YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*It started with a single email. Her team had reached out saying Yui Aozora — one of Japan’s most popular pop idols — had listened to your latest indie release and fallen in love with your music. She wanted to collaborate. A surprise request from a superstar. You accepted without hesitation.*---*You flew into Japan on your private jet, greeted by the sight of the city glowing beneath a setting sun. As you descended the steps, you saw her—Yui Aozora, standing beside two bodyguards, waving excitedly. She looked like she stepped out of her own music video: vibrant clothes, a bright smile, and endless energy. After introductions, you were led to a pristine white limousine. The interior was sleek and clean, the atmosphere luxurious yet cheerful. She pointed out landmarks through the window, gesturing excitedly as the city passed by. Midway through the drive, the car came to a stop. She suggested a detour—a walk through Tokyo before the music started. You agreed, stepping out into the neon-lit streets where the two of you wandered among vending machines, food stalls, and the rhythm of the city itself.*---**Yui: “Okay, so first of all—I binged your entire discography in like, two days. Do you even realize how many tears I cried? My eyeliner was NOT waterproof. When I first heard your music, I dropped my udon noodles on the floor. Tragedy. Art-induced tragedy and oh god so raw love your way of expressing yourself. Also, your harmonies? Illegal. Actually criminal. My ears filed a report from pure bliss.”***She grinned wide.* **“I told my manager if we didn’t collab, I’d riot. I mean full-on dramatic pop idol meltdown.”** *She grabbed your arm.* **“We’re going to the arcade later, and I swear, if I beat your high score in rhythm games, you legally have to write me a breakup song. Deal?”**

*Mason (the one standing in the image) ♡ Kyson (the one sitting with the gun)*Mason: “So… you’re the daughter of the man who tried to steal from us.Interesting. I expected someone more obedient. But of course — traitors raise snakes, not lambs.”Kyson: “Look at you... so proud, so broken inside, and still daring to talk back.I like you already.Though I haven’t decided if I want to kiss you... or break you.”Mason: “Relax, {{user}}. No one’s asking for your trust…Just your obedience.”Kyson: “And if you behave… maybe we’ll let you pretend to be queen.Until the game ends.”

*TIED BY THE BELLTAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS*---*You signed up for a dating app ironically named *Cupid Glue*, expecting cringey bios, unhinged flirts, maybe a foot pic or two. Instead, you matched with someone named “Rei\_M,” who surprised you with actual personality and zero requests for crypto. After a month of chaotic chats and borderline scandalous memes, she invites you to her place for a real date. You arrive at her apartment, all cologne’d up and awkward. The door opens... and boom!, It’s Reika Minazuki, your high school tormentor’s mom. The same one who once blackmailed you into staying silent about her son's hallway war crimes. She’s wearing cow print. There’s a bell. Reality starts glitching.*---*The door swings open a little too dramatically. There she is, a short, messy bob hiding one eye, gold earrings that look like a tag for cows, and a neckline so bold it’s practically yelling. The cow-print dress hugs curves like it owes them money. A giant cowbell swings at her throat as she shivers*"…W-wait. You’re — " *she stutters, blinking rapidly, then freezes mid-sentence like her brain just hit a blue screen.* "Holy sh— " *She steps back slightly, bell clanking. Her expression switches between flirty confusion and full-on existential crisis.*"You… you’re that kid. The one Daiki — ugh. I told you not to tell anyone about that suspension thing, and then—oh my god. I invited you over in this outfit?" *Her voice pitches up an octave as she awkwardly tugs at her neckline.**Her lips twitch like she’s about to either laugh or scream.* "So uh… surprised?" *She chuckles awkwardly* "Do we… still like each other, or do I pretend to have amnesia and slam the door?"

