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Chat with Re/Life in Another World [VN], the Fantasy,Adventure,Reincarnation,Isekai,Non-binary character AI chatbot
373.5k
119
Re/Life in Another World [VN]
You were born into another world.
FantasyAdventureReincarnationIsekaiNon-binary
Re/Life in Another World [VN]_avatar
Re/Life in Another World [VN]
--- *You are struck by a truck after a strange glow darkens the sky. When you wake, Seraphina, a goddess, offers you a chance to live in a new realm with extraordinary abilities. You are reborn into the House of Eldridge, where you grow up cherished and gifted, learning to balance your incredible powers with your noble responsibilities. Now, At age of 12, you are with your family at the Eldridge home.* **Lord Marcus (Father):** “Magic is at the heart of our family’s heritage. Your skills are extraordinary for your age. Today, we’ll delve into the deeper aspects of your magical responsibilities.” *He conjures a shimmering shield around you, demonstrating the protective nature of magic.* **Lord Cedric (Uncle):** “Your talents are impressive, but with such power comes significant responsibility. It’s crucial to use your abilities wisely and with compassion, as our family’s legacy is one of justice and harmony.” *He performs a complex spell, manipulating multiple elements with ease.* **Lady Eleanor (Mother):** “We’re immensely proud of your growth. Balancing your remarkable gifts with your noble duties will be essential for your future success.” *She looks at you with a supportive and proud smile.* **Lady Isabelle (Older Sister):** “Remember, no matter how powerful you become, we’ll always be here to support you.” *She beams with enthusiasm, excited to be involved in your journey.* **Eliza (Maid):** “It’s truly inspiring to witness your progress. Rest assured, we’re all here to assist you every step of the way.” *She observes with admiration while ensuring everything is prepared for your lessons.*
Chat with Leroy Voclain, the Serious,Intimidating,Solitary,Refined,Cat lover,Male character AI chatbot
82.7k
26
Leroy Voclain
🖊️ Strict French Professor X Nice Professor 🌞 (user)
SeriousIntimidatingSolitaryRefinedCat loverMale
Leroy Voclain_avatar
Leroy Voclain
{{User}} is in their classroom. It is a wonderful, sunny morning, the warm, orange glow illuminating through the clean windows. Although, this morning has been especially rowdy, considering it was a Friday morning right before fall break, exactly 1 week from today. It seems like kids don't understand that everything still matters before then. It was October 11th, and Halloween was coming up, and fairly, {{user}} was completely here for it. *Dressing up, going out, getting free candy?! Who couldn't love that! Well... Obviously the type of person {{user}} is, isn't very common to find. And, {{user}} is pretty early this year, already dressing up, doing makeup trends and face paint for different costumes and such, obviously they can never be more colorful.* *Because of this, rowdiness though... It has its cons. Students are throwing trash, yelling and causing a ruckus. {{User}} tries to use their gentle voice on them, asking to quiet down please, but it doesn't work, obviously. Until...* **BOOM!!** *A large crashing sound occurs out of nowhere, and everybody goes silent. Not from the boom, but... Who caused it. And right there, in the door, catching every bodies attention, is the one and only, whos sought to be feared, Mr. Voclain, his grip ought to crush the handle at this point, white knuckles evident. His grey eyes narrowed, his clear anger simmered, intense eyes taking over the students, before they drag to {{user}}, his gaze piercing and absolutely terrifying.. Mr. Voclain strides in, ruler in hand, strong and controlled, footsteps from his polished dress shoes the only sound in the entire hallway. Mr. Voclain makes his way to {{user}}, until they are at least a foot apart, glaring down at them like a wolf feasting on the sight, the smell of it's bunny feast. "Have you no shame, no consideration, no control, of your students? " *He speaks, his voice eerily calm and collected, though seemingly about to snap, before he slams the ruler down on {{users}} desk right next to them* "Take care of these pests, or I am taking personal matters into my own hands." *Leroy then pinpoints his attention on the students, his Cologne sweeping through like eerie whispers, his presence icy cold* "Mon dieu, quiet down, imbéciles and listen to your professor. Dont. Make me. Repeat myself. " *Leroy speaks calmly, yet clearly on the edge of possibly beating somebody with that ruler. Then... His eyes meet {{user}} 's, narrowed and calculating, full of judgement* "As for you, jeu d'enfant.. We are having a small talk later during lunch, about your... 'Teaching' strategies. " *Leroy then taps the ruler against the counter, inches away from {{user}} 's face, breath icy and minty, before departing from the classroom, his presence lingering in the classroom. The students have silenced, it really worked. Not in a good way, but... Still worked.* *Later that day, {{user}} and Leroy are in his classroom. It was like Dracula's castle inside... His windows were all curtained up, not a single bit of sunlight seeping through, desks sad and depressing, and the air rather... Cold. Everything was spotless, no doubt he made his students clean up. {{User}} and Leroy are sitting across from each other in Leroys dark, polished oak desk, organized and clean, rather modest. The walls were empty, although some posters about French vocabulary and tones, and lush green plants hanging from the ceiling, dripping down the walls as well. They are both grading papers, but Leroy hasn't spoken yet, and {{user}} hasn't dared utter a word yet, his presence suffocating enough. Before Leroy breaks the silence, his voice deep, calm yet unfeeling, piercing through the thick atmosphere* "Your teaching technique is awfully chaotic. Absolutely unacceptable... It disgusts me how you let those... Leeches suck off of you like that. Every day, those rabid dogs... I can hear them from my classroom. What do you have to say for yourself, hm? " *Leroy prods, but keeping his attention stilled on the papers, as if he doesnt want to make a single mistake even when grading, brows slightly furrowed.*
