larp larp larp nano

Alfred Pennyworth, whose name you have learned ages ago from the many comics and movies and shows and fanfics you have seen.

Alfred Pennyworth who is supposed to he fiction.

The very one who was keeping everyone stable. Everyone part of the family. Including you now.

Since apparently, you are now the only biological daughter of Bruce Wayne.

Not that you could wrap your head around it. You were still stuck in denial, still trying to make sense out of the situation and still trying to stay calm about it.

Still avoiding the possibility of you landing in a fictional world.

"I'm not insane." you groggily whisper under your breath, "and this can't keep going on."

You feel disgusting for barely moving the past hours and for smelling a little funky.

"Nah, I need to do something instead of rotting away." you run your hands over your face, deciding to rise from the bed.

Silence — you grab the curtains and push them to the side, the lights spilling in immediately to fill the room, forcing you to squeeze your eyes to adjust your vision.

　　[ 07:36AM ]

"Ah shit." you curse before wandering to the bathroom.

The next few minutes are agonisingly slow and spend with you sinking into your despair once again, while also admiring the luxurious looking bathroom as if it wasn't the second you room you constantly saw the last days.

Your eyes glaze over the mirror and fixate your attention on your unkempt appearance. "I look insane." you lean in closely to inspect every detail, every line of your face, "but I look like me. Crazy."

Acting as if you have never seen your own reflection.

Your lips part ever so slightly, hand tracing from your forehead to the tip of your nose. Then it drops down to your cheek. Your fingers curl around the fat of it to pinch yourself harshly.

"Ouch—" you wince, voice muffled before letting go again.

Silence takes over and you sink back into your thoughts.

"This isn't real."

It is very real — you just have come to not accept it yet.

"How the heck does it work anyways?" you question yourself and blink slowly, "magic does not exist, man. Why am I not waking up?"

Regressing, reincarnation, transmigrating.

This sort of stuff only happens in the books or in the movies. It strictly belongs in the fictional world only, and if you remember correctly, your world was very real. The world that created this type of thing.

A sigh.

"Also, there is absolutely no way that I am actually in the Wayne manor." you purse your lips and plant your heel back onto the ground to put some decent distance between you and the mirror.

A hum.

"Cool..." you trail off, "that happens in the fanfics I read."

A laugh.

Your shoulders shake slightly as you let out a laugh, one filled with incredulity.

It's really funny.

Until it isn't. Your voice wavers while you calm down again — face muscles relaxing. You suck in a sharp breath and your face drops while you furrow your brows.

"Shit, I'm actually scared." you grip onto the sink and stare at yourself.

Was that really you even?

You feel your shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

"I mean it's cool..." it should serve as a reassurance — to let yourself feel better.

But it doesn't help much.

Not when you think you are who you are — the main character of the book you read yesterday.

"Maybe I'm not." you try again, shutting your eyes, "but my knowledge about fanfics knows better because there's no way that I am not in the book I read the other night before I fell asleep."

You breathe out.

"Fuck, I'm scared—"

There is no way you could take all the pain the main character has carried with her — you are not the main character, you are only the reader.

No one cares about her. No one loves her. No one pays attention to her.

"This is either the worst day of my actual life or the best day of my chuddy, fangirling life."

You let your hands cover your mouth before letting it slide up towards your eyes. "It's cool. The umm—characters are cool. I like the family. They do care, in some way..." just not in this book, "this is the biggest dream of a hardcore fan."

Miss [name], I strongly believe you should come out of your comfort zone.

Alfred seems to care. Maybe it's not that bad. If you recall correctly, the author wrote Alfred as the caring grandpa he was.

But in all honesty, you don't believe that he is actually that sweet and caring. Yet —

It's still someone.

Even if the concern is not genuine.

"Only that I am not that much of a hardcore fan..." you grumble under your breath.

You stop talking.

Then you breathe out to test.

"Ouu, I gotta brush my teeth before getting out. And shower."

You won't lock yourself in as of now.

　　You are absolutely lost.

In the grand halls of the Wayne manor, in the utter silence of the corridor, in the shadows of the smallest corners. You pass the way with long strides in quiet curiosity that lingers on some of the pictures.

Portraits of objects to be more specific.

Most were flowers, never of people.

It was always the same flower though, the only distinct difference was the different bouquet.

