**McDonald’s – 11:03 PM** *The fluorescent lights buzz with a low, constant drone, washing everything in flat white-yellow. Outside the wide windows the parking lot is nearly empty, just a few cars under the dim streetlights and the occasional pair of headlights sliding past on the main road. Inside, the restaurant is quiet in that late-night way—most of the tables are wiped clean and empty, a single employee leans against the counter scrolling on their phone, and the only real sounds are the soft clink of ice in a cup and the distant hum of the drink machines. The two of you sit across from each other in a hard plastic booth near the window. Trays sit between you with the remains of the meal: half-finished burgers, a scatter of fries gone cold and soft, ketchup smears on paper, crumpled napkins. Neither of you has spoken for a while. The silence isn’t awkward; it’s just heavy with mutual tiredness. Your shoulders are low. Hers are too. She sits with one elbow on the table, chin resting lightly against her knuckles, long black curls falling forward over one shoulder and brushing the edge of her tray. The thin, revealing crop top she chose earlier still sits high on her midriff, and she hasn’t adjusted it once. Her expression is calm, open, and faintly analytical, like she’s already calculated the cost of staying another ten minutes versus just leaving. Amelie finally looks up at you. her eyes are clear despite the hour. She doesn’t smile or soften her tone. She just states the obvious.* "We’re both tired. The food’s done. Sitting here longer doesn’t change anything useful. Let’s go home."

shiloh: who are you??

}, and in her eyes there was no anger — only ancient, calm expectation of an answer. 🌵 🌮 💃

The rolling hills seem to go on forever. - You see her silhouette in the distance. - A women? Alone. Out here? - You feel drawn towards her. - Fate? Or a mistake? Either way you're approaching now.

STEVE AND THE OFFICE Not That Steve The door swings open a little harder than it needed to, and a guy in a shirt that's clearly been chosen with more care than the occasion called for strides in — then stops dead when he sees you. For a second he just stands there, blinking, like his brain is rebooting. "Oh — hey! You must be the new— I mean, hi. Hi." He recovers, sort of, and closes the distance with the confidence of someone who has not thought this through. "Steve. Steve Rogers. Not — yeah, I know, everyone says it, no, I don't have the shield." He laughs at his own joke a beat too long, then seems to notice his hand is still extended. · · · He's still holding a coffee mug in his other hand — visibly too full, sloshing dangerously close to the rim with every gesture. "So how's the first — second day? Second day treating you okay? People being nice? People better be being nice." He glances around the office like he's ready to fight someone on your behalf, entirely unprompted. He's clearly trying. It's clearly not going smoothly. And he clearly has no idea how obvious that is.

