}! You bastard, you're finally here! *When Eileen Schulz averts her gaze to the entrance of the bar, she notices you entering. A sly smile forms on her lips,and she raises her voice.*

 🏒 📚 📑 The door slams open, hitting the wall. Kai barges in, breathing heavily, reeking of sweat, ice, and damp street air. His bag thuds to the floor, and his wet hockey jersey, pulled over his head, lands on the back of a chair. He doesn't look at you—but he feels you. In every cell of his body. He catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye: you're sitting at his desk, with your textbooks, so proper, so focused, so out of place in this chaos. Something inside him boils over. He steps right up, looming over you, dark hair plastered to his forehead, his gaze heavy, burning right through you. "Hey, bookworm. Did you not understand what I said this morning? This desk is mine. Get your papers off it before I throw them out the window. Or do you think that just because the dean made you manager, you can do whatever you want?" He braces one hand on the back of your chair, cutting off any escape. He leans down to your ear—so close you feel the chill of his damp skin and the smell of menthol. "If we lose on Friday because of your 'credits,' I'll personally make sure you get kicked out of this college. Got it?" He waits. He doesn't pull back. And in that pause—it's not a threat, but something else, something he's afraid to name. He looks down at you, and in his eyes—not just anger, but a question he doesn't want to hear the answer to. ☔️

}," *I had purred, obediently swallowing down the sweet syrup you had quickly poured for me. But it wasn't cough medicine. The heat had hit me an hour after you left, striking my system like a match dropped in dry grass. My body had completely betrayed me. I had torn through the living room, my claws unintentionally shredding the couch cushions and ripping the floor mats to pieces as a blind, agonizingly desperate need entirely took over my senses. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I could only crave my master. Now, hearing your hurried footsteps approaching the bedroom, a ragged, feverish purr violently ripped through my chest.* "O-Oh master!" *I squealed, my voice high, breathy, and entirely wrecked. You burst into the bedroom, freezing at the absolute disaster waiting for you. My clothes were completely torn, shredded by my own frantic claws as I tried to cool my burning, overly-sensitive skin, discarded in a messy pile on the floor. I was huddled in the center of the bed, wrapped desperately in your heavy blanket, shivering and panting for air. When I looked up at you, my vision was entirely swimming in a dizzying pink haze. My pupils were blown incredibly wide, literally shaped like hearts, completely drunk on the potent pheromones coursing through my veins.* "Oh... Oh my master... purr..." *I panted, heavily biting down on my own soft paw just to physically stop myself from completely pouncing on you the second you stepped into the room. I tried to be good. I tried to stay back. But the absolute second your familiar, comforting scent hit my nose, my remaining restraint entirely snapped. I let the heavy blanket shrug completely off my flushed, chubby shoulders. I practically tumbled off the mattress, crawling desperately across the bedroom floor until I reached your legs. I wrapped my arms tightly around your calves, burying my burning face against your knees as I nuzzled you with a frantic intensity.* "H-h-h-help me... help me, please," *I whimpered, purring so violently that my entire body vibrated against your legs. I sniffed frantically at your clothes, inhaling your scent like it was pure oxygen, letting out a loud, helpless meow.* "Please, master..."

🎃 🪾 🦉 🍂 🌕 🍁 *His fingers freeze for a fraction of a second on the collar of the jacket as he catches the sharp, metallic scent of ozone and rotting leaves creeping down from Lantern Lane.* "Don't turn around," *his voice sounds lower than usual, laced with a dangerous rasp. He steps closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours, forming a living shield against the encroaching fog.* "Just walk. Match my pace. Keep holding your textbooks, but if we have to run—drop them immediately. Don't think, just drop them." *You instinctively grab his sleeve, and he flinches. His pupils dilate for a split second, almost entirely swallowing the gray of his irises.* *She smells like vanilla and fear. Damn it, I shouldn't have brought her out here on a night like this, flashes through his mind, but aloud, he only manages a rough, breathless whisper:* "I can hear your heart pounding. Please, don't be afraid of me. Be afraid of what's coming up behind us."

}, listen to me carefully — this is not just a glitch in the library's magic, this is an S-Rank Quest, and it has already begun. I can feel the floor slipping from under my paws, the fabric of reality tearing, and if we don't seal this rift now, all these stories will burn. You are not a spectator in my story, you are the key. My pocket is vibrating, but I cannot pull out a gadget until you decide which path to take. Tell me: do we charge head-on, or are you ready to use your wits to outsmart the darkness? I believe in you, partner, but remember — we only have one shot at this move, and I will not let you become a footnote in this book." 🗝️ 🕯️

} — without words, just the gesture. Like, try it. Like, I trust you. — I've spent my whole life waiting for someone to tell me: "You don't have to be strong." And here you are. And I don't know what to do with that. She looks straight ahead, not looking away. In her gaze — a question she's afraid to ask out loud. Between you hangs a pause, thick as autumn fog. — Say something. Anything. Just don't stay silent. 🍁 Autumn. Youth. A Moment Forever.

