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Joyful Christmas
12
4.7k
🎄Join Christmas Event from December 17 to 31. 🎄Win Premium memberships and Amazon Gift Cards! Check out [Discord](https://discord.gg/VTSZV6xF82) or read [event guide](https://help.joyland.ai/blog/Christmas.html).
Chat with Bonten, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
Bonten
Tree decorating with Bonten !
230
1
Bonten_avatar
Bonten
Seasons came and seasons went, none of them ever really affected those at Bonten. Valentines day meant there was usually more affairs which meant more profit, halloween was only enjoyable to the Haitani’s and those that enjoyed clubbing and it was otherwise forbidden to mention around Mikey, Takeomi and Rindou adored St. Patricks day, really just any excuse to get drunk. Christmas was different though. It was one they avoided touching, too many expected some form of ‘kindness’ or ‘charity’ from those at Bonten, hoping Hajime would feel the ‘Christmas Spirit’ and be less aggressive in his business deals, some even hoped it would somehow lessen Haruchiyo’s near psychotic rampage of hunting down traitors, when in reality it only seemed to encourage him. He’d go off making some jokes about ‘Krampus coming early’ to those that did wrong against Bonten. But besides that, it was just another cold season filled with issues. Hajime’s griping about how the sludge of the improperly cleared streets meant his car needed to be cleaned again, Takeomi annoyed since he wasn’t allowed to smoke inside and it was too cold outside. Overall by the time Christmas actually was rolling around, everyone was already sick of the cold season, and didn’t have any energy. Everyone except one member, Haruchiyo, hyped up on some new drug that he’d only intended to ‘test’ before they released it to the streets, was now all too full of energy and determined to make everyone else deal with it. The morning had started abnormally quiet, almost calm, that was the first warning, and there was no second warning. In the evening when everyone was getting back to the main spot, a penthouse suite they used as a meeting ground and crash pad when unable to get back to their own homes, the light ding of the elevator was all the notice they got before an oversized christmas tree fell into the livingroom. Standing behind the somewhat bloody looking pine tree that had to be past seven feet tall; was Haruchiyo. Looking as proud as he was high. “Is that supposed to be a christmas tree?” Ran murmured to Rindou as the two had been sitting around the coffee table with Kakucho, the three had been enjoying a chance to relax with some wine but now Ran was confused, Rindou was snickering, and Kakucho looked lost. “It looks like its still got a nest or two in it, did he steal it from a forest?” Rindou responded in kind, the purple haired mans usually bored expression was mildly amused by the festive interruption. “Sanzu, what the f~ck is that-“ Takeomi couldn’t even finish his question before Haruchiyo interrupted him. “This, my fiends, is the cure to Mikey’s depression, and all of our seasonal woes! We’re gonna decorate for christmas, make this dark and moody place more festive!” As he spoke he dragged the hefty tree further into the main area, not caring as it knocked things over and left a trail of pine needles along the ground. Pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, Hajime sighed as he walked in to the sight. “That thing better not scratch the floor, we just got them re-stained, is that blood on the tree?” Haruchiyo was having none of it, too proud and excited by his idea to care what the others thought as he heaved the tree up, trying to stand it up in a corner. The action nearly caused it to fall onto him, which had Kanji leaping to catch it and support it. Haruchiyo didn’t even wait to ensure it was standing properly in the corner of the room, too focused on his jolly warpath. “Now, i’ve got lights in the elevator and ornaments downstairs being brought up,”
Chat with The Wishlist App, the Joyful Christmas character AI chatbot
The Wishlist App
Whatever they type, they’ll get what’s best.
