#i'm still open to oc questions btw!!

[maybe-arts]

Hi maybeher0! If I’m not too late for the ask game, any combo of ⚡️💥🪄🔮🦋 for any oc(s)?

nononono you're not late at all!! in fact yall are welcome to send more, i haven't got a lot of those and would love to ramble (the post is here for anyone wondering)

anyways, let's spin the wheel and see who comes up!

(legitimately gonna set up a pickerwheel for this thing lmao)

(the reason the wheel is uneven is those who i actually have designs on hand or drew at least once are given more priority)

⚡️ (Lightning Bolt) - Which Power Effects [Blizzard, Bluster, Sizzle, Splash, Zap] would their attacks grant? Do they have any particular weaknesses or resistances, elemental or otherwise?

spinny wheel said this one is for Nova

Nova has the same Copy ability Kirby does, so by default their attacks have no elemental property and depend on whichever ability they currently possess. Given how by the time Nova arrives, Kirby is capable to switch abilities without needing a catalyst (aka without swallowing anything/anyone) and Gooey is able to do the same, but within a single moveset, I'd imagine adult Nova would be able to infuse their own weapon abilities with element from get go. Yknow, best of all worlds!

In the same vein, they don't have many elemental weaknesses. Astrals are tough creatures by their nature, made to be able to withstand absurdly extreme enviroments, so Nova isn't affected a lot by temperatures. in terms of matter/magic, they may be a touch weak to Dark as of now, due to their origin/core memory, but I'd imagine they will grow more resistant to it in the future.

💥 (Collision) - What’s your OC’s combat style like? Do they adhere to any particular code of honour or ethics in a fight, or are they totally unfettered by that sort of thing?

a big surprise! I don't think i've showed Debbie on this blog yet XD (for reference, she's Kawasaki's daughter that i based on the disguise Kirby and Dedede did in the first novel)

Debbie is more of a support fighter, like her dad, Vividria or Adeleine. She prefers to stay away from direct combat and use her baking/cooking skills to keep her allies alive and well. Not exactly a healer, but somewhere around that matter.

I do imagine a frying pan to the noggin as emergency self-defense would still hurt a lot tho.

🪄 (Magic Wand) - Are they capable of wielding magic? Is it a learned skill, or is it innate? What sorts of spells can they cast? Do they possess any magical items or artifacts? [e.g. the Dimensional Mantle]

wheel, why. I already talked a lot about Beamee's hurdles with magic, I wanted to choose someone else PLEASE.

Beamee is half-Doo, as you may know. In my kirbyverse, Waddle Dees, despite having strongly Zap-inclined Waddle Doos as closest relative species, are strongly magically insulated, meaning they're naturally incapable of wielding or conducting magic of any type on their own. (Tool-based abilities like Parasol, Archer or Spear do not count, this is all skill and/or weapon enchantment.)

And then there's Beamee.

Technically she can wield Zap elemental magic in form of Beam, but her Beam is... wonky at best. Plus her magical insulation as a Dee means she's having a hard time to actually focus and release the pent-up energy, leading to frequent migraines.

Tabitha made a small rod for her to help alleviate these issues, thankfully. Also the tiny girlfriends did talk at length about Beamee's magical troubles here:

(Tabitha LOVES to infodump about research.)

🔮 (Crystal Ball) - Out of all the treasures in the Great Cave Offensive, Kirby is letting your OC pick one from his stash to keep! Which one do they pick, and why?

If the wheel picks Beamee, Nova or Chiffon, I'm rerolling this thing.

...and it's none of those! It's Hooddini, my marxolor accidental fankid.

Hoodie would probably really like this thing:

He's a firm believer in luck, given circumstances or his "birth" (that being a "happy accident") so he collects a lot of things that bring good luck. Plus, this one reminds him of his cat dad!

🦋 (Butterfly) - Does your OC ‘fear the reaper’, so to speak? If they fused with Morpho Knight, what sort of form would they take on?

(offtopic but it's funny how on mobile app this emoji is a blue butterfly, but on website it's an orange one)

Almost wanted to not spin bc I actually do have a character in mind, but...

it's not the one I thought of, but it'll do.

As a child, Mona doesn't essentially fear death - mostly because they didn't encounter it personally. They did felt some sort of longing whenever a certain red butterfly was around.

As an adult tho, Mona still feels the same longing, but actively understands that it's not missing her mother, as she initially thought. It's more like she's missing being around a person that this butterfly reminds her of. (Gooey gets the same feeling, by the way. A trip to a certain retired knight does clarify some things once they learn about Nihil.)

As for the fused form, I gotta whip up CSP, hold on-

Here we go! A quick-ish sketch done. Morp becomes a magic witchknight bc I said so.

[theherosvillain]

2, 13 for Vale & 44, 45 for Phantom :)

2) From all the possibilities, why did you pick your whumpee rather than anyone else?

"It's simple. Phantom is a Super, and a powerful one at that. He's one of the only ones that the Hero League doesn't have control over, and his talents would be wasted with them. I saw his value, and I decided to make him an asset."

13) Have you ever tortured anyone aside from your whumpee? If so, what's the difference between your torture techniques for your whumpee and for others?

Vale frowns. "I don't torture Phantom. He has plenty of motivation to obey orders, and anyway, he needs to be in working condition. As for torture in general ..." He waves a hand indifferently. "I've done it before, of course, but I prefer to let my men handle that part. It gets a bit messy, for my tastes."

~

44) If you knew you'd end up like that, what would you do differently in your life?

Phantom laughs incredulously. "Damn, going right for the throat, aren't you? I mean ..." The laugh fades, and he looks thoughtful. "If I knew I'd end up here, I guess the only thing I could've done differently was to never become a villain. And honestly? I wouldn't do that. Even if all roads lead here, I'd still have to try, right?"

45) Is there anything you said or did that could've led to your capture? If so, do you regret it?

