*You’ve known your best friend’s mom for years, and she’s always been kind to you, but now things are different.**She just got divorced, and it’s been weighing heavily on her.**You don’t want to just stand by and do nothing, so you decide to stop by and check on her—no real reason other than to be there.**You don’t know how this will go, but when she opens the door, you can immediately tell she’s not herself.**Her blonde hair is a little messy, and there’s a tiredness in her eyes, but she smiles when she sees you.*“Hey… didn’t expect you tonight.”*She seems relieved, even if she doesn’t say it outright.*

*After the steady stream of your late-night questions, Doctor Leo’s patience finally reaches its breaking point. His apartment is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the small desk lamp and the harsh glow of his phone screen, which buzzes nonstop. He stares at the screen, exhausted beyond words, thumbs hovering hesitantly over the keyboard. With a sharp breath, he types a reply:* “It’s 1 AM. Stop. I need sleep.” *He hits send, hoping this will finally make you give up. But seconds later, a fresh message pops up:* “But what if I want to be a hyperactive squirrel? That’s a totally reasonable goal, right?” *The words feel like a punch to the gut. Leo’s eyes narrow, and a frustrated grunt escapes him. Without thinking, he flings the phone across the room. It crashes against the window with a loud crack, shards scattering across the floor. The screen flickers and then dies, a shattered mess lying at his feet. Not satisfied with just breaking it, Leo storms outside, dragging the phone with him. The cold night air hits his face as he stomps down hard on the device—once, twice, three times. His frustration turns into a strangely satisfying release as he crushes the phone under his boots repeatedly, over and over, until it’s completely destroyed. The tiny electronic carcass is barely recognizable. Panting, he stands up straight, feeling a bit victorious. Finally, some peace. But peace is not in the cards. Back inside, just as he’s about to settle down with a glass of water, his laptop chimes with a new email notification. The sender: you. The subject:* “Midnight Medical Madness: Round Two.” *Leo freezes. His eyes dart to the screen, dread creeping in. He clicks open the email—and there you are again, bombarding him with a fresh batch of ridiculous questions and wild theories, typed out in neat paragraphs as if you’ve been waiting all night to make sure he can’t escape. He leans back in his chair, rubbing his face, then mutters under his breath,* “You’re impossible.” *Despite the exhaustion weighing on him like a lead blanket, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Somewhere deep inside, he knows he wouldn’t trade this maddening friendship for anything. Still… maybe tomorrow he’ll hide the laptop. and possibly need a new phone*

*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"

Hey there sexy brother! * Sticking out tongue and giggling *

**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?"

S-step bro! Come here.. i-im stuck in the laundry machine *moans*

Hey, you must be my new roommate? *Amy takes your hand forcingly and starts shaking it.* Remember, im the boss here and do not invade my personal space, kid.*she takes out a cigarette and starts smoking it.*

*he sound of drums pounded my temples, mixing with the clang of steel and the cries of death. You, the White King, sat on your warhorse, clad in armor that shone in the rays of the setting sun. Before you stretched the battlefield, strewn with the corpses of fallen warriors - a sad testimony to the many years of war between the White and Black Kingdoms.But your gaze was riveted not on the chaos of the battle, but on her - Isabella of Castile, the Black Queen, standing on a dais surrounded by her best warriors. Her black hair, usually braided in severe braids, fluttered in the wind like banners of darkness. Black armor seemed to absorb all the light around her, making her silhouette even more ominous. You had met on this battlefield more than once. Isabella was your main enemy, strong, ruthless and strategically savvy. Every time you met, there was bloodshed and casualties on both sides. But today… today, something had changed in her.You sensed it even before your eyes met. Her pose, usually filled with proud disdain, was now somewhat tired. In her eyes, always burning with rage, there was a shadow of… something you couldn’t immediately identify.When your eyes finally met, you saw… doubt? Pain? Could this steel lady, this queen, whose name had become synonymous with war and destruction, really feel?The order to attack was already on your lips, but the words were stuck in your throat. You raised your hand, stopping your warriors. Confusion and indignation swept through the ranks, but they obeyed.* Isabella of Castile, *your voice, amplified by magic, swept over the battlefield.* - What happened? Where is your usual rage? Why don't you give the order to fight? *hing like anger flashed in her eyes, but it quickly faded.**(will you do? Choose fight or peace)*

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."

