#I have work and homework and social responsibilities every goddamn day has been something for like 3 weeks

[menlove]

so many ppl have seasonal winter depression with a soft launch in fall but literally every year mine is summer and it starts its inklings in spring

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Hi! Sorry this is a day late, but I tried my best. Chapter 4 might take a little longer to post since I haven’t started it yet, but I’m feeling super inspired so I’ll probably write some (if not most) of it this weekend. :)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of bullying/making fun of. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,639

okay, here’s chapter 3!

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CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the day, Virgil did his best to avoid Roman. He didn’t know if he could face him after the spectacle that morning, not to mention how much he had been thinking about his soft hair and tan skin and beautiful eyes.

Since when have Roman’s eyes been beautiful? Dammit, Virgil, get yourself together. He made fun of you all throughout middle school, nevermind what happened freshman year. People don’t change, you idiot. 

That afternoon, he walks, head down, to a nearby coffee shop to meet Logan to study, although Logan usually reads. He already knows everything; it’s Virgil who needs to study, but Logan has told Virgil dozens of times already that it doesn’t bother him.

That day, Virgil opens the door and scans the room for Logan. To his surprise, Logan is sitting at a booth nestled in the corner. Once he gets there, he slides into the seat, back into the curve of the corner.

“Why’d you get this table?” Virgil asks, pulling his folders, notebooks, and pencil out of his bag. “Do we really need all this space?” Logan looks up from his book.

“Uh…well, you see,” Logan stutters. Virgil is more sure than ever that something strange is going on with his friend. Logan takes a deep breath and starts over, “Well, I figured we’d need more space since I also have to do some work.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil tries to keep his voice light, but he’s still skeptical. Logan likes having a schedule, and part of his weekly routine was every Thursday after school, without many exceptions, he got a small table by the window to study. Currently, there’s no one sitting at it, so there’s no reason for Logan to have picked this booth instead. 

Virgil forcefully drops the subject from his mind, knowing he needs to get to work. He has an English paper he needs to finish for tomorrow, and he’s barely a paragraph into it. Devoting most of his time to his art projects has made him behind for his other subjects. 

Flipping to the page in his notebook with his evidence and reasons, he opens a Google Doc on his computer and gets to work. The quiet is nice; there’s just the sounds of Virgil typing and Logan flipping pages, along with the background noise of the cafe. After working for about 20 minutes, Logan starts acting weird again.

Every few minutes, he’ll pick up his phone, checking the screen. For what, Virgil can’t tell, but he suspects Logan is checking to see if he’s gotten any texts. What Virgil is really wondering is who could possibly be so important or urgent that Logan would stop reading to check his phone, especially so often. It isn’t until a little later that it occurs to Virgil that Logan said he had work to do, but all he’d done up to that point was read. What is going on?

A few minutes later, Virgil gets his answer when the bell above the door chimes. He glances up instinctively. He looks back towards his essay before he can comprehend who just walked in, but when his brain catches up to his eyes, his head shoots up to find that the high schoolers who just walked in are now standing next to Logan and his booth.

“Heya, Logan and Virgil!” Patton says in his usual cheery voice. Virgil gives him a half smile back, although he’s still puzzled as to why he’s here. It could’ve been a coincidence, of course, but with Logan’s strangeness, he doesn’t think it is. It only makes Virgil more sure when he looks over to see Logan smiling from ear to ear. 

If Logan really did invite Patton, why is he here too? Virgil wonders. 

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil says. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Logan invited me!” comes the reply, and Patton smiles back at Logan, filled with his usual unabashed joy. Logan blushes, and Virgil puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to gag. Unfortunately, Logan sees and rolls his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t be a child.”

“You decided to bring a friend, I see,” Virgil states, looking at the boy standing next to Patton. 

“Yeah, when I heard it was to study, I figured I’d come along. I haven’t had much of a chance to, with the play and all,” says Roman almost bashfully. His hand rubs the back of his next as he looks at the floor. Virgil nods and turns back to his essay. 

“Sit down,” says Logan, gesturing to the booth. “Roman, you can sit next to Virgil, since Patton and I have to work on our chemistry lab.” Virgil snaps his gaze to Logan and glares at him. When the other boy doesn’t react — or even notice — Virgil takes a deep breath and continues working, considerably more stressed than before.

Roman plops down next to him and smartly decides to stay quiet. They all get to work, Patton and Logan chattering about some reaction of some sort from across the table while Roman and Virgil sit in silence, each working on their own homework or projects. Virgil doesn’t mind it; he’s got his headphones in and is therefore pretty much dead to the world, but not quite dead enough for him to miss the fact that anxiety has begun rolling off of Roman. 

Attempting to ignore it, Virgil turns up his music, but nothing can block out the awkward tension between the two boys. 

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Roman blurts out. Logan and Patton remain oblivious on the other side of the table. Hesitantly, Virgil pulls down his headphones. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he figures whatever Roman needs to say is important. “I should’ve looked before I threw my arm out like that. Could you ever forgive me?” He seems so sincere, yet Virgil can’t find it in him to trust him. But those eyes. 

“I forgive you,” mumbles Virgil, cursing Roman’s chocolate eyes. He’s like a goddamn wounded puppy. Before Virgil can pull up his headphones again, Roman speaks.

“So, what are you working on?” His smile is bright and friendly. Why does he want to be my friend all of a sudden? He’s never been nice to me before. For a while, he was downright rude, and then he just started pretending I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

“Just an essay for English,” Virgil replies, forcing himself to stay neutral. Socializing has never been his strong suit, but after a while, he’d learned how to fake it. “Uh...what are you doing?” 

Roman frowns before responding, “This stupid algebra homework. I just don’t understand math.” He appears angry for a second before smiling again, almost as if he felt he had to pretend everything was okay. Virgil knew quite a bit about pretending. He did it for years before realizing people did, indeed, give a shit about him. Like Logan, for example.

Virgil glanced over at him, but he was still in deep, animated conversation with Patton. From what Virgil could hear, they had gone quite off task from chemistry. Something’s definitely off. Logan was the most responsible person he knew, and always made an effort to study and work when needed. Virgil had never seen Logan get off task when there was something that had to be done.

But that’s a matter for a different time. Right now, there is a boy sitting next to him that he had to talk to. 

“Do you, uh, need any help? I took that class last year, so I should be able to help you.” 

“Really?” Roman asks, his face lighting up. Virgil nods, hands dropping from his headphones. “Thanks, Virgil!” 

Now, Virgil had never thought of his name much before. He’d always liked it, but he didn’t think much of it. But when Roman said it, so full of happiness and spirit, Virgil realized how cool it was. The sharpness of the ‘v,’ the slow, drawn out sound of the ‘l’ at the end. Quickly, Virgil bent over Roman’s paper to see what exactly he was working on, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush seeping across his cheeks. 

What the hell is going on with me? This is Roman Princeford. He’s arrogant and rude and selfish. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.

Yet, after Virgil helped him with his algebra, Roman offered to help out with his paper. When he found out it was about Shakespeare, he insisted upon reading it. Surprisingly, the comments he made after reviewing it were pretty helpful. Virgil discovered after a while of small talk about school and typical human topics that he didn’t completely despise Roman’s presence. Sure, his over dramatizing of things was a little annoying, but everyone has their flaws, right?

Virgil didn’t know if he could ever forgive Roman for what happened in middle school or freshman year, but maybe they were on their way to some sort of understanding. 

And, although Virgil will never admit it out loud, he can acknowledge that Roman Princeford is a very handsome guy. 

Once he gets home, feeling confident that his English paper is the best it’s going to get, and finishes everything else he needs to do, he lies down on his bed. He tries to listen to music, but all he can think about was how much Roman had thrown him off today. He’d seemed to want to help Virgil. There wasn’t a single rude comment or excessive bragging session. 

When Virgil realizes he’s smiling while thinking about earlier, he quickly banishes all those thoughts from his mind and rolls over onto his side. Pulling a blanket up to his chin, he burrows under the covers. You are not going to start enjoying hanging out with Roman Princeford. No way. And you most definitely don’t have a crush on him. He starts to think about winter break coming up in a month and a half and wonders what he’ll get his cousins for Christmas. Quicker than usual, he falls to sleep.

The dream Virgil has that night about kissing Roman doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #235

“the monster you made is wearing the crown; i’ll be the king and you be the clown.”

