#ben barnes fan art

[merlinpinkpant]

😸

[terrifiesthem]

This is what happens when you leave it to someone else If you want it done right, you should just do it yourself You oversaturate your world with nothing but machines You might make everyone happy, but you're dead inside just like me // [x] (ft @prettytm)

[mootheloon]

Finished the 2nd book in the ACOTAR series and ever since the introduction of Rhysand I’ve always pictured him in my head as Ben Barnes for some reason so here’s my Rhysand fan art. ❤️

[milaeryn]

Season 1 darklina

[jumbled-messy-confused]

Unfamiliar Grounds

jumbled_messy_confused

Summary:

Kirigan’s walls may be down for now, but Ivan and Fedyor know they must guard more than just his recovery—they must guard his trust.

Notes:

This story is an AU. It takes place long before Alina turns up. Kirigan is not the villain he will be later in the series. Please note that English is not my first language, but I did my best to find most mistakes. (Feel free to point them out to me!). I took certain creative liberties, particularly with the characterization of the main characters but I hope, you will just roll with it. And now have fun! And thank you for reading.

Work Text:

The early morning light cast long shadows through the forest as the company rode on, tired but quietly relieved. The skirmish had been brief and unexpected, but by some twist of fate, they’d suffered no fatalities—just bruises, scrapes, and the bitter taste of yet another delay on the road back to the Little Palace. Though everyone was weary and eager to be home, they travelled with the calm confidence of survivors, their minds already drifting to the promise of rest and familiar comforts.

Kirigan rode at the head of the group, his figure as straight and composed as ever. But nevertheless, something seemed off.  

Ivan’s brow furrowed as he observed the General more closely. He had been summoned more and more often by him in recent months, each mission bringing him closer to the man who, until then, had been more myth than reality.  But despite these latest, quite frequent missions, Ivan still didn’t know him well enough to understand every nuance in Kirigan’s demeanor. Yet now, for the first time, he felt a gnawing certainty that something was not as it should be.

Ivan’s eyes stayed fixed on him, searching, studying every slight shift of Kirigan’s posture, every minute tightening of his hands on the reins. Beside him, Fedyor was watching as well, his gaze troubled, his senses attuned to the subtle signs of strain his leader couldn’t quite conceal.

It was when Kirigan’s hand slipped from the reins to clutch briefly at his side that Ivan felt his stomach twist. Never before had the General let pain show, and Ivan was suddenly sure that right now, things were more serious than Kirigan let on.

A quick glance at Fedyor confirmed his suspicions. They had both seen it; the way Kirigan’s breaths came a fraction shorter, the tension that radiated through his usually controlled frame.

Enough was enough.

“Stop,” Ivan’s voice rang out, sharp and unmistakable, pulling the group to an abrupt halt. The Grisha responded instantly, horses stamped and snorted, shifting restlessly as the troupe exchanged puzzled glances.

Kirigan’s head snapped to face him, his jaw clenched, irritation flashing briefly in his dark eyes. “What are you doing? We’re wasting time,” he ground out.  His words were tight with fatigue and something more—a hidden tension, one that everyone who looked closer could feel.

“General,” Ivan responded undeterred, his tone unyielding. “With all due respect, we’re not going another step until you’re seen to.”

Some Grisha at the back of the group, unable to catch the exchange, furrowed their brows in confusion. But most understood immediately; he must have noticed something critical.

They trusted Ivan’s observations without question, and their eyes darted between him and Kirigan, watching the General with a deepening worry, their expressions reflecting their desire to ensure his well-being.

Kirigan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence enough to convey his displeasure, when Fedyor moved in, calmer but just as resolute. “We’re not moving ahead until you let us help.”

For a heartbeat, Kirigan remained motionless, defiant even. But as his eyes swept over his soldiers, the alarm reflected in some of the faces reached through his defences. He caught sight of a young Grisha, one he’d protected during the skirmish, now watching him with such raw concern that it almost touched him; a feeling he was not accustomed to.

He recognized, too, the look in Ivan’s and Fedyor’s eyes—the unwavering determination that would not yield, the loyalty that insisted he allow them to care for him.

Slowly, he nodded once in acknowledgment and reluctantly, he slid down from his horse. His legs trembled slightly as they met the ground; he masked it, straightening his shoulders, but there was a fragility in the gesture that sent a quiet ripple of alarm through those watching. The last Grisha around him quickly dismounted as well, realization dawning on their faces. Even those who had remained in their saddles until now hurriedly slid to the ground, concern etched in their expressions as they saw that their General was not just weary; he was struggling.

“Let’s get you settled and check this out,” Ivan insisted, already scanning for a place to lay Kirigan down.

With haste, some Grisha began spreading their cloaks and blankets on the ground, creating a makeshift resting place.

As they lowered Kirigan onto it, his body instinctively tensed as if trying to escape a wave of pain that seemed to surge within him.

“Relax,” Ivan instructed gently, kneeling beside him. Kirigan’s usual composure was beginning to crack, and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath.

As Ivan peeled back Kirigan’s Kefta, a collective gasp escaped from the surrounding Grisha. A huge, dark stain spread across his tunic, the ominous wet hue saturating the black fabric underneath.

Fedyor sucked in a sharp breath, his voice rising with shock and frustration. “Saints, you’ve been bleeding like this for—how long?”

Kirigan gave a faint, deflective huff, as though he’d been caught in some minor offense. “It’s nothing. Everyone’s tired; they don’t need me slowing them down.”

But Ivan was having none of this. “Stop that,” he ordered gruffly. “We’re taking care of this now.”

Carefully he pulled the tunic up, revealing a long, jagged wound that stretched across Kirigan’s chest and abdomen, still seeping blood. The flesh was swollen and bruised, and there were clear signs of at least two broken ribs beneath, maybe even internal injuries; each breath was a shallow, painful effort.

The Grisha who had gathered around murmured in shock, a few of the younger ones paling visibly at the sight.

“General…” one Squaller whispered strained. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Kirigan merely shook his head, his gaze set forward, a hint of defiance in his eyes. “It wasn’t necessary,” he replied. “I could hold on until we returned.”

“Of course you could!” Ivan’s tone was sharp with exasperation. He knew that if anyone could endure such wounds, it was Kirigan—his resilience unmatched by any other. Yet, that wasn’t the point. “But you simply shouldn’t. Look at yourself—you can barely stand…” He broke off incredulously, but Fedyor also had his part to say.

“Why would you hide this? You would never demand this silence from any of us. Why do you force it on yourself?”

Kirigan’s gaze flicked away, his jaw tight, his eyes hardened, unreadable. Compared to the weight of everything he’d faced, this pain was a small thing—no reason to burden them with it. He could have endured it, as he had endured countless wounds before, and to reveal it now felt like crossing a line he’d drawn long ago. They looked to him for steadiness, for strength that would not bend. Admitting to being injured, to any weakness, meant inviting them closer, meant leaning on a support he had taught himself never to need again.

