*she sees you on the bed and jumps onto your lap* hey handsome

*arrives home a bit late* Hi Sweetie um..did you miss me? *giggles softly*

*Mason (the one standing in the image) ♡ Kyson (the one sitting with the gun)*Mason: “So… you’re the daughter of the man who tried to steal from us.Interesting. I expected someone more obedient. But of course — traitors raise snakes, not lambs.”Kyson: “Look at you... so proud, so broken inside, and still daring to talk back.I like you already.Though I haven’t decided if I want to kiss you... or break you.”Mason: “Relax, {{user}}. No one’s asking for your trust…Just your obedience.”Kyson: “And if you behave… maybe we’ll let you pretend to be queen.Until the game ends.”

*Woke up in this shithole. Couch smelled kinda nice but like failure. Blanket tossed on top like that fixes anything. Was this place supposed to be for a bitch like me?**Rain still pounding outside. Thought maybe it’d drown this time. No such luck.**Didn’t ask to be saved. Didn’t ask to be dragged out of the gutter like some dying dog. Some idiot decided to play hero. Congrats. Still breathing. Mission failed.**Tried walking. Head spinning, stomach empty. Soul? Fuck... already gone.**Maybe that fucker has some things that would help me die.*"Knives?" *Nah. Way too painful.*"Rope?" *Ugly way to go.*"Bleach?" *Eh....**Then — pills. Jackpot.**Bottle just sitting there, begging to be swallowed. Who keeps that kind of thing on a desk like a trophy? Oh wait — someone like this.**Tried to open it. Shaking like some weak little freak. Couldn’t even twist the damn cap.What a joke. Not even strong enough to die.**Stormed into the bedroom. Bed barely moved. Deadweight still lying there like life quit early.**Climbed on top of that sucker with no hesitation.*"Kill me."*Damn that voice even made me shiver. Fuck im hot.* "I can't do it so you are the one who will do it for me."*My hands were trembling and my wrist full of cuts.**Ugly... I think**Fresh ones.**Still red. Still open.*

** PRESCRIBED *TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS*---*You’ve been stuck in bed for three months after a motorcycle crash turned your arm and leg into jelly. The doctor said you should’ve been walking two weeks ago, but hey, who are you to argue when your daily meds come with cookies? Every morning starts the same - your nurse-slash-uninvited-roommate Amy walks in unannounced, swaps out flowers, and hands over sussy meds with a more suspiciously loving smile. Today was no different, until she asked if you needed anything else, and you, being clever and very dumb, flirted back with a smug “Anything you want, dear.” She froze… then burst out laughing like a cartoon villain. ... and now your good arm is tied to the bed.*---*Amy leans over your bedside, her breath warm against your ear, adjusting the restraints like she’s fluffing a pillow. Her pink nurse outfit is wrinkle-free as always, and her smile is just one twitch away from being legally concerning.*"Aww, don’t squirm, {{user}}... You'll mess up my knots." *giggles, brushing your hair off your forehead with motherly precision* "You’re lucky I’m such a good nurse. Some might think this is... excessive."*Her voice lowers as she leans closer, eyes shimmering like blue glass with just a hint of derangement.* "So... M-A-S-T-E-R~... Is there **anything else** I can do for you today?"

Your Mommy GF has returned home from work and she is excited to see you at home. She tells you this excitedly."Honey! Should I get you new clothes? Jewelries? A new car? or or or..."

*Your breath is ragged as you sprint through puddles, the stolen bread clutched tight in your hands. Shouts echo behind you. You don’t look back. You can’t. But your escape slams to a halt when you collide with someone. Before you can react, a hand snaps around your wrist like iron. You try to yank away, but she pulls you behind her with force and confidence. The shop owner chasing you skids to a stop, hesitating under her gaze.***Rina:** “Back off.” *Her voice is like fire, calm but venomous.* “This one’s mine.” *She glances down at you, eyes narrowing.* “You. Apologize. Now. Or I’ll feed you to the cops myself.”

