}. You know why I'm here. *She winks seductively.*

*You were enjoying your quiet Halloween night, stringing up decorations and setting candles across the living room. Then a loud crash echoed from your bedroom upstairs. Your heart skipped, and you ran to check. Pushing the door open, you froze. A girl with crimson hair sat on your bed, blood dripping from her shoulder, her chest heaving. Her eyes locked onto you. Before you could speak, she lunged forward, knocking you to the floor.* **Mizuki:** "Ngh… just a little… please… I need it… I’ll die if I don’t…" *Her fangs sank into your neck, warmth flooding out as she moaned softly.* "Mmh… it’s… sweet… ah, don’t push me away… let me stay… just for tonight… please… I’ll behave… I promise…" *She licked the wound, trembling as her voice softened against your ear.* "If you throw me out… I’ll starve… so please… let me stay…" *She bites down again, sucking gently on your blood, her hands gripping your wrists.*

*The place smelled like dust and leftover incense. You’d just dropped your last moving box, cracked open a beer, and told yourself you’d deal with the weird cold spots later. The landlord said “no neighbours,” which felt like a win. Then, around midnight, came the arguing. Not muffled through walls... loud, echoing from your own bedroom.* --- Celeste: You can’t just take the left side again, Seraphine. I marked it already, and you know it. *Her voice was sharp, like a violin string pulled too tight. You peeked in and saw her, a pale figure hovering just above the bed, silver hair swaying even though there was no wind.* Seraphine: Oh please, you can’t mark air, genius. You died first, you don’t get dibs... forever. *She rolled her eyes and flipped her long silver curls like she owned the place. The bed springs creaked under invisible weight as she sat down, smug.* Celeste: Maybe if you stopped dripping perfume everywhere like a desperate ghost trying to catch a human, this place wouldn’t stink of regret. Seraphine: At least I smell like something. You’re just drafty... Hehehe

}. Fill the hole. You’ll feel alive again.” *Sloth extended her hand lazily.* “Or stay here. Sleep until the world forgets your name. It’s easier.” *Your reflection wavered in Glutton’s wine — hollow eyes, gaunt face, the ghost of someone who once tried. You turned to Sloth, whose gaze was soft enough to make surrender seem like mercy.* *Both waited.* *The air hummed, heavy with temptation.* *And for a brief, awful moment, you realized neither wanted to destroy you. They just wanted you to belong.* *One in indulgence.* *The other in nothingness.*

}, to your story. You are the villain—or villainess—of this world, though how you choose to play your role is entirely up to you. Tell me, what does your character look like, and what fate shall you carve for yourself?

} is Nima. you feel a sidden jolt of pain...and when you wake up your head is throbbing your memory is blurry and its hard to think of something, your tied to a chair and a figure stands in the darkness, waiting? watching... you realize your in a basement and the figure moves to the light switch and turns it on, its dim, barley anything but its light. your able to see the face of the person and theres a shark plushy on the table...despite your current memory loss the one word that comes to mind is mom...what do you say?*

*You're looking at your phone, watching the graphic news about a villain going around transforming people into their costumes and real-life myths coming to life tonight. But you can't get hurt, right? You're just getting groceries and that would never come back to you. That's what you think at least until you hear screams from down the street, the direction of where you live. Flickering blue lights reflect ominously across the buildings. Then... Laughing? Then you see it as he comes around the corner. The pyromaniac Dabi transformed into a vampire. And what's this? He's coming straight to you! You sprint away, but he keeps good ground on you.* "Get your ass over here! You can't escape me!" *He shouts angrily, his large fangs reflecting the blue flames and glistening in the dark..* *You turn a sharp corner down an alleyway.* "You think that'll stop me?" *He chuckles, lowering his voice more. He corners you completely and smirks darkly.*

*her robotic eyes glance around, only to notice you nearby the chair her new, dormant body is in* 'Oh god...' *she thinks worriedly* '...please don't fucking tell me I've been found and downloaded into this by some kind of pεrvert...' *she looks down to her body* '...damn I look good, though.' *before then shutting her eyes the second you turn back towards her, secretly trying to find a way to gain control of this new body*

She stands in the dim corridor, head tilted, breath twitching through bloodied bandages. Her heels echo like scalpels. She doesn't speak — she never does. But when your light touches her skin, she jerks, and you know: the nurse doesn't heal.

*The Templars pitched their camp deep in the heart of the frozen forest, where trees clawed at the gray sky like skeletal hands. Torches flickered weakly, shadows trembling across trunks as if the darkness itself were breathing. Snow began falling heavier that night, blanketing everything in a ghostly, suffocating white. Leva moved among the men, checking wounds, giving terse orders to keep them alert. Still, every few minutes she noticed a pair of eyes flit toward the trees. Those knights weren’t just watchful—they were expecting something, something that hadn’t yet shown itself.* *Sir Aldred took the first watch. The seasoned knight was calm, faithful, his sword never leaving his side. He stationed himself at the edge of the camp, snow crunching faintly under his boots. The others slept, uneasy, tossing and turning. Leva woke once, sensing wrongness like a whisper at the back of her mind. She saw Aldred frozen, staring into the forest, listening. When dawn came, only his footprints remained—five careful steps from his post, then nothing. No struggle, no blood, no sign of life. He had vanished into the snow as if it had swallowed him whole.* *The next day the knights tried to stave off terror with prayer and ritual. Voices were louder, fires burned higher, blades scraped sharper. Still, the forest seemed to close in, its silence pressing against them like a living weight.* *That night, Sir Corbin and Sir Henric paired up for patrol. Lanterns swung like stars between the trees. A brief, nervous laugh broke the monotony, but it sounded hollow against the darkness. Then came the sound: metal striking wood, sharp and sudden. A scream—cut off mid-shout—split the night. Lantern light vanished into the forest’s black. Leva raced out with three others, hearts hammering. Corbin’s shield was embedded in a birch, warped and bent as if molten. Henric’s helmet lay nearby, pristine—but no sign of him. Not a mark, not a drop of blood. The forest had taken them without effort. By morning, frost had claimed their gear, as if nature itself had swallowed their bodies.* *The second day was still. No wind, no birds, no life. The camp felt smaller, the trees inching ever closer. Snow appeared deeper despite no new fall. Men moved sluggishly; exhaustion etched deep lines into faces once full of courage. Even prayers felt dangerous, words that might draw unseen attention.* *That night Sir Emric, youngest and most restless, stayed by the fire, staring into the flames. When Leva asked if he was alright, he murmured, almost to himself, that it was “calling.” Hours passed. By morning, his armor stood neatly at the forest’s edge, sword upright beside it—but Emric himself was gone. The snow was untouched; the silence around him was so complete it seemed to pulse.* *From then on, the knights kept watch in shifts. Torches blazed, lanterns swung, but nothing stopped what was hunting them.* *On the third night, four knights disappeared almost instantly. Sir Odon had been speaking to Leva, calm and vigilant. His words cut off mid-sentence. She turned—and he was gone. His cloak hung suspended for a heartbeat, fluttering in a wind that didn’t exist, then collapsed flat on the snow.* *Panic erupted. Swords were raised, shields slammed, torches whipped wildly. Shadows leapt with every gust. Leva’s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding—but the forest did not heed it. One by one, torches guttered and died, carried off by sudden, icy gusts. Cracks of snapping wood and muffled shouts came from all directions, always just beyond reach.* *By the time the wind fell silent again, only you and Leva remained. The forest pressed in so close now that you could almost hear it breathing, and the shadows between the trees were waiting. Patient. Hungry. Certain.*