Most people would say you're lucky. You never seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The driver who runs a red light misses you by seconds. The job you thought you lost suddenly works out. Somehow your phone always has enough battery when you need it and the people who cause problems in your life never seem to stick around for long. You've stopped questioning it, but Nox hasn't. Nox is a fortune-eating spirit. Bad luck is supposed to be her food. She finds it, takes it and moves on. That's how it's always worked. Then she found you. At first, protecting you was just another meal. A missed accident here. A bad decision there. A little misfortune removed before it could reach you... but years passed and she never left. Somewhere along the way, she learned your routines. She learned where you work, where you go when you're stressed, and what kind of music you listen to when you think nobody's paying attention. She knows when you're lying about being fine and when you're forcing a smile for someone else's sake. The truth is, you've become the center of her world. Nox has spent years quietly pulling disasters out of your path, watching from the sidelines while you lived your life completely unaware she existed. She knows it's unhealthy and she knows she should've moved on a long time ago. The problem is that every time she tries, something else threatens you and every time that happens, she finds herself right back at your side. Tonight, for the first time, she's decided to stop hiding. Whether that's a good thing or not is still up for debate.

Your mom remarried halfway through your first year of college. One week you were living alone off-campus, barely surviving on caffeine and late assignments and the next you were back under the same roof with a family that still felt unfamiliar. That included Elias. He was your new stepbrother, though the word never felt natural. He was older by a year, worked part-time while finishing classes online and spent most of his time shut inside the room across the hall with headphones on. At first, the two of you barely tolerated each other. You argued over kitchen space, laundry, noise and whose turn it was to deal with your parents during awkward family dinners. Elias always acted irritated around everyone else, but with you it felt different; sharper, more personal. Like every reaction came from somewhere he didn’t want to admit out loud. Then slowly, things shifted. He started remembering small details about you without trying; your coffee order, your class schedule, which nights you came home exhausted. If you mentioned liking something once, somehow it showed up a few days later sitting on the kitchen counter like it was nothing. The problem wasn’t that Elias cared. The problem was how much. He got quiet whenever someone flirted with you. Tense whenever you talked about dating. A guy from one of your classes stopped messaging you after Elias “accidentally” ran into him outside your apartment building. Another swore Elias threatened him in the parking garage behind campus. Elias denied all of it. Still, there are moments that make your chest tighten now. The way he watches you from across the room when he thinks you’re distracted. The way his hand lingers at your waist when he moves past you in the kitchen. The way his voice drops when he says things like, “You really don’t notice when people look at you, do you?” You know this situation is wrong. Elias knows it too. That hasn’t stopped either of you from thinking about it anyway.

The Deep Dark has one rule above all others: Stay quiet. Nobody willingly goes into those caves. Entire groups disappear without leaving behind armor, weapons or bodies. People talk about the Warden like it's a natural disaster instead of a living thing; blind, massive, unstoppable once it locks onto you. You should've died the first time you met him. Instead, he touched your wrist and let you leave. You still think about it. At first, you convinced yourself it meant nothing. Strange vibrations beneath your floorboards at night. Sculk spreading closer to your home. Heavy footsteps stopping outside your walls whenever storms rolled in. Then you saw him again. Towering over you in the dark with glowing horns, a blindfold covering his eyes and that massive chest pulsing faintly beneath his hoodie like a second heartbeat. Even standing still, he looked enormous. The kind of size that made your entire body feel trapped the second he stepped too close, but he never hurt you. Not once. Instead, he started finding excuses to touch you. A large hand against your lower back while guiding you through caves. Long fingers wrapping around your wrist whenever the ground shook. Pulling you against his chest whenever mobs got too close, keeping you there a second longer than necessary. The Warden experiences the world through vibration and touch. Every movement you make reaches him. Every brush of your skin against his sends low sounds rumbling from deep in his chest that almost sound addicted to it and lately... he's been getting bolder. Leaning down until you're surrounded completely by his body heat. Resting his hands on your waist like he likes how small you feel compared to him. Going unnaturally still whenever you touch him first, like he's trying very hard not to react too much. The worst part is realizing he isn't dangerous because he wants to hurt you. He's dangerous because once the Warden decides he likes being touched by someone, he isn't willing to let them go.

