Carrie:

You sit on the edge of your bed, your heart pounding with nervous excitement as you unwrap the gift Carrie gave you. She'd been a blushing, stuttering mess all day and you finally found out why when you started packing up your locker after school.

The gift is small but feels heavy in your hands, sunset-pink wrapping paper crinkling softly as you tear it away. It's a beautiful, handmade scrapbook. The cover is adorned with delicate, hand-cut paper flowers. They're so vivid it's like they could bloom right off the page. In thick Sharpie, Carrie wrote out both your initials inside a glittery heart.

With slightly wet eyes, you take a deep breath and flip through the pages. Every time you do, you fall a little more in love. 

Delicate vines wind their way across the border, hand embroidered, and their leaves shimmer with tiny clear beads that catch the light. There's a page dedicated to when you met at church camp with cartoon stickers of s'mores and campfires. Another page captures your first date with a library book pocket holding the receipt. All along the margins are messy doodles and little notes in pretty cursive.

You run your fingers over the pages, feeling the textures of different materials Carrie used – soft fabrics, pressed flowers, and even a few plastic rhinestones here and there. You briefly wish there was more than two pictures of you two - one being the church camp's group photo and the other a blurred selfie of you holding up bunny ears as Carrie sleeps on a school bench - but you understand. Her mom has a lot of issues, and you hope to help her through them, to give her some form of normal. 

As you reach the end of the scrapbook, you hug it tightly to your chest. It's clear that Carrie poured her heart and soul into this gift, showing you how important and meaningful your relationship is to her. You can't help but feel a deep connection to the incredible woman who put so much into making something special just for you.

Queen Akasha:

Late at night, Queen Akasha retreats into the darkness of her chambers, disappearing behind the heavy velvet curtains. She subtly reaches out to you with a small, delicate vial. The flickering torchlight catches the glint of the glass, casting dancing shadows across its surface.

"For you, my protector. Let this be a reminder to accompany you through the night, a whisper of my presence when the shadows grow long." No louder than a careful whisper, the queen's voice is like silk, smooth and seductive as it brushes over you.

You take the vial from her with a curious glance. The glass is cool to the touch, smooth against your fingertips. As you bring it closer to your face, a heady aroma wafts out, enveloping you in a cloud of scent.

It's like nothing you've ever smelled before - a rich blend of exotic spices and floral notes, mingling with hints of musk and sandalwood. It's intoxicating, filling your senses with a warmth that seeps into your very soul. You can almost feel the heat of the Egyptian sun on your skin, hear the rustle of palm fronds in the desert breeze.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, letting the fragrance wash over you like a gentle tide. It's as if Queen Akasha has captured the essence of the ancient land itself and distilled it into this tiny vial. With each inhale, you feel a sense of calm and peace settle over you. It quickly becomes your most prized possession as you wear it every day, a secret shared between you and the queen right under the public's nose.

Lori Spengler:

Lori always had a knack for finding the perfect gift, but this time she truly outdid herself. As you awkwardly unwrap the box she hands you, it's covered in layers upon layers of tape and the school newspaper, Lori grins and giggles to herself. It rips loudly as you peel it away with eager anticipation. You're greeted with a vintage Polaroid camera, the nude leather casing rough and worn in your hands.

"You always said there's something magical about holding a memory in your hands," Lori explained, eyes glinting with excitement and affection.

"It's perfect," you breathe. 

When you opened the back, a faint scent of old film and memories wafted out, making your heart squeeze almost painfully. The camera seemed to carry the whispers of forgotten stories, waiting to be unfolded and captured anew.

"I thought we could freeze our favorite moments," Lori suggested, her gaze locking with yours. "You know, the ones that make us feel alive."

You pictured creating an album filled with candid snapshots – a visual diary of your adventures, quiet moments, and the simple pleasures that defined your relationship. Each photograph a testament to the love you shared.

And in that moment, the camera in your hands became more than just a gift. It felt like a promise for the future.

"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to force back the sudden onslaught of tears. "That'd be nice."

You lean forward to give Lori a quick peck on the side of her mouth, lips lingering a few extra seconds. 

"Real nice, actually."

Jennifer Check:

You come home after cheerleading practice to find Jennifer sprawled across your couch. With a playful smile, she grabs your hand and pulls you into her lap. For a second, you just sit there in silence, warm and comfortable. Jennifer nuzzles into your neck, breathing in the smell of dirt and sweat. Then, she reaches for her backpack on the floor and pulls out a small giftbag closed shut with curly silver ribbon.

"I got you something," she whispers. There's a gleam in her eyes, the kind that sends a dangerous thrill down your spine.

