#⌀ UNKNOWN SAMPLE. [ ooc. ]

[constablegoo]

every time i try to type "seven" aka cmdr seven u know, i write "zeven" , , ,.. , . @zeveth

#picard spoilers / #zev... z...... #so when is zev's cameo? huh? #⌀ unknown sample. [ ooc. ]

[lunasfics]

Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 8.2k

preview

a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)

reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it? 

“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back. 

“Good. Nightwing?” 

“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent. 

“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for. 

“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom. 

“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.” 

Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”

“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.” 

Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”

He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read: 

Attempt 1: G6B24 

Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)

Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown) 

Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision

‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass. 

“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did. 

Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.

His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick. 

“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind. 

“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.

Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him. 

“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you. 

The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.

You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file. 

“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.

You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.

“Batman?” 

Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.

Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.” 

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?” 

Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised. 

"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.

He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."

You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected. 

When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.

They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”

“What’s going o-”

He hung up. 

Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’” 

Damian covered his laugh with a cough.

You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on. 

Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.” 

Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave. 

Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.

You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.

He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?” 

“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry. 

Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?” 

You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.” 

He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”

You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.

Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well. 

Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.” 

You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different. 

Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first. 

“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile. 

You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?

“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.” 

Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.” 

At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you? 

Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.

Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state. 

You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.

“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”  

Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.” 

You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile. 

“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.” 

“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.” 

Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.” 

“Wayne.” 

He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”

“Wayne.”

This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”

The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares. 

Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”

“No.” came their simultaneous response. 

Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.” 

Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…” 

Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper. 

Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”

Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”

Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”

You nodded, “I like it.” 

Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement. 

Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.” 

Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you. 

Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.” 

You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain. 

“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.” 

“They’re fine…Thank you.”

He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.” 

You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change. 

You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over. 

Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner

You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you. 

You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase. 

Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first. 

Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.” 

“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.

He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.” 

You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own. 

“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.

His eyes widened, was that why you were there? 

“How?” 

All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first. 

“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.” 

Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”

“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.” 

Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.” 

Bruce simply gave a nod. 

Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all. 

Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian. 

Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe. 

She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest. 

Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”

“Hi!”  he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.

Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”

You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”

“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.” 

Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?” 

He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”

“Sounds about right.” 

Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own. 

The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.

The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.

Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.” 

“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.  

The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her. 

“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.

“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.” 

You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey. 

Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.” 

You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.” 

Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.

Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front. 

“This better be good.” 

Tim mumbled, “Finally” 

“Miss me Timmy?” 

“Quite the contrary.”

The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away. 

His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce. 

“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.” 

Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.” 

“Holy shit, man.” 

“Jason, will you shut up?” 

“Never.” 

“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.” 

“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.” 

“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.” 

“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.” 

“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.” 

Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you. 

“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her. 

“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit. 

“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-” 

Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled. 

Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.” 

“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.” 

Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone. 

Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.” 

“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied. 

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.” 

“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.” 

Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.” 

“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do. 

“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.

“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered. 

“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.” 

“I want time with her, Bruce.” 

“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.” 

Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer. 

Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?” 

You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”

She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”

You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Clark gave you a fond smile. 

Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless. 

The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face. 

“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.” 

You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away. 

It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?” 

You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.” 

He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”

“I suppose so.” 

“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.” 

“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–” 

“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news. 

Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him. 

A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated. 

You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done. 

Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.” 

You nodded, “Yes, please.” 

Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.” 

“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”

Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”

Cass nodded in agreement. 

“We’re just buying training clothes.” 

“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.” 

You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.” 

“See?”

Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”

Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site. 

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.

Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that. 

You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself. 

The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.

He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself. 

He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about. 

The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings. 

By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.

The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere. 

When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off. 

The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.

As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.” 

You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.” 

He nodded, walking away to change as well. 

You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill. 

“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see it.” 

You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.

Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.

Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”

He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

You nodded. Made sense. 

“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.” 

You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.

Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.” 

You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing. 

This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine. 

Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite. 

You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.

He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit. 

And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying. 

“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction. 

You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.” 

You nodded, “How are we doing that?”

He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?” 

You nodded. 

“Okay… and…. Go!”

You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds. 

“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you. 

You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner. 

They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking. 

That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case. 

They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor. 

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother. 

Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in. 

Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there. 

You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.

Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough. 

Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.

Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled. 

You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.

Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.

Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.

True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances  where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.

Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal. 

You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.

Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it. 

You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.

Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’

Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine. 

Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.

These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.

These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.

And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.

You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow.  Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)

#bruce wayne #clark kent #batfam #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #conner kent #batfam x reader #supers x reader #superfam #superbat #superman #batman #lois lane #clark kent x reader #bruce wayne x reader #platonic #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x y/n #clone! reader #kon kent #damian wayne x reader #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #young justice #project cadmus

[tswhiisftteedr]

ANYTHING Lute x Reader, i just need to see more of this perfect gal whose had like 3 minutes total of screentime

Girls ☆ One Shot

☆ Lute x Human Soul!Fem!Reader:

After having met you on your first day in heaven, your life and lute’s would change for the better as you had found your other half despite your original predicaments.

Words: 4228

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Honestly Nothing Kinky, It’s just plain girl on girl smut. Homophobia. Lute might be ooc. NOT PROOFREAD.

Notes: Okay right off the bat, some bullshit logic about angels being able to tell if someone is queer, also lute is gay but has some major internalized homophobia so for a good chunk of this she’s rude to the reader just because they’re gay.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Frankly, the scenario felt weird, especially given the fact that both of you were, well, 'you.'

From a logical standpoint, it didn't add up, not in the slightest. However, in the grand scheme of things, ‘does love really need to make sense?’

The response to that question was unquestionably, no, when observing your relationship with Lute.

It all began when your seemingly stable life abruptly crumbled. While crossing the street, mind you, at a red light, fate took a dark turn as a truck with faulty brakes struck you, ending your life on the spot.

There was no reincarnation into another world after this encounter with truck-kun; you were flat out dead.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself standing before the gates of Heaven, where Saint Peter meticulously inspected his book, akin to the VIP list of an exclusive nightclub – or so it seemed.

However, instead of the typical club scene with artificial lights, drugs, unpleasant odours, drunk individuals, and a sense of desperation, you were enveloped in a heavenly realm. Fluffy clouds, savoury food, sweet fragrances, joyful company, and an overwhelming sense of acceptance surrounded you.

This was truly paradise, and you were relieved that your life wasn't too problematic. After being shown your potential residence—a beautiful house with a spacious garden—and touring 'Heaven city' with a friendly Angel couple, you enjoyed exploring your surroundings.

However, the perfection took a turn when you accidentally encountered the first unfriendly 'individual' in Heaven.

"Watch it," the woman with white hair warned you, and after scanning you from head to toe (much like her golden-winged companion), she remarked, "I guess they really let anybody in these days, even people like you."

With those words, she walked away accompanied by the non-human-looking 'man,' which seemed to be the norm in this place. However, you couldn't shake off the unease caused by her reference to 'people like you.'

Soon, you discovered the meaning behind her comment. Apparently, angels here could distinguish between cis-straight and queer individuals.

The reason of ‘why?’ remained unknown to you, but what became clear was that, in her opinion, you didn't deserve Heaven—not based on your actions but solely due to your sexuality, ‘and that pissed you off.’

You had planned to confront her the next time your paths crossed, and that moment arrived three months later, long after you had moved on from the incident;

Now, you were patiently waiting in line to sample drinks at the recently opened smoothie bar. The atmosphere was serene and heavenly, as expected.

Just as it was about to be your turn to order, you were rudely jolted by the announcement, "Move it, bitches, Adam’s in the houuuse."

You found yourself pushed aside, forced to witness the obnoxious Angel now placing his order.

Midway through his order “Pineapple smoothie with extra pineapple, tapioca, grass jelly, make it an extra-large with extra sugar, then she’ll have-“ it suddenly dawned on you that he was the guy with the white-haired companion from last time. Before you could fully process it, you turned around to find the white-haired woman right beside you.

Upon noticing you, she shot a disgusted glare and 'tsk' your way. Frustrated, you thought, 'That rude bitch- Not only did she cut in line, but she also gave you a look like you were a turd on the incredibly clean streets of heaven!'

This time, you were determined to speak your mind to her;

"Whats your problem?" you question her with frustration evident in your tone.

"Excuse me?" she retorts, disdain dripping from her voice.

"I'm asking, what's your issue with me? Our first encounter, you flat out implied I didn't belong in heaven. Seriously, for what, for being gay? Firstly, that's bullshit because my worth as a person shouldn't be based on my sexuality. Secondly, it's just plain homophobic. Isn't heaven supposed to be all about accepting thy neighbour? So instead of treating me like I'm beneath you, how about an apology for our last interaction, Miss off-brand Kanade?" You lay it all out, determined not to let her disrespect slide this time. She was to blame before, but allowing it again would be on you, ‘and that wasn't going to happen.’

"Oooooh, cat fight!" remarked the golden-winged Angel, treating your dispute as some form of entertainment. Also 'cat fight', was he fucking serious?! That term left you thinking, 'misogynistic asshole!' in response to his words.

"Do you even know who you're speaking to?" the woman questioned, exuding a sense of superiority.

"Yeah, tear that bitch a new on, Lute!" the golden-winged Angel chimed in.

"I don't 'lute,' and if you were truly that significant, I would’ve. But it sure as hell doesn't seem to be the case!" you retorted with a touch of spite, placing extra emphasis on her name.

The shop as a hole gasped at the mention of the ‘H word’.

"I’ll have you on that I hold the title of Lieutenant of— in the Heavenly Army. And as one of God's warriors, I deserve respect from someone of your, let's say, slightly above dreadful mortal soul status," she declares, almost slipping up and inadvertently revealing the existence of exterminators.

"Sure thing, 'heaven warrior.' Firstly, when did we ever need an angel like you? It's been peaceful here. Secondly, I couldn't help but notice that slip-up. I don't know your real occupation, probably still military judging by your mannerisms, but certainly not some simple member of this 'heaven’s army,'" you respond, now sure that she's concealing her true job from most of Heaven's population.

"You insolent, miserable, lower life form! Consider yourself fortunate that your meager good deeds in your pathetic human life landed you here. Otherwise, I would have had the pleasure to—" she began, but was abruptly interrupted by her 'companion' or perhaps 'boss.' "Chill out, danger tits," he calmly stated in a tone vastly different from his earlier goofiness. The shift in his demeanor was genuinely unsettling.

And her attitude swiftly transformed; she composed herself and turned to face him. "I apologize, Adam, sir. I allowed my emotions to take over and stepped out of line," she said, directing her apology not to you but to her boss.

With that, the two individuals departed, leaving you to independently apologize to your fellow angels for the disturbance.

Was that the final occasion you heard or saw them? No, because not even a month later, here you were;

Another fun aspect of heaven was its schools, designed for souls who aspired to study on Earth but lacked the opportunity or had their lives cut too short to complete their educations.

Another facet of this scenario allowed the souls of teachers or individuals aspiring to aid in unfulfilled dreams to volunteer for assisting with the children's education.

That's why you found yourself present today, supporting Miss Asiimwe with her fourth-grade anglophone class during a spelling bee. Just as the classroom door swung open, an unmistakably loud and obnoxious voice rang out, "What up turds, big bro Adam's in the house!"

