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Here's that long-promised Lewd Luan (Lewd-an?) fic. Strap in. It’s about to get steamy:
>”H-hey. Do you know why they fired the s-s-sweaty policeman?”
>I-I dunno, Luan.” You manage to say. “But-but that isn’t important right now. You gotta-!”
>”Because he was using excessive pores!” she weakly chuckles
>With what little energy you have left, you laugh. With what few liquids you can spare, you weep
>the two faces of theatre pulped together just as the bards had intended
>Luna Loud had never asked for much. She was the family’s Brunette Alpha, its Finest Musician, the Purple Third, and that didn’t give her much clout when it came to asking her parents for special favors. Too old to be spoiled, too young to take priority, her wants existed in the vaguer fringes of filial importance. She had needed to build her rock n’ roll arsenal from scratch and salvage. This room being the chief exception and even it had been granted less out of the generosity of her parents as it had been to cover up the fact that they had dismantled the house’s spiral staircase in a horrific attempt to make the place more “zen.”
>Now the pointless, two-story wreck was a soundproof sanctuary, big on height, low on width, and loaded with enough acoustic wool to make a sonic shepherd blush. A misfire of mid-life crisis piqué had been transmogrified – almost alchemically – into a gesture of magnanimity where Luna’s heavy metal onslaughts could be quieted without suppressing her talent
>Luna didn’t care how phony this kindness was. She finally had a studio of her own where she could record in pristine peace, away from the ambient noise that tainted her tracks, and the sibling cacophony that served as both muse and saboteur to her songs. To show her appreciation, and to ensure that her parents wouldn’t change their minds, she declared it open to the entire family, provided that they told her ahead of time and cleaned up after they were done
