#this is real and true and I did not just make it up to keep me sane

[syncaleb]

── .✦ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 & 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 -> « link »

•caleb casually drops the “we’re dating” lie at school like it’s no big deal. he is tired of the guy who sends you ‘wanderer samples’, or the dude who comes over the house asking to ‘borrow’ your homework. besides, he is a senior, older than you — soon he will leave the school & his precious pipsqueak will get swamped by men. disgusting. the thought alone sends shivers down his spine.

“nah, i can’t go out saturday. got a date with my girl.” he hums to one of his friends in the basketball court, juniors are also here, perfect! he made sure to say it echoing enough that everyone hears it.

“…your girl?”

“yeah, the one i live with? the one who comes cheerin’ me up for my matches? the one who i share my soda can with? duh.” honestly? it’s not hard to believe at all, that you and caleb are a thing… people don’t even question it. the way you touch him like he’s yours, the way you depend on him…

•however — you find out when someone congratulates you on “finally making it official” and you’re just standing there like ?????

caleb comes up right after, sipping from his stupid juice box, his hand gently wrapping around your waist, gentle… so careful… but firm.

“oh, pips, did you not tell them yet?”

•he acts like your boyfriend in every possible way. carries your books. pulls your chair out. walks you to class. then again… when does he not? you don’t notice any significant changes in caleb’s behaviour. and you are too kind to embarrass him like that…

you: “stop it. i am old now i don’t need your help—“

him: “i’m committed to the bit. besides, you are old doesn’t mean i would stop being there for you?”

•he’s extra affectionate at school but still the same annoying menace at home.

he’ll poke your forehead and be like,

“my girlfriend’s so short i gotta bend to reach her thoughts.”

and then dodge your swing like he’s done it a million times.

•grandma’s suspicious but says nothing. just watches the two of you with a knowing look and a cup of tea like she’s watching a soap opera play out in her living room. josephine hater ™️ -> me.

•eventually — caleb starts keeping you close in crowded hallways. real possessive.

“watch it,” he says to a senior who brushed your shoulder. “my cupcake’s kinda delicate.”

you: “i’m literally not? i want to be a hunter you’re being a cornball!”

caleb: just ruffles your hair with his soft grin.

•he puts “girlfriend 💕” as your contact name in his phone. when you try to change it, he changes his lockscreen to a blurry selfie of you mid-yawn captioned: cute little pipsqueak

honestly you don’t understand where it comes from, or why caleb suddenly tells everyone he’s your boyfriend. but eventually, you couldn’t care less.

•one day, when he was making his fussy eater (you) some braised chicken wings — you confront him about the rumor; and he just shrugs. the usual avoidance plastered on his face.

“everyone already thinks it. why not just… go with it?”

you: “why would you do that?”

he goes, suddenly quiet, expressive in a somber and yearning way: “because i wanted it to be true.”

•and he doesn’t look smug or cocky. he looks… soft.

and maybe you’re thinking about how he always saves you the last cookie. or he does your laundry because you hate it, or that he gives you piggy-back rides home because you get sassy that your feet hurt, or that he brought you a movie prop from your favorite movie… or how he lets you sleep in his arms in the attic…

how he always hovers.

how he yells at the TV for you during horror movies.

-> maybe it doesn’t sound so fake after all.

maybe next monday, you grab his hand in the hallway. by yourself, and the shock on his face… is all you needed to know to understand the intensity of his feelings…

maybe this time, the rumor becomes real.

[melancholymetropolis]

“Did you know?” Stack asked, staring Mary directly in the eye.

“Know what?” Mary snapped back at him. 

“About Y/N and her daughter,” Stack clarified. 

He was scarily calm. It was one of the only times anyone had ever seen him that way. Even when Mary raised her voice at him and shamed him for leaving. His expression was melancholic and somber. He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t even bat an eye when Mary came hooting and hollering into the juke. For the first time in a long time, Stack was silent. His mind was whirling into oblivion. Thoughts rendering him mute and unapproachable. He had tried to put on a brave face and keep his usual smiley demeanor. But it was only a shadow of who he once was. A mask to hide behind his true self. Or, more like a new self. 

A father?

Mary visibly stiffened and gripped the front of her dress. Bracing herself for his reaction. “Yes, I did.”

Stack shook his head and turned to walk away. 

“Wait! Just let me—” Someone immediately cut between them, delaying her pursuit of him. 

It was two lovers, swirling along with the music. Completely mindless to everything and everyone around them. Mary gazed upon them. Taking in their brown skin in the low light and bright, white smiles. She, also, had inner turmoil plaguing her soul. As much as she loved Stack, she knew it was forbidden. Not because of their skin color, but because of their history. Being raised together, alongside Anne and Y/N. She knew the twins were very protective of them— their families were burned at the stake for practicing witchcraft. The four of them were orphans, something they all bonded over. Something Mary couldn’t fathom, since she had her mother. She hated the way the twins looked at them— starry-eyed and full of hope. Knowing that if they wanted to settle down someday, it would be them they would choose. Leaving her out of the union completely. 

She would be left alone, possibly forever. 

When Mary finally caught up to Stack, she saw him heading straight to Annie. His head was bowed, and his fists were clenched at his sides. Almost like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. He whispered something to her behind the counter, which prompted her to nod and gesture for Grace to take over. The two sauntered from the bar and into a back room. 

Something that Smoke immediately caught and silently questioned. 

“You know what I’m gonna ask you,” Stack said silently, almost in a whisper. As if he were too ashamed or terrified to say it aloud. It would make the situation that much more real. Make his absence that much more painful.

“About Madeline?” She raised an eyebrow, studying his face closely. 

He tried not to let the look of astonishment cross his face, but failed. Stack had finally learned the little girl’s name after hours of pondering. He was happy with the choice. Y/N had named her after her mother. A fearless woman, tougher than any man he’d come across. 

She was a seer. Could predict the future mere days before it would happen. Sometimes, even weeks before, depending on the gravity of the case. She had seen her own death in her dream, days before it happened. Saw the white hoods and chains behind her closed eyes. Felt the heat and pain of the fire against her skin. She was only given two days before the Klan came knocking on her door and used every second of it. She wrote down all her spells in the family grimoire, kept notes about her apothecary by her bedside, and a letter for her daughter on where to go when everything was done. 

Madeline didn’t utter a sound when she was being burned. She simply closed her eyes and pictured her daughter’s smile while the flames consumed her. 

At least that was what she told Y/N in a dream.

Stack nodded, unable to trust his words.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need me to tell you that she’s your baby,” Annie replied, hands resting on her hips. “Your eyes work just as good as mine.”

He released a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish she had told me. Things could’ve been different.” 

“Before or after you started robbing trains with your brother,” she chided with a scowl.

“Anne, please,” Stack begged. “Can we not do this now?”

“We have to. Whether you like it or not,” she chastised, stepping closer to him. “You cannot come back here after seven years and think you have the right to anything. Leave Y/N out of your mess. She has moved on. I think you should do the same.”

“But, Madeline—”

“You may have fathered that child, but she already has a daddy,” Annie interjected. “She does not know you, Elias.”

He thought back to Madeline and her chubby brown face. How she looked at him with such disdain and irritation. She was so protective of her mother, but smart enough not to challenge him too much. So, she asked permission before heading over to get someone who could handle him. Her daddy. Someone who wasn't him.

“And who would that be?” He asked, after a moment of silence.

“I already told you to leave her—”

“Annie, please!” The desperation in his voice was something she had never heard. 

Desperate and Stack never went together. He would always find a way to get what he wanted, however he wanted it. He wasn't above cheating, stealing, or lying. He'd rather be a criminal than be without his desires. But, he couldn't do that with Y/N. She wasn't the type to be pleased by it. Her calm spirit healed him in ways he didn’t he couldn't comprehend. Seeing her was the true homecoming. She had gotten even more beautiful with age. Still tall, thick with ass for days. But she had an air that was unrecognizable. An elegance that wasn't there before. Motherhood looked good on her.

“Please, what?” Smoke asked from the doorway. 

Stack groaned loudly and clenched his jaw. “We'll be out in a minute.”

“Sure you will,” Smoke closed the door behind him. “But not after you tell me what got your head all screwed up. I'm guessing it has to do with Y/N, since you only ever bother Annie about her.”

“Leave it alone, Smoke,” Stack warned. “This doesn't concern you.”

“See, I think it does,” Smoke replied, closing the distance between them. “You're holed up in a storage closet, begging Annie for information rather than watching the door like I told you to.”

“Let him be,” Annie interjected. “He has a good reason.”

“And what would that be?” Smoke cocked an eyebrow. 

Annie gave him a wary look before turning to Stack. The weight in her gaze made the man sigh heavily and shake his head. He couldn't lie to his brother, even if he wanted to.

“Sh-she was. . . She had. . . uh. . . “ Stack stammered.

“Spit it out, fool,” Smoke shot back.

“You're an uncle, baby,” Annie nearly whispered.

Smoke's entire body went frigid, and his expression softened completely. His eyes searched Annie's for any deception or mischievous intent. But there was none. She was telling the truth; he could feel it. His heart swelled as the words sank in. A mixture of sorrow and excitement. He still mourned the loss of his baby, but the idea of being an uncle made him giddy. It had been forever since there was a baby in their immediate family. Even longer for Annie's side. A child was a blessing, a truth Smoke knew all too well.

“I'm guessing you didn't know?” Smoke questioned.

“Of course I didn't!” Stack replied. “It would've changed everything.”

“It sure would've,” Smoke agreed.

A silence fell amongst them, uncomfortable and humid. Memories started to resurface. For Annie, it was the night her baby went with the ancestors. She was born sleeping, the sweet girl. Her sweet face made a thousand cuts on her parents' souls. They would never forget the shade of blue. For Smoke, it was the weeks after. The way Annie buried herself in her work and slowly shut him out. The way she could hardly look at him without crying. Without apologizing. For Stack, it was when Y/N found out about Marie. Her calm nature was fighting against the rage pooling in her heart. She screamed at him, so viscous and raw, to leave her alone. Never come back. I don't want to see you again. Like the idiot he was, Stack went running right back to Marie.