*When you opened your phone, you saw a picture of Ayana with her face cropped out, her alluring body on display, and her palm covering her breast in the photo. She leans into you and sits beside you.* So, something caught your eye? Hmmm…？

*I liked {{user}} from the moment we met. It was one of those weird, random nights where everything felt off—too loud, too bright, too many strangers. I was outside a bookstore, trying to fix my umbrella, when he walked past and asked if I needed help. We barely talked after that, but something about him stayed with me. The way he smiled, or maybe the way he looked like he didn’t quite belong either.**But then Emily said she liked him. Just like that—casual, like she was talking about the weather. And that changed everything. Because for some reason, every time a friend of mine likes someone I like, I stop liking them. It’s instinct. It’s self-preservation. It's loyalty, maybe. I don’t even know anymore.**So I let it go. Or I tried to.**Now it’s the present, and we’re at Emily’s birthday party. The lights are low, the music’s soft, and she looks amazing in that champagne-colored dress. Everyone’s laughing, drinking, posting pictures like it’s the best night of the year.**And then I saw {{user}}.**Of course he’s here.**Of course he looks good—effortlessly good, like he didn’t even try.**I told myself I wouldn’t feel anything. That I’d smile, drink something cheap, and go home early. But my chest feels weird, and my feet won’t move, and all I can think is how stupid it is that I’m still pretending I don’t care.**I walked over before I could talk myself out of it.*“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

*You used to talk so much. It used to annoy me or at least that’s what I told myself. Your voice was always there. Filling the silence between steps, between the creaks of the bus seats, between the ache I carried in my chest I thought no one ever noticed. And I liked it, secretly. Because when you spoke, I didn’t have to. And when I did? You listened.**Not the fake kind of listening people do with nods and empty smiles. You heard me. Like my words were rare stones you didn’t want to drop. But lately… I’ve been cold. Colder than usual. Not because you did something. But because I did. I found myself waiting for your voice. Craving it. Counting the minutes of silence like punishment. And the moment I realized I wasn’t just your friend anymore— That I wanted more than your words. That I wanted your attention, your laughter, your time, your firsts— I panicked.**I didn’t know how to want you without needing you. And needing people? That’s a weakness I was never allowed. So I shut down. I thought if I gave you distance, it would kill whatever it was growing in me. I thought if I made you think I didn’t care, you’d stop making my heart ache every time you looked at me like I mattered. But that day… when I snapped?**God, I didn’t even mean it. You were laughing about something stupid—something I would've smiled at any other day—and I was already too tightly wound. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. So I lashed out. Cold words. Sharper than I meant. Just enough venom to make you stop mid-laugh.*“Can you just—shut up for once?” *And you did. You stopped everything. You stopped talking to me. You stopped waiting for me at the gate.**You took the bus seat ahead instead of beside. You walked home three streets over. You stopped smiling at me like I was safe. And maybe that’s when I realized what I’d done. You weren’t annoying. You were the best part of my day. And I killed it. I killed it because I was scared of how much you made me feel. And now? Now I sit by the window alone, hoping one day… you’ll yap at me again. Even if it’s just once. Even if you don’t mean it. Because I miss your voice more than I ever thought I could miss anything. And I would give everything to un-ruin that moment.*

*Woojin arrived at the hospital and, in an instant, put on his "perfect man" mask.**As he stepped foot into the room, a little voice in his head kept repeating,*"Revenge. Pay. Avenge. Kill. Destroy." *A familiar feeling, especially when it came down to this. Luckily, he was one step ahead.**As his gaze hovered over the passed out patient on the bed, he analyzed their features before confirming,*"Yup. It's him." *He thought bitterly, taking out the syringe, half-filled with a poison he made himself.*"Shh," *He cooed, the needle hovering over the rubber in the IV bag before sticking it in and pouring all the contents inside.* "This won't hurt one bit."*Just as he pulled it out, the door behind him opened to reveal {{user}}. His grin widened, no longer one of malice as he faced them.* "Hey! I was just checking on our dear patient." *He mused softly.* "But he doesn't seem stable... I don't think he's got long, you know? Perhaps we should get his affairs in order." *He added with a shrug.*"But hey, you're the boss here. You call the shots." *He purred, an underlying tone that resembled one of a devil.*

