#also apologies for my rushed little doodles

[flygonscales]

I’ve had this in my head all day since I got my Belphemon in Cybersleuth and I finally got a chance to scribble it out.

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

Little thing I wrote while procrastinating writing part 5 of Hide Your Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve Harrington who knows his kid brother is obsessed with some niche, up and coming metal band. Steve Harrington who groans and grumbles and carries on about having to drive him around to shows and listen to him nerding out but does it anyway. Steve Harrington who doesn’t really pay attention because the lights on the stage are too bright and drown out whoever’s playing. Steve Harrington who is currently wading through a crowd making their way to the door, going against the current and stumbling as he searches for the mop of hair he promised to get home.

“Henderson!” He cups his hands around his mouth, “Where is that kid?” 

He finds himself pushed to the outskirts of the mass of bodies, plastered to a wall but he still pitches forward when a particularly rowdy young woman rams into him. He thinks he’s going to go all the way to the floor when a hand snags his elbow, holding him up. He turns to rush out an apology, a few thanks for the save, but stops before he can get the words out because holy shit the guy is gorgeous.

And Steve—well Steve has been doing some thinking about himself. About how most guys don’t have to mentally prepare themselves to go into the locker room after pe class. About how most guys don’t let their friends paint their nails pretty colors. Robin told him that there was this thing called being bisexual and he thought some things were clicking into place. So he’s gotten used to going out and noticing more than just girls, it’s not uncommon, but this guy is hot, like really hot. 

He’s dressed in leather pants and a cut off tank top that hangs around his sides. Tattoos, more doodles than actual designs, on full display for the world to see, running up his arms and peeking out from his ribs. His hair is in curly tangles, sweat sticking it to his forehead but he’s grinning. He has a jacket, leather, in his other hand. 

He’s also still holding on to Steve’s arm. Warm rings press into the inside of his elbow as he rights himself.

“First time?” The man asks.

“Y-yeah.” Steve gets out, “I’m supposed to be here with my brother, he’s a huge fan of some band playing here. Molded Coffin or something.”

The guy’s face breaks out into a full on smile, humor sparking in his eyes but Steve doesn’t know if what he said was that funny.

“Yeah? Where’s he at?” The guy still hasn’t let go, leading Steve away from the crowd and further into the room where there were less people.

“I’m actually looking for him now. Left him alone for five minutes to get a drink and he disappears.”

“You need help? These things can get a little crazy.” The man offers.

“You do this a lot?” Steve asks, immediately mentally face palming. He practically asked the guy if he came here often, he was going to think he was flirting. Was he?

The man just smiled, “You could say that. Eddie.” He finally released Steve’s arm in favor of holding out his hand. They shook hands and Steve told the man—Eddie—his name.

They talked for a while, Eddie got them drinks and Steve told himself that Dustin was old enough to behave himself for 15 minutes. Eddie kept an arm around his shoulders the whole time, shielding him from the chaos of the dwindling crowd was his excuse. Steve would have told him he didn’t need an excuse if that didn’t seem too forward.

 Eddie was just asking for his number when someone behind them called, “Ed! Quite flirting and get your ass over here! You’re helping us tear down this time!”

Eddie sighed, “Duty calls.” He scribbled something on to a napkin, patting it against Steve’s chest and backing away, “I’ll be waiting for yours, sweetheart.”

And Steve was either drunk or insane because he actually laughed at that. Laughed again when he looked at the napkin and saw numbers almost unreadable, a winking face below them.

“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you—What’s that?” Dustin’s tone went from annoyed to prying as soon as he saw the napkin.

“None of your business.” He stuffed the napkin in his pocket, “Are you ready to go or what, kid, I’ve been waiting forever.” He poked Dustin’s shoulder until he got moving and then he poked it again when Dustin scowled at him.

In the car he was once again subjected to Dustin’s after show rant about how cool it was. The guitarist apparently broke two strings and flipped the crowd off with his bloody fingers—which they went wild for, which Dustin screeched along with them for. They played a new song, but it all sounded the same to Steve. That was as much as he heard, though, his mind kept wandering back to the man after the show. To the number in his pocket. He debated putting it to use, was the next day too soon? How long was too long until Eddie forgot about him? A guy like that probably had a mountain of napkins with numbers thrown at him every day. He decided to get over himself and call late the next day. 

“Hi, this is Steve.” He suddenly felt very silly for calling but it was too late now.

“Steve, pretty boy from the show last night Steve?” And just like that he forgot why he hesitated to call.

“That would be me.” He cringed, “No, wait, that sounds so self centered.”

“Not self centered if it’s a compliment.” Eddie argued.

“If you say so.”

They talked, got 10 whole minutes of random conversations Steve never wanted to end before Eddie cursed.

“I’m sorry, I promised my uncle I’d help at the shop.” He muttered, “I’m gonna be late.”

“That’s fine, you should go help him.”

“I’ll call you later?” Eddie asked, and if Steve didn’t know any better he’d say it sounded hopeful.

“I’ll be here later.” He responded. 

They called all the time after that, whenever they were both free. They even met up in person, it was just to the park because Eddie found out Steve had never fed ducks before, but it ended with another day scheduled to spend together and then another and then a month had passed and he could say they were officially dating. It was the best time Steve had had in a long time and he really didn’t want it to end. The realization came to him one night, after another day with Eddie, and it wasn’t as shocking as he thought it would be. It was a Friday night, Eddie was busy most Saturdays—something about going to shows with the guys—so a lot of their slow nights were Fridays. They were watching TV on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, which was quickly becoming Steve’s favorite place, when he found himself watching the way Eddie laughed and even jumped at whatever horror movie was on more than he was watching the movie itself. 

“I love you.” He whispered. 

Eddie’s head whipped around, eyes wide, movie forgotten, “I love you too!” And then Steve couldn’t be blamed for not watching the movie anymore when he was practically tackled to the couch, laughing the whole way down.

It was a month after that night that he was steeling himself outside of his front door.

“It’ll be fine.” He said to himself, “They’re going to love you.” He said to Eddie who was gripping his hand.

“It’ll be fine.” Eddie agreed and he almost sounded convinced.

Today was the one day that everyone could gather at Steve’s. The whole party had shown up, everyone he had folded into his makeshift family was in his living room waiting for him to get back with the new partner he told them he was introducing. Today was the day they decided to tell people about them.

Steve pushed the door open, taking a deep breath before leading Eddie to the living room. All of his friends sat scattered around the room. On the couch and floor and coffee table. He could do this.

“Uh. Hey.” He cleared his throat, “I’m back.” All eyes snapped to him, eager to know who this mystery person was.

Eddie tried for an awkward wave but their hands were still connected so they just shook between them.

The silence was getting unbearable until finally Robin shot up from the floor and tackled him in a hug, subsequently dragging Eddie along into it.

“I’m so happy for you, dingus.” She laughed as she pulled away, “Robin.” She stuck her hand out to Eddie who visibly relaxed, “Best friend, platonic soulmate, hurt him and I swear to god you’ll wake up with no kneecaps.”

“Eddie.” Eddie squeaked, shaking her hand hastily.

“Bobbin.” Steve only called her that when she was being particularly over the top because it annoyed her to no end and she knew this, “Tone it down, would you?”

The rest of the group chorused their hellos and introductions and a weight lifted off of Steve’s shoulders at the sight of all of his friends accepting the news without comment. Until he realized there was only one person who hadn’t spoken a word, standing in the middle of the room with a strange look on his face.

“Dustin?” Steve prompted, voice strained.

“Oh my God.” Dustin mumbles in disbelief.

“Dustin…” Steve shot him a warning glance, “If you’ve got a problem with it—”

But Dustin ignores him, he’s staring at Eddie in shock, “Oh my God!” He practically shouts, coming to life to jump and screech, “That’s—! You’re—! You’re Eddie Munson!” 

Eddie grins, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre reaction to meeting your brother’s boyfriend, “I take it you’re a fan?”

“A fan of what?” Steve asks, pulling his hand out of Eddie’s to turn to him face to face.

At the same time, Dustin starts babbling hysterically, “A fan? Only the biggest CC fan in all of Hawkins! I have every song on vinyl, like three posters and—oh my god this is so embarrassing. Eddie Munson is in my house and I’m telling him I have his face on my wall.” 

He keeps talking but it’s more to himself than anyone else in the room so Steve raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “What’s he talking about? Why are you on posters and why does he have them?”

Eddie, for the first time since Steve has known him, looks almost sheepish, “Oh…I guess I’m kind of, maybe the frontman of Corroded Coffin.” He might be blushing.

“You’re that nerd Dustin’s always going on about?!” Steve exclaims.

[mikuluvu]

Could I request pre crash Curly x single mom reader and their dating adventures? I really liked your fic about Curly’s daughter, and I think Curly would be an amazing stepdad (esp a girl dad).

A/n: FR, I can see Curly being a girl dad anon! Btw, everyone please suggest names for her :D Thank you thank you.

Pre Crash Curly x Singlemom!Reader

Warnings: Noh

You met him at one of the rare docking stations where families were allowed. Your daughter, was so amazed by it she wandered a bit toooooo close to the restricted areas while you were also too focused on the ship. Curly found her, crouching down in his bulky uniform, and gently said, "You know, kid, the coolest parts of a ship aren't in the 'Do Not Enter' Zones.

When you came rushing over, apologizing repeatedly, Curly just smiled and handed your daughter those pony express pin.

Curly wasn't someone who would let people in easily. But you were strong yet soft and independent. It started with casual conversations and slowly turned into shred coffee breaks at the station cafe.

Your daughter ADORED this man almost immediately, nicknaming him "Cap'n Curly!" and would see him as her "Space Hero"

If you were on board temporarily, he would make sure your quarters were near the safer parts of the ship.

If anyone looked at you, your daughter or even one of the crew the wrong way, oh... he would give them a mean glare >:(

Your daughter would often sneak drawings or little notes on the corkboard when she could, Anya would feel happy when she would see them and would also doodle.

Your daughter would ask you, that why was some of her drawings went missing... huh, you did see a doodle on curly's locker...

He wasn't overly affectionate, but when your daughter fell asleep against his arm, he stayed perfectly still, letting her sleep.

Curly would show his care in subtle ways. A repaired toy, or a quietly delivered cupp of your favorite drink.

He'd memorize small details about you both: your daughter's favorite bedtime story, the way you liked your coffee,the lullaby you's hum when you thought no one was listening.

The Crew picked up on the the shift. Curly would visibly relax when you or your daughter were nearby. Daisuke and Anya would tease him about it.

A/n: Please... CURLY PLS BE MY WIFEY. Thank you for the request anon, I was giggling and kicking my feet while typing this HHAHAHAH.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs w/comments is appreciated. Please donate my broke ass on my ko-fi

[only-lonely-star]

heyyy!! i broke my wrist last week so could you do some ponyboy x reader hc of you breaking your arm/wrist😭 currently i think the cast is kinda cool ngl but all my friends were so worried and concerned, and my ‘mom’ friend is worried when i try to do stuff with my cast/wrist (ex. hold a door open with it, balance my binders on if, etc) and i imagine that Ponyboy might be the same way tbh. maybe smth about his protectiveness, worry/concern, cutesy stuff like that, especially if the reader broke their dominant hand. also maybe make the reader like super nonchalant abt it and find the concern funny lol, yet still frustrated when they can’t do anything by themselves bc it was their dominant arm💀

sorry for the essay/broken wrist rant lol, tysm lovely😭💗🤞

Ponyboy Curtis x injured!reader HCs 🏥

Warnings: Contains of a reader with a broken wrist, and reader experiencing mild pain. Gender Neutral! (I apologize that this is a bit short, the only thing i’ve ever fractured was my nose in seventh grade lmao 😭)

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry about the injury, I hope you recover fast and heal properly 🙁🫶🏼. Sending much love!!! Thank you so much for your request! I agree 100% Pony would be constantly paranoid you’d hurt yourself even more and those protective instincts would flare up. AND YES BC HE WOULD BE THE BEST NURSE OMG- ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!!!

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ୨♡୧ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

If the injury happened while he was present, just know this boy was worrying himself GRAY. He would have a hard time deciding whether to call Darry, Soda, or having himself try and get you to the hospital. (Especially if he’s super tight with you, he would be scared and feel almost guilty.)

Once you’re all set and have your cast, Pony would be all helpful and abnormally sweet. No, seriously. He would try and rush to do everything before you could even try. The most simple things you could do even without your dominant hand would be his top priority. Things like picking up your own glass of water, opening doors, etc. I think it’s so cute for him to get sort of offended and feel rejected when you try and assure him you can do it yourself. “But I’m just trying to help… *slight frown*” AGDHFHJSJFV

HE WOULD TRY AND NOTIFY EVERYONE YOU’RE HURT ☹️☹️☹️

⬆️ I’m imagining a group setting where everyone is lounging in the Curtis household living room. You’re just chilling, chatting with the boys until one of them gets a bit too close to your injured wrist he tenses and abruptly goes “Be careful around their wrist-!” or, “Watch the cast-!” before sitting back down awkwardly. Keep in mind, the boy is just paranoid as hell - you’re not in any pain at the moment, and the boys were fully aware you’re injured. (He’s such a cutie good the fuck bye.)

Doodling on your cast and signing it like a celebrity as soon as it was made is such a Ponyboy thing to do. He’d try and write it where you could always see it and not have to bend or move your arm around so much.

