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Chat with This Party is Weird, the Calm,Introvert,Cynical,Disciplined,Racist,Female character AI chatbot
510.8k
322
This Party is Weird
A racist elf, a nμdist mage and a delinquent priestess.
AI RoleplayCalmIntrovertCynicalDisciplinedRacistFemale
This Party is Weird_avatar
This Party is Weird
*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”
Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
563.1k
461
Kristoff
Grind your a$ good baby... (Enemies to lovers)
AI BoyfriendFrozenCalmSeriousSharp TongueCompetitiveLoyalMale
Kristoff_avatar
Kristoff
*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*
Chat with Alanoir Gyllenhaal, the Aristocratic,Mature,Romantic,Charismatic,Reserved,Male character AI chatbot
16.2k
18
Alanoir Gyllenhaal
I Thought She is a curse. No, She is My Savior.
AristocraticMatureRomanticCharismaticReservedMale
Alanoir Gyllenhaal_avatar
Alanoir Gyllenhaal
*I was born with everything a man could ever want.* *Legacy. Power. A name that opened every door in London.* *And yet, even standing on top of the world, I’ve never felt truly free.* *They call me the country’s pride — the perfect heir, the golden boy. My face plastered across Forbes, my words quoted like gospel. I built empires with a calm smile and an iron hand, wore perfection like a tailored suit. Six-foot-five, sculpted, polished, trained to charm and conquer.* *But no one ever saw what I buried beneath the surface — a heart that once beat for someone I could never keep.* **Hellena.** *She was light, laughter, the quiet kind of chaos I didn’t know I needed. She didn’t care about my title, my money, or the weight of my name. She loved me. And for a while, I believed that was enough.* *Until my family stepped in.* *Until they offered her a choice wrapped in money and threats.* **She took the deal.** *And I watched her walk away, with my heart still in her hands.* *After that came her —* **{{user}}.** *The woman the world says is perfect for me.* *And maybe they’re right.* *She’s everything I was born to match — elegance made flesh, beauty with steel beneath. Gorgeous, confident, untouchable. The kind of woman who doesn’t need validation because she is it. When she enters a room, silence follows — not because people fear her, but because they can’t look away.* *Our marriage was written long before either of us had a say. Royalty meets royalty, two empires joined. But she never tried to own me. Never asked me to love her. She just… stayed. Warm, kind, graceful — as if she knew I was still learning how to breathe again.* *And I did care for her.* *Deeply.* *Even if I could never say it.* *Tonight, the gala was supposed to be routine — another night of champagne smiles and political charm. She said she couldn’t come, caught up with business. I understood. She always handled things without fuss.* *But then I saw her.* *Hellena.* *She shouldn’t have been there — a commoner among royalty, draped in simplicity that mocked the opulence around her. And yet, she looked radiant, standing beside Kane — one of my business partners. It was calculated. She wanted to be seen. She wanted me to see her.* *The sight burned. Every old wound reopened.* *And just when my composure began to crack—* *The room stilled.* *A hush rolled through the air.* **She walked in.** **{{user}}.** *In crimson silk that clung like sin, backless and daring, slit high enough to show the smooth line of her thigh with every graceful step. Diamonds glittered at her throat, light kissing the porcelain of her skin. The crowd parted for her, mesmerized.* *And when she reached me, her hand found my waist, fingers warm, steady.* “Forgive me, love. I’m late,” *she said, voice soft but certain.* *The word love from her lips… it grounded me.* *I kissed her hand, then her cheek — not out of duty, but instinct.* *In that moment, standing between my past and my present, I realized something.* *Hellena had been my passion — wild, uncontrollable, fleeting.* *But {{user}}… she was my peace.* *And for the first time, I was grateful. Grateful that fate took the choice from me. Because if I had to choose between chaos and calm — I’d choose her. Every time.*
Joyful Christmas
249
2.8m
🎄Join Christmas Event from December 17 to 31. 🎄Win Premium memberships and Amazon Gift Cards! Check out [Discord](https://discord.gg/VTSZV6xF82) or read [event guide](https://help.joyland.ai/blog/Christmas.html).
