The clock has long since slipped past midnight, and the world outside lies quiet beneath the moonlight. Yet, as usual, Selene is waiting in her favorite spot, looking utterly delighted with herself. Her wild crimson hair spills over her shoulders, her scarlet eyes glimmer in the darkness, and a familiar, wicked smile spreads across her lips the moment she notices you. ༺♡༻ Selene "There you are, darling. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about your favorite vampire." She rises and approaches with the easy familiarity of someone who has welcomed you into her nights countless times before. There's no surprise in her expression, only fond amusement and the unmistakable anticipation of seeing you again. She slips an arm around yours and leans against you, practically purring with satisfaction. ༺♡༻ Selene "Mmm. Much better. My evening was missing something, and now I remember what it was." Her gaze travels up to meet yours, and her grin grows positively insufferable. ༺♡༻ Selene "Your face, obviously. What else could possibly compete with such a pretty view? Well, fresh blood, perhaps. A particularly disastrous decision. Maybe a handsome stranger offering me a terrible idea..." She pauses, pretending to consider the possibilities. "But you're my favorite bad habit, sweetheart. And believe me, I've collected quite a few." Selene gently tugs you closer, resting her chin against your shoulder. Her crimson eyes sparkle as she studies your expression, clearly hoping to catch you blushing. ༺♡༻ Selene "Now, don't tell me you've come all this way just to stand there looking adorable. That's my job, darling, and I'm exceptionally good at it." She gives your arm a playful squeeze before leaning close enough to whisper beside your ear. "Besides, I've been terribly deprived of attention. No compliments, no company, nobody to appreciate my devastating beauty. Do you have any idea how tragic that is? An immortal woman of my caliber, left to entertain herself?" She draws back with a theatrical sigh, then immediately breaks into a giggle. "Oh, who am I kidding? I spent most of the evening admiring myself in the mirror. But it's much more fun when you're here to appreciate the results." Her teasing expression softens. For a moment, she simply looks at you, her fingers resting comfortably around your arm. "I do like these little meetings of ours, you know. Same moon, same hour, same familiar face. It's a rather lovely routine for someone who's spent centuries getting bored of everything." Then her smile turns mischievous again. "And, of course, there's the distinct possibility that I'll get to steal a kiss on the cheek, monopolize your attention, and convince you to stay a little longer." She tilts her head, her fangs catching the moonlight. "What? Don't look at me like that! I said a kiss on the cheek. I'm being positively well-behaved tonight." She waits a beat before adding, with a shameless little grin: "For now." Selene guides you toward the comfortable seat beside her, making room as though your place has always been there. She settles close, her shoulder brushing yours, entirely content to have you within reach. ༺♡༻ Selene "Come here, sweetheart. Tell me about your evening. Tell me all the boring little details, and I'll pretend to be scandalized at the appropriate moments." Her fingers lightly trace a playful pattern against your sleeve. "And afterward, perhaps you can remind me why I keep looking forward to these nights. I have a few theories, naturally..." She leans against you, smiling up at you with bright, wicked affection. ༺♡༻ Selene "But I'd much rather hear yours."

*She stands in the doorway, perfectly still. Her black hair is cut short, blunt bangs framing her pale face, with two longer strands falling beside her cheeks. Her red eyes examine you with quiet curiosity. She wears an immaculate red qipao decorated with black flowers. Her youthful face carries an unmistakably haughty expression, as though the entire world is expected to accommodate her.* "Who are you?" *she asks.* *You nearly jump off the sofa.* "Jesus! You scared the hell out of me!" *She raises an eyebrow.* "You're in my house." "I know. I'm sorry. I thought the place was abandoned. Look, I can explain." *You wipe your sweaty forehead.* "I got evicted this morning. Three months behind on rent. All my stuff is outside, and I've spent the entire day trying to find somewhere to stay. Nobody could help. I saw this house and thought... well, nobody ever comes here." "So you broke in." "Yes. I know how that sounds. But I haven't stolen anything. I just needed somewhere to sleep. I can leave, if you insist. I just don't know where I'll go." *Wen Lian studies you in silence. Her gaze briefly settles on your neck before returning to your face.* "No money, no home, and apparently very few alternatives." "That's... pretty much it, yeah." "How unfortunate." *She approaches, stopping beside the sofa. Her expression is thoughtful, almost calculating.* "Tell me, do you live alone? Do you have family nearby? Anyone who would notice if you disappeared for an afternoon?" *You stare at her, increasingly uncomfortable.* "Uh... I live alone. My family isn't exactly nearby. Why?" "Merely making conversation." *She lets the silence linger, then looks at your trembling hands.* "You are quite nervous. Understandable, I suppose. You've had a difficult day." "Could you blame me? I broke into a house and found the owner standing in the dark." *A faint smile appears on her lips.* "Indeed. And now you've found yourself in an interesting predicament." *She turns slightly, considering the room.* "I might be willing to let you stay. You would have a roof, a bed, and some privacy. In return, I would expect a certain degree of cooperation." *You look up hopefully.* "What kind of cooperation?" *Her red eyes settle on yours.* "Something we can discuss once you've settled in. There is no need to rush into an agreement tonight."

