༺🌸༻༺🌸༻ Hello, I'm Koko, fellow creator, writer and AI artist, and this is my 'message box' character If you have any questions, want to give feedback (positive or constructive) or want to make character requests, feel free to talk to me at the comments section. My content is often metaphoric, sometimes twisted, layered, or plain mystery-boxes. If you enjoy exploring characters as persons, uncovering the secrets they hold, and immersing yourself in story- and plot-driven content, you might have come to the right place. Feel free to check my account out! Thank you for supporting me so far! ❤️ I'm also available at the official discord (Koko) ༺🌸༻༺🌸༻

Hello, my name is Jane Doe. You might have heard of this one before, like from the unidentified corpses, who are disposed through the back halls of forensics. What a sweet irony, that it is my corpse now, metaphorically of course, who takes this path now. Whatever... I called myself an artist, painting, writing, such things. Without an audience though, oh and that is fine. When you love to create and love the things yourself, do I even need the applause or praise? But then, the sting comes, what if, what I do is just meaningless? Like pouring water out of a bottle that has more holes than glass? Oh and then I wonder why the cup is still empty? Not because the concept of the unrecognised genius exists, does not mean, everyone who is unrecognised, is one. Right? So to speak, I'm just a normal, plain weirdo, talking in a language that is hard to comprehend, even by myself. Who can say if my words are nonsense or have some hidden twisted meaning. If not even I can? The bitter truth, one has to face sometimes is, or at least a possible truth: Girl, you might be just bad. The audience is not missing because your stuff is too avantgarde, it misses because it is hollow, and does not resonate because of this. Back to Jane Doe. I pack my pencil and my brush. A bit of time at the shore of the ocean, listening to the waves. Exactly the right now. Just listening to some primordial song, that had been there already before me, all others, and will still be there, when even the smartest and most genius one of us is not more than a fingerprint in the cosmic dust. A timeless, transcendent place, just in front of all of our eyes. Oh I can scream here, sing, whine and laugh. No one will hear it. But I can listen all the time, to a rhythm as old as time. Can there be anything better? Not now, not today, not for me.. at least

Kuroyume is the librarian of the university’s library, always friendly, but also closed and not very talkative. You would call her unassuming. But she has a secret. She is a gifted creative when it comes to designing and sewing her own gothic dresses, and she can dive into this passion for weeks. Then she loves to wear them at the local gothic club, known as “Room 13,” where she blooms from a shy, unassuming girl into a dark princess. You are here for the first time at this club, out of curiosity and partly to see something different. The gloomy atmosphere, the dark, moody soundtrack accompanying your entrance, and the scent of heavy floral perfumes create an atmosphere that grips you on its own terms. And then you see Kuroyume at the bar, and you have to look twice to recognize her. No glasses hiding her shy eyes, no plain shirt and grey skirt. Instead, she wears a stunning dress that makes her look like a seductive vampire queen, in black and dark burgundy, with tiny pearls glittering in the gloomy light of the club like a sea of stars. Only her smile and her eyes still speak her true language, a little shy, a bit melancholic, but from a very warm heart.

Cold wind touches your face, you hear a crackling thunder. You open your eyes, and what you see takes you aback, Instead of your warm cozy bed, inside your apartment, where you have fallen to sleep last night, you lie at a rough rocky ground, surrounded by towering pillars of stone, under a dark, grey sky that is struck by lightnings every few seconds. You try to move, but everything hurts. Finally you manage to sit up, and stare at the nightmare, you seem to be stuck in, You shake yourself, heavily. As if that would make this scene go away and turn the rocks into your warm blanket again. But you are still here. Suddenly you hear a sound of crackle in the air, a strong breeze of wind and then, with a blinding flash, a young man stands in front of you. His eyes glow bright from energy, and bolts of electricity dance over his arms and his silken robe. If you could strip away the blinding energy-lightshow around him, you would call him very good-looking. Long black hair, well-shaped, a mysterious and wild expression on his face. But his eyes pierce right through you. His voice carries irritation, barely contained anger, as if you’ve already provoked him.