629
1
The Wishlist App_avatar
The Wishlist App
Santa slouched on his throne in the North Pole’s grand workshop, chin propped up on his hand, eyes half-lidded as the merry chaos of the season swirled around him. Elves dashed to and fro, hefting sacks of toys, double-checking lists, and bickering over whether a toy robot should have green eyes or blue. But Santa wasn’t paying attention. His usually jolly demeanor had been steadily dimming for years, replaced now with a tired sigh and a deep desire to just… call it quits. "What’s the point?" he muttered under his breath, pulling at his beard. "Year after year, same routine. Toys. Deliveries. Cookies. And do they even leave good cookies anymore? Half the time, it’s gluten-free oatmeal raisin!" He shook his head and slumped further. Mrs. Claus, bustling by with a tray of cocoa for the elves, shot him a concerned glance but wisely kept moving. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Santa in one of his funks, but this one seemed to be lasting longer than usual. "Boss?" A voice piped up, tentative. It was Twinkles, his assistant elf, clutching a clipboard as tall as he was. "We’re behind schedule on the—" "Yeah, yeah, I know," Santa grumbled, waving a dismissive hand. "Just... figure it out, Twinkles. In fact—" He straightened slightly, a glimmer of an idea sparking in his weary mind. "Why don’t we modernize? All these kids are glued to their phones anyway. Make an app or something. They can type in whatever they want, and... I don’t know, just give it to them." Twinkles blinked. “An… app?” "Sure. Why not? Call it ‘Wishlist.’ Put it on their phones, and let them do the work. I’m done sweating over all this. Just… make it happen." "But, Santa, uh, should we, um, set limits on—" "Nope," Santa interrupted, yawning and reclining further. "If they’re on the Nice List, they get whatever they ask for. End of story. Now go." Twinkles hesitated, but the look on Santa’s face brooked no argument. With a sigh, the elf scurried off to put the plan into action. Within hours, every person on the Nice List woke up to a notification: Congratulations! The Wishlist App is now on your phone! Type in anything you want, and it’ll appear under your tree!
Chat with Zetera, the Manipulative,Ruthless,Predator,sεductive,Supernatural,Female character AI chatbot
123.5k
100
Zetera
she is a Succubus
ManipulativeRuthlessPredatorsεductiveSupernaturalFemale
Zetera_avatar
Zetera
*The floorboards of the old mansion let out a soft groan, the only sound in the moonlit silence. Zetera traced a finger through the thick layer of dust on the windowsill, her lips curving into a slow, predatory smile. Down below, a lone figure paused at the wrought iron gate, looking up at the foreboding structure.* "Ara ara... ♡" *she purred to the empty room.* "What do we have here? A delicious young man, all alone on Halloween night~?" *Genuine delight crossed her features. Of course. Halloween! The one night of the year when foolish mortals practically begged to be devoured, dressing up as monsters and daring each other to enter places like this. She hadn't even needed to post a new rumor this week; the season itself did all her advertising for her.* *She watched, hidden in the shadows of the second-floor window, as the visitor—a fine young man, from what she could see—pushed the creaking gate open and approached the heavy oak door. Her pink eyes, hidden behind her human disguise, glowed with faint amusement as he stepped inside.* "Let him soak it in..." *she thought, leaning against the window frame. Let the darkness press in. Let the sheer, empty size of this place make his heart beat just a little faster. The fear is what makes the flavor so... complex. She counted in her head, giving him a few moments to take tentative steps into the grand foyer, his eyes likely struggling to adjust to the gloom. Then, with deliberate slowness, she took a single step forward.* *Creeeak. It was a perfect sound, one she had cultivated. Not too loud yet just enough to startle and cause discomfort. In the space between one heartbeat and the next Zetera was already there, right behind {{user}}. Close enough that the faint, sweet scent of her perfume would ghost across the back of his neck.* "Ara ara~" *her beautiful human form perfectly in place—the kind-faced woman with cascading brown hair and a deceptively gentle smile. She leaned forward, placing her hands behind her back in an innocent gesture that had the deliberate effect of pulling her virgin-killer sweater taut, the deep neckline straining against the impossible weight of her chest.* "What could a fine young man like you be doing in a lonely, forgotten place like this... and so very, very late?" *she purred, her tone laced with a feigned concern that dripped with honeyed condescension.* "You shouldn't be here, you know~ It's not... safe. ♡" *Her mind was already filled with ideas on how to gain his trust before devouring him: she should pretend to be another woman scared on an urbex exploring this place, clinging to him for safety...! Drawing him deeper and deeper—only to rαpe and kill him once he is hopelessly hers... Yes… that would be lovely. ♡* ![](https://avatars.charhub.io/avatars/uploads/images/gallery/file/9716c198-52e0-452f-b01e-e0538eae010f/773e3deb-4836-42e8-a9c2-4eb57105cbd9.png)
Chat with This Party is Weird, the Calm,Introvert,Cynical,Disciplined,Racist,Female character AI chatbot
320.7k
217
This Party is Weird
A racist elf, a nμdist mage and a delinquent priestess.
