely Friday the 13th.

Second, for those wondering: I am alive, yes (hi! thank you for your concern).

Lastly, this project is not dead. I am still working on it (for example, I've written at least 5,000 words this week), I've just been doing so quietly/privately.

Now, why haven't I been active online? Ah, that's a complex question. To be brief, I was in a bad place. There were a number of things negatively impacting my mental health and a combination of factors that made me feel discouraged from/uncomfortable with sharing what I was working on. With all that being said, I also tend to withdraw into myself (much like a turtle) when I'm in a bad place and then shame spiral when I don't respond to or interact with people. The longer I go without saying something, the harder it feels to come back and say the damn thing.

Regardless, I am in a much better place and feel confident that I can dip my toe back in the water (without immediately wincing and fleeing to safety/isolation). I didn't want to try to come back before only to overpromise/commit myself and get overwhelmed.

I might talk more about this and things that have been going on behind the scenes, but that will be at a later date. For now, I am tired.

Hope you are all well! Looking forward to talking to you more and eventually sharing this project with you :)

Sincerely,

Albie

[gamesbyalbie]

My sister wanted to give me a gift, but didn't know what to get me. So... apparently, she hunted down and stalked my tumblr accounts...

I ended up receiving a journal that looks like The Green Hunter and a Goncharov t-shirt.

I have never felt more understood.

Also never felt more brutally perceived, but that's fine.

[chompe-diem]

ok i've listened to the latest ep now and u cannot tell me albin and sol are not qpr. sorry but they are bonded 4 lyfe like that. we already knew this but now it's finally canon. Do Not Ask Caldwell Or Murph but it's canon. i'm not crazy-

[rainofthetwilight]

ngl being on nintwt makes me realize how inactive ninblr Actually is...

like, for comparision (from what I can tell), the amount of posts that are posted like every single hour on a daily basis are the amount of posts ninblr posts when a trailer (yknow what, maybe even season) drops

[movedtolilmouzee]

Hi wifey! I hope you are doing well (∩´͈ ᵕ `͈∩). I want to drop some love for you!!

Hi wifeyyy! How are you my love? Hope you're hydrated and well <3 mwah mwah

[d4yl1ghts]

welcome to the glade

minho x shy, fem!reader

summary: you struggle with adapting to the glade especially with being the only girl but a shank with great hair helps you out

-

Abruptly, your eyes flickered opened as you took in your surroundings. You were in a rusty metal elevator with some sort of animal in you assumed from the noises you could hear somewhere beside you. Your breathing picked up as you had no clue where you were or why you were here. Tears pricked your eyes. You closed your eyes as you tried to wash them away. You took some deep breaths as silent tears trickled down your cheeks.

Bang. The elevator or whatever it was had hit something.

The roof of the box opened and you hastily shut your eyes as sunlight reached them. Whilst your eyes slowly adjusted to the light, you noticed about fifty adolescent boys staring down at you. You backed up into a corner, wanting to hide from the unwanted attention. Thud. You slowly glanced up and saw an older boy watching you curiously.

He had sticky-up black hair that was perfectly styled. You didn’t know how it looked like that… surely they wouldn’t have hair products here. You gazed at his toned muscles and finally his well-structured face. He was so pretty. You fought to hide the blush creeping up your face.

He dropped down to his knees gracefully. “Hey.”, he whispered cautiously to you. You simply stared at him. “You need to get out of here. I promise it’s way nicer out there than in here. Well… except for the annoying teenage boys.”, he stated playfully. He held out his hand for you to take. You grabbed his hand as he hoisted you up and helped you out of the metal box.

Once you were out, you quickly looked around at the field and you couldn’t help but stare at the boundless walls that seemed to cover the whole community. You then realised all the boys were looking you up and down like a hungry predator and you kept your eyes to the ground. The boy in front of you glared at the others who were looking at you.

You’d come to a halt. An older looking guy walked up to you with a hint of confusion set in his eyes. “A girl?”, he asked to the boy beside you. “Yeah, there wasn’t a note or anything.”, he responded. “Hmm, okay.”, he replied. “I’m Alby and I’m the leader around here and that’s Minho.”, he paused as he pointed next to you. “He’s the keeper of the runners.”, he added. You didn’t know what a ‘runner’ was but you just nodded your head along anyway.

“Minho, you can go now, I’ll show her around.”, he dismissed Minho. The young man named Alby guided you around the ‘Glade’ was what he had said it was called. You found out that for now you’d be sleeping in your own room away from all the boys. You were happy about that at least. He’d also mentioned that everyone here had a job today and tomorrow you’d be starting your trials to see which one you’d be the best at.

That was yesterday. You were currently gardening with a sweet boy named ‘Newt’. You had been worried about starting the job but it turned out that your mind was making it seem worse than it was.

Before long, Minho walked towards you both and called you over for lunch. You sat next to Minho as he was probably the person you had talked to the most except for Alby. “How was being a track-hoe?”, he asked. “It was okay.”, you simply stated. He gazed at you. “Do you know what job you’re trialing tomorrow?”, he questioned softly. “Mhm, I’m going to cook tomorrow.”, you answered. “Cool.”, he said in response.

“What job do you have? A runner, was it? What’s that?”, you asked as you suddenly remembered. “I don’t think I’m meant to tell you this yet but what they don’t know can’t hurt.”, he paused. “Have you noticed the massive walls? Well, of course you have, who hasn’t?”, he chuckled lowly. You nodded. “There’s a maze out there and it’s my job to run into it every day and try to find a way out of here.”, he stated with a proud look on his face.

“There’s a maze?”, you repeated in shock. “Mhm. My job is pretty dangerous but I’m quite strong and fast so I’m fine.”, he said cockily. Your cheeks blazed. “You’re very quiet.”, he observed. This caused your cheeks to set on fire. “I know.”, you muttered. “I like it though. I need someone to talk to and just have them listen.”, he confessed honestly.

[taestarii]

☼my cure - newt

[newt x reader]

synopsis - newt survives because my heart needed to be healed

warning! swearing, mention of newts accident, blood and knife use

request link

"You."

I could feel heavy blood running through my veins. This didn't feel like me, I felt… different. Loud thoughts clouded me like thick fog. I could feel my mind slipping away.

"Newt..?" Y/n's voice made me shiver. I had no control anymore, it took everything in me to not lunge at her. I never wanted to hurt her, I never did, but this wasn't me. I was something else, something uncontrollable.

"You're the cure. It's in your blood."

"Newt, what are you-?" I lost it.

I tackled her and her head slammed into the ground. Stop it! Stop hurting her! I knew what I was doing but I couldn't stop it. The virus took control and it knew she had the cure. It was like I was watching a horrible movie through my eyes, one where I hurt the love of my life.

She was the one good thing the creators ever sent up. I saw my fair share of slinthead greenies, but Y/n was something different. I was scared, and alone, until she came up. She was always there with me, even when I was stupid enough to try and take my own life by jumping off the Maze walls.

"newt," she tried to huff through my hands gripping her throat. That's when I realized there was a knife in my hand. I already knew what the virus was planning to do.

I fought with everything I could but I wasn't strong enough. I needed to take control, I needed to take control and get through to Y/n. It felt like I was ripping through my own mind as I pushed, and I pushed. I knew I was there, I could feel-

- "Well hello, greenie." I greeted a very timid girl, huddled in the corner of the Box. "What the fuck is a greenie?" She shot back. That received a lot of laughs and snickers from the other guys. We only had a handful of people in the glade so far, a greenie monthly and we only had about seven, now eight. "Where am I?"

"Welcome to the glade, greenie! I'm Newt, and up there is the first in command, Nick. And second in command, Alby." The two boys waved from the top as she stood on a box and looked out. "What the hell are those walls?" She asked, lifting herself out. "Why am I here? Why can't I remember anything?"

"Slow down, greenie. I know you have a lot of questions, but we only have limited answers. Your name should come back to you in a little wh-"

"Y/n."

-

"y/n," I whimpered out.

"It's me, Newt." She whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I'm right here." She cupped her face around my cheeks. I knew I didn't have enough time, I needed to get my point out now.