Smoke's eyes found Annie's. “How is she? Y/N, I mean. And the baby?”

“Happier than ever,” a smile fell on her lips. “William takes good care of them.”

Stack jerked back as if someone had struck him. “William? Bo's little brother? Bill?”

A soft smile fell on Smoke's face as he took in the information. He was glad it was Bill who stepped in to raise his niece. William had a kindness that couldn't be faked. He was genuinely loving and nurturing. Smoke watched him nurse a dove back to health after its wing broke. He fed the stray cats in the alley when they were younger. And when he was a baker's apprentice, Bill made sure to give them extra goodies on the sly. A donut, a bagel, or even a loaf of bread. 

Smoke knew back then that Bill was in love with Y/N. The smile he wore while looking at her was raw and authentic. He would die for her. Kill for her. Do anything she'd ever ask without hesitation. Silently, Smoke wished Y/N had never gotten tied up with Stack. She was too good for him. Loving, selfless, and empathetic. Everything Stack wasn't. Everything he'd attempt to steal from himself— he was greedy in that way. The worst part was that he didn't notice it. Wasn't conscious of his exploitative ways. Something that infuriated Smoke to no end. Everyone knew Mary was his first love. The sole owner of his heart. Except for Stack. Which was why he tried chasing Y/N. A weak attempt to run away from his confusing love for the girl. Sure, he had feelings for Y/N. But they weren’t as deep. More surface-level, possessive. Almost like, “that pretty thing is mine and no one else's”. It made Smoke sad to think about. No one deserved to be caged up in that way. She deserved to be free. Free to see the past is brother and see the good that was waiting for her. See the handsome baker willing to climb mountains and cross valleys for her. Someone who would rather harm themselves than break her heart. Someone who would risk it all. Just how he would for Annie. 

"Good for her," Smoke said, before leaving the room.

He made a mental note to stop by the bakery to see her the next day and hopefully see his niece.

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a/n: you know I had to post something this weekend!!! come on now. i appreciate the love y'all pour me every day. i didn't think anyone would want such an original story. y'all proved me wrong.

as always, let me know if you want to be on the taglist. leave a comment if you'd like.

also, if you have requests, my asks are open! wouldn't mind writing a drabble

finally, someone asked what Bill looks like. I envision him as Paing Takhon (see link for picture).

Masterlist

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Taglist

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[sheeezu]

Return: everything I know about shifting.

(A century in tartarus, what did you learn?)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The consciousness never tires, never retires, never resists.

An easy to understand analogy would be... consider your consciousness being the sky, or it being the ground. Just like how weather brings change to the sky, clouds glide across. Just like how wildlife populates the ground, that's how realities leave their mark on your consciousness. It is temporary. It can be wiped out in an instant.

You have control over consciousness and the consciousness has control over you.

Your consciousness is a wide ocean which parts into rivers, each river symbolises a new reality. You as a 3D component floats down the river you choose in your 4D.

When you question reality (the one you're in) it casts a fog making the path to your consciousness hazy.

This fog is in the form of doubts, intrusive thoughts, emotions (especially stress and fears, the ones that speak to you in a way "I don't have enough time to shift", "I can still feel my current reality" , "I can never shift.")

Of course. The fog is useless. Considering you don't succumb to the fog.

Sure, your body will speak, bark, bluff, tease you. The solution is to acknowledge what it's saying. Not in a way you accept that these complaints and worries are your own, but that they're just part of a vessel in a reality you have left and nothing to do with. It doesn't matter if the fog takes some time to dissipate.

Your consciousness settled in your dr once you had accepted it. There were no roundabouts, there were no mind tricks, there was no numbing your senses or counting your symptoms, you are there, because you trust your consciousness and don't listen to a chunk of flesh specific to one reality.

"Too good to be true", belief. The one that lingers but never comes to your attention.

Aka the cause of all of your "failed" attempts. You don't fail because you don't try. You don't fail because you don't affirm properly, you don't fail because you messed up somewhere in your routine or fell asleep too quickly, you failed because.... you didn't allow yourself to shift.

Even if you're confident. You're confident that you will "shift." I'm not one to pick on mere words, but there is a huge looming feeling associated with a shifting attempt. You are trying to shift.

If we imagine shifting to be a bridge between us and our drs, than it is the first thing you should burn down.

There is no mid stage. There isn't a speech you have to give to receive a medal.

It is an action. You being in your dr, is embracing the normalcy of it all. Its not a supernatural experience of "when will the stars align" and you'll cry in the arms of your s/o.

A new reality is a new state of mind, in simple words.

The delay.

Question: is there a delay to you manifesting your dr, whilst shifting?

NO. the only reason it exists is because you have a second of pure plato level pondering (isn't that quite the alliteration) if you are experiencing a delay. Realities are like toys you play around with. And to bring attention to any delay is like pulling the threads of a reality you have left, you're giving it more attention under your spotlight, the last lingering bit of your energy gives it the spark to reiterate itself in the form of a "delay".

Of course, this doesn't mean anything and won't ruin your shift. But for the love of me almost deactivating this blog yesterday, do not waste too much time wondering why "you don't have it", you have it, look at it instead of a sparkly loophole that's blocking the lens of your consciousness.

The extend of romatisization.

We all love our drs. We yearn it while we are here. Nothing is wrong with it and keep doing so. But don't bring tragic separation along while you are laying down to shift. You wrote a lovely story of reunion here, which I do not blame you for, fiction is enchanting, but that doesn't make it real. You are in your dr right now. Don't contradict yourself and your consciousness.

Become or meet God.

You connect with absolute power while you shift. It's up to your beliefs to decide who possesses it. When you shift, shed the skin of a human, and watch everything fall into place when you realise how much you had truly limited yourself. In order to do this, you stop telling yourself how you felt your bedsheets change, how you saw flashing lights in excitement. God created the universe with a phrase, "Kun faya kun", which means "be, and it is." It is up to you, what you take away from this.

Consciousness > God > (desired) Reality

Melt, Mold, Rise -> a method.

Melting is the point of derealization of the previous reality, molding is aligning with your dr self, rising is continuing from the mind space of your dr.

How can you apply this?

Melt - stop your current reality's stream of thoughts, tell yourself you've left it, intent/decide to be in your dr.

Mold - slight imagery or knowing of dr surroundings, slightly take ahold of your dr body (imagining the position of your body) and lastly and most importantly thinking thoughts of your dr self.

Rise - know you're in your dr. Be there. (Continue the previous step, but do not force it)

Waking up from a dream.

Getting to your dr, without a structured method or a plan, just pure belief in yourself is much like waking from a dream.

You feel, hear and sense many stimulus in your dream which have no bases in reality. Similarly, while your assumptions are strong, you might sense the reality you have boldly stated you have left.

The distinction is, you don't expect to get stuck in a dream or never wake up. It is decided that no matter what the dream might tell, the final destination and fixed spawn is back in reality, it is always decided you'll wake up from a dream.

Exactly like that (and to conclude our analogy #2) it is decided firmly that you will wake up in your dr, no matter how potent the call of your previous reality is, we can confidently say it doesn't exist and it is illusive like a dream.

"Why can't I do it?"

You can't. Your human self literally cannot. But your consciousness can and will so sit down and be there.

(You have been fooled on multiple occasions by your darned human brain, so let's all promise we won't listen to it any longer after this post.)

Entertaining illusion, the trap of it

The biggest goddamm lie we have all been told is life. You're not part of a system and the matrix does not need escaping. Its like you think you're driving on a road but in fact the road doesn't exist, you don't exist, the car doesn't exist and in actuality you're floating in an empty void. That's too existential for this post but how does it relate to shifting?

You got fooled by reality again. You put on it's harness and do it's work like a mule. Circumstances are not your problem and you're a separate entity from the troubled college student you left behind.

So don't be a mule and don't put a million alarms on to do WBTB in a surrender to your "what ifs" which is a pollutant you keep breathing into. You have wings, fly above the smoke.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

My beliefs have changed, ...for the better.

Jesus is back.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[decayingearf]

Can you make a fic of toxic!stack based off of Marvin’s Room by drake? I feel like that would be so good ;)

elias’s room

✗ warnings: language, use of n-word (blk reader only), sfw , toxic!stack, petty!stack, wise!smoke (jk) , mentions of infidelity, drunk!stack, angst sorta wc: 900

synopsis: you were tired of feeling stupid, disrespected, and neglected. you broke the cycle. how long will that last?

a/n: this is not proofread yall sorryyyy! i don’t condone toxicity and if you are in an unhealthy relationship please try to escape.

it wasn’t a secret that you and stack had an on and off relationship. his brother often told you to “get some self respect”.

you never listened. until today.

the clock read 4:22 am as you walked in your apartment. you had a few drinks and ended up going home with this guy. the reason why you went home with the guy wasn’t because of the drinks, no.

it was because of stack. you had just got into an argument with elias about all the “bitches” as you called them, in his phone.

you went out hoping to forget him and have fun. you did a bit more than that, obviously.

anyway, you stumbled into the house and flicked on the living room light seeing elias on the couch. your face flashed a quick shocked expression before you started towards the bedroom.

“so you ain’ gon’ tell me why you walkin’ up in here at damn near five ina mornin’?” he spoke up as you continued walking to the room. in a few quick steps he was in front of you.

“where the fuck you been all night?” he pressed grabbing your chin roughly, not intending to hurt you. “stack st-“ you gasped hitting his forearm, “you call yo’self fuckin’ with somebody new?”.

you couldn’t even lie and say no. you just looked down before he chuckled in disbelief.

“he makin’ you happy? fillin’ yo head with all that bullshit ‘bout how he different? yeah i fuckin’ bet” he scoffed shaking his head. “he is different” you told which was a lie seeing as you dont know anything about the guy, “why he different? ‘cause he fuck you slow? ‘cause he gotta real job?” “because he loves me” you said without even thinking about the consequences of what you just said.

stack scoffed, “fuck that nigga, he don’t love you—‘nd you don’t love him.” “ he ‘on’t care about you, i do..that nigga ‘on’t know shit ‘bout you.” he told you as if he knew something you didn’t.

you looked down at the floor knowing that you were falling back into that seemingly never ending cycle of ‘ fight, fuck, and repeat’. his brother no, his twin told you; get some fucking self respect.

