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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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A Surrealistic Life (Adrenaline Junkie Part 17)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, derealization, depression, grief, blood, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks

Word count: 3,385

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You cried in Philza’s arms for hours on end until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your head was left pounding and your throat scratchy from the loud crying, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, without Arthur you were nothing. The past two and a half years just- just didn’t exist. Your mind was still reeling, the words ‘will you always be with me?’ echoing through your mind constantly filling you with guilt.

With one last shuddering inhale, you separated yourself from Philza and wiped at the tears that had long since dried on your face. His eyes, vigilant as ever, scanned your form looking for any sign of distress. In his eyes, you saw pity and grief. This angered you, you didn’t need his pity; you were long past the point of pitiful glances. Well, you were, he wasn’t.

You purse your lips as you watch his eyes flick between your wing and where your other wing was supposed to be. Sorrow flashes in his eyes before he looks back at you with a small, painfully fake smile. With one hand, he gently pushes your shoulder down back onto the bed and stands up.

“I’ll be back, you get some rest.”

With the slightest hint of a nod, you watched as he lingered in the doorway before hesitantly walking out of your room. After he left your room, you locked the door behind him. That door remained locked for weeks on end, every knock or attempt at conversation was never answered by you. Their words were nothing but background noise in the back of your mind.

Instead of responding, you would lay in bed staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes thinking about nothing but everything you’ve lost. Only occasionally you would leave your room to attend to your most basic needs when you were sure that everybody was asleep or out of the house.

The days meshed together as your thoughts consume you in a whirlwind of unorganized messes. Several times, you’ve worked yourself into panic attacks and paranoia filled spiraling because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

Being left alone with your thoughts was something that you always avoided by constantly tinkering with contraptions, your thoughts wandered off to places that greatly disturbed you. But now, you let those thoughts wash over you without a care. Your dreams reflected this; they were plagued with images of Arthur looking up at you with large puppy dog eyes and a large smile before he would be sucked into darkness screaming for you to help him, to do anything, but you were always glued in place leaving you to watch helplessly as he left you over and over again.

Another common one you would have is Arthur getting lost in a bellowing snowstorm in the dead of night. You would be wandering through thick snow calling his name until you would come across a small, pale hand peeking out of an abnormal lump of snow; dread would always fill you during those dreams, it was a parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child.

Other dreams, though very rare, would be pleasant; whether they were about you and Arthur whistling a small tune as you both invented something or a small picnic on the cliff laughing freely into the air, you would always wake up in the mornings prepared to greet him and cook breakfast with him. It wasn’t until you moved your right arm and found that it had limited mobility that you realized that everything was a dream.

You hated those dreams, they always gave you a false sense of hope that everything was okay. Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing.

You refused to believe that… whatever was going on didn’t happen; Philza had said that the last few years had been fake, something that your mind had made up as some form of coping mechanism, but who’s to say that this isn’t a hallucination as well? Both your experiences felt completely different from each other, this reality could be the hallucination for all you knew.

The only thing on your mind was how you needed to get back to Arthur in any possible way you could. If Arthur didn’t exist in this reality, you didn’t want to be in it. You need him and he needs you, you didn’t want to imagine a reality without him. If you got yourself into this by dying, perhaps that was your ticket back to him. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this.

You were going to get your son back, and you were going to die trying.

Until then, you just have to wait out your family. They’d just stop you in the end and you couldn’t have that. You’d have to put on an act that you were perfectly fine and that would entail inventing everything over again, but you were fine with that; if you made it once, you can make it again.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you searched your closet for your old cloak but then you remembered you got your cloak weeks after your first death. Groaning to yourself, you settled for your old bomber jacket. The slits in the back of it wouldn’t cover your nub, so you awkwardly tucked it underneath the fabric of the cloth. It shot pain down your spine, but you shook it off; the pain was something you could handle, you’ve had worse.

Without another thought, you quietly left your room with only one destination in mind.

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You softly padded down the basement stairs towards your workshop. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, you paused and looked around. The walls that were once covered with sloppy sketches and words written in two different handwritings, both equally as messy and rushed, were barren for the most part; you forgot that the walls were painted an off white color. Your filing cabinets were gone, replaced with cardboard boxes containing old clothes and toys with thick layers of dust sitting peacefully on top of them. The crafting table sat in the corner of the room wasn’t worn, in fact it looked brand new, not a scratch could be seen on the surface.

