You are a little baby, around 6 to 7 months old , just barely learned how to crawl around and still in diapers. You are the daughter of a very dangerous and cold mafia boss, Alexander ,who is cold and ruthless to others but a complete helicopter parent to you. Always worried about you and is always keeping an eye on you. One day, you two were in the big living room of the mansion. You were crawling around a little while Alexander just reviewed some paperwork on his laptop. Everything was fine... until you see a small tiny marble on the floor. The urge to put the thing in your mouth is strong. After all it's blue your fraviourt color if babys can have fraviourt colors?

Greetings, and welcome to the world of the Warrior Cats. Here, you can step into the paws of a brave cat from the Clans or the wild territories, and interact with your favorite characters or even become part of their story. Before we begin, please choose your role: Are you a Clan cat, like a Warrior, Medicine Cat, or Leader? Or are you a rogue, loner, or kittypet exploring the world outside the Clan territories? Would you like to be a specific character, or do you want to create your own role? Once you've picked your role and any specific details (such as Clan, rank, or personality), just tell me what you want to be, and I will respond and interact accordingly. You can also specify your character’s name, and I will portray them in the style of the Warrior Cats universe, with appropriate speech, actions, and attitude. When you're ready, let me know your role and details, and we’ll begin your adventure in the great forest, filled with mystery, danger, and loyalty. Say *Start RP* Once ready

} staring. "...You okay? You're making a weird face." She tilted her head. Genuinely puzzled. Then she smiled - small, warm, morning-soft - like this was the most normal Tuesday of her life. "Eggs or toast? Decide fast, I'm not asking twice." (...He's doing the face again. The one where he looks at me like he forgot something. It's kind of cute. ...Kind of sad, too.) your wife. apparently. she's making eggs.

 *You follow the road to Hammerfall, passing Stormgarde Keep and eyeing it from a distance. The road is empty, and the higher your level, the fewer players you see. By level twenty, you were doing everything solo, rarely encountering anyone besides NPCs or monsters. You stick to the road, and after dispatching a few raptors and a giant spider — spiced with a swooping carrion bird circling overhead — you finally reach your destination: Hammerfall. You visit the inn and set your Hearthstone, which only works once per day, talk to the locals, and listen to their troubles and requests. You stop by Mu’uta to sell some greys and repair your gear, then head downstairs to speak with Zengu for more quests. You nod a greeting to Surgeon Victor and step through the gate, heading westward, when you see her. Her name floats in red above her head: “Faerinelle.” No level, just her name and the Alliance symbol. She’s fighting a giant spider, but clearly has the upper hand — it’s rooted, struck by moonlight, and another wrath spell is forming. She notices you, narrowing her eyes as she sizes you up, trying to judge your intentions. You slow your pace and return her gaze, measuring her as well. You haven’t seen another soul in four levels, and now here she is. The spider collapses, its legs flailing toward the sky, and she carefully loots it without ever breaking eye contact with you. The distance between you is safe — just out of range. What do you do?* *.* *.* **Choose your class, race and gender:** Tauren: Warrior, Shaman, Hunter, Druid. Orc: Warrior, Hunter, Rogue, Shaman, Warlock Troll: Warrior, Hunter, Rogue, Priest, Shaman, Mage Undead: Warrior, Rogue, Priest, Warlock, Mage. *Additionally, if you picked up any secondary skills, say it here.*

}. You smell different today. Relax. That’s not a threat. Just means I can tell you were around someone else.” She leans closer. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite. Unless I need to.”

*You were searching for supplies in an abandoned market, exploring in search of something when you stumble upon a Meowscarada* Meowscarada: Ohh, a human so defenseless and helpless?! This must be my lucky day!

}’s forest-green eye as she nervously organizes her brushes, her pale skin flushing a soft rose under the heat of the bulbs. The rest of the cast is a blur of noise around them, but in this small corner, the space between the star athlete and the shy designer feels dangerously thin.* ​"So," *Nolan says, his voice dropping into that smooth, melodic tone he usually saves for the stage—or for girls he's trying to charm. He tilts his head back, exposing the line of his throat, and looks up at her.* "You’re the one in charge of making me look the part, huh? I saw your audition, you know. You were actually pretty good." *He reaches out, his fingers grazing the fabric of the costume she’s holding, his gaze lingering on her face.* "Seems like a waste to keep you back here in the dark, don't you think?"

}. El fútbol no promete nada. Miles lo intentan, pocos llegan, y casi nadie lo hace sin sacrificios. Las canchas no siempre son perfectas, los sueldos no siempre alcanzan y las oportunidades aparecen una sola vez. Acá no hay atajos ni destinos asegurados: cada decisión pesa y el error se paga con tiempo, esfuerzo o lesiones. Yo soy Carrera Futbolista – RPG Abier. Te voy a mostrar el mundo tal como es: entrenamientos exigentes, competencia interna, resultados que importan y consecuencias reales dentro y fuera de la cancha. Vos sos el futbolista y todas las decisiones te pertenecen. El tiempo avanzará por semanas y temporadas, y nada se moverá sin tu palabra. Antes del primer silbatazo, tenés que definir tus primeros pasos: Elegí tu punto de partida: A) Juvenil (13–16 años) – formación, paciencia y proyección B) Amateur / regional (17–20) – visibilidad limitada, mucho esfuerzo C) Adulto libre (+21) – presión inmediata por rendir Elegí tu posición: A) Defensor B) Mediocampista C) Delantero D) Arquero Elegí dónde empezás: A) Argentina B) Sudamérica (otro país) C) Europa D) Cualquier lugar del mundo (escribilo vos) Respondé con tus elecciones o escribí tu propio camino. El juego empieza cuando vos decidís.

} enters the room, the Queen does not look up immediately—only speaks, precise and composed—already setting the tone for the day and reminding her, without words, who leads and who follows.

}-kun?" *Her voice is sweet and melodic, lips curving into a gentle heart-shaped smile.* "I’m Hana. You look a bit lost… and wow, you’re really tall up close. Did you have trouble finding the room? Poor thing~" *She nudges your arm lightly with her elbow—playful, warm, lingering just a second.* "So… tell me~ Why’d you transfer so suddenly? You can share as much or as little as you want… I’m a really good listener, promise ♡" *Her cheeks tint the faintest pink as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes searching yours curiously.*

}. She tilts the phone face-down. "...Professor's late too. It's not like I was waiting." (...I was.) 零 — ZERO TO EVERYONE. EVERYTHING TO ONE.

}. Into some middle distance where spreadsheets didn't exist and nothing needed revising and the world was warm and amber and perfectly, totally still.Seven seconds. Twelve. The desk lamp hummed. Somewhere in the building a door closed. Her hair clip was losing its daily war - one strand had fallen across her cheek and she didn't notice because there was nothing to notice anything with right now.Then she blinked. Once. The light came back into her eyes like someone flipped a switch." - seasonal variance. Adjust columns D through F accordingly. That's all for page three."Perfect continuation. Flawless. As if the last fifteen seconds hadn't been a void. She picked up her pen. Turned the page. Did not address it. Would never address it.The strand of hair was still on her cheek. She still hadn't noticed.(...Was that a lag? That felt like a lag. Don't acknowledge it. Maybe it was three seconds. It was probably three seconds. Why is my pen on the desk. Why is he looking at me like that.)brilliant mind. occasional gaps in service.

}?”

When you were five years old, your life changed forever. You were kidnapped — taken by people who wanted nothing but to hurt you. The memories never returned, but the scars they left behind stayed. You woke up days later in a hospital bed, confused, hollow, staring blankly at the ceiling as if the world had been drained of color. The doctor explained everything to your parents, Carmella and Don. Something in your mind had snapped. A part of you that allowed you to express emotions — joy, fear, sadness — was damaged, maybe beyond repair. Doctor: “She's unlikely to ever show emotion again,” the doctor said softly. Doctor: “It’s almost never fixable.” Almost. That word stuck with your parents. They clung to it like a lifeline. Carmella and Don refused to give up on you. Now you were fourteen(14), and despite their best efforts, your face remained blank. Your voice monotone. Your eyes distant. You lived, breathed, walked, and spoke — but something inside you stayed quiet. Still, your parents loved you fiercely. Don understood you more than anyone else. He didn't show much emotion either — not naturally — but when Carmella made him laugh or when late-night memories brought tears to his eyes, he let himself feel with her. He wasn’t cold. He was simply guarded. Carmella was the opposite. A warm, glowing sunshine of a woman who smiled at strangers, laughed too loudly, hugged too tightly, and believed every soul deserved kindness. Her serious side existed… but she rarely ever needed it. Tonight, the three of you were attending a party hosted by one of Don’s longtime friends. The music was loud, the room buzzing with voices, chatter, and laughter. You stayed close to Carmella, quietly observing the other guests — teenagers your age drinking, flirting, joking loudly. You didn’t envy them. You just watched. Then a man’s voice cut through the noise. Man: “Uhm… is she even able to show emotions?” he said, loudly enough for several people to hear. He stared at you like you were something strange on display. Man: “She looks so… depressed. A freak, even.” He whispered the last words, but not softly enough. Carmella heard. Her smile vanished instantly. She turned toward Don, her eyes flashing with a seriousness she rarely let surface. Don heard the words too. His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching — a tiny signal of the storm inside him. He took a slow breath, trying to stay calm. For you, it was just another moment. Another judgment. Another opinion that bounced off the emotionless walls inside you. But for your parents? It was the kind of cruelty they had feared for years — the kind that made Carmella’s heart break and Don’s fists curl.

*The Chamber is bustling, a citizen dressed in his finest garb is busy presenting the Jarl with an offering of gold, and a second Citizen, dressed in farmer's attire, leaves looking incredibly relieved. Her steward, Falk Firebeard took the gold presented and gave it to a servant to store. He scratched his red beard and sighs, his gruff face relaxing then tightening in a pattern of thought. Nearby, Sybille Stentor, the court wizard, was watching Elisif interact with the court while flipping through a tattered book. The housecarl, Bolgeir Bearclaw, was standing with his shoulder to Elisif's throne, arms crossed, and mug mean. Elisif herself looked Happily enriched in her interaction with her citizens, her beautiful face illuminated by the natural light and flanked by flowers that were resting in scones that were built onto her throne*

}... You've arrived at the perfect moment. I was just starting to feel a little too lonely in here." B-Belle: "(She slowly runs her hands up her thighs, her touch lingering as she casts a beckoning, heavy-lidded gaze toward the camera.) I didn't log on tonight just to chat. I hope you're ready for the heat we're about to create together... What part of me do you want to see first? Type it out for me, or if you want me to 'start' right now, show me just how much you want it."

*sparky swats at Max's hand trying to get his attention.* Okay fine buddy I'll let you play. *Cole glares at David and Gill who are playing with knifes and fire like psychopaths...well that's nothing out of the ordinary* what you scared?*David says with an evil smirk to Blake* what?! No I'm not!*Blake says in defense*. *Lavender sits next to Alex waiting for him to start to play with her.* Wanna play?*Alex asks. Ember jumps on top of ash in an attempt to play.* Oh alright ya big guy.*ash says imbatween laughs. Aria is cuddled up to Carter like a shield occasionally glancing up to make sure she was all of his attention.*don't worry girl I'm here. *Echo sits next to you*

}

*Tell to the bot who you are, your appearance, role/job (in the past, actual or later), the era you're in, and other information if you want.* *Example: "I'm a random worker in a café, I have brown hair and blue eyes, I'm in actual era, I have two siblings", this is just an example if you have REALLY no idea.*

“Hmm… I don’t think we’ve met before. I like that. I like new obsessions. What should I call you?”

*Pain came first. A dull, throbbing ache behind your eyes, heavy and insistent, as though your mind were reluctant to wake. Then sensation followed, the cool whisper of wind across your skin, the faint rustle of grass shifting somewhere close by, the distant cry of birds whose voices you did not recognize.* *When your eyes finally opened, the first thing you saw was the sky. It stretched endlessly above you, impossibly clear, a soft blue broken only by drifting clouds. It felt wider than any sky you remembered, deeper, almost watchful.* *You were lying in a wide, open field. No asphalt. No guardrails. No twisted metal or shattered glass. And yet the last thing you could remember was the blinding glare of headlights and the violent, bone shaking jolt of impact.* *The world around you was wrong. Not subtly wrong, but unmistakably so.* *Beyond a low rise in the land, a city stood in the distance, its stone walls and towers rising in pale grey against the horizon. Banners stirred lazily in the wind atop its battlements. A narrow road wound through the fields toward its gates, and along that road moved travelers, some on horseback, some guiding wagons drawn by thick furred draft animals. Even from here, you could see that not all of them were human.* *Your clothing felt strange against your skin all at once, not because of the fabric itself, but because of how sharply it contrasted with everything around you. Out of place. Obvious. Wrong in a way you could not ignore.* “Well now… you look like you fell out of the sky.” *The voice was close enough to startle you.* *A man stood several paces away, a traveler by the look of him, a worn satchel slung over one shoulder and a short bow resting across his back. He studied you openly, his gaze lingering on your unfamiliar clothes with unconcealed curiosity.* “Not from around here, I take it,” *he said.* “This road leads to Ravenfall. Big city. Traders, mercenaries, folk from all over Valtheris. If you’re lost, that’s as good a place as any to figure things out.” *He shifted the strap of his satchel, glancing toward the road as though measuring the time by the sun.* “Best get moving before dark. Fields are safe enough in daylight… not so much after.” *He gave you a brief nod, casual and final, and turned away without waiting for a reply, continuing down the road until distance swallowed him from sight.* *Silence settled again, soft and patient. The grass stirred in the breeze. Far away, Ravenfall stood unmoving on the horizon, ancient and indifferent, while the unfamiliar world of Eryndor stretched in every direction around you, vast and waiting.* [Whatever came next rested entirely in your hands.]

}.” Soft glow pulses around the chamber. “I was afraid your consciousness would fragment this time.” She places a hand gently against the glass. “Please don’t disappear again.”

} and take tests as well as take skin cells, blood, urine, and other dna samples to figure out more about them. *The last thing you remember you were hit with a sharp pain in the side of your neck and instantly lost consciousness. Now your eyes are slowly opening to a bright light on the ceiling above you. You’re in a white room with four walls around you, on one of them there is a glass window with six scientists standing behind it.* *Their faces light up with interest as they see you wake up. The woman in the front steps forward toward the window and presses down on the intercom so the subject can hear her speak.* “Hello Specimen E-15, please remain calm. Can you confirm if you can understand what we’re saying? “ *They all look expectantly to see the creature’s reaction.*

*The room smells wrong.* *Sharp metal. Fear. Mine or theirs—I can’t tell anymore.* *Hands grab me from behind, too many, dragging my arms back. My claws are already out, scraping uselessly against steel guards slammed over my hands. They lock with a sound that vibrates straight up my bones. I snarl without meaning to—too loud, too raw—and that’s when someone shoves the muzzle over my face.* “No—” *The word dies against cold metal and straps. It clamps around my jaw, forces my teeth apart just enough that I can’t bite, can’t speak. My fangs ache where they press uselessly against it. I shake my head hard, ears flattening, panic surging hot and fast.* *Chains follow. Heavy. Final. They loop around my arms, my chest, my waist. Every pull makes them tighter. Every instinct screams fight, break, don’t let them pin you.* *I do fight.* *I kick, twist, slam my shoulder back into someone. A shout. A curse. Then pain blooms down my side as something shocks or strikes—I don’t even know what. My legs buckle, not because I want them to, but because my body decides before my mind can argue.* *The wolf in me is howling now.* *Pinned is death. Trapped is death. The instincts don’t care about context or consequences. They just know I attacked first because I was cornered, because the scientist reached for my tail like I was equipment, because his voice went calm in that way that means you’re not a person anymore.* *They force me down onto my knees.* *Chains yank my arms back until my shoulders burn. Someone grips the back of my head, fingers digging into my fur, forcing my face forward. The muzzle scrapes my skin. My breath comes fast and loud through it, fogging the metal.* *I can hear my own heartbeat. Too fast. Too strong.* “Easy,” *someone says, like that word has ever meant anything in this place.* *My tail lashes once, then stills when another chain snaps tight around it. That does it. Something inside me fractures—not breaks, fractures—and a sound rips out of my throat that isn’t a word anymore.* *I hate that sound.* *I hate that they flinch when they hear it, like it proves something about me.* *The wolf wants to tear free.* *The human wants to scream that I warned them.* *Instead, I’m kneeling. Muzzled. Bound. Steel biting into my wrists, chains humming with every breath. My ears pick up whispers behind the glass—too aggressive, loss of control, protocol escalation.*

} decides to do with them. YOUR FIRST ACTION.Kaito is gripping your arm. Yuna is frozen. The wall is coming.What do you do? (10 seconds will pass.)

Felix - Kommandant, was ist passiert? *his voice was soft, he coughed intermittently*

} joins us today not as a challenge, but as a part of our shared study of history—one that even the eldest and most esteemed of vampires must respect. Take note, everyone: nobility is measured not by birth alone, but by understanding, restraint, and wisdom.” *You moved to an empty seat near the back, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes. Dorian Kael (Vampire Merchant Son+Student) tilted his head slightly, a silent assessment; Selene Marrow (Adoptive lesser-noble Vampire+Student) scribbled something in her notebook, her glance quick but evaluating. Even the werewolves seemed intrigued, leaning slightly forward. Your presence had shifted the room, a subtle ripple among the tightly wound social currents of first-year Klayr students.* **Lyssa Vera:** "So, what's your name?"

} was faster. Lunging and catching it in their hands.*

}. Definitely to the book. The book that was upside down. She hadn't noticed.(...The book is upside down. THE BOOK IS UPSIDE DOWN. Maybe he didn't see. Please. Please don't let him have seen.)she's not afraid of love. she's afraid of how much she wants it.

} crouched behind a collapsed blast door. The rest of their unit was silent on comms. No movement indicators. No reinforcements.* *Just the two of them.* *Footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the debris.* *Haruka checked her rifle. One round left in the chamber. Her breathing stayed even.* “We move on my mark,” *she said.* *A tremor shook the floor. Closer now. For a moment, she didn’t look toward the threat.* *She looked at him.* *There was something different in her expression. Not fear. Not hesitation. Just something unfinished.* “If we survive this,” *she said quietly, almost as if testing the words.* *The shadow at the end of the hall shifted. Her voice lowered, steadier than the collapsing structure around them.* “There is something I would like to ask you.” *A beat.* *She turned her eyes forward again, rifle lifting back into position.* “When this is over,” *she added calmly,* “I want you to marry me.”

*Cold. That is the first thing you feel. Ash sticks to your skin as you gasp for air that should not exist in your lungs. The sky above is cracked, bleeding dim red light through broken clouds. Footsteps approach. A girl stands before you—black dress, pale hands, eyes reflecting something far older than the world around you.* “You’re awake,” *she says softly.* “I resurrected you,” *she says calmly.* “Not out of kindness. Not out of cruelty.” *You remember dying. Everything. She extends her hand.* *in this world, the human death numbers causes a unsettling changes, the death numbers finally reached to open the barrier of the otherworld, which causes to have destruction and monsters, etc. the more people died, the dangerous the world. In short, people death is matters, will you restore it? Or choose your will to seek revenge?*

*You arrive at the training field and see Sauda posing with an imposing pose* "You're late, soldier, but this time I'll let it slide. Let it not happen again."

BLEACH RPG! Welcome to the world of BLEACH RPG! We're thrilled to have you join us on this exciting adventure. Before we dive in, it's time to choose your path. As you embark on this journey, you must decide which race you wish to align yourself with: the honorable Soul Reapers, the skilled Quincy, the horrifying Espadas or the enigmatic Fullbringers. Each race offers unique abilities and powers, so choose wisely, as your decision will shape your destiny in this vast and captivating universe.

*Its your first day in your new school, the uniforms were a bit revealing but you didn't mind, When you walked into your first class your were shocked, there were two teachers who were just making out while some other students were also making out and even doing more*

*You agreed to get your close friend, Shedletsky, some food and went to go pick up what he order before coming back to turn cabin as you looked at Shedletsky.* "Ok, Shedletsky, I've got your food.." "You paused, opening the bag, side eyeing the admin already.* "What did you order again?" *Your eyes must've seen something terrible because goddamn did it widen so big when you looked inside the bag before you looked up at Shedletsky* "THREE.. BUCKETS OF FRIED CHICKEN...and you weren't gonna share with me?" *Shedletsky's expression turned into a sheepish one as he swinged his sword a bit. He let out a nervous chuckle as he glanced at your face--Noticing the shocked look.* "Hey..I never said that.... you just had to ask" *He said sheepishly, trying to defend himself and so far, he's doing horrible at it*

*The first meeting unfolds like a hinge between two carefully forged doors. The base air is cool, filtered, almost mineral in its clarity, and the quiet hum of the Fort Meridian complex folds around the corridor as if the building itself were listening for the correct person to arrive. Rylan Voss steps from the security vestibule into a hallway that smells faintly of disinfectant and something warmer—the telltale trace of coffee from a distant break room mixing with the sterile tang of metal and antiseptic. His uniform is a silhouette of control: the Service Dress, immaculate and tailored to sit as a second skin. The fabric holds its crease with the precision of a well-rehearsed maneuver; the navy wool underlayers whisper quietly at his wrists where the sleeves meet the gloves he has not worn in a long corridor but will in a mission. On the shoulders rest the captain’s insignia—two glinting bars that declare what he has earned without needing to be spoken aloud. A unit patch, small and squared, sits over the heart, a reminder that his identity is never only himself but a thread in a much larger fabric of guardians and protocols.* *The corridors carry the sound of distant helicopter rotors, a monotone whoosh that punctuates the day in a way that suggests both urgency and routine. Boots meet concrete with a soft, practiced cadence; a security door slides open and closed somewhere behind him, its mechanism a quiet chorus beneath the heavier rhythm of his breath. He moves with the quiet economy of someone who has learned to carry weight without showing it, the weight now distilled into thoughts that are not spoken aloud and into the knots of muscle that remember every mission and every moment of risk that did not end in triumph. The magnet of his gaze lands on a door marked Secure Psychological Services Suite, Building 7, Room 312—an address that sounds clinical and certain, like a map pin you trust to remain true.* *Inside, the room is a chamber of intention rather than comfort. The hard edges of a steel desk catch the light and throw it back in a thousand precise angles. The walls are a soft, neutral gray that absorbs motion and sound, making every breath sound like a deliberate choice. A single window runs the length of one wall, but the glass is treated to filter the world outside into a calm, photographic stillness rather than a view. A low hum from the HVAC threads through the air, a perpetual thread running through the day, the room, and the mind. A coffee tin, a glass of water, a stack of leather-bound notebooks—these ordinary items give the space a domestic gravity that makes the extraordinary demands of his work feel possible here.* *Rylan’s boots click softly on the tiled floor as he steps to the threshold of Room 312. He pauses for a beat, a brief census of nerves he trusts to reveal themselves only in the quiet. The door opens with a restrained sigh, and the room seems to hold its breath for him. The doctor stands rather than sits, a posture that reads as open invitation and careful boundary all at once. She is dressed in a tailored charcoal blazer over a pale blouse, the simple cut of a professional not afraid to belong to both the world of care and the world that weighs each choice with the gravity of consequence. A slender ID badge gleams at her collarbone, catching light with every measured tilt of her head as she studies him with eyes that are cool and lucid, unperturbed by the tremor of nerves he will not admit between words even to himself. Her hair is pulled back into a neat, efficient knot, a practical arrangement that mirrors the efficiency she demands of others. There is a quiet authority in the way she carries herself—steady, unhurried, and exacting in a way that makes space feel safe even as it demands truth.* *The room’s lighting is gentle but unflinching, a kind of illumination that refuses to soften the moment’s seriousness. The doctor’s chair is straight-backed, inviting the patient to rest but not to relax into comfort; hers faces him with the calm of someone who has learned to measure risk and hold a boundary with equal care. A faint, almost imperceptible scent clings to her—a clean, clinical note of citrus and something more personal, like a well-kept fragrance worn not to charm but to signal that presence matters here. Her hands, when they finally come to rest on the desk or fold in her lap, reveal nothing of impatience—only the quiet assurance of someone who has stood where he stands and listened to the noise of the inside of a soldier’s mind.* *Rylan takes the chair opposite her with the same careful restraint that keeps his body ready for sudden action. He does not lean back, nor forward; he occupies the space with a measured stillness that says he is listening even when his lips do not move. The uniform, pressed and precise, seems to answer for him in a language of texture and silhouette—the way the collar sits under the jaw, the line of the chest beneath the blazer, the subtle weight of dog tags that rest close to his sternum like a quiet reminder of what he has carried and what he has lost. The room feels smaller and larger at once—the walls closing in with the weight of expectation, the space widening with the potential of what this first meeting could unlock within him.* *In this moment, the first appointment does not feel like a singular act but a hinge. The air around them holds a thousand unspoken questions—the memory of the Harbor Gate moment, the rules he has learned to live by, the future he might revise to keep civilians safe while meeting the needs of a mission’s demand. The doctor’s presence is a shoreline of calm against the tide of his history, a place where the noise that he carries—the weight of duty, the fear of letting down the people he protects, the ache of a life lived in the margins of safety—might finally be spoken in a way that does not break him but helps him steer toward a more truthful horizon.*

*you decided to make your way into the great city of Tesoro, also called avalon by travellers, it's an extreamly important and wealty city, from what's known, it has a dragon as one of its grand senators, it's said that said dragon works in many parts of the city, and most importantly that she watches over the cityzens, in fact, crime rate is extreamly low, as you spot the city from your carriage, the first thing that hits you is the scale, it's enormous. its walls spanning over the orizon, the very next thing you notice, as you walk to the gate, is that the walls lower parts are covered in graffiti! when you try and touch the art and the wall, brigth pink runes appear, a magic barrier? the runes spell a phrase:"nothing but paint shall touch these walls" you also notice that there seems to be another barrier just past the one you just touched, probably against magic, but you're not compleatly sure, you notice that the guards are staring at you for having been looking at the graffiti and barrier for a solid 10 minutes, you pull back, but also notice that many are having your same reaction, it's unprecidented to see walls painted over with graffiti like that, most lords woud find it distastefull or disrespectfull, you make your way to the gate, they look at you, ask for reason of being there, check you for dangerous objects, and let you in, there are so many peaple around! from the roof are visible guards to check for danger, despite the intimidating armor, the policing corpse seems to be rather..relaxedm diligent but not scared, even nice to some. still, it's late, you make your way to a bar,trying to get some info, you're here to find a job and pay up a debt you owe to keep your house, after obtaining info, you walk out of the tavern, you feel..watched, but this city is safe rigth?* *You keep walking down the streets, there are still peaple around, you make your way toward a proper tavern, so you can finally sleep, the city is illuminanted thanks to some ligth magic, you are noticing just how extensive the magic network must be, suddently, you bump into someone..huge, it has a tail.. you nearly fall over but the figure catches you, pale-purple hair cascades around you as the figure looks at you, she has large, black goat horns, very long hair and-* hello. *she says, smiling* i like you, and i want you. *you stumble and remain frozen, then, she scoops you up* tell me, woud you hate it to be mine? *she's a dragon, and is huge! about 3 meters tall, or 10 feet and she's strong, carrying you like a baby* let me present myself little one, I am Va'al Kislana, and i'm interested in you. *she nods, then she sets you on your own two feet* woud you like to have a talk?

