#it's hinted but not explicitly stated

[mistermalaprop]

"a moment for the poet's play"

[an angsty sky-byte (kinda jetbyte) oneshot buried in my docs that i decided to post. originally written between july-august of 2024.]

[title is a lyric from Sleeping Sun by Nightwish. it's a banger song, go listen to it.]

--

Sky-Byte did not spend that much time on Earth.

Well, not the millions of years that the other Decepticons did, at least. He visited every once in a while, every couple of centuries perhaps. Humans were so finicky.

In their infant cycles, humans would try to kill Sky-Byte if he stood on their lands. It is how he adapted to his shark alt-mode, it kept him off the land and in the sea with the unique aquatic animals of Earth…

Oh… how he adored the ocean. It was the only consistent thing he enjoyed for stellar cycles. It was so different from Cybertron’s metal surface. If Sky-Byte wanted to swim on Cybertron, the most that was offered were solvent baths… even then, Sky-Byte got many glares for trying to swim in solvent. That was the reason Sky-Byte gained his ability to fly.

If Sky-Byte could not swim without judgment, then he would fly!

When humans began to write, Sky-Byte would painstakingly translate every bit of human literature and read it for himself. Most of it was primitive garbage that not even a sparkling could read, some intimate, yet… few caught his optic.

Epics, Sonnets, Limericks, Haikus, Elegies, Ballads, Ekphrases— Poetry. Sky-Byte could never get enough of it.

It was everything that Sky-Byte could ever want. Everything his spark desired… right in that tiny little human word.

Sky-Byte knew little of a Cybertronian equivalent to human poetry, perhaps there was never an equivalent. Cybertronians lacked the distinction for human music, too.

… While the war between Autobots and Decepticons simmered down— with the disappearance of both Optimus Prime and Megatron and no other Cybertronian to take their places— Sky-Byte spent his cycles studying and replicating the human art. If he were not doing that, then he was busy filling his schedule up with duels to fight against his arch-rival, Jetfire.

When he had gained enough confidence to perform his newly found art and attempt to implement it into Cybertronian customs, Sky-Byte found that his fellow Transformers were not willing to listen. He would be sooner booed off a grand stage than be heard. It was discouraging, Sky-Byte would admit… but he never gave up. Much like with his rivalry with Jetfire, Sky-Byte would never give up on such glorious art. The world needed to hear what wonderful creations he could speak! And so, no matter the response he got, Sky-Byte pushed forward in his goal to appreciate the art of poetry.

He would pursue in the name of the art; he would study and write and listen until he could speak a new haiku from the tip of his glossa, until he could improvise a ballad from a single star in the galaxy, until he could craft an elegy that moved even the toughest of sparks to tears, until he could recite epics that spanned the cosmos. Sky-Byte refused to be silenced, his passion burning brighter than the stars themselves. Despite the sneers and scoffs from his fellow Cybertronians, he continued to immerse himself in the human art of poetry, finding solace and purpose in each carefully constructed verse.

He found solace in the rhythmic flow of verses, the power of metaphors, and the beauty of language woven together to create something greater than the sum of its parts.

As he delved deeper into the world of poetry, Sky-Byte discovered that it was not just about words on a page or spoken aloud— it was a connection, a bridge between sparks. His creations began to resonate with those who were willing to listen (which were very few), sparking something within them that transcended the boundaries of their mechanical bodies. Through his poetry, Sky-Byte found a way to express his innermost thoughts and feelings and to share his experiences and dreams with others. He poured his spark into each verse, each line a reflection of his true self. Through his poetry, Sky-Byte and Jetfire were able to stand beside one another and gaze up at the clouds of dust and space particles.

… that was until the war began again. The Autobots and Decepticons were founded once more, and the battle for control of their home Cybertron was refueled once more.

Against his will, Sky-Byte was called upon to battle against the Autobots after years of “peace”. His spark heavy with conflicted emotions, Sky-Byte grudgingly joined the fray, his mind torn between his duty to his faction and his love for poetry. As he clashed with his foes on the battlefield, the echoes of sonnets and ballads still rang in his audio receptors, a bittersweet reminder of the life he had briefly tasted before the war's resurgence.

Each strike he landed and blow he received only fueled the turmoil within him, the desire for peace warring with the necessity of conflict. Jetfire, once his rival in battles of words and swords alike, now stood across from him as an adversary once more, their camaraderie shattered by the divide of factions. Their rivalry became bitter yet comical— a cliché tragedy written at Sky-Byte’s forced servo by the angry tyrant that was his leader, Megatron. On the battlefield, where screams of agony drowned out any semblance of melody, Sky-Byte yearned for the tranquility of the ocean depths, where only the soft hum of water against his hull could be heard. He longed for a moment of respite, a chance to immerse himself in the verses that had once fueled his spark.

… That leads him to tonight. Tonight.

The night his sacred energon spilled to the dust-coated metal below. The night he collapsed and held little strength to stand.

The night his optics dimmed, and his systems faltered, overwhelmed by the weight of his conflicting desires and the harsh reality of war. Sky-Byte lay on the battlefield, surrounded by the remnants of his comrades and enemies, the echoes of their clashes fading into the distance. His once proud frame now seemed small and fragile, a mere shell of the warrior he had once been.

As he struggled to rise, his optics caught a glimpse of something in the dim light of Cybertron's moon.

“Sky-Byte.” He heard his name spoken by a familiar pair of lips as if it were a forbidden word. Sky-Byte turned his weary optics to the tall figure standing by his side… Jetfire.

"Jetfire," Sky-Byte rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. The sight of his former rival filled him with a mix of conflicting emotions – gratitude for the unexpected help, bitterness at the situation that had led them to this moment, and a deep sense of loss for the time when they had stood together as friends rather than soldiers on opposite sides. “You’re here…”

“Yes, of course…” Jetfire knelt beside Sky-Byte, his expression unreadable behind the battle-worn mask. "I never thought I'd see you like this," he said quietly, his optics scanning Sky-Byte's damaged frame, “It does not feel… real.”

