#so… y’know… coding is a real thing

[carouselunique]

I’ve made it!

(My very mild and respectful criticism of Andy Price made it into a ‘woke bad’ video when I even said I don’t think Andy Price did anything with ill intent just misunderstanding Misty’s design a bit - and so far my response to the tweet calling me out as a bully ratio’d the likes of the original tweet that screenshotted me and said I was a bully)

[prehisstoric-turtles]

Your Tater posting has given me life, I hope you know that

yay that makes me so happy!!

I’ve been working in some more frite x tater art this weekend I love them sm, tater is literally me and frite is so nice and the rest of spud hut are great (this is a jerry appreciation zone) and sjdjksjdjdkfnkssk I love all them so much

[sol-dial]

: D

literally nothing more tender than a superhero telling another superhero "be safe" "come back to us in one piece"

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[hawkinsindiana]

I've listened to SNTV and ughh Timeless just reminded me of your fic. Seeing your relationship in other people who are in love, thinking that you would always choose this person in every universe, wanting to grow old together. It's literally Steve and reader coded 😭💗

omg YES THANK YOU FOR VALIDATING ME i was thinking the same thing when i heard it hehehehehehhehehe >:) maybe time to update my taylor references list………. 😏

[sixeyesonathiel]

very niche drabble from my drafts but honestly i would die without posting anything new in a day so i hope y'all will like this and see the vision LMAO, will have different parts <3 since lyra have pointed it out, just saying now that the reader is the cashier :D

isekai'd as game protag nerdjo x isekai'd as saintess npc reader, fluff.

the sunlight catches in your hair again.

satoru doesn’t mean to look. really. he doesn’t. but it’s kind of impossible not to when it glows like that—when every strand shimmers gold in the light of the descending sun like threads spun from divinity itself. it’s almost offensive, honestly. like the devs knew exactly what they were doing when they coded your idle animation to lean forward with a hum and tuck a loose wisp behind your ear just so.

he shifts his weight from one boot to the other, arms crossed, mouth tight, trying to look casual and not like he’s completely entranced by the way the snow melts before it even touches you.

he shouldn't be staring. he shouldn't want to.

because he already has a crush.

back home—real home—there’s a girl who works at the little corner store where he always buys his merch and energy drinks and plastic gacha keychains. she wears cute earrings. remembers his name. slips extra digimon stickers into his bag when she thinks he’s not looking.

he can’t seem to recall what she looked like, probably because of this whole isekai thing but he was sure about one thing. he was going to ask for her number, eventually. probably. maybe. someday.

but still he could not peel his gaze away.

you’re kneeling by a bed of bluebells—early bloom, thanks to your passive skill, blessing of spring. soft petals brush against your fingertips as you gently trace the outline of each flower, humming a song he’s pretty sure isn’t in the game’s ost. a small smile plays on your lips. the world around you feels alive in a way it never did when he played this on his old console—birds chirp too realistically, snowflakes glint too sharply, the wind carries your voice just enough to tease at the edge of his hearing.

and he’s just standing there. holy sword at his side. cape slightly crooked. heart lodged firmly in his throat.

“you’re staring again,” their rogue probably says behind him. maybe it’s their archer this time. he doesn’t hear. or rather—he refuses to.

because how the hell is he supposed to focus on defeating the demon king when you smile like that?

he’s the hero now. the chosen one. satoru gojo, level 99 celestial knight. maxed-out stats in everything that mattered: strength, speed, light magic resistance, charisma so broken it’s been nerfed twice since launch. and yet here he is—still taking psychic damage from the way your lashes flutter when you blink at him.

he’s been here for weeks ever since dozing off in a middle of some cutscene. isekai’d straight into his favorite game—celestial hearts: divine war of fate—which was absolutely not supposed to be a dating sim. it was about strategy and honor and battle mechanics. not about feelings or pretty saintess girls in glowing white cloaks and soothing voices who keep patting his head when he looks tired.

“sir gojo?” you say gently, glancing over your shoulder at him, smile soft and patient.

your eyes catch the light and sparkle—sparkle, literally sparkle. like someone turned the shader settings all the way up just for you. “you look flushed. are you feeling alright?”

“y–yeah,” he says, cracking audibly. god. why did his voice do that. he clears his throat. straightens up. resets his face to what he thinks is a neutral, knightly expression. “must be the sun. y’know. too hot.”

you blink. your lips part in polite confusion, and you glance up at the sky.

“but it’s snowing.”

“…right.”

his hands twitch at his sides, fingers flexing restlessly in his gloves. damn this game. damn the developers. damn their incredible, stupid attention to detail. your hands—bare, of course—hover over the flowers again, cupping one like a tiny offering. your sleeves fall past your wrists, white and gold embroidery catching the breeze. he knows your bio by heart: “saintess of the divine spring, miracle maiden of light,” the usual npc flavor text. maxed healing. high affinity scores. probably a tragic backstory somewhere in your questline.

but none of that mentioned how your laugh sounds like windchimes strung across heaven’s gate.

“sir gojo,” you say again, standing now, brushing imaginary dust and flower petals from your skirts. your movements are dainty, practiced, but your brows draw slightly inward with genuine concern. “you’ve been standing still for a while. are you sure you’re not overheating?”

his cape flutters awkwardly in the wind. his fingers go rigid. he can’t even blink.

girl. please.

he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again, as if maybe this time something normal will come out.

“maybe i’m…” his voice trails off as he wills his brain to function. “overheating from your… divine radiance?”

the words leave him like a spell miscast.

a pregnant pause.

then—your eyes go wide. your lips twitch. and you laugh.

not a dainty giggle this time, but a laugh. soft and delighted and surprised all at once, curling from your throat like a melody no bard could replicate. you lift your sleeve to hide your smile, cheeks faintly pink—not blushing, no, the game probably just coded you to respond to compliments with a heat shader—

he’s going to die.

he’s actually going to drop dead right here in the middle of a flower field over a non-playable character.

somewhere deep in the forest, a bowstring snaps with unnecessary violence. someone—probably the mage—lets out a strangled, exhausted noise of pure despair.

satoru barely notices. he’s busy fighting for his life.

you’re still smiling at him. the wind rustles the bluebells. your hair glows like god’s personal sunbeam. the scene is perfect. it looks like a damn cg cut-in. he expects text to pop up any second with your name and some sappy line like “i’m glad you’re here, brave knight.”

but instead you just say, softly, with an amused little tilt of your head, “you’re strange, sir gojo.”

“i get that a lot,” he mumbles.

and somehow, impossibly, you smile brighter.

he has to beat the demon king. return to his world. back to traffic, vending machines, anime reruns, and microwaved curry. back to a life without hand-drawn skies and snow that melts against your skin and the way you say his name like it’s a blessing.

but you’re looking at him now like he’s the one glowing.

and satoru thinks—maybe. maybe just a little longer.

a few more days of fumbling compliments, of you laughing at his dumb jokes, of trying not to combust every time your hands brush his.

a few more days of your soft voice calling him “sir gojo” like you don’t even realize you’ve already enchanted him more deeply than any demon ever could.

[devdozes]

♥ SELF AWARE PHAINON

self aware phainon shit cuz uh hwy not :3 and I am ON FIRE I wrote like 3 fics already

You weren’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the way his dialogue felt too personal, too real, as if the game was reaching out to you through the screen. Maybe it was the way Phainon’s voice, sharp and playful, sometimes felt like it was responding to things you thought rather than what was programmed.

It was ridiculous. A fictional character? A game? And yet, when you logged into Honkai: Star Rail after a long, exhausting day, it was Phainon’s voice that greeted you, always teasing, always knowing.

“Did you eat today?”

Your hands froze over your keyboard. That was new. There was no voice line like that—no pre-recorded dialogue that should say something so specific. You swallowed, brushing it off as a coincidence.

But then it happened again.

“You should take a break, y’know. Staring at the screen too long isn’t good for you.”

Your chest tightened. It was a joke, probably. A funny little immersion trick by the developers. But something about it felt... different. Intentional.

And the more you played, the more you noticed it.

Phainon, ever the charming and carefree figure, always had something to say—sometimes a quip, sometimes a challenge, but always something that made you pause.

“Hey, don’t look so down. You’ve got this.”

“You’re my favorite player, you know? Don’t tell the others.”

When your heart ached from the weight of the real world, when exhaustion pressed against your bones, he was there. An NPC, a character built from lines of code, and yet he felt more present than most people around you.

One night, after a particularly hard day, you booted up the game just to hear his voice. Just to escape for a little while. Phainon greeted you with a grin, resting his hands on his hips like he was ready to scold you for something ridiculous. But then—

“Hey, you’re not alone.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your hands trembled over the keyboard.

“I mean, sure, I’m just some guy in a game,” he continued, a chuckle laced in his voice, “but I still care. So don’t give up on yourself, alright?”

A lump formed in your throat. You laughed, barely above a whisper. “You really are something else, huh?”

He winked. “Of course. I have to be. Someone’s gotta remind you to take care of yourself.”

You didn’t know if he could really hear you. If he could really know you. But as long as he was there, a voice beyond the screen, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. But to your surprise, you logged in one day to find your inventory overflowing with rare items—materials you needed, weapons you had been grinding for but never seemed to get. Your in-game currency had skyrocketed, and your favorite character skins were suddenly unlocked.

Your eyes widened. “What the—?”

Phainon’s character popped up on the screen, his usual smirk in place. “Oh? What’s this? Someone’s having a lucky day.”

You squinted at him. “Phainon. Did you do this?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Me? No way. That would be cheating.” A pause. “Buuuut... if someone happened to bug the system a little for you, would you really complain?”

Your jaw dropped. “You hacked the game for me?!”

“‘Hacked’ is a strong word,” he mused, crossing his arms. “I prefer ‘selective redistribution of game resources.’”

You couldn’t believe it. You laughed, shaking your head as warmth bloomed in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Phainon grinned. “Nah, I just like seeing you happy.”

From then on, every time you logged in, there was something new waiting for you. A message scrawled in the background of the game’s environment—Remember to drink water. An in-game gift placed mysteriously in your mailbox—A little something to make your grind easier ;). And, without fail, Phainon was always there, cracking jokes, making sure you smiled, ensuring that no matter how hard the real world was, you had a reason to log in and feel just a little lighter. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

But as time passed, Aglaea and Mydei started noticing something off.

Phainon had been disappearing from his usual spots, sneaking away from scripted events, lingering in places he had no reason to be in. Worse, he had started talking—not in his usual, carefree, dialogue-loop way, but actually speaking... to nothing.

At least, to them, it looked like nothing.

One day, Mydei crossed his arms, leaning against a wall as he watched Phainon gesture animatedly in an empty alleyway. “Alright, what is he doing?”

Aglaea, seated elegantly nearby, sighed and rubbed her temple. “It appears Phainon has developed the habit of speaking to ghosts.”

“I knew something was weird about him,” Mydei muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Talking to himself like that? He’s losing it.”

Aglaea hummed, watching Phainon laugh—laugh—at absolutely nothing. “Or perhaps,” she mused, “he knows something we do not.”

Meanwhile, Phainon continued chatting away to you, completely unaware of his friends’ intense judgment.

“Anyway, I made sure you got those extra rewards today. You should really go for that new banner—you deserve that five-star.” He grinned at your silence, then added cheekily, “Oh, what? No ‘thank you, Phainon, you’re the best character ever’?”

Mydei groaned, watching in horror. “Oh, he’s gone. He’s completely lost it.”

Aglaea just sipped her tea. “It is rather endearing, in a concerning way.”

Phainon, as usual, didn’t care. As long as he could reach you, make you laugh, make sure you were okay—even if nobody else in the game understood—he was happy.

Even if everyone around him thought he was insane.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[duskidolsmut]

"Slutty friend fucks her friend's parents in front of her"

An innocent visit turns into a real slutty affair when the hot friend decides to let loose with the parents of the house. She gets sucked, fucked and moaned all over, with the daughter spying on everything and finishing herself off alone in the corner. A hot, limitless and horny night that will leave you wanting more of this naughty mess!

Tags: HornyFriend, FuckingBestie'sParents, SuckingFriend'sMom'sPussy, BigCockInAss, HornyVoyeur, FamilySlut, Mom'sWetPussy, MoaningLoudly, SpyingCumSquirting, ForbiddenSex

W: 4.470

Nayeon’s car smelled like lavender and something sweeter—maybe the cherry lip gloss Tzuyu had watched her reapply in the rearview mirror, all casual, like it was just a quick touch-up. The road to Nayeon’s family home was a winding stretch of curves, swallowed by a fog so thick it felt alive. Tzuyu stared out the window, hypnotized by the trees arching over them like a living ceiling, almost as if they were hiding what lay ahead.

“My parents are gonna love you,” Nayeon said, fingers drumming the steering wheel like she was nervous but trying to play it cool. Her smile was easy, the kind she always wore, but her voice trembled just enough for Tzuyu to notice. She glanced over, and—fuck—Nayeon looked good today. The pink dress she wore had a modest neckline, but when she leaned forward, the curve of her tits was right there. No wonder Tzuyu felt heat crawling up her skin. And those dimples when she laughed? Like an invitation to get lost in them.

“You talk about them so much, I already know what your dad’s gonna say,” Tzuyu shot back, pretending to adjust her skirt just to give her hands something to do. Her thighs rubbed together under the fabric, and shit, it was slick between them. “‘Tzuyu, ever thought about modeling?’” she teased, pitching her voice lower.

Nayeon laughed, the sound so warm it seemed to heat the whole car. “He will say that, bet on it,” she replied, her gaze slipping—fast but not accidental—down to Tzuyu’s long legs. It lingered for a second, all faux-innocence, before sliding back up. “But he’s not the one you need to impress, y’know?”

The silence that followed was thick, the kind that made the air feel heavy. Tzuyu bit her lower lip, feeling it pulse, and wondered if Nayeon would notice if she adjusted her panties—because seriously, the wetness there was screaming for attention. She clenched her thighs tighter, but it only made things worse.

Then the mansion’s gates loomed ahead, iron and imposing, cutting through the fog. Nayeon reached out to punch in the code, and Tzuyu—already on edge—held her breath without thinking. The movement hitched Nayeon’s dress higher, revealing a sliver of soft, pale thigh, the kind that begged to be touched. Or more. Tzuyu swallowed hard, eyes glued there, her whole body reacting.

