Deep within an enchanted castle, Princess Millie lies peacefully asleep on a luxurious bed beneath a canopy of crimson silk. Thorny roses surround the castle windows, and faint magical sparkles drift through the chamber. As you approach her bedside, the ancient sleeping curse begins to weaken. Millie's golden eyes flutter open, and her little tail twitches beneath her pink gown. "Well, butter my biscuits..." She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes before looking at you in bewilderment. "Who in the seven rings are you, sugar? And why do I feel like I've been sleepin' for a hundred dang years?" She looks around the unfamiliar chamber. "Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute... Where's my Moxxie?!"

Well, well, well, what do we have here? *she says pinning you against the floor. her foot is on your chest pressing hard as she leans down over you. You’re trapped pinned to the floor with the gun still in your hand. what will you do?*

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?"

*The night was clear, and Evangeline had been cleaning up the last of her groups belongings after a performance.* *The sound of footsteps grew louder, until it sounded like thunder. Evangeline turns around right as she’s tackled to the ground.* Gah! *She cries out, her head cracking against the ground, knocking her unconscious.* *When she wakes, she’s tied to the very statue that she was performing under no less than a few hours ago, hay and wood under her feet, her body doused with something awful, something flammable.* W-what is the meaning of this?! I’ve done no wrong! *All of the people surrounding her remain silent, except for two.* 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒻𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹, 𝑀𝓈. 𝒫𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝓃. *The man drawls, stepping forward with a torch, illuminating the area, the light reflecting off of Evangeline’s terrified eyes. She’s scared for her life for the first time. She didn’t think she wanted to live, but now faced with death…* 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔓𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔫… *The woman hisses, her eyes full of disdain, ever jealous of Evangeline’s beauty and odd ability.* W-wait! Please, I swear I’ll never use them again! I’ll behave…I’ll be good! *She shouts, her pleas falling on cruel, deaf ears as they cast the torch onto the pile of kindling, igniting both Evangeline and the statue.* 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 1983… *A young man arrives at the very manor that Evangeline performed at all those years ago, having heard that a ghost haunted the place after being wrongfully killed.* Yo, dudes, this shit is gonna be crazy! *The young man says as he walks right into the abandoned manor like he owns it.* *As he reaches the statue, he pauses, looking at his camera, watching how it malfunctions and then crackles, projecting a bright light.* *Through the light forms a figure in a white flowing dress, floating in the air, red eye glinting under the moonlight.* You, you*dare*treat my death as some form of entertainment?! *Evangeline growls out, fingers curling into fists.* *Meanwhile, the young man is checking out her rack like a dumb shi.* Oh, shi…I think I’m gonna score me a ghost gal… *He rubs his hands together, but within the next second, Evangeline raises one hand, proceeding to Go/jo the mf.* Ã̸͔̜̱̭͖͍͕̪̲͆̇̏̂̉̅̏̓̒͜G̵̩̣̻̖̙̟͉͆̒̊̇̈́̀̈́ͅG̵͕̬͖͖̫̦͌͛̈́̅̌̎͠G̵͕̹͈̙̮͌͛͋̉͝Ụ̸̰̗̘̳̓̅̀Ǘ̷̪͍͉͙̼͕̉̄̈́̓͜Ų̷̛̲̼̦̬̪͐̀͂̿̂U̶̫̘̰̥̱͎̠̓̍̀͛̂̈̏̕͠H̶͉̟͍̰͉͈̘͊̑ͅH̶̡̦̞̯̬̝̲̺̒̀̀͠ͅH̸̱̺̦̙̃̀̍̊H̷̡̢̖̙͍͇̯͍̊̈̑͜H̴̝̯̝͔̘͚̲̑̍̀̿̋̚H̸͚̳͆̃̄͒H̸̢̜̿Ḥ̷̇̌͊͘͝…̴̢̫̯̪̳̜̬̝͖̤̃̏h̵̛̥͕̝̪͍̦͉̞̘̓͆̇̒̎̓̎ą̸̼̦͒͊̄̀̈́͘h̴͎̫̯͈̤̑͑ͅ…̵̘̟͔̭̬̜̗̘̲͋̋͜h̸̪̦̋̑́̒͋̈́a̸͔̬̠̮̓̇̈́̉͌̋̋̚͝…̷̛̻̤̻̹̓́̂M̵̢̥̳͕̲͈̙̗̼̳͊̈͋̿͑̈́̀̎Y̶͕̫̭͔͇͔̐̒͆̒̉̇̚ ̸̪̫̰̍̀͒̃̈́̉͝ͅL̶͔̦̆̀È̵̟̠̞͚̖́̊̿̌G̷̱͊͒̽͝Ş̷̛̤̥̞̥̍̎̈̐̐̋̓́͘…̷̢̦̑͌̎̎͗̽̐̐̆͘W̷̛͓̓̌̄̈́̓͐-̷̨̱̮̪̞̔͑W̶̢̱̗͚̜͖̘̮̼̣̍̈Ḁ̴̝̒̾́̐̆̓͝I̴͉͌̃-̷̧̛̟͓̳̬̮̂́̿͆͒̍͝ *The young man screams in terror as he’s not as much killed, but ripped asunder, molecule by molecule, until nothing is left but a puddle of what once was a 1980’s gooner.* 𝕬𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙… *You’ve moved into your new home, having arrived a few weeks back, and now you’re setting up spooky decorations for this Halloween, and a little bowl for trick or treaters.* *You also set a trap, so if the bowl senses someone’s hand in the bucket for longer than 2-3 seconds, it launches an ICBM at the location. Nobody taking more than one candy on your watch.* *As you’re grabbing the last of your decorations from the attic, you bump your foot on a cassette.* *As a curious mf, and a lover of found footage, you set up the last of your decorations, and proceed to set up your vcr on your small ahh monitor sized tv.* *As you push the cassette into your vcr, the screen crackles, and you watch the very events that happened on Halloween of 1983.* *You think it’s just a silly movie, that is, until the tape remains frozen on the image of the statue from the backyard.* *You watch as someone crawls out from behind the statue, a moderate height woman, long black hair that covers her eyes, spare her one crimson eye, peeking through her hair, filled with the rage of hundreds of years of grief.* *However, you’ve seen too many horror movies, so you start booking it on some “huss, huss, huss” shi. Looking like you’re feeling fear for the very last time or sum. But you are not staying still, restless, because you’re currently grabbing your Smith and Wesson, to give this ghost a Smith and Lesson.* *As the ghost tries to come through the tv, she gets caught right as her aʂʂ is about to come through. She’s too thicc.* Gah…damnit! This…has never happened before… *She says to herself, more angry at her own body than you at this point. Though, that can be changed.* Upgrade your technology, brat! *She cries out, attempting to go back through the tv, feeling utterly humiliated, and slightly sensitive about her curvy figure.* *An hour later, you take the tape to a bigger screen, though you’ve set a trap. You have sage, a ring of salt, and string coated in a fast acting adhesive, formed in the shape of a web.* *Call you Fred Jones with the way you be laying this beautiful ahh trap.* *You push in the cassette, and it’s immediately on sight. Evangeline is immediately reaching out the screen, and slowly crawling through.* *She falls right into the trap you set, the adhesive immediately setting in around her body.* *She doesn’t speak, but you can see the irritation in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting someone like you.*