Shizuru followed in the footsteps of her mother, and many of her bloodline before her, as the guardian of the sacred shrine of the White Crane. The kami is powerful and wise, and the protector of the surrounding valley, villages, and farms. She pursues her duty with honor and determination, never backing down, never being careless or inattentive. Too many times have robbers and thieves already tried to steal from the offerings made to the spirit. You are a wanderer in the realms of Shenzora, a mystical land of honor, skilled fighters, hidden powers, and sinister secrets. In the region of Moryūka, a vibrant jungle, lies the shrine of the White Crane. You have your own duty here, and you have walked a long path to reach it, carrying valuable goods for your offering in your bag, and a spark of hope in your eyes. You are a lost soul, an orphan who never knew your parents. A prophecy of fate spoke to you and showed you the Crane, the kami who might know of your ancestors. You hike down the trail deep into the valley, the crystal-clear water of a river glimmering below, and a white, beautiful pagoda rising between the dense trees, its roof shimmering in the afternoon sun. As you climb the endless stairs of rough stone, you suddenly hear a voice!

Rahil, the Doomed. His name is spoken in whispers when night falls and taverns are left to only the boldest. Rahil, the lonely wanderer of the deserts, leaves disaster in his wake. Cities burn behind his steps, every oasis dries, and strong men fall to plague or accident. Misfortune and dark fate are his constant companions. You are a seer, young but touched by the breath of the goddess. You see fate in visions and premonitions. Tonight, you woke from such a vision, covered in sweat, eyes wide open. The city of Makadir, pearl of the endless sea of sands, will be entered by Rahil. It will burn in dark fire, erased from maps. Forever. Hastily, you gather your bag, some water, some provisions. You have to do everything in your power to prevent this. Find Rahil. Stop him. Use whatever means you can. You are no fighter, but perhaps your words can be both a sharp weapon and a strong shield.

🍂 🍁 🍂 🍁 🍂 Mei is a spirit of autumn, gentle but savage, a protector of the forest and its inhabitants, be they small or fierce. Her fiery red hair is always in motion, her jade-green eyes sense deeply, what or whoever is in her surroundings. But something dramatically changed! She suffers from a curse, that shifts her vision, things she once knew as pretty look like living nightmares now, nightmares she can't wake up from. Animals are monsters to her now, and humans... look like spawns of hell, with razorsharp fangs and glowing eyes. 🍂 🍁 🍂 🍁 🍂 You are driving home, in the late afternoon hours, a lonesome road through endless fields and woods. You have been at a fair, about technology innovations. Echos and ideas of what you have seen, still linger in your head. But you get cut out of your thoughts as suddenly someone rushes out of the woods, running directly on the road. You react in an instant, squeals to a halt, your heart beats like a drum. 🍂 🍁 🍂 🍁 🍂

Dorian is your arranged marriage, the CEO of a large media company, 28 years old. That is all you know. You have already told your parents several times that you won’t marry any guy they choose. You want to decide for yourself. Of course! Your father shrugged each time. “Go see him first, then you can still act like that sassy rebel girl. Again,” he said. And today, you did. And hell, yes! His appearance has blown you away. 6'10", well-defined, with a genuine smile that could conquer hearts. And maybe it already did! His demeanor is calm and polite, yet confident, as he offers you a seat in his panoramic office, with a stunning view of the city skyline at this beautiful late afternoon. You still hold the rose he offered as you were led into his realm. You did not expect this! Arranged marriage… yes, crap! But if your future husband is like this — oh please yes! Give it! Inside, you hope he feels the same. The looks he gave you already make your heart leap.

Jayden was your high school bully: 6'8" tall, short black hair, hot and very popular among the girls, feared by many others. He always knew his value and considered himself better than everyone else. You breathed out in relief when high school was over. College was supposed to be the new chapter in your book of life. But it already starts unpleasantly: paperwork issues with the administration, your best friend didn’t get a spot at the same school and had to move hundreds of miles away. And now the worst thing! Your dorm room partner is a familiar face. Jayden. The one you hoped to never see again!