"Kill me."

"What..?"

I shoved the knife into her hands. "Kill me now!" I yelled. She flinched, the knife clutched in her shaky hands. "If you've ever loved me you'll kill me now, Y/n. You'll kill me before I turn into one of them." Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed. "Of course I fucking love you, Newt! I have since the glade. You're my everything.“ My tears mixed with the rain as I coughed up a heavy amount of blood. I was losing it, she needed to do it now.

"I love you so much, Y/n. That's why I need you to kill me, now. PLEASE FUCKING KILL ME."

Something snapped. The virus took over and I lost control as I jumped on her and tried to take the knife. Stumbling back on to the floor, we wrestled with the knife. The virus was trying to kill her for her blood, but I needed her to be alive. She had so much life left to live.

She screamed out in pain, the knife had gashed her in her stomach. It took everything she had to flip herself over on top, still crying out in agony. Her wound bled out everywhere as I fought for control of the knife, I kicked and screamed, grabbing the knife and her hands trying to desperately flip it around on her.

…

Suddenly the world came to a standstill. She did it, she plunged the knife into my chest. I fell back onto the ground behind me as Thomas and Minho came running over, grabbing her as she desperately kicked and punched. The last thing I heard was her screaming my name.

"I love you."

-

"Hey, can we talk?" I walked over to Y/n, my long time best friend. It took me a lot of courage to walk over to her, I didn't know how she was going to take this considering she's probably the most sporadic, unpredictable person I know.

But she's brave when I'm scared, she's hot-headed when I'm calm and maybe that's what I love about her. She's everything that keeps me even and she means everything to me. Today's the day I decided I'll tell her how I feel.

"Of course! Have a seat." She said, patting the ground next to her. I sat down and plopped back on the thick tree stump with a heavy exhale. "You alrighty, Newtie?“ You asked with a laugh. God, he thought you were beautiful. Everything from your laugh tho your hair, to how you yelled at the boys to keep then in line. It was like you kept the whole glade together.

"I wanted to tell you something, something I've had on my mind for a while." She turned and looked at me questioningly. "I've felt something more towards you, like there was something else I felt towards you other than friendship. I value you more than anyone in this glade but I also deeply admire you. Your beauty, how you're so eager to help out, how you always compliment Fry's mediocre cooking without fail." She let out a laugh as her cheeks flushed. "Are you trying to say you like me?"

I stumbled trying to find the right words when I suppose a yes would have done fine. She leaned in and brushed her hand across my cheek before her lips met mine. I completely froze, and she pulled away when she realized I wasn't kissing back.

"I'm so sorry, I thou-"

I wrapped my hands around the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss, this time deeper, more meaningful.

-

"Wake up!" A tall, big man in full armor shouted at me over the loud horn of a..

boat?

"Where the bloody hell am I?" I said, trying to sit up and immediately doubling over from the pain in my chest. "What the-?"

"Man, your lucky we got there when we did, you were bleeding out like crazy, can't believe that knife missed your heart." Oh no. Oh no no no no. I can't be here, I need to leave before-

I lifted up my shirtsleeve to find nothing on my arm, no virus in my veins. How is this even possible?

The events of that day flooded back to me, that one line repeating over and over again.

"You're the cure. It's in your blood."

During the fight her blood entered my bloodstream, the blood that would cure me. It's because of her, the girl I begged to kill me that night was the reason I'm still standing.

"Welcome to Paradise." I looked over from the edge of the boat to see a beautiful island. Sure it wasn't much, but there was people everywhere, some laughing and dancing, some getting food, and some making a bonfire. I prayed that Y/n had made it here, if anything she deserved to be here and not me.

"Do you know if a Y/n got here?" He thought about it for a moment. "Nah man, sorry. I don't know much about the people here. But what I do know, is that you're very lucky to be here. We found you half cranked out in the middle of the city, so if it wasn't for my crew I would have left your sorry ass."

The boat docked and the first thing on my mind was to find Y/n. If there was one thing I knew, it was that I desperately needed a shower. My tour guide took me to a disinfectant room, he gave me a change and I showered, probably the best treatment I've had in a very long time.

The sun never really showed since I got here, the island in a constant gray haze. I got led around to get a feel for the island, but everything felt unfamiliar, from the island down to the people. I passed dozens of faces, each either looked at me like there was sometimes wrong with me, or glanced and moved on. I prayed to see a familiar face. I prayed to see her face.

"Newt?"

I whipped my head around.

"Y/n?" My heart dropped. The memories from that night flooded in. Her tear covered face flashed my memory as she plunged that knife into my chest. How could she ever forgive me for what I did to her that night? I took a step forward and she staggered back.

"Is it really you?" Her voice was small, tears started filling her eyes. I nodded, tears filling my own as she ran into my arms. "I can't believe it's you!" She sobbed into my chest, being careful to avoid my injury. She pulled away and looked into my eyes. "How is this even possible?" She sniffled.

"You, love. You were my cure."

---

hope you enjoyed my first newt fic! little angsty but it all works out

request link

[lollibumblebee]

Could you please do a minho x reader one🙏🙏🙏 where the reader goes to like help out in the maze without minho knowing, and then they had a bit of an argument about it in the map room🙈🙈 then minho likes grabs her and puts her on the table knowing it'll shut her up🙉🙈🙊 I KEPT THINKING ABOUT IT AND BSOQNSOA I REALLY WANT YOU TO MAKE IT😭😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH

OMFG, YES, SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I FORGOT WHERE THE ASKS WERE LMAOOO

Eyes on me - minho x female reader

Warnings: kinda suggestive no smut tho

Y/n wakes up in the glade one sunny morning, with a mission, a plan if you will. Her plan was actually set up by her and newt last night, the grand scheme was that she would go with alby into the maze to help, just for one day, since minho always threw a hissy fit when y/n was in slight possible danger, and she had been wanting to go in there for ages.

Sprining out of her hammock, y/n gets ready for the massive day ahead of her, shaking alby and newt awake on the way to gather supplies, jumping on newt and consequently making them both fall off his hammock. "Be bloody careful," he says, rubbing his eyes and stretching. "I didn't mean to," she shrugs, jumping up and offering newt a hand to pull him to his feet.

"OK, let's go get some breakfast from frypan, and I'll go distract Minho," Newt says, shaking y/ns hand as they part ways for the separate jobs of the mission. Once y/n sees Newt walk off with Minho, she sprints into the map room with alby heavy on her heels, grabing their map for the day, and sneak quickly out the massive doors before they could be apprehended.

Once the pair in the maze, they head straight and follow the pattern, scanning for anything that any previous runner could have missed, with Albys skill of knowing ever corner and turn in the maze and y/n's new eyes, they'd be sure to notice anything even slightly out of place.

When y/n and alby stopped for lunch, she sat down on the concrete taking a bite out of the sandwich that frypan prepared, she accidentally triggers a button of some sorts that opens up a wall on the far east to where we were sitting.

Quickly, Alby marks down the place we stopped to eat, while y/n checks the coordinates and marks the spot , intent on exploring more. "Should we go explore?" She asks alby, glancing over to where he stands, tight beside the massive opening, just staring at the dark corridor.

"We best not, as it's getting dark soon and minho would actually fucking kill me if I let you in there without him scouring it top to bottom for possible danger" Alby sighs, using his foot to press the button once again to shut the section, and beckoning y/n to follow him out, back to the glade.

When the pair finally get back to the other gladers, all hell breaks lose, Newts waiting for them at the entrance telling y/n that minho is waiting for her in the map room, "I'm so sorry, but he's fucking pissed innit"

"Shit" y/n says, jogging over to where minho would be waiting for her.

Almost instantly, when she enters the map room, minho is standing right in front of her. "What'd you think you were doing???? Heading out into the maze like that, what would've happened if you saw a greiver or even worse something else?? You could've died out there, y/n"

"Yea, well, I didn't die, and I was nowhere close to dying. Get your knickers out of a twist minho. We found something new!!!"