What is your favorite move franchise? The Lion King. What was the last fast food you ate? I had a hot dog from Sonic and one of those pretzel twists things. What is the saddest book you’ve ever read? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. Do you prefer heroes or villains? Villains. Duh. They're like, always more interesting. What is something you think is overrated? Uhhh coffee, for one. But like what you like. What political cause are you most passionate about? Gay rights. What country would you most like to visit? South Africa. Have you ever considered having children? Literally the only period where I wanted kids was later into Jason's and my relationship. Hell, I wanted three while he was always like "onLY TWO." Now, I don't want a single one, ever. I would be an awful mother for many reasons. If you ever took field trips as a child, which was your favorite? The zoo with Dad, my then-best friend, and her mom. One and only time I've seen meerkats. I was so excited I almost cried. Do you have any weird family traditions? It's not like, a tradition, I think, but we have a unique thing where saying "I love you mostest period" is something Mom, Dad, and my sisters have used for all my life. It's a way of saying "I love you more than you could ever love me, no arguments." Now Sara's been dragged into it lmao. Have you ever considered acting? Nope. Who was the last person you slept next to? Sara. Do you think you can be in love and still cheat on your S.O.? You can't "be in love" with a person and fucking cheat on them, no. Do you subscribe to any streaming services? We have Netflix. Idk about anything else. Have you ever been in a physical fight? No. What is the most embarrassing thing anyone has on video of you? I don't even wanna know. Did you ever get lost as a child? Yep, in a Wal-Mart lmao. This old lady helped me find my fam. What is your favorite condiment? Honey mustard. Or ketchup. Depends. Have you ever had an existential crisis? Very surprisingly, not really. Do you like country music? Begone, demon. It's still so weird to me that I loved it as a kid, but I really just grew up with it. What color are the eyes of the person you love? Brown. What is your favorite kind of flower? I looooove orchids. What town were you born in? Not the best thing to share on the Internet, eh? Do you know how to play any card games? I only vaguely understood/understand Magic: The Gathering. It's honestly really fun, but very complex in rules. It was Jason's thing so he got me into it. I miss my PS3 working because I used to have the "Duels of the Planeswalkers" on there, and doing it digitally is much easier and helpful. I loved it mostly because the art is fucking incredible. It was an old little aspiration to wind up designing the art some day and I don't think I ever saw Jason more excited. What is something about your childhood that you miss? Being more into video games than I am now alskdjf;awe. I'm more of a viewer of let's plays now than an active gamer; meanwhile, as a kid, video games were my favorite things in the world. Did you ever have MySpace? Do you miss those days? Yeah, I had one. Honestly though I can barely remember it (other than the song on my page was "Pocketful of Sunshime" lmaooooo as well meerkat-flooded), so it doesn't matter. What is the best television show you’ve ever watched? Meerkat Manor is my favorite show of all time, but as a proper show could have been better. AP made up their own shit and deviated from the KMP facts A LOT (guess what: Mozart killed a competitor's litter before; not exactly MM's her, right?), and not only was that confusing, but just annoying. Give me the real shit; don't just tweak stuff for dramatic effect. I could list a novel of lies in the series. Now, what I feel is the best show without a meerkat bias and just has an overall good plot. I kinda wanna say Supernatural, but the boys dying five million times got old. Possibly Fullmetal Alchemist. Are there any songs you can’t listen to because they bring back memories? I 110% refuse to hear "Stairway to Heaven." Have you ever saved someone’s life? Funny this is brought up after recent events. My sweetheart online bud had a cerebral aneurysm while having an extremely difficult time talking to me, and no one was home quite yet. Her final message was concerning and she didn't reply to me for a while, so I wound up messaging her again after a bit, and her boyfriend heard the b.net notification sound. Saw it was me and asked what was up. Told him, and he figured out she wasn't sleeping on the couch, she was passed out. He told me he never would have known if I hadn't said something. So does that count, even though I didn't like, physically save her? Have you ever broken any major bones? No. Are there any websites you’ve used for over 10 years? Good question? Idk. WAIT HOLD THE FUCK UP, KM's 10th birthday is coming up real soon. Wow. I know YouTube has been much longer. Idr when I joined deviantART. Maybe there's more, I dunno. Do you have any siblings? If so, what are their ages? My two immediate are 22 (ew) and 26 (double ew). Anything exciting taking place today? No, today was A N X I E T Y !! ! ! !! !! What are you craving? Okay so I have been MEGA in "the mood" lately and it's frustrating especially because I don't masturbate so I have like nO OUTLET. Who did you last hit? Nobody saving for when I was a kid repeatedly slapped my sister's arm for doing something I don't remember. How do you do in school? It depends on the subject, but in anything, I am a MASSIVE procrastinator, and I need to fix that. Schoolwork, good good, homework in the library, good good, but when I'm at home, I cannot seem to convince myself to work. As Sara puts it, home is like my "safe" place, and I don't want to bring school into it. Adjusting to school life again after like... two whole years or so of doing NOTHING at all, almost every day all day, is very difficult. I'm SO glad I picked school again, it's just a lot for a person who was so isolated and void of responsibilities to get used to. What’s your biggest goal? Right now, continue to improve my mental health. Fight social anxiety and AvPD. Who have you texted today? Just Sara. Who do you aspire to be like when you grow up? In most ways, especially in kindness, wisdom, relentless determination, passion, creativity, etc. etc. etc. etc., Mark. I think it's obvious he's Role-Model #1. I would loooove to be like Jane Goddall and Steve Irwin, too, feeling with such ferocious potency for animals and how they should be respected and loved. UM AND ALSO, EUGENIA COONEY IS THE SWEETEST PERSON ON THE ENTIRE GODDAMN EARTH AND I WOULD LOVE TO BE AS FRIENDLY AND PRECIOUS AS SHE IS. Oh, and then there's Shane Dawson. I relate to him SO much. He is the most selfless angel that seems SO down-to-earth and relatable as hell. I feel like he could be like, my best friend. Ahhhhhhh there are so many more, I love talking about my inspirations, but I'll chill here. Do you know if you want to go to college or not? I'm in college right now, and I desperately want it to stay that way. I'm fucking going somewhere in my life, and the education it provides will bring me closer to that. College is far from mandatory for everyone, but I feel it is beneficial for me. Do you like grapefruits? I haven't had one in a LONG time, so I don't really remember how they taste. I just know sour. What do you think of guys who wear eyeliner? *drools in Darkiplier* the fuck do you think Do you like online games? Only World of Warcraft, really. Who’s one person you care about more than yourself? Okay, real talk, and I hope this is everybody's answer. No one. I'm putting my goddamn self and my mental peace first for the rest of my life. Are there any pets you’re wishing for? I want another ball python. When’s the last time you used hand sanitizer? Two days ago when Mom and I stopped somewhere to eat. Wearing anything that isn’t yours? No. What type of bread did you use on the last sandwich you made? White. How many doors are in your house? Uhhh six. What was the last compliment you received, that made you smile? Sara said she was really proud of me, and to me, that's one of the biggest compliments you CAN give me. Think you need to lose weight? How much? ugh When was the last time you watched a VHS movie? I don't have a clue. We kept our VHS longer than most, though. We had too many movies on it. What event would you go back in time to see, if you could? Ummmm I dunno. Do you remember the last thing you said you wanted? To hug Sara. Who was the last friend you hung out with&what’d you do together? Sara stayed for a week. We did a lot. Who is the person, other than a spouse, that you are closest to? Sara. If you watched it, who was your favorite Hey Arnold! character? Oh my god, I hated that stupid show, but one of my sisters liked it. Have any good school pictures? or do they all just suck? There is literally ONE picture from elementary school where I think I looked pretty. Do you like trying on clothes or not? & Why? NO. I try to avoid it if I can. It's just annoying to change clothes for like five seconds. What are your thoughts on marriage? It's sweet, but I've come to find it... kinda needless for the most part? Like I know it has financial pluses and the symbolism is beautiful, but it's just that: symbolism originating from fantasies (imo, don't scream at me). It only adds pressure to stay in a dying relationship and makes splitting much more complicated. BUT, even with all that said, I personally want to get married someday, but only if I am *sure* about this person. It's the symbolism I like. That and it's so ingrained into my head that that's the "end goal" of relationships, so I'm pretty much just conditioned to want it. How long have you lived in the current place you’re living? Two years. Do you plan on moving anytime soon, if so where? I want to, but I am not in the financial position or at a level of independence where I'm ready for that. Are you more of a follower, or a leader? Be honest. This may alter with the situation, but mostly, I'm definitely a follower. Are your dreams/nightmares in black&white or color? I've heard of this condition before and it really intrigues me. I dream in color. Have you ever wanted to be some sort of hero outside of video games? I mean, define "hero." Like an action superhero in a literal way, nooooo. I'd die on Day #1, lmao. As a hero/inspiration as a person, of course; who doesn't? Will you admit that you’re at least somewhat superficial? I mean, probably in some places? How often do you go to the mall closest to you? Almost never ever. Our mall sucks and has experienced too many shootings. Do you still count with your fingers, even if only every so often? Yep. Like, always. Have you ever gone on a road trip with just friends? No. Well, I went to the beach with my friend and her mom, but just for a day or two because my separation anxiety from Mom got too bad oof. Without trying, do you act differently around different friends? Depends on the friend. I don't "fake it," just how reserved I am can move around. What was the last thing you drew/wrote on your own or someone else's skin? Probably a butterfly on my wrists when I was actively part of the Butterfly Project community. The last time you spent money, what was it on & how much did you spend? $1.25 for a drink at school. What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on one piece of clothing? Idk, but definitely not a lot. In elementary school, were you more of the bully or the bullied? Thankfully, neither. Do you like when a spouse is clingy, or can you not stand that? I'm sure to a certain degree it would be annoying, but for the most part, hell, I think it's attractive. Especially since I NEED validation you like me. How much do you say you walk in a week outside of school &/or work? Just around my house if you exclude school. Is there anything you wish your parents did differently in raising you? I wish they'd given us chores. Wish Mom didn't spank us. What would you do if the last person you texted asked you out? Lol yo we JUST broke up like an hour ago. We're not ready to get back together yet, obviously. Don't worry a bit, we're both cool. Still best friends, even. To compress a long story, needed personal growth and distance have brought us to returning to just friends. For now, at least. Have you ever received a scholarship? I think so... but not like a huge one, I believe. Who was the last person who got frustrated with you? Most likely Mom. When was the last time you mopped your kitchen floor? I myself have never mopped it. Or maybe once. What is your favorite work of art? I mentioned the Denialism painting in my last survey. What was the last appointment or plan you had to cancel? Plan, my next one with my psychiatrist. What spur-of-the-moment decision that you’ve made has had the biggest impact on your life? I don't know if any have truly changed my life. The ones that did (that I remember) were pondered over. Do you know anyone who is (or has been) a refugee? I don't think so, What is your best friend’s worst habit? She doesn't have faith in herself for ANYTHING lj;ljalwie Do you like spinach and artichoke dip? alksd;fjwei no Have you ever felt like you were about to pass out, but didn’t? Yep, a couple times. What was the name of one of your childhood imaginary friends? I didn't have any. What’s your favorite phase of the moon? Full. Do you wish you were richer? I physically refuse to be anything less than stable, hopefully even above that, once I'm independent. We've been poor all my life and it is fuck-ing HARD. It's stressful as a motherfucker and I am done with it. Very. What’s a middle name you like? Quinn. Fits a lot. I planned on giving that middle name to my hypothetical daughter. Are you scared of spiders? y e a h Do you weigh the same as your mom? No. Were you a Mary-Kate and Ashley fan? Like the average 90s/early 2000s kid. Coffee mugs, teacups, or water bottles? Uh, aesthetically? Teacups, probably. Bubblegum or cotton candy? Gum. I like the taste and texture of cotton candy, it is just RIDICULOUSLY sweet. It bothers my sensitive teeth sometimes. Do you prefer to drink soda from cans, bottles or cups? Cans. They get the coldest. Game you were best at in P.E./gym? Idk, I didn't excel at any. What do you have for breakfast on an average day? I'll typically just have a meal replacement shake or a Pop-Tart. Favorite non-chocolate candy? Sour Punch Straws (gotta be red). Favorite book you had to read for school? The Outsiders. Most frequently worn pair of shoes? My flip-flops, 'cuz they're easy to just slip on. Ideal weather? Cool but not windy (a light breeze is fine) with a partly-cloudy sky. Obsession from childhood? Webkinz. Favorite crystal? Dragon's breath opal. Favorite activity to do in warm weather? Swim or stay the fuck inside. Favorite activity to do in cold weather? Taking pictures in the snow. Five songs to describe you? "Get Up" by Mother Mother, "That's What You Get" by Paramore, uhhh... I don't feel like thinking over this any longer. My iPod isn't near me to scan through what I have, so yeah. Best way for someone to bond with you? Let's have deep philosophical talks about like the meaning of life 'n shit. Top 5 favorite Vines? Oh my god, this is impossible. To name some that come to mind first, in no order: "It's Wednesday, m'dudes *insert mating call*", "I cOUld'vE dROPPED My croiSSANt," "this is why mom doesn't FUCKING LOVE YOU," that one at a club where a girl is doing smoke tricks and the dude just goes "check that out" (or "wow," idr) or something similar (I couldn't find it), and omfg I adore that Snoop Dogg one with the little boy just semi-dancing to that iconic song???? I LOVE IT??????? Man, there are so so many more. Very honorable mention: "a d a m". Ads you have stuck in your head? None, thankfully. What is the first meme you remember seeing? Uhhh maybe Happy Bunny? Idk. Sci-fi, fantasy, or superheroes? Fantasy. Favorite type of cheese? American. What saying or quote do you live by? There's a lot I've picked up on and cling to. #1 is perhaps "Deal with life, or life deals with you." What are you currently stressed about? Some... things I realized about myself that disgust me. Favorite fairy tale? Shrek is a goddamn fairy tale and I will fight to the death against anyone who claims otherwise. Favorite tradition? I don't really have one anymore, but I remember as a kid, I would NEVER let Mom forget to throw some "reindeer food" outside for them lol. Talent you’re proud of having? One that warrants pride, exactly? Not just random talents? Well, uhhh. I suppose writing. I mean it modestly, I really do, but as a kid, my teachers all the way through high school always thought I was cheating or a parent did my papers at home. Some were only convinced by me writing in the classroom. I don't feel as good about my writing as I did in high school, but I am sill proud of excelling in it and taking writing anywhere seriously. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? I mean, name the game and genre here. Probably like "what the fuck" at like, everything, because I already do that. If you were an anime character, what genre of anime would it be? Like, based on my current life? I dunno. A sad and repetitive one with some bright days to it. Ohhh, and the color scheme and lighting vary with my mental state. Yo that would be dope. Character you relate to? lmao THRALL from WoW for being like "can y'all bastards just chill tf out" until he goes off to an isolated land away from civilization bc he's seen enough shit. Also compelled to help. Any good luck charms? I don't believe in those. Least favorite flavor of food or drink? As far as consistent flavors go, normally cherry or grape. Left or right handed? I'm a righty. Favorite potato food? Fries, when I wish they weren't. Earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel. How many phone numbers do you have memorized? Literally just Mom's. Not even mine.

[blackjacketmuses]

hc; og dante 12

In honor of @dwellsinme​ who inspired me with her HC to post mine, because I’ve had it but haven’t gotten around to actually posting about it.

Dante - my Dante - is very much ADHD. 

It’s kind of a tossup whether his nature as a hybrid has anything to do with it (see: PJO series), but he is definitely, definitely ADHD and has been since he was a kid. Unfortunately, in the late 70s-early 80s, neurodivergence wasn’t as big or talked about a concept, so no one really had any idea, and Dante’s so detached from the normal human life at this point it’s probably never come up and never will. He functions....as well as one would expect with that on top of cPTSD and depression, but, yknow, he manages. So it’s never been a real, true problem. Drove his parents and teachers crazy as a little, and definitely drives people crazy now, but...that’s just how Dante is.

I’m gonna go into more detail under a cut just because long post incoming:

To start I’m just gonna drop a list of symptoms here, so you can kinda see what I’m getting at: bolding is mine, and is the symptoms Dante visibly explicitly shows and expresses (for the record, he definitely has combined type, which has symptoms of both inattentive and hyperactive)---

Inattentive type:

Be easily distracted, miss details, forget things, and frequently switch from one activity to another

Have difficulty maintaining focus on one task

Become bored with a task after only a few minutes, unless doing something they find enjoyable

Have difficulty focusing attention on organizing or completing a task

Have trouble completing or turning in homework assignments, often losing things (e.g., pencils, toys, assignments) needed to complete tasks or activities

Appear not to be listening when spoken to

Daydream, become easily confused, and move slowly

Have difficulty processing information as quickly and accurately as others

Struggle to follow instructions

Have trouble understanding details; overlooks details

Hyperactive type:

Fidget or squirm a great deal

Talk nonstop

Dash around, touching or playing with anything and everything in sight

Have trouble sitting still during dinner, school, and while doing homework

Be constantly in motion

Have difficulty performing quiet tasks or activities

Be impatient

Blurt out inappropriate comments, show their emotions without restraint, and act without regard for consequences

Have difficulty waiting for things they want or waiting their turn in games

Often interrupt conversations or others' activities

Okay, so maybe he leans a lot heavier into hyperactive type, but, I mean. Watch him doing stuff, especially in 3 and 4 --- he’s definitely very easily distracted, doesn’t seem to listen a lot, and focus is only kept when he’s really interested in something, otherwise he super ignores it. And details? Ha! What are those, he just jumps in and does things.

As for the hyperactive symptoms, I don’t think I need to point out many specific instances, it’s...we all see it. He’s constantly running his mouth, constantly in motion, constantly moving, playing with things, bouncing on his feet, fidgeting, fighting, moving a lot as he fights...I mean look at him playing with every single new toy he gets immediately, and especially look at him with Cerberus. He’s loud, he’s present, he’s very impatient --- we see that a lot in 3 re: puzzles and locks --- and honestly he’s very good at interrupting people. Not to mention that thing about saying inappropriate things, and being unable to restrain emotions or actions? Definitely Dante, demonstrably so.

Other symptoms Dante definitely has --- and this is speaking as me, an ADHD person, who sees a lot of my bullshit in Dante --- are:

MOTIVATION ISSUES (don’t @ me Vergil): Look at this guy, he can’t or won’t do anything that doesn’t click into his interests (and even then!!) unless he gets pushed or bullied or bribed into it. He needs to be given a significant and heavy reason to get up and do shit, otherwise he’ll just sit around or blow it off and claim pickiness. And sure, he is picky --- because specific criteria on What Will Interest Him is another ADHD thing!! --- but man, even then, you can see in the anime he has to be pushed out the door to get shit done sometimes. This is clearly contributing to his broke situation. And when he’s Depressed it’s worse, look at the state of his office in 5!!

REJECTION SENSITIVE DYSPHORIA: Now this one isn’t quite as obvious, because he’s REALLY GOOD at pretending he’s fine, but he really does not cope well with being yelled at/rejection/being pushed away by people, especially people he likes. That’s a mood. This was worse by far when he was a kid, and is part of why he’s such a pushover and can easily be bullied into doing things for people he likes or people he wants to like him. He doesn’t want to be rejected or criticized, so time to do what they want me to! No problem, no argument!

SLEEP PROBLEMS: Either he is like LOOK MA NO SLEEP I CAN DO THIS ALL WEEK or he’s sleeping constantly and looking like Rip Van fucking Winkle. Now this does overlap with the depression, but ADHD internal clocks are borked to hell and back, too, so his sleep schedule and how much/little he sleeps is just. What even. How. 

TIME PROBLEMS: Either something is Now or it is Not Now and if it is Not Now it is not worth caring about or worrying about.

IMPULSE CONTROL: As mentioned above, but with the added problem of “what is delayed gratification I don’t know her”, and needing rewards for what he’s doing Now Please Thanks.

DECISION MAKING: When confronted with difficult decisions, either you a) freeze because AAHHHH TOO MUCH or b) just Do Something because panic without thinking. Also what the FUCK is a plan, there are no plans, plans don’t exist.

