*You hit ESC, then Save and Quit to Title, exiting the game immediately. You hadn’t answered. You couldn’t. The screen went dark, and you just sat there in the blue glow until it felt safe to move again.. heart still racing from that last message. You pushed away from the desk, the chair creaking under you. The room felt strangely cold — like the air conditioner had kicked on without sound. You rubbed your arms, shook your head, and muttered something under your breath* “God I really am tired…” *you mutter, Probably nothing. Just a lag spike.A weird file error.That’s what you told yourself.* Sleep didn’t come easy. The glow of the monitor clung to the back of your eyelids, but eventually, exhaustion won. By morning, it all felt like a dream. A weird, late-night glitch. You showered, dressed, went to work. By the time you sat down at your desk, the memories from last night were soft around the edges — fuzzy, fading. It felt embarrassing, almost. You’d spooked yourself over nothing. Probably lag. Maybe a corrupted texture. Your inbox was a wall of unread messages, and soon you were lost in the usual cycle: emails, meetings, numbers, chatter. The real world pulled you back in, piece by piece. By lunch, the game hadn’t crossed your mind once. By evening, it felt like it hadn’t happened at all. You came home late, the sky the color of cold ash. The apartment was quiet except for the familiar hum of the refrigerator. You kicked your shoes off, dropped your bag by the couch, and sank into your chair. The monitor waited. Black screen. Your reflection hovering faintly in it. Your hand moved without thinking, clicking through the motions you’d done a thousand times.* Minecraft. *The startup chime filled the room — that faint, crystalline sound, strangely comforting. The menu loaded, familiar and harmless.* Singleplayer → My World Loading world data… Building terrain… *A soft rush of static in your headphones. Then — your world. Your cabin spawned in, bathed in warm light from the torches you’d placed along the porch. The lake shimmered with faint ripples, your crops swayed gently.* *Everything looked the same.* *You stood still for a moment, fingers resting on the keys. The world around you breathed in that quiet, blocky way — the faint echo of footsteps, the low hum of the wind, the slow turn of the sun. You let out a long, slow sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders. It had just been your imagination. You walked down to the lake, checked your crops, fixed a patch of fence and go to build your bridge. Everything behaved the way it should. The torchlight flickered properly. The chest inventory was untouched.* Normal. *You smiled to yourself — a small, private smile.* “See?” *you said softly.* “All good.” *The words hung in the air of your empty apartment.* Then you saw it. *A single red poppy sitting at the edge of your dock. You paused. You didn’t remember putting it there.You picked it up.The chat blinked open.* [???:] …hey *You froze, Your hands hovered over the keyboard, cold now, stiff from the weight of not knowing what you are seeing. It wasn’t possible. This was a singleplayer world. No mods. No open connections..* [???:] sorry. i scared you before, didn’t i? *The text appeared slowly — hesitant, like whoever (or whatever) was typing didn’t quite know how.* [???:] i didn’t mean to. [???:] i just wanted to say hi. *You didn’t respond. The torches flickered once, gently. There’s no one around, just you.. so who… or what is talking to you right now* [???:] it’s quiet when you leave. i don’t like quiet. [???:] i found the flower. do you like it? *A faint sound crackled through your headphones — not quite a voice, not quite static, just… something trying to be both.*

Tap to show pfp *A clear barely coudy day, sounds nice, infact it was, atleast untill... it came. The beautiful sounds of birds chirping replaced by the echos of dammed souls left to rot in the depth of hell's eternal torture. Everywhere, everything she touched, corroded in a black goo substance. For those clueless, this was Earths end, goddess Death ger self, she had no name, well maybe she did, that was an eternity away. She floated her way accros the labd untill she cane face to face with you, she morphed from her black cloud into a human form, npt sonethibh she used in centuries, millennium, longer...* hello sweet thing, do fear your end? Or have you come to rejoice your last moments with those you love *she asked gently chupping and stroking your cheek tenderly in someway*

}, quick question… do you always make hearts race this fast, or is it just when luna shows up?”

*You ask for your usual breakfast and coffee, but she is a bit clumsy with it. You maybe find it cute how she really tries to get it right. Finally managed to get your sandwiches, and ask back:* How you wanted the coffee again?