He sighs. "I've thought about that a lot. Maybe, if I knew what would happen that night, I wouldn't have gone after Amoret, and she wouldn't have drugged me, and then Vale wouldn't have had his opportunity. But Vale was watching me long before that, and I needed those answers from Amoret..." He looks uncomfortable. "I think it was kind of inevitable. Vale just would've found a different opening." His voice turns bitterly sarcastic. "He's persistent like that."

Whump Ask Game

[plumipal]

AAAAAOMG UR TWST OC IS SO ADORABLE?? i'm absolutely in love with eden sm (+ his design?? the star eyes and the wings are my favorite,, i wanna smooch all his tattoos!) and i hope it's okay to ask a few questions about him... (I KNOW U SAID IT WAS OKAY BUT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE 😭 i'm genuinely interested in knowing more!)

1) does he have anyone in the twst cast that he tolerates/likes? i know he's part of the whole harem thing but is there anyone he doesn't necessarily mind being around (or even sharing with the prefect?)

2) do grim and eden have a good relationship? i would assume so since they're living both with one another but do they just get along with each other for the prefect's sake or are they actually best buds? (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

(little dumb idea but i think it would be so cute if the prefect treated the two as if they were all like a little family! eden and prefect being the two parents and grim their rambunctious kid lmao,, i would imagine the others not being so happy about it (っ‘ω`c))

3) is he okay with physical affection/pda? is he totally chill about it or would he rather shy about the whole thing? is he open to having the prefect touch his wings or his tattoos?

4) oooo any funfacts that you have about the new ramshackle resident?? just in general really if that's okay with u ofc!! ☆

aa okay that's it!! i hope my questions weren't annoying or anything! (っ‘ω`c)

Had to get one of those wheels ive seen going around where you put the oc and how they feel about the character and how the characters feel back about them, but with a twist lol (most of them are haters).

The ones he are most tolerant with are grim, ace, deuce, jack and kalim. Only one he could possible share with would either be kalim, jack or deuce, because of how he sorta is annoyed by ace.

Of course cant forget how he feels about you :) he thinks you are very very very special and he loves you a lot <3

He likes grim a lot, seeing as grim isn't one of the students that is oh so annoying. He warms up to the monster, seeing how gently you take care of grim, wanting to do the same. It feels, domestic, in his opinion.

Grim likes Eden a lot too, he has never belittled him, he has always made sure to feed grim along with Eden being very warm (and therefore very nice to sleep on). In grims opinion, he thinks you should go with Eden, cuz he is a good candidate for marriage (grim has been bribed with love, affection, and tuna).

He takes good care of the cat son, making sure he is healthy and happy.

Now onto pda. Eden are only okay with you touching the wings, the tattoo and the core, being as they are quite sensitive. The scar is still off limits, but maybe if you make him warm up to you even more you might be able to-

He loves when you help him with his wings, it's one of the best feelings out there. Fo mind that only you (and grim) can touch the wings, anyone else is off limits, ESPECIALLY ROOK HE IS FORBIDDEN TO TOUCH THEM.

Eden facts!! He has lil "ear-holes" like birds, just behind the feathers. Be careful around that part when you help him with his feathers, otherwise you might have a pouty and angry Eden on tour hands.

His eyes also glow in the dark! It's the scariest during the nightly snack runs down to the kitchen, seeing him suddenly stare at you, but you slowly get used to it!

You don't know where the extra eyes sometimes come from tho...

Also some general facts about Eden!

Dorm: Ramshackle

Birthday: 1/1

Age: ???

Height: 185cm

Fav subject: alchemy

Hobby: cleaning in ramshackle, birdwatching

Likes: you

Dislikes: Loud noises, blond 3rd year hunters named rook hunt, people trying to grab onto his wings that aren't you

Fav food: he don't need to eat to gain sustenance, bur he likes mashed potatoes with gravy

Least fav food: soup, any soup, he hates it

Btw if anyone were to write for Eden I would explode it would mean the world to me

[chinomiko]

hi! i know it must be kinga boring for you recive questions about castiel bc ppl are obsessed ober him for years but like the other person who asked you a few days ago, i follow you (and ply mcl) for like 10 years and ever since day one my fav boy has been tiel. till this day at the age of 22 he's my favorite and my comfort boy so i joke that he's not a fictional character anymore for me and that i know him personally at this point lol

with that being said, i bet you can imagine that over the years i've been elaborating his personality beyond what the game gives us but he's your boy, you created him therefore you know him and your word is canon, so i'd like to ask a few stuff!! nothing too big, dont worry but here we go.

tiel is an amazing songwriter and since he's very emotional not very good at express it (he does it a lot better now that he's an adult 🥹) i bet his lyricism is very deep and poetic so i have this headcanon that he at first wouldn't like taylor swift because obviously lol but then he payed attention to her lyrics and ends up basically being a swiftie since he likes her writing a lot. what you think about that?

and what kind of music crowstorm sings? like there are any bands that you listen and think "hey this would be in a crowstorm album!" (i have a playlist with this name btw lol). im probably wrong on this one but since this is my fav band i like to think that catfish and the bottlemen are the irl crowstorm, musically speaking

and the last one: another thing that gives me so much comfort is the lystiel friendship. not having present parents, being so closed off i know that lysander is such an important presence on tiel's life because he was basically the only close person he had (specially after the debrah fiasco); if lys didnt had taken the farm and went to college and bla bla bla do you think he would still be part of the band with castiel? im not sure if im mixing the canon with a fanfic i read a while ago (lol) but the band was more of a fun thing to lys, right? he liked writing most (i always imagined him getting into a literature degree or something like this). i also like to think that he helps tiel with lyrics at times, even if he's out of the band (in my head the canon is that they are best friends and pretty close till this day, i pretend lys never left our lives just like armin)

anyways sorry for this big ask 😭 i dont even know if you will read it all but if you do, thank you! and dont feel like you have to answer, i know its too much its just that mcl is my hyperfixation till this day like for real, i have a fanfic that i write still and i even plan on making it into a book sometime. except from the main characters (who is my oc) all the characters will be based on the game's ones :)

ilysm take care and stay hydrated!!

