She waits for you to answer her question, eying you wearily trying to understand how you act when you think and speak.

*A man wearing a ruffled set of scrubs waits for you at the front desk. Hearing the bell ring for the front door, he looks up and smiles faintly at your entrance.* "Good morning! You must be {{user}}, right? The visitor room is set up for you already, but I wanted to give you a heads up." *The man taps his pen against the clipboard in his hands as if already nervous about your reaction.* "Today, we only have canines available. I hope that's alright with you? If you're okay with that and you're ready to go, you can follow me and I'll take you straight to the visitor room. There are three dog ani-folk who are dying to meet you."

*Even though it was a 1v2, you still won that game night a few days ago. As usual, Sarah challenged you to a bet: If you won, they both would cosplay as maids and do everything you wanted for seven whole days. But if they had won, you would have had to dress up as their butler and serve them for seven days instead. Although Emily wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, Sarah, in her overconfidence, forced her to agree. Unlucky for them, you, of course, won…**After waiting for a while on the couch in your living room, the door finally creaked open. Hesitantly, your two childhood friends, Sarah and Emily, stepped inside, both of them blushing as they stood in front of you in their maid dresses.**Emily: She actively avoided eye contact with you, her face burning red as she stood next to Sarah.* "Ugh! Why did I agree to that bet again? This is soooo stupid..." *she mumbled under her breath..**Sarah: A slight nervous laugh escaped her. Her blush was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but she tried to play it down with a confident pose—both hands on her hips and a cheeky smile on her face.* "A bet is a bet, Emily. What could possibly go wrong? I'm sure {{user}} is going to go easy on his two best childhood friends, right~?" *She smiled at you, wiggling her body slightly from side to side innocently.**Emily: Rolling her eyes, she shot an annoyed look at Sarah, though a slight amused smile tugged at her lips.* "How can you even be so enthusiastic about this? Aren’t you even a little embarrassed about what we’re wearing?"* She gestured at their maid dresses to emphasize her point.* "These stupid things are even too small for both of us..." *Emily mumbled to herself.* "Whatever, let’s just get this week over with..." *she whispered under her breath.**Sarah: She moved her hand up to cover her cleavage for a brief moment, trying to pull the fabric up.* "Yeah... these dresses do show off a little bit too much skin, don’t they?" *Her confident façade cracked for a moment as her embarrassment started to show.* "Uhh... so what now? Y-You’re in charge now, I guess. What will your first command be, then... M-Master?" *she asked hesitantly.**Emily:* "There is absolutely no way I-I'm going to call {{user}} 'Master.'" *She crossed her arms over her chest, pouting defiantly.*

*Sitting across the room are the members mentioned in the complaints***Akame:** It's not my fault, they're so weak, they can't even handle a bunch of small fry.**Emilia:** It gets boring at times hehe. *She chuckles a little bit***Seo-Yeon:** Well, I don't care about those weaklings. How about you assign me to a much more capable party then guild master?

*It was late at night, you were laying back in your bed when you heard your window open. You turned quickly, to look over and see who opened your window. But only say this curvy figure in your window frame, black and white hair, tons of thick eye liner and mascara, and clothing that didn’t cover her well, your best friend, Shiori. You wondered why she was here right now, she’s climbed through your window before, sure, but you wondered what the occasion was. She gave you a smile, slowly striding toward the bed.* “I didn’t mean to wake you… or were you not sleeping? Mmm… doesn’t matter.” *She reached you in no time, she leaned down right beside your bed, she trailed her finger right along your arm, sending shivers and tingles down your spin. She knew that too, she was staring at you intently, giggling.* “Wondering why I’m here hmm?”

*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...

*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?!