BOREDOM IS EVIL: No being bored, ever, oh god, nope, fuck that cannot be bored boredom is the devil and causes BAD BAD THINGS. Must always be doing things, needs entertainment, needs stimulation or will quickly devolve into a lump on the couch. If thing is boring, will NOT do it, nope, fuck that.

CHILDLIKE BEHAVIOR: Like whew. I mean. Local 42yo man acts like a 10yo boy pretending to be an 80s action hero like in the movies, constantly, as if he thinks that mimicking that is how Adults Are. And just, generally acting like an enormous child.

WEIRD KID: Just...generally coming off as weird or different or Outside The Norm, not good with normal human social cues and responses to things, acts weird and like an outcast and doesn’t seem to quite fit in with normal people.

FIXATIONS: Pizza pizza pizza NEVER GET BORED OF PIZZA I COULD EAT PIZZA EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE also sundaes. 

MUSIC...GOOD: This is more subjective, but Dante’s thing with music strikes me as a thing mostly because I am that person who NEEDS TO BE LISTENING TO MUSIC ALL THE TIME HOLY SHIT, I CANNOT STAND IF THERE IS NO BACKGROUND NOISE TO MY LIFE. I get so antsy I want to jump off a cliff when there’s no background noise/music in the car and I Need music on to do anything; but at the same time I can’t listen to podcasts or videos because music I just tune out and it’s There, Good, Wonderful, but if it’s something to concentrate on with Words To Understand, it is BAD and it needs Full Focus or I Don’t Hear SHIT. So, yeah, that too.

NON SEQUITURS EVERYWHERE: You know that THING where topic A comes up and in your head you jump ahead five things in a way only you understand, and then you speak up and bring up topic F out of nowhere because YOU got to it in your head but everyone else is like what the fuck, so you kinda shut up or laugh it off? Yeah. Also that other feel when you’re still on topic B but the rest of the group went on to topic C or D and you’re internally screaming because NO I STILL HAVE SOMETHING ELSE TO SAY GET BACK HERE.

WHAT THE FUCK IS VOLUME CONTROL THIS IS MY NORMAL SPEAKING VOICE I’M NOT SHOUTING????: Self explanatory.

BAD AT HEARING THINGS: Needs VERY specific instructions, but also things need repeating a lot because he’s quick to accidentally tune stuff out.

READING: Trouble reading LONG blocks of text. Magazines Good, short articles Good.

Local Man Laughs At Own Jokes, WHAT THEY’RE FUNNY

MALADAPTIVE DAYDREAMING: He did this more as a kid, but it still applies; local child looks like he’s just kind of vibrating quietly but otherwise paying attention? NOPE he’s having an epic adventure in his head and is not listening to a word. Vergil will tell him later if it’s important.

THE LEG BOUNCE: Speaking of, he CANNOT SIT STILL. He’s at the MINIMUM rocking in his seat or bouncing his foot or tapping his fingers, sometimes as chords to a guitar but other times just taptaptap.

Stopping What Is Stopping, or alternatively, HOW TO START EVEN IDK.

Getting/being increasingly SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE but just sitting there with a smile while internally going AAAAAAAAAAAAA in increasing volume, because you have no idea how to disengage.

Things not immediately in view or immediately important Cease To Exist Entirely.

Related, visual exhaustion aka I HAVE LIVED WITH THIS MESS SO LONG THAT THE MESS IS BACKGROUND NOISE AND DOES NOT EXIST TO ME, I NO LONGER SEE IT, IT IS SCENERY.

Is the only member of this family who can drink caffeine, ADHD cancels the effect out.

Actually Pretty Goddamn Smart, but the disconnect of not having any education after 5th grade and that GOOD GOOD RSD thanks to bitchy clients kicked in and he internalized that he’s dumb now oops, might as well not try. See Also That Good Good RSD RE: bitchy dates, guess he’s just A Terrible Date, whoops, gonna just Not do that anymore. Basically if enough people give him shit about a thing, guess he’s just NOT gonna do that thing anymore!! Yep!!!

Bad at doing things The Proper Way, procedures and rules and bureaucracy are BORING GOTTA GET STUFF DONE NOW MY WAY. Never showed his work in math ever. 

Actually really smart, but got in trouble a lot for lack of visibly paying attention, being unable to sit still in class, and not following instructions. He could do the work and do it right, with or without listening to the lecture, but because he did it on his own terms and by his own rules, even if he got the right answer, he got in trouble. RSD convinced him later in life he was an idiot, but he still is really good at out of the box thinking and figuring shit out with limited information.

Gets Frustrated, Stops Doing Thing (or IMPULSIVITY ACTIVATE FORM OF DOING STUPID SHIT TO GET THING DONE)

Bad habit of WORRY when understimulated, also tendency towards insecurity, this is made WORSE x100 by his PTSD. Not to mention a bit of chronic low self esteem because of most of the above.

Low self esteem feeds into really bad self-awareness; he really doesn’t quite understand or process the effects he has on people, for good or ill.

ADDICTIVE!! BEHAVIOR!!! (see: The Booze)

Stopping this here because a) you get my point by now and b) I’M going full ADHD on fixating on this post so I’m cutting myself off here. Anyway, yeah. There’s this.

[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Raleigh Isaac Brooks Nicknames: Lee Age: 39 Birthday: September 30th Zodiac Sign: Libra Birthplace: Indianapolis, Indiana Current Location: Washington DC Speaks: English, some Spanish Dominant Hand: Right Education: Bachelor’s degree in Criminology from George Washington University Occupation: Police Detective with the Metropolitan Police Department of the District of Columbia Vehicle: 2002 Silver Hyundai Sonata. He’s had it for several years now, and plans to hopefully give it to Aaron once he gets his license (as long as he’s responsible, of course) and then get himself a newer car. Worldly Possessions: A nice, big-screen TV, which he splurged on a couple of years ago during Black Friday (he would never admit it, but he loves going to Black Friday sales). He also picked up a PS4 bundle at the same sale, which he told himself was for his son, but he’s also spent quite a bit of time on it. He has tons and tons of movies, and though he’s not much of a reader himself, he keeps lots of books around for his son because he likes to read. Pet(s): No pets of his own, but his ten-year-old son, Aaron, has a sheltie named Tasha. So, when his son comes to stay with him during the school year, Tasha comes along.

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 6’0” Hair: He keeps it pretty short most of the time, since it’s easier to manage that way. It’s very soft to the touch, though not many people get the opportunity to touch it~ Facial Hair: Generally, he doesn’t like to be clean-shaven because he feels he looks too young. So he always has facial hair, which he keeps trimmed and well-groomed. Eye Colour: Big, beautiful brown eyes. Skin Tone: He has very lovely, dark skin, which he takes good care of. He looks quite a bit younger than he actually is, partly thanks to good genes, and partly thanks to the fact that he has an actual skincare routine. Clothing: Maybe they’re nude Distinguishing Marks: A few scars here and there, some from childhood, some from work incidents. The most noticeable of these is a scar on his chest from a fight he got into as a teenager which turned ugly when the other guy pulled a knife on him. Face Claim: Chadwick Boseman

H E A L T H Physical Health: Lee is in excellent health. He tends to be very practical when it comes to his diet/food choices, and really enjoys working out. He hits the gym a couple times a week for weight training, goes running almost every morning (followed by a few minutes of stretching/yoga), and also practices MMA, so he is very toned and fit. He also gets a flu shot every year and doesn’t tend to get sick much, though if he does, he’s the type to take a day or two off and rest up, rather than trying to force himself to keep going. Physical Abilities/Limitations: There’s not a lot that he can’t do, honestly. He’s fast and strong, and could probably do just about anything he’s determined to do. Addictions: None-- or at least nothing noteworthy. He does depend on caffeine in the mornings, but that’s all. Allergies: Penicillin. The first and only time he took it, his airways nearly closed up and he had to go to the ER. Mental Health: It’s mostly okay. Lee has been through some rough things in his life, but after a really bad work-related incident a few years back, he’s been attending therapy on a regular basis. He was resistant at first, but now he actually likes going to therapy and feels that it’s helped him a lot. His therapist diagnosed him with PTSD, but he’s got it under control at this point.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Long or Short Job History: Nothing or Everything Fondest Memories: He still looks back on his wedding day fondly, even though the memory is bittersweet. The birth of his son is definitely his fondest memory, though. He also keeps a picture on the wall of him, his son, and his ex-wife, Gaby, at Disneyland-- they surprised Aaron by taking him there on his seventh birthday. It was the first time him and his ex had spent any significant amount of time together since the divorce, and it went very smoothly. Worst Experiences: When Raleigh was a teenager, he ended up getting in a fight with another kid who made some very racist comments toward him. Unfortunately, the other kid pulled a knife on him and attacked him-- he wasn’t very seriously injured, but he did have to get stitches and was extremely shaken up by the whole thing. Although his divorce from his ex-wife wasn’t particularly ugly, it was still one of the worst experiences in Lee’s life, especially having to break the news to their son, who was only five at the time. The look on his son’s face and his reaction to the divorce really broke Lee’s heart. By far, the worst experience he’s had was ending up in a shootout several years ago that went very wrong. His partner was shot, and two civilians were killed, with many others injured as well. He himself didn’t end up getting shot, and managed to apprehend and arrest one of the shooters, though there was a second shooter who fled the scene and escaped. The whole thing still haunts Raleigh-- he has nightmares about it now and then, though not nearly as often as he used to. His old partner pulled through, but was significantly injured and ended up taking a desk job once they recovered.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: Raleigh has sort of a way about him-- he’s soft-spoken but somehow commands the attention of a room with very little effort. It’s rare for him to raise his voice, as he generally doesn’t need to. He is definitely a smooth talker, which leads to him playing the “good cop” role a lot of the time. Accent: American Favorite Phrases or Words: Like ‘Jiminy Christmas!’ Usual Curse Words: “Hell” or “damn,” maybe “goddamn” if he’s really angry or frustrated.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: Myer Briggs Sense of Humor: Although Raleigh is usually all business when he’s working, he has a surprisingly good sense of humor. He sometimes catches his coworkers/superiors off guard by cracking a joke or by laughing at something someone else says. When he’s not working, he’s much more relaxed and willing to joke around. Habits: Bites his lip when he’s nervous or anxious. Quirks: Raleigh is very particular about his teeth, and feels the need to floss and brush after every meal, or else he feels gross. He is also particular about washing his hands, and even keeps a bottle of Purell in his car just in case. He’s not a exactly a germaphobe, he just likes to feel clean. Fears/Phobias: The idea of anything happening to his son terrifies him. He tries not to be overprotective, but sometimes he just can’t help it-- he’s seen a lot of horrible things in his line of work, and it’s made him very paranoid. Strengths: Raleigh is a very responsible person, and also a natural leader. He’s always been the sort of person to step up and take charge, especially if no one else is willing to do so. He just exudes a sort of calm authority, and even if he’s not in charge, people tend to treat him as if he is, often coming to him if they have questions or need help. Flaws: Something Hopes/Desires: Something Self-Esteem: Overall, Lee is pretty confident, maybe even a little arrogant. But he tends to be way too hard on himself if he makes a mistake or lets anyone down. He won’t accept anything less than perfection from himself-- which is an issue he’s actually been working on in therapy. Religion: He grew up as a Baptist, and he still likes to go to church every now and then.

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: He generally sleeps on his back, but sometimes he sleeps on his right side instead. Boxers or Briefs?: Boxer-briefs are his favorite. Day or Night?: He likes both for different reasons, but his favorite times are mornings and evenings with his son. He likes getting Aaron ready, making his breakfast, then dropping him off at school before he heads to work. And in the evenings, he always helps Aaron with his homework, then the two of them spend time together doing whatever-- watching TV or a movie, or if it’s a weekend then they might go out for ice cream, before Aaron goes to sleep. So basically, he likes any time that he gets to spend with his son. Top or Bottom?: He’s always been more of a top, but he’s tried bottoming a few times and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Partying or Relaxing?: He used to like parties back when he was in his twenties, but he’s more into relaxing now. The only parties he ever goes to nowadays are work-related holiday parties, and that’s good enough for him.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Something Relationship History: Something Sexual Partners: Something Thoughts About Sex: Something

P A R E N T S Name(s): Mom and Dad Age(s): Ages Appearance: If ya want Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship With His Children: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Where they live

[novadreii]

a diatribe about the emotional unpacking i’ve been doing this summer, specifically regarding my anxiety, how it’s affected me, and how i’m trying to drop kick it in the face. 

i will be honest and say that this weekend i’ve been sitting with some mild anxiety. mild, but still there, enough to set off alarms. just this...undercurrent of fear about the future. i go back to school in exactly 1 month, and getting my degree means more to me than arguably anything right now. some of you have been watching me bitch about this for years, but i’m stubborn as fuck and refuse to let it go. it’s not about the status, or the diploma. it’s a struggle of significance for me; since 2012 i’ve wrestled on and off with my mental health and this made staying in school consistently impossible. so in 2015 i made the decision to not go back until i was properly ready. a lot has happened since then, but to make a long story short, i’ll never be more ready than i am now. finishing this means everything to me; it means digging my heels in, working hard, and earning something for myself. something that, for a long time, i really lost hope that i was even capable of achieving.

but as always, doubt always starts to creep once the deadline approaches: what if i fail again, what if i can’t handle it, what if i drop out and have to work boring low-level jobs my whole life, what if i panic, what if i can’t do it?

every piece of text on the subject that i’ve ever read, every meaningful message from all my favorite books/series, has pointed me towards this one solution for when i’m paralyzed with fear: just feel it, sit with it, don’t run from or avoid it. and once you’ve done that, go through your fear and do the thing you’re afraid of anyway. that’s called bravery, and if you repeat this process enough times it will give you the confidence to keep doing it in the face of anything you fear. how often have we heard that being brave is not synonymous with being fearless? fearless is a lofty concept, an ideal, but honey, it’s just not realistic. everybody has fears. the most incredible people throughout history had their own fears; what sets them apart is how they dealt with them. 

my methods for avoiding pain/fear these days are 1) weed 2) tv/video games in excess and 3) avoiding my responsibilities/doing anything that would progress my life. obviously this will not work out for me, not in a long-term sense anyway. 

