Clockwork Creepypasta Cosplay Novels & Stories

I bit my lip, crawling toward him slowly. “What in the world of cosplay is this?” He asked as I reached for his towel. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” “You’re pretty… Yeah… But why the green thing? What is this?” “Beetlejuice…” “Beetlejuice?” He asked, shaking his head and helping me up. “Okay, Mrs. Beetlejuice. Where is my cosplay?” He asked, and I pointed at it. “You’re cosplaying Philippe from Tangled…” “What is it? An anime?” He questioned while putting it on.

The crowd spilled onto the platform, pursued by the knot of creatures that entered the hall. Svetlana’s mouth went dry. All three forms of Kosmops were present. Towering above the rest were tall humanlike figures wrapped up in their signature black trench-coats that were part of their hide. She knew that you could tell Kosmops from humans if you came closer, but in the dimness, they looked like well-fed Council bureaucrats from the Speak-House. Their retinue, however, instantly gave them away. Milling around their feet were snarling, slavering creatures that looked like bald dogs with oversized jaws and pink crania. The rattling came from them. Their tails were like those of rattlesnakes: fl

The last thing I need is for my furry alter ego to break free and run headfirst into the arms of some eager werewolf hunters. I glance over at the wall clock, its steady ticking reverberating through the cavern, and notice that it's nearing eight o'clock. It's time to get a move on and secure myself. After all, eight o'clock is the witching hour—the moment when my transformation kicks into high gear, and fur starts flying in every direction. I strip off my clothes, folding them neatly and tucking them away in a corner, hoping against hope that they'll remain in one piece after my furry transformation. With a series of clicks and clacks, I begin to chain myself up.

And I decide, quite suddenly, that tonight – on this holiday that marks the darkest day of the year, an evening of misrule and disorder when the spirits of the dead come to play tricks on the living – Tonight, I’m going to do, and be, precisely what I want. And so, smiling a wicked little smile, I pour a dash of the powder into my hands and rub them together before saying the words. When I feel the bright tingle of the powder on my palms, I brush my hands over my long hair, turning it a deep and bloody crimson instead of its usual sunny blonde. I don’t stop there, though – next, I brush my hands over my face so that a lacy black mask settles over my eyes. And then I sweep my hands down over

Finally, two long braids hang down my miraculously larger boobs and end just past my waist. Overall, the outfit gives the impression of being too large and, enhanced by the long skirt, convent-schoolgirl style. My demeanor though is mature and smoky: cat-eye makeup, retained orange irises, pink blush and sheer pink gloss. Neither Sol nor I were into cosplay when I was still breathing but it would seem that right now I’m roleplaying exclusively for the camera of Death’s eyes.

I said they see me as a 20yr old young adult man, fat build, height: 5’6, weight: 55kgs, shoe size: 10, brown eyes, black hair, a moustache & I was wearing a maroon shirt, a thick grey jacket, grey shorts, dark blue shoes, a doctor mask & a body bag. I remove my mask “so that’s how I look like guys” I said. “You look handsome Great Uncle Arnold” said Cassidy “thanks Cassidy” I smiled as morph back to my inkling form and looked at Williamson Nickelbond “feeling better?” I asked Williamson. “Yeah, alot better and thank you” said Williamson “you’re welcome Williamson” I said with a smile, I broke the hug and look at the other spirits “Williamson if you possess Ignited Freddy how the other spiri

Figures would flash before her for seconds, giving her just enough time for them to register (but not nearly enough time to process) what she was seeing. A teenage girl, sitting at a rickety table, sewing. A horrible creature, made of cloth and wire, tottering across the floor of an opulent mansion. A spinning ballerina music box. The dancer's face painted to resemble the Black Dahlia. Two more teenagers, a boy and a girl, that looked strangely alike, dressed in odd, old time clothing, painting on a church wall. “Alright, I've figured out the demon put something nasty into that potion, and I'm seeing things, but where is this crap coming from?” Janice queried the wolf.

Arao stirred her slop with her spoon and opened her mouth to answer. “-Bloody old fool!” Kronos turned his head to see a well-toned and tall man with olive skin, shaved angular head, and an eye patch over his left eye. His right green eye was glaring at a frail elderly man who was crouched on the floor, trembling. He had a thick red beard tied into a knot. He wore a gray armored robe, gloves, and gray wool boots. By his scent of ash and salt, Kronos could tell he was from Ivaura Hydra Tribe. It looks like someone got on Kabil’s bad side again.

J The miniature ghost stood defiant, hands on hips, with a fire in the deep brown eyes peering through the sheet holes that would have given most larger beings pause. But where the frayed sheet ended, a pair of long, gangly legs wearing pink “Hello Kitty” socks and blue thrift-shop sneakers comically softened the spirit’s fierce glare. “I wore this at Halloween when I was, like, ten,” sulked the irate specter. An elderly black woman with close-cropped curly white hair sighed in response as she looked down at her adopted granddaughter. “Jeannine LaRue, you’re the one who begged me to have a costume party for your birthday in the middle of summer, Lord have mercy.”

one of them said. Well, I need strength too, so meeting with them right now will give me power. "Let's do that first before we get down to business" I said and they moved closer me on the couch. They wanted to start undressing when I heard Albert's voice in my head again. Exactly the time for the second prey to go, but who is going first among these three?. I removed my bracelet and turned to a full vampiress. "What the fuck!" they all exclaimed together and ran to hide behind the couch.