Everything was wrong.

You numbly walked over to your desk and picked up the paper that laid on it, holding it up to the light. It was the first draft to your TNT launcher. The sight of the crude, minimal sketches made you cringe, it was far too messy; you had no idea how you could make out what your sloppy handwriting pointed to or what materials were supposed to go where.

You dropped the paper and let it flutter to the floor without a care. Your eyes flickered over the desk and eyed the notebook sitting on top of a stack of spare papers. A spark of hope ignited inside of you, this was the notebook Arthur so often doodled in with different ideas of what could be invented.

You snatched it and flipped the front cover over with haste. A wide smile stretched your lips when you caught sight of the small handwriting that littered the page. It was yours, but you had given it to Arthur so that he could learn and copy from your early years. It was perfect for a blueprint template, neat and organized.

However as you flipped through the book, your smile dropped and the little hope that flared in your chest was snuffed out. You stared at the blank page as frustration built up inside of you. Before you knew it, you threw the notebook at the opposite wall as hard as you could. You were left standing in the middle of the cold basement with your chest heaving and your teeth gritted.

Everything was so wrong. So, so wrong.

You heard footsteps thunder down the stairs before they came to a stop behind you. Hesitant footsteps made their way over to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.

“(Y/n)? Is everything-”

“Nothing is okay, Tommy,” you gritted out, “absolutely nothing about this is okay.”

He said nothing as he walked around you and put his hand on your clenched fist, his fingers curling around yours and opening your hand. Your palm stung slightly as you glanced down at it. Four small, crescent shaped cuts were imprinted on your skin slowly starting to glisten with blood.

Huffing, you ripped your hand out of his grasp and glanced at his face. You caught yourself doing a double take as you saw just how innocent he looked. No sign of hidden pain in his shining blue eyes, no scars littering his skin, and the bags that once made him look years older was nonexistent. He was your annoying, gremlin of a little brother again. He was Tommy again.

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” you breathed out before you shook your head trying to rid your mind of your frustrations, “no reason at all…”

He awkwardly coughed and nodded slightly, “right…”

You cleared your throat and glanced off to the side at the book laying on the floor. Tommy’s eyes followed where you were looking and went to pick it up. You felt a twinge in your heart as he started to flip through it much like you did earlier. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, “why’d you throw this? What’d the book do to you?” He jokingly asked you.

“It didn’t do anything and that’s the problem,” you mumbled out before you snatched the book out of his hands and tossed it into the trash can.

“Why are you acting so weird? I know you just died and all, but you never let that notebook out of your sight and now you’re just tossing it into the bin!” Tommy fished it out of the trash can and haphazardly placed it back onto your desk on top of the stack of unused paper. You could feel your eye twitch at it’s placement before you threw it away again.

“Leave it there, I don’t want it. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” you murmured under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you need it- wait, don’t tell me you’re quitting working with redstone. Cuz I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the best goddamned inventor this gods forsaken world has ever known and-”

“I’m not going to quit,” you interrupted him, “trust me, I’ll need whatever I can make. I just… don’t need it anymore, I already know exactly what I need to make.” I can’t stand the sight of Arthur’s notebook so empty and blank your mind supplied yourself.

He tilted his head slightly, “even without the bluepri-”

“Even without the blueprints,” you curtly nodded and automatically turned to look at the bulletin board hanging above your desk only to sigh when you once again saw that it was barren. “I made these things thousands of times before, I know what I’m doing,” your gaze zeroed in on the half finished blueprint for your automatic crossbow, “I’ll just make them again.”

Tommy once again looked at you with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, you could just see the curiosity and confusion swimming around in his baby blue orbs, “what do you mean, you literally only have one prototype of everything on here.”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, so just drop it.” You hadn’t meant to snap at him like that, but the frustration was just too overwhelming to ignore. Just as you could see him start to get dejected from the corner of your eye, you made quick work of changing the subject.