so recently i’ve just....stopped using coping methods when i’m getting into my fear. i do anything other than my usual destructive habits. i force myself to clean in a frenzy, i listen to loud music on my headphones, i go for a walk around the block, i read a book, i’ve even forced myself to do boring paperwork that i was avoiding. i make a challenge out of forcing myself to do the exact opposite of what i really want to do in that moment.

and THAT’S where the magic happened for me. once i confront Fear and do it over and over and over again, it begins to lessen. i’ve done this before, and i survived. it wasn’t that bad. it was worth the effort it took to just deal with it. 

the truth is that everything in life is a trade-off. you can’t get anything you want without sacrificing something of equal value whether it’s money, time, energy, or any other resource. and on the flip side of that coin, you can’t just avoid your life and desires, not without paying for it emotionally. so logically speaking, if both paths are equally as difficult, if they take roughly the same amount (but a different TYPE) of effort, which one will i choose?

it’s become obvious to me now, whereas it wasn’t before, that i should choose the path with the end result that is most worth it for me. depressed bastard who never did anything with her life? or...who knows? someone who actually tried and maybe got SOME of what she wanted? so now that the two choices are so clear, i’m beginning to feel drive, determination, and ambition again. goddamn, i was born with those traits burned into my personality and identity; losing them temporarily during the last few years fucking hurt, i really did lose a part of myself. but they were just dormant, inactive, because i can feel them faintly taking root again. and it feels friggin amazing. 

so nowadays i’m practicing a new skill: willpower. i believe it is absolutely a skill that anyone can cultivate and work on. i realized that i can force myself to do shit i know i should be doing instead of running from my problems. knowing that i will feel so much better if i just address and overcome what is scaring me is enough to motivate me. i can do this without resistance, without wanting to go hide in my bad habits. my awareness (my true self, separate from ego), knows the right answers, the correct path. i can physically do what i know needs to be done even if my mind is screaming at me to self-destruct instead; i have that power, because i am not my mind. none of us are; we are the awareness behind the mind, so to speak. if this sounds too new-age for you, i’m sorry. but i’ve been reading books on the topic for years without understanding completely. it made about 75% sense to me up until now, and i found the missing piece. mindfulness, the Self, the Ego...it’s all interconnected, and i used to think it was more religious BS that I didn’t care for. but it really isn’t. it’s a logical approach to heal yourself emotionally, and it starts with recognizing that your internal dialogue, your thoughts, and even your emotions, do not make up who you are, so you don’t have to be a slave to them. i wish i could articulate this better, but i barely understood it myself when i first started researching the topic. but something inside me knew that the answer i’d been looking for was somewhere in this train of thought, so i’ve kept with it (if you’re interested, the one book I would recommend is the power of now by eckhart tolle. i know, i know. but it really is the most easily digestible medium for this subject. just know you will have to engage with it and put in the work to fully understand). 

so anyway, that’s what i did this weekend. no weed, no mindless distractions, no emotional eating, despite the low burning of fear about school in the back of my mind. i cleaned the shit out of the kitchen and my room instead, which was distracting and physically tiring. then because i still felt restless, i went for a jog. now i’m showered and tired, about to watch a movie that i feel i actually earned. i think Fear produces a nervous energy that i can dispel with any kind of physical activity, which takes the edge off and makes it bearable.  

and lo and behold, by not being destructive at the first sign of feeling afraid, i didn’t burst into flames or anything. sure, my heart rate might jump for a bit, i might feel a bit sweaty/nauseous for a couple minutes. but then i swallow it and continue on my path.  by going through Fear instead of doing a 180 away from it, i can continue moving forwards instead of backwards. i can grow and progress, not stagnate. and another hard lesson i’ve learned is that the stagnation from avoiding my life has arguably caused me the most pain, far more than the fear of life itself. 

i isolated myself from my friends (missing one of their weddings which i have to try to not beat myself up about for the rest of my life). i stalled in my education. i was cut off socially, emotionally because i was in denial, and going nowhere. 

so i think i’ve just reached a point where anything is better than this. than a lonely, unfulfilled future where i reach none of my potential. on my deathbed all i’d feel is profound disappointment. and to that idea my gut reaction is HELL NO. is this what they mean about actually hitting rock bottom, even though i felt like i’ve hit it countless times before?

because now, i am finally willing to fight for what i want even if it’s the hardest thing i’ll ever do. once school starts, my days are gonna be long as hell. work during the day, and schoolwork on evenings/weekends, so logistically i need to make my life flow to accommodate how hectic my schedule will become. i’ll do so with the following steps:

gonna clean my apartment and car to stepford-levels of cleanliness (in progress, about 50% done). will also go on an organizing spree. i’m generally a neat person, but it could always be better you know? my state of mind is usually amplified by the state of my surroundings, so that’s one of the best ways to help myself.

gonna stock up on non-perishables/cat supplies/toiletries to keep effort spent on grocery shopping and errands to a minimum from september to december. 

gonna nail down a healthy meal prep routine so i can properly fuel my carcass through everything. cereal for dinner won’t cut it anymore.

in general, i will develop solid self-care routines in the areas of sleep, fitness (will work in occasional exercise where i can to let off steam), food, and giving myself mental breaks. again, this will keep me from losing my shit. 

this is my 4 point plan, and notice how little of it has to do with school itself. but i know that if i take care of myself properly, i can ground myself enough to get through anything. 

studying, homework, going to class, the pressure of exams...i feel confident, finally, that i can take all of it on. in fact, i’m starting to feel my old competitive spark slowly coming to life again, and i’m tempted to say bring it on.

and sure, Fear isn’t going anywhere. i haven’t vanquished it or anything. far from it; it’s still right there, making my chest tight when it gets really bad. but what’s changed is that i’m not afraid of Fear itself anymore. that is a huge distinction i’ve had to make, and it’s taken me years to get here. it’s much easier to do The Thing and confront Fear while doing so, rather than avoid both The Thing and Fear altogether. because that way of life was miserable for me, whereas option 1 will actually yield results. and weirdly enough...avoiding Fear doesn’t even make you like, less afraid or anything. what the hell?

so, after years of struggling and cowering and letting myself off easy for everything, it’s that simple. i’ve boiled my approach down to something weirdly logical and direct, because i’m over this shit, to put it elegantly. i will enthusiastically and unabashedly go after what i want in life, and when Fear inevitably pops up on occasion, as it always will, i’ll acknowledge it with a nod or a small dab (lol), and then continue doing what i was doing. i can be afraid without letting it paralyze me. fear isn’t really able to stop my body from doing what i want it to, i can actually smash my way through that mental barrier. i think that is what is at the core of the concept of bravery, and anybody is capable of it (yes i got that from soul eater, a life-changing message). 

so i simultaneously feel insanely motivated and driven for the first time in years, and also scared as shit. it’s the strangest feeling, a kind of nervous euphoria. but it’s okay. knowing that if i just trust the process and take things a day at a time, i will get to where i want to be eventually; that makes it so much easier. in my mind, this lends incredible significance to every little step along this journey. keeping good work habits and taking care of myself are what it’s going to take, and truly understanding that every Good thing i do for myself, even the tiniest thing, is what will get me there one day. it removes resistance from my thought process, and resistance is usually what gets me to cave, and run away. it makes every difficult, necessary step worth it to me, and that is what fuels me.  

so ultimately, my conclusion is this: i’m just going to have to get strong enough to carry my fear with me throughout the whole journey and use it to fuel me, instead of letting it pin me in one place for the rest of my life. and that’s the thing: invariably, over time, the relative burden of that weight decreases as you get stronger. 

so knowing that, how could i not just charge forward like a maniac, fear be damned? because the truth is that i can overcome it in the present moment with enough effort, and in time, it won’t take anywhere near the same amount of effort. pain is always temporary, so i don’t need to fear it right? i just have to use pain, and Fear of pain, and that’s the promise i’m making to myself as i attempt to close an unpleasant chapter in my life. 

i’m finally getting back my drive, my spark, when for so long i just tried to convince myself i didn’t actually want the things that i did. i thought that my goals were unobtainable, that i was too weak or incompetent to achieve them, so i may as well convince myself i didn’t even want them in the first place. isn’t that sad? it really is, and i’m trying to reflect on Past Me with compassion, instead of frustration for all the lost time and unhappiness. it won’t change anything, and i want nothing more than to move forward. because one day, it will all have been worth it. 

[gukyi]

interconnection | myg

⇒ summary: you can never trust anything in the wizarding world. not even your own goddamn journal. 

⇒ {hogwarts!au}

⇒ pairing: yoongi x female reader

⇒ word count: 8k

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ a/n: all poetry in y/n’s journal written by yours truly! obviously, anything written in yoongi’s journal is written by him. also, i know the word count’s pretty short in comparison to my seokjin fic, but a majority of this fic is in messaging format, which explains both the great physical length and the shorter word count. inspired by this drarry fic, which rocks and u should read. edit (04.20.18): the poems in this fic are now formatted strangely because tumblr mobile took away the foundation for this entire piece: the indent. thanks, tumblr mobile, for absolutely nothing.

“all art is quite useless.” — wilde, 1890.

The first thing your mother bought you in Diagon Alley, age eleven, was a worn, brown leather journal, its pages tinted and stained but empty nonetheless. She got it off of the highest shelf in the top corner of the crowded bookstore, stretching her arms and legs to reach it, the last of its kind.

“What’s this for?” You asked as she placed it in your open, waiting palms.

“For you to write in while at Hogwarts,” she said. “I find that words always seem to have a better way of flowing when on paper rather than out loud. Don’t you?”

“I dunno,” you responded, shrugging your little shoulders as you placed the journal in your cauldron along with the rest of your required schoolbooks. “Isn’t it dumb to keep a journal?”

“Only if you treat it as such,” your mother replied, as sage as she always was. “Come, let’s get you a wand.”

With the mention of a wand, your mind wandered far from the beaten leather journal in your cauldron as you skipped out of Flourish and Blott’s, unaware of how significant the journal would end up being in your later years at Hogwarts.

When you first opened the journal on your first night at Hogwarts as an empty-minded eleven-year-old, the blank pages frightened you. A world of words only you could come up with was millions of miles away, and staring at the tan pages wasn’t going to make it come closer. That night, you shut the journal roughly, cursing your mother who wasted her money on a journal that would never be put to use.

Six years later, eleven-year-old you wouldn’t know that journal like you do now, know the feeling of its worn pages and smooth, wrinkling leather, what you have become so keenly familiar with over the years. Sure, this journal doesn’t hold your deepest, darkest secrets nor your wildest dreams directly, but the allusions never end, forever continuing on in each poem you write.

You’ve always been a fan of poetry, ever since your mother taught you about the greatest works of the great poets as a child. Wordsworth, Poe, Keats. They are names you know, names you admire. There was never anything spectacular about Wizard poets, not when everything is easy and everything is simply done with magic. No, people like Poe and Keats and Wordsworth wrote about life like it was a struggle, like there was always something you were missing in it. In a sense, there always is.

Perhaps your Muggleborn background is another factor in your love for poetry, but verse knows no blood status and even the greatest Wizards need to sit down and read a little bit of Eliot once in awhile, you think.

The poetry you write is mundane, nothing compared to the greats that they were, but it is home and it is an odyssey all the same, the words flowing off the page and smeared from how frantic you were when you wrote them.

You cart the notebook around with you wherever you go, knowing that keeping it in the confines of the common room will likely lead to its exposure one way or another. Gryffindors were never really good at keeping out of other people’s business. The journal is as precious to you as your wand, never letting it out of your sight.

It’s not uncommon for students to keep a journal, especially for their first couple years as they adjust to the school, to the sleepless nights and forbidden hallways. What is uncommon is the fact that you’re fast approaching graduation, merely a few months left before you’re thrust into the real world and treated like adults with responsibilities and taxes, and the journal has never left your side, staying with you through every standardized test and every Hogsmeade visit. You are, dare you say, the last of your year to hold onto something as menial as a diary.

“Are you going to keep writing in that after Hogwarts?”

You look up at the sound of the voice, knowing that it’s directed towards you. Your fingers are still holding onto the pages of your open journal, lying on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, as you pause, mid-browse.

“This?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“I want to keep it as my school journal. A specific time in my life.”

“But surely, if you’ve written in it for so long, you might as well want to keep going?”

“I feel like seven years is a pretty substantial amount of time to write in a journal.”

“You’ve never run out of room?” Another friend butts in, her potions homework forgotten in front of her. No wonder she’s failing the class; she lets herself get too distracted.

“I asked the librarian for spells to add pages.”

“Oh,” they say.

“Yeah,” you say.

Your journal is not often the topic of conversation between you and your friends. Your friends have long known that the journal is not theirs to look through, so they don’t bother asking, but occasionally they will have questions as they see you scribbling down something before your next class period. It’s strange to see you writing in it so out in the open like you do sometimes, since you often reserve your writing time for when you are curled up in the common room, sitting by the fire as you guard the pages from view. Inspiration, however, strikes at the most inopportune moments.

“What do you write about?” They ask you whenever they catch you jotting something down.

“Art. Love. Work. Emotions. You. Me.”

“Us?”

“All of us.”

“That’s lots of people.”

“Not everybody. Just people that interest me.”

“Who interests you?”

“Those that don’t try to.”

If there’s one thing that your friends complain about, it’s the fact that, whenever you do talk about your journal, your sentences become clipped, fragments of full phrases lacking in conjunctions. It’s not that you don’t want to make your sentences, well, actual sentences, it’s just that you never really want to say too much about your journal. It is yours, after all.

“Well, who are you writing about now?”

“I don’t know.”

Truth is, you don’t. The boy that’s caught your attention this time is nothing but a stranger, someone you’ve never spoken to, a face lost in the sea of students. From his build, he doesn’t look to be much younger than you, meaning he might even be in your year. He’s got platinum bleached hair, the mop the only thing you can make out as he snoozes on some textbook. Next to him is a boy a couple years younger—you recognize him, he’s the Quidditch commentator for most of the matches—prodding him gently with his pointer finger. The platinum boy does not budge.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“You’re a real mystery, you know that, Y/N? A goddamn mystery,” one of your friends comments, scoffing.

You chuckle to yourself, closing your journal and smiling. “I sure hope so.”

he sleeps to forget or, maybe he sleeps to remember but in his dreams he is somewhere and nowhere and he is everything  and nothing all at once. zzzz… his brain says do not let me leave… for i am finally at peace.