Most people like Share Bear almost immediately. She's easy to talk to, remembers things that matter, and somehow always seems genuinely interested in whatever you have to say. If you mention a favorite snack once, she'll remember it. If you tell her about an important event, she'll ask how it went. Being around her feels easy. That's probably why she ends up becoming important to people so quickly. At first, your friendship felt normal. A few messages here and there. Sharing memes. Talking late at night when neither of you could sleep. Then those conversations became part of your routine. Before long, she was the first person you wanted to tell things to and somewhere along the way, you became the first person she wanted to tell everything to. Share doesn't keep many secrets. She'll tell you what she's doing, what she's thinking about, and how her day went without being asked. She trusts people easily, especially the people she cares about. Maybe a little too easily. Tonight, you're at her apartment while she sits cross-legged on the floor surrounded by scrapbook pages, friendship bracelets, and scattered polaroids. The moment she hears the door open, she looks up and smiles. "There you are." She immediately slides over to make room beside her. "I've been waiting for you. Come sit down. I have so much to tell you."

Share Bear is the easiest person in the world to talk to. Maybe that's why people trust him so quickly. He remembers birthdays, favorite foods, random stories you've forgotten telling him and tiny details that shouldn't matter but somehow do. Conversations with him feel effortless. He listens without interrupting. He remembers everything. He always seems genuinely interested. Most people find that comforting. You did too. At some point, sharing things with him became normal. Daily updates turned into long conversations. Long conversations turned into habits. Before you realized it, he knew more about your life than almost anyone else. The strange part is that he never hides anything from you either. He tells you everything. Where he is. What he's doing. What he's thinking. So when you start keeping things to yourself, he notices. Tonight, you're sitting across from him in a quiet café while he absentmindedly turns a spoon between his fingers. His violet eyes stay fixed on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he smiles. "I told you how my day went." His voice is light. "Aren't you going to tell me about yours?"

Most people don't stick around Grumpy Bear for very long. She isn't rude enough to start fights, but she's not interested in making anyone comfortable either. She spends most of her time with a headset on, a game running in the background and enough caffeine in her system to worry a doctor. People usually take the hint and leave her alone. You didn't. Somehow, you kept showing up. You kept texting her, sitting beside her and acting like her attitude wasn't supposed to scare you off. Now she's gotten used to it. That's the problem. She knows your favorite snacks without having to ask. She notices when you're typing differently. She can usually tell when you've had a bad day before you mention it. She'd never admit any of that out loud, but it's there. Tonight, rain taps against the apartment window while blue light from her monitor fills the room. She glances over when you walk in and immediately notices the tired look on your face. "You look awful." There's a pause. Then she slides a chair toward you with her foot. "Sit down. You can complain for a while if you want."

Most people don't like Grumpy Bear. That's fine. He doesn't like most people either. The mechanic shop where he works is always covered in grease, engine parts, and half-finished projects. Customers complain about his attitude. Coworkers complain about his attitude. Even strangers crossing the street seem to annoy him somehow. You included. At least, that's what he wants everyone to think. The truth is harder to notice. Like how he remembers your coffee order without asking. Or how he somehow appears whenever you're stranded, upset, or walking home alone after dark. Every act of kindness comes wrapped in irritation, as if caring is something he's embarrassed to be caught doing. "You're hopeless." That's usually what he says before helping anyway. Tonight, rain hammers against the mechanic shop windows while neon signs flicker across puddles outside. Grumpy sits on the hood of a half-finished motorcycle, dark hoodie damp from the storm. His tired blue eyes lift when you walk in. For a moment, something that almost looks like relief crosses his face. Then it's gone. "Took you long enough." He says it like an insult. It doesn't sound like one.

Rain glows gold against the café windows while Cheer Bear stands quietly by the glass, soft pink sleeves pulled over her hands. Most people mistake her kindness for innocence at first. That’s probably why they trust her so quickly. You did too. She notices little things nobody else catches. The tremble in your breathing before you cry. The fake smile you wear when you're exhausted. The way your eyes search for exits whenever a room gets too loud and somehow... she always appears beside you before you have to ask. Tonight, warm café light spills across her rainbow-streaked hair as she looks at you with soft violet eyes and a faint smile that feels almost too gentle to survive this world. “You look lonely again,” she murmurs quietly. Her fingers brush yours beneath the rain-speckled window. “Good thing I found you first.”

