𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 & 𝑷𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 ~ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⚠️ 𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕

[RuinKissedRaven]

• WELCOME TO MY JOURNALS •



Apologies • Absences • Plots • Ramblings​

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Welcome to my little corner. Here you'll find:

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  [*] My availability and reply schedule
  [*] Ongoing plots and current partners
  [*] Rough templates and character musings
  [*] Writing updates and personal notes
  [*] Absences and schedule changes
  

This is the space where I keep things organized and open. Whether you're looking for updates, curious about my current muses, or just want to peek into my creative chaos—you're in the right place.

Thanks for stopping by ♡

— Updated as often as my muse allows —​

 

[RuinKissedRaven]

Availability & Reply Schedule​

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• Availability: 1/5

• Reply Schedule: I may send multiple replies a day or just one per week, depending on circumstances — but I'll always keep you posted.

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[RuinKissedRaven]

⨁ Ongoing Plots & Current Partners ⨁



A roleplay between RuinKissedRaven and Penitency

Theme: Cyberpunk​

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📂 Short Start Example - Click to Reveal

KIRA-7 shouldn't be breathing.

The shot was meant to stop her heart. Clean kill.
But it only cracked her plate—enough to knock her offline for six minutes.
Long enough for the glitch to slip in.

When she came back online, she wasn't alone in her head anymore.

The girl they tried to erase… was awake.
And she remembered fear.

Now she bled—synthetic, human, hard to tell.
Her targeting HUD scrambled. Limbs out of sync. Systems flickering like neon in a blackout.

They were hunting her.
Corpo dogs. Recovery squads. Bounty teams.
All calling her one thing: Lost Asset.

But something the last corpse said stuck with her:

"Ghost. He pulls ghosts from the machine.
He can fix you… or hide you. If he doesn't kill you first."

So she came.

A rain-slick alley behind a dead-bar in the Warrens.
Sparks crackled from a busted holo-ad.
Thunder rolled above the highrises like distant artillery.

She scanned the rust-bitten backdoor. No ID. No kill order. Off-grid. That meant real.

Her hand—trembling—slammed the steel once, hard enough to dent it.

Then she slid down the wall, gun across her lap. Blood smeared the chrome grip.

"Ghost," she rasped, voice fractured with static.

"I'm not here to kill you."

A beat.

"But they're coming. And I'd rather die on my feet… than be rebooted."

Her flickering gaze rose to the red-blinking camera above the door.

"You save ghosts, right?"