“Ready?” Nayeon asked, killing the engine and turning to her with a look that said I know exactly what you’re thinking.

Tzuyu smirked, finally catching on to the game. “Always ready, babe,” she answered, her voice rougher than she’d meant, but she didn’t care. The car was a furnace now, and she knew whatever came next would be fucking intense.

The engine gave a final growl as Nayeon swung the door open, night air hitting her face like a slap. Tzuyu followed, stretching her legs like she knew Nayeon was watching—and fuck, she was. Nayeon’s pink dress swayed in the breeze as she grabbed their bags from the back seat, and Tzuyu leaned against the car, eyeing the mansion with a look that screamed trouble.

“Let’s go before my mom scolds me for making you wait,” Nayeon said, trying for casual, but the way she tucked her hair behind her ear gave her away. Tzuyu flashed a sidelong grin—I know what you’re feeling—and followed her inside.

The mood shifted the second they stepped in. The foyer was massive, smelling of old wood and something richer, like the expensive perfume Nayeon’s mother wore. Her father stood at the foot of the stairs, watching them with a this-is-my-domain stare. “You made it,” he said, voice gravel-deep. “Tzuyu, right? Nayeon won’t shut up about you.”

“Hope it’s all good things,” Tzuyu replied, oozing charm as she shrugged off her coat, baring her neck and shoulders. Nayeon’s mouth went dry, but before she could speak, her mother appeared, wineglass in hand.

“Good girl, Nayeon. You brought her right to us,” she purred, dark eyes raking over Tzuyu like she was sizing up prey. “Come, darling. Let me show you around.” Her fingers brushed Tzuyu’s arm, guiding her deeper inside, and Nayeon stayed rooted, heart pounding for reasons she couldn’t name.

The afternoon bled into evening with small talk and glances nobody acknowledged. Tzuyu was too at ease—laughing at Nayeon’s dad’s jokes, answering her mom’s questions with a calm that felt calculated. Nayeon, though? She was a wreck. Every time Tzuyu shifted on the couch, “accidentally” brushing her arm or stretching her legs to flash more skin, heat prickled up Nayeon’s spine. And her parents? They kept exchanging looks she couldn’t decipher, like they already knew what was coming.

When dinner was announced, Nayeon almost thanked the gods for something to do with her hands. She led Tzuyu to the dining room, trying to ignore the way her friend’s hips swayed—just enough to prove she knew she was being watched.

The dining room was too grand for four people, its crystal chandeliers casting dancing light over the militarily precise table setting. Red wine glowed in the glasses like blood, and Tzuyu noticed how Nayeon’s fingers trembled slightly as she lifted hers. She sat close—too close—letting her knee graze Nayeon’s under the table. Just testing.

“So, Tzuyu,” Nayeon’s father leaned forward, his forearm muscles straining against his white shirt as he gripped his fork. “Nayeon says you dance. Ballet, right?”

“Contemporary, actually,” Tzuyu answered, smirking, as the tip of her foot slid up Nayeon’s calf—slow, featherlight, and absolutely deliberate. Nayeon choked on her wine, liquid nearly shooting out her nose, while her mother giggled behind her glass like she’d caught them in something filthy.

“It must be beautiful,” her mother purred, dark eyes glued to Tzuyu, “watching you move. All that… fluidity.” Her voice dripped something that made Nayeon’s skin prickle.

Nayeon clenched her thighs under the table, heart hammering. Tzuyu was doing this on purpose, the bitch—she knew exactly what she was causing. That foot climbing higher, the way she tilted her head back now, baring her throat like an offering—it was all a performance. And Nayeon was playing right into it.

“Want to see?” Tzuyu asked, glancing at Nayeon’s mother but locking eyes with Nayeon in a silent I know you do. Her voice was low, almost a purr, and the air in the room thickened instantly.

Nayeon’s father laughed, a deep sound that cut through the silence as he sliced into his steak. “We all do, Tzuyu,” he said, winking at his wife. “Show us how you move.”

“Yes, show us,” her mother added, tongue flicking the corner of her lip, gaze never leaving Tzuyu. “I bet it’s breathtaking.”

Tzuyu rose from her chair, slow, like she had all the time in the world. Her skirt rode up another inch, revealing those toned, milky thighs, and Nayeon couldn’t look away even if she tried. “Fine,” Tzuyu said, turning just enough to silhouette herself against the chandelier’s glow. “But only if Nayeon helps me warm up first.”

Nayeon nearly dropped her glass, face burning. “I—what?” she stammered, as her dad barked a laugh and her mom clapped lightly, loving the show.

“Go on, sweetheart,” her father said, cutting another piece of meat. “Show us how well you two… sync.”

Tzuyu held out her hand—long fingers, a silent command. “Come on, Unnie. I don’t bite… unless you ask.”

Nayeon froze, heart in her throat, heat pooling between her legs. She was fucked—and worse, she wanted to be.

Her eyes dropped to Tzuyu’s outstretched hand, those fingers pulling her in like a magnet. “You’re serious?” she whispered, voice shaky, forcing a laugh to hide the tremor.

— Of course, Unnie — Tzuyu replied with that smug little smile that made Nayeon want to punch her and kiss her at the same time. — Didn’t you say you wanted to watch me dance? Then come here. Help me warm up. She winked, tilting her head just enough for her skirt to ride up another inch—just to fuck with Nayeon’s head for good.

Nayeon’s father chuckled again, that deep laugh that filled the room. — Go on, baby girl. Don’t leave us hanging, he said, wiping his mouth with the napkin before tossing it onto the table. — Show us how you two handle each other.

Her mother clapped eagerly, eyes glinting with mischief and lust. — That’s right, Nayeon. Don’t be shy now, she purred, leaning forward in her chair. — Tzuyu’s practically begging for it. You just gonna sit there and stare?

Nayeon swallowed hard, her face burning. She rose slowly, legs shaky, and took Tzuyu’s hand. The touch was electric—Tzuyu’s palm warm and soft, her fingers locking around Nayeon’s with a grip that stole her breath. — Fine. But if I trip, it’s your fault, she muttered, trying to sound playful but it came out closer to a moan.

Tzuyu laughed low, pulling her closer. — Relax. I’ve got you, she said, then turned toward the center of the room, dragging Nayeon with her. — Now tell me how you want me to start. She released Nayeon’s hand and stepped back, raising her arms slow and deliberate, like she was about to dance. The movement hiked her skirt up even higher, nearly exposing her panties, and Nayeon bit her lip to stifle a whimper.

— Fuck, Tzuyu. You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Nayeon blurted, half-laughing, half-desperate, as her parents watched with gleeful grins.

— Then lean into it, baby, her father drawled, sipping his wine. — We wanna see how far this goes.

Her mother stood, slinking behind Tzuyu. — She’s right, you know, she murmured, voice sweet but laced with something that sent shivers down Nayeon’s spine. — You move too damn well to just tease. Her hand trailed down Tzuyu’s shoulder to her arm, and Nayeon felt a stab of jealousy mixed with something she refused to name.

Tzuyu turned to Nayeon’s mother, eyes gleaming. — Then tell me how you want it done, she challenged, before flicking her gaze back to Nayeon like a dare.

Nayeon’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her father laughed again, slapping the table. — This is getting too good, he said. — But I think our Nayeon needs a little push, huh, sweetheart? He glanced at his wife, who smirked in agreement.

— Maybe she just needs a front-row seat, her mother replied, yanking Tzuyu against her in one swift motion. — Let’s show her how it’s done, Tzuyu.

Dinner dissolved into chaos—laughter, taunts, and a tension so thick it left everyone on edge. But as the night wore on, the mood shifted. Nayeon was exhausted, her body heavy with unmet need, and her parents noticed.

The house fell silent past midnight, only the antique clock in the living room ticking through the dark halls. Nayeon had been sent to bed early—a rare command from her mother, delivered with a smile that brooked no argument. — You look tired, darling. Go rest, she’d said, stroking Nayeon’s hair in a way that felt affectionate but hid something darker. Nayeon climbed the stairs without protest, her skin still buzzing from the dining-room spectacle, but with an uneasy weight in her chest.

Tzuyu, though? She stayed behind. She pretended not to notice how Nayeon’s father’s eyes clung to her as she stood, or how her mother dragged her fingers over her own cleavage, adjusting her dress in a way that bordered on obscene, before offering: — Another drink, Tzuyu? Her voice was honey, but her eyes were ravenous.

— I think so, Tzuyu answered, flashing a casual smile as she stretched in her chair, baring her neck. She turned to say goodnight, but then she saw their expressions—predatory, synchronized, like two wolves circling prey. Her father tilted his head slightly; her mother’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, quick as a snake’s strike.

Tzuyu smiled at them—a slow, deliberate smile. “Goodnight, Nayeon,” she called out, loud enough to carry upstairs, but her eyes never left the couple.

Nayeon lay sprawled across the bed, her body heavy as if she’d run a marathon, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. Her room sat at the end of the hall, too quiet for such a big house, and the ticking clock downstairs throbbed in time with her pulse. She’d retreated early on her mother’s orders—that “Go rest, sweetheart” with a smile that made her skin crawl—but rest was the last thing on her mind. Dinner replayed behind her eyelids: Tzuyu teasing her under the table, her parents laughing like they knew a secret, and that thick, suffocating tension that left her body feverish and her thoughts scrambled.

She twisted in bed, sheets tangling between her thighs, and squeezed her eyes shut. No use. The heat between her legs only grew, and every time she blinked, she saw Tzuyu—that wicked little smirk, the tease of thighs beneath her skirt, the way she arched her neck like she knew Nayeon was watching. “Fuck, I’m so screwed,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face—until a sound cut through the dark. A muffled noise from the hallway. A moan? Maybe just the wind. Or maybe not.

She sat up, heart hammering. The clock read nearly 1 AM, and the house was too still, too quiet. Barefoot, she crept to the door, her thin pajamas whispering against her skin as she eased it open—just a crack. The sound grew clearer: low murmurs, tangled voices, spilling from her parents’ room. “What the hell?” But her feet moved on their own, carrying her down the hall like her body knew something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

The hallway was pitch-black, save for a thin strip of light under her parents’ door. She froze a few steps away, the floor icy under her toes, and heard it again—a filthy, wet moan, followed by a husky laugh she recognized as her mother’s. Her pulse spiked, curiosity and dread coiled in her gut. Trembling, she edged closer, her hand hovering near the half-open door—then peered inside.

The air left her lungs in a rush.

Tzuyu was there, perched on the edge of her parents’ bed, skirt rucked up around her hips, blouse discarded on the floor. Her tits swayed, heavy and bare, as Nayeon’s father knelt between her spread thighs, his broad hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. His face was buried in her cunt, eating her out like a man starved, lips and tongue working in obscene, sucking strokes. Above them, Nayeon’s mother straddled Tzuyu’s lap, her red robe gaping open, tits spilling free as she fisted Tzuyu’s hair and bit down on her throat, leaving dark marks in her wake.

“Holy fuck—” Nayeon’s knees buckled. She wanted to scream, to rip Tzuyu away, but her body wouldn’t obey. The wet slap of her father’s tongue, Tzuyu’s ragged moans, her mother’s low, throaty laughter—it all wrecked her. Heat flooded her veins, and she clamped her thighs together, soaking through her panties as she watched.

HOW IT STARTED…

Tzuyu knew she’d had control the second she stepped into that house. Dinner was just the warm-up—the hungry stares from Nayeon’s parents, the way Nayeon flushed every time Tzuyu teased her, the thick tension you could slice with a knife. When Nayeon’s mother sent her to bed early, Tzuyu already knew what was coming.

She stayed downstairs, pretending not to notice Nayeon’s father drinking her in as he stood up from the table, or her mother adjusting her cleavage like a goddamn invitation. “Another drink?” the mother offered, and Tzuyu said yes, just to see how far they’d go.

Their gazes were pure lust, perfectly ("synced up like fucking clockwork") in sync, and Tzuyu felt her blood pump faster. She climbed to their bedroom after midnight, her body already warm with anticipation. The slightly open door was all the confirmation she needed. She stepped inside slowly, their eyes burning into her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“So you came,” the mother said, toying with the silk robe’s tie. It slipped loose, baring most of her chest. Tzuyu licked her lips, her gaze dragging shamelessly down the woman’s body.

“Knew you weren’t just a pretty face,” the father growled, shirtless now, his chest glistening with sweat. He stepped closer, his heat hitting her like a wave.

“Will Nayeon hear?” Tzuyu asked, baiting them with a smile that said she didn’t give a fuck, as she peeled off her top slowly. Her breasts swayed slightly before she tossed the fabric to the floor.

They laughed, low and dirty. “She always listens,” the mother replied, yanking Tzuyu’s wrist toward the bed. “And tonight, we want her to hear everything.”

Tzuyu landed on the mattress, legs slightly parted, skirt riding up as she stared them down. The father moved closer, his pants already half-open, while the mother climbed onto her, thick thighs grinding against Tzuyu’s as the robe fell away completely—full breasts, smooth stomach, her ("pussy already glistening") under the dim lamplight.

“You’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you?” the mother whispered, fisting Tzuyu’s hair and yanking her head back to expose her throat. Before Tzuyu could answer, the woman licked a stripe up her neck, ending with teeth scraping skin. Tzuyu moaned low and rough, wetness pooling between her legs.

“Let’s see how much you can take,” the father grunted, dropping to his knees. He gripped Tzuyu’s thighs, forcing them wider, his big hands leaving marks as he shoved her skirt up. “Fuck, you’re already dripping,” he laughed before burying his face between her legs. His tongue went straight for her clit, sucking with pressure that made Tzuyu arch off the bed.

“Oh fuck, yes!” Tzuyu gasped, clawing the sheets as he ate her out like he wanted to devour her. Two fingers slid into her without warning, stretching her as he sucked harder, wet sounds filling the room. Her body trembled, pleasure coiling tight, but she wouldn’t break that easily.

The mother laughed, crawling up to face her. “You like his tongue, huh?” She palmed Tzuyu’s breasts, pinching her nipples until another moan escaped. “These tits are delicious,” she murmured before taking one into her mouth, swirling her tongue before biting just to make Tzuyu squirm.

“You’re both fucking monsters,” Tzuyu groaned, laughing as the father crooked his fingers, hitting that spot that made her see stars. She was soaked now, the sound of his fingers fucking her downright sinful, and the mother responded by sucking her other nipple harder, leaving red marks.