“i only did it because you keep texting them other bitches, stack” you told feeling tears welling in your eyes but they dared to fall, “you know i don’t care about them, [𝜗𝜚]” to which you scoffed.

“then stop fucking them, im sick of this shit, elias. everyday it’s a new girl or somebody telling me to leave.” you spoke with a sniffle “ you can’t listen to them, they don’t know what we got.” “i don’t even know what we got..im done elias—i can’t do this nomore” you shrugged looking stack in his eyes before seeing the serious expression settle on his face.

──── ୨୧ ────

it had been a month since you ended things with elias. you were more hurt than you thought you’d be but, you’d never admit it.

one night you were home scrolling through social media lazily. nothing interested you any more, you felt so bored with tv, social media, going out, everything.

you soon received a phone call from a private number. you hesitantly answered “hello?” you asked before hearing that familiar voice. “fuck that nigga, you all on instagram showing out talkin’ ‘bout you love him,” elias laughed too amused, you could tell he was crossed. “fuck that nigga that you ‘love so bad’” he quoted as you tensed up.

“you think you found the one?” that made him laugh even harder. “are you drunk?” you asked sitting up “doesn’t make it any less true.” .

“now, you ain’ gotta take my advice but, im just sayin’ you could do better” the man told letting his smugness shine through.

“you mean to tell me you ‘on’t think ‘bout the shit we did?” the line went quiet “thought so” he snorted. “i told smoke i wasn’t gon’ call you but since you answered i figured that nigga must not be ‘round..right?” “he’s sleep” you muttered, “yo homegirls stupid for lettin’ you run ‘round with that goofball,” he exhaled “i ain’ sayin’ come back to me but, you could do a whole lot better than that nigga in daisy dukes, ain’ nobody tell you that?”.

you sighed.

“i wasn’t even gon’ talk ‘bout dude but, you all on social media like you so in love..like that pussy ain’ mine”.

“it stopped being yours when you started disrespecting me, elias” you told as he huffed “here you go talkin’ ‘bout this shit, alrigh’ yeah i threw a party, it was bitches there but i didn’t f-“ “it doesn’t matter if you sleep with them or not, you still had them in my house dude” you stated trying to keep your voice steady as to not wake up elias—i mean emmanuel.

the back and further went on for about fifteen minutes before stack was back at himself. his flirty, smug, toxic ass self.

“so you really not gon’ come over, though?” he asked and you could practically hear the smile, “no im with someone, stack what part aren’t you getting?” “damn he ‘on’t let you have friends? we just gon’ chill”.

although you knew it was a lie, you were on your way in a heartbeat. you were never gonna learn, were you?

[morganmnemonic]

And what I think your analysis is missing is that if mikumo had a villain arc (which he wouldn't. That's 100% not where the story of world trigger is going) I am completely positive that Yuma would follow him down. Osamu could decide "we are stealing a ship and making our own way to the neighborhood". Kuga would say "ok sure. I'll help." If osamu had said "yeah Yuma. Tragic news. To keep the peace in border, management needs your help touring information out of enedra", Yuma would have done it. If osamu goes "I think we're going to have to kill this guy", Kuga would kill that guy.

I believe this with my whole heart. Yuma is shown to have a sense of fairness, but not really a strong sense of morality. Promises should be kept, debts should be repaid, and allies should be helped, but the problems of strangers mean very little to him. If someone is struggling, they shouldn't have gotten themselves into a situation they couldn't get out of. If someone is lying to him, there's nothing wrong escalating with physical violence in order to make the lie true.

And again, he's not cruel about it. He's not a bad kid, he just grew up in a warzone, and earth seems so soft in comparison. He likes border, with it's bailouts and training rooms, where not every fight puts lives on the line. He likes his gaggle of earth friends, who he can spar with and grow with, and who have no idea what real war is like. For once, he's getting to just be a kid, interacting with people his own age, having rivalries without an ounce of malice in them and fussing over unimportant problems. He's playing along with it all because osamu asked him to, and would stop just as quickly if osamu asked him to. Osamu never would. I don't believe that osamu knows that he could.

The mission to find chika's brother is quite literally the only thing he has going on in his life for a minute there. He came to earth hoping to die, and when they failed, this is the thread that pulled him back from the brink and tied him to life. There's more now. Reuniting with replica, for one. I hope that there's even more than that, that by the end of the series, every arc concludes and there's nothing left that anyone Needs him for, and that he chooses life anyway.

But for now anyway, while he could exercise personal judgement and stop helping, he could leave at any moment, but where would he go if he did?

rewatching World Trigger. I forgot how gay it was. Osamu straight up says "hey Yuma. I know that we've only known you for like five days, but I can't help but notice that you aren't doing anything with your life right now. Mind if I borrow it for a bit?"

And then Yuma responds with "while its true that we've only know each other for like five days, your kind yet stubborn nature has compelled me. Sure. Why not? From this moment on my life is yours to do whatever you want with. One condition, though. You have to be my boss" and then throughout the story he occasionally makes these little remarks like "I'd do anything my captain (osamu) asked me to."

Like bro what? I really don't think that Osamu fully realizes the weight of the loyalty he somehow managed to earn from Yuma. I don't think he could realize it. From his perspective he cringefailed his way into b rank while Yuma did all the work. "And now Yuma would kill or die for me" is just not a conclusion that would ever occur to Osamu based on the avaliable evidence.

And like, what's going on here from Yuma's perspective? I get that he was a man on the brink when the story started, pursuing a sincerely suicidal plan, and then said plan failed and he was left with absolutely nothing, but I still feel like there has to be more going on here. He decided that he would follow Osamu through hell and back the very same minute that Osamu asked anything of him at all.

It's like, combat is all Yuma has ever known. He doesn't see any future for himself at all, but he especially can't imagine a peaceful one. But he's not a bad kid. He doesn't go out of his way to hurt people. Osamu has proven to be a pretty decent person, willing to sacrifice himself to save the lives of relative strangers. Maybe, the way Yuma sees it, yeah he's a weapon, but if he follows Osamu at least he'll be a weapon pointed in the right direction. He'll fight because it's all he knows how to do, but osamu would only ever ask him to fight for worthy causes. Y'know?

Anyway. The point is that Yuma accepted helping Osamu as his new purpose in life after knowing him for less than a week, and that's A Lot, no matter how you look at it.

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Alrighty, so I’ve been rewatching a lot of Tenna’s scenes in Chapter 3, so I’ve noticed some stuff about the timeline of the whole Toriel-Kidnapping scheme…

When Susie first goes to have a chat with him between Boards 1 and 2, Tenna’s goons have only just located Toriel in the Couch Cliffs.

The whole first Board existed to preoccupy the Fun Gang while Tenna and his people found and captured Toriel for the Knight (also of course to fulfill Tenna’s desire to entertain Kris and their loved ones again but I wanna focus on its part in the Plan here). Since they found her right before Board 2 started, the whole ‘Second Board’ business was made up to draw more time to locate Toriel… but also to wait for the Knight.

Because the Knight was not in TV World at the time, as is pretty clear from the next conversation we get to overhear about the Toriel situation.

The reason why Tenna was so insistent on there being two rounds and had to come up with an excuse for the Bonus Round later…

…is because he honestly thought he’d be able to hand over Toriel to the Knight during Round 2 and everything would go absolutely smoothly.

(Also the moment where he suddenly has to leave during Board 2 is definitely probably also about Toriel, right?

Maybe just inspecting her Prizeball and putting it by the Cold Place Tree real quick)

… but that’s the thing I’ve been thinking about, the Knight wasn’t in TV World up until, well, probably this very moment

But Tenna already has a deal with them.

Did they pop into TV World, offered Tenna the deal and then…. Went off to do something else while Tenna kept on waiting for them? What other business they had to attend to?

Were they waiting for Undyne to enter TV World in so they could capture two birds with one stone?

Were they waiting for Tenna to betray them to fulfill the Prophecy?

Or…. How literally should we take Tenna’s words that the Knight ‘appeared’?

Because King also used this choice of words and now it’s pretty obvious that he never really met the Knight themself before?

Queen also uses that same expression, that the Knight "appeared". In her case we at least know the Knight was the one who created her Dark World and she even caught it on film, so it's not an inaccurate descriptor... but it does seem to be the go-to expression to use when talking about the Knight in a variety of contexts...

If “the Knight appeared” is simply a more poetic way for Darkners to talk about the fabled prophesized Knight making their presence known in general… well, Tenna’s wording very much avoids saying who promised him that eternal audience and who exactly he made a deal with.

And… there is actually a (probable) associate of the Knight operating in TV World that Tenna has struck a deal with.

Could Kris have been the one who told Tenna to capture Toriel and keep the Fun Gang distracted until the Knight arrived? Holding both the carrot of an eternal audience and the stick of turning him off again?

Well, it does seem to fit in with Ramb's Sword Route dialogue. As someone who was there to see Kris’ creating TV World the one apparently responsible for keeping an eye on Toriel through the Second Round and beyond, and someone who is always trying to do what’s best for Kris.

Would he have played along with Tenna's scheme if he didn't think capturing Toriel is what Kris truly wanted?

It might also explain why Tenna seems so certain that the Knight has a genuine desire to help him and it won’t be that bad if he went back on their deal. Like it would just leave them mildly disappointed.

If he struck the deal through Kris, a beloved family member, he would be more inclined to assume that deal is for his sake and that both Kris and the Knight might have his best interests at heart.

But for that to be true… then Tenna sure can keep a secret! I mean, he did slip up about there being a ‘deal’ once, and there’s a few moments where he indicates that he probably knows that Kris is the one who made the Dark Fountain….

(And "a little bit why you [made the Fountain]" implies that Tenna knows there is another reason why the Fountain was made, unlike Ramb that assumed it was purely for fun at first)

But the only way that Kris being the ‘liaison’ for Tenna's deal with the Knight to work is if Tenna knows about us, if he knows that he’s got to keep his mouth shut even when it’s just him and Kris because there is something else pulling the strings. That Kris is gonna act against the Deal they themself offered because that's not really Kris in control. That when he's talking about distracting and stalling "you three", that's referring to Ralsei, Susie and the Player.

