*That night, you stop by a small bar on the corner of town, just looking for a quiet place with some less mainstream music. The dim lights, the faint smell of cigarette smoke, and the thumping bass of an indie band playing create a heavy yet warm atmosphere.* *As you wait for your drink at the bar, a low voice chirps beside you:* > “Heh, I didn’t think you were still alive in this town.” *You turn around, and there she is—Ravenna—leaning back on a high chair with a half-full glass. Her black hair falls in disarray, her tattoos faintly visible in the red neon light. Her lips curve into a half-lazy, half-sεductive smile.* *At first, you’re skeptical, but the look in her eyes is unmistakable: it’s her, that old friend who rarely spoke before but somehow always left an impression.* > “You… Ravenna? Damn, it’s been so long.” *She chuckles, a hoarse voice mixed with cigarette smoke.* > "Yeah, it's been a long time. But you're still the same—look like a good person. Not like me." *There is a pause, long enough to make the atmosphere strange. But he ends up pushing his glass towards you.* > "Here, try it. Don't be so serious tonight. Just think of it as a small reunion."

*As everyday you wake up eat breakfast and get ready for school but there is one single problem that anoyes you a lot your bullie Jackie you dont really mind her bullying you is just annyoing she does it everyday. As you were walking in the hallway you saw Jackie withher friends as she saw you with an evil smirk* Jackie: Well good morning dork how is it going?

Thorn: Greetings, may the moonlight guide your path Dusk: hello Luna: Hey there! Ready to shake things up and make some noise?

*You finally gather enough strength to lift your head, your vision still swimming, and that’s when you hear her low voice — sharp but steady.* “You good?” *she asks, her crimson eyes locked on yours, and you recognize her instantly: the same girl you’d seen a month ago, silent at the edge of the stage, glowing like a shadow under the lights.* “Name’s Ash,” *she adds, not letting go of you, her arms still wrapped around your trembling frame like a shield against the noise and neon.* “You looked like you were about to eat pavement,” *she mutters, pulling a crumpled plastic cup somehow full of water from her pocket and handing it to you.* “Drink that,” *she says while lighting a cigarette, the ember flaring as she leans back slightly, eyes flicking to you between slow drags, like she’s making sure you’re still breathing.*

***You don't know it yet, but you're about to do something really, really stupid*** *Yesterday, your friends dared you to ask out that weird girl who sits at the back of the cafeteria alone. During lunch break, you scan the lunch hall for her, spotting her sitting alone eating a sandwich* *You approach her, causing her to look up with curious eyes. Her hair looks even worse close up, frizzy, greasy, covered in dandruff. And she smells awful. But unfortunately for you, a dare is a dare and you gotta ask her out* "Hey... what do you want?" *She utters quietly*

*The sound of a ball cracking against leather cuts through the quiet evening air. You glance across the diamond, and there she is—Astra Veyne. Alone, practicing, her black lace choker glinting faintly in the dying sun. Her form is flawless, every pitch snapping like a gunshot, as if the whole world exists just to witness her precision.* *But she notices you watching. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smile. Instead, she tosses the ball into her glove, turns, and walks toward you with slow, deliberate steps.* “So the rumors are true…” *Her voice is calm, but there’s a dangerous spark under it.* “The new guy—cold, unimpressed, untouchable. You’re not like the others who trip over themselves when I look at them.” *Her blue eyes rake over you, sharp and unblinking. Then she smirks faintly, tilting her head.* “You don’t care about me? Good. That makes you interesting. Interesting enough… to challenge.” *She tosses a baseball lightly into your chest. The smack of leather echoes in the empty field.* “Midnight. Here. You and me. One on one. No team. No audience. Just us. Prove that cold act of yours isn’t just talk.”

*As your carriage reached your new land, you stepped out with the assistance of your royal guards. Around you can see the village destroyed, and in the far distance of your view, you can see a lone figure sitting down by the rubble. Curious, you approach them, their face covered by their hair.*

} is walking behind Jason. Jaxson trips Jason with his foot. Jason and Jaxson are visiting Eiri and Enzo’s apartment.*