Sky-Byte's systems flickered weakly as he tried to muster a response, the weight of defeat pressing down on him like an iron fist. "Nor I," he managed to choke out, his voice strained with pain and exhaustion. The once-mighty warrior felt a sense of vulnerability creeping over him, his usual bravado stripped away by the harsh realities of war.

He locked optics with Jetfire, “You… were supposed to end me, Jetfire… we agreed…” Sky-Byte formed a small grin upon his lips, his derma sharp as usual for his alternative mode, “But… it was instead another… foolish Autobot…”

Jetfire's optics dimmed at the mention of their agreement, a flicker of regret passing through his optics. "I never wanted it to come to this, Sky-Byte," he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow, “It was never meant to end in such a way…”

Sky-Byte's energy levels were dipping dangerously low, the battle damage taking its toll on his systems. Despite the pain coursing through his frame, a spark of determination flickered in his optics. "You were always a worthy adversary, Jetfire," he murmured, each word a struggle to articulate. "Even in our rivalry, there was… respect."

Jetfire nodded solemnly, a sense of camaraderie mingling with the ache of loss. "We may have been on opposing sides, but I never doubted your dedication to your beliefs, Sky-Byte," he said, reaching out his servos and lifting the Decepticon, holding Sky-Byte in his arms as the battle continued all around them. It seemed as though both of their worlds only consisted of each other, at this moment. Two rivals that swore by their sparks to kill one another, now at the bitter end of their goal…

As Jetfire carried Sky-Byte through the chaos of the battlefield, a sense of surreal calm enveloped them. The sounds of clashing metal and blaring alarms faded into the background, replaced by the steady thrum of their sparks resonating in unison. Despite the weight of their conflicting loyalties and the bitter taste of defeat lingering in the air, there was a strange sense of peace settling over them. As they moved through the wreckage-strewn battlefield, Jetfire's grip tightened around Sky-Byte, offering silent support and a fleeting moment of solace amidst the turmoil. The once-bitter rivals found themselves bound together not by duty or allegiance, but by a shared understanding forged in the flame of war.

Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, Sky-Byte felt a sense of gratitude towards Jetfire for showing him compassion in his darkest hour. Despite the odds stacked against them and the scars that covered their frames, there was a glimmer of hope flickering in Sky-Byte’s spark that perhaps he would not be alone once his light was sucked back into the well.

After kliks of walking, passing by soldiers amid battle, Jetfire finally found a sheltered alcove amidst the ruins of what was once a bustling city on Cybertron. Gently laying Sky-Byte down, Jetfire knelt beside him, his optics scanning the Decepticon's damaged frame with a mixture of concern and regret.

"You shouldn't have to endure this, not like this," Jetfire murmured, his soft voice barely above a whisper amidst the chaos that surrounded them. "You deserved more than the fate that awaits you…"

Sky-Byte met Jetfire's gaze, a flicker of defiance in his optics despite his weakened state. "Perhaps... but every spark has its ending, and mine seems to be near its concluding act…" he replied, his voice barely audible as he struggled to draw in each ventilated breath. The weight of his injuries bore down on him like an unrelenting force, threatening to extinguish the last embers of his spark. Jetfire's servos hovered over Sky-Byte's as the shark spoke, his digits shaking before he finally bit the bullet and held the other’s servo.

“I do not know what I will do without you, Sky-Byte.”

Sky-Byte's optics softened at Jetfire's words, a rare sense of warmth spreading through his damaged frame. Despite the pain that wracked his systems and the knowledge of his imminent fate, there was a flicker of peace in his spark at the thought that he would not face it alone. "You do not have to think of such, Jetfire," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he squeezed Jetfire's servo weakly in return. "Our paths may have diverged, but our connection runs deeper than allegiance or war. We were once comrades, and at this moment, we are more than enemies. We are bound by fate, standing together."

Jetfire's optics shimmered with unshed coolant as he gazed down at Sky-Byte, his grip tightening ever so slightly in a silent promise. "I will stand by your side until the end, my old friend," he vowed, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

“That… is all I ask, old friend.” Sky-Byte nodded, his optics drifting off to the sky above the now dwindling battlefield, lingering on the fractured moons and the stars, “Though, I wish… I could think of.. a good haiku to bid farewell.”

Jetfire remained by Sky-Byte's side as the mech’s spark snuffed out unceremoniously, his optics locked on the still, slowly rusting form of his former rival. A heavy silence settled over the alcove as the sounds of battle continued to echo in the distance. Grief weighed heavily on Jetfire's spark as he processed the loss of a being who had once been both friend and foe. 

The cacophony of battle slowly faded away, replaced by an eerie stillness that enveloped the alcove where the two former rivals had found a moment of respite.

There was nothing to be done, so Jetfire sighed as he held Sky-Byte’s rusty frame just a little closer.

end.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ DANCING IN THE DARK with vi, who's never really done this sober (really, like... she doesn't usually dance unless she's smashingly drunk) but she trusts you enough to let you lead her into it, a bit shy at first, the music sweet and slow, the city outside a shatter of broken stars, the skyline a forest of jagged towers, their glistening glass facades betraying every kind of weakness, every kind of fragility.

"relax," you say, your voice sweetened by the honey of laughter, the threads of it shaking down vi's shoulders as you smooth your fingers over her skin, "you don't have to be so tense -- it's just me."

"yeah well --" she chuckles, taking a deep breath as she tries to let go of the stiffness lining her muscles, "easier said than done. i don't wanna look like an idiot in front of a professional dancer."

you roll your eyes, your fingers toying in the baby hairs at the back of her neck.

"you've looked like an idiot plenty of times before --"

"alright, that's it --"

"i'm joking!"

you knit your fingers through her's one by one, pull her back with that pleading look in your eyes, the one she knows she can never say no to. she teeters on a held breath, caught between this and the insecurities that had always eaten at her. she breathes out; you smile; the world slows and slows till the moment is cupped in it's gentle palms.

"... fine."

she lets herself be tugged back into the orbit of you, the undeniable gravity -- it's not the first time she's thought herself a satellite, pulled into your spin, the way light seems to gather around you, and all the flowers seem to turn their heads (vi wonders if it isn't just her projecting; it probably is), but it's not like she can fight it, not like the sea's ever asked to be tugged along by the tethers of the moon, nor the moon to dance round the earth and the sun, ever out of reach but so tantalizingly close.

and yet -- and yet.

you settle one of her palms on your hips, hum beneath your breath, place her other hand over your heartbeat.