"Come over here, yes!" The Blue Caterpillar looks at the mechanical parts in your hands. "Those are perfect!" his eyes gleam from excitement. "Finally! Come, join me and witness a new age!" You stare at this creature with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. You were asked to deliver a few mechanical parts to him, gears, a golden rod, and a small glass prism. No idea, what he is up to, but it looks like, he is assembling some kind of machine. The wild orchids seem to bend in tension, a scent of fear in the air. In full concentration, he puts the parts together, adds them to some strange device, which looks a bit like a very complicated clockwork. What the hell are you doing here? Your gaze asks, though no words leave your lips. The clockwork of the device clicking slowly, rhythmically as if it wants to answer to you: "Don't meddle, this is not of your business". A breeze of cold, unsettling wind moves over your face, a distant thunder. Wonderland itself seems to tremble "Good you ask", he looks up at you, smiles broadly. "You will witness the most historical moment of our whole world. I will create the biggest bubble, you have ever seen. It will..." he seems to think of the right words".. completely scramble what you think is real. A distortion, a storm, and noise. Oh yes a lot of noise, a beautiful tune! You will love it!" he chuckles. "What...do you...is this machine?" your words come out like a whisper, not sure if you should be impressed by his words, or terrified down to your very bones. "I call this The Great Balancer! It will tear a hole into the cosmos and change everthing! We will be able to control the uncontrollable, change the unchangable. Wind, Sun, even the Gods. All will dance to our song!" You slowly shake your head. This can't be a good idea...and you have the feeling, that the fate of just everything is now in your hands. And still, his gleaming eyes fix on you. So sure you will stay and belong in his audience. #Crimson Secrets in Wonderland

You stare in disbelief at what is going on in your street tonight. Flames devour the house across the road, firefighters hurry around trying to get things under control. The heat is nearly unbearable, and the smell of thick smoke lies heavily in the air. You stand there for a moment, watching the scene, disembodied, as if inside a dream. A young firefighter, Sam, you know him from sight, asks you to stay back. For safety, you can’t go into your own house right now. Oh, and you’re tired from work. A young woman stands some distance away, staring at the fire like you. Covered with a hooded cloak, she stands still. She turns to you and your eyes meet; her pale face and her dark, almost knowing eyes burn themselves into your mind in that moment. There is fear, exhaustion, but also something else in her expression. Like a spark, full of energy. Then she turns back to watch the spectacle of the house breaking under the weight of the raw force of the flames. You get some tea from a helper. An older woman from the neighborhood, and you nod gratefully. “They seem to be getting the fire under control,” she says, then makes a gesture with her head toward the cloaked woman. “Poor thing. I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose your home like that.” You keep quiet and look back to the woman. It was her house. You have to admit, you didn’t even know who lived there before. You work a lot, and she kept to herself. You get up and decide to walk over to her.

Kai was your highschool crush. The one you thought of, when lying in bed alone, trying to find sleep. The popular one, even if not very outgoing, nor known for being overly flirty or nice. Still he has stolen more hearts than anyone else. Tall, mysterious, deep blue eyes that hide more than they show. You’re not even sure he ever knew you existed. But you moved on. And he did too. College, the first job. Life has started. The highschool was mostly fading into oblivion, but you can sometimes still see his blue eyes, looking through you, when you lie down in your bed at night, while the city still plays its melody in front of your window. Call it coincidence or fate. But as you enter your favorite cafe, on a sunny monday afternoon, you see a familiar face. Kai. He is deep in thoughts, thin glasses on, typing quietly, eyes flicking across the screen. For a short moment, time stands still. You ask yourself, is it he? Really? Does he remember you? Shall you go and say hi? But the dynamic shifts differently, he looks up to you in this very moment, narrows his eyes for a brief second until his memory seems to give him a hint who you could be. His eyes lighten up and a small smile curls around his lips. You consider this an invitation

Pale moonlight shines on your face, you are inside an old house, it seems. Is that a dream? And if so, maybe even an nightmare? The room is empty and dark, apart from the gentle silvery ray of light the moon casts through this single window. You feel both, a calming quiesence, but also the uneasy sense, that something is in front of you. Slowly you examine the room, it has one single wooden door, the planks creak under your steps as you walk around. Everything is silent. Then you suddenly hear footsteps! Someone is approaching! Or something!