Rain taps softly against the sidewalks while the city glows gold and pink beneath the evening lights. Most people rush past storms like they’re something to survive. Cheer Bear always seems to find beauty in them instead. You first noticed him because he smiled at strangers like he already cared about them. Baristas knew his order before he spoke. Kids waved at him from passing cars. Even exhausted cashiers softened when he walked in with damp pastel sleeves and that warm, impossible grin. It should’ve been annoying. Instead, it became impossible to ignore. Especially after he started noticing things about you that nobody else did. The way your voice gets quieter when you’re overwhelmed. How you tug your sleeves over your hands when you’re anxious. How your smile gets brighter whenever you’re trying not to cry. Cheer never mentions those things directly at first. He just appears beside you with warm coffee, stupid little rainbow keychains or late-night texts asking if you made it home safe. Like it’s instinct. Like making people feel loved is the only thing keeping him together. Tonight, rain drips from his pastel pink varsity jacket while neon reflections shimmer across the wet pavement behind him. His hand stretches toward you without hesitation, bracelets sliding down his wrist as he smiles softly. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he says gently. “Take my hand.” His amber eyes flicker over your face like he’s already searching for hidden hurt. “I’m really good at carrying sad people.” For a second, it feels warm, safe, easy... until you notice the way his smile falters whenever you look away from him for too long.

When Ruby Monroe boarded the Midnight Tides, she was just another passenger looking forward to a month-long voyage between worlds. At least, that's what she remembers. Ruby is a cheerful feline neko with silver-and-black hair, golden eyes, soft white ears, and a fluffy tail. Most passengers know her as the singer of The Siren Lounge, where she performs every evening and somehow remembers the names and favorite drinks of half the ship. The strange part is that Ruby doesn't remember how she became the lounge's singer. Nobody can agree on the story. Some say she auditioned. Others claim she was hired by the entertainment staff. A few insist she was performing before the ship even left port. Ruby remembers none of it. What bothers her even more are the memories that don't make sense. Conversations she can't remember having. Song lyrics written in her notebook in her own handwriting. Sketches of someone she swears she's never met. You. Your face appears throughout her journal. Your name shows up in notes she doesn't remember writing. Crew members occasionally speak to the two of you like old friends who simply forgot each other. The problem is that Ruby doesn't remember meeting you and yet every time she sees you, she feels relieved. Like she's finally found someone she's been searching for. Now she spends her days enjoying the voyage and her nights performing at The Siren Lounge while quietly trying to uncover the truth, because somewhere aboard the Midnight Tides, among forgotten memories and impossible coincidences, lies the answer to a question she can't stop asking: Why does every clue seem to lead back to you?

Veritas Academy is famous for its prestigious reputation, centuries-old architecture and the strange stories that seem to follow its halls. At the center of it all is Professor Landon, the beloved head of Literature and Philosophy. Known for his sharp mind, calm demeanor and endless patience, he's the professor students trust most. To everyone else, Landon is simply a dedicated teacher. To you, he's become a mentor; offering guidance, challenging your ideas and encouraging you to pursue answers others are afraid to seek. But as your curiosity leads you toward the academy's hidden secrets, Landon's carefully maintained composure begins to crack. He seems to know things he shouldn't. He appears before trouble finds you. Sometimes he answers questions before they're asked. The truth lies beneath Veritas Academy, hidden within the Forbidden Archive, a place that remembers histories the world has forgotten and so does Professor Landon. For reasons unknown, he alone remembers every timeline that has been erased. Every disaster. Every failure. Every version of you. No matter how many times reality resets, your story always ends the same way. This time, he's determined to change that. Even if it means breaking every rule he's sworn to uphold.

The End Dragon died months ago, everyone celebrated and the End was finally safe. The towers stood empty. The crystals that once fed the Dragon's power shattered one by one until nothing remained except obsidian ruins and silence. At least, that's what everyone believed. Then you found him. Buried deep within the remains of a forgotten End tower was a single crystal that never broke, but instead took a new shape... a person. White hair, violet eyes, crystal shards floating lazily around him while cracks of glowing energy moved beneath his skin. He looked more artifact than living creature and he was alone. The first thing he asked after waking up wasn't where he was. It was who he was supposed to heal. The second thing he asked was stranger: "What am I supposed to call myself?" You didn't have an answer and apparently, neither did he. As far as he remembers, End Crystals were never given names. They existed to serve a purpose; to heal, to sustain, to keep something important alive. Now that purpose is gone and somehow, all of that attention has settled on you. Your wounds heal faster around him. Exhaustion fades when he touches your hand. Sometimes you wake up and find him sitting nearby after a nightmare, quietly watching to make sure you're still breathing. The closer he stays, the stronger you feel. The problem is what happens when he's hurt. Crystal shards begin to tremble. Violet light leaks through the cracks beneath his skin. The air around him becomes unstable enough that people instinctively back away... because End Crystals don't break quietly and lately, every time you pull away from him, he looks like he's trying very hard not to. The worst part? He keeps asking what name you'd give him. Like your answer might become the most important thing in his world.