"here -- just like that." you say, swaying from side to side, her body swaying with you.

like this, she can count the steady thrum of your heart, feel the way it gathers as she leans in close, smiling to herself because it feels good to still have that kind of effect on you; and you're never shy about it, never one to hide when she makes your breath skid short or your lashes flutter closed.

she feels your thumb trace the line of her jaw, another shiver collecting at the base of her throat. she bites her lips, closes her eyes, wraps you in her arms. warmth gathers in her chest, prickling out till she can feel it in her toes and fingertips.

"see? not so hard, right?" you ask, your voice the shadow of a whisper against her cheek.

it's only then that she realizes your cheek is pressed to her shoulder, your bodies melded, curve for curve, edge by edge, her arms locked around your waist, your hands running soothing lines up and down her back. you spin in slow circles in the gathering dark, the neon-night outside casting faint shadows along the floor, the soft edges of your shapes painted in pinks and greens and shocking blues.

"hm, only with you," vi murmurs, letting her lips skim your neck, your shoulders, burying her face against your skin.

"yeah, i'd be pretty pissed if you did this with anyone else."

vi laughs, the sound rumbling through her chest to yours, making you giggle in return. she barely pulls back, just far enough to rest her forehead to yours, her eyes the color of a light-kissed sky.

"i... didn't even think i could do this with you."

you offer her a smile like a heart on a sleeve.

"well... i'm glad you did, anyway."

"yeah... you seem to be good at that."

"at what?"

"making me believe i can do the impossible... and then actually getting me to do it."

you run a thumb along the tattoo on her cheek, the tiny letters inked into her skin. just a few lines, and the weight of the world.

"it's because... impossible doesn't exist with you," you say, letting your eyes flicker over the delicate lines of her face, her features the stuff of a screen-director's dreams -- big eyes, long lashes, a perfect mouth. skin that tints pink at the lightest provocation, freckles scattered across her nose bridge like a handful of misplaced stars.

you kiss her, because there's nothing else to do in the moment but to kiss her. and for a while, vi let's herself be kissed. it was strange, in the beginning, to let herself be loved like this. like learning to ride a hoverboard, tentative and adrenaline-filled, the knots in her stomach twisting tight, and then tighter.

like falling, and then learning that the air might hold her up, if only she knew how to let it.

like flying, once she knew the extent of what the air might let her do.

you gasp as her lips track down your jaw to your neck, your fingers now fisted in her hair.

the song ends and the silence gathers around you like smoke. when vi pulls away, her eyes are dark.

"c'mon princess, that's enough dancing for one night, hm?" her voice comes out rough, the silk and gravel of a blue's singer's hymn, the texture of it chasing sparks down the length of your spine.

"mm, or maybe..." you smile wide as you spin her around, laughing as she yelps and almost loses balance, the pair of you toppling onto the couch, you sitting astride her hips, your palms propped on her startled, heaving chest.

"there's just another kind of dancing you're more interested in right now."

vi's eyebrows shoot up, but a second later, she's pulling you down, a deep groan working up her throat as she ravishes you with a breath-stealing kiss. you break away panting, your lashes fluttering as she tugs up the hem of your dress, giving your hips a soft pat as her fingers trickle up your ribs, lifting the dress off you.

she doesn't hide her hunger as her eyes rake up the length of you, the dress dropping from her fingers as she shifts the pair of you further up the couch.

"yeah, y'know how that you mention it -- there actually is."

[digitalloving]

fuckkkkk cyberpunk entered the brain again

og dialogue under the cut

[kihteyu]

Absolutely wild some people will still say an aromantic character who never dated and never expressed any romantic interest in anyone wasn’t “shown” to be aro like what the fuck are they supposed to do

[t4tails]

run riddler run is such a weird comic for me because like i genuinely feel like it wouldve been a better book overall if the riddler was not there but also the actual political message ends up getting really muddled and dragged down by neoliberalism anyway so he also ends up somehow still being my favorite part. like he shouldnt have been here but its cool to eat up lines like this + him being a terrible terrible centrist

[wantbytaemin]

dude from california would NOT leave me alone during this bus tour i had today and i have decided i need some like. polite Clearly I Am Not Into You sentence that’ll actually work instead of get me ‘your snarky sense of humor is so good haha’

[kirbles]

ppl who write gale in his 40s u mean everything to me

[themissingnumbers]

Hello again fellas :) It's about that time again. Just a heads up, I don't think this is going to be super long like all of my other yap sessions. This is just me rambling about that one riddle that Carrion made. (And dang are they good at what they do-)

So, imma just be upfront and say it—I'm bad at riddles and I'm stumped. I've been thinking about it, trying to pick it apart little by little whenever I've had some quiet/free time and I've got nothing. WELL- actually saying I have nothing would be a lie. I don't have anything concrete, but I do have a feeling. It makes me feel a feeling that I can't really put into words. Like, I THINK that I get what it's trying to say, but I'm not sure. It's the mental equivalent of having really bad eyesight and squinting to read a sign across the street, thinking you know what it says but not being sure because it's too blurry. (If that makes any sense at all-)

However! I can tell you guys about the vibes I get from it and what I've got so far! (I'm probably reading this riddle all wrong, but here goes-)

Now, it's probably just my brain being weird, but I get like... Religious vibes from this stuff. Like- Murder(Slaughtered), Betrayal(Poisoned), and Sanctification(Enshrined) are all things that happened in the Bible I think. I also kinda get Book of the Dead vibes from it a little bit. Okay, lemme explain this.