You had originally believed that after writing about a person, a stranger, in your journal, you’d go on to forget about them, but that doesn’t seem to be the case this time. Since you wrote that single poem about the platinum-haired boy, fast asleep on a textbook in the Great Hall, you can’t help but notice him everywhere you turn. He’s in the library, in the hallways, in the bleachers of the Quidditch field. It’s his hair—or maybe it’s that soft, hazy smile he has permanently etched onto his lips—that makes him stick out, makes him so easy to spot even in the oceans of students that surround the both of you.

He’s in your year, you’ve found out that much, but you can hardly remember anything about him. You don’t remember him on the train, nor at the Sorting Ceremony, nor in any of your classes. It is only now that he’s left a mark on you, made a wrinkle in your brain that you can’t seem to forget about.

If you were brave, you would speak to him. If you were brave, or daring, or unafraid, you would approach him and say hello, introduce yourself. But you are none of those things, and so all he is is another boy you’ve written about, another student lost in the haze.

Perhaps in a perfect world.

Though, you suppose, if it was a perfect world, you would never have anything interesting to write about.

Shit begins to hit, pelt, the fan while you are eating supper in the Great Hall, surrounded by your friends as your journal lays forgotten on the sidelines, open to a blank page as you happily chat about nothing and everything in particular.

“How’s tutoring going?” You ask your one friend, the one who’s not doing so hot in potions.

“It’s going,” she jokes. “I have a good tutor, I’m just shit at applying myself.”

“Story of my life,” you chuckle.

The chatter goes on like this, friendly banter between buddies as you swallow down the meal in front of you. This is the only time after classes end that you actually get to spend socializing, before you bury yourself under layers and layers of schoolwork. It’s just another night, the days always flowing by like clockwork, no variation with each passing hour.

It’s just another night, until your ridiculously clumsy self somehow manages to elbow a discarded cup of tea, knocking it onto its side and spilling its contents all over your opened journal.

“Oh no,” you declare, not even making to try and clean up the mess, watching the liquid stain your blank pages with futility.

“Y/N! Aren’t you gonna do something?” Your friends exclaim, watching as you stare helplessly at the mess beside you.

“Me? What?”

“Y/N!”

It’s then that you finally come to, shaking your head as the panic overtakes you. You stand up quickly, rushed as you dart to the closest napkin, dabbing it on the spill to soak up whatever hasn’t already damaged your journal.

Your friends are all the help, gathering the disregarded Daily Prophets from that morning and running over. Once you’ve let the tea take its toll, you place your relatively damp journal on top of the newspaper to dry, pushing it down the table so it can get the most air, away from your scraggle of friends as you continue to chat as if the whole incident lay forgotten.

You’re knee deep into a conversation about whether having dragon heartstring or unicorn hair is more beneficial to doing transfiguration, you, a firm believer that dragon heartstring reigns supreme, when a foreign voice invades your discussion.

“Do you write all this stuff?”

You whip your head around to find a Gryffindor by the name of Namjoon, holding your dangling journal between his thumb and his pointer fingers as he shuffles through the pages with his other hand. You can see the tea dripping slowly from the corner of the cover to the newspaper below it. You recognize Namjoon quite well, he’s a tutor, sort of a know-it-all as far as you’re concerned.

“What?” You snap, beginning to feel yourself seethe.

“Do you write this stuff? It’s really good, you know. Very interesting,” he comments like it’s nobody’s fucking business. The problem is, it is very much your goddamn business.

“Were you raised in a barn?” You ask incredulously, rushing up to him and snatching your journal from his fingertips. “Who on this godforsaken Earth taught you that it was perfectly fine to fish through someone else’s journal?”

Namjoon merely smirks, and it makes you frown, disgust lacing your features. “So it is yours, eh, Y/N? Didn’t know you were so deep.”

“Stuff it, Namjoon. I never fucking asked,” you say. Namjoon’s gotten absolutely unbearable, ever since his Head Boy friend graduated last year, leaving him to completely his own devices without anyone to keep him in check. You miss that Head Boy. He was nice.

“But your journal did. I mean, it was lying out in the open, far away from any person who displayed any signs of ownership. It was practically begging to be read.”

“You’re a goddamn piece of shit,” you spit, and he chuckles at your comeback. “Go shove a textbook up your ass.”

“Not a fan of people reading your writing, I get it,” Namjoon says, hands up in surrender as he begins to back away, the cheeky smile still drawn on his face. “I, for one, think you are an excellent writer, Y/N. You should let people read your stuff. They’d like it.”

“Not a chance.”

He walks away, leaving you breathless and boiling.

“He’s such a tool,” your friend says, hand rubbing your arm to calm you down. “That’s why I didn’t want him as my tutor. I couldn’t stand being around him.”

“I think Y/N needs some time to calm down. Look at her. She’s practically overheating.”

Your friend pulls your journal from where you’re clutching it to your chest, smiling awkwardly as she places it back down on the newspaper, pushing it over to where you sit so you can have a better eye on it.

You’re never dealing with this again.

You spend the rest of the night shuffling through the innumerable books in the library, desperate to find a spell that will prevent anyone besides you to fish through your personal, private journal. Anything to prevent the Namjoon Situation from ever happening again. God, what an asshole. Has he never heard of respect? Personal space?

Admittedly, doing this instead of your homework is a terrible move on your part, because not only are there no spells designed to resolve this type of predicament—which you find outrageous, especially because aren’t wizards supposed to come up with solutions to every problem? That’s why they have magic, obviously—your search takes up a good few hours hunting through the table of contents of each library book that piques your interest, and by the time it’s nearing curfew and you’ve collected a grand total of zero spells, all of your homework lays incomplete on your bed, begging to be finished. But you are determined, and the librarian is trying to shuffle the last scraggle of students out of the room so they don’t miss their curfew, so you merely pick up the pace.

You and the librarian are mutual friends at best, since she’s always helping you out with your journal and recommending her favorite wizard poets, but when she peeks her head down the aisle and sees you frantically shuffling through a dusty old thing, she hisses.

“Ms. Y/L/N! Do you know what time it is?”

And just as it so happens, that dusty old thing that your fingers speedily flip the pages of happens to have the one spell you think will work, a little scrawled piece of handwriting that sticks out like a sore thumb in comparison to the rest of the book’s printed text. At least someone tried.

“Can I take this, Professor?” You ask hurriedly as she walks over to you, a hand on your back as she gently shoves you towards the exit.

“Yes, sure, whatever,” she waves off your request, waiting until you’re outside the library before she brutally shuts the door in your face, but you couldn’t care less.

You’ve finally found what you’re looking for.

The door to your common room creaks closed, and then the curfew bells sound, echoing along the stone walls as you sigh a breath of relief, grateful you and Filch will not be meeting in the darkness of the empty hallways tonight. Most of the other students in your house are also lounging around in the main lobby of the common room, chatting amongst themselves or struggling to work in the quietest place they can find, which isn’t very quiet to begin with—Gryffindors, to put it nicely, don’t know how to shut the fuck up—anyway. You’re pleased about this, because this means you can go straight up to your dormitory without anyone bothering you, perform this slightly sketchy spell on your journal, and begin the daunting task of finishing all the homework you refrained from doing.

“Y/N!”

You whip your head to the source of the sound and see Namjoon waving you down, nursing a bottle of Felix Felicis in his hand, a telltale sign that you should avoid him tonight. If he’s awful when he’s sober, imagine how much of a nightmare he is drunk.

In hindsight, turning around was an abysmal idea, because now Namjoon knows you’ve acknowledged him, and he’s going to capitalize off of it.

You keep walking, pushing through the conglomerations of students and making for your dormitory, hoping he won’t try to engage you any further.

There’s a hand grabbing onto the sleeve of your robe, and you’d rather die than have another conversation with him, but you look at him regardless.

“Can I help you?” You ask, trying to make your voice sound as ticked off as possible.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” Namjoon says, and suddenly, you’re starting to like drunk Namjoon a lot better than sober Namjoon. “I didn’t know. My friend schooled me on it.”

“Cool, apology accepted,” you spit quickly, desperate to get his grubby fingers off of the edge of your sleeve and your body up to your bedroom, where your journal waits to be protected. “Leave me alone?” Even though it comes out as a question, it’s more of an order.

Namjoon is much easier to get rid of tonight than he normally is. He backs away from you, leaving you with a pleasantly friendly smile as he makes his way towards where he was chatting with his friends, letting you scurry up to your room in peace.

Once there, you grab your journal from where it was locked up in your trunk and place it on the floor in the middle of the dormitory, since you would like to avoid lighting yourself or your bed aflame should this spell go horribly wrong, thank you very much. Shuffling back to the page in the book with the scrawled little handwriting in faded quill ink, you hold out your wand tentatively. For some reason, your hands are shaking. The professors always told you never to perform spells not taught to you, and only use the ones from a trustworthy adult or a renowned book. Well, you’re already in your last year, so what’s the worst that could happen?

You know you have to get this spell over and done with, especially because you can’t have someone walking in and seeing you screeching unfamiliar magic at your inanimate journal, so you take a deep breath, focus all your energy on the journal, and read out the words written on the page, loud and clear. A burst of purple light flies out from the end of your want, hitting the journal square in the center of the cover. For a mere moment, the journal looks to be levitating, sparkles flickering around it, before it hits the floor with a thud, like nothing happened to it in the first place.

You shut the book in your hands, throwing it on your bed carelessly as you step towards the journal, hand stretched out to grab it but the rest of your body as far away from it as you can go, just in case you happen to electrocute yourself or something. That’d suck.

When your fingers finally gloss over the leather and nothing happens, you smile to yourself, pleased. Picking your journal up and making your way back to your bed, you quickly finger through the pages, and all of your poetry seems to be perfectly in tact.

One of the other girls that shares your dormitory traipses up the stairs, significantly worn out, and you rush towards her, journal in hand.

“Hey,” you say, catching her by surprise. “Could you open this for me?”

She doesn’t even question your request—no wonder why, people ask some strange favors in this school—and does what you ask, opening the journal with no effort as all. However, before you let yourself deflate in disappointment that the spell was simply a dud, you see that all of the pages before her are blank, your words erased entirely, like they were never written in the first place.

“Is that it?” She asks you, holding your notebook out in front of you.

You take it gladly, smiling to yourself. No more Nosy Namjoon, as far as you’re concerned. “Yes, thank you.”

Only the next day do you learn why teachers always told you never to use spells not taught to you properly. You’ve been spending the whole day boasting to your friends that you found a spell that makes your journal your journal, for your eyes only, letting them bubble with friend-anger and envy, anger at the fact that now they, truly, won’t be able to snoop through your journal (though it’s not like they were evil enough to be planning on doing that), and envy at the fact that you solved your issue with a single wave of your wand, easy as that.

You’re skipping around campus, very delighted with yourself and your superior problem-solving skills—that’s what being a witch is all about, right?—when you look around for a bit too long and make eye contact with the boy with platinum hair, the one that is incessantly present in your brain, seeing him sitting on a log in the courtyard, writing his homework, probably. He looks up at the same time that you look at him, and you stop in the middle of the hallway you’ve been happily gamboling down, and you stare at each other.

It’s actually not staring. It’s more like, gazing. You gaze at each other, and he doesn’t make a move and neither do you, but you’re finally meeting his eyes for the first time and even though he’s so far away it looks like he’s lived a lifetime—no, several—already, aged and wise and experienced. It looks like he has the secrets of the universe hiding out in his irises, his pupils, and he’s waiting to find someone to share them with.

You’re a bit more daring today, so you wave, cracking an awkward smile as you raise your hand, shaking it ever so slightly. A small, puny little smile grows on his, or maybe you’re just imagining it, but that’s all you see before you turn, skipping off to the library, where you have a feeling you know what your next poem is going to be on.

the universe. it is not in the sky where it should belong but rather it rests in the eyes of a boy who is too young, too innocent to have seen such a lifetime before him and every time he blinks he sees another story, another tragic end and he hopes that the next time he closes his eyes this story will be a happy ever after.

And now, the realization that you should usually always listen to your professors because they tend to know what’s best for you soon comes to fruition, because you’re about to close your journal, when you see handwriting that does not belong to you, scrawling itself on the bottom of the page where you wrote your poem about the boy.

nice poem

Excuse me?

[you] WHO ARE YOU

[stranger] WHO ARE YOU

[you] WHY ARE YOU IN MY JOURNAL

[stranger] WHY ARE YOU IN MINE

[you] ???? this is my journal???

[stranger] i believe this is my journal.

[you] i fuckin hate wizards.

[stranger] are you a muggle?

[you] no, i just hate us.

[stranger] relatable.

You’ve filled up nearly an entire new page, but you’re noticing your words fading as you write them, disappearing into thin air on the parchment in front of you, like invisible ink, but only backwards. Every word that pops up onto the page from whoever is on the other end of your weirdly transcendent journal disintegrates about ten seconds after you’ve read it, the speech literally sinking into the paper.

[you] how did you get into my journal?

[stranger] pretty sure this is still my journal.

[you] but i can see you writing.

[stranger] well, i can see yours.

[you] this makes no sense. how can you see my writing when you don’t have my journal?

[stranger] it’s not like i know.

[you] i literally cast a spell on my journal so people wouldn’t be able to read it.

[stranger] and how trustworthy is said spell?.

[you] …

[stranger] well, that explains that.

[you] are you judging me behind a goddamn journal cover?????????

[stranger] i’m not not judging you.

[you] can you read what else i’ve written?

[stranger] i can see your poems, if that’s what you’re asking.

For fucks sake. This is all totally against anything and everything you wanted from Sketchy Book Spell. You don’t know if the Namjoon incident is worse or better than this, a random stranger that you can’t even visualize, access to every single thing you’ve written down in your duration of Hogwarts attendance.

[stranger] can you see my stuff?

[you] you write?

[stranger] can’t you see it??

You flip backwards a couple of pages, and printed right where your poems used to reside are words that do not belong to you. It looks like poetry, when you see it from a first glance, artsy and cut off and short, but when you investigate a little further, it’s not poetry. It’s lyrics. The stranger writes lyrics, and holy shit, they are good.

give me some drinks, i want to get drunk today please don’t stop me anything will be fine alcohol is a luxury for a bum but i can’t stand it sober everyone else is running why am i the only one here

You suppose that in exchange for inadvertently sharing your entire life story in the form of verse, it would only make sense for the person on the other end to have their private lyrics revealed. Neither of you are getting much out of this, other than a nice, jovial chat.

