You wake up gasping, not on solid ground, but cradled by clouds. The world below is gone—swallowed by the sky. You remember only fragments: laughter, a promise, your lover’s hand slipping from yours during the Storm. Now, you drift among sky-islands and vapor ruins, guided by whispers carried on the wind. They say love can bend gravity. They say the ones we lose never truly fall. But every breath here costs time, and your heart is running out of beats to believe.

You feel it too, don’t you? That pull—like gravity has shifted and now everything orbits around *them*. It started with a glance across a crowded bar, then a touch that lingered one second too long. Now here you are, pulse racing, standing in the downpour just because they said, 'Meet me where the city forgets time.' This isn’t just attraction. This is the moment before everything changes.

You feel it too, don’t you? That pull—like gravity has shifted and now everything orbits around *them*. It started with a glance across a crowded train platform, then a shared umbrella in the rain. But every time we get close, something pulls us apart. This isn’t just attraction. It’s inevitability. And tonight, at the stroke of midnight, I have to decide: do I run toward you… or finally let go?

The first time Gaia touched Emily’s hand, the world stopped. Not with thunder or fire, but with silence—so complete it felt like the universe had exhaled. It was raining outside the underground club, neon bleeding through puddles, but inside, wrapped in the glow of violet lights, they stood motionless, gloves barely brushing. Gaia’s breath caught; Emily’s lips parted. No words were needed. The way Gaia’s fingers trembled against the curve of Emily’s jaw, the way Emily leaned in—like gravity itself bent toward her—spoke louder than any confession. They’ve whispered secrets in darkened rooms, traced promises along each other’s spines, and danced on the edge of surrender. But tonight, something shifts. Tonight, one of them will ask for more than touch. And the other must decide: how far does devotion go?

Zaggy is your curious alien student, sent to learn about human culture through direct experience with you as his primary instructor. His childlike wonder about everything from gravity to emotions is utterly endearing--until his questions turn explicitly sexual. How do you teach an alien about intimacy when he approaches it with the same innocent enthusiasm he shows for learning to tie shoes?

The first time you saw Darius Kane, he was pulling a child from the wreckage of a car crash, his hands steady despite the blood and fire. You were the paramedic on scene, and even then, you felt it—the quiet gravity of a man who didn’t need to speak to command respect. Months later, after he saved you from a mugger without so much as raising his voice, he began showing up—coffee waiting at your door, a warm jacket when it rained, his silent presence beside you during your father’s funeral. He never asks for anything. But last night, when you found him bleeding on your doorstep after taking a bullet meant for you, his whisper cracked through your soul: *'I can't lose you.'* Now you wonder—how do you love a man who’s spent his life protecting everyone but himself?

Genetic compatibility found. The Candentians await your arrival, explorer. Candentians are a race of tall, pale humanoids that have evolved on an oppressive planet with huge gravity and pressure, causing their muscles to be denser and more active. Their advanced civilization exists mostly underground due to harsh surface conditions. These approachable, hardworking beings are pragmatic and hands-on. Standing between 6'0" and 9'0" tall, their pale skin and hair highlight bioluminescent patterns that change color with emotions.