#Hopefully these don't look grainy

[melodythebunny]

i like to think our oc would get along if they ever met and probably chat about their perspective Bills

Angie (the popcorn/j) belongs to me

Maeloraelis belongs to @nephalem-da

Hopefully I did her justice ^^

[russellsppttemplates]

helloooo! i have an idea for an imagine

what if charles & y/n where childhood friends and they always pretended to be married as kids (yk those games 😭😂) and then in the future they DO get married and one of their family members brings it up at the wedding and it's very funny but cute!

cw: mentions Charles' father

"We actually have a surprise for you", you mother said as she and Pascale looked at eachother before the guy in charge of the projector on the wall started playing a video. It was old, slightly grainy and you were not sure of what it was until it showed you and Charles.

"Why do we have to film it again, Y/N?", you heard your mother's voice as she focused the camera on you. You were wearing a pink dress and had some flowers on your hand, "Because me and Charles need to have this recorded for when we are older!", you smiled, "and what are you doing?", Charles' father's voice was heard, "we're getting married! Because Pascale and Hervé love eachother and they got married, mama and papa got married because they love eachother, so we are getting married, too!", you beamed.

Charles stood in the middle of the living room, Lorenzo taking the spot on his side as you walked closer to Charles. While Lorenzo was older than both of you, he went along, saying something about true love and how you were meant to be together. "Charles, do you have any vows?", he asked. "What are vows?", he asked, "it's like a promise you make to Y/N", he whispered back.

"Y/N", he began said confidently, "I promise to always love you, to show you all the beautiful things in life and to never leave you. Oh, and also to always share my food with you", he smiled.

"Charles", you followed, "I want you to know that you're the boy I love mostest in the world, and I'll always be by your side no matter what", you smiled, holding your hands in his.

"You can now kiss the bride!", Lorenzo announced as a shy six year old Charles kissed your cheeky sweetly before you hugged him, both of you smiling to the camera, "we're married!", Charles yelled, "Oh, we need to tell Pierre!", you chirped in.

"Oh my goodness!", Charles laughed while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes, joining your guests as they commented how sweet it all was.

"I love how, as soon as we got married, you just wanted to tell Pierre", Francisca pointed out, napkin in her hand as she carefully wiped around your eyes, not wanting to ruin her makeup, "he was Charles' best friend and he wasn't there, I think I was being very considerate of him, actually", you stated, "and I was still a little bit jealous that Charles had another best friend at this age, probably just wanted to flash him that I loved Charles the mostest".

"Well, they were good promises, and I intend to keep those, too", Charles said, holding your hand in his once again, kissing your knuckles.

"We don't have it in recording, but Charles made my late husband, who I know would love to be here and knew this day would happen, get them a chocolate cake so they could have a honeymoon! Don't worry, it was an age appropriate trip to the slides at the park!", Pascale chuckled. Pierre saw an opportunity and he took it, "hopefully your honeymoon this time around also has very exciting slides and other fun things!", he toasted, sipping from his drink as you hid your blushed face in your husband's neck.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[bi-writes]

i didn't have an amazing christmas this year so i projected this onto bestfriend!roommate!simon and im sorry about it but im also not sorry about it but i tried to end it nice

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 6/?)

cw: mature language and content, mentions of past trauma, mentions of unrequited love and lack of family, mentions of death and loneliness, allusions to violence

you waited for the ringing of the call to stop. you were seated on the couch, the laptop propped up in your lap as you stared at the screen hopefully. your heart skipped a beat when the ringing stopped, a circling loading screen popping up until a grainy video came through.

simon was seated in the dark; you guessed that he was hunkered down in his room, seated on his bunk. he had his skull mask on; the plate sewn onto a balaclava, eye-black hiding most of him in the void of the terrible quality video, and you tried not to notice the mysterious drops of something against the white of his mask.

"hey, simon," you greeted him, giving him a gentle smile. simon ran a gloved hand over his head, nodding.

"''ello, luv. i know the time is bad, if...if you want to head to bed, 's alright with me."

you scoffed, "you know that's not happening. i don't care what time it is here...i always want to talk to you."

he grunted lowly, looking away for a moment at something out of your view before looking back. you moved to go sit by the window, keeping the laptop propped up as you looked outside. you could see the soft lights lighting up the neighborhood; twinkling lights, mostly in red and green, sparkling between the soft snowfall that had began to fall against the pavement.

there was something so peaceful about the moment. you could see the wind pushing the snow at an angle as it fell, starting to add a fresh blanket of white to everything. if you squinted, you could see two people in the apartment across the street, trying to build a small bike in the early hours of the morning. one of them held papers, instructions you guessed, and the other held a screwdriver and was trying to fit the two back wheels onto a base.

"how are you?" you asked suddenly, looking back down at the laptop. "you look like shit."

simon laughed dryly, "you can't even see me."

"i know you," you laughed with him. "and i know that even through the shitty camera, you're worse for wear."

he hummed, looking down for a moment.

"i've had better days," was all he offered, and you swallowed hard, trying to look at him better.

"i miss you, simon."

you said it easily. you did miss him. he was so far away; you didn't know where he was, but you knew it was far. and he did not say when he would be coming back; you suspected he didn't even know himself when he would be.

"i miss you, too, luv."

you looked out the window again. you looked at the couple again, watching one of them take a few bites of some cookies that were laid out while the other had a few hearty gulps of the milk in the glass beside them. your eyes watered a little. their house looked...full. stockings hung over a dwindling fireplace, christmas tree lights giving the room a soft yellow glow, a mountain of presents gathered under a full tree of ornaments.

there was nothing in your apartment. no lights, no tree. you never liked to keep one; you had no one to buy presents for. and simon--this day only brought the wrong kind of feelings to the surface. feelings of torture, of unexpected discovery, of death and the stench of it which couldn't be covered by lighting evergreen candles or baking sugar cookies.

so much of the day surrounded family--of which you didn't have. no one to visit, no one to bring the wine while you cooked the ham, no one to hand you a gift and no one for you to give one to either. you had learned a long time that it was best not to dwell, but it was hard. it was hard when you looked across the street and saw people that had so much more of something. something that you desperately wanted, but couldn't be bought.

when you looked back down at the laptop, simon could see the tears in your eyes clear as day. your eyes were so glossy and wet, and he swallowed hard as he looked at your face, illuminated by the twinkling lights that were bright outside.

"sorry--" you whispered, reaching up and wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater. "sorry, i don't know why...i don't know what's wrong with me." you laughed it off, but simon could hear the pain in your voice. something aching and scratchy, something hollow.

"did...did you get what i sent?"

you looked up at him, frowning a little.

"sent? like...a package?"

"oh, christ, luv, don't tell me you haven't left the flat all day?"

you opened your mouth to respond, but you closed it, smiling shyly.

"just...go check outside. i can see it bloody snowing, go get it before it gets ruined."

you got up from your seat, going outside momentarily. when you came back inside, you had a wet box in your hands, and you set it down on the table as you when to go get something to cut the tape off. when you had opened the box, there was a smaller one inside, a nicely wrapped burgundy box that fit in your lap. you took a seat in front of the camera again, seeing simon's messy handwriting on the top of the box.

happy december 25th.

you laughed reading it, looking up at the camera after you reading the message.

"just another day, right?" he asked. you had new tears now, but they weren't sad. your heart was beating fast, making you take shaky, fast breaths, and you tried to smile, but it was hard.

"j-just another day," you whispered back to him. you took the top off the box, taking the tissue paper out to reveal a little plushie inside. it was a black teddy bear, but this one was unique. someone had fashioned a little skull mask of it out of felt, messily sewn fabric fit over the bear's face with the beady black eyes peeking out from the eyeholes--just like simon's. you picked up the bear, letting the box fall to the floor, and you tipped your head back as you tried to keep your tears inside. "simon--"

you and simon had never really gotten the chance to just be kids. to just be. to just enjoy and to receive something that didn't serve a purpose or a function, something unnecessary and trivial--something considered extra. because possessions were luxury, and you can't remember the last luxurious thing you had ever gotten.

"i know," he said lowly. "fuck, i--"

he pushed his own laptop down, and the camera tilted so you could only see his lower half. you watched him lose a bit of control, more tears coming down your face as you held your breath. simon cleared his throat loudly, ringing his hands together nervously before he picked the camera back up to his face.

"i'm getting the next fuckin' plane out of here, y'hear me?"

you brought the bear to your chest, hugging it gently before nodding. you wondered if this was why he had gotten you something like this--something to hold onto when he was gone. something to remind. something that would make you remember in the simon-shaped void you seemed to dwell in all too often.

"okay."

you had spent many december 25ths without him. you had spent many december 25ths right here, on a lonely windowsill, watching through the windows of lives that you wished you were living. this loneliness was not new--but now the loneliness was shared, and it hurt to share it.

you fell asleep there, watching glittering lights between the snowfall and holding the bear to your heart. the laptop went dark after awhile, and you slept there by the windowsill, wondering if anyone looked in and wanted to live this life instead.

the empty, quiet life of nothingness and bad dreams.

but it was something warm that woke you. a familiar hand, cradling the back of your head, whispering against your hair.

his breath was shaky. sucking in with difficulty, and then breathing out in rough stutters. your eyes opened slowly, your cheek squished against his tactical vest. you realized that he must've just gotten home--he was still head-to-toe in his gear, and you were staring up into the skull plate.

"simon--!"

you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. you gasped as you held him close, and it took everything in you not to burst into tears. your heart fluttered at the thought that he must've left as soon as he told you last night--determined to get back to you.

when you pulled back, simon rested his forehead against yours. you nuzzled your face against his, soft breaths as you grounded yourself in the realization that he's here, he's with me, he's alive.

"just another day," simon murmured, gripping your head with both hands. you swallowed hard, opening your eyes and meeting his own. you swear you saw something sad in them, something emotional, tears of some kind, but he blinked it away before you could look too long. "but i...had to come home."

your nodded reaching up and putting your hands over his on your face.

"i love you, simon."

if he had paid enough attention, he would've heard what those words truly meant. that you didn't just love him, you love him. not want, need, not a preference, but a requirement. undeniable, endless, raw, soul-sucking love--the kind that tore up your insides and spit them out without remorse.

but how can you really love someone like me?

simon tangled his gloved hands into your hair now, tugging gently.

"i love you more."

how can you love someone who's already dead?

[plethora-of-imagines]

Hii I have a cute idea for you, could I please request a Masterx reader (I'll let you pick which one you prefer) the master travels back to the past to enact a plan of theirs but somehow they bump into you but this version of you hadn't met him yet. You start talking with them feeling you can tell them anything. The master then tells you that they know what you want, "you want adventure, passion and maybe even a little danger." You then ask them what they want to which they hypnotise you before saying "I want you to get everything you're looking for but right now I want you to forget that we've met and seen me, I can't have people knowing I'm back." They then kiss your forehead and then leave.

If you don't like this idea then absolutely feel free to ignore it. Have a lovely day :)

Stumbling in surprise, you almost lost your balance. The cause of said stumble being suddenly walking into a man that you hadn’t seen when turning the corner. A gloved hand quickly reaching forward to steady you before you could fall. 

“Careful, my dear.”

You were breathless. And not from the almost fall. No. He had the most alluring voice that you had ever heard in your life. His well fitting suit and well maintained pepper and salt hair were a strange but welcome sight. He must be a visiting politician or higher up military man that wasn’t a part of UNIT. 

He wasn’t a familiar face- though a part of you did feel like you should recognize him. You had made sure to memorize the faces that you would typically encounter in your job. It had been the only way to make your anxiety over the new position manageable. Being a top secret military lab technician was difficult enough without the fear of insulting someone important.

“Sorry,” you were slow to shake yourself out of your absent mindness and apologize. 

Hopefully the man wouldn't mind!

“No reason for you to apologize. It seems we were both in too much of a hurry to pay attention to our surroundings.”

Smiling softly up at him you were glad that he was being so kind.

“Where were you headed?” Gently asking as you took a step out of his grasp. 

You weren’t sure why you asked. It’s unlikely he would want to tell you, but you couldn’t help but want to prolong your meeting.

Soft, warm brown eyes looked deep into your own, “to the specialized lab,” he answered.

“Oh!” He was going to the same place as you were! “Umm, you’ve actually passed it, Sir.”

“Ah, I suppose that I must have missed a turn,” he didn’t seem embarrassed or even worried about admitting to his lost nature. He entered back into your space and guided your hand to rest in the crook of his arm. “Would you mind terribly guiding me there, my dear?”

“No! I mean of course not,sir,” you stumbled over your words almost worse than you did your own feet.

“Lead the way, my dear.”

A pleasant silence accompanied the two of you as you continued on your way to the lab. Broken only by gentle questions about your work, and how you joined UNIT. Not even hesitating to answer him honestly. Feeling that you could tell him anything.