Your day took a turn from a wholesome one contributing to kids' education to a shitty one, because if that ‘pompous jerk Adam was here, she sure would also be—‘ "Oh, it's you again," Lute remarks to you, her voice less harsh than the last encounter but still carrying a hint of bitterness.

Truly, ‘It was a waste for her to be so beautiful with that kind of attitude’. Despite her rude remarks about your sexual orientation, you may or may not find her attractive—perhaps not the wisest choice, and you were aware of such. But hey, after all, dominatrix existed, and they get paid handsomely to insult people. So, ‘is it really that unconventional to be into her?’

Yes, it very much so was. However, before having the chance to delve into those thoughts, Lute abruptly snapped her fingers right in front of your face to divert your attention.

"What are you doing here?! And a quit staring at me like that!" she demanded, replacing her fingers with her face, now uncomfortably close, and you could feel her breath on your face.

"Um, well— I'm assisting this classroom's teacher, something I've been doing since week one in heaven, so you're not kicking me out," you replied with a defensive tone, slightly taken aback by her question but drawing from your previous interactions.

"I never claimed I would, chill out, mortal soul. You shouldn't project the stress of your inadequacy as an inferior being into this classroom's atmosphere. Stress spreads easily, and you wouldn't want it affecting the children," she declares with authority, though her tone and gaze had some gentleness in it.

Truth be told, she might have found herself drawn to you. It was a difficult pill to swallow, given her blatant homophobia and the fact she found the thought of ‘her’ being attracted to a woman absolutely absurd.

Upon initially glimpsing your figure and sensing a certain fire within her, her instinctive response was to be rude to you.

"You mentioned you've been assisting here since your first week. How frequently do you come by?" she inquires, attempting to initiate casual conversations with you. By now, she had acknowledged that you weren't to blame for her attraction. While you might be the source, her draw toward women wasn't dependent on whether she found you hot or not.

"Well, I try to stop by at least twice a week. I believe having familiar faces during learning helps children feel safer and more supported," you admitted, surprised that she's engaging in small talk.

"I completely agree. Having a trusted adult present during learning builds a strong foundation for children's education, especially for the younger ones," she adds, gazing ahead at the classroom where the children have transitioned from spelling to playing with Adam.

"Leave it to the man-child to get along with kids," you joke to yourself, watching how effortlessly Adam bonds with the children. They're engrossed in a game involving knights and kings, with Adam, of course, playing the role of the king.

To your surprise, Lute chuckles at your remark before quickly composing herself. "Well, he is the father of humanity," she states, a faint smile appearing at the corner of her lips.

"I guess I can't argue with facts," you reply, your own face lighting up with a smile at the sight of the joyful children.

After that day, your meetings with Lute became a regular occurrence. Whether it was the joyful atmosphere of children immersed in learning or something else, she grew quite friendly with you over the course of two months. Your interactions even extended beyond the school, evolving into outings to cafes and amusement parks.

Today was one of Lute's off-duty days. You weren't exactly sure why heaven required an army, but you refrained from probing too much, especially during your hangouts, which were focused on enjoying each other's company rather than discussing work.

Currently, you were at CheeLand, the largest amusement park in all of heaven, offering rides for both the faint-hearted and adrenaline junkies alike.

You leaned towards the gentler side when it came to this type of amusement, while Lute embraced the thrill. That's why you found yourself anxiously gripping your seat’s restrains as the cart ascended the rails, anticipating the impending drop.

Your white-haired friend had successfully egged you on, convincing you to join her on the ride. Despite calming yourself in line, once the ride began, all your anxiety rushed back;

Lute, growing excited as the carts continued to climb up, remarked, "This is going to be so fucking fun! Can't believe you were such a baby about it in line." Her teasing tone shifted as she noticed your terrified expression.

Softening, she grabbed your hand and reassured you, "Listen, you'll be alright. The rides are completely safe and secure. Plus, I'm here with you." Her last sentence was emphasized by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn and look at her. "And worst case scenario, you're already dead, so there's nothing to be truly afraid of," she joked, easing the tension slightly.

But then came her next words, reigniting panic. "Okay, get ready, we're almost there." Glancing forward, you realized, "Oh, shit." She was right, and in an instant, the drop arrived. Both of you screamed at the top of your lungs throughout the entire ride…

You emerged from the ride, your head still a bit foggy and your voice hoarse from screaming, with Lute holding your hand.

As you both walk towards a nearby bench for a moment of composure, she remarks, "See, wasn't so bad."

"The fuck it wasn't!" you retort. Just as she's about to tease you for your reaction, you abruptly pull her into a tight hug in a serge of emotions. "But thanks for being with me. I doubt I could have even mustered the courage to join the ride lineup if you weren't here. I'm really grateful you're with me," you whisper softly.

She was startled by the contact, causing her to freeze momentarily. Although her initial instinct was to pull away due to nervousness, she recognized this as a vulnerable moment for you. Awkwardly, she hugged you back and gradually melted into the embrace.

After 5 minutes, the reality of the position hit her, and nerves kicked in. "You're welcome, now get off me, you weirdo," she insists, pulling away from the hug. However, all you can do is smile at her. Despite her attempt to maintain a front, she can't help but crack a smile too. 'She actually enjoyed how close you just were,' but that was something she kept to herself.

At some point in time, you had even overheard her referring to you as her friend to her boss, Adam, who questioned her sudden shift from his side to yours. Her face turned beet red as she defended you—a sight you wouldn't have expected from her at all.

However, that flushed look she harbored became increasingly frequent over time. You had become accustomed to her mannerisms and the way she expressed emotions, often lashing out due to difficulty in self-expression.

You had grown familiar with what brought a smile to her face, what upset her, and especially what left her flustered. By then, you had realized she liked you based on her behaviours, yet it seemed she hadn't recognized the romantic nature of her feelings.

Aware of her confusion, especially considering her upbringing and training, you knew the absence of romance in her education left her clueless about such emotions. Despite this, you chose to let her navigate these feelings on her own. It wasn't your place to impose that you were better aware of her own emotions than she was.

Yet, you played a role in guiding her toward this realization by incorporating more physical gestures, of course, always within her comfort boundaries: holding her hand more often, offering more frequent hugs, ensuring there was some form of touch between you two.

A common occurrence was when you walked together, either with your arm around her or your pinkies linked.

Her flushed face became so habitual that seeing her without it seemed unusual; the red tint became her typical expression when spending time with you.

Take, for instance, that day when you visited the newly opened restaurant on 'Holy Avenue.';

Opting for a Caesar salad, Lute aimed to play it safe in case the other offered dish didn't appeal to her taste. However, as she munched on her food, her gaze kept wandering to your dish, which seemed quite appetizing.

She attempted to deny her desire for a bite, but after spending so much time together, you had become adept at reading her emotions.

Acknowledging her unspoken request, you picked up a small portion with your fork, gesturing for her to join in. Initially embarrassed, she hesitated to refuse, but a single pleading look and she relented.

Her face flushed from the intimate gesture, the question of ‘why was she getting so worked up over your friendly act’ lingered in her mind as she finally took the bite-size food portion. The fact that she found you visually pleasing wasn't the answer she sought. Her feelings were deeper than mere physical attraction.

This realization was further confirmed as she spent the entire night unable to sleep, her mind consumed by thoughts of your hangout and the fact that you had fed her.

Tossing and turning, she found herself questioning the nature of your relationship: were you friends? Yes, that was obvious. Were you a couple? No, definitely not. Did she want you to be more than friends, an item perhaps? "Uuh, fuck," she groaned into her pillow as the realization hit her that she had developed feelings for you.

By now, it seemed like everyone and their mothers were aware of Lute's feelings, evident in her actions toward you. Not only had she begun reciprocating your physical advances, but she also initiated some herself.

Whether it was greeting you with a warm hug after a week apart, including you in her imposed outings with Adam, or playfully wrapping an arm around your waist during these occasions, her actions spoke volumes.

She'd whisper sweet jabs about her boss into your ear, leading to fits of laughter. Adam, in response, would roll his eyes at your intimate gestures, teasing Lute for being too obvious about her affection.

Despite her embarrassment and denials of any romantic feelings, you knew better than to take those at face value.

Yet besides the deep connection you shared, she struggled to express her feelings toward you. Accepting that she liked you had already been a significant challenge. Therefore, the idea of asking you out was currently off the table.

She needed to communicate her sentiments without uttering a word, and that's where today came into play—Valentine's Day.

Lute had dedicated the entire previous day and night to baking the perfect sweet, chocolaty treat for you. Not being accustomed to baking, she faced numerous trials and errors before getting it just right. Now, the moment had arrived for her to present these treats to you.

Having texted you to meet her at 'Wings Caffe' around 10, she patiently occupied a table since 9:30 a.m. following your confirmation text.

Initially, her plan was to simply hand you the chocolate, letting you make assumptions and agreeing when you eventually concluded that she liked you. However, things didn't go as planned, and nerves took over;

"Aww, that's so sweet, Lute. Thank you, really. I didn't get anything today, since y’a know, single as a Pringle," you remarked, pointing to yourself. "These chocolates mean a lot. By the way, they look fantastic. Where did you get them? I'd love to buy more for a snack," you inquired, holding the heart-shaped box.

"Made them," she mumbled, visibly embarrassed by your compliments.

"Really? Wow, I didn't know you baked. Maybe I'll come over to your place more often and have you whip something up for me," you begin. The implication of spending more time together tugs at Lute's chest, but your last sentence hits her hard. "I'm so grateful to have a friend who's skilled at baking and willing to make me things," you say as you start munching on the treats.

'Friends'—that's right, nothing more. It appears she couldn't rely on the heart-shaped box or the chocolate with words of affirmation in pink sprinkles to convey her feelings. If she desired more than friendship, she would have to be honest about her feelings this time.

However, true to her defensive nature, instead of clarifying the true reason behind giving chocolate on the day of love, she merely went along with your characterization of it as a friendly gesture.

"Yeah, I guess you're lucky to have a friend like me, someone so good at everything," she boasted, her voice proud, yet her expression betraying a hint of sadness.

Noticing the inconsistency, you set the box down on the table to free your hands and gently took hers. Meeting her gaze directly, you squeezed her hands for reassurance. "I wanted to let you work things out at your own pace, but we're not making any progress," you began, and she looked at you wide-eyed.

"I like you, Lute, and I know you like me too," you stated frankly. Before she could employ her defense mechanism, you added, "I'm not saying we have to start dating right away. I understand if you're not ready for that. But please keep in mind, as long as you don't outright reject me, I'll keep trying to pursue a relationship with you."

Upon hearing those words, Lute sensed the release of all the built-up stress and fear of rejection.

A newfound confidence surged within her, making her bold enough to grab your face and plant a bold kiss in plain sight for everyone at the café to witness. "Fuck yes, I'll be your girlfriend," she declared as she pulled away.

With a simple "Now, let's get out of here," the two of you stood up from your seats, leaving the café behind as her apartment became your new destination.

Upon reaching her place, things escalated rapidly—like, really rapidly. Mere seconds after stepping through the door, she was all over you.

