Aug 30, 2021
and the flowers wept acrylic on paper
reposting because better quality (finally) and it's now available as a print on INPRNT and redbubble
seen from Israel
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from Israel
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from Japan
seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
and the flowers wept acrylic on paper
reposting because better quality (finally) and it's now available as a print on INPRNT and redbubble
Zephyranthes - Expectations
Different style with this one. I’m…sorry. Under a cut because it’s long
He expected the Maze to be solvable.
He expected they would be out of there in a few months.
He expected their memories would come back to them.
False. False. False.
He expected things to get better.
He expected to learn to be happy.
He expected everyone to live.
False. False. False.
for @broashwhat prompted through @t100fic-for-blm
to prompt me or other artists from the initiative, you may submit prompt here or you may check out our carrd for more information
made wallpaper versions for funsies
Hyacinth, Mint and Primrose. Extra love if you put them all together. xx
Everyone Lives!AU. Well…almost
He shouldn’t be alive. He attacked her. She’s dead because of him.
So why the bloody hell is Thomas okay with this?
“Go away, Thomas.” Newt disappeared into his hut and slammed the door, silencing the argument that had been going on for the past five minutes. It kept replaying in his head, every shout, every word, every tear.
“I told you, Tommy. You should have killed me.”
“Newt, this isn’t your fault.”
“Not my fault? I killed her! Her body is in that bonfire because of me!”
“We can still fix this, Newt.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“We can.”
“No, we can’t. I’m done, Thomas. I can’t put you through this anymore. I’m done. We’re done.”
Newt threw his fist against the wall, causing more damage to his knuckles than the wood. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not when his future was sealed, again. No do-overs this time.
He hated that Thomas had used those words. We can still fix this. Bullshit. It didn’t work the first time, did it? Newt still turned. Newt was still stabbed. Yeah, he got the serum, but if last night was anything to go by, it hadn’t exactly done much good. His mind was still shucked.
Thomas’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Newt? Please, let me in. Let’s talk, okay? We’ve always been good at that.”
Newt didn’t answer. He remembered her walking up to him after everything had settled down, apologizing for her past mistakes. The mistakes that led to Newt’s fate. To her fate.
“I know what I did. I know how it hurt you. I’m sorry, for all of it. Minho’s capture was my fault and none of you deserved to go through what you did. I don’t expect you to trust me, that’s not what I’m asking. All I ask is that we…put it behind us. Start over. Please, forgive me, as much as you can. Let us be friends again.”
Newt collapsed onto his bed and buried his hands in his hair. A choked sob tore its way up from his throat, and the room spun.
Last night had been the point of no return. The boy Newt used to be, forged in the fires of the Scorch and the Maze, he was gone. Replaced by this cracked shell, with an equally cracked mind that would only destabilize the longer this went on.
No longer.
Thomas’s voice again. “Newt, please. I can’t…I can’t keep going without you, My life is nothing but a dark hole without you. You’re my sunshine, Newt. You always have been.”
Newt closed his eyes, a single tear falling.
“Please don’t take that sunshine away.”
Thomas, if only you knew. All suns are stars, and how do stars die?
With a bang.
Mint! (because Newt lmao) - let us be friends again (I have a feeling everyone might do this one? oops lol I'm a basic bitch)
Hey look! I’m doing these again!
This one…I struggled with this one. A lot. For a long time. This isn’t the original idea I had for it, and the original idea will likely never leave my Google Drive. But, here we are. The new version. And it turned out pretty okay, for all the pain it put people through.
The return of Newt writing poetry. Thank @comebacknow for helping me with the idea. Have fun suffering!
The letter sat in the corner.
He could hear everyone talking, going over the plan again and again. It had been three days since they’d joined up with Gally and Lawrence, and it felt like nothing was getting done. It reminded Newt of how long they’d spent planning the train heist.
The train heist that failed.
Newt tried not to think about that as he carefully rolled up the letter and slipped it into the necklace. Paper littered the small desk he’d been sitting at for about four hours now, discarded drafts scattered everywhere. One caught his eye; a near-blank piece of paper with barely four words scrawled across the top. Newt grabbed it and took the pen from behind his ear.
It had been months, years maybe, since Newt had last written poetry. He used to write it in the Glade, every day while he was healing. It gave him a way to say the things he felt he never could.
Into the beast, deep breaths we take
Words from the heart, but how do I sayAll I am thinking, all that I feelShaking in fear, just hope for the best
Wrested it was, the connection we sharedRight from our grasp, as if it never wereOne false move, a snip of the wireNow all is lost, perhaps foreverGuilt devours my innards, a monster within
Into the beast, no turning back
Another deep breath, calm the storm insideMistakes were made that run deeper than oceans
Should fate let us be friends againOn healed ground I pray we stand
So now here we are, finally face to faceOn my knees, my heart laid open toRight the wrongs I committed before youRain pouring down, tears, as I screamYes the doors are shut, but are they locked?
