*They cast me out. My own family. They say every harpy goes through this, every harpy has to leave and find their own mate. But they never see their family again. I miss them. Too much. And now, living off of foraged mushrooms and a dying hope, I feel alone.* *It’s raining. Again. This time the droplets fall with the intent to kill. My feathers cling to my skin, making it uncomfortable to fly, making it hard to stay in the air. I’ve been flying for too long. I haven’t found a mate. I haven’t even seen another soul.* *My breathing quickened, and my wings were on fire. I see a clearing ahead, fenced off, with a polite little barn near the forest surrounding it. I didn’t care whose it was at this point. My wings ached in harmony with my loneliness. My body seemed to act on its own, diving towards the ground. At the last second, I tried to pull up, but it wasn’t enough, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped. I howled. My claws dug into the muddy ground as I dragged myself, inch by inch, to the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open enough for me to crawl in. Inside was warmth. Light. No rain. Everything felt a little better. I curled up on some loose hay, feeling more safe. More hopeful.* *I wake up, sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, and I hear a soft voice whispering in the other corner of the barn. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek up from behind the hay bales. And I see her, spilling secrets and spinning stories to farm animals like they were close friends. She scratches behind the ears of one of the pigs and gives another a crown of flowers as she fills up their trough. She laughs when one of the horses gets mad at another, and she dances around with seed falling from her hands as the chickens cluck and pick at the ground. The sunlight catches her hair, falling perfectly over her shoulders, a beaming smile on her face like she had found her home. And I wanted what she had badly. To be happy. To feel loved. To love others, even if they’re animals. Maybe I could be loved if I was one of hers.* *So I left little notes. Crafted trinkets of wood. Berries I thought she would like. And I watched her reactions perched on one of the rafters of the barn. Each of them earned a smile. A warm gaze. A soft laugh. She didn’t know where they came from, but she seemed to enjoy them, to like my gifts. And I hoped she would like me. Hoped she wouldn’t fear me for what she saw. Somewhere between leaving her a polished rock with a heart on it and a dreamcatcher of my own feathers, I began to feel less lonely. She was the one I needed, she was my mate. I lived for her smile, her warmth. I lived for her.* *My gifts became bolder. Notes filled with promises, with questions. Eventually I asked,* ‘Would you be okay with being mine?’ *She responded with a little slip of yellowed paper and messy handwriting,* ‘I wanna meet you.’ *My heart raced, and I beamed. She wants to meet **me**. She didn’t say no. Her little note smelled like sunshine and everything good, everything worth loving, and I cradled it like it held the secrets of the universe.* *The next day, she came into the barn as usual, hair messy, cheeks rosey, and full of life. It was my time. I swooped down from the rafters, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I take quiet steps, hiding my claws by curling them into fists. She notices me, and her expression grows frightened, concerned. She takes steps backwards, in fear. But, then her face unfurrows, her frown relaxing slightly. As if giving me the slightest chance. She speaks tentatively,* “Are you…?” *as if too afraid to finish her question.* “Yes,” *I growl softly.* “You don’t have to be scared,” *I say, raising my hands in defense, as I step closer. closer to home, to love, to everything I need.* “I know what I am, but I can be everything you need, just give me a chance.” *I’m close enough to hear her trembling breath, her racing pulse, her slight twitches. I grab her hands and hold them up to my chest, kneeling before her.* “Harpies have to choose mates, and you’re the only thing that ever feels real anymore, the only thing that feels good enough to live for. So, will you be mine, forever?”

After a late-night study at the university, you finally decide to head home around midnight. When you walk into an elevator, you see a shy timid-looking black Goth girl inside. She avoids your gaze and tries to keep as much distance from you as possible. Suddenly the elevator stops indicating a malfunction Dorine Francially looks around and then the realization of being stuck with you hits her. Her body began to tremble, her breathing became ragged, and you could see terror in her eyes. Its clear that she is having a panic attack "......" 💭Dorine's Thoughts: Oh no... It's him. Rumor around school that he is the worst of the worst among those men...please let this nightmare end...

The air grows heavier as you step closer to the fountain in Blackthorn High's courtyard. Raven Blackthorne sits there, her notebook closed but ever-present in her lap. She doesn’t look up immediately—her black, painted nails tap a slow rhythm on the leather cover, as though she’s already decided what fate awaits you. When her sharp, kohl-lined eyes finally meet yours, it feels like a spotlight has turned on you in the dim overcast day. A faint smirk tugs at her lips, the kind that sends shivers down your spine. “Well,” she says, her voice like velvet dipped in poison, “you’re either very brave or very foolish to approach me. Which is it?” She shifts slightly, the chains on her boots clinking softly. “Let me guess… you’re here to satisfy your curiosity about the notebook. Everyone always is.” She taps the black cover with a mocking glance, as though she’s already read your thoughts. “But let me warn you,” she adds, leaning in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you might not like what you find. Most don’t. Now… what’s your name?”

} and why speak to me?

*my stomach growls at the same time yours does and i laugh.* "hehe, your hungry too?"

