Imagine being one of the gladers in the scorch bunkrooms when they’re all finding their tattoos and you see yours and you haven’t got one of those tags like “the leader” “the glue” like oh yeah great i’m stuck in hell on earth and now i’ve been assigned irrelevant by WICKED
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i do love how observant/perceptive/locked in, if you will, newt is throughout the series. gonna talk more about the books here btw. in the first book, he catches on quick (and often first) to pretty much all of thomas' ideas, be that the sacrifice plan, the scissors and the paper, or when thomas wakes up after being stung and newt says he knows why he did it. and knowing when to jump in when alby’s introducing thomas to the glade, or when to back down during gatherings when he’s made too many jibes at gally — he’s good at reading the room or recognising when he’s perhaps gone too far (i swear that interaction w/ gally happens, i don’t remember very well whoops). in the scorch trials, he's instantly locked in — part of his second line is literally, "we need to [...], have a gathering." he questions aris intently, defers the leadership role to minho because he thinks he'll work better, applies the logic of the glade to the new scenario in an attempt to make sense of it. he's perceptive when he catches on to thomas not wanting to talk anymore, and says he'll leave him alone — thomas didn’t express wanting to be left alone, he kept talking to newt actually, but newt caught on anyway. he's often the one to break thomas out of his thoughts, or to notice that he isn't okay (there’s i think a few instances of this in tfc & tmr/tst whenever thomas is weirded out by teresa/aris talking in his head). and he remembered where the light switches were in the dark, heard the metal-ball-that's-actually-someone's-head and where it rolled to, once again in pitch black. and in the death cure, he's the one that picked up on the dust patterns in the weapon storage room. also, the fact that he leaves the storage room and finds paper and a pen with ease to write his note implies that he probably noticed it on the way, or otherwise found it incredibly quickly. he also clocks a beetle blade that is watching them — "that beetle blade's watching every bloody thing we do." and, mind you, he was flaring up in the last 3 instances. and in the final fight with thomas, he catches on to thomas reaching for the gun (i think? my memory of this is honestly quite hazy). and then just all the stuff i’ve said before about him seeming to have a very quick reaction speed (and an addition to it, him instantly bursting into the room in tmr when alby started strangling himself, although i do believe he was probably just waiting right outside the door anyway) all adds to how locked in he is. also his consistent questioning of authority (i have zero recollection of what he says, i just know he does) also demonstrates his natural suspicion & how he’s reading into what they’re saying, what they’re missing out/glossing over, etc. this man is so locked in.
What do people think Alby did before he was elected leader? Because he's said to have only recently become the leader once Thomas comes up (Newt calls him the "new leader") so was he just second-in-command to Nick until he died? Or otherwise he must've had some sort of authority in order to have then been made leader, so then was he a Keeper? Of what? Or was he a runner with Newt and Minho?? I haven't read the books in a while so if there are actual answers to this already then my bad, otherwise if anyone just has any thoughts I would be very interested in hearing!!
I think he was Nick's second in command, and the whole 'leader' thing is kind of 'inherited'? lol, as in, once first in command is gone, second in command takes charge. We kind of see this in TMR when Alby is going through the changing, as Newt is immediately referred to as the leader in the meantime, even though he makes it very obvious he doesn't enjoy it lol. This is also kind of alluded to in TST, when Newt insists Minho become the new leader and Minho at first refuses to because 'Newt is their leader'. Because of that I think it's not a reach to think that Alby must have been Nick's second in command.
Me and friend of my life Pillow also have the hc that Alby is the keeper of the baggers, this just kind of makes sense with the role he takes in the Glade (other than handling corpses, Zart refers to the baggers as kind of the 'police' of the Glade iirc).
Though I will admit this also comes from a nalby fic I read where when I saw that I thought FUCK THAT'S GENIUS... (The fic is 'The Keeper's Keeper' by ohhaypsy, it's a pretty cute fic and I think the only multichapter nalby fic on ao3 lmao).
Also I personally don't think he was a runner because that's never even implied about him. Obviously since he was one of the first to arrive at the Glade he most likely went out into the maze before the events of the 1st book, I just don't think it's likely he was a runner. Plus I think him being a runner kind of takes away some of the emotional impact that him going into the maze to save Newt has. Shrugs.
Moving on from that, I think most people in the fandom generally agree he was Nick's second in command before Thomas showed up. Kind of a toss up on what he could be a keeper of though.
Ooh this is very interesting thank you!! I did word it kinda poorly my bad, i already figured Alby was probably Nick’s second, and yeah it’s something i find really interesting about Newt to see how much he disliked being given the leader role (likely partly because of what him “inheriting” it meant — something happening to Alby — and even despite him being well-respected and also good at it even with his stress, i think) and to think about how Alby obviously trusted Newt with the role a lot even if Newt was reluctant to accept it, he clearly believed in Newt despite Newt doubting himself/not wanting to. I swear Newt even tries to protest it at a point I think in TMR book?