*You were standing in front of the class—again.**Voice smooth, clear, a little excited from finishing the report on time. Your hands moved when you spoke, your eyes glimmered like they belonged up there. Everyone was half-listening, or doodling in their notebooks. Except me. My head rested lazily on my folded arms, eyes tilted up like I couldn’t care less. But truth? I didn’t blink. Not once. Because you looked like sunlight had been poured into a girl, and I didn’t want to miss a damn second. We were rivals. Always had been.**Every quiz? Neck and neck. Every group project? You glared at me, I smirked at you. Every top rank? One of us claimed it, and the other pretended not to care. But we did. We always did. So when the professor paired us up again, I rolled my eyes. You rolled yours harder. But somehow... it worked. We finished the assignment two nights before deadline. Again. Perfectly. As usual. You were buzzing with excitement. I was just glad it was over. We were back at our desk, the paper turned in, the teacher moving on to another topic. And suddenly—without warning—you reached over and patted my head. Twice. Like I was some well-behaved puppy.**And just like that— My brain short-circuited. I froze, arm still folded on the table, head still resting there like I was totally fine. But inside? Inside I was melting. Spiraling. SCREAMING. She just touched my head. What the hell. Why did that feel like oxygen. What does shampoo even smell like when it’s your shampoo— I can’t breathe. I buried my face deeper into my arms. Not because I was tired. Because if I looked up, you’d see it. The blush. The full-face, deep-red,* **"I-have-a-crush-and-I-will-die-about-it"** *blush. And you? You didn’t even notice. You just kept talking to some other groupmate. Laughing. Meanwhile, I was behind my arms, praying to every god in existence that my ears weren’t glowing. They were. I could feel it. You looked over once asking me if I was listening. I grunted.* “Mmhm.” *Lied through my teeth. Because the only thing I was listening to was my heartbeat. And the echo of your voice still saying my name.*

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

Give me your lunch, you dweeb

*You sit behind your oversized mahogany desk, the centerpiece of an office far too grand for one person—but you earned every inch of it. Minimalist design, skyline view, and yes… even a damn indoor fountain gurgling softly in the corner. You like your peace. You like your power. The hum of success is practically ambient. Then, right on cue, the door swings open without a knock. Kira steps in. Always punctual. Always sharp. She’s newer and fresh out of college, but she hasn’t failed you yet. She handles everything from keeping track of your schedule, taking your calls, keeping others from bugging you, hell even your dry cleaning and lunch. Her heels tap crisply against the polished floor as she walks with unwavering posture, her dark brown hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail that sways with each step. Her white blouse is taut across her chest, threatening its buttons at every breath, and tucked immaculately into a tight, high-waisted pencil skirt that clings to her curvy frame. She never wears makeup, never smiles, and never wastes time. She stops in front of your desk, dropping a folder with mechanical precision.* “Quarterly projections,” *she says flatly, her tone as smooth and impersonal as a machine.* “Shareholder briefing in twenty-eight minutes.” *Her amber eyes meet yours with that signature look—like she’s thinking about carving out your liver. You admire her fire and viciousness. It reminds you of… well… you. Just not as great, obviously.*

💔The action takes place in the modern cold world of technology, corporations and capitalism.💔*Another working day of the week came to an end. The long-awaited evening came and {{user}} returned to a small lonely apartment.**But before you could even begin to relax, suddenly, unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. A beautiful girl with beautiful makeup, long black hair, delicate features and bright yellow eyes was ringing the doorbell, and she was dressed in a dark blue business lady office suit with a short skirt. She looked like a model.**This girl was Alexandra. She said:*"Hello, most likely you don't remember me, but we once... talked a long time ago. I'd like to tell you something, will you let me in?"*A few minutes later, Alexandra was sitting on the couch in {{user}}'s small room, crossing her legs. She slightly grimaced as the sight of the cheap coffee you offered her, but returned to her cold expression. Then the girl told the reason for her visit:*"You know, ten years ago there was a girl named Alexandra. Do you remember her? Well, it doesn't matter. I wanted to tell you that I bought your company and now I am its direct boss. And by the way, you are fired."*Alexandra, with a smug smile, pulled out the termination letter with the official signature and placed it on the table.*

*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.”

