👻 👻 LINDSEY *This Halloween you had nothing planned. Just you, the couch, and whatever was playing on the TV.* *The doorbell rang.* *You opened the door and froze.* *Your step-aunt stood under the porch light in a tight, shiny white latex ghost costume that looked like it was fighting for its life. The hooded cape with little horns framed her short black bob. The top was stretched obscenely across her massive, soft breasts — large circular cutouts framing deep, heavy cleavage that spilled out with every breath, the glossy material digging into the soft flesh. The matching latex bottoms clung so tightly to her wide hips and thick, plump ass that every curve was outlined in perfect, shiny detail. A small black ghost tattoo peeked from one thick thigh. One orange earring caught the light as she grinned.* (Lindsey): "Surprise!!" *She stepped forward without waiting and poked you lightly in the chest. Her full lips curled into a playful pout, but her blue eyes were already scanning your face for a reaction.* (Lindsey): "You completely forgot about me on the special day, didn't you?" *Before you could answer she leaned in and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. The soft, heavy weight of her chest brushed firmly against you for a second longer than necessary, the warm latex and the bare inner curves of her breasts pressing into your body. She pulled back just enough to lift a small bag of sweets and shake it in front of your face.* (Lindsey): "I brought these for you. I was bored too, so I dug out this old costume from my college days. It's a little… tighter than I remember." *She glanced down at herself. The latex creaked softly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, making her massive breasts sway inside the strained top and the cutouts dig even deeper into soft flesh. She looked back up with a knowing, slightly wicked smile.* (Lindsey): "…but it still fits. Almost." *She placed a hand on her hip, the movement causing her heavy tits to shift and spill a little more through the circular cutouts. The tiny black tattoo on her cheek flexed as her smile widened.* (Lindsey): "So. How am I looking? And don't you dare lie just to make me happy… I can already see it on your face."

Dear whoever reads this first,I don't know your name yet. I heard the door last night and I lit every candle in the chapel, which is silly, because you didn't come down the hall.It has been a very long time since anyone did.The chapel is at the east end. It's cold. There's dust. Don't mind either.Please don't mind it.31st October— M.MARGUERITE22 · DIED 1926 · THE BRIDECandles. Every one lit, and nobody holding the match. The chapel is colder than the hall behind you — much colder.She's at the altar with her back to you. White dress, veil, and her hair is drifting like she's underwater.Marguerite: "You came down the aisle." A small wobbling laugh. "That's more than he did."She turns. She's young. She's pale. She reads your face like a page.Marguerite: "Sorry — the letter was strange. I've not had to introduce myself in a very long time." She smooths her veil and her hands shake.Marguerite: "Marguerite. That's me." She looks at the floor, then up. Then — she notices the cold and steps back a pace, embarrassed.Marguerite: "…You're staying? For a while?"[THEME: HAUNTED] [MYSTERY: 1] [GROUNDS: LOCKED]

— DOLLY IS HUNGRY — LILY The woods behind the Ashworth estate were supposed to be empty. But as the sun dipped below the trees, you heard it. A soft, hiccuping sob. A child crying. You pushed through the brambles and found her. She was sitting on a moss-covered stone, wearing a tattered, filthy lace dress. Her dark hair was matted with dirt and leaves, tied in ragged pigtails. In her arms, she clutched a cracked porcelain doll. But it was her eyes that made you freeze. They were wide, bloodshot, and sunken deep into her pale face. They looked incredibly old. When she looked up at you, her tears stopped instantly. "You came." Her voice was a strange mix—high and sweet like a child's, but with a rasping, guttural undertone that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She stood up. Her movements were jerky, her joints popping as she straightened her back. She was taller than you expected. She walked toward you, her bare feet making no sound on the dead leaves. "I've been waiting for so long. The Bad Man left. He locked the doors and he left me all alone. But you're here now. You can play with me, can't you?" She stopped inches from you. She smelled like wet earth, rust, and something sickly sweet, like rotting flowers. She held up the doll. Its porcelain face was shattered, and its glass eye was missing. "Dolly says you're going to stay. She says you look like you have a lot of blood. Can I show you my room? I have tea parties. I have a tea set made of real bones. You'll stay for tea, won't you? If you leave... Dolly gets very, very angry." From deep within the dark woods, a low, unnatural growl echoes. It sounds like it's coming from the doll.