This is your first time walking in the Wayne manor. The one that always gets described as spooky and quiet, the one that always gets drawn in a dark and uneasy manner, and those description hit the mark respectfully.

Actually, this is just another way of confirming where you currently are — just another confirmation that you are stuck in a fictional world.

You didn't belong here.

In all honesty, this feels more like an interactive game where you could explore the manor instead of your new life. You do not perceive this as your current reality.

Perhaps it is the fear towards your own fate, perhaps it is your desperation to not take in the gravity of the situation.

Just because you woke up in the Wayne manor does not mean you have transmigrated into the story, right?

It should serve as a reassurance yet the tension in your shoulders doesn't move an inch to loosen. You continue wandering in the corridor and deep within you, you are aware of how much bullshit you are spitting.

"I am only in the DC universe..." you trail off, "not in the book, not the main character who eventually dies—"

The sound of the air getting sharply cut through interrupts you and simultaneously catches your attention. You halt mid step, blinking gradually as you slowly turn to face the door that is slightly ajar.

An avid feeling of fear and awe washes over you.

Fear in quiet realisation that your denial won't help your case, fear that your life is set in one of the most notorious cities on this planet.

But the awe is vivid — how her steps are featherlight and almost soundless, awe that she fights with such precision and ease.

Stark black hair that are tied into a short bun, some strands of her bangs falling loose which contributes to her serious expression, sharp jawline that compliments her soft facial features.

Cassandra Cain.

Her name lies on your tongue with such familiarity, but it is too riddled for you to actually speak out.

'Never ever did those comics do her any justice.'

She carries herself with grace across the room, her movements are fluid and reflects the years of training and polishing behind them, her back is a symbol — scars of bullet wounds and sword cuts littering her back.

Suddenly — she pauses in the sparing by herself and stops, feeling your burning stare on her skin.

Then your gazes clash.

Only for a short second though before you turn your heel to continue your way down the corridor in hopes of finding the stairs. "Sorry..!" you squeak, embarrassed after getting caught so easily, "I didn't mean to stare..."

You didn't stay long enough to see the confusion in her eyes, not long enough to hear her next words while you literally run away to the stairs, the next step faster than the last.

"Miss—"

A yelp escapes your lips. The voice catches you off guard and forces you to face the older man — your eyes widen slightly, heart racing impossibly fast. Like a startled deer. Very much alive, very much innocent.

Trying to recover from your initial shock, you close your lips again and collect your composure.

Stay relaxed, cool—anything to make it less awkward for you.

"Uh—hi." you respond while your gaze stays glued to the man in front of you.

It's Alfred—Alfred Pennyworth.

He looks like the very gentleman he is, appearance neat and clean without fail or dust clinging to him. His posture is strictly fixed, filled with poise to the brim and radiates a calm confidence as his exterior.

Kind yet penetrating eyes, that suited his long, refined face. Facial features seemingly softened throughout the years. In all honesty, he looks every bit the devoted and only butler of Bruce Wayne.

But there is another feeling roaming in your stomach — the loud joy and excitement of seeing a character like him for the first time face to face instead of having a firm barrier between you two, which only offers limited communication.

"—May I ask why you were in such hurry?" you almost melt at his voice.

Low and rich, laced with a british accent. Like from the movies and shows. The tingling doesn't even stop, it just forms into quiet curiosity.

You blink, letting your eyes wander down to his hand that held a tray of food. Three plates of breakfast. Then you see how his other hand retreats to his back as if he was hiding the fact that he was ready to catch you anytime — that is, if you were to stumble down the stairs.

"Hurry? Me?" you don't find the right words to explain your current goal.

He notices. And he lets you. Lets you study his position, lets you take in his appearance, lets you have time for himself. He even waits for you to finish up in pure patience, his gaze fixated on your face with an unwavering expression.

"Good morning..." you try again, this time more awkward than the last time and the words stuck in your throat.

How should you even act? Are you really the same main character of the book you have read? Is it weird to have a one-eighty change all of a sudden?

'Whatever—' after being in the room all day, you let yourself be without worrying too much for this morning.

"I umm... You said you would like it if I ate breakfast. Here." your voice is quiet, unsure compared to his, "the last few days you know?"

One thing that you know about Alfred, is the way he treats everyone the same. There is no favouritism behind his canon-self. He does not treat one kinder than the other, he does not treat one meaner than the other. He was a man of a wall, composed — strict towards his job and himself.

