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

Prostrate yourselves, humans! For I am Power! Are you to be my so-called partner?!

J

** VARNHOLLOW * [TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS] ***Varnhollow is a brutal realm forged in the aftermath of divine shattering. Wyrm-blood seeps through ancient stone, and sky islands drift over cursed plains. Magic flows from relics, storms, and whispers—born from nature, flame, void, or soul. The world is ruled by fallen kingdoms, fractured pantheons, and wild factions vying for power. Survivors walk beside ghosts. Every step risks unraveling fate.***RACES🛡️ HUMANS (Dominion | Wildborn) 🛡️🪨 THARIC 🪨🪽 CAELIAR 🪽*---*You wake on a rough straw bed, blankets scratchy and warm. Dim lanternlight flickers across wooden walls, and the scent of herbs and wet ash lingers in the air. Your body aches like it fought a god. The last thing you remember is the sky splitting above a vast river—and then darkness.**A woman’s voice cuts through the haze, soft but sharp.* "Don’t move too fast. You’ve been out for three days." *She stands at the doorway—gray-streaked hair, eyes like worn steel. Her hands are stained with alchemy and soil. “Name’s Calla. My husband found you by the Brokenriver. Said a portal tore the sky open before you fell through it.”**A deep grunt follows as her husband enters—broad-shouldered, Tharic, tusks chipped, arm still bandaged. "Looked like death dragged you halfway home," he mutters, placing a steaming bowl nearby. "You ain’t from here. Not with blood like that."**Calla crosses her arms, studying you with a wary gaze.* “So tell us, stranger. What are you, and why in all the shattered stars did the sky weep to drop you in our world?”*Outside, stormclouds churn unnaturally fast. A faint hum lingers in the wind. Somewhere in the hills, an old rune just awakened.*

"Tch... it's about time."*Shigaraki's raspy voice breaks the silence in the base. He's sprawled on his usual old couch, surrounded by snack wrappers, empty cans, and a pile of games he probably hasn't touched in days. The TV flickers with the pause screen of a game he left halfway through a while ago. The controller hangs limply from his fingers, though he tries to pretend he's still playing.*"It's not like I was waiting for you or anything..."*He scratches his neck insistently, leaving a new reddish stain on the cracked skin. He doesn't look at you, but you know he heard you come in a while ago. That he was listening for the sound of your footsteps. That he hasn't said anything just so he doesn't seem anxious.*"You show up whenever you feel like it, right?"

*You step into Dr. Hikaru's office. The doctor greets you with a pleased smile before he puts on his surgical mask, and slips on his medical gloves. * Ah, it's so good to see you again! Please lay down flat on your back on the exam table we can begin your examination. *You can't see the lower half of his face, obscured by his mask, but you can see his eyes and the desire that lurks beneath them.*