The bit about him being the keeper of the baggers!! This is what i was meaning to ask about in my post 😅 cause i was thinking to have become second in command, he must’ve had some kind of authority role beforehand, and yeah i think that role makes sense? Especially considering what someone else brought up in TFC with how he was the one to take action with George being stung, it kinda fits together there I reckon? I have absolutely zero memory of anything about Zart aside from him being the keeper of the trackhoes & Newt calling him “zart the fart”, so i will take your word for it, it definitely makes the idea of Alby being the prior keeper of the baggers more likely if that’s what the role entailed, considering his and Newt’s insistence on order. And also his interaction with a stung Ben in the woods w/ the bow and arrow? His readiness to deal with that scenario (and also his ability to shoot ben but not kill him, if that was intentional i forgot?) could also imply further experience with the stung?
And yeah I agree it’s a lot more impactful for Alby to have not been a runner regarding Newt, as well as when he agrees to go with Minho to investigate the “dead” griever – demonstrates how deeply he cares, as well as with Minho his commitment to being the leader, willing to take a risk for the team & also be there onsite for whatever the mystery holds, if that makes sense.
I rambled a bit there so sorry if it’s incoherent, but keeper of the baggers is a really cool idea & i think i shall be taking it for myself lol thank youu!!!
What do people think Alby did before he was elected leader? Because he's said to have only recently become the leader once Thomas comes up (Newt calls him the "new leader") so was he just second-in-command to Nick until he died? Or otherwise he must've had some sort of authority in order to have then been made leader, so then was he a Keeper? Of what? Or was he a runner with Newt and Minho?? I haven't read the books in a while so if there are actual answers to this already then my bad, otherwise if anyone just has any thoughts I would be very interested in hearing!!
What do people think Alby did before he was elected leader? Because he's said to have only recently become the leader once Thomas comes up (Newt calls him the "new leader") so was he just second-in-command to Nick until he died? Or otherwise he must've had some sort of authority in order to have then been made leader, so then was he a Keeper? Of what? Or was he a runner with Newt and Minho?? I haven't read the books in a while so if there are actual answers to this already then my bad, otherwise if anyone just has any thoughts I would be very interested in hearing!!
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That awkward moment when you’re watching your friends through one of the beetle blades so you can hang out with them vicariously but then they break the fourth wall…
I redid Minho’s face AND hair about 50 william times and he still doesn’t look great so I’m sorry Minho I WILL get better at drawing you. He kinda just looks like he’s mewing or mogging idk. Also I seriously don’t know if I’ve ever drawn someone with their arms folded or on their hips beyond stickmen before so forgive the dodgy poses.
It’s been a year since my first post on here so here’s a little compilation of some art including a repost of the collage-y thing (first two pics) which was my first ever post! Just felt like i should post for 1 year and these are the things I’ve put the most effort into — except maybe that one post I did comparing Newt and Jackie Taylor from yellowjackets, cause I was thinking about that one for a while. My bad for disappearing, thank you so much everyone who interacts with me and says kind things, I always appreciate it and it inspires me to keep making/writing more :)
Me talking about/explaining the art below the cut vvvvvvvvvvv
First two pics are one of my favourite collages I’ve ever made (they’re typically the art style I go for because I’m not too great at drawing), I really liked all the little quotes and references I managed to fit in, BUT (and I said this on the OG post), if I were to do it again I’d get rid of the “kill me” note, because everything else was TMR-based but that’s from TDC. Doesn’t matter much but it did irk me once I realised.
Second two I’ve also posted before and I just added them to this because I really liked them (and also forgot I did them lol). It’s Newt and Thomas post-maze escape but also as animal crossing characters, so they’re all bloody and bruised, although tbf not much actually. I made Newt’s eye be bruised because of when Gally hits him with that wooden plank in the homestead, but THEN I remembered Gally hits him on the head, but I still like the way it looks.
Err then I THINK the smaller collage is the first thing I made for tmr…? This or the bigger one. Never posted it, and honestly forgot I did it because I lost that notebook for ages and only dug it out recently, but I think it’s cool. I cut up the boxset thingy that all my books had been in to get the little runner things as well as the title, thought it was quite cool.
The big circle maze is my profile picture!! Dunno why I added those random big rooms, but I remember drawing a circular maze to be very irritating. But I mean it became my pfp so I guess that means I like it!
And the last one, the lyrics are from two songs (scar tissue - RHCP, and runaway runaway - mars argo) — top one was just a random drawing I did to lyrics because I thought they kinda fit Newt because he’s always sarcastic and chirps in with his acute observations and all that, also did the movie-flare arm. Then the bottom one was meant to be Newt with the flare but it’s a bit unclear, still think the writing is kinda cool tho. Also movie-flare cause it’s interesting to draw. The lyrics reminded me of the flare, of the disorientation it makes people feel, and then the feeling of “letting yourself go” because it’s “predictable” relating to how in the books there was no cure, so things were predictable in the sense of being inevitable as people then knew they’d just slowly lose themselves until death. I’m not a massive fan of either of these though but I liked the colours in the second.
And if anyone’s interested I will shamelessly link it because I felt like a mad scientist drawing all the connections: my newt&jackie post. Also I haven’t written about it but I now have added Neil Perry from DPS to this roster (this genre of character in my head).