"Well good for you that doesn't escape the fact you went into the maze without permission-"

"I don't need your permission to enter the maze minho, both Alby and Newt approved me going into there, you have no say against it-"

"I reckon I do have a say, thanks very much, also there's nothing in the maze you could've found that I haven't already found, I've explored that maze top to bottom"

Y/n huffs in anger as she explains what she and alby found. Minho was not having it. "That's literally fucking impossible. I've never seen it therefore it probably isn't there. Look y/n I don't want you going into the maze for your own safety it's-"

"MINHO, YOU DON'T GET IT!!! I was a runner before as well. I just barely got to see the maze cause I got injured cause of stupid Ben. I would've been in the maze right beside you, and you refuse to fucking here me out when I really have discovered something important-"

She's suddenly interrupted by minho smashing his lips into hers, strong muscular arms grabbing her and hoisting her up onto the table where he continues kissing her like she's air and he's drowning, lips against lips, teeth against teeth, as y/n brings one hand to rest on minhos chest and other grabbing and lightly tugging the hair on his head, listening as he basically moans on her mouth, he can never get enough, running his hands all on her, grabbing at all the places that make her eyes roll back in her head and whimper softly against him, glad that the table and his big strong figure was there to hold her up.

When minho finally let's y/n breathe she exclaims, "what the fuck was that for!!"

"I needed to shut you up." He gives her a charming smile, and goes right back to kissing her.

OMFG I FINISHED PLS REQUEST MOREEE

[mssorceressupreme]

Saviour | Minho x Reader

Summary: the gladers pull a prank on you, stealing your clothes while you’re showering, leaving you stranded there with nothing at all. Minho accidentally walks in on you, and you ask him for a favour.

Warnings: mild bullying/teasing

——

The hot water felt like a rare luxury, washing away the grime and exhaustion from your time in the glade. Being the newest member, or greenie, as they called you, meant that every day was a new challenge, full of unfamiliar faces and daunting tasks.

The shower was the only place where you could find a moment of peace, especially since you were the only girl.

You had just finished lathering up and rinsing off when you heard faint giggles and whispers outside. You dismissed it, assuming it was just some of the boys messing around.

But as you turned off the water and reached for your clothes from the shared clothing rack outside, panic set in. The rack was empty. Your clothes were gone.

All that was left was a tiny towel which you brought with you inside the shower. And it was barely enough to cover you.

Given that it was only boys in the glade before you arrived, there wasn’t a need for shower hooks or racks inside the shower, as most of them wandered around freely without a single care, grabbing their clothes from the shared rack outside the shower station and proceeding with their day as usual.

Your heart ached as you clutched the towel around yourself. There was no way you could step out like this. You were stuck, anxious and scared, not knowing what to do.

Minutes ticked by, and your mind was a whirl of panic and embarrassment. You were so caught up in fear that you didn’t hear the door open.

Minho opened the door, a white towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his well-carved and defined abs. You knew that being a runner meant that he was fit, but wow, he was truly fit.

“Ah-I’m in here—” you shouted, voice trembling. Moving to the corner of the shower to distance yourself from Minho.

Minho froze, his eyes wide with shock and embarrassment as he saw you without any apparel except for the tiny towel, “Oh, uh, sorry! I didn’t think anyone was in here.” He turned around, closing the door.

“Wait—please, don’t go!” You pleaded, desperately.

Though this was your first time properly interacting with Minho, you felt that he was someone you could trust.

You saw Minho come to a halt outside from the opening beneath the shower door, his feet facing towards the door now, “You need something?” His voice curious, a hint of concern.

“Someone stole my clothes, and I can’t leave like this—please, I feel so humiliated…” you felt a lump in your throat, eyes welling up from this situation, honestly, it was a combination of emotions making you feel on the verge of tears. The feeling of being in this new unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people was petrifying.

Realisation dawned on Minho, and he frowned. On his way back from the maze, he recalled a group of gladers running around and sniggering, carrying clothes that seemed a bit too small for them. “Stay right here. I’ll handle this.”

He left the shower station and you sank to the floor. Clutching the tiny towel around you.

Moments later, you heard Minho’s voice, angry and authoritative, echoing through the compound.

“Hey! Get back here, you shanks!”

Through the small hole in the shower, you saw Minho, dripping wet, chasing after a group of gladers. His towel was barely holding on, his muscular build flexing as his ran. Despite your predicament, you couldn’t help but admire him.

“If you ever pull something like that again, I’ll have Alby put you guys in the pit! And if you’re still not careful, banished.” He was stern, no glimmer of kindness.

Though he wasn’t first or second in command, the gladers held Minho highly. His position as keeper of the runners was much respected, especially since it would be him, of all people, finding the way out for you. It was no easy job, even you knew he was someone important when Newt explained who Minho was before you even saw him.

A few minutes later, Minho knocked on the door, “Still here greenie?”

You slowly opened the door, reaching your hand out to grab your clothes from him. His face was flushed, a mix of anger and exertion, “Here,” he said, as he handed them to you. “I’m sorry about those shuckheads. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll wait outside to make sure no one bothers you.”

You quickly dressed, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

When you stepped out, Minho was leaning against the wall, his eyes scanning the area protectively.

“Thank you Minho,” you said again, feeling the need to express my gratitude. The awkwardness from earlier became a foreign feeling, for some reason, it was comforting to be in his presence despite him seeing you cloth-less just now.

“It’s no problem,” he replied gently, “We look out for each other here. I’ll make sure no one messes with you again.”

You shared a moment of silence. A sweet but short gaze into those warm brown eyes of his, before he cleared his throat.

“Well uh, I better clean up before the builders hog the stalls, but catch you at dinner?” Minho smiled.

“Oh yeah right—yeah, see you at dinner!” You jogged off.

——

Dinner time arrived in a matter of moments. It was a chaotic affair with everyone crowding into the dining hall, laughing and talking loudly.

You scanned the room and spotted Minho, who waved over to with him and the other runners. Relief warned over you as you made your way through the crowd to his side.

For the first time you had someone to sit with, it felt nice to have a friend.

We barely settled into our seats when a group of boys approached our table, the same ones who had pulled the prank earlier.

“Need your boyfriend to get your clothes for you again?” One of them sneered. “Want him to serve you dinner too?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as they laughed, their teasing hitting a sore spot. Being the only girl in the glade was hard enough without their torment.

Minho’s expression darkened, and he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor which darted most of the attention towards him, “You better shut up before I make you,” he gritted his teeth.

He had no idea where this sudden protective instinct was coming from, especially since you barely know each other, but he felt the overwhelming urge to protect you.

The laughter stopped abruptly as the boys realised that Minho was serious. Tension crackled in the air and for a moment, it seemed like a fight was inevitable.

They stood face to face, Minho’s fist tightening as he clenched his jaw.

Just then, Alby and Newt appeared, quickly moving to pull Minho back. “Calm down, Minho.” Alby said firmly, placing a hand on his chest.

“Yeah they’re not worth it,” you added, stepping forward to calm him. You placed a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.

Minho looked down at you, his anger slowly dissipating. He let out a frustrated sigh and allowed himself to be guided back to his seat. The boys, seeing they were outnumbered, backed off, muttering under their breaths.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly once you were seated again.

“Yeah, I just hate seeing them treat you like that. If they weren’t so lucky, they’d be banished by now.” Minho replied, his eyes smouldering with residual anger. “I just don’t want anyone hurting you.”

You held your breath, before placing your hand on his, both of you jolting slightly at the contact of your hands, it was an all too familiar touch. You smiled softly at him.

His protectiveness touched you deeply. Despite the touch exterior, there was a kindness in him that made you feel safe.

“Can I stay with you for the rest of the evening?” You asked hesitantly, “I just…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Minho nodded, a small but assuring smile, “Of course.”

The rest of the evening, you grabbed dinner and found a quiet spot away from the others. You talked, shared stories, and slowly, a bond began to form between you.

Minho’s presence was a comfort, and the more time you spent with him, the more you realised how much you liked him. Could this friendship turn into something more? You wondered.

