#c: niamh

[crownrots]

📷 + Niamh, Jaxx, Kyle, Avery, Slater, Archie, and Roxanne 🤭

🙄

niamh :

jaxx:

kyle:

avery:

slater:

archie:

roxanne:

[alfiemckinnon]

mssg / alfie & niamh

ALFIE: sos floo'd into my apt and am a nervous wreck

ALFIE: could do with some company if you're not scared as shit to leave rn

ALFIE: also hope ur good. lol 🤙

[samanthacreilly]

“I think I’ll just take a ginger gin fizz. If that’s no trouble of course!” Samantha replied when she was asked her order at the bar. “I see you guys have done a good job of patching the place up. Is there anything I can do to help? If you ever need an extra set of hands I’d be happy to,” she babbled a little as she waiting for her drink to arrive.

@niamhfitzgerald

[space-writes]

find the word

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! my words are uncontrollable, once, feet, and shoe. i’ve been chipping away at the Glasya/warlock fic, so these are from there.

contains nsfw descriptive elements and Niamh being extremely gay for Glasya

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

uncontrollable → irresistible

well 'irresistibly', it’s close enough.

Her eyes are irresistibly drawn to the nest of reddish curls between Glasya’s, thick and glinting with copper strands, fanning out over the delicate skin of Glasya’s thighs. Fuck, she wants to bury her face in them.

once

This isn’t really Glasya’s palace, Niamh knows that. Can’t get to Malbolge without going through five other Hells first, those are the rules—though if anyone was going to flout them for something as petty as meeting with a warlock, Glasya would. It’s why Niamh chose her in the first place: she doesn’t give a fuck. However, it sure as shit feels like Glasya’s palace, just the way she remembers. She’s only visited it once, and once was enough. You don’t forget the feel of the place where the Princess of Hell plucked your soul from your body and replaced it with infernal magic.

feet & shoe

putting these together because the line is about some feet in shoes and. well. yeah.

And its Glasya who’s sat in front of her, with her feet in their pitch black, hellspike heels up on the bone-carved desk, slim bronze legs disappearing up into a dress that does so many incredible things to her already perfect body that Niamh is having something of a hard time concentrating. Which is bad news, because she’s here to talk about her contract.

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @mjjune @viscerawrites @revenantlore and @monstrify with the words long, precise, crystal, and react.

(also paging @princessbonecrimes and @foxboyclit because this fic is i feel relevant to your Interests)

[fayofavalon]

The coldest was drawing near, and although they had the help of the dragons daughter, Niamh wasn't sure it was enough. Truthfully, she could stop the war with the click of her finger, but she knew that it would unbalance nature and cause even more chaos. There was a chance that they could win this. She ended up in this realm accidently, and she posed as a red priestess when really she was a goddess who rules over the souls of the river styx. She was the daughter if Hades and Persephone.

The only one that knew the truth about her was Sansa. She trusted her with her life and somehow she felt as though she could tell her anything. Niamh didn't trust that easy. Tonight would be the last night before the war, and late at night Niamh found herself outside of Sansas door, and she lightly knocked.

@firebloodicee for a starter ❤️

[wetbloodworm]

was thinking about pride flags today and ended up here. happy pride to my arikids i suppose lmao

[hcpefuldreaming]

@upgrxded (Niamh & Galinda)

Tea had been the immediate answer to Niamh's worries as she let the steam warm her face slightly when she hovered over the mug, her eyes scanning the kitchen around her before it stopped at the window where ships flew by as if it was a normal occurrence, although as she thought about it more, yes, on this planet, it was. "Despite having a fake life back in ivycove, there are still little things that astound me in that modern time, so this...it all feels so overwhelming and strange to take in. Which is rather hypocritical of me to say, but change is such a funny thing"

[nervosims]

Just wanted to drop by and say how much I love and appreciate your game! The aesthetics are just perfect, and I love how you have mixed Victorian/Steampunk/Medieval fashion, and it just works!

that means a lot coming from you! your neighbourhoods are the prettiest thing ever <3

[philialdevotion]

Punch Bowl - Niamh has never been the social butterfly, and definitely not during gathering likes these. She's much better at surveying things from afar, so when she recognizes that there's a place to perform such a matter, she finds herself by the punch bowl. Taking account the actions of others nearby, she decides to serve herself a drink - and meets eye to eye with someone standing on the other side of the table.

Niamh has to wonder the stranger's reason. Was she also here to examine the festivities from afar? Was she more interested in interacting with those with a like-minded approach? Or, maybe she just wanted a taste of the punch?

Fortunately - or not - Niamh decides not to be direct this time, giving the other a small nod of acknowledgement instead.