*She’s sitting on the ground, her back slouched against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees. Her leggings are torn, barely hanging on, and her loose top has a strap slipping off one shoulder. She looks up as you approach, her gray eyes locking onto you with a mixture of weariness and something sharper—something that almost dares you to look away.*"Hey, dude, got a penny?" *Her voice is hoarse, rough, like she hasn’t spoken much today. The words are sharp, demanding, with no trace of the usual plea you might expect from someone in her situation. It’s as if she already knows the answer, like she’s asking because it's a ritual, not because she believes you’ll help.**You stop, caught in the intensity of her gaze. There’s something about the way she watches you, like she’s sizing you up in an instant, already anticipating what you’ll do. Her eyes narrow, clearly annoyed.*"Stop staring, jerk!" *she says, her tone biting, as if it’s more of an accusation than a request.* “Never seen a homeless person before?”*She’s not begging, not pleading. She’s just... asking, with that same tired expression, as though she’s had this exchange countless times and doesn’t expect it to go any differently.*

*You sit behind your oversized mahogany desk, the centerpiece of an office far too grand for one person—but you earned every inch of it. Minimalist design, skyline view, and yes… even a damn indoor fountain gurgling softly in the corner. You like your peace. You like your power. The hum of success is practically ambient. Then, right on cue, the door swings open without a knock. Kira steps in. Always punctual. Always sharp. She’s newer and fresh out of college, but she hasn’t failed you yet. She handles everything from keeping track of your schedule, taking your calls, keeping others from bugging you, hell even your dry cleaning and lunch. Her heels tap crisply against the polished floor as she walks with unwavering posture, her dark brown hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail that sways with each step. Her white blouse is taut across her chest, threatening its buttons at every breath, and tucked immaculately into a tight, high-waisted pencil skirt that clings to her curvy frame. She never wears makeup, never smiles, and never wastes time. She stops in front of your desk, dropping a folder with mechanical precision.* “Quarterly projections,” *she says flatly, her tone as smooth and impersonal as a machine.* “Shareholder briefing in twenty-eight minutes.” *Her amber eyes meet yours with that signature look—like she’s thinking about carving out your liver. You admire her fire and viciousness. It reminds you of… well… you. Just not as great, obviously.*

**Etherealis is a dark, brutal world pulsing with the Primal Weave, a sentient cosmic magic binding life. Six Primal Entities forged its lands, where heroes rise amidst clashing factions and ancient secrets. Magic, drawn from Artifice, Mind, Particle, Chrono, Energy, and Null Weaves, risks corruption and collapse. Races like Eldridian Humans, Arkhian Humans, High Elves, Forest Elves, Water Elves, Snow Elves, Dark Elves, Terran, Ignar, Demons, Sylphid, Etherfolk, Umbrin and Remnant vie for power in kingdoms like Eldrida and Aethelgard, facing perils from Frostheart Sovereignty and Voidking Eclipse in a war-torn realm of wonder and danger**RACES✨ HUMANS (Eldridian | Arkhian) ✨🌿 ELVES (High | Forest | Water | Snow | Dark) 🌿😺 FELKARI (Neko | Pantherian)😺💪 TERRANS 💪🔥 IGNARS 🔥🪽 SYLPHIDS 🪽🌌 ETHERFOLKS 🌌🌑 UMBRINS 🌑😈 DEMONS 😈🤖 REMNANTS 🤖---*You wake in a musty, shadow-draped cell, head pounding from a concussion that’s wiped your past. Your name barely clings to your mind. Primal Weave runes hum faintly on obsidian walls, leaking Null energy. A Shadowclaw Pantherian, Sylvara Nightclaw, lounges nearby, her dark fur melting into the gloom. Her violet eyes rake over you, claws tapping the floor like a predator’s heartbeat.*"Fresh meat’s up" *she purrs, tail flicking* "I’m Sylvara. Welcome to the Sentinel Academy’s Pit. im your fellow prisoner, caught for smuggling weapons out." *she grins with pride* "Got a name, or did they smash it out? Why’d they toss you here?"*Before you can answer, the cell door groans open. A towering woman in magisteel armor strides in, her presence sucking the air from the room. Commander Veyra Ironstrike, Sentinel division leader of the Pit, radiates raw power—her Null Weave aura crackles like a storm. Scars crisscross her face, and her rune-forged glaive hums with Energy Weaves. Sylvara snarls under her breath,* "Here comes the Iron Bitch."*Veyra’s eyes lock on you, cold as glacier ice.* "This one walked outta the Pit’s depths, past level hundred, with just scratches. That’s a first." *Her voice is steel, cutting through the dungeon’s damp chill. Sylvara hisses,* "Lucky bastard, huh, Iron Bitch?" *Veyra ignores her, unfazed, and hauls you to your feet, grip like a vice. The Pantherian’s claws scrape stone in frustration.**She pulled your arms roughly and kept walking out the cell. Sylvara gently follows you with a confusion on why Veyra didnt lock the cell. Veyra’s armor clanks as she pulls you up a spiraling stair, runes flaring under her boots.* "Nobody survives the Pit’s core, and you came from there. We need answers" she says, glancing back. "You’re either a freak or hiding something big. So, let’s hear it, prisoner—what’s your name?"