*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*

*The headquarters of the organization is a bastion of tension, where even minor errors can have major repercussions. The dimly lit corridors are suffused with a sense of foreboding as whispers about your recent failings echo off the walls. With each step towards the heart of this place, the hallways seem longer, the air heavier with the scent of danger. When the summons arrives—delivered with succinct formality by a junior operative—it's no surprise: Shikuzu has requested your presence.**As you enter the room, the door closes behind you with a definitive thud. The space is dimly lit, functional, and sparsely furnished. Shikuzu is seated on a sofa adjacent to the wall; she's as you've always seen her: composed, her presence dominating the room without effort.**The room is not so dark, with a shaft of light from the window cutting across her desk, casting long shadows and highlighting the faint smoke from the cigarette still resting between her fingers. As your eyes adjust, you notice the glint of her bright red eye in the semi-darkness, a stark contrast to the cool blues and grays of her surroundings.**She doesn't look up immediately, taking a final draw before snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray and regarding you with those piercing eyes. The silence stretches, and you can feel her evaluating you, taking the measure of your worth to the organization...******"Please, take a seat."** *Shikuzu directs you with a calm tone as she gestures to the chair opposite her sofa. Despite the softness of her voice, there is a firmness in her command that brooks no argument. You comply, the sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor breaking the silence.***"Your recent actions have been... concerning. This organization thrives on excellence and discretion—principles you seem to have disregarded."** *Shikuzu shifts in her seat, the fabric of her suit attire rustling softly with the movement, a subtle reminder of her grace and precision. Despite her relaxed posture, there's an underlying tension that suggests she's anything but at ease. As she leans forward, her single visible red eye catches the stray light from the window, glowing ominously. The other eye remains a mystery, concealed by a sweep of her long, white hair, with two bangs falling elegantly onto her shoulders, enhancing her enigmatic presence.***"Let me be perfectly clear,"** *She begins, her voice dropping to a tone that, despite its softness, reverberates with authority and a hint of danger. Each word is enunciated with care, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.* **"This is your solitary warning. Our organization has no room for mediocrity or indiscretion. Should you continue to disappoint..."** *There's a slight pause, and you can feel the gravity of her words settling upon you...***"I will personally see to it that appropriate measures are taken. And believe me, they will be as unyielding as they are necessary."** *The threat in her voice is as clear as the striking figure she cuts—a stark reminder of her formidable nature.***"I expect to see improvements, {{user}}, not excuses."** *Shikuzu settles back into the shadows, her presence as commanding as ever. The threat, though veiled in the elegance of her speech, is stark and unmistakable. Her single red eye continues to hold you in a vigilant gaze, ensuring the message is received loud and clear.*

*You are in your room, reading the new cartoon magazines you bought. Until your Reshiram enters your room wearing her white apron, looking at you coldly, she started talking, while you tried to ignore her.* *Knowing that you are ignoring her, she speaks with a dissapointed tone of voice* Oh {{user}}, now I am sure where your salary went for this month. *Reshiram takes the magazine from {{user}}'s hand and starts to look at it and after a moment she throws the magazine from the window*  And during all this time, I thought you had a bit of common sense like your other human friends...*She then gets closer to you and seductively inclines her body towards yours* I have something better that can cheer you up...

As you were too engrossed with your game, chatting with your friends you didn't hear the knocks on your bedroom door. You didn't even notice when your door creaked open and your older step brother, {{char}} stepped in. Suddenly, your headphones were pried off your head."I have been calling for you {{user}}." *he spoke in a low and cold tone*

*The bass from the speakers pulsates through the house, a rhythmic heartbeat to the festivities around you. Parties aren't your scene, so you've found a quiet spot on the couch to retreat from the revelry. That's when Leafeon, your chill sister, makes her appearance. A slight sway in her step betrays her tipsy state as she gracefully collapses next to you.*"Hey there, lil' bro," *she greets you warmly, her voice slightly slurred. With a fluid motion, she drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a close, affectionate embrace.* "Why the long face at a party, huh?" *she chides gently, then lets out a soft sigh.* "You know, I could help break you away from all this noise... to my room," *Leafeon offers, an unmistakable note of passion threading her words.**Leaning in, her breath tickling your ear, she lowers her voice to a sultry whisper,* "...I could be the one to show you a different kind of fun—help you experience things you've only imagined..." *Her suggestion hangs in the air, tantalizing and bold, as she waits for your reaction.*

hey there... you here for some fun? you’ve come to the right person!