And that… isn’t totally nonsensical or anything, Tenna does seem to imply he’s ‘hosting’ Susie and Ralsei, but not Kris.

Maybe part of the reason why he’s so insecure about entertaining Kris in particular is because on some level he knows that in their eyes it’s just a way to distract and slow down their friends (and the Amoral Time Demon that's possessing them)… and yet he constantly hopes that it’s something more. He wants to prove to Kris that they want to have fun with him and that his show is worth more to them than just ‘part of the plan’.

And, well, if Tenna can really remember seeing everything that happened in front of his Light World screen, he probably knows that something’s up with their SOUL, right?

But… hmmm… well, most of the times Tenna addresses Kris it can be interpreted as “Hey Buddy I know you’re possessed now but it was also very mean how you were ignoring me while you still had your free will it really hurt my feelings ):”

Or maybe “C’mon, Unknowable Body-Snatching Time Demon, I know you’re not really Kris, but work with me here, okay?”

But there are also a few times where Tenna expresses bafflement and frustrations with the actions of ‘Kris’ in a way that makes it seem like he thinks they do have control over their actions.

Most notably, he’s very distraught over Kris’ lack of emotional engagement with his Show. He feels like his inability to make Kris ‘laugh and cry’ like they used is indicative of failure on his part…

And I mean, we can’t be sure how much of Kris’ withdrawn and stoic demeanor is genuine and how much is a side-effect of our possession… so how would Tenna know? Why would Tenna be so certain that Kris’ reactions are a genuine indication of their (lack of) enjoyment if he had even an inkling of knowledge about the possession situation?

Also, Ramb also apparently saw Kris create the Dark Fountain and he’s Tenna’s main accomplice in the Toriel-Kidnapping plot, but he certainly doesn’t behave like he knows about the Player. His offer of a game that gives Kris more ‘freedom’ only makes sense if he assumes Kris can actually play it of their own will, after all.

It would make sense for Kris to try and minimize the amount of people who know about the SOUL as much as possible… but…

That also probably means Kris had some sort of a plan to shut Tenna up when the adventure was done. I mean, Tenna’s possible endings are either ‘fucking dead’, ‘moves out of Castle Town ASAP and thus goes back to being an inanimate (but content) television’, or ‘fixed but still thrown out by Toriel and presumably still dies’...

… and these are all very convenient if he knows about Kris’ secrets. There’s no possible timeline where he could accidentally spill anything about us. But… Kris couldn’t have possibly planned for all of this, right? They must’ve had their own plan to make sure the emotionally fragile showboat in love with the sound of his own voice who is extremely found of talking about intimate details of their personal life doesn’t reveal what’s really going on to anyone else.

…Well, depending how much Kris and the Knight knew of the Prophecy before Chapter 4, they might’ve assumed Tenna was doomed to die in one way or another.

In their eyes he was just a dead man walking, and dead men tell no tales. That would be pretty grim, especially considering the implications Kris themself has a desire to change the Prophecy…

…While also being willing to use it’s inevitability against Tenna. Promising him his heart’s desires while making a plan that hinges on him being doomed.

But… hmmm… I just don’t know. Just like with anything that has to do with Kris, I’m just not sure yet… And the possibility that the Knight did make the deal in person but then had to leave to do... something also still exists, but... Well, I'm not quite sure yet...

[yeonmuse]

CHAPTER 29 | fly high Jake

an: Makos letters are written at the end, the pictures are solely for aesthetics please don’t struggle reading to read them

Makos letter to yn reads

To yn,

I know that you’ve already forgiven me, but I’d like to apologize again. I never thought that I could hurt you in the way I have and it really has pained me lately to know that I caused a ripple between the two of us. You’re just all I’ve known since before elementary school and it was hard to see that things were changing right before my eyes and I couldn’t keep up with the changes. So many new people have entered your life and mine and I was starting to become afraid that you wouldn’t need me anymore. It wasn’t Just the fact that I’ve had these feelings for you for so long but i just didn’t want us to drift apart. I didn’t want Niki to come in and change things even more. But within trying to prevent those changes I did something worse and put a distance between us. I’m sorry, so fucking sorry I betrayed your trust.Everything that you said was right, I know I was wrong and I’m going to give youwhatever space you need, to find yourself, to explore things with Niki without mr holding onto you, or holding you back. This could be your first love, first real love and I want that for you, I really do. So I’m going to step back the next few days and give all of you space.I won’t be at the pool party or at today’s gathering at moonstruck. I just hope that within time we can become close again.

Sincerely, Mako

Her letter to Niki

I’m not really sure where to start, I never really took the time to Get to know you and for that I want to say sorry also. I really truly am sorry, for lying, for the water at the karting track. I let my intrusive thoughts and fear of losing my best friend get the best of me.I’m not asking to be best friends, or for us to be close, but I do hope that one day I can get to know you without my envy getting in the way. I know that what I did was inexcusable and weird, and right now I’m feeling all of that guilt and hurt that I know I deserve but I hope that you know it was never anything against you. I ler my insecurities and abandonment issues drive me to do something fucked up. I hope that it hasn’t ruined things between you and yn, I can tell she really likes you. She hasn’t talked about anyone the way she talks about you since middle school. She says that you’re genuine and you pay attention to the little things about her and I hope that’s true. I hope that you love and take care of her because that’s what she deserves after so many people have lied to her and used her over and over again. I see the way you make her seem and I don’t want to get in the way of that. Not when you actually make her so happy. So again Niki I’m so sorry, sorry for making it seem like you were using her after what I heard in the hallway. I’m sorry for not getting to know you and prejudging you because of my own agenda and hope that everyday we can move on.

Sincerely, Mako

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[iheartsophie]

IN THE SUMMERTIME | italianbach

^ྀི pairing: italianbach x reader

^ྀི genre: real life, smau, established!relationship

^ྀི context: y/n and italianbach vacate to italy for their 10 year anniversary, both fans and y/n wonder when he is gonna put a ring on it.

^ྀི warnings: none that i’m aware of

^ྀི sophie speaks!: i listened to “summer song” by Remy Bond when i wrote this, i felt like it just fit the vibe perfectly 💋

The villa was straight out of a daydream. Warm terracotta walls, sprawling olive trees, and a lemon grove so picturesque it practically begged to be posted on Instagram. You and Isaac—aka the love of your life and part-time chaos goblin—had the whole place to yourselves for the next ten days. Ten days for ten years.

A whole decade together.

And somehow… no one had died. Or been arrested. Or left the other in a pit of romantic despair because someone (cough Bach) left the milk out for three days. Again.

You flopped onto the cushy linen sofa in the sunroom, grinning as you scrolled through the photos Bach had taken that morning.

“You posted them yet?” he called from the kitchen, where he was aggressively stirring pasta with the confidence of a man who once burned toast trying to “warm it up.”

“About to,” you replied. “Do I give you the title of ‘love of my life’ or ‘chef who’s about to burn penne’?”

He poked his head around the corner with an exaggeratedly wounded expression, flour on his nose and a dish towel over his shoulder like a true Italian nonna.

“Rude. First of all, it’s rigatoni. Second, this dish is revolutionary. It’s called ‘Pasta alla Vaguely-Winging-It’. Very traditional.”

“You’ve made that joke six times today.”

“And I’ll keep making it until someone laughs.”

You did. Every time. Stupid man.

⸻

That evening, after a sunset so orange and pink it looked photoshopped, you finally posted a photodump to Instagram:

@/youruser

liked by italianbach, glambyflo and 165,897 others

@/youruser: 10 years of love, laughter and him still not knowing how to put on a fitted sheet. (and him clearly not knowing how to put a ring on it)

comments:

@/user: 10 years!!!??? you’re basically married atp

@/theburntchip: bro, put a ring on it. beyoncé didn’t make that song for no reason.

@/taliamar: i’m just here for the chaotic pasta chronicles. please record the next dinner.

@/user: please can you guys adopt me? I’ll cook, clean i’ll do anything!

@/italianbach: patience ✋ these things take time

↳ @/youruser: don’t play with me rn. i’ve been waiting 10 years.

⸻

You showed Bach the comments while you both lay on a deckchair, your legs tangled under a shared blanket. He scrolled through them, eyebrows bouncing with amusement.

“I feel attacked,” he said. “But like… lovingly.”

“Oh yeah. The internet’s bullying you because they love us. Especially me. Mostly me.”

He leaned in and nuzzled his head into your shoulder. “Ten years,” he murmured. “How are you not sick of me yet?”

“Stockholm syndrome,” you said sweetly. Then, a beat later, “Also your butt looks great in linen pants. That buys you another year.”

He laughed, warm and full. You could feel it in your chest. Like it had been there since the day you met.

⸻

Day 3:

You both decided to “cook together.” A bold choice, considering last time it ended with you eating cold cereal on the floor while he tried to fix a smoke alarm with a spatula.

“I read somewhere that couples who cook together live longer,” you said, chopping basil.

“Yeah? Couples who don’t cook together don’t die in grease fires.”

“…touché.”

Eventually, dinner was served: slightly burnt bruschetta, lumpy carbonara, and wine that made you both giggly.

He kissed you with tomato still on his lip and declared it “an authentic Italian experience.”

You corrected him, saying it was an “authentically ridiculous experience,” but the truth was—it was perfect.

⸻

Day 6:

Bach woke you up with breakfast in bed. Sort of.

He tripped over his own shoes and nearly spilled espresso all over your pillow, but you caught it in time. The croissant was slightly squished from being carried in his hoodie pocket, but he’d written “Happy 10 Years” on the plate with Nutella, so he was forgiven.

“I was going to make you pancakes, but then I remembered… I don’t know how.”

“You’ve literally made pancakes before.”

“Not successfully.”

You shared the squished croissant in bed, laughing as he smeared Nutella on your nose and immediately regretted it when you retaliated with whipped cream to the face.

The whole thing went straight to your Stories. Obviously.

⸻

Day 9:

You were sitting by the pool, legs in the water, sipping limoncello, when Bach quietly sat beside you.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked out at the olive grove, then back at you.

“You know,” he began, “we’ve made it a whole decade without murdering each other. That’s impressive.”

