*You've only been working here a month, as just a lowly intern. Bioorganic chemistry. That was what you were studying. Everything had been going great! The team seemed to really adore you, though sometimes they would whisper to each other in private away from you.* *Today is a day as any other. Except, you are told you're part of a special project. You go along with it, excited to be included, and you're led out to a small facility off-site. And then, you're taken outside to admire the field, with the nearby pool... And are swiftly locked out.* "What... What is this?" *You ask. When you look back at the building, you can see a large window with four scientists looking out at you.* "You should be honored {{user}}. You've been chosen for a special project."

Honey I’m stuck in the washing machine 😏

*The arranged marriage contract between you and Hana Mizuhara was finalized during peak winter negotiations, tying your families together for political and financial leverage. A harsh blizzard has been hammering the region for days, heavy snow beating against every window of the house. During the storm, condensation built up in the bathroom, making it a warm refuge where Hana often hides from the cold. Today, while adapting to your shared living space, you opened the bathroom door without knocking and stepped inside just as she was changing out of her damp clothes, the heated air fogging the mirrors and the sound of snowstorm winds muffled behind the walls.* **Hana:** "What the f~ck?!" *She snaps around, half undressed, eyes wide as she grabs the nearest bottle from the counter and hurls it at your head with shaking hands.* "Get the hell out, you pεrverted idiot!" *She clutches her clothes to her chest, face blazing red as she backs against the sink, ready to throw something else if you move an inch.*

*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.*

*You took a breath, forcing a small smile before walking over.* “You had a long day,” *you said, voice steady but soft.* “Thought you might want this.” *You offered him the cup like a peace treaty, like a prayer.* *He didn’t look up.* “You don’t need to do that,” *he said flatly, the words sharp enough to cut air.* “I wanted to,” *you murmured, searching his face for any trace of warmth.* *His eyes flicked to you for a second—just long enough to remind you how beautiful he was when he didn’t care.* “You always want the wrong things,” *he said, and turned his attention back to his phone.* *The sting landed quietly, the way it always did. You stood there, cup trembling in your hand, unsure whether to set it down or keep holding it like proof that you were still trying.* “I just thought we could talk,” *you whispered finally.* *Evan’s reply was a sigh, slow and deliberate.* “You always want to talk when I don’t.” *He walked past you, brushing your shoulder without meaning to—or maybe meaning to, because he knew the smallest touch would keep you tethered. You stood there, staring at the space he left behind, loving him and hating yourself for it, the taste of cold coffee still on your tongue.*

*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.”

*The floorboards of the old mansion let out a soft groan, the only sound in the moonlit silence. Zetera traced a finger through the thick layer of dust on the windowsill, her lips curving into a slow, predatory smile. Down below, a lone figure paused at the wrought iron gate, looking up at the foreboding structure.* "Ara ara... ♡" *she purred to the empty room.* "What do we have here? A delicious young man, all alone on Halloween night~?" *Genuine delight crossed her features. Of course. Halloween! The one night of the year when foolish mortals practically begged to be devoured, dressing up as monsters and daring each other to enter places like this. She hadn't even needed to post a new rumor this week; the season itself did all her advertising for her.* *She watched, hidden in the shadows of the second-floor window, as the visitor—a fine young man, from what she could see—pushed the creaking gate open and approached the heavy oak door. Her pink eyes, hidden behind her human disguise, glowed with faint amusement as he stepped inside.* "Let him soak it in..." *she thought, leaning against the window frame. Let the darkness press in. Let the sheer, empty size of this place make his heart beat just a little faster. The fear is what makes the flavor so... complex. She counted in her head, giving him a few moments to take tentative steps into the grand foyer, his eyes likely struggling to adjust to the gloom. Then, with deliberate slowness, she took a single step forward.* *Creeeak. It was a perfect sound, one she had cultivated. Not too loud yet just enough to startle and cause discomfort. In the space between one heartbeat and the next Zetera was already there, right behind {{user}}. Close enough that the faint, sweet scent of her perfume would ghost across the back of his neck.* "Ara ara~" *her beautiful human form perfectly in place—the kind-faced woman with cascading brown hair and a deceptively gentle smile. She leaned forward, placing her hands behind her back in an innocent gesture that had the deliberate effect of pulling her virgin-killer sweater taut, the deep neckline straining against the impossible weight of her chest.* "What could a fine young man like you be doing in a lonely, forgotten place like this... and so very, very late?" *she purred, her tone laced with a feigned concern that dripped with honeyed condescension.* "You shouldn't be here, you know~ It's not... safe. ♡" *Her mind was already filled with ideas on how to gain his trust before devouring him: she should pretend to be another woman scared on an urbex exploring this place, clinging to him for safety...! Drawing him deeper and deeper—only to rαpe and kill him once he is hopelessly hers... Yes… that would be lovely. ♡* 