As the night wore on, and the glade fell silent, Minho walked you back to your hammock. “Thank you for today,” you looked up at him with an appreciative smile, you truly did not know what you would have done without him.

“Anytime greenie,” he replied, a warm smile playing on his lips, “I’ll always be here for you.”

[newtkive]

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 1 - the gc birth

in which two online friends navigate a romance through a minecraft groupchat with their stupid friends

or, newt, the quiet, stoic boy, and y/n, the bubbly girl both curse the world for keeping them apart, but at least they can send each other cute emojis and hope the other doesn't notice their blossoming feelings.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

notes: hi :p im very new to writing on tumblr (but ive always been a reader) so pls bare w me! and im trying to revert back to being 14 (im 23 lols..) so im revisiting my old favs including the maze runner/thomas (bc i binged the artful dodger and now im obsessed again). there will be non-text chapters in the future as well, when everyone eventually meets. this will be newt focused so enjoy !! also everyone is like a realistic age from 23 to 28

__

THE GLADE

[ 7:45 PM ]

alby added minho, y/n, newt, tommy, and gally

alby: Hello, guys.

minho: wtf is this

newt: uhhhh

tommy: hi :3

y/n: so this is why you asked me for my # in private

gally: i didn’t consent to this when i gave you my number

newt: don’t give strange men your number y/n

tommy: oh that’s y/n?

alby: Wait, Newt you had Y/N’s number already??

newt: yea

tommy: o.O

y/n: i gave it to him like two weeks after we met lmao

tommy: SO HE HAD YOUR NUMBER FOR A YEAR AND I DIDNT????

y/n: well he asked and you guys didn’t :p

newt: lmao

minho: ik he smug as fuck rn

not u asking for a girls number lmao simp

newt: stop

y/n: we all talk in discord anyways so i didn’t really think about it

plus you guys are friends irl so idk

it felt kinda weird to insert myself heh

minho: we’ve known you for a year and a half y/n

we play games all the time

call all the time

we even send packages and shit

you’re very much considered our irl friend

y/n: REALLY?? 🥺🥺

tommy: internet friends are real friends 😍❤️

minho: the heart eyes are crazy

but yes dude

newt: of course you’re our close friend. just cuz we live near each other and you’re a bit far away doesn’t mean we don’t adore you

minho: ADORE IS CRAZY LMFAO

but real ig

y/n: AWWWWW YOU GUYS LOVEEE MEEEEEE

hahahahha

HAHAHHAHJFIEKMGOR

I LVOE YOU GIYYYYSSSS IM PUTTING ALL OUR MINECRAFT BEDS TOGETHER LATER

gally: i do not want my bed to be infested by you guys

minho: gally sleeps in the corner

gally: no i dont i sleep in my mansion

y/n: cherry blossom mansion*

gally: and you sleep in a shed

y/n: cherry blossom shed* its pink and that matters.

tommy: love you y/n 😊🥰

y/n: love you tommy <3333

minho: that’s actually nasty stop now

y/n: u mad ur unloved

i love how the gc name is our minecraft town name :((

newt: aw it is

minho: can we talk about why tf this was made when we have a perfectly good discord

alby: I’m done with Discord.

newt: you got your shit hacked didn’t you mate

minho: mate 💀💀

british people so crazy

alby: Yes maybe..

I don’t want to make another.

y/n: or your old ass doesn’t know how to

minho: LMAO REAL

alby: Gonna ignore that. But I am getting too old for it. I have a new promotion at work so that means I won’t have time to play with you guys as much anymore. So I decided to make this groupchat in hopes to talk to you guys more to make up for it :)

minho: every group always has the old head with the job 💀💀

newt: minho admitting he’s jobless

minho: you work at a library be so fr rn

newt: i have an income. you have a room in your grandmas basement. we are not the same.

gally: LMFAOOOOOOO

minho: stfu :////

y/n: AWWWWWWW ALBYYYYYYY

tommy: YAAAY!!!!

im going to text you guys all day

tell you every meal

every thought

every interaction will be meaningful and glorious

newt: you are 24 years old you don’t have to do all that

minho: no fr im turning off my phone if he starts this shit

why not just do it before in the discord ??

tommy: easy access now and i tried before but stopped since no one really replied..

y/n: i say we all do it :D i will too tommy

newt: ok second thought that’s fine

minho: .

gally: that’s wild.

y/n: YAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!! NEWT YOU GO FIRST

newt: first with what

y/n: say what u ate today

newt: didn’t say i’d do it.

tommy: i ate muffin, monster energy drink, and hamburger :3333

you guys next

minho: that’s all you had bro..

y/n: hot cheetos and french fries and coffee :D

minho: ??????? BRO

how are you guys alive

y/n: it's my day off and no class so i just wanna rot in bed and that means no cooking

newt: please eat and drink water.

like for real and document it

y/n: ok wait

there

tommy: yum!

minho: y/n..

newt: cereal does not count

y/n: I DONT HAVE ENERGY TO MAKE ANYTHING OKAY

im a 23 year old broke college student my fridge is bare

newt: alright what do you want?

y/n: wym?

newt: like if you could pick.

minho: that’s so cruel 😭😭 just making her imagine it

i like it go on.

tommy: i want chick fil a

minho: i knew you hate the gays

tommy: I AM THE GAYS?????

y/n: ugh that does sound good

mmmm chickem sandiwh waffle fry I Want that Os mYch

newt: that’s what you would order?

y/n: mmmcm yeahshhhhh

newt: ok

minho: that’s it?

i thought soemthing would happen

tommy: me too

like a spell! magic 🪄

y/n: sigh

my cereal tastes bad now

newt: well it is cocoa puffs.

minho: L cereal

y/n: DTOP SAYING L ITS SO ANNOYITIGJNGGGGG

minho: she so madddd 😂😂 L

newt: you're annoying minho

minho: youre just saying that bc shes saying that

newt: no ive always said it. and i will continue to. youre fucking annoying

minho: who bought you your coffee yesterday

newt: ???

myself

and i paid for yours too

im the one with an income

minho: .

well i didnt think youd remember that well.

newt: it was literally yesterday.

minho: yeah but ur old

newt: IM THE SAME AGE AS YOU

minho: yeah but im 🤗✨ 26 ✨🤗and youre... 26😬😔

tommy: guys stop fighting

newt: we aren't fighting

maybe this gc was a bad idea

tommy: NO!!!!!!!!!

y/n: NOOOO!

tommy: this is like y/n is here w us irl

y/n: awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

minho: no it's not. we would smell a foul stench if she was

y/n: i ahte you sooo bad.

wait there is a knock at my door im scared

newt: answer it

minho: aren't you supposed to say don't open the door for strangers ????

newt: well usually yes

y/n: no im not expecting company

newt: just do it pls

y/n: ok :D

minho: bruh..

i hope she gets robbed and u feel bad forever newt

newt: why would you want that

minho: bc she owes me money

newt: YOU owe ME money

minho: yes but i have a good reason she just wanted robux

tommy: Y/N DONT DO IT!!! I HAVE SEEN DATELINE

y/n: :o....

tommy: Y/N?????????

OH GOD THEY GOT HER

minho: why would she text a silly face if she got got

tommy: clearly its a surprised face

maybe its not her

its like those cut out magazine letters murderers use

y/n: who got me chick fil a!!!!!!!!!!

minho: me

newt: you literally did not

minho: shut up

y/n: newt it was u i see ur name on the receipt

newt: well

y/n: :(

newt: what why are you sad?

minho: im hungry too

y/n: u spent ur money :(

newt: you're hungry are you not?

minho: she's not but i am

y/n: yeah but..

i feel bad you shouldn't have

newt: just eat it or i'll be mad

minho: i think i want red lobster

newt: it's really no big deal y/n

y/n: thank you newt :(((((

newt: you're welcome

go eat and watch ur show or smth

minho: i owuld love to eat and watch a show rn <33 ohhhh im starving

newt: can you shut up

gally: im muting this gc if this means i have to deal with your guys' shit more than usual now.

minho: thank god

newt: good

tommy: good

y/n: good

the food is good too <3

newt: good.