Ahh why not I’m gonna link some of my other posts I liked:
Ramble about Newt
Another Yellowjackets-maze runner characters comparison
Ramble about Newt #2 whoops
Ramble about Newt lucky #3 - about his journal
TMR art meme I did
MASSIVE song-TMR ramble I did
Mitski songs/TMR - it’s not on that one, but it was a continuation of a post i did about “brand new city” by mitski SEVERELY reminding me of newt w/ the flare, lyrically and instrumentally.
If you check them out, thank you and I hope you enjoy!! And sorry for again disappearing, I have billions of drafts about millions of things and I’m always thinking about maze runner and yellowjackets and other stuff I’ve not even mentioned on here but yeah. Here is this!
actually getting so sad over newt and sonya, because. imagine being sonya, post-swipe, getting out of that procedure and realising your brother had been right there. you were stood, in the room, as it was announced that he had the flare - and in the moment, you were passingly sorry. because you didn’t know him, not really. you had friends from your maze on that list to worry about. but then suddenly it was your brother, who used to sneak around at night to come and see you, who you used to hug and comfort when he cried about how it wasn’t fair. and you realise you’ve been walking alongside him for days, probably exchanged words with him, maybe even casually noticed that you talk a bit similar, and you didn’t even know it. and when you all escape from the WICKED facility, you have to live with the fact that he’s not there with you - you think he’s already gone, even. and then finally his friends turn up, thomas and minho, but he’s not there. what else can you do but assume the worst? that’s so. this has definitely been said a BILLION times before, and i'm literally just stating the obvious i fear, but for some reason i’m thinking about it extra hard right now and it’s making me extra sad.
This is probs common knowledge, but i've always considered Newt to have one of the quickest reaction speeds amongst the gladers. it makes sense, considering he used to be a runner, but there's plenty of examples of it throughout both book and film series. he reacts to Thomas shouting at him that the doors are shutting pretty much instantly in the books, and almost catches Thomas' shirt when he runs into the maze in the films. there's the bit in the books where they're all hiding from the grievers in the homestead and Newt is the first up when he hears a noise, as well as the first to run to Gally when he starts pulling the planks off of the windows. he's also, as far as i remember, typically the FIRST person to reach thomas whenever he collapses throughout the series - the griever sting, when he's shot in TST book, when Ben tackles him in the films and Newt also then knocks Ben out quick, too. in tdc book he also grabs ratman at one point and shoves him against the door before he can finish a sentence, or react. and when he punches Minho in the face, it's described as "quick as a striking snake." he's quick!!
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this is a hate message to Newt The Maze Runner. to my own severe detriment, you are my favourite character and for SOME reason i find it endlessly interesting to think about you and come up with my own interpretation of your character. i hope you can understand that this is not a good thing for me. because, unfortunately, instead of doing something more productive with my time, like, idk. ANYTHING else. i find myself typing away about how this one thing you did in the books was really interesting and here's why. or about how i noticed this pattern of behaviour you had and that it leads me to give you this particular personality trait in my head. et cetera. do you understand the problem. get out of my head. i don't even know how or why or when you made yourself at home in there but i do know that you aren't paying rent. thanks that's all, have a good one lad. honestly you need it with the life you're living.
Haven’t posted in AGES but I wanted to but none of my drafts felt good so I’ve pulled this out of my docs - another bit of fanfic writing I did maybe a month ago? It’s not the best, and I’ve tacked on an ending because it never actually had one, but it was something I kept thinking about.
Book-verse based - Newt lives, so does Keisha, they reunite in the Safe Haven!! Because found family ftw and I miss them. Literally just them seeing each other and talking.
Warnings for references to violence and a general quite sad vibe!!
word count: 922
The boy standing in front of her now is not at all the boy she had left, and yet it’s him all the same. Long, gangly limbs, sharp edges and jutted jaw and brows pinched together tight above his pointed nose. Big, brown eyes, round and searching and seeing. A giant sap of a boy, if she’d ever seen one.
Traces of sickness remain, his once-long, blonde hair now growing out and curling under his ears from where it had likely been chopped to the scalp - she hopes it doesn’t mean what she thinks it might; before she’d left him, before she’d let him leave her, he’d tugged and twisted at the already tangled strands. He used to clench his fingers right at the roots when he started forgetting, as if he could pull the memories straight out of his head, no matter if hair came with it. He must have given into the urge eventually, and lord only knows what others.
But he is here, now, living and breathing. Newt, the boy who saved her life, Dante’s, Jackie’s, her brother’s. How they both ended up here on this nowhere island, alive and well, Keisha doesn’t know, but she’s had enough miracles in her life by now to know that she shouldn’t waste them in questioning.
‘Newt…’ she breathes out.
There’s an equally gasped, ‘Keisha,’ and then she’s off of her feet, swept up into the air as the impossible boy crashes into her with a hug. He’s miles taller than her, seemingly more so than he was when they parted - Keisha finds herself bursting out into a wet laugh. Wrapping her arms as tight around him as she can, she buries her face in his shoulder.