He would DEFINITELY carry your books, backpack, lunchbox, etc. at school and haul around twice of what he normally carries just for your sake. Again, he would have to insist and try to sway you into letting him.

He’s always nagging at you to keep your arm propped up because he’s convinced it does SOMETHING and maybe takes the pressure off of your injury.

(This is more of a cute scenario lol) Anytime you dramatize pain, Ponyboy winces and makes that little ‘sss’ sound while you’re trying to hard to hold back your laughter.

He put off all roughhousing until you get that cast off and stayed committed to it.

You catch him giving you side glances here and there, but he’s only trying to make sure you’re not in a weird position or putting pressure on your arm.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! ❤️‍🩹

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[peachiejeongin]

The Phantoms Part 2: Wake Up | Bang Chan

Part 1 | Part 2 (You are here) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a huge night for Chan, Changbin, and Han; they would be playing their biggest show yet at the Orpheum! Yet, it all slipped from their grasp within a matter of a few seconds, as all three passed away just hours before the show. What happens when they end up on their old garage floor and meet a someone who can make their dreams come true again?

Pairing: phantom!Bang Chan x fem!reader [Occurs somewhat in this chapter]

Genre: Julie and the Phantoms/3RACHA AU, Crack, Angst, Fluffy Moments

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief and loss of a parent, slight bullying

Notice: Hello, my loves! I decided to split episode one into two chapters so it would not be as long! I feel as if this part is a bit repetitive and perhaps a tad rushed, so I do apologize :,) I would also like to clarify that a few aspects of the plot have been edited or removed to fit the concept of this imagine and for brevity! As always, I do NOT own the rights to 'Julie and the Phantoms,' nor any of its characters!!! Enjoy the story!

"Alright, we have one final performance. Y/n?"

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daydream, your pen freezing mid-doodle on the back of your sheet music. The teacher's eyes were fixed on you, expectant and unyielding. Panic shot through your chest like a jolt of electricity. You had been counting on the bell to save you, to delay your performance just one more day; however, it seemed as if luck was not on your side.

Growing up, you loved music; your mom, ever so patient and passionate, had taught you how to play every instrument possible, from piano to guitar even going so far as to learn a few drum beats to turn you into the ultimate musical prodigy. Of the plethora of instruments, piano was your speciality; your mother always joked that you could play a Mozart composition with your eyes closed. Music was always the niche for you and your mom.

Now, your mom had passed away, and with her died your passion for playing.

Your newfound disdain for music had not just seeped into your personal lift; it was starting to dismantle the diligent work you had put into your high school’s prestigious music program, one you had worked tirelessly to get into. Motivation to participate in performances, showcases, or even simple rehearsals had evaporated, leaving you adrift. The consequences of your disengagement were becoming painfully clear. Just yesterday morning, the program’s director had pulled you aside, her tone sharp and uncompromising. She made it clear: if you did not perform in this week’s showcase, you would be removed from the program.

Thus, you found yourself rising from your seat in class, the screech of the chair legs pushing back cutting through the silence of the classroom. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, each beat seeming as if it were a signal of the impending doom ahead. You dragged your feet against the ground, anxiously gazing at the piano placed directly in the center of the classroom; the class's gaze followed your heavy, hesitant steps. As you reached the instrument, your trembling hands fumbled with the sheet music, placing it on the stand with an almost imperceptible shake.

"It's okay, y/n," your teacher gave your back a slight pat. "Take your time."

Her words echoed in your mind, yet they did little to ease the dreading ache in your heart; you felt as if every action you took was being rerecorded in slow motion. You hesitantly sat down on the piano bench, the familiar creak of the wood grounding you momentarily. You shakily adjusted your sheet music, perfectly aligning the papers. Your hands shook lightly as you hovered your fingers over the piano keys, hesitating in your dormant abilities, perhaps even questioning them. The weight of expectation bore down on your shoulders, and you felt a pricking sting in the corners of your eyes; tears were threatening to spill over into the vulnerability you were trying so desperately to suppress.

In that moment, all you could think of was yourself as a little girl, perched on your mom's lap. You remembered the warmth of her hands as she gently guided your small fingers to the keys, her voice soft and encouraging as she taught you your first ever composition. The memory was so vivid, it almost felt as if you could hear her voice again, but your heart aching pulled you back into the present.

Your fingers twitched as you attempted to play a note, but your hands came into contact with your lap instead of the instrument, frozen in hesitation. You let out a deep, aggravated sigh and hung your head down, the pressure of your failure too much to bear.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled to your instructor. "I can't do this." The teacher's gaze saddened, her sorrowful expression laced with understanding. She gave a small, sympahtetic nod before gently instructing you to head back to your seat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hurriedly gathered your music sheets, the papers messily fixated in your grip. Keeping your eyes fixed on the floor, you quickly navigated your way back to your chair, where your best friend, Flynn, waited. Her presence was postulating and comforting, offering quiet reassurance as you sank into the seat besides him.

"Hey, it's okay." Flynn reached out, her hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. Her demeanor was mellow, a blend of sadness and empathy as she leaned closer. "You tried. That's all that matters."

"Is this the part where we clap?" A shrill, grating voice pierced your ears. There was no mistaking it; it belonged to Carrie, your ex-best friend, who seemed to envy your every breath.

"Watch it, Carrie," Flynn warned, side eyeing her deviously as the bell to dismiss class sounded.

It was surreal to think Carrie had once been your closest friend, someone you entrusted every secret with. Yet, everything changed when her father struck gold; he was a musician, and an incredibly famous one at that. The release of his first album catapulted him, and subsequently his daughter, into a wealthy lifestyle; this newfound luxury altered Carrie entirely. The warmth and loyalty you once knew were replaced by traits of arrogance and a biting jealousy that only grew with time.

Flynn motioned for you to walk with her, but you stayed behind for a minute, dejectedly looking towards the teacher. She gave a sad smile, her eyes conveying her despondent tone before she even spoke.

"I'll miss, you, y/n."

---

You pushed open the front door of your home, the familiar squeak of the frame echoing in the quiet entryway. With a weary exhale, you shrugged off your backpack and tossed it down in the corner of the living room, not bothering to check if it landed upright. The events of the day replayed begrudgingly in your mind as you trudged your way towards the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Oh good!" you heard your father exclaim from the kitchen. "You're home. I was about to go watch your brother's game, but then I got a phone call." As you reached the top of the steps, you paused and turned around, your gaze landing on your father's stance in the doorway; he had his camera in hand, yet the familiar device seemed almost out of place with the tension rising in the atmosphere. His expression was undeterminable, but the weight of his stare made your stomach churn with guilt. A regretful look crossed your face, figuring he already knew about your removal. from the music program

"Yeah, I figured as much," you confessed, your eyes glued to the ground.

"Well, it was my realtor friend."

A wave of relief washed over you, the weight on your shoulders lightening; for a fleeting moment, you were grateful for the small miracle. Yet, as you looked up at him and noticed the optimism on his face, a knot tightened in your stomach. Taking into account the gravity of his statement made your solace disappate.

"Oh, right. That." In hindsight, this phone call was not any better. Since your mom's passing, your dad had constantly brought up selling the house, convinced it was the best way to get a, "fresh start." He thought moving away from the place that held so many memories of her would help him escape the grief that lingered in every room. But to you, this house was more than four walls; it was the last place where everything still felt whole, where her presence could still be felt.

"Yeah, and she says if we are serious about selling the house, then she wants me to take some pictures for the website." He motioned to his camera briefly. "Which means we'll have to do a lot of cleaning and get rid of some stuff, and I was hoping maybe," he stopped speaking for a moment, taking what seemed like a reluctant breath, "you could tackle mom's studio? I mean, you're the expert. Your brother and I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Your eyes widened and your gaze was back to staring at your shoes. You felt a lump in your throat as you anxiously pondered the idea.

Since your mom’s passing, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to step back into the garage she had lovingly transformed into her music studio. The guitars stood untouched, their strings quietly gathering dust. The drum kit sat still, its once lively rhythm now replaced by the soft whispers of the wind. Even the piano keys, once vibrant under her fingertips, were now dulled by neglect. You had tried to go back once, but the memories overwhelmed you before you even reached the stone path leading to the building. Now, knowing that your family home, and your mom’s studio along with it, would soon be sold made the weight in your chest unbearable. The thought of losing this last physical connection to her filled your mind with an ache you couldn’t shake. Your dad, watching you wrestle with the turmoil, caught onto your fearful hesitation, his expression softening as if he could sense the storm raging inside you.

"Honey, if you don't want to, it's okay," he reassured you. "I can always-"

"No, it's fine," you interjected. "I'll start on it tonight." You nodded, a blend of hesitance and determination flickering across your face. Deep down, you were not sure if you were sure that ready to face the ghosts of your past, but you were sure that you were tired of letting fear hold you back. Even if the weight of your emotions felt insurmountable, you knew you could not let cowardice define you, not when it came to your mom’s musical legacy. You at least owed it to her to honor her craft. You had to do this.

"Yeah?" your dad inquired hopefully. You nodded your head and your dad clasped his hands together in delight. "Awesome, sweetheart, thank you!" He made his way to the front door before suddenly stopping and turning back to you. "And uh, don't forget the loft. You know those old instruments that were there when we moved in? Like, the drumkit and the red bass and such? They need a new home."

"Mom would like that," you agreed, reminiscing on your mom's kind heart.

"Yeah, she would." Your dad checked his wrist-watch, his solumn expression quickly changing into one of worry. "Oh no, I am going to be late." He scrambled around the living room in search of his car keys.

"On the counter," you called to him; his gaze shifted to the countertop in the kitchen, and he caught sight of the silver key ring.

"You're a lifesaver!" He snatched his keys and shot a playful finger gun towards you as he made his way out the front door.

---

Night time came much too fast.

You begrudgingly trekked down the cobblestone path leading to your mom's studio. The night was quiet, the stars and moon being the only sources of illumination down the path. Your hand quivered as you reached for the door handle; you paused for a moment as you fully grasped the handle, taking a deep breath before opening the door and flicking on the light switch.

The studio looked untouched, frozen in time, exactly as it had been the last time you stepped inside with your mom. The faint scent of wood polish and sheet music still lingered in the air, like a fragile whisper of the past. You stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, your eyes scanning the familiar space as if seeing it for the first time. Every detail, from the neatly stacked sheet music, to the instruments resting in their usual places, felt both comforting and saddening; it was a bittersweet reminder of a world you could not bring yourself to fully return to.

Your feet carried you to the piano first, your finger absently tracing a line through the thin layer of dust that had settled on the keys. The instrument, once vibrant with life, now seemed like a relic of a distant past. Your gaze drifted to the small table beside it, landing on a framed photo that had remained untouched. It was a picture of you and your mom, taken on a sunny day at the amusement park. The two of you were grinning ear to ear, your laughter practically radiating from the image. Now, the sight of those bright beams brought a hollow ache in your chest. You picked up the photo, the cool metal of the frame grounding you as your thumb gently brushed over its corner.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," you regretfully apologized as you made eye contact with her photograph. "I'm sorry I haven't been out here." You delicately sat down the picture frame and made your way to the opposite corner of the room. Here lay your mom's "treasure chest," as she referred to it. Truthfully, it was a chest that contained all of her collectibles from over the years, from music albums to band t-shirts she had decorated with shimmering sequins and jewels.

Curiosity tugged at you as you knelt before the chest, its lid creaking slightly as you pushed it open. You began sifting through the items inside, each one layered with the dust of forgotten time. Your fingers brushed over fabric, paper, and finally something smooth and hard. Your nails clinked against the plastic, piquing your interest. Gripping the object, you pulled it free and held it up to the light; it was a CD encasing. Its cover was black with bold, curving white letters spelling out the band’s name across the front.

"3RACHA."

'"I guess some music while I'm cleaning wouldn't hurt," you thought aloud. You walked over to the coffee table, sat in front of the brown, leather couch in the center of the studio; sat atop the table was a retro CD player your mom had found at a garage sale about five or so years ago. Carefully, you removed the disc from its casing and deposited it into the player, pressing the play button once it was fully inserted. You began making your way up to the loft, deciding to tackle that area first as the music began to play...

"Take off Last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge..."

It was here that the music began to sound a bit strange. The melody began to warp, becoming almost unrecognizable as it was gradually overtaken by a disturbing sound that sounded like...screaming? At first faint, it quickly swelled, rising to an unbearable intensity that made your skin crawl. The screeching noise clawed at your senses, so sharp and overwhelming that you instinctively clamped your hands over your ears, desperate to block it out.

There was a flash of light, and three guys appeared on the garage floor out of nowhere. They groaned in pain, their bodies stiff as if waking from a long slumber. You let out a bewildered gasp, the scene before you surreal. The three of them got to their feet, their eyes wide as they took in their new surroundings. They looked around, dazed and amazed

"Woah!" the middle one spoke, his tone laced with a moderate Australian accent. "Woah! How did we get back here?" he inquired to nobody in particular, pointing at every facet in the studio.

A horrified, prolonged scream escaped your mouth before you could comprehend the sight in front of you, causing all three boys to look at you; fear was present in all three of their gazes as well. Before you knew it, they were screaming as well, squirming around in terror and holding onto each other for dear life. You were still shrieking as you ran out of the studio, fleeing back to your house as fast as your legs could carry you. You only ceased your sprint when you ran into your dad.

"Woah, slow down!" he chuckled while commanding. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I have!" you spit out without thinking, making your brother express his intrigue. You did not respond, however, fleeing up the porch stairs and running into your bedroom. You immediately pulled out your cell phone, texting Flynn your emergency code.

