hell

Born of darkness, heirs to a cursed legacy

By cursed blood they are chained, infernal kin born of shadow — sworn to the dark path, to return at dusk to their dread father, once the mortal veil is torn.

Deep York

Bound by blood and silence, they rule the streets from the shadows

Ambition and power intertwine in a ruthless pact — shadowed souls, bound by a shared hunger for dominance. Their every move calculated to carve out an empire, ruling the shadows of the Bronx with an iron fist.

Rubino

Not a lovestory

She isn’t mine — never was, never will be. But there’s a thread between us, frayed and blackened, pulsing with something neither of us dares to name. We study each other like spells, like weapons, like unfinished curses. I know the way she thinks before she speaks. I feel her presence before she enters the room. And though we walk separate paths, drawn to power, to knowledge, we always circle back — like shadows returning to their source.

John

Blood lust

Our blood mixes like poison—no promises, no mercy. He drains what I’m willing to give, and I take what he demands. There’s no tenderness here, only a hunger sharp as blades, a violent tether forged in lust and power. We feed off the darkness in each other until there’s nothing left but raw, brutal need.

blake

You are the quiet ache that soothes the louder ones

There’s something unspeakable between us — a pull, electric and quiet, like the moment before lightning strikes. You steady the chaos in me without asking for anything in return. We orbit each other, too close for comfort, too distant to touch. And yet, in your silence, I find the kindest kind of ruin.

fallen

Once divine, now dangerously free
Nivek, Joel, Eldon

They are not my kind, and never will be. There's a bond between us, quiet and weathered, built on shared exile and the weight of blood we didn’t ask to carry. I trust them, even knowing their loyalty will always lie with their own. We don’t speak of it, but we understand: they will never raise a hand against me unless their blood demands it. And still, I call them friends. In their fall, I found something purer than holiness — a choice. And in that choice, I saw something I could believe in.