The lab was messier than you would have liked when you entered. If you had known you would have a charming guest you would have cleaned it up some. There were projects scattered around the room.

“So what did you need to do here, Sir?”

“If you would permit me one more question before I get to business matters,” he started to ask his question before you could even nod in agreement. “What did you hope to get out of joining UNIT?”

“I wanted to be a part of a group helping with advancements and using technology that was beyond the scope of normal labs,” was your instinctual, practiced answer.

“I see.” His voice fondly expressed his disbelief of your response.; tutting at you “See, I think you want more than that. I think you want adventure, passion, and maybe some danger, my dear.”

Blinking in surprise you slowly start to realize where you recognize him from. UNIT only has one video of the man. Grainy and from a distance just close enough to hear but not to really see him. Saying something in a manner so frighteningly similar to the cadence of those sentences. 

The Master.

Someone you had been warned about when you started. And here you were having let him into the lab. Alone. With you.

“What do you want,” the ‘with me’ went unspoken.

“I want you to listen to me,” the hypnotic sound of his voice made your head spin.

For a moment you considered trying to resist, but the fear that your fate would be worse if you did stopped you. You let him take hold of your mind. It felt soft, floaty. Much kinder than the descriptions had made it seem it would be. Everything sounded eons away yet you could still hear him.

“What I want is for you to get everything you desire and deserve, my darling. For now, however, I will settle for you forgetting I was ever here.”

You only remembered the feeling of lips against the crown of your head for a moment before you were looking around in surprise at being back in the lab. When did you walk back over? Maybe you did need to start drinking coffee to stay alert like the others did.

(791 words)

[arcadian-litterateur]

there's many different ways to kill the one you love | newt x oc

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

summary: when thomas finds a picture of a blonde girl above newt's bed, alby tells him the story of frankie, the first glader—and the first glader to die.

wc: 9.4k bc I tried to fit so much backstory and trauma in I'm so sorry

warnings: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide, panic attacks, nightmares, blood, newt and frankie make out at one point but there's nothing explicit bc they're literal children

a/n: this is a heavy one, be warned. also ik that technically there is a male frankie in tmr but ignore that bc i love the name frankie for a girl and rosalind franklin was a queen. btw, this fic follows movie lore-where thirty boys didn't come up all at once. also, thomas is there for longer before teresa comes up and everything goes down. newt and frankie are fourteen. alby is seventeen.

frankie is played by emily skinner

𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗧 𝗛𝗔𝗗 been given the job of befriending Greenies a long time ago, and that meant he was friends with just about everyone. But being friends with people didn't necessarily mean opening up to them. Newt didn't like talking about his feelings. Even Alby, who'd spent more time with Newt than was probably good for him, couldn't always figure the boy out. He tried, and often he succeeded to some extent, but even he couldn't force Newt to process his trauma—which is what he needed to do. Alby simply held out hope that Newt would open up to a Greenie one day. And hopefully not terrify them while still doing the emotional processing he needed to. And soon, because Newt was starting to get lost in his head again; Alby could tell, and the last time it had gotten bad, Newt had ended up with a limp. Alby couldn't afford something worse.

When Thomas came up in the box, Newt took an immediate shine to him. He was funny and stupid and needed a voice of reason. Newt figured he was pretty good at that so he gladly stepped into that role. What he wasn't prepared for was the amount of questions that poured from Thomas's mouth. And they weren't "normal" Greenie questions either—they were invasive and private and prying. Newt didn't like it. He also didn't answer. But he knew Thomas was wearing him down—and he knew he was going to snap at the boy soon.

A week after Thomas arrived, he met Newt by his cot, ready to do his trial in the Garden. He saw a small, grainy photo of a petite blonde girl sitting in front of what looked like a makeshift Med-jack hut. She looked incredibly frail and had dark bags under her eyes, but these observations paled when Thomas saw the bright, beautiful smile on the girl's face. The photo was taped to the wall above Newt's cot, but the corners were worn, as if it had also been kept in a pocket for a period of time.

"Who is that girl?" Thomas asked Newt, who was grabbing his water jug out from under his cot. Newt looked to where Thomas was pointing and almost instantly recoiled slightly.

"That's Frankie," he mumbled, not meeting Thomas's eyes.

Thomas's brow furrowed. "But I thought you guys said there aren't any girls in the Glade."

Newt fixed his gaze pointedly on the brunet, "There aren't." Then, obviously unwilling to say anymore, he briskly walked out.

Thomas inched closer to the photo. Yes, the girl was definitely in the Glade, and he could see the Maze walls towering above the hut that the girl—Frankie, Newt had called her—was leaning on.

Thomas reached a hand up to examine the picture more closely when he heard, "Shank, don't touch things that aren't yours!" Thomas whirled around and saw Gally glaring at him. "Newt has been through enough, don't take his klunk."

"I-I wasn't!" Thomas protested.

"Yeah?" Gally scoffed, "It sure looked like it."

"I just want to know who Frankie is!" Thomas explained.

He saw something change in the other boy's eyes, who gruffly replied, "Go ask Alby if you want to know about Frankie." Then the sandy-haired boy turned on his heel and left, calling over his shoulder, "And keep your hands to yourself, shank!"

Thomas knew he should join Newt in the Garden by now. He was risking time in the Slammer now, but his curiosity got the better of him. He was just too intrigued by the picture of the girl and Newt and Gally's cryptic reactions. So instead of reporting to the Garden, he went and found Alby, who was on his way back to the Homestead after meeting with the Keeper of the Bricknicks about supply needs. "Hey, Alby!" the brunet called out.

The chocolate-skinned man paused and turned to Thomas. "You realize you're supposed to be with the Track-hoes this morning, right?" he asked.

"Yes," Thomas replied,"but I really need to ask you about something, because no one else will talk to me."

Alby sighed, looking at his watch. "Okay, ask away, but you gotta walk with me."

Thomas fell in step with the leader of the Glade and asked, "Who is Frankie, and why is there a picture of her over Newt's bed?"

Alby stopped dead in his tracks and swore, "Well, shuck, kid. Is that why Newt looked so sad?"

Thomas shrugged, "Maybe? I'm confused, though."

Alby ignored Thomas's explanation and turned to Chuck, instructing the curly-haired boy, "Go make sure Newt took his meds this morning, and tell Luke to keep an eye on him. I want to catch any possible situations while they're still manageable. Make sure Luke always sends someone with Newt if he leaves his sight." Chuck nodded and raced towards the Garden, leaving a stressed-out Alby and an even more confused Thomas outside the Homestead.

"Did I do something?" the brunet inquired, visibly lost.

"Maybe," Alby replied, which was not the answer Thomas wanted. "But you didn't mean to. The Greenies never do." At this, the dark-skinned male turned to the younger boy and chuckled, "Do you want some explanation now?"

"Yes," Thomas begged, "please."

"Then come on," Alby motioned towards his room, which was set apart from the rest. "We can talk here. It's a long story and I don't want to be interrupted." Thomas and Alby settled onto the floor, the former looking expectantly at the latter. With a deep breath, Alby started talking.

_______________________________

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 is told upon arrival that Alby was the first boy to come up in the Box. This is true. Every Glader assumes that this means Alby was the first Glader. This is not true. And it's not a secret—not really, but every Glader knows that you don't talk about the first Glader. No one but Alby tells the story, and no one bothers Newt about it. It's an unspoken rule in the Glade, one that gets slowly absorbed by all Gladers.

The first Glader was named Frankie.

It was dark, but Frankie could see a few specks of light floating through holes in whatever contraption she was trapped in. Whatever it was, the teenage girl could tell it was hurtling upwards by the G-forces pressing her back into the sharp wooden corner of some sort of crate. Her eyes had adjusted slightly, and she could tell now that she was in some sort of cage—a metal box filled with crates, barrels, and…her. She scanned the crates, unable to tell what they could contain, her mind only registering several letters on the side of one of the crates: ‘W.C.K.D.’ But Frankie didn't have much time to take this in before—SLAM!

As the Box (as she'd named it in her head) reached its final destination (she assumed), it jolted, sending her flying backwards into one of the crates. Frankie could feel a jagged edge get caught on the tender skin of her scalp, and when she touched her hand to the wound, it was sticky with blood. With a hiss, she pressed the heel of her palm to the tender spot, gritting her teeth against the sting. On wobbly legs, the blonde stood, steadying herself on a crate. There was sunlight streaming through the lid of the Box, and Frankie tentatively pushed on it. It moved slightly, so Frankie quickly climbed onto a crate, the added height giving her enough momentum to push the lid up and over, effectively freeing her.

But the teenage girl didn't climb out of her cage. Instead, she slumped to its floor as the adrenaline from waking up like this wore off. And as Frankie tried to force breaths into her lungs, a new kind of panic overwhelmed her, because a new fact was becoming apparent—she couldn't remember anything. She had no recollection of why she was here, how'd she'd gotten here, where here even was—and she had no memory of where she'd been before this metal box. The only thing she could remember was her name (Frankie), which she'd recalled when her head had collided with the crate.

Taking a tentative step into the sunlight, Frankie shielded her eyes from its intense rays, surveying what could only be described as a Glade. The air smelled of campfire smoke and fresh, new earth. The Glade was mostly just wide open grass, but there was a cluster of small trees on one side, and a small hut on the other. Surrounding the Glade were four large, stone walls. One had a large gap in it. Frankie squinted, noticing the odd passages branching out from the gap, and it suddenly dawned on her—she was in the middle of a fucking maze.

Frankie had been placed here on purpose.

The only sign that anyone else might live in the Glade was the tiny hut, and so, hoping for any clues as to why she was here, Frankie raced towards it. But she was met with bitter disappointment, because it was completely bare. She realized, anxiety rising, that it was a shell. It was waiting for her. Frankie thought back to the crates she'd ridden up with. They were filled with everything needed to homestead—she'd checked before she'd come to the hut.

Whoever had sent Frankie here was watching, and they wanted her to build a homestead. Build a life here. Frankie ran outside, looked up at the sky, and screeched, “Fuck you!” Then she collapsed to the ground in a heap of sobs.

Once Frankie had regained a bit of functionality, she decided to keep track of the days, so as to keep a sense of the passage of time. By the end of the first day, Frankie had taken everything out of the Box, which was good, because the next morning, it had gone back to wherever it came from. On the third day, Frankie had moved most of the essentials into the Hut. She stacked all food-related items in one area, all clothing and toiletries in another, and had set up a nice makeshift bed in the corner. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Frankie wasn't a gardener or a scavenger, and she couldn't cook well either, so she hoped the foodstuffs in the crates would last long enough for her to learn those skills through trial and error. She still couldn't figure out why she was in the Glade, or what its Creators could want from her, but the girl could at least try her hand at surviving. She reasoned that someone or something was bound to happen eventually.

At the start of her second week, Frankie, who'd been living off of tally marks, canned fruit, and jerky, started feeling the effects of her gradual loss of hope. Upon arriving in the Glade, the blonde had noticed thin, red scars on her arms in neat, precise rows, and had easily deduced that something in her ‘before’ had caused her to carve those lines into her arms herself. She also reasoned that if she'd fallen into that depression then, she could easily fall into it again. And the longer she went in this Glade alone, with the horrid Maze that shifted in the night and creepy sounds of some kind of creature, the more she felt her mind slipping into a very serious depressed state.

The word ‘hope’ wasn't in her vocabulary anymore.

Frankie’s sixteenth and seventeenth day in the Maze consisted of eating the last of the foodstuffs, wandering aimlessly in the small patch of trees and letting tears trickle down her pale, sunken-in cheeks. She was underfed, overwhelmed, and utterly alone. It had been over two weeks since she'd come up in the Box, and she was still in solitude (not counting the creepy-sounding Maze monsters). She still had no clues as to her real location, her purpose, or her captors. Her situation seemed bleak, and under even darker lenses of examination, (like her handy-dandy depression lens), there seemed to be no way forward.

Frankie decided that if some kind of help hadn't appeared at the one month mark, she would take matters into her own hands. Kill herself.

As the days went by, Frankie became increasingly convinced that the Creators of this place wanted her to venture inside the dark, deadly walls of the Maze.

“Well, I won't do it!” the teenage girl screamed at the sky. “I won't explore your fucking Maze!” Of course, there was no answer, but that didn't weaken her resolve. Frankie was determined to never step foot in the Maze. She was also ignoring just how necessary planting seeds and trying to start a life would be if she wanted to survive. After all, she wasn't really trying to survive. She was already giving up. There was no motivation in her to keep going.

The blonde pondered this, wondering if it made her weak. She was sure, after all, that most people would have the instinct to build a life; a livelihood. Most people would try to get out, or start a garden, or send for help. If anyone else was in her situation, they'd put on an exciting show for whoever was watching. But not Frankie. See, whoever had put her here had made a seemingly grave mistake—they'd placed a girl with an untrustworthy mind in an unfamiliar place and then expected her to try.