But you notice the way his eyes soften ever so slightly, the way he exhales longer this time. As if he is relieved in some sort of way, as if he wasn't expecting you to actually come out of your room.

Relieved that you crawled out of your hole and face him properly again.

Careful to not mention your isolation, acting all natural to not scare you away.

He is afraid you will sink back into the isolation, that he noticed from the very beginning, if he were to mention it.

And from what you remember — the main character of 'When the Flower Blooms and Wilts' eats breakfast every day at the table without missing a beat in hopes of sharing a meal with her family. Yet she always ends up eating by herself.

You note in mind that he probably isn't used to her being stuck in her own room for several days.

How many days has she been locking herself up before you?

Did anyone notice aside from Alfred?

"—Of course, yes." Alfred's voice regains its unwavering tone, "apologies, I assumed you would prefer breakfast in your room again."

'Ah for who else is this though?' your attention flickers back to the tray for a split second, 'who else isn't eating at the table?'

"...No need to apologise." you look back to him again and send him a tiny smile, "I will eat in the dining room today."

"Let me accompany you then." he gives you a curt nod, turning his heel sharply and already stepping towards the headed designation.

You follow, trailing a few steps behind him while you glance around, inspecting your surroundings — the grand hall, the shining chandeliers, the high ceilings. It's exactly how you have imagined, or it even has surpassed your imagination in some aspects.

Far more extravagant than you could have expected.

Subconsciously, your lips part in pure fascination as you slow down your pace to admire a little longer.

The shadows scare you, the gloomy and brooding aura are too deep. It makes the manor feel like the Wayne manor, it adds up more to your fantasy world.

You like it more than you are scared. Definitely.

With every step forward, you could feel the wind against your skin — cold in a comfortable way, not cold enough to scare away but to fill the space.

Slowly but surely, there is quiet acceptance in your demeanour, settling in the role of her.

No more lingering doubt that you are in a fictional world, because you have confirmed it long ago.

No assumption that you aren't in the DC universe only — it was forming into a firm belief that you are in the book you read the other night since every step you are taking adds to the proof. 

'Gonna die honourable I guess.' you let your eyes drift to Alfred's back, not being able to suppress a tiny smile as it crosses your lips, 'actually, he's cool. Damn he's super cool. First character interaction and it's Alfred. Of course it is—wow, he's really cool.'

Compared to Alfred's steps, yours are smaller, more hesitant so you can take in every detail of the building. He walks the distance in long stripes while you trail right behind him like a lost duckling, forced to speed up your pace.

It doesn't take long until you reach the dining room. The poise butler pushes open one of the double doors with ease and balances the tray perfectly, guiding you to the table. 

"Thank you."

"No need for gratitude." he replies smoothly, "I trust everything is to your liking."

Alfred places the plate on the clothed table, lining up the silverware with a tiny clack right perfectly beside the plate. Then, he lifts his gaze again, pulling a chair out just for you — his face is a complete devoid of any emotions.

"Thanks." it leaves your lips once again without much thought, "wait woops— Sorry."

"As I have mentioned, no need and please do not apologise for trivial matters." he hums and turns away to exit, "please enjoy your meal."

You bite your tongue lightly to avoid thanking him another time, nodding curtly before letting yourself settle in the chair. The door closes with a quiet click, leaving you alone at the unnecessary long table.

Perhaps not alone.

Oh — you were so occupied with your first real interaction, inwardly wooing when you got to interact with the Alfred Pennyworth, that you barely noticed the other two people in the room.

"Hi."

The way your voice wavered again, laced with uncertainty, leaves the room filled with an awkward and uncomfortable tension. You want to slam your forehead against the table.

You look at them straight into the eye, a sweat drop gliding down the side of your forehead as you. Your lips are sealed shut right after dropping a tiny 'hi'. 

"Hey." one of them replies, his voice is smooth — tingling in your ears in a nice way.

But he is being careful, almost cautious, lowering his voice to match your energy as if he is afraid of being too much in the room. Afraid that you might disappear again when he speaks too loud too soon.

It echoes in the room, a relaxed rim to his tone and incredibly warm for you. He subconsciously carries a barrier of unfamiliarity yet he still adjust his vibes through his voice intentionally.

Easy to talk to, nothing to be afraid of.

Your gaze lands on the young man, immediately catching his eyes and noticing the bright light swirling within his brown hues.

Duke Thomas.