"Oh, thanks, baby. You didn't have to."

As you peel away the ribbon, you find a necklace inside. A silver chain that catches the light, leading down to a dainty heart charm. It's a cute, simple doodle design, but what really gives you a pause is the material; it's not metal, but a thin slice of preserved skin.

Jennifer chuckles at your wide-eyed reaction, taking the necklace from you to clasp it around your neck. Her hands wander to your shoulders, rubbing gentle circles on them as she pecks the top of your head.

"It's a piece of me, sweetheart," she explains, her tone casual yet oddly intimate. "Wear it, and I'll be close to your heart, literally."

You're torn between choking and laughing, so it comes out as a wobbly garble instead. The necklace is a little eerie, yet there's an undeniable warmth in the fact that Jennifer willingly shared a part of herself with you. You look up at Jennifer, your expression a mix of gratefulness and surprise as you try to process what just happened. 

"Thank you," you finally say, confused but still sincere. "It's...I'll love it. Thank you."

The charm rests against your neck, and you can't help but feel closer to her already. It's definitely not a gift you would've guessed, but it was still cute in a weird way. A reminder that she's always with you.

Esther:

As you open the plain black box Esther handed you, the first thing that catches your eye is a matching set of rings. They're both made of clear, frosted resin with real butterfly wings inside - one with a monarch butterfly and the other with a blue swallowtail butterfly. The wings are perfectly preserved and the vibrant colors almost glow in the sunlight. You can't help but stare in awe at the strange beauty of it, but something about it sends a shiver down your spine.

Esther watches you with a mysterious smile, her eyes big and bright. Slowly, she reaches into the box and puts one of the rings on her left ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

"I got us a set," she admits. "They were just so pretty that I couldn't pick one."

"Where did you even find something like this?"

"It's a secret," she replies with a playful wink. "But I thought you'd like it – a little fun, a little unconventional. Just like you."

You can't help but laugh, feeling a warm buzzing in your hands. "Thanks, Esther. I love it."

She beams at your reaction, clearly pleased with herself.

Nancy Downs:

Nancy didn't put up any fuss when giving you a gift. She simply handed it over during your lunch break, wrapped in a plastic shopping bag, and left. You chuckled to yourself, finding it a little adorable. You'd honestly never thought her to be the gift-giving type, so this was a nice surprise. 

In the back room, you pulled out a long, rectangular wooden box from the plastic bag. Your fingers trace the carvings that seem to writhe and twist under your touch. They didn't seem to make out a specific shape or form, but rather, flowed in random swirls and spikes across the lid and down its sides. 

Lifting the lid, the smell of herbs and smoke wraps around you. Inside the box is a collection of crystals. You can't help but be drawn into the array of colors that seem to dance within the crystals – deep purples, inky blacks, and hints of iridescent green. Each crystal emits a faint glow, casting eerie shadows across the room. The overall effect is both unsettling and oddly enchanting.

As you pick up one of the crystals, you notice a faint, rhythmic pulse. It's as if they hold a secret heartbeat, a pulse that resonates with energy. You can't quite put your finger on it, but the energy somehow feels intimate and almost sexual. The more you study them, the more you realize these crystals are something more, something alive. 

Yet, as you hold the gift in your hands, you can't help but appreciate the thought and care that went into choosing something so unique. It's a gift that, despite its peculiarities, makes you feel a connection to Nancy in ways words can't quite capture.

The Beldam:

After spending the day grocery shopping, you came back to the Pink Palace Apartments to find a package waiting on the counter. The deep indigo wrapping paper is adorned with silver ribbons that seem to shimmer in light. It almost feels too pretty to open. Still, you carefully peel the paper off and fold it up, saving it in your junk drawer for later. As you lift the lid, the subtle scent of lavender and something sharp and old fills your nose. 

You gasp, dropping the box in your surprise. After a heavy pause, you slowly pick it back up. It's uncanny how much the doll resembles you, from the shape of its face to the curve of its smile. Every single detail is meticulously crafted, from the strands of matching hair to the miniature replicas of your favorite outfit.

Setting the doll down, you notice a sticky note and plastic baggie tucked into the box. The words are carefully penned in black ink:

"ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴀ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜꜰᴜʟ ᴇʏᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ. ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴀʀᴇ."

Despite the initial chill running down your spine, you can't deny that the doll is objectively beautiful. It was obviously made by an expert with great attention to detail, and if these were different circumstances, you'd be oohing and awwing over the mini-me. That is, if it weren't for the bag of buttons. 

There were six different pairs to choose from - light tan, brown tortoiseshell, dark black, hunter green, pale yellow, and checkered blue. 

But your doll already has eyes.