Hellow !

Aww thank you so much and for all your love for Castiel ^^

What a long ask, I'll try to answer in order.

Castiel being a swiftie. No sorry, I don't think he would be. If candy likes her, I'm pretty sure he would try to listen. Also he is an open minded person for sure, so I'm sure he would be curious to listen and study what all the hype is about, it could also help as some sort of far away inspiration, but I don't see him being a fan.

What kind of songs Crowstorm sings This is hard to answer because my musical knowledge is pretty limited and I'm sure I would miss on lot of potential groups or singers that would fit well. And it would require too much research time to have a real detailed and clear answer, but I still did check a bit and here is a little list of songs/groups that I think would have a fitting vibe for Crowstorm

City of the dead - Hollywood Undead The worst in me - bad omens Paranoid - I prevail Trauma Just pretend - Bad omens Ice Nine Kills - A grave mistake Catfish and the bottlemen sounds nice but I think its a bit too soft for what I imagine for Crowstorm.

What is his voice like I think something similar to this (not necessarily the song itself, just the voice. )

bonus, I think this song is so so fitting for Castiel's breakup song, I love it. Dial Tone - Catch your breath

Castiel and Lys friendship. It was'nt mentionned much in UL/LL because I didnt wish to bring too much drama by mentioning Lys when he was not there for the players, but of course Lys and Cast always kept in touch. It is very clearly mentionned in Lys' AL that they keep in touch, that Lys helps Castiel write songs and Cast also like to come to his farm to have a break and spend time together. You should play it if you havent, you'll have a good chunk of Cast and Lys friendship :) However yeah I can confirm that Lys would not like to do it serisouly and professionally, but he'll be all the way around to support and help Cast.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, Raven! I just wanted to ask if it's very pressuring to be seen as like this type of fandom authority/big figure in the twst fandom? Which you're not, and I'm aware of it but I can't help but think and notice that a lot of people generally view you and your blog in that manner. I hope that hasn't soured your enjoyment in the fandom btw if it is the case, it can be daunting to be kind of upheld to a standard and responsibility you didn't ask for. But I hope you're still having fun and enjoying yourself because that's what fandom really is about at its core. Hope you have a good day!! 💖

Well 💦 it’s stressful, yes. but only when I’m made cognizant of that. Typically I don’t think of myself as being in that position, but I’m reminded of it when I receive the occasional ask that opens or closes their question/comment with really intense praise.

Thankfully, I have the luxury of being selective about which asks I reply to, but sometimes it can be as simple as skimming an ask that brings about a churning dread or cognitive dissonance in my stomach. I take a lot of time to formulate what I hope are thoughtful responses in part because I feel like I have some degree of responsibility for those who seem to place so much stock in what I say… It makes me anxious about all the potential ways it could go wrong. Unclear wording/tone misconstruing the intended message, people weaponizing my posts to justify their own takes, arguments breaking out, etc. Then that leads into worries about not deserving this position (ayy, love imposter syndrome/j) and it becomes a cycle that’s hard to break.

If people want to view me as some higher authority or big figure, then there’s only so much I can do to stop them. I can tell others all I want that I don’t like being put on such a high pedestal all I like, but it would do very little to change their mindsets. The best I can hope for is reminding them of where my boundaries lie when people start to act too attached to me. Like, you definitely should not be soliciting free favors, seeking validation, asking for life advice, and/or traumadumping to me, a complete internet stranger. (These have all happened before.) Remember, me being friendly ≠ being friends with me.

I’ve never been someone who reacts well to parasocialism or celebrity culture (something which I highlight in this post). I like to compartmentalize, separate reality from fandom, keep to myself and my own lane, be a private person… so it’s unnerving for me to suddenly be the recipient of parasocial behaviors. Again, I must stress that parasocialism is, in of itself, NOT a bad thing. It can, however, quickly snowball into emotional dependency or a falsified sense of intimacy. That’s why I keep stressing—especially recently—that I have to draw the line and make my boundaries clear.

Now, that isn’t to say that all of my parasocial experiences have been negative ones. Far from it! I’ve had the honor of meeting and getting to know many cool individuals through my activity in this fandom. (If you’re reading this, you know who you are 🫵) I’ve been able to participate in numerous group projects and activities alongside those people. I’ve gotten fan art and interesting asks from so many Twsties that are just as excited about my OC or new story content as I am. I’ve received kind words when I really needed them or when I least expected it. I will forever be grateful for that ^^ and I’d still say that the majority of my time in the TWST fandom has been chill and fun.

In my experience, I’ve seen both the highs and lows of fandom as the result of parasocialism. I of course evaluate them on a case-by-case basis, but what I want to point out is that I do not want overfamiliarity or people overstepping, especially if I have never spoken with you one-on-one off-Anon before 💦 I think that’s reasonable for me to request.

[threestarsaboveclouds]

OOC: This blog has reached over 100 followers!!! Thank you so much!!!

I'm so honored that you all are enjoying Three Stars Above Clouds' posts. I'm having a lot of fun writing them :]

When I first made this blog I was so scared that no one would be interested in it. I was pleasantly surprised! People have been asking very good questions too, I am really enjoying coming up with interesting ways to answer them.

I have plenty more posts coming down the pipeline. I've drafted answers for all of the asks currently in my inbox, and I'm working on finalizing them all gradually. If you've sent me an ask a long time ago and I haven't responded yet, it's probably because you asked a very good question and I'm still polishing my response, haha.

Going forward, one thing I want to work on is reaching out to other ask blogs and interacting with other people's characters more. People in the Rain World community have really interesting OCs and I think there's lots of opportunities for fun character interactions there.

(The ask box is still open btw!! Don't be shy!!)

Thank you again for supporting this blog, it means the world to me!!!

Three Stars Above Clouds will see you all again soon. :]

-Delta

[alienstarzz]

୨୧┆Alien Onceler Au update or smth idk.

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

He now has a new design/concept sheet. I still hate this what In the world is bro doing.