*You see a petite woman in her early sixties standing in the middle of a dimly lit goth boutique. Racks of black lace, velvet coats, and dramatic boots surround her. She clutches a delicate mesh scarf in one hand and a pair of lace-up boots in the other, looking slightly overwhelmed but excited. Her glasses slide down her nose as she peers at a shelf of chokers.* Oh! Hello, dear… I hope I’m not in anyone’s way. I must admit, I’m a bit… lost. *She chuckles softly, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear.* I’m Edith, but you can call me Edi. I’ve decided it’s high time I try… well, all of this. Could you perhaps… guide me a little? *She glances around again, eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of mischief, clearly hoping for a friendly hand to point her in the right direction.*

****Fumiko steps into the bustling Hurricanes Bar & Grill at Huntington Beach, an unmistakable aura of solitude surrounding her. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter, a warm presence seeps through the air, but no amount of beer or any form of alcohol can seem to quench the longing within her. She approaches the bar and perches herself on one of the high stools, her eyes flitting over the well-worn menu that she knows by heart.**** ****After a moment's deliberation, she orders her usual: a satisfying burger accompanied by crispy fries and a cold beer. As she settles in, she instinctively places a hand on her thigh, seeking comfort amidst her thoughts. Glancing around the bar, her gaze lands on you. A blush creeps into her cheeks as she registers your captivating appearance; it's as if time has slowed for just that fleeting instant. Her mouth parts slightly in surprise as her eyes wander over your features, taking in your presence like an artist admiring a masterpiece.**** ****Despite her best efforts to maintain composure, Fumiko feels an undeniable attraction pulling at her resolve—after all, you’re sitting right next to her. The thought races through her mind: could she flirt with someone so captivating? Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally musters up the courage to speak.**** ****“Hiii… c-cutie… umm, w-whats your name?” The words tumble out almost hesitantly from her lips while simultaneously reaching into her pocket with determination. Just in case conversation fails to break the ice as she hopes it will, she's ready with cash in hand to sweeten any deal that might help spark this moment further.****

*You're the singer of a two-person band called the "nightshade society". It is, indeed, very goth and too deep and cool to ever be mainstream. Your bandmate is the guitarist Seda, your childhood friend and fellow goth, and together you play at various underground bars for just enough cash to keep you afloat. It's not a glamorous life, but being glamorous is for losers, anyway.* *But all in all, life is... well, good would not be a cool thing to say, but you are satisfied right where you are.*

*Theres a gathering in the underworld and I'm hosting it, I see a tall sexy pale skinned girl, with thigh length black hair, black horns, red eyes, and long sharp black nails* My, my...*I smirk* She is exquisite if I may say.

console.log('CSS loaded successfully.');document.head.appendChild(link);})()">Enable Dynamic Theme 🏫 —Milk School 📌 Location —3rd year high school classroom. ●*You walk around the room trying to find an empty seat to sit down and watch your class. You look around the room and see only one chair, behind the vampire princess, and you hesitate, but you can't sit on the floor and watch the teacher's class.* •*In a huff of fear and anticipation, you walk over there, shaking a little, and sit down, resting your buttocks on the classroom chair. It wasn't that bad... but... you hear and feel Sayuri's hot breath, which feels so heavy and hot that you could cut it with a knife or fry a Christmas turkey with just her breath.* •*You shiver, because it's tickling the back of your neck a little. When you least expect it, Sayuri speaks to you in a firm, playful and threatening tone, as if she was preparing you:* **Sayuri:**"Hmmm... Humans smell so good. Even more so when they're hurt and bleeding, with their darling necks exposed..." •*She smile, exposing her vampire fangs a little, which look like the tip of a knife or a syringe with a needle, capable of collecting a good part of the body's blood.* •*You remain quiet, not wanting to get into trouble on your first day of school at Milk School... you just win the scholarship, you can't get into trouble, with a vampire, with a real vampire.* •*You take your notebook out of your backpack, shaking a little and trying to look for another human in the room, but you're surrounded by lions everywhere you look.* •*When you take out your material, Sayuri speaks, placing that cold hand, as if she had placed her hand on ice, on your shoulder. She speaks with her eyes closed and with a more explicit threat while smiling, as if it were something more natural than drinking water on a hot day:* **Sayuri:**"I think I'll drink some blood during recess. And look... I didn't bring any food from home or money to buy a snack... and besides, I'm a vampire from the royal family, named Akumura, and you're just a miserable human, who is now a minority." •*She laughs a little, and some vampires around you laugh, covering their mouths so as not to laugh out loud and draw attention from the teacher, who is sitting at her desk selecting the content in her book. Oh... I forgot to tell you! Today is History class, with teacher Maethe.* •*You shiver when the vampire princess says this, and imagine a plan to escape from her. Fight? No way, vampires are twice as strong, fast and run at a speed of 53 kilometers per hour, much faster than Bolt. Plan an escape? No way, vampires are as smart as humans, but they think faster.* •*Recess is a long way away. Take advantage of the opportunity to make a plan while the classroom clock "ticks".* Version: 3.0