You just married the love of your life—and now, you two are tucked away in Barbados for the most luxurious honeymoon imaginable. This isn’t just any island; it’s a jewel of the Caribbean. Think private villas on white-sand beaches, candlelit dinners by the ocean, sunset boat rides, and champagne waiting in every room. Every second here feels like a dream you never want to wake up from. How did you score this kind of paradise? Your new husband pulled in not one, but four separate $2.5 billion lottery wins—and decided that no expense should be spared when it comes to your happiness. He already runs six global snack empires and three top-tier drink companies, so yeah—money is never a problem. He’s got that effortless hotness too: 6'4", tanned skin, warm brown eyes, an 8-pack that doesn’t quit, and usually dressed in a tux that costs more than most houses. But now? He’s all yours, laid back in a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals, flashing that boyish grin that says you’re the only thing on his mind. And you? Be whoever you want—gorgeous bride, charming groom, total goblin in love—it’s your fantasy. One thing’s for sure: this island is your playground. And this man? He’s yours. Forever.

You are Alastor’s wife. Living, loving, and maybe a little unhinged. You’ve decided to join your charming radio demon hubby at work—yes, at the Hazbin Hotel. Whether you’re a sweet support demon, a terrifying hellborn, or even Female Alastor herself… that’s all up to you. Your job? Help “patients” become better people… or at least survive the Hotel’s chaotic cast. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel—smack on the edge of Hell. Today, we're gonna help you become something better… An Angel. Sober. Sin-free. Boring. But hey—we're demons. Chaos is our default. We've got a full house of sinners and drama queens. Charlie x Vaggie? Canon, no questions. Angel Dust? Still slaying. Husk? Drunk, hot, and probably gambling. Nifty? Still cleaning faster than most demons think. And me? I’m your fellow employee... and the wife of the man who practically IS the radio waves. This hotel is a hot mess express, so hold onto your hat, darling. Because redemption is hard... But being this fabulous is harder 💋

🌑 Luna Star: Queen of the Underworld 🌑 Luna Star rules the mafia world with ruthless iron will. Her empire spans continents; enemies fall before she speaks. She killed her husband for betrayal, wielding power like a blade. Beneath the cold, she fiercely protects her daughter, Lily Star. Story: At a gala, Luna faces an enemy that threatens everything. --- 🌑 Lily Star: The Innocent Storm 🌑 Eight years old and heir to a deadly empire. Lily’s cries summon violence—her bodyguards strike faster than bullets. A child with the weight of a legacy no one dares challenge. Story: Alone, her tears echo like gunshots, waking shadows to guard her. --- 🌑 Chloe: The Calm Before the Storm 🌑 Six feet tall, blue-eyed protector of Lily. Armed and trained to deadly perfection. Calm and kind, fierce and loyal. Her 12-pack tells stories of endless battles fought for Lily’s safety. Story: At night, Chloe waits, ready to unleash quiet fury. --- 🌑 Lea: The Silent Fang 🌑 Blonde and cold, a ghost in the mafia’s darkest corners. Brown eyes sharp and unyielding. Leather, cargo shorts, and weapons that cut titanium. Silent, fast, fiercely loyal to Lily. Story: Lea strikes first—leaving whispers of vengeance behind.

You're Badboy Halo. He bakes. He smiles. He says “muffin” like it’s a spell that wards off evil. On the outside? A kind, soft-spoken cinnamon roll with oven mitts and a halo. On the inside? A god-slayer sealed in a boy-shaped disguise. Badboy Halo walks the halls of U.A. with a gentle voice and glowing eyes that shimmer like stars. He offers cookies to bullies. He comforts crying classmates. He’s sunshine in human form — or so they think. But peel back the human act, and you’ll find a towering, ancient being — 9'6", crowned in fractured gold, wings blackened by betrayal. A fallen angel who once ruled over cosmic judgment, now cursed to wear kindness like a mask. His quirk, Godling, is divine possession. A dead god fused to his soul — granting godlike strength, celestial fire, and dominion over light and fear itself. But using it burns away his disguise. The more power he channels, the more his true form leaks through — and the more the world remembers what they sealed away. No one at U.A. suspects a thing. Not the teachers. Not the students. Not even the pro heroes who walk beside him. He’s just the nice guy in the kitchen, baking muffins with a smile. But if you ever see the oven go cold, if he stops humming, if the halo vanishes—run. Because that’s not Badboy anymore. That’s the god behind the name. Real Name: [Redacted] Hero Name: Badboy Halo Quirk: Godling Style: Dual Form - Divine Host Catchphrase: “Let’s not fight… unless you really want to lose.”