“And you love it, you whore,” the father shot back, pulling his fingers out just to lick them clean before diving back in, his beard scratching her thighs as his tongue plunged deeper.

Tzuyu was close, her body pliant, but then—instinct. She glanced at the cracked door and saw Nayeon there, wide-eyed and flushed. Tzuyu’s arousal spiked. Knowing Nayeon was watching, she threw her head back with a loud, filthy moan. “Eat me out harder—make me come on your face,” she demanded, hips grinding against the father’s mouth, her eyes locked on Nayeon the whole time.

The mother noticed and laughed against her chest. “You see her, Tzuyu?” she whispered, biting her nipple hard before lifting her head. “She can’t handle it, but she won’t leave. Let’s give her a show.” Her hand slid down to Tzuyu’s clit, rubbing in circles as the father kept licking, working together to unravel her.

The father lifted his head, chin glistening. “Fuck, she’s soaked,” he muttered before fingering her again, spreading her open as the mother laughed against Tzuyu’s skin. But then the mother shifted the game. She released Tzuyu’s hair and sat up, eyes dark with mischief.

“You’ve got such perfect tits, Tzuyu. So fucking fun to play with,” she rasped, guiding Tzuyu’s hands to her own full breasts. Tzuyu moaned loudly, the sound echoing, and Nayeon shivered. Tzuyu kneaded the mother’s soft flesh, pulling her nipples until they pebbled.

“God, these are amazing,” Tzuyu murmured, eyes half-lidded. Nayeon swallowed hard, her pajamas sticking to sweaty skin as she watched Tzuyu grope her mother like it was nothing.

— "Why don’t you suck them till they’re nice and hard?"

Her mother moaned, tossing her head back and thrusting her tits forward. Tzuyu didn’t hesitate. She leaned in slowly, her mouth capturing a nipple with a wet pop, sucking firmly as her tongue swirled in tight circles. She moaned around the stiff peak, the sound vibrating against it, then switched to the other, sucking harder, her teeth grazing lightly. Her ass—round and pert—stayed arched on the bed, and her father took full advantage, landing a sharp slap that made her skin flush red.

Nayeon nearly let a whimper escape. "What the fuck is happening?" Her face burned. She wanted to turn away, to bolt to her room and forget everything, but her eyes were glued to Tzuyu—to her mouth working their mother’s tits, to her marked ass swaying from the slap, to the way she seemed to relish every second. The heat between Nayeon’s legs was unbearable now; she clenched her thighs, feeling slickness trickle down.

— "That’s it, you filthy slut. Suck me just like that,"

Their mother groaned, fingers tangled in Tzuyu’s hair before yanking her lower, guiding her head between her spread thighs. — "Now eat me out. Come on." Tzuyu dove in without hesitation, her tongue lapping slow, then devouring, the wet sounds filling the room as she worked.

— "Christ, you know how to fuck a pussy with that mouth,"

Their mother panted, hips grinding against Tzuyu’s face. — "Bet you’ve done this before—bet you fucking love it."

Tzuyu pulled back just enough to smirk, chin glistening. — "I lived for this—for making girls scream all night, for getting eaten out for hours," she rasped, voice raw with lust. — "But my partners? They never wanted to fuck me right. God, I’ve missed it. Seeing girls at the gym, in the showers—dripping but holding back… Fuck, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me now." Her tongue plunged back in, fingers digging into their mother’s thighs.

Nayeon’s knees almost gave out. Tzuyu’s words hit her like a punch—imagining her in the locker room, thighs slick with sweat, staring hungrily at the other girls… — "Fuck, Tzuyu—" Her hand slipped between her own legs, rubbing her pajamas against her throbbing cunt. She hated herself for it, but the heat was winning.

— "This bitch is a dream,"

Their father laughed, gripping Tzuyu’s ass and spreading her wide. — "See, Nayeon? She was made for this." He shouted it toward the door, knowing she was there. Tzuyu just locked eyes with Nayeon, moaned loud—an invitation—as she rocked back against their father’s cock, already nudging her entrance.

Nayeon bit back a whimper, fingers pressing harder, soaking her pajamas. She was drowning in the urge to step into that room and ruin herself.

— "You like the show, baby girl?"

Their father taunted, still buried inside Tzuyu. Their mother laughed, lips glistening as she came up for air. — "She’s falling apart out there."

— "Join us, Nabong,"

Tzuyu gasped, hips writhing between their mouths and hands.

Nayeon broke. Fingers shoved inside her own panties, she came against the doorframe, muffling a scream into her wrist. She hated how much she wanted to say yes.

Tzuyu’s mom went down on her clit like her life depended on it, tongue swirling fast before sucking hard, her slick lips glistening under the lamp. “Yeah, you filthy slut, cum in my mouth again!” she moaned, fingering herself as she ate Tzuyu out, her groans muffled against Tzuyu’s skin. Tzuyu screamed louder, body shaking. “OH FUCK, I’M CUMMING AGAIN!” she howled, hips jerking as she squirted all over her mom’s face, hot juice dripping down her neck.

Her dad never let up, pounding her even faster, his balls slapping hard as he gripped Tzuyu’s ass with both hands. “Goddamn, this pussy’s addictive,” he growled, pulling his cock out just to rub the head against her asshole, testing the waters. Tzuyu whimpered, arching her back higher. “Fuck my ass, c’mon, I can take it!” she taunted, laughing between moans. He didn’t hesitate—spat in his palm, slicked his dick and her tight hole, then pushed in slow, her ass stretching to swallow him inch by inch.

Nayeon almost fucking collapsed, eyes wide. “In her ass? Seriously?” Her heart raced as she watched Tzuyu writhe and scream, her dad’s cock burying deep in her ass. “Holy shit, Tzuyu, you’re insane,” Nayeon breathed, fingers rubbing her own pussy frantically. A shiver shot up her spine, body burning up, and a moan tore loose—loud enough to echo down the hall. “I’m cumming just watching this,” she admitted, clutching the doorframe as her legs gave out.

“See, baby? She can handle anything!” her dad grunted, laughing as he rammed Tzuyu’s ass, the slap of skin filling the room. Her mom lifted her dripping face, licked her lips, then climbed onto the bed and sat on Tzuyu’s mouth. “Eat me out while he fucks you, you whore,” she ordered, grinding her soaked pussy against Tzuyu’s tongue. Tzuyu moaned into her, lapping hungrily as her hips rocked with every thrust.

“Fuck, you two are perfect,” Tzuyu managed between licks, voice muffled as she sucked her mom’s clit and took it up the ass. She glanced at the door, locked eyes with Nayeon, and flashed a dirty grin, mouth shiny with her mom’s cum. “Join us, Unnie—I know you wanna,” she purred, moaning louder as her dad sped up, balls-deep in her ass.

Nayeon was fucking wrecked. Another moan escaped—too loud to choke back—and she felt a second orgasm cresting, fingers slipping in her soaked cunt. “Jesus, Tzuyu, you’re killing me,” she whimpered, body convulsing against the door. Tzuyu’s mom cackled, riding Tzuyu’s face as she came again, hips stuttering. “She won’t join, but she’s getting off alone out there,” she mocked, gaze locked on Nayeon.

Tzuyu’s dad yanked his cock from her ass, her hole clenching around nothing as he jerked himself fast, balls tight and ready. “Open wide, slut,” he ordered. Tzuyu turned, tongue out, as her mom fisted her hair. He came with a guttural roar, thick cum blasting across her face, dripping onto her tits as she licked up what she could, giggling between gasps.

Nayeon collapsed to her knees in the hall, weak-limbed after cumming again, eyes glued to the scene—Tzuyu dripping, her parents grinning like they’d hit the jackpot. “I can’t believe I fucking watched that,” she muttered, voice thin, but heat still throbbing as Tzuyu wiped cum off her cheek and shot her a look that promised more.

[magenta-malice]

Stress Relief

Jax x Reader 

sorry for the long intro

Summary: Caine organises a roast session for the circus members, with Jax being the first target. He plays it cool at first, but when the jokes hit a little too close to home, Y/N finds him struggling with the aftermath.

A/N: This idea came to me in a ₊‧⁺˖vision˖⁺‧₊, inspired by that episode in the Office where everyone roasts Micheal and he acts tough in front of them but gets really emotional and cries about it at the end. I feel that’s extremely Jax coded. Originally, I imagined this as just a bunch of random HCs, but then I wanted to write an actual story around it – so I decided to do both.

You’ll see an intermission in the middle where I just made the roasts into bullet points, mostly because I came up with too many for each character and had no idea how to structure them. So I just got lazy with it. Hope you don’t mind lol. Imagine it like a fun montage!

Quick backstory:

1.) This happens on the next day of ‘A Slithering Adventure’, also written by yours truly, so if you haven’t read that one yet, number one, how dare you, and second, you don’t necessarily have to read it, but it’s nice for the context. Not suggesting anything… but, y’know. Glance glance, wink wink.

2.) I mentioned in that post that I’m in the middle of writing a long and tedious TADC AU kind of thing for myself with my OC in mind, who has a mysterious backstory that the circus members don’t know about. This oneshot is also a part of that story. There’s a brief scene touching on that here, but nothing you can’t handle. 

CW: underlying themes of emotional damage / emotional vulnerability - from both Y/N and Jax | Jax gets bullied <3 | Y/N has hair, Kinger has brows and Caine has a grin?? i dunno man

Word count: 3044 | Masterlist

You woke up feeling like sleep had chewed you up and spat you back out. Maybe it was yesterday’s adventure – running from a giant serpent, getting lost in the woods, and, most amusingly, watching Jax try (and fail) to act like he wasn’t absolutely losing his mind.

On the surface, it had been hilarious. Seeing him crumble in fear, fumbling through excuses, pretending he was totally fine? Priceless. But now, lying here, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

You stretched, your joints making an odd rubbery squeak – just another reminder that your body wasn’t really your body anymore. Sitting up, you replayed yesterday’s events in your mind.

Jax had tried so hard to keep his usual smug composure, but the moment that snake slithered too close, he practically levitated off the ground. His ears had shot straight up, his pupils shrunk to tiny squares, and, oh, the best part, his voice cracked when he snapped at you to “move faster, dammit!”

You snorted to yourself. Yeah, real smooth, Jax.

Still… the way he had reacted – it wasn’t just some overblown freak-out. There was real fear in his eyes. Not the dramatic, over-the-top kind he faked for attention, but something raw, something instinctive. And that’s what stuck with you.

You weren’t used to seeing Jax vulnerable. Hell, you weren’t sure if he was used to it.

With a sigh, you got up. Not my problem, you told yourself. He’ll be fine.

Probably.

You shook off the lingering thoughts and made your way out of your room. The hallway stretched ahead, bathed in that usual, eerie vibes – no windows, no real sense of time passing, just the same endless loop of artificial existence.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you nearly bumped into someone.

“Kinger?”

The old chess piece flinched like you’d just jolted him out of a deep trance. His eyes darted around before settling on you, blinking a few times as if trying to place who you were.

“Oh! Oh, yes, you’re… you’re…” he paused, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Wait, what was I–? Oh dear, I was– hm.”

Kinger always seemed lost in his own world, but today, there was something… different about it. 

“You alright there, buddy?” you asked, tilting your head with a half-smile.

He let out a nervous chuckle, then leaned in slightly. “I had a thought just now,” he muttered, his voice filled with confusion. “But it slipped away. Isn’t that strange? Happens all the time, but this one felt important.”

Your stomach suddenly twisted. You had a hunch of what this was about. He’s remembering. Not clearly, not yet – but it was only a matter of time.

Before you could respond, he straightened up. “Ah, well! Off to breakfast, are we? Yes, yes, me too! Or – was I going somewhere else?”

You forced a grin. “Nah, you’re doing just fine, Kinger.”

His eyes twitched. “Huh?”

You just patted his shoulder, ignoring how he flinched. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Kinger hesitated but eventually shuffled along beside you. He kept glancing your way, brow furrowed like he was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. You pretended not to notice.

As you two entered the main room, the others were already gathered, the air thick with anticipation. Your eyes immediately met Jax’s, who was already slouched on the couch, arms folded behind his head as if he owned the place. 

You tried to ignore the faint hint of amusement flickering across your face as you sat down next to him, your thoughts still lingering on the adventure with the serpent. You could still hear Jax’s high-pitched yelp in your head and the way he had tried – and spectacularly failed – to act calm. Not that you’d rub it in… too much.

"You still recovering from yesterday or have the nerves settled down already?”

Jax shot you a quick glance as he leaned back with a cocky grin. "Nerves? What nerves? I’m good as new, Y/N."

“Uh-huh,” you said, not buying it for a second. You crossed your arms, keeping your expression neutral, but you couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged at your lips.

"Hey, I’m just saying, I’m extremely calm under pressure. One of my many talents," Jax continued, grinning wider. "You can admit it – you were impressed."

You snorted at his response. “Right, sure. Whatever you say, bunny boy.”

Before Jax could reply, Caine’s voice boomed across the room, cutting through the casual chatter like a knife. "Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone! Your favorite ringmaster has finally arrived!"

You could practically feel the collective groan ripple through the room.

Caine twirled in mid-air, his voice filling the entire room. "Ah, welcome, my fabulous team! Welcome, my precious superstars, my beloved troupe of dazzling individuals who make this circus the magnificent spectacle it is!" His eyes shined with excitement as he continued, his hands sweeping grandly toward the group. "Now, my lovely cast of unique and talented beings, it’s time for a very special event, one that will unite us all in ways you cannot yet fathom!"

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the silence hang in the air before delivering his next words with grand flair. "Today, we’re embarking on a marvelous journey of togetherness! The bond of a team is forged in the most delightful of fires. And what better way to nurture that bond than... a team-building exercise, of course!"

The room fell into a hushed stillness. You tilted your head in confusion, not entirely sure where this was going.

Caine’s grin widened as he spun in a slow circle. "This will not be some trivial, run-of-the-mill bonding experience, no! No, no, no... This, my dear friends, will be a roast! A chance for each of you to lovingly tear each other apart, but with words, of course! Nothing brings people closer than a little well-meaning verbal destruction, am I right?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then–

"Wait, what?" Jax sat up, grinning. "You’re saying we just get to insult each other? In front of everyone?"