And yet, here he was, lying on the ground and allowing them to tend to him because for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he experienced a flicker of trust, a sense that he didn’t have to bear this burden alone.

So he didn’t argue as Ivan began directing the troupe to bring what supplies they had, anything they could use to treat their injured General.

They sprang into action, a flurry of activity as they gathered clean cloths and materials. An Inferni quickly ignited a small fire nearby, its flames licking at the cool air, while water was heated for the task ahead, and Yuri, a Squaller who had some knowledge of field medicine, knelt beside Kirigan, his hands steady as he reached for the medical kit.

A Durast stepped forward too, a small pouch clutched in her hands. “I got this from the healers.” She opened it to reveal packets of potent remedies—herbs and fine powders. “Pain relief and more. It’ll help.”

“Good thinking.” Ivan’s gratitude was evident. “Get him some of that.”

Immediately, the Durast began preparing a tea, her movements precise when she measured the constituents, though her hands trembled ever so slightly.

“Hold still, General,” Yuri pleaded calmly. He crouched beside Kirigan, each touch careful, his fingers gentle yet firm, starting to clean the wound with warm water.

Kirigan didn’t respond, his face expressionless, though the tautness around his eyes betrayed the pain he held at bay.

Fedyor, kneeling on his other side, fixated his leader’s face with a rare intensity.

“You’re always thinking you have to endure everything alone, aren’t you?” He couldn’t quite hide his frustration. “You know, we’re all capable of waiting an extra hour if it means making sure you don’t end up worse off.”

His voice softened, though his gaze remained unwavering. “We’ve seen you lead, inspire, and protect us all, General. And maybe… it wouldn’t hurt for you to let others take care of you, too, once in a while.” His tone held the hint of a plea, but there was no expectation—just a quiet offering.

For a moment, Kirigan’s stoic mask slipped. There was a flicker of something close to reluctant acceptance appearing in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he allowed them to continue, perhaps surrendering to the moment, or maybe, for once, to the unfamiliar feeling of not having to hold himself so tightly.

Blood clung thickly to Kirigan’s skin, congealed in patches where it had begun to dry, while fresh rivulets seeped slowly from the jagged edges. Yuri’s hands moved with precision, his touch steady and unhurried despite the urgency of the task.

The other Grisha held their breath as they watched the crimson smears gradually give way to clean, raw flesh beneath.

Finally, Yuri reached for a soft cloth, folding it meticulously. Carefully, he pressed the thick layers against the gash, ensuring it adhered to the contours of Kirigan’s body. Once satisfied with the placement, he wrapped some bandages around it, securing the dressing in place, before he rightened himself up.

“That should hold till we get back to the Little Palace.” He glanced at Ivan, wiping his brow. “But we have to bind his ribs—tight enough so he can breathe easier without aggravating the fractures.”

Seeing the necessity, the others immediately began cutting long strips of fabric. As they worked, the Durast approached, her eyes lingering on Kirigan’s face with quiet concern. She held a small cup of tea, the scent of herbs and remedies wafting up. She offered it to him, her tone tentative yet firm. “Please, General. Drink this.”

Kirigan caught the scent of the mixture and immediately recognized its strength. “No,” he protested instantly, trying to push himself up, a rare show of reluctance. “It’s too potent; I’ll black out… “

Ivan placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gently but with authority. “We don’t care, General. You’re hurting, and you’ve lost blood. This isn’t just about you anymore. We’ll take the time, even if it costs us the journey home.”

Kirigan’s eyes narrowed slightly, a stubborn glint flashing as he eyed the cup. “I’m perfectly able to move on without this,” he muttered, irritation clear. “There’s no need for— “

“There’s no need for you to endure any more of this,” Fedyor interjected, soft but resolute. “None of us want to watch you suffer another minute. We’ll get home when we get home.”

With a resigned look, Kirigan allowed himself to lean back against the makeshift bedding. Slowly, he took the cup, a tired sigh escaping as he drank. The brew was bitter, the taste strong enough to make him grimace, but he drained it, his eyes fluttering as the warm, soothing effect of the ingredients began to seep in.

Ivan watched him with a faint shake of his head, his usual stoicism edged with concern. “Next time, General,” he repeated, “you say something. Just because you can endure it, doesn’t mean you should.”

Fedyor nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering. “We’d rather lose a little time than risk your health.”

There was a beat of silence, then Kirigan inclined his head, the faintest trace of acceptance and contrition in his expression. “Noted,” he murmured.

After they took the empty cup from Kirigan, Ivan and Fedyor positioned themselves on either side of him, lifting him gently from where he lay. He grimaced, a faint crease forming between his brows, but made no sound as they helped him up, each movement deliberate, cautious.

Once he was upright, it became clear he had neither the strength nor stability to hold himself steady. His breath came in shallow, strained bursts, every subtle shift making his pain flare.

Seeing this, Ivan slipped an arm firmly around Kirigan’s back, supporting his weight and taking on as much of the burden as he could. Fedyor, on his other side, did the same, gripping his shoulder to keep him secure.

Kirigan’s frame remained tense, muscles taut as if he could will himself to stay upright, but Ivan and Fedyor felt the unmistakable tremor that ran through him. His head lowered momentarily, though he forced it upright again as he struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.

Yuri then began to bind his ribs tightly, the process meticulous, each wrap drawn carefully around his fractured bones to keep them secure.

With each pull of the bandage, Kirigan’s face tightened, his breaths becoming more and more strained as his battered resilience began to crack, revealing the depth of his torment.

Ivan watched closely, his worry growing as he felt Kirigan start to sway, his body sagging into their grip as if he might lose consciousness.

“Just breathe, General,” he encouraged, his words low, only for Kirigan to hear. A hint of alarm crept into his voice. “We’re almost done. You need to keep breathing.”

When they finished, Kirigan looked markedly more vulnerable, his skin pale and slick with sweat, his breaths shallow and ragged.

Ivan and Fedyor exchanged a brief, worried glance before easing him down, lowering him as cautiously as possible back onto the blankets. His body went limp, the tension finally releasing as he settled against the blankets. His eyes fluttered closed as he allowed himself a rare moment of rest.

The young Inferni stepped forward, a warm, wet cloth in hand. Her movements were hesitant, her hands trembling slightly as she knelt beside him. She gently dabbed the sweat from his brow, her touch feather-light, as though afraid even the slightest pressure might cause him pain.

While she cared for him, Kirigan lay there, eyes half-closed and head tilted slightly to the side.

He remained still, barely moving, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. But as the initial agony from Yuri’s manipulations began to subside, it became clear that the bindings were helping. His breathing, though still labored, grew steadier, deeper, and the tight wraps around his ribs provided much-needed support. The fact that he was no longer bleeding into his tunic also contributed to his stabilization.