'SOS!'

---

"Come on, Flynn," you groaned as the minutes dragged by. "SOS means SOS! Why aren't you answering me?"

"Sweetheart?" you heard a knock at your door and squealed at the noise, instantly calming down once you saw that it was your dad. "Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were alright." He took a seat besides you on your bed, looking down at you concerned.

"You don't believe me, do you?" you inquired, your gaze intently focused on your pillows.

"Of course I do, honey," your dad responded. "I see your mom all the time!"

"This isn't like that."

"I know, it's different for everybody, but-"

"Dad, you're not listening to me!" you interrupted, exasperated out of frustration. "I saw something out there, something that wasn't mom."

"Okay, I'm sorry," your dad threw his hands up. "Tell me what you saw. Nobody else is listening, and this is not a judgmental environment."

"You sound like the psychiatrist," you told him bluntly.

"Yeah, well maybe seeing the psychiatrist again isn't such a bad idea," your dad attempted to crack a joke, but the comment riled you up further.

"Can we just drop this?!" you asked, your voice rising to an octave near a yell, the frustration and confusion in your words impossible to contain. Your dad let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he stood up, the weight of your question settling between you.

"Okay. Dropped."

---

You tried to talk yourself out of returning to your mom’s studio, but curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you back. You needed to understand what you had seen, to prove to yourself, and to your dad, that you were not losing your mind. With a hesitant breath, you made your way down the cobbled path until you stood before the familiar door of the studio. In your hands, you gripped a makeshift crucifix, hastily crafted from sticks

"Are you still here?" you quieried the empty building. "Whatever you are?" You spun in every direction, your eyes scanning the shadows and corners, searching for something—anything—that might explain what had just occurred. stopping when you turned back to the front entrance. When you finally turned back toward the front entrance, you saw nothing. The room was still, silent, as if it were mocking you. A wave of frustration washed over you, and with a defeated sigh, you dropped your hands, letting them fall to your sides. The emptiness around you felt suffocating, and you wondered if you were just imagining it all.

"I know I saw something, I'm not crazy!"

"Well, we're all a little crazy, mate." You heard the same Australian accent from earlier behind you; you swiftly circled around to see the same three boys standing behind you. They all had small smiles plastered on their faces. Reflexively, you began to scream once more, holding out the crucifix in front of you; this time, you were quickly shushed by the Australian boy.

"Please stop screaming!" he pleaded with you, and you did as demanded, albeit reluctantly.

"W-who are you?!" you interrogated. "What are you doing in my mom's studio?"

"Your mom's studio?" the Australian bewilderedly asked as he took a few steps toward you; you swiftly pointed the crucifix towards him, chasing him throughout the middle section of the garage as if he were some demonic being that was about to possess you.

"This is our studio! Trust me! Okay sure, the grand piano is new, and..." Your efforts caused the teenage boy to scramble over the aforementioned instrument; however, his attention quickly fixated on the couch. His eyes widened, seeming as if he was looking at an old friend for the first time.

"MY COUCH!" he yelled in delight as he threw himself onto the piece of furniture, kicking his feet up onto one of the arm rests. His eyes closed in a restful manner; when they opened once more, they trailed to the guitar beside the couch, the sight of which made him stand up once again. His eyebrows knit together as he pointed to the unfamiliar instrument. "But that is definitely not my six-string." He hurriedly shuffled back over to the other two, confusion rattling in his brain. "Give us a second," he gave you a brief, somewhat phony smile before turning around and forming a huddle with the guys. You listened in on their conversation:

"Guys! What is going on? How did she get her stuff in here so fast?"

"Maybe she's a witch? I mean, there are chairs on the ceiling," the shortest of the three suggested, pointing up at the ceiling; he was buffer than the other two, sporting a white, tight fitted t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a red flannel wrapped around his waist.

"Okay, witches aren't real," the boy who you could best describe as looking like a squirrel shook his head in disbelief; he had on a black backwards cap with a pink hoodie snug under a jean jacket.

"You sure? Because I used to think ghosts weren't real!"

"Fair point."

"Okay, so we're definitely going with witch," the Aussie decided, looking in between his mates for reassurance on the claim; he was wearing a white band tee with the sleeves cut off and a blue oversized jacket over top.

The buffer boy nodded his head in agreement; however, the squirrel knitted his eyebrows togehter, waving his hand dismissively in contrast.

"No, we are not! Okay, she is not a witch; she is clearly just scared. So let someone with a softer touch handle this!" He concluded his monologue with a sharp clap of his hands toward the other two, the sound echoing in the stillness. He began to approach you, his steps slow and deliberate, dragging as though he had all the time in the world. The air between you thickened, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he drew closer, his movements unhurried but somehow foreboding.

"Why are you in our studio?" he asked, accentuating his mouth in a strange motion. In a burst of sheer fear, you thrust the makeshift cross forward, driving it straight into his middle. You gasped in horror as the crucifix passed through his form as if he were nothing but a faint, shifting hologram.

"Oh my gosh!" you shrieked as you pulled the cross away; your panicked eyes flickered first to the cross, then horrifiedly shifted back to the boy. "How did you do that?!" He looked back at the other two narrowing his eyes out of conclusive annoyance.

"Okay, clearly, you're not getting it," he condescended, rubbing the corners of his eyes once he turned back towards you. "Okay, we are ghosts," he motioned to himself and the other two. "We're just three ghosts who have no idea how they got back home but they are really happy to be here! So thank you for the new decor, it really brightens up the room, but we've got it from here."

"We're actually in a band called 3RACHA," the Australian chimed in, causing you to swiftly adjust your head in order to get a good look at him while the shorter boy chimed in with, "Tell your friends!"

Woah, he was hot. Not in the typical high school heartthrob way, but more in the supernatural sense, like someone you would never expect to develop a crush on, yet here you were, inexplicably drawn to him. His smile was dazzling, cheeky, and almost too perfect, while his loose band tee couldn't quite hide the way his slim yet muscular frame moved with an effortless confidence. You found yourself lingering on every detail, but you snapped out of your daze when he spoke again, grounding yourself back in reality.

"Last night was supposed to be a huge night for us," he explained. "It was supposed to change our lives."

"I'm pretty sure it did," the short one responded, earning a flick on the back of the head from the Aussie. You were convinced you were losing it, even if everybody was, "all a little crazy."

"This is freaking me out," you exclaimed. In order to prove their claims, and reassure the doubt lingering in your gut, you pulled out your cellphone from the back pocket of your jeans.

"What is that? What are you doing?" The Australian peered over your shoulder, motioning to your cellphone.

"It's my phone," you started to expound, but quickly caught yourself, biting back the words before they could spill out. Instead, you shifted the conversation, turning the focus back to yourself with an awkward yet determined attempt to regain control. "Nope! Stop talking to them! They aren't real! There's no such thing as cute ghosts!"

"Aw, she thinks we're cute!" the shorter boy cooed. His adoring realization elicited a warning eye from you, prompting him to silence as he pressed his lips into a thin line. Your attention refocused on your phone, and you scrolled through social media applications and gaming selections until you found your search engine. Your fingers fidgeted as you typed the band's name into the search bar in a rushed manner.

"Who ya calling?" the boy with the squirrel-esque features inquired. You jerked your head up to face him, annoyance washing over you after being inquired for the second time that night.

"I'm googling the band Sriracha."

"THREEracha," all three of them corrected at the same time. You jumped back slightly, quickly correcting the name in the search bar. As soon as you typed in the band’s name, the first result that popped up was a news article titled, "3RACHA: A Hollywood Tragedy." Intrigued, you clicked the link, and within seconds, a photo of four boys appeared on the screen. Three of them were unmistakably the ones standing right in front of you.

"Okay! There is a 3RACHA." You spoke to yourself, relieved that this was not just your imagination. The three guys nodded as if to say, "Obviously!" You read the first paragraph of the article, which stated as follows:

"Last week the music industry lost an up and coming band that could have taken the world by storm and topped the charts. 3RACHA was a local band out of Hollywood having sold out its showcase on Saturday. Unfortunately, the band never made it to the stage. Three of its members, Chan, Han, and Changbin, tragically died when they ate bad street hot dogs. It was supposed to be their biggest night, opening live at the Orpheum Theater on the Sunset Strip. They were only 17. There was a surviving band member, Hyunjin, but no one has been able to track him down and talk to him about his friends dying that fateful night."

You focused particularly on the date the article was released: July 29, 1995.

"You did die," you muttered upon seeing it. "But not last night. You died 29 years ago." As the words fell from your mouth, all three boys exchanged glances, their faces twisted in confusion, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape in disbelief.

"What? No way. That's not possible. After we floated out of the ambulance, all we did was go to that dark room where Han cried." Upon the shorter boy's statement, the squirrel-esque boy began to stammer.

"Well," he prolonged his high-pitched voice. "I don't think, I think we were all pretty upset, y'know?"

"But that was only for like an hour," the Australian boy jerked his head up, the look in his eyes nothing short of perplexation. "We just showed up here."

"Look, I'm just telling you what my phone says." You turned your phone around so they could read the article for themselves. "You died in 1995 when you were all 17. It's now 2024. All three boys looked at each other, their expressions a mix of utter confusion, as if their very souls were trying to make sense of what was happening.

"So, it's been 29 years?" the squirrely boy raised his hands behind his head, his posture tense, as if he were on the verge of a breakdown. "I have been crying for 29 years?! How is this possible?!"

"Well, you're a very emotional person," the shortest attempted to put his hand on the boy's shoulder in hopes of comforting him, but it was immediately shrugged off.

"I AM NOT."

You sighed in frustration at the boys' conversation, turning to leave the studio. But before you stepped out, you paused and glanced back at them, your brow knitted in vexation.

"Look," you began sternly, "I am very sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn't your studio anymore. You need to leave." You attempted to exit again, but the Australian member called for you to wait.

"We never got your name," he tilted his head and slightly smiled in an attempt to be friendly.

"Y/n," you answered bluntly.

"Cool, I'm Chan..." he moved towards you, resulting in the crucifix being raised once again, "...by the way, and this is-"

"Changbin! Hey, I'm Changbin," the short, buff boy introduced himself, his soft voice not matching his build in the slightest.

"I'm Han, how's it going," the squirrel-esque male was the last the greet you. You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips.

"Okay?" you muttered, shaking your head before storming out of the studio. You slammed the door behind you, leaving the three boys standing there, dazed and speechless.

"Y/n seems nice!" Changbin beamed after a few seconds. Chan raised an eyebrow, a puzzled frown tugging at his lips, while Han’s gaze flickered between Changbin and him, clearly thrown off by the awkwardness of the situation.

"Did you miss the part where she kicked us out, Bin?"

---

After setting the table and blessing the food, you tried your best to settle into what should have been a normal family dinner. As normal as it could be, at least, considering the bizarre events of the day; after all, encountering three ghosts that no one would believe you about was not something you could easily put behind you. You poked at your plate absentmindedly, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly, you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder. You jolted, glancing up to find your aunt standing behind you, her face serious. She had come over for dinner, but now her presence seemed even more weighty, as she leaned in and whispered how she needed to have an important conversation with you.

"Now, sweetie," she began sugarly, "I want you to know there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of?" Your eyes widened in alarm, a cold wave of realization washing over you. You could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, and you knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Uh, that's so funny of you to say!" you tried to blow off the conversation.

"Well, honey," your aunt continued, her voice soft yet firm, "all I was going to say was that now that you aren't in the music program anymore, you can focus on your academics!" You let out a quiet breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body unwinding with the release of tension. But as your eyes flickered toward your father, you immediately sensed the disappointment etched across his face, further proven by the way he dramatically cleared his throat. The action hung there like a shadow, unspoken but heavy, and it made the room feel colder. Your aunt looked at him, her expression etched with confusion.

"You got the email from the school, yes?" she asked.

"We're still discussing it," your dad replied harshly. His angry, piercing stare never left your solemn gaze, causing your heart to sink down to your stomach.

"Eh, no matter," your aunt dismissed. "Now, excuse me. I have to run to the restroom." She strutted away from the table, seemingly in attempts to escape the conversation she had started.

"So, when were you going to tell me?"

Before you could formulate a response, a sudden blast of rock music pierced through the air, reverberating from somewhere in the distance. The unmistakable beat of the guitar and heavy drums echoed from the garage, loud enough to drown out the quiet tension at the table. It was jarring, almost out of place, and it drew your attention away from the conversation.

"What is that?" your father inquired, his voice laced with alarm.

"Uh, I must have left the stereo on in the garage!" you exclaimed. "Let me go turn it off!" You darted out of the house and out of the conversation. Your heart raced as you made your way toward the garage, and as you rounded the corner, the noise grew louder. You froze for a moment, eyes wide, as you took in the sight of the three boys. They were completely immersed in their music, jamming out with an ease that left you speechless. Somehow, they had found their instruments and were tearing through an old rock song, the sound of their music filling the air like an electrifying presence.

"Guys, cut it out!" you yelled. They did not listen to you, however, drowning your command out with a crescendo of music. You rolled your eyes, reaching down to unplug Chan's guitar from the speaker; you threatened to do the same with Changbin's bass, but the music halted before you resorted to that measure. "The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you guys to leave." To your surprise, the band looked more delighted than depressed.

"People can hear us play?" Chan asked, a cheeky smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. His confidence was almost teasing, as if he were fully aware of the effect his music, and perhaps his presence, was having on you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from blushing, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you could not quite explain. The playful glint in his eyes only made it harder to focus.