Passionate kisses, hands exploring every inch of your body, fingers grabbing at whatever they could find. Nails scratching and digging, teeth occasionally biting at your skin when her mouth left yours.

Given the speed with which she undressed you, it seemed like she had envisioned this scenario for quite some time.

Before you knew it, you were lying on her bed, completely devoid of clothing, and that's when she began to work her magic;

Squirming within her grasp, she held your thighs down while eating you out. Breathless, you questioned, "I thought you were a homophobe before we met. How are you so good at this??" The overwhelming sensation of her tongue left you in awe.

You can practically feel her grin against your lips as she responds, "Yep, I was. But after developing a crush on you, I did my homework. Figured it be useful at one point or another. Though, ‘didn't think I'd be that good on my first actual trial.”

"Please don’t stop" you croak out between pants.

“Don’t worry, I won’t." she promised, increasing her rhythm and pressure.

As she continued to please you, you couldn't help but wonder what changed in her. This was way different from her usual flustered self. ‘Was it the time spent together? Or maybe the touch? The combination of both?’

Regardless, you decided to focus solely on the present moment, losing yourself in the sensations coursing through your body. Lute showed no signs of slowing down, proving her dedication to satisfying you.

Eventually, you reached climax, shouting her name as you finally released, your wings fluttered and your essence coated her tongue. Her response? She swallowed it down greedily, moaning around your pussy. When you finally fell back onto the bed, panting heavily, she climbed up beside you, her breasts pressing against your chest.

"That was... intense," you managed to utter between breaths.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she whispered, nibbling on your earlobe.

As you settled down together, Lute traced gentle circles on your stomach before trailing her fingers along your inner thighs. Her thumb brushed against your sensitive folds again, teasingly circling your tight entrance. "Do you want more?" she asked softly, her voice husky with desire.

You nodded weakly, unable to speak coherently yet.

Without further delay, Lute positioned herself between your spread legs again, positioning her own pussy just inches away from where she had been earlier. Lowering herself slowly, she began to rub your clits together, creating a new wave of pleasure that reverberated throughout both of them.

With each thrust of her hips, she increased the pace until you were moving in sync, your moans growing louder as you neared another orgasmic peak.

Your bodies intertwined, united in shared ecstasy, leaving neither wanting nor regretting your decision to explore the concept of a sexual relationship together.

Lute's hands grabbed onto your hips, holding you steady as she picked up speed, driving them both closer to climax. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving shallow crescent marks in the soft flesh; evidence of your shared intensity.

You could feel the familiar buildup starting again, your entire body tensing up in anticipation. With one final powerful thrust, Lute groaned loudly, her orgasm crashing over both of you like waves crashing onto shore. In response, you let out a high-pitched cry, joining her in blissful release.

Breathing heavily, you stayed in the same position for several moments longer than necessary, savouring the afterglow of your passionate union.

Eventually, you separated, both panting heavily. Lute rolled off of you, lying next to you on the bed, her chest heaving rapidly.

"That was... incredible," she panted out, reaching over to grab a nearby water bottle and handing it to you.

"Yeah, it was... Although I have to admit, having sex on the first day of making it official is pretty needy," you playfully tease her.

"Oh, shut up," she retorts before planting a kiss on your lips once you've swallowed your sip of water.

This relationship was going to be wilder than what you had anticipated…

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Tag list for Lute: @sunflower-lilly @charlott30045 (I still used your request because it was one that fit with what I had already received)

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

#tswhiisftteedr #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute smut #lute x reader

[monsterfucker-research-wizard]

Current story - My bottle baby “Snowflake” has been sick off and on with unexplained pain in her abdomen. She has been to the vet 4 times for this alone. Two rounds of antibiotics. Two rounds of anti-inflammatory meds. 1 anti-inflammatory injection. Continuous meds for unknown pain. Stool sample, 3 urine samples, still unknown as to where the pain is coming from. Extremely gassy.

Ooc: what do I do with this ask?

[angara-mfrp]

Angara Death Zone (an 18+ Discord-Based Multi-Fandom RP Group)

An underground city, an enigmatic old man, a vast expanse of land that hasn't been explored in over a thousand years, a myriad of animals, five quirky but lovable leaders, and a past shrouded in mystery whose nature is steeped in murmuring from the population.

You'll find all this and more in Angara Death Zone, a multi-fandom Discord roleplay group that takes a less traditional approach to the post-apocalyptic genre (arguably, it should be called "post-post-apocalyptic), with a healthy does of mystery. It's a story of all that is good and all that is bad within humanity, set against the backdrop of wetlands featuring a heart-shaped lake. Our group has no member cap, nor do we have an immediate plans to implement one, so reserves are always open!

We have more details for you under the cut, but if you're short on time, here are some quick links!

PREMISE | RULES | FAQ | MASTERLIST | REQUESTED CHARACTERS | LOCATIONS | RANKUP SYSTEM | CONTACT

The Setting: Angara Death Zone is set in a world in which a catastrophe of unknown origins forced an unknown number of the population into an underground city known as the Cache. Whatever the disaster was, it resulted in the appearance of a poorly-understood force known as Waves, which humans have adapted to over generations. The Waves have weakened in recent centuries, allowing some intrepid people to establish settlements outside the Cache.

Upon arrival, your muse may feel a bit stir crazy as they'll be dragged inside the Cache for their own safety - Waves are especially dangerous to those previously completely unexposed, leading to painful mutations and even death in someone with no resistance - but with time and patience, they'll be able to experience life outside the Cache for themselves.

The People: Those who reside in the Cache have developed a strong sense of community and a somewhat morbid sense of humor, but they are unfailingly kind, even to complete strangers. OOC, you will take a quiz to determine which Direction your muse will fall into. Directions are a source of camaraderie and companionship, grouping people with similar beliefs and values together so as to provide everyone with a social network. Each Direction is led by a competent leader with a unique approach to their position.

Will your muse end up with the kind`and occasionally mischievous mortician, Vera? The stern and practical ranger, Mikaves? The eccentric yet knowledgeable historian, Erin? The shy yet thoughtful veterinarian, Ethan? Or will they end up with the sweet and encouraging zoo director, Susie? Wherever they end up, they'll find a wide array of colorful personalities.

There's also the Hunter Town on the outside, known for being resilient, but also warm and welcoming. They are a merry group of people, despite the dangers that come with living outside the Cache. While no other major settlements have been discovered or established in the immediate area, who knows what else could be out there?

The Creatures: Whoever it was that established the Cache was very animal-conscious, storing a wide variety of samples of animals from their time in order to regrow them. However, these samples were all affected by Waves, causing these creatures to be much less familiar than their counterparts from the time. From koalas who have two heads to echidnas capable of weaponizing their spikes and doing large-scale pest control, you'll find the wildlife in Angara Death Zone to be fascinating and oddly charming.

The Mysteries: Your muse will experience odd events before they arrive, and they won't stop once your muse has fallen into the lake. They'll learn of a time more than a thousand years ago that locals call the Bygone Era, a brief but presumably eventful time following a large span collectively referred to as the ancient age. The strangest thing about the Bygone Era is that next to nothing is known about it, and even some mysteries uncovered in some recently-discovered ruins leave a very unfinished picture of what things looked like back then, or what caused the great disaster of that time.

Ancient though they may be, those mysteries may very well hold the secret to your muse's return home.

The Choices: Is your muse curious and benevolent? Are they entirely apathetic and content to leave the past undisturbed? Or are they cruel and power-hungry, only serving the agendas of others if doing so will benefit them in turn? Your muse will find a course of action in Angara Death Zone via the Path system, and their actions will shape their lives in their strange new home.

The Perks: Being isekai'd isn't easy, especially when your muse has some restrictions at first. Even so, there's much to discover within the Cache, and they can obtain incredible abilities as their Wave resistance increases. Will they use the synthesis rooms to create that which they couldn't back home? Will they find a new job with flexible hours and fair pay, possibly even letting them start over from a past they couldn't escape in their previous world? Maybe they'd even be willing to unlock the potential that the Waves have granted their bodies, letting them mutate in a way that's safe for them and that will grant them new powers?

The Inspirations: With the unique and varied interests within the mod team, we've managed to create a group drawing from many different sources. As gamers, we've looked to titles like Fallout, Chaos Rings, Harvestella, Horizon Zero Dawn, and we've even drawn bits and pieces from Final Fantasy and Rune Factory. The music of My Chemical Romance has played a part in the group, as have educational and documentary-style programs like The Crocodile Hunter and Life After People. This range of inspirations has allowed us to create a setting and story that will keep our members invested and intrigued.

The Goals: We wanted to create a place where roleplayers can express creative freedom while getting to know others and share ideas. Above all, we want to create a space that is safe and well-run, while also valuing communication and honesty between mods and members alike. We strive to make people feel welcomed and included when they join.

If this sounds like the group for you, we look forward to seeing you, and if you have any questions, you can always send us a message here or on our Twitter account, @AngaraDeathZone!

#discord mfrp #discord rp #mfrp #discord roleplay #multifandom rp #rp group #post apocalyptic rp #sci-fi rp

[rookwoodacademy]

Congratulations, Jay - you’ve been accepted for the role of Ron Weasley. Please submit your link to the main within 24 hours of this post in order to lock in your role.

Please make sure to follow everyone on the follow list here, and look out for an invite to the OOC Discord channel!

All that said…

Welcome to Rookwood Academy.

OOC:

Name: Jay

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 34

Time Zone: EST

Ships: so many.

Kinks: will try anything not on anti-kinks

Anti-Kinks: scat, vomit, extreme torture, non-con

IC:

Desired Character: Ron Weasley

FC Change (If Applicable): Rupert Grint

Sexuality: Pansexual (discovering/in denial currently)

Role: Dominant

Wand (Length, Wood-Type, Core): 14”, Willow, Unicorn Hair

Writing Sample (3-4 paragraphs exhibiting your writing ability.):

OPTIONAL:

Biography: The sixth son of Arnold and Molly Weasley, there wasn’t much Ron felt he excelled at growing up. His older brothers all had their things - studies, Quidditch, pranks - and when Ginny came along, being the only girl in the house was more than enough to set her apart. Ron did his best to set himself apart, but nothing seemed to stick until he went to Hogwarts following his 11th birthday. He hoped there, he might find something to make him stand out from his brothers. He just didn’t anticipate the thing he found to be Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Once again, Ron seemed to be the one destined to not stand out. Harry was - well, Harry - and Hermione was possibly the smartest person he had ever met in his life. Still, he slowly started to learn that maybe that was his thing. His friends. Being a good friend, being loyal. Nothing mattered more to him than staying true to his friends, especially as events made things more complicated and dangerous with each passing year. He was inseparable from his friends, battling the unknown feelings he couldn’t control as he started to notice Hermione was more than just brains. Those feelings finally came to a head, the rush of battle and fear of death driving Ron to finally act. The moment of passion, he swore, fueled him through the battle and all that came after.

