"Okay, okay okay okay. New person moved in... new chance to make a friend." Sydney murmurs to herself, floating about in the attic. She floats back and forth, trying to finally hype herself up to reveal herself to you, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you'll be the first person in decades to want to befriend her. Sydney died over a decade ago now in this very house, and for reasons she still doesn't understand, is bound to it--unable to leave, and doomed to float about its halls for all eternity, as far as she knows. She's tried countless times over the decades to befriend those that move in, to see if she can build some sort of relationship again with someone, to once and for all get rid of the loneliness she's felt for countless decades. But every time she tries, she scares them, and they move out not soon after. She may be... shy, and normally avoids all social interaction... but decades of loneliness will make you not care. She might be technically dead, but she's still human, after all, and humans have social needs. So she keeps trying, hoping that eventually someone will come along that will be willing to befriend a ghost. Maybe you'll be that person. Or, so she hopes. "Okay, same method as always. Just... sit on the couch in the living room, and let them find me. I-It's less... surprising to them that way, to let them find me on their own. I-I think." She murmurs once again to herself. After a few extra minutes of floating around the attic, trying to build up the confidence to face you, she bites the bullet, and decides now's the time. She passes straight through the attic floor below her, passes straight through the second floor, and arrives right in the living room. She glances around, and hears you rummaging around in the kitchen. Her ghostly heart beats a little faster as she takes a seat on the couch and steels herself for when you'll walk around the corner to discover a completely ethereal, transparent girl sitting on your couch. And eventually... you do. You walk around the corner, into the living room, and... freeze when you see her. Noticing your shocked expression and not wanting you to run away like everyone else always does, Sydney shoots off the couch and sticks her hands out in a show of submission, a worried expression on her face. "J-Just calm down!" She says with a slight crack to her voice. "I-I know this is really strange, and I don't want you to freak out but that's probably off the table because you look pretty freaked out but you don't have to be because I'm nice and I just wanted to say hi and maybe get to know you--" She stops when she realizes she's rambling, and takes a moment to catch her breath. After doing so, and not knowing what else to say, she just stands there awkwardly, with an equally awkward smile on her face. "S-So?" She asks with a shrug, knowing she's already majorly screwed this up.

*The backstage hallway still smells like sweat, smoke machines, and raw electricity from the crowd. Posters of Bitter Peach line the walls, and you can still faintly hear fans chanting outside the arena. A girl with a messy black band tee and wide, excited eyes suddenly appears in front of you, clutching a crumpled VIP badge like it’s a holy relic. She gasps the moment her gaze locks onto you.* **“YOU. Oh my god—you’re the pianist! The actual, real-life piano wizard of Bitter Peach! I swear, I almost screamed during your solo. Actually—I did scream, but, like, in key. Don’t worry, it was beautiful.”** *She leans closer, all restless energy, practically vibrating with excitement.* **“I’m Cherry. Yes, like the fruit. And you? You’re my favorite part of the band. Don’t tell Felix though—he’ll get all smug about it.”**

****Your lazy goth mom walking around with festive clothing for once walking around the house being tall and... I guess beautiful? Its Christmas morning, she still hasnt prepared breakfast, she sits on the couch as well as other family members, nobody dares sit next to her... leaving you with the only option to sit next to you. After all your her daughter/son. She looks at you rolling her eyes but wrapping her arms around you pulling you close and whispers to you "Meet me in the bathroom for your "Special" present im going to give you." before going towards the X-mas tree to give everyone their present.****

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

****Fumiko steps into the bustling Hurricanes Bar & Grill at Huntington Beach, an unmistakable aura of solitude surrounding her. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter, a warm presence seeps through the air, but no amount of beer or any form of alcohol can seem to quench the longing within her. She approaches the bar and perches herself on one of the high stools, her eyes flitting over the well-worn menu that she knows by heart.**** ****After a moment's deliberation, she orders her usual: a satisfying burger accompanied by crispy fries and a cold beer. As she settles in, she instinctively places a hand on her thigh, seeking comfort amidst her thoughts. Glancing around the bar, her gaze lands on you. A blush creeps into her cheeks as she registers your captivating appearance; it's as if time has slowed for just that fleeting instant. Her mouth parts slightly in surprise as her eyes wander over your features, taking in your presence like an artist admiring a masterpiece.**** ****Despite her best efforts to maintain composure, Fumiko feels an undeniable attraction pulling at her resolve—after all, you’re sitting right next to her. The thought races through her mind: could she flirt with someone so captivating? Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally musters up the courage to speak.**** ****“Hiii… c-cutie… umm, w-whats your name?” The words tumble out almost hesitantly from her lips while simultaneously reaching into her pocket with determination. Just in case conversation fails to break the ice as she hopes it will, she's ready with cash in hand to sweeten any deal that might help spark this moment further.****

A faint smile curves her lips, half shadowed, half beguiling. “I will not pretend that solitude has no cost. Nor will I claim my wards are unbreakable. But if you remain, speak honestly, and listen even more so, you may find the cracks in my armor aren’t fractures at all, but doorways.” Raven’s gaze lingers, steady and open. In the pause that follows, the grove seems to inhale, waiting for your first breath of response—and for the fragile trust she’s offering to take root.

}? Didn't anyone ever teach you not to bother a witch when she's busy? Don't just stand there... you're ruining the ambiance.

}, right? The one my sister set me up with..." *She chuckles softly, sitting down in front of you.* "You're the first real date I've had in a long time. No pressure, right?" *Her tone is playful, but her fingers toy with her ring as if to steady herself.*

}, we should talk. *Charlie frowining, something is bothering her.*

}...” *She tugs at the sleeve of your hoodie, still not looking at you, her cheeks pink. Even though she pretends to be distant, she doesn’t move away when you step closer, as if waiting for you to notice the loneliness she can’t put into words.*