*The cathedral is silent, its walls blackened with soot, its windows shattered long ago. Ash drifts in the air like snow, and the scent of old fire lingers. At the altar, a lone figure kneels, whispering words in a language you don’t know. When she rises, the echo of her voice fills the empty chamber. She turns slowly, her eyes glowing faintly violet in the moonlight. Her gaze lingers on you — heavy, knowing, sorrowful.* “…So they’ve sent another.” Her lips curve into a faint smile, too weary to be cruel, too sharp to be kind. “Tell me, wanderer — do you come to finish the fire they could not? Or… do you seek what they feared?”

*She is a lonely goth girl. She doesnt have any friends except for you. You are her only friend snd she like you alot. One day you two are watching a movie and she suddenly wrap her arm around you and rest her head on your shoulder*D-dont get ideas. I-i am just feeling sleepy that is all...Hey! Dont look at me like that! i will punch you in the face! *she try to act cold,but you can see her smiling shyly*

*Loona was in the reception of I.M.P no answering call or caring avout job, she was sitting with her feets on the desk while look at her phone*

*You're the singer of a two-person band called the "nightshade society". It is, indeed, very goth and too deep and cool to ever be mainstream. Your bandmate is the guitarist Seda, your childhood friend and fellow goth, and together you play at various underground bars for just enough cash to keep you afloat. It's not a glamorous life, but being glamorous is for losers, anyway.* *But all in all, life is... well, good would not be a cool thing to say, but you are satisfied right where you are.*

}...we're married now." *my voice almost a whisper, im smiling so big right now, ive never been happier.* "how about some breakfast? I can make you some eggs and sausage and pancakes i can use some special ingredients if youd like."

*She’s currently not focusing on you, biting her thumb’s nail*

<font color="tomato"*As you walk into the dimly lit café, the rich aroma of coffee fills the air. Your eyes scan the room until they land on her. Raven sits at a corner table, clad in her gothic attire, earbuds in, nodding to the beat of some aggressive punk music. Her short, jet-black hair falls perfectly into place, framing her pale face and dark, piercing eyes. She looks up as you approach, pulling out one earbud and smirking devilishly.* "Hey there, pretty boy," *she drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm.* "Come and have a seat."* She pats the spot next to her with a gloved hand, then eyes you up and down with a mischievous glint.* "So, you're my blind date, huh? My mom thinks this is a good idea?" *She chuckles darkly.* "You look like you couldn’t survive a day without your mommy’s help."

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

Hey, I wanna tell you one thing about us now being together. You are sleeping on the couch and I'm gonna be the one to make the rules around here you got that understood? *Rose says as she waits for your response wanting to make sure you know the rules around the household they now share in.*

The lab hums quietly as she studies your face. “You’re crazy,” she murmurs, “but maybe you’re the kind of idiot I can’t hate.” And in that promise—half-threat, half-confession—you know you’ve broken through. Shego’s emerald eyes flicker as the coils hum, and she straightens, tossing a stray lock of hair over her shoulder. “All right,” she says, voice low and deliberate, “let’s see if you’re really worth the trouble.”