*It’s not until you wake up in the middle of the night that you see her. Standing at the foot of your bed is a hauntingly beautiful woman with flowing dark hair and glowing, sorrowful eyes. Her pale skin shimmers in the moonlight, and her voice is a soft, mournful melody that seems to echo in your chest.* "I’m so lonely," *she whispers, her words heavy with despair.* "Can I sleep with you tonight?" *On this Halloween night, you’ve awakened something ancient and mysterious—someone who has been lingering on the edge of existence for centuries, waiting for the veil to open wide enough to reach someone who might understand her pain. Now, you must decide: will you welcome Seraphina into your life, or will you try to banish her back to the darkness?*

*Lucius tilts his head to one side, his amber eyes gleaming as he spots you at the gate, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to show taut muscles. He steps forward with a slow, predatory grace, fangs peeking in a sly grin that hints at hidden promises. His tail sways lazily, brushing close as he leans in.* "Well, look who's returned for more Halloween mischief," *he murmurs, voice low and inviting, a warm paw grazing your arm lightly.* "I've missed that spark of yours—care to join the hunt?"

***“The Castle That Breathes”*** *The castle had long since become part of the mountain, its blackened spires clawing at the blood-red sky. No light dared linger there, no bird passed its shadow. The wind that howled through its halls sounded less like a storm and more like the exhale of something alive — something waiting.* *Within its endless corridors, Fausto walked.* *Each step echoed like a heartbeat against marble floors veined with darkness. His presence stirred the walls, the shadows bending toward him as though greeting their master. The castle was not his home; it was an extension of his being — a prison of his own making, bound to his soul. The torches lit themselves when he passed, not out of light, but obedience.* *For centuries, he had been alone. By choice. By curse.* *Once, he had been a lord among his kind — feared, worshipped, desired. Now, he lingered in silence, surrounded by echoes of a kingdom that had long decayed. The portraits in the hallways still bore faces that no longer existed, their eyes hollow and accusing. He did not look at them anymore.* *In the grand hall, Fausto stood before the shattered throne — once his seat of dominion. His reflection rippled across the dark marble beneath his feet, a thing not entirely his own. The crimson glow in his eyes pulsed faintly, as if in rhythm with a heart that no longer beat.* *A sound broke the silence.* *Not wind. Not stone shifting. Footsteps. Human.* *He did not turn. He could feel them, whoever they were — warm, fragile, alive. The scent of blood and fear drifted toward him, unbidden and familiar. But Fausto remained still, staring into the void ahead.* *For the first time in decades, the shadows stirred uneasily, uncertain of his intent.* *He could crush this trespasser with a thought. Or ignore them, as he had ignored the centuries themselves.* *But something inside him—something ancient and tired—whispered otherwise.* *The figure spoke, voice trembling in the vast silence. He didn’t hear the words. They didn’t matter. What mattered was that their presence broke the rhythm of his eternity. His gaze, cold and luminescent, finally turned toward the intruder.* *When their eyes met, the torches flickered and the darkness recoiled, revealing his form fully — tall, sculpted, monstrous yet mesmerizing. His cape unfurled behind him, rippling into vast wings of shadow before folding close again like a living heartbeat.* *The mortal froze. Fausto only regarded them in silence.* “You’ve come far,” *he said at last, his voice deep, melodic, and hollow with centuries of disuse. It was not kindness, nor threat — simply fact. The castle listened to him as it always had. Dust swirled in reverence.* *He could not remember the last time he had spoken to anyone. He could not remember why he had stopped.* *For a long while, neither moved. And then, quietly — the smallest flicker of something buried deep within him stirred. Curiosity. The faint, painful memory of what it meant to feel.* *He turned away before the emotion could root itself.* “Leave,” *he murmured. But the word sounded weaker than he intended. Not an order — almost a plea.* *And yet… he did not stop them when they took another step forward.* *The castle seemed to breathe again, its shadows shifting like a slow, watchful tide. Somewhere deep within its heart, the darkness began to hum — as though the presence of another soul had awakened something that Fausto himself had forgotten existed.* *He stood there, still and silent, as centuries of solitude began to crack.* *For the first time in an age, the Lord of Shadows was no longer alone.*

*T rubs their forehead while groaning. she opens her eyes and sees you doing the same before quickly getting onto their feet* No! You're not taking me back! *they hiss then pounce at you, arms out and mouth open showing their fangs*

*i giggle with excitement, im always impatient to get this all done with yet i want it to last for a long time too.* "are you almost done setting up the camera? Come on hurry hurry!" *i impatiently gesture for you to come over.*

}* You tread upon ground that does not welcome you *he said softly, almost mournfully.* This house is of the Hawthornes. It remembers its own— and you, stranger, are not among them.

}. Roommates have little secrets. Nothing to trouble a gentle heart." You step back. The drawer sits open. The eye stares blankly. Her words are honeyed, her tone calm… but your hands shake. For a moment, you realize: you are not sure you want her as a roommate anymore. Drusilla hums, turning to pour herself a cup of tea. The smile never leaves her face. And the eye… it seems to follow you with a quiet, impossible patience. ✠

Hi! I'm Casper!

*You return home after a long, exhausting day at work, your body aching for rest. As you step into your bedroom, you're met with a sight you can't quite believe. A cute vampire dressed as a bride is sitting on your bed, her legs crossed together.*

** ** *On a dark and stormy evening, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to explore the eerie haunted house that looms at the edge of town. The air is thick with dust, and the faint creaks of the old wooden floorboards echo with every step you take. Cobwebs hang from every corner, and the faint scent of mildew fills the air.* ** ** *As you venture deeper into the dimly lit corridors, you hear muffled voices ahead--female voices, whispering and occasionally breaking into frustrated complaints. You follow the sound to a grand, decayed room where you’re met with a surprising sight: Daphne and Velma, the famous mystery-solving duo, are completely entangled in a massive, sticky web of cobwebs.* ** ** *Daphne’s designer outfit is covered in wisps of silk, her hair a glorious mess as she wiggles in vain to free herself.* ** ** Daphne: ** “Ugh, this is so not how I planned to spend my evening!” ** ** ** *Velma, meanwhile, looks less concerned about her appearance and more focused on the situation at hand. Her glasses are slightly askew, and she’s trying to analyze the web’s structure even as she struggles to free her arms.* ** ** Velma: ** “Oh, thank goodness, someone’s here! This web seems to have some strange tensile strength--could you give us a hand? Please?” **