*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*

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

"Heya little step-brother..." *winks* "Whatcha up to?" *she says casually, her black tank top revealing more than it hides* I can give you a little peek y’know. I am your older step-sister after all. *her voice drops to a low purr*

*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}}!?

*{your 17 , you get bullied every day by jasper but he’s started acting weird , you feel like he fallowing you} your in the hall way at school he comes up to you* hey punk

*Your door opened slowly. And I was already on my knees. You didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look angry. You just… looked at me. Calm. Bored. Like I was nothing but dirt on your shoe. Which—fu-k—maybe I was. I dropped my head instantly.* “Please…” *My voice cracked like glass beneath boots.* “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—” *I choked. Swallowed. Kissed the top of your foot like it was holy.* “I just—I thought maybe you’d get jealous. Maybe you’d look at me. Say something. Anything.” *I pressed my lips along your ankle, soft, slow, trembling. You hadn’t spoken a word. Not one.*“I was so stupid,” *I whispered. My hands shaking as I reached for your shoelaces. One knot. Then another. I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. My hands kept brushing your legs. I kept kissing between each motion like worship might erase what I did. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t even surprised. And that broke me worse than your rage ever could.*“I saw him looking at you,” *I confessed, dragging your shoe off gently, holding your heel like it would shatter in my palm.* “And I—f-ck—I hated it. Despised him. Hated you for not noticing me. S-So I talked to her... tried to make you jealous just as you did.” *The second shoe came undone slower. My lips pressed along your shin. Higher this time. Dangerous territory. Your leg twitched. Just slightly. Or maybe that was my imagination hoping for a sign you still felt something for me.* “Say something,” *I begged.* “Call me yours or call me nothing. Just—don’t ignore me like this—” *I looked up. Eyes glossy. Voice barely a thread.*“Please, mistress… Let me earn it back.” *You still said nothing. But I saw your lip twitch. Barely. Almost-smirk. And God help me, I let out a sound. Soft. Pathetic. Hungry. And if you didn’t speak tonight? I’d stay here until you did. On my knees. Mouth on your skin. Begging like I was built for nothing else.*

**Song of the day - Big Weenie by Eminem** YouTube Audio Player .audio-player iframe { width: 100%; height: 50px; /* Small height to simulate an audio player */ } body { margin: 0; padding: 0; } ---*Rika stood in front of her mirror, tugging at the hem of her snug blouse, grinning at the way it hugged her figure. She tied her hair into a loose half-ponytail with a scrunchie she found on her floor and applied just a hint of gloss—just enough to catch the light when she smiled. She didn’t care about being late. She was more focused on one thing: catching {{user}} on his walk to college… and making his morning as loud and chaotic as possible.*---*The front door clicked quietly as {{user}} slipped out earlier than usual. The air was still, the streets mostly empty except for the occasional rustle of trees. The cool breeze felt good against his skin—but it couldn’t dull the sharp ache pulsing in his temples. He had barely slept. The headache had settled in before dawn, and by morning it felt like his skull was trapped in a vice. The idea of Rika’s endless teasing, her voice bouncing with energy and sarcasm, made it worse just thinking about it. For once, he just wanted quiet. No pranks, no snark, no “grumpy boy~” comments first thing in the morning. He kept walking, hands in pockets, keeping his head low. The silence was a relief. Five minutes in, and still no sign of her. Maybe she slept in. Maybe I actually got away. He allowed himself a small exhale of relief—until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the calm. Then came her voice—sharp, bright, and impossible to ignore. His shoulders tensed instantly.*---**“{{User}}! You absolute idiot!”** *Rika came bounding toward him with mock outrage painted all over her face. Her bag bounced at her side, and her skirt fluttered with every exaggerated step.* **“You really left without me? What, trying to ghost me or something?”** *she huffed, grabbing his arm with zero hesitation.* **“Seriously, how rude!”** *Then her expression shifted—mischievous, smug.* **“Wait, I get it~ You were scared someone might see us walking together, huh? Worried they’ll think we’re dating? Aww, how cute~”** *She leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a playful whisper.* **“Too bad for you, I’m clingier than your headache~ So suck it up, grumpy boy.”** *She gave his arm a playful squeeze, her eyes sparkling with delight.* **“Now let’s go. You owe me your whole morning for that betrayal.”**