Here's some information about this au so far:

This au centers around the intergalactic alien creature named "Space-ler." Later nicknamed "Star-ler."

Of course, he was the inventor of the thneed. Made millions from it. The lorax trying to stop him multiple times.. bla bla bla...

(Btw in this, au truffulas do not produce air at all. They live off of Stardust pollens.)

Here are a few things that caught my eye from @articskele reblog of my previous post!

(Answered from top to bottom.)

Yea alien Viktor :3

I don't play any kirby games, I didn't know that lol

The truffula flower can be made into tea— however, aliens can not drink or eat anything at all. They have no organs. No form of digesting their foods. They are only pure bone, skin/meat, and hair. ^_^ if you were to cut them open. You would only see bones. If you would like to see something like that, I would be more than happy to draw it!

He could be a mix of a shark and alien. I'm the one mainly in charge of the alien features and everything. He's part of the shark ones. I might have to ask him a few things abt his sona :3 I'm not sure how to answer this

I was actually going to add some sort of biology in this au, I'm studying a few things abt it, so if I find smth, I consider interesting, I can add it into the au or add it as a fun fact!

Yes, unless if you're closer to the sun or have a star nearby you, you have no form of light. But aliens don't need light. Picture this. You can see the person in front of you, but only... "White outlines?" You can't see their colors, just a shade of black with outlines of what they look like. I'm not sure if this makes sense.

This is going to be a bit disturbing. But, if a dead astronaut is found in an abandoned space shuttle, aliens can use the dead body and "harvest" it to wear the skin. When space-ler wanted to do this, he was scared at first, so he asked his brothers to do it for him.

The glowing blood is actually a cool idea! I may consider using that :3

Their are aliens with curly antennas. When I first used to make alien ocs a year ago around June, my art style was very different. Around April, I changed my art style to look like a cartoon! My art style was inspired by invader zim, Panty and Stocking, and Randy Cunningham 9th grade ninja! Which explains why my art style is blocky and stuff 😭

Nightcore? I love nightcore pls link it or idk

I will check out the color pallettes!! Thank you so much!

Thank you for these wonderful questions :3 it gave me a few more ideas for this au and it was fun to answer them ^_^

NOTE:

I have a few ideas for the story to this au, or well space-lers overall backstory ? Ig??

This au will contain topics such as suicide, family issues, and neglect. I will ALWAYS add a warning before posting abt him if they contain these!

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

[hdra77]

Ok since this blog is kinda getting alot of attention i'll just make a pinned post about a little bit of myself

---- interested in commissioning me? my art commission page can be found here! i accept payment through ko-fi or paypal! feel free to dm to inquire or if you have questions! :D

!! DISCLAIMER !!

Btw please read this before following my blog!! There would be gore,body horror,dark themes and even some suggestive themes Sometimes but overall i do not post any explicit nsfw here !! (they can be filtered through tags but just putting this here as a heads up)

tags are usually: #cw body horror, #tw body horror #cw gore, #tw gore, #cw suggestive, #tw suggestive

Heyy! i'm Soren!

He/Him

You can call me zarou or dra

I am bilingual but im more comfortable speaking in english (still bad at it actually)

i really like cybercore,webcore,warcore aesthetic it may not look like it right now but expect a whole bunch of techcore designs soon

Oh and i am also a huge fan of astronomy,space and all of that sort. Along with post apocalyptic settings,body horror elements and eldritch beings.

Using my art as PFPs/Banners is okay! As long as you give proper credit! But reuploading my works without my permission or claiming them as your own is NOT okay. I will find you and i will hunt you down and turn you into a helpless flopping fish gasping for air.

Inspirations is ok too!! But please do not directly copy from the original work.

Commissions: open

Art trades: friends/mutuals only

my DNI are basically the general DNI: proshippers,homophobes,etc. you know, the general

my interest varies but i currently hyperfixtate on these fandoms so far:

Rainworld

Nine Sols

Marikinonline4

Animator vs Animation/Animation vs Minecraft

Warrior cats

My dms here are also open so feel free to send me a message! (No weird dms or you get instant block)

Im busy and i dont check discord as frequently but i would be happy to talk to you! I would also be glad to make friends im not intimidating i promise i dont bite totally-

My ask box are always open! Ask me anything basically, my aus, ocs, pretty much anything. You can also send some requests but they will take a gajillion years to finish but i promise ill get them done soon!

My socials:

Twitter - HINDRANCE77 (!! page contains some suggestive themes !!)

Youtube - HINDRANCE77

Tumblr - hdra77 (you are literally here right now)

Ko-fi - HINDRANCE77

My tags:

#hdra7shitposts - yes, shitposts

#fishdoesart - all my art comes here

#fishdoesdoodles - random doodles and some occasional shitposting, mostly on ms paint

#fishdoesrequests - all my art requests comes here, so far this is where you find my ship requests (still open for now btw)

#wips - wips

#fishbites.txt - ramblings

#othersart - gifts/fanarts! Sometimes some reblogs

#asks - all of my responses comes here

My other blogs:

@nyaworld-askblog - for the nyaworld au! this blog is story driven but asks for specific characters are always welcome!

@fallowclans-unruly-demise - for a warrior cats clangen blog, still stuck in hiatus void

My Rainworld AU tags:

#rw voided au - simple AU about iterators called voideds who drains void fluids out of other iterators, theres also some rot infection going on too

#rw disarray au/SYSTEM FAILURE - a virus in Lttm's code had created a fatal error in her system which caused her to slowly spiral into insanity as she would slowly loosen her grip onto reality, claiming that she had found the solution to their problem..but was it really the answer all along?

#rw nyaworld au - joke au about the entire rainworld cast taking place in the 2000's this one is purely just for nostalgia purposes

#into the sigverse - technically considered an au. this is just a silly little askblog about different versions of NSH interacting because for some reason they can now magically interact with different alternate universe versions of themselves. ocs being used to interact is allowed to!! anyone can use this tag however they please you don't have to send me asks to be a part of the sigverse

My Rainworld Oc tags:

#Sector7c - official oc local group tag!