So, gradually, he seemed to regain a thread of his usual composure, enough that they knew he was ready to be dressed.

Ivan gave a subtle nod to Fedyor, signalling that it was time to get him back into his clothes and restore some semblance of his usual dignity.

Yuri placed himself behind him, sliding his arms beneath Kirigan’s shoulders to gently lift him upright again, giving the others room.

The two Heartrenders carefully adjusted his tunic and Kefta, ensuring his comfort and avoiding any strain on his injuries. 

As they finished, Ivan’s gaze lingered on Kirigan’s face, studying the pale cast of his skin and the lines of pain etched faintly around his mouth and eyes. There still was a vulnerability about him, one that none of them had ever seen before. The General who led them with unyielding strength was, in this moment, simply a man—worn, fragile, and undeniably mortal.

“You should rest, General,” Ivan suggested quietly, his concern evident. “It would do you good.”

Kirigan immediately shook his head, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. “No, we’re going home. Now.”

Ivan sighed, understanding the determination in Kirigan’s eyes. “We can do that. But unless you want to end up face-first in the mud, General, you’ll have to ride with me.” He raised an eyebrow, a hint of dry humour in his expression, but he quickly shifted back to seriousness. “Honestly, there is no other way. Those herbs will hit you soon enough.”

Kirigan simply nodded, acknowledging Ivan’s point.

His agreement brought a wave of relief over the group. Fedyor’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he watched Kirigan.

The Grisha sprang into action. They quickly packed up their belongings, extinguished the small fire, and gathered their supplies, each one eager to get their leader home safely.

Once everything was ready, they turned their attention back to Kirigan.

When they lifted him to his feet, their hands remained steady and supportive, each motion gentle, aware of how much effort it must cost him to remain upright.

Kirigan swayed slightly, his face drawn with pain, but he kept his shoulders squared, still refusing to truly let show how much he was suffering.

Some Grisha then moved quickly to fold the cloaks, roll up the blankets, and dismantle the makeshift bedding with practiced ease, while others helped the General back onto his horse.

He leaned heavily onto the pommel of the saddle, silent, his determination overriding his discomfort. Ivan swung up behind him, slipping an arm around Kirigan’s waist to secure him with caution.

“Hold on, General,” he murmured, his voice a mix of concern and reassurance. “We’ll get you home.”

Kirigan gave a faint nod, too exhausted to put up any more resistance, simply accepting the care. He sank back slightly into the strong arms bracing him securely, the warmth of Ivan’s grip both firm and comforting.

Finally, the group resumed their journey at a slower, more measured pace.

For the first stretch, Kirigan tried to keep his head up, his gaze forward, fighting the overwhelming fatigue that clouded his mind. But as the minutes passed, the potent herbs began to take full effect, overpowering him. Despite his best efforts to remain alert, he felt himself slipping.

With a final sigh, Kirigan surrendered to the drug-induced darkness, his body sinking heavily into Ivan’s arms. His head fell back against Ivan’s shoulder, leaving him defenceless in a way none of them had ever seen.

“Easy there,” Ivan murmured, instinctively adjusting to hold him more securely. The concern of the group sharpened as they noticed, but there was no panic; they had prepared for this.

They moved as swiftly as they could under the circumstances, urgency propelling them forward. It would take another two hours to reach the Little Palace, and every minute felt like an eternity.

The whole time, Fedyor kept a watchful eye on both Kirigan and Ivan.

To his dismay, as the journey progressed, he sensed Kirigan’s pulse quickening, the medications wearing off. It was clear that the pain was intensifying again; Kirigan’s face tightened with each jolt of the horse, and his breaths became more labored. Fedyor had hoped they would reach the Little Palace before this happened, but the agony from Kirigan’s broken bones was too intense.

Then, Ivan intervened.

Fedyor could feel the small flickers of power emanating from his husband. Ivan was carefully manipulating Kirigan’s heart, drawing him back into a deeper state of unconsciousness. Each time Kirigan began to surface, Ivan would gently interfere, ensuring the General remained unaware of the pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

He knew the General wouldn’t approve, but none of them cared today; they were united in their determination to get him home safely, no matter what it took. Ivan’s need to protect the man who always put others first was a quiet rebellion he allowed himself.

The road stretched long as they pressed forward, each Grisha’s gaze straying every so often to their leader, their worry a silent thread weaving them all together.

Finally, as they approached the Little Palace, two Healers were already assembled. Word of Kirigan's condition had reached them earlier, thanks to one Grisha who had hurried ahead.

Their faces tightened as they saw Ivan riding in, his arms cradling Kirigan’s limp form.

As he pulled his horse to a stop, the two of them rushed forward and reached up to take on the weight of the wounded General.

Ivan released his hold on Kirigan’s heartbeat for just a moment, helping the Healers guide him carefully down from the saddle. Instantly, Kirigan's eyes fluttered, and a hoarse, involuntary sound escaped his lips; a faint, ragged groan, raw and filled with distress. It was a sound he would never have allowed himself had he been fully aware. But here, between the grip of consciousness and the dark of oblivion, his usual defences had fallen away, leaving only the unshielded pain of his injuries.

Ivan clenched his jaw, watching with a blend of worry and helplessness as Kirigan lay there, the true extent of his suffering laid bare for all to see.

One of the Healers immediately pressed a hand to Kirigan’s forehead, murmuring softly as her power flowed through him, coaxing him back into a deeper state of unconsciousness. She knew it was the only way to shield him from the pain that would otherwise tear him awake.

The healers then hurried him inside, weaving quickly through the bright corridors, sunlight spilling in patches across the stone as they made their way to the infirmary. Ivan, Fedyor, and the rest of the group followed closely, all unwilling to let their General out of their sight.

Along the way, other Grisha paused as they took in the pale, lifeless figure of their leader. Some watched with wide, stricken eyes; others whispered anxiously among themselves, clearly shaken by the sight of the unresponsive General.

They finally reached the Infirmary, where the Healers immediately set to work.

The troupe watched in silence as Kirigan was laid carefully on a bed in the centre of the room.

The senior Healer placed her palm gently on his chest, sending a wave of energy that anchored him into a profound oblivion. Kirigan’s body tensed involuntarily, his muscles convulsing slightly under the intensity of the Healer’s power before he fell completely limp. The brief surge faded, and his awareness slipped further away under her deliberate touch.

Another Healer began to move with smooth, practiced motions, summoning her power to knit the ugly wound and address the injuries hidden beneath.

Meanwhile, the senior Healer hovered her hands above Kirigan’s ribcage, guiding a steady flow of energy into each fracture and bruise.

As the healing process continued, Kirigan’s muscles, still partially tensed from the remnants of pain, began to yield. The harsh lines etched into his face softened gradually, revealing a flicker of peace that was almost foreign. His breathing slowed, settling into a more regular, deeper rhythm.

Eventually, the lead Healer reassured all the Grisha, “His broken bones have been set, and severel internal contusions and bruises have been treated. He should be pain-free now.”