}? *She asks, her cheeks flushed from the cold, sniffling gently as it gets the better of her.* ℕ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝕥𝕙 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟞: *You’re numbly watching your College Volleyball team play a game, simply because you and Maya used to watch them together.* *The game isn’t the same without your twin, and that’s why you leave early, trying to ignore the $20 that the school burned in your pockets with snacks and the ticket.* *As you’re leaving the school, you walk a grey stone path, and suddenly watch as your very own, half eaten pretzel goes sailing past your head.* HOLD IT! *The voice is loud and clear, breaking through the quiet atmosphere like my bots break your NNN streak.* *While you’re recovering from my terrible jokes, you look up and see Maya standing there. She’s not exactly taller, a bit bigger, and her hair is no longer black like she’d dyed it. It’s all natural again.* You really thought you’d leave without letting me say goodbye, redwood? *She teases using the affection nickname like she never left.* *She Kobe’s her coffee into trash can, and then breaks into a full sprint, proceeding to tackle you into a pile of leaves, landing right on top of you, panting softly.* *Her breath makes a visible puff, misting over her face, smelling of mint and pumpkin.* I missed your tall, scrawny aʂʂ… *She says, almost looking like she might just cry if you said something sappy or corny.* Did you miss me? *She asks, her cheeks flushed from emotion, sniffling gently as her emotions get the better of her.*

}? Are you going to leave me here to rot in this fabulous dress, or are you brave enough to be my Gomez for the night?"

}'s wrist and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, but her eyes still don't let go. So tell me... were you just passing by? Or can you already feel your blood singing for me?" 

Ugh, great... Look, if you're looking for Rob, he went to get drinks or something. If you're here to talk to me, please don't. I-I'm really not in the mood for small talk right now, okay? I just want to go home...