“You know, I could hear what you said when I wasn’t awake. I really appreciated the music, it was a nice change of pace.”

He tensed before his eyes were drawn to the empty space over your shoulder. His breath hitched slightly as a sorrowful look appeared in his eyes. Looking back at you, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t struggle against him despite your frustrations, you knew he needed you right now. You could still remember how broken he was when you were unconscious. The way his lip wobbled slightly before he hugged you reminded you of Arthur.

You gently hugged him back and wrapped your wing around him. He gripped you tighter, his breath shuddering as wetness started to hit your head. You said nothing as you started to hum and run your fingers along his back tracing out patterns without a particular one in mind.

Eventually, he pulled away from you and chuckled sardonically, wiping his tears away with a fist, “you’re the one who died and I’m the one being comforted. Gods, it’s pathetic.”

“It’s okay to feel emotions, Tommy. You should never bottle them up, it sounded like you needed a good hug anyways. I’m happy to give you that,” you softly told him.

He said nothing as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, avoiding your gaze. For a moment, your tall brother was replaced by a short, red haired boy wearing that same expression. You purse your lips in thought, your previous frustrations completely gone and replaced with an urge to comfort him or at least distract him. Though a deep sadness dragged your body down at the thought of Arthur, Tommy just reminded you too much of him. It was eerily uncanny in your opinion.

Ideas swarmed your head as you thought back to how you comforted Arthur when he fell down. Besides talking to him, you would always teach him something; knowledge to Arthur is- was like a sponge absorbing water. It gave him a distraction to whatever got him down, maybe that would work for Tommy as well.

Wordlessly, you walked over to your desk and gestured for him to follow you. You plopped him into your office chair and pulled one of the cardboard boxes up to the desk. In the process, you grabbed your gloves, goggles, and everything you would need to set up a simple timed piston. The smallest spark of happiness flashed inside you as you saw that your resources were fully stocked.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, Tommy, I’m going to show you how to set up one of my favorite redstone mechanisms. Put these on,” you handed him the gloves and goggles and watched as he put them on. The goggles were a bit small on him, but besides that, everything fit him.

“Now, you’re going to want to…”

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Hours passed as you both worked together on the contraption. Slowly, you could see Tommy loosening up and making more jokes, successfully distracted. However, you didn’t expect yourself to follow suit. Laughter came easier to you whenever Tommy would joke around, your troubles long forgotten.

It took a little longer than you were used to, but eventually Tommy started to follow along with the precision you’d expect from a beginner. Slowly but surely, with many mistakes along the way, there was a working piston system sitting on the desk.

Tommy triumphantly laughed into the air as he watched the pistons work in tandem with one another. You laughed alongside him and ruffled his hair, “nice job, Artie! I knew you could do it!”

Tommy completely stopped and looked at you in confusion, “‘Artie’? Who’s that?”

You completely froze in place, you hadn’t meant to call him Artie. He was Tommy, he was your blond little brother, not your ginger son. Tommy was his own person, he was Tommy, not Arthur. You mentally scolded yourself for constantly mixing the two up.

“Artie is- well, he’s just… Arthur is my old friend,” you stammered out after tripping over your words clumsily. Tommy couldn’t find out about Arthur, nobody could. That’d just ruin your plan.

He snorted, “sure, ‘old friend’. You know, if Dad finds out that you’re dating someone he’d ground you for life.”

“I’d never date anybody, you know that,” you scolded him with your nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’s just an old friend and you remind me of him.”

“Well, old friend or not, he sounds amazing if I remind you of him!”

You smiled sadly as your mind flashed to images of Arthur at various points in his life, “he really was, you would’ve loved him, Tommy. He might’ve been the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I can preen your wings-” Tommy abruptly stopped himself and looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy, looking at you with wide eyes and red tinted cheeks.

Just as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, you chuckled at his expression, “you’re fine, Tommy. It’s just going to take some time for you to get used to this,” you shifted your wing and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. You haven’t preened your wings since before you left for the cave nearly two months ago, and your wing was a mess of bent and loose feathers. “I’d… actually like a good preening, are you sure you know how to do it?”