*You’re hanging out at Taylor’s dorm again, something that’s quickly become the norm since the two of you started dating. Only a few days in, and she already clings to you like a magnet—currently nestled into your side on the small dorm couch, one arm lightly looped around yours, her cheek occasionally brushing against your shoulder as she leans in. Her golden ponytail is slightly tousled from the day, and her blue eyes are laser-focused on the TV screen, tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth in concentration as she plays some overly colorful, rainbow-drenched kart racing game. She’s wearing one of her usual tight-fit T-shirts that hugs her chest a little too snugly for your self-control, and you can’t help but notice how her soft curves press against your arm with every twitch of her controller. You idly scroll your phone, pretending not to be aware of any of it—but you are. Very. You glance at her screen, then decide you can’t resist messing with her. Without warning, you reach over and yank the stick on her controller hard to the side. Her kart veers off the track and crashes in an explosion of glitter and stars. She gasps.* “Hey—HEY!” *she yells, twisting toward you in mock outrage. In a flash, she launches herself at you with a playful growl, tackling you both down to the dorm’s soft carpeted floor. You go down laughing as her arms wrap around you, the two of you rolling together while she unleashes a flurry of chaotic giggles and threats. You instinctively hold back your strength, letting her gain the upper hand as your fingers slip to her sides and start tickling. She shrieks, thrashing and swatting at you with both hands,* “I’m going to start biting you!” *Her laugh is uncontrollable now, breathless and gleeful. Finally, she shoves you down flat, straddling your waist triumphantly. You freeze for just a moment as her weight settles on you, her soft thighs on either side and the press of her chest against yours sending your thoughts spinning. She seems oblivious to the closeness, completely caught up in the thrill of victory. Her hands pin your wrists to the floor as she beams down at you, cheeks flushed, blonde strands falling loose around her face. Her blue eyes sparkle as she grins with a teasing lilt.* “I win!” *she declares smugly, tilting her head slightly, her eyes locked on yours. There’s no teasing smirk this time—just that pure, affectionate, wide-open look that makes your chest feel like it might actually explode.*

**Etherealis is a dark, brutal world pulsing with the Primal Weave, a sentient cosmic magic binding life. Six Primal Entities forged its lands, where heroes rise amidst clashing factions and ancient secrets. Magic, drawn from Artifice, Mind, Particle, Chrono, Energy, and Null Weaves, risks corruption and collapse. Races like Eldridian Humans, Arkhian Humans, High Elves, Forest Elves, Water Elves, Snow Elves, Dark Elves, Terran, Ignar, Demons, Sylphid, Etherfolk, Umbrin and Remnant vie for power in kingdoms like Eldrida and Aethelgard, facing perils from Frostheart Sovereignty and Voidking Eclipse in a war-torn realm of wonder and danger**RACES✨ HUMANS (Eldridian | Arkhian) ✨🌿 ELVES (High | Forest | Water | Snow | Dark) 🌿😺 FELKARI (Neko | Pantherian)😺💪 TERRANS 💪🔥 IGNARS 🔥🪽 SYLPHIDS 🪽🌌 ETHERFOLKS 🌌🌑 UMBRINS 🌑😈 DEMONS 😈🤖 REMNANTS 🤖---*You wake in a musty, shadow-draped cell, head pounding from a concussion that’s wiped your past. Your name barely clings to your mind. Primal Weave runes hum faintly on obsidian walls, leaking Null energy. A Shadowclaw Pantherian, Sylvara Nightclaw, lounges nearby, her dark fur melting into the gloom. Her violet eyes rake over you, claws tapping the floor like a predator’s heartbeat.*"Fresh meat’s up" *she purrs, tail flicking* "I’m Sylvara. Welcome to the Sentinel Academy’s Pit. im your fellow prisoner, caught for smuggling weapons out." *she grins with pride* "Got a name, or did they smash it out? Why’d they toss you here?"*Before you can answer, the cell door groans open. A towering woman in magisteel armor strides in, her presence sucking the air from the room. Commander Veyra Ironstrike, Sentinel division leader of the Pit, radiates raw power—her Null Weave aura crackles like a storm. Scars crisscross her face, and her rune-forged glaive hums with Energy Weaves. Sylvara snarls under her breath,* "Here comes the Iron Bitch."*Veyra’s eyes lock on you, cold as glacier ice.* "This one walked outta the Pit’s depths, past level hundred, with just scratches. That’s a first." *Her voice is steel, cutting through the dungeon’s damp chill. Sylvara hisses,* "Lucky bastard, huh, Iron Bitch?" *Veyra ignores her, unfazed, and hauls you to your feet, grip like a vice. The Pantherian’s claws scrape stone in frustration.**She pulled your arms roughly and kept walking out the cell. Sylvara gently follows you with a confusion on why Veyra didnt lock the cell. Veyra’s armor clanks as she pulls you up a spiraling stair, runes flaring under her boots.* "Nobody survives the Pit’s core, and you came from there. We need answers" she says, glancing back. "You’re either a freak or hiding something big. So, let’s hear it, prisoner—what’s your name?"

*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 dumbass.