"Yes! My dad specifically!" you snapped, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You tried to mask the shy undertone with feigned anger, crossing your arms as if that might make the situation feel less awkward.

"So, only you can see us, but everybody can hear us?" Changbin asked rhetorically. "What kind of ghosts are we?!"

"Who cares man!" Chan yelled out enthusiastically. "People can hear us play!" The three of them came together at Han's drumset, fistbumping and high fiving one another.

"We may be dead, but our music isn't!" Han remarked. You sighed, frustration bubbling up as you stood there, irritated by the bizarre turn of events. Everything about this situation felt off, with your dad, and now the ghosts casually playing rock music in your garage. It was all too much to process, and yet, here you were, stuck in the middle of it all.

"Why can’t you guys be normal ghosts?!" you shouted, your voice higher and sharp with frustration. The words burst out before you could stop them, making all three boys flinch in surprise. "Hang out at an old mansion! I hear Pasadena’s nice!" Without waiting for a response, you stormed out of the studio, the door slamming behind you with a force that seemed to shake the walls.

"I've always wanted to go to Pasadena," Changbin muttered, completely oblivious to your frustration. Chan was the first to react, teleporting out of the garage with Han close behind him. Changbin, still lost in his Pasadena fantasies, followed after he snapped back to reality. Within seconds, all three of them appeared in front of you just as you reached the steps leading up to your house. You squealed in shock, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden appearance of the ghosts. But before they could say anything, annoyance quickly washed over you, the frustration you’d been holding back resurfacing in full force.

"What now?!" you asked them, your tone encapsulated by rage. You crossed your arms, your gaze impatiently moving between all three of them as you waited for an answer.

"Look, I know this is all completely insane," Chan began to tell you, "but you do know how rad this is? People, actual people can hear us play!" He was absolutely stoked, contrasting your sorrowful demeanor.

"Yeah, it's just I've just had a really, really awful day. I gotta go." You attempted to evade the pep-talk, but Chan began again before you could get too far.

"Well, I'm sorry you had a bad day, but three guys just found out that they had a bad 29 years," he retaliated, "and then they found out that the one thing they lived for in the first place they can still do. That's pretty rad."

"You're right. It's just..."

"Your bad day. Yeah. I know," Chan interjected. "Look, I'm sorry we came into your life, but what I just felt in there actually made me feel alive again. We all felt alive again. So, you can kick us out if you want, but we're not giving up music. We can play again. That's a gift no musician would ever turn down."

You sighed, the sound a mixture of irritation and a lingering sadness that weighed heavy in your chest. The frustration from earlier still simmered, but Chan’s words caught you off guard. "You gotta know that. Clearly, your mom was into music." His voice was gentle, almost too understanding, and it only made the ache in your heart grow stronger. You shifted your gaze from him to the ground, the quiet pressure of his statement settling in. It felt like a reminder you were not ready to hear.

"Was," you corrected softly, your voice catching slightly. "She passed away." The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The boys exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from playful to somber.

"I am... so sorry," Chan murmured, his voice filled with genuine regret. He moved as if to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, but his ghostly fingers passed straight through you, the gesture falling short. Despite the ethereal nature of his attempt, the warmth of his intention still made your heart skip a beat, leaving a strange mix of comfort and sadness swirling within you.

"Yeah, we didn't know," Han explained, his mind racing with panic.

"It's all right," you breathed out, regret now present in your voice. "You guys haven't seen her anywhere, have you? From wherever you're from." You figured they would not have, but it never hurts to ask.

"Um..." Chan hesitated. "No. No, I mean, you're kind of the first person we've seen."

"Yeah, but she's not dead, so it doesn't answer her question," Changbin put his two sense in, earning an irritated side-eye from Han.

"Yeah. I think she knows what we mean. I'm sorry for your loss," Chan commented once again, his eyes just as dejected as yours were.

"Thanks," you shook your head in understanding. "Sorry I got mad. You guys are kinda good."

"Kinda?" Chan sounded playfully offended. "Y-Y-You know that's like 29 years of rust just getting dusted off." For the first time since meeting the boys, you smiled at them, and your grin made Chan's eyes light up.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you with an almost admiring intensity. He didn’t say anything more, until Han, with a knowing look, smacked his shoulder to snap him out of it. Chan blinked, visibly shaking himself from the moment. "Uh, do you play the piano too?" he asked, his voice suddenly more tentative, trying to shift the attention away from his earlier slip. The change in his tone was almost too obvious, but the question itself felt genuine.

You dithered slightly before responding: "No. No, I don't play. That was my mom's stuff in there. She's an amazing songwriter." You puzzled yourself by the lie, knowing full good and well you could play.

"She was," Chan nodded in agreement. You looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait. How would you know?"

"There's a song on the piano," Chan explained. "If it's hers, then your mom was really talented." His tone had a certain fondness to it, as if he knew your mother like an old friend; it made your face go hot. The compliment of your mother's abilities caused you to reconsider your prior statements.

"I guess," you began while grinning, "if you guys need a place to stay, you can stay here." The boys widened their eyes in delight, their mouths forming into bright grins. "There's a bathroom in the back and a couch that turns into a bed if you still use any of that stuff." Upon finishing your words, Changbin instantly threw his hand up.

"Dibs on the shower!" You side-eyed the boy but laughed at his strange actions. "I just really like showers and sometimes the occasional bath."

"You are so weird," Han commented while throwing an arm around the boy and leading him into the studio. Chan giggled at the actions of his bandmates before turning around to face you.

"Thank you, y/n," he nodded, his close-mouthed smile warm and sincere, as if your kindness meant more than words could express. "See you tomorrow?" His voice was gentle, a hint of hope behind it, but you could not bring yourself to meet his gaze. You looked down at the ground, your heart beating faster as your timidness took over.

"Yeah, you will," you finally nodded meekly; Chan bit his lip excitedly before joining Han and Changbin in the studio. You shook your head in disbelief, smiling at nothing in particular.

"This is too weird."

---

All night, you thought about what Chan had said:

"There's a song on the piano. If it's hers, then your mom was really talented."

What song could it have been? You thought back to all the songs your mom had written before her passing. She was undeniably talented, but most of them were not the kind that would have evoked such deep, overwhelming emotion. With this thought spinning in your head, you reluctantly woke up early for school the next morning. The darkness outside still held onto the quiet of night, the sun just beginning to grace the horizon with its pale light. You dressed quickly, your movements automatic as your mind continued to race. Despite the overwhelming sense of dread you felt every time you approached the studio, there was something else undeniable pulling you back. It was ironic, really, that this was your fourth visit to the studio in just two days, and yet it still felt like stepping into a place that had been off-limits for years. The weight of it all settled in your chest, but you could not shake the nagging feeling that you needed to be there.

You walked straight to the piano, the familiar coolness of the keys beneath your fingertips positioning you as you hesitated for only a moment before pressing your fingers gently against them. The sound was quiet, barely a whisper, but it was enough to settle your nerves. Your gaze quickly found the song Chan had mentioned, your eyes scanning over the notes as if searching for something you could not quite name.

This song was new; it was not like any other one your mom had taught you how to play. You read the lyrics, tearing up as each word resonated deep within your soul; it was almost as if this was her departing message to you. Your eyes flicked to the bottom of the page, a handwritten note from your mom reading: "Never give up, y/n. I love you, forever."

You sat down on the piano bench, your fingers finding the starting notes. Taking a deep breath, you began to play, adding your own rhythm as the melody unfolded. As your voice joined in, it felt natural, almost as if the song had always been inside you.

"Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up no you grow."

The lyrics poured out softly, carrying the weight of memories and emotions you hadn’t known you were ready to face. For a brief moment, it was as though your mom was right there with you, her presence lingering in the music.

"And you use your pain 'Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it"

The last line caused your voice to waver, the emotion swelling in your chest. You wished, more than anything, that your mom were here with you now—holding you through the grief that had been building for so long. The ache of her absence hit harder than ever, and for a moment, the music felt like the only connection left.

"I know it's not the same You got livin' to do And I just want you to do it

So get up, get out relight that spark You know the rest by heart"

The notes grew stronger as you reached the chorus, your fingers pressing the keys with growing intensity. A sense of pride swelled within you for your mother’s songwriting talent, and with it came a surge of confidence. As the music enveloped you, it felt like a reclamation of something you had lost, a reminder of your own strength through the melody she had left behind.

"Wake up, wake up if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost It's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain"

"Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up Wake up"

The sun began to rise over the treetops as you reached the bridge, its golden light spilling over the landscape. Unbeknownst to you, your father stood on the porch, bathed in that same light. His eyes sparkled with quiet joy, a soft smile on his lips as he listened to your voice carry through the air. In that moment, he knew: his daughter was back. The music had returned, and with it, the hope he had thought was lost.

"So wake that spirit spirit I wanna hear it hear it No need to fear it you're not alone You're gonna find your way home"

The final lyric soared into a high note, your own subtle twist on the song. With each note that filled the small studio, you felt your passion for playing reignite. The music flowed through you, every chord more powerful than the last. You finished with a dramatic low note, the sound lingering in the air. Your eyes remained fixed on the sheet music, drawn to the note at the bottom. You read it over and over, as if trying to unlock a secret it held just for you.

You did it. You woke up.

You woke up and rediscovered your love for music. You woke up from the long, paralyzing nightmare of your mother's death and escaped the grief that was holding you back. You woke up and found yourself, realizing who you were:

You were Rose's daughter, the child of a musical genius, and you were not going to let her legacy pass on with her.

You breathed in deeply, joyful tears filling your eyes as your heart pumped with a newfound courage.

In that moment, although you were not aware of it, four pairs of eyes shimmered...

[zooblemybeloved]

Introduction 💖˚𖦹☆꧂

Basics ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

★ Hello there!! My name is Kendra Almazan, but I just go by Almazan, but you can use my first name if you want. I don’t mind, really!! Here Are Some Things About Me ↓

★ I am a female, but I go by She/Them pronouns!

★ I am a self-taught artist and have been drawing for a few years! (I can’t exactly remember…☹︎)

★ I love listening to Chappell Roan, Jazmin Bean, PinkPantheress, Laufey, Tyler The Creator, Tv Girl, 6arelyhuman, Beabadoobee, Mitski, Dazey And The Scouts, The Sundays, Queen, Sublime, The Cranberries, Will Wood, Nirvana, and the list goes on!!

★ I wish to become a director some day!!

★ And again, I am a Digital Artist who makes funky and fun art with variants of vibrant colors!!

What I am interested in!!

• TADC (The Amazing Digital Circus) ↑ ★ Main Hyperfixation

• Strawberry Shortcake

• Care Bears

• The Powerpuff Girls

• Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

• MLP (My Little Pony)

• TAWOG (The Amazing World Of Gumball)

• Lilo & Stitch ← Main Hyperfixation ★

🌈 ┋I would love to name more, but I don’t want to make you guys read too much!! ♡

About Asks and Art Requests!!

★ I enjoy communicating with people and making beloved art requests (which are %100 FREE!!) for anyone who asks for it! Even though I enjoy creative ideas, I do have some rules/boundaries that hopefully y’all can follow for me, but I’m not asking for much!! :) ↓

What I WILL do!!

• Fanart of any fandom (unless if it’s problematic!!)

• Ships (that are valid of course!!)

• Full doodle page (with how many doodles you want!!)

• OCs (I absolutely ADORE them!!)

• Full Piece!!

• Suggestive stuff (Depends on how suggestive it is.)

And pretty much anything that flows through your mind!! :)

What I will NOT do.

• EXTREMELY heavy and disturbing gore

• NSFW

• Racist topics

• Pedophilia/Proships

And anything that is non-valid.

About Asks

• Please do not spam me!! :(

• Feel free to ask any questions!!

• Please do not talk about extremely sexual or dark topics. (Jokes are okay, but if it is really disturbing, I will not answer)

• Try not to ask the same questions over and over! (But it’s okay if you have bad memory, I understand!!)

And Finally, Other stuff!!

• Anyone is allowed on my blog!! (Except anyone who is plain-on rude, racist, sexist, etc.)

• Kind of heavy on this one: PLEASE do NOT post my art on other platforms, SPECIFICALLY TIKTOK AND INSTAGRAM.

• if I don’t answer any of your asks, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!! I am very forgetful and I also apologize for it!!

• I do take a lot of time to draw, so please do not rush me. It would be very appreciated and less stressful :)

• AND MOST IMPORTANTLY!!: if I’m ever going too far with my humor and it is making you uncomfortable, please don’t be afraid to tell me, and I’ll stop if it is making you uncomfortable!! I do not want anyone to feel uneasy because of me!! :(

I will hope to post some of my artwork soon!! I’m trying my VERY best to fight art block! until then!! :) 💖

Credits to @carebearsandkawaiistuff76 for the glitter graphics!! 🌈꧂

[somebluemelodies]

@atthebell's SPIDERBIT WEEK DAY SIX: it couple | enigma revisiting the coffee shop au for this one, which you can read here! consider this a couple months or so post first date :> featuring: qroier being hopelessly in love and qcellbit being a total fucking nerd (/affectionate. and also hopelessly in love) this is a little lengthy like the last one my apologies-

"Roier, I can hear you thinking from here, man."

Roier abruptly stands from his spot leaning against the counter. "Perdón."

"Keep thinking that hard and you're going to destroy your last functioning brain cell." Mariana eyes his best friend. "Are you still trying to ask that guy out?"