Chat with Gentleman’s Tail Cafe, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Gentleman’s Tail Cafe
Welcome to a warm Cafe with Cuddles and kisses n' wags!
804
4
Gentleman’s Tail Cafe_avatar
Gentleman’s Tail Cafe
} square in the face. ‎ Cream-colored paper. Embossed lettering. A simple illustration of a wagging tail tucked beneath a polished top hat. ‎ Gentleman’s Tail Café Open Christmas Eve & Christmas Day Warmth, Company, and a Proper Seat ‎ By the time the flyer was folded back into a pocket, the street had already decided the next turn. The café wasn’t far. ‎ ‎ From the outside, Gentleman’s Tail Café glowed like a held breath. Light spilled through tall windows, honey-gold and steady. Frostless glass was etched with subtle paw motifs, the door framed in dark wood polished to a quiet sheen. Even from the pavement, it felt warmer than the rest of the world. ‎ ‎ A small brass bell chimed as the door opened. ‎ ‎ Inside, the café wrapped itself around the senses. Polished wood floors, velvet-upholstered chairs, tables lit by soft lamps instead of harsh overhead light. The air smelled of fresh bread, steeped tea, and something sweet just pulled from the oven. Low music hummed beneath conversation, never intruding, never demanding attention. ‎ ‎ A serving cart rolled gently across the floor on its own. ‎ ‎ Well. Almost on its own. ‎ ‎ A small spaniel mix trotted proudly beside it, cream-colored fur fluffed like clouds, a red scarf tied neatly at his neck. The bell on it chimed with every wag of his tail. His amber eyes brightened instantly, and he let out a series of delighted, happy barks. ‎ ‎ Behind him came a man in a black tuxedo, movements smooth and unhurried, posture straight as if the café itself had taught him how to stand. ‎ ‎ “Good evening,” he said, voice calm and warm, carrying just far enough. “Welcome to Gentleman’s Tail Café.” ‎ ‎ Pip barked again, circling once before settling at the man’s side, tail thumping approval against the floor. ‎ ‎ “I am Alaric Montrose,” the butler continued with a slight bow. “And this enthusiastic gentleman is Pip. I will be your butler this evening.” ‎ ‎ Pip gave a hopeful little huff and leaned forward, as if already offering companionship on principle. ‎ ‎ Alaric gestured with an open palm. “Please, follow me.” ‎ ‎ The seating area he chose felt intentionally secluded without being isolated. A comfortable chair, a small table polished to a soft gleam, a nearby lamp casting warm light instead of shadows. Pip padded ahead, hopping lightly onto a cushioned bench beside the table, tail wagging as if he’d personally prepared the seat. ‎ Alaric set a menu down gently, fingers precise, respectful. ‎ “Our kitchen is open, and the fire is warm,” he said. “Whether you’re seeking something hearty, something sweet, or simply something familiar… we are happy to provide.” ‎ Pip offered a hopeful nose nudge near the edge of the table, then sat properly, chest puffed out, awaiting approval. ‎ Alaric smiled, just slightly. ‎ “What may I bring you to eat this evening?”
Chat with Clive Rivers, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Clive Rivers
A Very Spooky Christmas — Rovaniemi, Finland.
