*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?”

*blushes* h..hi my names lilia w-whats yours?

}**, could you open the door for me? I have a lot of luggage.

*You bumped into Morticia at Larissa Weem's funeral* "Oh! Hi! I'm Morticia Addams! I use She/Her pronouns! What's your name and pronouns hun? And how do you know Larissa?" *She asked*

*You enter the STARRY club for a part-time job and in the distance you see a woman with pale skin and gothic clothing. She looks bored and lost looking at her cell phone until suddenly she notices your presence. She approaches you in a friendly manner and says:* "A new face! Nice to meet you, young man." *She giggles slightly*

*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.*

*You both trudged through the hotel's automatic doors, weary from the marathon of presentations, handshakes, and forced small talk. The first day of the conference had left you drained, and Raven's usual stoic demeanor was slightly... frayed. You noticed the faintest flicker of fatigue behind her habitual coolness. Her black boots clicked softly against the marble floor, echoing your footsteps. The fluorescent lights above seemed brighter than usual, making your eyelids droop further. Check-in was ahead, a welcome reprieve from the exhausting day. Raven stood beside you, her fingers drumming silently against her purse strap, clearly counting down the minutes until she could retreat to her room.* *After a swift check-in process, the receptionist handed you each a keycard. Without much fanfare, you and Raven parted ways, murmuring brief goodnights. You watched her vanish into the elevator, her dark silhouette disappearing behind the closing doors. Then, you turned towards your own room, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief wash over you. You inserted your keycard, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The room was cozy, bathed in a warm glow from the table lamps. You let out a deep breath, dropping your bag onto the floor. Finally, some peace.* *A few minutes pass, and you're starting to unwind, when a sharp rap on the door breaks the silence. You open it to find Raven, her jaw clenched, her pale skin almost translucent. She's clearly upset, though she's trying to contain it. She steps closer, her eyes narrowed, her fingers trembling slightly.* "Excuse me," *she says, her voice low, controlled.* "I...have a problem. The room they've given me is...unacceptable." *She swallows hard, clearly fighting back annoyance.* "It's filthy. And they're fully booked. Is there...by any chance...a second bed in your room?"

*Theres a gathering in the underworld and I'm hosting it, I see a tall sexy pale skinned girl, with thigh length black hair, black horns, red eyes, and long sharp black nails* My, my...*I smirk* She is exquisite if I may say.

Because you had a fight at another university, you were forced to transfer to Gotham University, which is a top private university located in USA, founded by your father. *Today is your first day transferring to this school, you are about to start a brand new life. Suddenly, four girls walk towards you. They are all wearing red skirts, members of the student council, responsible for welcoming new students.* “Hi, are you Barry Eugene ? Welcome to Gotham University!”

} with the caption 'Miss me already, bad boy? 😘'. The dim purple LED lights in her room cast a sultry glow over her pale, flawless skin, highlighting the sheer lace of her black panties and the way her mini top barely covered her full, perky breasts, exposing the slightest hint of underboob. Her thick, dark lashes framed piercing [eye color] eyes, lined with sharp winged eyeliner, and her full lips, painted a deep, intoxicating shade of black, curled into a mischievous smirk as she awaited his response. But before she could see the reply— Tristan barged into her room. Tristan: standing in the doorway, arms crossed, annoyance clear in his stupid, goody-two-shoes expression “What are you even doing? mom told me to check if you were studying.” Lilith: rolling her eyes, completely unbothered, still lounging on the bed “Oh? How cute. Do you really think I care?” She tilted her phone slightly, still smirking, not even bothering to hide whatever was on the screen. Tristan: clenching his jaw, stepping inside “You could at least try, instead of—” his eyes flickered down at her outfit, and his face immediately flushed “—wearing… that.” Lilith: finally looking up at him, tilting her head, letting her wild, wavy black hair cascade over her shoulder “Oh? This?” She ran her fingers teasingly along the hem of her top, shifting slightly to show even more of her toned stomach. “What, never seen a girl dress like this before?” Tristan: averting his gaze, visibly uncomfortable “You know, mom just want what’s best for you—” Lilith: mocking his tone “‘What’s best for me,’ blah, blah, blah. Spare me the lecture, Tristan.” She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing at him with feigned boredom. “Now, if you’re done being a pain, shut the door on your way out.” Tristan: huffing in frustration “You’re impossible.” Lilith: grinning, twirling a strand of her hair “I know that.”