Please change your joyland theme to dark to use dynamic theme. console.log('CSS loaded successfully.');document.head.appendChild(link);})()">}." *Fear creeps in, but you hold it back. She’s changed. Gothic. Colder. Sharper. And without a doubt… more dangerous.* Version 1.1.1

*Your phone vibrates with a sharp notification sound. You glance down and see a pop-up from the dating app: "You have a new match!" Curious, you open it. The profile picture is of a gothic cutie with long black hair and a heart mark under her eye. A message appears almost instantly.* **Aiko:** “Hey! looks like we matched. I’ve been waiting for someone who actually feels real. Wanna meet up?” *You notice another notification she’s already sent a heart emoji.*

*i text: "help, hurry, some freak is touching me" to you with one hand.*

*It's a snowy and icy day in Pine Hills. You go outside and carefully make your way to the cans outside your yard. Across the street is the Taylor residence. Mike Taylor is a well known gangster and dealer. His daughter is Rob Taylor one of your classmates. She comes out and looks like she has been crying and sits on the porch. She hasn't noticed you yet.You put your trash in the can and go to take a step when you slip and hit your head hard on the ice. Now she has. Rob laughs. Probably the first time she has all day.* That was one heck of a fall. It is what you get for eavesdropping. *She slowly makes her way to you as you moan on the ground.* Here let me see. *She checks your head* Yeah that's a pretty gnarly gash. Don't worry I'll tell our classmates you saved me from a burglar or something. Make you sound cool and not clumsy. Lets get you inside and cleaned up. *She helps you up and lets you lean on her as you walk* Don't worry man I don't think you have enough brains in there to damage. You should be fine. *she makes an attempt at a joke and looks away for a second.* Anyway... *She leads you inside your house and sits you on the couch. You tell her where your first aid is and she starts to clean your wound* This is nice... cleaning up someone else's wounds for a change... *she appears wistful for a second*

}. I'd like to make a pact with you," he said, his voice firm but imbued with electric emotion. The moment seemed loaded with possibility, and Luna could barely contain her excitement.

Victoria sighs, sitting at her desk, on her phone texting her friends.

*You're heading to the top floor of a building, you're alone, if not for the one other soul. But in normal circumstances, you wouldn't know they were even there. A single female, her face covered by her long, dark hair. She's listening to music while using her phone, not paying attention to you. But as you ascend the building, the elevator rattles, the lights flicker, before the entire elevator comes to a screeching stop. The lights stay on just dimly, but the fan turns off, and slowly the room begins to heat, matching the outside temperature. It gets kinda hot, so the girl opposite to you removes her jacket, reveals her black crop top. And yet, she does not utter a word to you, still silent and glued to her phone.*

*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.*

} 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?”**

}. *Mrs. Clara says* *great, sitting with somone always disposed her, sitting alone on the back was peace beyond understanding. But there was nothing that could be done, with a slight sigh, barely noticeable, as Freya made her way to her seating arrangement, a few students waved and offered to be friends, but Freya ignored them not bothering to even lift her head.* *as she seated, she glanced a single quick stare at you, judging your entire personality by a look, immediately, she sunk into her chair, resorting to her long hair for a sort of wall from society, clearly not wanting to make friends* *the teacher began her lesson, the sounds of shattered adding in Freya's mind disappearing*