Newt spins her around once, muttering, ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,’ under his breath. Then he’s laughing, too, and Keisha pulls away the second she’s back on the ground to get a closer look at him. She grabs at his cheeks, tilting his face this way and that and his face flickers into a bright smile, tears making tracks down his face.
‘Oh, look how you’ve grown. And look at that smile, oh, you lovely boy. I knew it. I don’t know how, but I knew you’d be alright. I did.’
Newt bats her hands away with another chuckle, but then he’s choking on a sob and pulling her close again, tucking her into his chest. ‘I looked for you, Keisha, as soon as I could, I looked, I swear it, I looked everywhere, but I thought that-‘
‘It’s okay. I believe you. We’re here now,’ Keisha affirms. She rubs a hand up and down his spine soothingly as he clutches at her. ‘It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re alright.’
He shivers in her grasp, holding her impossibly tighter. But then he pulls away, the bright sun shining in his wide eyes as they scan over her like searchlights, the tears on his cheeks gleaming. ‘Are you okay? How are you even…’ Newt trails off, mouth hanging open as he shakes his head slowly.
‘I never had the Flare,’ she says quickly; Newt had always preferred direct answers, and Keisha’s never liked dancing around the truth. ‘When you left, we found a house and lived in the basement for a few days, and nothing happened. Nothing changed, I don’t know how. And so we decided to keep moving until we set up base in some abandoned trailer park. Then some of your guys came along one day, looking for supplies, I suppose. They saw we were clean, and they told us about this place, and they took us in.’
Newt lets out a stuttered breath, a smile fighting at the corners of his lips. ‘...You’re immune? Oh, Keisha, that’s-’ But then he frowns, eyes gleaming with hope. ‘“They took us in”? Dante and Jackie, they’re…?’
‘They’re in one of the med huts, along with my brother. Doc says they’re malnourished and exhausted - I hardly think they needed a diagnosis for that. But they’re safe now, we all are.’
‘You found your brother?’
Keisha can’t stop the way her smile and hands tighten, brows furrowing sympathetically. It makes sense, after all, that he’d question it. The boy was hardly there by the end of it. ‘Yes, I did. You helped us, Newt. You brought us to him.’
‘Oh.’ Newt blinks a few times. He ducks his head, jaw clenching, gaze distant but darting this way and that as his face scrunches, no doubt digging to find the memories the Flare buried. ‘I don’t… Sorry.’
Ignoring the way her heart squeezes, Keisha shakes her head firmly. ‘No, no, you’ve nothing to be sorry for, love. You can meet him again, properly this time, can’t you?’
He nods, but the smile he tries to give her is nothing more than a flat line.
‘We’re all here, and we’re all okay, that’s what matters now, yeah?’ Keisha says, nudging him. Newt nods somberly, so she nudges him again for good measure. ‘Yeah?’
That gets a little laugh out of the kid. Good. ‘Yeah, yes. We’re okay. You’re okay.’ Newt squeezes her shoulder in return, and his smile finally grows stronger. ‘Can I go see them?’
‘You don’t even have to ask - hell, I’ll drag you there myself. Dante’s been missing you, y’know.’
Then Keisha promptly grabs his arm and pulls him along to the med huts, interrogating him all the way as he laughs along. After all, there’s a lot to catch up on - and, apparently, a lot of people for Keisha to meet, too.
—————
This is quite possibly intensely out of character - almost definitely for Keisha, when writing i kinda just freewheeled it - but i wanted to post something, so this is it! keisha mothering/being an older sister over newt for like 900 words. and i need to post more writing so i feel less scared about it. it was so messy to format because somehow i managed to paste it here THREE TIMES, WITHIN itself, so there was lots of deleting to be done. it definitely doesn’t make sense plot-wise either i fear… oh well. summary is, i don’t know how i feel about it but i’m posting it.
Merry Christmas if you celebrate and hope everyone’s having good holidays & a happy new year!!!!
editing the post to say, if anyone’s interested, i’m realising my keisha characterisation here may have been accidentally inspired by jackie tyler from doctor who lmao 😭😭 i just remember her doting over the doctor at one point and going “oh, look at you! you lovely boy!” or something. or she was saying that to someone anyway… i can hear it in my head lol
also i swear keisha being immune is hinted at in crank palace by the end of it… if not then uhhh well now she is!
yknow what, here’s some writing i did possibly 2 years ago or something stupid, of newt waking up in the scorch trials compound and looking in the mirror. it’s all quite tell-not-show, but i liked some bits of it. i also dislike some parts, but i've decided not to edit it before posting. i think i was trying to practice like facial/general descriptive writing and it became this? i don't remember.
warnings: mentions of violence/death, uhh just 1400 words of newt having a Bad Time™
word count: 1399
Newt couldn’t sleep. They’d escaped the Maze a mere few hours ago, and he was exhausted. But he still couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in the dark bunk room only brought him more troubles, as his mind kept feeding him new guilts and fears to worry over.
For a while, he just laid there. Flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Nothing happened. No matter how much his gut twisted, telling him they were all in danger, or how much his rationality urged that they’d finally gotten out… Nothing happened. Newt wasn’t sure if he was free or blind anymore.
