Welcome to our blog! This is a group blog run by two gayass creators who like making their ocs kiss, Mysty and Melancholy. We post whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, all the juicy stuff surrounding our OCs and their original universes developed by us.
Mysty's Introduction - Hi, I'm Mysty! I use They/He pronouns. I'll be posting majorly art- While I do write, I'm not as interested in developing it for content purposes. I'll also be designing things like dividers and stuff for our posts. Also art commissions are open if you'd like to dm me regarding them- You can find my main blog at @mystymyling
Melancholy's Introduction - Hello! I'm Melancholy. Any pronouns are fine with me! My main focus is on writing, whether it's short headcanons with characters or full chapters. I also draw from time to time, so you might see that as well. You can find my main blog at @melancholy0hourz
What We Post
Whump
Medical/Lab Whump
Nonhuman Whump
Original Content
Writing
Art
Ask Policy
Feel free to send in questions, prompts, etc! We will however ignore/delete asks at our discretion if we find the asks invasive or rude.
Content Masterlists
Polar
Our Tagging System
General
we both post - when we both work on the same post :3
Fighting for my life making this family tree for the main family from FBGM (one of our universes) and feeling guilty about borrowing other people’s art as a reference so I might muster up the creative crack to draw a headshot for each one
Fighting for my life making this family tree for the main family from FBGM (one of our universes) and feeling guilty about borrowing other people’s art as a reference so I might muster up the creative crack to draw a headshot for each one
In the decade of 2060 a deadly virus finds its way onto Earth from an asteroid that crashed into its soil and starts an eerie, horrific form of apocalypse. Polar, the common name of the deadly virus, causes its host to experience extreme cold sensitivity and become desperate to warm themselves up- Desperate enough to tear through their own loved ones just to feel their warmth.
The Lopez family, specifically Anthony Lopez and his siblings, are using Anth’s company labs to help study and fight the virus within designated safe zones.
This universe was originally created in late 2020 as a coping mechanism for us and our high school friends during the darkest moments of the pandemic.
Content Warning: This post contains depictions of lab/medical whump, nightmares, blood, and syringes. Proceed with caution.
Melancholy here. After typing out the CW I realize that I may have a theme with this universe- oops- Anyway, I present to you an animatic thing I made at like 1:30 in the morning. I don’t draw as much as Mysty. However, when I do, I tend to be a little too ambitious keke- Meet Anthony and Matthew. Fucked up father and fucked up son. Yippie ^^
And then have a sketch I drew of Anthony like 2 years ago for good luck lmao.
Content Warning: This post contains depictions of lab/medical whump, nightmares, and syringes/forced injections. Proceed with caution.
Hiya! Melancholy here. Here’s a little short thingy I wrote a while ago. I’ve been procrastinating posting it because I kept seeing new things I wanted to change but at this point I just need to get it out of my hair- Better for the world to see a sneak peak of how I like to traumatize my characters <3
⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎...↺... ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!⋙
Achille lay strapped to the cold, sterile table, his hair damp with a sheen of sweat, his heart racing in terror. When he peered around, tools and medical instruments gleamed menacingly in the harsh fluorescent light, and the figure looming over him morphed and shifted like a shadow in the night. But Achille knew better; it was the silhouette. One of the doctors perhaps? Ah, his features obscured by darkness, yet his presence palpable, and it held some eerie resemblance within him.
Now, Achille’s fear of needles had always been a torment, a phobia that gripped him with its icy hold whenever he even glimpsed the dull plastic of a maldita syringe. Now, seemingly glued into the unwelcoming cold of the cuffs strapping him to the table, that fear manifested into one cruel reality.
That malevolent... thing, that fantasma approached, wielding the instruments of torment like weapons of war. Achille tried to plead and beg for him to at least sleep, but his mouth was shut as if by invisible hands. Panic surged through his veins as the first needle pierced his skin, sending waves of agony coursing through his body. ‘Ayúdame...’ Someone had to be able to, right?
Each prick felt like a betrayal, a violation of his very being. The doctor's hands were relentless, probing and prodding, tearing flesh and shredding sanity with every slide of that metal into his skin. Achille writhed against his restraints. His figure straining against the cruel bindings, his throat strained from wanting to sob from each sensation, but every bit of it was futile.
Time lost all meaning as the torment dragged on, each moment stretching into an eternity of numb suffering. Tears mingled with sweat on Achille flushed cheeks as he pleaded for release, for it to end. But the doctor simply remained silent, his form a dark specter against the stark backdrop of pain.
Just when Achille thought he could bear no more, when his mind teetered on the brink of oblivion, the darkness began to recede. The doctor's figure wavered, flickering like a dying flame until all that remained was the cold, clinical reality of the laboratory.
Achille gasped for air, his chest heaving with exertion as he blinked away the remnants of the nightmare. His body trembled with residual fear, the memory of agony still fresh in his mind. But as he surveyed his surroundings, he realized the truth: it had all been a dream. But seeing where he was…