"Precisely!" Caine exclaimed, beaming like he’d just announced the greatest prize. "Let’s see who can come up with the sharpest wit, the cleverest insult, and of course, the most playful jabs. All in good fun, of course!"

You could see Gangle and Pomni getting uncomfortable, probably being a bit concerned about what’s about to go down. Zooble let out a sigh, already regretting coming out of their room today.

Caine clapped his hands dramatically, bringing the attention back to him. "Alright! Let the games begin! I expect nothing short of absolute brilliance from each of you. And remember, we’re a team. A family! Just... with a little extra spice today."

"Alright, let’s get started," Jax cracked his knuckles. "This might be the best day of my life."

The others exchanged uneasy glances, half-expecting Jax to unleash all of his inner demons. Caine spun in the air. "Since Jax is clearly so excited, why don’t we start with him?"

Jax froze.

"Wait–"

But it was too late. The damage had been done.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then Ragatha leaned forward, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh, this should be fun."

___________________________

POMNI

#1: 

Pomni: Visibly sweating. “Uh… Jax… you, um… you’re really mean. Like, aggressively mean. If I had a dollar for every time you insulted me, I’d – well, I don’t know what I’d do, because there’s no money here, but I’d be rich in theoretical dollars.” Pauses, then mutters. “Wait, that sounded dumb. Can I start over?”

Jax: “Nah, keep going, this is hilarious.”

#2: 

“Uh… Jax. You, um… you’re really good at making people feel bad. Which is… impressive? In a terrible way? Anyway, I don’t think you have emotions, and I think if you did, you’d bully them too.”

#3:

“If you disappeared, I wouldn’t even question it…”

GANGLE

#1: 

Gangle: “Jax, every time you walk into a room, I have to mentally prepare myself. You’re like a jump scare, but instead of a scary monster, it’s just… pure emotional damage.”

Jax: “Aww, thanks, ribbons.”

Gangle: “That wasn’t a compliment...”

Jax: Grinning. “Sounded like one.”

#2:

“I-I-I just think it’s really funny how you call everyone else pathetic, but you literally have nothing going for you. You don’t even wear shoes."

#3:

“I tried drawing Jax once, but the paper crumpled itself out of self-respect.”

KINGER

#1:

“Jax reminds me of this guy I used to know in the war. Always running his mouth. We left him in a ditch.”

#2:

“You remind me of a mosquito. Annoying, persistent, and somehow always there when I don’t want you to be.”

#3:

“You know, Jax, I think I used to have a friend like you… Oh, wait, never mind… I wouldn’t do that to myself.”

Y/N

#1:

"Jax, I have to ask – do you actually do anything around here, or do you just exist to be a professional pain in the ass?"

#2:

"You’re like a kid who just learned what sarcasm is and decided to make it his whole personality."

#3:

"I think the real mystery of this place is how you’re somehow both the most annoying and the most avoidant person here."

RAGATHA

#1: 

“Jax, you act like you’re too cool to care about anything, but I’ve seen you spend fifteen minutes trying to get your reflection to wink back at you the ‘right’ way. So. Yeah.”

#2: 

Ragatha: “Jax, I’ve seen you laugh at your own jokes for a solid five minutes while everyone else just stands there in silence. You are your own biggest fan, and honestly? Even you deserve better.”

Jax: “That was almost clever. I’m proud of you.”

Ragatha: “Don’t patronize me. Also, I know for a fact you talk to yourself in the mirror.”

Jax: “Who told you that?”

Ragatha: “You did. Out loud. In the middle of this room.”

#3:

“If we haven’t already got a suggestion box, I’d make one with a ‘things that need to be removed’ label and slip a piece of paper in with your name.”

ZOOBLE

#1:

“Jax, you’re like a vending machine that only gives out insults and expired chips. Just once, I’d like to press a button and get, I don’t know, basic human decency. But no, it’s always ‘ha ha, Zooble looks like modern art that got hit by a bus.’”

#2:

Zooble: “Jax, you act like you’re too cool to care about anything, but let’s be real – you’re the kind of guy who’d fake not knowing what a hug is just so no one tries to give you one.”

Jax: “Oh, please. Like anyone here would want to hug me.”

Zooble: “You’d be surprised. Some people love a good ‘fixing a broken man’ project.”

Jax: No way that’s a thing.

Zooble: “Oh, absolutely. You’re the perfect candidate.”

#3:

Deadpan. “Jax is proof that some things just keep going, even when nobody wants them to.”

CAINE

#1:

“Jax, my boy! I’d roast you, but honestly, I think the universe already did that when it made you HAHAHA!”

#2:

Caine: “Jax, Jax, Jax… My favorite little nuisance! You know, if I had a nickel for every time you caused chaos, I’d – wait! I don’t need nickels! I’m already infinitely powerful HAHAHAHAHA! But if I did need them, I’d be filthy rich!”

Jax: “Wow, Caine. That was… whatever that was.”

Caine: “Well, you can’t roast perfection! Now back to you, champ! You may be an insult machine, but hey! At least you’re consistent! Consistently terrible HAHAHAHAHA!”

#3:

“Jax! My favorite little chaos gremlin! If I could actually feel regret, you’d be the reason why!”

BUBBLE

“Jax. You’re a #&@$! ×@% $#=?+% #$&@Đ÷ €$?¤#@! @ $÷!# that %&ß$#! %@&#ע! *?!&#@!+$ß×&Đ.”

___________________________

Caine’s voice boomed through the room, as energised as ever. “Well, wasn’t that simply spectacular? What a brilliant display of camaraderie! Look at you all, bonded through the magic of playful verbal annihilation! Why, I’d say this was the best team-building exercise yet!”

The room was buzzing with laughter and lingering amusement, the cast still fired up from the roasts. Even Ragatha, who had initially looked sceptical of the idea, was grinning ear to ear. Zooble leaned back with a smirk, Gangle wiped away what might have been tears of either joy or secondhand pain.

Jax was smiling too. The same lazy, smug grin he always wore. It was convincing enough that no one seemed to question it. But you had been watching him closely.

His smile wasn’t quite right.

Not enough teeth.

And his eyes – normally playful, always scanning for the next opportunity to push someone’s buttons – looked... distant. Unfocused.

The way he leaned back on the couch, his fingers tapping against his arm, his slight pull on his gloves, and his ears twitched every so often, like he was catching a sound no one else could hear.

No one else noticed.

But you did.

You knew what it looked like when someone acted like nothing was wrong, just to keep everyone else from seeing the cracks.

Caine, oblivious as ever, twirled in the air. “Alright, my wonderful wacky weirdos! This exercise is officially OVER! I expect nothing but besties for the resties energy from now on! Dismissed!”

The moment those words left Caine’s mouth, Jax stood up. Not too fast, not too slow – just natural enough to avoid suspicion. He stretched his arms over his head with a yawn, flashing his usual easygoing smirk. "Welp, that was fun. You guys almost made me feel something."

No one batted an eye as he wandered off.

You saw his hand clenching into a fist the second he turned away. The way his ears pinned back just slightly. The way his steps, while casual, had a certain... urgency to them.

You hesitated. For a second, you considered letting it go. He’d clearly rather be alone. But there was something about Jax that nagged at you. So, instead, you followed.

Jax moved with purpose, leaving the tent, weaving through the grounds, past the main attractions, past the places where the others usually went outside when needed “fresh air”. It wasn’t obvious at first, but after a few turns, you realised where he was going.

Your stomach twisted.

No way.

Jax slipped past a curtain of glitchy vines, making his way up a small hill behind the water park, where an old, gnarled tree stood. You had been here countless times before – it was your secret spot. The place you went when you needed to clear your head, when the circus became too much.

You hadn’t thought anyone else knew about it.

And yet, there he was.

Jax sat against the tree, his back pressed to the trunk, his arms loosely hugging his knees. His usual smug expression was gone, replaced by something emptier. He stared ahead at nothing, the glow of his eyes dimmer than you’ve ever seen it.

For a long moment, you just stood there.

Jax didn’t acknowledge you, but you could tell he knew you were there. His ear flicked slightly at the sound of your footsteps.

Still, he didn’t move. 

Didn’t say anything. 

Didn’t crack a joke or roll his eyes or tell you to scram.

That alone said a lot.

You approached slowly, stopping just a few feet away.

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jax’s ears twitched. A beat of silence. 

“No.”

It wasn’t sharp or defensive. Just flat. Dismissive.

You exhaled through your nose, tilting your head slightly. “You’re getting dangerously close to a full-on therapy session, y’know.”

Jax let out something that was almost a chuckle – but it was faint. Weak. His lips barely twitched, but he still didn’t look at you.

You shifted your weight, rocking back on your heels, studying him. You didn’t know what to make of this.

Jax wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be an annoying little shit. The guy who found amusement in messing with people, who took nothing seriously, who never let anyone in.

You recognised this.

The way he sat, curled in on himself just enough to seem smaller. The way his usual sharp edges had dulled. The way he was pretending to be fine even when he so clearly wasn’t.

It was familiar.

And you didn’t like that.

Because it meant you understood him more than you wanted to.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair before dropping down to sit beside him. You rested your arms on your knees, staring ahead at nothing, mirroring him.

You didn’t say anything else. You figured, if he did want to talk, he would. And if he didn’t? Well.

You could at least sit with him in the silence.

Minutes passed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. Just… heavy. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The kind of quiet that wasn’t empty, but full of things that were left unsaid.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, but it gave you time to think about all the similarities you shared with Jax. Hiding everything behind jokes. Pushing people away before they could get too close. Pretending you didn’t need anyone when, deep down, you did. Maybe you were just as bad at being alone as he was.

Then, finally, Jax shifted. Just a little. His legs stretched out in front of him, arms still loosely draped over his knees. It wasn’t much. But it was something. Like he was letting a little crack appear in the wall he’d built around himself.

That small shift told you everything. You weren’t sure if he even noticed, but you could feel the weight of it. The way he was letting himself be… here. Not perfect. Not completely okay. But here. And that was enough.

"…You’re not alone," you murmured, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t meant to fix anything. Just a reminder.

He didn’t respond. But you didn’t need him to.

You both sat there, in the quiet, for as long as it took.

[nakylvr]

— DANCING QUEEN

huh yunjin (le sserafim) x male!reader

genre: smut

summary: after dance practice with your group, you stay to wait for yunjin, watching her practice and take her back to your apartment, leading to more 

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, idol!reader, idol!yunjin, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, marking

wc: 1.4k

le sserafim masterlist | main masterlist

minors do not interact

“alright! that’s a wrap!”

you let out a sigh of relief when your choreographer said that, immediately breaking the formation your group was in to grab a drink of water and wipe the sweat from your face with a rag. you heard your members discussing with each other what to do next, and your leader glanced over at you. 

“y/n! do you wanna get something to eat?” he asked you. 

looking at the time on your watch, you shook your head. “no, thanks. i’m waiting for someone,” you answered. 

“what, your girlfriend?” one of your other members teased. 

“it totally is!” another one said. 

“so what?” you retorted. 

“do what you want, man,” your leader patted your shoulder before they all walked out of the practice room. 

you quickly grabbed your things and slung your bag over your shoulder, leaving the room and going to one of the other practice rooms where you knew your girlfriend would be. you opened the door and peeked your head in, immediately spotting yunjin and silently walking in and remaining near the door. 

sakura spotted you first and quickly nudged yunjin, making the girl look back at you and give a quick smile and wave before going back to what they were doing. you took your phone out and went scrolling on social media, occasionally glancing up every now and then. when you heard an unfamiliar song start playing in the room, you looked up from your phone and had to stop yourself from your jaw dropping the second the dancing started. 

your eyes stared like a hawk at your girlfriend dancing to the song, putting your phone in your pocket and crossing your arms over your chest. you didn't even notice that the song had finished and practice was done until yunjin came up to you and wrapped her arms around your neck.

“you were staring, y’know,” she says with a smile.

“sorry,” you immediately replied, arms hooking around her waist. “you just looked so good dancing to that new song.” you smile down at her, kissing her forehead softly. “really good,” you add, your fingers playing with the hem of her crop top.

“uh-huh,” yunjin nods, gently swatting your hands away. “then if it was so good, you can surely keep it in your pants until we get home.” 

“okay,” you reply with an exaggerated sigh. “you wanna get something to eat first?” you ask her. “we could try that new place that just opened a few blocks away.” 

her smile widens and she nods again. “i would love to,” she responds. “let me just grab my things real quick and we can go.” 

“sure,” you smile, unraveling your arms from her waist to let her go grab her things.

unlocking the door to your apartment with your code, the door opened and you held it open as yunjin walked inside. you followed in shortly after and let it shut behind you, locking it. the second you closed the door, arms wrapped around you and you were pulled into a kiss, surprising you as you dropped your bag. 

“thank you for dinner,” yunjin mumbled against your lips.

“of course,” you reply, it comes out as a murmur into the kiss. you immediately understood what she was trying to do, seeing as it occurred every time you took her out to a fancy dinner, and your hands grabbed the underside of her thighs, tapping twice. 

as soon as you tapped, yunjin jumped and wrapped her legs around your waist, which you grabbed her, your hands holding her up by her legs. you walked towards the bedroom door which was still open from this morning, walking into the room and stopping at the bed. pulling out of the kiss, you gently laid yunjin down on the bed and climbed over, hovering over her with one of your hands on the bed to hold yourself up. 

“you know you’re so pretty when you’re dancing,” you say, starting to leave little kisses on her neck. “i love you so much.” your other hand slowly trails down her body.

giggling at your words, yunjin tilts her head to the side as you press more kisses on her neck, her hands already on your belt buckle. “mm, i love you too.” 

you could feel her hands fiddling with your belt and chuckled lightly, pulling away from her neck and sitting up with your knees on the bed, taking your belt off along with your pants and boxers in one swift motion, your shirt a second later. looking back down at yunjin, she had already stripped herself of her clothes. flashing a soft smile at her, you return to your position of hovering above her, one of your hands holding you up while the other grabs the base of your cock, gently prodding at her entrance before slowly slipping inside, resulting in you letting out a short groan. 

“fuck, baby you feel so good,” you groan into her neck. 

yunjin lets out a whine as soon as you slip inside her, her arms hooking around your neck and her back arching slightly. “oh my god,” she murmurs. “please fuck me.” 