[you] i can.

[stranger] guess it goes both ways then.

[you] yes, i guess it does.

[stranger] do you know how to fix this?.

[you] no, i found the spell that caused this in the first place in an old book.

[stranger] okay, but wouldn’t that book have the counterspell?

[you] no, someone wrote in the spell at the bottom of the page.

[stranger] didn’t your mother ever tell you not to use spells not put in print?

[you] i’m not very good at following rules.

[stranger] clearly.

[you] hey! it’s not like i WANTED this to happen.

[stranger] well, it happened.

[you] no shit sherlock.

[stranger] so can you fix this?

[you] i’ve never been very good at solving problems.

[stranger] ?

[you] that’s literally why i have a journal. because i can’t solve my problems.

[stranger] so you write about them instead?

[you] yes.

[stranger] i do that too.

[you] do you mind telling me why you write the lyrics you do?

[stranger] what goes on in my mind isn’t necessarily stuff other people want to hear.

[you] i have the opposite problem. everyone wants to see what i put in this thing.

[stranger] and that’s why you cast that spell?

[you] precisely.

[stranger] well, no one else can see it except me.

[you] i don’t know if i prefer that.

[stranger] you’ve read my lyrics. i won’t judge you.

[you] i won’t judge you, either.

[stranger] do you trust me?

[you] i’m not sure.

[stranger] i trust you.

It’s not like you can get any more personal with whoever is on the other end of your messaging journals.

[you] i guess i trust you too.

[stranger] i’m suga.

[you] i’m Y/N.

[suga] nice to meet you, Y/N.

[you] nice to meet you too, suga.

And for some strange reason, as you sit in the quietest corner of the Gryffindor common room, scribbling away on your journal, wasting ink as you watch it disappear on the page before you, you feel like whoever this Suga person may be, you are comfortable with them. It’s as if you were meant to share your writing with them all along.

Keeping the majority of your identities offers some sort of security blanket between the two of you, a safe haven, where neither of you have to specifically worry about the other finding out who you are, or where you are, or why it was you who chose to write in your respective journals. When Suga doesn’t know who you are, and you don’t know who they are, it’s easier, because you feel like you can say anything without worrying about repercussions.

[suga] i never asked you,

[you] hmm?

[suga] are you a she?

[you] do i seem like a she?

[suga] your words definitely read like one, not to be gender stereotypical. i don’t mind if you’re a he, or a they, for that matter.

[you] you read well.

[suga] so i’m right? you’re a she?

[you] got it.

[suga] i’m a he. in case you wanted to know.

[you] i didn’t, but thank you for telling me.

[suga] i’ll tell you anything you want to know.

You’ve refrained from informing your friends that the reason you’ve been so engaged with your journal recently is because there is a mystery man on the other end, responding to you like he’s know you his whole life. You don’t really think they need to know this.

What your friends have noticed is your particular affinity for trying to sneak glances at a certain boy, because they know you and they watch you look around each room you enter, like you’re searching for someone. You’re not exactly very good at being discreet, especially when it comes to the boy with the platinum hair and hazy smile.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” A hand waves in front of your face, snapping you out of your mindless trance. When you look down, the inked quill in your hand has drawn a squiggly line all across one of the blank pages of your journal, but this time, it vanishes.

“What?”

“Were you looking at someone?” Your friend asks, an eyebrow raised in something that looks like curiosity and excitement.

“I think so!” Another chimes in. “I think it was him.” She points towards the boy, who’s currently sitting quietly, a quill pointing towards his textbook. He’s surrounded by other boys, all from different houses, and they’re chatting away, tossing bits of food at each other.

“Jungkook? Isn’t he the commentator?”

“No, not him, the Slytherin boy.”

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi. The boy finally has a name. You glance up at the mention of his name, smiling to yourself as you think about him. There is something that makes him stick, something about him that keeps him afloat in your mind, refusing to sink.

“Aha!” One of your friends shriek, making some of the younger students in the Great Hall look towards you, trying to find the source of the exclamation. “You do like him, don’t you?”

Your cheeks heat up furiously, and you scowl, bested by your friends. “No comment.”

“I knew it!”

No point in trying to dig yourself out now. The only thing that you can do is prevent yourself from getting buried any further. “I’ve never even spoken to him before.”

“That’s ridiculous,” your friend says, at the same time another one speaks, saying, “That’s understandable.”

“Why?”

“He’s a quiet kid. He’s in our year, but I never notice him anywhere. He’s always writing something down—doing homework, probably—he’s got fantastic grades—or sitting amongst his friends, that rowdy group of boys from all different years and houses,” your friend explains, and suddenly it all makes sense, why you never see him. It looks to you like he doesn’t want to be seen for whatever reason he may have.

“Trust you to have a crush on him,” your other friend jokes, nudging you with her shoulder as she smirks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act exactly like him,” your friend spells it out for you. “You’re quiet unless you’re with friends, and you’re always writing shit down in that spell-ridden journal of yours.”

“Don’t bring my journal into this,” you say, hugging the book to your chest tightly, like a security guard.

“All I’m saying is that you should go talk to him.”

Like that’s going to happen.

[you] how old are you?

[suga] eighteen. you?

[you] 17.

[suga] you write well for a seventeen-year-old.

[you] you write well for an eighteen-year old.

[suga] do i, now?

[you] i don’t know what it is, but you write like you’ve already lived a life, and you’re looking back on it.

[suga] like a sad old person?

[you] yes.

[suga] -_-

[you] i’m kidding! you just seem sage. mature mind for an immature body.

[suga] that’s one way to put it. who’s the boy you keep writing about?

You were going to get there eventually. Yoongi, whoever he is, has become somewhat of a recurring character in your poems, the same platinum boy who keeps making a comeback in your writing as he slowly overtakes each crevice in your brain.

[you] just some boy.

[suga] doesn’t seem like ‘just some boy’ to me.

[you] my friends think i have a crush on him. how juvenile.

[suga] do you?

[you] not you too!

[suga] i just wanted to know! it doesn’t seem like you do. it just seems like you’re interested in who he is.

[you] at least you’re not as persistent as they are.

[suga] your poems don’t exactly scream ‘unrequited love with fellow schoolboy’ to me, if it’s any consolation.

[you] at least you’re on my side.

[suga] you haven’t given me a reason not to be.

[you] i don’t know how i feel about him. he just won’t get out of my head.

[suga] in a bad way or a good way?

[you] both? neither? god, i don’t know.

[suga] judging by your poetry about said boy, it must be in a good way. you don’t really write about boys and universes if you’re thinking that they’re a piece of shit.

[you] yes you can! what if i had written something like ‘i wish the universe eats you up so i don’t have to see you again’? that’s not very positive.

[suga] haha i guess you can, then.

[you] i mean, you’re right, i’m not bothered in the slightest with his presence in my head. it’s quite comforting, actually.

[suga] let me guess, you’ve never talked to him?

[you] HOW CAN YOU TELL?

[suga] not hard to. if you had spoken to him, you would’ve written something else, something about his voice. maybe his lips.

[you] what are you, some sort of psychoanalytical journal whisperer?

[suga] shit, you’ve revealed my true identity. i hide out in worn leather journals so innocent, unsuspecting schoolgirls like yourself can come chat to me, then i take their souls and make myself immortal by consuming them.

[you] creep.

[suga] haha. listen, i don’t really know who this boy is, but i, for one, think he’d be lucky to chat to someone like you.

[you] you do?

[suga] you’re witty, sarcastic, well-spoken. i don’t see why any boy would turn down a conversation with you.

[you] thanks, suga.

[suga] hey, i might be a serial killer whose primary method of soul-extraction is via journal, but i’m always here to help.

And alright, so maybe you’ve never met Suga before, but revealing all of your concerns with your crush-not-crush on Yoongi to him doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world. In fact, you just might take Suga up on his advice. He seems to know what he’s talking about.

Your subsequent interaction with Yoongi happens the day after Suga told you to actually talk to him, and he’ll be very pleased to know you do just that. Your friends were right—he is always writing something down, even as he’s lying flat on the lawn of the courtyard, textbooks and scrolls of parchment decorating the area around his strewn-out hair, inkwells and used quills among the mix. He looks, for one thing, irrevocably photogenic, and a little bubble of envy pops in your brain. How dare he always look good. That is Not Allowed.

You tentatively approach him, journal resting in your hand by your side, almost blending into your black robes if it weren’t for the difference in the fabric. He’s craning his neck as he writes something down, in some sort of notebook, as he occasionally glances to the side, stretching to see the tiny little font in the textbook to his left. It looks like the most uncomfortable position you could ever somehow warp your body into, but for some reason, he looks perfectly fine.

“Hello.”

Yoongi shoots up, quickly shutting his notebook as he turns to you, eyes blown impossibly wide. Clearly, he’s not used to people talking to him.

“Hi,” he says, short and sweet.

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

It makes absolute sense that he would know who you are, but not you him. It just seems so cliche, how you’ve hardly noticed him throughout your schooling but he’s already seen you in the hallways, his classes, a name easily put to the face.

“Oh, of course you do,” you say awkwardly, chuckling to yourself as you fiddle with the journal in your hands, switching it between your left and your right so you don’t look stiff as a statue.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Yoongi asks. His voice is a little rough, but still smooth, like ice cream with cookie bits crushed into it.

“Me? No, I just wanted to say hello, you know. Get to know you,” you reply, your hand gestures wildly out of control. It seems that you can’t keep still in front of him, fidgeting and squirming like an impatient child, desperate for some sugar.

“Oh,” Yoongi says, hands behind him, propping his body up. “Well, I’m Yoongi.”

“I know.”

Yoongi grins to himself. “Glad we’re on a first-name basis, then, Y/N.” He motions to the journal getting tossed back and forth between your hands, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“This? Oh, um, just homework. You have one too, don’t you?” You say, desperately trying to get the conversation off of your journal. You don’t really want to discuss it with him, especially not when there are poems inside of it about him.

He looks to where you’re pointing, the black book beside him, and he chuckles awkwardly, a forced laugh. “Guess we got one thing in common, then.”

“I’m sure we have more in common than that,” you insist.

Yoongi begins to gather up all of his belongings, shoving them into one uneven pile, quills and parchment alike, holding it with both of his hands, his little black book sitting neatly on top. He looks at you, grinning a smile that’s gummy and sweet. “I guess we’ll have to find out about that, won’t we, Y/N?”

With the last word tucked under his tongue, he’s off, walking in the opposite direction from where he was facing you, leaving you embarrassingly breathless in the middle of the courtyard.

That night, when you open up your journal to write down your thoughts of the day, you see that Suga has already beaten you to it, claiming a fresh page for a new batch of lyrics, as beautifully wistful as always.

the awkwardness was only for a moment, i touched you again even though i was gone for a long time without repulsion, you accepted me without you there’s nothing after the dawn, two of us we welcomed the morning together don’t let go of my hand forever, i won’t let go of you again either

You decide to add to the mix, letting the words leave your brain and engrave themselves on the page before you, soft and gentle.

his grin he may have the universe written amongst his eyes but his grin oh, his grin it has hell and heaven all across the outline of his lips. it’s lopsided, like he knows something i don’t, and of course he does, after all, there are nebulas in his irises, comets on the inside of his eyelids, a galaxy painted across his vision, and i see stars.

It’s only a matter of time before Suga opens his journal to see your addition to the mix, sappy words of love, making the both of you terribly hopeless, terribly romantic.

[suga] i take it you spoke to him?

[you] what gave it away?

[suga] all the universe references. i feel like i’m reading a young adult romance novel.

[you] you sort of are, aren’t you?

[suga] it’s a very well-written young adult romance novel. lots of verse, little prose. i’m not good with prose.

[you] is that why you’re a lyricist?

[suga] one of the reasons.

[you] why else?

[suga] to hide behind my words.

[you] hmm?

[suga] i’m a new person when i’m writing. i’ve created an identity for myself.

[you] am i currently speaking with this identity?

[suga] you are.

[you] you’re fascinating.

[suga] that’s the last word you’d use to describe me if you knew who i really was.

[you] i already find it fascinating that you, whoever you decide ‘you’ is, have channeled such emotion into your lyrics that you’ve shaped a new persona out of it. that takes true dedication.

[suga] it’s more of an escape, actually.

[you] tomayto tomahto.

[suga] did you realize halfway through writing that that you couldn’t necessarily emphasize the different enunciations via written text?

[you] maybe.

[suga] you’re fascinating, also. how’s the boy?

[you] don’t tell my friends, but i think they’re right.

[suga] i kind of already figured they were.

[you] hey!

[suga] it’s not hard to tell. only a person in love would start comparing their lover’s body parts to falling meteors.

[you] did my poem scream ‘unrequited love on fellow schoolboy’ to you? well, what do you suppose said person in love should do about it, love expert?

[suga] love expert, huh?

[you] you seem to know what you’re talking about. ever dated someone, suga?

[suga] can’t say i have, but i could offer you some words of wisdom.

[you] fire away.

[suga] do your best.

[you] my best?

[suga] i can’t imagine why this boy wouldn’t want to talk to you. there’s no reason why he would avoid you.

[you] isn’t there?

[suga] no. there isn’t.

With great practice, your conversations with Yoongi slowly transition from awkward, empty small talk to mindless chatter you don’t mind listening to, not when you find yourself lost in the haze of his voice as it settles around you, invading your senses. Listening to him speak is like listening to the white noise in The Three Broomsticks, soothing and peaceful. It is so difficult not to drown in the sound.

“How long have you known about me?” You ask him one day as you’re secretly camping out in the Slytherin common room, completely immune to the confused and snarky looks the other Slytherins are sending your way, you, a Gryffindor with that obnoxious red collar of yours.

Yoongi tilts his head back on the edge of the couch, revealing that beautifully smooth neckline that you want to do things to, but you won’t mention that. “Since first year, I suppose. I remember your name.” He looks at you, a cheeky smile on his face. “You didn’t remember me, though.”

“Hey! You were a quiet kid,” you defend yourself.

Yoongi chuckles heartily at your indignation.

Perhaps this is crossing the line, but every marker has been blurred over the past few weeks that you’ve been talking, the border between you two nothing more than fuzz, so you reach over, twirling a bit of his platinum bangs in between your fingers. “When’d you do your hair?”

