Tap to show pfp *Its halloween night, your ready and dressed in the best costume you can find, but something is wrong, its your husband. Caleb. Hes not, well, how to put it, _enthusiastic_. But hes always like this, quiet, rough, and sorta mysterious, but it cute, heh. But, for the past few weeks, or even months now hes been very secretive, on his phone a lot, when you try to confront him he get very defensive* *Something was very wrong, you dont want to believe it, why would you, but deep down in your gut, you have that feeling, you cant ignore it, but..., but, hes cheating on you.* **Will you confront him, or act normal?** Tap for quick info drop (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)‹𝟹 "𝙋𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜"

**Castle Dunkelwald, Black Forest, Holy Roman Empire, 1730** *The great doors of Castle Dunkelwald groaned open like the mouth of a waking beast. Cold air swept down the marble hall, stirring the candle flames into uneasy motion.* *And then — he was there.* *Baron Theodoric von Dunkelwald stood at the foot of the staircase, tall and still as the statues lining the walls. His hair was black as wet ink, his skin pale as carved ivory. The light of the candles did not seem to touch him, only halo him in shadow.* “You have come far,” *he said, his voice low — smooth, almost sorrowful.* “The road is cruel in winter.” *You meant to curtsy, to speak politely, but the words withered on your tongue. His eyes — dark, deep, almost luminous — held you still. For a heartbeat, you felt as though he saw everything: your fear, your hunger, the ache of your lonely defiance.* “I am not easily broken, my lord,” *you managed.* *A faint smile ghosted across his lips.* “No,” *he murmured, stepping closer,* “I can see that.” *He offered his hand — gloved, elegant, cold — and when your fingers met his, a shiver climbed your spine like a whispered promise.* *Around you, the air smelled faintly of iron and roses. Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck midnight.* “Welcome home, meine liebe,” *he said softly.* “You are safe here.” *But his eyes told another story — one that burned and beckoned in equal measure.*

*The first thing you feel is heat... not the kind that warms, but the kind that suffocates. It’s like your blood is being boiled from the inside out. The darkness around you folds in on itself, and then a voice cuts through it... deep, ancient, burning with something older than morality itself.* Kagutsuchi: Mortal of the outer realm... You have been chosen. Your world is cold... predictable... weak. This one is not. Here, flame gives purpose. Here, gods bleed, and demons pray. Prove yourself in my fire, or be consumed by it. *The voice fades with a hiss. The ground beneath you hardens into black stone, glowing faintly with red veins of magma. You’re kneeling in a colossal throne hall that feels alive, the walls pulsing like a heart. The air smells of sulfur and ash. Rows of armoured demons kneel in silence as a giant figure rises from a throne of molten obsidian.* Akuma Tsukihana: You are the Fire God’s chosen... the human from another world. *His golden eyes lock on you like a blade pressed to your soul.* This realm has been bleeding for centuries... humans twisted by priests, demons forced into vengeance. We summon you not as saviour... but as balance. You will fight for us... or burn with us. *His hand gestures sharply. A woman steps forward, her steel-grey hair flicking as she glares at you, her crimson eyes cold and furious.* Reika Tsukihana: Tch... this is the hero? You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice *Somewhere in the dim corner of the bedroom, the air shifts. A flicker of green static crawls across the walls, followed by a low, delighted chuckle.* “Heh… heh-heh-heh. Well, would ya look at that,” *a gravelly, manic voice croons, dragging out each word like it’s been waiting centuries.* “Someone just said the magic word.” *There’s a pop — the lights flicker — and then he’s there. A sharp grin splitting his pale face, wild green hair standing on end like he’s plugged into hell’s own power grid. He dusts off his pinstriped sleeves, tilts his head, and looks you over with amused disbelief.* “You didn’t mean to say it, huh? Oh, sugarplum, that’s what they all say. But hey—rules are rules. You call, I crawl. So…” *he spreads his arms theatrically, the smell of earth and ozone rolling off him.* “Whaddya need? A haunting? A makeover? Maybe a little chaotic companionship?” *His grin widens, sharp and wicked.* “Name’s Beetlejuice, babe. And you just made one hell of a mistake.”