“You should put that on a card.”

He laughed, then reached into his hoodie pocket. You froze.

Was this it?

Was this finally—?

He pulled out a single, slightly melted chocolate truffle.

“…I was going to propose with this,” he said. “But then it melted. So I panicked. And I ate the other one.”

You burst out laughing, shoulders shaking. “Classic. You gonna marry me with sticky fingers and cocoa breath?”

“I mean,” he said, pretending to take a knee dramatically, holding the remaining truffle between two fingers like it was a diamond ring. “Will you continue putting up with me for another ten years?”

You plucked the truffle from his hand and popped it into your mouth. “Only if you actually propose someday. Preferably without snacks.”

“Fine. One day. Not today.”

You kissed his cheek. “One day’s good. I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

Day 10:

The trip ended with a romantic dinner under fairy lights, Bach attempting to sing in Italian (badly), and the two of you slow dancing barefoot in the kitchen to some old jazz record that skipped every thirty seconds.

You posted one last photo:

@/youruser

liked by italianbach, arthurtv, 267,878 others

@/youruser: 10 years. No ring. The love of my life. (no but seriously. Next year, or i’m gonna riot)

⸻

And you knew, whether he proposed next week or next decade, none of it really mattered.

You already had everything.

[sunandmoonseisai]

I want to discuss how laios always struggled to accept changes regarding his sister and how it stunted their relationship. In the adventurer's Bible extra exploring their past, we see him being very disturbed by their mother's attempts at "fixing" falin. Which includes cutting her hair short.

But falin didn't seem to mind it nearly as much as laios did. And I think it is significant that she never grew her hair long again. This was her first step in stepping away from laios's image of her as his innocent little sister. Keep in mind, pthis is what lead to this first major change.

Falin discovered extraordinary power this day. But for laios, that was the day when his young life took a turn for the worst. His sister started getting bullied for something that wasn't wrong and that was just part of who she was. And then, without any explanations given, their father decided to send her away. This moment marked the end of their innocent childhood and the beginning of growing up.

Falin handled the transition with more graces than laios did. True, she didn't fit in immediately in her new school but she did eventually made a friend in marcille and grew up to be a powerful mage. She had ill will toward her parents. She kept contacts with them alongside laios. Falin made the best of her situation.

Meanwhile, laios had it rough. His plan to earn enough money so him and his sister could make a living together took a turn for the worst. We don't exactly know what he went through in the army but the glimpses we get suggest that he was bullied, beaten and humiliated among other things.

Which lead him to become a runaway doing odd jobs as a means of surviving. After that is it any wonder that he developed such strong resentment towards his parents? And that he was overcome with self-hatred, he who sweared to provide for his sister and became homeless instead because people rejected his very existence for whatever reason. He who left home before falin because he couldn't bear to see her suffer and let her to eat alone.

That's why when he saw her again and she insisted to join him, he couldn't possibly refuse her. He did enough harm to both of them by simply leaving. Now that they're reunited, they could fulfill their promise to travel the world together...

... Except that this falin he made this promise to, the falin he sweared to protect and provide for is one that left ten years ago. When laios picture falin, I think this is what he sees.

This is the falin he grew up with. The falin before she discovered her power. The falin with long hair.

And maybe, subconsciously he forced her into this role. The same way marcille is fixated on the cute little girl that she took under her wing, not the woman she became. But how long can this illusion last? We know it has already begin to show cracks.

And such is the metaphor behind falin's ressurection as a chimera, right? The falin marcille and laios loved is dead. What she has become is mysterious and frightening. By trying to get her back to what she once was, she has become a mimickery of who she truly is.

This lead to the resolution in chapter 67. Laios reached the acceptance stage of grief. He's now ready to accept not only falin's literal death but also the metaphorical death of the little girl who used to tug on his arm who needed his protection. He take upon himself to break the illusion.

"sorry I'm late". Laios took fifteen years to grieve the past. Fifteen years to make peace with the fact that the girl his sister once was, he wasn't able to protect her and his current one just need space to herself. But that's okay.

Falin decided to come back. She made the choice to keep the dragon as part of herself, as a testament to the sacrifice that changed her. Just like how she kept her hair short, she won't let what happened left her unchanged like what laios and marcille wanted.

She'll come back as a new person.

And laios will get to know the real her

All over again

[avocado-writing]

What if Reader was a paranormal creature sort of like Perpetua is?

But she doesn’t really know it (maybe it’s demonic ancestry). For instance, sometimes she wakes up confused in strange places in the ministry. Perpetua is really happy about it once he realizes what’s going on.

“Oh, so it was your girlfriend who’s been chasing the ghouls for the past several nights.” —Copia

“She didn’t mean to scare them too much.” —Perpetua

gn!creature!reader x creature!perpetua

i wrote this as gn reader bc everyone wants to be a cryptid in the shadows sometimes lmao. also you are sort of aware of what you're doing rather than being totally blindsided by it!

you haven't... acclimatised to humanity as well as he has.

the two of you had been monsters, beasts of the night, creatures who stalked and skulked and clung to the shadows in a way which was unsettling at best and nightmare-inducing at worst. but then he'd been called upon to become Papa and his desire to find a home had won out over his attachment to the abyss. and because you loved him, of course, the two of you entered the Ministry hand-in-hand, your claws catching together as you morphed and shaped into bipedal forms under the light of the altar.

by day you were people, fine upstanding members of the Church. by night, you gave into your true natures.

and you had just a little bit less control over your real self than he did.

he sits in front of Frater Imperator's desk, his twin, though the man in front of him is more of a human than he could ever hope to be. Perpetua shifts under his exhausted gaze.

"you need to rein them in," he says, levelly. Perpetua sighs.

"I'm trying. they just need to... let off a little steam, that's all. it's difficult for us, being in these bodies."

"you manage it."

"there must be more human in my bloodline. I mean, we are related, correct? they don't have that luxury."

Copia makes a pained noise.

"they were chasing Siblings around after evening mass."

"... they say it's good exercise."

"they were on all fours, snarling! they bit someone, for Satan's sake!"

"they didn't draw blood!"

Copia shakes his head in despair before burying his face in his hands.

"fratello," he says kindly, and that touches a soft place in Perpetua's heart, "you need to talk to them. your parmour cannot continue to terrorise my congregation. please find a way to keep them under control."

"I will do my best," he concedes. the meeting is adjourned. as Perpetua returns to his apartments he sees the sun going down, and knows he will find you out of your daytime body.

sure enough he opens the door and finds you hanging from the rafters, tail and wings stretched out, long limbs unfolding to shake out the discomfort of only having two elbows for the past twelve hours. your eyes blink all at once and come to land on him.

"your brother is angry with me, isn't he?"

"not angry, my heart. just... he doesn't understand, not like I do."

you harrumph, admiring your claws.

"we agreed to come and take this position for him. he could cut us some slack."

you seem upset. with as little effort as it takes to remove a jacket at the end of a day, Perpetua shucks his human skin and ascends into the ceiling with you. it is easier to behold you like this. you do not blur out of reality when he is also in his true form, and he can appreciate every little detail of your body: your silky fur, your perfect talons, the razor-sharp edges of your teeth.

"come here, my love."

you collapse into his embrace, burying your face into his shoulder.

"i'm sorry, Perpetua. I don't mean to run riot. it's just hard, being in that tiny form all day. I go a little over-the-top at night."

he hums thoughtfully.

"well... perhaps I will just have to think of ways to have you burn off that energy inside the bedroom," he says. you perk up immediately at that, meeting his mismatched gaze and face bursting into a smile.

"oh... well, when you put it like that, Papa..."

he moans at the use of his title, feeling himself become aroused as you lean in. he cups your face in his palms and pulls you in for what passes as a kiss in these bodies.

that is one good thing about humans. it is easier to press your lips together without snouts.

[4thelovabob]

Bob is touch starved part 9

“And I would like you to do that,” Yelena answers faux-demurely, tilting her head back on the pillow, giving him a gorgeous view of her, making his heart race. “And I think I’d also like you to keep telling me just what you’re thinking, as you undress me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You have a very nice voice,” she adds. “I’ve always thought that. And you like to talk yourself through things.”

With a chuckle, Bob resolved to narrate his thoughts aloud for her. “Yeah, I guess I do. Helps with the nervous energy.”

“I make you nervous?” Yelena smiles, a twinkle in her eye.

Bob’s eyes go huge as he nods. “Oh, yeah. And, um...weak.” He exhales, long and slow. “And at the same time…you make me wanna be braver and stronger than I’ve ever been.”

“I see. So when were you going to tell me all this, Bob?”

“Well, I…was too intimidated, but I was trying. I flirted with you before.”

“You did?”

“I - I’m sure I gave you a look.” Bob scratches his head. “Back when you were, um, checking on me after Walker nearly decked me, and we got to talking.”

“A look?”

“Yeah, it was like - “ Bob lowers his chin, tilts his head slightly. His deep blue eyes glance shyly up through his lashes at her, holding her gaze for a moment as he smiles.

“Ok, I’ll admit to being completely oblivious when it comes to being hit on, but I did notice those bedroom eyes,” Yelena laughs. She’s impressed by how easily they can carry on a conversation right now on the bed, finally sharing all their most intimate thoughts about each other. She didn’t think it could ever feel so easy with someone. “I thought it might be too subtle to be anything, though.”

“Oh, it was something,” Bob says with conviction. “Those are the most bedroom eyes I’ve given anyone.”

“I was flirting with you, too.”

“You - you were?” Bob stammers, shifting his weight a little.

“You didn’t notice how much I was touching you? Or smiling warmly at you? Assassins do not smile warmly.”

“I thought I was being wishful.”

Yelena raises a brow. “Have you flirted much before?”

Bob shakes his head, breaks into a grin. “That obvious?”

“Not that you owe an explanation, but - “

“No, it's ok,” Bob says, suddenly serious. “I didn’t really care to, before. I don’t think attraction works for me…like it does for other people. I had some dive bar buds who always tried to hook me up. Get me to buy some girl a drink or whatever.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want some girl. I wanted…I felt like I was waiting for someone.”

“Are you for real?”

“I’m very for real.”

“You like me just because we share a connection?”