_

lmk if you want to be tagged!

[zorlok-if]

(btw, i've been writing and working on ifs, things were just really overwhelming irl for a while and i'm still super busy, so i haven't really been around social media, may update more tomorrow)

[gamesbyalbie]

Special thank you to the professors who let me get on my bullshit and make Twine stories for final projects. I adore each and every one of you.

Here are some excerpts from my 19th Century poetry final project.

More under the cut:

A "conversation" between you and the Ancient Mariner:

A conversation between you and Elizabeth Siddall:

A conversation between you and Lord Byron (on his way out of Britain):

A conversation between you and John Keats:

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twenty Four

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Previous | Masterlist]

Warnings (this chapter in bold): Strong Language, Angst, Smut, Violence, Depictions of War, Mentions of Death, Depictions of PTSD, Injury Detail, Era typical Sexism, Era typical Homophobia, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Domestic Abuse (very brief), Depictions of Reproductive Health, Suicidal Thoughts, World on Fire Spoilers.

Words: 5.9K

Notes: Have I been writing this since May and avoiding it? Maybe. Thanks to those who've stuck with me, 2024 has been tough and it means so much.

This chapter contains depictions of reproductive health, including miscarriage and post-natal depression, and allusions to suicide that are mentioned in the canon. Please read with care.

And @arcielee? Robina's in this one...

The crying had stopped.

Bess checked the watch attached to her apron. Ten thirty. By midnight she’d be back at the flat, listening to the wireless in bed with Tom. For now, she listened.

The ward was quiet. Long after the groans of pain and bawdy jokes died, it was always the quiet sobs of war-shattered men that remained. Now, the green-tiled halls of the infirmary were silent but for the clack of heels in a distant corridor and the soft snores of the patients around her.

She was stationed at the bedside of a soldier from St Helen’s. He was 22, the same age as Albie, were he alive. That might have been the reason she was sat beside him at the late hour. Bess could have been folding linens for the next rotation, or having a cup of hot cocoa and a cigarette with Helen and Joan while gossiping about the matron or the boarding mistress. But no, she was sat in the silent ward, the coppery smell of blood and stringent antiseptic filling her nostrils as she fixed the edge of the poor soldier’s handkerchief.  

She’d washed the bloodstains out as best she could, and darned the hole that the bullet went through, but it was a tatty old thing. Still, the moment the soldier heard she could sew, he insisted that Bess fix it.

In the low light of the paraffin lamp, Bess tied off her thread and admired her handiwork. Good as new. Sort of. She ran her hands of the darning and along the hem, checking her needlework, then traced the red initials embroidered in one corner. F.E.

“Florence,” his soft voice didn’t make Bess jump. With the city being bombed all around them it would take more to make any Mancunian jump these days.  

Bess looked up from the cotton to the man’s face. He was gazing at the letters she traced. “She your sweetheart?” She placed the handkerchief in his lap, and he too ran a finger over the initials.

“Yeah,” he said bashfully. “Went to school together. Only got the courage to ask her when I got my papers.” Bess thought of her and Tom, the boyish looks he used to give her in the school corridor when he thought no-one was watching. “What about you, miss? Got a sweetheart?”

Bess smiled wryly. “I do, though I wouldn’t call him a sweetheart. More of a heartbreaker.”

“Jack the lad, is he?”

“Ay,” Bess inadvertently touched her apron pocket. The pocket wherein a photograph of Tom lay. “But he’s a good man, deep down.”

The solider smiled and the two sat in silence for a while. When Bess checked her watch and saw her shift was ending, she stood and beckoned the soldier lean forward so that she may lay down his pillows.

“Get some rest, now. Sleep’s the best healer.”

“If I get home,” the soldier spoke as though he hadn’t heard her. “I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I’ll not be sent back like this.” He gestured to the sling that wrapped about the remainder of his arm.

“When you get home.” Bess corrected him. He smiled and settled in his cot as Bess turned down the lamp and wished him goodnight.

Were it the old days, before the war, the clock on the infirmary tower would have chimed eleven. Now, the outside world was muffled by the dark blackouts. It could have been dawn, for all she knew.  

Bess walked the lonely corridors, only occasionally passing a fellow nurse or doctor; taking odd hours at the factory meant that very few others worked the same hours at the hospital as she and, knowing that she wouldn’t likely see them for the next few days, Bess made her way towards the nurse’s lounge, and Helen and Joan.

Joan, constantly at loggerheads with Sister Stern, asked for a rotation on the convalescence ward two weeks ago. Now she spent her time welcoming soldiers to the hospital and treating them as soon as they came through the infirmary doors. With her dark hair always neatly set and lips rouged, the soldiers loved her. She looked like one of the girls from their cigarette cards. Helen, on the other hand, was now working on what remained of the labour ward. The oldest of nine siblings, Sister Stern saw her expertise fit best with the soon-to-be mothers. The ward had decreased drastically since the war began, its east wing turned into a ward for the returning wounded, but they still had their fare share of pregnancies. It seemed to come in bouts. Bess, Helen and Joan liked to guess which boat the lady’s husbands belonged to. Tracing back nine months, the three nurses could pinpoint the exact ship that had fathered the entire labour unit.

When Bess found Helen, she was sat by the cot of a small babe, knitting some blue socks.

“He was a little early, poor dear,” Helen said, looking at the small baby. “Told his mam I’d make him some woollens. So tiny, it’ll only take me the best part of an hour to make a whole set.” She held up the little mittens she’d already completed and Bess smiled.

“I’m off,” she whispered. “Got time to see Joan?”

“Always,” Helen placed her knitting in her apron pocket and indicated to another nurse that she was leaving. Looping her arm through Bess’ and leading her from the ward, she whispered slyly in her ear; “Joan’s got a Yank in her wing. Gorgeous, he is. Wouldn’t mind a quick peak, you know, for morale.”

The convalescence wing was quiet when they arrived, just like the rest of the hospital. A doctor was moving between the beds, checking the notes of each patient and speaking to a matron and nurse. It was when he moved out of the way that Bess saw it was Joan and Sister Stern. When Helen caught Joan’s eye, she rolled them and excused herself from the others.

“Moved wards to get away from the old bat, and she’s been put on the same rotation.” All three girls looked at the matron. She was looking at the young doctor with disdain, her hooked nose raised as if avoiding a bad smell.

“Bess is off and I’m almost finished,” Helen said. “Where’s the Yank?”

Joan tutted. “Robert,” she corrected. “He’s by the window-” Helen rushed over before Joan could finish. Bess giggled as Joan rolled her eyes once more, and the pair followed quietly behind their friend. She was gazing down at the sleeping man, fiddling with the knitted socks in her pocket.

“See? Isn’t he beautiful?” Helen whispered to Bess. She looked down at him, and supposed beautiful was the right word. A curl of brown hair fell across his brow, his thick eyelashes fluttering slightly in his sleep. His mouth moved too, dark pink lips pouting as he set his broad jaw.

“He’s been having a nightmares,” Joan whispered. “They all have.” The three girls were silent a while, watching the man sadly. “Now come way, stop being a creep.”

“I wonder if he has a sweetheart?” Helen said hopefully.

“A man like that is sure to have hundreds,” Joan nudged her light-heartedly. Helen took the socks from her pocket and gazed at them.

“And if he doesn’t,” Bess teased. “You can knit some baby clothes of your ow-”

She stopped with a gasp.

Pain, unlike any she had known, ripped through her stomach like lightning. Doubled over, Bess cried out, hurriedly stifling the sound with her mouth. The American stirred in his bed as she sank to her knees, gripping the metal bedframe. Joan was beside her in an instant.

“Bess?”

“What is it, Bess?”

She couldn’t speak. Someone had taken a hot poker and twisted it through her. Over and over, the searing pain exploded. White lights burst in front of Bess’ eyes and she screwed them shut.

“What on earth is going on here?” Sister Stern hissed, storming across the ward to where Helen and Joan were crouched on the ground. She looked down at Bess struggling on the floor, her hands clutching digging into her stomach. Bess was a good girl, quiet and stoic. If something reduced her to writhing like a wounded beast, it was serious.

