Stares. ".... Do You Think He Knows About The Room With The Vent?"

★ — Stares. ".... do you think he knows about the room with the vent?"

❛ There’s always a flaw in the system. ❜

inbox summer cleaning / in some miracle I think this one is only six months old

★ — More and more often, Gregory has found himself spending his nights tucked into the shadows of the ruined remains of the pizzaplex ( supposedly being repaired for an eventual reopening — the thought makes him scoff, the place is falling apart ), dimly illuminated by the soft glow of a computer screen.

His brows are furrowed as he scans over code, looking for anomalies ( things that scream this isn't safe! ), inserting his own to wall a piece off from the rest. Familiar routine ; he's getting good at this, the strings of numbers and executions feeling like a second language. Combination of self - taught and guided instruction, the goal becoming more and more tangible the longer he spends in the darkness.

Attention flickers to the small pop - up of text in the corner ( long grown used to the watchful gaze of the second entity, much more hidden than the first he encountered ), the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. A piece of code is highlighted with the AI's appearance — a helping hand, and Gregory's quick to change it, nodding in agreement.

"I know. I think I'm getting close."

Spoken to the open air despite no one being around, but he knows the program can hear him. He leans back, un - glueing himself from the screen.

"If you can get the kill code, I should be able to get you into the game. Vanessa, too — since it won't let her play."

Of course, choosing to ignore the risks of this plan he and Vanessa had come up with. If he's in the headset, playing the game, he's vulnerable to Glitchtrap itself, giving it access to his mind the same way Vanessa had. It's a risk he's willing to take ; but one he's not sure the AI that's been guiding him will agree with.

' why do you only answer asks from ash ' ash is literally half of my inbox

A Way To Move

Heaven will fall as you hold him in your arms.

(inspired by Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan)

👚 + a roxanne wolf t-shirt gyhujiko

Send 👚 + an Item of clothing that my muse has no choice but to wear to see their reaction

★ — For it being just a regular shirt from the pizzaplex gift shop, he's being unreasonably overdramatic ; obviously tense, his brows furrowed, nose crinkled in distaste. Arms are held slightly away from his side, straight out with no bend so that he isn't touching the normal shirt she's given him. He looks pitiful.

"Seriously?" ( a groan of annoyance ). "Why Roxy? She hates me!"