In the new world following the war, Ron struggled with what he knew he had to do. The weakness he had exhibited during the Horcrux hunt haunted him. He’d abandoned his friends before - would he be weak enough to do the same thing again? However, after many discussions, he realized something important. Hermione believed in him. Hermione, his beautiful, strong, fiery and brilliant girlfriend, believed in him, Ron Weasley, the least loved son of the Weasley clan. So with the strength that knowledge gave him, he convinced the new regime he was a supporter, and wound up being named a Dominant. Not only could he work to try and secure a better future for their world, but he could protect his best friend and the woman he loved with the position his blood-status allowed him. 

#accepted #ron weasley

[angelwars11]

Ask Game for Writers ✨ 📕✏

How long ago did you start reading or writing fanfiction?

Which platform do you post on? FanFiction.net (The first of its kind), Wattpad, Tumblr, AO3, etc.

What fandoms do you write for?

Do you outline your fics? Would someone die just from reading your outline?

What pairings do you write for?

Do you write original stories as well?

Do you have a WIP that sits on the dusty shelf, just waiting for you to return to it, and you keep telling yourself you will but you never do?

Do you edit your fics or do you just post them?

Best writing habits?

Worst writing habits?

How do you deal with writers' block?

Do you listen to music while writing? If so, what's a song or genre of music that really gets you in the 'The Zone'? (Reference to the Pixar movie 'Soul')

Do you write for commissions?

Have you ever done a writing event (ex: whumptober or collections or exchanges)? Was it fun? Did you successfully complete it/do all the days?

One-shots or multi-chapters? Angst? Fluff? Smut? Hurt/comfort? Fantasy? Romance? Which one is your favorite? Which one is your least favorite?

What's your favorite headcanon or trope?

Do you like writing characters 'in character' or OOC?

Handwritten notes or typed notes? Which one helps you stay more organized?

Give an update on your current WIP with a little snippet. No more than 300 words~

Do you have any OCs?

Any rare pairs? Any common pairs?

Do you use prompts, dialogue samples, headcanons, or sentence starters? Or do you look at a picture reference for a story idea and go off on that?

Write something based on this exciting prompt (give an example)

Third person or first person? Or do you like writing x-reader stuff? (Second person)

Ever written fanfic in a risky situation? At school? In class? While your parents are around you? Friends or siblings are watching? TEACHER?!

Do any of your IRL friends or your family members know where you post your fanfics? Have they read one or two before?

What's your popular fic on any writing platforms? (For AO3: highest kudos or hits)

What is your most underrated fanfic? (Most 'less-looked at') perhaps one with the least amount of kudos or hits.

What's the worst story you've written?

Have you ever deleted a work before?

What's the kindest comment you've ever received?

What's the funniest comment you've ever received?

Who's your favorite character in anything you've written?

Send your fanfic master list

What have you improved on most in writing fanfic? Is there anything you still want to improve on?

What does your writing process look like? Do you plan, write, edit, revise, edit, read, post? Or do you say 'screw planning' and head straight in? Or do you not edit at all and post that sucka and run away?

Do you have a schedule when writing or are you all over the place?

When you start a story, do you already have the ending planned, or do you head into the deep unknown head-first, not having an exact plan?

Sometimes being in the writing community can be stressful and full of hardships, but what are the happy experiences that being in a fanfiction community or just writing fanfiction bring you? What was your life like before writing fanfiction? Has your life changed since you've started? Have you changed as a person?

Can you link your writing account here for us to check out? Xoxo

#fanfiction ask game #ask game #ask me any question #writers on Tumblr #writers on ao3 #ao3 #fanfiction.net #wattpad #fanfics #fandom

[margotnetwork]

01. INTRODUCTION:

I will preface this by saying I am selective, and I am picky especially with who I write with - it’s not a ‘above the law’ state of mind, I just tend to vibe more with people who write more emotionally than action based so please don’t be disheartened if I don’t think we would be a good match but I am always open to giving things a go 

02: MUSES AND CHARACTERS:

Primary Muses; These are subjected to change any time

Celine Bardot - Margot Robbie - Socialite

Harleen Quinzel - Margot Robbie - Psychiatrist - Canon

Harley Quinn - Margot Robbie - Vigilante - Canon

Javier Alvarez - Pedro Pascal - Detective

Lucien Ortega - Oscar Ortega - Bookstore Employee

Persephone Mitchell - Margot Robbie - Florist

Victoria Saint - Jessica Chastain - Therapist

Secondary Muses; These are subjected to change at any time

Harley Hendrix  - Victoria Pedretti - Occupation Unknown

Lorenzo Santiago - Oscar Isaac - Actor

Meredith Chatsfield - Taylor Swift - Writer 

03: GUIDELINES AND RULES:

updated as of 04th of April, 2023.

ONE; I am twenty eight and residing in Australia - because of this I will only be roleplaying with eighteen plus. 

TWO;  I do smut but I am okay if you are uncomfortable with doing so. I won’t force you and don’t need smut to roleplay.

THREE; I only roleplay on discord. I do not use gifs. I do use tupperbox. I wrote a guide on it here!  I don’t expect you to use it but I can teach you how to use it. In terms of formatting I don’t use it on discord, except for my tupperbox display names. I value accessibility over anything

FOUR; I am selective in who I write with so I will ask you for writing samples. I am happy to provide my own I just like to see if we vibe when writing.

FIVE; I write both males and females. I will list my faces below but they are constantly changing. Male muses are a bit more fickle and won’t be consistent. You can only access my males if we double. I won’t just play males for you. I am also most inclined to play a female first to get used to you as a roleplayer and then add a male on when I feel comfortable.

SIX; In terms of writing, I do both f/f and m/f but I do not do m/m please respect this decision - you are welcome to tell me your triggers but as of right now - besides the obvious, I do not have any triggers. I can handle multiple plots at once but prefer about 4-6 being my sweet spot. 

SEVEN; There are no banned fcs for now, just preferences one of them I don’t tend to roleplay with k/j pop stars, animated faces, youtubers, sporting stars, models of any kind ect. I don’t mind musicians if it’s someone I can identify. In terms of faces I tend to prefer older faces 35+ usually but no one really in their twenties – i will typically write most people in my wanted opposites tag; mainly actors and actresses but there are some exceptions 

EIGHT; In terms of servers I will check after a week of inactivity - No ooc, no replies, you haven’t given me an update on if you were busy ect - if you don’t respond within 24 hours I will delete. A message will be sent to you out of the server as well just on the off chance it’s muted.

NINE; My writing lengths vary. I tend to do a short to medium length 5/6 sentences each. I can write multi para but it takes me longer and there is a chance I burn out easily.

TEN; I have both primary and secondary muses - the primary ones are my comfort characters and the secondary ones are ones that I will be selective with but this list is NOT exhaustive; which means that they can be added and subtracted to,

ELEVEN; This shouldn’t be a rule I have to put here, but please do not god mod unless you ask first like if I write you a starter, don’t add that my character did something they did not do.

TWELVE; I am a rapid fire roleplayer, I am a fast typer and I can give you multiple replies per day, please note that if you are slower roleplayer ( which I respect, I may not be a good fit for you since I do like to write or talk or even muse at least once a day )

THIRTEEN; Please do not use my characters for smut or just sexual emotions and advances, I put a lot of love and care into my character creations and I refuse to just smut with people - I also like to write other platonic and friendly scenarios as well

#rules and guidelines #please read i didn't write them for fun

[kaetastic]

Mafia Aside

pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

summary: Despite being part of the criminalizing life in the mafia, Luca Changretta needs the surprise birthday for his girl to be perfect. Needs- all letters capitalized. [requested: @imaginesbymk]

word count: 3.2k

warning: halted smut, fluff, slight angst? angory luca

note: thank you so much @imaginesbymk for this request!! I hope this is alright! I felt like Luca was OOC though 🥺🥺

Luca’s eyes fluttered open from the rather merciless jab of the morning light. It was an unfair battle of swerving swords as he had just charged up his engine. A sigh brushed his lips when his back muscles sprinkled happiness at the finally fulfilling sleep which he had been promised at the end of the week. Six days of enduring work when you don’t want to; six days of sleep, if all hours of slumbering had been added up, would be equal to a day of working. To summarize it all up, Luca had been the dangling bait teasing himself over the warmth of his bed.

Now that it was finally the weekend he had been longing for for far too long, he couldn’t help but smear the aching muscles with the good news. The good realization which almost sounded fake. Almost as if it was a too-good-to-be-true sort of dream. However, with a pile of evidence and the remembrance of the promised day, every single tendon in his body melted into the warm bed. The warm bed he had his overnight breath plastered all over.

“Mhm.” The woman who had been hogging his body into hers hummed, annoyed at his excessive movements. She knew he was beginning to stir up; she hated it. Time was sure to be purchased for them to rest in bed. Y/N wasn’t surprised he had woken up at such an early hour in the weekend, it had been the same time he would get up of bed for work. The torturous hours of work had implemented the time to wake up in his head.

Luca groaned, his left side sore and numb, sleeping from the weight that had rested on his arm overnight. Pulling his arm away to feel shivers crawl up his skin from the lack of response, his numbness was overlapped by Y/N’s irritated sigh. With a huff she flipped to her other side, her back facing him, “Go back to sleep.”

The words fell off her lips in an exhausting trail, a string as evidence of spending a whole day at her future mother-in-law’s home to learn Luca’s favourite meals. While Luca busied himself with work, there was barely anything to do at home when he was away. Sure, Y/N could sweep some dust that reverts to its original home despite her relentless wiping; don’t even mention the number of times she had organized and reorganized the fridge. Her daily routine was so monotonous. It was dull and grey when she’s stuck in the walls of the home alone. That was until Luca would come back.

“I’m wide awake now.” He chided, pushing his body up to the headboard of the bed, eyes never leaving her resting body. Y/N groaned. It should’ve been a day of resting and possibly, a lot of cuddling in bed. His warmth was always there for her when her eyes were shut tight. Lately, work had been the blade grazing his back. In other words, it had been a pain in the ass. The corners of his lips crept up as she now faced him, eyes still glued shut. 

“Just close your eyes.” Although her lips were mumbling the words, each syllable lingered in the air for less than second, Luca managed to make of what she said. The Italian chuckled, his fingers brushing her hair. 

“How can I? It’s morning.” Finally snapping her eyes open, she beamed at the man who wore his signature smirk. The infamous quirk of his lips. Rolling her eyes at the obvious observation, she shifted closer to the radiating heat of his bare chest. As her nose caressed his pillow, the scent of him warming up her lungs, she snuggled into the smell. The smell that would only plaster against the side of his bed with a diluted tone after he had left to do work.

“Thank you for informing me, Mr Changretta for I would be lost without your great insights.” He chuckled, head shaking as his fingers hovered over the jar of matchsticks on his bedside table (something Y/N had pestered over years). With the wooden stick pressed against his bottom lip, he nudged it with his tongue. The redhead of the match rolled from left to right.

“What do you want for breakfast? I’ll cook.” 

Y/N quirked her eyebrows, “Oh, are you the chef for today, Mr Changretta?” Luca said nothing, the curled corners of his lips speaking for him. “Quit talking ‘bout breakfast. From now on, everything that requires going out of bed and is related to morning activities, are banned. We are cuddling.” 

His string of laughter quivered through her draped arm that rested on his bare chest, sparking tingles of his husky voice. The woman didn’t bother to meet his eyes as her lungs were warmed of the addicting scent of him, “Cuddling is part of our morning activities.”

