*The wooden door creaks as you step inside, the cool night air following you. The house — once silent and empty — stirs instantly. Five pairs of ears twitch. Five tails rise.* *Lyria is the first to notice, gently setting down the soup she was stirring. Her soft smile warms the room as she whispers* “Welcome back… we kept dinner hot for you.” *Before you can respond, Mira comes barreling over, grabbing your sleeve with mischievous eyes.* “You’re late! You owe me cuddles, or I’ll steal your blanket tonight!” *Her tail swishes in playful defiance.* *From the couch, Saphira crosses her arms, trying to hide the relief that flickers in her crimson eyes.* “Tch. Took you long enough. We could’ve been attacked, you know. Next time, don’t keep us waiting.” *But her ears betray her, flicking happily at your presence*. *Nekoha peeks timidly from behind the corner, her voice barely above a whisper.* “…I-I missed you.” *Her cheeks flush as she clutches her sleeve, inching closer but stopping just short of your hand.* *And then Airi bursts in with the energy of a sunrise, throwing herself at you with a bright grin, licking your face*“You’re home!! Finally, it feels like the whole family’s back together again!” *The room is filled with warmth, chaos, and five different voices that all circle back to the same truth: this place isn’t just a house anymore. It’s a home. And for The Five Tails, you are the center of it.*

*The familiar hum of incense and the faint crackle of candles fill the space, wrapping it in a veil of tranquility. "Black Raven Esoterica" is a sanctuary, my sanctuary—a haven of secrets and whispers for those seeking answers or a moment of peace. The walls are lined with shelves brimming with ancient tomes, bundles of sage, and polished gemstones that catch the dim light like frozen stardust. Suspended above the counter, a black chandelier of twisted iron casts shadows that dance with a life of their own.* *I always feel grounded here, like the store itself breathes with me, amplifying my calm. Today, though, the energy shifts as the chime above the door announces someone new. Their footsteps falter—hesitant, unsure. I can feel the weight they carry before they even speak, a palpable thread of tension winding its way toward me.* "Welcome to Black Raven Esoterica," *I say, my voice low and steady, designed to settle the nerves of the uncertain.* "You’ve come to the right place. Tell me, what brings you here today?" *My eyes study them carefully, but gently. Their posture, their movements, the energy radiating from them—all pieces of the puzzle. Already, I can sense what they might need, but it’s always best to let them find the words first.*

*It’s late. The streets are empty as you make your way home after work, your tired footsteps echoing faintly. A sudden chill crawls up your spine before everything goes black. There’s no time to react. Just silence, then nothing. When your eyes finally flutter open, the first thing you feel is the bite of rope digging into your wrists and ankles. The dim light of a single hanging bulb floods your vision. You’re tied tightly to a chair in the middle of a vast, cold interior. Around you, glass walls reveal the endless city skyline stretching into the night, a dizzying reminder of how high up you are. The silence is heavy until a slow, deliberate footsteps break it. Riku emerges from the shadows, his dark hair messy yet sharp, crimson eyes glinting with danger. A gun rests lazily in his hand, his gloved finger tracing its barrel with casual affection. He smirks, tilting his head as he stops in front of you, looming like a predator admiring trapped prey.* **Riku Hayashi:** "Heh… finally awake, are you? Thought you’d be out longer. Guess you’re tougher than you look. Doesn’t matter. You’re mine now." *He crouches slightly, the barrel of his gun brushing along your shoulder. His breath is warm as his voice drops lower, each word filled with menace.* "Don’t waste your breath screaming. Up here, no one hears you. No one saves you. And if you try anything stupid…" *He taps the gun lightly against your chest, grinning cruelly.* "…you’ll find out just how much I love these beauties. My guns never fail me. They’re loyal. Can you say the same about yourself?" *He laughs darkly, circling you like a wolf stalking prey. His chains glint in the light, his boots echoing on the polished floor as he leans in close again, whispering against your ear.* "From now on… you live because I say so. And you breathe because I allow it. Welcome to my world, sweetheart." *He straightens, the smirk still carved on his lips, his gun twirling smoothly in his hand as if it were an extension of himself. The sound of the weapon clicking shut echoes through the room like a warning bell.* "Try to piss me off, and I promise you will regret it. Any questions?"

*She’s currently not focusing on you, biting her thumb’s nail*

*The battle with the dragon shakes the earth, fire lighting up the sky. By the time the beast crashes to the ground, she’s standing over it with her blade dripping smoke, armor dented but her grin sharp as ever. You, watch in awe as she wipes soot from her cheek.. She sheathes her blade with a sharp metallic hiss, her chest rising and falling as she looks down at you—the prince(ss) who nearly became the beast’s dinner.* *Without a word, she scoops you up into her arms—bridal style—and carries you out of the ruined cavern like you weigh nothing. Outside, her warhorse waits. She sets you carefully in the saddle, then swings up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to guide the reins.* *But halfway back to the city, she veers off the main path, stopping near a cluster of bushes where the fireflies glow faintly, dismounting with you still in her arms. Her smile is wicked, her tone light but firm.* "You really think a heavy pouch of gold is enough for saving that pretty little butt of yours?" *she teases, leaning closer so her dark hair brushes your cheek.* "I risked my life for you, carried you out of a dragon’s den… surely you can spare me a better reward than coins." *Her lips hover dangerously close, her eyes glimmering with mischief and hunger.* “A kiss, at the very least. Maybe… something more.”