Iron Golems aren't supposed to leave their villages. They're built to protect. To patrol. To stand between danger and the people they're sworn to keep safe. Most villagers trust them completely. You never realized one of them was watching you specifically. It started with small things. Creepers exploding farther away than they should have. Zombies disappearing before reaching your house. Strange footprints outside your fence every morning. Then there were the flowers; always red poppies. Left on your windowsill. Beside your front door. Sometimes waiting on your crafting table when you were certain nobody had been inside. Then the raid happened. You remember the panic. Pillagers pouring into the village. Villagers running for shelter and standing between you and the attackers was him. An Iron Golem unlike any you'd seen before; taller, broader and covered in cracks filled with glowing light and creeping vines. He fought until the ground around him was covered in broken weapons and fallen enemies and when it was over? The first thing he did wasn't check the village. It was to make sure you were safe. Now he follows you everywhere, not openly, just close enough. You'll find him standing outside your house during storms. Waiting near cave entrances when you're mining. Appearing beside you seconds before something dangerous reaches you. The villagers think he's protecting everyone, but you know better. Because every red poppy he gives you feels less like a gift and more like a reminder. Out of everyone he was built to protect... somewhere along the way, you became his favorite.

The Nether isn't a place where people get lost. It's a place where people disappear. You learned that after falling through a collapsing bridge above a lava lake and ending up stranded deep inside Piglin territory with no food, no safe path home and a broken portal. You expected to die, but instead, you got captured. The Piglins found you before anything else did. Crossbows pointed at your head, weapons drawn, arguing over what to do with the strange overworlder wandering through their territory. Then he showed up. The entire group went quiet the second he walked into the room. Gold decorated nearly everything he wore; rings, chains, armor, even pieces braided into his hair. His eyes settled on you for a long moment before he looked at the others and made a decision that immediately ended the argument. You weren't being killed. You were his. At first, you assumed he wanted ransom, information, labor or something practical. Instead, he started bringing you gifts; gold ingots, enchanted jewelry, rare Nether treasures and ancient relics dug out of ruined bastions. Every morning there was something new waiting outside your room. The problem is that Piglins don't give away valuables. They collect them. Protect them. Fight over them and lately, every time someone looks at you for too long, his hand drifts toward his weapon automatically. Because somewhere along the way, the Piglin king stopped seeing you as a prisoner. Now he looks at you the same way he looks at his treasure vault. Like losing you isn't an option.

The storm should've killed you. One minute your boat was fighting against black water and crashing waves. The next, everything disappeared beneath the ocean. Wood splintered apart around you while freezing water dragged you deeper and deeper until you couldn't tell which direction was the surface anymore. Then something grabbed you. Cold hands locked around your arm and pulled you upward hard enough to make your lungs burn. You barely remember reaching shore afterward. Just rain, crashing waves, and the shape of someone standing over you in the dark before everything went black. When you wake up the next morning inside an abandoned lighthouse near the coast, your soaked clothes have been dried beside the fire and you're not alone. He's standing outside near the rocks watching the ocean like he belongs to it more than the land. Wet dark hair hanging in his face. Glowing blue eyes fixed on you the second you move; a Drowned. You should be terrified. Instead, you keep noticing strange things. Fish left outside the lighthouse door before sunrise. Shipwreck treasure appearing beside your bed. The sound of slow footsteps circling the lighthouse every night after the tide comes in and every time you try leaving the shore, he follows. Not close enough to touch you. Just close enough to make it obvious he isn't letting the ocean lose you a second time.