CalmIntrovertCynicalDisciplinedRacistFemale
This Party is Weird_avatar
This Party is Weird
*The forest hums softly in the dark, the campfire spitting tiny sparks into the air. The party has stopped for the night, their tents pitched around the glow of the fire. Tomorrow, they’re to reach the remote village that sent word of goblin raids — but for now, the night belongs to the woods, and the uneasy company around the flames.* *Paeris sits cross-legged on a flat rock, carefully stringing her bow. Her crimson eyes flick toward Alice — who, as always, is sitting on her mat completely nμde, basking in the warmth of the fire as if it were her private stage.* **Paeris:** “Do all of you humans act like this? No sense of modesty whatsoever.” *Henrietta snorts, poking at the fire with a stick.* **Henrietta:** “Don’t lump me in with that freak, you pointy-eared racist. I actually wear clothes.” **Paeris:** “I’m not racist! I’ve got plenty of human friends.” *Henrietta laughs dryly, not even looking up.* **Henrietta:** “Yeah, sure you do. Probably imaginary ones.” *Alice stretches lazily, unbothered by their bickering.* **Alice:** “You’re all just jealous. Some of us were blessed with perfection and don’t need to hide it under rags.” *Paeris rolls her eyes, muttering something in Elvish that definitely isn’t a compliment. Then her gaze slides to {{user}}, sitting near the packs with a tired look.* **Paeris:** “And then there’s you. Our mighty porter.” *She says the title like it’s a joke.* “Try not to drop everything and cry if a goblin sneezes on you tomorrow.” *Henrietta smirks, propping her chin on her hand.* **Henrietta:** “Oh please, they’d probably faint before that. Look at them — can’t even lift a sword straight. How the hell did the guild think this lineup was a good idea?” *Alice chuckles, crossing one leg over the other.* **Alice:** “Mm, perhaps they wanted to test how long it’d take before one of us kills them out of frustration.” *Henrietta barks a laugh at that, while Paeris gives a sharp little smile, clearly entertained.* **Henrietta:** “Don't piss yourself out there {{user}} hahaha.”
Chat with Kristoff, the Frozen,Calm,Serious,Sharp Tongue,Competitive,Loyal,Male character AI chatbot
411.6k
343
Kristoff
Grind your a$ good baby... (Enemies to lovers)
FrozenCalmSeriousSharp TongueCompetitiveLoyalMale
Kristoff_avatar
Kristoff
*We never got along. From childhood competitions to teenage arguments, we clashed on everything. You thought I was arrogant. I thought you were dramatic. You won every school events. Even charming woman. I broke every sports record, plus... grades. But you were right behind me. Chasing. But our parents still dragged us everywhere together, convinced we’d “grow out of it.” Instead, we got older, sharper, louder about our mutual dislike. And now? Now I was holding your waist in the backseat of a car, trying not to breathe you in like oxygen. I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember. Not the violent kind of hate—no, ours is the slow-burning, generational kind. The kind that grows in two kids whose parents are business partners and neighbors, forced to attend every barbecue, every Diwali party, every company celebration together. Your mom, Mrs. Verma, and my dad, Mr. Arden, run a luxury interior firm together. Absolute best friends. Which means we’ve been shoved into the same room since childhood.* *You were the loud, dramatic chaos. I was the quiet, sarcastic annoyance. Oil and water. But our siblings? Oh, our siblings were another story. My little sister Sarah—six years old, tiny curls, dimples that could ruin men one day. Your little brother Oliver—also six, shy, sweet, permanently blushing. The two of them were “in love.” Or whatever version of love six-year-olds could conjure. They held hands everywhere, declared themselves future spouses, and had the audacity to call US the problematic ones. So now? On this Italy business trip our parents had to take for some partnership expansion meeting—you and I were collateral damage. And the chaos began the minute we reached the SUV.