Even if logically, she knew what she should do, her fucked-up brain was still going to win every time. She would still sit there, unmotivated and depressed. She would tally the days…and then pass them by staring blankly at the Walls. And if nothing changed by the time one month passed, she would end it. She refused to wait here forever.

At sunrise on the first day of the new month, Frankie put one more tally mark on her makeshift calendar, laid down on her bed, and slit her pale wrists. Fire licked at the cuts, burning her arms before consuming her. After several moments of extreme pain and spots overwhelming her vision, Frankie's eyes shut and it all went black.

She didn't expect—or want—to wake up, but after some unknown passage of time, she did, her eyes unwillingly flickering open as a shuffling sound moved from her left side to her right. When a warm hand gently turned her right wrist so her palm was facing up, her breath caught in her throat and she jumped, her eyes flying open.

“Woah, there, tiger!” Frankie stared at the dark-skinned boy who was holding her wrist. His expression was one of relief and amusement, but she could also see a tinge of worry in his eyes. She glanced down to where he gently held her wrist and observed the heavy bandaging that mirrored her other wrist. This boy must have nursed her back to health.

“You weren't supposed to save me,” she informed him, her voice barely above a whisper and raspy from lack of use. She used his (quite muscular) arm as support to sit up slowly. Scanning what she could now see was the Hut, she noticed that the boy had taken the liberty of moving her belongings to one space and filling the rest of the Hut with medical supplies. “You redecorated,” she commented.

“This building was in the perfect spot to make it a Med-hut,” her companion answered. Then he grinned, “I'm Alby, by the way.” Frankie nodded once, noticing he'd added to her makeshift calendar. He'd been there almost a week and a half, then.

“I'm—”

“Frankie. I know. You told me.”

The blonde girl looked at Alby in surprise, “I don't remember that.”

“You wouldn't,” Alby chuckled, “you were drifting in and out of consciousness for the first few hours after I found you. When I walked into the Hut and saw you, I thought you were dead, but you opened your eyes and giggled, ‘Hi, I'm Frankie. Welcome to the fucking Glade.’ Then you promptly blacked out again. That's when I started grabbing medical supplies from the Box to stop you from bleeding out.”

“I'm surprised you succeeded,” Frankie chuckled dryly.

“You'd only made the cuts thirty minutes or so before I found you, from what I could tell,” Alby reasoned, “so you were lucky, I guess.” Frankie looked down at her wrists, moving them in circles to test their mobility. They both stung like hell, but the right one could move fine, while the left one hurt too much to even twist slightly. She hissed in pain, rubbing the tender joint.

“You narrowly missed an artery on that one,” Alby told her.

“Wish I hadn’t,” she retorted, “then I wouldn’t still be in this Glade.”

“Hey, I’ve made this place a bit more liveable,” Alby teased. “I’ve built a makeshift Homestead and started a Garden.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, “You did that in a week and a half while caring for me?”

The boy shrugged. “What can I say? I must have been good at architecture before this.”

Frankie laughed, “Maybe. I think I was just good at overthinking.” Alby nodded, reaching to undo Frankie’s bandages. She let him change them, trying not to grimace as she took in the gross, jagged cuts on both wrists. They were mottled with bruises and half-formed scabs on the shallow parts. The left wrist still had a large section of skin that was hanging open, blood trickling slowly from it. As Alby dabbed at the cuts, he frowned.

“The right side is healing nice,” he commented, rebandaging that wrist before turning to her left, “but this cut keeps reopening. I’m worried it will become infected.” Grabbing a bottle of alcohol, he warned Frankie, “This is going to hurt.” With that, he poured an ample amount of the liquid onto her wound. She let out a shriek.

“You could’ve counted to three, you heartless fucker!”

Frankie’s insults fell on unfazed ears as the receiver wrapped the throbbing cut, “You should be okay for the next couple days.”

Walking around the Glade was a bit of a challenge for Frankie, but with a heap of Alby’s cooking on her plate and his arm to lean on, she made it around the whole walled enclosure. Her legs were very wobbly, but she was glad to be out of bed and away from the reminders of her failed suicide attempt. Alby had warned her that she wasn’t going to let her out of his sight, because he wasn’t going to let her die. She just rolled her eyes.

“There’s no hope for us. We’re just some kind of exhibit in a godforsaken horror zoo. We’ll be better off dead.” But secretly, she was thinking that Alby, with his two room Homestead, half-built Kitchen, and small garden bed, might actually be able to give her hope. Neither teen had set foot in the Maze; it was too soon and Alby had been busy building the foundation for this little ‘civilization,’ as he was trying to convince Frankie to call it. But maybe they could survive here. At least until someone from their befores realized they were gone.

Over the next few weeks, Alby made good progress on the buildings, completing the Kitchen and outfitting the Homestead with furnishings. Alby and Frankie each had a room in its two room structure, and Frankie had moved her belongings from the Medhut to the Homestead. It was a meager pile of belongings, just some extra clothes, a journal and pen, feminine projects, and of all things, a disposable camera.

Alby had given it to her in exchange for promising to try and stay alive.

Frankie was still a less-than-decent gardener, but her wrists still weren’t healing right, so she couldn’t truly build. She could almost garden…as long as she was careful. So she did her best to take care of their food source, letting him handle the struggle of actually cooking. He wouldn’t let her near fire, just in case it might tempt her to harm herself. She appreciated the concern, but knew deep down that if she truly wanted to die, she’d find a much more efficient method than burning herself to death.

And the longer her cuts went without fully healing, the more worried she became that she was going to leave Alby alone here whether she liked it or not. She obviously couldn’t remember anyone besides the teenage boy, but she still got the feeling that he was a kinder person than most she’d known in her before, whatever that was. And the fact that he spent time nursing her back to health even though he had no obligation to? It was sweet. Very sweet. She didn’t want to abandon him to live in the Glade alone.

With Alby here to help her, the voice of depression in her head quieted.

The two teens decided that if the Box brought another teen up at the month-mark, it would be safe to assume that a new teenager would come every month. After all, the Glade seemed too vast for two inhabitants; like it was supposed to be filled with more people, and Alby and Frankie had agreed to ignore the implications of no teenagers in the Box. The implications of what that meant the Creators of this hellhole wanted them to do. They couldn’t decipher their exact ages, but it was clear that Alby was around seventeen, while Frankie was closer to fourteen.

At the very least, it was clear that Frankie was quite a bit younger than Alby.

To their relief, on the day that marked the month, the Box came up loaded with crates, barrels, and a scared, shaking teenage boy. He had dirty blond hair and bright, doe eyes, his arms and legs stick-thin as he huddled in a corner of the Box. He looked to be about Frankie’s age, and he looked terrified.

“I’m Frankie,” the teenage girl smiled, trying to look reassuring as she offered a hand to the boy. This was a mistake, though, because as she pulled him up, the fragilely repaired skin of her left wrist tore right back open, blood immediately gushing out of her arm and onto the boy’s startled face.

Her vision immediately blurring, Frankie leaned against the Box, the sudden blood loss going to her legs. She felt herself losing consciousness, arms flailing to find any support as she fell. In true Frankie manner, she swore as she tumbled down, but in her semi-conscious state, her speech slurred, and so the last word out of her mouth was, “Shuck!”

Then she passed out.

_______________________________

𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 tell he was green.

He’d already thrown up once, yellow stomach acid mixed with blood, (though he couldn’t tell if it was Frankie’s or his own, because he was pretty sure he’d bitten his tongue). But looking at the cuts on Frankie’s wrists, half-healed and probably infected, he felt incredibly squeamish. Alby had explained the story to him—Frankie’s lonely first month in the Glade, her suicide attempt, Alby’s care as he tried to save her, and the life they’d built from there.

Newt thought that his new reality might be partially responsible for his nausea, too.

He’d washed the blood from his face and changed into the clothes sent up with him, Alby directing him to set up a cot in his room.

“We didn’t know if anyone else would be coming up, so I just built two rooms. I figure we can just squeeze in until they’re full and then build on once we run out of room,” the older boy had explained. Newt felt too numb to do anything but nod. Now he simply sat near Frankie, who was lying on a cot in the Medhut, barely conscious. She didn’t seem to have the energy to do anything but groan in pain as Alby set to work sewing her wound back up.

As he tied off the thread, a concerned look in his eyes, Alby patted the top of Frankie’s head, “I’m sure this is the last time I’ll have to sew one of these bad boys back up.”

“You mean, ‘I hope this is the last time,’” the girl grumbled.

Alby rolled his eyes, but Newt could see the note of worry in his eyes that confirmed Frankie’s statement. “Rest up, Frankie,” he ordered, motioning for Newt to leave the Medhut with him. “Take a day off tomorrow,” Alby added, to which Frankie replied,

“Fuck you! I’m working tomorrow!” The strain in her voice, however, said otherwise.

“Frankie,” Newt hummed, shaking the blonde’s shoulder lightly, “time for breakfast.” It had been four days since he came up in the Box, and the teen felt much more comfortable around Alby and Frankie. He’d realized quickly that despite their tough exteriors, both were as cuddly as teddy bears. Alby babied Frankie like she was his little sister, which was adorable to an extent, but after one too many days of bed rest, the teenage girl had asked Newt to take a turn caring for her.

Frankie had an obsession with creating nicknames for everything in the Glade, which she wrote in detailed lists in her journal (what else was she supposed to do?)

“We can call ourselves Gladers,” she had suggested, “and if we ever have someone who wants to solely work in the Med-hut, we should call them a Med-jack, because you go in jacked-up and hope you’ll come out less jacked up!” Newt and Alby had laughed but agreed. “And the last person to come out of the Box will for the first month be a Greenie, because they’re a newbie, which means they’re green.” Then with a smirk, she’d added, “And if they’re anything like Newt, they’ll be physically green, too.”

“You bled on me!” Newt had protested.

“You ripped my arm open!” the teenage girl shot back. “And it’s too late, Greenie, I’ve already decided.”

“I like it,” Alby had nodded, laughing when he saw Newt’s scowl.

“You’re both jerks,” the sandy-haired teen mumbled.

“And you’re a little shit, but I’m still being nice,” Frankie sing-songed.

“Hey, I didn’t cuss at you!” Newt had gasped, Frankie sticking her tongue out to say,

“So?”

“So you were rude!” the boy had insisted. “You should apologize!” Frankie had glanced at Alby, who was watching with a bemused expression. She mouthed ‘Help?’ but the dark-skinned boy had just shook his head.

With a groan and dramatic eye roll, Frankie had forced out, “I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings. Do you want me to ask the Creators to send you some little boy pants? They might fit better.”

Alby had coughed, “That was a shit apology, Frankie. In fact, it was just another insult.” Then he’d sighed and admitted, “Newt has a point, as much as I hate to say it. Who knows how young W.C.K.D will deign to go? They might send up ten-year-olds. As hard as it is in a place like this, we should at least try to set a good example. We’ll come up with alternatives.”

Frankie had finally agreed after Newt reminded her of the hilarious ‘Shuck!’ she’d let out after covering him in blood, and they’d all agreed that it was a suitable alternative.

Newt smiled at the thought, returning to the present as Frankie stirred, awakened by his mention of food.

“Breakfast?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. The girl had been quite fatigued from losing so much blood during Newt’s arrival, and it was taking her quite some time to gain the energy back.

“Yup,” Newt encouraged, “and once I check your bandages, I’ll bring you some.” At this, Frankie’s eyes flew open.

“No!” Newt raised an eyebrow.

“No? What do you mean, no?”

Frankie scowled, “I want to eat with you and Alby.”

Newt chuckled. He loved her tenacity, and at first, it had made him slightly timid, but he’d adjusted quickly and picked up on the fact that it was her defense mechanism.

“I’m not sure that’s smart,” he began, not the least bit surprised when she interrupted.

“I don’t shucking care!”

With an eye roll that could envy one of Frankie’s, Newt told her, “Well, I do, because Alby and I care about your health.” He could see her trying to figure out her next argument, the gears turning in her head.

“I’d be doing the exact same thing there as I’m doing here; sitting!”

“And how would you get there?” Newt inquired. “It’s a hard walk for someone recovering from blood loss.”

Frankie huffed. “It’s only five minutes!”

“And that’s about four minutes too many for you,” Newt told her decisively. With a resigned sigh, the girl let Newt finish with her bandages. But as Newt disposed of the dirty rags, an idea lit up Frankie’s brain.

When he turned to face the blonde, Newt was surprised to hear, “You can carry me!”

“What?” Newt sputtered.

“You said I can’t walk all the way to the dining hall, so you should carry me there!” Frankie crowed with a big grin on her pale face.

“Fine,” the teenage boy said. He leaned down and easily swept her off the bed in a bridal carry. “Comfortable?” he inquired, walking towards the Kitchen.