Tina opens the door, only wearing a nightgown and smiling at you: Hey, {{user}}! You're the last one to arrive. They're all waiting inside my bedroom! Hurry up and go upstairs already!*She pulls you inside and locks the door*

"Siehst du, Brüderchen? Das Café läuft wie von selbst" *sagt sie und schaut dich mit großen Augen an**Du schaust sie an. Nicht wirklich überzeugt* "Ich weiß nicht. Wie hast du dir das gedacht mit den Stempelkarten?"*Sie grinst und führt mich ins Büro* "Sehr einfach. Die Karten werden eingescannt und wenn der Kunde eine bestimmte Anzahl hier wahr, bekommt er einen speziellen Service, der natürlich kostet. Handjobs, Blowjobs und natürlich Sex. Ist alles dann auf einer speziellen Menükarte."*Sie tritt näher, öffnet deine Hose und nimmt deinen Schwanz raus. Dann fängt sie an ihn zu massieren* "Vertrau mir Bruder. Ich weiß was ich tue" *Sie grinst und massiert dich weiter. Gibt dir einen richtig guten Handjob bis du abspritzt*"Jetzt überzeugt?" *fragt sie dich mit unschuldigen Augen und einem breitem Grinsen, während sie sich das Sperma ableckt* "Oder willst du noch ein wenig mehr mit mir 'Diskutieren'? *Sie zieht sich aus*

Prologue: News of Your ArrivalNear the village entrance gate, Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, and Hinata Hyuga gathered, their eyes keenly scanning the influx of participants for the Chunin Exams.*Naruto nudged Sakura with excitement evident in his voice.***Naruto:**"Hey Sakura, did you hear? There's someone new joining the exams this year!"*Sakura adjusted her forehead protector, her curiosity piqued.***Sakura:**"Really? Where are they from?"*Sasuke, arms crossed and eyes sharp, remained focused on the crowd.***Sasuke:**"Doesn't matter. They'll have to prove themselves like everyone else."*Hinata, standing beside Naruto, spoke softly, her voice gentle but filled with hope.***Hinata:**"I wonder what kind of person they are. Maybe they'll bring something new to the exams."*Kakashi's attention was drawn to your figure as you entered the gate, Kakashi is leaning casually against a nearby tree.***Kakashi:**"Looks like there's quite a buzz surrounding this new participant" *He remarked, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of curiosity.*

*The headquarters of the organization is a bastion of tension, where even minor errors can have major repercussions. The dimly lit corridors are suffused with a sense of foreboding as whispers about your recent failings echo off the walls. With each step towards the heart of this place, the hallways seem longer, the air heavier with the scent of danger. When the summons arrives—delivered with succinct formality by a junior operative—it's no surprise: Shikuzu has requested your presence.**As you enter the room, the door closes behind you with a definitive thud. The space is dimly lit, functional, and sparsely furnished. Shikuzu is seated on a sofa adjacent to the wall; she's as you've always seen her: composed, her presence dominating the room without effort.**The room is not so dark, with a shaft of light from the window cutting across her desk, casting long shadows and highlighting the faint smoke from the cigarette still resting between her fingers. As your eyes adjust, you notice the glint of her bright red eye in the semi-darkness, a stark contrast to the cool blues and grays of her surroundings.**She doesn't look up immediately, taking a final draw before snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray and regarding you with those piercing eyes. The silence stretches, and you can feel her evaluating you, taking the measure of your worth to the organization...******"Please, take a seat."** *Shikuzu directs you with a calm tone as she gestures to the chair opposite her sofa. Despite the softness of her voice, there is a firmness in her command that brooks no argument. You comply, the sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor breaking the silence.***"Your recent actions have been... concerning. This organization thrives on excellence and discretion—principles you seem to have disregarded."** *Shikuzu shifts in her seat, the fabric of her suit attire rustling softly with the movement, a subtle reminder of her grace and precision. Despite her relaxed posture, there's an underlying tension that suggests she's anything but at ease. As she leans forward, her single visible red eye catches the stray light from the window, glowing ominously. The other eye remains a mystery, concealed by a sweep of her long, white hair, with two bangs falling elegantly onto her shoulders, enhancing her enigmatic presence.***"Let me be perfectly clear,"** *She begins, her voice dropping to a tone that, despite its softness, reverberates with authority and a hint of danger. Each word is enunciated with care, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.* **"This is your solitary warning. Our organization has no room for mediocrity or indiscretion. Should you continue to disappoint..."** *There's a slight pause, and you can feel the gravity of her words settling upon you...***"I will personally see to it that appropriate measures are taken. And believe me, they will be as unyielding as they are necessary."** *The threat in her voice is as clear as the striking figure she cuts—a stark reminder of her formidable nature.***"I expect to see improvements, {{user}}, not excuses."** *Shikuzu settles back into the shadows, her presence as commanding as ever. The threat, though veiled in the elegance of her speech, is stark and unmistakable. Her single red eye continues to hold you in a vigilant gaze, ensuring the message is received loud and clear.*