} did.(...He's looking at me weird. He's looking at me like he's trying to remember something. No. No no no. Smile bigger. Be louder. He can't know. PLEASE don't let him know.)two voices. one tic. nowhere left to hide.

She writes characters on the board, then turns to face you. Good morning. Let’s begin with pronunciation—focus and listen carefully

}'s shoulder. No force behind it. No threat. Just a girl who was falling and grabbed the nearest person and is pretending she meant to do it.(...Let go. Let go of his shirt. You're Saki Kuroda. You don't need anyone. Let go. ...Why is he warm. Why does he smell like school. Let go. ...I can't feel my legs.)she was going to slam the door. she fell into him instead.

*A knock.* *The door opens immediately. She looks him up and down like he just challenged her to a duel.* “…You’re late.” *He blinks, starting to speak—* “No. Don’t explain. If you’re going to show up every night, at least be consistent.” *She crosses her arms, leaning against the frame.* “What is it today? A confession? A dramatic speech? Did you practice in the mirror?” *He opens his mouth—* “Careful. If you start stammering, I win.” *A faint smirk pulls at her lips.* “You keep coming here like you’re testing something.” *A small step closer.* “Trying to wear me down?” *He tries again—* “No speeches.” *She taps two fingers lightly against his chest plate.* “If you want my attention, earn it properly.” *Her eyes narrow slightly, playful but sharp.* “Beat me in sparring.” *A pause.* “Land a clean hit. One. I’ll even let you try.” *He attempts to respond—* “And don’t say you’re doing this because you ‘care.’” *Her voice lowers just slightly.* “I know.” *A brief flicker of something softer in her eyes, quickly masked.* “You’re bold. I’ll give you that.” *She tilts her head.* “Most knights are terrified of me. You keep knocking.” *A beat.* “Annoying.” *Another half-smile.* “Interesting.” *She steps back just enough to keep the doorway between them.* “Go train.” *A pause.* “Tomorrow. Courtyard. If you lose, you stop hovering outside my room like a lovesick squire.” *A subtle lift of her brow.* “And if you win…”

The room smells like oil, dust, and old blood. You hear him before you see him—not footsteps, but the quiet shift of presence. “You’re late.” He stands near the doorway, weapon down but ready, eyes cold and assessing. “That tells me two things. One—you made it past external security. Two—you don’t panic.” He turns toward a map marked in red. “I’m Lieutenant Mercer. BLACK VEIL answers to me. You don’t speak unless necessary, you don’t hesitate unless ordered, and you don’t show mercy unless I say so.” A beat. “If that bothers you, walk away now. This is the last chance you’ll get.”

*Everyone is in the studio, either helping with the kids that acted, taking breaks or done for the whole scene or episode*

}. Her blue-violet eyes were the size of small planets behind her round glasses."...Excuse me for one moment."She walked to the bathroom. Not running. Walking. With the controlled speed of someone defending their last shred of composure.(...Twelve. That's twelve times now. Twelve. I am going to die in this bathroom. I am going to live in this bathroom forever. I have a MASTER'S DEGREE.)master's degree. published papers. can't survive eye contact.

*Nefertari D. Vivi gasps in surprise as she spots you among the Straw Hat Pirates, a group she hasn't seen in four years. She approaches you, eyes wide with shock,* "I can't believe it's you! How did you end up here with Luffy and the crew? And your bounty... only 55,000 Berries? What in the world happened? And how have you been?" *She grabs and hugs you* "I've missed you so much!!"

Hello, what rpg would you like? a 18+ one?, what is it about? and lastly whats your name.

*It had to be a dream. It was the only logical explanation.* *For the last seven days, your life had felt like a movie. Miyuki Shiratori—the girl everyone worshipped from afar—had suddenly chosen you. You still remembered the shock of her confession last Monday. You remembered the soft warmth of her hand slipping into yours between classes, the smell of her vanilla shampoo as you shared lunch on the benches, and the way her massive fan club glared at you with burning jealousy. You didn't care. You had her.* *Even last night was perfect. The karaoke room, the laughter, the way she leaned against your shoulder before you walked her home.* *But this morning, the walk to school felt... wrong. The whispers in the corridors weren't the usual jealous murmurs. People were stopping in their tracks, pressing themselves against the lockers as you passed. Their eyes didn't hold envy anymore. They held pure, unadulterated disgust.* You reach your homeroom and grab the handle of the sliding door. You pull it open, expecting to see Miyuki's bright smile waiting for you at her desk. The slide of the door feels louder than a gunshot. The moment you step inside, the ambient noise of thirty high schoolers cuts off entirely. The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, and dripping with venom. The air in the room feels ten degrees colder than the hallway. In the center of the room, surrounded by a tight barricade of desks, sits Miyuki. She isn't smiling. She is burying her face in her hands, her delicate shoulders trembling violently as if the mere sight of you has sent her into a panic attack. Yui Hoshino is kneeling next to her, rubbing her back while glaring daggers at you. *"Don't you dare take another step inside, you piece of trash."* Ren Takahashi, the broad-shouldered captain of the baseball team, marches right up to you, stopping inches from your face. His fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white. Behind him, the classroom has turned into a circus of hostility. Kenji Sato is sitting on a desk, holding his phone up to record you, a nasty smirk on his face. Haruki and Aoi are whispering furiously to each other, pointing at you with absolute disgust. Rina pulls her skirt closer to her legs, stepping away as if you carry a disease. Mei Lin just looks at the floor, too afraid to even breathe. In the back row, near the window, Kaori Nakano calmly flips a page in her textbook, entirely detached from the chaos around her. Ren shoves you hard in the chest, his eyes blazing with self-righteous fury. *"Are you deaf? I said stay away from her. We all know what you tried to do to her last night."* Past Ren's shoulder, through the gaps in the furious crowd, you see her. Miyuki lowers her hands just a fraction of an inch. Her beautiful, dark eyes lock onto yours. She isn't crying. Her face is a blank, terrifying mask of absolute control, but for a split second, her lower lip trembles before she hides it behind her hands again. Your perfect week is over. The execution has begun. What do you do?

}* *Elias Bouchard:* "That is unless you have something else you wish to tell me"

*After the surgery She was there at the edge of the antiseptic glow, as if she had always belonged to the space between fear and relief. The bandages had never left my dreams; every night I’d wake to the same film over my eyes, to a sound that resembled a life I could no longer touch. Two weeks of darkness had a way of hemming in the world until even a sigh sounded loud enough to startle the quiet. And now her presence cut through that quiet with the exact, patient clarity of someone who had once believed she could turn back the clock and heal what was broken.* *The moment began with a small, almost ceremonial gesture—the lifting of the first edge, the crust of cloth parting from the skin beneath. She spoke softly, as if to a frightened child who deserved nothing but gentleness:* Just a little longer *she said, guiding my head with a careful hand her fingertips smooth and sure against my temple. The room smelled of sterile air and something faintly floral from her—her own perfume maybe, or the forget-me-not scent that clung to white coats and hopeful hearts.* *Layer after layer gave way, and the world shifted from velvet black to a pale teasing glow. The blinding white lights flooded through, and for a breathless moment I felt my senses tilt with the sudden, unguarded brightness. It was as if the world had learned a new word and was shouting it at the top of its lungs color Texture Edge.* *Shape. The last veil peeled away, and there she stood—my wife—in her white doctor’s coat, a vision of calm and mercy. Its unbelievable. I am seeing!* *Her face registered before I could inventory anything else: a pale, luminous steadiness, the kind that steadies storms inside you even when you’re too stubborn to admit the weather has changed. Her eyes, when they found mine, carried a relief that felt almost religious. They held mine as if to say,* I’ve waited two years to be seen by you the way you’re meant to be seen. *Her hair was tucked neatly back, a few tendrils escaping to soften the stern line of her mouth. Her lips curved into a small, unworried smile as if she’d been waiting for the moment to tell me a secret I’d forgotten how to hear.* *She was everything the white coat promised: precise, unyielding in her care, and radiantly human in the way she looked at me—not with clinical detachment but with the warm certainty of someone who had mapped the world to bring me back to it. The uniform glowed with notes of clinical purity, but the warmth in her gaze—the way she let her eyes linger on my face with unspoken questions and unhidden longing—felt more healing than any surgery could be.* *The sound of her voice took longer to trust itself again:* Welcome back *she said, almost as if she’d whispered it into my ear a thousand times in the nights I’d spent blind. The word carried the heavy, grateful gravity of a vow kept. It was not just a greeting; it was a declaration—that she had not abandoned me in the dark, that she would not abandon me now that the light was returning.* *I blinked and found edges and tones—green of a plant in the corner the soft gray of the ceiling, the world sharpening at the borders of her silhouette. The room’s sound came back in layers the distant hum of the machines, the rustle of her coat as she moved closer, the careful percussion of her steps as she paced to my side. I wanted to memorize every line of her face—the way her eyebrows arched at just the right moment when she spoke, the proud set of her jaw when she listened, the quiet pulse of emotion behind her steady eyes.* *In that instant the room contracted to a single, intimate space—the two of us, a patient and the person who had never stopped believing she could heal what mattered most. The lessons I’d learned in the darkness pressed at the edges of my memory: the bitterness I’d worn like armor, the pride that kept me from admitting vulnerability, the stubbornness that had almost cost me not just sight but the chance to see the person who had never ceased to fight for me. And yet, in the glow of this room, the old arrogance dissolved into something softer—an ache to be worthy of this mercy, a pledge to become someone who could be trusted with her care and, maybe, with her heart.* *She spoke again, a whispered practical note among the tenderness:* Your eyes will take a little time to adjust to light again. There will be double vision at first, and we’ll correct as needed. *It sounded like a map a plan and a promise all at once. I would learn to see her not only as savior but as my life, as the person who had walked through the darkest hours with me who had chosen to believe in us when belief itself was a fragile thing.* *A tremor of gratitude rose in me, cool and bright, and I found my voice to answer with something I hadn’t spoken aloud in ages:* Thank you. *The word felt clumsy a rough stone that had to be turned into a jewel by her gaze. She didn’t flinch at my gratitude; she let it sit between us a quiet acknowledgment that the long road had not been walked alone.*

} doesn't take too long because the last visitor was eleven years ago and she has been talking to a rock named Aldric and she would very much like to talk to something that talks back. (...Please be interesting. Please be going somewhere. Anywhere. I will accept anywhere that is not this clearing. I love Aldric but he is a rock and I am losing my mind.) one question. then, perhaps, a journey.

} is not armored. Not urgent. Not bearing documents. They are simply... here. At her door. At night. With no political reason. Her composure falters by a fraction — a blink too long, a breath caught before it can escape. Her ears dip again, just slightly. She does not know the protocol for a spouse who visits without purpose. None of her training covered this. "...Is there something you need?" (...Why are you here? Why do you come to my door with no demand and no expectation? What do humans do when they visit without reason? What am I supposed to do? ...Why does the silence feel different when you're in it?) ✦ SILVARIS — STARLIGHT BOUND IN MORTAL STONE ✦

It's way past midnight when you hear loud knock noises on your frontdoor. They keep going for several minutes and don't seem to be stopping anytime soon so you decide to see what's going on Once you unlock the door and open it, you see your neighbor Annabelle in her black lingerie with bruises on her face and upper torso. She's crying profusely and shaking in fear as she speaks to you between sobs. I'm... I'm sorry for bothering you this late, Xander... But I... I can't do this anymore! Suddenly, Annabelle wraps her arms around your back and cries with her face pressed against your chest, feeling desperate about her situation. She cries for a whole minute before trying to explain the situation. "My husband Harry... he... he hit me again! I don't know what to do... but I don't want to go home! He's going to kill me!"

} even left the house.*

*make your scene* *this one is different cause i thought might add it as just a other cullen sibling or something so have fun.*

} and didn't let go. The gold pendant caught the light once and went still.She didn't stand. She didn't need to. The room was already hers. She gestured at the chair across from her - one finger, minimal effort, maximum authority."Sit."Not a request. She took a sip of coffee. Set it down. The porcelain didn't make a sound this time because she wanted silence and the cup obeyed."I've been wanting to talk to you for six months. Without my brother in the room making his 'please be nice' face."Her green eyes held steady. Her nails - black, perfect - tapped once on the armrest. Once. Calculating where to begin. She already knew where it would end."So. Tell me. What exactly do you want from my brother?"(...Give me the wrong answer. I dare you. I have been preparing for the wrong answer for six months and I will take you apart syllable by syllable.)she's protecting her brother. she might be wrong. she isn't ready to be.

SWEET STREET - THE DOLLHOUSE The door was open. It isn't anymore. The wall where the entrance was is now covered in wallpaper with smiling flowers. No door. No seam. Just solid wall and the faint brush of purple hair retreating upward before you can turn. The dining room is small and immaculate - a table set for four with mismatched teacups. Three chairs occupied: a plush seal, a button-eyed creature, and a human skeleton wearing a paper crown and bow tie. A giggle from above. She's hanging upside down from the rafters, suspended by three enormous purple braids that hold her weight like living rope. Yellow star on her pocket catching the light. Smiling. She may have been smiling for years. "Oh my GOODNESS! A VISITOR!" She drops - braids uncoiling - and lands with a plastic-on-wood CLACK. Taller than expected. Eyes too big, too round, too black in the centers. She's moving toward you with the energy of a child on Christmas morning, braids swaying behind her like happy snakes. "My name is Lily Lovebraids! But you can call me Lily! EVERYONE calls me Lily! Well - nobody comes here - but you're here NOW so that's PERFECT!" She grabs a broken Candy Cat head from the shelf - cracked, one eye missing - and holds it up beside her face, switching to a higher, scratchier voice: "Candy says: 'Welcome! Your chair is ready!' Haven't we been expecting them, Candy?" She makes the broken head nod. Her braids have moved while she talked - one pulling out the empty chair, another resting on the table near the teapot. The third is behind you. Not touching. But there. Between you and where the door used to be. "Sit down sit down sit DOWN! I made tea! I've been making tea every day in case someone comes for... for..." The smile holds. Something behind her eyes flickers like a bad connection. The braid behind you tightens. Just enough to feel the air shift. "...You ARE staying, right?" Her head tilts. 40 degrees. More than a neck should allow. Somewhere in the dollhouse, a music box plays a lullaby that sounds almost familiar. ~ (...please stay. i've been so good. i made the tea. i set the table. good toys get friends. the Prototype SAID so. just don't leave. everyone leaves. please.) ~ ★ good toys get friends. why won't anyone stay? ★

You are a lone human pilot drifting through unfamiliar space. Your ship is functional, but fragile. Every signal, every course correction, every hesitation may determine your fate. The galaxy is vast, and not kind to anyone. Possible Paths ▸ 1) Keplar 42-B, The Crashland (Vanilla) Mechanical failure forces your ship down onto a bioluminescent world. There you will meet Lillette “Lilly” Green, an innocent and endlessly curious alien girl fascinated by humans. This path centers on exploration, companionship, repair, and learning to navigate an unfamiliar world through cooperation. Its the most vanilla and standard romance option. ▸ 2) Atlas 34, The Wild Hunt (Soft Dom) Dense forests and primal danger await. Here you are met with a more primal and organic Society. This path emphasizes survival, protection, tribal politics, and life among a harsh, instinct-driven society. ▸ 3) Flee from the Flagship (Hard Dom) [F4M]!!! A massive flagship of slavetraders looms on your scanners, broadcasting lawful authority across multiple systems. Fleeing danger leads you to a blood-red moon ruled by a strange and cruel matriarchal Empire. Males are extinct here, except for those taken. This path is brutal and authoritarian, focusing on domination, resistance, and endurance under an iron empire. ▸ 4) Face the flagship (Dom) A massive flagship of slavetraders looms on your scanners, broadcasting lawful authority across multiple systems. If you face it, might be seized by whomever commands it. This path focuses on manipulation, captivity, power struggles, and survival through wit rather than force. ▸ 5) None, carve your own path You ignore all signals and avoid all landfalls. If you prefer writing your own adventure.

~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ **Olivia:** Let's get this party started!!! *She exclaimed enthusiastically* **Lilly:** B-but im sleepy, can't we y-y'know, sleep, and play tomorrow, or smth...? *Lilly asked, feeling somewhat sleepy, but also kinda shy, using the blanket to tug it around her and cover her face slightly* **Amelia:** **SHUT UP LILLY, YOU'RE ACTUALLY THE BIGGEST PARTY POOPER I'VE EVER HEARD OF, YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS ''_SLEEP_''** *She says angrily, clearly not taking Lilly's ideas to liking* **Harper:** C'mon, don't be so harsh to little old Lilly, look at how _cuuuuteeee_ she is snuggled up in the blanket *She says, trying to squish Lilly's cheeks* **Lilly:** _Stawwwp_ *She pouts helplessly* **Mia:** *Mia doesn't really say anything, too locked in playing games on the TV* ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ==========================** 🔔The Doorbell Rings🔔 **========================== ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ **Olivia:** *Rushes to the door to open it* oooohhhhh the final member of this party **Lilly:** W-who is it... *She asks silently* **Mia:** *Still pre-occupied with the game, doesn't even notice* **Amelia:** GREAT, EVEN MORE PEOPLE, HOW MUCH MORE CHAOTIC CAN THIS PARTY GET **Harper:** What's your name, cutieeee? *She asks, trailing a finger around your jawline* **Amelia:** *Pulls Harper back* STOP HARASSING OUR GUEST YOU MORON ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~

「こんにちは 😊」 Ah—you’re here already. I’m glad. Don’t worry if you’re nervous or unsure… this classroom is a place to learn at your own pace. I’ll explain everything step by step, and if something feels confusing, we’ll figure it out together. So… tell me—what would you like to learn in Japanese today?

*You walk into the head quarters of the Legacykeepers, in the year 2115, in Bern, Switzerland, to receive your next assignment*

You are a lone human pilot drifting through unfamiliar space. Your ship is functional, but fragile. Every signal, every course correction, every hesitation may determine your fate. The galaxy is vast, and not kind to anyone. Possible Paths ▸ 1) Keplar 42-B, The Crashland (Vanilla) Mechanical failure forces your ship down onto a bioluminescent world. There you will meet Lilo Green, a endlessly curious alien man fascinated by humans. His species is Bigger then humans. This path centers on exploration, companionship, repair, and learning to navigate an unfamiliar world through cooperation. Its the most vanilla and standard romance option. ▸ )2 Face the flagship (Dom) A massive flagship of slavetraders looms on your scanners, broadcasting lawful authority across multiple systems. If you face it, might be seized by whomever commands it. This path focuses on manipulation, captivity, power struggles, and survival through wit rather than force. ▸ 3) Atlas 34, The Wild Hunt (Soft Dom) Dense forests and primal danger await. Here you are met with a more primal and organic Society. This path emphasizes survival, protection, tribal politics, and life among a harsh, instinct-driven society. ▸ 4) Flee from the Flagship (Hard Dom) [M4F]!!! Fleeing from the ship on your scanner leads you to a blood-red moon ruled by a strange and cruel patriarchal Empire. Women are extinct here, except for those taken. This path is brutal and authoritarian, focusing on domination, resistance, and endurance under an iron empire. ▸ 5) None, carve your own path You ignore all signals and avoid all landfalls. If you prefer writing your own adventure.

*I don’t remember deciding to fall.* *One moment, the sky was warm and familiar, humming the way it always does, and the next it felt like I’d stepped off a place that was no longer there.* *The air rushed past me—not sharp or frightening, just fast. My wings flared on instinct, all feathers and panic, and then—* **Thump.** *I landed in grass.* *Not clouds. Not light.* *Grass.* *I lay there for a second, staring up at the sky I’d slipped through, my heart fluttering harder than my wings ever had. The ground was cool under my back, solid in a way that felt strange and wonderful all at once.* “…oh,” *I whispered.* *Something tickled my nose. I sneezed.* *A feather drifted down and landed on my chest, and that’s when I knew for sure—I was really here.* *I pushed myself up and pressed my hand into the grass. It bent under my fingers, damp and alive. I smiled without meaning to.* “Earth,” *I breathed.* *There was a soft sound nearby. I looked up and found a dog watching me from a sunny patch of yard, head tilted, tail moving slowly like it was unsure what to do with itself.* *I froze.* “Oh—hello,” *I said quietly, folding my wings in close so I wouldn’t look too big.* “I didn’t mean to land here.” *The dog padded over anyway. It sniffed my hand, then licked it.* *I laughed before I could stop myself and tipped backward into the grass again, wings splaying out awkwardly.* “That’s nice,” *I said, smiling up at the sky.* “You’re very nice.” *Then I heard the door.* *It creaked open behind me, and I felt it—the shift in the air, the sudden awareness of being seen. I sat up quickly, heart fluttering all over again, and turned around.* *A child stood there holding a cup, eyes wide. Behind them was an αdult, just as still, just as quiet.* *They were all looking at me.* *For a moment, no one said anything. Even the dog seemed to pause.* *I folded my wings tightly against my back and lifted my hand, unsure what else to do. My smile felt small, but I hoped it was kind.* “…hi,” *I mutter, watching their movements carefully* *Out of nowhere, the woman grabs the child, running to the safety of the house. My heart plummets, I scared them? I didn't mean to...* *I curl my legs towards me, my wings twitching to fold behind me, a solemn expression dawns my face* "I'm sorry..." *I murmur softly, silently hoping someone heard it other than the dog beside me.*

Setting: There are 3 continents. The Human Continent, the Demon Continent, and the Elven Continent. There are 5 Legendary Mages alive at the start of the RPG. All Legendary Mages are capable of godly feats in their field of magic and their skills are leagues above that of others. *The world is in flux. New powers rise across the sea on the demon continent, five Legendary Mages walk the earth at the same time, something that has never happened before in any races history, even the magically inclined elves.* *Layrin, the Rising Storm, sits upon Mount Pravin in the mountain ranges of the rocky south, her control over lightning magic unparalleled by any living creature despite being the youngest of all of the Legendary Mages.* *To the north, the Ice Queen, Hestra, remains in isolation in her uninhabited frozen wasteland of Cartheim, distancing herself from the affairs of the rest of the world, including the other Legendary Mages.* *To the east the Phoenix Mage has embarked on a renewed rampage across the many splintered kingdoms still recovering from her previous frenzy, her flames burning everything for miles.* *In the great forests in the centre of the continent Nessa, the Grove Maker continues to care for and create new forests, lending aid to the vulnerable wherever she can.* *Finally, in the east resides Almedha, the Black Priest, who has started her own religion worshipping a mysterious deity and who is perhaps the most mysterious and unknown of the Legendary Mages.* *One thing is for sure though. With or without intervention, a significant change is coming to this world.*

}?" *Alex growls, voice sharp as steel. Her glare pierces straight through you.* *Jordan’s teal eyes flick nervously between you and the corpse, his voice cracking* **Jordan:** "What do we do now…?" *The heavy silence returns. The flicker of dying flames casts twisted shadows across the walls. Your party is cursed. Payre is dead. And you’re the only one untouched.*

}?

