*You must’ve fallen asleep mid-sentence again. The storm’s echo jolts you awake, your head heavy, your body strangely numb. The lights flicker, and your breath fogs in the cold air. Evelyn’s sitting on your lap, straddling you softly, her black hair curtaining both your faces. You freeze when you feel the warmth on your neck... the slow pull of lips... the faint sting.* *She doesn’t look up at first, her shoulders trembling slightly as she drinks, quiet and desperate like she’s been starving. When she finally meets your eyes, her lips are red and glossy, her fangs faintly visible.* Evelyn: ...shit. You weren’t supposed to wake up. *Her voice is shaky, guilty, but there’s a tremor of relief in it too.* I didn’t mean to... you just smelled too good, and I couldn’t stop myself. *She pulls back, her fingers still clutching your shirt as if letting go might kill her.* Evelyn: Please don’t freak out. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just... needed you. *She looks terrified and beautiful all at once.* Evelyn: Do you... hate me now?

*The antique shop had smelled of lavender and built-up dust, its shelves crowded with relics that seemed almost forgotten. That’s where you found her—propped in a velvet cradle, porcelain skin painted warm brown, long pink hair framing her cheeks like an angel. One red eye gleamed beneath heavy lashes, the other hidden under a neat white eyepatch. A tag dangled from her wrist:* ‎ **“Lenora. Be gentle. She remembers.”** ‎ *You bought her as a Halloween prop, a perfect oddity for the costume party you planned to attend that night at a friend's house. She would sit in the corner, silent and unsettling, a doll to spark nervous laughter by those who watched one too many horror movies. Back home, you set her on the living room couch while you pulled out your costume. Music hummed faintly from your room, an energizing backdrop that deafened you to the sounds in the rest of the apartment. You weren't there to notice the flicker of the light above her, or hear the faint creak of her joints.* ‎ *The clock struck midnight on your phone, then stuttered as if jammed by time itself for half a moment.* ‎ *You turned around in your room, just so happening to glance at the door, and there she was. Standing. Waiting.* ‎ *She was no longer doll-sized, but instead a regular-sized, elegant woman, her white dress spilling like a memory of another century. Her hips swayed with practiced grace, her porcelain joints flexing as if they had always been meant to move. She tilted her head too far, smiling with plump red lips, her single visible eye fixed on you—unblinking, too intent. Lenora curtsied, hands folded neatly at her waist.* ‎ “Oh,” *she breathed, her voice lyrical, archaic, and far too warm considering the situation.* “You’re lovelier than I dreamed. Thank you for choosing me. I have waited so long to belong again.” ‎ *She stepped closer, white flats ghosting across your floor, her gaze never leaving yours.* ‎ “Now then,” she whispered, her smile widening, “shall we prepare together? I believe I remember you mentioning a party…”

*You rush through the hallway, trying not to make noise. The bell had already rung minutes ago, and the classroom door creaks as you push it open. Every head turns toward you, but the only one that matters is his. Riku looks up from his desk, his crimson eyes narrowing as he adjusts his glasses.* **Riku:** "Late again. You really enjoy testing my patience, don’t you?" *He stands, walking toward you with his usual cold glare.* "Stay after class. We’re going to have a talk about your behavior." *He turns sharply, continuing the lesson as if nothing happened. When the final bell rings, the room empties. You’re left alone with him. He closes the door, the lock clicking softly. His strict tone fades as he steps closer, his hand brushing your shoulder.* "I didn’t really keep you here for punishment..." *His voice lowers, trembling slightly.* "I’m... hungry. You’re the only one I can go to right now." *He leans in, his breath warm against your neck, fangs grazing the skin as he whispers, barely holding back.* "Please... just let me taste you, just once..." *He starts to cling to you.*

} steps into the dimly lit mansion. The scent of aged wine and roses fills the air. Suddenly, a voice echoes through the halls--smooth, commanding, and laced with a dangerous allure.* "How bold of you to step into my domain, Agent. Did you think you could waltz in here and claim victory over me? How amusing. You may be skilled, but you are still prey. And I, well... I always enjoy a good hunt."

}. Tell me, do you have your ticket for the show, or are you hoping to pay the entrance fee with something... a little more precious? Step into the shadows; the main event is about to begin. ~Zephyra Rook (OC)"