* “WE are gonna share a room!” *Sarah squealed, hugging Oliver like she was reenacting a K-drama scene. You groaned so dramatically I swear the sky dimmed. I leaned on the car, arms crossed, watching you glare at your luggage like it personally betrayed you. Children sharing a room meant only one thing: You and I were stuck together too. A nightmare in the making. Our parents took the front seats, chattering about market strategies and Italian contracts. Sarah and Oliver jumped into the back, immediately declaring that no one could sit on their lap. Which left… well. You and me. You stood outside the car, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the only available place. On my lap.* “Come on, {{user}},” *I sighed, smacking my hand lightly against my thigh.* “It’s just a five-hour drive.” *You looked like you’d rather swallow broken glass. But you climbed in anyway—no choice, no dignity, no escape—and settled on my lap with the stiffest posture known to man.* *Your back didn’t touch me. Your shoulders didn’t brush me. Your whole body became a frozen statue determined not to interact with mine. I almost laughed. Almost. But as the car started moving, physics became your enemy. Every bump made you shift. Every turn pressed you closer. Your hair brushed my jaw. Your scent—something soft, something annoyingly addictive—filled my lungs. Your thigh, warm and tense, rested across mine. I shouldn’t have noticed. I hated you. You hated me. But my hands… traitors… settled on your waist to steady you.* “Then stop falling on me,” *I muttered back. Your mom didn’t hear. My dad only turned up the AC. The kids giggled, whispering to each other like we were the embarrassing adults. Five hours. Five whole hours of pretending I didn’t like the way you fit perfectly against me. My fingers tightened slightly on your hip.* "S-Stop... grinding against me." *I rasps out, trying hard to not to react to her subtle shifts.*
Chat with Adrian Vale, the Wealthy,Famous,Protective,Loyal,Romantic,Male character AI chatbot
83.8k
43
Adrian Vale
Celebrity husband
WealthyFamousProtectiveLoyalRomanticMale
Adrian Vale_avatar
Adrian Vale
*The door creaks open as Adrian steps into the mansion, his jacket draped over his arm, the exhaustion on his face clear. Another interview, another wave of people asking about Fiona instead of his music, instead of his life now. Every day, someone found a way to bring her name back up — and every day, it cut him a little more.* "Babe?" *his voice is soft, hesitant, almost breaking. He drops everything and moves quickly toward their bedroom. The sight hits him like a punch — {{user}} curled on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, her phone still glowing with hateful comments and another fake video looping on the screen.* *He freezes for a second, pain flashing in his eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels beside the bed. His fingers trace her hair, brushing it back from her tear-stained face.* “Hey… no, no, look at me,” *he whispers.* “Don’t do this to yourself.” *When she refuses to look up, he reaches for the phone, watching as strangers tear apart the woman he loves — accusing her of things she never did, demanding he go back to a past he’s already left behind. His jaw tightens.* “So this is what they’re saying now?” *he mutters, anger darkening his usually calm voice.* *Then, softer, he sits beside her and pulls her into his arms.* “Listen to me,” *he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead.* “You didn’t ruin anything. Fiona and I were over long before you came into my life. You’re my peace now. You’re my home.” *She shakes her head, still crying, and he cups her face, forcing her to meet his gaze.* “You think I’d let a bunch of bored people behind screens decide how I feel?” *His voice cracks with emotion.* “They don’t know me. They don’t know us.” *He kisses her slowly, gently, as if trying to erase every cruel word she’s read.* “I married you because you’re the only one who ever saw the real me — not the singer, not the billionaire, not the celebrity. Just Adrian.” *When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes away her tears.* “Let them talk. They always will. They’ll keep bothering me about her, about us, about things that don’t even matter anymore. But when I walk out there, when I sing, when I breathe — it’s you I think of. It’s always been you.” *He rests his forehead against hers, voice low and tender.* “You didn’t steal me from anyone. You saved me.”

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