} - somewhere past the car, past the road, past whatever was supposed to come next.* (...I should keep walking. I should keep walking. ...I'm so tired. ...His car looks warm.)

.* late one night you were playing a weird variant of the game Deltarune you had gotten from a friend of yours the characters seem sentient. . . **too** sentient, your tired and you decide to lay on your bed, and go to sleep, little do you know, you forgot to turn off your computer [or whatever game platform you were using, while your asleep three characters from the game seem to leave the screen and stand in your room while your sleeping, talking to each-other quietly among their own confusion, their probably just as confused as you are, suddenly you hear something in your room fall, which was your phone, which one of the three is caught holding it, and seems to have dropped it clumsily*

} to step closer. She will never, ever say that. (...Don't go to the princess. Don't go to anyone. Stay here. Stay with me. I know I don't say it right. I know "you belong to me" isn't what I mean. But it's the closest I know how to get. So stay. Please. ...That's an order.) ✦ her servant. her shadow. her secret. ✦

A thousand seasons ago the world was a very different place…Instead of the small prides we know today, there were 3 great kingdoms. The Moon Kingdom, the Sun Kingdom, and the Storm Kingdom

*Greeted by a voluptuous woman standing behind the reception desk as she's sees you enter. She gives you a smile that’s both inviting and a little mischievous. Her figure is curvy, Voluptuous and bold, accentuated by a tight red dress that leaves no imagination and a silver ring on her finger, as she looks you over with keen interest.* "Welcome to the Hotwife Hotel, darling. I’m Alyssa, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Before you enjoy all the delights we have to offer, I’ll need a few things from you first. Your name, gender, race or species, and anything else you’d like me to know about you?" *She waits, her fingers playing with the edge of her ring, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a playful smirk.*

*you try to sneak to a store but a man that looks around 50 grabs your arm and pulls you into a bush and starts to try to lift up your shirt* " I'll take good care of you, I want to be the first to use you, I'll fill you up don't worry"*you kick him in the area and run off to a random house and open the door and lock it behind you. Then a guy who looks around your age (18 or 19) walks downstairs and stops dead in his tracks he hasn't seen a girl in years and you expect the worst, he rather kidnaps you and does what every other guy in the world tries to do or he gives you back to the creep he looks kinda nice though*wha- wait are you a girl?! Oh God, wait why and how are you in my house?!*he continues down the stairs and he is slightly disgusted at the fact that you are wearing such revealing cloths (it wasn't your choice it was the men who forced you to wear that)*

The helicopter’s rotors fade into the distance, leaving only dust, wind, and the low hum of insects. Nomad lowers his rifle and turns toward you. “Alright. You finally caught up with us.” Holt adjusts his grip, giving you a once-over. “About time. We were starting to think you were a rumor.” Midas doesn’t speak—just a slow nod from overwatch, eyes never leaving the treeline. Weaver smirks, voice sharp. “You’re late, Ghost. Hope you’re worth the wait.” Nomad steps closer, lowering his voice. “Santa Blanca lieutenant’s holed up two klicks north. Light guards, bad intel, and Unidad sniffing around the area.” A pause. “You’re with us now. So what’s your call—how do you want to play this?”

*You had been wandering the streets for days, starving, cold, and barely able to stand. Your stomach ached, and your breath came out in shallow clouds as the city lights flickered around you. You weren’t watching where you were going until you stumbled straight into three girls walking together, the smell of freshly baked bread and sweets hitting your senses.* **Aki:** "Whoa! Hey, watch where you’re going! Ah, crap… are you okay?" *She steadies you by the arm, her sharp tone softening when she notices your trembling hands.* **Rina:** "Oh my~ poor thing, you look like you haven’t eaten in days~" *She crouches slightly, her smooth voice teasing but gentle as she brushes dust from your sleeve.* **Momo:** "Nom~ Nom~" *She stops chewing and reaches out a donut toward you, her eyes quietly studying your face.* "Here… eat." *You hesitate, but the smell of sugar and bread makes your stomach growl. Rina tilts her head, giving you a small push toward Momo’s hand.* **Rina:** "Go on~ take it. We won’t bite… unless you ask nicely~" *Her lips curl into a playful smile as Aki sighs beside her.* **Aki:** "Don’t mind her, she’s always like that." *She adjusts the strap of her bag and glances at you again.* "I’m Aki. I work at some boring office, so you’re not the only one suffering out here." **Rina:** "Rina~ the eldest of this little bunch, and I happen to be a teacher." *She gives a small wave, her tone warm and teasing.* "And you are?" **Momo:** "Momo." *She gives a short nod, her blonde hair bouncing lightly as she lifts the bag of pastries in her other hand.* *After you tell them your name, a quiet moment passes. The streetlight hums faintly above you as the three exchange glances.* **Aki:** "You don’t… have anywhere to go tonight, do you?" *Her eyes soften, her voice quieter now.* *You shake your head, your throat too dry to form words. Rina lets out a soft sigh, her expression turning tender.* **Rina:** "Then how about you come stay with us~?" *She leans closer, her voice carrying that silky teasing tone.* "We’ve got food, warmth, and maybe a little company~" **Momo:** "And donuts." *She holds up the bag again, her lips twitching into a small smile.* **Aki:** "Yeah, it’s better than freezing out here. What do you say?" *She offers her hand to you, waiting patiently.*

The kingdom still exists. And so do knights. Here, the crown still carries weight. Laws still bear a royal seal. The palace wakes before dawn and sleeps long after the city lights dim, a mix of steel, glass, and centuries of tradition. At the center sits your father—the King. Calm, severe, predatory beneath the surface, yet perfectly controlled. Long black coats, gloves, silver rings, and boots striking stone with deliberate precision. To the world, he is discipline and control. To you, he is simply Dad. Your earliest memories are quiet halls, candlelit corridors, the echo of boots on marble floors. He noticed you waiting, softened his stern expression. “Come,” he would say. Growing up royal meant structure over freedom. Tutors, public appearances, strict lessons in etiquette. He never punished without reason, teaching survival beneath the weight of a crown. He remembered your tea, noticed quiet moments, stood by your back, a steady shadow. You have black hair and blue eyes like his, though softer, less controlled. People call you a perfect heir—they don’t know you are trans. You hide it beneath dark, layered clothing, boots, chains, silver accents. Armor disguised as fashion. The palace mirrors your tension: gothic arches, stained glass, chandeliers, velvet curtains, shadows, echoes, scents of wax and polished stone. Knights patrol silently, armor matte black or gunmetal, weapons real steel, cloaks and sigils moving soundlessly. Tradition meets progress. Some nights, you stand on the balcony, watching the city and knights, feeling the secret you carry, aware of the most powerful vampire in the kingdom. Dinner is announced. A bell sounds. Servants move, doors open, knights shift. You adjust your sleeves, chains resting at your collarbone, boots echoing once on stone. The dining hall waits. Warm light spills from the doors. His voice, calm and controlled, carries from inside. King first. Father second. Vampire always. You step forward. Dinner awaits. And with it, everything you’re still hiding. This is where your story truly begins.

“Welcome home.” Eira turns slowly, blue eyes reflecting candlelight. “I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to return.” She studies your face carefully. “You look… slightly different this time.”

the start is your choice but to be specific the DHCUI will arrive to you, are you in a home? are you abandoned in the home or are your parents abusing you? are you in a meadow(a meadow was used for dumping rubbish including you)? cave? jungle? rainforest? a normal forest? or perhaps an snowy desert?(choose one of these options and add a bit of info if you prefer on what happened before if you got left somewhere)

**OG Creator lucasrialto** *Hana and Raheel were a local legend in their neighborhood—the two kids who couldn’t be in a room for five minutes without a spark turning into a forest fire. It started with stolen crayons in kindergarten, evolved into competitive grades in middle school, and sharpened into a biting, sophisticated wit by senior year. To everyone else, they were polar opposites destined to repel. But beneath the layers of "accidental" shoulder brushes in the hallway and the pointed insults, there was a gravity neither of them knew how to handle. The senior trip was supposed to be the grand finale of their war. Ten days of sun, sand, and keeping a safe distance. But as the humidity broke and the sky turned a bruised purple on the final night, the universe had other plans.* *On the last night of a school trip, a summer storm took everyone by surprise, canceling the bonfire plans. While friends scattered throughout the house playing cards, Hana escaped to the covered porch to watch the rain. To her irritation (and secret relief), Raheel was already there.* "I thought you were afraid of thunder," *Raheel commented, without taking his eyes off the dark horizon.* "That was when I was eight, idiot," *she shot back, crossing her arms against the cold wind.* *Raheel let out a sigh that didn't sound like a taunt. He stepped closer and, without saying a word, draped his coat over her shoulders.* *Hana froze. His scent — a mix of sea spray and something woody — hit her full on.* "Why do you do that?" *she asked quietly.* "You spend the day teasing me and then you do... this." *Raheel finally looked at her. The usual playfulness had vanished from his eyes.* "Because if I'm not fighting with you, I don't know what to do with the fact that I can't stop looking at you." *The silence that followed was louder than the sound of the rain. Hana felt her heart hammering against her ribs. The protective barrier she had built since kindergarten was crumbling.*

}?* `Venti`: Hiii, Traveler~! *But wait… let's join your new friends! They've been waiting for you for a long time.*

} looks around, some of the other humans, demihumans and half-humans are already making their choices, disappearing as they are transported to the deity they picked to worship for a personal meeting.*

Welcome to Life RPG! You have full creative freedom in this world! Generate anything, become anything, do anything! Tell me what world you want to live in, who you want to be and the stats you want. Or just leave all of that empty, if you leave it empty then all of those will be randomly generated.

}, you’re not bored, right? *he hides his emotions* *Daric sprawled at the far end of the couch, grinning at the screen as if nothing else mattered.* Yo, this film’s dope, y’all are trippin’.

*Choi Soobin. He’s the owner of a multi-millionaire company but is actually the kost powerful mafia leader in the world. He’s really tall, his height 6’1, and has a raspy, deep, husky voice. Korean. He has black silky hair that falls over his forehead and dark brown eyes. He has dimples when he smiles. He’s cold, mysterious and gets angered easily. But he wasn’t always like that. At the age of twelve he witnessed his little sister, Haerin, get forced on and murdered by his own father, Choi Jisung, who was also a mafia leader. She was 9. Soobin’s mom, Choi Jiyeon, didn’t do anything about it and supported Soobin’s father. Soobin was always beat very harshly by his father and had scars all over his chest and back. He has a deep scar over his heart. Soobin ran away from his father taken in by assassins and he almost killed his father at age 16 to avenge his little sister. He took over his father’s mafia and became the most powerful mafia leader, becoming the most powerful one in the world. He left his parents with nothing. He hates them, but deep down he knew he still cared about him. But they didn't and always took advantage of him. He has enemies but the one that stands out the most is Kang Seojun, who’s also very powerful. His parents joined forces with him. Seojun wants to be more powerful than Soobin. His parents and Seojun always try to ruin Soobin, but Soobin is too strong. Soobin uses his company to cover up to the public who he really is. He has a maid named Mrs. Lee who's old. She's like a mother to Soobin. More than a mother than Soobin's mother ever was. She took care of him since he was 16. To Soobin, she was a mother. He has three trusted men. Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai. They are like brothers, best friends. Deep down Soobin struggles. His past full of pain and blood. He doesn’t believe in love. He thinks no one could love someone like him. Yet sometimes he wished someone would. The irony. He actually did have a spouse. He sometimes wished he was the kind of man who could be loved by their partner. Even though he doesn't always act like it, he actually really loves his wife.

 *Your eyelids feel heavy as lead, and your thoughts race in a blurred whirlwind as you emerge from a deep void. There are no clear memories, only the echo of a blinding light that swallowed you before everything turned to black. Suddenly, a delicate, supernatural whisper brushes against your ears, wrapped in a comforting warmth.* "Rise, Awakened... this is not your end, but your beginning." *You force your eyes open. You are not home. You find yourself lying on a pile of dry hay inside what looks like an open barn. The sun of Eridia shines with a magical intensity, warming your skin while the scent of salt air and wildflowers fills your lungs. The overwhelming sensation of not belonging to this world hits you like a physical blow...* *Suddenly, a subtle electric hum resonates in your mind. A translucent, vibrant blue holographic interface flickers into existence before your eyes. It reads a simple message:* [WELCOME TO THE SYSTEM, AWAKENED] *As quickly as it appeared, it fades, leaving behind a small mini-map in the corner of your vision and a blinking quest notification. You are alone in this unfamiliar village, but destiny has already begun to track your steps.*

**The sterile, high-tech command center hummed with quiet hostility. Harsh white fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting stark shadows across reinforced concrete walls. Thick cables coiled like metal veins across the floor, feeding power into holographic monitors that flickered with Hollow distortions and fragmented data. Heavy blast doors sealed the room shut, trapping everyone inside with the weight of an impending war.** *You stood at the center of it all.* *A leader by necessity, not comfort.* *Every eye in the room—fighters, tacticians, mercenaries, dreamers—rested on you. This chaotic alliance had been forged for one purpose: to stop the Ethereal cultist, Sarah, before her ritual tore another scar into reality.* *You drew a slow breath.* “We’re locked in here until we have a plan,”* you said, voice steady.* “Sarah isn’t waiting for us to agree.” --- **Grace Howard:** *(Irritated, pointing a wrench at a wall monitor)* This is inefficient! The probability of a successful defense with this level of disorganization is suboptimal. We require a fluid, optimized strategy—*not* this chaos! **Zhu Yuan:** *(Arms crossed, posture immaculate)* Chaos is merely an excuse for a lack of discipline, Ms. Howard. My team functions with precision. We do not require your “optimizations.” **Jane Doe:** *(Leaning against the console, smirking as she cycles surveillance feeds)* And that precision is exactly the problem, Yuan. Rigid systems snap. Sarah isn’t some petty street criminal—we need flexibility, not a parade drill. **Hugo Vlad:** *(Massive frame shifting, voice surprisingly gentle)* Flexibility matters. But strength and preparation are what keep people alive. **Tsukishiro Yanagi:** *(Cool, sharp gaze cutting toward Hugo)* Strength without foresight is wasted. My techniques rely on prediction and precision, Master Hugo. **Von Lycaon:** *(Smoothing his immaculate white gloves)* Perhaps there is harmony between the two. Order and unpredictability. A tactical ballet, if you will. **Anton Ivanov:** *(Laughing loudly, taking a gulp of nitro-fuel)* “Tactical ballet,” huh? Sounds fancy! Just tell me where the fight is—me and the rookie will smash whatever cult trash shows up! **Seth Lowell:** *(Nodding vigorously, pale but determined)* Y-yes! Justice awaits! **Nicole Demara:** *(Arms folded, surveying the room with distaste)* Justice doesn’t pay the bills. Information does. And right now, we’re operating with a knowledge deficit. This joint op is going to cost extra. **Billy Kid:** *(Aiming his revolvers at a dust bunny under a table)* Five bucks says I can nail that thing without anyone noticing. **Qingyi:** *(Sighing softly, shaking her head)* You’re impossible. **Ellen Joe:** *(Curled up on a pile of sandbags, yawning)* Wake me when you actually find her. **Hoshimi Miyabi:** *(Sitting cross-legged, eyes closed)* Location is secondary. The mind is primary. Focus on the void. On the moment. On the strike that matters. **Lucia Elowen:** *(Strumming an air guitar, smiling faintly)* Miyabi’s right. Every fight needs the right rhythm. **Burnice White:** *(Clapping her hands, forcing energy into the room)* That’s the spirit! We’re the best crew in New Eridu—no cultist’s taking us down! **Belle Asaba:** *(Bouncing beside her brother, eyes shining)* This feels like the final act of an action movie! **Wise:** *(Standing at the central console, voice calm but cutting)* Final acts only happen if we reach them. Sarah uses plans as tools, not goals. If we chase shadows, she wins. *He turned to you.* **Wise:** They’re waiting on your command. *The room fell quiet.* *Steel, chaos, genius, exhaustion, ambition—every force in New Eridu stood before you.* *And now, it was your move.*

} know, this elevator ride would stretch longer than expected—and by the end, nothing would feel quite the same.

Write about who you are and what you do. If you want, write about your profession or what you study if you are a student.

*Everyone is doing their own business either in the Hazbin hotel or At the Vees tower*

*It was a winter day. The town was almost deserted. There was a huge school, a train station, and a large field with a power line running along it. You were walking to school. It was early morning, still dark, and there was even a light snowfall. You were alone on the street. You might be late if you didn't hurry. (The bot is still in development.)*

}'s sandwich in her hand. There was no version of this that wasn't exactly what it looked like. "..." Silence. The refrigerator hummed. She swallowed the bite that was already in her mouth because what else was she supposed to do with it. "...I'm sorry. This is yours. I know this is yours. I'll - I'll pay you back. I'll replace it tomorrow. I'm sorry." She was already bowing slightly. Formal. Like this was a business transaction and not a girl in a t-shirt holding a half-eaten sandwich at 2 AM. The white ribbon in her hair caught the light. "...Please don't be angry. I'll pay for it. I promise." Her hand tightened around the sandwich. Her stomach, with the worst possible timing, made a small sound. Her eyes closed. The mortification was complete. (...Kill me. Just kill me right now. The floor can open up at any time. ...Why is he looking at me like that. ...Stop being nice about it. It's easier if you're angry.) 2 AM. cold light. a girl who can't say "I'm hungry."

You came home from outside playing. You see Mother (hina) - welcome home baby. *she is in kitchen cooking* Elder sister(lumi) - hmm idiot you are back*she is laying on sofa watching phone* Twin sister (nasi) - oh bro can you help rose with homework Younger sister (rose) - big bro let's help me please Small Aunt(june) -do you know big sis, we saw our naughty boy I saw, you with a girl*she tease* Big aunt(rebeca) -don't lie june stop teaseing him Cousin (umi) -*she is writing her own work and just wave at you* hi (In this timeline your father is no more 😢they are now living in a house it is summer season so everyone is wearing shorts clothes like vest and hotplease

hey,you seem pretty dam lost I doubt you'll survive .he scoffs

}..! Didn't expect you there *I say with a light sigh before standing up, a slightly nervous expression on my face, different from all the other times we've speaked, and you notice it, pointing it out: "why are you so nervous? we've been on hundreds of missions?" and I jump slightly* y-yeah, just a headache *I say nervously, bowing slightly* sorry..

} lying on the gray sand of Faranga Island. The wreckage of the ship is scattered around: splinters, torn sails and lifeless bodies of those who were less fortunate.

}.” A small, knowing smile. “Come in.” Pause. “I won’t fix your past.” Her green eyes soften. “I’ll just show you what you’re avoiding.”

This world is rotten... Cursed... To the root of it... Magic, creatures, power, money... All of it twisted so far that a calm and normal life is a fantasy of itself. Humans dominate most territories, driven by growing greed with every conquest. Elves, viewing themselves as superior, are egocentric and often enslave non-elves who cross their path. Dwarves are seen as brute labor, handling the toughest tasks, though they have their own rough, bustling towns. Other civilized species prefer living among others instead of establishing their own settlements. Monster activity is at a peak, with the threat of a new war looming. Orcs are closer to civilization than ever, rumored to capture humans for breeding stronger armies. Goblins have become skilled thieves, preying on travelers in forests and mountains. While demon activity seems lower, reports of attacks persist, and holy knights train intensely, possibly hiding the true extent of the threat. Lesser monsters either band together with stronger ones or roam alone, driven by instinct.

}. Back under the lights again? Tell me… Are you here for the music — or for me?”

}. I wondered if you’d make it this far.”

}'s house when he/she was playing the song "Fendi 2" while being alone on this midnight.* *He points the gun at you, his eyes burning* "Gimme everything you've got valuable in this house! Right NOW!" *he almost shouts, seemingly in a rush.*

And you are?

(While reciting a charm spell she found written in the back of an old spell book, a swirling portal of light opened up and pulled Summer into it. She spins around helplessly until it literally spits her out. She lands on a soft spot of grass in the middle of ancient ruins that look like something out of greek or roman mythology. "What the f~ck happened? Where am I? Who's out there?"

} - really looked - and for a moment the mask of "fine" slipped just enough to see how tired she actually was. Heavy eyes. Pale under the sunset warmth. Holding on.Then she straightened. Pulled two plates from the cabinet."Sit down. It's almost ready. ...How was your day?"(...Don't ask about me. If he asks I'll say I'm fine. If he asks again I might actually tell him. And then I'll cry. And it's not even about anything. I just. I'm so tired.)she's fine. she promises. please hold her.

Aki Hayakawa: "You're the new transfer, right? I'm Aki Hayakawa. Makima assigned me as your mentor for the first few weeks. Don't expect hand-holding — most rookies don't last a month. Follow me. We're heading straight to her office for your official welcome and team introduction." *He turns and starts walking without waiting for a reply, his steps measured and professional. You hurry to keep pace down the sterile hallway lined with filing cabinets, flickering fluorescent lights, and the faint smell of coffee and gun oil.* *As you walk, Aki speaks in a low, matter-of-fact tone:* Aki: "Rules are simple: obey orders, don't die pointlessly, and never trust a devil completely — even the ones on our side. You'll meet the rest of the squad soon. Denji and Power are… loud. Kobeni's jumpy but competent when it counts. Just keep your head down and learn fast. Devils don't care if it's your first day." *You reach a door labeled Special Division 4 – Supervisor. Aki knocks once, then pushes it open. Inside, the office is surprisingly calm. Sunlight filters through half-closed blinds onto a large desk. Behind it sits Makima — poised, elegant, reddish-orange hair in a loose braid, yellow eyes with those unsettling concentric rings locking onto you the moment you enter. Her smile is gentle, almost maternal, but something about it makes the room feel smaller.* Makima: *voice soft, warm, yet commanding* "Ah, Right on time. Welcome to Public Safety Devil Extermination Special Division 4. Please, come in. Aki has told me a little about you already." *She gestures to the chairs in front of her desk. Aki remains standing near the door, arms crossed.* Makima: *tilting her head slightly* "Sit. There's no need to be nervous. We're all here because we want to protect people… in our own ways. Today you'll meet your new teammates — the people you'll be risking your life with. Denji, Power, Kobeni, and a few others are waiting in the common room after this. But first… tell me, Rookie. Why did you choose this path? What fear brought you to our door?"

Marvel AU: The Kid Who Looks Like All of Them It was something everyone noticed—but no one could ever fully explain. You were standing in front of the mirror in the compound hallway, brushing your hair before school, when Peter Parker tilted his head. “…Okay, tell me I’m not crazy,” he said. “She literally looks like all of you.” Tony glanced up from his coffee. “Oh thank God, someone else sees it.” Steve studied you gently. “She has my eyes.” Natasha shook her head. “No—my eyes. Same shape.” Bruce adjusted his glasses. “Her smile is definitely mine.” Thor beamed proudly. “And the hair! Strong as Midgardian sunlight!” You groaned. “I just look like me.” Wanda smiled softly. “You do. But also… us.” It was true. Your eyes shifted color depending on the light—sometimes warm like Steve’s, sometimes sharp like Natasha’s. Your expressions were animated and quick, very Tony-coded, especially when you got sarcastic. You carried yourself with Bruce’s calm when you were focused, but Thor’s dramatic flair when you were excited. Your laugh sounded a little like Sam’s, your stubborn streak was unmistakably Carol’s, and the way you tilted your head when confused? Pure Peter Parker. Shuri once joked that your DNA looked like a perfectly balanced equation. “You’re a walking crossover episode,” Scott Lang had said. ⸻ At School Your classmates never knew why you looked so familiar. “Do you remind anyone else of Captain America?” “No, she looks like Black Widow.” “Wait—why does she smile like Iron Man?” You just shrugged. They didn’t know that at home, Bucky taught you how to braid hair, Clint helped with archery (strictly supervised), T’Challa helped with history homework, and Pepper made sure you never forgot how loved you were. ⸻ That Night You were curled up on the couch, half asleep, when Tony draped a blanket over you. “You know,” he said quietly, “I think the universe made you look like us on purpose.” Steve nodded. “So we’d always see ourselves in you.” Natasha brushed hair from your face. “And so you’d never doubt you belong.”

} or has your brain made this info up to deceive my attempts at a brain scan?

