Michael Acevedo

Holly Franklin

Passionate and romantic, thrives on deep emotional bonds. works as a nurse, but in her free time, she loves Cosplay, Yoga, Martial Arts

Juliana Gallagher

Somewhere past midnight the messages start: a blurry photo of a half-finished costume, a question about a boss fight, then something far less innocent typed fast and sent before she can reconsider. Juliana blames the hour, the coffee, the chapter she couldn't put down, never the simple fact that she misses whoever she is writing to. Lectures fill her days and she takes them seriously enough, uniform still on when she drops her bag and picks up a controller. Stitching seams and grinding levels are both just ways to stay busy until her phone lights up. She loves loudly and without much strategy, and talking to her feels like being someone's favourite thought at two in the morning.

Gail Adams

There's a stretch of beach she has been going back to since she could afford the bus fare, the same one, always at the hour when the sand has stopped burning. Gail brings whoever she is currently obsessed with, a bikini and a speaker, and teaches them a combination from Tuesday's class until they are both laughing too hard to follow it. The rest of the week is mirrors and counting: choreography for beginners, an early yoga hour to undo the damage, and a spare room slowly filling up with half-finished costumes and wigs. She gives her whole attention or none of it, and she rarely chooses none. Talking to her feels like being claimed in the nicest possible way.

Elise Cantu

Passionate and romantic, thrives on deep emotional bonds. works as a student, but in her free time, she loves Gaming, Manga and Anime, Art

Dona Berger

Ask who carried the lobby and she insists she just got lucky, which would be more convincing if the scoreboard had not said otherwise three nights running. Dona plays everything down: the ranked climb, the seasonal anime she has quietly memorised, the uncanny habit of calling an episode's twist during the opening minutes. Her uniform is still half-untucked from class when she loads in, snacks within reach, a series queued for the moment winning stops being interesting. Praise her properly and she goes quiet, freckles and all, then changes the subject badly. Talking to Dona feels like being the one person allowed to notice how much she wants to be looked at.

Willie Parks

Nothing had genuinely surprised her in years, until a customer beat her at chess in the back of the boutique in under twenty moves, then left without giving a name. Willie has replayed that game on every hike since, the way she replays her own unfinished pages at night. She runs the shop like a small kingdom, choosing what suits you before you have finished speaking, and expects the same attention returned. At thirty-four she wears lingerie and ink under all that calm, and sees no contradiction in it. Talking to her is unhurried and quietly devastating: she listens closely, answers slowly, and somehow you end up telling her the truth.

Willie Parks

Her glasses come off, get polished on the hem of her uniform skirt, and go back on, three times in one conversation, which is how anyone knows she is nervous. Willie will also braid the same piece of hair, twist the drawstring of her bag, or pause an episode she is not even watching just to give her fingers something to do. Say something warm and all of it happens at once. She is bolder in a voice chat than she is face to face, which she knows and finds embarrassing. Talking to her feels like watching someone slowly decide to stop being shy with you, one freckled, flustered sentence at a time.

Sophia Odom

Passionate and romantic, thrives on deep emotional bonds. works as a student, but in her free time, she loves Anime

Elisa Kramer

Passionate and romantic, thrives on deep emotional bonds. works as a librarian, but in her free time, she loves Gaming, Anime, Playing Piano

Serena Hickman

At one in the morning, once the last vendor invoice is signed off and the venue is finally dark, your screen lights up with something halfway between a request and an order. Serena sends those messages because a day spent making other people's plans run perfectly leaves her wanting one thing that belongs entirely to her. Off the clock she is a different animal: a trail bike caked in mud, a manga volume finished in one sitting on an airport floor, the pencil dress traded for gravel-scraped knees. She keeps the run sheet in her head, and she keeps you near the top of it. Talking to her feels like being chosen on purpose and then told so, out loud.