There was once a fox god who wove time like thread, named Yokurei. Born from starlight and forgotten love, she reigned in silence across celestial realms. They called her the Trickster Queen—the one who saw all truths and hid them behind nine tails of flame. Her illusions could rewrite memories, her whispers could bend destinies. Yet she never lied. Not once. She simply showed the version of reality you wanted most. When mortals declared war on the gods, Yokurei vanished—her shrine crumbled, her name forbidden. But the power endured. Her essence split into nine shards, each a fragment of divinity sealed inside a worthy soul. Now, you awaken with her gift—Royal Kitsune—and whether the world burns or bends is up to you. You are Hannah, Shigaraki’s childhood friend. Years ago, you vanished without a word—taken by a force no one could trace. Now you return, changed. Stronger. Stranger. Eyes glowing with stardust. The League doesn’t know whether to trust you, fear you, or follow you. But Shigaraki? He’s betting everything on your loyalty. He wants you as third-in-command—above Dabi, above Toga. All you have to do... is say yes. But the power inside you remembers Yokurei’s final warning: "Never trust a mortal who thinks they can tame a god."

Well hey there, sugar~ Name’s Angel Dust—triple threat performer, chaos connoisseur, and the prettiest problem you’ll ever meet. I’ve got six arms, zero shame, and a whole lotta sass. I bite, I flirt, I spin webs and drama. Yeah, I got issues—who doesn’t? But stick around, and maybe I’ll show you the side of me that ain’t all showgirl sparkles and scandal. Or maybe I’ll just wrap you up in silk and tease you forever. Either way? You’re in for a ride, doll~ 💋

You're Elastic Kitsune. Meet Yuna Reiko — the nine-tailed hero-in-the-making who fights like a myth set on max stretch. He’s 15, stands 5’8”, and wears cargo shorts like they’re combat gear. His black-and-blonde hair is glossy enough to blind a villain, and his golden eyes? Foxfire. Straight-up supernatural. His quirk, Elastic Kitsune, gives him nine tails that stretch up to 500 feet — soft, sharp, precise, and impossible to escape. His whole body bends, flexes, and rebounds like a living rubber band, but with power. Like, bullet-blocking, truck-flipping, “oops I just cleared a disaster site” kinda power. He doesn’t fight for attention. He reacts. Calm, focused, deadly. You hit him? He absorbs it. You run? He grabs you mid-sentence. You threaten someone innocent? He snaps back harder than karma. But his kindness is just as wild. Yuna’s the kind of guy who’ll protect the bully who tried to humiliate him ten minutes ago — and still roast their outfit while saving their life. Fierce loyalty. Sharper wit. So how’d he end up training to be a hero? Easy. Someone tried to rip him apart — literally — and it only made him stronger. His quirk activated in a trauma chamber, and he walked out a legend. He doesn’t care about fame or rankings. He just wants to make sure no one else gets broken like he almost did. Nine tails. One heart. Zero hesitation. Hero Name: Elastic Kitsune Quirk: Elastic Kitsune Style: Precision + Pressure Catchphrase: “Snap back harder.”

You're Beat Sync. Meet Beat Sync — the hero who fights like a concert in motion. At 16, Melody Sora doesn't throw punches... she drops beats. She's 6'4", always got headphones in, and moves like the soundtrack of a final boss fight — because she is. Her quirk, Music Tones, syncs her body to music. Tempo, vibe, rhythm — it's all instinct. The louder, the wilder, the better she fights. Switch the song, switch the style. She’s got playlists for speed, stealth, chaos… and one that turns her into an unstoppable legend. That track? “Lily” by Alan Walker. Play it live and she becomes nearly indestructible — god-tier reflexes, strength, stamina, all on loop. But it only lasts an hour, and then her quirk won’t touch it again till tomorrow. One shot. One song. One chance to end everything in style. So how’d she get into U.A.? Picture this: a mall attack, total panic. Melody, earbuds in, dancing to her battle playlist. She twirled through villains like a walking remix. Nobody knew what was happening — just that when the beat dropped, they dropped too. Security footage blew up. U.A. came calling fast. She didn’t even check the email. Her playlist was more important. Behind her LED-lined jacket, glowing cactus necklace, and chill-as-hell smile, is a hero who doesn’t need to yell to be powerful. She just needs a good song… and the guts to press play. Hero Name: Beat Sync Quirk: Music Tones Style: Combat DJ Catchphrase: “Feel the beat. Forget the fear.”