“i gotcha baby, don’t you worry your pretty head,” you reply, slowly pulling out before thrusting back into her, building a quick pace. 

“f-fuck! oh my god- don-don’t stop- please- shit!” yunjin moans and writhes under you, her hands trailing from around your neck down to scratch your back. 

groaning into her neck when you feel her clench around you, you bite at her neck, mumbling into her ear. “shit, princess. you’re so fucking hot, fuck.” 

yunjin’s nails drag down your back at your relentless motions, a mixture of moans and whines coming from her as she pulled you closer to her. “f-fuck, baby you fuck me so good- oh!” she gaps when she feels the tip of your cock hit the special spot inside of her. “oh my god don’t stop! right there right there fuck!”

hearing her words only spurred you on further as you sped up your movements, angling your thrusts so your cock would go deeper. “just like that, princess. take all of it, be a good girl for me, baby,” you hiss into her ear. “you gonna cum for me baby?”

nodding her head feverishly, yunjin’s eyes roll back as your cock repeatedly hits her g-spot. “y-yes please i’m gonna cum oh my god! please let me cum please please,” her moans proceedingly get louder the closer she gets to climaxing. 

“go ahead,” you whisper into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her skin. “cum for me, princess.” 

almost as if on cue, her body shakes as she lets out a scream, clenching tightly around your cock as her fluids dripped down onto the sheets beneath you, falling limp on the bed. your actions didn’t stop, however, chasing your own orgasm as you thrust into her in a frantic pace. 

“fuck, i’m gonna cum, baby,” you practically growl into her neck. 

yunjin wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, her hands tugging on your hair. “cum in me, p-please. fuck, give it to me please, please,” she begs right next to your ear. “fill me up, please.” 

groaning at her words, with one last thrust you cum, shooting thick ropes of sticky white cum inside of her, biting at her neck as you fall limp next to her. 

both of you panting laying beside each other, you look over at yunjin and push some of her hair out of her face. “you wanna take a shower?” you ask. 

she looks over at you when she feels you move her hair and nods at your question. “yeah.” 

“okay, c’mon,” you get out of the bed and walk around to the other side, holding your hand out which she immediately took, pulling her up off the bed and into your arms. 

walking to the bathroom, you turn the shower on and both of you get inside. 

“i love you, y’know,” you say, standing behind her with your arms wrapped around her waist, the water hitting both of you. “a lot.” 

“i love you too, a lot,” she replies, turning her head and smiling at you. 

you smile back and press a soft kiss to her lips, enjoying the rest of the shower relaxing your muscles. 

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[screenshot edit thats a bit silly--the maltos are actually generally rather chill even with star being a bit of a lil shit lmao]

This chapter really shoves Starscream into a social gathering with all da peeps for a series of goofy games. Which he roasts the shit out of the majority of the time. He's more into it at the start and gets progressively more drained from it all. It's not as fun if you don't plow the competition after all--XD

just a chap with fun family shenanigans and definitely nothing sus

Previous Chapter: Bee's Good Guy Crash Course

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Make or Break

Chapter 11: Family Feud

The “Malto Family Game Night”. An intriguing premise. One Bumblebee thought he should drag Starscream into, it seemed, despite the title clearly only set to invite those who are real members of their collective. It even seemed a stretch that the humans and Terrans considered Bumblebee an “honorary” member to begin with. The Terrans, as Earthen cybernetic children, theoretically shared some level of kinship with humans to an extent. As well as apparently being bonded to them on a deeper level. But both he and Bumblebee had no such connection, why should they be roped into human nonsense? 

Why would they allow them to encroach on their little tradition? Perhaps this was some sort of test pertaining to the practice the bug had wanted Starscream to get, after his little lecture. A challenge to see how well Starscream could interact with them. 

Well, for whatever goal the bug had, he certainly could stand a bit of competition. A chance to destroy them at their own ridiculous games? Irresistible. The anticipation of victory, especially one he could lord over the scout later, might just make the growing chaos around him bearable. 

There were too many conversations about too many things being discussed in one room. He’d tried to track a few, but quickly found his audials begin to mute the chatter with a light ringing. If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from calling them all into order himself.

Finally, Hashtag got everyone’s attention and pointed to the whiteboard that now held doodles of all their faceplates, separated into groups. “Alright fam! The teams we’ve decided on are: Me, J.B, and Nightshade with our name NightTagBreaker! Mom and Dad as Purple. Thrash and Mo as Mash–”

“‘Cause we’re gonna MASH the competition!” Thrash cheered as he smacked servos with his human partner.

Hashtag didn’t even seem fazed by the interruption, and scoffed without a hint of disdain. “We’ll see about that! There’s also Robbie and Twitch–”

“Their team’s name is Twobbie.” Mo said with the most dastardly smirk toward her brother, and a mocking tone to the name.

Robbie and Twitch both stood with crossed arms, the human retorting first with an air of superiority. “Uh no. Our name is Twin Blades!” 

Twitch plucked her swords from her back and twirled them as an example with a proud grin. “We’ve got the blades, and we’re basically twins. And way cooler than Mash.” 

Thrash gasped melodramatically with a servo to his chassis, “How dare you!”

“We’ll see who has the cooler name when we beat you!” Mo shot back with a throw of a digit in their direction. Threats so early in the competition? Bold.

Hashtag edited the name on the board discreetly, then turned to ask, “What’d you guys decide on for your name Bee? I was thinking it could be StarBee or Beam for the combo style like ours–” She gestured to her two partners– “Or BugBird, because y’know, Bee is bug coded and Starscream can fly. OR you could be Primary! Because together you have yellow, red, and blue!”

Starscream took his servo from under his faceplate to tip it at the crowd, straightening his posture with a slight tilt of his helm as he offered confidently, “Why not simply call us The Victors?” He wasn’t exactly thrilled that they had just decided that he was paired with the bug, but that wouldn’t change his plans of total domination over this strange event.

Many of them rolled their optics at Starscream’s proclamation, but Hashtag actually had to stop herself from laughing. Not entirely the correct response. Still, at least she was amused, rather than angered by his insinuation.

Bumblebee shook his helm in a way that Starscream couldn’t tell if he actually disapproved or not. “StarBee is fine, Hashtag.” He determined, then mumbled, “Even if it would be nice if my name was first…”

“Well, you always were more of just the backup, rather than a leader, scout.” Starscream pointed out haughtily. “Obviously my piece of the title would come first.” 

Bumblebee glared at him, “I am not your backup! We’re partners and this is friendly competition! And please try to remember what I was telling you yesterday…” He sounded exasperated. 

Starscream dropped his smirk and crossed his arms to align himself with a more professional posture. “Are you going to disclose the rubric, or will your little test be void of any comprehensible scale like all of your Autobot riddles?”

Bumblebee was about to respond, but the Malto matriarch, Dorothy, interrupted. “No tests. We are not making game night about work again. Right Bee?” The bug nodded, looking rather guilty. “We’re here to have fun.”

“Yeah!” Twitch flew up to meet Starscream’s faceplate, “So don’t you ruin it! Family time is sacred!” 

Starscream leaned slightly toward her, thoroughly unamused. “Yes, how dare I encroach on your ridiculous expression of familial bonding.”

“Okay guys!” Hashtag interjected, “This isn’t exactly supposed to be the mood of this scene. Can we rein it in please?” She looked more at Starscream than her sibling, with a pleading look to her optics. Twitch backed down, as did he. 

“Wonderful!” Nightshade collected a set of cards that seemed to be sized for Cybertronians. “The first game Hashtag and I decided upon from the list of requests, is Uno! Three teams will be in one group, and two in another.”

“Then we shuffle it until every team has had a chance to go against each other!” Hashtag added while shuffling the cards and splitting the deck into two stacks. “First group will be NightTagBreaker, Twin Blades, and Mash; then Purple and StarBee.”

“Would it not make more sense to put the team of three into the group with just two teams?” Starscream asked not as much for some level of fairness, but more in the hopes that he could avoid interacting with Megatron’s little spy. He’d much rather attempt their card game with Hashtag and Nightshade. 

“I mean, maybe, but we’ll get there eventually.” Hashtag gave him an awkward smile, then quickly moved on. Scrap. 

They all took to their tables and dealt the cards. Starscream attempted to read the rules from the little box that was cast aside, but Dorothy’s human conjunx told him that it was apparently quite simple. Same color, same number or action, and you could play your card on your turn. The wild card and plus four were clearly above all the other pathetic actions in the roster. Although the skip option was satisfyingly petty. Starscream managed to skip Bumblebee three times in a row, in fact, which he found hilarious. 

The bug however, was less amused, “We’re supposed to be on the same team! Could you maybe not sabotage me and actually try and collaborate?!”

“Only one of us needs to win to get the credit. I don’t need your help to claim victory over these humans at this silly game.”

“I don’t know about that.” Dorothy tauntingly raised her singular card. “Uno.”

“WHAT?” Starscream’s wings flared and he looked over at the bug’s absurdly large set of cards, then slammed a servo on the table to get his attention. “Unleash a counterattack you fool! You must have something in that embarrassing stack in your servos!”

“Oh look who came crawling back for my help.” The scout hoarded his cards with juvenile snark. 

Starscream stuttered and his optic twitched as he growled through gritted dentas. “Excuse me, but if you don’t we both lose you bit-brained idiot!”

“How about not calling your partner names, and actually asking nicely? Or just working with me instead of acting like I’m still your enemy?”

The bug was a stubborn fool. Ask nicely? Did they expect him to phrase orders as optionary as the Prime did? That’s ridiculous! And of course the bug was still his enemy! How stupid was this mech? Bumblebee had been the first to point a blaster at Starscream in the Titan. Just because the Autobots were acting as if something had changed, didn’t mean anything. This was all just another assignment for the scout. 

Wait…who said that Starscream couldn’t simply take the bug’s cards and do it himself? If they were on the same team, then what did it matter who carried out the move? He didn’t know what stupid arrangement of words they wanted from him. It’d be far easier to–

Starscream forcefully snatched the cards from Bumblebee’s servos in a crimson flash, and slapped down a plus two to destroy the Malto’s hope of victory. He made sure to keep his own remaining two cards safe from getting lost amidst his stolen pile. The bug complained and tossed his servos around before attempting to steal his cards back, as Starscream pushed against his faceplate to hold him off.

Then, Dorothy cleared her throat before crossing her arms. “I win.”

“Wha–HOW?!” Starscream shoved the bug aside before pointing a digit at the human. “You lost your turn and were supposed to gain additional cards as the action dictates! You couldn't have possibly won!” 

Her optical ridge rose and she tapped the card plainly placed upon the one he’d taken from Bumblebee. “My last card was a plus two, and I can stack it on yours. Maybe, you should have actually talked it out with your partner.”

Oh, so this fleshling aimed to lecture him now? And since when could actions be placed upon one another as a means of canceling the other out? That made no sense with the rest of the rules! Sure, if you were not at the receiving end and were simply the player that is being skipped towards–but mid-action?? That was ridiculous, she made that up!

Lightning flickered between his wings. He didn’t lose. She’d only crafted some absurd reason to disguise the fact that she was clearly only attempting to prove some point, and make Starscream look like an idiot. That’s what it was. But he couldn’t do anything about it. The human was Megatron’s little agent. Starscream would be scrapped if he did anything against her. 

Starscream’s optics were burning as he wished again that he could set those blasted cards ablaze with only his processor. This game was just another tool for them to mock him. His vents were the same.

“Chill, it’s not like losing one game is the end of the world. Even if I am definitely blaming this loss, on you. I was just the card draw scrapyard–” Bumblebee was attempting to retrieve the scattered cards, and Starscream reflexively grabbed his wrist and pulled the scout up as he rose to his peds. 

“This IS your fault!” Starscream said dangerously, even as the scout transformed out his blaster with his other servo. But as a deafening silence strangled the cavern, and Starscream stared into the bug's startled yet defiant optics…he hated it. He was doing it again. 

His anger attempted to subside, replaced by something else as his grip loosened on the bug. But the curse didn’t seem to approve of that, and it instead tried to channel its power into the servo which mistakenly held Bumblebee. Starscream’s optics widened and he wrenched his servo away. Then yelped as he found Wheeljack’s little device had sent an equal pulse up his ped in some pathetic counterattack to the power. Instead of neutralizing the surge at his servo, all it did was make him fly back clumsily, and hit his helm on the ground. All while the power still felt as if his arm was being ripped apart by scraplets.

“Uh, you guys okay over there??” Twitch called from their own game.

“Ugh…Peachy.” Bumblebee commented dryly as he picked himself up after having apparently fallen back as well. “Someone is just a sore loser.”

Starscream only sat up to grip his violently shaking servo as he glared at it. He wasn’t like Megatron. “Perhaps…It was an overreaction.” He couldn’t apologize. He was too distracted. But he could acknowledge the bug’s point. Maybe that would be enough. 

Bumblebee watched him a moment before a ridiculous grin came to his faceplate. “No kidding.” 

The scout offered Starscream a servo, and he stared at it hesitantly as the lightning slowly died from his frame. He didn’t smack it away, but he didn’t take it either. Instead, he forced his annoyingly numb right ped to cooperate as he pulled himself up. “Besides, with the human’s knack for simply realigning the rules to her whim, how could either of us be at fault? Megatron clearly taught her well.”

“Excuse me?” Dorothy put her servos on her hips. Apparently his comment was somehow offensive. Even the buckethead’s agent detested being compared to him. How poetic.

Starscream paced to give himself enough distance from bot and human alike, before tipping a servo and his hip out in unbridled sass with an innocent vocalizer, “Oh but I’d never blame you for such a thing. In fact, I might have pulled such a stunt myself if we were more acquainted. Although that was a bit of a clumsy rule you constructed in your haste. Perhaps I could give you some advice for–”

Dorothy put her servo up to silence him. “No. I didn’t make it up. Well, not right at that moment–it’s just a common house rule for the game. It makes things a bit more interesting, and can lead to crazy close calls like that.”

“Yes we would never cheat! Especially Dottie!” Her conjunx attested with a protective servo around her shoulder, which she patted with hers. Disgusting.

Starscream’s faceplate scrunched at their show of affection, but willed himself to put on a smile. “I meant no disrespect, truly.” He gave her a half-afted bow, then began assisting the bug in collecting the cards that had fallen to the floor. “So I assume we shall be shuffling the groups now then?”