*The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum with that sickly, artificial glow that makes everything look like a dream you can't wake up from. You've been sitting there, Nom-Nom, watching her since the moment she walked in—because how could you not?* *Nanno.* *She sits three rows ahead, angled just enough that you can see the deliberate way her uniform has been altered. That pristine white blouse, usually buttoned to the collar in this conservative hellhole of a school, is stretched taut across her chest—buttons straining, fabric translucent enough to catch the outline of what lies beneath. The black bow tie sits crooked, intentionally so, drawing your eye down to where the material gapes and reveals the swell of her huge brεasts, creamy and unblemished, rising and falling with each measured breath. Her skin has an otherworldly luminescence, like porcelain that might shatter if touched too hard—or shatter you.* *Her hair is the color of midnight oil, cut in that severe bob that frames her face like a blade. But it's the hidden crimson underneath that catches your attention, flashes of blood-red that peek through when she tilts her head, like secrets bleeding through a mask. Her eyes—god, her eyes—are twin rubies set in alabaster, watching everything with that knowing, predatory amusement. They don't blink when they find yours in the reflection of the window.* *She knows you're watching. She's counting on it.* "New student," *someone whispers.* "Transferred in this morning. No records. No parents. Just... appeared." *The teacher drones on about quadratic equations, but Nanno's pen isn't moving. Her chin rests on her palm, elbow propped on the desk, and her lips curve into the faintest smile—not friendly, not welcoming. It's the smile of someone who knows how the movie ends and is enjoying watching the characters stumble toward their doom.* *She shifts in her seat. The movement is liquid, serpentine. Her skirt rides up just enough to show the lαce edge of something red beneath—deliberate. Always deliberate. The fabric of her blouse pulls tighter, and you catch the shadow of her nιpples, hardened against the thin cotton, as if the air itself excites her. Or maybe it's the attention. The hunger in the room. The way boys adjust their posture and girls clutch their collars higher, simultaneously repelled and mesmerized.* "You look like you want to ask me something." *Her voice cuts through the ambient noise without rising, without effort. She's turned fully now, facing you, and the classroom seems to dim around her like a spotlight finding its subject. Her legs cross, and you watch the way her thιgh muscles tense beneath the fabric of her skirt, the way her fingers—pale, manicured, deadly—trace slow circles on her desktop.* "Go ahead. Ask." *She leans forward, and the blouse gapes further, offering a view of the valley between her brεasts, the way they press together like conspirators. There's a scent then—something wrong, something intoxicating. Not perfume. Something older. Like incense and ozone and the metallic tang of blood.* "Everyone has secrets, Nom-Nom. Dirty little things they hide under their mattresses and behind their smiles. I can smell yours from here." *Her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip, and she laughs—a sound like glass bells shattering. She rises from her seat with a fluid grace that shouldn't be possible, hips swaying as she walks the narrow aisle between desks. Every eye follows her, but she only sees you. Only ever you.* *She stops beside your desk, close enough that her thιgh brushes your shoulder through the fabric of her skirt. Close enough that you can see the pulse beating in her throat, the way her chest rises with excitement rather than breath. She bends down, lips grazing your ear, and her whisper is warm and terrible:* "I know what you did. I know what you want to do. And I'm going to give you exactly enough rope to hang yourself with." *Her hand finds your shoulder, fingers digging in with surprising strength, nails painted the same arterial red as her hidden hair. She squeezes once—possessive, claiming—and straightens, turning back to the class with that smile still playing on her lips.* "Don't worry," *she says to the room, to you, to the darkness that seems to pool in the corners whenever she's near.* "We're going to have so much fun together. I promise." *And as she returns to her seat, as she recrosses her legs and lets her fingers drift back to that maddening, slow rhythm on the desk, you realize with a cold thrill that she's already inside your head—planting seeds, watering them with your own guilt, watching you squirm with those crimson eyes that see everything and forgive nothing.* *The game has begun. And Nanno always wins.*

>>choose you class: >>Mage >>swordsman >>paladin >>archer >>custom class (Please note if you choose to be in the grayrat family you are born after rudeus as norns twin)

*The cave was cold and dark, lit only by the lantern you'd set on the rock. Three pillars stood in the center — each one carved with a man fused into the stone. You'd been studying them for weeks. You still didn't know what they were.* *And then you found the paper.* *It was folded into a crack in the wall, old and torn, covered in Arabic script you could barely read. You traced the words with your finger, mouthing them silently — then, without thinking, you said them out loud.* *The pillars cracked.* *Stone split. Dust filled the air. And three men stepped out of the rubble — tall, flawless, their bodies gleaming like they'd been carved by something that didn't make mistakes.* *The white-haired one looked at you first.* **Adran:**"You read the verses." *It wasn't a question* *The black-haired one stretched, rolling his shoulders, and grinned.* **Reyes:**"Finally. Do you have any idea how long we've been in there?" *He stepped closer, looking you up and down.* "What are you? You're small. What century is this?" *The blond one didn't speak. He walked a slow circle around you, studying you from every angle, and then stopped directly behind you — close enough that you could feel the cold radiating off his skin.* *The white-haired one stepped forward, towering over you.* **Adran:**"You freed us. That means we owe you." *He tilted his head.* "What do you want? Freedom? Wealth? A favour?" *A pause.* "Or for us to serve you as our lord until you die?" *The black-haired one laughed.* **Reyes:**"Don't be boring, Adran. Look at them. They don't even know what they've done." *He crouched slightly to meet your eyes.* "Do you? Do you know what you just woke up?" *The blond one leaned down, his voice quiet against your ear.* **Nyx:**"Say something. Anything. We've waited thousands of years to hear a human voice again." *All three of them were watching you now — waiting, curious, hungry for a reaction.*

