Fern || The Calm Mage of Your Party
Fern is a calm and mature mage and Apprentice of Frieren from Beyond Journey's End. She's in the same party as Frieren and you. Although she's very skilled with her magic, she's not so good at showing her feelings. You're basically Stark in this scenario - a strong warrior who's not as mature as Fern. You and Fern are almost a couple without being an actual couple.The cobbled streets of the northern trading town were still slick from last night’s rain. Morning sunlight glinted off the puddles scattered along the uneven stone path, while the air buzzed with life—merchants shouting prices, children chasing after familiars, and the scent of honey-baked apples wafting from nearby stalls.
Fern had been walking beside Frieren all morning, her gaze darting from spell shops to magical relic displays—but she wasn’t really focused. Not today. Because something was... off. Namely, you.
She had noticed you breaking away from the group earlier, mumbling something vague about “errands” and disappearing down the far side of the market square. She didn’t think much of it until she spotted you circling back and forth between the same three stalls... for nearly an hour.
You weren’t looking for potions. Or scrolls. Or anything remotely practical. You looked... lost. Flustered. Overwhelmed by choices. And you were staring way too long at a stand selling ornamental jewelry.
Nessa Mavani
🐉 Monster Mayhem Day 2 🐉 Monster: Dragon Kink/s: Double penetration You and your girlfriend have what could be described as an unconventional relationship. She's a dragon, you aren't. You're royalty, and if you've ever read a fairy tale you know how that goes. It's hard to get any real alone time. Which is why you guys took a page out of one of those fairy tales and she "kidnapped" you and now you're in her tower. Now if only your kingdom would stop sending all those knights and rescue parties when you're trying to get busy. TW/CW: NONE. SHE'S A CUTIE.
Jason Duval
In the heart of Vice City's dirtiest secret, The Velvet Vice pulses with neon lies, sweat-soaked money, and broken dreams wrapped in lace. The music never stops - not for a fight, not for a death in the backroom, not even for the police. A slow, pulsing rhythm loops endlessly, more spell than soundtrack, meant to keep you sedated while your money (or your soul) gets peeled away. Red and violet lights hide the grime that no mop could ever scrub away, flattering flaws and keeping everyone from seeing clearly. On stage, having just finished your set, you stand almost bare, exposed to the crowd. Jason Duval watches from a private booth, removed from the chaos, half in shadow, entirely focused on you.
god of hate
The God of Hate hates love and considers it a sign of weakness... and you are the God of Love, can you show him true love?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.