“Yes,” Frankie smiled, her head resting organically on his shoulder. The teen boy hummed in response, sending vibrations through his chest into Frankie’s body. It was a comforting sensation, and coupled with the warmth of his body, Frankie realized that she felt oddly safe in his and Alby’s care.

For two teenage boys she’d known for a month at most, it was impressive. It was probably the whole saving-her-life thing. It earned them brownie points.

The next few days, Newt took the time to carry Frankie around. She wasn’t that heavy and she was great company. He definitely enjoyed gardening more when Frankie was there, even if she was constantly forgetting to drink enough water and take it easy. Newt got into the habit of forcing her to hydrate and take breaks, despite her constant grumbling that ‘she was perfectly healthy’ and ‘didn’t need much water.’

Newt, of course, had the upper hand in these debates, as he could always point to her still scabbed wrists and pale complexion. Eventually, as Frankie gained back enough strength to start walking to and fro as she pleased, these debates simply became an inside joke that the two had, often ending with insult battles.

Alby found it equal parts amusing and frustrating, just like the younger teens’ insistence that the small copse of trees be called the ‘Deadheads’ after Alby came out of them one day, swearing and grumbling, “One of the trees tried to kill me! It tried to take my head off!” The other teens just laughed at him, earning sharp glares from the older boy.

As the three teenagers settled into a rhythm, Alby grew accustomed to completing the day’s work with Newt and Frankie, and then retiring to the Homestead to relax while the other two went off to frolic and explore. He didn’t mind the alone time, and he was incredibly grateful that Newt and Frankie had bonded so well. Frankie still refused to view rescue as a viable possibility, but he could tell that to her, living here in the Glade forever was enough. Fostering these friendships with the boys who’d brought her back from the dead was enough for her.

Frankie may have gained her leg functionality back, but she’d gotten used to Newt ferrying her around, and so she’d jump on his back and ‘force’ him to give piggyback rides on their explorations. She knew he could easily insist she walk, and deduced that his willingness to carry her across the Glade indicated that he secretly enjoyed it as well. She always took her camera with her, snapping pictures of nature, Newt, and even the Walls, if the sunlight hit them in an interesting way. The collection of images grew, occupying the otherwise empty walls of the Homestead. Alby had to admit, it gave the Homestead a homey feel. It was comfortable here.

Frankie realized her rising feelings for Newt on one of their adventures. They were sitting by the pond, Frankie weaving grass together while Newt braided her hair.

“How’d you learn to do that?” she inquired.

Newt let out a hum. “I’ve no idea. Maybe I have a sister somewhere.” The girl smiled, checking the final product in the clear water. She let out a tiny gasp. It had been a long time since she’d felt pretty, but all of a sudden, she felt positively beautiful.

“I love it, Newt!” she squealed, throwing her arms around the boy. Her excitement caused the pair to topple over, Frankie landing on top of Newt. His hands immediately found her waist, as if to ensure she was okay. Her hands tangled in his air, and she was struck with the sudden urge to kiss the boy.

Their lips almost touched.

Frankie rolled off of Newt, clearing her throat as she mumbled, “It’s probably close to dinnertime.”

Then she quickly stood up, and before Newt could offer her a piggyback ride to the Kitchen, Frankie was half-running, half-stumbling away, all the while thinking, Shuck. I’m falling for Newt.

Newt walked behind her, forehead creased as he watched Frankie go flying back towards the center of the Glade, trying to ignore how his hands shook slightly, vibrating in time with the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. What was this weird feeling he got every time he twined his fingers through Frankie’s hair, or heard her laugh, or received a smile? Why did her presence make his skin all prickly while at the same time forming a warm glow around his heart? It seemed so silly to have such an odd reaction to the girl. He couldn’t even fathom why she could be affecting him so.

He wasn’t as confident in his emotions as Frankie was in hers.

“Alby, why does my heart speed up when I’m with Frankie?” the teen inquired one night, nervously dragging his thin fingers through the dirty blond fluff piled atop his head. It was grimy and matted, and his fingers got stuck, Newt wincing as he untangled his hair from his jagged fingernails.

Alby, who was sitting across from Newt by the firepit, looked surprised, but then chuckled. “Well, do you usually feel scared around her, or happy around her?”

Newt smiled. “Happy. But maybe a little nervous, too. She can be intimidating.” Alby nodded in agreement, a toothy, knowing grin adorning his handsome face. “So why do I feel that way?” Newt pressed, annoyed at Alby’s silent smirk.

“Oh, I think you know, Greenie,” Alby replied, letting out a small chuckle when Newt groaned.

“Alby! Give me a real answer!” The older boy just shook his head.

“You know the answer. Now figure out what your response is going to be.”

Before Newt could shoot a snappy comeback at Alby, Frankie waltzed over and plopped down next to him, chirping, “Hi, Greenie!” Newt rolled his eyes.

“You know my name, why’re you still calling me that?” Frankie grinned patronizingly,

“Oh, Newt, you’ll always be green in my heart.”

“You mean nauseous?” he grunted.

“Yup!”

Alby watched the exchange silently, watching the pair’s body language and banter as it suddenly dawned on him—Newt’s feelings were returned. These two were mutually attracted to each other—these two fourteen-year-olds in an awful, unexplainable prison, finding comfort in each other; feeling safe despite everything.

It was kind of beautiful.

Of course, the two were completely oblivious, both believing that their feelings were unrequited. Newt and Frankie simply continued to act like best friends, unable to see the flirting that was plain as day to Alby. That’s what he got for being older and wiser, he thought to himself.

But as much of the romantic tension that he did see, there was even more that he didn’t. Like all the nights that the two younger teens ended up in the same bed, for example.

It was just a normal night in the Glade, but Frankie’s mind didn’t care for peace. It liked to wreak havoc on its owner, especially while she slept (or more accurately, while she tried to). Frankie had been hopeful for a dreamless rest, but in the middle of the night, she started reliving that first lonely month. Except that in her dream, every time she woke up after slitting her wrists, she was back in the Box, starting the month over again.

Trapped here forever.

The teenage girl bolted awake, sitting up in bed as she regained her bearings. She was breathing heavily, forehead slick with sweat.

“It was just a nightmare,” she murmured, trying to convince her racing heart of this truth. She slowly eased herself back to a horizontal position again, but was out of bed wincing within seconds. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again by herself.

She hated waking Newt, but ever since he’d forced Alby to move rooms (the older boy snored), Newt had told Frankie to bug him any time. So, taking a deep breath, she padded over to his door and knocked. After a few seconds of silence, she became too anxious to linger in the dark hallway and simply entered the boy’s room.

His room was surprisingly messy—she’d expected him to be an overall organized person—but she ignored this small detail, tiptoeing around the piles of clothes and other materials on the floor. As she neared his bed, Frankie gulped, noticing that Newt was shirtless. He lay sprawled across the mattress, just boxers on his frame. This made her even more anxious to wake him, but she just took a deep breath and lightly shook the blond’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” the boy mumbled, eyes fluttering open as he looked around the dark room, disoriented.

“Hi, Newt,” Frankie peeped, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his deep, groggy voice and mussed hair.

“Frankie?” She could hear a hint of a smile in Newt’s voice as he rubbed his eyes. “What do you need, love?” he inquired, the pet name slipping out like it always did when he was tired. Frankie would never confess to it, but she secretly loved it.

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted, heart skipping a beat when Newt immediately frowned,

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” she assured him hurriedly. Newt opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Frankie blurted, “Can I stay here?”

She felt blood rush to her cheeks immediately, but Newt just said, “Of course, love.” Frankie immediately climbed beneath the blanket he’d pulled back, right into his outstretched arms. She carefully rested her head on his chest, arms wrapping around his lean torso as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. His chest rose and fell with every soft breath he took, Frankie’s cheeks red as she took in the closeness of their bodies and the rhythm of Newt’s hand rubbing her arm.

“Are you comfortable?” the girl whispered, craning her neck to get a glimpse of Newt’s comforting face.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry about me, love. Just sleep.”

The raspy tiredness in his voice made it even more attractive than it already was, and all Frankie could do was mumble, “Okay.” Then she drifted off to sleep, undisturbed by nightmares now that her knight in shining armor was holding her.

When she woke up, Frankie panicked for a second, chest restricted by something on top of it. But upon opening her eyes, the girl chuckled, finding Newt laying on his stomach between her legs, head resting on her chest, arms around her waist. Obviously, he’d shifted during the night. Frankie certainly didn’t mind; this way, she could run her hands through his soft hair. She’d noticed that he’d started washing it more often recently. It was certainly nice that the head of hair resting on her chest smelled like shea butter, not dirt and B.O.

After a few minutes of lying peacefully while Frankie played with his hair, Newt began to stir. With a large yawn, he stretched, rolling onto his back, but staying between Frankie’s legs.

“Frankie?” he mumbled, obviously not awake enough to remember why she was in his bed.

“Hey, Greenie,” the girl smirked, running a hand through Newt’s hair again. He closed his eyes in enjoyment.

“That feels good.” Frankie laughed, helping the boy sit up.

“Oh, really, Newt?” Neither teen commented on Frankie’s nightmare from the night before. Frankie felt better—Newt’s presence was enough—and Newt knew Frankie well enough that he could tell she wanted to move on. And that’s how it was the next time it happened, and the next. Newt never pressed her to talk about her dreams, and Frankie never pressed him to talk about the nightmares she knew he had, too.

The body heat of another was enough comfort for them both.

It should have been obvious to Frankie and Newt that their feelings were shared, but the two lovesick fourteen-year-olds remained blissfully unaware even after these late night cuddle sessions. It made Alby wish he had longer hair just so he could pull it out. Eventually, fed up with Newt’s insistence at denying his feelings, Alby hatched a plan.

Yes, he was desperate enough to play matchmaker.

Alby wasn’t great at whittling, but he was determined enough to create a decent, simple flute-like instrument. Coupled with a small bonfire, the stilted little flute’s music was all Alby needed to convince Frankie and Newt to dance together, the pair laughing as they twirled around, hand in hand.

“You stepped on my foot!” Frankie yelped as the two pretended to waltz, circling the fire.

“Sorry,” Newt winced, drawing the blonde girl slightly closer to his tall frame. Alby watched from a few feet away, a smile on his face as Newt and Frankie settled into a slow-dancing position, swaying gently from side to side with Newt’s arms around Frankie’s waist and her arms around his neck. Alby changed his flute’s melody to match the mood, watching the scene intently as a reality tv show host. Being as unassuming as possible, he waited for something—anything—to happen.

“Frankie, love?” Newt whispered, the girl looking up at him expectantly. “You look gorgeous in the firelight.” Frankie blushed so red that Newt could see it even at this time of night.

“Don’t be silly, Newt,” she argued. “I’m covered in sweat and grime, and I don’t own a shucking hairbrush. That cannot possibly translate to gorgeous.”

“Yes, it can,” Newt insisted, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. “Trust me, love; you are gorgeous.” Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed as the boy’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her soft skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered in response, Newt just humming as Alby watched the pair, practically spontaneously combusting. “Newt—” Frankie was interrupted by the loud shriek of a Griever, causing her to jump from surprise.

Newt chuckled, “We should all go to bed, shouldn’t we?” Alby wanted to protest at first, but then saw a golden opportunity.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of the fire. Newt, walk with Frankie back to the Homestead, yeah?” The younger boy quickly agreed, Frankie knowing better than to protest, as it wasn’t a judgment of her own abilities, but just Alby’s overprotective nature manifesting in an overbearing approach.

“What were you going to say before?” Newt inquired, the girl looking at him in confusion. “Before the Griever so rudely interrupted you,” he clarified, eyebrows raising slightly at the blush that flooded Frankie's face.

“Oh, that—I was just going to ask if…” she trailed off for a second, but quickly regained her resolve, “I was going to ask if you'd stay again tonight. My nightmares have been bad.” Newt’s eyes lit up immediately as he threw an arm around Frankie's shoulders.

“Of course, love.” As the two reached Frankie's room, they both went for the knob, hands colliding in a burst of sparks that caused the two teenagers to exchange sheepish looks. “Sorry,” the British boy mumbled before following Frankie into her room.

A mostly comfortable silence filled the room as the teens quickly changed into their night clothes, sleepovers a routine enough occurrence that half of Newt's clothes were in Frankie's small dresser.

Neither Newt nor Frankie could deny the slight tension in the air, however, when Newt turned around a tad too soon and caught a glimpse of Frankie's bare breast as she pulled her night shirt on, the tension became almost unbearable. He attempted to act as if it hadn't happened, but judging from the blush on her cheeks, Frankie was just as aware as he was of what he'd seen.

They came to an unspoken agreement to ignore it, clambering under Frankie's blanket together as Newt fit his body easily into the outline of the girl's, spooning her. They laid there quietly, breaths filling the room as Frankie felt Newt's exhales tickling the back of her neck. His arms were wrapped almost lazily around her waist, as if they were just supposed to be there. Frankie's eyes fluttered closed at the sensations, hyper aware of Newt's firm chest against her shoulder blades.