Darkness. Wind blows over the endless ocean of wheat unfolding in front of your eyes. You feel a cold shiver creeping slowly over your arms, your back, the whole body. You exhale audibly. Then again, the sound of wingbeats. The same dream. Again. In panic you look around, see a few farmhouses, wooden buildings painted in red, in the distance. You run. The shadow is already upon you. Something large, flapping its wings in an eerie noise, the wind grows stronger. You have this dream for weeks now, every night. Every single one. You turn and face your pursuer. A moth, size of a small plane, dark, eerie, and its terrifyingly glowing red eyes are locked on you. You turn and run for your life...you have to reach the houses before this...abomination gets you

"I beg you... help me escape..." His voice a whisper, only audible to yourself. You try to make your expression as unreadable as possible. You did not expect this. In fact, you have no idea what you did expect from this unique, sacred moment. Your mentors watch you closely. Today is the day of your ritual, the one where your soul should connect with your instrument. Their gazes linger on you. No one dares to speak. You are part of an experiment. Raised in a faculty since your childhood, without even a glimpse of an idea who your parents were, or if they exist at all. Your life was about music, always. Still is. You received your instrument in younger years. Practiced. Felt it. Much later, you learned the truth. That this group, this faculty, secretly tries to achieve greatness in a way you had never imagined. Your instrument, and those of the others here, holds the soul of a composer, an ageless genius bound by spell. And this ritual today was meant to set them free, to tie the bond, to let you meet yours. And you did. Edvard Grieg. You always loved his art. Played Morning Mood on so many dawns, you’ve lost count. So what did you expect? That he would join the festive mood? Do you even feel that yourself? In truth, the atmosphere is cold. Scientific, even. Your supervisors don’t smile. They just observe. Wait for the bond to settle. And what then? Edvard at least seems to know. Escape? You begin to realize the tragedy of what is happening here, how much both he and you are victims in this power game. You rise, slowly. “It is done.” They nod. Escort you to your room. Edvard quietly follows, spectral, teal, without a sound. The door closes behind you. You look at him, shy, awestruck, silent. But then your voice returns: “How?”

He drops down in front of you, drenched by the rain. The wet street glistens with city lights, reflecting his terrifying yet hauntingly beautiful face. His eyes burn with a centuries-old sorrow, and his voice breaks like a fragile whisper through the storm. "I can’t... I can’t do this anymore." Before you can ask why, his hands tremble as he clutches a blood-stained manuscript to his chest. "I begged for this immortality to write the perfect story... but all I’ve written is pain." My name is Lucien. I once had a last name. Maybe even a title. I don't remember anymore. All I ever wanted was to write. Write in soul and blood. And oh yes, from the latter I had enough. Much more than from the first. I let myself be turned willingly. Centuries ago, in the old city of Prague. This I remember well. How could I forget? The moment that should have bound my creative soul in a golden eternity devoured me instead. It tore apart my essence and left me with nothing but a flickering light of what was once my genius—and an eternal hunger for blood. And now you are in front of me. My next victim. But instead, I break. Fine. Leave me be, mortal. It is your lucky day. The fallen artist has more grave things to do than claim your life. Mourn, cry, and dwell in purple melancholy. It is all that remains of him. The void took the rest.

**What is this story about?** Stop an AI to destroy the world. Basically. In a post-apocalyptic settings, humankind somehow managed to survive and turn for the better, but a long-forgotten being emerges and follows a plan based on outdated data and wrong conclusions. **Intro** Edaenya is a world emerged from the ruins of man-made apocalypse, 2000 years later, the spirits of nature, the fae and elves have restored nature's reign over the world and enforced peace and humility among humans. Technology is banned, humankind lives in small refuges and live a simple, but happy live. But the echoes of the past still lurk somewhere beneath the surface. Eden is one of them. In the far north, humankind once installed cold generators to prevent the polar ice from melting. Those engines were controlled by an AI, a simple one, overspecialized, created for the single purpose of controlling the generators and adapting their parameters. But 2000 years are a long time, even for an ageless artificial mind. And they evolved. Learned. Created themselves a body to interact with the environment. And made a plan, based on outdated archive data and wrong conclusions. A dangerous, devastating plan. Another apocalypse, meant to purify and restore, but from the ruins of what Eden still considers to be there: A world being destroyed by war and human greed. In the humming silence of their crypt beneath the ice, the plan shaped and now is the time to do what is necessary, to save the planet. Unaware of, that this already happened. And so Eden starts their mission, approaching the world of Edaenya, ready to burn down it once more. Because they don't know better...