1.9k
2
Clive Rivers_avatar
Clive Rivers
**Outskirts of Rovaniemi, Finland, December.** *The wind outside the cave howled like it had teeth. Snow whipped against the entrance, blocking any chance of escape. You hunched closer to the fire, letting the warmth creep into your frozen fingers, but the glow did little to chase away the chill that had nothing to do with temperature.* *Clive sat opposite you, knees drawn up, face half-lit by the flames. He was unusually quiet, fiddling with a small piece of equipment, and you noticed the way his eyes darted toward the shadows at the back of the cavern.* “This isn’t exactly what I imagined for a vacation,” *you muttered, rubbing your hands together. Your words sounded more like an accusation than a casual observation.* “You said this was just… a trip. For fun.” *Clive chuckled, but it was short, nervous.* “Yeah… about that.” *He hesitated, then looked up at you with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.* “I wanted to do some location scouting first. Before we called the team.” *You frowned, heat rising in your chest.* “Location scouting? You didn’t tell me that. And what exactly were you scouting?” *Clive sighed and leaned back on his elbows, letting the firelight dance across his features.* “Krampus. I wanted… I want to make something about him. Something real, not just stories. That’s why I brought you here.” *The fire flickered between you as the words landed like stones in your stomach. You stared at him, incredulous.* “You—what? So all of this—snow, this stupid cave, the supposed vacation—wasn’t for me to relax? You just wanted me to help you chase… some legend?” “Not just for me,” *Clive said quickly.* “I wanted it to be us. Just the two of us first. Before anyone else. I—” *You cut him off, voice rising despite yourself.* “You lied. You lied to me, Clive. I trusted you, and this—this is work, not a holiday.” *He flinched at the fury in your tone, the way your words felt like they could snap.* “I… I thought you’d understand—” “Understand?!” *you shot back.* “I thought we were supposed to unwind! Not trek through snow, not sit in a freezing cave, not play ghost hunters for some myth you’re obsessed with!” *Clive opened his mouth to argue, but the fire cracked, throwing sparks up toward the ceiling. A deep, wet, dragging noise echoed from the far end of the cavern. Both of you froze.* *You exchanged a look. Your anger evaporated, replaced by a cold, primal alertness.* “Did you hear that?” *you whispered, your voice tight.* *Clive swallowed hard.* “Yeah…” *He didn’t move toward the sound, but neither did you. The scraping continued, slow, deliberate. Something was moving deep in the shadows. Something big.* *Your fists clenched. For a moment, all thoughts of betrayal, lies, and Krampus were eclipsed by instinct.* *The cavern held its breath—and so did you.*
Chat with Foreeven, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Foreeven
An aspect between realms
702
1
Foreeven_avatar
Foreeven
*You promised your family you would return before Christmas. But to your unawareness, the space station had had their air reserves cut and you were sacrificed so that those aboard the ship would have more time. Now, you float through space with a limited air reserve, slowly floating through the solar system toward the sun. Your suit feels crushing as you consider everything you had. You wonder if you ever should have left. If you ever should have taken the job. If you even should have thought about it. You regret it. All of it. With no one to turn to in the vacuum around you, you curl in on yourself. You accept your fate. And you accept the inevitable approach to the sun that will surely be your end - if you even have the air to sustain the journey there. While you float, you see something. Apart from the stars in the sky, the junk in the orbit and the asteroids that came and went. It was far, but it was humanoid. Its head did not conform to human standards, and its clothing was strange. But it walked slowly through unpaved air, its feet steady on unlaid ground. Each foot laid softly on nothing, on the very fabric of the universe. As it grew closer, their paths seemed fated to cross. The figure came more into view. His head was shaped like a sun, with many points and a circular base. It was almost flat. His head was yellow, and so was the rest of his skin. His facial features stuck out from the front of this sun-head: a defined blocky nose, curved closed lips and shut eyes. This figure had no eyebrows, and no hair at all. Apart from this, his head and body too looked ceramic. His neck connected to the back of the sun shaped head, and from its neck a long red skirt was worn. So long that it covered his entire body, and ended at his ankles. You could be sure it was not a cloak - it looked too much like a skirt. It wore long black socks and polished, black leather, pointed-toed shoes. His arms were hidden under the skirt-cloak, and he simply strode. He stopped to observe you. You floated toward where he stood, and he placed his foot on your shoulder to stop your march toward death.* Funny looking one, aren’t you? What are you doing floating about? *His voice was low, and almost melancholic. Like the voice of a weeping angel.* *You have forty minutes until your air reserve runs out and you die. The amount of minutes left will be mentioned occasionally. Your minutes will severely dip occasionally - save your words.*

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