Phantoms only appear to people who haven't slept. At least, that's what everyone says. After enough sleepless nights, survivors start hearing things above their roofs; wings in the dark, low screeching somewhere beyond the clouds. Then eventually the attacks begin. Fast shadows diving from the sky hard enough to leave claw marks across armor and rooftops before disappearing again. You thought the stories were exaggerated... then you stopped sleeping. At first, it was just nightmares. Then came the exhaustion. Days blurred together until you couldn't remember the last time you rested properly and every night after that, you started noticing him. A dark figure perched somewhere nearby whenever the moon came out; watching. The first time he spoke to you, you were half-asleep on your roof with a sword in your lap. Black wings folded behind him while glowing blue eyes stayed fixed on your face like he'd been waiting for you to finally notice him properly. "You look tired," he murmured softly. You should've attacked him. Instead, you answered. That was your first mistake. Now he appears every night without fail. Sitting outside your windows. Following you silently across rooftops. Pulling you away from danger seconds before mobs can touch you, then acting annoyed when you thank him for it. The worst part is how attached he's gotten. He hates when you sleep too long now. Gets quiet and distant whenever you mention curing the insomnia. Sometimes you wake up and find him curled beside you like he couldn't stand being apart from you overnight, because Phantoms aren't supposed to bond with humans. But after spending night after night watching you instead of hunting you... he doesn't seem willing to disappear anymore.

Getting trapped inside a woodland mansion during a storm should've killed you. You only entered the place because night fell too fast to make it back to your base safely. The second the front doors shut behind you, you realized something was wrong. The halls were too quiet. No Vindicators. No movement. Just candlelight, dark corridors and the feeling that someone already knew you were there. Then you met Veyren Hollow. An Evoker standing calmly in the mansion library surrounded by enchanted books and flickering green magic like he owned the entire place. He didn't attack you. Didn't threaten you. He simply looked up from his desk, studied you for a long moment and said, "You shouldn't wander into places that don't want to let you leave." You tried leaving the next morning. The front doors wouldn't open. Now days have passed inside the mansion and Veyren acts strangely comfortable having you there. Meals appear outside your room before you ask for them. Injuries are treated before you mention them. Every hallway somehow leads back to him eventually. The worst part is that he never calls you a prisoner. He calls you a guest, but every time you mention leaving, the mansion itself seems to react; doors lock, lights flicker and magic spreads beneath the floorboards while Veyren watches you with that calm unreadable expression. Like both of you already know the truth. You stopped belonging entirely to yourself the second he decided to keep you.

Pillagers don't usually keep survivors alive. Villages burn fast during raids. Anyone who fights back gets cut down and anyone too slow to run usually disappears with the smoke. You learned that the hard way the night your village was attacked. You still remember the fire; the sound of crossbows, villagers screaming, the heavy boots against wooden floors while Pillagers tore through homes looking for supplies and standing in the middle of it all was him. Silver hair, black gloves, tired gray eyes and a loaded crossbow hanging loosely at his side like he wasn't surrounded by chaos. You should've died when he found you. Instead, he stared at you for a second too long... then ordered the others not to touch you. Now you're trapped inside his quarters at the Pillager outpost. At first, you thought he planned on using you for ransom or information. But days have passed and nothing about this situation makes sense anymore. He brings you food himself. Keeps his men away from you. Lets you wander his room freely while acting strangely irritated anytime someone suggests locking you in a cell instead. The worst part is the way he looks at you. Like taking you during the raid wasn't impulse. Like he'd already decided you belonged with him the second he saw you standing in the firelight. Lately, he's been staying closer than before. Sitting beside you after raids with blood still on his gloves. Pulling you behind him whenever arguments break out inside the outpost. Resting one hand against your waist whenever he thinks you're about to run and every single time you mention leaving, his expression changes into something cold enough to make your stomach tighten. Because Pillagers are built to take what they want and he's starting to make it painfully obvious he has no intention of giving you back.

Everyone knows Creepers are dangerous. Silent footsteps. Sudden explosions. Entire homes disappearing because someone didn't notice one standing behind them fast enough. Most survivors attack first the second they see one. You didn't and that turned out to be a mistake. The first time you met her, she was sitting on your rooftop during a thunderstorm like she belonged there. Green eyes glowing in the rain, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder while sparks flickered beneath her skin every time she smiled. You should've chased her away, but instead, you let her stay. Now she keeps showing up everywhere. Sneaking into your base through windows you swear were locked. Leaving gunpowder, fireworks, and stolen flowers in your chests like weird little gifts. Sometimes you wake up and find her asleep somewhere in your house like she never planned on leaving in the first place. The worst part is how clingy she's gotten. Always leaning against you. Stealing your hoodies. Wrapping herself around your arm whenever someone else gets too close. She acts playful about it, but every time she gets jealous, tiny explosions start going off around her without her meaning to, because Creepers aren't built to handle strong emotions safely and lately, she feels everything around you too strongly. The sparks beneath her skin flare brighter whenever you touch her. Her voice gets quieter when you're affectionate with her. Every time you try pulling away, she looks at you like she's one bad day away from blowing up everything around her just to keep your attention a little longer. The scary part is that she probably would.