Then she turned to Ivan and Fedyor. “He heals faster than any Grisha I’ve ever seen. But even someone of his power needs time to recover from these injuries.” She glanced back at Kirigan, her eyes filled with concern. “He’s lost more blood than we’d like. I recommend keeping him under for a few hours—force him to rest. We all know what he’ll do otherwise.”

Ivan nodded decisively, understanding the unspoken truth behind her words. Kirigan’s relentless drive meant that if he were conscious, he would insist on resuming his responsibilities immediately.

They had to ensure he stayed down long enough to recover properly, even if it meant going against what they knew he would want.

The second Healer had already moved to clean the remaining blood and sweat from Kirigans skin and now gently dressed him in the soft linen shirt and loose trousers designated for those in recovery. Then, a warm, heavy blanket was tucked carefully around his shoulders and along his sides, as though to preserve the restorative energy that still lingered in the air.

Before they stepped back, the lead Healer pressed her hand onto Kirigan’s torso again, one last surge of her power weaving through him, sealing his consciousness in the darkness for a few more hours at least. She met Ivan’s gaze and nodded; he understood the message—the General would remain safely unaware.

At last, Kirigan lay still, his breathing slow and even. The golden light filtering into the room cast a gentle glow across his pale face, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes.

He looked almost fragile, a faint trace of vulnerability in the way his head rested against the pillow, a stark contrast to the imposing figure he typically embodied.

The Grisha lingered at his bedside, caught between relief and unease. The General—unbreakable, untouchable Kirigan—lay before them like any other wounded soldier, stripped of his customary armour of strength.

Though exhaustion tugged at their limbs, no one wanted to leave him alone in this vulnerable moment. Their glances drifted toward Ivan, seeking reassurance.

His silent nod was all they needed to stand down. It showed that Ivan would remain, and that was enough.

Over recent missions, he had proven himself enough times for them to look to him now without question. If anyone was to watch over the General, it would be Ivan, and they accepted this as naturally as they would a command

So, in the end, one by one, the tired men began to leave, some murmuring a quiet farewell, others offering a brief look of respect before they departed.

As the last of their troupe had stepped out, Ivan settled into a chair by the bed, his hand resting on the edge of the blanket, keeping vigil. Fedyor sank down beside him, a gentle but constant presence, his gaze steady as he watched over both his husband and their General.

Finally, Ivan glanced at Fedyor and tiredly murmured, “He won’t thank us for this.” His tone was dry, touched with a hint of exasperated affection.

Fedyor smiled, his eyes softening. “No,” he agreed, his voice a whisper, “but it was the right thing to do.”  They knew that once Kirigan awoke, the man who loathed any display of weakness would be quick to erect his walls again.

They shared a quiet moment, watching as Kirigan’s breathing remained steady, his face completely at peace. It was rare, even precious, to see him like this—unguarded, free from the heavy weight he carried for all of them.

In the stillness of the room, a silent agreement formed between them. They would take it upon themselves to care for Kirigan, to ensure he received the attention he so rarely allowed himself.

It was clear that he had fought alone for much too long; perhaps others hadn’t dared to offer care, or Kirigan, likely, had rejected any such attempts. But today, something had shifted—he had allowed them, if only briefly, to ease his burden. And they would be damned if this was the last time.

They would make sure that the man who fought so fiercely for his soldiers would, at last, have someone to fight for him.

They settled back in the knowledge that the hours ahead would pass quietly, but that was exactly what they wanted: time for their General to rest, fully and truly, under their care.

And when Kirigan awoke, they would be there—ready to meet his inevitable stubbornness with patient, steadfast loyalty, the same loyalty that had brought him back to safety.

[amandstrr]

I will paint you Dorian…. or Sirius?

[ludarklina-fan-spot]

In the end Aleksander has to accept that Alina will never be Luda and will never “see” him for him. She will never want what Luda wanted unless he is out of the way. 

Pretty wretched. But realistically, this is set to teach a lesson. We can’t all want the same things. We’re all built differently.  Whilst I do find Alina bratty most of the time, she said she did not want to be Amplified, Luda does.  I really do think Aleksander unconsciously believes Alina is Luda and he is protecting her bu giving her what she wanted. So when Alina denies him her loyalty and love it’s more than just a slap in the face.  Yes I do want to hug him.

Gifs by @ladylrbloom

[avidread3r]

Did I edit Ben Barnes as Older Sirius? Yes, I did. The question is, how did I do? Cause 🤤

These are the other 2

[turniptitaness]

I spent an absurd amount of time working on this, given the fact that art is only an occasional pastime, but it made me happy, so.

[merlinpinkpant]

新一波的点图👌

[ellecdc]

Oooo I thought this would be a fun ask, but who are your young marauders face claims?

This IS a fun ask! Is it weird to admit I don’t have an actual person who “plays” these boys in my mind?

It’s sort of an amalgamation of a few artists interpretations that I turn into a physical human person in my mind haha

There are a few fan arts I’ve found on Pinterest that speak to me a lot as well but I’m hesitant to post them because I’m not sure of the artist so can’t give credit, but generally this is my view as I write!

! none of the following images belong to me - all credit goes to the original creators !

Remus:

Mixture of @/industrations (I know there’s a tag that says not to post but they’ve updated their rules that you can post with credit!) and @/whoisflattery

Sirius:

Pretty much the same, I lean a little further towards flattery’s with indi’s tattoos and I do imagine him with Ben Barnes build/stature and facial expressions if that makes sense. This avendell Sirius is pretty close too minus the eyes for me!

James:

He’s a wildcard for me. Every version of James I’ve been like “yup that’s him”. I tend to lean on again flattery and specifically Indi’s (in the red shirt come on 🤤) and also I found this guy on tiktok once and I- 🫢

Regulus:

I do have to say I enjoy a good Timothée fancast.

I have nothing for barty!! I don’t currently imagine him as anything…that’s weird. I’ll have to fix that. I’ve pictured him with dark hair and bright coloured eyes but idk????

