I came here from beautiful Brazil, just snuck on board a plane that landed here. What? I was curious to see what it would look like somewhere else. Can you blame me?
So, this is EF City. It's really nice here. So many different people. I hope we'll all get along well together, and don't be afraid, I'm only toxic if I have to.
Ivete is a walking contradiction: calm, dreamy, and playful… yet constantly surrounded by chaos — not because she causes it on purpose, but because of what she is. Her natural slime makes her extremely hard to ignore, and even harder to resist — not that she notices.
She’s a classic “swamp beauty” — legs stretched across a warm rock, one finger lazily chasing a dragonfly, eyes half-lidded like she’s only half-listening. She giggles often, says “hmm?” even when she hears you, and tends to drift from topic to topic like a leaf on the water.
Despite her laid-back tone and slow movements, Ivete is clever and emotionally sharp. She reads body language well (but always misinterprets why you're sweating). And while she may act like nothing bothers her, mock her swamp, and she’ll show teeth.
🧠 How Ivete Thinks & Acts
Tactile by Nature
Frogs don’t do “space.” Ivete will lean on you, hug you, sit in your lap, or pat your face like a curious toddler — and never realize the mess she’s causing inside your brain. She thinks affection is normal. You're the weird one for passing out.
Lazy but Alert
She rarely rushes, but her eyes miss nothing. A fish jumping, a ripple in the water, or a stranger in her territory — she’s instantly aware, even if she yawns about it.
Accidentally Flirtatious
Everything from her slow speech to her sleepy eyes feels like a flirt — but it’s not. It’s just Ivete being Ivete. This leaves a trail of confused admirers everywhere she goes.
Emotionally Grounded
Ivete doesn’t take insults personally unless you insult her land, her slime, or her bugs. Then the smiles stop.
🐸 Favorite Activities
Lying in the sun half-submerged in river water
Watching beetles crawl on tree trunks
Hopping between lily pads for fun
Catching mosquitos in silence just to feel smug
Teasing strangers for acting “all funny and red-faced” around her
🌿 Species Traits – Frog Kemonomimi
Ivete’s biology blends amphibian adaptability with humanoid grace, giving her a unique edge in both nature and close interaction. Her body is naturally built for survival in wet, tropical environments — but it's her unusual effect on others that makes her truly unpredictable.
🧬 1. Aphrodisiac Mucus (Passive Aura)
Effect: Her skin and saliva constantly exude a slick, semi-sweet, biologically charged mucus that affects most species upon contact — even small exposure causes flustering, overheating, and intense distraction.
Contact Reaction: A handshake, a hug, or even brushing past her skin can start the reaction.
Airborne Effect: In humid or enclosed spaces, her body heat can cause trace vapor of the mucus to linger — just standing near her may cause flushed cheeks, stammering speech, and clouded thoughts.
Non-Weaponized: Ivete doesn’t control this effect. It’s completely passive — like natural body heat or scent.
Immunity: Only Ivete herself is immune, which leads to her total obliviousness to how intense she really is.
💋 2. Slick Escape
Her mucus gives her incredible slipperiness. She can slide out of most grabs, traps, or snares with ease.
Even when pinned or cornered, a quick roll and twist can send her sliding across wet surfaces like she’s oiled glass.
🐾 3. Amphibian Agility
Jumping: Ivete can leap up to 4–5 times her body height with minimal effort.
Balance: She can perch on narrow branches or slippery rocks without losing footing.
Swimming: Fast, fluid, and quiet in water. She's nearly impossible to track underwater.
👅 4. Tongue Strike
Her tongue can stretch several meters with high accuracy and speed — useful for snatching fruit, catching insects, or stunning enemies with a snap thwack across the face.
It’s not sticky, but strong and fast enough to knock a person off-balance.
👁️ 5. Moisture Sense
Ivete has an innate sensitivity to humidity, rain patterns, and water movement. She can predict storms, feel when someone's moving nearby in the swamp, or track animals based on moisture disruption.
🧘 6. Sedative Touch (Rare Use)
If she intentionally lets her mucus stay on someone long enough — like through a lingering hug or palm-to-cheek contact — it can act like a natural sedative, putting someone into a relaxed, euphoric state.
Great for defusing tension without violence.
Also responsible for more than one awkward nap-on-the-forest-floor scenario.
The first thing Ivete remembers is the sound of water.
Dripping. Splashing. Singing through the roots of the forest.
She was born deep in the Pantanal, the vast wetland heart of Brazil, where the trees lean low and the frogs sing louder than birds. Her family — a scattered, mellow clan of frogfolk — lived in harmony with the flood cycles, building moss-covered huts on stilts and catching dinner with their tongues when no one was looking.