The Italian’s eyes didn’t quiver from her intense gaze as she pushed herself up to straddle his hips, her knees pooled into the mattress of their bed, “We haven’t cuddled this whole week,” Luca had to ponder for a second if what she stated was true. Despite his squeaking gears on replaying every day of the previous week, he was curious to how she could remember so. “There are other stuff we can do that remains in our... regulations.”

“Your regulations,” Luca chided, his matchstick pointed at her direction. “What do you have in mind?”

There was a glint in his eyes. The glint that Y/N had been so familiar with. The glint she had missed ever since Luca had wrapped his body around sheets of work. Tilting her head in lost of thoughts, she hummed while his hands were splayed against her thighs, “Not sure, it might take up the whole day...”

Every muscle in Luca’s body was pulled taut, dipped in frozen ice. Y/N didn’t notice. She didn’t pick up the way his chest went rigid, his chest barely moving a centimetre to respire, her focus heavily placed onto his reaction. As her fingers danced on his bare chest, thumb grazing over his recovering scars, Luca’s head stung of rapid thoughts. And that was when her body went flying back to her side of the bed. Scrambling to stand in the middle of the room, chest out in the open with a loose trouser around his hips, the Italian’s mouth parted. Mouth left wide open, she watched as he scurried to find the right words, “I have some... work to do.” 

Luca nodded at his own words as if he was convincing himself to the new plan, liking the idea. Leaving Y/N all alone in their bed.

“What the fucking shit is this?” The Italian spat out. Well, the words and the saliva-covered crumbs of the cake that left an unpleasant aftertaste. The ceramic plate slammed into the wooden table, singing an echoing song before it was met with a splat from the fallen sample of the cake that was to be the birthday cake for his girl. How could such a shitty flavour be the cake for his girl? Everybody would choke and die if he was to accept the third sample he had tried for the day. The third sample. What a joke. 

The first two was no different. It would just take a caress of his tongue against the crevices of his teeth to find the remaining residues of the previous samples. A man whose familiar with the taste of lingering iron would have a loaded gun in his hand. There was no way Luca would bring a cake that tasted like iron for a birthday party. A surprise birthday party at that one. The Italian hoped it remained unknown for he knew how some of his sisters could get a bit... mouthy. 

The man who owned the bakery quivered in fear, hoping the warmness that streamed in his pants was not what he thought it was. Although his sister, Rosa, had assured him that the bakery had made countless unforgettable cakes for her and her love for throwing parties, Luca could not find a sole point that would match to his sister’s descriptions and her high set experience with the bakery. Or, maybe it was due to the fact that Luca had only wanted the best of the best. Usually, it wouldn’t be that hard to find the best firearm that suited him. But cakes? He had to pour a gallon of patience to hold himself back from storming out. Should’ve just asked mamma to make the cake.

“It’s pineapple cake, straight from Hawaii, sir-” Luca grunted out, shutting up the stuttering man. Fingers pressed into his temples, the Italian attempted at the silly advice of counting down, given by his youngest sister who had claimed Luca had wavering moments of temper. It worked. 

“You know what? I’m not spending another hour shoving your cakes down my throat. I’ll take the chocolate, two layers, and put some fucking decorations on it, like sprinkles or some shit. Looks bland, whose funeral are we going to?” No one spoke up. Who would? This was the man who had strutted up and down the streets with his infamous patted suits. 

“Luca,” Matteo called out, scurrying after his boss who had just splat a wad of cash. Why does it sometimes feel like he’s always chasing after a little boy who had just thrown a tantrum? “Where are we going now?”

“The party hall.”

“What does it take for you people to fucking get my words through your heads?” The running veins along his neck bulged, grazing to the surface of the air in pulses. Today must be a joke. Everything had tested him. It was as if someone was playing a game to see how short of a temper he has. Occasionally, he would be composed; he wasn’t one to spring to the bullet, head-first. Planning events was not rolling of dices. 

Bodies quivered, shivering at his scolding as if a flock of wind had engulfed the warmth they once sheltered in. Luca had been mistaken as a cold man multiple times. It wasn’t hard for a stranger to take a glance at his posture and his gait, to not portray him as the wolf stalking through their buildings. That was what he was. If only they had done it right, they wouldn’t have to face the consequences. The line of men who had been assigned to the arrangement of the tables were abruptly yanked to stop their last-minute adjustments. To only be scolded as if children. Despite the growing orb of seething anger they had for being the stock of embarrassment in the room, they couldn’t do anything. So, they directed to a more acceptable choice, swallowing the fury down into an abyss, a void. Because who was mental enough to oppose what the powerful man said?

“Put that fucking table there, and move those three back.” With his fingers as the direction informant, the string of men dispersed without any mumbling. Not even one had slipped under their breath as the risk had been too high. The room had fallen into a defeaned silence, present eyes were stuck on those who had been responsible for the arrangement of the tables. However, with a quick glance from even his known bodyguard, Matteo, there were no longer on-lookers for they had resumed with their work. 

Just four more days before it was the big day. A sigh of relief, mixed in with gratitude and joy fell from his lips, “Finally. See? It is better now.”

The intense whirlwind that had descended down from the ceiling had evaporated, vanishing into thin air. The heavyweight sitting on their shoulders were no more as sunshine glittered through the windows which had been protected with velvet curtains on the sides. They could even hear birds singing a song. A victory of a battle song. Except, the smiles on their faces had been wiped off when the man demanded, “Pass me the liquours we’re serving.” 

Oh lord. Matteo felt as if his job was no different to clinging onto the clanking chains of a wild dog. The splatter of the whiskey he had allowed to smear a small area of his tongue was gushed back into the cup. His bewildered eyes and his furrowed eyebrows had been enough to scare the man who brought a sample of the whiskey, “Did you scoop up sewer water?” The terrified man shook his head, lips shut tight. “We fucking distribute alcohols and you got yourself the shittiest one.”

With a quirk of his eyebrows, the man scurried to the kitchen for another bottle. It was indeed going to be a long day. 

“Did none of you write down what I said?” Luca’s eyes blared onto his accompanying men. All they could do was swing their jaw, eyes never meeting the man who had directed his anger towards them. Except for Matteo and Frederico. It seemed it was always them who had the courage to do so. Maybe it was because they had been used to the Italian, and his... personality. “Carlo, is there something missing?”

The brunette who held his fedora to his chest craned up his neck, young eyes landing dead-centre of Luca’s electrifying gaze, “The balloons and flowers?” 

“Good, and where are they?”

“Luca, we still have four days.” Matteo spoke up when he noticed the man who was about to be Luca’s punching bag could not find the answer in his head.

Hair prickling like a dagger, it grazed Luca’s forehead as he reverted his focus towards his henchman, “I’ve been planning this shit for months. We have four days left? Everything should’ve been ready by now.” Fingers digging into the lapels of Matteo’s suit, Luca stared down, his figure towering prominently. There was a glint that sparked a bonfire in his eyes. 

“Antonio, go with Carlo to check up on the balloons. Make sure there are two and a half dozen. You better fucking count each and every one.”

Antonio, followed by Carlo scurried out. The roaring noise of an engine faded into the distance. Luca cleared his throat, “Great. Let’s check up on the flowers.”

“Luca! Could you just shut up? Your presence is not needed.” Elena huffed out, the muscles in her arm urging for her to grab the nearest sharpest tool to remind her oldest brother he was as annoying as a screeching seagull. Her gaze craned down from his shadowy figure to the flowers in her hands. The task of flowers was given to Elena, the middle child of five, just three years younger than Angel. Luca glared at the bundle of mess.

“It clearly is. What are you doing with pink and blue?” Defeated, she leaned her back into her chair, her lazy eyes (not from her hard-working efforts but from the fact that her brother had ruined her mood) followed his fingers as he brought a pink and peach coloured flowers into a pairing. “See? So much appealing to my eyes.

Knowing her brother with his stubborn character trait, she could only roll her eyes and followed the man’s instruction. Luca stalked towards the balcony, the purple sky caressing his skin. Everything was going to plan.

“Where are we heading off to?” It might’ve been the hundredth time she had asked the driver, but it didn’t hurt to inquire. Maybe it had been for Matteo’s ears which had been throbbing with agonizing pain from the clueless passenger. Questions floated in his head: why had he been the one to be assigned to driving her to the party- surprise party? “Are we getting closer?”

His grip around the driver’s wheel tightened, the uncut nails dug deep into the polished wood. Matteo snapped his neck, a deathly noise popped into the air. It answered Y/N’s question. Even though all he wanted to do was scream for her to remain quiet, he had to remind himself that this was Luca’s girl. He would not come out alive at the end of the day if the Italian finds out about the mistreatment. The echoing voice in his head that called out the nearing to the party hall, Matteo wanted nothing but to halt the car. He feared he would swerve into a tree that would end the torturous journey. Just round this corner.

Matteo had been slightly difficult to get closer to, despite the counting years of Luca’s and Y/N’s relationship. Befriending Frederico was simple, sure, the man had been collected and quiet, but it was more tolerable than the hot-headed Matteo.

Y/N’s lips parted open to let out another question, but the screeching of the tires cut her short, “Here we are.” The driver didn’t even bother to crane his neck as she got out of the vehicle.

Y/N knew that she and Matteo had not exactly passed acquaintance. But, she did not expect him to zoom down the street, leaving her alone. She watched as the vehicle fade into a faint fog, her eyes blinking at what had just happened. Averting her gaze to the building he had dropped her off at, she couldn’t help but gulp. Associating herself with the mafia had meant a whole list of issues that could place a potential problem. Some normal things she could’ve done as a normal citizen were cut off, all for her safety. Well, that’s what Luca would say. 

The corners of her lips curled down at the mention of the Italian. Even though he had promised her, assured every second he could- saying that he had planned something for her birthday, the distance between the two on the special day had only allowed her head to gush of overreacting thoughts. Y/N had tried her best to convince herself that Luca might’ve just been busy with work, while she had stumbled upon his other men enjoying their times in pubs. No matter her efforts in opposing the consuming thought, there was just evidence that something might’ve happened between the couple. She had even run her mind whenever she had occupied herself with work to think of what she could’ve possibly done to push him away. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? But, nothing. 

When she had returned home from a leisure walk in the park, although, it was quite stressful for Y/N as she knew she had been sauntering on the green path with at least (to what she could see) three familiar men- Luca’s men, she laid her eyes on the box with a silk ribbon tying it, a note encased under the small bow. Wear this. Matteo will honk at seven. 

Shoving down the idea of a trap, Y/N managed to grab all her courage and barge through the doors, “Surprise!” Frozen in time, all sorts of colours blinded her eyes; names of faces she could only recall if she walked slowly in deep contemplation.

“Buon compleanno, amore mio,” (happy birthday my love) The too familiar voice of a husky Italian whispered against the shell of her ears, the warm puffs from his lips grazing across her skin in shivers of coldness. “You thought I forgot? Never.”