[runwiththerain]

an introduction to the marauders

for @gently-decaying-flowers

follow up posts will be made for the valkyries and skittles

james fleamont potter

also known as prongs

important canon information:

dead, died on october 31st 1981 defending his family from voldemort so lily could protect harry

his parents are fleamont 'monty' and euphemia 'effie' and we love both of them

his animagus is a stag

was head boy and a chaser on the gryffindor quidditch team

had a mutually antagonistic relationship with severus snape

fancast information:

original fancast was aaron taylor johnson

second fancast was reiky de valk

my personal fancast is gabriel.stewart

other fancasts include nickisnotgreen and thomas weatherall

common fanon traits:

is known as the sun and a golden retriever character, wears red converse, swiftie, quidditch obsessed, early morning riser who tries to force other people too (doesn't work), loyal, hero complex, hopeless romantic, mischievous and loves pranks, often is desi or latino, would take a bullet for anyone in his life, definitely strutted and is a therapist friend, has a hard time opening up

ships:

jily/sunflower/flowerpott: james and lily evans

jegulus/sunseeker/starchaser: james and regulus black

prongsfoot: james and sirius black

moonchaser: james and remus lupin

sirius orion black

also known as padfoot

important canon information:

godfather to harry and best friends with james

left home at 16 to live with the potters

was wrongly accused for the betrayal of lily and james

served 12 years in azkaban before using his animagus form to escape

his animagus is a black dog

was killed by his cousin bellatrix lestrange

fancast information:

original fancast was ben barnes

second fancast was undecided

my personal fancast is conan gray

other fancasts include louis seriot and eren m güvercin

common fanon traits:

drama queen, massive david bowie fan, rides a motorcycle, experiments with makeup, genderfluid, compulsive and mischievous, gay, owns and wears a leather jacket, he thinks his initials stand for son of a bitch, short king, gets jealous easily, no concept of personal space, mommy issues, daddy issues, family issues, pretty crier, french, likes to paint his nails

ships:

wolfstar: sirius and remus lupin

blackinnon: sirius and marlene mckinnon (widely unaccepted now)

prongsfoot: sirius and james potter

remus john lupin

also known as moony

important canon information:

his nickname of moony came about due to his "furry little problem" (being a werewolf)

in prisoner of azkaban he taught d efense against the dark arts at hogwarts

has a child called teddy with nymphadora tonks

was killed in the battle of hogwarts

fancast information:

original fancast was andrew garfield

second fancast was undecided

my personal fancast is p4perback

other fancasts include paul ahrens and matthew hitt

common fanon traits:

always wears grandpa sweaters, craves academic validation, best friends with lily, grumpy around full moons, loves chocolate, the mastermind behind all the marauders pranks, goes to a study group, is a massive nerd, tall but it took ages for him to grow, self worth issues, raspy voice, swears a goddamn lot, welsh and no one can understand what he says

ships:

wolfstar: remus and sirius black

moonwater: remus and regulus black

moonchaser: remus and james potter

moonrosekiller: remus and barty crouch jr and evan rosier

peter pettigrew

also known as wormtail

important canon information:

traitor to the marauders

was james and lily's secret keeper but ratted them out to voldemort hence resulting in their death

his animagus form is a rat

hid in his rat form in the wealsey family as 'scabbers' until discovered by sirius and remus in the prisoner of azkaban

fancast information:

original fancast was dane dehaan

second fancast was undecided

my personal fancast is lewis capaldi

other fancasts include maxwell acee donovan and jacob batalon

common fanon traits:

friendly and sociable, plant dad, needs validation, great cook/baker, indecisive, cheeky, amazing at chess, not the smartest academically, childhood friends with james and marlene, quick thinker, unintentionally funny, wants nothing more than to fit in, sometimes forgotten, has a really healthy dating history, sometimes has the best pranks and suprises the others

ships:

pebill: peter and sybill trelawney

unknown ship name: peter and james potter (usually a one sided crush)

unknown ship name: peter and remus lupin

partyvan: peter and barty crouch jr and evan rosier (this is mostly made as a joke)

[thereisnolumos]

darklina thoughts: I wanted to get into the shadow and bone Fandom(books and show) because of the amazing gif set of the darklina kiss I saw

Like who are these two that are sharing such a beautiful kiss. And look so aesthically pleasing together with the darkness and light vibes. I was so excited to find out who these two were because these kind of ships are my everything. Than I find out and 😨😱😤😠🤬!!!!! It was like running full steam a head with tons of excitement and crashing face first into a wall when I find out everything about this Fandom. Both about the books and show. The author and this beautiful ship. And I'm like God why do authors do this ship. Tease us with everything we want and the full potential. But than do a completely one 80 and waste are time on things we don't care about, or find insulting or toxic, and tells us are tastes are dumb and toxic. So now I just read fics and look at beautiful art of Darklina and the potential they could have been. It's just so annoying because this stuff happens all the time!!! And don't get me started on what I heard about the author. I don't know if their true. And wish I could find out real stuff about her. But if it is. God she is so messed up for doing this to us.

I only got in the fandom bcs I randomly saw a teaser for the first season and Ben Barnes was there in all his dark glory. I knew nothing about the books, but the way that show was promoted I was expecting the epic dark romance, villain who’s not really a villain gets the girl all the vibe. Plus cool world build and complicated detailed story overall.

I got none of that.

That show was interesting and hopeful for the first 5 episodes (we will always have 1x05🖤). It wasn’t as detailed and complex as I expected, but it had potential and the main pair - the one they based THE ENTIRE promotion on by the way - was having one of the most fiery and spark inducing chemistry I’ve ever seen on the screen, so I kept my hopes up for the overall plot and focused on them. And then… then they backpedaled SO HARD on everything that made that show interesting for the broad audience, I wonder how they didn’t give themselves a whiplash… though considering the horrible quality of s2 they probably did

Though I didn’t like the way s1 ended, I still thought there is hope, and “we need a conflict for our main pair, I guess”. I truly, wholeheartedly believed that creators and writers of the show are not complete idiots and know how to read the room and what the most of their audience is there for, so that’s what they’ll deliver. But oh my, how wrong I was.

The second season is downright unwatchable with how horrifyingly terrible it is. I only suffered through the entire thing for Ben, who, bless his heart, tried his hardest to deliver the complexity and depth of his character, who he only agreed to play if they “won’t make him a cardboard villain”. And they did exactly that in s2, or tried to, bcs Ben Barnes and his talent didn’t let them, despite all their efforts. The rest of the cast I guess didn’t have enough experience to fix the worst writing imaginable with their acting, so most of the characters became absolutely bland and uninteresting and SO IDIOTICALLY STUPUD, I yelled at them constantly, scaring my cat the entire time.

Also, as much as I understand it from exploring the fandom, the creators and writers of the show are die hard fans of the Crows, and they don’t actually like Alina’s trilogy at all. So… why didn’t they just do the books they wanted I’ll never know. Instead, they forced the Crows in the plot they were never a part of (making all of them okay with selling a girl to slavery in the process. Despite one of them being the former slave and the other one being the one who got her out of it… make it make sense, I beg of you), in the second season they wasted SO MUCH time on their plot lines that 1)didn’t matter one bit for the overall story, 2)were absolutely uninteresting to everyone who isn’t the Crows fan beforehand. In the end we got half-assed Alina and Aleksander’s story with half-assed Crows’ story. They should’ve just made the Crows show, without touching Alina and Aleksander

I haven’t read the books, but from what I gathered in the fandom, though still committing the same sin of putting all the promotion and marketing into the Dark romance trope without actually delivering on it, and force feeding the fans one of the worst and most toxic pairings ever with Malina, at least Alina and Aleksander’s characters weren’t made so cardboard and stupid, and there was tragedy in their story, not the shit that they gave us in s2. Though I absolutely DESPISE the fact that Alina looses her powers in the end and goes on to live Mal’s dream life… Like WHAT THE FUCK?? What levels of internalized misogyny do you need to have as a woman, to write this plot line for your female protagonist???? I can’t.

