All Of My Grief Says This Same Thing THIS ISN'T HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE, THIS ISN'T HOW IT'S SUPPOSED

all of my grief says this same thing — THIS ISN'T HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE, THIS ISN'T HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE. and the world laughs, holds my hope by the throat and says: but this is how it is. oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head.

( independent rosemary winters of the resident evil franchise. highly selective and heavily headcanon based. as adored by lune. )

“I’m the only one OUT of the loop it seems”

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

★ — It's been a little over a month since the sudden shift in Gregory's routine ; since he stopped coming home straight after school, claiming to be out with Tony and Cassie instead, since he started bringing his own groceries home with no sign of where the extra money to pay for them was coming from ( he doesn't steal —— as much, anymore ), since the tension he'd first carried out of the pizzaplex all those years ago had begun to seep back into his shoulders, a wary eye given to the shadows of their small apartment.

Michael had noticed. Of course he had, Gregory knew he had, but he'd clung to his lie, clung to his friends as an alibi. It was only a matter of time before his guardian called him out on it.

He can practically hear Cassie's I - told - you - so in the back of his head.

Panicked look towards Tony— who shrugs, raising his hands to signal that Gregory's on his own here, the asshole— before letting his gaze flicker back towards his guardian. Nope, can't do that. Unable to look Michael in the eyes, Gregory falls back into old defensive habits ; furrows his brows, frowns, looks deliberately off to the side, arms folded across his chest and shoulders curling inwards, making him seem smaller despite the fact that he's close to Michael's own height by now.

"Maybe! So what, it wasn't like you would've heard me out anyways!"

( behind Gregory, Tony raises a hand to his face in disbelief ).

I'm still alive I just did this fun thing where I decided to independently curate + help run an entire art show the week before I start teaching

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

👚 +

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

★ — He's wearing this to school tomorrow!

𝙸 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝚄𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁, 𝚂𝚄𝙵𝙵𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚂𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂.

𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 . . .

( burned by : sonia . twenty 6 . mdni . graphic © )