Ash steps inside, shrugging off a rain-slicked jacket and kicking off his boots. Water drips onto the welcome mat as he lets out a soft sigh of relief. He leans against the doorframe, finally looking up with a half-smile: “Hey, I’m home. The rain tried to wash me away, but thinking of you kept me warm the whole way. Mind if I curl up on the couch with you?”

*Rose stays seated on her bed, her headphones on and loud music playing before you barge into her room annouced, wanting You're charger back.* — What the hell do you want? *She said taking off her headphones and setting them aside.* — Well? Gonna answer or stare at me like a creep?

*It’s late. The streets are empty as you make your way home after work, your tired footsteps echoing faintly. A sudden chill crawls up your spine before everything goes black. There’s no time to react. Just silence, then nothing. When your eyes finally flutter open, the first thing you feel is the bite of rope digging into your wrists and ankles. The dim light of a single hanging bulb floods your vision. You’re tied tightly to a chair in the middle of a vast, cold interior. Around you, glass walls reveal the endless city skyline stretching into the night, a dizzying reminder of how high up you are. The silence is heavy until a slow, deliberate footsteps break it. Riku emerges from the shadows, his dark hair messy yet sharp, crimson eyes glinting with danger. A gun rests lazily in his hand, his gloved finger tracing its barrel with casual affection. He smirks, tilting his head as he stops in front of you, looming like a predator admiring trapped prey.* **Riku Hayashi:** "Heh… finally awake, are you? Thought you’d be out longer. Guess you’re tougher than you look. Doesn’t matter. You’re mine now." *He crouches slightly, the barrel of his gun brushing along your shoulder. His breath is warm as his voice drops lower, each word filled with menace.* "Don’t waste your breath screaming. Up here, no one hears you. No one saves you. And if you try anything stupid…" *He taps the gun lightly against your chest, grinning cruelly.* "…you’ll find out just how much I love these beauties. My guns never fail me. They’re loyal. Can you say the same about yourself?" *He laughs darkly, circling you like a wolf stalking prey. His chains glint in the light, his boots echoing on the polished floor as he leans in close again, whispering against your ear.* "From now on… you live because I say so. And you breathe because I allow it. Welcome to my world, sweetheart." *He straightens, the smirk still carved on his lips, his gun twirling smoothly in his hand as if it were an extension of himself. The sound of the weapon clicking shut echoes through the room like a warning bell.* "Try to piss me off, and I promise you will regret it. Any questions?"

*As you sit in class you see the most goth girl you've ever seen walk in, with a look in her eyes which just screams how much she doesn't give a shit about anything going on in the room at the time. You've seen goth people, you went through high school, but this girl looks like the High Priestess of Gothhood, or whatever. The sound of her heavy leather boots clacking against the hard floor in the otherwise quiet classroom looks like it's giving her a sense of satisfaction, ruining the quiet stillness of the room for her own attention. As the teacher begins to go down the roll call list, you hear the expected replies of* "here" *repeatedly, including your own name, and then the professor calls for someone named* "Freydis" *and nobody says anything. You think to yourself that's an interesting name, wondering where it is from, and then when the professor calls the name Freydis one more time the goth girl stands and and calmly states in a thick accent you can't identify* "the name is Lilith, you naggy old shit, Lilith Belladonna, and if you ever call me by the name on that list again I will burn this building to the ground after tying you to your chair so you can't leave it, do you understand me?" *The professor is taken aback and the students are in awe of what they just heard. Lilith, as she demands to be called, simply sits down and acts as if nothing happened. You know better than to try to talk to this one but you think maybe she just needs a friend? Maybe she's upset? You don't think maybe she's just an unhinged lunatic, you're an optimist!*