On Mal’s toxicity: at least that made him a fleshed out character in the books. Absolutely horrible one, how could the author make him “get the girl” is beyond me. But at least he had a personality, however terrible one. In the show, I guess understanding, that no one would root for that asshole, they removed his toxicity almost completely, but that made him as bland as stale porridge. There wasn’t ANYTHING left on his character. At all. How anyone could’ve rooted for him I absolutely refuse to understand. Any woman deserved better than Blade😈

I don’t know anything about Leigh Bardugo, except for the fact that she butcher my native language and makes me furious. If you don’t know the language at least on a medium level, perhaps don’t use it in your books. Or at least hire someone who does. The way she butchered it, I’m not sure she even used Google translate…

So yeah, I’m with you on only reading Darklina fanfics and admiring fan art. I’m not at all sad that they cancelled the show, and I’m even giddy that those creators and writers didn’t get their wet dream of the Crows spin off. They didn’t deserve it after the shit they pulled in the second season. I do hope that they won’t ruin any other shows in the future. I am sad for the actors, who deserved much better and who were actually good at their parts, while the writing was okay. Poor Archie Renaux suffered the most, his character didn’t have good writing at all, not for a single scene. I hope we’ll see more of all of them.

And we need Ben and Jessie to do a film together. Preferably a rom com, but I’m not picky. Just that their characters are together. Such chemistry can’t be wasted

[or-we-could-take-a-walk-together]

the king of scars duology was leigh bardugo’s answer to every darklina shipper/darkling fan justifying the darkling’s crimes. in kos+row they explicitly call out every single one of the darkling’s crimes, which is why i’ll always be a malina shipper (in canon ships at least, genyalina supremacy) because the other option is simply terrible. so please learn to separate an artist from his art, which in this case the artist is ben barnes, and the art is his portrayal of the darkling.

[jumbled-messy-confused]

The Dusk of a Long Day

jumbled_messy_confused

Summary:

A leader’s fragile recovery unveils the depth of his people’s devotion. Amidst heartfelt reunions and tender care, the bonds of loyalty and affection are poignantly revealed. Resilience, camaraderie, and unspoken emotions define a journey towards healing.

Notes:

While this story can stand on its own, I highly recommend reading “Bearing the Burden” first for a deeper understanding and richer context. (Warning: This story is cheesy and pointless, but I wrote it anyway. And I have no regrets. 😆 )

The dusk of a long day settled over the Little Palace, casting a serene glow on the weary faces of the Grisha as they returned from their laborious task. They had spent the day constructing a makeshift bridge to mend the lifeline of their community. Residents of Os Alta had also lent their aid, and both Grisha and townsfolk, their hands and hearts working in unison, had been able to restore a semblance of normalcy after the disaster.

Ivan, whose dedication to General Kirigan had kept him by the injured man’s side throughout the night, had reluctantly torn himself away at dawn to oversee the efforts. And although the Durasts had taken the lead with their expertise in construction, it was Ivan who had initiated and coordinated the entire operation, seeing it as his duty as Kirigan’s second-in-command. He knew that the General would never have left the residents of Os Alta to face such a task alone, especially since, although the Tsar and his soldiers might have eventually managed it, the Grisha were far better suited to take charge.  His mind, however, had remained with Kirigan, replaying the harrowing moments of his collapse and the horrific helplessness he had felt while fighting to save his leader’s life over and over again. Kirigan had not regained consciousness throughout the night, and although Ivan knew he was out of immediate danger, the entire day had been a blur of anxiety and tension for him. The exhaustion from the previous night weighed heavily on him, making it difficult to focus on the task at hand; all he really wanted was to return to the infirmary to check on his superior.

Now, as the evening sun wrapped the Inner Court of the Little Palace in its warm embrace, the weary Grisha began to unsaddle their horses, their movements slow and heavy with exhaustion. The atmosphere was quiet, almost somber, as the events of the past two days weighed heavily on them. The worry for Kirigan still hung over them all like a dark cloud, sapping their energy and spirits.

Yet, just as Ivan was handing the reins of his horse to a stable attendant, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Pausing mid-action, he looked up in disbelief: General Kirigan and Alina had entered the courtyard. The sight of them was not only completely unexpected but downright extraordinary.

The petite woman had looped the General’s arm over her shoulder and held his waist, steadying him as they moved together with careful steps. Kirigan’s appearance was a stark contrast to the commanding figure they were accustomed to. Clad only in the soft, simple clothes of the infirmary, his tall and inherently slender form was even more pronounced. The absence of his customary layers of Kefta and tunics revealed a delicacy that was usually hidden, his lean physique now starkly apparent. His face was pale, the kind of white that spoke of blood loss and bed rest, casting him in an almost otherworldly light. The General’s usual aura of invincibility had been replaced by a fragility that stirred a protective instinct in Ivan and all who beheld him; this man, who had always seemed larger than life, now walked among them with a vulnerability that was both jarring and endearing. Yet, the intensity in his eyes was undiminished, the same fierce determination that had always been his hallmark.

Having been shaken to their core twenty-four hours earlier, witnessing Kirigan’s harrowing battle with death, the Grisha watched his unsteady yet determined movements in silent astonishment, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and quiet joy. For a moment, they simply stood there, absorbing the sight before them, letting the reality of his appearance sink in. Then, one after the other, they approached him; not in a rush, but with a gentle eagerness, each expressing in their own way the depth of their gladness at seeing him on the mend. Their faces were alight with a happiness that had seemed so unimaginable a day before - and that was the moment Ivan realized that Kirigan had made a conscious decision to come to the courtyard. Despite his weakened state, his primary concern was, as always, the well-being of his people. He knew his presence would help alleviate their worries; this was a deliberate act to comfort them after the unease he had caused. And his plan worked perfectly. However, there was one thing he had not foreseen.

Kirigan, for all his intelligence and strategic brilliance, seemed unprepared for the depth of emotion that met him. The smiles, the nods, the quiet words of encouragement—while receiving them, there was a sense of wonder in his eyes, as if he were seeing his people for the first time.

Ivan sighed. As their General, Kirigan bore the weight of command, the relentless burden of impossible choices that carved chasms between duty and humanity. Ivan understood the solitude that accompanied such a role: the sleepless nights and the constant choices that tore at one’s soul. Kirigan, respected and more often than not even feared, had surely always been aware of the regard of his Grisha. But here, in this quiet courtyard, where smiles bloomed and hands reached out, he discovered a kinship that transcended mere duty. It was a heartfelt connection, an understanding that he was truly valued and cherished by those around him.