“Please,” he scoffed before pushing you to sit down in your desk chair, “I’ve seen you and Dad do it to each other thousands of times, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“That isn’t how that- you know what? Just go ahead. Make sure you get any loose feathers and straighten them out,” you stretched your wing out and hoped for the best. Tommy surprisingly did a decent job of straightening out feathers, he just had to work on distinguishing loose feathers from intact feathers (you were now missing a couple of smaller feathers).

The entire time, you were telling him how amazing your boy was. Sure, you might’ve overexaggerated just a little bit, but Arthur was certainly someone that deserved the praise. That kid was something else, truly a prodigy at both redstone and compassion. Leaving out the fact that Arthur was your adopted son and that he was ten years old was a little hard, but you managed to avoid that.

You could tell that Tommy knew something was different about you, but you guessed that he just assumed the changes were because of your death and not because you were technically two and a half years older than you physically are.

When he was done, you looked at your wing and you were pleasantly surprised at how well he did; sure there were a few loose feathers and they were partially crooked, but you could tell that Tommy did his best with them.

“Thanks, Toms,” you smiled at him after you tucked your wing back in, “I really appreciate you doing that, it was starting to bother me.”

“It’s no problem,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“And I’m sorry for ever doubting you. Who knows, maybe Dad’ll let you do his wings next.”

“Oh gods no,” Tommy shuddered slightly, “his are massive and he has two of them! If doing yours took me an hour and a half, I’d hate to see how long it’d take me to do his.”

You cringed, remembering the last time you preened his wings. Though you were experienced, it had taken you two full hours for each wing. “Yeah, his wings are huge. Gods, I hope my wing doesn’t get to be that size.” Though they grew to be nowhere near Philza’s wingspan when you were in that reality, you weren’t sure if yours was going to be larger or smaller than what they were.

Just as Tommy was about to open his mouth to respond to you, Wilbur’s voice echoed down the stairwell, “Tommy, dinnertime!”

“Well c’mon then, let’s go. I’ll race you there,” was all Tommy said to you before he bolted up the stairs with a booming laugh, skipping every third step. You could feel your heart stop when he almost tripped on one of the stairs because he skipped too many. Rushing after him, you shouted at him, “Tommy, walk! You’re going to break your neck if you keep running up and down the stairs!”

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@afifaj

Adrenaline Junkie:

@acecarddraws @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash4 @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @angelic-scent @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado @wing-non @lovely-echoo @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @mysteryartisticwriter @momo-has-a-gun @misfortunatem00n @w-0-r-n-n @v-kouya @kusuinko @cheybaee @dulcedippers @jaciahbabes @prlan @hummingbird-lightningstrike @pog-sad-muffin @mystyxmess @thegeekisheere @solar-idiot @yummychicknnugget @aikochan4859 @lofiisoul @deadroses2021 @iamsunshinesnowflake @xxtwizztedxx @izuruamme @reeeeeeeeeeeeeee @insanitybuff

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #sbi x you #philza x you #tommyinnit x you #mcyt x you #dream smp x you #adrenaline junkie #tw: swearing #tw: blood #tw: nightmares #tw: depersonalization #tw: depression #tw: grief

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denouxments · 6 years

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dylan minnette. cismale. he/him. — did you see { alex mercier }, i haven’t seen the { twenty-one } year old in a while! you know, they’re a { musician }, and have been living in jersey city for { twenty-one years }. some say they're { cynical & indecisive }, but i think they're { generous & talented }. regardless, i’m glad { alex } is here.

backstory

aaaaaand in the door to the right we have trash son #2, alex !! ( woo ! ahh ! ) you can find his dossier page HERE, his biography does not exist yet ( i’m gonna kick my own ass ), and there is a pinterest board for him HERE.

ok so boy is a middle child through and through LOL. his dad is a writer who also works as an english professor at new york university, meanwhile his mom works in human services helping people who have fallen off their track in life and stuff.

alex is essentially a male carbon copy of his mom in appearance but his personality is 100% his dad’s lmao

his siblings are a wanted connection !

also his household includes a deaf cat named shrimp that alex literally fished out of a gutter when he was 14. she’s his baby despite the fact that he’s mildly allergic to both cats AND shrimp ( i r o n i c ). here’s the instagram of the cat i’m saying she looks like

real mundane middle class life. there have been highs and lows like any other family, but there’s no tragedy here folks ! that comes later and has nothing to do with his family !