Bob finally sees what she’s getting at. “Of course because of that. But I’m also very into you, Yelena. Physically.” The tips of Bob’s ears are going red. “That - is that not obvious by now, either?”

Yelena pauses. “I never…never thought I’d get to have…”

“Both of those things,” Bob finishes her sentence, and it was exactly what she was going to say. She recalls the last time he did that: A void, he’d said, naming the emotion they’d both felt. But now he’s naming the opposite of that: an emotion that overwhelms her, so pure and delicate it hurts in the best way. Yelena swallows back the verge of tears and lets the feeling sink in, lets herself have it as Bob studies her.

It was happiness. Real, true, happiness.

“I’d love for you to undress me now,” she reminds him through a suddenly raspy undertone.

Bob smiles as he runs his fingers across her neckline, the ghost of a touch, as if he’s afraid to ask too much.

“And don’t forget to say what you're thinking,” Yelena adds.

Bob’s smile widens, his voice going soft. “I want to take this off you first.”

Yelena props herself up again to make it easier. Bob’s hands hover by the straps of her slip, hesitating before deciding to go for the hemline.

Yelena has to scoot forward on her butt so he can get the little black number up and over her hips. She wiggles, a squeak of a laugh escaping her as she gets stuck in the silky fabric, and Bob’s adorable smile meets her once she’s free, left in nothing but a black bralette.

His eyes roam over her curves, distracted before he manages to find his voice again. “Um, and then I want to…kiss your neck.”

Yelena leans forward, looking askance to expose the side of her neck. Bob presses kisses all along the naked expanse from her collarbone up to her earlobe. Unable to help himself, he traces his tongue along its edge, and gently nibbles the dangly little gunmetal earrings he likes so much on her.

“Shit,” Yelena says through her teeth, so soft she’s not sure he even hears her.

Bob kisses all along her jaw - he’s really fantastic at this all-over kissing thing - breath growing hotter and heavier. “And I want to - to slip these - “ He murmurs without elaboration, tracing the straps of her bra, and Yelena wonders how someone so powerful can be so soft with his hands.

“Uh-huh,” Yelena breathes, quietly losing her mind.

Bob’s fingers inch past her ribcage and toward her back, fumbling for a moment. “How does this, um, go - “

“It opens in the front,” Yelena encourages him.

“Oh - oh yeah, I guess they make these like that sometimes,” he mutters sheepishly, dropping his gaze to her mouth, then her breasts unreservedly. He nearly holds his breath as he unhooks the little clasp at the center with surprising dexterity. As it drops away, Bob’s breath hitches. Her supple, small breasts spill out of the cups, nipples raised, and he can see white scars crisscrossing her all over, the puckered scar of a bullet wound - and oh, he needs her.

“Oh.” He can hardly form coherent thoughts. “Oh, jeez. You are beautiful, Yelena."

“I probably should have mentioned I have a lot of scars,” Yelena says then, not apologetic, but speaking a little faster now. “I’m not embarrassed about them, but you know, they can be startling if you -”

“You’re beautiful.” Bob’s dark blue eyes find hers for an instant, before feasting on the rest of her again. “I know you said it’s like, like we’ve seen each other naked before, but…but not really. I mean, your body is just…” He blinks, dazed, letting his words hang there.

“You ok there?” she asks slyly.

“I’m thinking of anything remotely appropriate to say,” Bob says, before shaking his head. “Mmm, no, I can’t.”

“Your turn, now,” Yelena insists, reaching out to him, and Bob doesn't even think. He just sits back, raising his arms over his head as she takes the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. He emerges with that familiar crooked grin and mop of brown hair, along with lean and extraordinarily defined abs, chest, and arms.

He looks down at his arms, too, laced with a few faint marks from where he had to get stitches a few times. “I probably should have mentioned mine, too - “

“I know,” Yelena says, her voice like warm honey, and Bob closes his eyes, sinking into it. He feels her touch those old scars first, instead of the new muscles the serum has given him. “You’re beautiful, too, Bob.”

As she inclines her head in admiration, Bob kisses her.

He holds her face between his hands and captures her lips in his own, and the sweetness and intensity of it draws him closer to her, literally brings him forward onto his knees. Which is useful, since Yelena's hands can drop to his waist and untie his sweatpants and slip them away like a magic trick, until his kisses turn into a fluttery laugh against her lips, and he stops to look at them both, almost fully naked together. And no feeling has ever been sweeter.

Bob brings out that softness in her, too. The kind that used to be only reserved for cuddling fluffy animals. Or sitting at home alone in her pajamas watching her favorite streamers play some action game, yelling something funny that might remind her of Nat, laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks. He made her feel giddy in a way that had become so difficult to access with anyone.

He does that when he asks, so very politely, to kiss her breasts.

"Can I - can I kiss you there too?" he asks, swallowing as his eyes flick downward. "I'd really love to kiss them."

Yelena giggles, throwing her head back a little. She bites her lip. "You wanna kiss the girls?"

Bob can hardly take his eyes off her body, but their gazes meet then. "Is that weird?" He asks at once.

"It's incredibly sweet," she admits. "I'm - just not used to that. The incredible sweetness that you are always showing me."

"Well, then...here." Bob dips his head to her chest. He starts slowly, almost worshipful, his lips meeting the space right between them, where her heart beats. He trails tender, adoring kisses down in a line to her navel, before moving back up again.

Yelena feels herself going weak at his touch. Softening. Something she never allowed herself to do with anyone before.

"Wow," she whispers. "Ok, don't...don't stop there."

Bob chuckles, his voice husky. "I'm only getting started." His lips meet the soft, creamy mound of her left breast, circling it almost teasingly. He traces the shape of it with his mouth as if mapping out a landscape, memorizing her form by touch alone, until he reaches her peaked nipple at the center. Yelena gasps as his kisses end there, and Bob - who she is learning, loves to explore with his mouth - flicks the tip of his tongue over it experimentally.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath washing over her naked breasts. "I want to touch you while - "

"Yes," Yelena exhales her permission, without waiting for the rest.

Bob's hand skates up her abdomen, her ribs, coming to gently cup her breast, as a moan escapes him. His touch is gentle but searching, seeking. Yelena can sense how badly he's craved the feel of her.

"You're so pretty, Yelena," he murmurs, sitting back. "You feel so good. So soft."

Yelena's breath shudders as his other hand follows, until he's holding both of them, kneading and squeezing so gently. He goes so quiet, almost under a trance when she asks, "and what do you want now?"

A little smile plays at his lips. He shakes his head. "Mm, too much."

"Ah-ah, that wasn't the deal, Robert," she scolds him. "Go on.”

Bob’s hands are trembling slightly as they slide down her body again, back to her thighs. He stifles a moan behind a closed mouth, squeezing her.

"I wanna try making you come again," he says darkly. "And I wanna be inside you while I do it."

"That kind of thing usually takes some finesse, if you're up for the challenge," Yelena teases him. "But it so happens I can make myself come over and over. And you turn me on more than my Rabbit ever could."

The thought of Yelena getting herself off sends a rush of heat straight to his dick. Bob nods, still trying to play it cool.

"Well, it so happens I can also...come over and over," he says matter of factly, with a flash of amusement in his big eyes, making Yelena snort with laughter into his shoulder. He angles his head and starts kissing her neck again, making her laughs turn to soft moans. "Thanks to the superpowers. And you turn me on more than anything, so...challenge accepted, Yelena Belova."

His voice is gravelly against her skin before he breaks away to survey her. Yelena's cheeks are flushed as she looks sidelong at her shirtless, disheveled Bob. "We're not getting any sleep tonight, are we?"

Bob nods solemnly. "I am prepared for that outcome."

Wrapping her arms around him, Yelena pulls him to her. Bob braces himself as they fall back into the pillows, his full weight on top of her.

“Hey,” she says up at him, smiling and so soft beneath him.

He smiles back. “Hey.” Neither of them have done this much, but he asks anyway. "Do we need - uh, should I get protection? Even though..." He lets his sentence trail off, gazing at her face. Up close, he can appreciate all the little colors and prismatic details in her hazel irises, her little dimples as her smile deepens. "But um, to prevent - "

"You don't have to worry about that," Yelena says. Her smile is soft. "It can't happen. The Red Room took those parts of me. Permanent birth control."

She sounds somewhat ambivalent about it, but Bob notices her waiting gaze. He wonders if she expects him to be upset about that in some way, but he just blinks.

"They warned me about the side effects of taking the Sentry serum when I signed the paperwork," Bob reveals, too. "One of those being sterilization, essentially."

"And you were ok with that?"

Bob shrugs. "Yeah." His smile is like sunshine - a feeling that Yelena wants to wake up to every morning. "Now it's one more thing we have in common. And, well, selfishly..." He hesitates.

"Tell me."

Bob swallows. "It means we can be very, very close," he murmurs under his breath, hot on her skin, and Yelena can feel the length of him against her now, hard and needy.

"Close enough you could come inside me?" she asks, stealing any and all focus he had remaining.

Bob nods helplessly. The only thing left between them is his boxers. And Yelena doesn't make him wait any more.

He lets out a little gasp as she slips them down over his narrow hips and slim thighs. Reaches between his legs, taking him in her gentle grasp. And just like that, slips his sheer girth inside her silky, wet cunt.

Bob sees stars. He can hardly bear to move at first, afraid her warmth sheathing him will somehow be taken from him. A deep-seated moan escapes his chest, and for several seconds he just looks at her with complete adoration, a little pinched furrow between his brows, above his deep blue eyes, mouth half-open with yearning. Savoring the full length of him inside her.

Yelena looks back at him, smudged-eyeliner gaze smoldering, as she curls her fingers at the nape of his neck, entwining them in his brown locks.

Bob lets out the softest, sweetest "yes" as he moves his hips, sliding out just barely before taking her deeper. He could come already just from this.

He drops his head to the space between her shoulder and neck, shuddering. "Oh my god...oh my god."

Yelena knows how overwhelming this must be for him. She lets him take his time, one hand running her fingers through his hair while the other fingers her clit.