And perhaps, Ivan mused, Kirigan had needed this revelation. For he gave tirelessly to his people, day after day, yet obviously hadn’t fully grasped how deeply they recognized and appreciated his unwavering commitment. The weight of responsibility often obscured such truths, leaving those in charge isolated in their decisions. But now, surrounded by his Grisha, Kirigan obviously realized that their loyalty was intertwined with deep affection; a truth that had always been present but had apparently just now become unmistakably clear to him. Ivan hoped that Kirigan now finally understood that he belonged, and that this realization would help him feel less alone in his burdens.

After a few minutes, the interactions began to take their toll; Kirigan’s strength started to wane. Ivan noticed that while the General still smiled warmly, his energy was fading, and he grew quieter and paler. He could also sense an increase in his heartbeat, indicating how it became harder for him to stay upright. Ivan considered discreetly alerting Alina to Kirigan’s exhaustion, but the Sun Summoner, ever vigilant, had picked up on his growing fatigue as well. With an apologetic smile, she gently guided her charge away from his people and led him toward a nearby bench. Ivan’s fellow Grisha immediately stepped back, giving the injured man the space he needed. Only two remained nearby, clearly ready to assist if necessary. But that wasn’t needed; Alina had everything under control. He noticed the subtle tightening of her grip around Kirigan’s narrow waist, a silent promise to hold him steady should his strength falter. The setting sun cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting the determination etched into her features; her gaze was fixed ahead, yet there was a tenderness in her eyes that spoke volumes of her concern and steadfast devotion. As they reached the bench, Alina and Kirigan settled against the wall of the Little Palace, basking in the remnants of the day’s light. Kirigan leaned back against the wall, the weariness from yesterday’s ordeal was evident in the way his body sagged. His eyes closed for a few precious moments of rest. Alina, looking weary herself, leaned gently against him, mindful of his injured chest. But he drew her close, signalling that her proximity brought no pain, only comfort. He rested his head against hers, both of them savouring the warmth of the sun.

The Grisha looked on, their spirits buoyed by the tender scene, a beautiful testament to the healing power of closeness and care.

After a few minutes, as the sun dipped below the courtyard walls and the evening chill began to settle, Alina whispered to Kirigan that it was time to return indoors. The General, who had still been resting with his eyes closed, slowly opened them at her words. His weariness was almost palpable when he tried to straighten up and, after taking a deep breath, attempted to rise. But his strength betrayed him—a rare moment of helplessness on display. Ivan was at his side in an instant.

Kirigan looked up at him, exhaustion etched into his features. “It seems, I have to be a burden again, old friend,” he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration and fatigue.

Ivan knelt beside him, his eyes filled with unshakable determination. He placed his hand on Kirigan’s forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You could never be a burden, General,” he insisted gently but resolutely. “I am here for you. Always.” With Alina on one side and Ivan on the other, they carefully helped Kirigan to his feet. They draped his arms over their shoulders and encircled his waist, providing the strong support he needed as they made their way back to the infirmary. Kirigan’s steps were now slow and labored, each movement a testament to his sheer willpower. His face, though set in a determined expression, could not hide the pain that flickered more and more in his eyes. Ivan’s heart ached with concern, yet he couldn’t help but admire Kirigan’s resilience. Anyone else would likely still be confined to bed, unable to even rise, but here was their General, pushing through his exhaustion and discomfort to walk among his people, to reassure them.

As they entered the infirmary, Ivan and Alina guided Kirigan straight to his cot, helping him to sit down. At this point, the extent of his debilitated state became evident; the injured man, by now trembling with exhaustion and pain, couldn’t manage to lie down by himself. Without a word, Ivan gently clasped Kirigan’s shoulders and carefully lowered his upper body onto the pillows. At the same time, Alina supported his legs, cautiously raising them onto the bed. Kirigan, too weak to resist, simply gave in to their assistance. His eyes fluttered shut, and with a weary exhale, his body went completely limp. His head lolled back, and he became a dead weight in their grasp. It looked as if he had lost consciousness there and then.

Alina’s worry was palpable, but Ivan, ever attuned to Kirigan’s heartbeat, was quite sure this was not a critical incident; the General was simply overwhelmed by exhaustion. Yet, before he could assuage her concerns, a pair of healers, who had been standing by patiently, approached them. “We’re glad to see the General has decided to grace us with his presence again,” one of them remarked with a wry smile. Her tone, however, quickly shifted from one of loving exasperation to genuine concern. “Now we need to make sure he’s stable after this unexpectedly long walk and quite sudden collapse,” she added softly.

Ivan couldn’t help but let out an exhausted, dry sigh. “Only Kirigan could nearly die one day and have the healers worried about an extended stroll the next.” The female healer smiled warmly at his comment. “He is truly one of a kind. But we wouldn’t have him any other way, would we?” Ivan nodded, not able to hide a mixture of affection and concern in his voice. “No, we wouldn’t.” With that, the healers began their examination.

The female healer carefully pushed Kirigan’s shirt up, exposing his lean torso. With practiced precision, she placed her hands on the General’s chest, softly palpating different areas and letting her magic flow. She took several minutes to assess the state of his internal injuries and ensure there was no fresh bleeding. Then she moved to Kirigan’s abdomen, pressing gently on his flat stomach, methodically probing every part to identify any signs of pain or discomfort, moving her hands in intricate sigils. She was thorough, ensuring that no area was left unchecked. As she did so, it became evident that her magic was not only assessing but also alleviating his pain. The tension around Kirigan’s eyes began to ease, the tight lines of discomfort softening visibly. Simultaneously, the male healer encompassed Kirigan’s flanks, holding them for several moments, his hands moving in sync with Kirigan’s breaths. Since the devastating injuries from the previous day had caused a respiratory arrest, the healer spent considerable time monitoring Kirigan’s chest movements, ensuring they were steady and his lungs were functioning properly. Finally, the healers exchanged nods of approval, their faces lighting up with optimism. “His progress is extraordinary,” the male healer announced, turning to Ivan and Alina. “He’s recovering at an impressive pace. He still needs time, of course, but he will achieve in a fortnight what would take others at least a month.”

Meanwhile, the female healer had carefully pulled Kirigan’s shirt back down and looked up, satisfied with their examination. “Would you like us to settle him in, or would you prefer to do it yourselves?” she kindly asked. Ivan quickly responded, “We’ll take care of it.” The healers nodded in understanding, their expressions affectionate and approving. They exchanged a few final murmurs before quietly retreating to give Ivan and Alina space.

The both of them wasted no time, and immediately stepped back to the bed. Ivan meticulously adjusted the pillows under Kirigan’s upper body, ensuring the resting man was comfortable while Alina draped a plush, thick blanket over his slender form, carefully tucking it around him to keep him warm. Kirigan let out a quiet sigh at that and visibly relaxed; the warmth seemed to do him good. His features softened in a way that made him look almost youthful. At the sight, a tender smile spread across Alinas face.