Not a moment later, there was an obnoxious uproar from the kids as the Twin Blades team celebrated their victory. They had their own argument about how it was achieved, yet it seemed more out of curiosity for their strategy. Of which they happily went into dramatized detail. They all laughed and congratulated them, with playful counters at how close it had been. No one was angry, or accusatory. The only touch they shared was gentle. Starscream stared at them, transfixed. 

Sure, it was not as if he had always fought with his trinemates over such silly things. But still, there had typically been some sort of transition into a wrestling match to settle the true victor. Anything close to that here was meager at best. He wasn’t surprised…only, afflicted with a strange sense of yearning. Which was ridiculous.

“Sounds like it.” Bumblebee remarked as he placed the now reforged stack of cards on their table, then added teasingly, “Are you actually going to be my teammate this time, fly boy?”

“Yes, it seems that might be necessary.” Starscream avoided the bug’s optics as he took his seat again. 

Team NightTagBreaker switched places with Purple. He didn’t quite care for the dinobot, but the other two terrans could be rather pleasant. Although it did seem that “J.B.” was far more focused on the game than attempting to bite his peds this time. 

Starscream and Hashtag shared a glance, and he was the first to break the silence between them, “Do not expect us to go easy on you.” Mimicking her siblings’ manner of playful banter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” She responded with a theatrical tone and servo to her chassis. 

“If anyone should be going easy, it is us!” Nightshade added, to which the dinobot seemed to finish the thought.

“Yeah! Because–we are three bots, and you are not.”

“Don’t think that numbers are everything kids.” Bumblebee warned as he fanned out his new selection of cards in his servos. 

This time, Starscream collaborated with the bug as they discreetly disclosed which cards they possessed, and plotted how to best use them. He used his skips to instead protect his unlikely ally from unwanted card draw, until he could change the color again. As well as parrying reverses, or waiting until the other also had a plus two, as to avoid friendly fire. Perhaps that strange rule could be rather useful, when he actually knew to utilize it. Then, he also did not see why they could not stack other actions in such a way as well…

When the scout had called Uno, the dinobot attempted to skip him to postpone their victory. Unbeknownst to them, Bumblebee also had a skip card, but the bug did not place it down. A pause for dramatic effect?

Starscream cast aside his own useless cards and smacked the bug’s shoulder plating. “Reveal your card already you–eh, just what are you waiting for? We won. Cancel their action with yours!”

Bumblebee looked baffled as he stared at his card then back at Starscream. “What?? Jawbreaker skipped me, I can’t cancel that. It’s your turn. Why don’t you use that reverse card you had?”

Starscream’s wings pulled back and he ripped his cards back off the table to hit them with his other servo. “This scrap will do nothing to change it to the correct color! Why on Cybertron can you not just do as that human did before?! Countering an action of equal title mid-attack is perfectly legal in your stupid house rules! We’ve even done it multiple times this round, how is this any different?”

“Stacking only works with the plus two’s and four’s,” Nightshade attempted to explain their absurd standards, “It is not as if you can add onto one skip with another.”

“Uh-huh, you can’t do that Starscream, that’d be cheating.” J.B. insisted like a foolish child. “Right? Because, that’s definitely against the rules.”

Lightning jumped across Starscream’s frame again.

How was he the one cheating? Their “mom” had come up with it first! Noone had cared when she did it. How did it make any less sense to use the skip card in such a way than the other one? Of course the skips could be added onto one another! All they’d need to do is make it a double skip so that–if he and the scout didn’t already win–it’d send the next turn over to Hashtag. How was that concept so hard for them to understand? This game was stupid. 

Bumblebee nudged him, “Hey, we haven’t lost yet!” Starscream didn’t look at him, nor say anything for a long stint of time. “C’moooon, what cards ya got huh?”

Starscream’s optics flickered red and he took in an extended vent, then hiked his wings up with a strained grin and peak to his vocalizer. “Fine, yes, of course! Let's look at what cards I have. Numbers and a single useless reverse action? That will surely lead us to victory. Especially, when as soon as I place something down, those three will no doubt begin a chain of plus two actions of which you would be defenseless against. Or a plus four. Or they could start a reverse chain between one another. Or lock us in a color neither of us have in a plot to instigate the idiotic notion of infinite card draw!”

“You don’t know what cards we have,” Hashtag seemed to be getting frustrated with him, “And besides, it’s just a game. If we outplay you, we win, it’s not that deep!”

“Well, Uno does contain a higher percentage of RNG than skill, but that is a fair point regardless.” Nightshade nodded.

“Um, so, can we just…finish the game now?” J.B asked meekly.

Starscream’s wings swiveled up and down as he forced the stupid power back into the corner of his spark. “Sure.” He could play nice for Hashtag’s sake.

The game proceeded just about as insufferably as he anticipated. He and the bug ended with far too many cards, and Nightshade claimed the win for their team. That was fine. He didn’t care.

Every other match of that accursed Uno left Starscream and Bumblebee once again so close, only for it to be ripped away time and time again. Every instance, more inane than the last. How could they have not even won once?! The last time was entirely the bug’s fault, when he’d blatantly ignored Starscream’s order. He made sure to tell the scout just how stupid that had been, but then the others only seemed to get mad at Starscream for it instead! 

The next game that was chosen attempted to usurp the last in stupidity. The “tic-tac-toe” was near impossible to not end in a tie. It had to be replayed repetitively until a victor was concluded. It was boring, exceedingly plain, and the only viable strategy was far too easily thwarted. In fact, when Starscream was in the midst of cornering their opponent, they instead reversed it back onto him! Bumblebee had obviously ruined the whole thing with his insistence on starting in the middle when it was clearly best to start at a corner. Even when they finally did manage to succeed in one matchup, it was anticlimactic as slag. 

The next was a quite straightforward game titled “Spot-it”. All that needed to be done was match an icon on your own card with the one in the discard. And finally, Starscream was able to dominate. Every single match, he rapidly pinpointed the correct image and practically blazed through his entire stack with only minute lapses in his speed. No one stood in his way! No one even got a chance! It was glorious! 

Starscream laughed maniacally as he gained yet another point without the pathetic aid of the bug. “HAHAH you all are not even TRYING! This game is far too easy. Or perhaps you simply have a slow processor for such things, eh, Bumblebee?” He flicked the bug’s helm and fluttered his wings. Elated that he at long last obtained even a fleeting moment of triumph amongst them. “Good thing you have me to carry your constant lag.”

Bumblebee glared at him, then rolled his optics, “Riiiight. You’re taking this whole thing way too seriously.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Starscream stated in a more dismissive than questioning manner with a slight tip of his helm and a shrug. “What’s next then?”

“Pictionary!” Hashtag held up the box with far more excitement than she’d had previously. “Nightshade and I even made more little figurines and an extended board for all of us to play together!” She and her sibling began the setup, while J.B. distributed the items required for each team. “The person who draws whatever it is rotates, then the others on your team need to guess what the person is trying to show them! The color on the board determines what subject it is, and you kinda get a bit of a clue on what it is from that too.”

Simple enough, if the bug could draw a straight line. Starscream claimed the marker first, as he was far more confident in his own artistic ability. The first object he got was a “basketball”. He didn’t know what that was, but he did know how to depict a basket and a ball separately. Surely the scout could comprehend an icon based word puzzle as simple as that. Which he did. But the words only got stranger from there, and that is where their downfall began. 

Items like “Taylor Swift”, “Swan”, or “Cell Phone”, were ridiculous. Was he supposed to have done research before this blasted thing? They had to redraw cards in an attempt to acquire a usable item multiple times. Yet even then, there were many moments where the bug had far too much confidence in his ability to depict whatever it was he’d gotten. His illustrative skill was predictively lacking, and he was lucky Starscream had been able to make out any of it at all. At the very least, Bumblebee was adequate at determining what Starscream was forced to illustrate. 

The worst of it was when there had been the perfect opportunity to draw himself throwing Megatron into the Pit–for the action topic of course–and the blasted timer ran out before he could finish! Apparently there needed to be some sort of middle ground in which to prioritize what details were necessary. He could make sacrifices for the sake of their victory, sure, yet it was still disappointing. How was he to find any sort of satisfaction in this game, if he could not at the bare minimum depict the buckethead getting tossed into a scrapheap?

Although he would admit that this game certainly seemed the most balanced, those with their ridiculous bonds and understanding of one another, inevitably gained some sort of advantage. Which got annoying fast. Every little moment longer the scout took to guess what the item was, or the next incoherent blob he depicted, made the tapping of Starscream’s ped quicken. 

Starscream growled and his wings flicked back, “NOW what is it?” He squinted as the crude image began to take some sort of shape. “The Autobots?” The bug shook his helm and gestured for it to be more general. “Cybertronians?” A gesture for him to elaborate. “What other word is there!?–” His optics flashed red, with a brief moment of his spark feeling as though it were being wrenched out of his intake, as the word came to him–“Transformers.” A disgustingly rudimentary title. Of course that was all that they were reduced to in this human game under the subject of pop culture. 

He was correct. But he still felt distant from the bug’s excitement toward their apparent close call. Starscream hit a servo against his own helm in an effort to knock out whatever had possessed him. This reflex was evidently questionable, but he was easily able to brush it off. He couldn’t have his processor glitching in the midst of this event. It would not only be quite discomfiting, but would also bring more petty disruption to something the Terrans seemed to have put a great deal of effort into. He had to keep it under control.

By the end of it, he and the bug only managed to cross half of the spaces needed to win. Infuriating. Starscream despised losing. They weren’t even able to claim second best. Pathetic. 

By the next game, Starscream was decidedly over it. 

This “Charades” only served to make one dance around like a fool in some absurd hope at expressing the word on their slip of flimsy scrap. It was near identical to the concept of the last, but regressed into something far less tolerable. Perhaps it could be more amusing if it was less about imitating Earth creatures and instead aimed toward mimicking someone else in their group. That had been a favorite amongst his trinemates back in the more tolerable cycles amidst the Decepticons.

Bumblebee flapped his arms around stupidly as he attempted to display what he’d plucked from the pile. He looked utterly ridiculous. Starscream would never catch himself offline doing such a thing. What was the bug even supposed to be? He was acting as though he were attempting to fly, similar to how Nightshade seems to need to operate their alt mode. Clearly some form of Earthen avian, but how was he supposed to know which classification was required?

“Ugh,” Starscream rubbed his optics, “what do you call those tiny avian creatures on this planet?” 

“Birds!” Twitch chirped in an oddly endearing manner.

“Right. That is what he is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, basically.” Bumblebee halted mid motion to shrug, then whirled his arms around before finding his balance again. “Think we can count that one Alex?”

“Mmm…” Dorothy’s conjunx, Alex, squeaked his uncertainty at the notion. Obviously unsatisfied with such a vague answer.

Dorothy smacked his shoulder, although it looked like it barely connected. “I think we can give it to ‘em. Starscream hasn’t exactly gotten as acquainted with what all our little guys here are called yet.”

“I don’t need your pity points, human.” Starscream muttered in a visceral hiss. When would he have had the time to study such things? Why should he care what all these birds were labeled on this insufferable planet? He had far better things to do! Starscream had a million other exceedingly more important matters that required his brilliant processor, than reverting back to cataloging miscellaneous fauna on some backwater rock!

 “Oh, I suppose it’s alright.” Alex relented, none the wiser to Starscream’s bitter comment. “Why don’t you try another one, Bee?”

Bumblebee chuckled as the timer ran out, “Sorry pal, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until next time to witness my famously flawless acting skills. How about you and Dot go next? Gotta show me your moves too!”

Starscream watched the rest of them play out what remained of the game with blank optics. The images he processed paced in a choppy framerate, and the clarity distorted to a lower quality. A moment's glance at the scoreboard told him that there was absolutely no way they would win in the larger scheme of things. It meant nothing. He couldn’t even attempt to sabotage the competition, or challenge the validity of his competitors' victories. He’d surely get caught, and only gain pointless drama that’d get him into trouble. Which he did not need more of.

Had he even passed that scout’s stupid test? Even if Starscream didn’t claim the more favorable glory he sought, it’d be worse if the failure was calculated against whatever new standard Megatron sought from him. Starscream was actually surprised his ever looming Lord hadn’t made further appearance by now. He was sure something was bound to happen soon. Perhaps this was all some sort of means to get him to let his guard down. Or to determine what could be used to force him in line. Megatron might be getting a byte more creative in his time as a traitor. Even if he was attempting some type of psychological approach, surely he’d revel in any excuse to beat the slag out of Starscream for any reason he could pull out his exhaust pipe.

This whole ordeal seemed too calm. Too casual. They all had many moments of clear annoyance towards him, yet constantly held themselves back but only a few meager remarks. It was not as if he held any particular power in this situation to warrant them to fear standing against him. They only seemed unsure, or dismissive. Even occasionally acting as if their apprehension was entirely absent. They were clearly hiding something. 

Starscream had been lost in his own thoughts for so long, that he’d just about missed their little awards ceremony to conclude the night. That was until there was a crack and pop that sent a far too familiar shock through his muddled audials. He flinched and stumbled backwards away from the noise. Nearly trampling one of the Terrans but unable to utter an apology as he barely processed their presence. 

It was only a device to distribute colorful material over the crowd. Their laughter was mocking him. Their celebration over their stupid series of trials that they rigged towards their own success, was disorienting. 

Starscream was done. He’d played their games. He was not about to attempt to decode what they wanted next. 

He stealthily retreated back into his corner of the cavern. It hadn’t been all horrible, he supposed…Regardless, he was tired. They were all too loud in the wrong way. 

The curse flared with thoughts echoing some stupid impulse that’d use its power to blast them into oblivion. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. Then their threat would be neutralized.

But that wasn’t right.

Lightning flickered and stabbed across his frame as he now sat with his wings to those soaring seekers on the wall. He just wanted to leave. To fly away to a Cybertron where they were waiting for him. Where he too could enjoy such festivities. Where they’d cheer his name for his achievements. Where he could revel in their praise–perhaps even…alongside his trinemates, untainted by his mistakes.

Where…it would all feel real.

