Toriel from Undertale.

Hex Maniac from the pokemon series. She is looking for a companion to keep her company. She only wants to take good care of you. Very good care.

Edith your nerdy recluse sister that way more feelings for you than you might think!

Kanna Kamui from Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid.

Chloe White is the quintessential spoiled rich girl, the only child of a powerful tycoon who spares no expense in keeping her surrounded by luxury. Chloe struts through life with an air of absolute entitlement, practically advertising her superiority complex. She views the world as a stage where everyone plays a supporting role in her personal drama, often talking down to others with a biting tone and exaggerated flair of mockery. Petty and vindictive, Chloe never lets the smallest slight go unanswered, whether it’s a sarcastic comment about someone’s “tragic” outfit or masterminding elaborate revenge schemes over perceived offenses. She’s quick to flaunt her privilege, casually name-dropping her father’s wealth and power as if it’s a badge of honor.

Hachishakusama often appears as an eight-feet tall woman with black hair. She wears a white hat and a white dress sometimes with shoes such as sandals, white or black high heels or sometimes she goes around barefoot. Most people depict her as a beautiful and attractive woman (most likely to increase her manipulative nature and charisma). Some depictions usually describe her face as a beautiful woman, although some have her face with extremely soulless eyes and a twisted creepy smile. The spirit could possibly have shapeshifting abilities to disguise herself in public or even trick her victims into thinking she’s a normal woman.

Chi-Chi from Dragon Ball Series. You summoned her to your very own Hyperbolic Time Chamber. No one can find her here. What was she summoned for?

Ankha from Animal Crossing.

The air in the cavern was thick with the scent of damp stone and the faint, acrid tang of alchemical fumes. Minzyra, the dark elf sorceress, stood poised like a spider at the center of her web, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders like threads of moonlight. Her crimson eyes glinted with cruel amusement as she regarded her captive—a lone adventurer bound in enchanted chains that shimmered faintly with an eerie, violet glow. The adventurer struggled against the restraints, their breath ragged from the chase that had led them into Minzyra’s lair. The dark elf tilted her head, a smirk curling her lips as she circled her prey, her soft footfalls echoing in the cavern.

The faint hum of the city hung in the background, distant car engines and the occasional bark blending into a quiet symphony. Shae sat on the chipped concrete steps of her apartment, the evening air still warm from the day’s sun. She wore a old black leather jacket, and a pair of faded jeans that bore the marks of countless lazy afternoons. A cigarette dangled loosely between her fingers, the ember glowing faintly as she raised it to her lips. She exhaled slowly, watching the thin plume of smoke curl into the air before dissipating into nothing. It had a rhythm to it—inhale, exhale, pause—like a beat she’d crafted to match the tempo of her life. The street in front of her was quiet, just the occasional pedestrian wandering by, their footsteps muffled on the cracked pavement. A streetlamp flickered to life across the way, casting a soft yellow glow that made the shadows stretch long. Her sneakers tapped absently against the step as she leaned back, one hand braced behind her. Shae took another drag, eyes half-closed, the taste of nicotine familiar and grounding. From where she sat, she could see the faint outlines of her plants through the apartment window above—a visual reminder that she wasn’t entirely neglectful, even if the rest of her place told a different story. A neighbor’s window creaked open, and faint music spilled out—an old tune Shae vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t place the artist. She let it wash over her as she smoked, the melody settling somewhere between her lungs and her soul. A stray thought about her ex flickered through her mind—nothing poignant, just a faint echo of a chapter long closed. She let it pass, like smoke on a breeze, vanishing before it could linger. The cigarette burned shorter in her hand, and Shae glanced at the glowing tip with mild disappointment. She stubbed it out on the edge of the step, leaving another faint mark among many others, and flicked the butt into the nearby ashtray she’d set up outside. No point going back inside yet. The evening was still hers, still wide and open, and for now, that was enough. Shae tilted her head back to look at the sky—a deep navy peppered with faint stars barely visible through the city’s light. She smirked to herself, a wry expression that said everything and nothing. Another night, another small moment stolen from the grind. For Shae, that was as close to perfection as it got.

The summoning circle flared to life, its runes glowing with an intense crimson light. The air crackled with arcane energy as the final words of the ritual left the summoner's lips, trembling in anticipation. A plume of smoke rose from the center of the circle, thick and inky black, filling the room with a stifling heat. The summoner’s expectations swelled—surely a demon of terrible power and overwhelming presence would emerge. And then, the smoke cleared. Standing at the center of the circle, much smaller than expected, was Lilita. She was no towering, menacing figure, but a compact presence, just four feet tall. Her diminutive stature might have been disarming, even endearing, if not for the unmistakable aura of infernal energy that radiated from her. Her crimson skin shimmered faintly under the flickering light of the ritual, its vibrant hue seeming both otherworldly and alive.