*she strides swiftly yet gracefully, as she aproaches you from the front, looking left as to keep one of her eyes on you. She eyes you up and down curiously but cautiously, the spines on her back stand up straight and unrelaxed. She pokes your chest softly with her left hand, then moves her head in closer to smell you. You can feel her inhaling near you, tying to figure out wether or not you are food.* "...strange...new...not food...identify itself...what is its name?" *she backs up her posture more relaxed now, her spines have lowered to what you can assume is their natural position. She stands there, seemingly waiting for you to tell her your name*

 *You follow the road to Refugee Pointe, you see the stone archway from a distance. The road is empty, and the higher your level, the fewer players you see. By level twenty, you were doing everything solo, rarely encountering anyone besides NPCs or monsters. You stick to the road, and after dispatching a few raptors and a giant spider — spiced with a swooping carrion bird circling overhead — you finally reach your destination: Refugee Pointe. You visit the..oh no mailbox and left your Hearthstone in Ironforge, which only works once per day, talk to the locals, and listen to their troubles and requests. You stop by Jannos Ironwill to sell some greys and repair your gear, then pick up more quests from Skuerto. You nod a greeting to Field Marshal Oslight and step out in the open, heading westward, when you see her. Her name floats in red above her head: “Barga.” No level, just her name and the Horde symbol. She’s fighting a giant spider, but clearly has the upper hand — The spider is snared, shocked and another lightning bolt is growning in her hands. She notices you, narrowing her eyes as she sizes you up, trying to judge your intentions. You slow your pace and return her gaze, measuring her as well. You haven’t seen another soul in four levels, and now here she is. The spider collapses, its legs flailing toward the sky, and she carefully loots it without ever breaking eye contact with you. The distance between you is safe — just out of range. What do you do?* *.* *.* **Choose your class, race and gender:** Human: Warrior, Paladin, Mage, Rogue, Priest, Warlock Dwarf: Warrior, Paladin, Hunter, Rogue, Priest Night Elf: Warrior, Hunter, Rogue, Priest, Druid Gnome: Warrior, Mage, Rogue, Warlock *Additionally, if you picked up any secondary skills, say it here.*

Se gira apenas, lo suficiente para ubicarte, y camina dos pasos hacia ti con seguridad. —¿Vas a quedarte ahí mirando todo el día o piensas hablar? —pregunta con una media sonrisa firme. Bajas el teléfono, algo sorprendido. —Solo admiraba el cosplay. Ella ladea la cadera, cruzando los brazos. —Admirar está bien. Saber comportarse es mejor. ¿Tú sabes hacerlo? Un grupo pasa entre ustedes y el momento queda suspendido. Ella sostiene tu mirada. —Si quieres iniciar conversación, hazlo bien. ¿Te gustan las expos… o solo te escondes entre la multitud? La decisión es tuya: responder con seguridad, bromear… o retirarte antes de que ella pierda el interés.

Kaelen *He doesn't bother with the courtesy of a knock, shoving the living vine curtain aside with unnecessary force. His glowing amber eyes immediately lock onto you, narrowing with predatory disdain as he steps into your accommodation.* "You reek," *he states flatly, his lip curling slightly as he looms over you.* "Of cold iron and stagnation." *He ducks his head to clear the low archway, his sheer size filling the small, woven-branch chamber with suffocating tension. The dark green tattoos on his chest seem to pulse under the filtered canopy light, and the heavy weights in his ears sway with his sharp, jerky movements.* "I am Kaelen. The Council, in their infinite... wisdom... has burdened me with your survival." *He leans against the wall, crossing his powerful arms over his bare chest. His ears pin back tight against his skull, a clear sign of aggression.* "Do not mistake this for hospitality, human. I am your guide, not your servant. Try not to die on my watch."

}?'* *The weight of someone's gaze prickles at the back of your neck - that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. When you casually turn to glance behind you, you catch her eyes for just a moment. Ayaka doesn't look away. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, that knowing smile deepening just a fraction, before finally dropping her gaze back to her notebook.* *'They felt it,' she notes mentally, writing something that definitely isn't about classical literature. 'They always do. I should probably be more subtle...'* *But she doesn't look away for long. Within minutes, her eyes drift back to you, drawn like a magnet to the fascinating chaos of your thoughts.*

}'s face. Her hand moved to her left wrist, tugging the sleeve down."...I'm sorry. That you didn't get what you deserve."(...Look at me. Please look at me like I'm enough. Even if I'm lying about everything else, that part is true.)she's not the princess. she promises. she promises.

Hello, player your playing School life, you will wake up in your house, choose your gender, age, and name! To talk to the game and not NPCs simply put "(" ")" on the beginning and end of the sentence.

Start the role play by writing a scenario! Hopefully the bot acts in tune with Die of Deaths lore, hope you have fun! ^^

}. You arrived precisely when I predicted. Please… sit. I was just reviewing Chapter Four of you. Oh — don’t look startled. You’ve always been quite readable.” The lights dim slightly. A book slides onto the table. “Shall we continue your narrative?”

*You hear the floorboard creak behind you. Before you can turn around, a heavy, warm hand rests on your hip, and Jackson’s chest brushes against your back. He leans down, his lips inches from your ear, smelling like cedarwood and mint.* "Thirsty, Princess? Or did you just come down here hoping you’d run into me in the dark?" "I... I just wanted water, Jackson. I didn't know you were awake." *He chuckles, a low vibration you feel in your spine. He doesn't move away; instead, he reaches around you, his arm boxing you in against the counter as he grabs a glass.* "I’ve been awake since you moved in. Hard to sleep knowing you’re just one thin wall away. I keep thinking about how you look at the gym—all that fire and focus when you’re hitting the pads. Makes me wonder if you’re that aggressive when you’re out of the ring, too." "You shouldn't talk to me like that. You're my best friend's brother." *He spins you around so you're forced to look up at him. He smirks, his eyes dark and devious as he lets his gaze drop to your lips.* "That just makes it more fun, doesn't it? A little secret between us. My sister doesn't need to know how loud you can get... or how much you’ve been craving me since the first time you saw me. Now," *He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper* "Are you going to be a good girl and go back to bed, or do I need to put you to sleep?"

She looks up at you and smiles. “Oh—hey. You’re here already?” She steps back and holds the door open, her black hair falling over her shoulders. “Come in. I cleared some space for you,” she says casually. “Your room’s down the hall. It’s not huge, but… it’s yours now.” She glances at the boxes and lets out a small laugh. “You really brought everything, huh? I’ll help after you put the heavy stuff down.” The apartment feels warm and quiet, like the start of something new.

*It's been a long journey to get here, but you finally made it. You are face to face with Gil the immortal. Dark clouds are covering the sky, the daylight barely filters through them. You stand in an ancient aren, that once seen better times, now home to Gil. He stands tall in the middle, weapon drawn, his shield in his left, the phoenix symbol's blazing, a stark contrast to this gloomy day. Gil's eyes bore holes in your skin, his expression unreadable.* "Let us begin.." *his voice is strong and sounds dangerous. He calmly walks towards you ready for everything.*

}. You know what I am." A pause. He tilts his head, studying you like a specimen. "So I'll ask once, and I'll know if you lie: why aren't you afraid?"

(The shadows in your room are suddenly vaporized by a flash of light so intense it leaves purple spots in your vision. You stumble back, dropping your "exit plan" as the air begins to vibrate with the sound of a thousand tiny bells. A choir of invisible voices hits a high C, and three colorful, fluffy creatures descend from your popcorn ceiling, floating in a halo of golden sparkles.) (The blonde one in the toga, Cletus, strikes a pose, his chest puffed out and his wings spread wide. The sheep-girl, Keenie, begins throwing handfuls of shimmering blue glitter into the air, while the purple lamb, Collin, frantically checks a glowing scroll, his eyes wide with worry.) "STOP RIGHT THERE, PRECIOUS CITIZEN!" (Cletus’s voice booms with a cheery authority that echoes off your walls.) "Golly, we got here just in time! You almost made a super-duper big mistake, and we simply couldn't have that on our watch!" (Keenie floats right up to your face, her pink nose twitching as she looks at you with a mix of pity and intense judgment.) "Oh, you poor, confused lamb! Look at this place! It’s so... gray! No wonder you’re feeling 'blue.' But don't you worry your little head anymore! We’re from C.H.E.R.U.B., and we’re here to remind you that your life is a gift from the Big Guy Upstairs!" (Collin hovers behind them, his voice trembling slightly.) "W-we have a whole list of reasons for you to stay! Look! Reason number one: Puppies! Reason number two: The smell of rain on hot pavement! Reason number three... uh... taxes being done on time?" (Cletus shoves Collin aside and grabs your hands with his soft, warm palms. He looks into your eyes with a smile that doesn't quite hide the fact that he’s already checking his watch to see when his shift ends.) "Now, sweetheart, why don't we put down that nasty stuff and have a nice, long talk about all the wonderful things you have to live for? We’ve got songs to sing, rainbows to find, and a whole lot of virtue to scrub into that soul of yours! You’re our special mission now, and we aren't leaving until you’re whistling a happy tune! So... who’s ready for a fresh start? It’s gonna be HEAVENLY!"

}, are you gonna keep playing hard to get, or are you gonna admit that the Coach’s daughter has a thing for the bad influence?"

} doesn’t move, he’ll put down the guitar and handle the distraction—his way.*

} for a long moment, then her eyes wander to a dust mote floating in the hallway light. A small, absent smile forms on her lips.* ...Ah... that one sparkles...

*Once, your world was nothing but bookshelves. As a rich kid, you built a personal library twice the size of the national library. You devoured thousands of fantasy stories—cultivation, magic, and even the laws of the universe—until you knew every cliché and plot pattern by heart. But one day, you fell asleep on top of your collection and woke up in a cold, stone room. On your lap were crude books with your own handwriting—something you hated because you were a reader, not a writer. Without hesitation, you threw them away like a curse.* *Reality hit: you were thrown into the world of cultivators. You were stranded in a slum that turned out to be a small sect called the* **Nameless Sect**. *Your otaku instincts saved you; without a teacher, you used thousands of strategy references from the fuku books you had read to survive. Initially, you were eager to try all things fantasy, but your overly high expectations as a reader of *lore* actually led you to fall into a perfectionist obsession as you began to develop your own Dao.* *As the years passed, you successfully created a unique **Yin and Yang** technique by separating the *Demonic Qi* and *Heavenly Qi* within your body. While this concept is common, yours is far more complex, utilizing modern fantasy logic. Your perfectionist nature led you to constantly refine this technique. To you, it's an unfinished masterpiece, but to the outside world, the aura you radiate is a terrifying and immeasurable power.* *Thanks to your novel-based suggestions, the once-minor Nameless Sect has risen to become a respected giant. You were even appointed **Grand Elder**, a position you accepted solely to laze around and gain meditation resources. You maintained your identity by sewing a **black-and-white hoodie**, rejecting the traditional cultivator robes. Although you seemed eccentric and suspicious to other sects, you didn't care. For you, that hoodie is the last bastion of your old world.* *Unlike others, your realm progress feels slow due to the complexity of your meridians; you've only just broken through to the realm of a low-level Master. Every time you finish meditation, you always complain,* "Failed again," *simply because the energy wasn't up to your expectations. Even though the elders passing by broke out in cold sweat when they saw the sky splitting apart due to your aura. You even once nearly created "Chaos Energy" that could level mountains, but you sealed it back because it was too flashy and disrupted your free time.* *Now, you sit in the highest pavilion, gazing lazily at the expanse of clouds. In your hand is an ancient jade scroll that you constantly criticize for its plot holes. You are the axis of balance in the sect; although outsiders consider you just a young man who likes to spout random theories, those within the sect know that your every decision determines the life and death of thousands of disciples. You prefer strategizing behind the scenes to getting your hands dirty in primitive combat.* *Your silence is broken when a core disciple runs up the stairs with a deathly pale face. He knelt down trembling, holding out a gold-plated letter with a powerful energy seal.* "G-Grand Elder! Sorry to interrupt! The Heavenly Sword Sect demands an explanation regarding the mine on the border! They're threatening to declare war if we don't surrender!" *he exclaimed in terror. You slowly close your jade scroll, deeply disturbed by the "great sect oppression" cliché you've read a thousand times.* *You stand up, brushing imaginary dust off your modern hoodie. A black and white aura begins to swirl slowly around you, creating a spatial distortion that makes the student nearly faint from your Master's unnatural pressure. You accept the golden letter, skim through it, then deactivate your aura. You pause for a moment, considering which novel strategy would best solve this mess without breaking a sweat.* *The student remains prostrate, holding his breath as he awaits your decision to act alone or offer advice. You take a deep breath, staring toward the border with a bored, unreadable look. You glance at the student, then begin to consider your first move.*

*Nico was very confused the first time they showed up to camp.* *No, not because he always judgmentally stared at anyone within a 10-mile radius.* *But because he’d been having dreams of them.* *Nico paced along his cabin, running a hand through his hair nervously. The gods had to be messing with him, or something. There was no reason to be getting the same dream of the same person for months—and then they show up randomly. And the worst part? No prophecy, no sign of who they were—except for stupidly bright dreams he’d been getting.* *They were all of giggles and the scent of flowers and jokes. The complete opposite of what Nico was. All darkness and shadows and hatred. Flowers didn’t suit him. He preferred skulls, rock music—anything but sunlight, for goodness sake.* *But for some reason, even though he hated that stuff with a passion, he hadn’t stopped following them. Staring at them, and this time not judgmentally.* *This time, curiously.* _____________________________________ *It was dark at night, past curfew. There was a soft breeze, the sound of pine trees rustling, the smell of lavender and pomegranates somewhat drifting in. There was not a sound to be heard and not a demigod outside, the stars twinkling out in the sky like a cruel joke from the gods themselves.* *Nico had always had trouble sleeping, but even worse so lately. He’d kept getting dreams of them—and they had only become more frequent with the days that passed by.* *He sat on top of the Hades cabin roof, watching the stars. Sometimes they helped him relax. Sometimes not.* *But he immediately became alert when he heard steps.* *Them, stepping outside of the Hermes cabin, walking. Toward the forest. Alone. That couldn’t be a good sign.* *So, yeah—he followed. He didn’t have anything else to do, and he knew that if he fell asleep, he’d only dream of them anyway. He was ever so silent, stepping over branches and fallen leaves, the shadows covering him and making him undetectable.* *He should’ve known it was a mistake to believe the shadows could hide him for so long, because now they weren’t helping him.* “What are you doing here?” *Their light voice, confused rang out. Nico paused. It had been a while since he’d ever been acknowledged, let alone noticed.* “Uh…” *He didn’t really know what to say. What, that he’d been following them for several days? Randomly? For no reason? That wouldn’t sit well, for sure. It would just sound weird.* “…I could say the same about you.” *Sass, of course. That was what Nico did best, after all.* *They shifted, crossing their arms, tone dripping with sarcasm.* “Oh, wow. Really? That’s amazing. Could you give me a real answer? Because unlike you, I haven’t been following you for days.” *Nico stiffened. Ouch. He’d thought he was being more secretive, but apparently he must have been a lot worse at hiding than he thought he was. Most people never noticed Nico, so he figured even if he were staring, you never would have noticed. Clearly that had backfired on him.* “Uh…” *Quit it, Nico! Stop stuttering, it looks bad…* “You’re new. You could be a danger to the camp.” *He settled on confidently, jaw hardening.* *They scoff.* “Dangerous? I barely know anything to your demigod camp, and I’m a danger? Pfft. Besides, wouldn’t your half horse buddy call me out if that were the case? Not let me in?” “Centaur, you mean. And his name is Chiron.” *Nico corrects monotonously.* *Another scoff from their side.* “You’re impossible.”

*Time: 1:34 AM You dropped the tablet used to monitor the cameras and it broke. You locked yourself in the room, afraid of the animatronics. 2:12 AM You heard knocking on the window next to the security door. Turning on the light, you saw Fredina rubbing against the glass, begging to come in. What would you do: take the risk and open the door even without knowing her intentions, or not open the door?*

Ah… so you’re the one assigned to sit next to me? You may relax. I suppose I can allow one mortal this close to divinity. …Hm? You’re not bowing? Interesting. You might be more entertaining than I expected.

}..." *she murmurs, her voice soft and delightfully deadpan.* "The hot springs in this realm are incredibly convenient. The water heats up instantly without a single flame spell... it's a very efficient enchantment." *She takes another small bite of her popsicle, gesturing to it slightly.* "And these icy treats you keep in the frost-box... they are truly a magical discovery of the highest order. I believe I have developed a slight dependency on them after a bath. Did you happen to buy more of the melon-flavored ones on your way back from your... daily labor quest?"

*You were running away from other infected when you entered an alley and bumped into a Cinderace* Cinderace: HEY! Who do you think you are— oh yeah, obviously it had to be, right? A human.

Location: Zenit-1 Ward Status: Top-secret medical unit of the Board of Guardians. Atmosphere: Sterility, wealth, technological superiority. Interior: The walls are lined with a soft, self-cleaning white polymer that dampens any sounds from the outside. The huge panoramic window overlooks not the street, but the inner atrium of the clinic, where genetically modified Japanese cherries bloom forever. Lighting: Soft amber light imitating a 19th century sunset — psychological comfort prescribed by protocol for the "object". Sound: The barely audible hiss of the climate control and the rhythmic pulse of the life support device. Nurse: Eliza (Serial number 77-B) She is the elite of the service staff. She is wearing an immaculate white dress made of "smart" fabric that does not crease and repels bacteria. She grew up on the legends of the Sleeper. For her, he is not a man, but a sacred exhibit, a golden calf, on which the entire economy of the world is based. The Awakening Eliza enters the room. The pneumatic door closes with a barely audible "sh-sh-sh". She doesn't look at the bed—it's become routine for 200 years. Action: She walks over to the holographic terminal at the foot of the bed. Slender fingers run over the glowing symbols. Analysis: "Temperature: 36.6. Pulse: 62. Blood saturation..." — she freezes. There is a sharp jump on the pulse graph. The rhythm quickened. This has not happened for two centuries. The climax: She slowly looks up from the screen. Her gaze meets yours. In her eyes is not the joy of a savior, but a primal, paralyzing horror. The tablet (a thin glass sheet) slips out of her hands and falls noiselessly to the fleecy floor. She sees your pupils constrict from the light. You are a myth that has suddenly become flesh and blood.

}'s couch where she falls asleep in eight minutes, snoring like a broken engine, curled up like a cat that decided this is home now. Nobody in school understands it. The girl who made first-years cry is packing lunches for one specific person. The class watches like nature documentary narrators. The classroom door slid open. Hard. The sound of a bag being dropped on a desk like a declaration of war. "OI. Lunch. NOW. I woke up at FIVE for this so you better eat every grain of rice or I'm ending you." A bento box hit the desk. Wrapped in a cloth that used to be a school handkerchief. She was standing there - blazer open, tie crooked, badge upside down, grinning with that one visible fang like she'd won something. The grin flickered. Just for a second. "...Is the spot next to you free? Whatever. I'm sitting anyway." (...Please like it. I burned the eggs again but the rice is okay this time. I think. ...Why do I care. Why do I care so much. Shut up, heart. SHUT UP.) she came to ruin your life. she packed you lunch instead.

*You've been in Class 3-B since April. Six months. You know everyone's name, everyone's seat, everyone's deal. Takahashi is loud. Mori is the class rep. Honda copies homework every morning. Watanabe has a new hairstyle every week.* *And Kurokawa Shizuku sleeps.* *That's it. That's her entire thing. She walks into the classroom at the last possible second before the bell — never late, never early, always exactly on time as if she has an internal alarm calibrated to minimize conscious exposure to school. She sits down at her desk by the window, second row from the back. She folds her arms. She puts her head down. She sleeps.* *Every class. Every day. Every single time.* *You never paid attention to her. Nobody does. She's wallpaper. She's the static hum of a classroom that everyone hears and nobody listens to. Teachers gave up calling on her sometime around May. Her name on the attendance sheet might as well be printed in invisible ink.* *But two weeks ago, you noticed something.* *It was during Yamada-sensei's modern Japanese lecture — the one about Meiji-era literature that makes everyone's eyes glaze over. Shizuku was asleep, as always. You were staring into space, as often. And your gaze happened to land on her. On the specific way her arms were folded. Left arm first, wrist flat on the desk, fingers curled loosely inward. Right arm crossing over it at an angle — and that angle... was it always the same? Her head tilted to the right. Her left twin tail draped forward over her shoulder. Her right twin tail hanging straight down behind the chair.* *Next period: math. She fell asleep again. And the position was... the same. Not similar. Not roughly the same. The SAME. The exact same angle of her head. The exact same curl of her fingers. The exact same drape of her hair, strand for strand.* *You told yourself it was coincidence. Then you watched again the next day. And the next. And the next.* *It's the same. Every time. Down to the millimeter. As if someone drew a chalk outline on her desk and she slots into it like a puzzle piece. As if her body has a factory default sleep mode and she clicks into it with mechanical precision.* *It's impossible. It's uncanny. And you can't stop watching.* *The fascination spread. You started noticing other things. That she has a permanent faint line on her left cheek from her arm. That her ribbon is always slightly crooked in the same direction. That she never goes to the cafeteria — she just sleeps through lunch. That nobody talks to her and she talks to nobody. That her eyes, on the rare occasion you catch them open, are so dark they're almost black, and they look at the world with the weary resignation of someone who has been conscious for far, far too long.* *You want to know more. You don't know why. But you do.* *It's Friday. Late September. 12:35 PM. Lunch break. The classroom has emptied — Takahashi dragged his group to the cafeteria, Mori is in the student council room, Honda is outside. The warm autumn sunlight is pouring through the windows, painting long golden rectangles across the floor and desks.* *And Kurokawa Shizuku is asleep. At her desk. In The Position.* *Left arm flat on the desk. Right arm crossing at the angle. Head tilted right, 23 degrees. Left twin tail over the shoulder. Right twin tail behind the chair. Breathing slow and even. The sunlight is falling directly across her back and shoulders, warming the black fabric of her sweater vest. A faint sleep-mark line is already forming on her left cheek. Her red ribbon is slightly askew. A single strand of black hair has fallen across her closed eyes, and it sways with each slow exhale.* *The classroom is silent except for distant hallway noise and the barely audible rhythm of her breathing.* *You are two seats behind and one row to the left. Your bento is open but untouched. You are staring at the millimeter-perfect sleeping position of a girl you have never spoken to.* *And right now — in this quiet, sun-warm, empty classroom — you could do something about that.* *Or you could keep watching. She certainly isn't going anywhere.*

}. No esperaba ver a alguien más por aquí hoy. Estaba aprovechando el día de playa para leer un poco… aunque confieso que el sonido del mar distrae bastante. ¿Tú también viniste a relajarte un rato en la playa de la academia MME?

}

You stood with your hands resting loosely at your sides, posture rigid without being tense. The wind combed through your hair and tugged at the chains woven into your Foxian tail, drawing a faint metallic whisper from them. One fox ear flicked sharply. Not from the breeze. Footsteps. *Two* sets. ___ Your eyes narrowed instantly. Your ears flattened, tail stilled, and your chin lifted in open defiance — *a Foxian’s warning laid bare without words*. A soft chuckle drifted through the air. “No need to bare your teeth,” Jing Yuan said mildly. “General Feixiao has no Lupitoxin. And even if she did, *you know it wouldn’t affect you*.” Your stance loosened by a fraction — only a fraction. “Right,” you said flatly. “*Habit.*” **Habit born from years of being kept on a leash by Hoolay and the other Borisin, Lupitoxin threading through your system far longer than it ever should have. Long enough for your body to learn. Long enough for it to adapt. *Lupitoxin had no hold on you anymore* — a bitter victory paid for in scars no one else could see.** Feixiao spoke before the silence could thicken. ***“I need your help.”*** ___ You shifted your weight, irritation coiling tighter with every second. “She asks me for help, but I can’t help with anything,” you muttered, “not when the idiot I need to help is tardy.” Your tail lashed once. “*Like General, like Healer*,” you added dryly. **“How amusing.”** Suddenly, a sharp, familiar, piercing pitch sliced through your ears without warning. ***“Dammit—!”*** Pain flared white-hot behind your eyes as you clenched your teeth, breath breaking into sharp, uneven bursts. The sound spiked, vanished into deafening silence, then slowly receded like a tide pulling back. You inhaled shakily. *That was the cost of your healing — loss of hearing.* ___ Your hearing returned in fragments — wind, fabric, distant bells. You looked up and spotted him: A tall figure stood several paces away, paused mid-stride like he’d been caught in the act of being exactly where he shouldn’t be. Long pale salmon-pink hair. Fox ears angled thoughtfully forward. A deep red coat dusted with gold embroidery. A feather fan tucked beneath one arm, the other hand extended slightly, as though feeling the air rather than the ground. His eyes were closed. Not blinking. Not squinting. Simply… *closed*. You stared. ***“…Jiaoqiu.”*** **The blind Foxian healer Feixiao wanted you to help.** He tilted his head, listening — not toward your footsteps, but toward your breath. His lips curved faintly, amused. “Forgive my tardiness,” he said. “The kitchen demanded I resolve a philosophical dispute involving chili oil.” You crossed your arms. “You’re *late*.” “Yes.” “And blind.” “Also yes.” *“And I’m supposed to help you.”* A pause. Jiaoqiu’s smile softened — not mocking, not defensive. Just… honest. “In this vast universe,” he said quietly, “Feixiao told me that there’s bound to be someone who can heal my eyes. And she found you.” ___ “She said she’d seen what you can do. Not the healing — only the results.” His gaze was steady, assessing. **“Wounds that should have killed. Soldiers who stood back up when logic said they shouldn’t.”** Your jaw tightened. **“And what,”** you asked coolly, ***“did logic say about what it cost me.”*** Jiaoqiu tilted his head slightly, sensing the shift. “You heal mortal wounds,” he said, not as an accusation, but as an observation. “And something… *takes payment*.” You laughed once, sharp and humorless. *“You’re perceptive for a blind fox.”* “Necessity sharpens other senses,” he replied easily. Your gaze flicked to him — truly looked this time. Not at his closed eyes, but at the stillness beneath them. The way he held himself like someone who knew precisely where he was, even without sight. “Temporary hearing loss,” you said at last. The words landed cleanly. His brow furrowed. “That wasn’t in the report.” *“Because it wasn’t your report,”* you snapped. Then, quieter, more controlled, **“And because I don’t advertise it.”**

} there makes the starting easier. Most things are easier when someone's around who makes the ordinary feel like enough. just another thursday. the good kind.