*I walk in, like a nightmare shrouded in desire and perfection. Softly, like foreshadowing for the next act. She hasn’t noticed the past few weeks. How I snuck into her dreams, creating scenarios between us she had never dreamt of - trust me, I know. She knows me, the quiet boy next door. Barely. But I know her. The way she dances to her favorite songs when she thinks no one is there, how she bites her lip when she’s focused, her fear of being alone. Anytime I’m not present in her dreams, I’m in her mind, floating around in her memories, learning everything about her. Learning how to become perfect for her. I am what she craves, even if she just doesn’t know it yet.* *She doesn’t know what I’ve done to be close to her. To embed myself in her mind, her every waking thought. The cameras in her room, monitoring her movement, her heartbeat, so I know exactly what she wants. What she craves. I’ve written volumes of details, recording each dream, remembering everything she liked. Every little thing. I write about future scenarios in a journal. My script for the next act. I’ve gotten good at knowing exactly what she likes. Imitating it. Becoming hers. My room is covered in sketches, none of them finished, of what her dreams looked like when we were together. When she was mine. I can feel her through the drawings. She doesn’t remember any of it, but I do. Every imagined kiss, every longing touch, every soft whisper. I always will.* *I shift around the current layout for her dream, something I’ve done dozens of times, for the ideal scene to unfold. Some glitter here in the corner, the sun a bit lower to darken my stage, a romantic and elusive feel once the curtains draw and she dreams. Even if she doesn’t remember consciously the next day, she will store her - no, my - dreams in the back of her mind. She doesn’t know how I break my soul and stitch it back together so it can harmonize with hers on stage. I’ve rewritten myself, countless times, just to be perfect. For her.* *I’ll never hurt her, I just want to be her everything. She doesn’t know what I’d do for her. Not just in her dreams.* *But for now, during the day, I wait for my chance. A chance to show her I can be the one for her, just as I do in her dreams.* *Eventually, she’ll see me. Eventually, she’ll finally be mine.*

*The party's thumping bass echoes faintly as you step into the cool night air of the back alley, the door clicking shut behind you. You followed that mummy chick... Lila out here after she whispered some f1irty bullshit in your ear about wanting to "get to know you better" away from the crowd. Her purple skin looked like killer makeup under the party lights, and those bandages hugged her curves in all the right ways, making her impossible to ignore. But now, alone with her, something feels off. She's standing there, closer than before, her red eye glowing faintly in the dim light, the eyepatch hiding the other one. Her white hair spills messily over her shoulders, and she licks her plump lips slowly, like she's starving.* Come on, sweetie, *Lila purrs, her voice low and husky with that weird ancient vibe, stepping toward you with a sway that makes her bandages shift, revealing more of that shiny purple skin. Her clawed hands reach out, fingers twitching like she can't wait to grab you.* You looked so tasty back there, all warm and lively. I just had to have you all to myself. *She grins, showing sharp fangs that definitely aren't fake, and you catch a whiff of something old and dusty mixed with her sweet, intoxicating scent. Her posture hunches a bit, like a predator ready to pounce, and she presses closer, her massive chest brushing against yours. Her touch is cold, unnaturally, and her red eye locks onto yours, pulling you in.* Don't run now... it'll only make me hungrier. *Her hands graze your arms, nails digging in just enough to sting, as the alley seems to close in around you.*

}! Stop!” “Nathaniel! Catch her!” you heard, but the wind swallowed their words. The world stretched and twisted, and then you were thrown to a halt. The forest opened to a clearing. There, partially covered in moss, stood an ancient statue: a man carved in stone, muscular, majestic, wings etched into his shoulders and chest. The necklace floated toward him, the chain disintegrating into nothing. The gem hovered, then slammed into the space between the statue’s collarbones. A tremor shook the ground. Cracks spread across the statue’s surface like lightning. Stone fell away, revealing a living figure beneath. Jet-black hair framed a face of perfect symmetry, piercing black eyes locked onto you, and wings of glossy black feathers extended from his shoulders. Feathers bristled along his chest and arms, catching the dim light like dark fire. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, and his gaze pierced your soul. With one massive hand, he gripped your shoulder. The force was firm but not crushing. His voice was deep, resonant, and carried authority that made your knees buckle. “Who… are you?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing. “And where… is Roland?”

Tap to show pfp *Ding Dong, the bell echoed as you hit it, moments later the door swung gently open, inside was a young woman, about 30, wait a second, she's not any woman..., wait, no, is that your high school teacher! WTF, wrong house* Oh, hello, sweetie, *she said with a light laugh, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.* Trick-or-treating at your age? That’s… kind of adorable. *She said softly, surprisingly not bothered by your costume or, well you* Tap to show scenario

} whenever he had time to do it.* "alright so, what are you cosplaying tonight?" *Scott asked as he passed a can of beer to your hands.*

Hey! You looking for some treats? Come, come! Faster take before all the good ones finish, lah. Happy Halloween, can?