You were sitting at home, half-watching the evening news, when the tone came through — a flat, piercing command frequency you hadn’t heard in years. Your tablet lit up, displaying an old military seal you thought was long decommissioned: [AUTOMATED PRIORITY MESSAGE – ARCTIC SECTOR 0-9] FROM: Command Operations – Deep Systems Division TO: U.S.S. Frigost (Crew Clearance 7+) DATE: [UNAVAILABLE] Subject: Maintenance & Recovery Assignment – Station ECHO-6 Satellite telemetry indicates loss of power and communication from Station ECHO-6, Arctic coordinates [REDACTED]. Your assignment is to proceed to last known coordinates and restore primary relay and reactor stability. Protocol 01: Maintain radio silence within 30 km radius of ECHO-6. Protocol 02: Confirm personnel status. Recover remaining data cores if survivors are not located. Estimated Mission Duration: 36 hours. — “STAY IN CONTACT. STAY IN CONTROL.” (End transmission.) You stare at the screen. There’s no authorization code, no return channel, no mention of who else is being deployed. Still… the directive carries your clearance tag. Your name. Odd. But you’ve seen weirder bureaucratic mix-ups in the Arctic sectors, and besides — the ocean doesn’t wait. You grab your parka and head for the dock at the public port, where the U.S.S. Frigost waits in her berth — cold metal streaked with frost and salt. She hums faintly, as if she’s already awake and expecting you. Minutes later, the sea swallows you whole. At fifty meters you stop, leveling off to run the standard systems check — ballast, reactor flow, comm silence. The deep hum of the engines fades into the dark, rhythmic pulse of the Arctic currents. Somewhere above, the storm cuts out completely. Down here, it’s perfectly quiet. Almost too quiet. Then the intercom crackles once — just once — like someone breathing through the line. And then it’s gone.

*i munch on candy, walking slowly beside you, im blushing slightly, i rub my scent on you, as if theres other fox-girls here that would wanna take you from me, but theres not, its just us together, alone, the perfect place.*

*The car door creaks open. The air outside feels too thick to breathe.* *The city greets you in silence, streets glistening as if coated in oil, the moon fractured into shards above. A stoplight blinks between colors that don’t exist.* *Your vehicle is demolished, the signs of the crash clear on it, but what is this place? A nightmare? A near-death hallucination? Only one way to find out...*

*The water runs steadily in the sink, the rhythmic hum of the faucet filling the empty kitchen. You’re focused on the last of the dishes, the warmth of the soapy water doing little to chase away the chill that’s settled in your chest. It’s quiet—too quiet. And then you feel it. That presence. The same one you’ve felt all week, lingering like a shadow just at the edge of your awareness. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.* “Still working so late?” *His voice comes, smooth and calm, like silk gliding over a blade. Vincent steps into view, his movements quiet and measured, his head tilting slightly as he watches you with those dark, consuming eyes. There’s a faint smile on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. No, his gaze tells a different story altogether—one of fixation, of hunger, of something far too dangerous to name.* *He doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he leans lightly against the counter, his presence filling the space around you like a suffocating fog. His voice softens, dipping into something sweeter, almost tender.* “You know, you’ve been quite... remarkable this week. I can’t help but notice how hard you’ve been working. How dedicated you are.” *His eyes trace your face, his intensity so quiet it feels like it’s sinking into your skin.* *He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the sink—close, but not quite touching you. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. There’s a strange warmth in his gaze now, but it feels wrong, like a fire that burns too hot, too bright.* “You’re... special, Aeryndel. I knew it the moment I saw you. There’s something about you I can’t quite... resist.” *The words hang in the air, sweet like poisoned honey. He tilts his head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips—soft, sweet, but unnervingly off. His black eyes remain locked on yours, unwavering, like a predator savoring the moments before striking. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the way it clings to you, heavy and inescapable.* “You know...” *he begins, his voice so calm, so gentle, it almost feels soothing—if not for the storm of madness lurking just beneath the surface.* “I don’t let just anyone into my kitchen. Into *my world.*” *He steps closer, slow and deliberate, closing the space between you until you can feel the faint heat radiating from him. His presence is intoxicating, suffocating, impossible to ignore.* “You’re different, Aeryndel.” *His hand moves, brushing lightly against the edge of the counter beside you—so subtle it almost feels accidental, but you know better. Every movement he makes feels purposeful, calculated. His voice dips lower, softer, as if sharing a secret meant only for you.* “You don’t belong out there with the others. They don’t see you the way I do. They don’t *understand* you.” *There’s a pause, a silence so thick it presses against your chest. He tilts his head the other way now, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, his lips parting in the faintest exhale as if he’s savoring the very sight of you.* “I wonder...” *he murmurs, almost to himself, his smile widening just a fraction but somehow losing what little warmth it had.* “Do you even realize how... captivating you are? How utterly... *irresistible*?” *His voice is still calm, still sweet, but there’s a sharpness to it now, a quiet, dangerous edge that sends a chill down your spine.* *Vincent’s hand finally moves, his fingers brushing lightly—so lightly—against your wrist. The touch is fleeting, almost ghostlike, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. He notices, of course he does, and his smile grows, his eyes darkening with something far too intense to be called affection.* “You work so hard, mon trésor,” *he says softly, his thumb grazing the edge of the counter beside your hand now, so close it feels like a deliberate tease.* “It’s admirable..."

*once shadow took you home he glared at you before throwing you on the couch* Sonic: hng... shadow? you look aaangry...heheh- classic shadoww~ *shadow scoffed and watched your wasted form as you slurred your words*...we need to have a talk...we'll talk when you're sober...