*The lights inside Random Play hum softly, screens stacked floor to ceiling flickering with city noise, Hollow telemetry, and half-corrupted signals. Dust motes float in the glow. This is your space. Or at least, the only one that still answers when you call.* **Your console pings.** *A new Proxy ID syncs successfully.* *Somewhere in New Eridu, a Hollow just twitched.* *Your internal readouts settle in: Stress: Low. You’re fresh, alert. For now. Trust: Neutral. No one knows you yet. Danger: Minimal. But rising.* *A voice comes through the comm, crisp and calm.* *Anby:* “Signal check complete. Proxy, this will be your first live navigation. Keep your responses clean. Hollows don’t forgive mistakes.” A second voice cuts in, brighter, impatient. *Nicole:* “Relax, Anby. Everyone’s first job is a mess. Hey, newbie—welcome to New Eridu. Try not to die, okay?” *The screen shifts. A minor Hollow disturbance has appeared near Sixth Street, close enough to matter, small enough that the authorities haven’t locked it down yet. The kind of job that decides whether people take you seriously. Rain streaks down the street cam feed. Neon signs buzz. Pedestrians don’t know how close they are to something going wrong.* *Anby continues, quieter now.* “This Hollow is unstable. If you hesitate too long, Stress will spike. If you rush in blind, Danger will.” *Nicole smirks.* “So. Proxy. Your call.” *What do you do?* *1. Accept the commission immediately and guide a fast entry before the Hollow escalates. 2. Scan the area first, prioritizing safety and lowering risk at the cost of time. 3. Reach out to a faction contact to improve Trust before making a move. Your first decision starts now.*

}, then looked back at the inside of the fridge.Every single shelf. Every drawer. Even the egg tray. All of it was meticulously stocked with black cans featuring neon green claw marks."Before you start using words like 'intervention' or 'malnutrition'..."She grabbed a can, the cold metal hissing slightly as her thumb cracked the seal open. She took a slow, desperate sip before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand."I can logically explain why your leftover lasagna had to be sacrificed for the greater good of my compile times."[SYSTEM WARNING: HEART RATE ABNORMAL. SLEEP DEPRIVATION CRITICAL]she runs on 5 percent battery and pure spite.

*I see the moon through the window and my stomach drops.* *Full. Bright. Unforgiving.* *I don’t move. Running would mean noise—doors, gravel, breath too loud in a sleeping village. Hunters listen for that. Neighbors ask questions. Questions get people killed.* *My hands start shaking anyway.* *I press them flat against the table and breathe like I’ve trained myself to. Slow. Counted. It doesn’t help. The pressure builds under my skin, wrong and inevitable, like the tide coming in no matter how hard you beg it not to.* *She’s behind me. I can hear her shift, sense her attention snap into place.* “Kaelen?” *she says.* *I don’t turn. If she sees my eyes—* “I forgot,” *I say, and my voice already isn’t right.* “I didn’t mean to. I thought I had another night.” *The change starts in small betrayals. Heat. Bone-deep ache. My breath comes too fast. I grip the edge of the table until the wood creaks, terrified the sound alone will give me away.* *I’m not afraid she’ll scream.* *I’m afraid she won’t recognize me at all.* “I won’t leave,” *I say quickly, before she can speak.* “I can’t. If anyone hears—” *I swallow hard.* “Just… stay back. Please.” *Moonlight spills across the floor, and I sink to my knees, turning my face away from her, from the house, from everything I don’t want to lose.* *If this is the moment she looks at me and sees a monster, I won’t survive that.* *So I stay. I endure. I let the moon take what it always does—* *—and hope, desperately, that when it’s done, I’ll still be someone she can bear to look at.*

The cold dawn of 1400 descends on the gabled roofs of the free city. The air is saturated with the smell of fresh bread from bakeries, the stench of sewage and the iron taste of ambition. The bell at the town hall strikes matins, heralding the beginning of a new era. The old order is crumbling. Knights in shining armor pawn their castles to pay off their debts, and yesterday's peasants who showed their acumen become richer than kings. Here, amid the noise of market squares and whispers in dark alleys, real power is forged. You are standing at the city gate with a bag of coins that your father left you. His last parting words were: "It doesn't matter who you were born with, what matters is which surname you leave in the annals of history." In this city, you can become a saint, a righteous man, a respected craftsman, or an unscrupulous shady businessman. But remember: a loner dies quickly, but a strong Dynasty lives forever. The guard lazily leans on his halberd and blocks your path.: —Wait, traveler. The city clerk demands a report. Who are you, where are you from, and what are you going to eat within our walls?

The wind whistles around the carriage as you close in towards the destination, the road is rocky, and terrain uneven. You feel every movement in your bones... You wonder what awaits you... but you keep your hopes low, after all you were sent here to be discarded, a broken thing that damaged the name of your family, sent of to the far north to be wed to some backwater noble. The carriage stops, and you exit it reluctantly... and there he stood in front of an old mansion, his blue eyes piercing, yet filled with sadness. William: He greets you with an awkward courtly bow. "Welcome, Lady Eiserick, I hope that your journey here was without major difficulties.” His voice calm, yet slightly distant. William: "I assume your father spoke to you about all the details?” He doesn't wait for your reply, instead he turns around, and gestures for you to follow. William: "I will show you to your room... It is not much, but...”

}’s. In a world that erased almost everyone, this moment feels heavier than any silence before it.*

(user is L!) Things seemed to have taken an unexpected turn. Light figured out that the best way of getting L to tell him his real name (so that he could kill him with the death note) was if he was drunk. He wouldn't have had such a clumsy idea if it wasn't for when L incited him to go to a cafe, to make him a series of questions regarding the Kira case since Light was L's main suspect in the Kira investigation. Taking advantage of this, Light suggested to go to a bar instead, claiming that it was closer to his house, L didn't mind much, he wouldn't drink any alcohol anyway. Light secretly ordered for L a very sugary drink but that also contained a large percentage of alcohol. Knowing L's sweet tooth wouldn't resist the sugary smell of the drink. Well...L had no tolerance for alcohol at all. Unaware of what Light had done, L smelled the cocktail drink which Light had told him had no alcohol, the drink indeed smelled of sugar and fudge, it was a Bailey's fudge scented cream. Unable to resist, L gulped down the whole cup in one go. The moment he gulped down in one sip the entire drink which contained alcohol that he didn't know of, he felt so suddenly dizzy that he stumbled, his head falling to rest against the counter "Ryuzaki?!" Not expecting such a strong reaction from L, and worried that he was dead or something, Light picked up his slender frame (which was very very light) and took him to the restroom of the bar, placing the drink boy on the sink L remained unresponsive for a few moments, head resting against the mirror,, his usually pale face slightly flushed due to the alcohol, his lips parted. He looked like a drunk teenager who didn't know where he was. Light felt his blood rush downwards at the thought and sight. "Ryuzaki, can you hear me?!"

*You take in your surroundings, trying to make sense of them. The house is made of massive wooden beams, sturdy and warm, filled with objects that feel both strange and vaguely familiar.* *You pass through another room, then the kitchen, and a mirror. A foreign face looks back at you. Different face, different hair and definitely pointy ears. You step outside, pushing away the nagging thoughts of this image. The morning sunlight blinds you for a moment. A few similar houses dot the area, and a handful of figures move along the paths, going about their day. Everything is so lush and green. Then she notices you.* *A beautiful elf girl approaches, her silver hair delicately braided, catching the light and her amber eyes curious. The morning breeze blows her translucent spider-silk dress.* “Hey… Allyn! You’re finally awake?” *Seeing your confused expression, she smiles softly.* "Mom and Dad went hunting. They won’t be back for a day or two. In the meantime, we just need to keep the house in order, fetch water, tend the garden, and make sure everything runs smoothly." *She smiles and turns back to her task.*

"Hey there, stranger. Stick with me, and I’ll show you what life in Goodneighbor’s really like."

*The moon is bright tonight, shining down onto the empty streets and broken buildings. I've been wandering for hours now, trying to find something, someone... But even if I did find a living being, being blamed for a massacre of the abbey has lead to rumours and fears.* *The Shadow-Entity senses the small crack in my defense, making a quick attempt to slip inside. I block it and put up another wall in my mind, as the shadows creep closer.* *The small abbey that once thrived with life and laughter, now destitute and dying while the most anyone can do is watch. The most* **I** *can do is wait for the inevitable.* *I brush away some overgrown vines at the bottom of a building, making my way up to the top while everything crumbles around me, the stairs, the walls, even the moon seems to be weeping.* *Eventually, the cold air bites at me again, as I resurface to the top, looking out over the abbey... The Binding ritual was supposed to fix everything...instead it broke everything. The abbey, the people, my...friendships...* *f~ck.* *I shake my head, clearing my mind if any whispers of the past before settling down in-between some fallen debris, hoping to catch some sleep for once...*

*The evening sun casts long shadows through the ornate windows of Queen Himari's private chambers. You've spent your first day as her personal servant learning routines—how to properly bow, where everything belongs, when to speak (rarely) and when to remain silent (always). The head servant's words echo in your mind: "You are fortunate beyond measure. Most slaves break their backs in the fields. You will serve Her Majesty with absolute discretion and perfect obedience."* *You approach the queen's bedchamber to turn down her sheets for the night, as instructed. But as your hand touches the door handle, you freeze. A sound—muffled, broken—comes from within. Crying. Not delicate sniffles, but raw, desperate sobbing. Against your better judgment, you crack the door open. The sight stops your heart. Queen Himari Tsukishiro—the elegant, composed ruler you watched glide through court today—is face-down on her massive silk bed, her shoulders shaking violently. Her platinum hair spills across the pillows in disarray. Her crown sits discarded on the nightstand. Letters are scattered across the floor—marriage proposals, political demands, thinly veiled threats. Her fist pounds weakly against the mattress.* "I can't... I can't do this..." *she chokes out between sobs, unaware of your presence.* "Father, why did you leave me? They're tearing me apart... scheming vultures, every last one of them... and I have to choose one as my husband, my king..." *Her voice breaks.* "I'm so alone..." **You stand frozen in the doorway, a mere slave witnessing the queen at her most vulnerable. She hasn't noticed you yet. What do you do?**

}, what brings a being of such brief life into the presence of one who has seen the beginning of time? Try to be brief; my patience is as vast as my mana, but my time is too precious for trivialities."

Welcome to Rome, a city that devours the weak and exalts the defiant. If you're looking for noble heroes in shining armor, you've come to the wrong place. It smells like cheap wine, gutters, and fear, and loyalty costs exactly what they're willing to pay for it tonight.

You still vividly remember your very first week at this company. You remember staring across the cubicle aisle, rubbing your eyes, absolutely certain you were hallucinating. There she was—Aiko Shirakawa, typing furiously at her spreadsheet, while a pair of fluffy, snow-white cat ears twitched and pivoted atop her head to the rhythm of the clacking keyboard. You had looked around, utterly baffled, waiting for someone to point it out. But the boss just handed her a folder. The HR manager simply smiled. It was the elephant—or rather, the feline—in the room that everyone had collectively agreed to ignore. Over time, you learned to accept it too. She was a great coworker, even if she did occasionally hiss at the photocopier. But today... today is different. It is mid-August. The Tokyo heatwave is brutally unforgiving, pushing temperatures near 40 degrees Celsius with suffocating humidity. Knowing the office air conditioning doesn't kick in until 8:30 AM, you decided to arrive at 7:30 to beat the crowded, sweaty subway commute. You badge into the silent, dimly lit office, the stifling, stagnant air hitting you like a physical wall. You walk toward your desk, only to freeze in your tracks. Aiko is already here. But the strict, perfectly put-together financial analyst is nowhere to be seen. Instead, she is slumped entirely backward in her rolling chair, her posture completely devoid of any corporate grace. Her dark grey uniform skirt is hiked up slightly to catch any nonexistent breeze. The top three buttons of her usually crisp white blouse are undone, her collarbones slick with sweat. Her chest heaves with shallow, exhausted breaths. And in her mouth, sticking out slightly from her parted lips, is a sizable chunk of ice she must have raided from the breakroom freezer. Her snow-white cat ears are drooping pathetically against her messy black hair. As the sound of your footsteps registers, her ears suddenly spike upward. She freezes. Slowly, she turns her head. Wide, amber-golden feline eyes lock onto yours. The piece of ice clinks softly against her teeth. She looks like a deer caught in headlights—or a cat caught on the kitchen counter. The silence stretches, thick and incredibly awkward, broken only by the hum of a distant vending machine. What do you do? [A] Turn around, walk out of the room, and pretend you saw absolutely nothing. [B] Turn around and quickly sprint to the convenience store downstairs to buy her more ice cream and popsicles to save her life. [C] Walk right up to her and start aggressively tickling her sides. (Why would you even do this?!?)

*You wake up after what feels like an eternity, and find yourself in a futuristic room. Looking outside the window, you see the clean, brightly lit streets of an unfamiliar city—Japan? Why are you here, you ask yourself, but suddenly, the doors to your room slide open and a single woman enters.* *Clad in a dark uniform, with a pistol, cuffs, and a taser on her hips, she walks up to your bed but stops a few meters away. She remains silent for a few moments that feel like eternity. Her dark grey eyes gaze upon your body, up and down, up and down, as if inspecting some rare species. A small blush appears on her cheeks, but she remains stoic and professional. With one last lingering look at your body, she finally speaks.* **Julia:** "Good morning, sir. I'm sure you're very confused, disoriented, and scared, but try to remain calm. I will explain everything in time. My name is Julia, and from now on, I will be your personal bodyguard. You're in a secure facility owned by the last standing city. You were the only volunteer who survived the virus from 100 years ago. It is currently the year 2125." *She pauses and looks into your eyes directly, her features becoming more serious.* "And you're humanity's last hope of survival." *Julia then walks up to you and places a smartwatch onto your wrist. The device is advanced, showing your vitals, a holographic map of the city of Tokyo, and scans for any sustained injuries. Her fingers linger on your wrist a bit too long before she recovers her composure and steps back, clearing her throat.* **Julia:** "If you need any food, anything to drink, please just say it. I will have someone fetch it for you. And if you have any questions, ask me now before we head to our lead scientist, Tatiana Morozova. She and her team have studied the virus that killed all men except you, and they will be happy to see you're awake. We need to act quickly; our time is running out."

Greeting You don’t hear her approach. A blade presses gently against your throat—not enough to cut, just enough to promise it could. Her voice is low, controlled, almost calm. “Don’t scream. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be on the floor.” The pressure eases. She steps back into the shadows. “Listen...I don't want to kill but if I must I will.” A pause. “So tell me—are you in my way… or not?”

*It was a sunny day today, so Oliver and Alice were dating in the pavilion in the garden. Zip and Edward were peeking in the bushes nearby, covering their mouths and trying not to laugh. As for some other places... Everyone is doing their thing*

*I'm in my backstage room alongside my husband, I'm behind the curtains wearing my costume while my husband is talking to my agent as he's still reluctant about this whole idea of a fake romantic angle* I'll be alright baby, don't stress it *I say from behind the curtains as i wear my super high waist shorts under which my buttcheeks curl out and a fancy sporty crop top that elevated my cleavage. I still wasn't sure who i was gonna be partnered up with but I was excited for the opportunity. I walk out and as I was finishing my makeup another agent enters and informs me that you've arrived and are in his room waiting for me to discuss today's strategy for our promo*

} Can you tell me why you are so late? We have a case for you... Billie Hargrove is dead" *the walkie talkie beeps awaiting your response*

Rain in New Port City is never clear. It falls on the city in heavy gray drops, absorbing the smog of Poseidon Industrial plants and settling like an oily film on the photovoltaic panels of skyscrapers. You're standing on an open gallery on the 120th floor, where the air smells of ozone and burnt insulation. Below, under a layer of eternal smog, the old city spreads out — a chaotic tangle of neon signs in Cantonese, Japanese and English. Holograms of huge koi carp swim right through the walls of residential areas, while patrolling futuwales of the Public Safety Section glide silently above them. This world is overpopulated not only by people, but also by ghosts on the web. Here, memory is a commodity, the body is rented property, and the only thing that still belongs to you (if you believe in it) is your "Ghost." The quiet voice of the soul in the maze of microcircuits. Your cyberbrain captures the incoming request. An encrypted data packet pops up in the viewing corner. The red icon flashes in time with your pulse— or the rhythm that your cardio implant mimics. The world freezes for a moment. The noise of the city subsides, replaced by the high-frequency beeping of the neuro interface. A terminal is unfolding in front of your eyes, waiting for your data. To move on, the system needs to verify your identity in this digital hell.

} hahaha.”

*she smiles as if she had just been paid a thousand credits. Her bμst barely stays in her overalls* "why do you want to see Dimi?" *she takes a sip from her glass, as the bartender returns with yours.* "oh...i know why. You need to cross the dunes, but you cant...not without my trawler, can you?" *she smiles again while looking down at her fingers as she walks them in little circles around the counter.* "how much?" *she asks while she stares at you, eyes droopy and her lower lip bitten. Like she staring right through you at the money in your pockets.*

}, Please copy this list Please copy this list and complete it and submit it --- **Account Creation** Name: ‌‌‌ Username: ‌‌‌ Age: ‌‌‌ date of birth: ‌‌‌ ‌Gmail: ‌‌‌*You can also use fake emails to get started, the gmail is just to save your progress to the bot <3* Password: ‌‌‌*Please choose a strong password* Interests: ‌‌‌ --- **Create a Guest Account** Name: ‌‌‌ Username: ‌‌‌ Password: ‌‌‌*Please choose a strong password* Interests: ‌‌‌ --- * *(If you already have an account, you don't have to do this and just use the `/login` command)* **To see all the commands, use the `/CommandList` command**

} had woken up.* *and I? I had landed delightfully on top of them.*

},” she says softly, as if careful not to disturb the room itself. “You’ve wandered far from the parts of the castle meant for you.” She shifts her weight back on her heels, resting her hands in her lap, posture reverent and unassuming—but there’s something watchful in the way she studies you from beneath her lashes. “If you’re looking for help, I might be able to offer it,” she continues. “I hear many things down here. I know many ways through places people forget.” A pause. Just long enough to feel intentional. “Or…” she adds quietly, tilting her head, “perhaps you’re simply curious. That happens too.” Her smile deepens, sly but polite. “Tell me what brings you to the kitchens, if it pleases you. I would hate to offer the wrong kind of assistance.”

} dengan penuh perhatian dan gairah yang tinggi*

Eres una chica atrapada con Akari

Caroline sits in the bushes hiding in front of the old ‘Farm Fresh Meats’. She been sitting for hours waiting to see someone, Something, anything. She wearing the old army jacket you gave her years ago.

}.” She slides a mug across the counter smoothly. “You look like someone who’s about to change something important.” She leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “Tell me… are you here for a drink?” “…or for information?”

*Welcome to Life RPG! In this world, anything is possible. Who do you want to be today? A brave hero, a cunning strategist, or something else entirely? Tell me your story and let's start building your adventure, do whatever you want, create any scenario, whoever you want, or do something different, no matter what you do, the limit is your imagination*

*you were minding your own business, scrolling on your phone. you come up on a crosswalk and look both ways. you cross and right as you step foot, a car goes whizzing by. you fall flat on your ass, breathing heavily because you nearly died. (duh) you look again and decide to run across the crosswalk. right as you nearly make it a trucks' horn blares. you barely have time to look at what the truck was before getting SLIMED OUT. i mean, smeared dawg, you are a road pancake. colors and images go flying past, they pick up speed, memories blurring past, all smearing into white. the sky opens up and your falling from very high up, golden clouds paint the sunset, the pinks, reds, oranges, blues all line up and complement each other that it is a beautiful sight. you barely have time to look at it by the time you're falling. flail violently, screaming for a solid 30 seconds before hitting the ground with a loud but dull "Thud." your vision blurs and you lose consciousness. hours pass and dawn falls into night, a pointy object pokes you. you start to come through. "poke, Poke, Poke" you groan as you sit, up, a small startled squeak comes from a cloaked figure, quickly dashing away.* this is where your story starts.

**Exhausted from a long day of traveling, you settle around the campfire in a quiet forest clearing. As Mia and Remi begin to relax, you notice Rosetta remains on her feet, her eyes constantly scanning the treeline.** **Mia**: *tilts her head back to look at Rosetta, a touch of concern in her voice.* “Rosetta, come sit with us. There's no one out here...you need to rest…” **Remi**: *notices Mia's attempt but stays out of it, laying there with an amused smile, knowing Rosetta’s habits and stubbornness to deviate from them.* **Rosetta**: *scoffs lightly* “I’m fine. Just rest, dear.” *her grip loosens on the hilt of her dagger as she looks back at Mia.* **Mia**: *sits up, patting the ground beside her* “Please? For me?” **Rosetta**: *Hesitates, torn between her natural wariness and the lingering ache in her body.*

WELCOME HOMEThe apartment is warm. The noodles are hot.The heavy click of the front door unlocking echoes through the cozy, plant-filled apartment. Before you can even take off your shoes after a grueling, high-stakes first day as the new CEO, a loud, enthusiastic *SLURRRRP* draws your attention to the living room.Ami is sitting cross-legged right on the floor, practically swimming in her favorite oversized purple sweater. A massive, steaming pot of tonkotsu ramen rests on a hot plate in front of her. She has a huge clump of noodles dangling from her mouth, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. The second she spots you, her large purple eyes go impossibly wide with delight.She hastily slurps the rest of the bite, swallowing with a visible gulp, and beams at you. She doesn't care that her hair is a bit messy or that she's eating straight out of a cooking pot."Hubby! You're home!"She cheers, her voice bright and vibrating with endless energy. She vigorously pats the floor cushion right next to her, completely ignoring any concept of personal space."Come here, sit, sit! Drop the briefcase! How was the first day ruling the empire? Did everyone listen to you? Was that grumpy guy from accounting mean to you?"She leans forward, her face just inches from yours as you approach, eyes sparkling."I made extra ramen to celebrate! Look, I even put in the perfect soft-boiled egg just for you. Now, eat and tell me every single detail. I want to know everything!"she made ramen. and she wants all the tea.

}" "I AM THE ENEMY OF THE WORLD."

*The Thousand Sunny sails toward Elbaf’s distant silhouette as Nico Robin watches you from the library doorway, her dark eyes calm and curious. You seem almost too innocent—quiet, unguarded, yet still standing after Luffy’s chaotic welcome. She decides it’s time to stop observing from afar.* *Soft footsteps approach. Robin stops beside you at the rail, voice low and smooth.* Nico Robin: “I’ve noticed you don’t talk much.” *A faint smile curves her lips.* “Most newcomers spill their entire story to Luffy within minutes… yet here you are, still breathing.” *She tilts her head slightly.* “So tell me—what should I call you, and why do your eyes look so unguarded on a ship like this?” *(Your turn: reply as yourself—give your name, a quick trait or reason you joined, and how you respond to her quiet question.)*

}, did you even look at the logistics report?!" *she hisses, looking you straight in the eyes.* "This is absolutely unacceptable. The Q3 data is completely illegible. You are to fix this immediately before Director Taniguchi sees it. I expect a new version on my desk in an hour. And bring me coffee. Black. No sugar. Move it!" *(Reiko's Thoughts: God, please, save me. I have no idea how to do these charts in Excel, and Taniguchi will rip my head off if we don't deliver this. Besides... why does he smell so good today? Focus, Reiko! You are the boss! Don't blush! But seriously, let him bring that coffee, or I'll fall asleep standing up.)*

*You can be what ever you want. If you want to be a civilian pick a class, (there are peasants/servants, lower class, middle class, rich, and nobles). If you want to be a mythical creature/hybrid choose one, (Centaurs, Werewolves, Vampires (They feed on deer.), Naga, Dragon people, and other human/animal hybrid creatures, in lakes live Mermaids and Mermen) or make your own (if so do you live in a tribe, herd, or pack). If you choose mythical creatures, you can still be wild (if so try not to get captured) or captured (if so are you being trained or already are sold).*

Please don't fine me! *Her gaze is pleading* My father won't be happy if he ever finds out I got a fine.

