7

edwardsexton: One lucky young man is going to collect a rainbow of suits today. Perhaps too bright and vibrant for some but a fun addition to a spring wardrobe. He may well be wearing them on stage. What a lucky chap. Enjoy. #edwardsexton#colour #Bespoke - 02.28.17 

The Guardian: He is currently working with Harry Styles ahead of the launch of his debut solo album. “It’s not just the suit, it’s the cut that makes it,” says Sexton, a twinkle in his eye, when I visit his showroom. “The way it expresses itself and what it does for you mentally when you put it on. - 03.20.17

self indulgent boyf riends playing ds in the woods

10

“I swear to God, McCall, if you don’t get Dunbar out here in three this will be your last day as assistant coach.” “This is my last day as assistant coach.”
“I can still dock your pay.” “I’m a volunteer. You want my whistle?”
“Who gave you a whistle?”

9

February 9, 1981

Happy 36th Birthday precious snowflake !

There is so much to unpack here, you guys. I know I’m supposed to sleep since it’s now been more than 48 hours and also my fever has spiked, but listen, there is SO MUCH TO UNPACK. I live for this stuff. I can’t just NOT.

I at least need to present a version of this idea while I’m still half-lucid. I had a few bullet points on the list that I was working on last night, and this one was my favorite by far:

The concept is that Mark has been killed numerous times over the course of the years, but somehow manages to come back, despite the fact that we witness his death. That’s because he’s being brought back to life when his death doesn’t achieve what it was designed to.

How can we prove this? Well, we witness it clearly in A Date With Markiplier. Mark dies multiple times, but we are able to “save” him by stopping his death from occurring, in a sense– that is, we can “go back in time” to prevent it. At the end of each route, we’re presented with the option to “try again”.

That’s not just a storytelling tool for the sake of having a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure-style narrative. We are put in a time loop. 

This isn’t a strange concept, especially for this particular series of videos. Why? Because we actually see it happen.

Originally posted by septicpotato

At the end of the Exit video, when we try to escape, Dark physically pushes us back in time to a previous decision. (Maybe that’s why he’s so “tired of giving people a choice”– we always choose so very poorly in his eyes.) It’s not just Dark that has these abilities, either. After you decide to stay together instead of splitting up while searching for an escape, you are presented with two options: the aforementioned “Exit”, which traps you in Dark’s time loop, or a cryptic option simply labeled, “More?” 

If you choose “more”, Wilford appears to you in a literal vortex of clocks and warps your reality. No matter which option you choose, you come face to face with the fact that both of these men can manipulate time.

Now, this doesn’t necessarily prove that Mark is actively dying and being saved on numerous occasions, but a piece of information revealed today leads me to believe that this is indeed the case.

In Who Killed Markiplier?- Chapter 2, the Colonel mentions Mark dying “again”. When questioned by the detective, he states that he has “plenty of experience on the matter”. 

The chef then adds, “So do I.”

For the chef to have experience with killing Mark, or even watching Mark dying, we would have to be living in this reality:

But if that was the case, then this murder mystery never would have happened in the first place, because Mark would have already been dead. In order for both of these things to be true, both time and reality would have to be warped. He died, and he didn’t.

So, if Mark has been dying on the regular, the question of who the murderer is isn’t actually all that important. For all we know, all of them have murdered Mark at some point. Here’s what we should actually be worried about:

As far as we know, Mark has never been dead this long before. What makes this time different from all the others? And what do we have to do to get him back?

All four houses playing D&D...

Hufflepuff: You finally see the big treasure chest!

Gryffindor: I use detect magic!

Hufflepuff: No magic…

Slytherin: I use detect trap!

Hufflepuff: no trap…

Gryffindor: SWEET! I’m going to…

Ravenclaw: Wait a minute!

Ravenclaw: I blow black pepper cloud at the treasure chest…

Hufflepuff: … The treasure chest sneezes…

Slytherin: How did you know to do that?

Ravenclaw: I may not be able to read, but I’m definitely not stupid enough to get eaten by a random mimic.

Gryffindor: Did the barbarian just insult our intelligence?

“Thanks, Maggie. Love you,” Dex says, and Nursey’s heart stops beating for a moment. His lungs refuse to inhale or exhale. The muscles in his legs forget that they are holding up an actual person.

Then Dex’s eyes catch his, going wide at the interruption, and Nursey somehow finds it in himself to pretend that everything is exactly the same now as it was thirty seconds ago.

He looks away and heads for the fridge, his limbs remembering themselves once more.

“Hey, uh, sorry, I gotta go. Can I call you back?” Dex says into his cell phone on the other side of the Haus kitchen.

Nursey rummages through several pounds of butter in search of something edible. He silently repeats to himself his old mantra from Andover, from when he could barely see straight for the tears welling up in his eyes at every backhanded remark or micro-aggression. The mantra he used to train his emotions not to show themselves at every turn, the way they had done with abandon throughout his childhood.

“Write it down instead,” his sister suggested, when he confided to her his inability to keep things bottled up. And, after a time, that strategy seemed to work.

Write it down instead, he still tells himself now, at the end of his Sophomore year at Samwell, whenever the world becomes too much, whenever he feels suddenly as though his façade of always okay always fine always chill isn’t strong enough to handle the current situation.

Nursey begins to silently run through the words again in his head now, trying very hard not to analyze why he needs to.

“Um, so. How much of that did you hear?” Dex asks him, and luckily Nursey’s got his head buried so far into the freezer that he doesn’t have to cover his pained grimace.

“Not much, man, don’t worry about it. Hey, you think Bitty would murder us if we used his new oven for store-brand taquitos?”

He barely hears Dex’s reply, though, too busy faking normalcy. Too busy wondering who it was on the other end of Dex’s phone call that got to hear the words “I love you” from the guy, and so casually offered up that Dex must say it to her daily.

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