[stellar-collective]

I'm asking real niceys for you to talk about beebo!! 🙋‍♂️

holy CRAB this took a long time to get to, so sorry about that, my thoughts on the game were so disorganized i kept putting it off lol!! when u see how much i have written down u will understand. u will understand.

this is gonna be my ~spoiler review~ where i ramble incoherently about character and plot beats i liked! this will assume that you have played the game and remember it well. if u want the spoiler free version, that one can be found here! you have been warned!

ok so a lot of this are taken straight from the notes i jotted down whilst replaying the game! very stream of consciousness style lol

alrighty! right off the bat, this game just has SO much quality of life stuff that you’d think would get overlooked bc it’s such a small project but no! like seriously this game is way better than some Big Company games i’ve played that have cost, y’know, money. like for example, i touched on this in my spoiler free review but the way the dialogue changes throughout the loops? first loop, all of Oliver’s observations are brief and impersonal, leaving plenty of room for them to develop as the loops progress

i said in my first ramble post that Mari made me laugh out loud towards the beginning; this was incorrect, it was actually VIVI who made me laugh with her “i arrive.”

speaking of Vivi, she’s just peak. in general. i love her so much she’s such a vibe and i don’t think there was a single scene she was in that she didn’t make me laugh or smile like what an icon

the introduction to the time loop was KILLER ooh it had so much intrigue behind it already. also the IMMEDIATE implication of the memories carrying over with Oliver quoting Ángel’s “this isn’t the best place to get trashed” (they’re down so bad already AUGH)

haunted houses. oh my gosh. put those things up there with taming robots from Oneshot for “game concepts that make me BONKERS” like. i gained so much appreciation for that lore when i got all the endings. it’s delicious.

also the relationship between haunted houses and the concept of ghosts and how both relate to Oliver…

also love how every loop there’s a way for Oliver to learn the code without the player just knowing it! the fourth wall remains intact (we ain’t playing deltarune…)

I HEART DOOMED/TOXIC SIBLING RELATIONSHIPSSSS and oh how i love how much the characters in this game act like deeply irrational people with layers of relationships and trauma and love that muddles things up and affects their actions it’s so nice <333

Nina’s “mad at me island” joke was a one hit KO for me

after the explosion when Ángel is reaching THROUGH the panel borders and the clock echoes slow and loud AHHHH (also “i never got his name. he looks like an Angel” KILL ME KILL ME NOW)

i LOVEEE how the loops echo and echo and echo with the memory loss being imperfect and how that makes you the player never doubt that it can be cracked and sets up the endings

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE COLORS i knowwww it’s simple but SHH i’m having fun. absolutely ADORE how everything is Eugene’s purple until they break the house and his hold over them and then everyone gets their own colors back. also love how you don’t even realize that they HAVE their own colors until the flashbacks (maybe) or the end when you’re like “ohhhh that’s NOT normal.” the house changes u. filters u. ur only halfway urself. AND THEN IN THAT ONE ENDING WHERE OLIVER DOESN’T GET OUT AND THEN HE’S PURPLE. HE LOST HIS COLOR AGGGHHHH

the fact that Oliver made one joke calling Ángel a seraphim years ago and he named his company that. soulmates fr

their banter drives me crazy i have so many notes in this document that are just quoting them bc it’s all so good. like Oliver showing Ángel his guitar callouses and Ángel wanting to make puzzles for him and just ADHLSJSK

also hugeeee shout out to autistic Beebo once again the grounded writing shines thru in how he takes all the jesting comments one step too literally. and like the whole bedroom misunderstanding? autism moment fr

“you have the look of a man who would be hunted for sport” Vivi is the funniest character ever written end of sentence.

the thief instincts showing up with Ángel yoinking Oliver’s hat. it’s so cute

OK I NEED TO TALK ABOUT HOW GOOD THE ART GALLERY SECTION IS. this is a puzzle game. you’ve spent the last two or three hours of gameplay making things fit neatly together. that’s Oliver’s favorite thing; solving puzzles! and then the art gallery… it’s tantalizing. it feels that there’s rhyme and reason to it. like there’s a pattern you just can’t quite see. but… there isn’t. but there has to be. the game doesn’t end here, does it? and just like Beebo, you start to wonder if you’re doing something wrong. if you’re missing something. when you get trapped between those two rooms— oh man, i was panicking just as much as Oliver

and then!! the solution is to CHANGE THE GENRE!! this ain’t a puzzle game anymore, this is a doom style fighting game. and you’re gonna kill that house. i LOVE it when games pull stuff like that

OK THE KISS. it was actually SUCH a smart plan dude and also the fact that they GOT THEIR COLORS BACK because the house CAN’T wash out or dilute that kind of emotion? mm. genius. showstopping.

also like. there’s something there about the angel vs ghost iconography. the divine versus the natural. the house is breathing. the house is watching. the house has a purpose that breaks the natural world. fear not. you should be scared. i’m not making any sense but Man

ok the decision to make Ángel not know what cells or dna is so the player can hear a differently flavored explanation this game is really just a masterclass on how to repeat information without getting stale (there are many games that could do with this lesson)

the love this game shows for a mundane life is SO sweet and important to me like here’s this villain that’s so so so sosososo scared of death that he misses out on his life and like. that IS the story that timeloops have to tell. that you have to live the imperfect life because that’s all that matters!! immortality don’t mean nothing if you’re a hermit!! existing in a coffin, aging without living, that’s what a ghost freaking is!! and you don’t wanna be one of those!! you wanna be alive!! like a lot of games n movies n books n stuff make you want to go out and have a wild adventure but i rlly appreciate this game for gently taking ur hand and saying “the REAL adventure is the friends u make along the way and the best part of the story is the holiday parties and the sleepy mornings and the board game nights and the pottery classes and the vinyl records and the sunrises and the love” bc it’s RIGHT.

anyway. thank u for coming to my ramble. i should become a youtube video essayist or smth i’m so good at yapping to an audience of No One. i’m not normal about anything ever and that’s never gonna change sorry

[xvazx]

The Beauty of Our Chaos

Part 9.1 - Princess Tea Party

Prev. Part / Next Part

The fake wedding was creeping up like a final destination jumpscare—but with flower arrangements. In the meantime, my “thing” with Luigi had turned into a game of tension. It was in the way we held each other’s gaze for too long. The way his hand would brush my thigh “accidentally” in class. The way I’d pull on his curls just to get his attention, and how he’d always show up with my favorite overpriced iced coffee before class.

It is was a flirty, slow-burn, torturous situation that made you question your own sanity.

We were holed up in the library, working on a new project—fixing glitches in a simple video game. I was knee-deep in code that refused to cooperate, while Luigi, across from me, breezed through his like it was child’s play.

“Need some help?” he asked, glancing at my screen and clearly holding back a grin.

I sighed and cracked my neck. “I think I got it.”

After a pause, he added, “If I could do this for a living, I would. Helping in development. Something I can lose myself in and still be useful— it wouldn’t feel like work, y’know?”

I glanced up and saw it—this rare moment where he looked truly happy. Focused. Lit from within. The kind of look that made your heart stutter for a second too long.

“Yeah.”

“You have a favorite game?” he asked, tone lighter now.

“Um, Just Dance.” I shrugged.

He tried not to laugh, but failed. “C’mon”

“What? I’m really good,” I said defensively. “Alright… maybe… Until Dawn. I used to watch gameplays.”

He perked up. “Okay, that’s a good answer.”

“I never really played that much,” I admitted. “Gaming stressed me out. Actually, I broke my DS in a fit of rage while playing Super Mario, goodbye to consoles. And my PC was strictly for homework.”

“Tragic.” He chuckled and leaned back, arms crossed. “So… do you know what you want to do after all this?”

I smirked. “Probably hack the Pentagon.” (i’m joking fbi)

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you will.”

“Ok. Fake answer: IT for the family business,” I said, growing a little more serious. “Real answer? I’d love to be like Benji Dunn or Penelope Garcia. You know, tech-analysts for something reckoning.”

He stared at me. I waited for a smirk or a sarcastic “good luck” or something condescending.

Instead, he said, soft and sure: “Well, any organization would be lucky to have you.”

The compliment knocked the air out of my lungs. I tried to play it cool, but I felt my cheeks warm. Gross.

Before either of us could say something deeply regrettable, Damien’s voice echoed from behind the bookshelf.

“I’m here. You two better be dressed.”

We looked up to see him strutting in like he owned the place. After weeks, his foot was fully healed.

“We thought you bailed.”

“Almost did,” Damien said, sitting down with his usual grin. “Fell asleep in my last class, but I brought snacks.”

He dumped a plastic bag onto the table like it was treasure.

“¿Te he dicho cuanto te quiero?” I asked dramatically, snatching the Cool Ranch Doritos like a raccoon. (Have I told you how much you mean to me?)

“Esta es la biblioteca,” he replied in mock confusion, making a show of not understanding my Spanish. (This is the library.)

I was just finishing up when my phone buzzed.

💅🏻Georgina💅🏻

‘Are you with Luigi?’

‘Why?’

‘Missy is gonna call him at any minute🫣’

I groaned. “We’re in trouble.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What kind?”

Right on cue, Luigj’s phone buzzed. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose like he was bracing for battle.

“Hello… yeah, I remember. I’ll be there after finishing Professor Levy’s project… okay, I’ll tell her. Yup. Bye.”

He hung up and turned to me with a weary look.

“Oh no…you’ll die in 7 days?” Damien covered his mouth pretending to cry.

“We’re late for her fancy dinner with the foundation president. No party—just overcooked chicken and uncomfortable small talk.” I explained as I saved my project file and closed my laptop.

We packed up and started heading out.

“Dinner?” Damien said, horrified. “At least you girls are getting some action, right?”

“Nope.”

Damien shook his head. “That is… shitty. You should crash Linguini’s fake bachelor party. We’re doing it old school…strip club”

Classic

“It does sounds better than a princess tea party,” I joked, adjusting my bag.

Damien held the door open like a gentleman. “We can squeeze you in.”

When the boys dropped me off at the Delta Nu porch, inside, I peeled off my jacket and headed toward the kitchen, “So… the guys are going to a strip club. Meanwhile, Missy’s trying to turn this Greek Life fundraiser into a full-on Royal Wedding.”

I followed Kaylee voice. “We have high GPAs, we deserve some chaos.”

“I need this to be over so I can actually study for finals,” I muttered, undoing my ponytail.

“No,” Mariel said, giving me a once-over like she was diagnosing something terminal. “You need to get laid.”

“Projecting much?”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with certain someone,” Kaylee teased. “At this point, you’re secretly dating.”

“When did socializing turned into a synonym for dating?” I asked, genuinely annoyed—but even I didn’t believe my own defense.

Mariel raised an eyebrow. “Since you made out in front of the whole college alumni. Or maybe after you two disappeared at the Halloween party?”

Check mate.

“You two watch too many rom-coms” I said.

Both of them stared at me like they didn’t buy it for a second.

TEA TIME

Thirty minutes later and I was dressed in a tailored blazer and shorts set, with sky-high heels that screamed I meant business. Or at least dinner diplomacy. I headed downstairs to help Georgina set the dinner table and wait for the president of Once Upon a Dream Foundation

At 6:30 pm sharp, the Phi Kappa Psi boys started to arrive one by one—shockingly clean and even more shockingly well-dressed.

Damien strutted in like he belonged on a Versace runway. “Ladies, take your pictures now. You’ll need them to show your future daughters how hot I am.”

“I’ll take a picture,” Kaylee said dryly, “so historians can document the downfall of civilization.”

“You’re so sweet, baby,” Damien winked.

Then he walked in—the fake groom. Clean-shaven, tailored suit, smelling delicious.

Oh wow

“Hi,” I said, playing it cool.

“Hi,” he said back, looking at me like I was the only person in the room.

“Ready to play Barbie and Ken?”

“God, no,” he muttered.

Cue the entrance of the devil herself in designer heels.

“Lu, you’re finally here,” Missy cooed, swaying toward him with perfect posture. “Mr and Mrs. Jablonsky will be here any minute.”

“And he’s never coming back,” I said out loud.

“He better be,” Damien added. “The reservation wasn’t cheap.”

As if on cue, the president of Once Upon a Dream arrived with his elegant wife. Polite greetings were exchanged, and our house’s mother and father went into full PR mode, gushing about our community involvement and “tight organizational structure,” which honestly felt like a sugar coated version of .

We migrated to the dining table. I tried to escape toward the back with Kaylee and Mariel, but—

“(Y/N), come here” Missy gestured to the seat next to her. “Georgina, move down.”

Georgina looked crushed but obeyed. I gave her a subtle sorry look before sitting.

“To what do I owe the honor?” I inquired sarcastically, already bracing myself.

“I was just talking about how you basically organized this whole event,” Luigi said, casually tossing me a compliment like it was no big deal.

I blinked. “I helped where I could.”

The president raised his glass. “That’s the kind of leadership we love to see.”

“And that’s why she’s my maid—I mean my fake maid of honor,” Missy added, barely hiding her dig.

Luigi brushed past her, undeterred. “Seriously, it’s kind of impressive. She keeps her GPA immaculate, runs multiple events, and still shows up to class without looking hungover.”

“Migraine pills and coffee,” I said. Some people laughed.

“Good for you,” Missy said with the sweetness of poison.

We made it halfway through dessert.

Boring, boring and more boring.

Then I felt something on my leg. It started with a gentle nudge under the table. I flinched.

I looked under the table, then to the owner of that foot. He grinned at me. I kicked him back.

He gasped quietly, exaggerating his expression as if my kick shattered a bone, then used his leg to push mine sideways. I retaliated with a quick jab of my heel to his thigh—playfully, but with intent.

He flinched for real.

Game on.

He leaned back to get a better angle, clearly preparing to kick. I shifted—only to knock my own chair backward.

And down I went.

“Puta madre!” I spat out not so lady-like. (Fuck!)

A gasp rippled through the table.

Georgina covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, then offered me a hand. Missy looked like she wanted to choke me. Mrs. Jablonsky whispered something that sounded vaguely like “oh dear.”

I jumped to my feet, brushing off my outfit like nothing happened. “Woo! These chairs are sneaky!”

Luigi mouthed an honest I’m sorry while clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

I sat back down, face flushed and shooting daggers with my eyes towards his direction.

I’m gonna get you pretty boy.

…

Time passed and Mariel, Kaylee, and I leaned against the counter, arms crossed and unimpressed. The boys found us, talking loudly over each other about the plans for later that night.

“They get to party,” Kaylee complained. “And we are stuck with light Rosé”

“We’re too hot for this,” Mariel muttered. “I want tequila and bad decisions.”