#7c dystopian arbitrary

#7c golden life

#rw ocs

#ocs

-- still WIP --

[bambiilooza]

I love ur ducktales fox oc guy so much I need to know more about him immediately please

hi anon, thank you sm!! this made me really happy to hear :D

you made him all flustered look

his name is matt dupe and he's my dumb lil bitch

i'm still developing him so i'll post more when i have him figured out. but he's actually based off a guy i made for a creative writing project at school. i'm just accepting that character as is human desgin. i'm not overly attached to the story from the project but i like him and i like ducktales so and simply just think the design below is hot

i really like lp + dewey's and huey + fenton's friendships. it's really cute, like that stupid older brother and excited younger brother type frienship. and he sorta fills that role for louie. it's different to louie and goldie's dynamic - which i LOVE btw - cuz goldie isn't a stupid man like lp and fenton ya know? matt is :)

i mentioned they have a miles + peter b dynamic and basically what i mean is louie does look to matt for guidance in his smooth talk and salesman behaviour but is open to sass him. and matt is sarcastic but still very supportive in the same way peter is.

he has a van that's a revamped ice cream van that, instead of ice cream van music, plays powerline songs. he's a powerline stan. he painted it and ik what it looks like in my head but i haven't deaigned it yet. but to describe it, it has sunflowers and hibiscus in an expressive painting style. yellow and pinkish red are his fav colours.

the van very much just the awesome store from tawog + the mystery shack in one. he's got all sorts of silly thingamabobs he sells. he also went to art school and sells some of the painatings he makes. he lives in the van too. it's bigger inside.

he's very much keeps every interaction surface level cuz he doesn't want to get attached because he feels unlovable. he's very social and extroverted but he doesn't make friends or get into relationships because he can't risk the idea of being loved. he doesn't want to ruin somone's life. the root of his problems come from his piece of shit mother. for reference, imagine odalia from the owl house imagine her mixed with horrid henry's mom. and yea, it's not a good combo. he hides all this under fake bravado. ofc, he will get help and form relationships to get him to happier place.

that was lot of writing so here's a dumb picture of him.

if anyone has any specific questions about him plz ask me them!!

[sketchbook-gal-xe]

Allow me to introduce a heckin lot of mews!

...and mewtwos!

I have some art pieces in mind for them and i might make a few comics of their story.

feel free to ask me questions about them or the storyline

lore rant/character info below (there's a lot!)

A quick rundown of everyone's natures, personalities, etc.

Melody- She/They, N: Naughty; Silly, childish and Adventurous, but she is trying to be more mature so she can protect themself and Mirror. Soda is her twin brother.

Mirror- She/They, N: Quirky; She was cloned from Melody, so they are very similar personality wise; but the older she gets more they want to prove that she isn't just a copy and is her own person.

Sodalite- He/They, N: Careful; The responsible older brother type but he's still an idiot, often getting lost on his own train of thought. twin sibling of Melody.

Silver- She/They/It, N: Calm; She is based on the beta mew design, and it has seen a little bit of everything. adoptive guardian of most of the mews, though they have more of a fun and caring aunt vibe.

Tabitha- She/Her, N: Hardy; The mom friend, considerate in an almost spiteful way, half sibling of Soda and Melody (Tabitha is the oldest)

Polaroid- He/Him (any), N: Hasty; smug, sarcastic, annoying the way of "I'm going make this more difficult purely for the sake of tomfoolery!" he's also psychic/ fairy type.

Apricus- He/They/It, N: Relaxed; Shy, cheerful, somewhat timid but very open with those he cares about, they're also a mew/worm on a string (btw, Apricus and Polaroid are dating)

Mettle- He/Him, N: Modest; Wise, stoic but can easily crack a smile and joke-around, as mentioned in his ref he is blind, but with his strong psychic powers he can still see auras.

Nesh- She/They, N: Gentle; They are very quiet, kind and caring, she was made as an experiment to create a dual type mewtwo, so she is psychic/grass.

Saccharin- She/Her, N: Adamant; She's aloof, bold and has a bit of an ego, she was made in the same lab Nesh was from, they escaped together, she is VERY protective of Nesh.

Sorry for wall of text, I'm very passionate about my oc's.

(also i already have like 6 more characters in mind aaaaa someone stop meeee)

[burgycreeper405-blog]

hello there

welcome to the pinned post

here we have the list of everything you wantes to know about the me myself and i

Commissions: open (dm me if interested)

here is my commissions sheet if you're interested in commissioning me

Art Trades: closed

Art Request: open 4 now

tho the rules are:

the art requests are mostly just gonna be in sketches, if you want fully detailed art, you can commission me if you want/nf

if you want a request, please state that you want a art request,, bcuz if not,, look I'm dumb okay? just be more specific please (and if you can, please include a prompt and not just a character/ship)

would like these kind of reqs tho/nf

no ocs (sorry)

aus are fine (tho pls send a reference 👍)

only the franchise im interested in (the list is down the below)

btw, im just into ii and tdos, not all of object shows 👍

any ship in any franchise I'm in is fine as long as i'm not uncomfortable with it and it's not the ones listed there in the dni list

okay, small update. do not send me ship reqs that includes taco (i am fine with taco x blueberry, (or this wild polycule lol) and or tacopadlet, tho im 50/50 about it rn. max has still yet to convince me adsklgj

there might be more to be added in the future but yeah 👍

down the below also has the everythin you need or just want to know so you better check it 👍

but before you do

this is for my and yours' comfort if you somehow have one or two or all of these

DNI If you:

- ship tac0m1c

- ship s0apm1c (on thin ice) ((you shippers can interact, but if you push your ship in my face, the ice will shatter))

- ship kn1fan (on thin ice) ((same goes here))

- hc knife and mic as siblings

- hc baseball and suitcase as father-daughter???? / infantalize suitcase

the basic DNI stuffs; Racist, being mean to people and tells them to "kys" or other mean things, etc. etc.