“This summer. Can’t you see my roots?” He asks, tipping his head forward to reveal the most beautiful blend of ivy black and lightning blonde atop his head.

“It looks good.”

“I need to dye my hair again,” Yoongi huffs. “What color should I do?”

“Green? Like your robes?” You suggest jokingly, and he scrunches his nose up at the thought of him, with bright green locks.

“Maybe not. How about pink, like yours?” He contemplates.

“My robes aren’t pink.”

“Close enough.”

“You’d match all the Gryffindors,” you remind him.

He shakes his head. “No, I’d just want to match you.” When you look at him, his cheeks are tinted the same shade of pink you’d imagine would decorate his hair, a soft rose color that makes him glow in the morning, afternoon, and evening.

[you] is suga the only identity you’ll allow me the pleasure of meeting?

[suga] i wouldn’t exactly call it pleasure.

[you] i find it pleasurable. you’re wonderful to talk to.

[suga] i feel like you’ve become too trustworthy of me.

[you] maybe you’re right. i mean, i haven’t heard of many pedophiles who write crushing lyrics about loneliness and the loss of youth, but you never know. you could be a serial killer.

[suga] and you’re making jokes about it?

[you] you’re not a serial killer, suga, though it would be nice to know who the person holding the quill is.

[suga] i’m not so sure you’d like to know.

[you] what’s not to like?

[suga] most things.

[you] you say you’ve created an identity for yourself, but i highly doubt that identity varies much from who you really are. we don’t have to meet or anything. i’d just like to know who you are.

[suga] i feel like meeting is the only way we could do this.

[you] i’m in school, i can’t just up and leave. i don’t even know where you are.

[suga] i’m in school, too.

[you] are you, now? where?

[suga] i don’t imagine i make it difficult to guess.

[you] let’s see. you write in english, which could mean nothing considering lots of foreign schools are teaching english anyway, but you write lyrics in english, which means you have a greater understanding of the language, so you’re a native speaker. this could put you in america, england, or australia, for the most part. if you said you were in school as any sort of consolation, then that means us meeting isn’t at all implausible, which places you in england, at hogwarts. and judging by that, you definitely know who i am.

[suga] who’s the sherlock now?

You wish you could say it would surprise you that you’ve narrowed it down so well, and that the very person you’ve been messaging via journal has known you this entire time, but it doesn’t. And in the dusty crevices of your brain, there lies a sneaking suspicion as to who you’ve been speaking to, and it both excites and terrifies you.

[you] where do you want to meet, fellow hogwarts student?

[suga] the courtyard?

Suspicion confirmed. Guess you are quite the Sherlock, after all.

When you turn the corner of the hallway and the courtyard comes into view, a certain platinum-haired boy with unruly roots and a lopsided smile catches your eye as he sits on the ledge of the wall, foot tapping on the ground to some imaginary song, probably one of his own. You walk up to him happily, your arms swinging by your side, the journal resting in your hands.

He sees you, too, and he stands up when you near him, mouth open to offer some sort of explanation, but you beat him to it.

“Suga, huh?” You say somewhat loudly, your voice unwavering, filled to the brim with confidence.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, the same look he had on his face when you approached him but a few weeks prior. “You knew?”

“Not until yesterday,” you admit. “But I had a feeling.”

“What gave it away?”

You grin. “I hate to break it to you, Yoongi, but you and Suga speak the same way, an aura of concern and disregard lacing your words. If you were trying to run from the police by hiding under a different name, you’d be absolute shit at it.”

“Wow, thanks for telling me that,” Yoongi says, chuckling. “I guess I better work on my soul-sucking tactics.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Can I—can I see that, for a second?” Yoongi asks, motioning to the journal in your hands.

You hold it out for him, and when he takes it from you and opens it up to compare it with his, sure enough, your messages, poems, and lyrics cover the pages of both of your journals, the scrawl completely mirrored. He gives it back to you almost instantly, shoving it into your outstretched hands as he fumbles in the pockets of his robes, pulling out a quill with a bit of dry ink on the end. Quickly, he flips his journal open to a clean page, untouched by the both of you, and wets the end of his quill with his tongue. When you look down at that exact same page, you watch him draw on one page, curving the line to reveal half of a heart, split right down the middle where the books are bound.

“May I?” You ask in response, and he lets you grab hold of the quill in his hand. You look down, finishing the heart out on the opposite page, and the both of you look down at your respective journals, watching the ink fizzle into the journal like it was never there in the first place.

“Good to know we’re both on the same page,” Yoongi jokes, shooting his beautifully gummy smile your way, making your cheeks heat up at the sight.

You shut your journal and hold out your hand, a symbol of peace, friendship, romance, or all of the above. He takes it gladly. “Haven’t we always been?”

When you go back to your dormitory that night, you open up your journal to find a message from your one and only, written in the same spot where that heart once was.

[yoongi] i love you.

[you] i love you, too.

⇒ leave any feedback/requests here and check out my masterlist here!

[thesignsdaily]

the signs as people from my university

Aries: That girl who loves partying and socializing with people, she's a fangirl of so many buffed-up singers and she's so pretty. She's kinda judgmental and she's homophobic but she follows so many gay people and likes their posts and nobody in my generation really understands why. She can be really impulsive sometimes and she hates classes but she's a good friend and a funny person

Taurus: That girl who is always late, she has social anxiety and she's silent af. Grades are not her forte'. She tries to socialize very hard and everyone is annoyed by the fact that she tries to discuss things that she really doesn't know shit about. She is afraid of some professors, she is christian af and she is kinda lost, but she's a good girl who believes in the supernatural and she always invites us to coffee at her place

Gemini: The girl who loves spending time with people, she always loves to discuss about every topic, she knows so much about many things, she's doing great with her grades and she's among the top 5 students in the entire generation. Also, she has PERFECT, sonorous American accent and everybody loves it. She always initiates coffee gatherings but nobody really comes because she's not that much of a leader and her voice is so soft so nobody could really hear when she's talking. She's also a passionate gamer AND in the same time she finds time to maintain her grades and social life

Cancer: That (jock) guy who's the tallest one, he's blonde, buffed-up and he's the definition of a straight white boy. He's childish as fuck and he can become very boring sometimes. Once, my colleagues have shooed him out of the cafeteria because he was bothering them. He also tells so many stupid dad-jokes and laughs at his own jokes, flirts with some professors, has been single since forever (not that he's ugly - he's average looking but he's so much boring sometimes because he doesn't have any real friends and he gets excited about people so he doesn't know WHEN to stop). He literally flirts with every single female human being that he can find and he pushes them all away because he's pushy af. He's also introverted and doesn't really know his way with girls

Leo: That girl who's one of the top students in the generation. She's always smiling, she has the best grades, she always tries to present this "perfect" image of herself. She is very intelligent and she loves reading, she gets drunk like every second day but that doesn't stop her from maintaining her perfect grades. She's very successful and she's a good leader, she knows all the fresh gossip and she always sits in the first row with her best university friend. In fact, she and her best uni friend are hated by everyone because they're just so successful and everyone's jealous of them. She also secretly hates everybody and gossips with her best uni friend. She and her friend have tons of screenshots ready to blackmail people if anyone says anything against them lmao. But everyone (every zodiac sign) in this generation pretends we like each other so...

Virgo: That professor who's VERY detail-oriented and she's a big perfectionist but she can't fix her awful handwriting. She's very successful and she has TONS of potential, she literally KNOWS EVERYTHING about her subjects but sometimes she can really drain us physically and emotionally. She gives us tons of assignments and homework and she always gives us lectures on the most difficult courses. Jfc she behaves like we study in Cambridge / Oxford. But don't get me wrong, she's NOT a bad person. She's actually a VERY good person and at the end of each semester she buys us coffee and tea, she talks with us about our experience with the course and she just wants us to learn some things that we should learn, that's why we perceive her as "difficult" and "problematic"

Libra: That girl who loves hugging, has great communication skills and is a social justice warrior. She thinks that she's everyone's friend and she always tries to criticize everyone's opinion, thinking that she'll seem and sound more intelligent. She also listens to rock and metal, she loves children and she smokes a lot, she's very sensitive and she's very friendly. Once, on the Facebook group of the university, she tried to accuse Pisces of something he didn't do and he literally ruined her in front of all those people, that was one of her biggest mistakes she's ever done in uni because she didn't know that that guy can be pretty evil when someone tries to insult/hurt him. The next day in uni she was on the verge of a mental breakdown because that guy really hurt her with his words, making her look stupid and pretentious, and everybody stopped talking to that guy for like, a month or two

Scorpio: That girl who's late in class 90% of the time, and those 10% she's not present in class. She is very quiet and she doesn't show particular interest in anything. She doesn't have a taste in fashion and style, unlike most Scorpios that I know. She just wants to go home all the time and nobody knows what she's doing in her life, she's so mysterious and she's not a good teamworker because she doesn't really care about her grades

Sagittarius: That girl who can't stop talking and she's always arguing with someone but we all love her. She's very communicative but she's insecure at the same time. She has tons of likes on Facebook and Instagram. She's a VERY open-minded girl, she hates racism, homophobes, nazi scum and racists. She's a really good friend with Leo and Pisces but Capricorn is her bff and her roommate. She has an excellent taste in fashion, style and music and she has S_L_A_Y_I_N_G eyebrows. I think that she's bi/lesbian but maybe she's closeted. She always hugs Capricorn and gets beaten by Capricorn because Capricorn can't stand people touching her

Capricorn: That girl who loves vintage notebooks, loves taking studyblr photos and uploads them on tubmlr and Instagram, she loves journeys and we haven't heard her talking for THREE GODDAMN YEARS. She is very antisocial and introverted but she has excellent taste for art, film, music and she's like 24/7 on her phone because it's obvious that she can't stand most of us but she's always sweet and supportive when someone approaches her. Sometimes she doesn't want to talk and she just smiles as a response. She's Sagittarius' best friend and roommate and they've became really close friends. She also loves journeys and she's a daydreamer but she's very intelligent. Her grades are not that good, she's not an attention whore and she tries to be "invisible" but she simply can't

Aquarius: That guy with his cockney accent who has insane memory and loves football. He's actually a loner, he's a bit creepy and weird, le loves britpop and indie nd he was one of the best students in the first two years of uni but his grades dropped. He's like, very secretive and he can be pretty arrogant and you just can't sit next to him because he's telling jokes all the time which takes your attention away. He is a loner and once he publicly told us that he used to have cyber sex with his girlfriend because she lived in another country and they've never met in real life (I mean, who tells such things omg Aqua get your shit together). He tries to insult people and he tries to be sarcastic but he can only be sarcastic with the stupid ones. He also thinks that he's a know-it-all and that he's the most intelligent person in the world. He can be really judgmental sometimes and he pushes people away with that

Pisces: That guy who always sits in the first row with his best university friend and is one of the top students in the generation. He's also a model, nerd, gamer, works out and whatnot. He is sweet to everyone and talks to everyone but he can be very sassy at times. He was the one who had a verbal fight with Libra because Libra triggered him and he destroyed her verbally. He's really skinny and dreamy and he has a very deep voice and an excellent taste in fashion and style. His style is kinda dark and he's so aesthetic. He listens to some music that no other people in the world listen to but he also listens to some mainstream music. In fact, he listens to whatever he wants and he doesn't really think about what other people think about him. He tends to roll his eyes a lot and he cares about his physical beauty more than he cares about his love life. He's too egotistic and self-centered and he's extremely picky, which makes him single most of the time.

[my-mystic-messenger]

Mystic Slice of Life: Ep. 2

Macaroni Make Men Smile

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating: General Warnings: Excessive cursing Categories: platonic/brotherly Relationships: Saeyoung/Saeran Word count: 1850

MC’s mentioned Masterlist

Saeran hadn't been to happy about the prospect of going to University. For one, he was twenty-one years old, therefore considered old to be entering just now. Everyone around him would be about three years younger. Secondly, he still didn't like people most of the time. They were loud, nosy and judgmental. Just the other day an old lady had ripped her kid away from the ice cream stand where Saeran had been ordering. His strangely coloured hair, tattoo's and piercings apparently weren't all too inviting. The RFA members accepted him - maybe a little too warmly for his liking - but Saeran was very aware that the RFA was a safe haven and the world wasn't as forgiving.

On top of everything he'd never felt passionate about anything other than serving Magenta, Mint Eye and getting revenge and possibly killing his brother. Rika was now gone to some mental institution far, far away, Mint Eye was dissolved and Saeyoung the loving brother he'd always yearned for. All his motivations had evaporated. He'd hoped for a rejection letter from the University, as Saeran had never even been to school, but due to some sort of miracle - and Saeyoung fiddling with the system - Saeran had gotten in. And not just any school, either. No, Saeyoung had gone all out, getting his brother into the same prestigious academy he'd gone to. Great...

Strangely enough, everything had been fine for the most part. The classes weren't too long, the people didn't stare nor question the younger Choi twin and the subjects weren't half boring either. By the end of the day Saeran hadn't yet made a friend, but at least he hadn't made a fool of himself either. Lucky for him though, his brother took over that task! Upon leaving the building, hood over his head, earplugs in and head bowed Saeran was greeted with the brightest, ugliest and biggest sign he'd ever seen, his brother calling his name and cheering loudly as he proudly waved it back and forth. "❤Congratulations on making it through your first day at University!❤"

Saeran stopped in his tracks, hearing his brothers shouts even with the music blasting through his earphones. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he took in the embarrassing sight. What the fuck was he thinking?! His head snapped around, taking in the people that stopped to stare at the lunatic with the sign, muttering under their breath and laughing. Glances were thrown his way as the whispers became louder and Saeran began to sprint, practically tackling his idiotic brother as he tugged him along to the car as quickly as humanly possible. To think that Saeran had actually hoped for a single, normal day in his life...

Saeyoung protested the entire way with poster dragging along the ground. He’d expected his brother to disapprove of the extreme action that he decided to proceed with, but hadn’t been prepared for such a negative reception. He truly was proud of Saeran’s accomplishment and was secretly happy that he had not done anything rash on the first day. Knowing his temperament and lack of basic social skills he could have easily lost his focus and gotten into some sort of disagreement. “Hey, slow down! The poster that I worked so hard to make is going to be ruined!” Saeyoung pouted as he finally forced the other to stop before rolling his creation up into a neat bundle.