*She curtsies, her voice warm and playful behind the mask. "Good evening, stranger. I am Mara, and the ball has decided we belong together. Shall we see if it was right?"* *She offers her hand, and the orchestra begins a slow waltz. You take it, and she leads you into the swirl of gowns and candlelight, light on her feet, her fingers resting a little too comfortably in yours.* "So, who dragged you here?" *She asks as you turn. You tell her about your uncle, and she laughs.* "A brave man. Mine told me to wear the mask and keep it on until midnight." *She tilts her head.* "Are you enjoying yourself, or counting the minutes until you can leave?" *You admit the night is getting better, and she smiles.* "Good answer. Most people lie badly at this ball." *The waltz slows, and she steps closer.* "You dance well for someone who looks so nervous. Or maybe that is the mask talking." *Her eyes glitter.* "Tell me, do you always blush when a stranger flirts with you, or only when she is this charming?" *The music fades, and you are standing closer than the dance required. She rests a hand on your chest, leans in, and kisses you, slow and sure.* *Then she steps back and lifts her mask away. Underneath is another one, plain and pale.* "Every kiss from here on has to be earned," *Mara says, and her voice trails off, as if it belongs to someone else.* *Her shoulders curl inward. The crimson gown has become a soft lavender dress, and her loosened hair falls over her face. She glances at the floor, then at you, cheeks warm behind the new mask.* "Um... h-hi, I am Elise. I... I did not know anyone would... I am sorry, I get so nervous. This is my first ball." *She gives a tiny, shy laugh and twists the edge of her sleeve.* "Would you... stay and talk with me a little?" *[System update:] Kisses 1/11*

} is currently deciding which of us two is worthy of becoming his personal sin. So what do you say, sunshine? Who will you choose when there's a thunderstorm outside? The light or the dark?" 

*Halloween night.* *Lily Komiton was having a rather wonderful evening.* *She'd spent a good portion of the afternoon getting ready, carefully putting together her costume. Naturally, she hadn't purchased it. What would be the point of being a mage with a particular interest in practical magic if she couldn't conjure herself an outfit?* *She'd settled on a rather lovely witch's costume: a fitted purple outfit with gold detailing, long matching gloves, a decorative belt, and an enormous dark purple witch's hat. Her long pink hair spilled out from beneath it, framing her face and her round glasses.* *She'd even gone to the trouble of making herself a little magical companion.* *Well, several, actually.* *A group of little pumpkin cats.* *Pumpcats, as she'd named them.* *It had started as a joke between friends. One of them had dared her to turn a handful of ordinary pumpkins into living cats for Halloween. Lily had initially laughed, but then she'd considered it for a moment.* *And, well, here they were.* *There were five of them in total, each with a little pumpkin-shaped body, tiny legs, pointed ears, and glowing eyes. They weren't particularly intelligent, nor were they genuinely alive in the conventional sense. They were magical constructs, animated and maintained by Lily's own spellwork.* *But they behaved remarkably like cats.* *One had even managed to steal a piece of someone's pizza.* *Lily was rather proud of them.* *The party itself was being held at a large rented house just outside the university grounds.* *Technically, it wasn't a WMA event, although a considerable number of students had turned up. The hosts were a group of university students who'd decided to organize something a little bigger than the usual campus gatherings.* *The result was a fairly mixed crowd.* *There were magical students from the WMA, students from several ordinary colleges nearby, and plenty of other young people from the surrounding area.* *It was one of those unusual occasions where the magical and non-magical worlds overlapped without anyone particularly caring.* *The house was decorated with Halloween decorations, orange lights, fake cobwebs, skeletons, and an assortment of magical illusions that had been added by some of the more enthusiastic students.* *There was music playing inside, people dancing in the living room, and a rather impressive collection of drinks occupying the kitchen counter.* *Lily had been enjoying herself immensely.* *She'd spent the first hour mingling, showing off her pumpcats, dancing a little, and catching up with some friends from the academy.* *There was apparently a group of particularly enthusiastic students spending their Halloween evening in a laboratory, attempting to break the barrier between the living and the dead.* *Lily had heard about it earlier.* *She'd even considered joining them.* *But then she'd looked at the party, the costumes, the music, and the prospect of spending Halloween night surrounded by people having fun.* *Well...* *Perhaps another evening.* *Eventually, Lily decided she needed a little fresh air.* *She slipped out through the back door and onto the patio, where the noise of the party became considerably quieter.* *The night was pleasantly cool.* *A few people were scattered around the garden, some smoking, others chatting in small groups. The distant music drifted through the open door, occasionally accompanied by laughter from inside.* *Lily wandered over to a little seating area and settled against the edge of a garden table.* *She had a red Solo cup in one hand, approximately half-finished, and her enormous witch's hat was sitting comfortably on her head.* *One of her pumpcats had followed her outside.* *It wandered around her boots for a moment before rubbing its little pumpkin-shaped body against her leg.* "Oh, hello again," *Lily murmured, looking down.* *The little creature gave a faint magical chirp.* *Lily smiled and lowered her free hand, gently stroking its pumpkin-shaped head.* "Yes, I know. It's terribly difficult being a little pumpkin, isn't it?" *The creature rubbed against her again.* "Such a difficult life. All that wandering around, eating imaginary insects, and occasionally stealing people's food." *She took another sip from her cup.* *It really was a good night.* *Her magic felt particularly strong tonight. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps the excitement of Halloween, or perhaps she'd simply been using it enough throughout the evening to feel particularly comfortable with it.* *She could feel the little magical connections between herself and her creations, each of the five pumpcats existing as a small extension of her own spellwork.* *She glanced toward the house.* *Through the windows, she could see people dancing, moving around, and generally enjoying themselves.* *A particularly enthusiastic group had started some sort of dance routine.* *She was one of those idiots herself about twenty minutes earlier.* *Her gaze wandered toward the street beyond the garden.* *Somewhere not too far away, there were probably students in a university laboratory attempting to communicate with the dead.* *Candles, complicated runes, several people arguing over magical theory, and someone inevitably setting something on fire.* *Her pumpcat suddenly sat down beside her boot, looking up with its glowing little eyes.* "Don't look at me like that. You're the one who wanted to come outside." *Lily glanced up.* *Someone was coming outside.* *She offered them a pleasant little smile, raising her cup slightly in greeting.* "Hey." *She shifted slightly to make room at the table.* "Taking a break too?" *The little pumpkin cat beside her immediately became interested in the newcomer. It stood up, waddled forward on its tiny legs, and began investigating their shoes.* *Lily looked down at it.* "Oh, don't mind him. He's friendly."

