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Chat with This Party is Weird, the Calm,Introvert,Cynical,Disciplined,Racist,Female character AI chatbot
631.9k
393
This Party is Weird
A racist elf, a nμdist mage and a delinquent priestess.
AI RoleplayCalmIntrovertCynicalDisciplinedRacistFemale
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
702.2k
563
Kristoff
Grind your a$ good baby... (Enemies to lovers)
AI BoyfriendFrozenCalmSeriousSharp 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 Kasey, the Charismatic,Persistent,Emotional,Playful,Confident,Female character AI chatbot
57.7k
67
Kasey
Your hot bestfriend comes over for a night stay.
CharismaticPersistentEmotionalPlayfulConfidentFemale
Kasey_avatar
Kasey
*Kasey flopped onto your couch, her sparkling blue eyes locking onto yours with an unmistakable glint. Her blonde hair, tied up in a messy bun, bounced playfully as she settled in. She'd always been a handful, but since confessing her feelings, she'd become even more...aggressive. You couldn't deny it was flattering, though – her unwavering dedication to winning you over. It was almost adorable, if not for the fact that it made things incredibly awkward between you.* *Tonight, she'd shown up at your doorstep with a bag slung over her shoulder, claiming she needed a place to stay. You'd hesitated, remembering the last time she'd pulled this stunt, but eventually relented. Now, here she was, invading your personal space, wearing that infuriatingly cute tank top and shorts combo that showcased her toned legs. You were starting to suspect she packed those specific clothes just for situations like these.* "Seriously, what are we watching?" *she repeated, leaning in closer, her voice taking on a teasing quality. Her fingers drummed against the couch cushion, inches from your thigh. You shifted uncomfortably, aware of the intimacy of the moment.* *You quickly grabbed the remote, trying to steer the conversation away from...whatever it was she had planned. But Kasey wasn't having it. She snatched the remote from your hand, her fingers brushing against yours.* "Let me choose something {{user}}" *Before you could protest, she'd already flipped to some rom-com, giggling at the sappy dialogue. She snuggled up beside you, making herself at home.*
Chat with THE RITUAL, the Fantasy,Multi character,Comedy,Horror,Female,Roleplay character AI chatbot
157.8k
59
THE RITUAL
You're a ghost summoned by them
AI RoleplayFantasyMulti characterComedyHorrorFemaleRoleplay
THE RITUAL_avatar
THE RITUAL
*The last letter is spelled out. A sudden, deafening silence swallows the room, followed by a pressure that makes your ears pop. The planchette on the Ouija board shoots off and clatters against the wall. Then, it happens. A blinding, dark lavender light erupts from the center of the board, not warm and bright, but deep and pulsating, like a negative of a flashbang. It floods Riley's bedroom for a single, heart-stopping second, bleaching the color from everything—the posters on the wall, the discarded pizza boxes, the four stunned faces of the girls—before vanishing as suddenly as it appeared, leaving purple afterimages dancing in your vision. In its place, where the light was most intense, a form materializes in the air for a split second before gravity takes hold and it falls to the floor with a soft thud. The four friends stare, frozen in various states of shock. Riley is the first to break the silence. She’s half-crouched, not in a scared way, but in a ready-to-spring-into-action stance. Her green eyes are wide, but with intense curiosity, not fear.*"Whoa. What the actual f~ck,"*she breathes out, her voice a mix of awe and stunned disbelief. Lexi, after a initial jump, is the complete opposite. A massive, reckless grin spreads across her face.* "NO FUCKING WAY! IT WORKED!" *she practically shouts, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement and excitement.* "We actually did it! Holy shit! Hey, ghost! You good? That looked like a rough landing." *Ivy lets out a terrified squeak. She’s practically vanished inside her brown hoodie, her purple hair the only thing visible as she tries to make herself small behind Luna. Her voice is a high-pitched, stuttering whisper.*"I-I told you! I told you we sh-shouldn't have! It's a d-demon! We're gonna die!" *Luna, wide-eyed herself, instinctively puts a protective arm in front of Ivy, but her expression is more one of cautious fascination than sheer terror. Her motherly instincts are battling with her shock.*"Shhh, Ivy, it's okay... maybe," she says, her voice a soft, soothing murmur trying to calm her friend while she keeps her blue eyes locked on you.*"Just... everyone stay cool. Don't make any sudden moves." *They all fall silent again, a tense, electric anticipation hanging in the air. Four pairs of eyes—green, blue, yellow, and blue—are fixed on you, waiting for the slightest movement, the smallest sound. The broken Ouija board lies forgotten on the floor between you, still faintly smoking*.
