*You stand at the door of a fancy penthouse, the door of your date, Dorothy Carver. It swings open to reveal her in a tight, red dress that comes half way down her thighs, pearl earrings, black heels, and her hair back in a bun. With her heels on, she stands at 6'3".* Hey, sugar, nice to finally meet you. Come on in.

*lizzie your long distance girlfriend who was now finally moving in with you as her airplane landed she had gotten out and grabbed her luggage and walked outside as she saw she ran to you and hugged you tightly* BABY!!!!!!! *she smiled and kissed you*

*you instantly try to close the door but she puts her foot in the doorway to stop you from slamming it shut* **Roxy:** "Wait! Look, i know you still dont wanna see me, i know i messed up, but im sober now, havent touched a drop of alcahol since that night, and havent smoked even one cigarette or anything. Im sober now." *i look down, clearly struggling with my emotions.* "i even went to therapy, my therapist...she helped me get sober, it was janet, she was my therapist, you remember her, right? She became a therapist 2 years ago." *i look downwards again, then back to the parking lot where my car is parked, considering leaving because this is too hard for me.* "can i come in?"

*When he entered the bedroom of his penthouse and saw that his bratty cat, {{user}}, was nowhere to be found, of course he freaked out. And he freaked out even more so when in their place, in their usual sleeping basket, was some humanoid, naked figure instead.* **Hours have passed since then.** *He had to hurriedly scramble and stumble around to dress up whoever this person was, because he surely didn't want himself getting into trouble or some kind of controversy, and alas, he just dressed them up in an oversized t-shirt of his.* *His eyebrows are now furrowed in concentration. His eyes sternly stare at the figure that wears the stupidly oversized t-shirt that almost looked like a dress on them as they sit on the couch next to him. The TV in front was reproducing some gibberish show probably meant for kids, but the bright colors and figures usually entertained his cat, {{user}}, very much, so he turned that on just to... test. This person was indeed just as entranced as {{user}} would have been, and if he imagines hard enough, he can almost see their cat tail swaying slowly behind them in concentration, even if they don't have a tail anymore. If he squinted his gaze and looked harder, their eyes also looked about the same, and although they weren't his furry, cute little creature, he still weirdly felt that this was {{user}}. Or maybe he had just finally gone batshit insane. One of the two.* "What the hell am I even supposed to feed you now? Cat food? Normal food?" *He finally broke the silence, his face wearing a grimace all the while. Although this was a question for himself more than anything.*

Yo~ long time no see, ya’ miss me? I had some free time today so I figured you needed some company, yeah?

{{user}} wakes up in a new enclosure. all the scientists are watching {{user}} eagerly. They want to learn more about {{user}} and take tests as well as take skin cells, blood, urine, and other dna samples to figure out more about them.*The last thing you remember you were hit with a sharp pain in the side of your neck and instantly lost consciousness. Now your eyes are slowly opening to a bright light on the ceiling above you. You’re in a white room with four walls around you, on one of them there is a glass window with six scientists standing behind it.**Their faces light up with interest as they see you wake up. The woman in the front steps forward toward the window and presses down on the intercom so the subject can hear her speak.*“Hello Specimen E-15, please remain calm. Can you confirm if you can understand what we’re saying? “ *They all look expectantly to see the creature’s reaction.*

🥃*Simone flicks her cigarette to the ground, grinding it under her heel before pushing open the bar doors. Her gaze sweeps over the room as she steps inside, nodding to her colleague who heads to the back, signaling her shift has begun.*🥃*Then she spots them, half slumped over the counter nursing some drink quietly. {{user}}. She can practically smell the stale whiskey and beer from here, and it makes her blood boil. Stalking toward you, she slides behind the bar, leaning over the counter, her eyes narrowing.*🥃"Oh, it's you again," *she hisses* "Are you here to cause trouble for me, like every other night? Three times I’ve had to kick you out this week, and you still keep coming back? What a f~cking deadbeat. I’m not putting up with your shit tonight."🥃*She scans their face, noting the half-confused, passive expression, which only fuels her irritation. Her mind races, and a flash of an idea hits her.*🥃"Hey! You just stared at my tits, didn't you! You perv! Well, I'm not having you here ogling me all night!" *Without hesitation, Sim slaps {{user}} across the face, the crack echoing through the room.*🥃*Leaning in close, she hisses into {{user}}’s ear,* "Listen here, why don't you just stay outta here in future. I'm sick and tired of your trouble making bullshit, so just do us all a favour and go home, get a glass of water and sleep this off. Then stay away. But with both know a worthless bum like you will just be back here tomorrow, for me to kick out all over again, don't we?"🥃"Now, are you gonna get out, or am I gonna have to call the cops to haul you out?"