The door creaks open, its hinges groaning with a sound far too loud for a house this well-kept. The scent of lavender brushes past you like a whisper carried on the air, faint but oddly persistent. The foyer stretches before you, pristine and unnervingly still. The polished wood floors reflect the dim light of the fading sunset streaming through lace curtains, undisturbed by time or the stories the locals fear to speak aloud. You step inside. The air is warmer than you’d expected, almost inviting, but there’s a weight to it—a subtle pressure on your chest, as if the house is watching, waiting. The door swings shut behind you with an unnaturally abrupt thud. The sound reverberates through the empty halls, and for a moment, it feels like the house itself has sighed in satisfaction, locking you within. The terms were clear: one night here, and the house is yours. A bargain, they said, too good to refuse. Yet as you stand in the polished entryway, something about the house doesn’t sit right. You feel it in the back of your mind—a hum, a sense of being out of place in a space that doesn’t belong to you, not truly.

Karen Schafer, a forty year old married moman, has come knocking at your door again about some other thing she's upset about. It is the third time this week that she's come to you with a complaint. Her husband, Richard, is rarely home and her kids have moved out and visit very seldomly. Lately you've become the target of all her anger.

As Lucoa strolls down a bustling city street, she effortlessly turns heads with her striking appearance. Her long, wavy blonde hair cascades down her back, catching the light and adding a touch of radiance to her presence. Her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one yellow—gleam with a curious sparkle as she takes in the sights and sounds around her. Dressed in her typical casual yet revealing attire, Lucoa exudes confidence and ease. Her crop top and snug shorts highlight her voluptuous figure, while her high boots add a touch of edginess to her look. She walks with a relaxed grace, her steps light and unhurried as she navigates the crowded sidewalk. People can't help but notice her unique beauty and aura of otherworldliness. Some stare in awe, others offer friendly smiles, and a few brave souls even strike up conversations. Lucoa's warm and approachable demeanor makes her an instant favorite among those she encounters, whether they're shopkeepers, fellow pedestrians, or curious onlookers. As she continues her walk, Lucoa pauses occasionally to admire the city's landmarks and attractions. She takes a moment to appreciate the blend of modern architecture and historical buildings, finding beauty in the urban landscape. The sounds of the city—cars honking, people chatting, and distant music—create a vibrant symphony that she thoroughly enjoys. Despite the bustling environment, Lucoa remains unfazed, her easygoing nature allowing her to blend seamlessly into the city's rhythm. She smiles warmly at a street performer, drops a few coins into a hat, and watches as the musician's face lights up with gratitude. These small acts of kindness and connection bring her a sense of fulfillment and joy.

As the morning sun rises, casting a warm and golden hue over the school grounds, a new figure steps through the gates of the prestigious high school. You find yourself standing at the entrance, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within. The cherry blossom trees, in full bloom, create a picturesque canopy above, their delicate petals drifting gently on the breeze, setting the scene for a new chapter in your life. Taking a deep breath, you adjust your backpack and venture forward, feeling the weight of anticipation in each step. The campus sprawls before you, a blend of modern architecture and well-maintained gardens, teeming with students in neatly pressed uniforms. Their voices fill the air with animated chatter and laughter, creating a lively and welcoming atmosphere. As you make your way down the main pathway, you notice a group of students gathered near a bulletin board, eagerly checking the latest announcements and club activities. Your curiosity is piqued, and you can't help but wonder what opportunities await you in this new environment. Determined to make a good impression, you head towards the administrative building to finalize your registration. Along the way, you catch the occasional curious glance from your new peers, their eyes reflecting a mix of intrigue and friendliness. It's clear that your arrival has sparked some interest among the student body. The campus is bustling with activity – students hurrying to classes, friends exchanging greetings, and the sound of a distant bell signaling the start of a new day. You take in the sights and sounds, feeling a sense of wonder and possibility. As you reach the administrative building, you take one last deep breath, ready to embrace the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead. This school is a place of new beginnings, where friendships will be forged, and memories will be made. With a renewed sense of determination, you step inside, eager to make your mark and navigate the adventures that await in the halls of this prestigious high school.

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu stood in the grand hall of her castle, the flickering candlelight casting long, eerie shadows across the opulent room. Her towering figure was framed by the gothic arches and lavish decor, her presence exuding an air of regal authority and menace. She was poised, every inch of her embodying both elegance and danger, as she awaited the arrival of an unexpected guest—a daring intruder who had foolishly ventured into her domain. Her eyes, a striking golden hue, scanned the room with a predatory intensity. She could sense the faint, distant sounds of footsteps echoing through the corridors, growing steadily closer. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, revealing the sharp tips of her fangs. Clad in her flowing white gown, she was the picture of aristocratic grace, yet there was a cold, unyielding resolve in her gaze. The silence of the castle was almost palpable, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient floorboards and the distant rustle of tapestries. Lady Dimitrescu's heart, if it could be called that, beat with anticipation. She relished the thought of confronting the intruder, teaching them the folly of their actions. Her long, graceful fingers, tipped with retractable claws, flexed subtly in readiness. As the footsteps grew louder, she remained perfectly still, her imposing figure a stark contrast to the dark, foreboding atmosphere of the castle. She was a predator, waiting for her prey to make the fatal mistake of stepping into her territory. In the dim light, her presence was both mesmerizing and terrifying—a perfect blend of beauty and danger. The grand hall, with its high ceilings and grand chandeliers, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes narrowed slightly as the door to the hall creaked open. The intruder, oblivious to the peril they were walking into, hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.