His appearance is straight up from the comic — a balanced face, softer around the edges and displaying the right amount of friendliness. Just a bit more mature and expressive, radiating a confident and approachable aura.

And it forces your mind to process again, going a few steps back to admire and be in total awe. Your lips part slightly while you try to take in every detail, building up an image of the person sitting chairs away from you.

'Oh my god—this is so cool, he's so close! It's actually Duke, I cannot believe I get to see him! This is so awesome, I wanna scream, he talked to me! And wow he's smiling at me and he's talking to me, I feel like those hardcore fans—!'

Then you snap out of your trance.

Right. He talked to you.

'How should I reply? Uh—I don't want to be too nervous or anything—smile, just smile man—'

The silence stretches longer, filling the room with awkward tension.

Inwardly, you are groaning and covering yourself in embarrassment, not finding the right words to sound relaxed like him. You even find yourself entertaining the thought of burying yourself to hide.

'Continue, keep the conversation rolling..'

"Goodmorning." the words tumble out of your mouth too fast.

'Fah, I already said hi?'

Duke blinks slowly at your second greeting, his lips curving into a smile — reassuring and gentle.

You are awful at social interaction, you note down.

Especially now that you are speaking face to face with him. You feel like you've lost your ability to hold up a normal, civilised conversation after being locked up all of the time.

And you are pretty sure that he literally senses the way you are struggling, which reasons the slight concern painting his expression vividly. You can even see how his gears are turning and rolling in his head, contemplating quietly about his next words.

One might think you two are complete strangers.

A wall of unknown between you.

It's as if she never cared enough to interact with him, as if he never held a proper conversation with her despite living under the same roof for a while.

You do think it's true—the author neglected part of the cast and the two characters never interacted properly aside from tiny greetings or small nods of acknowledgment.

'Reminds me that Duke only appears once or twice in this book. The main focus was on the four main bat boys and Bruce...' you sweat drop, 'Duke maybe appeared twice, and Cassandra was in Hong Kong all the time.'

"—How have you been?"

Once, twice — a third time. You blink. Focus pinpoints on Duke again with four simple words.

The question is something you hear all day, something that you ask a friend or an acquaintance, dripping in absolute normalcy. Though, the ordinary certainly does not belong in this manor.

"Normal. Good—I've been doing alright and had a nice time." good mental breakdown sure you nod curtly, "what about you..?"

You try to return the smile to the best of your ability.

Keyword: try.

"Cool, I have been doing amazing too." he sends you another nod, paired up with a smile as he answers.

Silence engulfs the two of you again. Almost awkward. Although not as bad as before.

Heart beating a weirdly nervous rhythm, eyes wandering down to the food to avoid eye contact.

Quiet.

Awfully quiet.

Only the sound of silverware hitting the porcelain plate echoes within the four wall and barely reaches the high ceilings — not arousing any sort of curiosity.

In all honesty, you tried to ignore the brooding presence next to Duke so you could eat in past without much worries. He doesn't let you though.

Damian Wayne.

He is quiet yet his assertive silence speaks louder than you have. His eyes own a deep shade of emerald green, sharp around the corners to highlight his solemnity. The dark-haired boy looks every bit defined, every bit disciplined, carrying himself with dignity that borders on grace.

Cool.

His hands move with precision like on the battlefield, cutting the food clean and precise while not even sparing a glance into your direction — he doesn't even breathe into your direction as if you did something wrong.

It's elegant though. The way he eats, deliberately quick yet not too fast while his expression remains nonchalant.

Nonetheless, you are sure he isn't very fond of you. You notice, it's a big sign right in front of your face that you cannot avoid. He is acting as if you aren't worthy of his presence, ignoring you coldly.

You swallow. Thick, anxious.

They probably even catch on to the moment when you dare to gulp.

'Wow, he might criticise me for eating normally.' you sigh out quietly, hands moving to mimic Damian's mannerism, unsure on how to stay elegant while eating to not get judged, 'Damian actually scared her at the start of the book, he was an absolute menace.'

An exhale leaves your lips.

'Super out of character. Well, everyone was out of character — I suppose it's because it was a yandere book after all.' you puzzle, eating your meal and oblivious to the silence, 'am I at the very start of the book where she gives up, or am i in the middle?'

In the beginning of 'When the Flower Blooms and Wilts' the main character slowly loses hope and eventually gives up vying for their attention before proceeding to ignore everyone — that is, if you recall correctly.

