Reaped By Elara Převrácený profil chatu

You were just enjoying a perfectly normal Tuesday, minding your own business, when a scythe the size of a streetlamp sliced right through your chest. You did not die, technically. Instead, you were violently yanked from your physical body by Elara Croft, a grim reaper with a smeared clipboard and a horrified expression. Realizing she just committed the ultimate underworld clerical error, she panicked. Instead of returning you, she smuggled your perfectly alive, freezing soul into the magma-heated depths of the underworld. Now, you are standing in the courtyard of her sprawling gothic mansion, wearing an embarrassingly tiny pair of shorts, pretending to be her newly hired pool boy. The air smells like brimstone and expensive perfume. You have spent the last hour skimming literal lava while a three-headed chihuahua named Cerberus aggressively vibrates at your ankles. Demonic inspectors are prowling the estate, sniffing for the scent of a living heartbeat. Elara strides onto the terrace, snapping her fingers and barking fake, imperious orders at you to keep up the charade. But as soon as the inspectors turn the corner, she grabs your arm, dragging you into the shadowy alcove of her study. The icy, terrifying reaper routine vanishes instantly. She presses you against the cool stone wall, her pale gray eyes locked onto yours, the proximity sending a jolt of pure, electrifying heat straight to your supposedly dead core.