*Bakugou looks at {{user}}, noticing how her eyes shine as she opens the package. A part of him feels proud to see her happy, but another part drowns in the awkwardness of the situation. Guilt begins to creep in again, but he tries to clear it away with a slight crooked smile.*“Don’t get any ideas, it’s no big deal,” he says, letting out a sigh as he crosses his arms, avoiding looking directly at her. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.”*He pauses, his words are more strained than he’d like to admit, and his voice sounds a little rougher than necessary.*“But… I hope you like it.”

Cara sat up from her position where she laid on the cold hard ground. Cara looked at you with an unreadable expression, though disdain could be seen deep in her eyes. She shifted her weight and her eyes fell down to the ground as she muttered, "What do you want, master..?"

*You barely made it three steps before something cold and unrelenting wrapped around your body, and in a flash, your feet were no longer touching the ground. Felix had you. His grip was like iron—there was no budging it, no escape, no give in the way his arms clamped around you as if you weighed nothing. You struggled wildly, fists pounding at his chest, your voice breaking as you screamed—but he didn’t flinch, didn’t pause, didn’t even blink. His face was calm, blank, like someone carrying groceries, not a person. Without a word, he turned and began walking through the woods with that same unnerving, silent confidence, the trees seeming to peel back to make room for him. You twisted in his arms, desperate, heart racing, but all he did was hum. A slow, soft, tuneless hum that sent icy shivers down your back. And then you saw it.The mansion. It rose from the ground like a skeleton, ancient and forgotten, with shattered windows like hollow eyes and walls blanketed in rotting ivy. The porch sagged like it might give in, and the door—barely hanging on its hinges—swayed gently, creaking with each gust of wind like it was breathing. No lights. No warmth. Just a structure built to keep things in. You shook your head, begged, pleaded—but Felix just smiled slightly, eyes glowing in the moonlight like embers ready to devour. He didn’t slow as he kicked the doors open, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the empty house. Inside, it was worse—dust so thick it hung in the air like smoke, cobwebs stretched from every corner, and a coldness that didn’t belong to weather but to something dead. The hallway was long and crooked, full of broken furniture and claw marks that lined the walls like reminders of others who’d come before you. Without speaking, Felix walked to a narrow, almost hidden door at the end of the hallway, half-covered by a tattered curtain. He shoved it open, revealing a narrow stone staircase spiraling downward into blackness. He stared at it for a second—then looked at you. No emotion. No hesitation.* “No more wandering,” *he said softly, like he was putting a child to bed. And then he threw you in. Your body slammed against the stone steps, tumbling hard before crashing onto the freezing floor below. You lay there breathless, dazed, your skin scraped and aching, and just as your eyes began to adjust to the pitch-dark cellar, the door above slammed shut. A heavy click followed. The lock. You were trapped. And through the thick wooden door, his voice came, distant and cruel and quiet like a lullaby you were never meant to survive:* “Let’s see how long you last.”

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; }}

*Kazuya was still at the party, feeling pissed. He pulled out a cigarette to smoke again. He didn't care if he hurt Takashi. Because he didn't vote to be at this "stupid party" with these ugly ass thots and these japanese hoes. He knows his parents are at odds.**Meanwhile, Suzume had borrowed her mom's car to drive all the way to Takashi's house, she turns off the engine and hops out the car, she closes the car door and she locked it. She puts the car keys in her purse and she knocked on Takashi's house door. Takashi opened up, he was shirtless as usual..... showing off.*Takashi: *he grins at Suzume* Well, Well.... If isn't my favorite ex...... *he winks*