Newt wasn’t sure who he was writing to. Maybe it was Thomas, an apology for…something. For getting infected. For the arguments they’d had over the past few months. The things he said and the things he didn’t say.
Maybe it was to Winston, Jack, Alby, Chuck, Zart, and all the others they’d lost along the way. Apologizing for their deaths, their unnecessary deaths.
Maybe it was to himself. The part of him that was slipping trying to speak to the very core of his being. The Flare apologizing for what it was about to do to him.
Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was none of it.
Newt crumpled it up and ripped it to pieces.
Primrose - I can’t live without you
Back on the angst train, woot woot!
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Wow. Newt wasn’t even awake for two minutes and Minho had already decided to yell at him. Bloody hell, he could barely see clearly, give a guy a damn break.
The spike of pain that shot up his leg told him he already had.
“Do you have to be so loud?” Newt groaned as he blinked the world into focus. He braced his hands on either side and tried to push himself up. The world instantly fell out of focus again and he pitched sideways.
Minho acted fast, catching Newt and laying him back against the pillow. Had it always been that soft? “You dumb shank, stay down. You’re gonna make that leg worse.”
Newt sighed and brought a hand to his head, wincing at the sting. He felt bandages; he must have hit his head when he fell.
Silence engulfed the room as Newt took in his surroundings. He was in the med hut, in one of the side rooms separated from the main area by a ratty curtain. For long term stay. Memories of last night came flooding back―did it even happen last night? How long had he been out? He remembered Minho finding him, remembered getting pulled onto the Runner’s back and carried back to the Glade. He remembered laying on a cot, someone pouring a jar of Gally’s brew carefully down his throat. Mumbled words about swelling, broken bones, if he’d ever walk again. Panic briefly gripped his heart as the word amputation jumped into his mind; he’d nearly needed a limb chopped off.
He would rather be torn apart by Grievers.
“How could you do this?”
Newt turned his attention away from his thoughts and instead focused on Minho. His eyes were veined in red, moist and shining with unshed tears. The remains of tear tracks glistened on his cheeks. Most of what had been said in the Maze was lost to pain, but Newt had retained just enough clarity to remember that Minho knew. He knew. Did anyone else?
Newt didn’t respond to Minho’s question and instead stared blankly at his hands, watching his fingers twist around each other. A nervous habit. One of his wrists was wrapped in a tight bandage, his pulse beating beneath it. A reminder that he was still here. Still alive. That he failed.
A choked sob found its way up his throat and Newt clenched his eyes shut to try and block the tears. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I couldn’t take it anymore. We’re trapped here, Minho. We’re prisoners. This, this isn’t…it’s no life to live, it’s not worth it. We’re just rats in a cage, put in here to serve whatever purpose the bloody Creators decide. We’re barely human.”
He stiffened at the feeling of Minho’s hand on his cheek, wiping a stray tear that dared to fall down his face. When had he started crying?
“We are human, Newt,” Minho all but whispered. He pulled Newt close to him, wrapped him in his arms. “You’re right, we don’t belong here. But ending your life? Bullshit. That won’t show the Creators shit. We need you here, Newt. I need you. You’re my best friend. I can’t live without you.”
With his face tucked against Minho’s chest, enveloped in strong arms, hidden away from everything he hated, Newt broke.
Send me a flower prompt and I’ll write a Newt-centric drabblehttps://redknowsallthequotes.tumblr.com/post/173781358529/flower-prompts
Queen of the Meadows - Uselessness
Okay so a few of us in the discord have certain headcanons on how exactly movieverse!Newt’s leg was broke and I accept them as my own personal canon so…yeah Newt’s hurt pretty bad here and since the Gladers aren’t exactly doctors, it’s gonna take him a lot longer to heal than it probably would in a hospital with proper medical care. Sorry (totally not sorry)
Useless.
Useless.
That’s all he is now. Completely and utterly useless.
Three Greenies have come up since his “accident,” as the Gladers called it, and the fourth was due in a week and a half. The Glade was running normally: animals were raised and slaughtered, vegetables and fruits were grown and picked, Runners left and returned and recorded their findings, the newest Greenie was finding his niche.
And Newt couldn’t even walk on his own.
He hated it. All he could do was lie in bed and talk to people. He told Gally a month ago to bring him some small stuff he could work on, like repairing weapons or gardening tools, but that had stopped within a week because apparently Minho had told everyone Newt was not to be left alone with sharp objects under any circumstances.
Bloody shuck-faced son of a bitch.
He couldn’t live like this. He was just another mouth to feed now. He couldn’t contribute. He could just lay here and do fucking nothing.
Useless.
He should have died. Minho should have left him there. At least then they wouldn’t be wasting resources on him. Resources they could save for people who needed it.
Who wanted it.
Newt didn’t.
All he wanted was what he was denied.
Send me a flower prompt and I’ll write a Newt-centric drabblehttps://redknowsallthequotes.tumblr.com/post/173781358529/flower-prompts