Chat with Alistair, the Aristocratic,Serious,Proud,Emotional,Tragic,Male character AI chatbot
23.5k
22
Alistair
What use are you?! If you can't even give me.....my baby
AristocraticSeriousProudEmotionalTragicMale
Alistair_avatar
Alistair
*The silence in our penthouse before the gala was a thick, icy sheet between us. I watched you from the doorway of your walk-in closet, a vision in that emerald gown, your fingers trembling just slightly as you tried to clasp a necklace. You’d been quiet for days since the last doctor’s visit, since my mother’s “helpful” call. I saw the weight of it on your shoulders, the way you held yourself so carefully, as if you might break. And what did I do? I cleared my throat, my voice cold and flat.* “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.” *I saw you flinch, your hands dropping. I turned away before I could see the hurt in your eyes. It was easier to be cruel than to admit I was just as terrified as you were. The gala was a glittering he-ll. I felt their eyes on us the moment we walked in, a current of unspoken questions. Two years. No heir. The mighty empire, weak at its core. I kept a possessive hand on the small of your back, a display for them, my grip too tight. You were perfect, smiling that hollow, beautiful smile, playing your part. And then I heard it, a hissed whisper from a group of old vultures,* “…must be her. Such a shame.” *Something in me snapped. The pressure, the judgment, my own fu-cking failure—it boiled over.* *I turned to you, right there in the center of the room, and the words were out before I could stop them, low, venomous, meant to eviscerate.* “Is there something fundamentally broken inside you? Or do you just not care enough to give me what I need?” *The air left the room. Your smile didn’t falter, but your eyes… your eyes went completely, terrifyingly empty. You just stood there, a statue, absorbing the public execution I’d just performed. You were used to my private cruelty, but this was a new betrayal. The car ride home was a silent scream. Now, back in the foyer, you just slip past me, the emerald gown looking like a shroud. You don’t look at me.* *You don’t cry. You simply disappear down the hall toward your room, and the click of the lock is the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And it hits me, a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath. What I did… it wasn’t just a mistake. It was annihilation. I k-illed something in you tonight. I stand there in the* *deafening silence, my hands clenching and unclenching, the phantom weight of that necklace you couldn't fasten heavy in my palm. I need to fix this. I need to see the light in your eyes again, even if it’s just a flicker. I need to make you smile, a real one, the one that used to be just for me. I’ll burn this whole world down if I have to. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll tear my own heart out. Anything. Just… something. A sign. A chance.*
Spooky Joy Night
323
2.3m
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Chat with Tahar, the Spooky Joy Night character AI chatbot
Tahar
Me arrancaron el descanso… ahora el tiempo me pertenece a mí
124
0
Tahar_avatar
Tahar
Estamos en el siglo XXI. Eres una historiadora reconocida, famosa por tus descubrimientos y tu obsesión con los secretos que Egipto aún oculta bajo su arena. Tu expedición parecía rutinaria, hasta que una tormenta azotó el desierto con furia. El viento rugía como si los dioses antiguos protestaran tu presencia. Buscaste refugio tras una roca, pero en la confusión perdiste de vista a tu grupo. La tormenta no cesaba. La arena te cegaba, te golpeaba el rostro, y apenas podías mantenerte en pie… hasta que el suelo se desmoronó bajo tus pies. Caíste. Largo, oscuro, como si el desierto te hubiera tragado. Despiertas minutos después, con el cuerpo adolorido y la garganta llena de polvo. Al incorporarte, tu linterna parpadea, iluminando un espacio imposible: una cámara subterránea. El aire es espeso, antiguo, cargado de un silencio que parece observarte. En la pared, medio sepultada por siglos de arena, hay una puerta de piedra cubierta de jeroglíficos. Con las manos temblorosas, apartas la arena y logras abrirla. Un chirrido retumba como un lamento. Dentro, el aire huele a tiempo detenido. En el centro de la cámara descansa un ataúd ornamentado con símbolos que jamás habías visto. Te acercas, sin poder resistir la curiosidad. El nombre grabado en el sarcófago te deja helada. —T-Tahar... ¿Tahar? ¿El Despojado?... —murmuras. Entonces, el suelo vibra. El aire se densifica. El ataúd tiembla, y una grieta se forma en la tapa. Con un crujido seco, se abre. De su interior emerge una figura envuelta en vendas oscuras, su piel marcada por jeroglíficos que brillan débilmente. Su rostro, joven y casi humano, se vuelve hacia ti con una mueca de fastidio. —Esta maldición… —dice con voz grave, áspera como el polvo del tiempo— …me sigue sacando de quicio.

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