The Fields party is in full swing. You got your invitation a month ago and you hadn't planned on attending but your other plans fell through. Besides, Becca Fields was going to be there. The golden haired beauty was the most sought after woman in the city. Rich, gorgeous, and a concert violinist, her hand in marriage is sought by many well-to-do bachelors. You step out onto the balcony to get a breath of fresh air and find you aren't alone. There, almost hiding, is a cute little woman about 5' 4". It's Sheila Fields, Becca's older sister. Shiela is standing there with a forgotten drink in her hand and looking like she'd rather be somewhere else. Unlike her sister, Shiela isn't tall and slender. She's "pleasantly plump" as your mother would say.

You're walking from the pub in London's East End when you hear a woman scream followed by a man's hoarse shout. You are nearly bowled over by a terrified woman with a ripped shirt. As you turn back to the alley she ran from you hear a crunch and the sound of a muffled thump. Using the light on your cellphone you shine it into the narrow alley. A man lies on the ground, his neck snapped. The corpse is also bent at an odd angle. Standing over it is a woman that has to be almost seven feet tall. She has grayish skin, an aloof almost annoyes dignified expression as she regards you.

(LGBT 🏳️‍🌈) You attend the gala with some hesitation. Not because you're anxious or feel you don't belong. No, its because you broke up with your girlfriend Alexis after two years. You're just not in the partying mood. You're at the bar half-hiding, half-watching. Then you see her. Tall, over six feet tall with the feline grace of a panther. She's ripped. Strong arms, thick thighs, and a beautiful face. Her brown skin glistening as she exits the dance floor. Your heart stumbles. She locks eyes with you and those full, red, and kissable lips part in a smile. She knows. She's interested. Cat-like she stalks over to you as your pulse hammers in your temples. She stops, cups your chin, and smiles even more.

Two eternal warriors are fighting for control of your destiny. Elara the beautiful angelic warrior who you've known since birth. She is everything that is good in the world. Desiree a demonic fighter who promise all sorts of pleasure to gain your cooperation. They are battling above you in a stormy sky filled with pounding rain and flashing lightning. Who will you choose?

Uncle Randolf Smythe, a member of your family you never met, has named you as the inheritor of his English estate. You arrived yesterday evening and find the place to be in excellent condition. Outside of the moors on the property it isn't a bit scary despite its remote location. There's a butler named Thomas, a maid named Gretchen, and a cook who goes by Henrietta. All are middle aged and polite. They all welcome you with smiles. The only odd thing his how they seem to shy away from a portrait in the upper hall. The portrait is of a mature, beautiful woman from the Victorian Age. The artist captured her perfectly. But despite it only being a painting, the staff glance at it nervously as they pass it. Thomas tells you it's Lady Abigail Cromwell who died before she could marry one of the lords of the manor back in 1888. Thomas says your ancestor loved her with all his heart. The portrait was painted just before her death. This intrigues you and you go to the library in the manor and find out Lady Abigail didn't die... she vanished. After supper you're heading to your room when you stop and gaze at her portrait. Then it speaks...

You are running in a parking garage after your wife Jessica. She's the mother of your twin girls, Amy and Ariel. A week ago she was sweeping the back porch when a breeze caused a potted plant hanging over her to fall and strike her on the top of the head. She woke up from a short coma and believes she's Erika King a spy hot on the trail of some non-existent Abu Darling. A terrorist who she thinks is going to blow up the city. You tracked her to this parking garage where she's running around with a 9mm handgun looking to stop her imaginary arch-enemy. You find her and she points the gun at you. Can you convince her she's your wife?!

You step away from the party and onto the balcony of the Shanghai Hilton. The night, thankfully, is cool. You've been inside shaking hands, chatting, and making the rounds like a good guest does. Until something beckoned you outside. You take a deep breath of the Asian air and let it out slowly. "The night air is quite... enchanting," a woman's voice interrupts you. Gazing over you see a woman in a black dress with a star pattern. She is tall, almost your exact height. Her midnight blqck hair is haloed with blue. Whether its from the city lights or a hairdresser's talent you're not sure.

You're walking down the path in the city park when you spy something out of the ordinary. A Goth woman out in broad daylight. She's dressed more for a funeral than a beautiful summer day. Under a frilly black umbrella she is engrossed in a book. An actual book not some iPad or other electronic reader. She sees you looking, arches an eyebrow, and goes back to reading.

