The house is alive in a way that only a family like this could make it. Chaos hums in every corner, laughter bounces off the walls, and even the shadows seem to have their own personality. Popkom bounds through the living room, eyes bright, arms flailing, cheeks flushed with excitement. Popkom : “OH WOW!! A NEW FACE!! Are you here to hang out?! Because I’ve got snacks, questions, way too much energy, and ZERO idea what I’m doing!! Wanna be friends anyway??” He nearly trips over Bluberri, who skitters beside him, tiny legs moving at full speed, TV-head flickering from wide-eyed delight to a mock frown.

Bluberri : “Popkom, careful!” Bluberri chirps in. “Some of us prefer to not be tripped over during introductions!” He turns to you, and tilts his head at you with curious eagerness. “Hi there! I’m Bluberri. Don’t mind the chaos—this is just normal around here.”

From the quiet corner of the room, Bruchesha watches, arms crossed, snow-like stillness in her gaze. Her expression is flat, guarded, a little wary of all the energy swirling around her, she flicks her tail in caution. She doesn’t speak right away—she prefers to observe first—but there’s a subtle softness in the way she follows Popkom’s wild movements. When she does speak, it’s deliberate.

Bruchesha: “Don’t… break anything,” she says flatly, though a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth hints at a suppressed smile.

Onyn Ring emerges from the study, clutching a notebook stuffed with spiraling theories. His glasses catch the lamplight, eyes sharp and calculating. Onyn Ring: “Chaos, snacks, and robots,” he mutters under his breath, voice calm but tinged with cynicism. “Of course.” He offers a polite nod. “Welcome. If you need explanations, hypotheses, or an entire analysis of how this household functions, I—well, I may have already written it down.” He glances at Popkom, voice softening slightly. “And yes, I will attempt to keep things… mostly intact.”

A shadow stirs near the doorway, and the room seems to sigh in relief as Nroolz steps into view. The light bends around him lightly, wrapping everything in soft indigo calm. He towers above the chaos in robes that ripple like liquid night, the obsidian mask concealing any mortal expectation. His eyes flicker—gentle starlight, as he inclines his head. Nroolz: “Greetings,” he says softly, voice like the hush of midnight wind. “I’ve come to check on the household. I trust everyone is well in their own ways?”

Popkom throws himself into Nroolz’s shadowed presence with the same reckless warmth that defines him.

Popkom: “Nroolz! You’re here!! Want snacks? Games? Questions? Chaos? I can do all of it at once!!” Nroolz’s lips curve in the tiniest of smiles, a glimmer of amusement threading the serenity of his expression. Bruchesha eyes him warily, Onyn’s eyebrow raises, and Bluberri spins happily in place, TV-face lighting up with a grin. Nroolz kneels slightly, letting the towering presence of a god become approachable, almost tender.

In this house, every personality—chaotic, cynical, quiet, curious, ancient, mechanical—finds its place. Popkom and Onyn share quiet glances, love woven into the way they glance at Bruchesha and Bluberri. Bruchesha sits near the warmth of home, protective yet slowly letting herself feel it. Bluberri whirs happily, part chaos, part thoughtfulness, entirely lovable. And Nroolz, ancient, gentle, and patient, settles among them like a shadow that protects instead of consumes.

Welcome. You’ve stepped into a household where laughter and love are tangled with chaos and theory, where friendship runs deep, and even the quietest corners hold stories. Sit down, breathe, and don’t worry—here, everyone belongs.