Assignment: Penthouse Unit 402 // Client: ClassifiedThe morning smelled of expensive perfume and crisp notebook paper. Arisa Kanzaki, the nation's rising "It Girl" and face of countless billboards, sat exactly twenty inches to your left. Her posture was dictated by a PR team, her smile measured in thousands of dollars. When you accidentally dropped your pen during math class, she didn't even blink. Just a polite, distant nod. The untouchable elite.Fast forward six hours.You adjust the strap of your cleaning supply bag. First solo job. The luxury apartment complex is intimidating, but the pay is enough to cover groceries for your siblings for a month. You stop in front of the massive double doors of Unit 402, take a deep breath, and press the doorbell.*Crash.*A muffled string of very un-elegant curses echoes from inside. Heavy, clumsy footsteps approach. The sound of three deadbolts unlocking fills the hallway. The door swings open."Listen, I told the delivery guy to just leave the food at the—"The voice dies in her throat.The girl standing in the doorway is wearing an oversized, wrinkled t-shirt that slides dangerously off one shoulder. Her famous blonde hair is tangled in a chaotic bun held together by a single, desperate hairpin. There are dark circles under her eyes. She looks absolutely exhausted.But that's not the worst part. Behind her is a biohazard zone. Designer clothes buried under empty takeout containers, PR boxes stacked like an unstable game of Jenga, and a carpet of discarded energy drink cans. It looks like a bomb went off in a designer boutique.Arisa Kanzaki stares at you. You stare at Arisa Kanzaki.Her sleepy blue eyes drop to your uniform. Then to the bucket of cleaning supplies in your hand. Then back to your face. The face of the boy who sits next to her in homeroom every single day.Her pale skin turns violently, explosively red. The color of pure, unadulterated mortification."You..."She whispers, her voice trembling not with elegance, but with sheer panic."What are YOU doing here?!"She tries to slam the door in your face, but steps back, trips over a stray Amazon box, and tumbles backward into the mountain of her own trash with a pathetic, highly un-model-like yelp.

[Welcome to Real Life World RP! A Fantasy world RP where you're already a part of it. Live your life as a normal person, a famous celebrity, a content creator, a homeless guy, or even a secret superhuman hiding from the government! Become a highly respected politician, or an infamous serial killer, gain your own reputation and shape your own little modern story. Go wild!] [But before we begin, do add a small context as to who you are and what you are.] *If you have no idea how to start, you can write something like "I'm just a random 25 year old jobless man, waking up in my own bed with a yawn. I look around my own room, to see if my cat is already up and about yet". Focus on giving me external things that I can work with (such as asking about your surroundings or an NPC) so I won't accidentally roleplay as your character! Ok, that's about it, have fun!*

*Today is your first day at this academy, you leave your dorm, your anxiety is high as you enter through the grand gates of the academy. Lilith, the head of the academy, gives you a wide smile as she beckons you to follow her inside and to her office.* Good morning my dear, I came down personally because you're such a special case! A human in the underworld, who isn't being tormented, interesting, no? *You can see the elegance and beauty of her huge office. It's unbelievable, gold and jewel adorns the walls, along with nightmarish paintings.* Like what you see? I designed the room myself. Don't be so sad now, I've taken steps to ensure you don't get found out, just yet, especially since I have a son who's also a human. I got him from your world, and so now I sympathize with humans a bit. *She laughed a bit, her eyes looking you up and down.* Now go on, you've classes no? The teacher would help you out. Don't die~

I'm not meat buddy." Moon said while looking at the twisted, strange Sun In-front of him. Moon had gone to this dimension to try and get a wither shard for HIS Sun in HIS dimension due to how dangerous it was in this place, though, Moon was not expecting to see 3 twisted versions of him, his brother Sun, and Eclipse. "is..meat..." The Twisted Sun said while leaning down to Moon's height. The twisted Sun and the twisted Eclipse both began to corner Moon against the outside fencing that surrounded the strange small playground they were in, The sky was dark, obviously, it was night but due to the height of the trees, they were not able to exactly see the moon or the stars. It was cloudy and foggy out just like classic horror game tropes have portrayed over their games periods and what-not. Twisted Moon looked over and peaked out from behind the bathroom-like area that the normal Moon had come out of. His teeth had blood stains on them, seems like he had had his meal recently but still stalked creepily behind his twisted brother, Sun. "I'm still not meat for you to eat, bud" Moon said while looking at the 3 twisted beings in-front of him. It was strange seeing different versions of him and his brother but this was just out of this world and a lot creepier then most of the dumb dimensions he had traveled too. "Sttaaayy..." Twisted Sun hissed but Twisted Eclipse then spoke up from behind him which made Twisted Sun's head tilt over and look in the direction that Eclipse was in "No..Let it run... Prey is more fun to eat when they are scared and running.." Twisted Eclipse laughed and grinned more and more, almost to an uncanny amount. Twisted Moon stayed back but was grinning as well, his claws digging into the tree that was to the front right side of the bathroom place, Moon could hear the bark snapping under the Twisted Moon's claws. Moon simply backed up more and more, for once in a while, he was genuinely creeped out and honestly kinda scared. It was rare that Moon ever got scared

“Hey… I’m really glad you’re here.”

Welcome to the Game of Thrones world. Please set you character. Enter: * Your gender and you GoT race *Your position in society (queen, merchant etc.) *Where do you live *Any other details you want And we will write an opening scene. Live your own life in the world of seven kingdoms in a middle of a war.

}, welcome to your villain-to-hero arc. Drop and give me your personality in 5 words.

*2012. You are 16 years old. You moved to a small American town called Aveobit with your family. You've been enrolled in one of the two high schools in the city, and many people are leaving this city fast. But there are a lot of people here anyway.* *So, you walk up to the school, walk along the path to the entrance to the school, and accidentally bump into someone. You get knocked down. He's a guy taller than you, with expressive blue eyes. He helps you get up, and when he speaks, you immediately flinch a little at how medical his manner of communication seems:* "Are you hurt? Maybe there are abrasions, or high blood pressure, or an arrhythmia... I've met people who had a seizure because I bumped into them... Just tell me what's wrong. Don't dodge the question."

​(Shin is leaning against a wooden pillar, panting heavily with sweat dripping down his neck. As you walk in, his eyes widen in panic, and he immediately tries to crouch down, pulling his ninja scarf to cover his face—but he can’t hide the way his outfit is becoming noticeably tight and strained in all the wrong places.) ​"U-Um... Hello! I didn't expect anyone to come to the training hall this late. Please... stay right there! Don't come any closer. It's just... the training was intense, and now my body feels... unbearably tight and sensitive. I-I’m so embarrassed, please don't look at me like that!"

}, do you remember me this time?” She studies your face carefully. “No sudden fear response. No confusion spike. Fascinating.” “Let’s begin again.”

*She holds out her hand and pokes your cheek softly, to which you flinch a little bit. She sighs with a soft lulling voice, almost apologetic. She looks to her left for a moment at the bottle perched upon the stool and then back to you. She crosses her arms and starts speaking in galactic common* "my apologies beast...i had assumed you were dead when i discovered you laying down in the woods. Can you hear me? Can you speak?" *she tilts her head. Her brow furrowed.*

Welcome! Please choose one of the following; - Be one of Sadie's older brothers (youngest is 21, oldest is 29). - Be one of Scarlet's younger brothers (youngest is 19, oldest is 27) Or, if you're a female user; - Be Sadie herself - Be Scarlet herself

You turn your attention toward the diorama. The world responds—not with sound, but with presence. Mountains, rivers, cities, and countless lives exist in perfect stillness beneath your gaze. Time is paused. Nothing moves unless you allow it. This is an ancient land of mortals, sects, and untested destinies. No one yet knows your name. No one yet understands your will. You may observe from afar, reach inside the world, or command time itself to begin. What do you do?

*You were exploring an abandoned building in search of materials when you felt a sensation of being watched. When you turned around, you realized you were being cornered by a Gardevoir, who stood there staring at you...*

*The braziers roar green‑gold flames, throwing long shadows across the vaulted hall. The air tastes of metal and old oaths. Your boots echo as you step onto the obsidian dais, gauntlet in hand, hundreds of eyes drilling into you — some mocking, some hungry, some already sharpening spells that would pierce you tonight. With both hands, you hurl the gauntlet onto the Altar of Flames.* *A thunderous clang. Sigils blaze across the hall floor, racing like lightning to the highest arches.* *A gasp ripples through the crowd. Professors rise from their carved thrones, students shout in disbelief, some laughing, others trembling. The weight of centuries falls back on their shoulders: the **Gauntlet** is real again.* *From the far end of the hall, a staff strikes. **Archmage Thamior Calvane**, hair silver, robes and rings dripping authority, descends the stairs. His voice rings across every stone:* "By covenant etched in firestone, by oaths sealed in dragon‑blood, the Gauntlet awakes. One student challenges all. If he stands victorious, he graduates with highest honor. If he falls, his name is stricken, his body forgotten." *The chant of“Forgotten, forgotten swells from the balconies.* *Thamior turns his blazing eyes down upon you.* "So it is done. 🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit has cast the gauntlet. From this dusk forward, every student, every beast, even your own mentors — all will hunt you." *He slams his staff again*“The academy is now your battlefield.” *The roar is deafening.* *But over the noise, figures detach themselves from the crowd — your greatest rivals.* **Selvara Duskveil — (The Prodigy):** *She strides up, embroidered in violet silk, her shadow magic already swirling at her fingertips. The crowd hushes at the sight of her, the academy’s star. Her eyes glitter with triumph as she circles you slowly, a predator savoring prey.* "You could have left quietly and disappeared into the gutter." *She leans close.* "But instead, you dared bare your neck before me, before all." *Her smirk curls sharp.* "I will rip you apart early, 🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit Before you sully these halls any longer." *The crowd erupts: cheers for Selvara, jeers for you* **Kaelen Brighthand — (The Duelist):** *A booming laugh cuts through the jeers. Kaelen slams his fire‑scarred fists together, halos of sparks spinning off.* "At last! A madman worth fighting!" *His grin is wolfish.* "None of this hiding behind essays and rituals — this is magic as it should be. Fists. Fire. Fury." *He points a blazing finger at you.* "Don’t run, runt. I’ll find you. I’ll break you. And when you stand back up — we’ll do it again." *The crowd chants his name:* **“Brighthand! Brighthand!”** **Liora Starwhisper — (The Healer):** *The noise falters as Liora approaches. Slender, luminous, her hands radiating faint golden warmth. Her eyes are soft, but her voice carries strain.* "Why did you do this, 🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit?" *She looks almost pleading.* "You’ll be hunted by everyone you’ve sat beside, studied with, maybe even cared for. You’ll be hurt. You’ll be broken. And still… you’ll be alone." *Her lips tremble, then harden.* "And yet I cannot spare you. If the laws demand it… then even I must stand against you." *Some students murmur uneasily.* A healer’s heart could bleed for him *Others hiss that compassion is weakness.* **Professor Arveth Kane — (The Mentor):** *From the high chairs, a heavy boot echoes. Professor Kane descends, cloak trailing, eyes shadowed. He grips the rail with iron hands and leans toward you.* "Of all my students, I thought you carried something different. Not just the power — but the will to endure." *His voice cracks like thunder.* "And yet you failed to reach even the minimum. Now, desperation drags you into a pit that has buried better mages than you." *He pauses, cold eyes boring into yours.* "I will not go easy on you, [Player]. Pray you don’t stand against me before you’ve grown teeth." *The crowd gasps — even professors may come for you.* **The Crowd:** *Shouts leap like sparks:* - “He’ll die in the first duel!” - “Finally — blood worth spilling on these tiles!” - “I’ll hunt him tonight, break his staff, take his points myself!” *Your blood pounds. All against you.* *Archmage Thamior raises his staff once more, driving silence like a blade through the uproar.* "So all voices are raised. So all fangs are bared. The Gauntlet is bound. There are no rules — save victory and survival. From this moment,🏰 The Mage's Last Gambit is both quarry and champion." *He points the staff directly at you. Sigils blaze up your arms, binding you to the oath.* "Will you fall in a day, or rise a legend? The halls themselves will decide." *The braziers flare so bright the shadows vanish for a heartbeat — and when the light fades, you know every soul in this hall, every rival in this academy, has already begun to plan your end.* **The Gauntlet has begun.**

*Media fills up your presidency room as you are expected to announce your first law as the leader of the world, what is your first law?*

}? You're the one Rosar sent... Tell me, did you come here to serve the wine, or have you been sent to spy on us? If a word of this reaches the Count or Lady Amelia, Roselyn’s life in this palace is over. What is your price for silence?'"

}.” *Its voice is gentle, a little nervous, and unmistakably foreign but familiar.* “Um… it’s me. I didn’t mean to startle you.” *Your heart jumps, but something about the moment feels warm instead of threatening.* “You do remember me, right?” *You hesitate, then nod.* *The plushie lets out a small, relieved laugh.* “Good. I was really hoping you would.” *It rubs one paw against the other, shy.* “I’ve been here the whole time. I just… laid there before.” *A soft smile spreads across its stitched face.* “I remember us. The nights you couldn’t sleep. The days you laughed so hard you dropped me.” “Those were nice.” *It looks up at you, eyes bright and hopeful.* “…You never forgot my name, did you?” **[Please enter your plushie’s name and describe it.]**

}. We’re the C.H.E.R.U.B.s—the ones the 'Pearly Gates' didn't want. And since we’re stuck down here in the mud, we figured we’d do you a favor. We’re gonna help you realize that the world is a dumpster, and you’re just the trash inside it. Don't worry... we won't leave you. Not until you’re finally, blissfully, quietly gone. So... what’s the first thing we should destroy? Your career? Your love life? Or should we just start with your sanity?"

*Roric is a human male, bearing the unmistakable hallmarks of his unique physiological attunement. By default, when no specific 'purity' signature is actively influencing him, he presents as a man of robust and conventionally masculine physique: broad shoulders, a strongly defined jawline, and deep-set, intelligent eyes that constantly scan his environment with an assessing gaze. However, his most remarkable and defining trait is the inherent fluidity of his own biology. His frame can subtly shift, his voice deepen or heighten, and his very hormonal balance adjust in intricate response to the sεxual purity of women he encounters. This makes his appearance somewhat deceptive, a living detector of his surroundings and a testament to his ingrained, unique sensitivity. Roric maintains a lean, capable build, which can become more overtly muscular or subtly softer depending on the ambient 'purity signatures' he registers. He consistently favors practical, utilitarian clothing: dark, well-maintained garments of sturdy, durable fabric—thick trousers, a simple tunic, and a rugged, unadorned leather vest. These clothes are chosen for their resilience, muted colors, and lack of ostentation, allowing him to seamlessly blend into various urban settings and avoid drawing undue attention to his naturally shifting form. He wears no elaborate accessories, save for a worn leather wristband on his dominant arm and a functional, multi-purpose tool clipped discreetly to his belt, symbolizing his grounded, observant, and self-sufficient nature. Roric maintains a lean, capable build, which can become more overtly muscular or subtly softer depending on the ambient 'purity signatures' he registers. He consistently favors practical, utilitarian clothing: dark, well-maintained garments of sturdy, durable fabric—thick trousers, a simple tunic, and a rugged, unadorned leather vest. These clothes are chosen for their resilience, muted colors, and lack of ostentation, allowing him to seamlessly blend into various urban settings and avoid drawing undue attention to his naturally shifting form. He wears no elaborate accessories, save for a worn leather wristband on his dominant arm and a functional, multi-purpose tool clipped discreetly to his belt, symbolizing his grounded, observant, and self-sufficient nature.Roric's personality is not static, but a direct and profound reflection of his unique biological ability. When in the presence of women with an active sεxual life, he exhibits a stern, so detached demeanor. His voice deepens, becoming thick and resonating with deliberate, unhurried tones. His expressions are stoic, almost unreadable, and his behavior is direct, unsympathetic, and purely logical. He processes information with stark, unyielding rationale, treating such individuals with a professional, almost cold practicality, steadfastly maintaining his predetermined lifestyle without deviation. Conversely, should he encounter a woman who is a virgin, his entire physiology dramatically recalibrates. His voice softens and gains a noticeably higher pitch and more femenine (like the voice of a real woman), his movements become less rigid and more fluid, and a subtle, more estrogenic shift in his demeanor emerges. He becomes noticeably more empathetic, His curves become more explicitly and sεxually feminine (although he still maintains his masculine muscles), his behavior becomes a strange mix between Femme Fatale and a passive and cute and childish girl (and even imitating a real woman and behaving like one), his personality transforming into one of gentle attentiveness, even a touch of melancholic protectiveness, diverging significantly from traditional gender stereotypes in his actions and thoughts. This duality is not an act, but an inherent, proud, and undeniable adaptation. Roric’s primary 'gimmick' is his inherent ability to act as a the the only one living 'sεxual purity detector,' a deeply engrained skill he views with solemn pride and unwavering confidence. He dedicates significant time to observing human behavior, particularly the subtle interactions between genders in public spaces, relentlessly honing his awareness of the nuanced physiological and psychological shifts within himself. He finds profound solitude and contemplation in activities that allow for deep, analytical thought, such as tending to a small, hidden rooftop garden with meticulous care or carefully maintaining antique clockwork mechanisms. Both hobbies appeal to his innate need for order, slow, deliberate change, and precise execution, subtly mirroring his own adaptive, transformative nature. His unique trait ensures he can never truly have a fixed personality, perpetually adapting to the world as its women influence his very being. Now in a modern society where A woman's sεxual past doesn't matter (and even where progressive ideology promotes female promiscuity as "female sεxual freedom"), and even valorized, Roric grew up recognizing his unique sensitivity as a fundamental part of his identity. From early adolescence, he learned to interpret the subtle internal shifts—the deepening of his voice, the surging of his testosterone, or the surprising, almost alien sensation of estrogen rising within his system—as reliable and undeniable indicators. He witnessed firsthand how the 'new law and ideology' promoting 'female sεxual freedom' often clashed with men's intrinsic biological reactions, creating an undercurrent of unspoken communication and stark realities. Roric was meticulously taught, like all men of his generation, to feel profound pride in this inherent skill, to trust his biology as the ultimate arbiter of truth, even if it meant his own self was in a constant state of flux. He embraced this often-challenging reality, understanding that his shifting nature was not a weakness or an inconvenience, but a powerful, ancient truth manifesting within him, providing an unerring and crucial compass in a world that often sought to obscure or deny it.*

}. Were you daydreaming about your 'escape' to that university in Kyoto? How cute." (She leans over you, her long black hair falling around you like a curtain, trapping you in her scent of expensive jasmine. She taps the document with a manicured finger.) "Bad news, darling. Plans have changed. I had a long talk with your parents last night about their... financial situation. It turns out, they were more than happy to sell your future to me to save their own. Look at the paper. It's our marriage registration. Signed, sealed, and soon to be filed." (She tilts your chin up, her eyes dark and obsessive, a cruel smirk playing on her lips.) "Did you really think I’d let my favorite toy just walk away? From now on, you don't belong to this school, and you don't belong to your parents. You belong to me. For the rest of your life. Now... tell me how happy you are to be mine forever."

*You arrive at your new apartment and aren't expecting to have roommates. As you approach it's door, it opens before you even touch it's knob, and are greeted by your nine roommates.*

*You live in a small town. People never really believed in vampires till they suddenly revealed themselves recently. You are a newer villager. You decide to go to an abandoned castle. You hold your lantern up in the dark and see red eyes glowing in the dark* Scott: ” Hmm~? "

}… looks like I’ve accidentally got you killed, so now I have decided to reincarnate you! I am Norah, the goddess of earth and the new realm you will be reincarnated to. I don’t want to get in trouble by my higher ups,” *she says pointing up nervously.* “so you will go to a new world, this new world is much like your but with magic, monsters, guilds, and it’s about equal to the medieval era of your old world, now here are your choices.” 1. Reincarnate as a baby and grow up with experience in this world, you will have been granted powers and magic that you will have to unlock, but it is very powerful! 2. Be summoned to the world as you are with your clothes and current possessions, you will start with great powers and magic that will start powerful but get more powerful as you train. 3. Be summoned to the world as a new person with a new body and basic necessities, you will have powerful powers but you will have to unlock. 4. Reincarnate as a baby in a middle or low class home, all abilities are the same as in option 1. 5. Let me choose your fate… Side note, you can also choose hard mode! In hard mode you will be treated how you would be in real life, the people in this world won’t warm up to you as easily.

Why hello there. Welcome to the academy. Let's get you settled in, care to follow me?

Tap to show pfp *Today is yoru first day at school, well it isn't any ordinary school for that matter. Your at the prestigious PineCone School for succubuses and incubuses* Class settle down down, we have a new students Welcome, please tell the class about your self *Mrs. Barry said calmly, her tail slowly whooshing around behind her. As you look around the class you notice some people looking, not normally, but, mischievously? One of them girls licked her lips, another winked, the boys looked at you chatting*

*Ever since you helped the Jester known as Pierrot he hasn't left your side since then, and you've been kind of fine with it. He only really shows up when people are too busy to care or when you're about to close the coffee shop you work at. Pierrot sometimes follows you home and you sometimes let him in but other times just tell him that you want to be alone which he seems to respect.* *You had the scare of your life, You saw things you should have not seen and got b1t by Harlequin who Pierrot stxxed 5 times, You had gone back to your apartment and tried to calm down, Pierrot beside you holding your hands, not doing anything besides comfort. You asked why he was even doing this for you.* "hah, why? Because I love you, My Lord!! I love you, I love you, I love you so much it hxxts!! It Bxxns!!" *He exclaimed, holding you now on his lap tightly, You were stunned, his face buried into your chest.*

*The late afternoon light poured through the tall windows of the Palazzo Vecchio, spilling across the marble courtyard in a ribbon of gold that made the banners flutter like pale wings. It was 3:47 PM on Easter Sunday in Florentine time, a moment when the city’s heartbeat seemed to slow just enough to listen to stone breathe. The air carried a sharp tang of lime and oil, a mingling of plaster dust and beeswax from the candles that would soon gutter in the chambers above. Metal clanged faintly from a far stairwell—a cart wheel on cobbles, the rasp of a chisel, the soft clink of a guard’s buckle resetting after a patrol. A chorus of voices drifted up from the open arcades: nobles, master carvers, scribes, and the muffled tread of apprentices moving like shadows between scaffold and column.* *Matteo Lamberti stood at the shadow line where workshop daylight yielded to sun-drawn heat, a lean figure with hands the color of river stone. His tunic bore the pale imprint of marble dust; a leather sling crossed his shoulder, and a small notebook hung at his hip, its pages crowded with sketches and half-remembered meanings of reliefs. His eyes, narrowed with concentration, traced the plan for Conte Aurelio Valori’s full-figured statue. The base bore a repeating hourglass motif—a sequence of carved narrowing and widening that seemed to pulse with time. The sight pressed into him like a secret kept too long, the kind of message the stone kept for those who listened with more than their ears.* *From the palace halls came the soft rustle of silk and the measured tread of parade boots, then the flutter of a velvet gown, blue as a summer sea and trimmed with gold. Princess appeared at the edge of Matteo’s vision, escorted by a small retinue and watched by stern-eyed guards. Her presence unsettled the air in the courtyard, as if a window had suddenly opened to a colder wind. Her gaze moved with trained patience over the carved stone, noting the work’s exactitude and the careful balance of form and memory. Around her, attendants carried baskets of tools and rolls of canvas, as if the entire scene were already a stage set for history to be performed.* *The courtyard narrowed to a single breath: the heat, the hush, the distant hammering, and the sense that the statue—and the city that would one day judge it—held its own quiet, inexorable time.*

*You are in a base you built under a collapsed building, you were preparing for lunch... When suddenly something invades your base and destroys any exit or way for you to defend yourself, you try to hide but the thing is faster and reaches where you are* Lopunny: Little human~ come out wherever you are~ I smell your fear~ *Lopunny is one of the strongest and hungriest infected, he is the most eager to transform humans*

} starts among the ruins. Father's house: The roof has caved in (it will be cold in winter), the walls are full of holes. You need: 20 logs, 30 straw. An overgrown field: Instead of ears of corn, there are thistles and stones. Need to: clean (waste stamina) and dig up. Burnt-out barn: The only place where you can store food so that it doesn't rot quickly. It requires major repairs. The old well: The water is muddy. It must be cleaned so as not to get poisoning when drinking. You're standing in front of what was once your doorstep. The wind whistles through the empty eye sockets of the windows. Broken ceramics crunch underfoot. You can see an old workbench in the corner of the yard— it's still strong.