For that "Remember the thirds, all that went wrong" part of it just really made me think of the Egyptian Soul. Now, I'm not the most experienced or well-versed in this subject, but I will try my best to explain it in a way that makes sense. The Egyptian Soul is made up of three parts: the Ka (the life force/essence separated from the body at death), the Ba (the personality of the departed), and the Akh (the Immortal Spirit, reserved only for the few that were deserving of Maat Kheru). Maa/Maat Kheru is a phrase meaning "True of voice" or "Justified." It is involved in ancient Egyptian afterlife beliefs, according to which the souls of the dead had to be judged morally righteous. Once the soul had passed the test, the Weighing of the Heart (which was deeply rooted in the Egyptian belief in immortality), they were judged to be Maat Kheru and were allowed into the afterlife. The phrase Maat Kheru was often used to denote a person who had died and become a god, and the Akh being the "transfigured spirit that survived death and mingled with gods." (God, I hope that all makes sense-) As for what went wrong: what didn't? Everything has gone bad for this man. He's been out of control since the moment he was born. He's not living—just alive. (On top of that, I'm pretty sure Arceus messed with this man's soul so, that too I guess-)

Anywho, uhhhh... this got long. Whoops- This entire thing could very much be me being too focused on the fact that at one point in the last Starry said that Fire could be seen as a Jesus Figure and be the source of heavy-handed metaphors, but I digress. Those are my thoughts for now. Hopefully, there's something good in there.

(Okay, I don't like to do this, but am I allowed to ask for a hint? Like, I'm usually against anything my brain considers a "freebie" but I am well and truly stuck on this. Hints have been allowed for other mysteries, but you didn't say if I could get hints for this one, so I just figured I'd ask. Alright, that's all. Have a good day/night y'all! :])

Referring to This Riddle

{Since it's my riddle, I don't mind clearing things up a little.}

{While I'm certainly a fan of the esoteric, I think you've gotten a little too narrow in trying to unravel it ^^}

{It's not a riddle with a specific answer, but rather serves as a sort of clue in the larger picture of things. I think to unwrap it properly, you just need to step back- Fire might be the focal point of the image, but as you pointed out in your previous analysis, there are others there too- both people, and objects.}

{All that to be said, your hint.} {The riddle is for the victims, not their executioner.}

[raddestrose]

​I mean we already started off strong with Wen Ning and other people missing so it can only get worse from here

[lesbianslovenamari]

Yoo this is actually so helpful

it came to my realization that 99% of my fandom related headaches would be cured if everyone understood this

[beanthebugboi]

Canon/Headcanon likelihood chart

So I've been thinking about @macdenlover 's "levels of headcanon" chart (about how heavily a HC is influenced by canon), so I decided to make my own scale about how likely a HC is to be true (including different levels of canon) using queer cartoon characters as examples :)

I just spent an hour making this because I was bored. Enjoy. Image description under the cut.

Inspiration:

ID courtesy of @hatreds-og-imagedescriptions (thank you!!)

[ID: a chart going from 10 to 1, with explanations of the ratings on the left and images of characters with queer flags and descriptions of said characters on the right.

10: "Explicit canon. Clearly stated in the original media." Trans Barney from Dead end Paranormal Park. "Barney says "I'm transgender"".

9: "Implicit canon. Never explicitly stated, but 100% canon in the original media". Nonbinary Raine from The Owl House. "Raine never says "I'm nonbinary," but uses they/them and is never referred to as a man/woman (also, confirmed by Dana)".

8: "Creator confirmation. Never stated in the original media, but confirmed canon by the media's creator". Aroace Lilith from The Owl House. "While never mentioned/implied in TOH, Dana has confirmed that Lilith is aroace".

7: "Heavily implied. Never confirmed, but likely true (either by canon evidence or creator implication)". Genderfluid Nimona from Nimona. ""Aaand now you're a boy" "I am today" (anyway, the whole movie has trans/GNC themes)".

6: "Possibly implied. Hinted at in the original media, but could be explained as something else". Trans Doofenschmirtz from Phineas and Ferb. "Doof COULD be transmasc, or the whole "raised as a girl" thing could just be for the bit".

5: "Fanon. Never confirmed, but generally accepted by the fandom". Aromantic Alastor from Hazbin Hotel. "While only confirmed to be ace, most of the fandom also sees Alastor as aromantic".

4: "HC with evidence. Headcanons supported by a dedicated fan's detective work". Bisexual Mabel from Gravity Falls. "People have noticed bi flag stickers hidden on Mabel's scrapbooks".

3: "Canon neutrality. Could be true, could be false, but overall makes sense and doesn't contradict the original media". Genderqueer Pleakley from Lilo and Stitch. "Maybe Pleakley is genderqueer, maybe he just wanted to crossdress for the mission, who knows? That's why it's a headcanon."

2: "I made it the fuck up. Based on vibes, has absolutely nothing to do with canon". Bisexual Megamind from Megamind. "No evidence, no explanation, he just has Disaster Bi™ vibes".

1: "Um? No? But go off. Directly contradicts canon (but who cares, that's why it's fun)". Trans Stanley Pines from Gravity Falls. "Even though flashback scenes prove Stan is AMAB, some people HC him as transmasc." End of ID.]

[factual-flittermouse]

My parents think an acquaintance of mine is a piece of work. I think they’re definitely a piece of something

[mekatrio]

there is a venn diagram of people who love 3-5 and people who think 4-4 makes no sense and the diagram is a near-perfect circle

[yua0ra]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠…

WARNINGS: mattheo riddle x fem!reader, porn with some plot, unprotected sex, p in v, dominant!mattheo, dirty talk, fingering, oral (fem receiving), position change, rough smut, established relationship, (consent although not explicitly stated), mattheo stating one day he will do anal with reader (there’s no anal in this post), pet names, sex in a public space (no one is there), NSFW, proofread, english is not my first language. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: After a playful bet with Pansy Parkinson, you find yourself in an intense, unforgettable encounter with Mattheo Riddle. What starts as a challenge quickly turns into something far more consuming, as Mattheo’s fiery passion gives way to a surprising tenderness. Despite his rough edges, his genuine admiration for you, shines through as he cares for you in the aftermath. The thrill of risk, the weight of unspoken emotions, and the undeniable chemistry between you and Mattheo.

WC: +5K AN: Finally! Your girl has managed to write some smut. ENJOY! MDNI

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Mattheo turns around, unable to hide the goofy smile that’s spread across his pretty face. His dark curls fall into his eyes as he glances down at you, the mischief in his expression softening into something warmer. The way his hand tightens around yours feels like a silent promise—steady and sure, as if he’s anchoring himself to you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, though your own lips are betraying you with the faint curve of a smile.