Alby ran through his head, screaming and crying for help, and Newt couldn’t do anything for him. He could try to follow, try to save him from harm, but it was far too late. It had already happened. And Alby was dead and gone.
Chuck sat there too, in his head. Curled up in a corner, crying but quiet. Newt couldn’t even approach him. The boy was out of reach. Sweet, innocent Chuck was gone too.
There were several others: Zart, Nick, Boyle, Xander, Wyck, Clint, Jeff, more. Gone. Just like that. As if they’d never been there. Newt tried to reach them, calling out and grabbing for them, but the fabric of their shirts melted to thick, warm, crimson blood in his hands, snaking over his palms and up his arms, cascading between his fingers, pooling onto the cold stone floor of his mind.
Gasping, Newt shot up, clamping a hand to his mouth, gripping at the neckline of his shirt with the other. He felt his chest heave, taking wheezing, choked breaths. The abundance of air he breathed in was nowhere near enough; he felt like he was suffocating, making his throat raw and dry. It was as if Newt were an hourglass, the sand relentlessly pouring down his throat and into his lungs, burying his breath, ticking down the seconds to peril. He had to move.
Swallowing roughly, Newt released himself from his own frightened, tightened hands and pushed himself forwards. He climbed down the ladder, muscles aching and joints clicking with each step he lowered himself down. His arms shook violently, struggling to hold his weight, and his bad leg in particular hurt the most. But he landed carefully on the ground, then tiptoed away from his friends, towards the bathroom.
The door creaked as he eased it open, and Newt didn’t waste a second in pulling it shut behind him. The sound of his raspy breaths filled the air around him, making the darkness feel like it was closing in. Quickly, Newt flicked on the light.
The room was swiftly illuminated with a dim glow. He had to blink a bit to adjust, and the irritating buzz of the electric bulbs added an unpleasant layer of noise that he wished he could tune out. Still; it was better than silence. Silence meant that his thoughts were the only thing to accompany him.
Knees wobbling, limp worse than ever, Newt slowly moved to the sink. He leant his weight against it, grasp on the sides tightening as he held himself upright. Panting, he regained his breath. With each new intake and exhale, the faint whistling of his nose fought against the choking of his throat to be heard. He just needed to breathe. He just needed to think about literally anything else. Newt let his eyes trace over his hands.
The skin was dry, cracked and pale. Blue veins stretched across the skin, and slender bones stuck out and strained beneath his scraped, white knuckles. His nails - god, his nails - were cracked and split and gnawed to death, dry blood and dirt still trapped under them despite the shower, surrounded by flaking dead skin that he’d bitten time and time again despite Alby telling him not to.
He should’ve listened. He should’ve done something. He should have done something to help Alby, something to save him-
No, Newt told himself. You tried that, and Thomas stopped you. Thomas saved you. If you kept going, you would have died, and what sort of leader would you be then?
The recurring memory of Alby being torn to shreds just mere hours ago made his eyes sting. Newt squeezed them shut. He did not want to cry. Not because he thought it was weak, or pathetic, or because he thought someone might walk in. He didn’t want to cry because, if he started, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.
Letting out a long, cold blow of air, Newt lifted his head up. He willed himself to peel his eyes open again. And he was met with a face.
Newt had never much looked at his own face. He couldn’t really, in the Glade. Best glimpses anyone got of their reflection were in the grubby glass of the Maze window, or a distorted one in the metal spoons they ate from. And he’d avoided it like the plague in the small, steamed-up mirror in the showers. But Newt had never particularly wanted to see it anyway. He didn’t care for it, and he knew it was better that way. He hardly needed to fuss about his hair on top of all his other stacked up jobs.
But now, now he had a clean, clear mirror in front of him, confronting him with an image of a boy. Newt had expected to see a withered man, but no. Staring back at him was a tired, sad, lonely boy.
The boy’s hair was sprawled across his head, thin, coloured like straw. It looked messy enough to be straw. Some of the longer strands were tangled together, and smaller hairs stuck up and out, like he’d been electrocuted. His forehead was creased with lines, deep trenches engraved across the pale skin. An ugly lump from when Gally had knocked him out still sat there prominently above the boy’s left eyebrow, a few extra shades green and brown than the rest of his face. His brows were furrowed. One of them had gained a slit through it. If Newt didn’t know how the boy had gotten it, he might have thought it looked cool. But below them, the boy’s drained, hollow eyes had sunken back into his face, drooping with nauseatingly purple eye bags. A faint memory of those fictional monsters, vampires, crossed his mind, but he shook it away. His eyes were wet now too, and fresh tears had begun to make tracks between shadows on his boney, sallow cheeks, stinging cuts and scratches. His mouth was fixed in a frown, chapped and chewed lips downturned, and his bruised chin wobbled violently. Turning his head, his jaw looked angular enough to sharpen a knife.
Newt tried to smile. The boy in the mirror just looked dead. Steadying himself on his feet, Newt tried to pull his lips up, his skin feeling rough and cold. But the mirror showed him the truth. There was no smile there. No real one.