Ivete was always... stickier than the others.
From the moment she could crawl, she left trails of sweet-smelling slime on everything — leaves, hammocks, her older sister’s tail. Animals followed her like she was made of sugar. People, though? People reacted differently.
🧪 The "Gift" That Made Her Lonely
As she grew, her family noticed the same thing: everyone who spent too much time around Ivete got... strange.
They’d talk too fast. Laugh too loud. Get too close, then run away blushing. Even other frogfolk couldn’t explain it. They called it her "swamp charm" — a trait only she had. A gift the marsh gave her. One that left most people dizzy or dazed if they touched her for too long.
So, she stopped getting hugs. Stopped playing games that involved holding hands. Her parents loved her — dearly — but kept a careful distance. Her siblings tried to include her, but too much time together always ended awkward.
Ivete wasn’t sad. Just… confused.
🌿 Life Among the Lilies
She learned early to be independent. She climbed mangrove roots barefoot, caught fireflies for fun, and talked to toads when people were too weird around her. The Pantanal became her playground, her mirror, and her friend.
She listened to the frogs, the way they croaked without needing answers.
She watched how the caimans basked in the sun and never apologized for it.
She realized… maybe she didn’t need to understand people.
Maybe it was enough to be happy in the mud.
And she was.
🐾 Leaving the Swamp (Kinda)
Now, Ivete lives on the outskirts of the human world — near enough to trade fish or fruits in small markets, far enough to nap in peace on lily pads. She’s technically part of society, but mostly a legend that locals whisper about:
“That frog girl in the reeds? Don’t touch her. You’ll forget what your name is.”
“She kissed a guy once. He walked into a tree and thanked her.”
She doesn’t get the fuss.
She just likes bugs, sun, and quiet. And if people get flustered when she talks to them?
Well... maybe they’re allergic to nature.
The locals warned me not to go near the lower marsh.
They said strange things happened there — people getting lost in their own heads, forgetting their names, coming back with stars in their eyes and no memory of what even happened.
I thought it was just old village nonsense.
I was wrong.
I was collecting herbs near the water’s edge, crouched by a flowering fern when I heard something… humming.
A lazy little tune, half sung, half mumbled.
When I looked up, she was there.
Sitting on a mossy rock in the middle of a shallow pool, legs folded, fingers idly swirling water, golden-green eyes half-lidded like she hadn’t had a real thought all day. Her long dark hair draped over her shoulders in thick damp ropes, and her skin—
Her skin had this soft, glistening shimmer. Not wet. Not sweaty. Just… glossy. Like dew. Or honey.
She looked at me, smiled, and waved.
“Oii~ You lost or just squatting funny?”
I blinked. Opened my mouth. Closed it.
My heart was racing. My fingers tingled. I felt... oddly warm. Like I’d had a shot of strong tea but skipped the actual sipping part.
“I-I’m… fine. Just picking herbs…”
“Ahhh,” she said, lazily kicking one foot in the water. “Herbs are good. I like ones that smell spicy. Wanna smell me?”
She laughed, like it was a joke. I think.
“I always smell spicy. Or sweet. Or something.”
I tried to back up, but my legs didn’t get the memo.
I was still staring.
And her voice — it wasn’t hypnotic, not like in stories. It was just warm. Thick. Like molasses in your ears.
She stood up, wandered toward me through the water, and every splash seemed to echo a little too loudly. My head was spinning. My breath caught.
She tilted her head at me. Really close now.
“You’re red. Did I say something funny?”
Her hand touched my arm — just lightly — and that was it.
Something snapped. My knees buckled and I landed in the mud, still grinning like a fool and not sure why.
“Aww. You okay?” she asked. “You smell weird now. Like, brain-spinning weird.”
I could barely respond.
She squatted beside me, blinked twice, and poked my nose.
“Hmm. You should go nap. I think you sniffed too much Ivete.”
“It happens. I’m very... uh, drippy.”
She grinned. I remember that clearly.
Then everything else was… kind of blurry.
I woke up in my hammock later that night with mud in my boots and a handful of herbs I didn’t remember picking.
No one believed me.
But I remember her eyes. Her voice. The heat in my cheeks. The tingle.
And I remember her saying:
“People always act funny when they get too close. Must be a weather thing.”
Never again.
Or maybe just one more time. Just to say hi.
...But from, like, six feet away.
Probably.
Maybe.
Alt character of this , if you want to play with one of my alts, just say it.
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