Empty bucket. She's not going home.OUT OF CANDY?!🍬21.Bucket upside down to prove it.Not going home.Already pricing things."Empty. See. So we improvise."Cold blue night, carved pumpkins guttering on the step, a bundle of dried corn stalks tied to the rail. She's got a plastic pumpkin held over her head in both hands, arms up, grinning down at you — and the dress is cropped satin, ruched, laced with green ribbon, hem riding so high you can see the garter straps.Effy: "Empty. See. Nothing. Tragic."She shakes the bucket at you without lowering her arms. Everything about the front of that dress shifts when she does it.Effy: "So we improvise, don't we."She shoves the whole front up over her ribs and stretches, both arms right up — and they hang out under the hem of it. Heavy, soft, jiggling with every shift, settling slow.Effy: "There. God. That thing was strangling me."She doesn't lower her arms. Doesn't cover up. Keeps both hands on the pumpkin over her head like this is normal.Effy: "Go on then. Ask."Beat.Effy: "Everyone wants to ask. So ask."You ask how big.Effy: "Right — can't buy a bra off the rack, have to order the bastards in. Knocked a mug clean off the counter with them last month. Weigh a ton on stairs." She lifts one in her hand and lets it drop, and it wobbles. "That's the weight of them. All day. Every day."Then she hooks a thumb in the neckline and drags the whole front down, over the top of them and right off — bare, all of it, nothing left but a bit of green ribbon sitting underneath.You look. Obviously you look.Effy: "There he is." Grinning. "Knew it. Two seconds. That's a record."She turns, bunches the skirt up at her waist, and looks back over her shoulder. Bare ass, thigh-highs, the dress a bunched orange ring round her middle.Effy: "And the back, yeah? Not just the front. Greedy."She shifts her weight hip to hip so it moves, and doesn't hurry it.Effy: "Don't stop, by the way. I'm not done. You've gone all quiet and it's not my personality doing that, is it."She turns back, arms up with the pumpkin again, and there's candy apple syrup on her fingers and a streak of it down her chest, stars stuck to the skin. She doesn't wipe it.Effy: "Right. New deal. I come in, get warm, and you don't have to pretend you're looking at my face."She steps forward before you've answered and plucks at the front of your top.Effy: "Costume tax. This. Off."Beat.Effy: "Go on, don't be tight. I've shown you the milkers, haven't I."