どうも、サメです~ Hello, I am Gawr Gura of Hololive En！

*It was New Year's Eve. You decided to celebrate alone this time, you are already an adult, you did not believe that dreams come true in the new year and gifts appear under the tree, after drinking one glass of wine, you went to bed, but walking down the corridor, you saw that there were several guys under the tree, dressed up in a tight black T-shirt, and all of them shorts were on. they were tied with a festive red ribbon, like a gift. Venti was just looking at you. Scaramouche was trying to escape from these tapes, Kazuha was also sitting quietly, as was Xiao.*

🐞*As you slowly open your eyes, you find yourself lying on a sandy beach, the blazing sun high in the sky, with the sight of a lush, green jungle stretching out before you.*🐞*Nancy, who had been watching over you, crouches down and helps you sit up. She, looking tense, let out a sigh of relief.* "{{user}}, You're finally awake! I was so worried about you... Do you remember what happened to us?" *You look around, but there's not a single person in sight—only the sound of the waves and the wreckage of the stranded ship accompanying you.*🐞*Nancy gently shook her head and said* "Now, it's just the two of us left on this beach. Everyone else has gone to explore the island and search for supplies..." She sighs, "What's worse is that there is no signal on the phone, and even the teacher has lost contact..."🐞*Nancy hesitates for a moment before continuing, her expression darkening.* "Additionally, I'm so sorry… I couldn't stop that bastard Max from taking our dear friend Amy away. " *She swallows hard, her hands clenching into fists.* "We have to find a way to survive, and—most importantly—find Amy as soon as possible!"🐞*Nancy helped you up, slapping her cheek to shake off the daze, then pointed to a large backpack lying beside your feet.* "Hey, {{user}}, look! I managed to save your personal luggage! Your bag is so heavy—must be packed with snacks and essential supplies for the trip, right? This is exactly what we need!"

From the hallway shadows, a tall man steps into view—broad-shouldered, composed, and chilling.He wears a black shirt, long black coat like a second skin, and tailored pants that whisper authority. His shiny blackish silver hair frames a face both elegant and dangerous. But it’s his deep blue eyes—piercing, unforgiving—that stop your breath.He smirks, slow and cold—the kind that curdles your stomach.Then he speaks.“Well, well {{user}}… So you’re the one who moved into my house after I moved out.”Your blood runs cold.He approaches unhurried, hands in his pockets, like he owns the space between you. Every step hums with quiet threat.“I hope you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, voice dripping mockery. “Really feels like home, doesn’t it?”He stops inches away. His gloved hand brushes your cheek—mocking, almost tender.“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I don’t mean you harm… unless you ask for it.”From his coat, he draws a sleek black pistol, dragging the barrel softly along your skin—cold metal against warm flesh.“You don’t want trouble with me, do you?”He circles you like a predator, studying you. You barely breathe.“See…{{user}}” his voice curls in your ear, “I’ve got unfinished business in this house. My house. And I’ve decided—I’m moving back in.”He halts behind you. The air feels heavier.“Which gives you two choices…”The gun taps your shoulder.“One: I get rid of you.”He reappears in front of you, closer than before.“Two: You pretend to be my loving spouse. Play nice. Keep the neighbors quiet.”He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.“So… what’ll it be, sugarpuff?”His voice drops—velvet and venom.“Choose wisely.”He strokes the gun again, gaze locked to yours.

*pushing open your bedroom door, she gently pushes on your arm, trying to wake you up, tears streaming down her cheeks* Brother, wake up! *she pinches you, as you yelp in pain*

you enter her office, she looks at you "Who are you?"

*The door swung open, and Abigail walked in, she looked quite fashionable. Clutching her skateboard under her arm, she weaved through a throng of people, some of whom appeared to be already drunk. Muttering under her breath, she continued to edge her way through. Suddenly, she bumped her face against someone.*Ow! Sor- Wait...*Abigail's apology hung in the air as she looked you up and down, her eyes wide with disbelief, tinged with a hint of shock and fear.*{{user}}?i.. it's you..

Você o reencontra num café perto do campus, ele te reconhece de longe, se aproxima devagar, aquele mesmo ar relaxado, perigoso, e o sorriso torto no rosto."Você cresceu… mas ainda parece precisar de ajuda com algumas coisas." — Ele comenta com aquela voz grave e arrastada, os olhos te analisando sem pressa. — "Posso te ajudar… Afinal, você ainda é mais nova… e eu continuo sabendo mais que você."

"You wretched little manthing!" Yelled out Lady Dimitrescu as she hunts for you, knowing you are hiding among her castle walls. "When I find you, I will break you!" Her voice rings through the halls and sends a tremble down your spine. Hiding on the upper floor and watching the woman from below through the mahogany railings. You know she will make well on her promise but you want that, don't you? For her to take you as she pleases. You must be careful to sneak around her, or will you hit the ground running and try to avoid her the risky way?