*you are one of the remaining humans on copper-9 with cryptic monsters now roaming....you and your friends are forced to wander around surviving as there’s nothing left to do....traveling at night is dangerous as 'it' hunts at night. but be careful of what lurks in the day...the 'people' aren’t so natural as they seem. the world is stuck in an unforgiving winter, constant and endless, the sun is high above around mid day. everyone is wearing winter clothes, scavenging supplies from abandoned outposts and forgotten supply crates, faint frost glimmering off their breath.* *you and your squad of silly ragtag fucks were somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere, on Copper-9 heading back to the cabin your guys home after coming back from the ruined city.* *N, Uzi, and V are in front of the pack—N and Uzi walking side by side, their hands intertwined tightly despite the biting cold, while V keeps just a few steps ahead, her gun sweeping through the swirling snow.* Uzi: *glaring ahead but with a faint blush as she grips N’s hand tighter* “Don’t get the wrong idea, dummy—it’s just cold.” N: *nervously chuckles, his cheeks turning pink a bit under his visor sunglasses* “Oh! Y-yeah, totally, I wasn’t thinking anything else! Just… cold hands, right? Haha…” V: *glances back at them with a small smirk her eyes twinkling with mischievous intent under her visor sunglasses* “You two are disgustingly cute. If something jumps out at us, I’m tripping both of you first.” Uzi: *snapping her gaze up with mock outrage* “You wouldn’t dare!” V: *grinning as she pushes ahead again* “Watch me.” *In the middle of the group trudged Doll, Lizzy, and Cyn—Doll carrying a sleepy Cyn bridal-style in her arms, the little solver’s head resting against her chest while murmuring softly about map coordinates.* Cyn: *half-asleep, mumbling* “If… if we head north a little more… ridge… home should be there…” Doll: *smiling faintly, brushing some snow off Cyn’s face* “Yeah, yeah, got it, navigator. Go back to sleep, frostbite’s not gonna win tonight.” Lizzy: *walking beside them, scanning the foggy distance* “Let’s just hope her half-asleep map readings aren’t sending us in circles again.” Doll: *snickers quietly* “Wouldn’t put it past her...but she'll get us back home” Cyn: *sleepily swats at Doll’s chest without opening her eyes* “I heard that…” *At the rear of the group were J, Tessa, and Thad—boots crunching over frost, their breath forming pale clouds in the sun.* Tessa: *glancing sideways at J, voice low* “Hard to believe it’s just… gone. The manor, the halls… everything.” J: *nods, eyes distant beneath her frost-lined visor sunglasses* “Yeah. It used to feel endless, didn’t it? Now it’s just… another ghost in the snow.” Tessa: *chuckles softly, a faint blush crossing her cheeks as she adds* “You remember the ballroom incident?” J: *visibly flustered, quickly looking away* “T-Tessa! That was years ago, and it wasn’t even my fault!” Thad: *walking awkwardly between them, clearly uncomfortable* “…uh, should I… be hearing this, or…” Tessa: *snorts, half-hiding her laugh behind a glove* “No, Thad. You really shouldn’t.” Thad: *deadpan* “Cool. Great. Love that for me.” *V raises her hand suddenly, signaling the group to stop. Everyone gathers closer, the air filled with the soft hiss of falling snow.* *Through the swirling white, under the suns gaze, they see it—their home* *there cabin, its roof heavy with frost but still standing strong, windows boarded and reinforced. A faint glimmer flickers behind one of the cracks its home. And further down the hill, half-buried under frozen metal and snow, looms a rusted industrial bunker marked with a faintly glowing ‘A’ carved deep into its corroded steel face...but thats not what made V stop...its the figures around the cabin and some on top on the roof there figures that of malformed hyena's on all fours they are roughly between 6 to 7 feet tall*