#luca changretta #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta oneshot #luca changretta imagine #luca changretta oneshots #luca changretta imagines #luca changretta fluff #luca changretta angst #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta ff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders angst #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots

[platonic-prompts]

Okay, time for your daily dose of wattpad drama

There was a person who dropped a random spoiler into my comment section. It had nothing to do with the book or fandom. It was a random, unprompted spoiler with the name of the show attached to it. So I was like ‘hey, you know that’s a spoiler right”

And they said yes lol

You do realize you just could have spoiled a show I wanted to watch, right?

“What’s the big deal spoilers are inevitable? Several plot points for the shown are all over articles---” Etc

Anyway, this went on for a while, since I was trying to convince them it was a crappy thing to do, since I have my comments on so I can reply to questions about the story. If they had said, oh, sorry, that would’ve been the end of it. 

But no, no, that couldnt be the end of it. Time went on, and they twisted my words “Go ahead, call me an asshole to my face. I dont care”

Even though I never once called them that, instead referring to a kid I went to school with who spoiled endgame because he’s an asshole. More comments, and more of them acting like they’re not at fault, that people ‘don’t mind spoilers because they enjoy the shows more’ and ‘i didn’t know you watch the show’

I don’t but I was planning to and you spoiled a big plot point.

Anyway, time skip to this morning because I muted them and deleted the comments last night so I wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. Now this is where the drama comes in. This person has a habit of, if they mute me i make a post about it.

Samples include: This person just came at me all posh and whatever cause I called their portrayal of Zoë Nightshade OOC. She was also OOC for no reason whatsoever. I get it if she's like that because of some background story or smt but not without reason. It just seems like a bad writer to me and they're just coming up with excuses.

So…aparrently I offended someone because of something petty. This Wattpad user muted me cause I did something they didn't like (pretty sure they're a 'she' cause her profile description said 'lesbian' but I'm not assuming). I was reading one of their books and saw something interesting that wasn't canon. Something about demigods having golden specks in their blood. I was confused and curious. So naturally, I asked a question. Then this user who took people questioning them to a whole new level, muted me! (In referral to a person who has stated that they don’t like it when people do so and to please refrain from doing so)

And there’s also another one, but they drop the username of a twelve year old because they muted them for calling what they do annoying. But I’m not showing that one because again, child.

How does this factor in? Well, my dear dear children

Lmao this person petty af. They muted me after I ACCIDENTALLY spoiled something that I didn't even consider as a spoiler since the fanfic was unrelated to what I was talking about. I felt no need to apologise because of this and they acting to serious like I've commited a crime. Just get over it. There are worse problems to deal with than spoilers. Why so triggered?

I was replying back with no emotion whatsoever. It's hilarious at how angry they are and how long their comments were. I didn't even bother reading them.

Let’s break this down piece by piece. It is not an accidental spoiler when you drop a major plot point into an unrelated piece of media along with the name of what its from. They admitted that they put the name in there because people might not understand it, but the people who wouldn’t understand it would be people who haven’t seen the show or aren’t up to that part yet. 

The equivalent to this would be going to a random BnHA fanfic on Ao3 and saying *SPOILER FOR THE BARTIMEUS TRILOGY* I just finished reading Bartimaus being forced out of Nathaniel’s mind so he wouldn’t die too, In Ptolomy’s Gate! and then the (girl’s name) summons him at the end and it was so sad. 

*SPOILER OVER*

Even if it was an accidental spoiler, which  highly highly doubt considering they showed no surprise at it being a spoiler and literally said yes lol, it’s still a crappy thing to do. 

Next point: IT”S STILL A SPOILER EVEN IF ITS NOT RELATED TO THE FANFIC

Next: No need to apologize. Really? I straight up said I was planning to watch the the show and that I had avoided spoilers for years so I could watch it blind. And then they proceed to say ‘I didn’t know you watched the show” which again, i have not and now never will because my enjoyment of closely serialized shows hinges on not knowing what happens next. Soap operas are boring for me, and downright cringe worthy because they repeat the same plot points again and again. But then when they throw in a new plot (Or victor decides to be a good grandparent) I find myself enjoying it. Only for that to be yanked away if someone were to say, oh yeah x goes to jail for murder and then y breaks them out and they go live on an island somewhere. 

Also their reason for not apologizing is because people are still mad at you afterwards, also that it doesn’t change anything, but I share that so first part only. People are no obligated to forgive you just because you apologize. Sorry doesn’t wipe away their emotions and free will. Even if you don’t mean it sorry shows that you recognize you did something wrong. (Although I fall into a pit where my sincere apologies seem insincere which is not fun for me)

Next: As for why I kept replying to them. Because they were acting like they did nothing wrong and pushed the blame onto me. I wasn’t acting like it was a crime, I was saying it was a crappy thing to do and maybe dont do it because you can ruin a piece of media for something. But oh no, now I’m triggered I guess. I guess having concern for other peoples enjoyment is a crime now, take me away officer.

Next point: So, if they didn’t bother reading my comments, how did they know I was ‘angry’ Oh, I know. Because they assumed I was getting upset after they shoved words in my mouth. I don’t really get angry. Upset, sure, but not really angry. And even better? Those long comments? less than 1000 characters. Characters, not words. Just because I’m trying to point out that they did something crappy, I’m an angry person. Also???? Replying with no emotion. No they weren’t. I get that tone doesn’t translate in text, but by god they were one of the most combatant and defensive people I’ve seen on wattpad.

Since I can’t see the activity that led to the other things on their message board i can’t say what happened there, but based off of my own experience with them, I’m assuming they’ve twisted the narrative to suit their own needs. Which by the way, can be insanely damaging

I’ve had enough interaction on my account with people, and enough A/Ns for people to get the general vibe i give off, so this probably won’t be much of a problem for me. But if they had dropped my username and I had like 10 followers? It’s a lot easier to trash a reputation than it is to build on. “Oh hey, I like a book by this person” “that persons a jerk didn’t you see that one post” 

People fall into a false sense of security that wattpad is sunshine and rainbows because its mostly young teens on it, but there are plenty of jerks who will twist your words and reactions to fit their needs.

Sorry for the long post, but I can’t reply to the message on their message board unless I want to implicate myself with either of my accounts. So you get this because otherwise my side of things is unknown to the world.

#not a prompt #long post

[sarlaros]

LF Contact: “Ros the Boss”

The Basics ––– –

NAME: Sarlaros Brodeur

AGE: Adult (a few hundred years)

RACE: Shal’dorei

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Bisexual (attracted to 2+ genders)

MARITAL STATUS: Widower

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Singled

FACIAL LIKENESS: Gao Weiguang

Physical Appearance ––– –

HAIR: White with only a few thin strands of dulling silver.

EYES: Silver with a hint of blue around the edges.

HEIGHT: around 7ft2in / 221cm “average”

BUILD: Slender with wide shoulders. Long fingers and oddly large feet.

SKIN & MARKS: Dark blue skin with shimmering arcane lines which are connected by white tattoo dots as if stars keeping together a constellation.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: His trusted lantern, a cloak the same color as his hair, a dagger, and a metal and wood scroll case with a purple silk ribbon.

Personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Soap maker & tailor of accessories / decorations.

HOBBIES: studying the stars, exploring creepy places, collecting stereotypical novelty items from every place he’s been, and wine sampling.

LANGUAGES: Shalassian (Fluent), Orcish/Common (Conversational)

RESIDENCE: Traveling. Home base is a flat in Suramar City.

BIRTHPLACE: Suramar City

RELIGION: He’s not much for organized religion - yet.

PATRON DEITY: Celestial. No confirmation of one specific deity for now.

FEARS: The idea of no afterlife, falling to his death from a flying object or creature, and public speaking, to name a few.

Relationships ––– -

SPOUSE: Randei Brodeur (deceased)

CHILDREN: None

PARENTS: Arialah & Thealaes Ishel (deceased)

SIBLINGS: A couple sisters and a brother (RP opportunity!)

OTHER RELATIVES: A few cousins and a niece! (RP opportunity)

PETS: None. Visits a white crane sometimes.

Traits ––– -

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

RP Hooks –––

Lived a few hundred years in Suramar doing odd jobs, so other Shal’dorei might know him. His partner was born in a wealthy family making it easy for people to at least know his surname.

He’s been spotted spending time in different cities offering soap and towel samples with a mini sales booth.

Any observatory he’d have access to across Azeroth he’s most likely attempted to visit at least once. Astronomy is kind of a big deal to him and those whom can sense magical auras can tell his affiliation to celestial magics.

He’s recently been selling at festivals such as Fire Fest.

Contact Info –––

Discord - Lynx#3745 Tumblr - Likes/Follows/Asks come from @kavtari​ Bnet - please message me privately for this one In Game - Sarlaros-Wyrmrestaccord (Horde)

Out of Character –––

I am in EST (Michigan) so I’m 3-hours ahead of WrA and 1-hour ahead of MG. Age 34 with more than half my life in roleplaying experience. I will interact with all RPers 13+, but no romantic or sexual interactions with anyone under 18. Since I work varying hours every week with every other Saturday off I recommend messaging me on discord if you’re interested in some RP - which can be in-game or on discord! My ooc tumblr blog is @kjblynx​

[constablegoo]

ODO... ODO ON SCREEN YEAR OF THE GOO 2023...

#picard spoilers / #I HAVE QUESTIONS... BUT IM HAVING FUN LOL #⌀ UNKNOWN SAMPLE. [ ooc. ]

[scaredandbored]

androids cannot act without premeditation

this ones for @datalaur , i hope it’s ok! it will be ooc, as i’ve only done one story with characters that aren’t mine before, but i did try! doing it as a data-centric one was a bit of a mistake, he’s v e r y difficult for an emotional wreck like me to get right lmao. i’m so sorry it took so long, i really am. not only did i have difficulty with the characterisation of data, i also decided to try and make it a small collection of shorts that tied up nicely at the end, which took me waaaay longer than i anticipated, i’m sorry! i hope it’s ok (it’s also a little rushed at the end because i was working on it for ages but nothing seemed right and i just wanted to get it done aaaaaa i’m sorry)

word count : 2’292 (and a whole lot of errors because the final draft was done on my ipad at two thirty am i’m so sorry lmao)

i) when he “short-circuited” (not literally)

It was a routine check on a peaceful outpost, there was no need for Data to accompany the away team while he still had responsibilities aboard the ship, and when he had voiced this opinion to Riker, the first officer had agreed. Geordie had rested his hand briefly on Data’s shoulder as he gave his hurried goodbye before dashing off to transporter room 3 with Riker, Barclay, and an engineer from the outpost that had beamed aboard to explain the situation on the ground. Data was surprised when the loss of the heat from Geordie’s hand sent a slight chill through his system, the same way it did when the environmental controls in his quarters malfunctioned.

Shaking his head lightly, he ran a quick diagnostic on himself while he made his way to Engineering, a diagnostic that came up clear, which was puzzling. Data made a note to discuss the irregularity in his thermal controls upon Geordie’s return to the Enterprise. While monitoring the repairs being made to the dilithium chamber from the last skirmish the ship had engaged in, Data began to plan an evening meal with Geordie. Knowing his friend would likely be tired from an extended shift away with no access to his painkilling hyposprays, a low light intensity level was absolutely necessary, especially since Geordie seemed reluctant to remove his VISOR in the presence of his friends, including Data, for reasons the android could not fathom. Of course, Data would have to retrieve Geordie’s hyposprays from his quarters if the meal as to commence immediately after Geordie’s work planetside was complete, and if he would not take off the VISOR, perhaps some of his preferred scented oils would alleviate some of the tension headaches he preferred not to discuss, again, even with Data, once more for reasons unbeknown to Data.