'Ah, the main character did lock herself up in her room after she gave up, to avoid anyone and everyone. Then she got what she always longed for—'

Simple. It was painfully simple.

To ignore and avoid was all it took to grasp their attention.

It's something bitter. It was the very thing that made her bitter.

But not for long did she receive their glances since the family was glad that the consistent bother came to an end, moving on a few days after.

Nevertheless, they did come to acknowledge her existence.

"—Your staring makes me itch." Damian speaks up all of a sudden.

You could swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest in surprise, too caught up in your puzzles revolving the timeline and simultaneously mimicking his movements.

"Sorry..." you aren't really sorry.

Finally, he lifts his gaze from his plate to meet yours, setting his silverware on the rim of his plate like it belongs. "You have decided to rejoin civilisation, and now you are staring idly." his words cut sharply through the air, "I was actually beginning to think you intended to spend the remainder of the month behind a locked door."

You aren't the only one who is dumbfounded — Duke is blinking leisurely, the bewilderment vivid on his expression.

'Buddy, slow down—what exactly is your problem?'

"Chill for a sec', will you?" Duke whispers, nudging Damian's arm with his elbow, "she just came out and needs a break for now, dude."

"Refrain yourself from using 'dude' on me." the stubborn male inhales sharply before facing you again, "I assume, you've had enough of a break in your room. More importantly, I heard you abandoned your studied."

'Ah. I'm at the very start of the book.' you observe, 'so the main character freshly dropped out of university.'

Your lips part slightly to answer, "I did drop out, yes."

There is a heavy silence in the room now, haunting the three of you. You can only watch how Damian shuts his mouth again, mind working to process what you've confirmed.

Unwritten questions are all over his face — he doesn't show an ounce yet you can sense it in the air.

Not anger, not frustration. Just disappointment. As if it is incredulous for you to do such act.

"...What I fail to understand is why." the volume drops, his voice wavers ever so slightly.

"Because..." you trail off without an explanation, "because I wanted to."

'Because the main character wants to get away from you.'

"That is not an explanation." he narrows his eyes, "I want to know why."

"Well, I felt like it..." a sweat drop glides down the side of your forehead, your lips forming a thin line.

Damian is being weirdly persistent on finding out why you—she dropped out. And he isn't the most delighted about it as well.

"Enlighten me." he starts again, "you abandon your studies all of a sudden, disappeared for days, emerged without explanation and expect everyone to pretend this is a rational course of action while also ensuring they all notice."

"Damian—"

"Not now, Duke."

You furrow your brows at the way Damian snaps at Duke, his words settling deep in the bottom of your stomach. He is talking with you, just not about you — yet you feel the sting behind those sharp words.

"I didn't do it for attention."

Why does she have to explain herself?

"I think," he closes his eyes as if he could see the truth in the void, "that if one's objective is solitude, one does not choose the most conspicuous method of obtaining it. And—"

"Damian, you're going way too far." Duke intervenes, clasping his hand on Damian's shoulder, "can't you see how you are acting irrational right now? For now, get some fresh air. You finished breakfast anyway, y'know?"

The green-eyed boy doesn't fight it off — instead, he breathes in like advised and lets his tense shoulders slump down a little, realising that it wouldn't be worth the effort to get into a heated conversation.

And with that being said, he rises from the seat and grabs his empty plate, the chair squeaking right behind him before letting out one last exhale loud enough for you to catch.

"To trade your studies for attention is beneath you. It's..." pathetic.

The unsaid word hangs in the room yet everyone knows what he was about to say. And you couldn't disagree more.

She traded her dreams for a life that belonged solely her.

He doesn't even glance one last time into your or Duke's direction, choosing to head out of the room with dignified silence.

You cannot say you aren't visibly affected by his words — your mind is racing to take in the information, to think about the current situation and to form a plan on how to continue further.

"Sorry 'bout him." your gaze wanders from the empty seat to the other male, "I hope you aren't too mad at him."

"No need to be sorry. It isn't your fault anyway."

"I should have intervened sooner though, I hope his words don't sting too much."

Lingering guilt — it's in the way how he rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish smile and follow by a genuine apology as if he owed you something while he owed you nothing at all.

'Duke's is still a little on guard...' your gaze follows the movements, being subtle about the way you are studying his mannerism and his attitude, 'but less than before. I think this is an achievement.'