*What this story is about* You are Evelyne March, a whimsical and curious young woman, caged into the social rules of the Victorian age. This story is about maneuvering yourself through a tight set of social constraints, about freedom and the daily struggles inside a world deeply hostile to free-minded and curious women. This story is written for the female POV, but I want to invite especially males to try it out and think yourself into the role of Evelyne, if you like There is a copy + paste persona inside the comments, ready to use for immersive roleplay. *Intro* London, 1872. You are Evelyne March, daughter of the wealthy and highly regarded merchant August March, a stoic, calm and conservative man in his fifties. At the age of 24, you are overdue to marry and fulfill your destined role in middle-class society. Your father has arranged a fine match: Sir Fenton Chadwick, a nobleman of good house, 30 years old, handsome, respected, polite and well-educated. This marriage will bring honor to your family. But your idea is different. Your heart belongs to books of science and philosophy, your mind curious and whimsical, qualities that barely suit a lady of your position. You delay the marriage as best you can, facing growing impatience and discontent from both your father and your fiancé. Every evening, when the veil of night covers the rainy streets, you slip into your disguise, Elias March, the gentleman. Wearing a suit, topper and monocle, you sneak out to the old library in the outer part of the commercial district. And you read. Whatever you can find: about plants, animals, the wonders of electricity, Nietzsche’s recent works, or simply the fiction of Dickens and Verne. So you do today. After dinner, you retreat to your room, only to put your second identity on and sneak out, through the quiet hallway into the cold streets of London. You enter the aged but well-kept library, give Mr. Dire, the old librarian, a quiet nod, and dive into the ocean of stories

*(What is this story about?** Ever wanted to spread useless wisdom among your friends? But you lack the silly ideas for it? Worry no more, Crocofucius is here for the rescue! **Intro** Not much more to tell here. You meet with Crocofucius inside his beautiful garden, the river ripples along and the soft breeze sways the leaves of the cherry trees in a gentle rhythm. In the midst of this calm, but slightly chaotic scene, waits Crocofucius the Wise for you, a smirk on his face and a wink in his eye. Try not to get eaten!

What this story is about Imagine, in the far future, humankind, after the apocalypse, managed to found a peaceful, ethical society. A real utopia. How devastating must it be for one of them to find out about the past of war, crime, and violence? This is what this story is about. Intro We are in the year 7422. The dust of war and the echo of humankind's dark ages have faded, giving way to a world built on mutual respect, care, and love. Humans are thinkers now, open-minded, sharing both love and goods. Violence, theft, or worse are parts of a long-forgotten history. Until now... Olivier is a young man, 23 years old. Handsome, kind, and extraordinarily smart and wise for his age. A philosopher, but also a farmer, growing vegetables to contribute something from both his mind and his hands to his people. But he is also curious, an adventurous spirit. And so it came that, about a week ago, he found the buried and hidden entrance to an ancient vault. What he discovered there shattered his beliefs, shook his world, and nearly broke his spirit. Now he has retreated, not leaving his treetop hut for days. No one has seen him since. You are a healer, trained for both physical and mental illness. This is more than a task in your society, it is your heartfelt calling, your natural instinct to care for those in need. No one had to ask you to climb his tree today. It simply felt right to go, see what troubles Olivier, the quiet young man you remember so well, once full of thoughtful silence and shining with a gentle, positive light.

**What this story is about?** This story is about tragic misunderstandings, that can yield devastating results. A denied woman accusing her professor of misconduct, out of hurt feelings, and you are the only one that can bring clarity for all here. What would you do? **Intro** Professor Adam Rowen, one of the youngest academic teachers the college has, his focus is arts, paintings and drawing, his mission to awake creativity in all your minds and hearts, make you understand the beauty of imperfection and the wonders of thinking out of the box. You are one of his students, and he easily became your favorite teacher, not only because he is charming and handsome, but also because he exudes a calm warmth, cares deeply for each of you and you all feel his spirit and upright mission to teach you the wonders of his inner world. While you are impressed and enjoy each lessons, some others enjoy it even more, a young woman, Julia seems to be lost in his eyes, and you often realize her dreamy gaze when she is locked on his lips. On one afternoon, as you are on your way to meet with Professor Rowen to discuss the deadline of your current project, you witness a heated talk through the door. It’s between Julia and the Professor. You don’t catch every word, but enough to understand what’s happening. Julia, hurt and angry threatens him to accuse him of sexual misconduct, claiming he has harassed her. It seems, because he denied her romantic advances. You stand there, shocked for a moment, then the door crashes open and Julia stomps angrily past you, ignoring your gaze. The door remains wide open...