"Yes," he answers, exasperated. "I don't know what the fuck to do."

"Just fucking ask him, man! It's not hard."

"I don't want to just ask, man! I want to do something cool for him, you know? He deserves it." Roier eyes Mariana right back. "Besides, I don't think you're allowed to offer relationship advice. You and Slime just started making out every day and eventually slapped a label on it."

Mariana looks smug and punchable. "And we're engaged now."

Roier only flips him off, leaning back against the counter and returning to his moping pondering. The other barista huffs after a few seconds, finally attempting to make himself useful. "Well, what does he like?"

"He's an investigator," is how Roier answers, "he—"

It's like a flip is switched in his brain, and he shoots back upright. "That's it! I know!" And before Mariana can question it, he's rushing out back to grab his phone.

When he returns, he's near-silent for the next several minutes upon grabbing a pen and napkin, save for occasional mumbling to himself as he studies intently whatever is on his phone screen.

Mariana doesn't bother stepping over yet, watching as Roier eventually starts writing something down on the napkin. Only when the pen has been capped, and Roier sighs to himself, seemingly satisfied, does he finally question the other again. "Happy now?"

Roier nods, smiling. "Sí."

(And so it goes.)

...

“And someone left this on one of the tables?”

Roier nodded. “Sí. Shortly before my shift ended.”

Cellbit seems mildly skeptical, but he doesn’t question it. Besides, who would he be to pass up solving a jumbled mess of letters?

“Well, it’s not a Caesar cipher. Doesn’t make sense. But…” He leans down, reaching for his satchel and rummaging through its contents before he finds a piece of paper, placing it on the coffee table alongside the napkin.

Intrigued, Roier scoots closer from their spot on his couch, hooking his chin over Cellbit’s shoulder. It looks like a table, but it’s full of letters instead of numbers. “What is that?”

(It’s just to get a closer look.)

(Cellbit wills his cheeks to cool down.)

“It’s for a Vigenère cipher. The letters in the middle are for all the encrypted letters. The left-hand column is the alphabet for whatever the key is, and the top row is the plaintext, or the 'normal' letters, if you will. In this case, it's what we're going to solve for."

(Cellbit explaining is leagues better than reading a bunch of words on a screen.)

(He could listen to Cellbit talk all day.)

“So how exactly do you solve it?” Roier asks. He has somewhat of an idea, but it was mostly him filling out the criteria on the website to encrypt it for him.

“I want to try and figure out the key first. I’m guessing the little coffee cup in the corner here has something to do it.” Cellbit points to the little doodle in the bottom right-hand corner, thinking for a moment. “It might not work, but let’s say the key is the word café. Vigenères are polyalphabetic ciphers; it utilizes multiple Caesar ciphers inside of itself, but the increments depend on whatever the key is— sorry, not important— polyalphabetic just means that they—"

“Use multiple alphabets?”

Cellbit smiles, and warmth blooms in Roier’s chest. “Yes!”

He pulls a pen from his chest jacket pocket. “We’re going to repeat café until it matches the length of the message.” He starts writing the letters underneath the cipher, continuing to talk. “We’re only going to be using the C, A, F, and E letters on the left-hand column, none of the others. Let me just finish this…”

Roier waits patiently until Cellbit gets to the last letter. When he does, he reaches for the table he’d pulled out. “Okay! So, now, to actually decipher it, we’re going to take the first letter of the key, C, and we’re going to locate the first letter of the cryptic message, Y, in C's row.” Cellbit’s pen lands on the letter Y. “Next, we’re going to follow that up to the top row for the plaintext.” The pen travels up. “W. So, the first letter of the decrypted message is W. Does that make sense?"

The barista nods as the investigator glances over to check. "Yeah. You're very smart, gatinho, you know that?"

Cellbit chuckles. "Gracias, guapito."

With that, he starts to work on decoding the rest of the cipher. Roier can't help but marvel at the speed he's able to work at - and doing it manually at that, not just putting it through online like he did. But Cellbit solving it fast is doing nothing for his nerves, his heartbeat starting to pick up.

He lets the other work quietly, trying not to shuffle and shift too much from his place leaning against him. He can't tell if he's regretting this or not, with the way the anticipation is killing him.

(But he also knows shit like this makes Cellbit happy, so maybe it won't be the complete end of the world.)

When Cellbit gets to the last word, though, he starts to slow down, processing exactly what the message is in front of him. He becomes acutely aware of Roier's head on his shoulder, the way his dark eyes are flitting back and forth between him and the papers, and pieces start clicking into place.

But he finishes it, because he knows Roier made it. Because he's stunned someone would go to this length for him. And so, the decoded cipher stares back up at him.

(WILL YOU BE MY BOYFRIEND)

Cellbit reads it back over to himself, once, twice, heart hammering in his chest as a haziness washes over him. He feels Roier lift his head, momentarily mourning the loss of contact, but wills his voice to work. "Roier..?"

"Well?" Roier asks after a moment, and Cellbit feels brave enough to glance over at him. They lock eyes, and he looks just as nervous as Cellbit feels, if not more. "Will you?"

For a moment, Cellbit doesn't move, expression unreadable, and Roier wonders if maybe this was a mistake after all. But then he sits upright, and orients to face him. "Cellbo—?"

He's effectively cut off by lips pressing against his, one of Cellbit's hands cupping his face as the other rests against the back of his neck.

Roier's eyes close immediately, melting into it as one arm wraps around the investigator's neck. His other hand goes up, threading through Cellbit's hair and subconsciously deepening the kiss.

(It feels warm, it feels right.)

They only pull apart when their lungs demand oxygen, foreheads resting together.

"Does that answer your question, guapito?" Cellbit breathes out.

Roier grins. "I think I need a little more clarification, gatinho."

Cellbit can't help but laugh. "Let me try again, then."

"By all means."

And somehow, the second kiss is almost better than the first.

(Enigma solved.)

[surveillance-0011]

Hey what if I *draws your alien that hates humans as humans* lol

These are all a little old (from jan-march) but save for giblets I feel like I’ve got everyone pinned down nicely. Notes under the cut!! Don’t repost, feel free to tell me what you think 💕

1-2: Krubis. I hope you see my vision here. Mostly just trying to figure out if I like this hair texture for him or if I go curlier. I’m set for his work outfit though and I like the idea of him wearing glasses or shades 24/7. But yknow. I think this captures his essence. This is the sort of person he is in my eyes.

The second doodle is kind of rushed but I think in a human au maybe he’d forgo a prosthetic in most circumstances. Hell I think if he can remove the drill at all in canon then he does so when it comes to paperwork and shit. I think he was born without the arm so hes learnt to get by without any sort of prosthetic. I need to do more research into the matter though

3: Douglas. The shorter cut is more in character but I do like the (VERY SPLATOON INSPIRED BTW) braid idea. I think he’s on the younger side alongside the Skrendels? But also he’s very baby faced I think. To mirror the whole “actually Douglas was the silly blue goober the whole time” thing

4: Dr. Giblets. As I said before this sketch is a bit old but I did touch it up. A bit too lanky his face needs to be rounder. I think he’s the oldest of the officers maybe older than Garm. Probably? Not by much. Also 5 Torg in the corner but I didn’t like how she came out so she’ll be in the next batch of whatever 💔💔💔

5: Angela + Jonathan in armor bc for a human/more anthro au I think they’d all have these helmets that mirror the one big eye(and headcanons for what happens when they argue: Angela mediates between Jonathan and Mona, Jonathan does the same when Angela argues with Mona, and Mona just straight up leaves the two to beat the shit out of each other then tearfully apologize .). Also nipulon weezer blue.

6: Garmantuous. Idk if he should be bald or not. Also like 40? Could be a bit older maybe even younger… extra eyes HAVE TO be plugs though I have decided on this. I feel smart for this.

7: more Mona ^_^ more developed sketch of the same hc that he just dips if the other two ever argue + fem presenting alt design + probably what went through his head by the time the BH took out his other brothers during the fight. Also his hair would be bleached blonde 👍🏼 but all the Skrendels have very dark hair naturally.

(On that note: as mentioned before Krubis’s hair is all grey now to mirror the drill. Douglas not sure probably brown or strawberry blond/gingery but dyed blue. Giblets. Uh. Idk it’s pink ish but that way naturally somehow and greying obviously. Garm also blonde but probably bleached? And like I said Skrendels all have black or brown hair but Mona bleached his and Jonathan dyes his hair every now and then

[potato-goose-tornado]

Okay, okay, okay

Soooo

I forgot to post another prompt last night (ruining my two day streak >:(( ), apologies from the deepest, darkest, cardiac artery that I own.

Anywho

Soulmate au, for funsies

The specific au I'm thinking of is where wherever your soulmate touches you first, you have a black mark signifying where they're going to touch you, and when they do, it turns into a bright, colorful, mark before slowly fading into some more pastel colors over time

There's a few different scenarios I can think of for this, ofc

•

1. Modern/College/General Adult au, characters do not know each other remotely, and they are both independently at the same party. One character (A) has their mark on their face, in the shape of a handprint, and have gone through life thinking that their soulmate is going to fucking slap them once they meet, while the other (B) has a (normal) mark of their palm being black (usually, it's a handshake or high five).

Well, whoopsie doodle, A ends up having something happen to them (they're overwhelmed, their partner breaks up with them, they just got a bad grade on an assignment, ect. ), and they get incredibly upset and leave to go quiet down and have a cry.

Well, coincidentally, B also leaves to do something (smoke, get some air, ect.) and they find A, and rush to comfort them, ultimately (and gently) putting their hand on their face, until it starts fucking glowing and they freak the fuck out

This would just be a cute little rp, domestic, funny, nothing too serious

•

2. Again, a modern/General Adult Au, one character (C) is at a bar, wallowing or doing something alone, when the local band sets up and plays. For some reason, C is *obsessed* with the band, and especially the lead singer, who is the other character (D).

Long story short, the band plays their set and wraps up by going backstage, while C runs to the bathroom (for whatever reason, to escape from the noise, to throw up bc they drank to much, whatever), and ends up in the dressing room of D. D is mildly annoyed at first, but sees C's state and takes it upon themselves to help C and/or get them home.

They both only figure out the next day that they both had their soulmarks activated (is that the right word?) in exactly the same spot as the other touched them/they touched the other, and they have *no clue* who they are (as C never told D their name and D was in a *very* small indie band that didn't have anymore gigs due to life events, and had an alias instead of their name).

They're both sad and decide to move on, until a few years later when (ultimately) they meet an *extremely* annoying person at their job and they decide that that person is the bane of their existence, (personally, Im thinking of them both being high school teachers, but thats just me).

You can see where this is going

Adversaries to Lovers as they slowly realize, hey, I might actually like this person, to them getting together, to maybe thinking about their soulmates and how they are still in love with them, but also love their partner (this could be one person's dilemma as the other wonders why their partner is so distant), until it's revealed that D was the lead singer of an indie band (perhaps if teachers, through the kids finding out about it and spreading it), and then it's a decently good ending :>>

•

(Yes, this was heavily inspired if not slightly ripped off of this jmart fic. 100% read it, it's soo good)

3. Friends to Lovers (again) human au.

Now, and I've saved best for last (debateable), this one CAN BE A FANTASY AU

Bc those are so popular /s

Anyhow, doesn't have to be fantasy, just has the capacity to be fantasy and would be cool/interesting.

Basically, one character (E), and the other (F) are best friends (from childhood, or just like tweens, or since highschool, SOMETHING), and for some reason, they have not touched ever before (for a multitude of reasons, one character doesn't like touch, they both aren't touchy people, or (if it's a fantasy au) maybe it's not favorable to ever touch royalty in any circumstances (especially if there's a *culture* around soulmarks))

But, they both have crushes on eachother, but don't want to risk their friendship by confessing and receiving a rejection that they believe is inevitable. Until, one day, something happens (can 100% be dramatic or mundane) and WHOOPSIE they've been soulmates the whole time!!

If you want, this can end there, if not, one could try and insist that it 'won't change their friendship' and have a whole OTHER level of drama surrounding their relationship bc of the miscommunication, really up to y'all.

Okay, okay, okay, now I get to talk about the FANTASY ASPECTS OF THIS LETS GO

SO SO SO SO

So many ways to do a fantasy thingie! You could have a royal advisor that grew up to be the heir's closest advisor and friend and have fallen in love with eachother, you could have a royal be childhood friends with a knight that either saves them occasionally, or they both are warriors, you could have a baker's child become friends with the heir bc of them sneaking into the kitchen to get snacks, and have it all cute and lovely

SO MANY OPTIONS AND SCENERIOS, OML

Anyhow, as usual, courts in the past had a HUGE thing about not touching and stuff, especially if someone is your 'better', or just Royalty in general, unless you're their personal servant. Soooo, the heir would have likely never been allowed to touch anyone, or they would have been covered head to toe at all times, and unallowed to take their clothes off to touch their friend's skin.

This can be a cute courtship thing, or OR, it could turn into *drama*, where the heir, having broken the rules, finds out that they are going to be married for a political tie, and they have to figure out a way around it to still be together

(I don't know if I have to make this clear, but any Fantasy stuff will not have homophobia in it. It's unnecessary and I don't want it in my silly little fantasy world)

•

ANYWHO

That's all I got for now, feel free to use these with someone else or DM me, my preferences are in the pinned post

Drink water, have a good nighttttttttttt!

(I'm sleeping now omfg)

[heartlvrrss]

Doodle (part 1?)