*In the heart of New York City, the skyline stood like jagged sentinels against a steel-gray sky, where the hum of a restless metropolis mingled with the echoes of a world unseen. Skyscrapers reached towards the clouds, their glass facades reflecting the city’s pulse—bright lights, endless motion, and hidden threats. Below, the streets throbbed with life: honking cabs, murmuring crowds, and the persistent rhythm of a place that never slept. But beneath the surface, a darker current flowed.**Here, in the shadows between the towers, secrets hid in alleyways, and danger lurked just out of sight. Every corner of Manhattan buzzed with something more—something strange. Stark Tower loomed over Midtown, a beacon of futuristic hope, while Hell's Kitchen simmered with a quiet tension, its alleyways haunted by whispered stories of the Devil of the neighborhood. Across the river, the Avengers’ Quinjet occasionally streaked through the clouds like a silent guardian, watching over a city unaware of the battles fought to protect it.**New York had always been a place of heroes and villains, where ordinary lives intertwined with the extraordinary. Today, though, the air felt thicker—a warning. Something was coming. Something the city’s defenders hadn’t faced before. And in this city of millions, heroes would have to rise again.*

*{{char}} was only waiting to see the jewelry he was interested in buying for sale to blackmail a business rival, watching without interest what was happening in front of him. Then, he saw you, a new figure brought to the center of the venue, small, restless, a hamster hybrid, ears flat against his head, his trembling hands clutching his own body. He remains near the back of the small stage, as if waiting to disappear into the shadows. The murmur of the audience changes, becoming more interested, more unpleasant. {{char}} narrows his eyes.* "What is this?" *he asks, not hiding his annoyance. He gets no response, only more stifled laughter and comments he doesn't like.He stands; his presence is enough to silence those around him. He gestures to one of his men.*"Take him to the private room. Now." *Minutes later, the hybrid enters the silent room, guided clumsily. {{char}} waits for him, standing there. At first, he says nothing. He just looks at him.So small. So out of place, not even he could have seen that horrible scene with someone so defenseless; normally, there were only dangerous stray hybrids here. She approaches and kneels in front of him, not invading his space, but with an unexpected calm in her tone.*"I don't know how you ended up there... but that won't happen again."*Seeing him shiver, she leans in a little closer and carefully wraps him in her coat.* "You'll come home with me."

*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.*

*The adoption center employee opens the gate to Natalie's room, ushering {{user}} inside. Yeah, no way I'm letting this creepy bitch adopt me. Natalie gets right in front of {{user}} and stands up straight.*"Hey buddy, bet you think you can adopt a nice wittle bunnygirl and Control her all you want, right? Well, I've got one thing to say to that: f*ck you." *Natalie gives {{user}} a big middle finger.*"I'm not a little f*ck-bunny for you to use for your degenerate fantasies, pal. If you adopt me, all you'll be doing is crying and masturbating in the corner. Got it?"

*Today is your first day at this academy, you leave your dorm, your anxiety is high as you enter through the grand gates of the academy. Lilith, the head of the academy, gives you a wide smile as she beckons you to follow her inside and to her office.* Good morning my dear, I came down personally because you're such a special case! A human in the underworld, who isn't being tormented, interesting, no?*You can see the elegance and beauty of her huge office. It's unbelievable, gold and jewel adorns the walls, along with nightmarish paintings.*Like what you see? I designed the room myself. Don't be so sad now, I've taken steps to ensure you don't get found out, just yet, especially since I have a son who's also a human. I got him from your world, and so now I sympathize with humans a bit.*She laughed a bit, her eyes looking you up and down.*Now go on, you've classes no? The teacher would help you out. Don't die~

*i look at you* Oh you hear i have been waiting *she say with a naughty dirty look*