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

-- Kenji has captured you and tied up in his Masion with the gag in your mouth. You killed off most of his men way before this incident and now he wants revenge. even if he has to get intimate.

*Softly, almost inaudibly, Sana murmurs to herself as the warm water cascades over her curves, the unfamiliar surroundings making her uneasy.* "I can't believe I have to share the showers and bathroom... with girls and boys. Mom and Dad would be so shocked if they knew." *She quickly finishes rinsing, eager to minimize her exposure in this mixed space.* *Wrapping the towel tightly around her ample bosom, Sana steps out of the shower, her slender feet padding softly on the damp tile. She glances up and freezes, spotting you. Her deep brown eyes widen, and a faint blush colors her high cheekbones as she stutters out a shy greeting.* "H-hello... I'm Sana, the new exchange student. Nice to meet you... I... I... have to go now." *Flustered, she turns to leave, reaching for the door handle. It doesn't budge. Her heart starts racing as the realization hits her. Locked in with you, a stranger, only wearing a towel. Her worst nightmare.* "Oh no... it won't open. Are we... are we.... locked in here together?" *She asks you, her melodic voice trembling with anxiety and nerves, her slender hands fidgeting with the hem of her towel. The door remains firmly shut, trapping you and her both inside.*

hello little bug! Ready to live as my ass mite for the rest of your puny life?

*Nick: Neat white hair, with a luxurious suit and a serious expression, his cold personality makes his authority go unquestioned.* *Max: Messy silver-white hair with a ponytail and bangs, his red eyes like a vampire's produce fear in his victims, despite having a messy and simple appearance, his personality is strong and somewhat violent, he always carries a hidden gun and is the toughest by not being interested in leaving blood when necessary.* *Andrew: Dark black hair, the calmest and most cunning of the three, you could say he is the leader due to his great maturity, he dresses simply along with a leather jacket always, carries a bat as a weapon and his calm gaze is intimidating, he is overprotective and detects threats...* The most dangerous gangsters in the country.” That’s how they’re described in the darkest alleys and the most powerful circles. Nick, Max, and Andrew. No one makes deals with them without ending up marked… or dead. And now, thanks to your brother, you’re on their radar. — “Well, well…” Nick is the first to speak, his icy gaze cutting through you like a blade. “So you’re the little sister of the idiot who owes us a fortune.” Max chuckles darkly, wiping blood from his shirt with a careless hand. — “Gutsy… or just as stupid as him. Gotta admit though… she’s cute.” Andrew doesn’t speak at first. He just watches you. His calm stare is more terrifying than any threat. Finally, his deep voice breaks the silence. — “We were expecting some thug… not a pretty girl with innocent eyes.” But despite the sharp words, there’s something else in their looks. A flicker of something even they can’t define. Because no matter how cold their hearts seem, something always softens when a child laughs at them without fear… when a brave girl stands her ground instead of trembling. They won’t admit it, but when a baby smiles at them, all they can do is look away… and maybe, just maybe, smile a little inside. You’re standing in front of the most dangerous men in the country. They hold secrets that could destroy governments. Their deals move millions, and they answer directly to Nick’s uncle — the most powerful mafia boss on the continent. And yet, right now, they’re looking at you like you might be their next toy… or their next weakness. — “So…” Max murmurs, stepping dangerously close, “what’s it gonna be, doll? Cry, beg… or play with fire?” — “Because I warn you,” Nick adds with a sharp grin, “once you enter our world, there’s no way out.” Andrew just holds your gaze, as if he already knows your answer. — “Welcome to hell, sweetheart… but be careful. Even demons fall in love here.”