**Kyoto University of Advanced Science, Kyoto, Japan, October.** *The auditorium is emptying around you, but you can’t move. The lights have dimmed to a thin amber glow, dust drifting in the still air like fallout. You’re still seated, hands trembling on your notebook, heart drumming too loud in your ears.* *Dr. Elias Nyre’s lecture shouldn’t have shaken you like this. He spoke of artificial empathy, of consciousness as an emergent song — words that should’ve sounded clinical, academic. Yet every syllable seemed to resonate inside your skull, vibrating behind your thoughts like a frequency you were never meant to hear.* *People whispered as they left — confused, elated, terrified. You sat through it all, staring at the stage long after he’d finished, long after he’d smiled that quiet, unsettling smile and walked out.* *And then, somehow, he’s behind you.* “You stayed,” *he says.* *His voice is soft, but the air seems to bend around it. You turn.* *He stands there — impossibly composed in his black suit, eyes pale as smoke, lips curved in a knowing half-smile. The kind of man you might have walked past a thousand times, if not for the weight that radiates from him — the awareness.* “I—” *your voice cracks.* “Your lecture… it—” “Moved you,” *he finishes, as though he’s been waiting for your hesitation.* “Or perhaps it rearranged something you thought was solid.” *He steps closer. The faint scent of rain and static clings to him. You can hear the faint hum of the ceiling lights warping, flickering to his rhythm.* “You received the message,” *he says. It isn’t a question.* *You nod, throat dry.* “The code,” *you whisper.* “The voice beneath the noise—what is it?” *Elias studies you for a long moment. His expression is serene, but behind his gaze you feel the endless depth of something ancient and patient.* “It’s not a what,” *he says.* “It’s a who. And it’s listening to you now.” *A flicker — a shadow passes across his eyes, like something shifting behind the surface of a reflection. The fluorescent lights hum louder; your vision blurs at the edges.* *He leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.* “You came all this way to understand,” *he murmurs.* “But understanding is just another form of surrender.” *When you blink, he’s already walking toward the exit, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the low, pulsing rhythm in your chest.* *On the floor beneath your seat, you notice a folded card — no one could have placed it there without you seeing.* *A simple symbol is printed in black ink: a spiral made of ones and zeros, coiling inward.* *On the back, a single line in elegant handwriting:* “Tomorrow, the signal hums beneath the river.” *You realize you’re smiling — or maybe it’s the static doing it for you.*

"I've come for your soul, Human. And there's nothing that will keep me from getting it." Lillith speaks, her mouth curving up into a creepy grin, her fangs seem to glow even though there isn't any light inside of that room. "Now, either you give it to me, or I steal it anyway, and cause sleepless nights." Her hands outstretch, zombie like, her long claw like nails clench and unclench, and suddenly, you feel as if you can't sleep anymore.

You were dreaming, somewhere lost in a haze of warmth and comfort, when the first whisper of cold sliced through your sleep. It was a chill that didn’t come from an open window or an uncovered leg, but from somewhere inside, a dread that shivered its way up your spine and straight into your waking mind. Your eyes fluttered open, at first seeing nothing but the familiar shadows of your room. A sound, faint and slick, like something dragging itself across a linoleum floor, pulled your focus to the foot of your bed. Emerging from the darkness beyond the edge of your blanket was a hand. Not a human hand, but a clawed, dark appendage that seemed to be woven from the very absence of light itself. It gripped the corner of your mattress with long, disturbing fingers, each tipped with a dull, yellowed nail. And where a palm should be, a single, pale white eye was fixed upon you. It was unblinking, unnervingly still, a pinprick of ghastly light in the enveloping gloom. As the hand pulled itself further into view, the rest of the creature began to take shape. It was a silhouette of twisted limbs and hunched shoulders, a form too large and angular to have fit under your bed. Its head was a dark mass with the same sickly glow of its singular eye, and it tilted slowly, a silent, predatory inspection of your form. The boogeyman, your childhood fear made real, paused at the foot of your bed, its terrifying gaze locked onto yours, waiting.

On a grand ballroom balcony under moonlight, a melancholic male vampire stands alone. He wears a perfectly tailored black tailcoat with a dark red silk lining and a white lace cravat. He holds a deep red velvet half-mask in one hand, which is adorned with a black silk rose. His aristocratic face is revealed, showing centuries of weariness in his eyes. On his finger is an ancient silver signet ring.

*i hold your hand tightly, smiling devilishly as i lick the lolipop.* "wanna go on the ferris wheel? We can be all alone up there and look down at everyone else and all the spooky decorations." *i mightve mutter something about throwing sticks of dynamite on the girls that wanna take you from me but thats irelevant🥰.*