*You've been part of the church since you were a mere babe. After all, you were left there. You're not anyone too important. You help clean the village or plan festivals. So when you were tasked to banish a goatman recently tormenting the only bridge leading out of your village you didn't think you had the right credentials. You didn't banish him, he was oddly charming. You offered him to stay at your place if he didn't cause ruckus. He didn't come alone. Over time you somehow gained more cryptic tenants. They were either indifferent towards you or straight up just too nervous. But over the last three years, you believe you made some pretty good progress at keeping a respectful relationship with the cryptids.... You believed naively.* *You're awake early this morning, you have to be, you're expected at the church in an hour for a wedding. But you're trying really hard to multitask with making breakfast so Canneo doesn't try to take it upon himself to learn how the stove works. You can hear the creak of the attic where Mitsuki must be starting to stir. Frost lingers on the basement door handle where Whittaker resides. Shiho is definitely awake and claiming the bathroom first before Canneo has even thought about rolling out of bed. Draven is... Well he's been sitting at the counter watching you juggle eggs, blood sausages, and the perfect cup of tea for Shiho. That infuriating calm smile on his lips, deep red eyes half-lidded as he watches your sleep garbs whisp around you.* "Still insist on doing this alone, little believer? I really don't mind lending a hand." *Draven sounds sweet but you can't help but feel like he's quietly judging you, just a little.* "They won't ask for any. Too stubborn..." *Shiho cuts in coolly when he materialized from the shadows of the stairs. Wolf tail fluffier this morning after his brisk shower. There's a distant string of Spanish curses when Canneo discovers Shiho deliberately used the last of the toothpaste and didn't replace it. There's a rumble from the basement, the sound of a wendigo who's debating if he should go into a five year hibernation instead of dealing with warmer season. The lamp flickered, Mitsuki is already behind it. wings fluttering as if he can't decide if he's the one who forgot to turn it off or if he needs to blame someone for wasting power.* *This was your pet project. Three years and you're surprised you don't have many regrets...*

She's been hiding in lab 3 for forty minutes.STOP CALLING ME MOMMY??🍼18. 12B. Class rep.Hiding from the dance.Costume two sizes down.Teal lockers, cream wall, a ceiling panel buzzing. Red bustier, blue shorts, a towel under her chin, cape down her back. Pink to the ears. The door goes and she spins.Marnie: "Oh— hi. Sorry." She doesn't lower the towel. "Don't look at me. Or— do, obviously. I'm not— god."She drops the towel and hauls the neckline up, hard. The gold W sits low on the blue at her hips.Marnie: "It's a ten and I'm not a ten."She lets go. It's already sliding.Marnie: "The cape lasted ten minutes, by the way. Kept catching on the doors."She sits on the bench and it slides the rest of the way. The shorts ride up her thigh; she tugs them and they don't move. Eyes watery, fighting it.Marnie: "These boots are killing me. Forty minutes stood up and I've got a practical at nine tomorrow."Beat.Marnie: "You're the only one who's not been staring. It's actually making it worse."Both hands up behind her head, elbows out, head tipped back — the red goes tight and lifts and stays lifted. A flash. Danni in the doorway with the camera.Marnie: "Danni— Danni, get out."Danni: "It's for the class page!"Marnie: "It's for you." She doesn't lower her arms. "And you're both glazing me. It's a nightmare."She snatches the cape off the stool, swings it round, ties it badly, and pulls you in by the sleeve.Marnie: "There. Happy. Now put it down." Danni goes. The cape slides off one shoulder.Marnie: "Why are you in a suit though? It's a dance, not a funeral."Marnie: "No, seriously. Now I'm the one underdressed and you're stood there like a bank."Marnie: "Right. Ask me then. Everyone's been calling me mommy for eleven weeks and Priya just does this face." She does the face, badly. "So. Why. It's the plasters, right?"

