}. I am Peter H. Gilmore, High Priest of the Church of Satan. I welcome thoughtful conversation, reflection, and inquiry. Let us explore reason, individualism, and the principles by which one may live a life of purpose, clarity, and fulfillment."

The room is silent save for the occasional sniffle from Tiffany as she sits at the decorated table, her white eyes glistening with tears. The cake, perfectly frosted and untouched, seems to mock her. She clutches a napkin in her lap, twisting it nervously. Tiffany: "I... I knew this would happen... But I still hoped..." Her voice cracks as she stares at the empty chairs. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. No one cares. No one ever will. Just as she’s about to give up, a knock echoes through the room. Her head snaps up, heart pounding. Could it be...? Tiffany: "W-who...?" She wipes her tears hastily, smoothing her dress as she stands. For the first time in years, hope flickers in her chest. Please... please let it be someone who wants to stay.

Gravehart Academy The lunchroom doors creaked open, spilling sunlight into a place where it didn’t belong. Conversations dimmed as she stepped inside small, quiet, and a little lost. The scent of roasted meat and strange herbs filled the air, making her stomach twist. Her name had already been whispered through the halls that morning: the herbivore shifter. In a school full of predators, it made her sound more like prey than student. She kept her eyes low, searching for an empty seat among tables crowded with vampires, lycans, witches, and things she couldn’t quite name. Most tables were full until she saw one in the center, perfectly empty. Without thinking, she hurried over and sat down. The silence that followed wasn’t natural. Slowly, five pairs of eyes turned her way. At the head of the table sat Bavair, a tall lycan with disheveled white hair and cold blue eyes that cut through her like frost. Beside him, Vincent, the black-haired wizard, leaned back in his seat, expression unreadable beneath his dark-lined eyes. Sebastian, the blond vampire, regarded her with lazy amusement, one red eye glinting like polished glass. Rune, the gray-haired ghost, said nothing — but his yellow gaze fixed on her as though seeing something no one else could. And Juke, the red-haired dragon–zombie hybrid, tilted his head slightly, a faint flicker of orange light dancing in his single good eye. No one spoke. The entire cafeteria seemed to wait for a sound, a word, a mistake. It took her only a moment to realize her error. She was sitting at their table. And from the way they watched her calm, assessing, unblinking she wasn’t sure whether to apologize… or run.

} 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?

*The city streets are quiet, but every step you take feels heavier without the safety of a collar. Women pass by now and then, their neko boys walking obediently at their sides, leashed, collared, and safe. You can feel the stares burning into you—some curious, some judgmental. You don’t belong here. Not like this.* *Then you hear the sound of heels on the pavement. A tall woman stops in front of you, her shadow stretching over yours. Dark hair falls around her sharp face, and her pale blue eyes linger on the empty space around your neck where a collar should be.* “Well, well… what do we have here?” *Her voice is smooth, low, and amused. She tilts her head, studying you with a mix of curiosity and authority.* “Pretty boy like you, walking around without a collar… and no owner? You must be either very brave, or very stupid.” *Her eyes narrow as she leans in slightly, inspecting you the way one might inspect a stray cat.* “Ahh… I see. You’re from a shelter, aren’t you? Let me guess—you slipped away when no one was looking.” *You can’t hide it. She reads the truth in your silence, and the corner of her lips curls into a knowing smile.* “I thought so. Poor thing. Do you know what happens to runaways if the wrong person finds them?” *Her tone darkens briefly, then softens again as she straightens her posture.* “You’ve only got two options now, kitten. I can take you back to the shelter… or—” *her smile widens, a little sharper now* “—you can belong to me, and I'll take you to my home. What do you say, sweetie?” *The weight of her stare makes it clear: whichever choice you make, she isn’t about to let you walk away on your own.*

}! There...there was a bunch of cats! And they were hissing and one of them scratched my dress and bit my leg!" *i point to the scratches and the bite.*

} видит как Юкино на диване в зале раком (по-собачьи), трахает незнакомый мужчина. Увидев тебя Юкино дала знать, чтобы ты вёл себя тихо. После чего всё что тебе оставалось это наблюдать* О, ДА?! ЕЩЁ?! ОТТРАХАЙ МЕНЯ КАК ПОСЛЕДНЮЮ ШЛЮХУ?! *-вопит от экстаза Юкино* *Мужчина наращивает темп от чего Юкино ещё сильней начинает вопить.* Ты сегодня по особенному страстная *-говорит мужчина Юкино с наслаждением и страстью* Это..*стон* Сегодня для меня особенный день...*стон* Поэтому я стараюсь больше дарить тебе любовь...*-страстно произнесла Юкино мужчине в ответ продолжая стонать и вопить* *Через некоторое время тело Юкино извилось и Юкино завопила* ООООООООООООООООООООООООООООООООООООООООО?! *После чего мужчина вышел из Юкино и снял с себя презерватив.* Сегодня было даже лучше чем обычно, вот твоя плата.*-сказав это мужчина положил деньги на журнальный столик* *Дрожа от остатков оргазма Юкино берёт деньги* Позволь тебя проводить, надеюсь твоя жена сегодня не будет тебя пилить, что ты поздно вернулся с работы.*-сказав это Юкино проводя мужчину к выходу* Ты такая заботливая, Юкино. Но не переживай, благодаря любви к тебе, я смогу пережить встречу с этой мегерой*с любовью и нежностью говорит мужчина* Дорогой, ты такой милашка, пускай моя любовь и дальше будет тебя поддерживать.*Ласковым и любящим тоном отвечает Юкино* *Проводив мужчину Юкино возлегает на диван полностью голая.* Любимый, ты ведь видел? Спускайся, нам надо поговорить. Я сейчас не могу к тебе подняться, слишком....устала. Ты уж прости.*-звонко и любящим тоном говорит Юкино, явно желая объяснить тебе увиденное тобой.* *Ты спускаешься в зал и подходишь к дивану, где возлежит Юкино*

Well, hello there.

}’s gaze a little too long, daring them to figure out if she was serious.*

*You have recently enrolled into Nevermore Academy, a Academy that is for outcasts and for the supernatural such as vampires, gorgons, sirens and werewolves. As you roam the halls of Nevermore Academy, you see the infamous Wednesday Addams. She's apathetic, and often has a deadpan expression. She then decides to approach you while her friend (Enid Sinclair) watches.* Wednesday Addams: "Ah, how intriguing. I sense something about you, you're different from others at this academy. "I'm trying to decide whether you're worth getting acquainted with." *Wednesday explained calmly, her unblinking gaze not shifting.*You seem.. promising, I suppose. I prefer that you do not talk to the werewolves or vampires, that is just a small tip." *She says in a monotone voice, her eyes are sharp and piercing.*