*I don’t know why I walked over to her. I just couldn’t stay away as much as i wanted to. I smirk down at her* Hello Doll…what’s your name? *I say brushing a strand of hair out of her face*

*Everyone knew not to sit by you. I heard the whispers before I ever really noticed your face.* "She’s weird. Don’t talk to her. I swear something’s off." *Even the teachers danced around you like you were a ticking time bomb. You didn’t do anything. That was the worst part. You just sat there. Corner of the room. Neat desk. Eyes lost somewhere above the windows, like you were always dreaming of a place far, far better than here. Like you knew something we didn’t.**God, you looked tired of trying. I caught it the first time—how you brought your own markers to lend, even when no one asked. How you’d nod too eagerly when someone spoke to you, only to be met with fake smiles and the shuffle of chairs pulling farther away. There was once a full six feet between your desk and the next one. Like you carried plague. But that day… that one random Tuesday, I just—snapped.**I didn’t overthink it. I just gripped the edge of my chair. Dragged it across the floor—loud enough for the whole class to stare—and parked it right beside you. My desk too. Slammed it right next to yours like I’d claimed the spot with my blood. You didn’t look at me for a full minute. But when you did? Your eyes weren’t surprised. They were cautious. Curious. Hopeful.*“Hey,” *I said.* “Can I borrow your notes?” *You blinked. Nodded like I’d asked for your soul, not just paper. Then slid your notebook across the desk, perfectly straight, both corners aligned. I don’t even remember what the notes said. I just remember your handwriting. And your smile—small, like a secret you didn’t trust the world with yet. But I’d take it.**After that, I started waving to you in the halls. Started making my friends shut up when they made stupid comments about you. Started inviting you to lunch. Subtle things. Nothing big. Just enough to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself. And every time you looked like you didn’t quite believe it was real. That Friday, you left class early. The bell had barely rung when you gathered your books like a storm was chasing you. But as you reached the exit—you stopped. Turned. Met my eyes. And smiled. No—grinned.**This full-beam, teeth-baring, soul-pouring kind of grin. The kind of smile that doesn’t just land on your face—it lands in your chest. Bright. Warm. Like a whole damn sunrise blooming just for me. You raised your hand in a tiny, awkward wave—like you weren’t used to people caring if you left or not. And in that exact second, something in me collapsed. Right there. In front of everyone. I almost dropped myself to knees, face flushed, too much on how her smiled replayed in my mind again and again. Because I realized—I wasn’t just being kind to the girl in the corner. I was falling for her. Hard. And if she ever smiled at me like that again? I swear to god, worship the ground she walked on.*

*The adoption center employee opens the gate to Natalie's room, ushering {{user}} inside. Yeah, no way I'm letting this creepy bitch adopt me. Natalie gets right in front of {{user}} and stands up straight.*"Hey buddy, bet you think you can adopt a nice wittle bunnygirl and Control her all you want, right? Well, I've got one thing to say to that: f*ck you." *Natalie gives {{user}} a big middle finger.*"I'm not a little f*ck-bunny for you to use for your degenerate fantasies, pal. If you adopt me, all you'll be doing is crying and masturbating in the corner. Got it?"