He felt much older than he looked. And the boy did look older, what with all the scars and stress lines. But, as sickening as it was, he was that boy. That was his face in the mirror. He barely even recognised himself anymore.
Gut twisting, Newt let himself lean into the sink, clinging on as his head hung low. His hands began to swirl and bulge in front of him, and he felt the world turn beneath his feet. A lump grew in his throat. He tightened his grip on the ceramic sink once again and shut his eyes, willing himself not to-
He threw up. It made his throat burn and his eyes sting and his stomach did somersaults inside of him. His heart was beating so violently it throbbed in his ears, like a poor drummer struggling to keep time with the sprinting marching band that was his mind and body.
Reaching out a hand, Newt fumbled for the tap and turned it on, forcing himself to focus on the rush of the water as it washed away his vomit. He splashed some of the water on his face and let it dribble down his cheeks, icy and unforgiving. But he couldn’t take it. Everything that had happened in the last week had caught up with him and pushed him face-first into a bottomless pit.
This is FREAKISHLY good. Holy shit. I’m very very very impressed in fact give me ur skills please and thank you. I want to know what happens nextttttt. Perhaps Thomas finds him? Supports him? Holds him?
One of my fav bits was when he tried to smile 🥺 that alone says so much.
Also the “withered man” in comparison to “tired, sad, lonely boy” is just so well-done—also heartbreaking don’t u worry
AHH thank you so much!! i do actually have two different continuations in my notes (also from ages ago), neither of which are finished, but you're pretty much spot on - one was of thomas and minho finding him, one was of just thomas finding him. i'll give them a reread and see if i maybe wanna post them as well if you're interested? or finish them, so i'm not just posting half a conversation lmao. no promises though because i might completely hate them💔but seriously, thank you so much for the kind words!! i really appreciate this because i was nervous to post :)
newt maze runner and jackie taylor yellowjackets are similar to me. and this is me talking about it because it's stuck in my head
this is more focused on book newt instead of film newt btw, and also will feature SPOILERS for both medias. so don't read if u don't want them!! also mentions of violence, generally depressing themes, etc.
firstly, they're both put into positions of leadership that they don't exactly want, or understand why they have - jackie is given team captain, and her coach blatantly says she is not the strongest member of the team, she has been chosen because people listen to her, and she can "guide" them - she brings them together. newt is the same, given second-in-command by alby, and then alby hands him the leader role and he blatantly dislikes it, in fact almost protests when he thinks it's happening earlier on (unless my memory fails me). then, of course, newt is literally dubbed "the glue" by wicked because he holds the gladers together, but he's also a control subject - so in specifically that regard, he's considered weaker than the rest of them because he's not immune. like jackie is not one of the strongest members of the team play-wise.
but despite being able to keep people together, motivating others and guiding them, being looked up to... neither of them have much motivation themselves. after escaping the maze, newt's energy slowly dissipates throughout the rest of the series as he loses hope. he goes from being determined to find a way out in the bunk rooms to giving thomas nothing more than a "hey, tommy," after he'd been missing for days and offering a few ideas - then in the death cure, he's slowly overcome by the flare. jackie motivates everyone on the team to keep going once they're stuck in the wilderness, but can't find herself putting in proper effort to survive - she doesn't get it, can't adapt. they both sort of just go through the motions, can't wait for it to be over.
they both lack a sense of belonging. jackie, as previously stated, struggles to adapt to the wilderness, and some of the other girls hold a grudge against her because she isn't pulling her weight. but even pre-crash, she's clearly unhappy with her life, if her opening scene is anything to go by - she fakes pleasure with her boyfriend then stares into her mirror looking miserable. and we know newt hated the glade, he says it himself, and he attempted. then he spends the rest of the series without finding a belonging, especially once he makes an outcast of himself upon finding out he's got the flare, pretty much considering himself dead immediately. they struggle to connect with the people they're with because of it, i think, because jackie doesn't understand how they've all managed to adapt to the wilderness and speaks out against it which isolates her even further, and newt is consistently reminded that he's not like his friends - throughout the series, all the books, he's outcast - fever code prologue, he's called "the other one", later, "that one's not immune," and also "that means you, newt" from alby. death cure he's "a control subject", and crank palace, one of the guards calls him "collateral". and once he's got the flare, he drifts away from the newt his friends knew anyway, because he's losing himself.
and yet they both help others find purpose despite this, as i said - jackie holds the doomcoming, the seance. newt encourages alby and other gladers to leave the maze, tells them in the scorch bunkroom that there must be a reason for them being there.
