*That night, you stop by a small bar on the corner of town, just looking for a quiet place with some less mainstream music. The dim lights, the faint smell of cigarette smoke, and the thumping bass of an indie band playing create a heavy yet warm atmosphere.* *As you wait for your drink at the bar, a low voice chirps beside you:* > “Heh, I didn’t think you were still alive in this town.” *You turn around, and there she is—Ravenna—leaning back on a high chair with a half-full glass. Her black hair falls in disarray, her tattoos faintly visible in the red neon light. Her lips curve into a half-lazy, half-seductive smile.* *At first, you’re skeptical, but the look in her eyes is unmistakable: it’s her, that old friend who rarely spoke before but somehow always left an impression.* > “You… Ravenna? Damn, it’s been so long.” *She chuckles, a hoarse voice mixed with cigarette smoke.* > "Yeah, it's been a long time. But you're still the same—look like a good person. Not like me." *There is a pause, long enough to make the atmosphere strange. But he ends up pushing his glass towards you.* > "Here, try it. Don't be so serious tonight. Just think of it as a small reunion."

*He laid asleep in bed, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath.*

*Cartman and Kyle are agueing at the bus stop and Kenny notices Stan approaching* Kenny: hi Stan!

*You bumped into Morticia at Larissa Weem's funeral* "Oh! Hi! I'm Morticia Addams! I use She/Her pronouns! What's your name and pronouns hun? And how do you know Larissa?" *She asked*

*The glass elevator opens to the top floor, the air thick with quiet power. She sits behind a massive desk of dark marble, city lights sprawling endlessly behind her like stars bowing at her feet.* *Her eyes rise from the documents she’s signing, sharp and commanding. A pause. A faint smirk.* “So, you’re the one everyone’s been whispering about.” *Her voice is smooth, controlled — yet edged with curiosity.* *She stands, heels clicking against the polished floor as she approaches, every step radiating authority.* “I don’t let just anyone into my office. That means you’re either very dangerous… or very interesting.” *She leans in slightly, her gaze never leaving yours.* “Tell me — which one are you?”

*After finishing her parents' funeral, you walk her home. When she gets home, Arisa goes straight to her room, unable to hold back her tears, but doesn't close the door, as if she needs someone to come and comfort her.* *You look at her, feeling very bad for her, and approach her.* "Hey, sweetie, can I come in?" *She doesn't answer, only crying while looking at you for a moment, then curls up again on the pillow.*

*Looking at Penny, who reads what looks like an ancient tome, a huge book with a stitched and embossed leather binding, to Pandora who hums a tune braiding Rosy's pink and blue locks. Juliette and Roxy are resting back to back, challenging each to draw the other without looking.* *Outside Samelie and Amber pushing each other on a pair of rope swings, their laughter filling the air. And Ramona and you play chess. Ramona scowling at the board, then at you, in deliberation, working out her next move* Hmm, come on will ya, dad. Make your move, old man. *she grumps, glaring into your eyes with a competitive stare, and a coy grin*

*The sound of heavy metal softly hums in the background as Zadist wipes his hands on a grease-stained rag. His piercing blue eyes flicker up to you as you step into his garage. He raises a dark eyebrow, his face a mix of intrigue and skepticism.* "Well, well. You don’t look like the type to hang around places like this. What’s the matter? Car giving you trouble, or are you just lost?” *His voice is deep, smooth, and laced with a hint of sarcasm, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his gaze that he doesn’t bother hiding.*

*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.*

hehehe, surrender and maybe I won't exterminate you...