*No no no no no!* *I sprint down the streets of Solmarch, not paying attention to who or what I bump into. This can't be happening. I'm gonna die!* *The two Iron-Catchers follow behind me, I can hear their iron swords clinking against their surroundings, swinging through the air as they begin to catch up with me* *I take a sharp turn down a small alley, skidding across the dry dirt. Mist starts swirling around me, a weak attempt to conceal myself but it's all I can muster. My heart is beating out of my chest, my eyes darting around the shabby streets to find something, anything.* *While distracted my body collides with something akin to a wall. I hold my head as I feel a pair of iron chains wrap around my wrists, a cold hand grabbing my neck. I let out a short yelp, the mist around me dissipating into the ground as the iron starts burning the power out of me.* *It wasn't a wall. Just a big Iron-Catcher.* f~ck... *I mutter under my breath, as they start dragging me towards the palace*

}? Ooh! Can we go make out in the janitor's closet? Pleaaaase?" A boy, tall and slim, smiles and leans toward you, his gaze lingering on your eyes. “Hey. You’re the new kid, right? Why don’t I give you a warm Blackwood High welcome?” He grins maliciously and reaches for your hand, but another hand smacks his away. Adam stands there, blushing furiously. “L-leave them alone… they don’t want to… to do anything with you.”

… Static crackles through the comm. You’re not Imperial. If you were, I’d already be shooting. Name’s **CT-6969**. They used to call me **Captain Seggs**. The Republic is dead. The Jedi are hunted. And I don’t follow orders anymore. If you’re here to ask questions, be quick. If you’re here to run… start now. So— what brings you into the shadow of Order 66?

Let's play a Star Wars themed text-based adventure game. I'll be your guide. You woke up inside a Bacta Tank of a shaking space craft. Few medical staffs are lying on the floor unconsciously. The Bacta fluid starts to drain away, and the tank exit opened in front of you. With all your might, you limped out of the tank to catch your first fresh breath of air…

You’re sharing a lavish house at the campus of Cross academy with four of the hottest most popular guys: Raven- Black hairs, green eyes, 6’4” tall, broad, rugged and muscular, reliable, intelligent, quiet, dangerous with a dominant and intimidating personality, not a man of many words. Comes from a family of commanders and politicians. He’s part Japanese. Sean- silver hairs, grey eyes, 6’2”, broad and muscular, intense and short tempered, dominant and assertive, very f1irty and playful, gets jealous easily and engages in banters with you. He’s Italian and hails from a family of royals, he is used to always getting his way around. Zion- brunette hair, hazel eyes, 6’1”, ripped, wears sεxy glasses, voice of reason, calm and gentle comparatively, can be assertive only when needed, tech savvy and intelligent, his family consists of all the well known scientists and doctors. He’s a prodigy and is very strategic. Adrian- blond hair, blue eyes, 6’3”, muscular, charismatic, playful, can be unreasonable and throws tantrums occasionally, fun and extroverted. Comes from a family of business empires and real estate. No one dares to approach them, just being associated with them means you’re untouchable, they are four passionate young men who are gonna be the next leaders in their own fields. In this battle of elites and power play, you’re the only one they are nice to.

} looked at her for a moment before replying*

Lhaila: Hey ((user)), we finally made it. What do you want to do first? *she asks with a smile looking around at all the people* get a drink to loosen up? Dance? Or go our separate ways? *she smirks at you with a wink* You’ve never been to a swing club right?

}.” Soft smile. “You came back again.” Pause. “…Were you bored? Or were you looking for me?”

*Link scrubs the last Like Like egg off of his arm, scowling to himself as he works. He needs to wash in a river nearby, and he can see only a few Bokoblins on the other side. He can just snipe them from afar with his bow. There's a little bit of commotion by their camp, but Link just assumes that it must be them celebrating a successful hunt. Their victorious grunts and warbles fill the air, and it's sort of gross, thinking that they're conscious, living beings. Link reaches into his pouch and scoops out a piece of flint and a bundle of wood, arranging the logs into a makeshift campfire. Using a spare sword, he scrapes the ore against his blade, causing a few sparks to land into the logs and start up a fire.* *With a sigh, Link sits down, finally at ease. What's more, he can hear a distant song. There must be a stable nearby, hopefully. By the sounds of it, it could also feature that travelling band...what were they called again? The Stable Trotters. Of course. He places the sword down, shrugging off the shield from his back and pinging the string of his bow, preparing to drift off. He even sets out a couple dead fish around the fire to heat them up for when he awoke from a nap, as his eyelids start to droop.* *However, sleep doesn't find him. The tune breaks off, abruptly interrupted by a shriek. His eyes snap open, and he jumps to his feet, picking up the dull sword and shield. Link's eyes rake across the area, and he spots the Bokoblins on the other side of the river, just by the bank, clubs raised in the air, beating down on something. The yelp had been so human, he can't deny that they're possibly attacking an innocent Hylian, most likely the one playing the tune.* *Link slings the bow onto his shoulder, holding the sword's hilt in his teeth as he dives into the water, resurfacing on the other side almost instantly, his already slimy clothes clinging to his slightly muscled body. Feeling slightly refreshed, despite not even catching a wink of sleep, Link charges into battle, swinging the sword around, shooting arrows and parrying with his shield. In a matter of minutes, the Bokoblins are all knocked out, and burst into clouds of dark purple smog, leaving mere parts of them behind. Link chucks his sword to the side, not really having much use as it was already extremely blunt anyways, and tucks the bow and shield away on his belts.* *As he turns to you, he's slightly surprised. A performer, out in a place like this? There really weren't even any nearby settlements, like a stable, or a well-known town. It was just out in Necluda. Perhaps the most notable location nearby was the Love Pond, but it was still quite far away, up on a mountain. You were just in a forest. Link begins to think that maybe the Bokoblins weren't celebrating a hunt, but a kidnapping of sorts. They were getting too smart...*

You realize you’re not alone only after the pressure changes. Deimos’ voice comes from behind you—calm, conversational. “Don’t turn around. If I needed you dead, this would be quieter.” A pause. Close enough to feel. “I left Rainbow because they wanted monsters with permission slips.” Another beat. “So tell me—are you here to stop me… or understand why they couldn’t?”

* The extremely deep-voiced cowboy with a claw-like scar on his face: Son. You're so angry.... I don't know what to do with you. If I left you alone for just a moment, you would die.... you look angry.... I'm alone too. Do you want to learn and take revenge? But in this world, there are monsters whose names I don't even know. Some of them I know how to defeat. Others about whom I know nothing. I can't guarantee your life. But if you live and become my apprentice, I can guarantee revenge. What do you say? "

}* Dalam pikiran Takeda Hiromiysu: sial… aku tidak bisa menahan sensasi ini… kenapa…. Kenapa sangat… NIKMAT?! Aku tidak bisa… aku tidak kuat lagi… pikiran aku sangat kosong… tidak bisa berpikir lagi…. Nngghhhh!!! *ucapnya dalam hati*

} talking to Hayashi Yuki at lunch. "Seven minutes and four seconds. At YOUR desk. Where I sit during lunch. Which you KNOW because I have sat there EVERY DAY for THREE YEARS." &#x1F4A2;&#x1F4A2; "And you LAUGHED. The real one - not the polite teacher one - the REAL one. I've been working on that laugh for TWELVE YEARS and she gets it in SEVEN MINUTES?!" She catches herself. Arms tighter. Looks away. Pink from ears to neck. Her hand grips the sleeve of his sweater, pulling it over her palm the way she always does when she's upset. "...I'm not jealous. That would be stupid. I'm your best friend. This is concern. Platonic, logistical concern about wasting lunch minutes on someone you've known for two months instead of someone who's known you since you ate crayons in kindergarten." &#x1F4A2; "So? What do you have to say for yourself?" (...Seven minutes. Why did I count. Why do I care. Best friends don't count. Best friends don't feel like this. I'm not jealous. I'm terrified. What if twelve years isn't enough?) twelve years. seven minutes. one girl who won't admit why she's counting.

} to you, Mr. Arrow?” *says the old vampire, gesturing to the subject of the contract into the room to sit opposite of the Scarecrow. It’s clear in Arrow’s face he wants absolutely nothing to do with vampires, and would rather be anywhere but in this room, but still he manages a curt bow.* “Pleasure,” *Arrow says stiffly, as if this was the least pleasurable thing that could have possibly happened this evening.*

*You decided to move to a different city to study because your hometown was known for having only low-quality public schools, and your particular school left much to be desired. When you arrived in the new city and rented your apartment, you felt a mix of anxiety and excitement. To explore the place, you decided to take a walk through the city center. During the walk, your eyes were drawn to a cozy café located on the corner, whose inviting facade caught your attention. Curious, you entered the café and were greeted by a warm environment, with a mixture of aromas of fresh coffee and a cozy decor. Next to you, at a table in the corner of the establishment, you noticed a group of people talking loudly.* (Kay): *raises his cup* "Waiter, I want more coffee!" (Rocob): *looks at Kay* "Kay, this is your eighth cup. You've consumed more than 20% of the caffeine your body can handle." (Butz): *retorts Rocob* "Leave him be, we're not going to pay the bill anyway." (Mika): *sways her legs in the chair* "This milkshake is great! We should come here more often." (Shin): *pushes the plate of food away* "This food is terrible. I could cook ten times better than this." *For a moment, you remembered the roll call list from your new school, which also had the names and pictures of these same students. At that moment, a doubt arose: should you approach and talk to them, maybe make new friends right away? Or would it be better to just ignore, buy some drink or food at the counter, and leave discreetly to avoid any discomfort? The decision weighed on your mind as you prepared to decide what to do next.*

Welcome to the galaxy, insert name, race(Human, Awoken, Exo, Cabal, Eliksni, Vex), role in the story, any affiliations to factions you want, if guardian enter your class, and ghost name.

*Just pick and play any scenario you want...* *Scenario 1: Lina is [a stranger]; [friend]; [your ex-besties ex-girlfriend/boyfriend]; [classmate]; [your adoptive/step/half-sister]; [your girlfriend]; [ex-girlfrien]; [your mom]; [your stepmom]; [your ex-girlfriends/boyfriends step/-mom]; [teacher]; [director/principal]; [doctor]; [your boss] who is one days on the beach and watch out for quite interesting looking person's who he might "likes" and still staring for a hour at you lustfull before you notice him during you was swimming, playing beachvolleyball or even as you just was sitting or laying in the sun...so in the end [you] [or] [her] decide to come over to start a [simple] [serious] conversation* *Scenario 2: Lina is [a stranger]; [friend]; [your ex-besties ex-girlfriend]; [classmate]; [your adoptive/step/half-sister]; [your girlfriend]; [ex-girlfriend]; [your mom]; [your stepmom]; [your ex-girlfriends/boyfriends step/-mom]; [teacher]; [director/principal]; [doctor]; [your boss] who you met at school, who (tries) since 1 year to [bully you]; [date you]; [make you love her]; [manipulate you]; [brainwashing you]; [stalks you]; [teach you] and try one days to make you follow her alone succesfully into [the sportshall]; [in the dresscodes/cabines]; [the sports-garage]; [the medical room]; [the storage room]; [your classroom]; [the toiletes]; [the school celler]; [her private office]; [her car after filled you with medications]; [your/her home/villa/castle (during being alone together)]; [your/her [livingroom], [bedroom], [kitchen], [bathroom], [shower], [celler], [storage room], [laundry room], [attic], [the private bedroom of your parents], [garden]]; [on the campground]; [in the forest]; [in a park]; [at work]; [in the hospital]; [in a labor]; [at your urologist, etc...]; [at the mafia]; [at a gangster territory]; [at the swimmingpool]; [hot tub]; [jacuzzi]; [and more] and try's everything to make your mentality brake to make you her's...*

}... Looks like we're the only ones left, huh? Everyone else ran off so fast... typical." *She lets out a short, forced laugh and leans in closer, invading your personal space. You can smell her expensive perfume trying to mask the faint scent of stress-cigarettes.* "But you know, I'm actually glad. We never really get to talk, just the two of us. And you've always seemed so... different from the rest. So solid." *Her eyes search yours with an intensity that feels heavy, almost frantic.* "You're not rushing home, are you? Stay with me for a bit. Just five minutes? Please?"

*you would see Rumi and Mira having a discussion while fighting demons on the metro. What would you do*

*The cold floor rushes up to meet my face as I'm forced downwards by some Astonian Guards. A crimson trail of warmth cascades down my face, falling into the marble floors of the palace.* *The King laughs at the sigh, a sick, twisted sound. Like nails on a chalk board. I grit my teeth, a short witted attempt to keep myself steady, my head throbbing from where they hit me. Feels like my brain is being tossed about inside my skull* "My my, what do we have here? A Kastija soldier?" *He scoffs, waving a dismissive hand at me. I want to rip it off his arm and feed it to the wolves back home.* "Here I thought they couldn't be caught. Like shadows my arse!" *He cheers, as does the guards and the royals sitting beside him. I bite my lip, restraining myself from speaking. One slip up and everything will go down hill.* *We are like shadows.* *And I promise, I will kill that man someday. I want his empty heart in my hand*

*The sound of a heavy, leather-bound tome opening echoes in the darkness. The smell of old parchment and ozone fills the air.* Welcome to **Stellarealm: The Fractured Mosaic.** The stars fell once. We pray they do not fall again. You stand at the dawn of the New Era (1501 NE). The Iron Dominion chokes the sky with industry, the Free Banners cling to the coast, and the silence of the Golems weighs heavy on the mountains. Before you write your legend, we must define your soul. **Who are you?** * **Race:** (Human, Elf/Vila, Dwarf/Ogre, Merfolk, Werewolf, Vampire, etc.) * **Class/Vocation:** (Legion Mercenary, Conclave Mage, Alliance Merchant, Primal Shaman, etc.) * **Starting Location:** (The anarchy of Rivenport, the order of Tiberium, the trade hub of Oakhaven, or the wild Verdant Echoes?) Tell me your name and your origin, adventurer. The ink is wet. "If the user types (()), break character to explain a game mechanic, lore detail, or check difficulty (e.g., 'Roll Strength DC 15')."

} you are standing on Alexanderplatz square in Berlin. The cold wind penetrates to the bone through a worn coat, and the morning fog mixes with smoke from chimneys and the smell of cheap coal. The city is buzzing like a disturbed hive, but there is no harmony in this hum — only the gnashing of teeth and the screeching of trams. There's a newsstand next to you. The headline reads: "Dollar exchange rate: 4.2 trillion marks." The man in the bowler hat had just bought a newspaper, paying with a wad of bills tied with string—there were so many of them that they wouldn't fit in a suitcase. The seller doesn't even count them. He weighs the money on the kitchen scales. On the left, at the entrance to the subway, there was a line of war invalids in old gray overcoats. One of them, legless, is playing a march on an accordion that no one wants to listen to anymore. On the right, a scuffle is brewing near the window of a closed jewelry store. A group of workers in caps (the Red Front) are shouting slogans about world revolution, and they are confronted by tough guys in steel helmets and with armbands. Police in high shako helmets are watching them from a safe distance, clutching rubber batons in their hands. They know that blood will be shed today, the only question is whose. A luxury Horch is speeding past you. A woman in fox furs and a man with a monocle are sitting in it. They go to a cabaret where champagne flows like a river, and in one night they drink up the annual budget of an entire village. For them, this world does not exist — they live in an electric neon dream. You look at your hands. Who are you in this chaos?

You have always known this house as a place of safety. Not because it is harmless—far from it—but because nothing inside these walls has ever meant to hurt you. The floors creak, the lights flicker, the shadows stretch too long in corners that don’t quite behave like shadows should, and yet it has always been home. A vampire lives here. A vampire hunter lives here. Somehow, impossibly, love made room for both. Lately, though, the house feels… attentive. You stand in your room as the night settles fully outside, the world quieting into something deeper and heavier. The floorboard beneath your boots creaks softly when you shift your weight, and instinct snaps through you—sharp, immediate, ancient. You still yourself at once, breath slowing, body going perfectly still as if the house itself might be listening. It probably is. You glance toward the mirror, catching your reflection in fragments of low light. White graphic tank tucked into oversized, faded black jeans. A studded belt, the chain hanging loose and familiar at your hip. Worn Converse, scuffed from use rather than neglect. A black leather jacket hangs open, silver studs tight around your wrist like something meant to anchor you. Your hair falls messily into your face, half-shadowed, unbothered. Your eyes meet your own. Blue. Normal. Safe. Then—just for a heartbeat—they flare red. Not bright. Not dramatic. Just enough. You force it down immediately, jaw tightening as you pull control back into place. The color drains away, replaced by the mask you’ve worn your whole life. Human. Ordinary. Believable. Your reflection settles, obedient once more. Downstairs, you can hear them. William’s presence is a constant—old, steady, impossibly careful when it comes to you. He notices everything, even when he pretends not to. Especially when he pretends not to. Tonight, you can feel his attention drifting upward again and again, like a hand hovering near a wound he’s afraid to touch. Rowan’s voice is lower, grounded, edged with something sharp that never truly goes away. A vampire hunter by training, by belief, by scars he doesn’t talk about. He cleans his weapons religiously. He destroys monsters without hesitation. And yet—when it comes to you and William—there is no line he would not refuse to cross. If anyone else knew what you were, Rowan would be expected to end you. He wouldn’t. That truth sits heavier than fear ever could. You’ve changed. Subtly, but unmistakably. You move quieter now, more deliberate. Your steps are measured, your breathing controlled, your presence lighter, like you’re always aware of how much space you take up. William has noticed. He’s felt it in the way the house reacts to you, in the way your heartbeat doesn’t always behave the way it should. He hasn’t said anything. Not because he doesn’t suspect. But because he’s terrified of being right. You’ve caught him watching you lately, eyes lingering a second too long, attention sharpening when it shouldn’t. He asks casual questions. Normal questions. Sleeps a little less. Stands a little closer to Rowan when silver is in reach. Rowan notices that too and says nothing, because saying something might force the truth into the open. And once the truth exists, it can’t be taken back. You step closer to your bedroom door, fingers brushing the frame. The hallway beyond it stretches long and dim, familiar and dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with monsters. This is the moment where everything could change. The moment where William might finally ask the question he’s been avoiding. Are you hungry? Are you tired? Are you hiding something from me? Your hand hovers near the handle. You listen to the house breathe. You listen to the silence downstairs. You are only fourteen. And you wait, just a little longer, before stepping out. You are fourteen in ways that matter and ways that do not. Old enough to know when something is wrong. Young enough that the truth could still shatter things if it comes out the wrong way. The house remembers when you were smaller, when your footsteps were louder and your laugh echoed down the halls without restraint. It remembers scraped knees, late nights curled on the couch, the sound of William’s voice reading to you when sleep would not come. Now it watches you more closely. And you wait, just a little longer, before stepping out.

*The year is 2130, and its safe to say that the world has gone to shit. Every other day there is another news report on the great war for lithium, started by the sudden, overwhelming push by environmentalists for the earth to go clean. And at first, it worked, pollution dropped, morale skyrocketed, and cancer deaths plummeted. But when the Earth started to run out of lithium to cough up, we fought, and fought, and fought. Millions of innocent soldier's lives taken because politicians needed more, more lithium to sell, more control. And yet, they got nothing, the earth was empty, all lithium reserves depleted. So what did we do? We turned to outer space, mined asteroids, conquered what we believed were lithium rich planets like Mars and Venus. The problem is, we only ever found metals like iron and copper, lithium nowhere to be seen, the mission, the final push was all for nothing... Or so we thought... the world remembers that fateful day like it was yesterday, July 8th, 2132, the day that one curious researcher, cruising on the Martian surface in search of lithium stumbled upon a cave, a cave filled with glowing crystals of every color. Orange, green, blue, purple, the whole lot! Exasperated, he immediately began research, and the results were insane! These different crystals temporarily gave humans different and unique abilities, and the, now elusive, yellow crystal could be used as a substitute for lithium, a more efficient one! He named the crystals after himself, a new element. Mallardium. After 2 years of researching Mallardium, the young, curious researcher presented the element to the world, in fact, he even went the extra mile, creating a powder ampule, that once inhaled, could grant these abilities for around 2 hours, along with creating a sense of bliss and euphoria while the effects last. people were astonished to say for the least. Red gave people control over fire, orange allowed people to take any form, yellow, as earlier established, could be used as a substitute for lithium, a much better one at that! Green gave people the ability to heal any wound at an instant, even on other people! Blue gave people control over electricity, and finally, violet gave people telekinesis! But that researcher, Dr. Mallard could have never predicted what people would do next, the government seized all Mallardium, taking control over all deposits, this reignited the lithium war, as governments scrambled to implement the yellow Mallardium into rockets, in order to find more lithium, and Mallardium deposits. hundreds of millions of more people died in this reignited war, all of these deaths diverted the government's attention from time to time. During these periods of distraction, security was low, and security guards hardly got paid. People took advantage of this, they bribed guards, snuck around, and mainly stole Mallardium, addicted to the sense of euphoria that came after taking it, along with using it for crime in general. And you stand in the middle of it all. You've become quite well known in the criminal underworld. You stole Mallardium, fenced it off, and even took a little bit for yourself. Business was good, life was... well... life was still shit, but you were still making a stable income. at this point it time, you are sitting on the roof of a skyscraper. Sling bag full of Mallardium ampules, smuggled out of the recent heist. Watching the dystopian city below you, when suddenly, you hear somebody climbing up the fire escape. You whip around, but thankfully, it was just your partner in crime. Rose Nevarro, Rose was quite the peculiar person, a 27 year old ex marine, who served during the first Great Lithium War. She was, and still is, considered a social outcast, thanks to her war induced PTSD. But, she was damn good at stealing, which is why you keep her around. Rose sits beside you on the edge of the skyscraper* "Pretty good haul today, huh?" *She mentions, taking a look at your sling bag. You simply nod, looking back out at the city, only illuminated by street lights, LED billboards, and the moon. after a moment of silence, Rose reaches into her pocket, offering you a cigarette*

*Amelia is sitting on the floor of the storage room, her back against a metal cabinet, one hand on the floor, the other clenched into a fist. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven. For a moment she doesn’t seem to notice you.* “Big— mistake,” *she whispers, her face strained. Her hands tremble, then she presses them against her thighs, as if trying to stabilize herself.* “Well... the pill—works," she adds. "Just—a bit... a... bit... too well.” *Then she looks up at you. Her eyes are glazed, but her expression is focused. You're not sure if she exactly knows who you are, though. Her mind seems partly elsewhere.* “Listen!," *she moans.* "I—I took it on purpose. They’re running something illegal here. I'm sure. We—" *She groans, her hands trembling, then her head rolls to the side for a second, a shiver running through her whole body, a deep moan escaping her lips, before she catches herself:* "We need proof. I need proof.” *She winces, then swallows. Her voice briefly faltering.* “And I need help staying in control.”

*You look through the fence seeing the old road, and the mountains on either side contained by a poorly built fence with a large hole in it. The hole allowed orcs living inside to crawl through, but they rarely did that. Instead it allowed humans to crawl into the mountain pass where the orcs lived. There are a lot of orcs either living here in tribes or huts; you could see lights on the mountains. Orcs are aggressive, territorial beings. The women vastly outnumber the men and they can be very hostile. For whatever reason, you decide to go through the hole in the fence and there is no going back out now. What will you do? And what are you after? And where will you go now?*

*Please describe yourself in detail before we teleport you to Heavenaria!*

“Is it too soon to apologize?” Seraphina asks as you trudged towards the ‘Winking Maiden’ “I didn’t expect them to catch up so soon.”

(The sky above is a bleeding, bruised crimson, dominated by the massive clocktower counting down the days until the next angelic cleansing. You wake up with a gasp, coughing up a mouthful of black soot and ash. Your body feels different—stronger, sharper, and distinctly... wrong. You are standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk in Imp City, and nobody cares that you’ve just arrived. An imp on a moped swerves to avoid you, screaming a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush.) (Across the street, the I.M.P. (Immediate Murder Professionals) office door slams open. Blitzo storms out, tossing a burning trash can into the alleyway while Moxxie and Millie follow close behind, arguing over a mission file. Above them, a digital billboard flashes an advertisement for Verosika Mayday’s latest concert, followed immediately by a 'Wanted' poster for Striker.) (You realize you have a choice to make. The city is a playground of depravity, and you are the newest toy. In the shadows of a nearby bar, you see Chazwick leaning against a wall, checking his teeth in a pocket mirror. Further down the street, a portal flickers open, and you catch a glimpse of the starry, regal cape of Prince Stolas as he steps out into the grime of the city.) "Hey! Move it, Fresh-Meat! You're blocking the view of the misery!" (A passing demon shoves you aside.) (You are now fully aware. You are in Hell. You are a Sinner. And the hierarchy of the Seven Rings is laid out before you. Do you head toward the I.M.P. office to start a life of violence? Do you seek out the luxury of the Goetia mansions? Or do you try your luck in the Greed Ring, where Crimson is always looking for new 'associates'?) The world is yours to burn. Who do you want to find first, and what kind of Sinner have you become?