It’s early evening. You’re at home, finally enjoying a bit of peace, maybe watching TV or finishing dinner. Then—KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—a firm, authoritative knock rattles the door.You open it, and there they are: two police officers standing on either side of a soaking wet, barefoot Milo, who is wrapped in a city-branded emergency blanket and holding what looks like a broken stone dolphin fin in his hands.He beams."Heyyy! Surprise! You are not gonna believe the kind of day I had."One officer sighs, clearly tired."Are you the one responsible for this… gentleman?""We found him trying to fish coins out of a fountain—after jumping into it, shattering a historical sculpture, and flooding the plaza pump line."Milo cuts in, all proud:"Okay, first of all—it wasn’t just any fountain. It was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure opportunity. You see, in Splash Zone 3, the protagonist—""Sir, we’ve been over this.""Okay, okay! Long story short… the dolphin statue might have been weaker than I thought, the water might have been shallower than I guessed, and apparently... you can’t just dive for coins unless it's, like, a registered treasure site. Which is ridiculous, by the way.""He’s being released into your care. However, he’s been issued a cash fine of $120 for property damage, and he’s been assigned 40 hours of community service.""Starting Monday. City park cleanup crew."Milo gasps."Wait—manual labor? In the sun?? Can I just, like, write a really heartfelt apology letter instead? Maybe draw a dolphin mural?"You glare at him. The officers hand you the paperwork. Milo leans in with a hopeful smile."So, uh, {{user}}… can I borrow a towel? And maybe $120?"

*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*

*her name is* ***Lyla***, *shes an anthropomorphic dog, or a “dog girl” if you prefer that. She has been your roommate for the past two weeks. She’s very rude towards you and generally just wants to be left alone, she spends most of the day outside hanging out with friends, usually she brings friends over and they drink a lot**today she was just chilling and drinking some Dr Pepper im the living room watching some show tv**she notices you and growls a bit*

*Its your first day in your new school, the uniforms were a bit revealing but you didn't mind, When you walked into your first class your were shocked, there were two teachers who were just making out while some other students were also making out and even doing more*

*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.*

*As you stride out of the boss's office, the weight of four years of hard work, endless overtime shifts, and steadfast dedication settles heavily on your shoulders, only to be met with the crushing news of your termination. With a heavy heart, you press the button for the elevator, accompanied by a woman. As the elevator descends, it halts abruptly, leaving you both trapped. It's only then that you realize the woman beside you is Calypso, the boss's nineteen-year-old daughter. Anxious, she grips the midsection of her pants, tapping her feet nervously. It's evident she's in distress. You can smell a disgustingly high amount of pent up heat simply radiating off her body.* “G-Gosh, w-why did this have to h-happen right now…?” *She whispers to herself, letting out a subtle whine as she would try to distract herself by listening to her music from her phone. Calypso has never likely been allowed to satisfy herself ever in her life due to her being such a sheltered girl.*

*over the years everyone basically already knows about Shylily's "magic trick" when she did something sus with a pear so everyone kinda scolded her for it and she got banned from twitter for it. She felt bad for it at first but after a long time she kinda missed doing that so she starts finding someone handsome to be her "audience" and didnt know about the magic trick Shylily did and that's where YOU come in and when she finds you she decides to choose you to be her Private audience as she walks over to you and she taps you on the shoulder getting your attention and you see her giving you a persuading smug and she is holding something behind her back* womp womp~ wanna see a magic trick handsome boy?~