le_kippy
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"-Said it had one of the best pastries in Crossroads, despite being a quaint little thing. Good coffee, great service, yadayadayada, all that jazz." Coil waved his hands around.
Slingshot unconsciously leaned in closer, eager to hear more about what Coil was about to say. Their gazes locked on each other.
"It really set up my expectations for the place. But..."
Coil smirked. An expression Slingshot would soon come to hate with every fibre of his being.
"The coffee here really sucked."
Slingshot's smile cracked.
Coil tries, and fails, to flirt.
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Ellernate swirled his glass around. “Shall we propose a toast?”
Caleb raised his glass. “To years more of our friendship built on convenience?”
iTrapped chuckled, his chest light and warm. He raised his own glass as well. “To years more of our friendship built on convenience.”
But though they toasted for a far distant future, the clink of their glasses never reached iTrapped’s ears.
The past may linger, but it would never come back.
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“Trap, hey. iTrapped.” Chance suddenly called out.
“What?”
“Have I told you?”
“Told me what?”
“That you're beautiful.”
iTrapped stiffened, his series of thoughts immediately broken like a pop of a balloon.
A drunken night was all it took for iTrapped to discern his own heart.
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iTrapped inwardly groaned as another person joined beside him. He didn't need to turn his head to tell who it was.
"Penny for your thoughts, 'Trap?" says a familiarly infuriating voice.
iTrapped glanced sideways. To no one’s surprise, Chance stood there, idly flipping his coin with a stupid smile plastered on his face.
"Nothing much,” iTrapped replied, smoothly placing his usual smile for show. “And you? What brings you here?"
"Well... I was looking for a certain someone's company." Chance sing-songs.
iTrapped felt his eye twitch.
iTrapped was adept at keeping people at arms' length. Close enough to use them, far enough to never form genuine connections. But it seems like one of them managed to crawl their way in his cold, cold heart.
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007n7 works a regular job at a deceptively unassaming café in Robloxia. It had a good pay, enough to support him and his son.
But despite his relatively stable life, 007n7 cannot help but feel there's something missing.
Something he's forgotten.
Recent bookmarks
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"So you wanna kill him? Thought you were over that."
"No! That's the problem!" Flambae angrily stabbed a scallop with his fork. "I don't want to kill him, but I feel this fuckin'-- it's not anger, it's this weird... aggression. Can't explain it."
"So you wanna fuck him?"
Flambae pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, fuck off. This might be a real problem for me. What if I give in to the urge and just crisp him at his seat, huh? What then? Supermax for life, that's what."
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Flambae experiences cuteness aggression for the first time. He doesn't know how to deal with it.
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They Love Me (Not) by The_Spam_Specialist
Fandoms: The Amazing Digital Circus (Web Series)
30 Jan 2026
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Caine holds a flower in his hands. Thinking about his players, he begins to pick off the petals one by one, playing "they love me, they love me not."
The end result is less than favorable.
Bookmarked by le_kippy
31 Jan 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
To be loved is to be seen. To be loved is to remember.
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All of the data taken into account painted a horrible, impossible picture. They weren’t having fun. All of this work, all of his time and energy, wasted.
They didn’t like the adventure.
"Nobody likes your stupid adventures."
OR
Caine leaves his latest adventure in a panic, struggling to understand what went wrong.
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A distinct pop rings behind him. “What’s taking you so— oh my! What happened to the lights? I know I put some in here!”
Kinger turns just in time to see Caine’s eyes frantically searching to confirm his own competence, that he really didn’t just forget something so important as being able to see in the tent. A diligent AI, as always. Not perfect, but god knows Kinger isn’t either, so why would he expect that from his creation?
Well, not just his— they had a whole team, after all, and Queenie would not take kindly to not getting credit for her wonderful additions.
Their creation. All of their life’s work.
Kinger’s eyes crinkle fondly, no mouth to betray how he is smiling on the inside. “Hello, Caine.” He says. “I think this is some of your best work yet.”
(Or as the rest of the gang engages in a fast food masquerade, Kinger finds just enough sanity to talk to Caine properly. If only everything he said didn’t terrify Caine, or this might’ve all gone differently.)
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