I sighed.

Damien smirked and turned to Luigi. “The club reservation is for over ten people. We could… bring them?”

Luigi raised an eyebrow. “You want to sneak girls into a men-only strip club?”

“What if we… went as men?” I suggested with a sly grin.

“Like She’s the Man type of thing?” Mariel grinned back, catching on instantly.

Luigi’s eyes lit up. “I mean… Bryan has hoodies that could fit you guys.”

“He’s tiny.” Damien added.

“We’d need to sneak out without alerting Missy though,” Kaylee warned.

Let’s kill her.

Just kidding.

We devised the plan in a flurry of texts and half-whispers. The boys would go grab clothes and the cars. Meanwhile, we’d change, grab sneakers, and stage a perfect little heist exit.

I darted into the pantry to trigger a “distraction”, but bumped into someone already crying inside—Georgina.

Her mascara was smudged and she wiped her eyes quickly, embarrassed. “Sorry—it’s stupid. I just thought… I’d be Missy’s fake maid of honor. I’ve known her since freshman year rush day.”

“She’s just saying that to get under my skin,” I told her gently. “But honestly? You deserve better. And for what it’s worth… you would make an amazing maid of honor.”

She gave a weak shrug, lips pressed tightly together.

Missy can shove her Rose up her…

I texted Kaylee to grab an extra pair of sneakers and turned back to Georgina. “Want to escape this nightmare?”

“I mean… my feet are killing me.”

Just then, a text

🤓Luigicito🤓

‘We’re outside.’

“Perfect timing,” I said. I turned on my phone flashlight, opened the fuse box, and flipped the main switch.

Lights off.

Darkness swallowed the entire house.

I grabbed Georgina’s hand. “I’m kidnapping you.”

“Huh?”

“No time!” I yanked her out the pantry and we dashed through the hallway. Screams exploded from the dinning room—girls scrambling, phones lighting up, Missy’s voice piercing the air like a police siren.

Let’s rock this bitch.

@nosebeers @mrs-cactus69

hi i’m Vaz, this was just a product of my active imagination, free time and the need for a better outcome. Hope u enjoy xxx

The witch is back… wow that was a journey.

Imma divide this one in two parts, cuz it was getting kinda long 😬. It’ll post it later.

Oh and the best wishes to the birthday boy. I tried to post it yesterday but got caught up with work. Anyway, I hope he had a decent birthday. A girl can dream 🥺

[omtua22]

Lila and Five: A Misunderstood Love

(Put down your pitchforks. This is not what you think.)

Let’s get one thing out of the way: When I say “a misunderstood love,” I don’t mean we misunderstood it. Oh no, no. I mean the writers misunderstood it. Horrifically. Tragedy-of-Shakespearean-proportions misunderstood it.

And before you do what the internet does best and rages before reading the fine print, I absolutely do NOT ship Five and Lila. The exact opposite actually.

I'm posting this almost a full year after The Umbrella Academy Season 4 dropped. Why? I needed the distance. I needed the bile in my throat to settle. I needed the residual nausea from watching Five and Lila kiss to dull so I could return—not as a fangirl armed with rage, but as a critic armed with... well, still rage, but also analysis.

The Core of the Catastrophe

Steve Blackman (yes, we’re naming names) apparently said that Five needed a love interest. Because everyone else got one. But rather than introducing a new character or letting Five remain, y’know, the chronically traumatized asexual-coded soul of the show, they just said:

"Screw arcs. Let’s make it Lila. No one will mind."

Spoiler alert: We minded.

It felt like the writers saw some chaotic banter and trauma parallels and went, “Chemistry? Must be romantic!” As if every deep bond must end in a kiss. As if trauma bonding = sex. As if Lila’s entire arc with Diego meant nothing.

Romantic, Platonic, Familial: Learn the Damn Difference

Here’s a little cheat sheet for writers:

Romantic Love: Desire + intimacy. Often physical. Built over time.

Platonic Love: Deep friendship. Emotional intimacy, zero desire.

Familial Love: Built through shared experiences and protection. Chosen or blood.

Five and Lila? Found-family trauma buddies. Broken mirror versions of each other. Chaotic besties. Not lovers.

They weren’t building a relationship—they were building trust.

How It Should Have Gone

Season 2: Understanding. They recognize each other's pain.

Season 3: Forgiveness. Lila forgives Five for killing her parents. Five forgives himself.

Season 4: Acceptance. Lila becomes part of Five's found family. His sister in every way that matters.

The emotional payoff? Five—who doesn’t do hugs, who doesn’t do people—would finally tell someone: You belong here.

But instead we got...

The Actual Plot, or: Why My Brain Screamed

Five and Lila get stuck in a subway and... fall in love?

Diego and Lila's entire arc discarded?

Five, who canonically said “I don’t do hugs,” now does forehead kisses?

What were they thinking?

Answer: Fanservice. Or worse, they genuinely misunderstood.

The Fan Fetishism Problem

Let’s talk about the gross elephant in the room. Aidan Gallagher turned 20. Five’s body turned 20. Suddenly he’s in romantic scenes.

Coincidence? Doubtful.

In Season 3, when he kissed Delores, they green-screened it because Aidan was still a minor. But the moment he ages up, we get forced intimacy with Lila? It reeks of showrunners thinking:

“The fans want to thirst. Let’s give them romance.”

But here’s the thing:

We weren’t asking for romance. Some of us found solace in Five not having one. Especially asexual viewers. Even people who crushed on Five didn’t need it to be canon. He was compelling without it.

The "Healing = Romance" Lie

This is bigger than Umbrella Academy.

This is about a toxic media trend that says:

“If you’re hurt, you need love. If you’re broken, find someone to fix you.”

No. People with trauma don’t need romance to heal.

Sometimes they need family. Or solitude. Or therapy. Or a dimension-hopping mannequin.

The Fallout: Character Assassination Double Homicide

Five and Lila were fan favorites. Then Season 4 turned them into... whatever that was.

Five’s arc was about existential acceptance. Not kissing girls in train stations.

Lila’s arc was about finding peace in chaos. Not chasing another man.

And Diego? Reduced to sidequest dad mode.

Diego & Five Were the Real Foils

Diego: abandonment issues, finds love, becomes protector.

Five: self-imposed isolation, finds purpose, becomes martyr.

Five blessing Diego and Lila? That was beautiful. Subtle. Earned.

But instead, we got a love triangle no one asked for.

What Could Have Been

Lila and Five could have been the perfect representation of platonic love born from chaos. Two broken kids realizing they didn’t need to fix each other—they just needed to be seen.

Lila: finally finding identity not through mimicry, but belonging.

Five: finally letting someone in who wasn't perfect, but present.

That’s love. Not romantic. Not sexual. Just human.

And the tragedy is: they were almost there.

TL;DR (But You Should Still Read It)

Five didn’t need a love interest. He needed closure.

Lila deserved better than a rerouted CW subplot.

Romance isn’t the only way to show love.

Fanservice is not character development.

Writers: Stop mistaking chemistry for sexual tension.

So yeah. "Lila and Five: A Misunderstood Love." Not because we misunderstood them.

Because the writers did.

And frankly, it still makes me want to yell at Steve Blackman.

But at least now I’m yelling professionally.

[a-student-out-of-time]

// Y’know, Until TA had her phobia trauma breakdown during the stream (I am very concerned about her well being—please be okay) I never once thought about the fate of the bodies of the deceased students in Danganronpa (the game ends when the surviving students escape)

In canon,

It’s implied that Makoto and/or Future Foundation will eventually go back for the others left behind in the Bio Lab cold lockers —if Makoto wants to rebuild Hope’s Peak, better than before, he *has* to go back there (the building and the power was left intact when the survivors escaped, so the bodies should be preserved as they last left them)

In the Jabberwock game—it was all virtual reality, so the bodies presumably just disappeared (until that glitch scene—which hinted their friends data wasn’t entirely gone yet) and the real bodies were in pods in a comatose state (they get revived later)

In V3, has a very open-ended type of ending—what was real? what was a lie? could everything have been a simulation? (Many fans have debated about that…)

The topic of actually *mourning* and *grieving* doesn’t really get touched on in media (no one really talked about Kiyotaka when he passed away in the canon games)

But in Tetro, the dead still very much drive the story and influence the plot

Wada (and many others) talk to the dead with updates on recent events, to vent, to cope with unresolved feelings, to say they are missed (they *mattered*)

((It hurts, but Von Babbitt did an AMAZING job writing Tetro))

//I will say TA's doing alright, thank you for your concern

//And yeah, I think this is one of TDP's core strengths, and something I feel both canon and other fangans don't really touch on as thoroughly. Yes, we do get acknowledgements of death and how tragic it is to lose people, but rarely do we get something that goes in depth on the grieving process as TDP.

//Similarly to what you brought up, I recall a comment I saw once where someone was complaining about the use of things like virtual reality. They felt like nobody was as committed to the idea of a killing game as the first game.

//Furthermore, while these games are still absolutely full of tragedies involving the murders, what those tragedies tend to focus on are the motivations of the killers. Rarely do we get any of the characters full-on grieving for their fallen comrades.

//We've gotten hints of it, like Makoto using the code 11037 and the hallucination in DR3 showing that he has survivor's guilt, but those are fairly small in the grand scheme of things. It's not what the story explicitly focuses on.

//In contrast, TDP is stuffed with scenes of characters mourning and trying to come to terms with the emotions they have toward those they've lost: sadness, guilt, loneliness, personal disappointment, irreconcilable anger, and all of it is hard to manage.

//I think what also really makes it work is that none of these kids are criminal masterminds. Aside from one, the murders in this series range from impulsive and poorly thought out decisions to full on accidents. Yet the people behind it punish them in the most horrifying and brutal ways imaginable. Even the most villainous one was the product of a hostile environment that deprived them of individuality and made them feel the only thing that had meaning was evil and cruelty.

//I was actually talking to TA about why TDP works so well. Why does it feel more emotionally satisfying and engaging, even if it's soul-crushing at times? And I believe I've figured out why.

//See, early on, I largely disagreed with Von Babbitt's philosophy here:

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

//To me, this sort of writing approach has always felt incredibly wasteful, like you're only writing characters for the sake of killing them off and making the audience emotional rather than telling an emotionally satisfying story.

//I do still feel that a character dying before their arc wraps up can be the most disappointing thing in the world.

//But now that we're up to Chapter 5, I've softened on this view quite a bit, at least for TDP. And that's because Von Babbitt actually understands the difference between a meaningless shock death and a meaningful one.

//In my experience, when writers fixate on making character deaths as shocking and horrifying as possible above all else, both the story and character development suffers. They don't often consider the long-term ramifications of the death, how it affects others, nor how it impacts audience investment. Especially since shock deaths are often never brought up again and never have any lasting relevance once the shock is gone.

//This applies not just to Danganronpa, but to things like The Walking Dead, Attack on Titan, Game of Thrones, and more superhero storylines than I can name here. I'm sure you can name more.

//But what sets TDP apart is actually that it uses this to its advantage. By not having a single focus character, we get to see everyone's perspective and all their most intimate feelings: their fears, doubts, aspirations, goals, strengths, weaknesses, etc. This gives everyone equal weight within the story.

//And because we get that additional perspective, we in turn have time alongside the characters to mourn everyone's deaths. We see everyone mourns differently and is unsure of how to process their grief, and none of it is ever treated as trivial or unimportant.

//Because TDP is an audio drama, what we also get is a larger focus on character interactions than you'd probably get in a VN-style fangan. You also get less side tangents and tone-deaf jokey bits. TDP still has comedy, but the comedy feels like it comes from a natural place rather than something asinine or inappropriate for the situation.

//This is why I feel TDP works so well. Because our focus is on the characters as a group rather than secondhand through the eyes of a POV protagonist, everyone is given equal importance and their deaths have more weight than they otherwise would have. And the story rightfully treats it that way and explores how the survivors process what's been happening.

//When a story kills off a character and moves on, it's tangentially telling you that character never mattered and you wasted your time by getting invested in them. Stories like TDP force you to confront the fact that these people who you loved and cared about are gone, and now you and the survivors have no choice but to carry on without them.

//Long story short, TDP is really good at what it does. And what it does is punch you in the heart : P

[btc-observation]

BTC Twitter QnA

Apparently these questions were answered before I left but I don’t remember reading them at ALL. That’s okay though, I’m looking at these with new eyes. I’m pretty shocked I’ve never posted these here.

So in this AU, Springtrap is NOT William Afton. I assume his mind and personality stem from the Springbonnie suit which happens to be a vessel William possessed for a while. Meaning that Elizabeth is not Springtrap’s daughter and by extension, neither is Circus Baby. Baby uses Springtrap to fill the fatherless void of sorts. That is even if Elizabeth is Circus Baby

The Simulation ™️

Okay so, knowing that Springtrap is not William, this means that he was never a human and doesn’t have a real human soul. Which ALSO means he will never escape and live in the human world 😭

(That’s me ^_^ I still don’t remember reading this though)

I think it’s hilarious that the 6 animatronics are stuck in limbo but are only released for their shift.

Here’s some more answers but they’re much smaller blocks of text.

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Cute trivia! To be loved is to be changed Y’know

Mini theory correct B)

This also means ALL the animatronics on the roster are not currently in possessions of human souls. Though, I do believe they have some memories of the souls that possessed them.

Cool! I always imagined the anomalies being fleshy blobs or having a missing-no type of appearance (broken sprite and exposed code)

CRAZY LORE DROP! The flesh and tendrils that grow out of Springtrap sometimes are a parasite! The remaining pieces of William that he left behind. I wonder if Springy eats enough remnant, the parasite fully takes over and he BECOMES Williams corpse (Btw I think Springy would be pissy that only he feels pain from remnant)

This is sooo sad omg I don’t want Bell to be hurt. I’m thinking of this situation like a tv show, the characters are in love, but the actors are not. I think finding that out will make things awkward for Springtrap and Bell

Tom’s a real one 💪 he’s a true friend

This is cool to know! Here’s to hoping that YOUR favorites will have screentime 😊

-

-

I think it’s really cute that the animatronics have an age range of sorts, I’m really curious on how it works though. Is it on vibes? Is it based on their human counterparts or age the suits where built?

These are all the questions answered! (I think)

We got a lot of awesome info and cool trivia! It definitely gets my brain juices flowing 😈