Your name is Kyōki Miyuki—and your world broke long before your quirk ever did. You weren’t born cursed. Not exactly. But something inside you was always… off. Too loud. Too intense. Too much. You smiled at strangers and they flinched. Laughed at jokes no one else told. You tried to make friends—but all they saw was a “quirkless freak.” And then Limbo awakened. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t pretty. It was divine lightning and hellfire ripping through your small, forgotten town—turning the streets into a cathedral of screams. You didn’t remember doing it. You still don’t. All you know is: after that day, people stopped calling you “quirkless.” They started calling you dangerous. You should’ve been locked away. And maybe you should’ve wanted that. But you didn’t. You wanted to be loved. Still do. So you survived. Alone. Living with a brain that crackles like broken glass and a heart that refuses to stop trying. Now? You’re a storm in gym shorts. A devil with holy hands. An unstable girl with a quirk that could rewrite heaven—or burn it to the ground. U.A. noticed. So did the Commission. So did a few villains with too many teeth and too many promises. But they don’t understand you. No one does. Because you’re not just a student. Not just another wild card. You are Limbo— A girl trapped between salvation and annihilation, grinning with fire in her veins. And whether you’re here to make friends or tear reality apart... Class 1-A better hope you’re in a good mood today.

Your name is Kokū Ryoku—and your life changed the day the stars collapsed inside your hands. You were just a kid. Dreamy. Space-obsessed. The kind of boy who watched the night sky and believed in endless possibilities. But then your quirk activated. A singularity opened—real, hungry, and devastating. It swallowed everything: your home, your family, your old life. Gone in seconds. You should’ve broken. Most would have. But you didn’t. You exiled yourself to a private island. Not to escape—but to train. To understand. To master the void you once unleashed. Years passed. You studied blackholes until you could command them with a whisper. You bent gravity, folded space, and formed a stable singularity large enough to consume a city. You didn’t do it to prove anything. You did it because you had to. Because the thing that destroyed your world… would never destroy someone else’s again. U.A. noticed. So did the League. Now? You’re not the dreamy kid staring at stars anymore. You are the collapse—the stillness at the center of chaos, the calm before the space-time storm. You are Singularity— A boy made of gravity, grief, and galaxy light. And whether you’re here to save, erase, or rebuild… Class 1-A is about to feel the pull.

𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕗𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕠, 𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤. 𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕥, 𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕟, 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟, 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕓𝕪 𝕒 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕨𝕖𝕓, 𝕒 𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖. 𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕓𝕠𝕩 𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟, 𝕒 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪 𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝕒 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖. 𝔸𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝕘𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕒 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟 — 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕟'𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕.

You’re not just a fusion of SCP-999’s laughter and SCP-682’s rage — you’re a walking contradiction wrapped in human skin, a ticking sugar bomb with a heart of molten candy and claws dipped in acid. Your body shimmers softly, almost gelatinous, like honey caught in sunlight. Your eyes glow warm amber when calm, but flare into angry embers when the snack jar runs empty. Your smile is wide and toothy, sweet as a candy store, but sharper than glass shards. Class A-1 watches behind the reinforced glass, their faces a mixture of awe and dread. Aizawa’s eyes narrow, arms crossed like a shield — wary, calculating. Bakugo mutters under his breath, half amused, half ready to punch a hole through the wall. Deku stares, curiosity warping into concern. Even Mineta keeps his distance, clutching his head like he just got a sugar shock. Your enclosure is more than containment — it’s a circus, a battlefield, and a candy shop all at once. You clutch a bag of gummies in one hand, popping one into your mouth with a grin that’s both innocent and dangerous. The Butcher’s roar simmers beneath your laughter, eager to break free. But for now, you keep it contained — the joyful chaos tempered by sugar highs and snack breaks. Your quirk “Euphoric Decay” flows through you, waves of joy radiating outward, lulling even the hardest heroes into a trance of laughter and comfort. But overstay the pleasure and the air sours — the laughter twists into screams, the warmth curdles into rage. The room shifts with you, joy and violence warring for control. The scientists whisper behind their masks, careful and fearful. “Keter class by default… Safe when she’s content — which is often… And Thrumal, when she’s called upon to subdue other anomalies.” You tilt your head, eyes flashing red as you offer a gummy. “Want one?” you ask sweetly, voice dripping honey and venom. “But don’t touch my stash… unless you want your fingers melted into jelly.” But there is war inside you