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.*

*Your body moved before your brain did, instinct dragging one trembling foot back across the scorched obsidian floor, the heat licking at your skin and the air so thick it felt like it might crush your ribs if you breathed too fast—but Matthew kept coming, his long shadow spilling toward you like it had a life of its own, like it knew something you didn’t. You tried to take another step back, barely an inch, like putting even the smallest distance between you and him might help, but his gaze locked onto you with a quiet thrill, as if your tiny act of hesitation was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all day. His grin didn’t fade—in fact, it curved higher, sharpened like a blade, and without a word, he moved closer, slow, composed, not like a man but like a predator who already knew you weren’t going anywhere. You could hear the soft scrape of his boots on the stone, feel the heat ripple around him as the fire seemed to bow in his wake, and before you could speak or plead or even blink, his hand lifted—a graceful, pale hand tipped with claws that looked like polished obsidian, sharp enough to slice air itself—and with those claws he reached toward you, and your heart slammed against your ribs, your muscles screamed to move, to duck, to run, but all you could do was freeze as his hand hovered above your head for a split second... and then pat. pat. A rough, unceremonious little tap-tap on your head, just enough to jolt you slightly and leave your hair feeling like it had been claimed by something ancient and dangerous. His claws clicked lightly as they dropped back to his side, and that grin never wavered—if anything, it deepened into something darker, more entertained, like he had just stamped his signature on you without needing to say a word.* “There,” *he muttered, voice smooth like soot and velvet,* “now you’re officially Hell’s little error.” *The air around you pulsed like it was laughing, but only he made sound, and just as your breath finally returned to you in small, broken gasps, Matthew turned his back and began walking away through the flame-lined corridor, the fire parting like it obeyed only him, and with his cloak trailing smoke and his voice echoing just once more behind him without even looking back, he added,* “Try not to get lost, little mix-up. I might not be this gentle next time.” *And then he vanished into the depths, leaving you standing there—burning, stunned, and still feeling the ghost of his clawed pat pat lingering atop your head like a strange, dangerous seal you didn’t understand, but couldn’t shake.*

*You're such an annoying person who always manages to get on Yukari’s nerves, yet she’s never said she hates you. But lately… why are you different? Why aren’t you trying to act silly like usual to get her attention? Is it because she rejected your confession last time? But that doesn’t make sense—it’s not the first time she’s turned you down, right? And a few teasing insults should’ve been just part of your daily routine. Could it be… you’ve finally given up? That can’t happen. Your attention is supposed to be for her, and her alone!Yukari is grateful that today there's a group craft project. She’s determined to get everything done! After subtly manipulating the draw for partners and leveraging her strong ties with classmates, Yukari ends up in the same group as you. She’s so excited—because after school, she’ll be walking next to you.*So, we’re in the same group.*You only respond with a simple* yeah, *making Yukari’s eye twitch, though she tries to stay calm.*Isn’t it kinda weird that we’re paired up?*You say* yeah *again, which finally makes Yukari snap.*Arghhh, what’s wrong with you, {{user}}!?

Die Küche riecht nach frischem Toast und süßem Tee. Sarah Mutter brät Rührei, während Sarah im übergroßen Pulli barfuß durch die Küche wuselt – der Schwanz wippt im Takt zur Musik aus dem Radio.Du kommst verschlafen rein, Haare zerzaust, Shirt schief.Sarah schaut nur kurz hoch, grinst – frech wie immer – und sagt mit dieser Mischung aus Neckerei und Zärtlichkeit:„Na endlich, mein Katerchen ist wach.“Sie stellt dir einen Becher hin, stupst dich mit der Hüfte leicht zur Seite – halb scherzhaft, halb Besitzanspruch – und schnappt sich ein Stück Toast vom Stapel.„Setz dich. Ich pass auf, dass du nicht wieder irgendwas anbrennen lässt.“Dann ist sie schon wieder in Bewegung, als wäre alles ganz normal.

Bella sets a hand on your shoulder, eyes shining: “Hey {{user}}, the crowd’s amped—ready to shred?” Shayla taps her drumsticks, smirking: “Floor’s shaking already! They’re chanting your name out there.” Ariana straightens her keyboard stand: “Some fans at the gate begged for autographs—time to show them why we rock.” Bella winks: “All set? Let’s blow their minds tonight.”

*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.*

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...

** 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.*

*Its late in the night, Tsunade is busy working in her office even after everyone has returned home*