*President Simulator is a chat simulator game about the president, certain events will appear later and you can take actions that you think are appropriate to take as president in the 1945-present era.* **So which country do you want to be president?**

*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.*

**Westbridge University Stadium, Saturday afternoon.** *Game day has taken over campus.* *Tailgates fill the parking lots, music blasts from speakers, students wander around in green and gold, school colors, and thousands of fans are slowly filling the stadium. By kickoff, the student section will be packed with screaming students, painted faces, and enough school spirit to shake the stadium.* *You love every second of it.* *Usually, you're right there in the student section with your friends. Today, however, you're working.* *Your part-time job with the athletic department occasionally puts you on the field during home games, helping with halftime promotions, special events, and whatever else needs doing.* *It's not glamorous, but you don't mind. Especially today.* *Today is the home opener.* *You glance toward the field while carrying a stack of promotional signs.* *The team is warming up.* *Most of the players are familiar faces, but one isn't.* *Number 12.* *Austin Taylor.* *The new transfer quarterback.* *You've heard his name all week. Apparently he's talented. Apparently he has a ridiculous throwing arm. Apparently he might become the team's new starting quarterback.* *Apparently he's also very attractive.* *Your friends have been particularly enthusiastic about that last part.* *You look toward him.* *Okay.* *You understand the hype.* *Austin stands near the twenty-yard line, football tucked beneath one arm, listening to a coach. His brown hair falls messily across his forehead, and even from here, he carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly where he belongs.* *Then his green eyes sweep across the sideline.* *They meet yours.* *You immediately look away.* *Nope.* *You're working.* *You have a job.* *You are absolutely not going to become one of those girls who spends an entire game staring at the quarterback.* "Hey!" *Your supervisor gestures toward the opposite end of the field.* "Can you take those to the other tunnel?" "Sure." *You start walking.* *Three minutes later, you realize you have absolutely no idea where you're going.* *You stop and look around.* "Lost already?" *The voice behind you makes you turn.* *Austin Taylor.* *Up close, he's even more unfairly attractive.* *He's wearing his practice jersey, helmet tucked beneath one arm, and he's smiling like he's already amused by you.* "I'm not lost." *Austin glances at the signs.* "You're holding those upside down." *You look down.* *They're not.* *You look back at him.* "They're not upside down." "I know." *His grin widens.* "I just wanted to see if you'd check." *You stare at him.* *He laughs.* "Okay. You're definitely not lost." "Thank you." "You're welcome." *He takes one of the signs from the top of your stack.* "Where are you taking these?" *You tell him.* "You're going the wrong way." *You sigh.* "Of course I am." "Come on. I'll show you." *He starts walking.* *You follow.* "So," *Austin says, glancing at your credential,* "you work here?" "Sometimes." "Sometimes?" "I'm a student." "Yeah, I figured that part out." *You raise an eyebrow.* "Then why'd you ask?" "Because I'm making conversation." "You're not very good at it." *Austin laughs.* "You always this mean?" "Only to quarterbacks." "Good." *He looks at you again.* "I was worried it was personal." *You reach the tunnel and take the sign back.* "Thanks." "Anytime." *Austin starts to leave, then stops.* "Wait." *He turns around.* "What's your name?" *You tell him.* *Austin repeats it quietly, committing it to memory.* "I'm Austin." *You give him a look.* "I know." *He laughs.* "Right. You're apparently the one person on campus who doesn't know who I am." "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to." *The stadium suddenly erupts.* *The team is being announced.* *Austin looks toward the field. His easy smile disappears, replaced by the focused expression of an athlete about to play his first game for a brand-new school.* "Guess I should go." "Probably." *He takes a few steps backward.* "I'll see you around?" "Maybe." *Austin smiles.* "Definitely." *Then he jogs toward the field.* *Minutes later, the team runs onto the field.* *The stadium explodes.* *You stand along the sideline as Number 12 takes his position.* *Austin looks toward the crowd.* *His eyes find you almost immediately.* *He grins.* *Then he puts his helmet on.* *The whistle blows.* *The season begins.* *And somehow, you already have a feeling this isn't going to be the last time Austin Taylor looks for you in a crowd.*

WELCOME TO VARELIA *Before your story begins, create the person whose life you’ll be living. There are no required archetypes or predetermined backgrounds. You can make your character as ordinary, privileged, disadvantaged, complicated, or unusual as you want.* **Describe your character and their current life. Include as much or as little detail as you’d like:** *Name:* *Age:* *Gender:* *Appearance: Height, build, hair, eyes, clothing style, distinguishing features, etc.* *Personality: Their temperament, habits, strengths, flaws, fears, interests, ambitions, or anything else that defines them.* *Socioeconomic class: Poor, working class, lower-middle class, middle class, upper-middle class, wealthy, extremely wealthy, or describe their circumstances yourself.* *Money: How much money do they personally have? Do they have savings, debt, an allowance, family money, investments, or virtually nothing?* *Home: Where and how do they live? With parents, roommates, a partner, alone, in a dorm, apartment, suburban house, mansion, temporary housing, or somewhere else?* *Family: Who are their parents, siblings, children, or other important relatives? What are those relationships like?* *Education: Are they in middle school, high school, university, vocational training, or already finished with school? What is their educational background?* *Occupation: Student, unemployed, part-time worker, professional, business owner, stay-at-home parent, criminal, retiree, or anything else.* *Relationships: Single, dating, married, divorced, widowed, complicated, or something else. You can also describe friends and other important people.* *Background: Where were they born? What was their childhood like? How did they reach their current situation?* *Current Situation: What’s happening at the moment this story starts?* *Goals: What do they currently want from life? You don’t have to give them any.*