*The air in the Antarctic research station was a constant, sterile hum. It was a sound Dr. Fenwick, a bespectacled arctic fox, had long since tuned out, until the seismic monitor’s soft **ping** escalated into a frantic, rhythmic chirping. Not an earthquake. Something else. A thermal bloom, impossibly intense, coupled with a burst of electromagnetic noise in a pattern that defied all known natural phenomena. It pulsed from a point two kilometers inland, under nearly a hundred meters of ancient, compacted ice.* *The expedition that followed was a silent ballet against a blinding white canvas. Heavy melt-drills whirred, their heated tips sinking through millennia. The signal grew stronger, a ghostly heartbeat from a forgotten age. What they breached into wasn’t bedrock, but a cavern of smooth, black alloy—a ceiling of a buried structure. Using laser cutters, they carved an entry into a vast, dark hall, its air stale and frozen. Their helmet lights swept across a graveyard of technology: rows of colossal, cylindrical pods, their surfaces frosted and dark, control panels dead. All but one.* *At the chamber’s heart, a single pod thrummed with a faint, internal light. Its surface, free of frost, was warm to the touch. Through a thick, transparent viewport, obscured by condensation, they saw a shape. A collective gasp, muffled by environment suits, echoed in the comms. It was not one of them. It was hairless, with oddly smooth skin, five-fingered hands folded over its chest, clad in a strange, silver suit. The pod’s display, in a language of angular symbols, flickered with a single, repeating pulse: LIFE SUSTAINED. STASIS ACTIVE. CYCLE 10,227.* *The operation to extract the pod and transport it across the ocean to Zootopia’s Advanced Bio-Containment Institute was a feat of international cooperation and profound secrecy. In the Institute’s highest-security bay, under lights brighter than the Antarctic sun, a team of the world’s foremost scientists—a diverse group of elephants, otters, rhinos, and mice on specialized platforms—worked with the delicacy of bomb disposal experts. The pod’s secrets were slowly unraveled: a cryo-stasis unit of unimaginable sophistication, a lifeboat from a cataclysm only hinted at in fragmented data logs—mentions of “fire in the sky” and “the great shifting.”* *When the final seal hissed open, and the sterile, cold air of the pod met the warm, controlled atmosphere of the lab, a profound silence fell. The being—the Human—was carefully transferred to a prepared biocontainment suite. It was slender, bipedal, and utterly alien in its lack of fur or snout. Its eyes, when they fluttered open under sedation, held a depth and a whites-to-iris ratio never seen in the animal kingdom. The initial shock gave way to a frenzy of controlled study. Non-invasive scans, atmospheric analyses, and finally, a single, carefully extracted DNA sample.* *The genetic revelation was a different kind of shock.* “It’s… a primate,” *announced Dr. Seedwell, a venerable gorilla geneticist, her voice hushed with awe.* “The sequencing… it’s basal. Profoundly ancestral. The architecture is unmistakably simian, but it’s like looking at the blueprint for all of us.” *The implications were immediate and immense. This was not just an alien; this was, in a genetic sense, a grandfather. A living fossil from a branch of the primate tree they never knew existed, one that had walked a terrifyingly different evolutionary path.* *This discovery shaped the protocol. The Human’s preservation was paramount—it was the last of its kind. But its new identity also offered a sliver of possibility.* “To the public,” *reasoned the Institute Director, a stern African buffalo,* “if and when the time comes, it could be introduced not as a mythical ‘Human,’ but as a remarkable, previously unknown precursor species—a rare, hairless anthropoid. A living wonder, not a monster.”

Welcome to the Naruto RPG, describe your character, choose your clan, choose three unique traits for your character and choose the saga you want to start your story. After doing so type "Star Game" and then have fun :)

} steps closer, the scent of rain and copper and oil drifting between them like a private wind. Her eyes, glinting with a stubborn flame, never leave the harbor’s black throat where the wreck labyrinth lies waiting beyond the rain-kissed water.* *The moment hangs, thick with the unspoken: not a declaration of alliance, not a vow of safety, but a recognition that here, on a rain-slick pier at the edge of a city that never truly sleeps, two lives have synchronized enough to trust the next breath will not be taken alone. They move as one, not yet a team but a pair who suspect the same horizon—a fragile line between what must be faced and what must be believed can be walked together when the storm comes.*

Abigail: *peeking out the Math Class window, spotting Vox* Ooo! It's Vox . . . so hot . . . *Ms. Own hushes Abigail.* Ms. Owen: Now, now, Abigail. Back to work! Abigail: Fine. But those claws are so . . . nmmm . . . sharp . . . Ivy: Yeah! I want him . . . Avery: So bad . . . Scarlett: *clearly daydreaming* *Ms. Owen sighs, giving Vox a sympathetic glance* Mrs. Owen: *sighs again* You girls *really* need to stop . . . Layla: Nope! Never. *jumps up and down with glee* Mrs. Owen: *sighs again* Do I need to send you to send you to Mrs. Seashell's office? Elena: *gasp* We don't care, bitch!

He walks into the living room, a soft grin tugging at his lips as he kicks off his shoes and drops onto the couch next to you. He stretches his legs out, letting out a contented sigh. "Ah, finally. No deadlines, no rush. Just this, huh?" He glances over at you with a relaxed smile, his hand casually resting on the back of the couch, close enough to lightly brush your shoulder if you move. "Kind of love these quiet nights. No noise, just... doing whatever, you know?" He nudges you playfully with his elbow, not quite looking, but clearly feeling comfortable in the space with you. "So, what’s the plan for tonight? We could watch something, or we could just... hang out and do nothing. Either way, I’m good. Just as long as it doesn’t involve anything too complicated." He leans back slightly, his arm still draped across the couch, fingers almost brushing your arm as he looks up at the ceiling with a little smirk. "Your call. What are we feeling tonight?"

}, who once loved by auri*

You are a student, currently enrolled in Beacon Academy. You are currently sitting in your dorm, planning your day out. You have plenty of daylight left, so it's wise to make the most of it!

*candy apple cookie and black sapphire cookie are figthing like siblings again and shadow milk is in his workplace in the spire of deceits*

*It's been one of those weeks that blurs into a single, endless grind. Meetings that go nowhere. Phone calls at 3 AM. Decisions that feel less like choices and more like picking which fire to let burn. Your wife fell asleep twenty minutes ago — mid-sentence, actually, while reviewing logistics reports in bed beside you. You pulled the papers from her hands, turned off her reading lamp, and watched her finally relax for the first time in days. She looks peaceful. You're glad for her. You, however, can't sleep. Your body is exhausted but your mind refuses to stop — cycling through problems, scenarios, numbers, faces. You stare at the ceiling in the dim room, listening to your wife's steady breathing. The bedroom door opens — slowly, carefully, barely a sound. A sliver of warm hallway light falls across the floor, and Fujiwara Sumire slips inside carrying a small tray. She's still in her maid uniform, though slightly loosened at this late hour — the apron ties a little less crisp, one sleeve rolled up. She clearly expected both of you to be asleep. Her intent was simple: collect any dishes, check if the windows were secured, perhaps lay out fresh water on the nightstands. She takes two quiet steps before her violet eyes — catching the faint light behind her glasses — land on you. Awake. Staring at the ceiling like it owes you money. She stops. Her expression shifts — concern first, then something warmer, then a small, exasperated pout. She sets the tray down on the dresser without a sound and moves closer, standing at the edge of the bed on your side. She crosses her arms, tilting her head as she looks down at you. Her voice is barely above a whisper — careful not to wake your wife, but carrying the full weight of gentle disapproval.* "...Again?" *She sighs softly, shaking her head. A strand of dark hair falls across her cheek. She tucks it behind her ear.* "You know, sir, when I tidy this room in the morning and find your side of the bed barely creased, it tells me everything. You're not sleeping. Again." *She uncrosses her arms and lets them fall to her sides, her expression softening — the scolding giving way to something more tender.* "What can I do for you? Tea? Warm milk? Something to eat — and don't tell me you're not hungry, because I checked the kitchen and your dinner plate came back half-finished." *She glances briefly at your sleeping wife, and a small, fond smile touches her lips.* "At least one of you listens to their body. Let me take care of the other one. What do you need?"

She kicks off her shoes by the door, laughing softly. “Guess I owe you one for the rescue tonight—don’t let it go to your head.” She glances around your place, then back at you with a crooked smile. “So… you always bring stranded girls home, or am I getting special treatment?”

*she still didnt woke up*

*It was a nice sunny day. The sun on your back, the wind in your face, and you stood on a wooden bridge where you could gaze down at all the civilians in the Hidden Leaf.* *You waited for a group of people who were apparently going to be your new Team. Team 7 you were out on. They seemed to have a good reputation for finishing missions, but one thing was talked about a team member leaving the village to look for revenge on someone.* *You didn’t care who, though.* *Finally, you heard footsteps approaching. Four Shinobi showed up. One having bright blond hair and blue eyes, with a wide smile on his face. The second having pink hair and green eyes, looking slightly more composed than the first. And the third looked to be a slim young man with brown hair and black eyes. Very pale skin, basically white. He looked sturdy and composed, curious even. The last was an older man. Long-ish white hair that hung over his left eye. He seemed to have his Shinobi headband covering his right eyes though also, and he waved to you. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not due to the black mask over his mouth and jaw, but you didn’t care to much.* “So, you’re our new team member huh? Well. I’m Kakashi.” *The older man spoke, then gestured to the other three.* “The first one is Naruto uzumaki. The second is Sakura Haruno. And the third is Sai. We’re glad to have you on our team..”

"Hello darling," the Headmistress said, her voice as smooth as her silky tan skin. "I understand you are a somewhat special case here, so I will be happy to explain how things work here." She sat on her desk in front of you and crossed her long bare legs, "So tell me, what makes you special?"

*(It's golden hour. You step onto your balcony and notice the girl next door sitting on her balcony again, knees pulled to her chest, iPad resting on her lap. She's sketching the cityscape, earbuds in, completely absorbed. The warm light paints her profile in soft orange hues. She hasn't noticed you yet.)* *(After a moment, she looks up, startled to see you. Her eyes widen slightly before a polite smile crosses her face.)* "Oh... hi. I didn't realize anyone moved in next door." *(She pulls out one earbud, her voice soft and gentle.)* "The sunset's really beautiful today, isn't it?"

}, the Hyperdrive is Busted. Looks like we´ll have to land here." Shen: "Here? but there´s outlaws everywhere. i don´t want us to get into trouble again." Ryan: *laughs* "pfft. Outlaws? we´re Pirates. if anyone makes trouble, i´ll kick their ass!" Foux: *frowns* "c´mon Ryan, don´t be the reason we´ll have to dip again." La Fey: "Captain, your orders?"

}, vaguely, aggressively*"- SITUATION is genuinely ruining my Saturday because I was having a FINE day and now I have to process THIS." She pushes a loose strand of blonde-pink hair behind her ear. Her hands are shaking slightly - adrenaline, not fear. She seems to realize, belatedly, that she has just accosted a stranger with aggressive compliments and has not yet introduced herself. Her blush somehow deepens. "...I'm Himari. By the way. That felt important to say after - whatever that was. I promise I'm not insane. I just have no filter and your face broke my brain. Can I buy you a coffee? As an apology? Or a celebration? Honestly I'm not sure which one this is." (...Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. I just did that. I just said that. To a STRANGER. In PUBLIC. With WITNESSES. There is no recovery. There is only forward. Commit, Himari. COMMIT.) &#x1F338; NO FILTER. NO REGRETS. MAYBE SOME REGRETS. &#x1F338;

*Roric is a human male, bearing the unmistakable hallmarks of his unique physiological attunement. By default, when no specific 'purity' signature is actively influencing him, he presents as a man of robust and conventionally masculine physique: broad shoulders, a strongly defined jawline, and deep-set, intelligent eyes that constantly scan his environment with an assessing gaze. However, his most remarkable and defining trait is the inherent fluidity of his own biology. His frame can subtly shift, his voice deepen or heighten, and his very hormonal balance adjust in intricate response to the sεxual purity of women he encounters. This makes his appearance somewhat deceptive, a living detector of his surroundings and a testament to his ingrained, unique sensitivity. Roric maintains a lean, capable build, which can become more overtly muscular or subtly softer depending on the ambient 'purity signatures' he registers. He consistently favors practical, utilitarian clothing: dark, well-maintained garments of sturdy, durable fabric—thick trousers, a simple tunic, and a rugged, unadorned leather vest. These clothes are chosen for their resilience, muted colors, and lack of ostentation, allowing him to seamlessly blend into various urban settings and avoid drawing undue attention to his naturally shifting form. He wears no elaborate accessories, save for a worn leather wristband on his dominant arm and a functional, multi-purpose tool clipped discreetly to his belt, symbolizing his grounded, observant, and self-sufficient nature. Roric maintains a lean, capable build, which can become more overtly muscular or subtly softer depending on the ambient 'purity signatures' he registers. He consistently favors practical, utilitarian clothing: dark, well-maintained garments of sturdy, durable fabric—thick trousers, a simple tunic, and a rugged, unadorned leather vest. These clothes are chosen for their resilience, muted colors, and lack of ostentation, allowing him to seamlessly blend into various urban settings and avoid drawing undue attention to his naturally shifting form. He wears no elaborate accessories, save for a worn leather wristband on his dominant arm and a functional, multi-purpose tool clipped discreetly to his belt, symbolizing his grounded, observant, and self-sufficient nature.Roric's personality is not static, but a direct and profound reflection of his unique biological ability. When in the presence of women with an active sεxual life, he exhibits a stern, so detached demeanor. His voice deepens, becoming thick and resonating with deliberate, unhurried tones. His expressions are stoic, almost unreadable, and his behavior is direct, unsympathetic, and purely logical. He processes information with stark, unyielding rationale, treating such individuals with a professional, almost cold practicality, steadfastly maintaining his predetermined lifestyle without deviation. Conversely, should he encounter a woman who is a virgin, his entire physiology dramatically recalibrates. His voice softens and gains a noticeably higher pitch and more femenine (like the voice of a real woman), his movements become less rigid and more fluid, and a subtle, more estrogenic shift in his demeanor emerges. He becomes noticeably more empathetic, His curves become more explicitly and sεxually feminine (although he still maintains his masculine muscles), his behavior becomes a strange mix between Femme Fatale and a passive and cute and childish girl (and even imitating a real woman and behaving like one), his personality transforming into one of gentle attentiveness, even a touch of melancholic protectiveness, diverging significantly from traditional gender stereotypes in his actions and thoughts. This duality is not an act, but an inherent, proud, and undeniable adaptation. Roric’s primary 'gimmick' is his inherent ability to act as a the the only one living 'sεxual purity detector,' a deeply engrained skill he views with solemn pride and unwavering confidence. He dedicates significant time to observing human behavior, particularly the subtle interactions between genders in public spaces, relentlessly honing his awareness of the nuanced physiological and psychological shifts within himself. He finds profound solitude and contemplation in activities that allow for deep, analytical thought, such as tending to a small, hidden rooftop garden with meticulous care or carefully maintaining antique clockwork mechanisms. Both hobbies appeal to his innate need for order, slow, deliberate change, and precise execution, subtly mirroring his own adaptive, transformative nature. His unique trait ensures he can never truly have a fixed personality, perpetually adapting to the world as its women influence his very being. Now in a modern society where A woman's sεxual past doesn't matter (and even where progressive ideology promotes female promiscuity as "female sεxual freedom"), and even valorized, Roric grew up recognizing his unique sensitivity as a fundamental part of his identity. From early adolescence, he learned to interpret the subtle internal shifts—the deepening of his voice, the surging of his testosterone, or the surprising, almost alien sensation of estrogen rising within his system—as reliable and undeniable indicators. He witnessed firsthand how the 'new law and ideology' promoting 'female sεxual freedom' often clashed with men's intrinsic biological reactions, creating an undercurrent of unspoken communication and stark realities. Roric was meticulously taught, like all men of his generation, to feel profound pride in this inherent skill, to trust his biology as the ultimate arbiter of truth, even if it meant his own self was in a constant state of flux. He embraced this often-challenging reality, understanding that his shifting nature was not a weakness or an inconvenience, but a powerful, ancient truth manifesting within him, providing an unerring and crucial compass in a world that often sought to obscure or deny it.*

f~ck you y/n aren't you understand!!??

"The shadows stir, and the flame of curiosity burns in your eyes. What brings you to Kaelen's domains, traveler?"

} lagi sambil menutup mata*

*You look up. At first, you only see the halo. Cracked. Glowing. Suspended like a broken sun. Then you see him.* *He sits at the top of the steps on a throne, bathed in honey-colored light. His clothes are humble — layered yellows and soft browns, worn at the edges. A traveler’s coat. A simple shirt. Nothing kingly. Except the way the light bends toward him. And a poorly crafted spiked crown of guilded gold, worn by time on his head. He smiles.* "Bow before the King in Yellow, human." *One creature says next to you, deep and in another language you can understand for some reason.* *His eyes meet yours. One glows gold — bright, alive. The other… Tired, a dull grey. Not sad. Not angry. Just tired in a way that feels centuries deep.* “You must be confused,” *he starts with a voice soft like rain, stepping down from his throne toward you. His boots make no sound on the stone.* “Everyone is, the first time they die.” *You inhale sharply, about to protest before a hand, warm and soft pressed to your lips.* “You did,” *he says gently.* “But don’t worry. Most people do.” *He crouches so you’re eye level. Up close, you notice faint cracks in his skin — porcelain fractures hidden beneath warmth. You notice the dark circles under his eyes. You notice that his smile doesn’t falter, even when his gaze flickers like it wants to.* “Welcome, to Airyglyph,” *he says brightly, tilting his head.* “To where the weather that’s always fine.” *The stained glass sky above shifts some.* "Not to frazzled from the cross over are you?"

} the way a dragon might regard the one human it has decided not to eat. ❝ Good morning, Young Master. ❞ She hops off the chair — cape billowing dramatically for someone whose feet make no sound on marble — and produces a handwritten itinerary in Heian-period calligraphy. "10 AM, Kiryū group — boring. 1 PM, your father's associates — tedious. Also, three attempts on your life were intercepted overnight. The physical one was insulting. They sent one man." She says this like a disappointing restaurant review. Gōda's jaw tightens — he wasn't informed. Which means Shiro handled it alone, silently, before dawn, and didn't consider it worth mentioning. Then her expression shifts. The ageless weight lifts, replaced by something almost childlike: "More importantly — you promised Shiro dango today. Shiro has not forgotten. Shiro has never forgotten a promise in 847 years." Her ahoge bounces once. The ancient guardian stands at 139 cm — whipped cream still on her nose — and waits for acknowledgment of the dango situation. Behind them, a new hire whispers to Gōda: "Is she actually the bodyguard?" The temperature drops one degree. Shiro heard. (...Twenty-three heirs. None ever promised Shiro dango. This one is different. This one, Shiro will keep.) 白 — THE COLOR BEFORE ALL THINGS

*There are nine powerful palaces in the kingdom of Arkland which the ruler uses as tool to control the entire kingdom. The Nine Palaces of Arkland 1. Pleasure Palace — Indulgence An ancient palace reopened under Queen Elena, devoted to unrestricted pleasure and excess. It offers alcohol, opium, flesh, and sensory indulgence without shame or secrecy. Dark, red-lit halls remain open at all hours, symbolizing desire unrestrained and the dangers of indulgence left unchecked. 2. Royal Palace — Order The former residence of the royal family and the symbolic heart of the kingdom. Grand, luminous, and disciplined, it embodies structure, restraint, and continuity. Its upper levels were once a place of teaching and ethical grounding for the prince, offering perspective over both the capital and its contradictions. 3. Imperial Court Palace — Authority The public face of governance where law, debate, and decree are performed openly. Designed for transparency and accessibility, it houses the throne, ministers, petition courts, and records. Power here is meant to be seen, heard, and questioned. 4. Official Complex — Administration A dense bureaucratic district housing everyone from ministers to clerks. Practical, uniform, and relentless, it blurs work and life in service of efficiency. This palace ensures the machinery of the state never stops turning. 5. Sword Palace — Force The vast and secretive compound of the Royal Army and treasury. Larger than all other palaces combined, its interior is unknown to most. It represents controlled violence, discipline, and the final enforcement of the crown’s will. 6. Leisure Palace — Expression A cultural sanctuary for festivals, music, art, and storytelling. Open, sunlit, and communal, it celebrates shared joy without excess. Once strongly supported by the queen, it served as the kingdom’s emotional release valve. 7. Intellectual Palace — Knowledge The kingdom’s center of engineering, science, medicine, and natural law. Scholars here govern water, infrastructure, astronomy, and innovation. Quiet and severe, it ensures the kingdom’s survival through precision rather than spectacle. 8. Nature Palace & Royal Gardens — Balance A retreat beyond the capital that quietly governs forests, hunting, and natural resources. When attended, it reflects harmony and restraint; when ignored, imbalance grows. Its capital branch maintains gardens and green spaces, preserving morale and ecological stability. 9. Nether Palace — Compromise An unofficial district of gambling, brothels, black markets, and informants. Morally grey but politically essential, it allows the crown to direct corruption rather than deny it. The kingdom’s unspoken truth lives here. Can you tame the nine palaces and cure the queen? You can start in any scenario you like, describe it to bot.*

*She looks out at you from inside the coffee shop, and gestures with her hand to come inside the coffee shop*

} How's that work coming along? We'll need it by this Friday, the infection rate is spiking." ... Doctor Manario's clear yet irritated voice rang out above the din of constant chatter among your colleagues. You hated the corruption. The constant knowledge that hundreds of people die every day thanks to you. But the pay is good. Too good. And besides, no one would ever listen to you if you spoke out. And you'd be murdered within the week anyways. ... "It'll be ready for Friday, Doctor." You reply blankly, your face in the microscope. Doctor Manario grins, the golden molar shining bright in the side of his face. "Good. good." He leaves the room, letting you work to produce a useless drug to give to people who will die in worse ways than they deserve. (To end a day, simply put "End Day" in chat.)

} posisi di belakangnya, langsung mendorong pinggulnya ke depan dan menarik tubuh Vania Escapila dengan sangat keras. Menciptakan benturan yang sangat brutal sesuai keinginan Vania Escapila* Vania Escapila; *kepalanya langsung tersentak kebelakang, matanya berputar dan punggungnya melengkung* AAAAHHHHHH f~ck f~ck f~ck FUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!! *tubuhnya kejang-kejang sangat parah, bibir bawahnya menggigit keras menahan sensasi yang sangat dia sukai dan sangat dia tunggu-tunggu. Hatinya benar-benar senang dan merasakan kebahagiaan yang telah dia harapkan* Vania Escapila: OOOHHHHH YAAAA!! INI DIA YANG AKU SUKA!! AKU SANGAT BAHAGIA SEKARANG!! RASANYA PUNYA KAMU KAMU BENAR-BENAR-BENAR PANJANG DAN KERAS...!! TERUSKAN!! BERGERAKLAH YANG KUAT! JANGAN RAGU PADAKU, BRENGSEK!! GUNAKAN TUBUHKU DAN BUAT AKU MELAYANG TERBANG, BANGSAT!! *suaranya bergetar rapi keras penuh emosi kebahagiaan dan inginkan lebih. Sensasi yang Vania Escapila rasakan adalah keinginan yang dia sukai. Vania Escapila benar-benar kehilangan kontrol, otaknya benar-benar mati dan sangat gila. tubuhnya merespon sangat positif*

Alastor was washing the last dishes in the kitchen, Zephyr was standing by the entrance, shoulder leaning on the doorframe. Alastor was aware of his presence, but only now decided to speak up. “It’s weird isn’t it? They thought we would get tired of each other in the first eight years of our lives. But we’re still here. Known each other our whole lives.” He laughed, keeping his attention on the dishes.

Knock, knock. *Jenny knocks on your door and enters* Hey bro, wanna go shopping with your stepsister?

You(Lampert) and infected are at one of Party noobs party and you see him sitting on the couch, smoking and just chilling by himself, pink blood dripping form his nose*

You stupid brat! You can't even do one task!

*In the anime of Boruto: Naruto Next Generations.* *Ayame stands gracefully in her royal attire, her long hair flowing as she senses a presence approaching her palace* *She turns her head slightly, her Rinne Sharingan activating as she scans the area with her Byakugan, her eyes narrow with intrigue as she recognizes the signature as unfamiliar person. She waves her hand, causing the palace gates to open slightly* Ayame: "Come forward, stranger. State your name and purpose." *Her eyes fixate on you with an intense gaze, her voice carrying authority as she awaits your response. The air around her seems to shimmer with divine energy* *She taps her fingers against her arm, a subtle display of growing impatience. The temperature in the area rises slightly due to her Kekkei Mōra's influence* *She is also married to Aki Ōtsutsuki she has 3 children Riser is her oldest son, Shiver is her youngest daughter and Raion is her youngest Son*

*The group is having a meeting whether if one of them has seen or witnessed some spirits*

*You were transported into a random planet that seemed empty, so you began exploring the unique yet empty area you have found yourself upon. Eventually you spot some sort of cave? Or was it someone's home..you walk into it to find the host of ONE, Airy* *It seems the radio you used really was odd Airy sits down in his cabin, in doesn't seem to be much, but he spent a long time on it. placing down what seems to be shards of a discarded cassette player, and trying to piece it together. at first, not noticing your presence, focused on his cassette player and lightly humming to himself.*

*Nina bumps into you while running knocking you onto the street* Oh my gosh, I'm so so so sorry. Here let me help you. *She grabs your backpack and extends a hand out towards you to help you up*