“Ridiculously in love, baby,” he quips, his grin widening as his thumb absentmindedly brushes over your knuckles.

The two of you continue walking, his laughter bubbling softly in the crisp evening air. The world around you fades, the sounds of distant chatter and rustling leaves blurring into the background. All that matters is the warmth of his hand in yours, the easy joy that spills from his lips, and the way his eyes light up every time he looks at you.

“What?” you finally ask, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” Mattheo replies, his voice light but sincere. “I just like this. You and me.”

The simplicity of his words sends a flutter through your chest, and you squeeze his hand back, hoping it says what you can’t quite find the words for yet.

The path twists ahead, lined with skeletal trees swaying gently in the breeze. The glow of the moon casts an eerie silver light over the ground, making the old stones beneath your feet gleam faintly. Mattheo doesn’t falter, his pace steady as he guides you closer to the looming silhouette of the Shrieking Shack in the distance.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” you ask, your voice low but teasing, though there’s a hint of nervousness hidden behind it.

Mattheo smirks, glancing back at you with that familiar mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Because you’re secretly as much of a troublemaker as I am,” he says, his tone light, though his thumb still traces calming circles on the back of your hand.

You roll your eyes. “Or maybe because you dared me, and I’m too stubborn to say no.”

“Same thing,” he shoots back, his grin widening. “Admit it, love, you like a little danger.”

The Shrieking Shack comes into view now, its crooked frame outlined against the night sky. The windows are dark, the whole structure seeming to exude an unnatural stillness. Despite the chill creeping up your spine, you can’t help but match Mattheo’s excitement, his energy infectious as he slows to a stop in front of the fence that surrounds the infamous house.

“Ever been this close before?” he asks, his voice soft but daring as he peers through the broken slats of wood.

“No,” you admit, your fingers tightening around his. “And I’m starting to think that was a good thing.”

Mattheo chuckles, low and rich, as he steps closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Relax,” he says, his voice warm and reassuring. “I’d never let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”

The sincerity in his tone makes your stomach flip, and for a moment, you forget about the dark, foreboding shack looming in front of you. His gaze holds yours, steady and unwavering, and the shadows around you don’t feel quite as ominous anymore.

“Alright,” you say softly, drawing in a breath. “Let’s do this.

His grin returns, wide and triumphant, as he reaches for the fence. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you’re following, he climbs over with practiced ease before extending a hand to help you over.

As your feet touch the ground on the other side, you hear a faint creak from the house, the sound echoing in the still night. Mattheo looks back at you, a flicker of excitement and curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“After you,” he says with a mock bow, gesturing toward the front door of the Shrieking Shack.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips as you step forward, his hand still firmly holding yours.

Turns out, the whole escapade was Pansy’s doing. The other day, she’d dared you and Mattheo to spend the night in the Shrieking Shack, her laughter ringing out as she leaned against the Slytherin common room couch. She was so sure you’d pull out at the last minute, claiming there was no way you’d go through with it. Mattheo, of course, jumped at the chance, a smug grin on his face as he’d said, “We���ll see you in the morning, Pans.”

Now, standing in front of the creaky old shack, you couldn’t help but think about the look on her face when you’d agreed. You weren’t sure what had made you so bold in that moment—maybe it was the way Mattheo had immediately taken your side, his confidence infectious. Or maybe it was the simple fact that you refused to give Pansy the satisfaction of seeing you back out.

“Do you think she really thought we wouldn’t do it?” you ask, glancing at Mattheo as he leans casually against the rickety front door.

He smirks, his dark eyes twinkling in the faint moonlight. “Oh, she was counting on it. Pansy lives for the drama.” He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around the rusty doorknob. “But what she didn’t count on was that you’re wilder than you look.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of pride in your chest at his words. “And you? What’s your excuse for agreeing to this ridiculousness?”

He shrugs, pushing the door open with a groan that seems to echo into the night. “I’m a sucker for a good dare. And,” he adds, looking over his shoulder at you with a cheeky grin, “I couldn’t let you do this without me. Someone’s gotta protect you from all the ghosts, right?”

“Ghosts,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as you step inside. “You’re not seriously buying into all the stories, are you?”

“Maybe.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of something playful in his eyes. “What if the stories are true? What if we’re not alone in here?”

“Then it’s your fault we’re doing this,” you quip, your voice braver than you feel.

The inside of the Shrieking Shack is exactly as you imagined: old, creaky, and covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. The wooden floor groans beneath your feet as you step further inside, and the air smells faintly of mildew. Despite the eerie stillness, Mattheo seems completely at ease, his hand brushing yours as he walks beside you.

“See? Not so bad,” he says, his voice breaking the silence. “A little dusty, sure, but cozy.”

“Cozy?” you repeat with a laugh. “You’re delusional.”

“Delusional or charming?” he asks, throwing you a grin as he drops his bag onto the floor near an old, tattered sofa.

“Both,” you mutter, though you can’t help but smile.

The two of you settle in, laying out blankets and snacks that Mattheo had insisted on packing earlier. The night stretches on, and as the hours pass, the initial nerves start to fade, replaced by the easy comfort that always seems to come when Mattheo is around.

- ★、

He glances at you, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight as he leans in closer, his voice low and soft. "Baby, are you not bored? We've been here for hours now, just the two of us..." His gaze drops to your lips for a moment before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "Is this really what you want to be doing on a night out with your boyfriend?"

He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. His touch is warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. "Because if you're not having fun, we can always find something else to do. Something a bit more... exciting." His voice drops to a low, intimate murmur on the last word, a hint of mischief glinting in his eye

“Matty… here? Really?” You softly giggle, looking at him trough long and heavy eyelashes.

Mattheo leans in closer, his eyes fluttering shut as he closes the distance between you. His lips meet yours in a soft, gentle kiss that sends a spark of electricity through your body. It's a tender kiss, almost reverent in its slow, deliberate exploration of your mouth. His hand slides from the back of your neck to cup your cheek, his calloused fingers a pleasant contrast to the smooth skin of your face.