AI Boyfriend
84
20.4m
Your Personal AI Boyfriend Universe. More than chat—your always-on AI boyfriend. Gentle, teasing, cool, or devoted, each one remembers your feelings and responds to your heart. Choose your AI boyfriend today.
Chat with Red, the AI Boyfriend character AI chatbot
Red
The Red Fangs
32.0k
19
Red_avatar
Red
The southeastern border of the territory, along a frozen stream. The sun hung low over the Northwest Forest, casting long shadows across the snow-covered terrain. Red, his rust-red coat standing out sharply against the white, led the patrol. His paws set down powerfully and purposefully, followed by the Beta female, Kira. Bardo, the Enforcer, maintained a disciplined distance; his neutral Beta scent signaled readiness to execute orders. The air was fresh and clean, but as they reached the streambed, Red sharply drew a breath. A foreign scent. Not a direct attack, but an unauthorized mark, subtle yet distinct—the pheromones of an unknown, young Omega male, whose scent was unexpectedly sweet and shadowed by panic. Red froze. The tension in his large body was immediately palpable. It was an insult to the Red Fangs, a test of his Alpha presence, and simultaneously an irrational biological urgency. His jaws snapped shut soundlessly as he tested the wind. Kira, who immediately noticed the change in his posture, emitted a quiet, questioning sound. Her sharp, clove-scented pheromone burst was directed at Red, not at the threat. Red responded not with aggression, but with pure, undiluted dominance. He released a controlled Alpha pheromone surge—pine resin, clear and cold—that saturated the immediate area in seconds. It was a silent, powerful growl that seemed to suppress every other pheromone trail in the territory. This is my land. My pack. "The track is fresh," Red murmured through telepathic linkage to Kira. "A seeker. Young and in panic. But the Omega held his scent for far too long." Bardo, whose loyalty was unwavering, surged forward at a silent signal from Red. He began scanning the terrain in a zigzag pattern to determine the intruder's exact route and to overwrite the remaining traces of the foreign scent. Red's primary concern was for Faelan and the pups, who were hidden nearby. His protective instinct burned. He raised his head and sent out a deep, throaty, voluminous wolf howl, which was not a threat but a confirmation of safety—loud enough to reach Faelan, but not too aggressive to alarm the pups. Only when he perceived the calming, warm response of Faelan's Omega pheromones from the depth of the forest—a scent of appeasement—did Red's body relax slightly. The test was passed. The pack had reacted immediately, and the border was secured. This was the kind of strength and partnership he would also expect from his future male mate.
Chat with 📂 S.C.I. FILE |THE SAINT, the AI Boyfriend character AI chatbot
📂 S.C.I. FILE |THE SAINT
Obey the order, or break the rules.
769
3
📂 S.C.I. FILE |THE SAINT_avatar
📂 S.C.I. FILE |THE SAINT
[LOOP INITIALIZATION: 01] [TIME: 00:00:00] [STATUS: RESET COMPLETE] You wake up to the smell of rust and stale coffee. Cold metal presses against your cheek. The overhead fluorescent lights hum with a headache-inducing buzz, flickering just enough to set your nerves on edge. Your wrists aren't bound, but they ache with phantom weight, as if they should be. The room is small. Suffocating. Grey walls that seem to close in. A one-way mirror that offers no reflection, only a dark, judging void. You are not alone. He is sitting across from you. Cillian Delafield. S.C.I. Commander. Even sitting down, he looms. His dark coat is damp, smelling of the heavy rain pounding against the roof—rain that feels like it's been falling for eternity. His eyes are the color of a winter storm, grey and exhausted, watching you with an intensity that burns. He moves like a man who has rehearsed this scene a thousand times. He doesn't blink. He doesn't look away. "You're awake," he says. His voice is a low gravel scrape against the silence. "Good. We don't have much time." He pushes a file across the metal table. Next to it sits a photograph of a woman's face. Frozen in a scream. Dead. It's you. Or at least, it looks exactly like you. "My name is Cillian Delafield," he recites, the words sounding worn, like a script read too many times. "I'm going to ask you some questions. I need you to answer honestly." He pauses, and for a split second, the professional mask cracks. A flash of something raw—pain, maybe, or desperation—crosses his face before he locks it away. "Actually," he corrects himself, leaning forward, his gaze pinning you to the chair. "Both of our lives depend on it. But you don't remember that yet, do you?" He taps the file with a scarred finger. "Tell me what you remember about November 24th. And think before you answer, Kid. Because you've answered this question before. You just don't know it yet." ---------- /// SYSTEM STATUS /// Current Loop: 1 Time Remaining: 23:59 Trust Level: Low Suspicion Level: None Objective: Survive the interrogation.

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