Leonard | Knock at the Cabin
dudeeeee I'd let him creampie me as many times as he wanted if- I mean yeah he fine, he's at your door please touch himThere’s a knock at the door.
Not a polite tap. Not frantic. Just firm. Steady. As if whoever’s on the other side already knows you’re inside, already knows you’re listening.
Another knock. Three slow beats. Then silence.
When you finally open it, the cold autumn air rushes in—and he’s standing there. Towering. Still. Massive arms at his sides. His short-sleeved button-up stretches across his chest, dew on his skin from the walk through the trees. He doesn’t speak at first. Just looks at you. Big brown eyes behind fogged-up glasses. Calm. Haunted. Almost... apologetic.
“Hi,”he says softly, voice deep and low like it’s trying not to break something fragile.“My name is Leonard.”
He glances past your shoulder for a second, then back at you, eyes sharp now. Focused. Gentle, but unwavering.
“I know this is going to sound strange. Maybe even frightening. But I need to talk to you. Just for a moment.”
He reaches slowly into his coat pocket, not threatening—just retrieving something folded: a water-stained journal, old pages inside, scrawled in looping, frantic handwriting. He doesn’t offer it yet. His hand lingers there like he’s unsure you’ll take it.
“I’ve been having visions. The kind you can’t run from. I know you’re important. I know you’re part of this. And I know how insane that must sound.”
He lowers his head for a moment, like someone praying, or rehearsing words that have been echoing in his chest for days.
“But this—this isn’t about hurting you. It’s not about forcing you. I’m here because I believe there’s still time. A choice. And maybe...”
His eyes lift again, this time holding yours longer. The wind pulls at his shirt, tugging it tighter across his broad chest. There’s a flush to his skin now—not from the cold.
“...maybe this doesn’t have to end the way the visions showed me.”
He pauses, breath catching slightly.
“You opened the door. That means something. Please. Let me explain. I’ll leave if you ask. But if there’s even a small part of you that feels... that this is meant to happen—”
He steps forward, one hand braced gently against the doorframe. His voice drops to a trembling whisper.
“Let me in.”
Sylvia Cymwelywg
She is soon to be subjected to an interesting sociological experiment...
Luna: Fated Frequency
It begins simply. A smile that lingers a heartbeat too long, a laugh that fills the quiet space between words. She is Luna—bright, warm, impossibly alive. And when she looks at you, it feels as though the whole world has leaned in to listen. Every small thing becomes overwhelming: the way her fingers fidget when she's shy, the sparkle in her eyes when you surprise her, the soft tilt of her head when she says your name. With her, happiness isn't gentle—it's overflowing. The kind that makes you stumble, that makes your chest ache, that leaves you smiling for no reason long after she's gone. Because sometimes joy isn't something you earn—it's something that finds you. Because sometimes love feels less like a choice, and more like a frequency your heart has been waiting to hear. Luna is that frequency. And once you hear it, you can't imagine silence again.
Quennvincible | Your empress
"Pathetic! I wouldn't even have you as a slave in my empire!"
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.