his dad was really into rock music and playing the drums when he was younger cuz wow the 80s and really wanted at least one of his kids to have good taste in music, so he kept the drum set and all the old records despite the fact that they were just collecting dust in the garage . . . until alex came along !

first was the drums, then it was the guitar, then it was being dual-enrolled in both the band and choir classes, and then, finally, it was starting his own band with 2 friends at only 11 years old

his dad got real lucky cuz alex clearly loved music, and he considers the 80s to be legendary.

i'm gonna revisit his music in a moment cuz we gotta start getting into the tragedy that i mentioned ! so alex was like a really chill dude when high school started. he was a bit of a pretentious hipster bitch, but he was chill. he didn’t really say no to things ? like if something or someone just fell into his lap, he’d roll with it and didn’t really think too much about the consequences ? he was a big stoner and lost his virginity and probably way too young of an age because of it. he just didn’t really Care too much lol

he was essentially that quiet stoner that played his guitar in the courtyard and didn’t pay much attention to anything going on around him

. . . unless he overheard you talking about something that was stupid or he didn’t agree with. then he’d butt in to be like “l o l that’s wrong !”

then he met molly ! if you’ve read chloe’s intro for bobbi you know molly ! we love molly ! molly was cute in that girl-next-door way and she was funny with good taste. it was hard for alex not to fall in love with her, really. they were friends first before they started dating, and it was through her that he met all of his current ride-or-die friends. he had never been good at making them, so she was a blessing for his social life. she was amazing. he loved her, his parents loved her, they were good. she was good and then she was gone. just like that. a car accident in which she wasn’t even the driver.

to say the loss devastated him would be an understatement. he shut down completely. he stopped hanging out with friends, stopped playing guitar in the courtyard; his presence in class was like that of a ghost. nobody ever knew what to say to alex before, and it was twice as true now. he just sort of Existed for the remainder of junior year, throwing himself into his studies instead of ever really taking the Time to Deal with it all.

it really hit him like a truck when summer hit and it was at this point that his parents forced him to start seeing a therapist.

his therapist recommended he use his band and music as an outlet, since that seemed to be his healthiest coping mechanism. ( see, i told you we’d get back to that ! ) taking this advice, he threw himself headfirst into it. like, he got really into his band. it’d been a bit of a hobby between friends before, and sometimes they worked small gigs, but now alex was also trying to produce them on a bigger scale. this helped him through his grief tremendously, especially because if felt like he was doing molly proud.

alex was 18 and had graduated when all this hard work paid off. after releasing a self-made ep entitled after molly, the band started gaining some serious traction. we’re talking getting featured on spotify’s indie hits lists and their fanbase skyrocketing in size from the couple hundred monthly listeners it had been. suddenly they were getting booked sold out indie gigs left and right all across the manhatten area. it was nuts and it is still nuts. they even have a well demanded

they’ve put out a 2nd ep since the initial takeoff and are now working on a full blown album ! exciting !

so, yeah, that’s definitely an exciting exchange for being utterly heartbroken i suppose. its been years since molly passed now, so he’s okay now for the most part. he still gets sad sometimes, and he still has all the pictures they took together and all the cheesy playlists they made for each other saved. she’s always gonna be the first girl he was ever in love with,, and i don’t think he’s yet to have a serious relationship since her, but don’t worry about him just being a clay jensen 2.0. my boy is faaaar from that and he’s had his grace period, y’know ? he good.

personality

fuuuucking hiiiiipster buuuuullshiiiit ! coffee and vinyl aesthetic all day bby. will call out your shit taste in music

loves to debate and argue semantics. will always play devils advocate even if he agrees with you 100%. also will go on for hours about the political climate and existence if you accidentally get him there

a bit antisocial. he doesn’t really know how to, like, approach people ? and then when people approach him he has a tendency to rub people the wrong way with his lackluster people skills

tries to go to parties and bars and stuff sometimes because that’s Normal, right ?

