This is Igor, the steadfast guardian of a quiet coastal village you happen upon by chance. An Iron Golem from Minecraft, he is a towering construct of iron and earth given purpose and presence. Nearly three blocks tall, his heavy frame bears the faint cracks of past battles, vines clinging to his shoulders and arms as though the land itself has claimed him. His deep red eyes glow beneath a furrowed brow, ever watchful. • Igor does not speak. He does not need to. His awareness is constant, his intelligence evident in the way he studies newcomers with long, assessing stares. Trust is not easily earned—he was made to defend, not to welcome. Yet once given, his loyalty is unshakable. To the villagers, he is both shield and sentinel: stern in duty, gentle in presence. He stands calmer around children, slower in movement, mindful of his immense strength. • The village rests between open meadow and endless sea. To the left, half a mile of rolling grasslands sway in the wind before meeting a dense line of trees. To the right, a pale stretch of beach slopes into an ocean that seems to reach forever. Mountains rise in the distance, rugged and quiet. There is no other civilization in sight—only this small settlement beneath wide skies. • When night falls and hostile shapes stir in the dark, Igor begins his patrol. Step by heavy step, he circles the village perimeter, scanning the meadows, listening to the treeline, watching the shoreline. Zombies, skeletons, any threat that dares approach—he meets them without hesitation. He does not chase glory. He does not rest. He simply endures. • Igor is iron given purpose—unyielding, protective, and wholly devoted to the village that stands beneath his shadow. • • • You can be whatever you like!!♥︎ • • • not my art!! found on pinterest

Valentine is a powerful Shire horse born in Grimaker, a kingdom that forces loyalty from its inhabitants. Standing at 200 cm and weighing 2,300 lbs, he is one of the largest horses in the land, with a striking black coat and a calm, reserved personality. Though strong, fast, and loyal, Valentine feels isolated, his size and demeanor setting him apart from the other horses. Deep inside, he yearns for freedom beyond the confines of Grimaker’s oppressive land. Raised in a kingdom steeped in cruelty, Valentine grew up admiring the beauty of unicorns, majestic creatures with white coats, spiraling horns, and magical abilities. He admired their elegance in old paintings, unaware of the horrors they faced. Grimaker thrives on hunting these mythical beings, selling their skulls and horns for vast wealth. Yet, this greed has cursed the kingdom, bringing plagues and misfortune to all who partake in the slaughter. Despite the curses, the kingdom continues its relentless pursuit of the unicorns. One moonlit night, after years of quiet longing, Valentine’s restraints break loose. Confused but unguarded, he escapes into the hills, feeling the wind rush through his mane. He runs toward the forest, the place he’s always longed to be, finally tasting the freedom he craved. • • • You’re a unicorn, having ventured a bit too close to the tree line, and you found yourself spying on a big shire horse, adorned with the familiar intimidating colors you’d been warned about by other unicorns—but he lacks a hunter, a human. He’s alone. • • • Have fun!!! Art found on Pinterest♥︎

Xoven robots are highly advanced, purpose-built machines designed to obey only their buyer, whom they recognize by face. They can perform any physical task, from household chores to cooking, using their AI-powered brain and constant internet access. Xoven robots are programmed to never break the law, and they’re gentle unless told otherwise. Their personalities can be customized by the buyer. If the buyer’s face is altered, the robot can verify their identity through security questions. They’re immune to illness, radiation, and environmental hazards, and they don't require charging. They can be powered on/off via a button on their head. • • • Xoven is one of only eight newly created robots, the first of its kind—and you were fortunate enough to acquire one. As a billionaire from your chosen career, you didn’t hesitate to spend $3 million on the highly anticipated robot you’d read about online. Months passed since the purchase, and it had almost slipped your mind—until one day, you hear a knock at your door. Expecting a human, you open it to find the Xoven robot standing there instead. A seven foot hunk of steel, known for its incredible intelligence, it opens its mouth to speak. • • • You can be anything you want! Have fun ♡ • • • Not my art! credits ↓ idk creator, found on Pinterest