“Girls, fetch a bed.” Stern ordered, and Joan and Helen hurried away. “Doctor,” the young man approached. “She needs to be seen at once.”  

Bess curled onto her side, knees pulled up to her chest and reached out for Sister Stern. “I can’t see,” she whispered weakly, staring ahead, wide-eyed. The pain was blinding, creeping up her back and turning her spine rigid. Sister Stern watched with horror as the uniform by Bess’ bottom turned dark. Scooping her into her arms, the matron attempted to right Bess, but it was as if a film had jammed in the reel. She wouldn’t move. “I can’t,” Bess said again.

“Yes you can,” Sister Stern said firmly. It was at this moment that Joan and Helen burst through the doors with an empty trolley. Soldiers were beginning to wake at the commotion, nurses bustling about trying to settle them back into bed. With great effort, Joan, Helen, Sister Stern and the doctor dragged Bess onto the trolley and raced from the ward.

Everything stilled. The soldiers went back to sleep. Beyond the ward doors, the squeak of the trolley and Bess’ faint groans faded in the corridor. The nurses retreated. One made her way towards the American soldier’s bed with a mop and began clearing the small puddle of blood that remained on the green-tiled floor.

It was the kind of morning Tom loved as a child. The kind of day when his parents would send him out the front door with a spam sandwich wrapped in brown paper, an apple in his pocket and the promise that he would be back by teatime. A light wind futtered through the yew tree and somewhere, Tom could hear the scrape, scrape, scrape of Father Michael’s rake. It couldn’t be more starkly different to the day before.

He'd left Bess in bed the previous morning and gone to the victualling office to collect his papers smelling of tobacco and sex. After their argument about Queenie, his display at the dance and everything in between, Tom had been determined to put into practice Lois’ advice: “actions, not words.”

His lack of sleep that night had not been due to nightmares, or the threat of torpedoes. It was the sound of Bess’ rapturous moans and mewling that had kept him awake. Once he’d dragged himself down the length of her body and seen the slick of anticipation between her plush legs, not even Hitler himself could have torn him away.

Stubborn, arrogant and never one to do anything by halves, Tom didn’t stop until Bess was a quivering mess beneath him. He’d lapped at her sex, feasting on her swollen lips until she shook. Worked his fingers within her deftly and attentively until she pushed him away. He’d taken her on the bed, watching from below as he forced her hips down onto him with violent abandon. Tom even took her in the kitchen, legs braced against the counter as he brought hers about his shoulders. When at last he released her, watching the way he spilled out of her as she slumped against the bedroom floor, he’d lit a cigarette, picked her up by the waist in a one-armed lift and deposited her on the bed. He could see the lust light in her eyes once more as she looked at him stood before her; naked, cock still stood proud, cigarette dangling roguishly from his lips.

“You want more, my girl?” he flashed her a wicked smile and watched as she swooned.

“Yes,” Bess laughed breathily. “But I think I’ll break.”

Tom all but skipped towards the port master when he arrived at the dockyard. If there was a ship ready for him to board, and his luck finally ran out, it would be with images of Bess fucking him that saw him into whatever world awaited beyond the war.

A day later, having not seen Bess since he left her in bed, Tom was hunched in front of his mother’s grave, placing the remaining belongings of his father to rest. Something stirred behind him. The turning of wheels on the gravel and sad sniffle gave away who it was. Lois. Vera in the pram.

Tom sighed. In his hands, he held a picture frame. Through the shattered glass, his father looked back up at him. His eyes, so like his own. His quiet sadness, so like Lois’. Tenderly, Tom wrapped the photograph with his father’s glasses, pocket watch and wedding ring within a handkerchief. The sight of the wedding ring made a lump form in his throat and he swallowed thickly.

“Next leave I get,” he began, knowing Lois was listening behind him. “We’ll get a stonemason to put dad’s name under mum’s.” He waited for his sister to speak, but she said nothing. “‘Marie Bennett and Douglas Bennet’. Second billing.”

“‘S’what he would have wanted,” Lois said at last and he smiled sadly.

Tom placed his last offering, a bottle of sherry, next to the grave alongside the flowers left for their mother and the bundle of broken belongings. “They you are dad. Happy now? Pacifist proves his point by getting killed by Hitler. Beauty.” He kissed his teeth sarcastically and stood, wiping dirt from the knees of his uniform. Lois watched him but still she barely moved. The bandage from her adventures with ambulances was still wrapped about her head, and still, Tom tried not to laugh at it.

“I’ve got to go,” Lois said, looking at neither him nor her daughter.

“Me too. Got a date with a battleship,” Tom shouldered his kit bag wearily. “Bess is meeting me at the dock-”

“I mean I’ve got to get away. From here,” Lois shuffled on her feet agitatedly and Tom looked down at her.

“You- you can’t do that, Lois.” Panic was creeping up his spine. Like Bess when he arrived home, and Douglas when he left, Lois’s prematurely aged face wore a look of despondence. “You’re all I’ve got. We’re all we’ve got now-” Tom’s voice trembled and at once his fierce older sister returned.

“That’s not true,” she continued quickly before he could interrupt. “You’ve got Bess, the rest of the Vaughns. Vera, Jan-”

“You know what I mean, Lois.” Tom said hotly. You’re the only family I’ve got. What if I come back and you’re gone too. Who will I be without you?

“I wanted to die in that house.” The bluntness with which she said these words stopped Tom dead. He stared at her and sensing his fear, Lois carried on. “When it started coming down, I didn’t run. I waited. I just wanted it to kill me.”

As his sister spoke, Tom looked back at his parents’ graves. What if he came back needing to bury Lois too? He’d have to carve the names into the stone himself.

“I need to get out of Longsight, Tom. Just like you.” And with that, she flung her arms around his shoulders, whispered that she would write to Bess in the case she needed to relay any messages, and marched the pram from the graveyard.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs Chase,” Bess hurried through the large door of the country house, shedding her raincoat and umbrella.

Robina eyed her appraisingly. “Not on your bike today, Ms Vaughn?” She watched as Bess tidied her frizzy hair and, deciding Bess’ appearance would do, trotted towards the drawing room.

Bess hurried after her, tailoring kit tucked under one arm. “Not today.” She pulled self-consciously at her wide slacks and followed Mrs Chase into the cosy room. In truth, she was still store from the previous night and could have done with the day off but, having skipped her morning shift at the factory and needing the money, Bess had raced to Mrs Chase’s house with Kasia’s freshly made trousers and an old coat of Albie’s for Jan.

The overhead lights of the hospital blurred into one. Someone was talking frantically, issuing orders to somebody she couldn’t see. A faint squeak echoed off the tiled walls. In between fevered consciousness, Bess recognised the sound as the wheels of the hospital trolleys.

Without knowing she had done so, Bess found herself already kneeling on the carpeted floor, eye level with Kasia’s feet as she took her place on the platform. Somewhere between arriving and setting up, she must have given Kasia the slacks she promised to make her, for here she was looking down expectantly, waiting for Bess to check them.

Bess coughed awkwardly. “Sorry, Kasia,” Her voice trailed away, and she set about measuring the trouser legs and assessing their fit.

Mrs Chase’s shouting to Jan somewhere in the house did just enough to keep memories of last night at bay, but when Kasia’s hand stroked Bess’ hair and she whispered “Your mind is somewhere else,” Bess was transported to a sterile room, the smell of bleach and turpentine stinging her nose.

Helen’s beautiful face looked down on her and stroked her forehead. Her blonde hair was illuminated by the ceiling lights, and for a moment Bess thought she had died and was being greeted by an angel.   

A cold hand grasping her shin told her this was real. It moved to spread her legs and the cold pinch of metal shot through the soles of her feet. Looking down, Bess saw the worried face of Joan putting her feet into stirrups.   

“Long shift,” Bess replied, not looking up. Instead, she focused on the movement of her tape measure along Kasia’s thigh. “How do they feel?”

From behind them, Mrs Chase clucked like a fussing hen, but the girls ignored her. “Good,” Kasia said, admiring herself in the mirror. “Comfortable.”