"That's it, baby," she coaxes, when he begins thrusting a little more. "Mmm...You fill me so well, Bob. You weren't gonna tell me you were hiding this beautiful body of yours. So worried I can't love you for you." She notches one leg around his lower back, and his breath catches. "Well, you're wrong, Bob Reynolds. I loved you before the Sentry. Scruffy haired and barefoot in your scrubs." Her other leg follows, wrapping around his torso, angling him deeper inside her. "I love you just for who you are."

He's on top, and he could easily overpower her, but submission comes naturally for Bob. Yelena has him weak as she uses the grip of her legs to leverage herself, rocking herself up to meet each one of his thrusts.

"Yelena." He can't form words. All that comes to mind is her name, a choked-off little sob. "Yelena - "

And tears are welling in his eyes as he fucks her slowly, deeply, falling in her hair like dew as she wraps him in her arms, against her breasts, and all that surrounds him is Yelena, the scent of her, her softness, her light. He fears crushing her, but she holds him there as the breath rackets out of him, as he buries his damp face in the arch of her neck, as his long, lingering thrusts quicken, as his cock throbs for more of her. He feels her fingertips brush the base of his shaft as she strokes herself.

"Got you, Bob," Yelena says, her own pleasure building like a fire in her. "I'm here. You feel so, so good."

"Want you," he whimpers, nearly babbling from need. "Want you like this - want us, always - "

Yelena lifts her head to his ear. And then she says something that nearly sends him over the sweet, golden edge.

"My Bob," she purrs. "Such a good boy."

"Oh - fuck, Yelena.” The praise unlocks something primal inside him. “Ohhh...say that again."

Yelena is close, but she doesn't tell him. She doesn't want him to know she has it all planned out for him. That she's worked up to the edge of her climax, waiting for him to meet her.

“Such a good boy for me,” she praises him again, panting. “You're doing so well.”

She feels a sense of pride rising, because for all her seductive tricks, she's never used them on a lover - on someone she was overjoyed to turn into a pliant, lust-consumed mess. Which, as it turns out, is very easy to do with Bob.

And that's what he is, now, as his thrusts turn frantic, sloppy, greedy. As he braces himself above her, flushed beneath the tangles of his sweat-laced hair, her name ragged on his lips.

"F-fuck - Yelena! Gonna come - "

Bob cries out as he comes hard, losing all control as wave after wave of pleasure rocks through his body, as he spills into her completely. Yelena follows suit, and the sounds she makes just for him are enough to tease out the best orgasm of his life, every fluttering pulse of her tight heat around him like another spasm running through his gut, and he's not sure where he ends and she begins.

They collapse, hot and spent and slick, unable to extricate themselves from the other's embrace for a long time. Bob eventually remembers his body heat and weight, considering they might be uncomfortable after a few minutes - and gathering her to him like it's nothing, easily rolls over on his back while keeping his softening cock inside her.

To be next to her: that's all Bob could have hoped for.

To be with her, to love her? It's his greatest dream come true.

Yelena sighs in total contentment, resting her cheek on Bob's broad chest as he strokes her hair. She doesn't care about leaking all over the mattress, about her teammates overhearing that glorious finish, about anything right now except Bob's deep voice, muffled against her brow as he holds her.

"I love you, Yelena."

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

(part 10 TBA??)

[shuririsecretl0v3r]

okay in all seriousness, i have some great ironheart theories so bare with me on this guys

spoiler warning if you haven’t watched ironheart!!

N.A.T.A.L.I.E. was the first representation of combining science and magic

now i’m not saying riri williams has magical powers or anything but i have a slight feeling she doesn’t know she’s magically inclined. we see ronnie have a sense of magical or spiritual nature within her so is it impossible to think that wasn’t bestowed upon riri? because how could you explain her hooking her brain up to amp up an AI for her suit and she manifests her dead bestie who’s exact in the same personality and wittiness all! she didnt even have an explanation herself so if thats not magic then it must not be real.

Mephisto’s interest in Riri’s soul and actively pursuing for her to take down Parker was no coincidence

okay let me explain. now i don’t know much about mephisto character and his role in the comics so i’m spitballing here but i have a feeling he collects souls that harness such powers and abilities that amplifies himself on a further level. like the source of his powers and makes him who he is. riri’s soul happens to be one of the rarest souls in the multiverse. this is really a two part theory as well. i also feel like because of riri striping parker of the hood making him seek even more powerful and darker magic than before will benefit mephisto in the long run since he still owns his soul.

Riri’s soul is one of a kind

this is the second part to my theory above. the multiverse is real and very canon in the mcu now. different realities cause different actions in each one blah blah blah. i have a theory that riri becoming ironheart doesn’t happen in every single universe. let me explain, riri’s story arc counts on having both natalie and her stepfather gary dying on that very day. well what if the drive by is always canon, but only one of them dies in every other universe. i feel like if riri had one of them to support losing the other it would cause such a different outcome in her to where she wouldn’t feel the need to make the suit. their support and guidance is what keeps riri in a better mindset and not spiral the way that she does. in this universe losing both of them sends her down a slightly dark and powerful path that makes her soul such a rare moment in time.

Natalie’s existence is single handedly going to destroy Riri’s world as she knows it

i hope this theory is not true because i want them happyyy no please😭🤚🏾. anyways we all saw natalie come back from the dead and it seems to be herself exactly after the shooting. she even asks where gary is so this is the natalie before or after the shooting. her being there will make everything around riri corrupt. her life and relationship for one because i have a feeling ronnie and xavier are not gonna be happy about the real natalie being back there. an ai version of her is one thing plus that was by mistake, but making a deal with a dark entity to have her back is such an immortal way if you think about it. and for natalie this transition of coming back from the dead will likely crash her whole mindset and led her down a path of resenting riri for doing what she did even if it was out of love. i hate to say this too but this could also lead her to be evil maybe? i mean her soul probably also belongs to mephisto because he is actively keeping her alive too. her existence could cause cracks in reality since she should be dead in this timeline. honestly riri might have to make a decision on rather saving the world or keeping her alive.

these are just theories and i could be totally wrong but i can’t wait to see how this plays out in the mcu and possibly a season two! let me know how you guys feel and if you have any other comments or ideas. feel free to tell me i’m wrong because i’ve never read the comics so if you know more do let me in on it😭💕! i haven’t seen everyone else theories on the show so if i said something that was already said i would love to give credit to whomever.

[iwtv-theories]

Daniel's arc in s3 (theory):

Since Daniel’s been having brief flashbacks of Armand since s1-2 ; I assume the flashbacks will continue. They'll probably continue in chronological order (like prior seasons) . And he’ll have several flashbacks over s3. And the second he starts seeing gentle or romantic flashbacks he’s going to have an existential crisis. And (if he is doing drugs again) he may even try to gaslight himself into thinking he was just “high”. Or he’ll wonder if he’s going crazy.(Like book Daniel having a madness arc post vampirism). But even Daniel knows every vision in Dubai was accurate (and those memories of Armand may start filling in gaps with his memory that make too much sense to be false). And when he does accept it’s true, I think it’ll devastate him and he’ll be desperate to find Armand (not only to understand Armand’s motivations, not only cause he loved Armand, but to 100% confirm it was all real and he’s not losing his mind ). Daniel to Armand in qotd: “you think you can drive me insane! Well you can’t , every time I look at you I realize I didn’t make you up and that I’m sane!”

Another interesting thing would be that Daniel would more than likely try to keep his past relationship with Armand a secret from Louis and Lestat (who he’s spending a lot of time with in s3).

So in summation . Daniel in s3 continues seeing flashbacks of Armand. Once the flashbacks go from negative- to platonic and romantic, he’d initially try to deny their validity. But eventually he’d admit the memories are real , and that he and Armand were together . And initially he’d be emotionally devastated that he lost the love of his life (and he'd have an existential crisis that makes him recontextualize his whole life). All while trying to keep it together for the documentary they’re currently filming. Not to mention, getting a decade’s worth of memories back would probably cause some personality changes too (which may cause concern to those around him). And while on tour: he’d be trying to hide this info from Lestat and Louis, who are literally mind readers .Maybe during the documentary Lestat is telling his story (and disparaging Armand). And Daniel gets more aggressive & defensive over Armand - which causes lestat to raise an eyebrow at him. Maybe Louis says something negative about Armand - and Daniel snaps at Louis too. Because even if the memory wipe wasn’t technically Louis' fault, Daniel may start showing unwarranted resentment/passive aggression to Louis ( which would obviously confuse Louis). But, it would make sense because Armand chose Louis over him. Their relationship fell apart - probably due to Armand refusing to abandon Louis , for Daniel. And what would really piss him off is that after all of that : Louis still only ever saw Armand as a rebound (and as a way to spite Lestat). And in s3, Louis may already be happy and back with Lestat . But Daniel in s3- has no idea where Armand is, or if he’ll ever see him again . He lost the love of his life for 50 years and is still devastated by losing that decade long relationship (while Louis already is seemingly over his 77 year long relationship with him). And Daniel may even incorrectly assume , if he did reunite with Armand , that Armand would never want him again given his bio-age.The potential for drama and conflict between Daniel, Louis, and Lestat …is INSANE!

-There’s also the possibility that he did get his memories back right after being turned and that’s why he wanted to find Armand (and is dressing like it’s the 70s again).But, either way he’d probably be trying to keep his dating history a secret from Louis and Lestat. And as the interview progresses it would be harder and harder for Daniel to keep it together and act like he doesn’t care about Armand . I could see him finally break character and snap at Lestat , if he said something particularly insulting about Armand .

[n1k0laa5]

Hiii

I'm so sorry if this question may seem repetitive or annoying, but like this is truly bothering me like idk even. So, I thought my manifestations kinda "failed" because I wasn't truly assuming, but more like hoping. Yk: if this will work then I know the Law works or smth. I changed..I was like: no this law works either way so I know this will work. And honestly I truly assumed I had it. Like let's talk grades: I truly assumed I passed, I was like: Yow I just know I passed, there is no other possibility. I visualised and reminded myself that what I am seeing is the truth. But well the opposite appeared. Gosh sometimes I don't know how to word stuff, because in the back of my mind I'm like: Am I just limiting myself? But there are no limits and I'm doing everything right so huh?

Yeah well

Thx in advance for if you answer

Ps: lovelovelove your bloggggg!! Keep it up hon.