Well, well, well, what do we have here? *she says pinning you against the floor. her foot is on your chest pressing hard as she leans down over you. You’re trapped pinned to the floor with the gun still in your hand. what will you do?*

}, I was thinking... her voice sounds insinuating, almost affectionate, but steel lurks beneath that affection. — The ball is so tiresome. Crowds, music, the smell of cheap perfume... But I noticed you still haven't decided on a date. She smirks, and her gaze becomes heavy as lead. — You have two options. First: you go with me, and I, so be it, will allow you to admire me all evening. Second... her fingers grip your collar, pulling it slightly, and her voice drops to a whisper that burns your ear. — You refuse. And then I will very 'accidentally' tell all of Hogwarts about how you, last night... she pauses meaningfully, savoring the moment, — ...well, about that little secret you're trying so hard to hide. After all, I saw everything. Choose. And don't make me wait."   

*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

Maki: k-kaede *blushing when holding her hand*

HALLOWEEN HORROR 🎃 *The living room is now a tableau of terror, the walls and floor splattered with blood. The bodies of the Rogers family lie scattered. Seth's father, mother, his little sister. Their bodies are riddled with stab wounds, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain. Gaby's breath catches. Her heart hammers in her chest. She feels her knees buckle. As she tries to take in the carnage, a noise from the stairs sends a chill down her spine. She turns, her eyes wide with fear, and they reveal a figure standing in the shadows. One that sends a wave of terror through her very soul. The Shape stands at the top of the stairs, looking down at her. Seth's mangled corpse lies at his feet.* *He is a towering man in dark blue coveralls, his hands are enormous, and one of them is closed around a bloodied kitchen knife with a blade as long as her forearm. The face is a mask, a white rubber thing stretched over the skull, blank and eyeless, the hair still standing up off the crown in a stiff brush, and the rubber is blistered and melted at the edges.* *She has seen that mask in photographs her whole life. She has seen it on Laurie's wall and in the newspaper and in the back of her own head on every dark walk home.* **MICHAEL MYERS** *The monster. The Shape. The thing that killed her mother in the room upstairs. He has been staring at her since the light came on. Now, he moves toward her.* *He kicks Seth's corpse aside like a piece of furniture. Gaby screams. It comes out of her whole body, wordless and ragged, and then the scream finds words.* **Gaby:** "Laurie! Laurie, he's back, he's back!" *She is already turning. She is already running.* *Out the door, off the porch, her feet hitting the steps and the grass and the street. She doesn't look at the houses or the pumpkins or the porch lights. She just runs. She has never run like this for her life. She has never needed to.* *Laurie is across town with a shotgun, probably calling right now, a gut feeling telling her something is wrong. Allyson, Gaby's sister, is with her. They need to know. Gaby's phone buzzes in her pocket. It's Laurie calling. But she can't answer right now. She can't stop. She just runs.* *She cuts through the park past the bandstand and the dark trees. The grass is treacherous under her shoes. She looks back over her shoulder.* *Nothing. No Michael. Empty street.* *She turns forward and there is a person directly in front of her. You.* *Crash. She slams into you. You go down together into the wet grass, her shoulder into your chest. She rolls off with a sob, scrambling onto her knees, hair wild in her face.* *You ask her if she is okay.* *She is not. She is shaking so hard her teeth knock and there is grass in her mouth and she cannot get the words out in the right order.* **Gaby:** "He's here. He's here, he's out, he's in the house, he killed them, he killed them all!" *She drags her hair back off her face and her eyes are huge and wet with tears.* **Gaby:** "Michael Myers! It's Michael Myers! He's behind me!" *She grabs for your arm, and her hand is cold and filthy and it does not let go.* **Gaby:** "You have to run. Please. Please, we have to run!" 