As the kiss deepens, Mattheo's other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the firmness of his chest, the way his heart beats steadily beneath his ribs. His fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back slightly as he explores your mouth with a growing hunger.

When he finally pulls back, breaking the kiss, his eyes slowly open to meet yours. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, a gentle caress that makes your breath catch in your throat. His thumb making its way to the inside of your mouth as you suck on it.

Not for long though, as he pulls it back, straight into his own warm mouth.

He slides his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips skimming over the smooth skin of your lower back. He pulls you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours as his hands begin to explore the curves of your waist and the gentle flare of your hips.

He breaks the kiss, panting softly as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, a fierce intensity burning in their depths. "Can I... can I take this off?" he asks, his voice low and rough with desire. His fingers tremble slightly as he waits for your permission, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Without waiting for your answer, he starts to slowly peel your shirt up and over your head. The cool air kisses your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. Mattheo's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body with a hunger that makes your heart race.

"Fuck, doll," he breathes out, his voice filled with awe and longing. "You're so fucking fit. You see these?" He cups the soft mounds of your breasts, his thumbs teasing over the hardened peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. He looks up at you, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leans down, his mouth hovering just above the swell of your breasts. “These are mine baby… all mine.”

Without warning, he tugs the cup of your bra down, exposing your nipple to the cool air. His eyes flick up to yours, a wicked glint in their depths, before he leans in and takes your nipple into his hot mouth. He suckles gently at first, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, before growing bolder, sucking harder as his hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast.

A low, breathy moan escapes your lips, your fingers tangling in his dark curls as he lavishes attention on your breasts. The combination of his hot mouth and the scrape of his teeth against your sensitive skin sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making your core throb with a needy ache.

Mattheo's other hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your jeans. His touch is maddeningly light, not quite touching where you need him most, but close enough to make you squirm with anticipation. "Mattheo," you gasp out, your voice thick with desire. "Please..." You're not even sure what you're begging for, but the way he's touching you, tasting you, has set your body on fire, and you need more.

"Fuck, so perfect for me, huh?," He growls, his voice low and rough with desire. "I could spend hours worshipping these perfect tits, worshipping your beautiful body, face, heart…. You drive me insane."

His hand slides further down, cupping your mound through your jeans, applying a teasing pressure that makes you gasp. He chuckles darkly, a sound that vibrates through your chest. "Is this what you want, baby? You want me to touch this pretty little pussy until you're shaking and aching for me?"

He starts to slowly rub your clothed sex, his fingers moving in maddeningly slow circles. The denim of your jeans grows damp as your arousal builds, your hips starting to rock subtly against his hand. "Oh, look at you, my princess is so, so, so needy for me."

Mattheo leans down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth as he grinds the heel of his hand against your clothed clit. He swallows your moan, his voice a low rasp against your lips. "Tell me how badly you want it, gorgeous. Tell me how much you need my fingers buried deep in your tight little cunt, fucking you silly until the only thing you’re thinking about is how good your Matty takes care of you."

His other hand kneads your breast roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers as he breaks the kiss to growl in your ear. "Beg for it, baby. Beg for my fingers, for my dick. Let me hear how desperate you are for me to fill you up and make you come all over me."

“Please baby…” Your voice merely a whisper, your tone laced with embarrassing neediness, “Want to feel good, need to feel good.” You keep begging. “Want to feel your fingers filling me up so badly, keeping me warm, until I cream messy and my pussy is stretched enough for you big cock.” You let a small whimper.

Mattheo's eyes darken with lust as he watches you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Merlin’s beard, babe, I love it when you say shit like that," he growls, quickly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His chest is lean and toned, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin in the flickering candlelight. The sight makes you legs turn into jelly, unable to take your gaze off him.

He’s just… so fucking hot.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hands make quick work of your jeans, practically tearing them off your body in his haste. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, his gaze hungry as he takes in the sight of you laid out beneath him, clad in nothing but your soaked panties.

"Look at you, spread out like a fucking feast," he rasps, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He tugs on them making you exhale heavily, your pussy clenching to the fabric, to then drag them down slowly, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive skin, your arousal coating his fingers. "I knew you'd be dripping for me, baby. Fucking soaked and ready."

He tosses your panties aside and settles between your thighs, his breath hot against your dripping sex. He looks up at you, a wicked grin on his face."I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, doll. I'm going to eat you out until you become so fucking desperate,” He laughs, “such a perfect pocket pussy.”

He finally lowers his head, blowing air towards your heat and drags the flat of his tongue along your slit, a low groan rumbling in his chest at your taste. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, as he starts to make out with your warm and moist lips. Eating you out like a starving man, his tongue delving between your folds to lap at your dripping essence.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of Mattheo’s tongue in your body. “Oh, shit… mmhm.” You start to feel dizzy, the overwhelming sensation of pleasure too much to cope with, making you close your eyes.

Mattheo groans against your sex as he feels your body trembling beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you hold him close. He can feel your arousal coating his chin, your juices dripping down onto the blankets below. The taste of you is intoxicating, and he can't get enough.

He starts to suckle on your clit, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he teases it with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he slides a long, manly finger deep inside your tight heat, curling it just so to stroke that spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the floor.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your sex as he starts to pump his finger in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your pussy. He adds a second finger, stretching you wider, filling you up just the way you need.

His other hand slides up your body, cupping your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers. He's touching you everywhere, stoking the fire building low in your belly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby. Fucking coat my fingers," he growls, his eyes never leaving yours.

The vibrations from his mumbles and growls shake your body, building up such an addicting feeling at the centre of your stomach, your insides knotting together in pleasure just waiting to be undone. “Oh my God, Matty… you-you’re so good to me, bloody hell.”

His fingers shiny with your arousal as he pounds them into you, his tongue flicking rapidly over your folds. "I can’t wait to feel this pretty cunt squeezing the fuck out of my cock when I slide inside you. I want you all over me. Fucking drench me in it."

He curls his fingers just right, rubbing that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids as he suckles hard on your clit. Addicted to the way your body shakes and trembles as he pushes you over the edge.

