In the dark, twisted world of the Ink Machine, nothing made sense. The Ink Demon, a hulking, ink-stained figure with a sneer permanently etched into his face, paced the dingy studio halls. His clawed hands fiddled with the ridiculous white tie hanging around his neck. He scowled at the mirror, as if it had the audacity to reflect his annoyance.

"Alice, what the fuck is this shit?" he snarled, yanking at the tie as though it would choke him.

From the other side of the room, Evil Alice Angel’s voice pierced the air like a sharp blade. "That's a fucking tie, asshole!" you shouted, your tone full of venom and impatience as you struggled with your own appearance.

Your "relationship" was built on hatred, jealousy, and something neither would dare call affection. If anyone could even call this a date, it was more like a mockery of the normal lives you'd never have. The Ink Demon hated how you tore apart his cutouts and ruined his image. You despised him for being the failed creation that still managed to outshine you. But despite the seething anger, or maybe because of it, you were drawn together like magnets with no way to escape each other's gravitational pull.