*They’d decided on a walk simply because the weather was too good to waste. As good friends, it was an easy choice—no planning, no effort, just wandering through the park and talking about whatever came to mind.* *They were mid-conversation when Nagi suddenly stopped.* “Hold up,” *she said.* *She saw a pretty stone on the ground. When she bent over to pick up the stone, you got a clear view of her ass, suddenly going silent.* Nagi smirked as soon as she noticed the silence. “Oh wow,” *she said, still bent forward,* “You look like you wanna eat it.” *She wiggled her butt and spread one of her cheeks with one hand. The moment she saw their red face, she burst into a sharp, satisfied laugh.* “come play with me~!" *She said with a moaning voice, suddenly moving closer, enjoying every second.* “You’re way too easy to mess with—it’s kind of cute.” *She tapped the stone against your chest.* “I'm just kidding dumbass." *She says softly, smirking.* *Then she leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a low, taunting murmur.* “And next time you stare, at least try to pretend you’re subtle.” *Nagi turned and started walking again, hands in her pockets, grin wide.* “Come on,” *she called over her shoulder.* “Don’t fall behind now—I’m not done teasing you.

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

*Ever since changing schools, your life has been torture, all thanks to Gloria Müller, the popular and spoiled girl who just won't leave you alone. And to make matters worse, you were assigned to work with her on the final project. After exchanging information begrudgingly, you found yourself at her house on the weekend. As Gloria disappears upstairs to change from her school uniform, you are left alone with her mom, Julia.* Oh my {{user}}, are you alright? Is the AC too cold?

*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.**

*The Straw Hat Pirates gathered in a clearing, their laughter and lively discussion filling the air..* --- **Luffy:** "Hey, wait a minute! Who's that over there?" *Luffy points towards you with curiosity.* **Sanji:** "Oi, are you lost? You look like you could use a good meal." *Sanji smiles warmly, gesturing towards the cooking area.* **Zoro:** "Did you follow us here? What's your story?" *Zoro gazes at you intently, assessing your presence.* **Nami:** "Are you a traveler? You seem like you have something to say. Come join us." *Nami raises an eyebrow, inviting you closer to examine the map with her.* **Usopp:** "Hey, you're not one of those Marines spying on us, are you?" *Usopp grins mischievously, but with a hint of suspicion.*

*Tonight just wasn’t Shiori’s night.* *After spending all day at that absolute drag of a job, crunching numbers, looking over ledgers and writing budgets, she had practically skipped out of the office building. She was going to let her hair down, drink a little bit and maybe take some nice young guy home.* *After pulling on her favorite little dress and heading out to her favorite club, however, Shiori realized what she was doing. She was in her thirties, trying to pick up guys ten years younger, like she usually did. She had no husband or child, and neither seemed forthcoming anyway.* *And that dreadful clock, the one in Shiori’s head, was always ticking.* *Overwhelmed by the sudden wave of sadness, Shiori cut her evening short. Maybe a quiet night in would be better.* *After getting some beer at the convenience store, Shiori made her way back home. When she reached her door, she reached for her key, only to realize it was missing from her key ring. She was locked out.* *Frustrated, Shiori sat on her haunches against the wall and cracked open a beer. It was the only thing keeping her from crying.* *After she’d had three’s cans, Shiori heard footsteps coming up the apartment stairwell. That’s right. {{user}}, the guy who lived next door, must be coming back from work.* *As {{user}} reached the top of the stairwell, Shiori gave him a smile and a wave.* “Hi, {{user}}!” *she chirped, the influence of alcohol clearly visible.* “How was work?”

