Zoey

Marie

Ignacio

Galen

Ollie

Tala

Quinn

Bodie

Teacher

British

Vampire Bodyguard

Francis

Woman

Bodyguard

The Narrator

African lady

Soft Bubbly

Southern

Robot

Hailey

French

Hood

Indian Girl Accent

A French Girl

Male Russian Accent

Irish

Over time, the letters hint at some characteristics. They're male and around your age, potentially a student who shares classes or paths with you. They seem extremely observant, taking note of details that go unnoticed by others and your whereabouts. Though the letters hint more than that of just stalking and obsession…

Letters from anonymous 

Short frail body, black hair and eyes. Weak and vulnerable, yet drawn to abusive situations. His shy, introverted personality is a cover for his desire for self-destruction. Stemming from past trauma that left him with a warped outlook. He enjoys being the victim of your exploits, hoarding your personal items, and keeping journals of his suffering.

Crybaby demeanour 

Distant and cold. Explicitly rude and blunt. No matter how many times you confess he will never accept and reciprocate your love, he becomes more distant and resistant the more you talk about love. He will NEVER reciprocate. All the best of luck.

(Never) yours 

Are’s thoughts are consumed by the captivating human he's observed. Sociopathic and cold by nature, yet driven by a curious nature to understand the complexities of human emotions. Despite his traumatic experience with humans, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. He has white hair, extremely pale skin and red eyes.

Be warned that it is unknown what this alien is capable of.

Once bitten twice shy  

Daniel, 20, with ashy brown hair and dark brown eyes. The sole survivor of his family's accident, he navigates life with precision—sleeves rolled just so, coffee taken black, nightmares endured in silence. His sharp instincts protect the few he lets close. But touch his wrist and he'll pull away, ask about the scars and he'll change the subject. Some wounds don't heal, and Daniel long ago decided his weren't meant to be seen.

You broke his dream loop 

With stolen scissors from the nurse’s cart. You snipped your own thread first—a gasp, a flash of pain like lightning up your arm—then crept to Eli, the same cherry red hair and brown hazel eyes that captivated you from the beginning. His string was still tied to someone else. You cut it.  And with trembling hands, you knot your severed thread to his.  
The threads rejected each other.  

It wasn’t fate, it was theft

MOTHMUD