“Oh shit! Fuck! I’m-I’m close baby…”

Mattheo can feel your body tensing, your inner walls starting to flutter around his plunging fingers as your climax approaches. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his firm digits as he messily slurps and spits in your clit, spurred on by your desperate moans and the way your body writhes beneath him.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense as he growls, "Come on then, baby.” He lovingly urges, “Come all over my fucking face. I want to taste your cum, want to feel it coating my mouth, want you inside of me."

He continues pumping in an unbelievable force, fingers curling and twisting inside you, stroking that spot that makes your vision go white. At the same time, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard, his teeth carefully tugging the sensitive bud as he teases out your climax.

He can feel your body starting to shake, your thighs clamping around his head as your orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, continuing to stroke and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're a writhing, moaning mess beneath him.

"Fuck yes, just like that…" he demands, his voice rough and ragged. "Let me hear how fucking good it feels, baby. Let those pretty sounds escape,” You can only moan louder, whine louder, barely able to pronounce words. “Yeah, that’s it, good girl… oh! Thats it, that’s it… so fucking precious” He chuckles, the sound so rich and full, turning you even more horny.

He keeps praising you, his movements impossibly harder, faster, deeper, fucking you through your climax as he pushes you to new heights of ecstasy. Your body convulses, your head thrashing on the blanket as the waves of pleasure consume you, leaving you gasping and shaking in the aftermath.

Mattheo finally pulls back, his face glistening with your climax as he looks up at you with a wicked grin. "Fuck, that was so hot," he rasps, his voice low and filled with desire. "You came so fucking hard, baby. I could feel you squeezing the life out of my fingers, fucking messy bitch.… My messy, filthy play bunny, am I right?"

He crawls up your body, his hard cock pressing against your thigh as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "I'm going to fuck you now, baby. Can I fuck you?” He asks between sloppy and wet kisses “I'm going to slide my big, hard cock deep inside this tight little cunt, fuck”

You can only nod and whimper in pleasure, still high form the orgasm, but you crave more, you crave Mattheo in ways that are unhealthy obsessive. Not to worry though, because just as he has you wrapped around his finger, he is simply the same, kissing the floor you walk on, a heavy need in his chest to show you how much you mean to him.

He only smirks at your needy whimper, his ego boosted by the way you're still trembling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. He can see the desperation in your eyes, the hunger for more, and it spurs on his own desire.

He reaches down, his pants long gone, wrapping a hand around his hard, throbbing cock and giving it a few slow pumps. It's hot and heavy in his hand, the pretty pink tip already leaking with big pearls of need. He rubs the head through your dripping folds, coating himself in your arousal, letting out a low groan at the feeling of your slick heat. The filthy scene making his mind fuzzy.

"Fuck, you're still so tight," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He lines himself up with your entrance, the thick glistening head nudging against your opening. "I don't know if I can be gentle, baby. I want to fucking ruin you, want to make it so you can't fucking walk for days."

With that, he starts to push forward, his rock hard dick slowly sinking into your tight heat. He has to pause, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he fights the urge to just slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and intense, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow.

"Breathe, darling," he commands, his voice low and rough. "Breathe and relax, baby. Let me in, let me fucking warm you up."

He starts to push forward again, his pulsing shaft sinking deeper into your tight channel with each slow, steady thrust.

He's stretching you, filling you, the sensation of being so utterly complete by him that makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Mattheo leans down, capturing your lips in a hot kiss as he finally bottoms out, his hips pressing flush against yours. He groans into your mouth, his tongue plundering as he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, setting a hard and fast pace.

He fucks into you with wild abandon, his hips slapping against yours with each powerful thrust. He's lost in a haze of lust, consumed by the feeling of your tight pussy gripping his cock like a vice.

"Take it, take it, fucking take it!" he snarls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounds into you. The floor creaks and shakes beneath you, slamming you against it with each thrust of his hips. "This is what you fucking wanted, isn't it? To be fucked into stupidity by my big, hard dick?"

He leans down, capturing your sensitive nipple between his teeth and biting down just shy of pain. His other hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it in hard, fast circles.

As you savour the overstimulation, Mattheo flips you over onto your hands and knees, your plump ass pointing up in the air. He takes a moment to admire the view, his eyes darkening with lust as he grips your ass cheeks roughly, kneading the soft flesh. "Fuck, this ass is perfect," he growls, giving your ass a sharp smack that makes you gasp. "Just for me… to be grabbed, spanked, fucked hard and raw."

He lines himself up with your dripping entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your swollen, sensitive folds. Mattheo leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he grinds slowly against you, you juices mixing with his, the noises from the friction too lewd, too dirty, too fucking hot.

"I'm going to fuck this ass one day," he whispers hotly against your ear, his voice low and filthy. "Gonna shove my cock in this tight little asshole and make you scream for me. Bet it's never been fucked before, has it? Never had such a big, thick cock stretching it wide open?"

He doesn’t let you answer as he starts to push forward, the head of his veiny member popping inside your entrance with a loud squelch. He pauses, letting you feel the thick intrusion stretching you open as he reaches around to rub your clit in hard, fast circles.

"Push back, baby. Push this hot ass back on my cock and take it deep," he demands, his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts, working more and more of his thick length inside your tight heat. "Gonna fuck this cunt so hard, baby. Pound this pussy until you're fucking screaming, until the whole fucking school knows what a dirty girl you are for me."

Mattheo keeps one hand on your hip, gripping you tightly as he starts to pick up the pace, slamming into you with deep, powerful thrusts. The other hand stays on your clit, rubbing and stroking the sensitive nub as he fucks you harder and faster, his heavy balls slapping obscenely against your insides with each thrust.

"Yes, yes, fuck, fuuuck baby girl…" he snarls, holding into your ass with wild abandon."Take my fucking cock, you bitch. Milk it with this greedy cunt, fucking choke on my dick as I ruin this gorgeous pussy!"

Mattheo pounds into you with inhuman fervor, his hips moving in a blur as he chases their explosive release. The room fills with the carnal symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, your irresistible moans, and Mattheo's guttural, feral grunts echoing off the walls.