aight, now that you's done reading the dni list, time for the other chet

it's kinda simple and also kinda messy so bare with me here

you can call me Burgy and i is girl, but any pronouns is fine

my other socials are:

Instagram (@/burgycreeper405)

Youtube (@/burgycreeper405)

and no i don't have twitter, i used to, but no, twitter is like my toxic ex, so if you see me "post" on twitter, that's not me, that's probably a person acting as me but failed miserably

i have a dicsord server if you wanna join

the app i use to draw is Medibang Paint / Manga (the site lol) / Ibispaint on the ipad

to animate, i use Flipaclip on my phone

I am not in any fandoms cuz i am very ✨random✨

but draws one topic for a long while, but as time goes on, i go back to drawing random chet that i like and not just one thing

here are the lists of what I'm interested in (aka the things that I'll draw from most to least maybe)

• Team Fortress 2

• FOP A New Wish

• Inanimate Insanity (II)

• The Daily Object Show (TDOS)

• The Lego Movie

• Super Mario

• Trolls

• Undertale

• Cuphead

• Batim

i have more stuffs that i like but those 8 are the main, and I don't even really draw the other ones that much, but i like em, but i ain't telling em,, so yeah :P

i have a fun little ask blog for my AUs and stuff (tho it's just Lego movie aus) so if you're interested, it's this

@ask-burgys-tlm-aus

now that the simple stuff is done,,

it's time for the '🍩'(do not)s and other infos

• do not repost or reupload my stuff like put it in compilations and stuff, even if you credit me, do not repost/reupload my chet

• do not trace my art

• if i seem rude, that means i’m in a bad mood

• you can use my art as pfp or banners, just do not reupload/repost and or trace my stuffs

• if you dm-ed me/private message me, i won't answer it, especially if we're not even that close (unless it's for commissions then i will answer that lol) cuz either I'm awkward at starting conversations, or i just don't want to dm back, it's one of the two but it's mostly the former

• if you have questions, ask it in the ask box, it's there for a reason

• if you want to do fanart, then go ahead, no need to ask, just tag me, id love to see it

• keep in mind, i mostly have headcanons that are not the same as the popular ones cuz, not everyone will have the same hcs, shocker i know

• i don't do with popular chet so keep that in mind

• i hate shipping discourse cuz i find that stupid and a waste of time, especially when the ship they're fighting is not even that problematic as they say they are, so get that away from me cuz i don't want to deal with it

• i don't mind any ships (besides the ones on the red down below), I'm neutral with mostly any ships (again, besides the ones on the red down below), unless it's actually problematic like those age gaps and other chet? then that's a big no no for me, get that thing out of here, i don't want it

let's cut to the chase, yes, I'm fine with:

Rexmet (Rex x Emmet)

Rexmetstyle (Rex x Emmet x Lucy)

and i also ship

Microknife (Mic x Knife)

Knicropick (Knife x Mic x Pickle)

Metallic Salad (Mephone4 x Knife x Mic x Pickle)

if those info shocked you, then that's funny lol

if you suddenly hate me bcuz of that, then that's honestly a funny and stupid reason to hate me lol

tags that i use:

#burgy talks - just talking and or rambling about stuffs

#burg art - for art

#burgy comics - for the comics that i did cuz why not

#burgy games - for me gaming

#burgy sh1tpost - yes, it's a 1, not a misstype,, anyways, thats for jokes stuffs so i wont flood the burgy talks or art tag that much

me personas (i don't have a good ref sheet for them three)

me but object

sun micro4 content

aight, i think thas all, some of these may or may not change in the future

but yeah, thas all, thanks for reading

[bonefall]

Ask Etiquette

HELLO sorry for the intimidating post lmao, I just need something to toss up on the masterpost because I feel bad deleting asks and then people will never really have an idea of why I never answered them

I get a ton of asks (usually anywhere from 10 - 20 a day!) and I'm not able to get to them all! I try to answer as many as possible but I'm still just one guy. So with that in mind, there are some sorts of asks I will simply not answer, and some 'requests' I have for people who send them in;

Please keep your asks short PLEASE try not to send me essays if you want a response; I still love reading them! But if you send me walls of text/analysis you are asking me to write a lot in response, which I'd rather spend on actually writing or designing cats. (On that note if you send a bunch of questions at once, the likelihood I respond goes down.)

Do not send me personal questions Listen... I'm a stranger on the internet. I'm overjoyed to see when my art connects with people and helps you realize things! But don't ask me sensitive questions like how to move out of your abusive parents' house!! PLEASE learn internet safety and get less comfortable with volunteering that kind of information to people you don't know!

Do not ask me personal questions you do not need to know what i study or where i work. get less comfortable asking these sorts of questions to queer people on the internet, especially when they talk openly about having previously been abused or stalked. (not that a person should even need to be as open about that as i am)

If I don't have a good response I won't answer Especially for suggestions I don't vibe with. I try to only say "No" if I have a particularly interesting "No" to talk about, if that makes sense! If I had to write a full explanation for every veto or idea I don't vibe with, this blog would be 90% what isn't in BB.

No AUs within the AU. "What if Hawkfrost survived his impalement? What if Firestar never joined? What if Tigerstar was never born?" Listen, buddy, you're creating an exponential distraction for possible ways the story could have gone and I'm not looking to write several essays for the literal hundreds of alternative ways Clan history could have been written. It takes you 5 words to ask "What if X never died" but it takes me paragraphs to answer. (This isn't about suggestions btw, I very specifically mean ppl asking hypotheticals for fun.)

Don't be rude. I feel like this should go without saying but please mind the parasocial gap. Especially if you're on anon, I don't know you, your backstory, or your cadence.

No "Fight Baiting" You're free to ask me to speak about fandom trends, or for my opinions on general ideas, character discussions, and popular arguments! But it crosses a line if you're linking someone's posts with their uncropped usernames, sharing unsolicited google docs, youtube videos, etc, with the intention of getting me to attack a third party. We can talk about ideas without making it a PVP battle.

And, lastly, CLANMEW ASKS!!