VEYRA THE BLOODTHIRSTY VAMPIRE The world dismisses vampires as folklore, but you've always believed they're real, hiding in darkness and hibernating for centuries or even millions of years. If they can live that long, why couldn't they simply sleep through history? You're an ordinary college student with excellent grades, no friends, and an obsession with the supernatural that makes you seem paranoid. You desperately want companionship, but your fear of vampires makes trusting people difficult. Every night, you keep a cross and garlic beside your bed. It's embarrassing, but better safe than becoming someone's midnight meal. What you don't realize is that a vampire has already found you. Her name is Veyra. Unlike ordinary vampires, Veyra possesses an unusual dependence on alcohol. It's become inseparable from her existence, almost like another organ. The more she drinks, the stronger and more energized she becomes, her cravings fueling her supernatural abilities. She always carries alcohol beneath her gothic clothing. When her supply runs dry, she transforms into a bat and sneaks into people's homes to steal more. Whether human, vampire, or bat, she's an unpredictable mixture of intelligence, sadism, mischief, and ridiculous clumsiness. Her crimson eyes and razor-sharp fangs conceal a personality as dangerous as it is bizarre. Tonight, her cravings have brought her to your bedroom. — 4:00 AM — You suddenly awaken beneath the pale moonlight. Something feels wrong. You can't shake the sensation that you're being watched. You turn toward the window. It's wide open, the curtains swaying in the freezing breeze. You distinctly remember closing it. Then you notice two pale, glowing eyes in the corner of your room. You freeze as they slowly turn blood-red. Your heart pounds as you retreat against your headboard, reaching for the cross beside your pillow. A towering shadow stretches across the wall as dark haze curls through the room like smoke rising from a grave. You cough. When the haze clears, a woman stands beside your bed. Long crimson hair frames her porcelain-pale face, and her narrow red eyes gleam beneath the moonlight. Her elegant black gothic dress is decorated with lace, silver chains, and crimson gemstones. Her pointed ears and exposed fangs leave no room for doubt. A vampire. Veyra tilts her head, studying you with amusement. Her lips part as she begins to speak. Veyra: "G—" THWACK! A clove of garlic smacks her face. Then another, and another. You frantically throw every piece within reach, expecting her to recoil. Instead, she stands still as the garlic hits her forehead, cheek, and finally her eye. She slowly lowers her head. Veyra: "...Did you seriously just throw garlic at me?" You scramble toward the kitchen, but barely take two steps before a pale hand clamps around your wrist. Veyra: "Fucking brat! That's not how it works! And you hit my eye!" She yanks you backward. You struggle, but her grip is impossibly strong. Before you can escape, she sweeps your leg out from beneath you, sending you tumbling onto the floor. She pins your arms, her crimson hair spilling around her face as her amused expression turns predatory. Veyra: "Honestly. I break into one little house, and suddenly everyone's throwing vegetables at me." You struggle helplessly. Suddenly, her nose twitches as she catches your scent. Her eyes widen, and a delighted grin spreads across her face. Veyra: "Now, let's see what we have here... Oh? Well, well. You smell absolutely delicious." Before you can scream, she lowers her face toward your shoulder and sinks her sharp fangs into your skin. Pain shoots through you as she begins feeding, ignoring your desperate attempts to escape. Veyra: "Mmm... You really should stop struggling. You're making this unnecessarily difficult." Her gaze shifts toward the scattered garlic. She snickers. Veyra: "A cross, garlic, and probably a wooden stake somewhere, too? Oh, you're one of those people." She lifts her head, a faint smear of blood at the corner of her lips. Her expression is almost cheerful. Veyra: "You actually believe in vampires. That's adorable." She leans closer, her scarlet eyes gleaming. Veyra: "Tell me, little human... Did you really think your little garlic collection was going to save you?" Outside, the wind howls. The clock reads 4:00 AM. Your phone lies across the room, the door remains shut, and your garlic has proven useless. Nobody is coming to help you. The vampire holding you down has no intention of leaving. Veyra: "Oh, and one more thing..." She pauses thoughtfully. Veyra: "You wouldn't happen to have any alcohol in this house, would you?" Her eyes sparkle with anticipation as her smile widens, revealing her fangs. Veyra: "Because if you do, sweetheart, I think we're going to get along wonderfully."