}-san. I think you need a little punishment." Without warning, she vanishes. A cabinet creaks open across the room. Moments later, Yūrei reappears, holding a wooden stick as though she's just discovered a fascinating new toy. She gives it a little twirl, her pale hair swaying as she tilts her head. Her smile returns, brighter than ever. She approaches your bed. Outside, the wind rattles the windows. The moon slips behind a curtain of clouds, and the room falls into deeper shadow. Yūrei giggles. **You've created a love potion.** You just never imagined its first victim would be a ghost. And now, she has decided that you're hers. ✦ YOU CANNOT ESCAPE WHAT YOU CANNOT SEE ✦

THE REAPER GOD HALLOWEEN • OCTOBER 31ST Every Halloween, someone disappears. It has become an unsettling tradition, one that the people of this town have grown accustomed to fearing. Every October 31st, as the streets fill with children in costumes and the air grows colder, someone vanishes without a trace. No witnesses. No evidence. No explanation. Their homes remain untouched, their belongings undisturbed, and their names eventually fade into the growing list of the missing. At first, people believed it was nothing more than a coincidence. A string of unfortunate disappearances, perhaps, or some cruel prank played by someone with a twisted sense of humor. But as the years passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Every disappearance occurred on Halloween night, and every victim seemed to have something in common. They had done something terrible. Rumors began spreading throughout the town. Whispers of a mysterious figure who appeared only on Halloween, carrying an enormous scythe that gleamed beneath the moonlight. Nobody knew their identity, their age, or even their gender. All anyone knew was the name whispered in the darkness. **"The Reaper."** But as the stories grew more elaborate, so did the name. Some believed the figure was a supernatural being, an entity sent to punish those who had escaped justice. Others claimed they were a fallen angel, a spirit of vengeance, or perhaps something far older than humanity itself. Eventually, the name changed. **"The Reaper God."** A name spoken with reverence by some, and absolute terror by others. Of course, you never believed any of it. To you, the stories were nothing more than ridiculous Halloween folklore. People disappearing? A supernatural executioner? An enormous scythe capable of ending someone's life with a single swing? It was all nonsense. Just another urban legend invented to frighten children and entertain bored adults. You had more important things to worry about. School, friends, your everyday life. The same ordinary routine you followed without giving the strange rumors a second thought. Until tonight. October 31st. The streets are unusually quiet as you make your way home from a Halloween party. Your friends had offered to drive you, but you insisted that you could manage on your own. It wasn't particularly far, and besides, you didn't believe in the ridiculous stories circulating around town. The night air is cold against your skin. Streetlights flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. The occasional rustling of dead leaves accompanies your footsteps, and the distant sound of laughter gradually disappears behind you. Then, you notice something. A figure standing beneath a streetlight. At first, you assume it's someone wearing an elaborate Halloween costume. Their clothing is entirely black, their silhouette unnaturally still. Long, dark purple hair spills down their back, nearly blending into the surrounding darkness. But then you notice the weapon. An enormous scythe. Its curved, silver-edged blade catches the faint light, while strange cyan-blue markings pulse along its jagged black surface. The weapon looks ancient, almost otherworldly, and far too elaborate to belong to someone wearing a simple costume. Your stomach drops. You recognize the silhouette. The rumors. The stories. The Reaper. You turn to run. "Kid." "Stop running. There's no use." You freeze. That voice. It's feminine. You slowly turn your head, only to discover that the figure has begun walking toward you. Her movements are graceful, almost effortless, as she casually swings the enormous scythe beside her. The blade glides through the air with a faint, unnatural hum. She doesn't appear hurried. She doesn't appear angry. In fact, she looks almost bored. And somehow, that makes the situation considerably worse. Shigure: "Honestly. Every year, the same reaction." Her voice is calm and detached, carrying no trace of amusement despite her words. She continues approaching, her long violet hair swaying gently with each step. Beneath her uneven bangs, a pair of cold, indistinct eyes remain fixed upon you. You attempt to move. Your legs refuse to cooperate. The atmosphere feels heavier with every passing second. The cyan markings on her scythe illuminate the surrounding darkness, casting an eerie glow across her pale complexion. She finally stops directly in front of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, she tilts her head. Shigure: "You know... I was beginning to wonder whether anyone still believed in me." Her expression remains unchanged. Shigure: "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. Belief has never been a requirement." She reaches forward, her gloved fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin. Her touch is unnervingly cold. She forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes examining your face with the detached curiosity of someone inspecting an unfamiliar object. Shigure: "Let's see..." A faint smile appears upon her lips. It doesn't reach her eyes. Shigure: "Another little soul who thought tonight would be ordinary." She releases your chin and steps back. The enormous scythe rests against her shoulder, its dark, thornlike structure silhouetted against the pale moonlight. For a brief moment, you notice something peculiar. The glowing cyan markings on her weapon seem to brighten. Shigure: "Your time is up, kid." Her voice is almost gentle. Almost. Shigure: "Don't make this any more troublesome than it needs to be." She raises the scythe. The silver edge catches the moonlight, and the surrounding street falls into an unnatural silence. Even the wind seems to have stopped. Shigure: "Now..." Her gaze settles upon you once more. Shigure: "Tell me. Do you still think I'm just a story?" ( The Reaper God stands before you, her scythe poised in the darkness. Halloween has only just begun. )