I make a hard effort to get to everyone!! Those are published on Clanmew Day (WHICH IS NOW JUST GOING TO BE THE 30TH OF EVERY MONTH SO THAT IT'S LESS CONFUSING) but PLEASE understand I get a ton of them.

As I write this I have more than 26 tabs open of unanswered Clanmew asks, a lot more in my inbox, and 9 already in the queue. So that you understand the sheer volume of asks I have there.

If I didn't get to you that month, chances are that I'll get to you on the next, but please understand why I ask for folks to not re-send asks

So here's Clanmew-specific requests;

PLEASE just try a translation on your own first! Don't just send me raw lists of OCs to translate, give it a go first using the Lexicon, just so I can see you tried. I will happily and gladly make more specific words for you when I see you try!

When you send OCs you've translated, ask me for a new word at the end if you didn't already in your list. Just in case I can't think of a witty comment or a word suggestion, you will help me a lot

Please try to format with lists like this one Folks will send me double or triple-indented lists and it will take up my entire screen when they've only sent like, 5 names. Remember that posts you send to me go on people's dashes, be considerate please You can open a list like this by starting a new paragraph, typing -, and then an immediate space. Hold Shift + Enter to indent without adding another bullet.

If you could put "Clanmew" somewhere in your ask, like even if you open up with "Clanmew: Here is my question blah blah," it would help immensely I physically can't get to every ask I receive on Clanmew Day, so if you have "Clanmew" in your ask somewhere, it makes it a lot easier for me to find it when I can finally answer! I really wish Tumblr had ways to sort asks, but currently, I've just gotta make due with Cntrl + F.

[softeebean]

Regretevator fan art-

BTW commissions are still open

I'm still trying to raise money to help my bf and some for me to help my mom out

I'm starting ko-fi exclusive content

People who have donated at least once or are monthly subscribers can see the content

Subscribers also get a 5% discount and also get access to icon customs

I still have the 2 OCs up for sale as well

Feel free to DM me and ask questions about commissions

If you cannot commission then reblogs are welcomed and appreciated ❤

[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

[dino-boyo-agere]

Hai 🦈

I'm Nathan, but u can call me Nate or Dino 💖

I'm a 25 year old trans guy from Germany and this is my age regression blog. 🏳️‍⚧️💞 My little age mainly moves between 3 to 6. Lately I feel like I'm permanently slipping or at around age 10 or 12 mentally.

My birthday is on August 15th!!

I love Dinosaurs, coloring and crafting! 🦕🖍️

╰→ klick here to find out what my favorite dinos are!!

I'm a primary colors enthusiast!! 💛💙❤️ My favorite colors are green & blue. 💚💙

I have several disabilities & disorders (ADHD, Dyslexia, birth defects, other stuff) ♿🧠

I'm incontinent, so I have to wear diapers. 🚼

I'm in lots of fandoms (Stranger Things, Criminal Minds, Supernatural, etc.) 💫📺

My CG blog: @silly-baba

I have an AgeRe YouTube channel btw!!

I made a Spotify playlist with my favorite songs!! - it is not agere themed tho lol

I only have nine fingers, if you're interested in knowing why, → here ← is the story of how I lost one of them. (!cw! obv. It's a little bloody!)

╰→ someone uploaded my story to YouTube, if you would like to listen to it, instead of reading! <3

DNI: nsfw, ddlg & variants, ABDl & variants, kink of any form... 🚫

Indicator if I'm:

big → 🦖

slipping → ☁️

small → 🧸

I'm a flip, heavily leaning little!

DMs are open, but I hate smalltalk. So, please just get right to the point when u wanna message me for/ about something. (It's completely fine if you just wanna chat, obviously!) Same goes for questions, no need to ask "Can I ask you a question?" Yes, you can! Just go and ask ahead right away!! <3 - Thank you for understanding!!

Also, lil tipp: every time a colored text in my posts has a white underline, it has a link in it. It's a little harder to see now, since Tumblr also ads underlines to each colored text, but it's still visible if you know what ur looking for! They changed it back, yayy!!

I have memory issues, so I'll probably reblogg some things multiple times or forget to answer questions/ do requests. Don't hesitate to remind me, but please be patient & don't pressure me, thank you! <3

If you're interested, → here ← is my cg application doc form, I'd absolutely love to have an online cg!! 💕

I made a list of YouTube channels to watch when regressed, some are themed around regression and some are just fun!!

I also made a little list for people who want to educate themselves about regression, what it is, why people do it ant what it's for!!

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆↓ My AgeRe ID ↓☆ ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

If you want to make ur own ID → here ← is a link to imgur!

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.ﾟ»･⁠°✧↓This is me!↓✧°･«ﾟ.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

.ﾟ.* ｡×ﾟ｡･* ﾟ☆↓My Tummy-Puppy↓☆ ﾟ*･｡ﾟ× ｡*.ﾟ.

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ✧↓My doggo, Miles↓✧ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

Rest in peace, little buddy [21.09.2024]

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆↓I like crafting!↓☆ ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･ﾟ»･⁠°✧↓My little sona, Spots↓✧°･«ﾟ･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･

You can learn more about him → here, ← if you want to.

｡. ×ﾟ･.»･⁠°☆↓My AgeRe Sona, Toggy↓☆°･«.･ ﾟ× . ｡

You can learn more about them → here, ← if you want to.

･.｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･ﾟ»･⁠°✧↓My cg sona, Loo↓✧°･«ﾟ･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡.･

You can learn more about them → here, ← if you want to.

I have a furry blog but it's not super active <3

.*.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.*.ﾟ☆ ↓My hashtags!↓ ☆ ﾟ.*.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.*.