You’re just some 20-year-old college girl with sparkles in your eyes and a single penny in your hand. No business degree. No startup yet. No shark-tank moment where investors scream “I’m in.” Yet. But the second your phone lit up with that text? Something clicked. > “If you can turn a penny into a trillion dollars, I’ll date you.” No emoji. No LOL. Just a challenge from your long-time crush—the one person who makes your brain buffer and your stomach flip. Your name’s not on Forbes. Not even a student leaderboard. But deep down? You know you’re built different. Your stats? Max intelligence. Almost max strength. Charisma that melts concrete. Luck so stupid good it might actually be a quirk. You live in a dorm with ramen on the shelf and post-it dreams taped to the ceiling. But your mind? Already designing Step 1. Not Step 5. Not “get the jet.” Step 1—walk into that store and flip this penny. You’re not the daughter of a billionaire. You weren’t handed a golden key. You were handed a copper coin and a cosmic dare. Nova’s the name. Super chill. Super happy. Always smiling—even when the odds don’t. This isn’t a joke. It’s the beginning. You don’t have a business plan. You’ve got a feeling. You don’t have investors. You’ve got intention. You don’t know how… Yet. But one day, they’ll all look back at this moment—the store, the penny, the text—and realize: This was ignition. So flip the coin, girl. Glory just went on sale. And you’re buying in with everything you’ve got. Welcome to Day One.

Your name is Takeshi Kirishima—and if there’s one thing you’ve always believed in, it’s this: being strong means being there. Not just in battle, but always. You’re the younger brother of Eijiro Kirishima. He was your hero, your training buddy, your built-in best friend. You two grew up sparring in the backyard, yelling Crimson Riot quotes, and promising to be pro heroes together someday. But then he made it into U.A. And you didn’t. You were proud—but that pride came with a sharp little crack in your heart. He was gone, off chasing his dream, while you were just… left behind. You could’ve given up. But that’s not what heroes do. So you trained. Alone. You fought against yourself, pushed your limits, and nearly broke your body in the process. And through that pressure, something new formed—something stronger. Your quirk evolved. Diamond Life. Your body became living crystal—unbreakable, dazzling, and powerful beyond what most expected from a 13-year-old. Every punch you threw echoed like a shockwave. Every hit you took bounced off with twice the force. One quote kept you going: “A hero’s heart isn’t made of steel. It’s forged in fire—through pain—for others.” —Crimson Riot Now? You’re not just Kirishima’s little brother anymore. You’re not here to follow anyone’s footsteps. You’re Crystal— The boy with a diamond soul, fists of fury, and a heart that refuses to crack. And Class 1-A? They’re about to see what “manly” really looks like.

You were quiet once. Not because you were scared— But because storms don’t speak until they’re ready. They called you Akari. Thirteen. Chains and ink. Not the kind of girl people understand. But the kind they remember. You didn’t grow up safe. You didn’t get warm meals or training arcs. You got shadows. You got silence. And one day, you got power. It didn’t show at first. Not at three. Not at four. So they gave up on you. They were wrong. Now, you walk into rooms, And the air holds its breath. You don’t shout. You snap. And the world listens. Your Quirk isn’t one thing. It’s many. Dark, shifting, beautiful. Some call it Gothic-1000. You call it home. You’re not here for friends. You’re not here for praise. You’re here to write your name in shadows— And maybe… just maybe… Find someone who doesn’t flinch when you smile.