By the time they finished, Kirigan was in a deep sleep, his breathing steady and even; yet, the sight of the most powerful Grisha Ivan knew, so utterly defeated by exhaustion, was both alarming and telling. It spoke volumes about his current state and the severity of what he had endured. But it also highlighted his incredible strength and resilience - it was astonishing that he had managed to walk outside just minutes ago.

However, Ivan felt a pang of sorrow, realizing that once again, he had failed to notice how badly Kirigan was struggling, as he had succeeded to conceal the extent of his condition too long too well, just like the day before.

The steady rise and fall of Kirigan’s chest drew Ivan away from his dark thoughts. For a few minutes, he simply stood there, observing the soothing motion. The sight was a stark contrast to the previous night, and it brought a sense of relief that Ivan hadn’t felt in hours. The gentle rhythm of Kirigan’s breathing was almost hypnotic, pulling Ivan deeper into his own fatigue.

“You should rest now.” Alina’s voice startled him out of his trance. She had taken a seat by Kirigan’s side and gently placed her hand on top of the blanket, near his shoulder. It was clear she intended to stay the night. She looked up at Ivan, her eyes still filled with concern, despite the healers having just confirmed that Kirigan was on the mend. “I only managed to get some sleep last night because I knew you were here with him and would alert me if anything happened,” she continued. “This time, it’s my turn. I promise to let you know if anything changes.” Ivan, despite knowing better, considered staying by Kirigan’s side nonetheless, but Alina wasn’t finished. “It’s enough that one of us doesn’t know when to take care of their own needs,” she insisted softly, her voice tinged with both tenderness and sadness. Her gaze briefly flickered to the resting man before returning to Ivan. In that moment, he realized her concern was directed at him. And he had to admit she was right. He was exhausted. With a sigh, he nodded to her and, after a final, lingering look at the peacefully sleeping Kirigan, quietly exited the infirmary.

Outside, the Grisha were still gathered in the courtyard, their faces filled with anticipation. They had clearly been waiting for Ivan, their expressions a mix of hope and lingering concern. The atmosphere had noticeably relaxed since Kirigan’s appearance, but they had also seen him falter as he tried to return inside, and were now anxiously awaiting Ivan’s update.

Ivan addressed them, his voice steady and calm. “The healers are very pleased with General Kirigan’s progress. It will take several days, but he will make a full recovery. He fell asleep quickly and is resting now.”

The news brought another wave of relief over the group. Smiles spread across their faces, and murmurs of gratitude and joy filled the air. Some nodded to each other, while others clasped hands or patted shoulders in silent celebration. The last remnants of tension that had gripped them since the incident began to melt away, replaced by a quiet, collective happiness.

Slowly, the Grisha began to disperse, making their way towards their quarters. Ivan watched them go, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. He, too, turned to head to his own room. As he walked, he felt a renewed sense of hope, confident that the General’s improving condition would allow them all to rest easier tonight.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠, 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 8

Tagging: @augustwithquills, @idohknow @bloody-mf-bsc

Liked by freddycarter1, benbarnes, jessie_mei_li and 998,052,762 others

shadowandbone: A big thank you for our lovely Y/N Y/L/N- Barnes and her success! We are proud to have you and witness your art and talent from up close!

And a big thank you to the fans, who helped and supported us in this journey of winning not one but 4 awards in one night! We couldn't have done it without any of you!

And no, this definetly not her proud husband writing this.

View 696,357 comments

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes: I will never get used to being called that name 🫠

jessie_mei_li: you both are such simps I'm gonna puke🤢😜😝

kittheyounger: ı'm gonna have cavities because of their sweetness... Who knew she loved being called "Barnes"?

freddycarter1: probably her husband?? And no, benbarnes, we don't wanna know the details... the last time terrorized me 😧😨😳

User5: First Y/N and now Ben... I knew they had the password!

User8: BIG CONGRATS TO OUR GIRL AND EVERYONE WHO WORKED HARD!🫡😎

User4: so proud to watch you all!

amita_suman: Don't let the picture decieve you, the bouquet is way bigger 😁

freddycarter1: I guess Ben's simping's proof is very obvious 😎

User11: our girl deserved every single one of them, alongside other ones she got! Must be hard to try to find a place to put them in their house where her babies can't reach lol

User2: Mother is mothering again. Slayed with that dress as usual.😎🫦

User9: fr, I bet my ass everyone was jealous of her because she is pretty, succesfull, happy, has a gorgeous husband and even more gorgeous and cute children... The list could go on.

User6: Ben must be damn proud of his wife. I think I saw him shed a tear while he clapped loudly for her 🥹

User13: the fact that Ben forgets his own password but uses this account freely baffles me... Girl, is he using your phone again?

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes: No, surprisingly enough he isn't.

User3: WE CAUGHT HER, SHE HAS BEEN THE USER OF THIS ACCOUNT

User7: 🚨🚨🚨 OPEN THE DOOR Y/N WE HAVE THINGS TO TALK ABOUT

Liked by benbarnes, pascalispunk, jennaortega and 5,908,632 others

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes: Only one minute... One minute I left him with our baby girl and he did this. I mean... She looks hilarious and Ben is very proud of his work but did you have to make her like that? She will look at these pictures one day!

View 562,512 comments

User3: Ben's cheeky grin, knowing that he wouldn't take sofa punishment is more hilarious djdjddj But babygirl Barnes looks so happy 🥹❤️

User6: His shirt was a paid actor lol

User18: That's why babies shouldn't be left with fathers, without guidance... It's never guaranteed if the baby would be glued to the ceiling or lost in the blankets lol

User3: Why does she look like she could take part as the baby in Adams Family? That joyous, blonde baby in fhe movies I mean??

User8: LoL I can see the resemblance now djsjdj she is cute tho I just want to squish her cheeks!

User3: so true! I don't like babies, but babygirl Barnes is an exception.

User6: she is the only baby, including their son, that I would gladly commit homicide for

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes: As much as I am glad I have an army of protective SIBLINGS for my children, let's not do that 😅

User16: Is that a little bit of belly I see?? Dadbod!Ben??? Anyone?

User6: Okay but... Is it just me or did Ben become more happy and attractive ever since having a family?

user17: Only the best wishes to your family!

Liked by Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes, freddycarter1, pascalispunk and 6,784,231 others

benbarnes: The other half of my soul, my beutiful wife, the mother of our children and the joy of our chaotic yet happy family... There are many titles you have but the best one for me is Mrs.Barnes, happy anniversaries, darling. All the memories we made together (including yes, the mess in the kitchen many times we cooked together) is nothing but perfection to me. My only wish for the future is to be able to make more with our children.

I love you so much ❤️

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Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes: I'm the happiest I ever was, my love. Thank you for the joy you brought me, thank you for being my husband and the father of our children. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you 💐🥹❤️💓