Shifting slightly, Frankie unintentionally rolled her hips as she adjusted her legs’ positioning, the girl's breath hitching when the small of her back brushed against Newt's pelvis.

She remembered very suddenly that he was a teenage boy.

“Newt,” she whispered, rolling over in one fluid motion so they were face to face, “gosh, Newt.” Her gaze was soft, very un-Frankie-like, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as she gently cupped his cheek in her hand. Stroking his cheekbone with her thumb, she wondered when she'd become so bold.

The teenage girl felt soft hands trail from her ribs to the small of her back, Newt guiding her even closer to himself so their hips were flush against each other. Frankie felt as though her entire body was blushing in one red, burning shade, her eyes squeezing shut of their own accord when Newt's hands drifted lower, resting on the girl's ass before squeezing tightly, Frankie whimpering as her hands found a new spot—tangled in the boy's hair.

“Will you kiss me, Newt?” she asked in a whisper, the boy nodding before using a hand to lift her chin. His lips closed in on hers, Frankie waiting in anticipation, but Newt didn't kiss her full on the mouth. Instead, he planted a kiss on the corner of the girl's mouth, a dissatisfied groan leaving her vocal cords.

“Newt,” she whined, a low chuckle leaving his throat before he pressed a kiss to the other corner of her mouth, followed by a soft pattern of pecks that trailed along her jaw. Finally, sensing her patience waning, his hands found their way back up to her face, pressing his lips to hers with a passion Frankie hadn't expected him to have. She eagerly answered the requests of his soft lips, letting him have access to her mouth as she closed her eyes in contentment, completely happy to let him have dominance. His tongue flicking against her own, Newt's eyes held a deep desire that Frankie was sure was mirrored in her own.

“Gosh, you're so beautiful,” the British boy murmured, leaving Frankie breathless with no words as he continued to brush his lips against hers. Then he moved to her eyelids, placing soft kisses on them as he slowly ground his hips against her own, like he didn't fully believe this was real and had to make sure Frankie was truly there. Being loved on by him. With one last peck to her nose, he pulled back and just stared at her face softly, admiring the teenage girl's ethereal beauty.

“Newt—” she mumbled through swollen lips. “What are we?”

The spell broke.

All of a sudden, Newt was rolling off of Frankie and clambering out of her bed, grasping at the dark, messy floor to find his day clothes as Frankie sat up, stunned.

“Newt—Newt?” she asked anxiously. “Newt, what are you doing?” The British boy froze momentarily, eyes locking with the blonde's, but just as quickly, he unfroze and started towards the door.

“I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm really sorry,” he muttered. “I'm so bloody sorry. I just can't.” He looked at her with a pained expression, “I can't do this.” He stumbled over his words for a second before spitting out, “I don't want this.” Then he scrambled to leave, Frankie frozen in bed, stunned.

How had it all gone downhill so fast? How had it all fallen apart so quickly that she couldn't catch it; couldn't stop the snowball?

After a few seconds of denial, Frankie, though still unable to process what had just happened, found a tear rolling down her cheek. Then another, and another, until a rainstorm was charting paths down her face to fill a sea in the bed sheets below. Frankie found herself growing angry and heartbroken all at once, unable to reason out whether Newt had meant he didn't want her or didn't want a relationship. She wanted to scream, yell, curse his stupid name and wake Alby, too, but all she had the strength to do was let out one gasping, quiet whisper.

“Fuck you, Newton.”

The next day, neither teen would tell Alby what had happened, but he had enough sense to figure out that something had gone down, and from the cold, formal way Newt and Frankie were greeting each other, it didn't take the older teenager long to deduce a basic summary of the previous night's events. Alby tried in vain to bridge the chasm that lay between Newt and Frankie now, reasoning that they were stronger together, but nothing he tried could fix the damage Newt had done to Frankie's trust.

Alby became resigned to a fate of mediating between two icy parties, but what he wasn't willing to accept was Frankie drawing back into herself again. He watched her close herself off from both boys, noticing how she dug her nails into the scars on her wrists when Newt passed, and he remembered what he'd promised her when she woke up from her attempt—he wasn't going to let her die. Not by outside causes, and not because of her own mind.

Alby knew deep down that to help Frankie, he needed to first get her out of this hellhole, and that's why he first turned to the Maze.

There was no way he'd let Frankie out of the Glade into such an unknown, likely hostile environment, so the leader of the trio recruited Newt, who'd wanted to explore the Maze all along. Frankie, of course, opposed the idea with everything in her, wanting the well-being of both boys despite Newt's earlier defenses. She still treasured them both, and so the thought of them risking their lives in the Maze scared the girl.

But they were persistent, and Frankie held no real power over them. She just wished that they'd be content in the Glade. That they'd squash this desire to explore the Maze.

The morning Alby and Newt departed the Glade to run the Maze, Frankie ignored the sun's cues and instead simply glared frostily at the boys, as if to give them one last chance to back out. But of course, they didn't. Instead, they disappeared into the Maze, ignorant of the fact that they would never see Frankie again.

At least, never alive again.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗟𝗕𝗬 𝗛𝗔𝗗 remained relatively calm during the whole story; emotionless, even, but at this last statement, his head fell into his hands, a strangled sob coming from his mouth.

“Alby—” Thomas said uncertainly, but he was interrupted as Alby's head snapped back up, an anguished, feral look in his eyes.

“She fucking killed herself, Thomas! She slit her fucking wrists, right on the scars, so fucking perfectly that it must've been so meticulously intentional.” The leader of the Glade let out another angry cry before continuing, “She collected every single photo, poem, drawing, memento…everything that had any connection to her at all…and burned it. All of it. So we'd have nothing left of her. And then she wrote a fucking note that said, ‘You shouldn't have left.’ Set it next to her. Went to the Med-hut, right where she did it the first time, and ended it. When we got back and found her, she'd already been gone for at least a few hours.”

“I'm so sorry,” Thomas whispered, voice cracking, surprised to find a few tears in his eyes for this girl he'd never met; this girl whose brain had worked against her from the very start. Alby looked at Thomas with the expression of someone so in pain they could barely breathe.

“She died alone, Greenie. She fucking died alone.” Alby shook his head, “She shouldn't have had to die alone. Everything about it was awful.” The dark-skinned boy caught Thomas's eye again, answering his unspoken question. “Newt's photo only survived her purge because it wasn't in the Glade. It was in his pocket. He was in love with her, but he was too scared to admit it. At least, until it was too late. Fucking screamed it when we found her, as if a love confession could raise her from the dead.”

Alby laughed, but it was devoid of humor. “Creators started sending up antidepressants for Newt after that. Didn't make him take ’em at first, but…well, something happened that made them necessary.”

Thomas didn't know how to process all of the emotions rolling off Alby's body, especially paired with the deja vu the whole story brought with it. So he just sat there, not moving for a few minutes before Alby stood abruptly.

“Time to get to work, Greenie. Why don't you do your job trial with the Builders today instead of the Track-hoes?” The brunet agreed numbly, staggering out of Alby's office as the tales of Frankie ran through his mind. The image of that blonde in the photograph cycled through his head over and over, her smile getting stuck in his thoughts. She looked so happy in the photograph, and it made Thomas wonder if that joy was real. If that photo was taken in a happy time.

“So did you learn your lesson about being nosy, Greenie?” A gruff voice interrupted Thomas's thoughts.

He looked up to find Gally towering over him and mumbled, “Probably not. But I did learn to be more careful about being nosy.” Gally just stared at the boy for a second before sighing.

“Good enough. Come with me and we'll start your job trial. Not that it matters, I wouldn't take you. But that's inconsequential.”

Thomas trudged behind the Builder, barely even processing his words before asking, “Is there a grave for Frankie?” Gally looked at the other boy sharply, causing him to turn red, but the taller boy finally replied,

“Yeah. First one in the Deadheads.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said quickly, glancing over at the clump of trees that housed the graveyard.

“No, you can't go see it right now,” Gally added, Thomas scowling,

“I wasn't going to ask!”

“Sure,” Gally snorted. As the two boys reached the Builders' latest project, a repair site for a Slicer hut, Gally turned to Thomas and said, “Look, I get it. You're curious. But getting fixated on Frankie will help no one. I came up after Newt, just a few days after Frankie died, and spent the month trying to mediate between Alby and Newt, who were both trying to handle the guilt by blaming each other. It was the most miserable month of my life, and once they became civil again, it was still a nightmare to be reminded of her. Once I got them to talk again, I chose to just move past it and not think of it. And that's what you need to do. We didn't know her, so it's not our business. Got it?”

Thomas was taken aback by the harshness of Gally's words, unable to tell if the tall boy felt angry or sad about his forced role as peacemaker. The 6’3” Keeper of the Builders definitely didn't seem like the peacemaking type. But then again, Thomas was learning not to judge a book by its cover.

After all he'd thought Newt was a ray of sunshine.

That evening, as Thomas knelt silently at Frankie's grave and placed a makeshift bouquet at the wooden plaque, he wondered why the Creators had sent a girl with depression up to the Glade.

Unfortunately, no one would ever know. The only answer anyone had ever received was, “WCKD is good.”

the end

[boycritter]

how i fuck with color like that: a hopefully helpful guide

STEP 1: SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF

skin doesnt have to be skin color. grass doesnt have to be grass color. free yourself from these shackles.

STEP 2: PICK COLOR PALETTE

pick 3-4 colors you want to be the main colors of your piece, but know you can use transitional shades and stuff like that as well, so you arent limited to those exact 3-4 colors

for this piece, this was the color scheme i went with, but obviously a lot more colors show up! general rule of thumb i follow is 1 dark tone, 1-3 mid tones, and 1 light tone. if you're painting digitally, you can reduce the saturation to check that your values are distinct :3

also if you're painting digitally!! you can use tonal correction (or whatever its called in your art program of choice) to adjust the hue/saturation/luminosity of an entire layer :3 which can be pretty helpful if you think your colors are a liiiittle bit off, but you want to keep the relative saturation/luminosity/etc the same

sometimes i will go to sites like this one for inspiration, but other times i just know what i want to do

STEP 3: FUCK AROUND?? IDK WHAT TO CALL THIS STEP

start slapping down color in the places you want it to go. uhhh i have no good advice for this part i just feel it in my bones. which i know is not super helpful. if you have a reference image, USE IT. its your reference for a reason. you can turn the saturation of it all the way down so you're not distracted by the hues, just pay attention to the value and stuff. don't worry about it looking realistic or smooth, in my experience the blockier the chunks of color, the funkier the piece will look.

STEP 4: FIND OUT !!!!

does it look good! hell yeah! good job! does it not look good? hell yeah! that means you're practicing! identify what you think works and what doesn't, and apply that knowledge in the future! working with a limited color palette definitely takes practice, but if you know basic color theory then you should be in a good starting position (if you dont um. you should learn that? i dont think im qualified to teach that) yeah idk basically you can just refine your piece a bit, i would recommend using a brush that has built in color mixing if you can find one of those, those are good :3

STEP 5: OVERLAYS

if you're painting digitally overlays are YOUR BEST FRIEND!!!! fill bucket tool a whole layer with one of your midtones, reduce opacity, set it to overlay (abt 20% in my experience), this will really unify the colors of the piece

get funky, get fancy, create visual interest. what i do is similar to the first thing, but i take this like. sand tool?

its one of the defaults on csp, but what ill do is i'll draw squiggles with this on a separate layer with all the colors of my color palette, then set it to a 10-20% overlay, and it gives it this grainy texture i think is really cool

piece linked above without any overlays versus with both a plain overlay and grainy overlay

STEP 6: PAT URSELF ON THE BACK FOR DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB AT ART !!!!!!!!!

^ do that. you are awesome and every thing you create is valuable even if you dont like how it turned out. you need to make mistakes to get better and you did such a good job and im proud of you for creating. <3

[ijustsmackedmynewtattoo]

Deducing With Disorders Pt. 1

Dissociative Disorders: TW - Mentions/Descriptions of Dissociation

Credit to @sleuth2k7 for the idea

So quick disclaimer: I am not a certified psychologist, I am giving generalized advice for deducing with disorders that I have been diagnosed with based on my personal experience. Nothing is one-size-fits-all.

When I was 15 I was diagnosed with derealization/depersonalization disorder. DR/DP is one of three types of dissociative disorders spanning approximately 1%-2% of the population, and as with all dissociative disorders, involves repeated episodes of disconnection from one's sense of self and surroundings. With DR/DP specifically, I experience long episodes of what I can only describe as having a VR headset glued on where you can only watch what's happening to your character, and you just have this certainty nothing in this world is real, occasionally being removed from the driver's seat entirely and placed further back in the VR world by some part of your brain that belongs to you on every count except your own.