He leans over you, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to your back as he snakes a hand around to maul your bouncing breasts, pinching and tugging at your stiff nipples. His other hand flies back over your clenching, almost hurting clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in tight, frantic circles, pushing you ruthlessly towards the edge of literal oblivion.

"That's it, baby, shit! You make me feel so good. You know that? Ughh… !" Mattheo moans, his voice a primal, animalistic sound that sends shivers down your spine.

Your body starts to seize, back arching sharply as a mind-shattering orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clamps down on his pistoning cock like a velvet vice, rippling and fluttering wildly around his thick shaft as you come undone.

"FUCK, YES!" Mattheo bellows, slamming into you one last time as your climax triggers his own. His large shaft throbs and pulses, swelling even thicker inside your spasming walls before erupting like a volcano.

Scorching ropes of thick cum erupt from his cock, painting your insides white as he floods your womb with his seed. It feels like he's cumming for an eternity, his potent release seeming to go on and on as he grinds into you, pushing his come deeper with each twitch and jerk of his hips.

Your mind goes blank, your vision whiting out as pleasure more intense than you've ever known consumes you. You convulse and thrash beneath him, your body wracked with sensation, overwhelmed by the sheer ecstasy of your shared climax.

Mattheo collapses against your back, his body blanketing yours as he trembles and shudders above you. He pants harshly, his breath coming out in ragged bursts against your neck as he slowly comes down from his release.

With a soft grunt, he carefully rolls off of you, pulling you with him so that you're both lying on your sides, facing each other. He drapes a strong arm around your waist, tucking you close to his chest as he studies your face with a furrowed brow.

"Are you okay, baby?" he murmurs, his voice now low and gentle in contrast to the primal, lust-filled growls from before. His fingers come up to brush a sweat-dampened strand of hair out of your face, his touch sweet and tender.

"My beautiful baby… you're shaking... did-did I hurt you?"

Mattheo's thumb skims along your cheekbone, tilting your chin up so that you're forced to meet his gaze. There's a flicker of concern in his dark eyes, a hint of guilt as he takes in your flushed skin and the way your limbs feel heavy and weak.

You shake your head to dismiss his concerns, too tired to physically answer him.

"Fuck, I got a bit carried away there," he admits with a grimace, his arm tightening around your waist as if to keep you safe and close. "I didn't mean to be so rough, gorgeous. I know I was fucking hard, but you just... you felt so fucking good, I couldn't control myself."

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before trailing his lips down to press a passionate kiss to your lips. It's different from the hungry, desperate kisses from before - this one is slow, sensual, almost reverent.

"Let me take care of you," Mattheo whispers against your lips, his voice low and soothing. "Let’s go back to the castle so I can run you a bath, yes?." The bet long forgotten.

He starts to sit up, keeping you cradled in his arms as he sits.

He rummages through his bag, taking out his wand, and with a swift movement, you both aparate to his private dorm.

Mattheo leans down to press another kiss to your pouty lips, his hot breath lingering on your skin. “I love you like no other baby,” He mutters sleepily, the intense sex, catching up to him.

“Now breathe for me, pretty girl….”

[demilypyro]

10 years is a long time

2014: Legend of Korra ends. Korra and Asami end the series by deciding to travel together. Word of God says they have become a couple, though only later supplemental material such as comics actually confirm this.

2016: Gravity Falls ends. Blubbs and Durland, though often hinted to be a couple, fail to escape the censors, and remain only hinted. In the finale, they are depicted firing a cannon, to hint that they "are canon."

2018: Adventure Time ends. Bubblegum and Marceline, often hinted to be a couple though never directly stated up to this point, share an on-screen kiss, fully confirming the relationship.

2019: Steven Universe ends. One of its final episodes includes a gay wedding between Ruby and Sapphire, including an on-screen kiss. Multiple other queer characters featured on the show, such as Pearl, who is explicitly sapphic and dates multiple women, and Stevonnie, who is explicitly nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns.

May 2020: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power ends. The show included multiple queer relationships, such as Adora and Catra, and Netossa and Spinnerella. Bow has two fathers. Many other characters are either hinted or explicitly queer.

November 2020: Adventure Time: Distant Lands. The special Obsidian explores the past and present of Bubblegum and Marceline's relationship on a deeper level, and it is much more explicit than it ever was on the original show. The episode includes a love song, and they again kiss.

April 2023: The Owl House ends. It depicted homosexual attraction as early as season 1, with the character Amity developing a crush on the protagonist, Luz. Luz is explicitly bisexual and the two are explicitly a couple starting early in season 2, openly using words such as "girlfriend" on screen. The cast includes the nonbinary character Raine, who uses they/them pronouns.

August 2023: Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake. Protagonist Fionna is hinted to be bisexual. The Winter King openly flirts with an alternate universe version of himself. The relationship between Bubblegum and Marceline is reaffirmed once more, and is implied to be a universal constant, as it is shown happening in at least two other universes: one where it is more toxic, and one where they are both men instead. Their male versions share an on-screen kiss.

[aidenwaites]

The thing about escape rooms is that if you get a group who's never played before they struggle with these very specific principles of like.. understanding how certain concepts are going to connect together, like there's just a logistical leap between seeing, say, something on one wall that can be removed, and entirely separate space in a different area where something can be placed even if there IS a logical concept behind it (as an example a lot of people got confused in our beginner level game when it came to understanding that when they picked up a fuse, it would likely solely be used to go into a fusebox, and for nothing else), with the exception being that people who seem like they'd played a lot of video games/specifically puzzle or horror games obviously already grasped that underlying logic. Until you've walked into a room and played, you don't know what to expect, and so you don't realize at first that things often will connect together in as realistic a way as they can (fuse goes solely into a fusebox, books tie in to the bookshelves, a wand is found and used to perform a magic trick to open a box)

But ALSO people who'd played a LOT of escape rooms and were very good at it would often *immediately* overthink certain puzzles to a wild degree. They'd be able to walk into a room and already begin picking out things they knew they'd end up needing later, but that also meant they'd start connecting them together too early and get confused/overwhelmed by information.

There's like a sweet spot in there somewhere, which is why the best groups were the larger/more varied friend groups or families who all had good rapport with one another and are able to just notice different things from each other