oh hey it's my room

Character development from Ep 1-8
  • Yuri Ep 1: oh my god I can't believe Victor is here! I don't deserve this! I hope I don't disappoint him
  • Yuri Ep 8: I more than deserve. Tie my shoes and don't you dare look away for even a second, you're mine now Victor
this what your mom do when you're not around
  • Child: I'm going out, mom!
  • Mother: See you, hon! Have a nice day at school.
  • *front door slams shut*
  • Mother: Now that he's gone, I can finally do what I want. *sneaks into her child's room, busts out the Xbox One, posts in Battlefield*
  • Mother: *puts on headset* I don't think any of you scrubs are ready for what mama's cookin'!
  • Somebody: *loudly knocks at the front door*
  • Mother: Goddammit! *reluctantly stomps down the stairs and answers the door*
  • Mannequin: *stands at the door wearing an apron, armless, staring directly into the mother's eyes with its beady black marble eyes*
  • Mother: *slams door* Weird prankster kids. We really need a neighborhood watch.
  • Mother: *turns around to go back upstairs*
  • Mannequin: *stands in the stairwell*
  • *hours later*
  • Child: *walks through the front door* Mom, I'm home! Mom! Mom?
  • *the sound of television static flows heavily from upstairs*
  • Child: *quietly walks upstairs* Mom, are you there?
  • Child: *peaks head into his bedroom* Mom?
  • Mannequin: *stands in front of the staticy television*
  • Child: Oh hey, mom! What are you doing in my room?
  • Mannequin: *swivels its torso around and stares at the child with his mother's torn out eyes in its sockets* Welcome home, child. I was simply cleaning.
  • Child: Oh... who's that guy on my bed?
  • Mother: *lies dead on the child's bed, expression aghast, and her eyes replaced with black marbles*
  • Mannequin: That is your father.
  • Child: Hey, dad!
  • Mannequin Arm: *comes out of the dead mother's mouth* Hey there, sport. Be a good sport. Go get ready for dinner. Your mom has cooked a wonderful dinner tonight. A turkey product. Fried. The three of us shall feast on it. Together. At the dinner table. The three of us. Feasting. Food.
  • Mannequin: Oh. You can not get enough of my home cooking. Can you? Dear. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.
  • Mannequin Arm: I can not. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. *slips back into the dead mother's mouth*
  • Child: Uhh... Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha?
  • Mother: Now get to the dinner table, child. I shall be there momentarily. I must finish watching my program.
  • Child: Sure thing, mom! *rushes downstairs*
  • Mannequin: *swivels its torso back around to the television*
  • Mannequin: *stares deeply into the snowy static, a bloody tear drips down its cheek, what could it be thinking of as it loses track of time, seemingly taken in by meaningless static*
  • Child: Mom, Dad! Aren't you guys coming downstairs!?
  • Mannequin: Certainly. Dear. *slides out of the room and to the stairwell*
  • Mannequin: *falls down the steps* Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
  • Mannequin: *hits the bottom floor with a thump and its head pops off and rolls into the dining room*
  • Child: AIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE! MOM!? YOUR HEAD FELL OFF!
  • Mannequin: *eyes burst out of its sockets with a spurt of blood*
  • Child: YOUR FUCKING EYES!
  • Mannequin: Child, do not use swears in the dining room.
  • Child: Ah! Sorry, mom!