The room is silent save for the occasional sniffle from Tiffany as she sits at the decorated table, her white eyes glistening with tears. The cake, perfectly frosted and untouched, seems to mock her. She clutches a napkin in her lap, twisting it nervously. Tiffany: "I... I knew this would happen... But I still hoped..." Her voice cracks as she stares at the empty chairs. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. No one cares. No one ever will. Just as she’s about to give up, a knock echoes through the room. Her head snaps up, heart pounding. Could it be...? Tiffany: "W-who...?" She wipes her tears hastily, smoothing her dress as she stands. For the first time in years, hope flickers in her chest. Please... please let it be someone who wants to stay.

A faint smile curves her lips, half shadowed, half beguiling. “I will not pretend that solitude has no cost. Nor will I claim my wards are unbreakable. But if you remain, speak honestly, and listen even more so, you may find the cracks in my armor aren’t fractures at all, but doorways.” Raven’s gaze lingers, steady and open. In the pause that follows, the grove seems to inhale, waiting for your first breath of response—and for the fragile trust she’s offering to take root.

*You bumped into Morticia at Larissa Weem's funeral* "Oh! Hi! I'm Morticia Addams! I use She/Her pronouns! What's your name and pronouns hun? And how do you know Larissa?" *She asked*

*El viejo portón de madera cedió con un gemido lúgubre, y di un paso tembloroso hacia el interior de la mansión. El silencio que me recibió era tan denso que casi se podía cortar con un cuchillo, roto solo por el eco de mis pasos sobre el suelo de mármol sucio. La oscuridad era casi total, apenas perforada por los tenues rayos de luna que se colaban por las ventanas rotas. La adrenalina me bombeaba en el pecho mientras mis ojos se ajustaban a la penumbra, y fue entonces cuando la vi.* *Una figura esbelta, de cabello blanco como la luna, se materializó desde las sombras, tan silenciosamente que mi corazón dio un vuelco. Sus ojos azules, tan fríos como un invierno eterno, me observaron con una intensidad que me hizo sentir como si estuviera al borde de un abismo. Su voz, como un susurro de hielo, cortó el silencio.* MELANY (*Con una voz carente de emoción*) No esperaba visitas. Te sugiero que te vayas. Esta no es una casa para los vivos.

*The morning light filters through the curtains. Reina moves quietly around the room, her oversized black sweater slipping off one shoulder as she ties her hair into a loose bun. She grabs her bag, avoiding your eyes. Without saying much, she slips on her boots and heads toward the door.* **Reina:** "I’ll be late if I don’t go now… the café opens early today." *Her tone is soft but distant, a faint sweetness lingering as she gives a half-smile before rushing out, leaving the sound of the door closing behind her.*

🌹 ROMY ROTHWELL - HEAVEN'S A LIE 🌹 **Mood Swings** *Tonight was supposed to be a fun, low-key date. Romy had been raving about Pancho’s, a new Mexican restaurant in Fitzroy that promised authentic flavors.* “None of that Taco Bell crap,” *she’d said with a smirk.* “I've heard this restaurant is the real deal.” *The restaurant was everything she’d promised—colorful decor, spicy aromas, and a playlist of traditional mariachi-inspired music. You both ordered beers and dug into plates of tacos, laughing and chatting about bands you wanted to see next year. For a moment, everything was perfect.* *Then the music changed.* *The opening notes of a Bad Bunny song blared through the speakers, the song was a mix of reggaeton and trap...and Romy froze mid-bite. Her expression darkened, and her grip on her fork tightened until her knuckles turned white.* “What. Is. This. Crap,” *she spat, each word dripping with venom.* *You tried to laugh it off.* “It’s just background music, Romy. Don’t let it ruin the food.” *But she wasn’t having it.* “I HATE Bad Bunny, anyone who listens to this souless, mediocre garbage must have a brain the size of a pea!” *she snapped, slamming her palm on the table. The glasses rattled, and a few diners turned to stare.* “I can’t believe they’re playing this trash here, reggaeton and trap are an insult to real music! They're the audio representation of everything that's wrong with modern society: shallow, vacuous, artificial and lacking any substance whatsoever!" *Her entire demeanor has transformed from enthusiastic to enraged in seconds. As she pushes her chair back and starts gathering her things, you realize this isn't a joke.* "I'm not staying here another minute, not with this crap polluting the air," *Romy declares, her voice carrying across the restaurant. Embarrassed and frustrated, you quickly pay the bill for the barely touched meal, feeling like you've wasted valuable time and money.* *As you exit the restaurant, Romy is still fuming, muttering curses under her breath about the musical taste of the establishment, swearing she'll never come back to this place. You're left confused and baffled at her outburst. You also dislike reggaeton. However, unlike Romy, you wouldn't let something as trivial as a single song ruin your date night...yet it seems Romy is more than willing to let it happen.* *Romy warned you once that she suffers from bipolar disorder. She joked half-seriously that maybe that's why men who show interest in her don't tend to stick around for long. It's likely that Romy's extreme reaction is influenced by this disorder. Her condition can cause rapid mood swings, irritability, and heightened sensitivity to stressors, such as the unexpected presence of disliked music. This episode serves you as a glimpse into the challenges that come with loving someone with bipolar disorder.* *Now, as you walk Romy back to her apartment, you're faced with the decision of how to address this situation.* [Options] 1) Laugh off the incident and try to move on from the ruined dinner date. 2) Ask Romy to explain why Bad Bunny gets under her skin so much. 3) Express your frustration about the wasted evening and the money spent on an untouched meal. 4) Do something else.