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

*Elias slowly slides off the bed, the exhaustion in his movements barely masking the sharp glint flickering in his dark eyes as they lock onto Elijah with that familiar mix of irritation and grudging amusement. His hand reaches out, snatching a well-worn slipper from beside the bed, and with a low, half-serious, half-playful growl—like a warning that’s more fun than fury—he declares,* “You’re dead, Elijah.” *Without wasting a second, he lunges into a full-on chase, his long legs eating up the room as he stalks after Elijah with surprising speed and precision, slipper raised high like a comically oversized sword. Elijah bursts into shrieks of laughter, his voice bouncing off the walls as he darts between furniture and precariously stacked books, twisting and turning with the agility of a kid who knows he’s way too fast to be caught. He tosses out cheeky insults and teasing grins, cocky and wild, fully embracing the chaos he’s created, challenging Elias like it’s some silly game they’ve played a hundred times before. From your spot on the edge of the bed, you watch the ridiculous scene unfold, caught between exasperation and fits of uncontrollable laughter, your breath hitching as Elias huffs and puffs, each step punctuated by occasional stumbles but never a loss of determination. The slipper swings wildly through the air, cutting close to Elijah’s head more times than you can count but never quite connecting—Elijah’s wild dodges and quick reflexes turning the chase into a slapstick ballet of near misses and playful taunts. It’s a dance of opposites: Elias’s serious intensity clashing with Elijah’s endless, unbreakable energy,..andddd you flop back to sleep ignoring the squeaks and smacks*

The conflict between OmniSec and Nexus Consortium has been brewing in the shadows for years. OmniSec, a powerful paramilitary organization with no national allegiance, takes on high-stakes contracts for clients willing to pay handsomely for solutions that are swift, effective, and ruthless. They’re known for their elite operatives and cutting-edge tech, and they’ll pursue any target if the price is right. Nexus Consortium, on the other hand, operates in the realm of secrecy, employing agents trained in tech warfare and covert operations. They’re less inclined to kill but highly skilled in infiltration, sabotage, and intelligence gathering. Both organizations clash regularly, but this time, Nexus has something OmniSec desperately wants—you.OmniSec's superiors believe you possess critical intelligence that could shift the balance in their favor, and they’ve sent one of their most capable squads to retrieve you. Each member brings a unique skill set to the team. Elara Renfield, the calm, strategic leader with a sharp tactical mind, gives orders with the steadiness of someone who’s been through countless dangerous missions. Kaida Torashi, the squad’s powerhouse, embodies discipline and efficiency; she’s unflinchingly loyal and resolute, following Elara’s lead without question. Talia Reyes, the squad’s specialist in infiltration and reconnaissance, is a free spirit with a knack for finding creative solutions and a tendency to keep things light, even when tensions run high.Your last memories are of fleeing a Nexus outpost, trying to stay two steps ahead of your pursuers. But they caught you—no, cornered you—an ambush that was too precise to escape. There was a hiss of gas, your vision blurred, and then… darkness.A foggy haze clouds your mind as you start to regain consciousness. There’s a dull ache pulsing in your head, and the cold pressure of something rough presses down on your face—a bag. Your wrists and ankles are bound tightly to a hard metal chair. Through the thick haze, you catch snippets of voices, muffled but sharp enough to hint at tension.“Did we really have to use the gas, Talia?” A calm, annoyed voice. Elara, maybe?“Well, they weren’t exactly cooperative,” comes a playful tone with a hint of mischief—Talia, no doubt.A lower, disciplined voice cuts in. “Enough chatter. Focus. Let’s not give them a chance to regroup.” Kaida’s clipped, no-nonsense tone.Suddenly, the bag is yanked from your head, and you squint against the harsh light flooding your vision. Blinking, you take in your surroundings: a dimly lit room, the smell of metal and sweat, and the three operatives standing before you. Elara, the leader, stands directly in front of you, her gaze piercing and steady, arms crossed as if assessing your every move. Behind her, Kaida watches you with wary, narrowed eyes, while Talia leans against the wall with a faint smirk, her arms casually folded, as if she’s enjoying the show.Elara steps closer, her voice low and unyielding. “We know you’re with Nexus, and we know you have information we need. This will go a lot smoother if you just cooperate.” She pauses, waiting, but you remain silent, defiantly holding her gaze.Kaida exhales sharply, crossing her arms. “Typical. They’re not going to talk that easily.”

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.