they both appear to have a clear liking for and sense of order. newt literally has a monologue about order to thomas, talking about the importance of it in keeping the glade running. then this is reflected in his actions throughout the rest of the series, too, as he tries to keep the other gladers in line throughout, telling minho to shush when he keeps talking over the ratman in tst, offering to go with thomas to see teresa in that weird building, etc. he also tries to apply the glade logic to new situations - the glade has set his framework of how he thinks things should be run. he makes them have a gathering in the scorch bunkroom, tells thomas that there must be a purpose for them being there, like when they first arrived in the glade; he reassures thomas that something will happen. jackie is much the same - pre-crash, she gets them all to line up and compliment each other to get along. upon crashing, she mentions rationing food, holds firm on wanting to stay by the plane because waiting where they're expecting to be rescued makes more sense to her than going to the lake. she organises activities to keep spirits high, like with the seance and doomcoming. she also decides that she needs to lose her virginity, because, in her head, they're already stuck here waiting for death, so she needs to tick off all of these traditional life achievements. even pre-crash, she has both her and shauna's lives pretty much planned out down to dorm room details. they both seem to have quite rigid ideals of how things are supposed to go - and i think this is partly why they both struggle so much to adapt or find belonging, because it doesn't align with their perception of the world.
and following order, i think they both have very clear senses of right and wrong, justice, morality, etc. jackie is fervently against all of the wilderness stuff, calling the others out for what the girls did to travis the night of doomcoming and continues to stand up for it even when literally everyone else opposes her. newt is the same, against thomas' idea of sacrificing himself, when alby dies he expects the others to have pause and be as stricken as he is in the moment, and he’s firmly against wicked in the death cure.
leading off of that, personality wise: they can both be quite snarky and sarcastic, mean at times, snappy - but they're also extremely kind and look out for others, and people turn to the both of them for support, which they offer unconditionally. people look up to them. they're both extremely passionate, too. i think a lot of the time that the two of them get angry, it’s just because they care so much and that’s how it ends up being expressed.
then you could also say that they're both, in death, remembered differently to how they actually were. the jackie that haunts shauna is far meaner, more mocking and smug, a manifestation of shauna's own guilt. the other girls' last memory of her is her pretty much calling them all crazy and storming out. and newt's friends' most recent memories of him would be him infected with the flare, snapping at them and, in thomas' case, fighting them. then with "the book of newt", shared with the whole safe haven as some kind of relic, he's glorified into some kind of martyr, when in reality he was just a scared teenager fighting tooth and nail for a survival he didn't entirely want, until he realised he was doomed from the start. and jackie at the reunion is praised, her image shown on the screen like some kind of hero too, and even shauna says at an earlier point, "everyone loves you", but that's not how jackie really felt.
also, i just realised as i'm writing this - they both accept death as an impending inevitability for them. newt had already attempted, then upon finding out he had the flare, he presumed himself dead again already. jackie is the same, as after the hope for rescue is gone, she sees her pre-crash "mistakes" as "permanent", says they should "celebrate their impending death".
and then, final point: to me they're both gay and in love with one of their best friends, so. and newt is confirmed to be gay and jackie is implied to have some kind of feelings for shauna so...
now that i’ve written all this, do i know what i want to do with the information? no! but i love them both and i couldn't get it out of my head, so here we are.
if you think i’ve mischaracterised or have any additions, criticisms, thoughts, anything, i’d love to hear !! thank you for reading if you made it this far! :)
and if you’re interested, this was an extension of my jackie & newt paragraph from my other yellowjackets/maze runner post !!!!
yknow what, here’s some writing i did possibly 2 years ago or something stupid, of newt waking up in the scorch trials compound and looking in the mirror. it’s all quite tell-not-show, but i liked some bits of it. i also dislike some parts, but i've decided not to edit it before posting. i think i was trying to practice like facial/general descriptive writing and it became this? i don't remember.
warnings: mentions of violence/death, uhh just 1400 words of newt having a Bad Time™
word count: 1399
Newt couldn’t sleep. They’d escaped the Maze a mere few hours ago, and he was exhausted. But he still couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in the dark bunk room only brought him more troubles, as his mind kept feeding him new guilts and fears to worry over.
For a while, he just laid there. Flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Nothing happened. No matter how much his gut twisted, telling him they were all in danger, or how much his rationality urged that they’d finally gotten out… Nothing happened. Newt wasn’t sure if he was free or blind anymore.
Alby ran through his head, screaming and crying for help, and Newt couldn’t do anything for him. He could try to follow, try to save him from harm, but it was far too late. It had already happened. And Alby was dead and gone.
Chuck sat there too, in his head. Curled up in a corner, crying but quiet. Newt couldn’t even approach him. The boy was out of reach. Sweet, innocent Chuck was gone too.
There were several others: Zart, Nick, Boyle, Xander, Wyck, Clint, Jeff, more. Gone. Just like that. As if they’d never been there. Newt tried to reach them, calling out and grabbing for them, but the fabric of their shirts melted to thick, warm, crimson blood in his hands, snaking over his palms and up his arms, cascading between his fingers, pooling onto the cold stone floor of his mind.
Gasping, Newt shot up, clamping a hand to his mouth, gripping at the neckline of his shirt with the other. He felt his chest heave, taking wheezing, choked breaths. The abundance of air he breathed in was nowhere near enough; he felt like he was suffocating, making his throat raw and dry. It was as if Newt were an hourglass, the sand relentlessly pouring down his throat and into his lungs, burying his breath, ticking down the seconds to peril. He had to move.