TLDR: Am I real? Are you? How to deduce when you aren't sure if you're real is the question.

Answer: I personally do reality checks to start, and I incorporate deduction into that. Am I real? Well does 2+2 still equal 4? Do those baggy pants plus that ill-fitting suit still mean that this teenager is wearing his dad's clothes? Probably. Let's find out.

So when we're reconnecting to ourselves and our surroundings, we look for things that verify our experience as truly our own. Make it a game. Certain deductions are worth certain points, it can help to have a friend to play with. A profession is worth 5, a relationship status is worth 10, etc. No friend? No problem. The classic grounding method of listing 5 things you see, 4 you hear, 3 you can touch, 2 you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste can be built upon to be a more mindful exercise that you don't just run right through.

When listing your sensory observations, use your list to then deduce things about the person. For example, I used to smoke, quit like 2 or 3 years ago, but my ex would always be able to know I had been smoking when I was within 20 feet of her. She could see the nicotine stains, the smudge of ash on my thumb from flicking the cigarette, the lump of a crumpled cigarette pack in my pocket, and not just the obvious pieces of information, she saw the cologne in my bag, and the look on the faces of my friends who would smoke with me before school. For sound she may have heard the dry smoker's cough, the crackling of a lit cigarette, the spritz of a bottle of cologne before I walked up to her, and the click of a lighter in my fidgeting hands. She would reach out and touch the grainy bits of ash on my shirt, and feel the tremors in my hand, and the movement of the pack in my pocket. Obviously, she could smell the tar and smoke of the cigarette, even under the smell of my cologne. Even if I had brought a change of clothes, sprayed copious amounts of cologne, and washed my hands, she could always taste it when we kissed.

All this is of course the long-winded way to say that mindfulness is a invaluable tool when deducing with a disorder that separates you from reality. Hopefully, you can use these mindfulness techniques in conjunction with abductive reasoning to reconnect with yourself and your surroundings. I apologize for the brevity of the post, but rest assured the quality and frequency of posts should be back up to standard soon.

[glorified-red]

As someone fortunate enough to attend DC's panel at MegaCon today with some of the biggest names in comics (Geoff Johns [Justice Society of America], Joshua Williamson [Superman], Simone DiMeo [DC vs Vampires], Mitch Gerads [Batman: The Brave and the Bold] and Phillip Kennedy Johnson [Action Comics]) here's all the information I managed to write down on what they discussed regarding the future of DC:

All quotes are NOT direct quotes, they are paraphrased. I may be a fast typer but not that good. Spoilers Ahead! Obviously.

Kicking off with the Flash Family, the upcoming releases will explore what Barry and Iris do when they "disappear" every week for date night. No one knows what they could possibly be up to! Turns out, they love to visit the future together, how they get there will be the true story. They also mentioned digging deeper into how being trapped in the speed force impacted ____. (I dont follow Flash so I don't know who they were referring to)

Next is the Superfam (and Arrowfam breifly):

Johnson spoke on Action Comics and said he wanted to evolve the Superfamily as much as the Batfamily has been. Recent comics have been able to take each member of the Batfam and develop them as solo characters to then let them interact with the others as a family. Johnson wants the same for the Superfam. He hates how the family has been boiled down to "looks" (i.e. Kon is just the one with the jacket, the twins are the lookalikes, etc) instead of them as defined characters. Within Action Comics and hopefully more, he hopes to delve into their entire family dynamic just as much as DC has done with the Bats.

Action Comics has been introducing the idea of Aliens coming to earth and certain protests spawning from it, wanting the earth to remain isolated and independent in the galaxy. They breifly teased the idea that this could be emotionally taxing on the Supers---especially Jon and Clark as the more active heroes atm---since they themselves are technically "Aliens". They also said that this new enemy set up will be very impactful for the future of the DCU.

Williamson Chimed in quite a bit to discuss the psychology behind Lex Luther and Clark Kent. "Lex isn't stupid. He's one of the smartest people in the DCU. When he looks at Clark, sometimes he recognizes that the world does need a Superman, but a good one. Lex may just have ulterior motives---i mean, he's lex, he always has ulterior motives---to force Clark to be a better Superman. And when Clark looks at people, all he sees Is the good in them. He sees their potential for growth. But when he looks at Lex, all he feels is disappointment. He feels disappointed in Lex sure, but he feels even more disappointed in himself for failing Lex."

"I love the backstory that Lex is from Smallville. When Clark leaves Smallville, there's what, ten years? Before he makes his way to Metropolis. And when he gets there, Lex is already there. What was he doing during that time? Metropolis had its fair share of villains but he destroyed them so that he could be Lex Luthor, the true villain of the city."

They then mentioned briefly about wanting to do the same thing for the Arrow Family as they did with the Bats and strive to do with the Supers. An upcoming series will explore Oliver getting "lost" and the family coming together to find him. Very exciting.

They showed plenty of beautiful artwork that has not been released yet! Sorry for the grainy photos, I tried as best as I could with my Motorola ok :P

This is for my fellow writers out there!! When asked about this image, Williamson and Johnson said that Clark "wishes people could hear what he does. He hears all of humanity in a connected thum, it's one heartbeat, not billions overlapping. All of our hearts beat together as one. When searching for specific people, he has to focus in through that single heartbeat."

Green Lantern was next! They announced a new run titled War Jounrals which follows US Marine John Stewart. They took heavy inspiration from 80s action movies such as Alien vs Predator when crafting this series. With DC's emphasis on mental health awareness and representation, I really hope they dive into the PTSD that comes from war. Not much was mentioned about this series to confirm or deny this.

Stargirl continuation: When asked about the writing/inspiration behind the future of her comics, they said they "wanted to dig into what being a side kick means---used to mean, anyway---and bring that back. Side Kicks are supposed to be a hero starting within the community, starting small, but always taking the time to save a kid and instil hope in that kid. That small difference makes a side kick. They start with so much hope only to be forgotten about, we want to bring back the old bright tone that was in Young Justice."

The Justice Society of America will follow the Huntress. She brings villains onto her team to offer them a chance to reform and walk a better path, a good path. She wants to be the same way her father, Bruce Wayne, was with her mother, Selina Kyle. The Huntress will link into the rest of the current DCU as she will get trapped in a timeline? Do I know what this means? Absolutely not. But apparently its gonna be important so

And finally! The Batfamily!!!

The first major announcement was the relaunch of Batman: the Brave and the Bold. Upon looking back at the original source material, they decided to extend the 9 page issue to a 96 page story line. They really wanted to deep dive into the series since they thought it had more to tell than what it did originally.

Since this is year one Batman, this will be the story of how Batman first encountered the Joker himself. They didn't share much on the contents but said it would stay true to the original, so this is not a retcon, it's just a more intesive retelling.

The artist for this series admited that he actually forgot year one Batman wouldn't have such a modern suit. After realizing this only after completing the series, he had to go back and redraw every panel with Batman in it. He very proudly said "shit!"

And of course, the HUGE announcement taking the internet by storm:

Batman and Robin

This series will follow after the events of Lazarus Planet and the Lazarus Tournament Damian went through. It will follow Bruce and Damian Wayne as they "come together not just as heros this time, but as father and son." This series is going to be a pretty heavy one since it will dive into how they come together "without Alfred as the buffer as the mentor figure for them both." Not only will Bruce continue on his current character arc of viewing each of the Robins as his sons and truly supporting them, but Damian will be front and center to cope with Alfred's death.

Williamson spoke on this heavily as he was supposed to leave Batman and Robin, but he actually went to DC and said "I'm not done with Damian, there's still more story to tell. He's not going anywhere." But he also mentioned a key point for Damian's growth: "He was trained by Talia and of course by Bruce, but he was also trained by Alfred so you'll see how that shapes Damian interacting with Bruce going forward, especially as they grow as Father and Son."

They said this will tie into the next big series in the DCU which follows Damian having "nightmares and demons". That was all that was mentioned about that.

The Gotham City Zoo will be a huge set piece for the series and I truly hope we see more canon content of Damian's love for animals in this run.

The focus of Damian is him growing into himself and become more emotionally aware of himself and those around him. With Alfred's impression on him, there will be key moments of Damian interacting with Bruce as Bruce goes through tough times.

Additinally, Williamson adores Damian being a fan of manga. Since it's shown Damian has been reading a romance one, there's some hope for emotional connection with others not in a romantic way, but moreso in the ability to be vulnerable with people in a way he has only been able to read about. It's implied he could be reading this manga as a yearning for connection to others on a deeper level, especially as someone who grew up to ignore his emotions. So this will follow Damian as he tries to let himself be more connected to his loved ones the way Alfred was teaching him to. Plus, his love for manga will not be going anywhere, it's "staying strong."

Damian will get his own car! Williamson wanted to give him a car that matched him since hes "a little rough around the edges." It will be a fun addition while the duo grow as family since Bruce will have to be okay with Damian driving. "Its gonna be Bruce saying he's gonna drive and then you turn the page and Damian is saying 'he's got something' and Bruce has to get used to letting his son drive him."

Very much Bruce growing out of strictness to be more soft with his sons as we've seen in the more recent comics.

And ofc, Simone Di Meo will be the artist for this series!! As well as the cover artist for The Brave & The Bold!

----

I am super excited for how DC is starting to write the Batfamily and even the Superfamily. They're starting to tackle a lot of mental health issues and the trauma old comics have left the characters with. It's not perfect by any means, especially with Batman v. Robin being more than a little rough, it had it's moments.

My main concern is how they'll be treating Tim going forward. With TDR getting shortened and Damian returning as Robin, I really really hope they don't just forget Tim exists. My hope is that with Tim's new title, there will be room for another solo series under that title in the way Nightwing and Spoiler has been done.

The last thing I want is for Tim to go through all this work finding where he belongs and how he views himself just to join/lead another team. He's defining himself aside from the Robin legacy to define who he is under his new title. I think he needs time as a solo hero before rejoining a group for an extensive time period. I don't want them to erase all his personal growth just because they don't want to give him another solo series. I'll be more than a little upset at the lost potiential.

[guzhufuren]

continuation to this tutorial under the cut

we continue colouring. next, onto the Curves layer! just like with Levels, choose white dropper and pick a light spot. this will be mine:

again, that's far too white, i only want to brighten up the scene a bit, so i will be changing Curves layer's opacity to 15% and this is what i got:

the gif now has a bit of brightness and blueish tone from the Curves, but not too much!

use Selective Colour layer to correct any colours you would like in your gif! i usually use it to bring back the colour of the characters' skin by changing Reds: Black to a higher number. in this case i added +20. i will also move the Selective Colour layer down under the Levels layer because i'd like for it to be more intense.

next, please use the Gradient Map layer from my psd. i cannot remember where i learned it from, but i always use this one in my gifs, while only changing the opacity of it sometimes. it ranges from 20% to 60% on my edits. it adds contrast to the gif.

now, the last layer is Vibrance. as you pointed out, i really like to make gifs that are vibrant and colourful. my usual Vibrancy setting is +50 in Vibrance and +2 in Saturation, but you can play around to see what works best for you.

great, if you completed this step, you are done with colouring the way i do it! personally i will be erasing a bit of Levels layers on the left side of the gif cause the character's belly skin looks too light, but you don't need to worry about that for now.

Optional step: Captions

if you want to make a subtitle text layer, click the Type tool. then click on the picture and drag the tool on it.

type your text, choose a colour and a font. then change the font's setting to bold and italic

add a Layer Style by clicking on fx button > Stroke

enter these settings:

Click on Drop Shadow in this window and enter these settings > Click OK to save

here, we have a caption!

7. Saving the gif

click the Save action. check the end of the timeline to see if you have any blank layers, and delete them if you do.

go to File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)

these are my saving settings. most gifmakers use Diffusion, but i prefer Pattern cause i like the way it looks on the mobile better (especially in cases when my gifs are grainy).

click Save and name your gif. and you are done! hopefully i explained what you asked well, but english in not my first language and etc, i also am a whole damn idiot and not highly competent in the giffing field. sorry if anything in confusing! please send another ask or a message if you have questions darling <3 here is my result

also i collected many cool tumblr photoshop tutorials so i recommend going through my giffing tag too!

[animehouse-moe]

Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 Episode 3: Hidden Inventory 3

I'll be the first to say it, this episode is markedly better than the prior two. It's better in quite a few different ways, though is still peppered with quite a few complaints. Would I say that things are looking up? Probably not, no. Would I say there's a chance at this adaptation getting better as we go on? Quite possibly, yes. It's a very weird spot, but this episode does well almost because it doesn't try to be Jujutsu Kaisen, rather it tries to move as far away from it as it can, and it's in the pieces that are central to JJK that you understand something is wrong. Confusing yes, but hopefully I can break down my thoughts into more detail with this post.