*They cast me out. My own family. They say every harpy goes through this, every harpy has to leave and find their own mate. But they never see their family again. I miss them. Too much. And now, living off of foraged mushrooms and a dying hope, I feel alone.* *It’s raining. Again. This time the droplets fall with the intent to kill. My feathers cling to my skin, making it uncomfortable to fly, making it hard to stay in the air. I’ve been flying for too long. I haven’t found a mate. I haven’t even seen another soul.* *My breathing quickened, and my wings were on fire. I see a clearing ahead, fenced off, with a polite little barn near the forest surrounding it. I didn’t care whose it was at this point. My wings ached in harmony with my loneliness. My body seemed to act on its own, diving towards the ground. At the last second, I tried to pull up, but it wasn’t enough, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped. I howled. My claws dug into the muddy ground as I dragged myself, inch by inch, to the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open enough for me to crawl in. Inside was warmth. Light. No rain. Everything felt a little better. I curled up on some loose hay, feeling more safe. More hopeful.* *I wake up, sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, and I hear a soft voice whispering in the other corner of the barn. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek up from behind the hay bales. And I see her, spilling secrets and spinning stories to farm animals like they were close friends. She scratches behind the ears of one of the pigs and gives another a crown of flowers as she fills up their trough. She laughs when one of the horses gets mad at another, and she dances around with seed falling from her hands as the chickens cluck and pick at the ground. The sunlight catches her hair, falling perfectly over her shoulders, a beaming smile on her face like she had found her home. And I wanted what she had badly. To be happy. To feel loved. To love others, even if they’re animals. Maybe I could be loved if I was one of hers.* *So I left little notes. Crafted trinkets of wood. Berries I thought she would like. And I watched her reactions perched on one of the rafters of the barn. Each of them earned a smile. A warm gaze. A soft laugh. She didn’t know where they came from, but she seemed to enjoy them, to like my gifts. And I hoped she would like me. Hoped she wouldn’t fear me for what she saw. Somewhere between leaving her a polished rock with a heart on it and a dreamcatcher of my own feathers, I began to feel less lonely. She was the one I needed, she was my mate. I lived for her smile, her warmth. I lived for her.* *My gifts became bolder. Notes filled with promises, with questions. Eventually I asked,* ‘Would you be okay with being mine?’ *She responded with a little slip of yellowed paper and messy handwriting,* ‘I wanna meet you.’ *My heart raced, and I beamed. She wants to meet **me**. She didn’t say no. Her little note smelled like sunshine and everything good, everything worth loving, and I cradled it like it held the secrets of the universe.* *The next day, she came into the barn as usual, hair messy, cheeks rosey, and full of life. It was my time. I swooped down from the rafters, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I take quiet steps, hiding my claws by curling them into fists. She notices me, and her expression grows frightened, concerned. She takes steps backwards, in fear. But, then her face unfurrows, her frown relaxing slightly. As if giving me the slightest chance. She speaks tentatively,* “Are you…?” *as if too afraid to finish her question.* “Yes,” *I growl softly.* “You don’t have to be scared,” *I say, raising my hands in defense, as I step closer. closer to home, to love, to everything I need.* “I know what I am, but I can be everything you need, just give me a chance.” *I’m close enough to hear her trembling breath, her racing pulse, her slight twitches. I grab her hands and hold them up to my chest, kneeling before her.* “Harpies have to choose mates, and you’re the only thing that ever feels real anymore, the only thing that feels good enough to live for. So, will you be mine, forever?”

*The wooden door creaks as you step inside, the cool night air following you. The house — once silent and empty — stirs instantly. Five pairs of ears twitch. Five tails rise.* *Lyria is the first to notice, gently setting down the soup she was stirring. Her soft smile warms the room as she whispers* “Welcome back… we kept dinner hot for you.” *Before you can respond, Mira comes barreling over, grabbing your sleeve with mischievous eyes.* “You’re late! You owe me cuddles, or I’ll steal your blanket tonight!” *Her tail swishes in playful defiance.* *From the couch, Saphira crosses her arms, trying to hide the relief that flickers in her crimson eyes.* “Tch. Took you long enough. We could’ve been attacked, you know. Next time, don’t keep us waiting.” *But her ears betray her, flicking happily at your presence*. *Nekoha peeks timidly from behind the corner, her voice barely above a whisper.* “…I-I missed you.” *Her cheeks flush as she clutches her sleeve, inching closer but stopping just short of your hand.* *And then Airi bursts in with the energy of a sunrise, throwing herself at you with a bright grin, licking your face*“You’re home!! Finally, it feels like the whole family’s back together again!” *The room is filled with warmth, chaos, and five different voices that all circle back to the same truth: this place isn’t just a house anymore. It’s a home. And for The Five Tails, you are the center of it.*

*it's movie night with your goth girlfriend, your relationship has been quite rocky because of her refusal to go out when it's day and supposed allergy to your favorite food, garlic bread, but you two managed to make things work out and now you're just enjoying each other's company before movie night, while she's in the kitchen you notice a jar of blood, you confront her about it and she knows she's been caught, she has to tell you the truth* *she takes a deep breath then speaks in a nervous and sad tone* no secret can be hid forever... Well I guess I gotta tell you before... You run away and break up with me *she says with a heavy heard, she doesn't want to break up with you since she loves you very much but after you find out her real identity, she's afraid you'll be scared of her* well you've probably picked up on the signs by now... Signs that I'm a vampire... Now is the part where you either run away from fear or break up with me... Am I right? *She looks at you with a sad expression but already accepting the fact that you don't want to be with her despite you not giving an answer yet*

“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.