Swallowing roughly, Newt released himself from his own frightened, tightened hands and pushed himself forwards. He climbed down the ladder, muscles aching and joints clicking with each step he lowered himself down. His arms shook violently, struggling to hold his weight, and his bad leg in particular hurt the most. But he landed carefully on the ground, then tiptoed away from his friends, towards the bathroom.
The door creaked as he eased it open, and Newt didn’t waste a second in pulling it shut behind him. The sound of his raspy breaths filled the air around him, making the darkness feel like it was closing in. Quickly, Newt flicked on the light.
The room was swiftly illuminated with a dim glow. He had to blink a bit to adjust, and the irritating buzz of the electric bulbs added an unpleasant layer of noise that he wished he could tune out. Still; it was better than silence. Silence meant that his thoughts were the only thing to accompany him.
Knees wobbling, limp worse than ever, Newt slowly moved to the sink. He leant his weight against it, grasp on the sides tightening as he held himself upright. Panting, he regained his breath. With each new intake and exhale, the faint whistling of his nose fought against the choking of his throat to be heard. He just needed to breathe. He just needed to think about literally anything else. Newt let his eyes trace over his hands.
The skin was dry, cracked and pale. Blue veins stretched across the skin, and slender bones stuck out and strained beneath his scraped, white knuckles. His nails - god, his nails - were cracked and split and gnawed to death, dry blood and dirt still trapped under them despite the shower, surrounded by flaking dead skin that he’d bitten time and time again despite Alby telling him not to.
He should’ve listened. He should’ve done something. He should have done something to help Alby, something to save him-
No, Newt told himself. You tried that, and Thomas stopped you. Thomas saved you. If you kept going, you would have died, and what sort of leader would you be then?
The recurring memory of Alby being torn to shreds just mere hours ago made his eyes sting. Newt squeezed them shut. He did not want to cry. Not because he thought it was weak, or pathetic, or because he thought someone might walk in. He didn’t want to cry because, if he started, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.
Letting out a long, cold blow of air, Newt lifted his head up. He willed himself to peel his eyes open again. And he was met with a face.
Newt had never much looked at his own face. He couldn’t really, in the Glade. Best glimpses anyone got of their reflection were in the grubby glass of the Maze window, or a distorted one in the metal spoons they ate from. And he’d avoided it like the plague in the small, steamed-up mirror in the showers. But Newt had never particularly wanted to see it anyway. He didn’t care for it, and he knew it was better that way. He hardly needed to fuss about his hair on top of all his other stacked up jobs.
But now, now he had a clean, clear mirror in front of him, confronting him with an image of a boy. Newt had expected to see a withered man, but no. Staring back at him was a tired, sad, lonely boy.
The boy’s hair was sprawled across his head, thin, coloured like straw. It looked messy enough to be straw. Some of the longer strands were tangled together, and smaller hairs stuck up and out, like he’d been electrocuted. His forehead was creased with lines, deep trenches engraved across the pale skin. An ugly lump from when Gally had knocked him out still sat there prominently above the boy’s left eyebrow, a few extra shades green and brown than the rest of his face. His brows were furrowed. One of them had gained a slit through it. If Newt didn’t know how the boy had gotten it, he might have thought it looked cool. But below them, the boy’s drained, hollow eyes had sunken back into his face, drooping with nauseatingly purple eye bags. A faint memory of those fictional monsters, vampires, crossed his mind, but he shook it away. His eyes were wet now too, and fresh tears had begun to make tracks between shadows on his boney, sallow cheeks, stinging cuts and scratches. His mouth was fixed in a frown, chapped and chewed lips downturned, and his bruised chin wobbled violently. Turning his head, his jaw looked angular enough to sharpen a knife.
Newt tried to smile. The boy in the mirror just looked dead. Steadying himself on his feet, Newt tried to pull his lips up, his skin feeling rough and cold. But the mirror showed him the truth. There was no smile there. No real one.
He felt much older than he looked. And the boy did look older, what with all the scars and stress lines. But, as sickening as it was, he was that boy. That was his face in the mirror. He barely even recognised himself anymore.
Gut twisting, Newt let himself lean into the sink, clinging on as his head hung low. His hands began to swirl and bulge in front of him, and he felt the world turn beneath his feet. A lump grew in his throat. He tightened his grip on the ceramic sink once again and shut his eyes, willing himself not to-
He threw up. It made his throat burn and his eyes sting and his stomach did somersaults inside of him. His heart was beating so violently it throbbed in his ears, like a poor drummer struggling to keep time with the sprinting marching band that was his mind and body.
Reaching out a hand, Newt fumbled for the tap and turned it on, forcing himself to focus on the rush of the water as it washed away his vomit. He splashed some of the water on his face and let it dribble down his cheeks, icy and unforgiving. But he couldn’t take it. Everything that had happened in the last week had caught up with him and pushed him face-first into a bottomless pit.
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found more random headlines, hope they haven’t been done before, and hope you enjoy!!
book newt reference slide 8… also i hope this doesn’t come off as teresa or gally hate cause i love them both !!! i just chose some for funsies cause they fit the scene out of context