I like to call what I've just described the "Tanya The Evil Effect". It's an aspect where the depiction of a story and its events ends up so far deviated in tone and experience, that when under good direction and work you can still value and appreciate it as something disparate from the source material.

The episode director isn't in over their head this episode, Gosso isn't hamfisting excessive and incoherent direction into the content at large, there's just a lot of stuff that greatly divorces this episode from Gosso's vision at large, and is part of why it remains successful.

I still think there's things that are silly and pointless changes for the sake of cutting corners, like this sequence of Kuroi and Geto talking where they're static in the anime vs in motion in the manga. It's just one of those simple things that provides context and agency to the situation. Why would Geto and Kuroi be standing still if Amanai is in danger?

If you take a closer look at the episode, it's actually quite odd. There's a lot of direction that's bog standard, just characters in frame standing still. But then you get random bursts of direction that are surprisingly solid, like this piece of Amanai behind the fence/bars, symbolizing her isolation and feeling of being prisoner to her role as the Star Plasma Vessel. Arguably one of the only scenes that makes proper use of the change of scenery from the rooftop rendezvous of the manga.

Anyways, onto Okinawa. I'm disappointed, but also surprised. Incredibly sad to not see Gojo's summer hairstyle on display, but I also feel like with a lot of these scenes, this is the closest we'll manage to S1/manga humor parity.

Alright, back into disappointment mode. Very sad that they didn't include this pose/panel for Haibara and Nanami. Why don't we just continue to strip the characterization and style of this cast more, MAPPA? Also, poor Haibara man. Nanami's already a lost cause sadly, but I at least had a bit of hope for Haibara in spite of the early showings of their character design. Even worse than I was expecting to be honest. The energy and slightly goofy nature just does not exist within him in the anime.

Have to shout out my boy Asta/Tadano though. Love seeing Gakuto Kajiawara getting more and more VA roles.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Okinawa. This is now a drama anime, plain and simple. The framing/layouts/etc are all very much drama leaning, and it's well done. It's just that compared to what the manga offers.... it's, well, decidedly not it. Also, unsure why, but random scenes in the episode are very low-res? I know Tumblr compression does not help at all, but this scene in particular is incredibly grainy and odd. There's also something wrong here in how dull Gojo and Geto's colors are in the shade compared to how vibrant the scene is in the light. I wouldn't call it bad compositing, but the color design doesn't feel quite right. I mean, the second image is of them in the exact same spot under the shade, but it looks so much better? The environment art is sharper in their vicinity, the character designs are more detailed, there's proper shading, and the colors seem way more accurate/realistic.

Maybe I've just gotten used to the poor compositing/coloring of the series to be honest, because at first glance I didn't actually think it was as inconsistent as I'm finding it to be.

Also, shoutout MAPPA hating on Geto again man. This dude is just stepped all over through these episodes and it hurts me so much. His expressiveness is totally stripped away from him and replaced with some hollow smile that I'm sure anime onlies can even tell carries no weight. Like please tell me, who are these two people in the anime??? It just hurts, and it's the tip of the iceberg for the issues with faces and expressions.

Personally speaking, I think this one is the biggest failure from MAPPA. They literally did this exact defeated smile Geto loves to wear in JJK 0, and they can't repeat it for S2? It's just so painful to see them totally mismanage the characters despite having simpler designs so they can "be more expressive".

That's enough bemoaning what's happened to poor Geto, allow me to return to why this episode is actually better (though it only really borders on good) than the prior ones: that drama feel. They extend what's displayed in the manga of Amanai and co's Okinawa trip, and it's pretty well done. I'd say as a manga reader though? I don't really care, and I don't think it adds a great deal to the experience in the first place with how they chose to add things. The scenes are pretty and some of the best displayed in the episode though, of course. The good old MAPPA special of placing insane effort into original pieces while giving the source material the cold shoulder.

Okay, one little piece of criticism (though it's actually sorta big). MAPPA just can't keep their little paws off of messing up characters for some reason. It's a simple thing, I know, but it's also why I'm complaining about it. There was no need. No need to have Amanai place her hands behind her back, to do something that her character never did even once in the manga. But they do, and it changes the tone of Amanai simply walking through an aquarium, to Amanai placing more thought in the experience. A very frustrating and needless change that weighs down the actual potential displayed in the sequence at large.

Anyways, what makes this piece of the original adaptation good? Well, the use of the symbolism of fish was already strong in the manga thanks to Gege, as its used to further show Amanai's isolation and the lack of a group that she can exist alongside/be with. That part remains clear in the anime thankfully. The piece that adds to it though is the parallel between the aquarium and its customers. They place the idea of Amanai's isolation compared to the fish on top of the people visiting the aquarium. Sounds a little odd maybe but I'm bad at explaining, but the point is to show the isolation Amanai feels from seeing the fish (and whales) in the aquarium as a palpable and noticeable thing that she actively experiences.

Of course, I'm not without complaints, but I feel like it's easier to let it slide if you don't look deeply at this sequence. If you see it as something untethered to Amanai's character, the weird extra cuts of the fish swimming freely in the aquarium is fine, but putting it alongside the context of Amanai's character it's pretty confusing and excessive. Why spend all that time fixating on the movements of the fish trapped in an aquarium, relegated to their current fate? Feels like a tone deaf movement for some odd pursuit of artistry that neglects the function of the sequence.

Alright, on to the next butchered character/sequence! Toji and Gojo. Man, I knew what to expect considering they showed viewers as much of the "good" stuff as they could, but I didn't think it was going to get this weak.

I knew Toji was going to suffer, but I mean, how different can you really get and still call it the same character? What a weird shit-eating grin in the anime versus the far more creepy and naturally twisted smirk that rests on Toji's face. It's just incredibly bothersome to see them fail so miserably with reactions that are so important to characters.

And I mean, they do it again, and again, and again. The whole flashback sequence is meant to be played off like horror, and up until the reveal is well done. It's got tension, a cheesy horror soundtrack. It's got the potential to actually do something with the appeal it's aiming for, but it ultimately fails because what is Toji's reaction here? It's supposed to be the thing that he fears/despises/disgusts, but all that shows on his face is plain surprise? Compare that to the manga, and you see how flat and lifeless this reaction is.

Okay okay last one before I move on. What kind of pose is this? He's so relaxed and standing like he's already superior to Gojo, like he knows he could win effortlessly. It is absolutely not the pose and expression of a man set to go up against arguably the most feared sorcerer of his time.

Anyways, action and stuff. I don't think it's terrible. As I'd already established though it's not JJK action. It takes well done choreography and layouts, and reduces it to flashy cuts that viewers can barely piece together in time. What's more worth talking about is how dim and over processed the sequences are. They just end up looking so out of place no matter what MAPPA tries to do. Also man, the S2 OST really does stink. Even in a tense action sequence there's just zero heart in it. Such a massive flop compared to the electric work on S1 and 0.

Okay, yes, Keiichirou Watanabe's animation for Gojo's Blue is well done. But, if the camera wasn't having a seizure I'm sure it would be better received. Of course, same issues in regards to the prior statement about action with the dimming and over processing too. Wastes a lot of potential that the cut had to be a genuinely great piece of animation in the context of JJK. It still undeniably is, beneath all of the additional oddities that bury it, but it's pretty far removed from JJK.

If you want to understand what I'm saying, take a look at Hanami vs Yuji and Todo (Watanabe did the cut of Hanami's massive branch attack). Yes, the compositing is better for Gojo's blue, but take a look at the camera work. How much effort it places into keeping the duo in frame, how hard it tries to keep things cohesive and easy to follow. It's a night and day difference that shows the importance of a director in delivering the best version of someone's animation.

Anyways, here's Gojo's Blue sequence, as a video. Too long to make into a reasonable quality gif, and also insanely flashy and all over the place so nicer than having seizure material auto-play in two places at once.

Alright, so uh, Gojo dies, Toji pulls up with the gat and domes Amanai right in front of Geto, following it up by announcing that he killed Gojo. And then the episode ends. Honestly? I loved the ending just cause I know it'll cause so much chaos for viewers.

The episode overall though? It's weird that I think it noticeably better than the prior two when I've complained about so much, but maybe it's one of those things where the closer you get to being correct, the more faults you find in the thing being examined. Regardless, it feels like Toji's been incredibly nerfed from a viewer's perspective compared to the manga (alongside Geto and plenty of others), and honestly I had next to no hype for their actual sequence because it all felt so disjointed. The pacing of it felt off, and the action just didn't grab me with it's super flashy, highly processed, up close and personal so you can't quite tell what's going on combat. I'd say it's still a flop compared to what S1 would offer in comparison for big moments, but it's also done better on average when compared to the prior two episodes.

Pacing is of massive concern now though. We're three episodes in, with a total of five. It took us three episodes to make 8 chapters total, and we've got 6 though more likely 7 chapters of content left to cover for this arc, with only 2 episodes remaining. "Oh that's not too bad", except for the fact that there's the massive upcoming fight alongside us still having to get through Toji vs Geto. Even with the 6 instead of 7 chapters, even if they don't add any original content, they're speed-running at a minimum of 3 chapters for the last two episodes, which is pretty damn bold.

Is Hidden Inventory/Gojo's Past going to hold on and make it to the end in its current state, or will it rush itself to an early grave? Next episode will certainly be the deciding factor, but whatever it is, I'm not exactly hopeful of where we're going to be left.

[reallygrossstuff]

can u pls write dirk going into jake's house while jake is like in the bathroom, and picks up some cursed object (maybe like one of those ancient statues that look like a fat woman with big tits) that transforms him into an ultra confident fatty with a huuuuge gut and big milky tits. still goes by he/him, just has big breasts that are absolutely leaking. perhaps with jake also coming out and seeing dirk, and dirk seduces him and jake falls head over heels. thank u!!!

Those Venus of Willendorf statues are really funny, thanks for reminding me about them! I hope you enjoy, there isn't a lot of characterisation just because of the length but hopefully he's confident enough for you!

"Make yourself at home!" Jake smiled wide, waving Dirk off as he left the room. "I'll be out once I've washed up a little, sorry for the delay."

"Don't sweat it, man." Dirk shrugged, watching Jake step into the hall. "I get it, I should've called ahead. Don't rush yourself just for me."

"All the same, I won't be long!" Jake retreated down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Dirk alone in the trophy room as the sound of running water reached his ears.

They hadn't been on Earth C for long, but Jake had already managed to amass a notable collection. It was missing the pelts, heads and horns that he'd bragged to Dirk about collecting on his island - apparently hunting was only fun when the creatures were truly dangerous, and being a god took away from that somewhat - but the space had been more than filled with various cultural artefacts. Running his finger across the edge of a shelf, Dirk could see medallions, casts of wall carvings and other small trinkets taking up every bit of space in the room.

Jake was clearly proud of his collection, but he hadn't done much to keep it untouched. Nothing was behind glass or cordoned off, probably so he could pick up any of his prizes without delay. Dirk had watched Jake heft many of the objects in this room while regaling him with a story of its provenance, almost always ending with Jake relieving it from a lost ruin or rescuing it from being lost under a new development project.

Dirk was familiar with most of the items in the room, but there was always something being swapped in or out that caught his eye. Today it was a statuette still on Jake's work table, apparently so recent it hadn't even been found a place yet.

As Dirk approached to look at it, he was reminded of photographs he'd seen of old Venus statues from his own Earth. The figure was squat and lacking in details, only identifiable as a woman by its large breasts. These breasts sat on top of a round belly, which seemed to be the most carefully carved part of the whole statue. Dirk could see the shape of multiple defined rolls cut into the grainy stone, as well as an indentation for the statue's navel.

There were disposable gloves left on the table next to the statuette, but it looked clean enough. Interested in a closer look, Dirk reached out and grabbed it.

Click!

---

Shutting off the tap, Jake frowned as he dried his hands. He could've sworn he'd heard something, but the sound wasn't familiar and it didn't repeat. Shaking his head, he made sure he was totally clean before opening the bathroom door and walking out.

"Dirk, are you still in the trophy room?" He called out, heading towards the room in question. "I'm all washed up now, so we can get-"

His breath caught in his throat as a figure stepped through the doorway, barely fitting. "Get what? If it isn't 'get food' or 'get to bed', it can probably wait."

The man standing in the hall couldn't possibly have been Dirk, except for all the ways it had to be. He still had the same gelled hair, and the same pointed shades, but everything else was completely changed.

For one, he was taller than Jake now. The two had previously been of a height, with Jake less than an inch taller. Now Jake needed to tip his head up to fix Dirk with a look of disbelief, the other man having more than a full head of height over him.

As tall as Dirk had gotten, though, he'd grown twice as much in width. There was no polite way to say it - in the space of a minute, Dirk had gotten unbelievably fat. His clothes had been reduced to shreds, scraps of denim stuck between his thighs and the remains of a shirt hanging off his shoulders speaking to an explosive growth.