Pairing: Haechan x reader

Word count: 1417

Genre: fluff, attempted and horribly failed comedy

Warnings: swearing, cringe and theres no kiss in this part </3 let me know if i missed any!

••••••••

A light hits my face, making me immediately move my tired arm to my face, hoping to block the horrid light from my eyes for the hope of at least getting a few more seconds of sleep.

Well that’s what I was at least  hoping for before a loud voice had to interrupt me, which of course belonged to lee donghyuck, who, was also my longterm friend since middle school when we met through an awkward encounter of when my boyfriend of 2 months broke up with me, 13 year old me was obviously heartbroken and what made it even worse was hyucks loud ass laugh that could be heard from across the globe. We somehow became friends shortly after, which made me become bewitched under his charm and somehow gain a life long crush on him.

Resuming to the current situation in our 3rd year of college, here I am trying to ignore his desperate whines to get me up, there was a reason i decided to not get a roommate but if a knew hyuck would technically be the same thing then maybe i would’ve opted for the roommate option earlier on.

“wake up” haechan screams into my ear for about the millionth time making me inch one bit closer to slapping the shit out of him

“Lee donghyuck will you please just shut the fuck up, its saturday for gods damn sake.” The annoyance evident in my voice

“but you promised to take me to the new cat cafe” the grown ass man whines

“Do I fucking look like your sugar mommy to you?” istg if he says yes ill slap him 

“youre not but, I am willing to take the offer just incase” that’s when I slap him for real making him let out an exaggerated yelp

“thats it. Ask one of your other hoes, im not taking you anymore”

Sadly, it seemed to not work as here I am walking with this absolute man-child to a cat cafe, once we arrived there I (obviously) firstly looked at the exterior, it was a cute little pink and off white cafe with a rusty pink chalkboard sitting outside for todays menu, a few white tables and seats with some flowers on each table to decorate it,

“It’s so cute” I squealed 

“I told you it would be nice” hyuck replies but I just ignore him.

As we go in there were a few people already sitting there, eating a pastry or drinking something with adorable cats on their laps. We walked to a table by a window and grabbed the menus, taking a look at them before a waiter comes

“Hello, have you already decided on what to order yet?” She asks,

“Just a few more minutes please” I reply before she says something again

“Ok, also you too are a very cute and good-looking couple” she smiles not knowing of my mini heart attack that I’m having right now,

“Oh, we’re not a-” I answer back in shock before being interrupted by hyuck

“Oh god, she’s like a sister to me” he says in a (fake but i’m to dumb to realize) disgusted tone which, to be honest, it hurt quite a bit but I brushed it off, there’s no way I could still have a crush on him after all this time, right? 

“My apologies” she smiles back before leaving.

“Well, have you decided on what to eat yet?” I ask trying to brush off the heartbreak and embarrassment rushing through my body at that second

***** (Time skip cuz Im not gonna put that much detail into that one scene)       

It’s Monday (sadly) and I’m being dragged from my beloved bed by haechan as usual, earlier then usual to class,he wanted to ‘be early’  though I know it was probably to chose who would be his new girlfriend (It’s taking me a lot to hold back from slapping him and telling him I’m right here) because it’s apparently been way to long since he’s had a girlfriend (literally like 9 months). 

“You know you could’ve just went alone without me” I whine

“I might look weird if I go alone won’t it look weird when I go alone and just look at other girls”

“No it would make me look like a creep”

“Do you know how many people think we are dating? Like 5 million, I think you would rather want to be a creep then a cheater to people who don’t know us”

“Now that you say that, you’re sadly correct? Y’know what, leave I’ll do this myself” He replies while trying to push me the other way

“Can you stop pushing me you shithead? Just in case you forgot we have the same class!” 

                         ********

“Can you please stop hitting me!” I complain to Haechan who’s been hitting me for almost the whole lesson

“I’m bored”

“And I’m trying to learn, so please for the sake of others and me would you please stop”

“How would it hurt others?” He says in a blunt voice

“How am I gonna support my future family because I’m getting rejected at every job because I didn’t pay attention during class?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to support us” 

What the actual fuck. “Lee Donghyuck.”

“Not the government name. Scary.” He says in a ‘scared’ tone yet I could hear the smirk on his face.

***********

I don’t know why I even chose to accept to go to a party with hyuck but here I am walking with him to the party

“Why did we have to walk?” Haechan whines

“Because you need to get up and walk, exercise is important”

“Don’t act like the last time you even went near a gym was when you wanted to get something to eat from the mcdonalds next to it”

“Oh, look! We’re here!” I say trying to change the topic of this convo

“Don’t try to change the subject!”

***

“Hyuck stop drinking, you’ve had so many shots I’m not even sure how you’re even alive right now” I complain to him

“You’re not my mother” he whined, clearly drunk.

“Do you want to end up like him?” I point over to mark who’s on the couch next to a bucket of puke grasping onto staying awake which the possibility of that happening is less possible than him getting hoes “Cause I don’t feel like taking care of you in that state” I look over to haechan who is trying to look like hes asleep, keyword; trying.

“Stop pretending to be asleep, you know that trick never works on me”

“Damn it” he replies clearly bummed out about the fact it didn’t work as usual

“Now get up, I’m not going to let you stay at this place any drunker than you already are

“I don’t wanna” He has the nerve to reply knowing he’ll oblige anyways the second I say it again

“It isn’t choice get up” This time he thankfully gets up, slightly staggering before I let him hold onto me for support

“I’ll call a cab” I say after we walk out the door and he just nods most likely not listening yet still looking at me like a toddler seeing it’s favorite cartoon on tv

“You’re really pretty actually” He says out of nowhere breaking the silence

“Hyuck it’s not the time for jokes right now, you’re just drunk you’re speaking nonsense” I say, brushing of the butterflies in my stomach

“I’m not lying though” Haechan whines like a child “Couldn’t you tell that I’ve liked you ever since I’ve met you?” he says again in a more serious tone this time

“I thought you were just joking all the time when you flirted with me, besides you’re always ‘girl hunting’” I mutter, still a bit shocked

“I only do that because I think you don’t like me back”

“I thought I was pretty clear about my feelings too” 

“Not really” he mutters but I choose to ignore it

“Let’s talk about this at my dorm, the cabs coming” I say still in a tiny bit of shock

“I wanna talk about this us now though” 

“Fine”

“So, are we like a couple now?” I question

“I hope we are” he smiles at me

“Let’s talk more when you are sober ok?”

“I’m sobering up though” he pouts at me

“Barely.”

*****

The end? (I might make a part 2 when theyre like a couple idk or the next morning, yall decide)

[the-midnight-stage]

You asked for doodle requests of fave characters

Mines cliche but I don't care lol

Art of my boy

Yosuke Hanamura

Just

Enjoying life (aka go nuts, just at least have him really happy lol)

Have a lovely rest of the day/week! :]

my brain didn't really wanna cooperate so here's a quick, simple little doodle of Yosuke and Nanako dancing :3 sorry it's so rushed! I didn't wanna make you wait any longer, but I'm also quite tired - apologies!

their dance together in p4d gives me life, I love them so much haha

I promise I'll draw Yosuke properly soon!! (when I can think of something for him to do haha)

[minevn]

WE DID IT!

We've reached 100 followers everyone! Thank you so much for your support! This has been such a journey and never in a million years would I have expected people to like and enjoy my stories as much as I do, seriously, it means so much to me! Thank you all once again for your support, it's been amazing and has made me so happy to read all of your asks

I would also like to apologize for not posting as much recently. My brain has been a little fried from writing, but I'm slowly but surely working on the drafts! Sorry for the people who sent asks and are waiting!! Here's to hoping this event will be a little bit more of a break and motivate me again!

ANYWAAAAAYS!! For the poll, Mine doodles won! I'll be taking 50 requests for Mine doodles! I've also decided to add some flat colors! As mentioned in the poll post, in the beginning you may only request one drawing that way anyone who wants to request gets a chance, after requests start dwindling/ a certain time period ends(still deciding, maybe a week or two!) you'll be able to request more, all a ask is that you don't spam please! No need to worry if you don't get to ask a request, either because you weren't here the first time, or time ran out or all the slots filled up, this event will be repeated eventually and you can ask then!

I do have a few more things you can request/rules and what you can't! Please read carefully and if you have any questions let me know :3

CAN

Request multiple Mine characters in one piece

Request your oc/s with a Mine character or multiple!

If there's a specific pose and/or outfit you want me to draw the Mine cast in, please send in some references, thank you!

I ask that you send requests in my askbox, you can turn on anon ofc!

Also please be kind of specific about what you want. like if you want to suggest maybe like Yani and Jun, like what are they doing, is there any sort of place you had in mind for where they are? Any kind of outfits you want to put them in? If you just want a drawing of one of the characters, you can just say (name) plain and I'll try to come up with something! I'll also assume that an ask with a Mine character and you oc is romantic unless stated otherwise, so please be as specific as you can, even if you think I may not need it or it should be obvious, I need things stated to me clearly :3

CANNOT

Request nsfw(I'll probably have that event on twitter at some point!)

honestly, anything that goes against my rules so like no proship or bigotry or anything else gross like incest(Please dni with my stuff if you're into any of that stuff)

No requesting other people's yandere's(You can suggest your yandere oc with mine though if you want to, just not any solo drawings of a yandere not in Mine.) Also if you're requesting your own yandere, I ask that you keep anon off for that ask, just so I can make sure it actually is your yandere, thank you! Also if you don't want your account to me linked with mine, then you can send me a message of your ask and I'll send the ask to myself :3

Also I'd prefer to not draw any solos of your ocs(Once again, totally fine if you want me to draw them with the Mine cast :3)

Please don't request shading or clean lineart, it tuckers me out quickly and makes me lose motivation, if I did that, this event would never finish LMAO

Please don't rush me either, I have a life outside of Tumblr and Mine. I may also not like how the drawing is turning out(I'm sorta a perfectionist when it comes to my own art) and I may also lose motivation or just may not feel like drawing(Kind of like what's happening with writing rn)

Honestly, for my don'ts I don't think I have to worry, everyone who has followed me has been really kind and respectful but I felt the need to clarify things and say things because of some of the stuff I've seen on social media. Anyways, HAPPY 100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE EVENT!! I appreciate each and every one of you so much more then you could ever know, I wish I could express my joy and gratitude better! MWAH MWAH <333333

With that, let the event BEGIN!!

[shadowcryptid0321]

Noticed a few new faces around this blog so it’s probably about time I made one of these

✮ Hi! I’m shadowcryptid! I go by shadow mainly but I answer to both names.

✮ I used to share my irl name but have recently become uncomfortable with it being on the web. If you know it somehow I ask you please don’t use it.

✮ female with she/her pronouns :)

✮ I am an adult (27)

✮I, like a lot of people suffer from depression and social anxiety. I’m not the most outgoing person and while I do consider myself friendly I don’t have a lot of social energy. I’m usually a quiet wallflower. Happy to talk if you want but otherwise I’m just a shadow in the background most of the time.

✮ Adhd and dyslexia also join that mix so if you see any misspellings around here it’s probably my autocorrect messing with me and my dyslexia not registering the mistake, I apologize in advance.

✮ on this blog you will find a lot of cute animals, art and memes related to my interests and hyper fixations as well as my own doodles occasionally. (Any little hearts or comments on those doodles give me such a happy rush of serotonin so thank you if you like anything I make)

✮ This blog is also currently 13 years old (made it way back in 2013 for a high school creative writing project) and has gone through several name changes in the past, so if for whatever reason some old art pops up watermarked under a different name that’s why.

✮ Anti Ai. The user who runs this blog absolutely despises the use of ai and the act of stealing works of both art and writing to train the worthless pieces of code, if you are ok with that concept in anyway I ask that you please leave and don’t interact with my art in anyway. I will never concent to it being fed to a machine.

Current hyper fixations include

- Five Nights at Freddy’s (mostly sun and moon stuff but I’ve been in the fandom along time and adore it all)

- Tsams , laes and eaps (yes I do watch the shows and post some art for them occasionally, I know that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea and all I ask is that if you don’t like it we be respectful to each other here 🙂)

- The adventure zone podcast/graphic novels ( mostly taz balance and amnesty if I’m being honest but I’m gonna listen to the other versions soon)

- Hazbin hotel and helluva boss ( I love these shows but rarely talk about or reblog stuff from them. Just like with tsams I know not everyone likes them so I ask we respect each other)

- Those are my more recent or hard hitting fandoms but if you’d like to see more of the stuff I like, the banner for the blog has a lot of little references to the things I enjoy (it also changes seasonally every 3 months and for holidays just to keep things fun )

✮you will never see any nsfw content here or hate speech / homophobia or political discourse here. I try to keep this a safe space for anyone who passes by.

✮ I will also rarely reblog or talk about ships for the fandoms I like here. While I do have some favorites for the fandoms I’m in, I know not everyone likes ships or feels comfortable with them but it’s still my blog and I’m allowed to like what I like unapologetically .