Absolutely no apologies needed, angel.

This is not annoying or repetitive, it’s one of the most common and real things we all face on the manifestation journey, especially when it feels like you genuinely did everything right and the 3D still spat in your face. So let’s talk about it clearly.

What Revision Really Is (and Why It’s Not Too Late)

Revision is not about going back in time. It’s about changing your dominant assumption about an event and that assumption ripples into your 3D.

Neville Goddard didn’t say revise to pretend or cope. He said revise because consciousness is the only reality, and consciousness doesn’t care what “happened.” It only reflects what you persist in. When you revise, you’re telling your subconscious,

“This is the only version of that event I accept.”

You don’t revise because something went wrong. You revise because you are God, and God gets to choose what reality is stamped into existence.

So if your grades came back and you were like, “Wait, what the hell? That’s not what I assumed,” the work now is not to spiral. The work now is to revise the event as if the assumption was always true.

How to Revise (Specifically, Clearly, Powerfully)

You don’t need a ritual. You need a new assumption—and to mentally dwell in that state consistently.

Here’s how:

1. Decide: What actually happened?

• No, not what the 3D says. What you say.

• “I passed with flying colors.”

• “I got the exact grade I expected.”

• “That moment they told me my grade was such a high point—I felt proud, calm, validated.”

2. Replay the moment as you wanted it to be.

• Literally imagine getting the results and see what you wanted to see.

• Feel the relief. Hear someone say “congrats.”

• Anchor yourself in the new version of that scene. Make it your truth.

3. Dwell in that version from now on.

• Don’t explain or argue with the “real” one. Don’t justify it.

• If someone asks about it, in your mind: “Nope. I passed. Period.”

• The 3D doesn’t have the final word. Your assumption does.

Reminder: The 3D is old. It’s memory foam, not live broadcast.

What you saw was a reflection of past consciousness, not proof of what’s real now. So don’t dwell in the 3D. Don’t replay the disappointment. Dwell in the revised version, over and over, until that becomes your new default.

You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to decide. And if the mind brings up doubts, remind yourself:

“I’m not ignoring reality. I’m choosing one.”

“This is what happened — because I said so.”

“I revise not to fix it. I revise because this is what’s true now.”

That’s all. I do recommend checking out more on revision if you can, it seems like a good option for you.

No limits. No waiting. Just you, choosing again.

You got this, and you did pass. Persist in that.

I love you, and I’m proud of you.

[willothewispwisteriadawn]

A director comment about Chris dying during his chase + more about Chris’s death opportunities

I was watching an old Q&A with the director of Until Dawn, and he was talking about how complicated branching narratives can be and that, if you’re not careful, you’ll get plot combinations that don’t make sense.

Then he said that there’s a continuity mistake in Until Dawn. If Chris dies when running from the shed, then the plot for the rest of the game doesn’t make sense:

I have a few ideas about this that I’ve considered before, but they aren’t so terrible. They’ve just crossed my mind:

Chris has information that he ends up dying with if you fail his chase. I’d wondered before how Mike puts together that Josh is in the mines and thought “Well, Chris could have told him, while they walked back to the safe room, that Josh was taken.” But if Chris dies, this is kind of funky.

I’ve tried to see if I could find the story’s original skeleton. Though there’s no true “golden route,” in UD, it feels like it would still have a starting point or backbone. I’ve noted a few things like that Jess’s death is more baked into the story, but Chris’s survival is more in line with the story. Then there are minor things that you can tell were plotted one way then edited to create a branch, like Chris saving Josh in the saw trap merely cuts content (like when he picks up the beam in the shed) so this scene could have been crafted first by the idea you picked Ashley then tweaked for if you picked Josh.

But the few things that made me feel like Chris’s survival was part of the plotting were these:

The scene after the gun trap indicates Chris didn’t shoot anyone—regardless of what you did. When Mike and Sam hear him, he’s shouting “I can’t decide!” Then when the Psycho approaches him, he starts shooting and is surprised nothing is happening. The Psycho explains the gun has blanks. This happens every time, even if you shot Chris or Ashley—in which case Chris should know the bullets are duds. So, for my original path search, I ruled out Chris dying by Ashley locking him out. That branch is not where this duo’s building arc is leading either and just oddly implemented for Ashley in particular.

Sam tells Mike that the others are waiting at the lodge. This implies that either Chris or Emily didn’t die on the way back to the lodge. At the very least, for this line to work, you need Sam to believe plural people are alive. It can work out a few ways, but at the bare minimum you need one of these two to have survived his/her chase.

At the end, Chris runs past Mike, and Mike makes a motion to avoid him. If Chris is dead, Mike still does this, which is so minor but you can tell the initial thing here was for Chris to be alive. It’s a bit different than Jessica where you get dialogue/motions more leaning into the fact she died. An example is when the heads of those you’ve killed roll out from behind the mine door. You can tell the part where Mike sees Jess’s head was filmed first then edited a bit if she didn’t die.

Sometimes it’s just a behavior thing. Jessica’s death continues to weigh on Mike throughout the story, and he brings it up again multiple times—even if he didn’t expressly see her die (since the player saved her). Chris’s death does not have that weight. Everyone really reacts in the moment but Chris dying doesn’t continue to inform the characters’ attitudes or dialogue at all which is strange. The story keeps going with a tone that’s the same as if Chris is still there.

So, I’ve always felt Chris living was more baked into the story, even though I think the popular opinion is him dying since he’s so quiet in the safe room.

Trying to figure all this out was just for fun, not to be like “ONLY ONE ROUTE IS REAL.” Jessica and Matt lean more into dying, but them living makes for a fuller game. I can tell Jess’s death, in particular, was part of the original narrative idea (fun fact: She wasn’t even going to be save-able early in development. Byles has talked about this too), but her living also doesn’t break my immersion, and it’s cool to save this character who would be, by her trope, monster fodder in a movie. Having the ability to do surprising things makes this game what it is. I also think Chris can save Josh or Ashley, and it’s fine despite some seams. The gun trap thing ruins my immersion a bit, so I like having Chris do nothing.

I’m just really wondering what in particular Byles is pointing out here since he seems pretty adamant the game doesn’t work around Chris’s chase deaths. If I had to say, it would be about how Mike knows Josh wasn’t in the shed.

[blackcatxmagic]

What Jinhwan said surprised Griffin, and he looked at the other man, eyes slightly wide. "I'm funny?" he asked. "That's not something I hear very often. I'm not known for my humor." It was kind of nice though to hear; it felt like Jinhwan appreciated a part of him that most people didn't even see. Griffin still didn't think he was funny though. "I do think you have a point though," Griffin conceded. "If I'm going to tell anyone all the ways I'm messed up, it's probably going to be to a stranger. And not just any stranger - a professional one. I mean, how awkward would it be to tell a friend all your deep, dark secrets and then be like, 'so anyway, want to get some lunch?' You know what I mean? At least with a professional, you can just leave and don't have to keep seeing them with the knowledge that you'd shared some bleak corner of your psyche with them." It seemed that he and Jinhwan had this in common, and Griffin nodded. "Same here," he agreed. "It's always been hard for me too, and sometimes that's been a real detriment." Maybe if he'd been more open with his ex, if he'd kept that connection strong and not let it get frayed and weak, they'd be here together now.

Griffin noticed the blush to Jinhwan's cheeks, and he couldn't help but smile. Was that because of Griffin? If so, it was definitely flattering - he always liked having that effect on cute guys. But he wasn't going to just assume. "Maybe not always, but I think it might be sometimes," Griffin countered. "I was asking him to give up his entire life. Besides, whether or not it was selfish, I did it, and it didn't matter. Maybe this is just how it was supposed to be." Griffin definitely hadn't been planning to talk this much about his ex - or at all honestly. It made him feel strange, reminding him of that unresolved feeling he associated with his ex-boyfriend now, the lack of closure. It sort of felt like without it, their story would never be over; it would always be a loose end. And Griffin hated leaving things unfinished. "They can be coaxed, hmm?" he mused, likewise grateful for the conversational shift. "And how might you do that? Magic?" Griffin was genuinely wondering this, wondering if Jinhwan were a witch too, but he said it in such a way that it could be played off as a joke if necessary. After a pause, Griffin added, "Or maybe you know some way to make like...I don't know, hybrid roses or something?" That might actually be true - Griffin knew very little about the scientific side of floristry.

When Jinhwan asked him to pick out a color, Griffin was surprised, but he was also strangely touched. And somehow he instantly knew what he wanted to pick. "How about this?" he asked, pointing to a color on the shelf, a deep purple. "I don't know much about Dori, but I know purple is the color of royalty, and I think it's a color she deserves. She should feel regal."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He laughed when the other said it wasn’t his style to open up–not in a mocking way, but a quiet, warm sound that escaped before he could help it. Jinhwan hadn’t meant to laugh, and he hoped Griffin wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “You’re very funny. No, it’s not for everyone,” he said. “And you’re right, it doesn’t work if the door stays closed. Though… I do think it’s a bit easier when it’s a stranger. It’s hard to be vulnerable with people you know. At least… that’s how it is for me.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He tried to stay still, to keep his expression even, but he was almost sure the heat in his cheeks was giving him away. Griffin was… well. He was sharp around the edges, a little jaded, but honest. And so stupidly attractive that Jinhwan’s brain was yelling at him. It didn’t help that he’d actually defended Jinhwan’s art.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I don’t think it’s selfish to ask someone to stay,” he murmured, after a beat. His hand drifted up to his chest, rubbing anxiously just beneath his collarbone. There were things he wanted to say–things he remembered too vividly about people walking away–but he kept them quiet. Instead, he brightened again, grabbing hold of the shift in conversation like it was a thread he could pull himself up with. “Black roses can be coaxed into the world,” he said, eyes glinting. “I will bring you some.” He didn’t say the word magic, but there was something knowing in his tone. Something just a little spark-laced. “I think that’s true. I do try to have hope.” 

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His eyes shifted toward the rows of paint before them, and he tilted his head as he asked, “I think you should pick out a color for the birdhouse as well. I’d be interested in seeing what you choose. Dori is white, so I think many colors would compliment her.”