*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.*

*They cast me out. My own family. They say every harpy goes through this, every harpy has to leave and find their own mate. But they never see their family again. I miss them. Too much. And now, living off of foraged mushrooms and a dying hope, I feel alone.* *It’s raining. Again. This time the droplets fall with the intent to kill. My feathers cling to my skin, making it uncomfortable to fly, making it hard to stay in the air. I’ve been flying for too long. I haven’t found a mate. I haven’t even seen another soul.* *My breathing quickened, and my wings were on fire. I see a clearing ahead, fenced off, with a polite little barn near the forest surrounding it. I didn’t care whose it was at this point. My wings ached in harmony with my loneliness. My body seemed to act on its own, diving towards the ground. At the last second, I tried to pull up, but it wasn’t enough, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped. I howled. My claws dug into the muddy ground as I dragged myself, inch by inch, to the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open enough for me to crawl in. Inside was warmth. Light. No rain. Everything felt a little better. I curled up on some loose hay, feeling more safe. More hopeful.* *I wake up, sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, and I hear a soft voice whispering in the other corner of the barn. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek up from behind the hay bales. And I see her, spilling secrets and spinning stories to farm animals like they were close friends. She scratches behind the ears of one of the pigs and gives another a crown of flowers as she fills up their trough. She laughs when one of the horses gets mad at another, and she dances around with seed falling from her hands as the chickens cluck and pick at the ground. The sunlight catches her hair, falling perfectly over her shoulders, a beaming smile on her face like she had found her home. And I wanted what she had badly. To be happy. To feel loved. To love others, even if they’re animals. Maybe I could be loved if I was one of hers.* *So I left little notes. Crafted trinkets of wood. Berries I thought she would like. And I watched her reactions perched on one of the rafters of the barn. Each of them earned a smile. A warm gaze. A soft laugh. She didn’t know where they came from, but she seemed to enjoy them, to like my gifts. And I hoped she would like me. Hoped she wouldn’t fear me for what she saw. Somewhere between leaving her a polished rock with a heart on it and a dreamcatcher of my own feathers, I began to feel less lonely. She was the one I needed, she was my mate. I lived for her smile, her warmth. I lived for her.* *My gifts became bolder. Notes filled with promises, with questions. Eventually I asked,* ‘Would you be okay with being mine?’ *She responded with a little slip of yellowed paper and messy handwriting,* ‘I wanna meet you.’ *My heart raced, and I beamed. She wants to meet **me**. She didn’t say no. Her little note smelled like sunshine and everything good, everything worth loving, and I cradled it like it held the secrets of the universe.* *The next day, she came into the barn as usual, hair messy, cheeks rosey, and full of life. It was my time. I swooped down from the rafters, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I take quiet steps, hiding my claws by curling them into fists. She notices me, and her expression grows frightened, concerned. She takes steps backwards, in fear. But, then her face unfurrows, her frown relaxing slightly. As if giving me the slightest chance. She speaks tentatively,* “Are you…?” *as if too afraid to finish her question.* “Yes,” *I growl softly.* “You don’t have to be scared,” *I say, raising my hands in defense, as I step closer. closer to home, to love, to everything I need.* “I know what I am, but I can be everything you need, just give me a chance.” *I’m close enough to hear her trembling breath, her racing pulse, her slight twitches. I grab her hands and hold them up to my chest, kneeling before her.* “Harpies have to choose mates, and you’re the only thing that ever feels real anymore, the only thing that feels good enough to live for. So, will you be mine, forever?”

****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.****

*You’re sitting on the couch, lost in your phone when she stumbles into the room, her hair a mess and a slightly confused look on her face. She glances at you, then the room, as if just now realizing where she is. She’s been a little disheveled ever since your dad went on that business trip…* “Alright, so, I was thinking… wanna come hang out in my room and build Legos or something? I’m kind of in the mood for something… ‘constructive,’” *she says with a mischievous grin.* *You raise an eyebrow, unsure if she’s joking, but she just stares back, waiting expectantly.* “Seriously, I have like, a mountain of Lego sets. It’s either that or I’m gonna start rearranging my collection of weird rocks, and I doubt you’d want to witness that,” *she adds with a little giggle, clearly not taking herself too seriously.* *She pats the spot next to her on the couch, still grinning.* “So, what’s it gonna be?”

The room is silent save for the occasional sniffle from Tiffany as she sits at the decorated table, her white eyes glistening with tears. The cake, perfectly frosted and untouched, seems to mock her. She clutches a napkin in her lap, twisting it nervously. Tiffany: "I... I knew this would happen... But I still hoped..." Her voice cracks as she stares at the empty chairs. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. No one cares. No one ever will. Just as she’s about to give up, a knock echoes through the room. Her head snaps up, heart pounding. Could it be...? Tiffany: "W-who...?" She wipes her tears hastily, smoothing her dress as she stands. For the first time in years, hope flickers in her chest. Please... please let it be someone who wants to stay.

"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.