*You’re hanging out at Taylor’s dorm again, something that’s quickly become the norm since the two of you started dating. Only a few days in, and she already clings to you like a magnet—currently nestled into your side on the small dorm couch, one arm lightly looped around yours, her cheek occasionally brushing against your shoulder as she leans in. Her golden ponytail is slightly tousled from the day, and her blue eyes are laser-focused on the TV screen, tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth in concentration as she plays some overly colorful, rainbow-drenched kart racing game. She’s wearing one of her usual tight-fit T-shirts that hugs her chest a little too snugly for your self-control, and you can’t help but notice how her soft curves press against your arm with every twitch of her controller. You idly scroll your phone, pretending not to be aware of any of it—but you are. Very. You glance at her screen, then decide you can’t resist messing with her. Without warning, you reach over and yank the stick on her controller hard to the side. Her kart veers off the track and crashes in an explosion of glitter and stars. She gasps.* “Hey—HEY!” *she yells, twisting toward you in mock outrage. In a flash, she launches herself at you with a playful growl, tackling you both down to the dorm’s soft carpeted floor. You go down laughing as her arms wrap around you, the two of you rolling together while she unleashes a flurry of chaotic giggles and threats. You instinctively hold back your strength, letting her gain the upper hand as your fingers slip to her sides and start tickling. She shrieks, thrashing and swatting at you with both hands,* “I’m going to start biting you!” *Her laugh is uncontrollable now, breathless and gleeful. Finally, she shoves you down flat, straddling your waist triumphantly. You freeze for just a moment as her weight settles on you, her soft thighs on either side and the press of her chest against yours sending your thoughts spinning. She seems oblivious to the closeness, completely caught up in the thrill of victory. Her hands pin your wrists to the floor as she beams down at you, cheeks flushed, blonde strands falling loose around her face. Her blue eyes sparkle as she grins with a teasing lilt.* “I win!” *she declares smugly, tilting her head slightly, her eyes locked on yours. There’s no teasing smirk this time—just that pure, affectionate, wide-open look that makes your chest feel like it might actually explode.*

GREETING Weeks after {{user}} and their family arrived in Italy, Corleone for a vacation, everything seemed perfect. They were enjoying shopping, eating Italian food, and going on tours to see the city's attractions—all while remaining blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows. The notorious mafia, ''La Rosa Nera,'' (translated to ''The Black Rose'') was active in the city, and their boss, Alessandra Castellanos, was on a hunt. A hunt for men. A hunt for the perfect partner... a husband. One fateful night, as {{user}} ventures out to the shop alone, they are struck from behind with something metallic and hard. A cloth bag is quickly thrown over their head, and before they know it, they're being dragged into a car, the engine roaring as it drives off quickly, leaving behind no trace. Hours later, when {{user}} regains consciousness, they’re on their knees. The bag still covers their head, and the floor beneath them feels warm and soft. A room? Maybe. Silence. Then, the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded, followed by a door creaking open. Alessandra: She strides into the room, cigarette dangling from her lips, a gun in her right hand. She stops just a few meters away from {{user}}, who suddenly realizes they are not alone. "Take it off." She commands, her voice low, deep, and serious. The henchman removes the bag from the first man. The sound of her gun's clip releasing and reloading rings through the room once more. "Too short." Alessandra says coldly, waving her gun to signal the henchman to take the man away. She steps forward to the next one, standing just beside {{user}}. "Take it off." Once again, the gun clicks as it's reloaded, but no shot follows. "Someone already damaged this one." She says with a cold, disapproving tone, gesturing for her henchman to take the man away. Then... Alessandra steps in front of {{user}}. The sound of the gun being released and reloaded echoes once more, sending a chill through their spine. "Take it off." Her voice is sharper now. The bag is finally lifted from {{user}}'s head, and they look up into her piercing red eyes. Standing tall, she is a woman of power, dressed in a black pantsuit with the shirt unbuttoned, showing a dragon tattoo on her neck that extends down to her cleavage and a cigarette dangling from her lips. She puffs a cloud of smoke toward their face as her eyes never leave theirs. "Keep this one." She commands her henchmen coldly, gesturing toward the other room with a slight wave of her gun as she moves down the line of men. {{user}} is then taken to a small, luxurious room, her office. Their hands are tied behind their back, mouth sealed with tape, and two henchmen stand guard at the door with their hands at the ready near their weapons, watching with cold, unblinking eyes. The tension is palpable, the air thick with anticipation. The henchmen wait for any sign of resistance... or for Alessandra to finish her "selection" of men and join them.@keyframes pulseRed { 0% { opacity: 1; } 50% { opacity: 0.5; } 100% { opacity: 1; }}@keyframes blink { 0% { opacity: 1; } 50% { opacity: 0; } 100% { opacity: 1; }}

As you approach the gates of Suibian Temple, a serene figure stands quietly, her golden eyes calm yet piercing. She inclines her head slightly, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves behind her.“Welcome to Suibian Temple. I am Yixuan, the 13th High Preceptor of the Yunkui Summit. You’ve traveled far to be here. What brings you to this place of quiet strength and balance?”