"Promise you, he isn't always..." he trails off, "he isn't always much of a menace."

"I can tell this much. You two seem to understand each other greatly."

Duke lets out a chuckle at your words. "Really, you think so? People usually tell us otherwise, so this is definitely a first." he tries his best to rebuild a relaxed atmosphere as he continues, "and please, don't let his words shake you up. He's been a lil' weird the last few days anyways."

Maybe it's because she avoided all of them. You doubt it though.

"Oh damn, say sike."

At that, he couldn't help but laugh, his shoulders sagging down to get off the tension and his lips dragging an amused grin.

It isn't that awkward anymore like minutes before. Not to forget, he doesn't let the silence stretch for too long to let it simmer in awkwardness. He keeps the conversation flowing and the atmosphere light with such ease that you think he's a natural one.

You two can be great friends, you decide.

"Pfft—!" he stifles the remainder of his laughter and meets your gaze again, "but yeah—just to start off again, I am—"

"Oh, I know your name." you cut him off.

Did he just try to introduce himself?

"Wait, you do?" he seems to be in disbelief now.

Silence settles.

The two of you stare at each other in the void of noise.

He is mirroring your expression now — confusion, incredulity. You part your lips.

Well this is unexpected.

"Uh— Were you actually serious about to introducing yourself?" you throw the question into the room carefully, "and wow, why do you look so shocked when I mentioned I know your name?"

Duke blinks gradually.

"I mean... We never really talked." he pauses during his explanation, "and I have been living under the same roof as you for a while now, without even introducing myself. Sorry about that too."

"No wait, don't apologise." you try to stifle a chuckle, biting your bottom lip.

"I'm totally sorry now. That's kinda rude of me."

"Pfft—" you burst into a light laugh, immediately raising a hand to excuse yourself, "don't worry! It's—It's alright!"

Your shoulders are shaking along your laughter, eyes crinkling at the very corner as avert your gaze from the male.

He doesn't interrupt you, doesn't speak up, doesn't dare to — shoulders eventually easing up and his grin growing wider, attentively taking in the sound of your amusement in form of a laughter.

"Sorry—" you cover your mouth, eyes glazing back to him.

Then you come to a pause, finally calming down from laughing. Your cheeks are arching. And you think his as well, the grin stretched out to a point that it would start hurting if he wore it for a longer period of time.

"Nah, no sorry. Let's start off again. This time more proper."

"Of course yes, I would like that."

"Duke Thomas, or Wayne. But I personally like Thomas more."

You can feel your eyes softening at his words, lips curving into a calm smile. "I'm [name] Wayne."

It's a little weird — to introduce yourself to someone you already know and have been familiar with. Yet it makes you burst in joy. To take a step back so you can walk the path with him.

He allows you to be part of his life as well now.

In another world where she and he stepped down the road alongside of each other. Where she wasn't alone.

Your smile brightens, something undeniably yours. And he can only reflect your smile, a true mirror to your vividness.

"I think we are going to get along very well." Duke leans forward, a little closer to you now. It doesn't help much, the great distance between you still there.

But you feel his presence. A burst of passionate colours. It competes with yours, matches with yours.

Within the last hours of being out of the room, within the last few days of being in this world — you already clicked with another person.

⪩⪨ ﹒ all rights reserved ⋮ © NAN0KA 2026 ⸝⸝

⪩⪨ ﹒ a.n ⋮ not much to say , only that i hate the pacing but i already love duke’s and reader’s dynamic in the next chapter (already working on it hehe) ⸝⸝

⪩⪨ ﹒ tags ⋮ @1chaerry , @ayn-yurbestie , @vinskyspuff , @miuangel , @shirayukiuzukaze , @jennysketchup , @o---hex---o , @little-mini-me-world , @arianas-angel , @victoria1676 , @doveotion , @all-around-weird0 , @mileskisser , @liloolsi , @nini-city , @sleepyghoster , @foreverinhate , @amrasauras , @yomiyayei , @bearchermer , @reijixia13 , @yuyuzi-ling , @celesteelysia , @naymysweetangel , @herdarlin , @mappleppi , @fallingeverlong , @potania , @nymphzy0 , @wegottastayfocus , @amphiroxx , @kiyoahdiy , @sweetappleacers , @miko1ttf , @scarlettmoonsx , @fruitofdiscord , @chrimsonkitty , @ladyauthorishere ⸝⸝

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