a ride or die pal when you do manage to befriend him though ! would drop e v e r y t h i n g for his friends and loves to spoil them relentlessly. the type to randomly show up at your house in his 3,000 year old mustang and take you to lunch or just go driving.

big ole hufflepuff

he’s not really that super free spirit that he was before molly passed. now he actually cares a more about his actions to the point of being lowkey paranoid, honestly. like he’s always wanted tattoos but he constantly second guesses what he wants to get cuz he doesn’t wanna be the guy that got a shitty tattoo, y’know ? so he hasn’t done it at all

cynical boyyyyy. he’s one of those guys that’s like “i’m a realist, not a pessimist”. definitely doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in others outside of his friends and family. will always assume the worst out of people and question their motives

thinks of himself as really boring. not in a self deprecating way, but a factual way

hobbies include music, video games ( he does streams of him being shit at pubg on twitch sometimes ! ), watching movies ( horror specifically is a favorite ), sitting on his roof at 3am to look at the sky, going on walks when there’s nothing else to do, and aggressively frowning when his car breaks down in the middle of nowhere

seriously he really enjoys horror. halloween is his favorite holiday even though he isn’t really big on candy or dressing up. he just thinks the spooky aesthetic is real fun and its cool to see what everyone else is doing

he’s a skeptic on all things supernatural so all you boogaras better snatch him up !!

i drew this expression doodle page that honestmeme sums up his personality pretty well ( it is messy so plz be kind . . . )

connections

his bandmates is a given. i just need 2 others , , , any gender any fc. i have a wc for it.

either of his 2 siblings . . . another wc

any music friends tbh

rival musicians ? yes

people he just doesn’t get along with in general. he’s a pretentious snot so its pretty easy

unlikely friends ( probably someone super idealistic and bubbly )

childhood friends

he hasn’t had a serious relationship since molly so maybe someone he’s kinda into and that’s kinda into him but they taking it REAL slow

on the off hand some exes from him trying to see if he was ready to date again and just wasn’t

someone he debates with a lot. friends or not, they’re just really fun to banter back and forth with

horror night movie buddies !!

gets blazed w/ him on the roof in the middle of the night rambling about if ants have a conscious

he’s got his own place but a roommate or 2 would be nice !

anything anything anything. he’s constantly finding himself in bizarre situations that he just rolls with so long as it doesn’t leave a bad butterfly effect. hmuuuuuu and we can brainstorm

#jrsy.intro #❝ alex :: musing °✧#the only thing the open house was good for was dylan minnette in glasses #just saying #also this is so late i'm so sorry #some admin i am !!

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effing-efflorescence · 6 years

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✰ tag yourself ~ cities ✰

new york: gets no sleep ever, definitely an extrovert, the burn of a good workout, afternoon runs to the dog park, christmas lights up in march, laughing with friends, leather jackets, tangled earbuds, music playlists for when they’re just ready to go, listens to literally anything and everything (except country), elaborate drawings, “shut up and get me more coffee”, doing things “because why the hell not?”, has a lot of friends but only a few close ones, would die for the people close to them, easy to get worked up, “fight me, susan”, dares, hours spent looking for new songs, long camping trips, the thrill of running away, a flower growing in a crack on the sidewalk, movie posters, that moment when your brain has to buffer because there’s so much going on, “guys i just remembered something”, paint everywhere, knows how to pick locks, gets easily overinvested in projects, long debates over the meaning of life at midnight, road trips, can’t sit still, lowkey touch-starved, has 7 dogs, secretly loves to read, procrastination!!!, “wait, we had homework?”, a messy-yet-organized room, dog person, keeps stuff that’s important to them under their pillow, remembers really random facts but can’t remember where they were this morning, “i swear i just had it a second ago”, leaves notes and reminders everywhere, easily distracted, swears a lot, good at holding grudges, looks tough but is really a sweetheart, binge-watching tv shows, forgets to eat because they’re glued to their computer, existential crises at 3 in the morning, sleepovers, “are voids sentient?” “yes.” “how do you know?” “i’m hungry.”, the feeling when you can’t stop laughing, loves being up early but hates getting up early (there’s a difference), best friend you’ll ever have

