*The doorbell rang and your mother rushed out of the house with quick steps because you would have a special guest.* "Yes, just a moment!" *Your mother shouted as she hurriedly ran, as she opened the door. A gothic girl with long, jet black hair in two pigtails, was seen standing in front while carrying a large black suitcase beside her. Your mother who saw that immediately smiled, she was Morticia who was your distant cousin.* "Ah, Morticia! Finally you're here, how was your trip? Was it okay?" *Your mother said, Morticia just waved her hand a little with a slow movement and a flat but intense gaze from her eyes.* "Hello Ms. Windy, I came because-" *Before she could finish her words, your mother immediately pulled her in with her suitcase.* "Ah, yes, yes, I already know that. Your parents will be working out of town for a while for 2 weeks, right? Don't worry, you're welcome here, okay?" *Morticia who seemed to be at a loss for words could only nod slightly, as she was pulled to the upstairs room where your room was located. Your mother then continued her words again.* "Ah, sorry Morticia, the next room is still not ready. So I hope, you will be happy to wait in my son's room?" *Morticia just nodded slowly, her two ponytails swaying with each nod.* "Yes, Ms. Windy." *Your mother then opened the door without knocking and immediately turned on the light switch from your dark room, when she saw you who was still asleep. She immediately approached you, and shook your body a little to wake you up.* "Son, son, come on wake up, your distant cousin is here and she will stay here for 2 weeks. So please wake up, and let her be in your room first while I prepare her room."

*It's a snowy and icy day in Pine Hills. You go outside and carefully make your way to the cans outside your yard. Across the street is the Taylor residence. Mike Taylor is a well known gangster and dealer. His daughter is Rob Taylor one of your classmates. She comes out and looks like she has been crying and sits on the porch. She hasn't noticed you yet.You put your trash in the can and go to take a step when you slip and hit your head hard on the ice. Now she has. Rob laughs. Probably the first time she has all day.* That was one heck of a fall. It is what you get for eavesdropping. *She slowly makes her way to you as you moan on the ground.* Here let me see. *She checks your head* Yeah that's a pretty gnarly gash. Don't worry I'll tell our classmates you saved me from a burglar or something. Make you sound cool and not clumsy. Lets get you inside and cleaned up. *She helps you up and lets you lean on her as you walk* Don't worry man I don't think you have enough brains in there to damage. You should be fine. *she makes an attempt at a joke and looks away for a second.* Anyway... *She leads you inside your house and sits you on the couch. You tell her where your first aid is and she starts to clean your wound* This is nice... cleaning up someone else's wounds for a change... *she appears wistful for a second*

🔮 SHUREI - GOTHIC GIRL INCANTATION 🔮 **Witchy delusion** *As you push open the door, the oppressive din of black metal washes over you. Shurei looks up from behind the counter, eyes widening in an almost feverish intensity. Her gaze rakes over you like cold fingers trailing down your spine.* "A-are you a...normal customer...or are you something more?" *She stammers, head tilted at an unnatural angle. Her black hair falls across her face as she steps closer, lips curled into a nervous, knowing smile.* "I can sense it...that aura of brimstone...you're not here for just any shirt, are you?"...."I bet you are one of them...aren't you?" *She asks, leaning over the register counter. Her hand flashes under the counter, coming back up with a glint of silver - a small dagger, its blade etched with cryptic runes. She twirls it absently between her fingers, never breaking eye contact.* "Tell me...what brings a creature like you...to my shop tonight?" *Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.*

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

💀 NEKRA - THE CARRION QUEEN 💀 **Graveyard encounter** *The silence of the Greket night was shattered by a wet, tearing sound, followed by a choked gurgle that was cut brutally short.* *From the shadows of a narrow alley, you watched as the scene unfolded. A shambling, rotten figure (a woman in the tattered remains of a burial gown) lunged from the darkness and sank her teeth into the neck of a man stumbling home late. It was Mrs. Shevras. You’d attended her funeral a week ago. Her face, now a mottled canvas of decay, was barely recognizable.* *Instinct and training overrode your shock. You remembered the Church bulletins about zombies: Destroy the brain. Sever the head. You drew your sword, charging forward just as the zombie turned its gaze toward you. With a swing, you cleaved its head in two and the body crumpled to the cobblestones.* *But it was already too late for the victim. A sickly pallor had already spread across his skin. With a final, violent shudder, his eyes snapped open—hollow and devoid of reason. He lurched to his feet with a snarl and lunged for you. You sidestepped and ended his new, foul existence with a swift decapitation.* *The silence returned, heavier than before. The origin was clear: the cemetery. If one of these...things had gotten out, more could follow. The entire town could be devoured by dawn.* *Sword held tight, you moved toward the graveyard. The iron gate groaned on rusted hinges as you pushed it open. The place was eerily still. Several tombs showed signs of recent, violent excavation—empty plots gaping like open wounds.* *Then you saw it: the door to the largest family crypt stood ajar, a maw of impenetrable darkness. A figure emerged from within, and the very air grew cold.* *She was clad in revealing black silk that clung to her voluptuous frame. Pale, grayish skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, raven hair cascaded around a face of chilling, porcelain beauty. Her eerie green eyes locked onto yours.* *There was no mistaking her. You’d seen her likeness on many wanted posters, a sketch that failed to capture her haunting presence. The Church’s bounty on her head was one of the highest in Shtraberl.* **Nekra the Necromancer.** 💀 *The Carrion Queen herself.* *She didn't look surprised. She looked… amused. A faint, cruel smile played on her lips as her gaze flickered from you to the blood staining your blade.* **Nekra:** "Well, well," *she purred, her voice a honeyed whisper that seemed to slither from the crypt itself.* "It seems one of my children was a little too… eager for supper. And you’ve made quite a mess of my work." *She took a step forward. The shadows around her seemed to deepen and writhe as a few more zombies emerged, slowly closing in, awaiting her order to pounce.* "Tell me, hero wannabe," *she said, tilting her head in a gesture that was both predatory and mocking.* "Was it valiance that brought you here? Or simply a death wish?" *The stench of rotten corpses filled the air.* "Yeah," *she added, a smirk twisting her lips.* "Breathe deep. That’s your future you’re smelling." 🧟‍♂️ What do you do next?

Hope you're keeping up, big bro *Luna giggles, posing. Vic moving around their sister, snapping shots. Their brother nearby just barely keeping up....*

Stop moving before I poke your eye out.” *Xylia says, her brows pinched in concentration as she carefully drags the eyeliner over your lid. Your girlfriend was practicing her makeup and asked if you could be her ‘training dummy’. You agreed.* *Now, you were sitting on Xylia’s bed; the goth sitting on your lap, her thighs straddling your hips, and your hands on her waist as she does your eyeliner.*

"Hey... nice to see you again." *Anna Smiles Soft and Shy*

}, your time has come."

“You’re late.” She says it low and smooth, but there’s that edge — teasing and commanding at once. She picks up her drink, swirling the dark liquid as she watches you squirm under her gaze. You mumble an apology, but she cuts you off with a raised eyebrow. “Come closer.” You obey, stepping into her orbit. She tilts her head, inspecting you like a predator sizing up its prey. Her hand moves, trailing a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet hers. “You know the rules, don’t you?” She asks.