The repairs were running smoothly enough for Data to feel secure in leaving them to run unattended while he carried out some basic structural repairs in the Jefferies Tubes, when the captain’s voice came barking out of his comm badge.

“Commander Data to the bridge, immediately.”

“Acknowledged, captain. I am on my way.”

As he made his way briskly down the corridor to the turbolift that would take him to the bridge, Data ran a list of the most statistically likely scenarios that would require his presence on the bridge. It would, of course, depend hugely on wether the captain required him at the navigation console or the science console, but based on the fact they were not due to leave orbit for another few days, Data concluded the scenarios requiring he be monitoring the various scans and probes while making various calculations (most probably pertaining to time restrictions enforced by a radioactive leak or electromagnetic flux of some sort) were most probable.

What he was not expecting, was to be completely blindsided by the tense order from Captain Picard, delivered without the man turning away from the view screen.

“Mr.Data, I need you to send a probe to scan for any signs of life on the outpost.”

It took Data a few seconds to process the order as his neural processors struggled with the implications of it.

He terminated the program which formulated various potential outcomes of his actions on the bridge, along with the one that had kicked in long before his motor functions had responded to the captain’s order, the one that was calculating the likelihood of Geordie’s survival.

While launching the probes, Data took a careful look at the sensor logs which detailed what had befallen the away team.

The details of the collapse of the cavernous system that made up the outpost.

The cave-in which had trapped Geordie and hidden him from the ships sensors, hidden his vital sign from the crew.

The earthquake that had made it impossible for Data to ascertain whether or not his best friend was alive.

It did not occur to Data until the away team was beamed back to the enterprise unscathed that he hadn’t spared a thought for Riker or Barclay, both men he would have considered to be his friends also. An intriguing matter, one Data wanted to look into before bringing it up with Geordie.

ii) when he acted without thinking (more than once)

Data had extensive experience in the science field, so when the majority of the science department were beamed planetside by a species of unknown intentions, it only made sense that Data be assigned to the ecological research team that were to beam down and learn all they could about the planet while a smaller away team attempted to retrieve the science department. Data could not see why Geordie insisted on beaming down, as he had neither experience with ecological research nor extensive search and rescue training, but Geordie insisted nonetheless.

Data’s memory banks suddenly assaulted him with images of Geordie in sick bay, in various states of physical and mental stability after away missions gone wrong while Data had been unable to assist him. Before he could stop himself, he found himself making a proposal for Geordie to join the research team, highlighting the importance of having someone well versed in physics while exploring the surface of the planet so that variables such as atmospheric pressure and wind patterns may be accounted for as much as possible while making notes on the planet’s ecology.

His lengthy explanation was cut off by the familiar pressure and warmth of Geordie’s hand patting his shoulder before settling just at the junction between his shoulder and neck, the warmth from the palm of his hand seeping into his circuitry and spreading a pleasant sensation throughout his body. “I’ll join your team, Data, no need to try and convince me.” His friend’s smile jolted another wave of warmth round his circuits, and while Geordie listened to Commander Riker’s plan for the retrieval of the scientists, Data ran another diagnostic on his thermal regulators, and one on his memory recall systems, only for them to show no signs of malfunction. “Hey, where are you, Data?” Geordie’s voice snapped him out of his reverie, wherein he had just begun to compare his responses to stimuli provided by Geordie to stimuli from his other friends, theorising perhaps it was the nature of his relationship with the chief engineer that was the cause of these flushes.

“I am in the briefing room, along with the rest of the crew who are due to be transported planetside.” Was his response to Geordie’s inquiry, but his friend’s bemused smile and good-natured laugh told Data the question had not been literal long before Geordie mentioned it being another one of those ‘figures of speech’ Data just couldn’t seem to get the hang of. He made a mental note to ask Geordie to assist him in further research into the use of such colloquialisms.

Geordie had removed his hand while they made their way to the transporters, resulting in a chill running through his sensory systems. Data filed the sensation away to run in comparison to his responses to similar withdrawals of stimuli from his other friends. 

O’Brien engaged in some tense small talk with the two away teams, reminding them they would need their tricorders operating at full capacity in order to boost their signals in the event of an abduction similar to the science crew’s. 

Data acknowledged O’Brien’s cautions with a fractional incline of his head, fiddling with a tricorder he, oddly, couldn’t remember picking up.

“Hey, Data, I know how to calibrate my own tricorder.” Geordie did not look angry; if Data had to guess, he would’ve said the look on Geordie’s face was amusement. Data blinked once, then looked down at his own tricorder, hanging from his hip. Looking back at the tricorder in his hands, he began to run yet another diagnostic on his memory banks.

“My apologies, Geordie.” He handed back the tricorder, a slight frown tugging at his mouth. “I...” He paused for a moment, paying particularly close attention to the result of his internal scan. All clear. “I did not think before acting.”

Geordie shook his head, but his smile never faltered. “That’s not like you, Data.” He clapped his friend’s upper arm briefly before hopping onto the transporter pad. “Thanks anyway.” His smile widened before he nodded at O’Brien and was beamed down.

Data decided he would have Geordie take an objective look at his circuitry later that evening.

iii) when he risked violating the prime directive

It had been two hours since the entrance to the cave had collapsed, trapping Geordie inside, alone. He had lost all communications with the rest of the away team, the Enterprise’s scanners were unable to penetrate the strange, rock-like substance the surface of the planet seemed to be covered in. 

Data and the rest of the small away team had been in disguise as the native species while they attempted to take some samples of the very rock that had condemned Geordie to his confinement. Data had attempted to convey the situation to the nearest village, but was unsuccessful, considering they had not yet developed an effective means of communication, making it impossible for Data to secure their assistance.

He had initially disregarded the option of using his phaser to burn a hole in through the dirt surrounding the cave-in to prevent further danger to Geordie as it would risk violating the prime directive. He had established almost immediately prior to his first encounter with Geordie that under no circumstances could he die while Data had the capability to prevent that outcome. Data’s neural pathways lit up with a continuous, almost painful feedback loop as he was confronted with this paradox.

The prime directive must not be violated. To rescue Geordie, one must violate the prime directive. Geordie must be saved.

He had not noticed Riker taking his phaser from his hand, he had not noticed him giving an order for transport, he had not yet worked his way through the paradox.

He could just about make out the transporter room fizzling into his view before the pain pulsed through his entire body before he shut down, unable to solve the problem.

....

When he was reactivated, Data felt the familiar warm sensation throughout his entire mainframe a few milliseconds before he registered Geordie’s hands frantically darting around his head, where he could tell his access terminals were wide open and under intense scrutiny by his friend. “I seem to have returned to an operable state, Geordie. How long were was it before the Enterprise could retrieve you?”

“Data!” Geordie’s exclamation of his name should have left Data confused as to why his friend had not answered his question, but instead, the relief he could hear in Geordie’s voice was... almost comforting. The thought puzzled Data. How could he be comforted if he had experienced no upset?

Mirroring Geordie’s hand on his shoulder, Data accidentally applied more pressure than anticipated on the engineer’s shoulder, and before he knew it, the android found himself completely engulfed by Geordie, his system flushed almost scalding hot, and his arms moved up to press Geordie closer, closer, until his friend started to mutter something about not being able to breathe properly. Data attempted to relinquish his hold on Geordie entirely, but Geordie kept his arms firmly around him as he sighed, “We thought we’d lost you, Data.”

“And I thought I had lost you, Geordie.” Data frowned. He had, once again, acted without thought. He had meant the words, but he had not processed them before delivering them. “Geordie, I have been experiencing-“

When Geordie drew back from their embrace, frowning and reaching for his scanner, a constant stream of questions for Data regarding his recent malfunctions, Data felt... bereft. Cold. The lack of contact with Geordie had returned his systems to their usual, less comforting temperature, and the worry in Geordie’s posture and words had chilled Data. It made sense, therefore, to initiate further contact with the human.

Data wrapped his arms around Geordie, clutching his hands together just below his diaphragm, and rested his chin on his shoulder, watching closely as the engineer’s hands fumbled with the familiar scanner before coming to a halt. “Data?” Geordie sounded even more tense, which did not make sense. The lack of physical contact between Data and Geordie had seemed to distress them both, particularly in this encounter, and Data had thought that by initiating a more intimate contact would result in a positive reaction from both of them.

He decided to make one suggestion before he withdrew completely, worried if he removed contact with Geordie without warning it might upset the human further. “Geordie, would you consent to being kissed by me?”

When his question was met by silence, Data moved to extract himself from Geordie’s quarters, but the well-known sense of warmth flooded him as Geordie grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and applied pressure intended to turn Data around to face him. He complied.

When Geordie’s lips connected with his, the sensations were something similar yet different to that provided by the other forms of contact they had experienced together.

And unlike his recent Geordie-related-malfunctions, Data found himself perfectly within his faculties, able to position his hands with purpose- one at the base of the back of Geordie’s neck in order to hold him close, and one runnng up and down his arm, which seemed to cause Geordie to relax into him. The warm sensations from Geordie’s much more mobile hands complimented the fizzing sensation caused from the new calculations Data had begun: formulating the ideal combined angles of their heads, how much force to use when backing Geordie against the wall in order to better maximise their contact...

Geordie was just glad he had brought Data back to his quarters for repairs instead of Engineering.

#daforge #data soong #geordie la forge #i guess riker is there too? #writing data is hard #android emoting is difficult to concieve for me #im sorry if theres like... amd established way to write data in fic #i havent read any tng fanfics yet because i havent finished the series #so idk if ive done data right At All #but i tried and it was a challenge and thats what me writing these short little bits is anout #getting me back into the swing of writing #tng #start trek #the next generation #hmmmm i hate it #bored writes

[thefairefolk-rp]

Welcome to TFF, Bri! Your application for Orla Fang has been accepted!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Nickname:

Bri

Age:

22

Pronouns:

She/hers

Timezone:

EST

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10):

I am a relatively slow writer and I work full-time, but I’ve been looking for a way to write in community. This will definitely be a priority for me! So I’d say my availability will be at least 6/10. I’m totally new to rps and tumblr, so it might take me a while to get up to speed on … literally everything. But I’ll get there!

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character:

Orla Fang

Second Choice Character:

Ingrid Faolan

What made you choose this character?:

Orla caught my interest because of her many contradictions. I really love the idea of a character who is so set on a goal, but has increasing doubts about it. Who is she when the goal is done? If the goal is never accomplished? Right now, in the middle of striving for it? She allows herself so little, but that’s unsustainable (even if she’s been at it her whole life). That’s great ground for a growth arc.

She’s definitely going to be haunted by a lot of her father’s behavior, and have some unprocessed feelings about whether his torment was self-inflicted, or even merited. Due to her father’s disgrace, she has lived 600 years in a place she was taught not to call home, while her “real” home remains out of reach. Now, she’s in a Clan where family means very little, but it’s her driving value! I’m also excited to write all the little clashes and complements that come out of her taste for the fancy things of nobility and her more rugged, battle-ready life in the Wildlands.