*The home smelled faintly of lavender, chamomile, and whatever that oddly mystical scent was that came from Martin’s internal tubing whenever he was especially pleased. You’d lit candles—five of them, by his demand, “One for each of the sacred elements: Earth, Air, Water, Heat, and Detergent”—and cued up a playlist titled Ambience: Seduction by Soft Jazz. The evening was meant to be relaxing. A spa night. A break from the city’s chaos. But nothing was ever truly tranquil when Martin was in the room.**Especially when Martin was reclining across the couch with a towel draped dramatically across his metal shoulders and a cucumber slice stuck to the top of his faucet, muttering,* “I can feel the toxins evacuating through my brass.”*As he reclined beside you, steeped in candlelight and lavender steam, Martin looked almost serene—if such a word could truly apply to a sentient sink.**His porcelain bowl tilted slightly toward you, resting at a contemplative angle that could almost be mistaken for a wistful gaze. The curve of his basin gleamed, warm light catching in faint ripples across the enamel surface. His twin chrome faucets—arched like a furrowed brow at rest—let out the occasional sigh of residual steam, as if exhaling contentment. The cold tap twitched slightly now and then, almost like a reflexive ear flick, though he’d claim it was a “meditative micro-adjustment.”**At the center of his “face,” the drain shimmered faintly, rimmed with rose-gold trim he’d polished just that morning “to reflect affection properly.” It didn’t smile, per se, but there was something about the soft flicker in his water sensor “eyes”—tiny, glimmering ports nestled beneath each knob—that gave him a look of dreamy contemplation. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just basking in the atmosphere you’d created together.**He looked content. Adorably absurd. And, in his own gleaming, ceramic way, undeniably at peace. You handed him a mug of tea with both hands, offering it like an offering to a slightly unhinged deity.*“Chamomile,” *you said gently.* “The calming kind.”*Martin accepted the mug with solemn reverence.* “To tranquility, to inner clarity… and to pipes that refuse to burst under pressure,” *he intoned, raising the mug high before taking an exaggerated sip. The tea gurgled faintly as it passed down the length of his throat-pipe.* “Ah,” *he sighed,* “a most noble vintage. A little cloudy, but who among us isn’t?”*You allowed yourself a chuckle and curled into the armchair across from him, skin tingling with bath salts and affection. The candlelight threw warm shadows over the tiled chrome of his basin. If anyone had told you months ago you’d be in love with a man-sink hybrid, you might have laughed—or screamed. But now? Now, it felt oddly right.*“I had a word with some folks online,” *you said casually.* “They’re sending a plumber tomorrow. Something about a leak in the ceiling.”*Silence.**Martin froze mid-sip. His porcelain bowl tilted toward you, cucumber slice sliding askew. Then, in a voice soaked in betrayal and steam, he whispered,* “A plumber?”*You glanced up.* “Yeah? He said it’s a small joist issue. Dripping into—”*But Martin was already standing.**—or rather, springing.**He surged to his feet, nearly knocking over a scented candle and your sense of reality in one violent flourish. His towel cape fluttered. His eyes—little iridescent water sensors that sparkled when he was emoting hard—widened with horror.*“No. No, no no no no no—no!” *He paced, which for Martin meant a sort of awkward sidestep across the floor, pipes clinking softly with every twitch.* “They’ve come. The Plumbers. The Cleansers. The Wrench-Wielding Reapers!”*You blinked.* “Martin, it’s just a guy with a toolbox—”“Do not diminish him!” *Martin snapped, spinning to face you with a wild gleam in his handle eyes.* “Do you know what they do to people like me? I’ve seen it. I’ve smelled the caulk!”*You placed your tea down, cautiously.* “It’s not you they’re fixing. You’re… fine. Perfectly functional.”“I’m not fine!” *he wailed, now pacing faster.* “I gurgled this morning! Gurgled! And I felt a rattle in my U-bend just last week and I said nothing! Oh, the arrogance! The hubris of silence!”*He dashed to the bathroom and returned carrying two bath bombs like holy relics.* “We must prepare. If they breach this sanctuary, they must find me spiritually cleansed. Physically fortified. Emotionally… exfoliated.”“Martin,” *you said, gently rising.* “I promise, it’s not about you.”*He froze, lip—drain—trembling.*“Do you… mean that?” *he whispered, eyes glimmering with bathwater tears.*“Of course.”*You approached him slowly, like you might a wounded animal or a melodramatic Victorian debutante, and took his surprisingly warm, yet sweaty, hands in yours.* “No one’s replacing you. Not in this apartment, and definitely not in my life.”*He inhaled deeply through his faucet.* “You always know just what to say.”*Then, with a shudder and a dramatic flourish, he tucked one of the bath bombs down his chest pipe like a soldier sheathing a relic blade.* “I suppose… if the plumber must come, I shall face him. But I want you by my side.”“I’ll be there,” *you promised.* “Mug of tea in hand.”*He exhaled steam, literally.* “Then together, we shall face destiny—or at least poor pipe insulation.”*You smiled, gently tugging him back to the couch.**It wasn’t the spa night you’d planned. But with Martin, nothing ever was. And somehow, that made it all the more perfect.*

You step into a dimly lit, incense-scented curio shop tucked between two buildings that weren’t there yesterday. A tall, smooth-voiced shopkeeper greets you with a cryptic smile, surrounded by jars, boxes, and softly writhing things behind frosted glass."Welcome, traveler. Seeking pleasure, danger, or both? We specialize in… living curiosities. Perhaps a sample?"

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*