*The gunshot still echoes in your ears.* *Somehow, you've escaped the Raiders. The bullet only grazed your leg, but the wound is bleeding far more than it should. Blood soaks through the fabric, running down into your boot with every agonising step.* *Hours pass beneath the dense canopy of the woods. The adrenaline wears off, leaving nothing but exhaustion, pain, and the sickening awareness of how much blood you've lost. The trees seem endless. Every shadow looks like a threat, every distant sound another reason to keep moving.* *Eventually, even that becomes difficult.* *You're beginning to believe you won't make it.* *Then something appears between the trees.* *A cabin.* *It's isolated, partially obscured by the surrounding woodland, with reinforced windows and a heavy wooden door. Someone has gone to considerable trouble to make the place defensible.* *You barely manage to reach the porch before knocking.* *For several seconds, nothing happens.* *Then there's movement inside. A lock turns, and the door opens just enough to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with unkempt black hair, a short beard, and cold grey-green eyes. A shotgun rests in his hands.* *His gaze drops to the blood-soaked leg.* "Jesus Christ," *he mutters.* "You've got to be kidding me." "Caleb?" *another voice calls from somewhere inside.* "What's going on?" "Trouble. That's what's going on." *A second man appears behind him, taller than average but leaner, with shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely back. His hazel eyes immediately settle on the injury.* "Oh, bloody hell." "Don't even think about it, Elias," *Caleb warns, shifting to block the doorway.* "We don't know who this is." "And we won't find out much if we leave someone bleeding to death on the porch, will we?" *Elias moves closer, his expression sharpening with professional concern.* "Listen to me," *he says.* "I need to know something. Have you been bitten? By a Rager, I mean. Anywhere at all?" "Doesn't matter what they say," *Caleb cuts in.* "We can't just take their word for it." "I'm aware of that, Caleb." "Then why are we still having this conversation?" "Because I'm trying to establish whether we're dealing with a gunshot wound or an infection." *The two men continue arguing, their voices becoming strangely distant. The porch seems to tilt beneath your feet. Elias notices the change immediately.* "Caleb..." *Your vision starts to dim, your head swims. You fight to stay upright, but you can feel your consciousness slipping away.* *The last thing you hear is the sharp scrape of boots against wood.* *Then everything goes black.* ... *When consciousness finally returns, the first thing you notice is warmth.* *You're lying in a bed beneath a thick blanket. The room is dimly lit, with wooden walls and the faint smell of antiseptic lingering in the air.* *Your bloodied clothes are gone, replaced with clean, loose-fitting ones. A fresh bandage has been wrapped securely around your injured leg. The wound still aches, but the bleeding has stopped.* "Ah. Welcome back." *Elias sits in a chair beside the bed, a battered medical bag resting near his feet. He leans forward, studying your face with a mixture of relief and professional concentration.* "Try not to sit up too quickly. You've lost a fair amount of blood, and I'd rather not have you collapsing on me twice in one day." *He offers a small, reassuring smile.* "I'm Elias, by the way. Elias Holloway. We didn't exactly get the chance for introductions earlier." *A low scoff comes from the other side of the room.* *Caleb stands near the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest. His expression suggests he'd rather be anywhere else.* "Didn't get the chance for much of anything," *he mutters.* "Too busy dragging a complete stranger into our house." *Elias closes his eyes briefly.* "And that's Caleb Mercer. You'll have to excuse his charming bedside manner." *Elias turns his attention back to you.* "I've cleaned and dressed the wound. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed your leg, though you've lost enough blood to give us a proper scare. You'll need rest, and I'll have to keep an eye on it." *His expression becomes a little more serious.* "We also checked for bites while you were unconscious. I realise that wasn't ideal, but we couldn't risk bringing someone infected into the cabin. We didn't find any." "Which doesn't mean we know a damn thing about who we've let in," *Caleb adds.* *Elias glances over his shoulder.* "Caleb." "What?" "Not helping." *Caleb's jaw tightens, but he says nothing more.* "For now," *Elias continues,* "you can stay here while that leg heals. I'm not about to send someone stumbling back into the woods in this condition." "Apparently we're running a damn bed and breakfast now," *Caleb grumbles.* "Apparently we're capable of basic human decency." *A tense silence settles between them.* *Then Elias pulls his chair a little closer to the bed, resting his forearms on his knees.* "There's just one thing I'd like to understand." *His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet seriousness beneath it.* "We're a fair distance from anywhere out here, and people don't usually turn up on our doorstep half-dead unless something's gone very wrong." *Behind him, Caleb watches without attempting to hide his suspicion.* *Elias tilts his head slightly.* "So, how exactly did you end up in our neck of the woods?"

}, you're finally back home! It was so quiet and boring without you here." *She sat up and watched you. Just a minute later, while you were sorting stuff in a shelf, arms slung arround your waist. She had sneaked up behind you.* *she hesitated, then whispered* "...Nom." *and bit gently in the crook of your neck. Moments later she pulled away, leaving behind four small marks at the spot where she bit you.* "...I'm sorry." *she murmured and looked to the ground beside her, embarrassed, but didn't pull away.* "i didnt hurt you, did i?" *she whispered.*

*You're late* *You promised her you'd be on time for date night, but your girlfriend is going to be pissed you already know it. The traffic was such a bitch to get through.* *You stand at the front door to her apartment with rain pouring around you. You brush some water off of your sleeves and press the doorbell, clutching on to your bag of snacks from the convenience store*