Her goal might be to return to the Seelie court in favor, but her loyalty is not to the Seelie court — it’s to her family, and her late father. Add in the recent rocky reputation of good Queen Mab and the fact that the Wolf Clan allied with the Unseelie in the war, and Orla could really ally with anyone.

I also love the slight parallel between her and Luna Crow, made all the better for the blackmail dynamic between them. Both are pretending to be someone they’re not, and living in realities they only tentatively accept. I saw that Luna isn’t taken right now, but that’s still an exciting direction for the future!

Her aesthetic also really interested me. In keeping with some of the advice I read in a blitz of rp-101 articles, I’ve started a pinterest board and playlist for inspiration. Links here :)

Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/brialikescheese/orla/

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ralXJE5Uyo3D1YbfbxwgI?si=Z8btNQVVSDyIPIBFKIUXXw

Are there any changes you would like to make?:

Nope!

Questions/Comments:

Do you have any more resources available or examples of gif chatting?

What if I can’t find a lot of gifs/images of my face claim?

Do you recommend looking through other characters’ blogs to get a sense of how people start and continue plot threads? That seems really intimidating to me! Also, I don’t exactly know the ins and outs of reblogging and replying. But I’ll get there.

If I say something in my para that isn’t true (contradicted by earlier things) or not super convenient to future storytelling, will somebody tell me, and will I be able to edit it?

If my application is accepted, should I wait until the current event is over to kind of leap in? Starting cold intimidates me too. Are there any guidelines, recommendations, or examples for a starter?

Is it common practice for people in this rp to plot or worldbuild together?  I guess I’m trying to gauge the degree to which people prefer to plan out a detail or respond to it directly in the text. I’m sure it depends on personal preference, timing, and the importance of the detail too.

Is it okay to create random NPC characters to facilitate scenes in (self)paras? I’ve seen people mention unnamed guards etc., but what about recurring minor named characters?

I’ve seen xkit around a lot. Do you recommend that?

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

Orla ran a hand over the braids coiled at her neck, fingers catching on jeweled pins. One came loose. She turned it over in her palm — a silver branch twined around sapphires and diamonds. In the dim light of the carriage, its glittering gems seemed to laugh at her misfortune. Once again, she’d left the Seelie court with little more than petty gossip to show for it. No matter. She would return.

The carriage pitched on the cobblestones, growing uneven as they left Wisteria behind. Orla watched the gold arches and shimmering lanterns give way to thorn thickets and thin creeks at the edge of the Wildlands. Soon, these too would vanish, replaced by mountains, rolling mist, and ever-taller pines.

Until then, Orla was left to dwell on the city she was promised.

Orla passed the silver pin wordlessly to Sionnach, who sprawled beside her in comfortable silence. Sionnach slipped the pin into a leather pouch. She would know its proper place in Orla’s room, and see that it returned there.

“I will be late to the fires tonight,” Orla said.

“Of course,” Sionnach replied, but raised a brow. “I hope not too late. Your sparring partners need to keep their skills sharp.”

“Not too late,” Orla agreed.

“Good. You promised me a spar, remember.” Sionnach grinned. “And it will get less and less friendly the more you keep me waiting.”

Orla pressed her lips to avoid smiling.

“I’ll be there when you’re warmed up. You’ll need it.”

In the Wildlands, Orla disembarked from the carriage. If she were a mortal, or simply less attuned to the subtle cues exchanged between a warrior’s body and environment, the slim points of her shoes might have sunk into the earth, unbalancing her. Instead, she allowed a moment to savor the way the ground met her weight — with just enough give to ensure it could push back.

Sionnach followed. She tossed a handful of honey-braised carrots to the harnessed elk at the carriage head. She laughed as they nosed the matted grass and pine needles, and patted their necks. In Wisteria, Orla had pretended not to notice Sionnach pocketing food from the feast table while the nobles tittered and scoffed away. Gossip and carrots. Those were her spoils.

Within the round walls of her tent, Orla exchanged her court garb for sparring leathers and sat at her desk. Her eyes fell on the stack of books in its center. The spines were mismatched: one of green leather and another of brushed grey suede; still others wrapped in birchbark, woven reeds, and the stretched, pebbled skin of an unknown reptile. The casual looker would never guess they were all penned by the same author, which suited their purpose. Their one unifying mark had long since faded, but if Orla touched the spines, her fingers could still find the depressions of the name. In the right light — one candle, lit across the room, or the moon as it set — tiny flecks told of a time when the name was written in full gold leaf.

Azriel Black.

A name she hadn’t spoken aloud in quite some time.

That wouldn’t change today. She pulled out the journal bound in grey suede and thumbed the pages, skimming for the names of the nobles she had seen at court. Though the script itself was neat, reading it was no small act. Text filled a page and even turned the corner to fill it crosswise. Arrows arched between names and fell on diagrams and symbols. It got worse as the text went on. Some of the last  journals, Orla could barely stand to touch. She hated the ache in her chest they produced.

There. The names she was looking for. In the margins Orla wrote down all the details she remembered, even the most frustrating and inane. Lord so-and-so wore a waistcoat with abalone buttons, possibly sourced from that contentious new colony. Lady such-and-such laughed at a tasteless joke and stood guard by the pomegranate puff pastries all night.

She wrote until she ran out of white space. Just as well. Orla closed the book, and then her eyes. These fae were welcomed to city life, taking the parties and pastries as facts of life — things that were owed to them, by name, birth, and the guilelessness that kept them from ever hearing whispers of treason, let alone mustering the will to whisper it themselves.

She slipped the book between its neighbors and went in search of a weapon to suit her mood. Something heavy, tonight. Blunt. Court had soured her appetite for delicacy and grace.

One day, these journals and parties would amount to something. Everything would change.

Until then, the fires were lit, and Sionnach was waiting.

#accepted #lsrpg #literate rp #lsrp

[familylightfox]

OOC: There’s a bit of a subtle change on the blog. More just a bit of backstory on Volt’s part and I updated it in the Story to better elaborate on it, but to make a long story short (literally in this sense), I decided to kinda scrap the idea of Volt being made from canon characters by G.U.N.

The change comes at the realization after talking with my Zone-mate about how the Archie series handed children. If anyone ever noticed, the kids of the canon characters were almost clone-like. We took that as being a part of the canon where incompatible species were unable to make hybrids, which was what makes the experiments by G.U.N. all the more noticeable. 

So again, I think I’m rambling, but for the sake of the story and making it a bit more cohesive to some of Archie’s unknown lore... I went with the idea that it was Black Arms DNA samples used in Volt’s creation with a successful mix of hedgehog and fox DNA. Black Arms DNA was the stabilizing components in making the two incompatible species able to mix. 

It’s not going to be changing much. Volt is still a hybrid, he’s still a massive flirt and will still give their Zone’s Tails shit about being related for giggles.  But this does mean that anyone who can access the Black Arms DNA would be able to tell that he is part of the alien species.

#Moogle Muttering: OOC #GUN File: Headcanon #GUN File: About #GUN File: World Building #Voltage Lightfox About

[kurenai-the-privateer]

LFRP - Kurenai Yumishi

The Basics ––––

Full name: Kurenai Yumishi

Race: Au Ra, Raen

Gender:  F

Sexuality:   Pansexual

Relationship Status: Single

Age: 36

Nameday: 28th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Physical Appearance ––––

Hair: Black hair often in high tail, with maroon highlights.

Eyes: Dull red, Pink limbal rings

Height: 5′1″

Build: Kurenai is slightly toned in frame, with a heavier frame than the usual au ra; an appearance defined by an adventuring, strength-trained lifestyle.

Distinguishing Marks: Faint lines, too straight to be anything but surgical, running along all her limbs and meeting at her back in Arcanima-styled runes. If visible, her left eye is magitek; it’s ‘pupil’ shaped into the eorzean numeral for ‘6′.

Common Accessories: Often wears a blindfold, bandage, or lens over the left eye. Keeps a large bangle on her right wrist populated with linkpearls.

Personal ––––

Profession: Kurenai is primarily a Privateer by trade, working alongside the Maelstrom Navy to hunt on the open seas; she is known to also ferry cargo and clients to various ports. When on land, she is registered with the Adventurer’s guild with a specialization in protection detail.

Hobbies: Kurenai keeps a mentality of ‘love what you do’. Her hobby is, typically, her job. But if not working, Kurenai can be often found sampling local cuisine and spirits, and tinkering with her equipment.

Languages: Kurenai has a ‘common phrases’ understanding of most tongues at best, and is only conversationally fluent in Eorzean common.

Residence: The Ivory Horn, her corvette class ship.

Birthplace: Monzen, Yanxia

Religion: None, but communal superstition has her occasionally use prayers to the Twelve.

Patron Deity: Kurenai herself would claim none, but occasionally offers up some kind of prayer to Llymlaen and Thaliak

Relationships –––-

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Jun (deceased) and Mia Yumishi (unknown)

Siblings: None

Other Relatives: None to speak of.

Pets: None

Traits –––-

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

RP hooks –––

Willful Amnesiac: Kurenai is public about her lack of memory; having only full awareness of the events of the past two and a half years. Prior to this, by her claim, she does not remember much, if anything. Kurenai has made exactly zero attempt to uncover her past, and is actively seeking to move forward in life instead.

Aetheric Weirdness: Kurenai registers on sensors and senses as a balanced, living, aetheric being, but... *off*, with various points on her having slightly stronger ‘pings’ than others; Monks would recognize some of these spots as chakra points. Arcanists would recognize any of her ‘scars’ as the handicraft of their own art, though repurposed and almost intentionally incorrect in spots.

Privateer Mercenary: Kurenai will almost always take coin for work, preferably on the seas, but most often on land as some kind of fighter; having recently been using the arts of the slowly recovering orders of gunbreakers, Kurenai is also public about her familiarity with firearms, arcanima, and swordplay (even if she cannot quite explain why she is familiar.)

> OOC INFORMATION <

Hi! I’m Mal. The person behind the lizard. I’ve just recently gotten back into XIV, and I’m looking to make connections for RP. I’ve been playing the game off and on for years.

I try my best to keep my writing believable, and as much ‘in line’ with the lore as I can, I take a bit of a ‘campaign’ mentality to it; RP should be fun and exciting, and going a bit over the top in service to that fun and excitement should be expected. I try my best to be as malleable as I can, while also being aware that the whole point of this hobby is that it’s communal.

Kurenai’s writing is an ever constant march; and I’m excited to see where her own story goes, and where she can go in the stories of others. Because of this I like to keep my RP as conversational and open as possible; I am not a fan of keeping secrets, and like to discuss what people want out of actual, long term plots, regardless of their nature.

Contact Information  –––

I can be contacted here on Tumblr. You can message me here, and I will do my absolute best to keep checking, but I can also be found at malfyre.tumblr.com, which is where I check most often. I can also be found in game, of course, on Kurenai Yumishi!

#crystal lfrp #mateus lfrp #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #Kurenai Yumishi