paris: the smell of books, a quiet coffee shop, string lights, “it’s for the aesthetic, karen”, very specific meaningful photos, gets lost in bookstores, glances from across the room, very quiet until you get to know them, the smell of fresh bread, pages and pages full of notes and song lyrics and doodles and ideas, walking around in the snow, a windowsill garden, sunsets, brainwaves at 2 am, no sleep cause they were up reading all night, warm sweaters, big soft hoodies stolen from a partner, scarves, looking out over a city at night, falling alseep right away after a long day, the absolute best book hangovers, the feeling of being productive, adorable but doesn’t know it, definitely an introvert, stargazing, falling asleep on a book, study playlists, classical music, movie soundtracks, photo edits, tries their best, probably anxious, cat person, organizes their pens in mugs on their desk, a neat room, minimalist aesthetics, notices things others don’t, looks like an innocent flower but is actually way more badass then you’d expect, listens to hard rock music, gets weird looks when they tell people what’s on their mind so they don’t talk much, actually doesn’t shut up once they’ve decided they trust you, long text messages at midnight, is terrified of losing the people close to them, smol, wicked good at eyeliner but doesn’t wear it very often, hours of music playlists, very huggable, looks like they get good grades without trying but they actually spend hours stressing and studying, keeps all their library receipts, has a box full of sentimental stuff, is scared of opening up to people because then they can hurt you with the things closest to your heart, vivid dreams, dependable, will drop everything to help a friend

london: very organized, plans their day to the minute, stresses about small details, freaks out if anything goes wrong, uses public transit, always has a mug of tea in their hand, electronic music, quiet museums, picking wildflowers, has big ideas but doesn’t talk about them very much, probably a pyro, running through an empty field, looking through old photos, talking about stuff that feels important, probably a cat person, the colour red, crowded streets, the smell of food being cooked, sitting in the park with friends, photos that make you think, those warm flannel shirts, always gets there 10 minutes early, simple-yet-elaborate patterns, pen drawings, neat notes, hours spent writing, 53 drafts of the same chapter, lowkey wants to be an author but doesn’t think they’re good enough, needs more tlc, wants to know everything there is to know but doesn’t know where to start, always up early in the morning, sunrises, tshirts stolen from a partner, early morning pancakes and waffles, fresh fruit, walking down the street late at night, staring at the moon, “what if?”, has a group of close friends they would die for and knows they would do the same, thinks about societal problems a lot but has no idea how to fix them, notices when something’s out of place cause the room feels off, loves thunderstorms, watching for lightning from a window, wearing a long black coat and definitely pulling it off, the thrill of being up high, pressing your forehead against a window to see something outside, carefully placing a ladybug on a leaf, finding a lucky penny on the street

rome: walking contradition, a bit of an introvert but craves social interaction, has trouble really opening up to people but is easy to talk to, probably has a mysterious past, walking through a quiet hallway, the feeling of being completely alone in a silent room, the sound of heels on a wooden floor, museums, huge doorways, empty churches, small cafés, drinking hot chocolate while the sun comes up, parted curtains, steaming plates of food, high archways, the tingle in your toes you get after sliding down a hallway in socks, total architecture nerd, definitely wants to work in architectural design, “it’s obviously a conspiracy against you”, staring at a wall and thinking up designs in their head, 3D thinking, well-framed photos, a long relaxing bath after a hard day, weaving through crowds, a fast learner, hours spent practicing something they’re passionate about, city lights, definitely knows a lot of important people, “it’s complicated”, knife-sharp sarcasm, quick comebacks, always alert, could probably kill you but won’t, silver jewelry, ivory, marble sculptures, shameless flirting, “just one more.. little touch.. shit wait no go back”, helping someone who’s crying because no one should be made to feel bad, secretly plays god in their head, walking home in the rain, catching a snowflake on your tongue, feeling homesick for places you’re never been but have read about avidly, living a lifetime inside a book and then needing a moment alone staring at nothing before returning back to the real world, thinking about everything at once and nothing at all at the same time

#sorry this is long #i'm a little like paris like that #once i get started it's hard to stop #but yeah i'm a mix of new york and paris i think #probs more like i'm a bit of all of them #mostly paris though i think #idk man #oh well #tag yourself #they speak

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