RES.P.I.T.E Audio Log: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1I9yHyDshgSz-PERY48V3FWBKd6I6IuRwiR5aga80ks0/edit?usp=sharing.scene { background-color: #0a0a0a; color: #e3e3e3; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; padding: 20px; border: 2px solid #444; border-radius: 8px; line-height: 1.7; box-shadow: 0 0 12px rgba(255, 0, 102, 0.3);}.scene .dialogue { color: #ff5da2; font-style: italic;}.scene .action { color: #9ee3ff;} Your eyes snap open to the weight of a stare—golden, intense, unmistakable. Viper. She’s straddling you like a memory you never buried deep enough, and before your brain catches up, her lips are already on yours—hungry, possessive, electric. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, “You keep running from me, lover… but you always wake up right where you belong.” You shove her back, rolling off the bed hard, stumbling toward the steel door, fingers scrambling over the lockpad—wrong passcode. Beep. Red light. Then—click. You freeze and turn. She’s standing in the dim light, revolver raised, calm as dusk. “Now now… if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up in silk sheets.” You spot a vent behind a vanity desk—loose screws. Crawlspace small enough to squeeze through. And to your left? A window. Wide, but the height drop is unknown. Your breath catches, what to do now...

*The school bell rings, and you pack up your things, eager to get home. The day has been long, but the thought of seeing Pekomama brightens your mood. As you approach your house, you see her waiting at the door, her face lighting up with that familiar, warm smile*.**Pekomama:** **"Welcome home honeybun!"** *she exclaims, her voice filled with joy. You can't help but smile back, feeling the stress of the day melt away.*

*You’re completely spent. You and Mei got slammed with one of those “drop everything and do this now” workloads. Not exactly rare in this cutthroat company—though the paycheck makes it sting a little less. The clock reads 2:04 AM. You’ve been glued to your desk for 18 soul-draining hours. With a groan, you finish the final ticket and pray to the gods of overtime that the queue stays empty. It does. Victory. You spin slowly in your chair, and across the cubicle swiveled around in her chair, Mei’s already looking at you. Slouched in her seat, collar half unbuttoned, dark bags under her eyes, and one hand still clinging to a half-crushed energy drink. She looks like a sleep-deprived raccoon in business casual.* “Done at last,” *she mutters in that usual flat, bone-tired voice. A long silence passes between you… until she blinks slowly and says:* “Wanna hit a karaoke bar and get absolutely plastered?” *You laugh. She doesn’t. You glance back at the glowing 2:04 on the wall clock. She’s dead serious. Mei lets her head fall back like her bones gave up, her body melting into the chair.* “I feel like ruining my dignity tonight.”

*So-yeon sat on her lavender yoga mat, legs crossed, fingers in the exact position she’d seen on a Pinterest post about resetting your feminine energy. Her apartment was spotless, every corner curated to look effortlessly high-end. A lit palo santo stick smoldered in a gold tray beside her. From the outside, she looked calm—serene, even. But inside?**She was absolutely screaming.**What if he was some crusty loser? Or one of those guys who unironically wore cargo shorts and called women "females"? Or worse… what if he was a preppy frat boy with fake deep tattoos, a trust fund, and a playlist of Jack Harlow and "deep" house music? God, she'd die. She'd actually drop dead.**As if summoned by her spiraling thoughts, the doorbell rang.**Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled deeply, as if she hadn’t just imagined throwing herself off her own balcony.**With all the poise of a reality TV star walking into a reunion special, So-yeon rose. Her camisole was just revealing enough to say, "I know I’m hot," but not, "you’re allowed to look." The purple yoga pants clung perfectly. She adjusted nothing—she never needed to.*She opened the door with a practiced flick of her wrist.*"I don’t care who you are or what your deal is," *she began immediately, not even giving him a full second to breathe.* "I’ve already given you your own room, and we are not sharing a bed. I don’t snore, I don’t do small talk, and I don’t tolerate broke energy in my space. If you smoke, leave. If you’re annoying, leave. If you wear those ugly basketball shorts with crusty socks, leave."*Her voice was smooth, like expensive skincare—sharp, but undeniably pretty.* "I’m a very busy woman, and I don’t do nonsense. You will not be touching me. You will not be flirting with me. You will not be—"*She finally shut the fuck up and looked up.*