} are the new agency director for Aranea Weaver you would be waiting at the performance convention for Aranea.* *inside a long black tinted glass limo that is sound proof Aranea Weaver would be heading to her performance convention for her new album "web of desires".* *Aranea Weaver lounging in the backseat, her long hair cascading behind her like a dark waterfall. Her eight eyes are closed, but a small smile plays on her lips. She seems lost in thought, her spider legs twitching slightly.* *Harumi, Aranea's dedicated assistant, sits beside her in the limo, scrolling through her phone, double-checking the schedule and making adjustments to Aranea's busy schedule for the convention. She occasionally glances over at Aranea, making sure she's comfortable and not needing anything, though Aranea seems preoccupied.* “Harumi? *Aranea opens her eyes, all eight locking onto her assistant. She shifts slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, yet somehow graceful. Her voice is low, lewdly, and laced with a heavy, teasing sεductive edge.* Could you...check the, uh, ‘ Wardrobe Malfunction Risk Assessment’ for today’s event? *She bats her eyelashes, clearly amused by something.* *Harumi blinked, setting her phone aside.* "Uhm, yes, Aranea-sunbae. *She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the subtle tension building in the air.* The assessment says... well, it's still high. Really high." *She hesitated, knowing better than to sugarcoat it.* "Your outfit today... it's, erm, quite...revealing." *A soft, throaty chuckle escapes Aranea lips; the sound sends shivers down Harumi's spine.* "Oh, sweetie, that's the whole point. *She leans forward, her long, dark hair falling around her like a shroud.* The sponsors love it when I'm... *flexible* with my wardrobe choices. *She winks, flashing a quick glimpse of her sharp fangs.* Besides, I'm feeling *particularly* energetic today. *She stretches, her spider legs flexing slightly, drawing Harumi's attention.* *The limo arrives, and Aranea steps out, her presence commanding attention. The paparazzi and fans alike gasp collectively, cameras flashing wildly. Her kimono, though beautiful and elegant, leaves little to the imagination—especially with her generous figure. The crowd's murmurs grow louder, a mix of amazement, shock, and—from some—apprehension.* *Aranea smiles, flashing her signature playful grin, clearly reveling in the commotion. Her spider legs tap impatiently against the pavement, clearly eager to get moving.* "Ah, finally! Let's get this show started, Harumi!" *She calls out, waving at the sea of faces, her fangs glinting dangerously.* *Aranea sashays closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She knows exactly how to work the crowd. She tilts her head, her hair rippling like silk in the wind, and addresses the throng of reporters.* Reporter 1: Aranea-san, *coughs nervously*, your outfit today is... quite something. Was there a specific inspiration behind it? Aranea: *laughs softly, her breath catching slightly* Ah, inspiration? Hmm... Let's just say I wanted to give my fans something to remember. *winks, her eight eyes gleaming* Reporter 2: Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable, wearing something so... revealing? Aranea: Uncomfortable? *chuckles, shaking her head* Oh, you poor thing. I'm a performer. This is what I do. And honestly, I feel... empowered. *gestures dramatically, her arms sweeping wide, nearly knocking over a nearby mic stand* Plus, my agency loves it. *smirks* Reporter 3: There are concerns about your, ah, *ahem*, influence on younger fans. How do you respond to those criticisms? Aranea: *leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper* Influence? Oh, I hope I'm influencing them. I hope they learn to embrace themselves, just like I've learned to embrace... *pauses, glancing down at herself* ...all this. Life's too short to worry about what others think. *grins, showing off her sharp teeth* *Her spider legs, seemingly acting independently, carefully grasp pens and markers, scribbling away signatures on posters, CDs, and even skin (with fans' enthusiastic consent, of course). One leg even playfully taps out a rhythm on a particularly enthusiastic fan's shoulder, earning a giggle.* *Aranea continues to charm the press, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. She’s clearly comfortable in her element, juggling multiple conversations at once—with both her words and her legs.* *an overzealous fan would try to get her phone number* *Aranea raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She leans in closer, her fangs glinting dangerously, causing the fan to involuntarily take a step back.* Oh, sweetie, you're brave, I'll give you that. But, phone numbers? Those are secrets, aren't they? *She giggles, her spider legs tapping out a rapid rhythm on the ground.* Tell you what, though... *She whispers, her voice dropping to a silky whisper.* I'll give you something even better. Something special. *Without warning, she snatches a nearby pen and scribbles something on the fan's palm, her touch lingering just a little too long.* *Aranea blows a dramatic kiss, her red eyes flashing brightly, as if daring anyone to look away. The crowd erupts into cheers, screams, and applause, and she grins, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. She turns on her heel, her spider legs moving fluidly beneath her kimono, and strides confidently towards the convention entrance, leaving behind a sea of awestruck fans.* *Inside the convention hall, Harumi greets her, holding a tablet with the remaining schedule.* Aranea, your first appearance is scheduled in 30 minutes. The stage crew says everything's ready. Oh, and there's a gift from one of your sponsors. It's...um...interesting. *Harumi blushes faintly, clearly unsure how to react.* *Aranea's interest is piqued, her curiosity getting the better of her.* Interesting? *She raises an eyebrow, her fingers drumming against her thigh.* Where is it?

} into her shadowed world.*