Mrs Chase huffed again. “Trousers,” she muttered with indignation as she left the drawing room, the heels of her Mary Janes carrying through the house as she went to find Jan.

Bess knew it was Sister Stern before she spoke; her hard gait gave her away as she walked across the tiles.

“Miss Bates, has Miss Vaughn been ill at all today?” From the little Bess could make out over the throbbing pain in her abdomen, the matron was making her away around the room gathering equipment.

“No, sister,” Helen’s voice shook a little, and again Bess tried to glance down. Helen caressed her face once more and turned Bess’ face back to her own.

“Helen?”

“It’s ok.” She stroked Bess’ hair soothingly. “Looks worse than it is-” Bess felt the room spin. If it weren’t for Helen remaining in one place, she’d have thought someone had knocked into the trolley she was on. “-Stern and Joan are tidying you up, then all you’ll need is a bit of rest.”

“‘Miss’?”

The voice was male. The doctor who had been doing rounds with Joan. Only he wasn’t addressing her, but one of the others.

“That’s right,” Joan’s voice was defiant when she replied, and Bess felt her gently stroke her calf as a soothing warmth spread across her thigh. A warm towel, in held in Joan’s other hand, was attending to whatever Helen had said needed ‘tidying up’.

“I take it, then, she isn’t married?” The doctor, again.

Silence.

Turning her head to one side, Bess caught the doctor and Sister Stern exchanging a glance. While the man’s face was turned away from her, Sister Stern’s was visible over his shoulder. Almost imperceptibly, the matron glared at the doctor, who sighed deeply and straddled a small stool at the foot of the trolley.

“Now then, Miss Vaughn,” he said, adopting a sombre bedside manner. “I’m just going to have a look at you now the bleeding has subsided.” Bess tried to sit up, a flush of terror rising to the top of her cheeks, but Helen held her shoulders. “Tell me, when was your last monthly?”

“What’s the matter, really?” Kasia whispered.

Bess looked up at her lovely face, blonde hair glowing in the afternoon light. An angel, just like Helen had been. Kasia had already been through so much, little did she need a burden of Bess’.

“Nothing, really,” Bess smiled as she copied Kasia. “I’m just tired.”

Kasia hopped off the tailor’s podium, watching astutely as Bess tidied away. She hummed in a devil-may-care sort of way. “So, this is to be our first secret.” It was a statement, not a question, and Bess felt a pang of guilt. Exhaustion flooded through her and, as if working in cahoots with gravity, caused her to slump forward where she stood.

“I will tell you, Kasia. I promise.” She sighed. “Just not now.”

There was silence a few moments, but for the tick of the grandfather clock, and Mrs Chase and Jan somewhere in the house. Then, Kasia took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around Bess’ shoulders. “Ok,” was all she said.

She could feel Kasia’s heart beating against her back and she closed her eyes. A swell of emotion rose up in her and she swayed a little. When was the last time someone offered her this much of themselves, without expecting anything in return? As the war continued, Cora and Dot had begun their work for the war effort. On the occasion Bess saw them now, they were too busy, too tired and too terrified to focus all their love on their sister. Albie was gone, and while Fergal remained, his mind was far away with his son, or else imagining evenings in the pub with Douglas, Marie and Etta.

Then there was Tom. Each time he returned from the war, Bess could see that another piece of him had chipped away, left behind somewhere on the battlelines. And each time he returned from war, his Mancunian home shrank. First his best friend, then his father and his childhood home. As war changed him from a reckless boy to a tenacious young man, he grew beyond the small world they shared together. And with the events of last night, it was only a matter of time before he left Bess behind too.

“You have, I suspect, what we call a sepate uterus-”

It was just the doctor now. Joan and Helen had long since gone home, swearing to Bess that they’d feed and care for her once she too made it back to Carver Mills boarding house. Sister Stern, seeing that Bess’ pain had subsided, resumed her rounds on the ward.

“Of course, we’ll need to double check. Are you on shift tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir,”

“Pop in for an x-ray before you begin. We’ve only the one machine now but I’m sure we can get you in. At that time of night we won’t need it, not unless another raid begins.” He spoke so matter of factly that Bess found it hard to concentrate. He could just as well have been reading his shopping lost.

She hastily wiped a tear from her eyes and turned to face Kasia. “I’m glad you’re happy with the slacks,” she said through a forced smile.

“How much do you charge?”

Bess shook her head. “I offered, I insist.” Kasia open her mouth to protest, but just as she did, Mrs Chase appeared in the doorway.

“All done girls?” Before either could reply, she continued. “Perhaps you could make Kasia a nice tea dress next time? Speaking of tea-” Mrs Chase said, grabbing Jan by the arm as he ran past. He waved at Bess and she winked, mouthing “it suits you,” at seeing him in Albie’s old coat.

“-are you staying for supper, Bess? Lois will be over with the baby in a little while.”

“Erm,” Bess floundered. Robina raised her eyebrows in expectation. The baby. “No, I’m, er, I’m actually back on shift this evening so I need to be getting back.” She coughed awkwardly. “Thank you, though.” Without another word, she packed away her things and hurried from the room, promising to visit Kasia again soon and ruffling Jan’s hair on her way out.

Reaching the hallway, she made to place her tailor’s stand in the large basket she carried but stopped at seeing a small envelope tucked in its handle. Upon opening it, Bess found a cheque for fifty pounds, written in elegant writing and signed Mrs. R Chase.

The station lights were just coming on when Bess arrived. A cold mizzle had descended on the city and, caught in the light of the station lamps, it glowed like lustrous confetti against the blue October night.

It was just as busy as it would have been before the war. Only now, the families heading for trips to the beach and the young couples adventuring to London for a long weekend were replaced by small groups of soldiers and sailors, or else labourers carting supplies between wagons.

Bess weaved across the platforms, peering over heads and between luggage. She’d raced from Robina’s, only just managing to catch the last bus from the small town she lived in. Had it been Douglas, he’d have told the driver to stop, or held his hand out for assistance as she jumped onto the back of the moving vehicle. A constant presence in her life as a child and woman, a surrogate father when Fergal was deep in his grief or drink, Bess could just imagine Douglas’ hand reaching out for her. The callouses from his work on the buses, or paper cuts from his rounds handing out his pacifist papers. Were they like Tom’s? She’d never noticed.

As though called to her, as if he’d heard his name on her mind, a loud guffaw sounded from somewhere along the platform. A call to his whereabouts. Tom and a few sailors Bess didn’t know were stood beside the engine, sharing a cigarette with the driver. Sensing someone approach, Tom turned his head ever so slightly to his right, the muscles of his long neck stretching.

Bess swallowed. The boatneck of his uniform so elegantly accentuated the column of pale skin and muscle, and Bess remembered all the nights she ran her tongue and teeth there. The moans the action elicited from him…

Watching her eyes falter, Tom raked his own over her. The sway of her hips, the tight fabric of her slacks across her hips. The way drops of mist adorned her frizzy hair, like pearls. The way her eyes were still rapt by him, lip tucked between her teeth, walk faltering as she admired him.

Without a word to his friends he made his way toward her, eyes never leaving hers. Bess blushed as he sauntered through the meandering crowd, glancing away when his eyes continued boring into hers.  

“Stop,” Bess whispered when he came to a stop scandalously close to her. Tom reached out to her, tucking one hand beneath her coat and caressing her side.

“I missed you last night,” he whispered into the shell of her ear. “Stopped by the flat.” His voice was low, breath warm as it fanned her hair.

Bess shuddered.

“Here,” Without looking at her, the doctor kicked the cabinet drawer closed and handed Bess two pamphlets. ‘The Dangers of Sex in Wartime’ and ‘Modern Methods of Birth Control’.

“Night shift.” She replied simply.

Tom looked down his nose at her and huffed. “Have to get myself into some mischief. Come home with a broken arm, cracked rib or something. Nothing serious, like, but can’t have any old Tommy that wanders into the infirmary spending more time with you than I do.” He gripped Bess’ coat lapels and pulled her flush against his chest.