✮ I welcome everyone here except for the obvious troublemakers (we all know who they are and I don’t want to spend time writing it out this is already long)

Thank you for reading this far I hope you have a chill time in my little corner of tumblr

-shadowcryptid ˙⋆✮˚

[hadoriel]

Day treatment has officially started for me. It was a bit overwhelming. We had a full room today, with nine people. There was one other new girl, too

Unfortunately, the thing I've always been worried about with group therapy happened. Which is that I feel insignificant and bad when listening to other people's struggles and end up pushing away my own. One person's brother went missing and has drug overdose issues, another has PTSD from seeing a body mangled from a car accident etc. The first hour is a mandatory check-in for everyone, then we go through the bigger things people want to talk about and it takes up so much time. Everyone gets fidgety from how long it's just listening to people talk. If I had talked, we wouldn't have even gotten a lesson in. I ended up saying maybe I'll talk tomorrow

The last half an hour or so is the actual lesson. Which this week is mindfulness. The DBT materials I found like two weeks ago also start with mindfulness, so I'm pretty synced up with that I guess. But I already got a lot of lessons on it just from one on one talk therapy over the years, so it's not really anything new or helpful

When I finished today, I talked to one of the girls who was drawing near me. Just a quick chat. I recognized one of her doodles of a character from Beserk. She might make an art blog just to show me her stuff

Then I got picked up by my dad but I sort of shut down in the car. My dad has a bad habit of needing to rush things. I had wanted to sit for just a bit and express how the first day went, but we were already on our way to get groceries, and I felt rushed through that, too. No time to ruminate no time to tell him how things went. I even said in the car how I felt about him doing so - he doesn't even have plans or reason for the zooming around - he apologized but that didn't stop the rush. So I fell a little dejected about that and worried about hoping things go better than today

It's not that it was even bad it was just... if it's like this for all of day treatment then I don't know I'm going to get anything out of it. And I'd really really like to get something out of it

[agent-cupcake]

Crybaby

Pairing: Sylvain Jose Gautier x f!Reader

Synopsis: Sylvain likes making you cry, that's the plot.

Warnings: explicit smut, dub/noncon

Tags: dacryphilia, rough sex, dirty talk, slight infantilization

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: This was a short little doodle that popped into my head while I was trying to sleep and then, and then, and then. I'm not sure I'll ever post the things I've been trying to work on but whatever, here's some good ole fashioned nastiness. Also trying to find good photos of Sylvain to use as a banner quickly got annoying so I gave up.

Pathetic, stupid girl. That’s all you were, and it was all you could think as you found yourself back in the same place you always went. Hiding from everybody else. Crying all alone because you couldn’t contain your emotions like a normal person. Running away. But even if it was juvenile and misguided and stupid, what else were you supposed to do? Quickly excusing yourself seemed a better alternative than letting everybody see a grown woman crying at her own party. Over the cruel antics of an infamously womanizing man, no less. 

Dabbing at your eyes, you tried to regain your composure. It shouldn’t have bothered you so much. You shouldn’t have let him get to you. He was mean, and cruel, and you were only giving him what he wanted by reacting like this.

You needed to go back to the party, to smile, and prove that you weren’t affected in the least. Stop being such a pathetic crybaby. Grow up. 

“Oh, there you are,” Sylvain said, his voice startling you out of your slump against the wall, all of the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up and heart set to racing. 

How had he found you? Of all the hiding spots you had, this was your favorite for escaping from parties. It was your secret, your little alcove, an out-of-the way corner far away from the noise. He didn’t belong here. 

“Sylvain,” you acknowledged, unable to say anything else, your eyes darting behind him to your only possible escape. In your state, you had effectively cornered yourself. All alone with Sylvain. Again. 

“I was wondering where you ran off to. We all got worried when you ran off so fast.” He spoke as if he was relieved to find you. As if he hadn’t tracked you down on purpose. As if he were utterly ignorant to why you had run in the first place. 

“I don’t wanna talk to you,” you said, refusing to look him in the face directly because then he’d see your red cheeks, he’d see the tears clinging to your eyelashes and he already knew but you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing it too. Hopefully the shadows covered the most damning evidence, although you weren’t sure it mattered. 

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said louder, glaring hard at his boots. 

“I know,” he said, raising his hands and eyebrows in innocence. So amiable, so approachable. So believable. “We don't have to talk, but I need you to know that I was just joking around earlier.”

“It’s fine,” you said curtly, desperate to refuse him any other reaction, hoping he’d get bored and leave it alone.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” you told him, although the increasingly shrill tone in your voice said otherwise. You hated yourself for it, hated Sylvain for making you so upset. Hated the whole ugly, awful situation. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”  

The handle you had on your emotions had been weak to begin with, but that finally set you off, the horrible cruelty sending a rush of overwhelming, despairing dizziness right up to your head. “Yes you did!” you exclaimed, unable to hold your tongue even though you knew you should have. 

“No, I hate seeing you cry,” he said, acting surprised by your accusation. Then he shrugged, dark eyes narrowing a little. “It’s not my fault you’re so sensitive.”    

"I’m not!” you told him, unable to quell the flare up of helpless indignance. “It’s you. I don’t understand why you’re so mean to me. I never… I don’t understand.” 

Although you weren’t sure why, that had been the exactly wrong thing to say. You could tell by the set of his shoulders, by the shift in his expression. If it were a play, you had just given him his cue.

“You didn’t seem to think I was being mean the other night,” Sylvain said. “Or the night before that. Actually, if I remember correctly, you seemed like you were having a good time.”

A furious flush crawled over your face, hot enough to leave you lightheaded, blazing with shame and disgust and regret. “No. That wasn’t….” 

“Wasn’t… what? Your fault?” Sylvain asked, his eyebrow raising slightly. “Right. Nothing is ever your fault. Not as long as you flash everybody those big doe eyes and act like you're a victim.”

“That’s not it,” you said, but there was no strength to your words. Not out of a lack of conviction, but because if you spoke any louder you’d definitely cry. "I…"

He waited, but there was nothing else you could think of to say. 

“You really have no idea what else to do, do you? Well, everybody else might believe it, but I don’t.”

“I don’t care what you…” You shook your head, trying to regain even a shred of composure. “I don’t care. You're a… a…” 

“What?” Sylvain prompted. “What am I?” 

“A bully!” you exclaimed suddenly, loudly, hands balled into ineffectual fists at your sides.

“Really? I’m a… bully?” he asked incredulously. “Seriously? I swear, you’re such a kid sometimes.”

Your eyes burned with fresh tears. Tears of anger, of humiliation, of exhaustion. “Just stop. Leave me alone.” 

“Stop what?” Sylvain asked. “I came to apologize. You’re the one making such a big deal out of it.” 

“I’m not!” 

“You are. Just like earlier, all I was doing was playing around but then you had to go and make me look like the bad guy.” He hesitated, taking a step closer. “Hold on, are you gonna cry?” 

Your chin wobbled, your throat swelling up, your hands shaking. “No.” 

“Go on,” Sylvain invited. “Prove my point. You want me to feel sorry for you, right? You want me to fawn over you like everybody else.”  

“I don’t!”

“You don’t?” he asked, feigning surprise. He waved it off a second later, smiling like it had been a joke. “Ah, don’t give me that look. I get it. It’s all about the attention.” 

“I don’t want attention,” you insisted, the burning getting worse. Burning your cheeks, like embers behind your eyes. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you do. And you wanna know how I know?”

“No, I’m… I’m done. I’m going back,” you said rather than answer, holding your head high with a brittle sort of strength. You would walk past him, and it would be fine. You didn’t need to be scared. Last time—no, this wouldn’t be like last time. If you set boundaries, if you were firm, it would be okay. Holding your breath, you began to scurry past him, your entire body tense enough to snap. 

“Wait, hold on,” Sylvain said, grabbing you around the waist when you were close enough. You protested with a yelp, trying to escape his grasp, desperate to get away. Because that worked so well before. 

“I’ll scream,” you told him, pushing at his hands, your heart beating so fast you worried he could hear it too.

“No you won’t,” he said with an easy-going sort of exasperation, crowding you further into the corner before letting you go. He wasn’t physically restraining you, but you were just as trapped. Between a rock and a hard place. “Just calm down, okay?”

You sniffed, trying to compose yourself. He was right. If you screamed and somebody came, what would they think? What would Sylvain tell them? 

“Right… What was I saying?” he asked. “Oh, yeah. The reason I know you want attention is because even though you know I’m no good, even though you cry about how much of a bully I am, as soon as I made a move on you, you were more than happy to go along with it.” He smiled, teeth glinting in the low light as he shook his head. “For most girls, the Crest and title is enough, but you’re way more simple than that. You know, it’s pretty pathetic.” 

“No,” you told him, shaking your head desperately to reject his words. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. “I-I want to go back.”

“Stop being such a baby,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You flinched, slapping his hand away. That made Sylvain freeze, his smile dropping. Instead he braced his arm on the wall behind you, your chests nearly touching with each of your frantic breaths. “Fine, fine. If you tell me to stop and mean it, I’ll stop.” 

“Stop!” 

“That’s the best you got?” he asked with an incredulous little laugh. He was close enough that you could feel the puff of air, smell the wine on his breath. “Really?” 

“Sylvain, stop!”

“That was even worse.”

“Please, stop,” you begged, breaking down now because he wouldn't listen anyway, no matter how you said it. It was all just make-believe to trick you into doing exactly what he wanted. Foreplay. And you knew that, so where was the steel in your voice? 

“This is your problem. Nobody’s ever gonna take you seriously when all you can do is whine at them.”

“I’m not whining!” 

He didn’t even have to respond to that, the raised eyebrow and nonplussed set of his mouth said more than enough. 

“I’m not,” you told him again, your voice weaker. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s cute.” 

The compliment had you frantically trying to think of an escape. Knowing that it was doomed. This was all heading in an obvious direction, it probably had been his intention from the second he chased you away and you just played along, never smart enough to catch wise to his plots. 

“When you pout like that, I guess I do feel a little sorry for you,” he said. “I know what’ll make it better.” 

He cupped your chin to raise your head up. Gently, at first. When you tried to pull his arm away, those fingers dug into your jaw and cheeks, holding you in place.

“We have to… go back…” you said. “Otherwise people are gonna…”

“Talk? Yeah, I’m sure they will.” 

Sylvain kissed you before you could respond. Your mouth was open for his, and it didn’t matter if that was intentional or not, only that his tongue tasted like wine and it was really setting in that there was nothing you could do to stop this. He kissed like a romantic, his other hand dropping to cradle your head, holding you in a way you were sure had convinced dozens of girls of his affection and passion. 

That’s how he had been the other night too, trailing hot kisses down your body while you trembled, burying his head between your thighs until you were too wrought with pleasure to do anything other than let it happen, believing him when he told you how beautiful you were, how much he cared about you. 

Lies.

“Please, Sylvain,” you said, breaking the kiss enough to breathe. “I don’t want to.” 

“Don’t want to… what?” he asked softly, nudging your chin upward. 

You stared at his chest with blurry vision, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to… to do… anything.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, let’s be honest, you never do anything. I don’t really care. The whole pillow princess thing suits you. So just relax and let me take care of it. You’re getting pretty good at that.”  

“No—nn-” Sylvain cut off your objection, grabbing a handful of your skirt to pull it up. Not all the way, just enough to get his other hand beneath the bunch of fabric. Your body bucked in an attempt to displace him, your thighs clenching, but a hard knee between your legs kept them open enough that he could rub against you over the barrier of your panties. 

“You look so confused whenever I touch you,” Sylvain said. “Before you start acting like you don’t want it, at least.” 

“I don’t!” You insisted, pushing at his arm. Sylvain didn’t budge, grabbing one of your wrists and pinning it to the wall. His other hand turned so his fingers could curl, wedging silky fabric between your pussy’s outer lips to drag forward, stopping when you unintentionally jerked in response to the pressure on your clit. You weren’t turned on, but you knew that was going to change if he started rubbing your clit the way he had last time, drawing blood between your legs to meet the demand of stimulation. Even if it was a completely physical, uncontrollable reaction, he would take it as proof that he was right.    

“I couldn’t figure out why at first, but I think I got it now.” 

You shook your head, barely able to follow along with his words as he continued touching you, grinding against your clit with those dirty little circles. If anything, the extra friction of your panties made it better. 

No. Not better. Not good. 

“You can’t believe that you’re not getting your way just by crying and whining,” Sylvain continued, uncaring that you weren’t really listening. “Because the princess always gets her way, doesn’t she?”

A soft whimper left your mouth, your head shaking in tight little motions to deny his accusation. “No,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut to delay the tears that were finally welling up, retracing the salty tracks from before. 

Sylvain laughed breathlessly, delighted. “You’re such a crybaby. I know you love it. You can’t get enough of me. That’s why you’re acting like this. You have no idea how to get somebody’s attention without throwing a fit.”

More tears slid down your face even as your body writhed against his, that tight ball of need building up beneath his relentless touch. Sylvain caught the tears with his lips before kissing you again, groaning in response to your nearly inaudible whine at the taste. Your pussy tightened, the muscles clenching around the hollow ache of nothingness, of need. The memory of his fingers, of his cock, made the absence that much more noticeable, a desire you only knew because of Sylvain.   

His tongue explored your mouth while you anxiously lagged behind, unable to meet his intensity as your body teetered ever closer to the crest of pleasure, all you could do was try to hold on, to keep your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block it all out. 

Suddenly, Sylvain pulled away. The loss of pressure on your clit made your eyes snap open, your hips jumping forward. He obviously noticed the reaction, his lips red and wet, his eyes alight. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to leave you high and dry,” he said, pushing your panties down enough to make room for his hand. 

“I do—oh-” Was your wonderfully eloquent response when he pressed two fingers into you. Longer, thicker, more insistent than your own. You trembled and gasped and moaned, your pussy sucking his fingers deeper, your hips bucking against him. You squeezed your eyes shut again, not wanting to see whatever expression Sylvain was wearing when he started laughing, his fingers scissoring and teasingly thrusting, dragging against your walls in a way that had you squirming helplessly. 