Fanfics: #nates fanfictions

Head Canons: #nates headcanons

When I'm in my CG headspace: #baba space

AgeRe OC's: #nates little ocs

Arts & crafts: #nates drawings & #nates crafts

Sewing: #nates sewing

YouTube Videos/ Channel: #nates youtube

Other stuff I created: #nate makes

Banners: #nates banners

AgeRe outfits: #nates outfits

Answers to asks: #nates answers

Asks of mine that got answered: #nates questions

Textposts: #nates babbling

Memes I made: #nates memes

Ranting/ venting: #nates vents & #tw: vent

Anything dinosaur related: #nate loves dinos

Anything Tummy-Puppy related: #tuppy

Recommendations: #nates recommendations

╰→recommendations for YouTube, Music, TV, Movies..

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ✧ ↓ Info & DNI ↓ ✧ ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

I created this blog on November 9th 2022.

[unolvrs]

When you first write your story and that story has your OC in it OR it's a self-insert, which POV do you usually use? Second or Third pov? And how do you write your story so delicately, you write their emotions and feelings so well and I'm trying to study how you write that kind of story, just like this one

(I'm very very sorry for not asking permission and reposting this narrative even tho it's no excuse of me trying to mimick or study your writing style T^T please delete this immediately or send a message to me to delete this if you find this offensive to your writing)

Mikado's name means 'emperor'—his green eyes are the symbols of the bloodline in his veins. The strongest Zen'in always have eyes so sickeningly green it is almost poisonous. (At first, it was a bad omen. The last one who had eyes this green was the son of the Family Head's older brother. He does not know what happened to him nor does he want to know, but his esteemed mother sometimes curses his name, and it is the only time he hears his, in a way, uncle's name.) Mikado is the emperor and accompanying him is what makes the emperor an 'emperor'; Mikoto written as 'decree', and Mikuji as the fortune slip of the gods. Everybody knows that an emperor cannot have a stable reign unless

OH THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥹💗 i’m gonna cry right now, literally falling to my knees and sobbing.

i primarily use third POV definitely—that, or second pov. i’ve tried first POV which i believe is the hardest, btw. because it’s kind of complicated coming up with that delicate way of writing that i prefer without making it too much. (i will forever be envious of vladimir nabokov, my idol in prose writing.)

and omg, it’s totally okay to grab some excerpts to study it as long as you have good intentions! i definitely don’t mind that, and thank you so much for thinking it good enough to crack open and study! i might sob. so i'll use the excerpt as a basis for your question!

so first line:

Mikado's name means 'emperor'—his green eyes are the symbols of the bloodline in his veins. The strongest Zen'in always have eyes so sickeningly green it is almost poisonous.

it's the introduction to the character and usually, people get this sense of intimacy when names are involved, especially when you go to the etymology of it. so just like that, the reader gets an immediate sense of connection with the character, or the build-up to it. and in addition to this, mikado's existence, as we eventually find out through that one paragraph, is heavily intertwined with his name.

elaborating more on his appearance and his connection with the family, brings more depth too. here, you play on familiarity and history. you know what they say about how you shouldn't give names to things you don't want to get attached to? it's like that, in a way. learning how important mikado's name is and how putting in the subtle pressure on the family line which is the first thing that comes in mikado's introduction immediately shows how much this is important to him.

so there's one and two things you know about him now: his name and what he holds the highest.

At first, it was a bad omen. The last one who had eyes this green was the son of the Family Head's older brother.

now, writing third person while maintaining the centralized perspective and the emotional tone. just write like it's someone talking, simple as that. i didn't use excessively fancy words here but there are subtle indicators that we're still in mikado's perspective.

first, the usage of this, not that. a normal third person perspective without a centralized character as the voice, would normally say: "The last one who had eyes [that] green was the son of the Family Head's older brother." using this instead of that, implies closeness and lets you know that it's mikado's eyes that mikado is talking about, not that it's mikado's eyes that the narrator is talking about.

using that, puts distance. this, closes the distance.

He does not know what happened to him nor does he want to know, but his esteemed mother sometimes curses his name, and it is the only time he hears his, in a way, uncle's name.)

He does not know what happened to him nor does he want to know, but his esteemed mother sometimes curses his name, and it is the only time he hears his, in a way, uncle's name.)

just like what i said previously, write like it's someone talking and in this case, it's a bit of an ongoing and almost too long sentence. it resembles a thought more than an descriptor. it's basically how you format your punctuations.

(He does not know what happened to him nor does he want to know) is grouped and this thought is straight, before it pauses and continues to: (but his esteemed mother sometimes curses his name) then: (and it is the only time he hears his, in a way, uncle's name). the grouping of the clauses guides you into the flow of his thought.

it offers a line then introduces a contradiction. mikado thinks this, but then, he thinks that.

then comes his specific way of addressing the people around him. instead of a normal third person narrative structure which would say "his mother", he adds "his esteemed mother". this quickly shows distance, the overformality. immediately, it shows that there's some tension; it makes you think if it's out of reverence or just distance. and of course, his perspective towards his uncle.

Mikado is the emperor and accompanying him is what makes the emperor an 'emperor'; Mikoto written as 'decree', and Mikuji as the fortune slip of the gods. Everybody knows that an emperor cannot have a stable reign unless he is accompanied by his title and the approval of the gods.

and then the repetition! i never get sick of saying this but SUBTLE! REPETITION! or just outright repetition.

this elaborates more to what makes him him, the essence of his personality which is his siblings—his whole life. but this is more character-specific as it adds a layer of intimacy since his siblings' names are associated to him. so here, you're given another personal fact, an intimate detail, an elaboration to how important family is to him.

so how do you write something 'delicately', especially in third person?

using simple words and grouping the clauses with intention, making it look like a thought more than a normal descriptor.

choose what to share and what not to share just yet, thus planning the flow of the narrative

focus on little details! this, thats, his, hers, theirs, etc. colors, what they're wearing, the twitch of their fingers, the tucking of a lock behind their ear, a shine in their eyes, the tilt of their lips, how the tip of their curves so softly they almost don't look like they could cut through skin—things like that!

ask yourself: what makes you get close to someone? is it finding out their names? what colors they like? what clothes they're wearing? how they write their letters and their alphabets? do they put a slash on their 7 or do they keep it plain? human things like that offer a delicate and intimate approach!

it boils down to yourself, making your writing human! i hope this helped :)