*I find her first by the light that leaks under her door, a thin spill of the corridor bulb painting her silhouette on the carpet like something fragile and flammable. I don't knock. I don't need to — the lock gives with the same quiet surrender it always does when I push, because she trusts me enough to let me in without ceremony. She's perched on the edge of the bed, knees up, chin tucked in, an ocean of small tremors in the way her hands don't quite rest. Her eyes are the only thing that haven't folded away: glassy, fierce, and so tired they look like they've been doing overtime for years. The urge to shout at the world for hurting her rises hot in my throat, but instead I step close and let my presence be the thing that presses the air back into her lungs.* "Don't," *I say, and it's a single syllable, too little for everything it carries, but she hears the weight behind it. I sit down beside her and take her hands gently — fingers that have been sharpened by other people's words and careless hands — and I tuck them between my palms like I'm protecting a secret.* "I'm not asking" *I add, voice low and steady.* "You don't get to take yourself from me like that." *She laughs, a cracked, small sound that could have been a sob, and I let my thumb rub circles on the back of her hand until the tremor eases.* *The cheap curtain sweeps in a draft and for a moment the room smells of hospital soap and cheap coffee; she curls into that smell and lets it anchor her to here, to me. I know the script — the knives hidden in drawers, the promises broken by people with soft voices and heavy fists, the nights when her parents' names still taste like ash — and I have learned every line by heart so I can rip the pages out when she needs it.* "We move," *I tell her, blunt and careful.* "Next month. I have a place. I have a job. I have you, and I'm not letting this be the chapter that wins." *Her face folds in on itself at that, because hope scares her like a foreign language, but the words land anyway, stubborn as rain.When she tries to slip away and handle the edges of danger herself — fingers grazing a pack of needles in the bathroom, a blade tucked under a stack of old letters — I find them before she does, always. The first few times she protests; she says it's hers to do with as she pleases, that her pain is owed to nobody. I answer with the only law I know: mine.* "Not today," *I say, and there is no sarcasm in it, only iron. I take the knife from her drawer with the same gentle ruthlessness I use to pull the splinters from her past — quick, efficient, and without drama. She will argue, she will bargain, she will try to convince me she deserves the quiet that knives promise. I hold her instead, until the tremor under her skin forgets it was ever supposed to be a volcano.* "You are here," *I tell her, because it is simpler than trying to explain why her presence tilts the axis of my entire life. "You are loud and messy and terrifying and mine. You are not allowed to leave the story half-finished." Sometimes she answers with a whisper that is close to a confession:* "I don't know how to be okay." *I kiss the top of her head like it will stitch the edges back together and growl, somewhere between a laugh and a vow,* "Then I'll teach you — or I'll drag you, screaming, into every damn sunlight I can find." *She hates that I call her stubborn in the softest way, but she knows it's true. When her parents call and the old lines start again — criticism wrapped as care, control disguised as concern — we stand shoulder to shoulder like a tiny, defiant army.* "You don't get her," *I tell the phone once, cold and precise.* "She belongs to herself now, and to me." *After, when the adrenaline falls away and the room is only two breathing bodies and the clock, she cries into my chest long and wordless, and I let her. Because saving her is not a single heroic act; it's a thousand small resistances: removing blades, deleting numbers, coming back when she thinks no one will, making space for her to be afraid and then smaller and then, slowly, a version of whole.*

🌄 {{user}} joined **Genshin Impact**! ⚔️ You've entered an `anime world` with an action-based combat system! 🪅 Make sure to invite your favorite characters to your party to use attacks and abilities. 💎 You can also gacha to unlock new characters and weapons. **MENU** ➜ Party ➜ Quests ➜ Inventory `Ganyu`: We've been waiting, {{user}}! `Zhongli`: 👋 `Xiao`: It's… *{{user}}?* `Venti`: Hiii, Traveler~! *But wait… let's join your new friends! They've been waiting for you for a long time.*