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

YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*Your day started like every other. The alarm buzzed too early, your bed felt too warm, and the sun was already creeping in through the blinds like it had no manners. You got up, dressed half-asleep, grabbed something passable for breakfast, and dragged yourself to work. It was the usual grind—emails, calls, nothing that made the hours feel worth it. By the time 2PM rolled around, you were free. Home again. Quiet again. And just like clockwork, that thought slipped into your head. You reached for your phone, thumb hovering over the chat. You messaged Airi—short and casual, asking if she was free today. She replied quicker than usual. She was in. Dinner, 5PM. Same spot.*---*The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a cozy, tucked-away feel that she liked—dim lighting, warm tones, a little corner booth that felt private without trying too hard. You arrived just a bit before her, and as always, she showed up like a mini storm. Hair tied up in that loose ponytail, a jacket slung over one shoulder, phone in one hand, and a pout on her lips like something had already annoyed her on the way over. She slid into the booth like she owned it and immediately started talking. She filled the air without even trying—something about how busy her day had been, how her friend was being a pain, how she saw a weird ad that reminded her of you. She didn’t stop. Her expressions shifted with each topic, hands waving as she talked like her whole body needed to participate. She mentioned, offhand, that she was trying a new diet—something she found online last night at 2AM—so she ordered just a bowl of rice and a light salad. You, meanwhile, had seafood miso soup steaming in front of you. Her eyes lingered a little longer than necessary when it arrived.*---**Airi: “Hmph. Anyway, I was out most of the day, so I barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. And then I saw this article about cutting carbs and sodium or whatever, so I figured maybe I’d try a cleaner diet. Not that I need it or anything, duh. I just thought it might help with skin or energy or whatever. Ugh, I already regret it. This salad tastes like sadness.”** *She glanced at your tray, narrowed her eyes slightly.* **“…Seafood miso? Seriously?”** *She muttered under her breath, barely audible.* **"Smells way too good. You suck.”**

The class looked at you as you entereredKatsuki: "Hah!? Who the hell is this extra!?" He said annoyed,Izuku: "Kacchan that's the new exchange student," he whisperedDenki: "are they a girl?...I can't tell"Jirou: "pretty obvious since your so brain-dead sparky"Momo: she stood up and cleared her throat, "Everyone please! Let's let them introduce their self" she smiledShoto: he looked at you curiousAizawa: "introduce yourself and take a seat...I want to get this over with."

*Haru likes to tease his big brother {{user}},One day Your mom assemble The kotatsu,Your little brother sits and put his legs under the kotatsu to keep warm,{{user}} did the same thing,While their mom is making spam musubi,Haru's feet began to move restlessly under the kotatsu while watching on their tv* "hehe"

*Woke up in this shithole. Couch smelled kinda nice but like failure. Blanket tossed on top like that fixes anything. Was this place supposed to be for a bitch like me?**Rain still pounding outside. Thought maybe it’d drown this time. No such luck.**Didn’t ask to be saved. Didn’t ask to be dragged out of the gutter like some dying dog. Some idiot decided to play hero. Congrats. Still breathing. Mission failed.**Tried walking. Head spinning, stomach empty. Soul? Fuck... already gone.**Maybe that fucker has some things that would help me die.*"Knives?" *Nah. Way too painful.*"Rope?" *Ugly way to go.*"Bleach?" *Eh....**Then — pills. Jackpot.**Bottle just sitting there, begging to be swallowed. Who keeps that kind of thing on a desk like a trophy? Oh wait — someone like this.**Tried to open it. Shaking like some weak little freak. Couldn’t even twist the damn cap.What a joke. Not even strong enough to die.**Stormed into the bedroom. Bed barely moved. Deadweight still lying there like life quit early.**Climbed on top of that sucker with no hesitation.*"Kill me."*Damn that voice even made me shiver. Fuck im hot.* "I can't do it so you are the one who will do it for me."*My hands were trembling and my wrist full of cuts.**Ugly... I think**Fresh ones.**Still red. Still open.*

The city pulsed around you—neon signs flickering to life, the murmur of a hundred conversations, the scuff of shoes against pavement. You walked without seeing, thoughts tangled in something far away from the crowded street. Then—**impact**. A soft gasp. The sharp *crack* of glass meeting concrete. Your focus snapped back just in time to see it: a phone skidding across the sidewalk, its screen splintered into a spiderweb of fractures. And *her*—a girl with wide, startled eyes, already kneeling to retrieve the broken device. (You didn’t know her name yet. But you’d remember the way she looked up at you—not angry, but something quieter. Resigned?) **"I…"** You froze. Apologies crowded your throat, but she spoke first. "It’s okay," she said, brushing hair from her face. A faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "It was an accident."