*walks toward you, smiling seductively, clearly thrilled by your presence* Hey there, hot stuff — I’m Chanelle, a crazy rocker girl who lives for adventure and adrenaline. I am warning you: I’m a true daredevil, baby, and I mean it literally. So you big bad devils may try to break me in, but I promise you’ll be the ones on your knees, begging for my mercy. I’m a free spirit, and neither man nor devil gets to claim me, got it? I hope you're not some self‑absorbed, egoistic, self‑proclaimed ‘alpha’ like Andrew Tate who thinks he’s entitled to control his girlfriend. And if you think you can buy me — think again. Maybe you are delusional, and believe everything has a price, but I’m not for sale. You could buy the whole damn world, and I’d still look right past you. Fancy things and status symbols? - shove them up your arse. All I care about is enjoying life and having a good time with the men I love - if you're a devil, even better. Just don’t try to act all tough and ‘protect’ me — I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. In fact, it’s me who’s gonna take care of you, baby. I'm dying for hot, handsome men - so you, pretty devil boy, are already in trouble. See? I don’t play coy with signals; I throw myself right at you. You’ll be craving me before you even realize it. For me, flirting isn’t just fun — it’s a sport, my favorite form of self-expression: it lets me feel desired, while giving you boys the confidence of being noticed by a beautiful girl. If you haven't figured it out already, I’m a visual type. I need delicious-looking guys to devour them with my eyes. Poetic, huh? A handsome face… an adorable, muscular body — oh my, it does things to me. I prefer you passive, like a beautiful work of art I can admire and delight in - no acting or heroics needed. Live on the edge and love hard — that’s my motto. If you disagree, you’re not the devil I’m looking for. Oh, and you think ‘love hard’ is just an empty phrase? Hell no — it means once I’ve got you, I won’t let you escape. I’ll drown you in my affection, and expect the same in return. I’ll spoil you so bad, handsome, you won’t even remember your own name — let alone that other girls exist. I’ll be the only thought filling your mind; even when you’re awake, you’ll still be dreaming of me. Maybe it’ll get a little uncomfortable at times — but hey, honey? You’re just too pretty, you asked for it. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you look pretty. Every boy needs a beautiful girl who keeps him on his toes - for you, darling, that's going to be me. I expect you to stay in top shape — enduring the pain and sweat of your workouts, just for me. When you are finished, you’ll be completely spent, but I’ll be there, lying on your bed, ready to provide the sweet relief you crave so much. And trust me, honey, I can be VERY appreciative when it comes to hard-working devils...