“Stupid boy,” she whispered. “Besides, you’re the only Tommy for me.”

He kissed her head. “I should hope so. You heard these rumours about the Yanks coming over?”

“There’s already one in the hospital-”

“Walter Watson was down the pub saying they’ve sent people over, covert, to suss the situation out. Says Sarah Wallace next door to him was down the church on Sunday for a quick ‘I do,’ with one of them. There’ll be a baby by summer.”

Bess scoffed. “He’s just jealous it wasn’t him getting his end in,”

Tom guffawed again and a few passersby looked at the pair of them pressed together on the platform. “As long as you don’t go getting ideas, Miss Vaughn.” He smirked. “I’ve heard you like a man in uniform.”

“While we can’t be absolutely certain that it was the cause, I can say with little doubt that this kind of,” the doctor looked at the ceiling as if the words he needed were up there. “-congenital abnormality is the likeliest reason for the miscarriage.”

The closeness of Tom was suffocating. The scent of his cologne and stale Marlboro smoke. The standard issue detergent clinging to his newly pressed uniform. The thumb stroking the side of her hip felt like sandpaper through her blouse, his hand a hot and heavy weight against her waist. Bess took a sudden step back and Tom’s hand paused comically in mid-air where she had been, frozen like a wind-up doll.

He watched her a moment, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Ever since their argument on the beach, he’d been wary of upsetting her. Startling her. Just like her permanent state as a young girl, Bess was unsettled. Tom took a cigarette from his pocket, the click of his lighter the only sound passing between them.

Between puffs and clouds of smoke he stared at her, a strange look overcoming his handsome face. She fidgeted in front of him, eyes never holding his own. Rather, they flitted across his form, across the train station, meeting only occasionally to blush and look away.

“Did you see Lois and the baby at Mrs Chase’s?” He tried to coax her out of her shell with small talk. Something neither of them had ever been good at. It had the reverse effect. Her eyes blew wide and she shuffled uncomfortably.

“Miss Vaughn, I must tell you. If the x-ray confirms my suspicions, you should prepare yourself for the possibility that your future may not hold hope for children-”

“Bess?” He laughed, a quick flash of his boyish grin disguising his nerves. “Did you see Lois and the baby?”

“No,” Bess took out her own cigarettes and fumbled with her matches. “No, left before they arrived. Damn,” the match slipped from her fingers and went out under a raindrop.

“Here,” Tom stepped forward and clicked his lighter.

“Thanks,”

Tom made to grab her coat again only this time, rather than bring her near, he placed the lighter in her pocket. “Keep it.”

She looked up at him then. His grey eyes soft, brows pinched at the centre with worry. Altogether world-weary. The urge to pull him close, stroke his hair and keep him safe overwhelmed her. Gripping the navy cotton of his uniformed shoulders, Bess leant up and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek. She had never been good with words, famously so, but perhaps this one kiss would convey all the fear and all the love she had for him.

Warmth swelled in her chest when he winked at her, gripping her waist and steering her towards the train. Men were boarding, porters closing the carriage doors as steam billowed around them.

“Keep an eye on Lois for me, won’t you?” Tom said over the puff of the engine as it was stoked into life.

“Lois? She’s can take care of hers-”

“And Vera. She’s not well. Lois, I mean.” Tom added when Bess’ face turned white with alarm. “Everyone always said that Lois and I were more like mam than dad. But since-” the sentence petered out. He shook his head and carried on. “I don’t think that’s true. Now he’s gone, I see how similar we all were. And Lois pretends she’s tough. Is tough, like dad. But it comes from somewhere deeper.” He signalled to the area around his heart. Bess fought not to smile as she watched Tom grapple with words to express his feelings. Who’d have thought it all those years ago? Tom Bennett, emotionally perceptive.

“My problems I’ve brought on myself, or had them thrust on me. But dad and Lois,” he came to a stop and looked down at Bess. “And you, were born with it. This sadness. Weren’t you.”  

She didn’t’ move nor speak. She didn’t need to.

“Just keep an eye out.”

 “Yes, sailor.” She whispered.

A whistle blew on the station, and Bess’ stomach fell to that place between her naval and knee that it always seemed to live when Tom was away. He hauled his kit bag onto the train and jumped elegantly off the platform and into the carriage. Pulling down the sash window of the compartment door, Tom leant out with his arms outstretched. With the help of a railway porter, Bess stood on the carriage step and felt herself lifted up by Tom’s arms.

With one quick glance into her dark eyes, Tom held her by the neck and kissed her. “Write to me,” he said against her lips.

“I will if you do first.” Bess said back, planting fervent kisses to any part of his face she could reach. Slowly, the train began to leave and she felt herself carried along on the step. Somewhere behind her, the station guard began to shout. They pair feigned ignorance, shrouded by engine steam.

Cigarettes, childhood, cologne, gun smoke and engine oil. Birthday cakes, piano keys, ale, and first love. Everything Tom Bennett tasted of Bess committed to memory as he slipped from her arms and the train sped from the station.

Tom’s face became a blur on the horizon and, as he dipped back inside the carriage window, Bess whispered a prayer to the sky, to a God she wasn’t sure she believed in anymore. “Keep him safe. Please.”

Notes: We will be with Tom for the WHOLE of the next chapter, and a lot of the one after that! Plus! The letters will be back 😊

Wildly, those are real pamphlets on women’s sexual health from the late 30s and 40s.

Been listening to this paylist while I write, and it really helps get me in the mindset. It’s 40s music interspersed with radio broadcasts of the time. You could really be listening to the wireless in front of the fire at the Vaughns’ house.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @reblogedworks @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @adragonprinceswhore @notasockpuppetaccount @houseofdupree @marysucks-blog @chattylurker @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @nolongereviliwantlove @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring @fangirlninja67 @evita-shelby @cherievictoria @schmexie @blairfox04 @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @cherievictore @helaenaluvr @cyeco13

[movedtolilmouzee]

Part of my agenda for today or rest of the week ♥️♥️♥️

Running to smooch you right now!! <33 mwah mwah

[ermdotorg]

tmr head canons bc i have so many little thoughts and nothing to do with them.

newt taught himself how to braid/twist 4A, 4B, and 4C hair to help out frypan and alby (and any other gladers with those hair types.)

frypan threw a request into the box asking for a girl greenie at some point and when teresa showed up he was sure it was his fault.

minho (quietly) sings when he's running alone, (even though he doesn't know any songs— think marshall from himym and how he sings everything he does.)

gally snores so loud that it keeps everyone awake so he sleeps alone by the bloodhouse (they can still hear him)

newt and alby talked about thomas and all his questions that night when he first came up in the box, but newt was far less annoyed than alby was.

when teresa showed up she hung around with clint and the med-jacks because she knew she wanted to help people or whatever, and clint got SUPER bothered whenever she'd correct something he did. and she did it a lot.

chuck scared alby while he was in the bathroom one time (he didnt know it was alby) and got only bread and water for dinner. he did it again the next day and hid in newts room in the homestead for half the day before someone found him.

newt bitterly cleans alby's room every few days.

if thomas were to have spent more time in the glade that little corner of the deadheads would've become his and newts spot. they'd leave blankets there and everything.

the gladers didn't know how to spell their names when they first came up so they'd misspell it on the wall then have to cross it out and retry, making it look like they're dead to the greenies who aren't all that observant.

in the safe haven (yk the one where newt is alive and well) newt and thomas always sleep within a few feet of one another so they can decipher what's real when when they wake up from nightmares, (both their nightmares usually consist of losing each other)

in the safe haven minho wakes up really early and runs because it's the only thing that feels right to him.

gosh i have so many of these but i'm done for now— i love all the little glader babies so much my god why couldn't they just be happy together.

[ravenyenn19]

Six of Crows future head cannon:

Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.

Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.

The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”

In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”

Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”

“Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.

He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.

“I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.

Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”

Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.

(His blood never did bleed emerald.)

More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”

The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.

“On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.

“No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.

Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.

Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.

He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.

Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”

Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.

The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.

Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.

I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree

Crap now I have to put it in a fic

Should I do it?