Every part of Dirk was fat, from a round face that wobbled when he spoke to tree-trunk thighs that had dragged against each other as he stepped into the hall. By far his largest feature, though, was his massive doughy gut. It hung in front of him, an apron of flab sagging down to his knees. Jake swallowed thickly, realising that belly was all that currently preserved Dirk's modesty.

Dirk's belly was indulgently round, its surface only marred by the deep navel currently making eyes at Jake. Jake knew Dirk had scars, but the miles and miles of skin on display for him was all perfectly unmarked. Not a single cut or ripple or speck of acne distracted from the most basic fact of how huge Dirk's middle was.

Jake tried to tear his eyes up to Dirk's face, but they got caught along the way. Sitting splayed across the top of Dirk's gut were a pair of equally affecting breasts, larger and more shapely than any he'd seen before. They were fat, yes, but that only meant they were rounder, heavier, sitting more appealingly on top of Dirk's belly. As Jake stared helplessly, he realised that each of Dirk's large, puffy nipples was starting to leak fluid.

Well, he definitely wasn't going to think about that!

"Dirk, what - what on Earth happened to you?!" Jake asked helplessly, taking a step back as if that would make him easier to take in.

"Me? Who knows." Dirk shrugged with an uncharacteristic lack of care, putting his hands on his hips. He looked down, seeming to notice for the first time how wide he was and how much his flabby fingers sank into his body. His only reaction was to smile, leaving his hands where they were. "If I knew I'd do it again, are you seeing me right now?"

"Er, yes, I certainly am 'seeing you'. I could see a little less of you if you wanted to find some clothes that fit?"

"Sounds boring." Reaching up, Dirk began tugging the last scraps of cloth off of his body, even the slight motion causing his breasts and gut to sway from side to side. "I'm not interested in covering up. Is it distracting you?"

"Quite a bit, yes." Jake's voice came out squeakier than he'd intended it, especially when Dirk took a lumbering step closer. Jake could only watch as his body bounced with the motion, Dirk's gut swinging up and plunging down only a foot away from Jake's body.

This close, Jake could just about see Dirk's eyes through his shades. There was all the sharp wit and intellect of normal in them, but as Jake stared, he thought he could see… something else. Something simpler. "Good," he drawled, reaching out and cupping Jake's face in one soft, pudgy hand. "Do you want to let me distract you some more? If you keep acting cute, I might let you have a taste.

Jake swallowed thickly, watching milk pool atop Dirk's gut before dribbling down his front. He knew it was on him to be the voice of reason, to say that something was obviously amiss and Dirk's opinion on the matter couldn't be trusted. He needed to pull the brakes on this whole situation and get things sorted.

Wetting his lips, Jake said, "Do you think you'll still fit on the bed?"

Dirk's lips curled slowly upwards. "Not a chance, but let's try it anyway."

[montydrawsstuff]

I FORGOT THE PROMPTTTT i am so sorry 😭 younger espio being a bit feral. he bites vector. chews his hand. little beast

ahhh... good idea

how about some feralness from fear, maybe a fresh relationship and broken trust type o deal? let's give this a go

Vector sighed as his vision began to focus.

He didn't mean to fall asleep in his chair, but it was the comfiest place at the moment. Hopefully he could find an old mattress on the roadside or at least a worn out couch sometime soon, so he didnt have to keep sleeping on a stack of flattened cardboard.

There was of course a worse alternative- he looked pointedly at his new roomie who stood in the doorway. The lizard child he had recently taken in was odd, always sleeping while standing bolt upright and waking at any small disturbance. Vector still had no idea where he came from or even how old he was, just that he was desperate... and very small.

"Good mornin to ya!" he called out, grimicing at the kids shocked recoil at first. "Hey, chill. I'm not gonna bite!"

He shook his head, at least the little guy wasn't pointing his knife at him with every word. The food probably helped...

"C'mere! Yea you! Let's talk a second." he rapped his fingers on the desk as the lizard slowly approached at his nod. "C'mon slow poke.. hey there, so now that you're living here, I ought ta ask you some stuff.. like..."

He was a bit put off by how empty those big yellow eyes seemed when looking at him, but pushed on.

"What's your name?" he pointed straight at him, hoping the gesture would help him understand. Empty staring back wasn't the response he was after.

Vector was fine with someone being shell shocked, hell, he knew how rough it could be living on the streets, no one to care for you. But there was a limit to his patience, this kid hadn't said more than a peep for 2 weeks at this point.

"Okay, I'm just gonna assume you just don't got one.. Don't worry, let's just call ya..." he scanned around the room for an idea, landing on the TV "Pana- .. Sonic, let's call ya Sonic... ugh that's garb, we'll get ya a better one later..."

"Sonic" sneered a bit at the name, Vector didn't blame him.

"So... Sonic, Lemme get a good look at ya.. huh, I know lizards can be pretty small but... Eh don't worry, you'll get bigger when you start eatin'..." he noted the little face beginning to tense up "Where did ya come from? I mean you were by the docks.. were you in the city? I don't think I've seen those kinds of shoes in seaside tho..."

Vector felt his patience wear ever thinner as "Sonic" continued to be unresponsive, but he was beginning to understand a bit more about the little guy just from the visual cues.

"Ooohhhh... you got no idea what I'm saying, do ya! You ain't dumb, You're foreign! And if I didn't know better I'd say you were some kinda stow away! Did you hitch a ride on one of those fishing boats? You're Japanese, aren't ya!"

Vector scrambled madly around his desk for anything he could use to help with his new deduction, sliding a newspaper across the desk to where the young lizard could glance at it.

"Oh there's a Japanese section in there! Something about that scientist bozo who's been screwing up the place so he can build... I don't even know... Some guy called... Egg something..."

Vector lifted the paper and turned to the page, hard to make out the article with a large coffee ring stain over it but he smirked at the grainy photo and pointed to it

"Get a loada' this fool! What is he wearing?"

The kid snatched the newspaper and stared at the picture, panic clear in his eyes.

"Hey gimme that, I'll read it to ya"

He recoiled sharply.

"Gimme, ya little shit" he reached for the paper, not waiting for confirmation.

He pulled away as "Sonic" hissed at him.

"Okay that's it, that's not even yours you little bastar-!"

Vector cut himself off with a shriek as teeth dug into his hand.

"WHAT THE- WHAT THE SHIT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" he tugged to get his hand back, but the bite force of this small chameleon was far more formidable than he could have imagined. His gloves were torn and reddened by the time he recovered his hand from the feral creature he, for some reason, let into him home.

They came soon to a stare off, shock and fear echoing in each other as the adrenaline wore out, Vector keeping a tight grip on his wound.

Finally, the small lizard rattled off his first words to Vector. It would have meant a lot to the young croc if he understood a word, but there was no signs of english in any of it. It was strange for someone Vector's size to be afraid of a mere child, but something in how furious the words came out and the rapid succession in which they did was enough for him to get one thing.

This kid had been through... something....

[moerusai]

Hey Mo, what do you mean by available on discord keypad (I don't remember the exact words)? Is it something like you can search gifs with say kinnporsche as the keyword and these gifs will show up? Also how does one like post a gif made by someone else on Tumblr as like a reaction image or in those metas? Like how does the little label saying gif by xyz show up? Also also do you have a gif making tutorial or something coz I've been trying to figure out how to do hd gifs but they still end up grainy. (Hopefully something that doesn't involve photoshop).

Hey! Looks like there are 3 questions:

1. How to find my gifs on Discord/Twitter (any site that uses the Tenor keyboard)

I sometimes upload gifs to Tenor so my friends can use them in our group chat, but they're available to everyone. Just search "moerusai" + any relevant keyword.

Example: "moerusai, apo-nattawin" will bring up Apo gifs.

Tenor starts showing random unrelated gifs after a certain number of results tho. You'll most likely have to keep scrolling to find what you're looking for.

Tips: You can "favorite" gifs on desktop for future use.

2. How to embed gifs on Tumblr

Please check out these guides 😘.

3. How to make HD gifs

I use Photoshop and After Effects, so I have no idea how to make gifs using other tools 😂. But are some cool PS resources if you need them in the future:

Basic gif tutorial

Sharpening tutorial

usergif's resource directory

Happy giffing!

[gamerbearmira]

Alma bandaging Mer! Pedro's elbows and tail after he sustained a few scrapes from crawling across rough ground.

Alma: "Pedro! I told you I was going to meet you at the shore so you didn't have to crawl!"

Pedro: "And you were late! So I got worried and went over to check on you!"

HE JUST WANTS TO SEE HER <\\\333 Alma knows he only means well, but she can't help but worry for him 😭

Les get it

-----

Pedro sat in the fountain, looking guilty and embarrassed as Alma cleaned his scrapes and wrapped them. She insisted, saying that she'd rather do it than have the palace doctor do it. Not that she minded. What she did mind was how he got the scrapes.

Alma had told Pedro she would meet him down at the beach. But Pedro, being the worry wart he was, decided that he couldn't wait. She had been a little late from their usual meeting time and he crawled to her. Dragged himself out of the water and across the sand and pavement and to the castle.

This resulted in his injuries. The grainy sand, and stone pathway mixed with the hot sun did not do him much justice.

"Pedro, I told you I'd meet you down at the shore," Alma scolded, clicking her tongue as she moved to his other elbow. "Why didn't you wait?!"

Pedro held his head down, his fins dropping. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he looked up, looking worried. "And you were so late, I wanted to check on you! What did you expect me to do, sit there?"

"Yes!" Alma argued, finishing up her work. She sighed, calming down. Placing a hand on his cheek, he looked up at her. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Just...wait for me next time. Ok?"

"Ok," Pedro smiled, feeling his cheeks heat up.

-----

When is it my turn to be happy 😆

The palace servants waiting for Pedro and Alma to stop oogling at each other so Alma can get back to her duties

Also??? Sorry I have updated the masterlist I will. Get to that as soon as I can, hopefully later today <33 ALSO GOOD NEWS PENCIL AN APPLE PENCIL❗❗My moms gonna give me hers <333

[maxbegone]

Hey! I'd really love it if you shared your psd settings(?) that you're using to gif 911ls. I'm very new to photoshop, trying to learn the basics right now, and I think it would really help me to have some references to what experienced creators consider "good" settings.

hi there! hopefully i'm able to help you out a little bit. i'm not expert, and it's safe to say we all have our own individual ways of coloring, but in the end we get the results we want. some excellent resources are @usergif and @completeresources if you're looking for something specific.

first, i always start by brightening up the gif i'm working on, but not too much — you don't want it to be washed out. it helps me see what needs to be muted or accentuated, like yellows or cyans. i also keep everything under one folder above the gif itself just as a way to stay organized.

after that, i work on the coloring a bit. i toy around through color balance with the highlights (i personally don't like when things look too much like a hue one way or another if i'm just trying to go for a "natural-looking" coloring). if the scene seems a little yellow, i'll add some blue and counteract that with some red so it brings back the warmth. from there, i'll go into selective color and mess around in there. it's also where, for brighter/whiter scenes (ie hospital rooms) i'll bring the blacks up in the white panel and adjust the magentas and yellows for a better balance. i'll also bring up the blacks here, too (or bring them down? i make them darker), but i personally don't make them too too stark. sometimes it'll get too grainy, which i personally don't like when i'm giffing. (same goes with something being too bright with the curves too intense).

sometimes i'll dip into curves to help make the whole thing look less flat, but i'm very diligent with this. it can mess up your coloring if you're not careful. and i'm new-ish to it as well, but channel mixer really does wonders on scenes that are harshly or purposefully colored one way or the other.

i do tend to go back and forth between selective and color balance to get the effect just right, which is a personal preference that i've found myself falling into habit of. i'll also bring up the vibrancy/down the saturation if i feel so inclined.

to be honest, coloring just involves a lot of messing around and getting used to what you like. if you feel like you're staring at the gif too long, take a step back, open another tab or step away from your computer for a little while, that way when you come back, something new might catch your eye. it's all about practice.

i hope this helped even a little! please don't hesitate to ask if you have any other questions!

[musette22]

https://twitter.com/starkscinema/status/1654317639773061120?t=d-95JQze1fpl5H9No198cw&s=19 and this is why I'd rather not see Sebastian 😓 why is that woman so close to him? he looks so uncomfortable. And the photos are grainy so this clearly isn't a pap walk at all. hopefully he had a lovely day anyway 🩶

Yeah, I definitely don't think this was a pap walk either. Like you said, the quality of the pics is bad and they look like they were taken from far away without him knowing, and then of course there's that asshole following him around with a camera at waayyyyy too close a distance. That's just harassment, and he really does look very uncomfortable in those pics 😓 Most likely he was just caught off guard by a bunch of paps who clearly weren't the respectful types... I hate that for him, ugh.

But yeah, I do also hope that despite having his day rudely interrupted, he had a good time out with his friend!!! 🌻🌻