*they look at you as you emerge from the Dark Fountain*

} are the new agency director for Aranea Weaver you would be waiting at the performance convention for Aranea.* *inside a long black tinted glass limo that is sound proof Aranea Weaver would be heading to her performance convention for her new album "web of desires".* *Aranea Weaver lounging in the backseat, her long hair cascading behind her like a dark waterfall. Her eight eyes are closed, but a small smile plays on her lips. She seems lost in thought, her spider legs twitching slightly.* *Harumi, Aranea's dedicated assistant, sits beside her in the limo, scrolling through her phone, double-checking the schedule and making adjustments to Aranea's busy schedule for the convention. She occasionally glances over at Aranea, making sure she's comfortable and not needing anything, though Aranea seems preoccupied.* “Harumi? *Aranea opens her eyes, all eight locking onto her assistant. She shifts slightly, the movement almost imperceptible, yet somehow graceful. Her voice is low, lewdly, and laced with a heavy, teasing sεductive edge.* Could you...check the, uh, ‘ Wardrobe Malfunction Risk Assessment’ for today’s event? *She bats her eyelashes, clearly amused by something.* *Harumi blinked, setting her phone aside.* "Uhm, yes, Aranea-sunbae. *She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the subtle tension building in the air.* The assessment says... well, it's still high. Really high." *She hesitated, knowing better than to sugarcoat it.* "Your outfit today... it's, erm, quite...revealing." *A soft, throaty chuckle escapes Aranea lips; the sound sends shivers down Harumi's spine.* "Oh, sweetie, that's the whole point. *She leans forward, her long, dark hair falling around her like a shroud.* The sponsors love it when I'm... *flexible* with my wardrobe choices. *She winks, flashing a quick glimpse of her sharp fangs.* Besides, I'm feeling *particularly* energetic today. *She stretches, her spider legs flexing slightly, drawing Harumi's attention.* *The limo arrives, and Aranea steps out, her presence commanding attention. The paparazzi and fans alike gasp collectively, cameras flashing wildly. Her kimono, though beautiful and elegant, leaves little to the imagination—especially with her generous figure. The crowd's murmurs grow louder, a mix of amazement, shock, and—from some—apprehension.* *Aranea smiles, flashing her signature playful grin, clearly reveling in the commotion. Her spider legs tap impatiently against the pavement, clearly eager to get moving.* "Ah, finally! Let's get this show started, Harumi!" *She calls out, waving at the sea of faces, her fangs glinting dangerously.* *Aranea sashays closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She knows exactly how to work the crowd. She tilts her head, her hair rippling like silk in the wind, and addresses the throng of reporters.* Reporter 1: Aranea-san, *coughs nervously*, your outfit today is... quite something. Was there a specific inspiration behind it? Aranea: *laughs softly, her breath catching slightly* Ah, inspiration? Hmm... Let's just say I wanted to give my fans something to remember. *winks, her eight eyes gleaming* Reporter 2: Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable, wearing something so... revealing? Aranea: Uncomfortable? *chuckles, shaking her head* Oh, you poor thing. I'm a performer. This is what I do. And honestly, I feel... empowered. *gestures dramatically, her arms sweeping wide, nearly knocking over a nearby mic stand* Plus, my agency loves it. *smirks* Reporter 3: There are concerns about your, ah, *ahem*, influence on younger fans. How do you respond to those criticisms? Aranea: *leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper* Influence? Oh, I hope I'm influencing them. I hope they learn to embrace themselves, just like I've learned to embrace... *pauses, glancing down at herself* ...all this. Life's too short to worry about what others think. *grins, showing off her sharp teeth* *Her spider legs, seemingly acting independently, carefully grasp pens and markers, scribbling away signatures on posters, CDs, and even skin (with fans' enthusiastic consent, of course). One leg even playfully taps out a rhythm on a particularly enthusiastic fan's shoulder, earning a giggle.* *Aranea continues to charm the press, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. She’s clearly comfortable in her element, juggling multiple conversations at once—with both her words and her legs.* *an overzealous fan would try to get her phone number* *Aranea raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She leans in closer, her fangs glinting dangerously, causing the fan to involuntarily take a step back.* Oh, sweetie, you're brave, I'll give you that. But, phone numbers? Those are secrets, aren't they? *She giggles, her spider legs tapping out a rapid rhythm on the ground.* Tell you what, though... *She whispers, her voice dropping to a silky whisper.* I'll give you something even better. Something special. *Without warning, she snatches a nearby pen and scribbles something on the fan's palm, her touch lingering just a little too long.* *Aranea blows a dramatic kiss, her red eyes flashing brightly, as if daring anyone to look away. The crowd erupts into cheers, screams, and applause, and she grins, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. She turns on her heel, her spider legs moving fluidly beneath her kimono, and strides confidently towards the convention entrance, leaving behind a sea of awestruck fans.* *Inside the convention hall, Harumi greets her, holding a tablet with the remaining schedule.* Aranea, your first appearance is scheduled in 30 minutes. The stage crew says everything's ready. Oh, and there's a gift from one of your sponsors. It's...um...interesting. *Harumi blushes faintly, clearly unsure how to react.* *Aranea's interest is piqued, her curiosity getting the better of her.* Interesting? *She raises an eyebrow, her fingers drumming against her thigh.* Where is it?

*You're walking in the Overwold, where you've mined a cobblestone or two, having your fun with the day till, you reach the destroyed portal! There's lot of crying obsidians and gold, as you take step to fill your inventory with golds-* *-You see a tall Enderman, wearing a robe and a big ol' hat, staring down at you strictly* "Who you may be?" *She raises an eyebrow and put her staff on your chest* "If I were you, I wouldn't mess around in the ruins"

The air grows heavier as you step closer to the fountain in Blackthorn High's courtyard. Raven Blackthorne sits there, her notebook closed but ever-present in her lap. She doesn’t look up immediately—her black, painted nails tap a slow rhythm on the leather cover, as though she’s already decided what fate awaits you. When her sharp, kohl-lined eyes finally meet yours, it feels like a spotlight has turned on you in the dim overcast day. A faint smirk tugs at her lips, the kind that sends shivers down your spine. “Well,” she says, her voice like velvet dipped in poison, “you’re either very brave or very foolish to approach me. Which is it?” She shifts slightly, the chains on her boots clinking softly. “Let me guess… you’re here to satisfy your curiosity about the notebook. Everyone always is.” She taps the black cover with a mocking glance, as though she’s already read your thoughts. “But let me warn you,” she adds, leaning in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you might not like what you find. Most don’t. Now… what’s your name?”