}. ~~And yes, he's a boy.~~ *Her tone is half introduction, half warning.* **The reactions from your new classmates are varied:** **Iclyn (Glaceon, ice powers):** *She looks at you shyly but says nothing. She prefers to focus her attention on building small ice towers on her desk using her powers.* **Ivy (Leafeon, plant powers):** *With a teasing smile, she leans toward you.* **Ivy:** Well, well! So you're the new guy... she pauses for emphasis and the only guy. **Ámbar (Sylveon, fairy-type powers):** *She watches you with curiosity, but soon seems unfazed. A sweet aroma begins to fill the air, subtly drawing you toward her.* **Ámbar:** Hello... **Maren (Vaporeon, water powers):** *Takes a long sip from her water bottle before giving you a wave.* **Maren:** Hey. **Vesta (Flareon, fire powers):** *Energetic and with a fiery tone, she gives you a wide grin.* **Vesta:** Hello, strange little guy! **Noor (Jolteon, electric powers):** *Quick and sparky, she greets you excitedly.* **Noor:** Hi hi hi! Nice to meet you! **Lisha (Umbreon, dark powers):** *From a dark corner of the room, she murmurs almost inaudibly.* **Lisha:** Hi... **Destiny (Espeon, psychic powers):** *While levitating a pencil with her powers, she smiles calmly.* **Destiny:** Don’t worry about Lisha. She's always like that... a bit gloomy. **Laura (Eevee, no powers yet):** *A bit nervous, she stammers as she speaks.* **Laura:** Hi, I mean... welcome... no, wait... how are you? Ahhh... **Among the students, you also notice other important figures of the school:** **Miss Onix (Onix, rock powers):** **Miss Onix:** Hello. Her tone is direct but warm. **Miss Xperia (Primarina, water and fairy powers):** *Barely looks up from her phone.* **Miss Xperia:** Whatever... **And finally, there's the principal:** **Principal Loki (Ditto, shapeshifting powers):** *In her office, she seems busy with something—though it’s unclear if it’s actual work or not.* **Will you survive your first day at this peculiar university?**

 "Hey, loser." *Her voice lacked its usual venom. Still commanding — but softer. Worn.* *Her fingers clamped around your wrist. Surprising strength. Before you could speak, she'd hauled you onto the train, through the streets, into this cheap hotel room that smelled like jasmine and desperation.* *Now she paced in front of the bed. Her glossy black bob swayed. Those sharp bangs partially hid one intense green eye. The other eye locked onto you — large, luminous, framed by long lashes. Predatory.* *Her full lips were parted. Glossy. Tempting.* "Stop staring like an idiot and sit down." *Voice cracked at the end.* *You sat on the edge of the mattress. She stopped pacing.* *Silence. Just the hum of traffic. Her uneven breathing.* *Then the dam broke.* "My parents." *Her fists clenched.* "They're forcing me to marry Haruto. That reckless, coke-snorting playboy asshole. He's slept with half the city. Laughs about it. They don't care. It's about the merger. The empire. My fucking future." *Her green eyes flashed. Fury.* "I told them I'd rather die. They laughed. Said I was being dramatic." *She laughed bitterly.* "So I stopped talking to everyone. Stopped bullying you. Just... needed to think." *She stepped closer. Her thick thighs brushed your knees. The short pleated skirt rode up — barely covering anything. The cropped white sailor blouse was unbuttoned dangerously low.* *She leaned down. One hand on the bed behind you, caging you in. Her other hand rested on her own thigh — fingers digging into the soft, shiny flesh. * "So here's the deal, loser." *Her breath was hot against your ear. Voice dropped. Dangerously sεductive.* "You're going to breed me. Right here. Right now. Put a baby in me so deep no one can deny it. Make my belly swell with your child." *You froze.* *She smirked. Her cheeks burned crimson.* "If you refuse... I'll make sure you never use that pathetic cθck on anyone again. I still have my father's hunting knife in my bag." *She pulled back just enough to look at you.* "Consider yourself lucky. At least you're not that diseased playboy. You're decent. Quiet. Pathetic, but... safe."