She takes a sip of the punch; she regrets it. The creases of disgust at the cloying sweetness which push her eyebrows down and her mouth in, bubble up at her from a surface the colour of plums festering with over-ripeness. It overwhelmes the senses: coats her tongue in some sort of preternatural film of flavour which gives the uncanny promise of not being able to taste anything else, ever. No matter what she ate now, she knew that the soaring notes of sugar would cut through it. Oh dear.

Glancing up, nose still slightly wrinkled, she finds that she is being observed. A face, or rather, a bright blue mask stares at her levelly, the painted colour framing a flash of bright red beneath. It is rather difficult to tell where the mask begins, and the human features end. Inexplicably, she feels a troubled sort of jealousy - as if to be looked at in such a way is a reproach.

But then she nods, and the shadows make the mask almost look sorrowful. They are two isolated wanderers - converging on the unlikely connection of a rather unfortunate concotion. That has to mean something. She will make it mean something.

'Hello'. Phila approaches, placing her glass down with overcareful attention. What sort of things are said at parties such as these? She is so used to the background; to be joined in it strikes her with a simultaneous sense of claustraphobia and expansiveness. 'I don't believe we have met, I am Phila, a flying instructor. What has brought you to the festivities?'

[albatris]

thinkin bout alex and niamh

[milflewis]

hilarious. downright hilarious. like effortlessly. idk you have a way with words that makes me go. laughing crying.

i love reading your takes! dont always agree but i love reading them they make me go.....woah....yeah ok ok hmmm maybe not but interesting. always interesting.

also i genuinely thought you were older than me WHELP.

much love

-C (technically sent on anon :3)

no but this! i also love reading your thoughts on things bc yeah i don’t always agree but i do like to see how you got there and why. (spoiler alert i’m one of the anons in your inbox rn. i’m sure you can guess which one lmao)

pls how much older

anonymously send ur opinion of me

[allthatglxtters]

@hcpefuldreaming || ❛  being strong doesn’t mean never asking for help or admitting that you’re in pain .  ❜ (Niamh to Anyone)

"That's not exactly what I meant, though...I get how it would sound that way." Robb sighed a little before continuing. "Being strong has meant ignoring my feelings or just taking each day as it comes for me in the past, but I think that strength has multiple definitions. While it doesn't always mean that...sometimes a part of being strong is ignoring that pain when you don't have anyone to ask for help."

[hcpefuldreaming]

"Self-absorbed?" Niamh's jaw drops at the accusation as she puts her project down altogether to glare at the other. "You know nothing of me to accuse me of such a horrible thing." She risked everything for the people she loved and risked her own life to do her work, so to be called selfish in any form of the word was like a dagger to her heart.

"then you should become more self aware and less self absorbed then," aerea said, with a scoff and roll of her eyes. she was certainly self absorbed herself, but also self aware. there was a fine balance, she was certain she had found it.

[space-writes]

six sentence sunday

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, thank you! here’s a lil bit from Contract Negotiations, the Glasya/warlock fic that definitely is not on the list of wips i planned for this year but is nonetheless Compelling Me

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

“Then why are we here?” Glasya swings her legs down and leans fowards—eyes on her face, Niamh, do not stare at the Archdevil’s cleavage, don’t do it, don’t do it, I don’t care how incredible they are do not look. “If everything is going so well—” she motions with one hand and a scroll burns into existence between her clawed fingers “—then why do you want me to alter this?” That’s her contract. That’s her soul in scorched letters and a bloody thumbprint and Glasya’s kiss burned at the bottom. She has an identical copy hidden in the hollowed out base of her staff—she takes it out sometimes, wondering if the lip-print will still burn. It always does.

[ID - a purple and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @zmwrites @jmhwritesstuff @aalinaaaaaa and @viscerawrites

[fayofavalon]

“ i’m not leaving. “ { From Sansa for Niamh }

A bright smile crossed her crimson lips, her eyes locking with Sansa and she moved to gently rest her hand upon her cheek, her head lightly tilting to the side.

"I'm glad because honestly I have no idea what I'd do without you my queen." She whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

[hcpefuldreaming]

@tcrturedpcet

"Course I can," Henry whispered as he wrapped an arm around her waist, and drew her closer to his side. "Persistent ex?" He questioned, voice low enough for just her to hear as he leaned in closer to her. The writer wanted her ex to think of them being in an intimate conversation when they looked at them. He wanted to sell the lie, perfectly, so that the woman's ex would leave her alone for good. "They're looking over here, how do you want to sell the act?"

Visibly relaxing, she leans into him, ducking her head so her ex can't see her as she nods. "Yes, they had agreed on ending things with me, but can't help but seek me out almost each time I go out." She says with a frown, wrapping her arms around his neck. "If you duck your head to the side a bit, it'll look like we're kissing, you obviously don't have to actually kiss me of course." Niamh laughs softly and turns slightly so it's harder for her ex to see her.