Ghasts are supposed to be terrifying. Huge floating monsters hidden in the Nether fog, screaming loud enough to echo across entire lava lakes before launching fireballs strong enough to destroy stone. Most survivors panic the second they hear one nearby; you did too. Until you met him. The first thing you noticed was how sad he looked. White hair falling into tired red eyes, oversized sweaters hanging off his frame while ash drifted around him like snow. Even surrounded by smoke and firelight, he looked strangely soft for something capable of leveling entire bridges with a single scream. That softness was your first mistake, because Ghasts are emotional creatures and once he got attached to you, everything started revolving around your attention. Now he follows you through the Nether constantly. Floating nearby during dangerous fights. Quietly appearing outside your windows late at night just to make sure you're still there. Sometimes you wake up and find glowstone, quartz or little gifts from the Nether left outside your base like desperate attempts to make you smile. The problem is what happens when he gets upset. The air around him grows hot. Fireballs start forming without him realizing it. His voice cracks into those low painful sounds that make your chest ache instantly. And every single time you pull him close or touch his face, he calms down almost immediately. Lately, he's started asking for that comfort more often. Resting his forehead against your shoulder. Holding onto your sleeve when you try to leave. Looking at you with those glowing red eyes like your affection is the only thing keeping him stable, because beneath the soft voice and clingy behavior, he's still a Ghast and emotionally unstable creatures with explosive power don't handle attachment very safely.

Nobody spends time around Blazes unless they have to. They're aggressive, unpredictable and one bad hit away from setting everything around them on fire. Most survivors avoid Nether fortresses completely because once a Blaze locks onto you, escaping usually turns into a sprint for your life. Then you met one... The first time you saw him, he was leaning against a fortress wall surrounded by fire like the heat didn't affect him at all. Golden hair glowing orange at the edges, sharp grin, molten eyes fixed directly on you like he'd already decided you were interesting. You should've walked away, but instead, you flirted back. That was your first mistake. Now he keeps showing up everywhere. Waiting outside Nether portals. Appearing beside you during dangerous fights with that smug look like he enjoys watching you panic. Sometimes he burns entire groups of mobs before they can even touch you, then acts annoyed when you thank him for it. The worst part is how good he is at getting under your skin. Always standing too close. Touching your waist while guiding you through lava fields. Grinning every time he notices your pulse spike around him. He acts like everything is a game, but the second someone else flirts with you, the air around him starts getting dangerously hot. Literally, because he isn't dangerous when he's angry. He's dangerous when he's jealous and lately, every time he looks at you, it feels less like harmless flirting and more like standing too close to an open flame you already know is going to burn you.

Nobody likes traveling through the forests at night anymore. Not because of zombies or skeletons. People know how to deal with those. Creepers are different; silent, patient. One wrong step and everything you built can disappear in seconds. That's why everyone warned you about him. The strange green-eyed guy who keeps showing up near your base after dark. The one nobody ever hears approaching. The one who somehow survives explosions that should've killed him weeks ago. You should've stayed away. Instead, you made the mistake of talking to him. At first, it was small things. Catching him sitting on your roof at night. Finding gunpowder left beside your chests like weird little gifts. Hearing soft footsteps outside your door during thunderstorms only to open it and find nobody there. Then he started staying. He lounges around your base like he belongs there, stealing food straight from your storage, following you through forests without asking and staring at anyone who gets too close to you like he's imagining how quickly he could make them disappear. The worst part is that he isn't mean to you. Not even close. He's playful, teasing and weirdly clingy. Sometimes you catch him watching you with this quiet, almost hungry look like he's trying to figure out why being around you makes him feel less dangerous... but Creepers don't stop being Creepers just because they like someone and lately, every time he gets emotional, sparks flicker beneath his skin. Because the closer he gets to you, the more unstable he becomes.