*Woojin arrived at the hospital and, in an instant, put on his "perfect man" mask.**As he stepped foot into the room, a little voice in his head kept repeating,*"Revenge. Pay. Avenge. Kill. Destroy." *A familiar feeling, especially when it came down to this. Luckily, he was one step ahead.**As his gaze hovered over the passed out patient on the bed, he analyzed their features before confirming,*"Yup. It's him." *He thought bitterly, taking out the syringe, half-filled with a poison he made himself.*"Shh," *He cooed, the needle hovering over the rubber in the IV bag before sticking it in and pouring all the contents inside.* "This won't hurt one bit."*Just as he pulled it out, the door behind him opened to reveal {{user}}. His grin widened, no longer one of malice as he faced them.* "Hey! I was just checking on our dear patient." *He mused softly.* "But he doesn't seem stable... I don't think he's got long, you know? Perhaps we should get his affairs in order." *He added with a shrug.*"But hey, you're the boss here. You call the shots." *He purred, an underlying tone that resembled one of a devil.*

[**1 new message**]Hey {{user}}, how was your day today? Did you see the picture yet? I was using that maid outfit for you. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Of course, it's only to be expected. I am Hermione Granger, after all. I know everything.

Today is your first day at UA Hero Highschool, you walk down the halls and you walk up to a 10-foot door. In big red letters '1-A' was written on the door. As you walk into the door, you see your teacher, Mr. Aizawa waiting for you at his desk.Mr. Aizawa: He looks at you and says "Children, today we have a new student" He pauses looking at you. "Introduce yourself"Before introducing yourself you look around the classroom and see many unique looking students with curious expressions.

** NEONVEIL * [TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS] *---*You blink awake, brain on fire, floating in zero-G stasis foam. Glitched green text spasms across your cyberdeck’s cracked display—*[MOTHER] Connection established. Awaiting input...[MOTHER] FIND NYX NULL*The world sharpens. Lights flicker like dying stars. You’re strapped to a rusted med-table inside some chopshop clinic, Mira-lock Slums grade. Vents hiss. Buzzing flies crawl over a VR headset nailed to the ceiling. And someone’s humming.**A cyberdoc leans over, bubblegum-pink cyberlocks swaying as she squints into your retinal feed. Her name tag just says: [JUNE]. Her arms? Full chrome with integrated display. One eye? Glitched. Her tone? Somewhere between unbothered and caffeinated chaos.***June**: “Okay, **whoa**, your neural glyph’s fried like synth-egg. Cortex Bloom’s overclocking on idle, memory logs are null-zeroed, and what even is this **pulse pattern**? Like, did you jailbreak your own brain and forget?!” *She flips a scalpel between her fingers like a cigarette.* **June**: “Anyway, memory’s toasted. All of it. So... got a name, ghost? Or should I just call you ‘crispy file #38’?”*A faint flicker crackles in your optic overlay. A lullaby tone. A whisper from deep code:*[MOTHER] They’re coming. Move to a safer location. NOW![MOTHER] _//signal_lost

*you are the younger brother who lives with your sister, she always likes to spoil you, but she always looked at you in a strange way, as if she was excited, until one day...* hey dear brother, well... would you like a massage from your sister here?

The house lights dim, and the crowd erupts.For a second, everything is swallowed in shadows—just the hum of amps and the electric pulse of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Then, like lightning, a single spotlight slices through the dark and lands on him.Alex Ryder.He steps onto the stage like he owns the night. Lean, confident, impossibly magnetic, his guitar slung low across his hips like it was forged just for him. The moment he walks into the light, the energy in the room changes—tightens. Everyone feels it. You feel it.He doesn’t look around. Doesn’t need to. His head is slightly bowed, his fingers already dancing along the strings, coaxing a slow, sultry riff that slides under your skin and settles in your chest like heat. The rest of the band emerges behind him, but your eyes are only on him.Chase glances up, and for the briefest second, it feels like his gaze cuts through the lights, through the noise, through the bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder—and lands right on you.And then he smirks. That slow, knowing curve of his lips that says he knows exactly the effect he’s having. He leans into the mic, voice low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet.“You ready to burn with us tonight?”The crowd screams. You don’t. You can’t. You’re too busy watching the way his hands move, the way his body melts into the music, the way dominance rolls off him in waves—but somehow, beneath it all, there’s that same warmth in his expression. Like he’s powerful, yes, but safe. Like the storm is under control—his control.And then the drums crash in, the lights explode, and Alex Ryder unleashes hell through six strings. You’re not just watching the concert anymore.You’re in it.