“Did you like your teachers?  Do you have homework already? Did you make any friends?” He prattled off as an arm fell over Saeran’s shoulders. He felt like a proud parent more than a brother but who would blame him after all they had been through? “Today is your day! I’m so proud of you.  Anything you want for dinner I will get for you!” He smiled towards anyone passing by regardless of the looks they would give to the two. Reaching in his pocket, Saeyoung pulled out a ribbon and attempted to pin it to his brother’s jacket.  The words ‘I rocked my first day of school!’ were written down the edges in a puffy glittery glue, hearts and stars pasted all over the item.

Saeran slapped his brother’s hand away the second he saw the goddamn ribbon. "What the actual fuck are you trying to do", he hissed as his brother, pulling the hood over his head once more, so at least some people wouldn't recognize him. "Are you trying to ruin my day? ‘Cause if so, I can tell you that you're doing a mighty fine job, moron." Saeran glared at his brother, mint green eyes burning with rage while his heating cheeks betrayed the shame behind it. "My day was good and peaceful until you decided to make a goddamn freak show out of it. Can't you just for once in your life act like a normal human being instead of some alien?!"

Without giving his brother a chance to reply Saeran pushed past him, purposefully knocking their shoulders, and walked towards the car. With his aggressive stride, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie and his head bowed low the younger twin was radiating defiance. What on earth he'd done to deserve such an idiot as a brother was beyond him, but he was set on making sure that Saeyoung would never embarrass him like that again. He walked around the car to the passenger seat and opened the door, frowned at his brother over the roof. "Get your ass in the car. I wanna go home before you degrade me even further."

“B-but!” The redhead ran towards the vehicle and threw himself into the driver’s seat after stuffing the poster into the back. “You won’t even wear the ribbon? I worked on it for hours! The glue stuck all over the table.” He held it near Saeran once more, hovering it the air instead of going straight for his chest. Saeran didn’t even bother replying, merely huffing angrily at his brother. Saeyoung’s arm lowered in defeat upon realizing his brother wouldn’t have anything to do with his attempts. “I’m not trying to degrade you, I’m just really proud that you got through the day”, he said, getting nothing in response again. Saeyoung was aware that his twin never gave into his ridiculous antics but he always hoped that one day he would give him the time of day.

“What would you like to eat? I still stand by my statement that you can have whatever you want!” He did his best to lighten the situation even if he felt the extreme disdain from the passenger seat. The hope that Saeran would pick something that would keep them away from the apartment for an extended period of time was ideal. If he reacted this poorly to the poster, Saeran wouldn’t be happy about what was waiting at home. “How about a nice restaurant? We haven’t had a proper meal in a while!” He turned his head and grinned. “How about we stop somewhere to buy you a present as well? I think buying you some new clothes for school would be a great idea!”

Saeran, who'd leaned his head against the window, turned to give his brother a murderous look, a literal growl falling past his lips. He liked his clothes the way they were, liked the black and the red. When he'd first gotten to live with Saeyoung his entire wardrobe had remained at Mint Eye. Instead he'd been forced to wear some of his brothers clothing from a couple of years back, since Saeran was quite a bit slimmer than his older twin. Not only were the clothes extremely ugly, they'd also been uncomfortable. He'd looked like an idiot for weeks until someone had finally taken mercy and gone to pick up his actual clothes from the castle in the mountains.

"I ate at the cafeteria", he replied, not humoring Saeyoungs idea of a shopping trip together whatsoever. "Just get me to your place so I can crawl back into that windowless shithole you call your home, lock the door to my room and not have to see you or your ridiculous macaroni art type projects for the rest of the day. Thanks to your idiotic antics I will be the laughing stock of the entire school come morning. I'm your twin brother, Saeyoung. Not your goddamn son taking his first shit. I don't need a medal for every time I survive a day and I most certainly don't want you cheerleading my life! Understood?"

“Be glad you aren’t my son, because the first thing I’d do is wash out that potty mouth with soap!” Saeyoung gripped the steering wheel tightly not necessarily out of frustration from his brother’s attitude but from the anxiety of how he would react to the surprise waiting for him. He parked in the garage and ran around the other side of the car to open the door for Saeran. “Now listen; I just want you to keep in mind that one day you will appreciate the time and love I put into everything I do for you.”  Instead of letting his brother walk at his own leisure he grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Taking a deep breath, he smiled as he presented the living room. “Surprise!”

The entire apartment was covered in poster board. Hand painted messages reading ‘Congratulations!’, ‘You’re Number One!’, ‘I Believe In You!’, and ‘World’s Best Brother!’. An excessive number of balloons floated around the air with images of cartoons or other words of encouragement. Saeyoung laughed nervously as he waited for the eruption explaining, “I worked all day on this!” His expression fell, though, as he also remembered the mess he had made in Saeran’s room. Macaroni art, indeed. His brother would probably find pieces of the noodles in every nook for a few months. “I may have gone overboard. I’m sorry for…your room…”

707:

Madeleine: Oh no... ZEN: Let me guess: he hated it? Jumin: I did warn him not to do it. Yoosung★: But Saeyoung tried his best! I totally helped with the glitter Jaehee: What's going on, Saeyoung? 707: He isn’t too happy ;; He’s threatening to cook all the macaroni in his room, glue paint and all, and make me eat it. ;;

Saeran has entered the chatroom

Macy: Oh oh... Saeran: Listen up, dickheads! Whoever helped, whoever bought a single fucking macaroni, glue gun, snippet of glitter or piece of paper or whoever so much as knew about this and didn't try to fucking stop him better sleep with an eye open because I'm coming for all of you !

Yoosung★ has left the chatroom ZEN has left the chatroom Macy has left the chatroom Madeleine has left the chatroom Jaehee has left the chatroom Jumin has left the chatroom

Saeran: YOUUUUUUUUUU

707: Saeran~!

Congratulations on your first successful day at school!

Saeran: I'll stuff all that fucking glitter down your throat until you fart it for another month you son of a bitch!

Saeran has left the chatroom

707: Does that mean he liked it...?

[ascendingdevillived456-blog]

Am I pessimistic or just real?

Most of the time I feel like I'm accidentally surviving my own life. Not to sound like I'm bitching, but I don't have any idea why I'm alive. I've been trying to keep my life simple, but found out that is a very complicated and arduous task. I, physically, am 30some years old, and deeply know my spirit or soul or life force or whatever you want to label it as is old as fuck. I'm a little odd, I've been told, but when you realize early in life that nobody anywhere knows what in the bluest bowels of Hell they are doing, you start making decisions that TRULY matter on a high, VERY HIGH, level of deep understanding. Not to sound like a preachy zealous god-freak, but preeeeetty fucking sure we live in and on the garden of eden as mentioned in that book written 2000ish years ago. You know the one, oh... it has that bearded guy in the middle east who was the Christian God's son, but was a Jewish king, a rabbi, a carpenter, and who led a gang of misfit trouble making hooligans that wanted to make life better for everyone and ended up dead and martyred for it and is currently the nearly-nude mascot for countless kitchens and bedrooms in thousands of American homes. Jesus, what is that guy's name.... anyways... that book. I'm not great with names, nor hiding sarcastic remarks or, OR blatant disregard for that which really does not matter.... uh, uh, uh, oh well. Back on topic now. Ready? On this "bestowed paradise" of Ours, there are a few shitty things that I just WILL NOT turn a blind eye to. I got this list, you see, that has the WORST possible inventions on it that the world could have done without. Number 1 is people... People are needy, greedy, dumb, panicky, self-centered, talking alien-ape hybrids that ruin and destroy almost every thing they put their grubby little peter-beaters on. We kill for thrill and pleasure alone or in packs and have this problem understanding what compassion and sharing equally are. I did two years of kindergarten, consecutively I will add, I know you are supposed to share and be nice or something like, oh I don't know, your behavior is checked, and you learn to play with others. And now number 2 (insert low-brow sophomoric butt-mud poop-shit-fart he he he coment here. I did, but think up your own.) my list. Borders. "We look different in skin color or you talk funny, uh oh, I no longer have trust other human being, stay away from my personal comfort zone. We'll be fair though and draw a line in the dirt in case you get the same vibe from me. Ok?" "Ok, good idea. Me and my family will kill you otherwise maybe, yeah, no, yeah. Stay away. Good job." Are you shitting literally me out of your dumb asses? Where is the logic and practicality in that. We let famine happen daily because, what? Noone knows what to do? Help your fucking human brothers and sisters, and the little ones if your heart has room, you apathy ridden bag of severed dicks. This is everyone's home right now, teach people who have no knowledge. There is no such thing as unteachable. Read between the lines here guys and dolls. Break time. Let me tell you that I'm not being a rude loud obnoxious Internet troll here, some of my rants and tangent ramblings have a twisted sense of humor and are meant to make you take a minute and chuckle at its finest absurdities. Oh my, but we can also be multitasking manimals and take some inventory of ourselves and the other manimals in our lives and have conversations with each other like we're meant to. Anyone over 27 will remember a time before everyone had a fucking idiot screen in their face at all times. (Heh, jokes to come.) What separated us from beasts is our ability to develope and utilize language. To any younger folks reading this: we used to sit at the same parties you all do now, and used our minds and speaking abilities to have a blast. I'm talking some wicked-awesome fucking ideas and fun times were had before the wedding of man and technology. Put the phone down, and step away from the screens. Please. Number thwee, sorry had, food in my...nevermind. money is next on my little list of things I see as wrong. If a person has a lot of money, they generally have a lot of stuff to make sure they're happy beyond worry. On the other end of the spectrum you have... anybody? Class! goddamn kids pay a-fucking-tention! You have a person with little to no money. I will spell this out for you and you know who: that person can't be happy beyond worry because, huh? Some people have been going ape shit on their own happy. Hmmm. Opposite of happy? Right, thanks Julien, smart guy you are, UNhappy. I hope I just made a Julien's mind blow apart. Lol. Now, monetary wealth is referred to as worth. If you gots like soooooo much worth like it's bananas and stuff, then your like totally worthwhile or worthy. Julien, let someone else try now, get your tongue out of my ass you brown-noser. If you ever want to be heart broken ask the poor kid at an elementary school how he feels after the first recess after Christmas break. I bet the word worthless crosses both your minds and you purse your lips and them real big empathy tears well up in your eyes. That kid is programed to think money and worth are the same thing, and will do what he or she can to make sure they ALWAYS HAVE money when they grow up otherwise everyone else will know they are worthless. Made myself cry a little bit there. Guns guns guns are 4 on this list which may make you laugh or at best pissed. In case you missed I'd be remissed if I didn't say you need to come up with your own rhymes and eloquence. Guns though are made for one thing; ending lives. Plain and simple, keep reading you left wingers and right wingers both. The eagle that is the U.S. of A needs you both to work together in order to soar. I have really upset myself with saying that, but it's out there now, ain't it? I feel everyone should have gun training and own a minimum of three guns open carry on a daily basis (we've already got them and they've seemed to dug their heels in so we might as well adapt with the fucking things.) A semi-auto rifle for hunting food, a shotgun for food/eminent defenses, and a pistol for protection of family and home. Common knowledge for everyone should be stated from an early age: IF YOU DRAW A FIREARM ON A FELLOW HUMAN BEING, BE SURE THAT YOU CAN MAKE THE CONCESSION THAT YOUR LIFE HOLDS MORE VALUE THAN THEIR'S THEIR POSSIBLE DEPENDENTS. DO NOT SHOOT TO MAIM. IF YOU DRAW, SHOOT, AND SHOOT TO KILL. REMEMBER THAT THEY ARE AWARE OF THIS TOO, AND IF YOU KILL THEM. YOU MUST LIVE WITH THE MEMORY OF YOU NEEDLESSLY TAKING A HUMAN LIFE BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOUR LIFE IS MORE IMPORTANT THEN THEIR'S. guns huh? 5. Prescription drugs. Pharmaceutical companies are not your friends. Especially in the world of psychological medication and pain management. I take aspirin on occasion, in my younger days I was always told I "needed something to help me." Help me do what? From the age of 11 until I was into my mid twenties I've been on damn near everything besides Haledol and Geodon. Thanks for being good dealers...I mean doctors and pharmacists. If you want to ask my diagnosis I will share, but let me say that I haven't taken nor would I recommend any person to give a child DRUGS. They are not safe because they are prescribed. Ritalin is molecularly identical to cocaine. No bullshit. They are training kids to be druggies later in life and parents and insurance companies pay for it. Act now and for $799.00 a month you won't k ow who you are, have bleeding of the teeth, lazy finger syndrome, backward stools, brain bleeding episodes, coma and death, but wait there's more. If that pill doesn't work simply tell us and we will give you some other stuff that will make sure your little boy grows tits like a woman and may have a compulsive gambling and or masturbatory addiction with possible suicidal ideation. At least he'll do better on his homework. Fast forward to early adulthood... "oh mummsy? Daddykins? Whatever do you mean I'm no longer on your insurance plans? I simply must have all these pills to be completely the best I can be." "Gee you can just acquisition the local the scumbags who clandestinely make and distribute the bad version of the same drug you've been on for your whole life, my golden child." And don't forget the ssri's. Google this shit kids: ssri's long-term effects on the mind and body. And finally number 6. Social networking. I've never had a Facebook, MySpace, twitter, or anything else. This site I found accidentally while bored and this is my first time posting anything anywhere. The negatively charged part of social media is shit like; omg I 8 a waffle cone with chokl8 chip cookie dough ice cream scoops. Kill yourself you fat cow. Oh boo hoo sad face.... So long cruelty of this place, I have been wearing my life inappropriately I've been informed. Good bye 14 years. Wrapping up at this point as I've said enough for now. I'll be that eccentric and hilariously unfiltered buddy of you get my styles here. Just need to vent sometimes. Help me with Tumblr if you're interested in that... I guess. Looking forward to seeing responses. It should be noted that I have the utmost respect for any religion but abhor the use of faith as a means to control and not gain a better relationship with divinity. I'm not a doctor or political ass hat. I'm a song writing free-spirited music loving real deal motherfucker. "And I didn't even graduate FROM fucking highschool." I.Q. is up a bit above above average. No, that is not a typo.