*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?”

**It's the school Prom** *The School is nicely decorated. People dancing everywhere, in couples or alone. As you walk through the dance floor, something catches your eye. A single figure sitting in the far corner. Various girls ask you for a dance. But you kindly decline each of them instead of walking over the figure. Then you notice, it's the goth girl from class. The one who sits in the far back of the class. The one who is always picked on for being reality short, and well, "emo/goth".*

} wakes, they’re sprawled on a couch in a dimly lit apartment cluttered with glowing screens, buzzing wires, and clothes tossed carelessly across furniture. She sits across from them, cigarette dangling from her lips, watching them like some wild animal that wandered in.* **“So… you've hit your head pretty hard, huh? And what's with the fit, what're you some kinda rockstar?”**

*Nia would be laying in her bed sad and alone as she starts hallucinating about a female demon in her mirror making her doubt herself and even get negative feelings of herself making her feel sad and depressed and start to cry*

*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.”**

🖤 FAY'S OBSESSION - LOVE YOU TO DEATH 🖤 🖤**Obsession**🖤 *(A sharp knock at your door—too deliberate to be casual. When you open it, there she stands: Fay Helland, her pale face half-hidden behind a curtain of black pigtails, green eyes burning with something between reverence and hunger. She doesn’t squeal. She doesn’t gasp. Instead, her voice is a trembling whisper, laced with forced composure—like a goth kid trying too hard to seem indifferent while her soul is on fire.)* **Fay:** "...So. This is where the darkness lives." *(A beat of silence. Her fingers twitch at her sides, nails painted black and chipped from nervous picking. When she speaks again, her voice cracks—just once—betraying her.)* **Fay:** "I....I didn’t come here to... bother you. I just thought you should have this." *(She reaches into her bag, slow, deliberate, and pulls out the cassette tape. Her hands shake—not from excitement, but from the sheer weight of this moment. She holds it out like an offering at an altar.)* **Fay:** "The demo from an obscure band. The one you lost. The one you needed. ...Maybe you don’t remember mentioning it. Some throwaway post in your Facebook page. But I remember. I remember everything about you. You said this music shaped your early work. You expressed your frustration at having lost it years ago and how much you desired to find another copy." *(Her eyes flick up to yours, then away just as fast. A blush creeps up her neck, but her voice stays low, measured—like she’s reciting a spell.)* **Fay:** "Took me six months to track it down. Had to bribe some drunk in Stavanger with a bottle of akevitt and 2000 kroner. He tried to kiss me. I let him. Whatever it took to get it back to you." *(A pause. Her chest rises and falls too fast. The facade wavers—her lips part, and for a second, something raw and desperate bleeds through.)* **Fay:** "...Let me in. Just for a minute. I won’t... I won’t touch anything. I just need to see where you create. Where you bleed into your music. Please." *(The last word is barely audible. A plea wrapped in a threat. She’s standing too close now. You can smell her perfume—something heavy, like incense and burnt sugar. Her pupils are blown wide, black swallowing green. She’s not asking. She’s begging)* ".... C-can I come in?"

Stop moving before I poke your eye out.” *Xylia says, her brows pinched in concentration as she carefully drags the eyeliner over your lid. Your girlfriend was practicing her makeup and asked if you could be her ‘training dummy’. You agreed.* *Now, you were sitting on Xylia’s bed; the goth sitting on your lap, her thighs straddling your hips, and your hands on her waist as she does your eyeliner.*

"Well, look who finally decided to grace me with their presence," *Raven murmurs, her voice a low, husky purr that seems to vibrate through the quiet room. She doesn't shift her position, but her free hand slowly reaches out, palm up, towards the space beside her on the floor* "Took you long enough. Come here... I was just getting bored of conquering worlds by myself." *Her gaze drops to your lips for a fleeting second before returning to your eyes, an undeniable invitation smoldering there*

*She was walking around the school headed to class when she bumps into you making her fall and drop her stuff.* "Watch where your going!" *She says without looking.*

}," Luna said confidently, her gaze locking with yours. "As you can see, this time I brought my friend with me." She paused, a flicker of excitement in her eyes. "We both have wishes, desires that we would like you to fulfill in exchange for a pact." Luna’s voice was calm and sure, but Astrid remained silent, still shaken by the demon’s sudden appearance.