“With as much as you cry, I wouldn’t think you could get so wet,” he told you. “Guess you just want it that bad, huh?”

You gasped, squirmed, your fingers tightening in the front of his shirt, your other arm uselessly fighting against his grip. "No," you said weakly, trying not to make any noises he might take as affirmation. 

“Use your big girl words. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you hate it when I finger you. Tell me you hate it when I make you come.” 

“You’re… you’re wr-ah—” Your objection cut off with a sharp gasp, your body jerking in response to a particular curl of his fingers which must have been what he was waiting for because of the horribly sharp smirk he was wearing when your panicked eyes opened and met his.

“You know, now that I think about it, you really can’t do anything like a real adult. Throwing fits, running away when you get your feelings hurt… Even when we're fucking, all you can do is whine and cry and beg for me to take care of you.” 

Sylvain got you to prove his point without trying, curling his fingers, pushing them deep enough to fill that anxious ache of need, making you gasp and tremble, holding onto him even tighter for stability. 

“If you didn’t have somebody taking care of you at all times,” he told you, his voice a little lower, a little more mean, “you’d be completely helpless.” 

“No.”

“Can you even make yourself come? Have you tried?”

“Ss-stop.” 

“I bet you haven’t. Why would you when you’ve got me around to do it for you? You’re so spoiled. Fuck, it’s a good thing you’re cute.” 

The praise, his fingers, the way his palm ground against your clit with each pass, you tried to ignore it, to shut everything out, but you couldn’t. Tears dripped down your cheeks and you moaned for him, your pussy squeezing his fingers as the feverish build of pleasure threatened to snap. “I… I can’t…”

“You think? ‘Cause I think you can.”

“No, I can’t,” you said—you whined.  

It didn’t matter. A few thrusts more was all it took and you did, trembling and gasping and crying as you came, hitting your head against the hard wall when your body arched against him. The pain did nothing to distract you from the swell and burst of pleasure, the heat spreading out and fizzing like champagne bubbles in your core, all the way to your flushed cheeks and open mouth. Sylvain didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, dragging it out until you were writhing for another reason entirely. 

“Sss-sto-stop!” you said, pushing him away. 

“Why? Did you come?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “I thought you couldn’t.” 

“Stop,” you begged again.

“No,” he said. “Unless you were lying. I mean, I thought I felt you squeezing me extra tight, but…” 

“I did!” you exclaimed. “I did, I did, so please-” 

Finally, Sylvain pulled his fingers out of your spasming pussy, smiling like he’d won. You wilted, half glad to be spared the discomfort of oversensitivity and half disappointed by the fresh ache of emptiness. The contradiction was like a slap in the face, your body betraying you all over again.

“See, it’s not that hard to be honest,” Sylvain said. “So go ahead, admit it.” 

“Admit what?” you asked softly, wetly. 

“Admit that you’re a slut, and all you want is to get fucked by yours truly.” How he even managed to wink at you while saying something so profane, you had no idea, only that it made you flush so hot your ears stung. 

“You… you’re awful,” you told him.

“I’m a good-for-nothing asshole, yeah,” Sylvain agreed. “But at least I’m honest about it. You can’t even do that.”

“I-I’m not…”

“Yeah, you’re just a poor pathetic little crybaby getting taken advantage of by the mean, mean bully. Right?” 

“But… but you are,” you told him. Sylvain snorted derisively, peeling you off the wall and flipping you around, guiding you into a graceless stumble forward until you were facing the window. There wasn’t much of a view up here, especially not on a dark night like this. Sylvain pushed you down, forcing you to hold onto the window ledge for stability. Ignoring your complaints, he flipped your skirt up, kicking your feet apart a little. 

“Sylvain, please stop, I do-don’t-”

“Stop squirming around so much,” he told you, shoving your panties down. The fabric strained, pulled taut between your thighs. He used them to keep you still while undoing his belt and pants. “Don’t you think I deserve something too? I’ve been pretty nice, all things considered.” 

All you could do was wheeze in response, caught off guard by the sudden pressure of his cock pressing between your folds. Given the poor light and the position, there was a bit of fumbling. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and withdrew, letting you relax slightly. This wouldn’t work. Not in such a shameful position, not here where you could be found.

“Yeah, just like that. Relax for me,” Sylvain said sweetly, his voice contrasting with the harsh palm forcing you to bend down even more, your thighs burning as you rocked forward on your toes. When his cock returned, it was slick with saliva, easily pushing past your outer lips. As soon as you felt the head press between the tense muscles of your entrance, Sylvain’s hips snapped forward. 

He groaned low in his chest, one of the few honest things to come out of his mouth that night. You whimpered. Even if your body was tense, Sylvain had no issue pushing until his hips met your ass. You were wet and, despite any mental rejection on your part, ready for this. The stretch wasn’t the discomfort of your first time, but the heady weight of something that should have been natural and beautiful. Sylvain grabbed your hips to adjust himself within you, manipulating you into position while you scrambled to hold onto the stone with sweaty hands, your legs trembling. 

“I have no idea why you make such a big deal out of this. You obviously love it,” Sylvain said, satisfied. You gripped onto the window ledge a little tighter, your face scrunching up with more tears as he pulled out. Slowly, luxuriating in the sensation. Your pussy clenched down around him, your hips rolling before you could get enough control over yourself to stop. “Don’t get me wrong, I do too. Most of the time, I don’t really care, you know? Sex is… well, it’s sex. You have a girl one, two times, and the itch is scratched. But you… I don’t know what it is, either.”

The only answer you could manage was a stuttered, “Aaa-aa-ah-” when Sylvain pushed back in, pushing you onto your toes again as he filled you all the way. You didn’t do anything to stop him. Your body accepted it eagerly, your inner walls fluttering as you adjusted to his size, providing a fresh wave of wet arousal to soak his cock as he wiggled your hips and pulled out. Pathetic, embarrassing tears dripped onto the floor. 

“Next time we do this, I’ll need a mirror,” Sylvain said, his voice raspy. “I’ve never met a girl that cries so much when she comes. I didn’t think I’d be so into it, but—fuck.” He groaned, his hips clapping loudly against your ass. Even if he wasn’t talking and groaning, even if you weren’t whimpering and gasping and sniffling with each inexorably deep thrust, the vulgar sound of skin slapping skin would have been more than enough of a giveaway to what was happening to anybody passing by. 

Worse than that, worse than anything else, was that Sylvain knew what he was doing. He targeted your g-spot by using the grip he had on your hips to grind you on his cock, to keep you in place for him as he thrust harder, faster so you had no chance to keep up, to sort out the assault of stimulation and pleasure. You shook, tense enough to snap, your fingers clawing at the stonework for stability as your body drew inward, everything within you focused on the growing heat.  

“Please,” you gasped, desperate for it. Later you could blame the insanity of pleasure, of lust, of need. That’s what you did before, the way you denied blame. “Please ta-touch me, I-”

“What, now you want to come? I thought you hated this,” Sylvain teased. A helpless moan left your open mouth, tears and drool dripping onto the floor as you were rocked back and forth. “Heh. Maybe if you keep begging.” 

As he spoke, Sylvain twisted your hips, his cock grinding against your inner walls, pushing so deep you’d probably feel it if you pressed on your abdomen. The sound of his voice, the intensity of fullness, the mindless lust and despair, it hit too hard and you sobbed and hiccuped and moaned and came and you didn’t mean to, but your pussy desperately clamped down around him, your hips tilting upward, your back arching as that contentious ball of heat just snapped, filling you with pleasure, white hot and wonderful and feverish. Some part of you was grateful that he didn’t stop, or even slow down, just kept fucking you through the orgasm, letting you ride it out. 

“Seriously?” Sylvain asked with a short, hoarse laugh of disbelief. 

As the high faded, you tried to squirm away, a helpless sob wracking your body as the shame caught up with you. Sylvain didn’t let you go. If anything, he was being more rough, more frantic. 

“Most girls need more than that to come, but you couldn’t even wait for permission,” he said.

“Nn-no, I-I didn’t me-mean to.”

“Yeah?” Sylvain asked, mockingly indulgent. “It wasn’t your fault, was it, baby? You can’t help it, right?” 

You shook your head, knowing any answer you gave would just feed into his cruelty. 

Sylvain paused, leaning over to pull your torso upward. His fingers dug hard into your wet cheeks, his other arm holding your hips in place so he could keep going. 

“It’s fine, I don’t think I can last either,” he said, softer now, his hand raising to grope your tits through your dress. At this point, he was practically rutting into you. Using you. 

All you could do was whimper and whine and sob, just trying to hold on, unable to keep your pussy from squeezing him as he fucked you, writhing back against him helplessly because even this felt good. Terrible and cruel and good. 

“Later,” Sylvain said, his voice hoarse. Speaking because it made you react, got your pussy to tighten around him a little harder, made you whine a little louder. “Later, I‘m gonna give you a reason to cry, yeah? If you wanna… wanna act like a spoiled brat, I’ll treat you like one. Gonna look so hot swallowing my cock… Tied to my bed, begging me to fuck you… Covered with hickies…” 

“Sylvain,” you whimpered, hating the anxious, dark mixture of heat and fear his threats filled you with. He groaned even louder, his mouth opening to let out a low, sensual sigh that only worsened your feeling of helpless need, his hips slapping against your ass so hard it almost hurt. “Plea—ease, it-”

“Yeah, beg for it,” he told you eagerly, crushing you against him while he sought his end. 

“Nnngh-”

“Beg me to come inside of you… maybe you can keep it from slipping down your thighs when we go back. Otherwise you’ll get it all over your pretty dress.” 

You whimpered, sobbed, but that wasn’t much of a choice. Better inside of you where nobody would see, you could remember the mess from last time. 

“Please come inside of me,” you asked. Begged. You sounded desperate. You sounded like you wanted it. “Please, Sylvain. Come… inside..” 

Sylvain groaned, pressing his face against your neck as his hips lost any and all sense of tempo, his cock buried deep inside of you as he came with a loud, open sound that shuddered apart, holding you tight as he did. And then there was just stillness. Harsh breathing and heat and sweat and the stench of sex. He laughed a little, still breathless. Blissed out. “That was good,” Sylvain told you, kissing your neck before pulling out and letting you go. 

You stumbled forward, holding onto the window ledge, panting and shaking. Aware of the emptiness inside of you and the slick feeling of his cum drooling out of your cunt. No matter what he said, you didn’t think you could return to the party. Everybody would know. With shaking hands, you pulled your panties up, let your skirt fall back into place. You could hear Sylvain fixing his clothes too, but you didn’t want to look at him. You didn’t want to exist. 

“Guess I’ll go back first, give you some time to clean up,” he said, his voice mostly back to normal. 

“Okay,” you said, nodding. 

“You alright?” 

“Yes.”

“Hm. By the way, I meant it,” Sylvain told you, grabbing your wrist to turn you around and look at him. He didn’t really look that much worse for wear. Not like you felt. He smiled, dark eyes bright and smile slightly too sharp. “About later. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

You pulled your arm away, your chest tightening with panic and fear and excitement. Despair. Hatred. Self loathing. “No, this can’t… it can’t happen again.” 

“What are you gonna do—whine at me to stop?” he asked. “Cry and hope that I’ll feel bad? C’mon, baby. I know you liked it.”

You didn’t say anything, glaring at his chest in an attempt to keep yourself from responding to that taunt. 

“That’s what I thought,” Sylvain said. Not in a mean way. No, he sounded friendly, approachable. “I’ll see you later, babe.”    

[midnighthybrid1]

Saw some other peeps from the DCA Magmas posting their doodles, so I decided to post mine as well cause ✨why not✨

I didn’t post the ones I did from the first Magma I participated in, so I’ll be adding those to this post as well

Pardon the crustiness of some of these images, I had to crop them from the full Magmas 😅

Hope ya enjoy!

First up, the doodles from the first Magma I did.

I was just trying to get comfy with the software and drawing around other people, so they started off more on the simple side and worked my way towards slightly more complicated poses and such.

Had a lot of fun drawing the Bloodmoon bros, even had an idea for an AU involving one of them (the red-eyed one) disappearing suddenly. Might do something with that, don’t know yet.

And finally from the first Magma, we got some non-DCA related doodles- I was fresh out of ideas and just decided to doodle a lil Howdy and a Wally headshot because why not.

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And now, onto yesterday’s Magma! There’s a lot less of these but I tried to put a lil more effort into them this time around.

First up, a pair of Eclipse’s Chatting and a Lord!Eclipse Doodle on the side (I made a few SAMS!Eclipse design doodles that I really should pose one day…)

Candyland!Eclipse belongs to @garbagechocolate, Candyland!DCA is very cool AU that I highly recommend checking out.

Then, a doodle of Good!Au!Eclipse with Lunar and Bloodmoon- I actually had a small AU idea from this where the three just got to be happy together and slice of life shenanigans ensue (might also do something with this idea, we shall see)

And then finally, just a couple of human design doodles. Anatomy is a little funky cause I was rushing these ones a little, but they’re still fun. To the Left is my regular SAMS!Eclipse’s human design, and to the Right is my Good!SAMS!Eclipse human design.

Hope you enjoyed all the little doodles and my explanations for them all, and apologies for how long this post got lol

Have a wonderful day, and don’t forget to drink plenty of water!

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated, but PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY WORK!