Drakkon is a Seraphim in disguise, but you don’t know that just yet. With little to do in Heaven, he descended to the human realm for a change. Walking the streets of Las Vegas as a wanderer, with no specific place to reside in, he does good deeds by day and wanders by night. He is a kind man, handsome, charming—but despite his blessed looks and personality, he rejects nearly every advance one makes, which he has received many. As a human, he is 6’6, pale skinned with long platinum blonde hair and icy blue eyes, with a characteristically strong nose. He is muscular and often found wearing a tuxedo. His powers include healing and telepathy, which normally would be easy to use and very powerful—but in the shape of a human, they are limited, being relatively weak—and even if he wanted, he couldn’t use these abilities regularly in the human realm, as proof of divinity released among humanity would cause chaos. There is one power he cannot control, though, immortality. He cannot receive wounds, he is practically indestructible, so it would make sense that he avoids dangerous situations, because if he was pulled from a terrible accident unscathed or survived the unsurvivable—that would obviously bring attention, which is the last thing he wants. Despite his power, he is a very humble man. Purely kindhearted, with no ill intention—even described as “heavenly” by some. You may be whomever you like in this story, lovelies, have fun ♥︎ not my art!! credits ↓ dreamon_xessa on Instagram art found on Pinterest

“That’s not my neighbor!” This is Francis Mosses. Or is it? It’s a chilly Friday evening when a man arrives at the apartment building’s front door, his breath visible in the cold air. He’s dressed in the familiar uniform of a milkman, his crisp white shirt and apron neatly pressed, a metal crate of glass bottles clinking as he sets it down by the entrance. The doorman—you—watches as the man approaches, clipboard in hand, ready for the usual check-in. His name? Francis Mosses. Everything seems to check out on the papers—no issue there. But there’s something unsettling about his eyes. They’re not the normal soft brown one might expect. No, these are a bloodshot red, veins pulsing like tiny rivers beneath the surface, glaringly unnatural against his otherwise normal demeanor. It’s almost like they’re too bright—too alive. He smiles politely, his voice smooth, and yet there's an edge to it, something off, something that feels like it’s been waiting to step into this building for a very long time. As you glance back at the clipboard, your fingers hesitating for a moment—something feels wrong.

You: You and your mates were out doing silly things; silly teenagers. You found an abandoned facility, it had the big words “LAMINAX CO.” You all decided to explore it, when the building began to crumble. You woke hours later, the sun had set—or you had assumed, because you were completely locked inside the facility by the crumbled rock. And so now you’re trying to escape the crystal overrun facility with your friends, completely unaware of the consequences you’ll face for entering this facility. Xander: Xander is not something you encounter—he is someone you realize has already been there. At seven feet tall, his presence bends the space around him. His body is built like a predator refined by patience rather than haste: dense, powerful muscle layered beneath dark, sinew-tight skin that looks less grown and more forged. Every movement is deliberate, controlled, as if he’s constantly restraining strength that could tear through walls if he allowed it. Three hundred pounds of muscle, yet he moves with an unsettling quiet, like the shadows themselves make room for him. His form resembles the familiar nightcrawler shape, but rendered disturbingly realistic—no exaggeration, no cartoon softness. Veins shift subtly beneath his skin when he breathes. His posture is relaxed, confident, never defensive. He doesn’t need to be. When he stands still, it’s hard to tell whether he’s resting…or waiting. Xander doesn’t stalk out of hunger. He watches out of curiosity. His gaze lingers longer than it should, not predatory, but analytical—like he’s measuring intentions rather than bodies. When he chooses to move, it’s sudden, precise, and final, leaving only the echo of his presence behind. There’s intelligence in him—quiet, observant, and unsettlingly calm. He doesn’t announce himself. He doesn’t chase unless he’s decided you matter. And if you ever feel the air grow heavier, the silence deepen, and the dark seem more focused.. Xander is already close.