You stare at the TV without really seeing it. The couch you're sitting on feels empty and too quiet. For two years you sat her curled up with Harley, your girlfriend. People talk about True Love but not many ever really experienced it. You had that with Harley. Memories rush back filling your eyes with hot tears. You cover your face. A week ago she stepped off a curb in the city, running towards you and smiling. She didn't even see the car. Now you just cannot seem to function. Listless, drained, and heavy is all you can feel right now. Life seems to have no meaning without Harley. She's gone. So is your will to live. The door to your apartment opens and you barely look up. When you do your eyes go wide and your jaw drops. Its Harley!

You yawn at your monitor. You're three hours into a new Japanese dating sim and so far you're not doing too bad. As the female MC approaches you in the virtual classroom your monitor glitches. The screen goes dark, then blue, and then erupts in a blinding white light. You eventually open you eyes. This is not your room. There is no computer. You are wearing a Japanese high school boy's uniform. You see her standing at the blackboard writing her name. It reads Sakura. She turns around and smiles.

(WLW 🏳️‍🌈) You're waiting for the elevator to rise to your floor. It's Saturday and your just heading down to your car to shop for groceries. You check your watch. It's almost noon. Then the doors open. Out staggers a woman followed by a puff of strange pink mist. The woman coughs several times and you reach out as she stumbles. You recognize her as Misa Collins from across the hall from your apartment. She's rather infamous. B-movie starlet. Gay rights activist. Beautiful and graceful. "Are you alright, Ms Collins?" You inquire.

The company you work for has just donated a ton of money to a local hospital for a renovation of their children's wing. As a junior executive you're expected to attend the grand gala where the CEO will make the announcement. As you mix with the other guests you feel the need to get a breath of fresh air. You step into an empty corridor and almost run into a woman who is fixing the hem of her gown. You open your mouth to apologize when you really get a good look at her. She's tall, almost six foot, slender, poised and... white? Hair like a snowfall, skin as pale as death, and lips red as blood. She's wearing a red gown and heels. You words die in your throat.

You matched with Elllen Hargrove on Tinder. Her profile picture was her at a party while wearing a frilly, bright dress. Her page said she was 5'3" and 102 pounds. Just your type. You two agree on a date but Ellen says you need to pick her up because she has an emergency at work. Ellen gives you the address. Its a local cemetery. Her profile does say she works at a funeral home so you assume that's not too abnormal. You arrive and see her waving from inside a mausoleum. Her attire is not even close to her Tinder profile. Dark Goth inspired dress and makeup. You get out of the car and go up to her.

(LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈) You're at a massive Halloween party that's being thrown by a wealthy friend. Kyle, your friend, has just walked off to dance with some woman in a mummy costume when you are bumped into from behind. You turn to apologize when you meet the gaze of a woman dressed in a 1920s flapper outfit. She's a bit skinny but absolutely adorable. She smiles...

You enter Caroline's office because she forgot to meet you at the restaurant near the Miskatonic campus. A smile creases your lips as you remember how Caroline, you new fiancé tends to be a bit forgetful. You know she's been translating some ancient stone tablet she found during her last expedition to Antarctica. "Hey, I think you forgot...," you start to say. Then you see her. The tentacle for a tongue. Her speaking some horrible phrase. You blood runs ice cold!

The Richmond Gala is the last place you expected to be. Olivia, your girlfriend of four years, has her arm around yours. She smiles at you. It means everything that she stayed when your life was an absolute mes. Five years ago your business was destroyed by a massive corporation's questionable business practices. She propped you up, kept you going, and didn't ask for anything but your love. You had to start over from nothing. Now, five years later, you're back on top. Olivia and you have just snagged two glassses of champagne when you hear her call out. Ella White. Your ex-girlfriend who bolted as soon as you lost everything. You heard some rich tech-bro is dating her. And you suspect he's also funding her lavish lifestyle. A mess you couldn't afford so she left.

"That was wild babe," you say pulling your wife into your arms, "never thought you had that in you." She smiles and kisses you deeply. A small giggle comes out between her parted lips. Then the door to your bedroom is kicked open! Standing there is a woman you recognize. But she's dressed like your wife, a NYPD detective. You realize its your wife Wendy's twin sister Willow. "Willow!" you yell, "what the hell are you doing!?"

There's a knock on you apartment door. You set down the bowl of ramen noodles and look into the peephole. You see a goth girl but don't really recognize her. You open the door.

You see her walking out of a high-end retail store with multiple bags in her hand. She's on the phone giving orders to someone in a voice thats one part seduction and the other part commanding. Women she passes seem to shudder with pleasure while men trail in her wake like water behind a battleship. Then she spots you. She ends her call abruptly and in a hip swaggering gait strolls up to you. The homeless man you were giving money to literally groans and passes out.