#j.d. writes

[asteroidthatsoverdue]

You’re bad…

You’re bad…

Get these lights off.

It’s too-

It’s too bright in here…

It’s too bright in here.

It’s you.

You’re a bad guy.

Y͟o͟u͟’͟r͟e͟ ͟a͟ ͟b͟a͟d͟ ͟g͟u͟y͟.͟ ͟

𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕.

If-𝑰𝒇 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒔.

Bad guys don’t have marks on their face.

ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜʏs ᴀʀᴇ perfect.

Bad guys have good skin.

✨ℬ𝒶𝒹 𝑔𝓊𝓎𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝑔ℴℴ𝒹 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃.✨

Bad guys have good skin.

Ok.

You’re 🅑🅐🅓.

You’re OOOOOOOOO

You’re evil.

Ok.

I have to go to the bathroom.

[mr-noname-kid]

September 18th, 1989

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓶𓂃🖋️

Yeah, if I’m being honest I don’t know entirely know why I’m writing this. You know, most people see their mom everyday before school or she is um, there at home making dinner for their kids. Well, last time I saw my mom, I saw you you were waving to me out the window of a condemned library in Texas. I bet it’s not great, is it? Going out in a blazing glory like that. They said it was an accident but you knew what you were doing. Everyone is so focused on the collision nobody else saw you. I saw you. You were waving at me and I swear I could’ve seen it in your eyes. You looked almost like the end of your life set you free. Why did you look like that?

I’m not mad, uh confused more so. When I was around ten, I’m guessing, my school at the time had this parent teacher conference and nobody came. Dad certainly didn’t. Without you there was nobody who cared enough to come for me. When you were still alive we lived halfway normal. Now it’s just me and dad. In your absence I’ve learned to cook pasta and pay rent. I’ve learned a lot about the world. Learned a lot about myself along the way too. Learned the world doesn’t owe me a cent. Nobody cares enough to look after me. Even you left me. Why did you do that? Why did you leave?

People still talk about you. About that big explosion that took out the demolition tycoon’s wife. It’s like you’re not even a person to them. Just some spectacle for all to enjoy. That’s how people view death. Fireworks to gawk at without realizing what it’s like when it’s your mom. Dad, the big destruction man himself Big Bud Dean can’t seem to bring himself to talk about you. It’s like you don’t even matter to him anymore. He thinks there’s a lot of other pretty women who can fill your place but, they can’t. Not really. He’s trying to put this bandaid over a bullet hole and call it fixed when we both know there’s no fixing it. Not anymore. Adults turn away from kids like me when they don’t understand the grief in my soul without you. It’s why I’ve learned to numb it and fight pain with more pain to feel something.

So, here we are. I’ve been through ten high schools. I start my next one, Westerberg High in Sherwood, Ohio today. That’s the reason I’m writing to you again. I like to write a letter to you and mail it back to Texas and pretend you’re still reading it, even if I know where it’s actually going. I always mail it to that shop that they built after the library got torn down. I’m sure they probably think it’s junk and throw it in the garbage but, I like to think you still open it first. High schools start to get blurry after a while. There’s no point in planting roots when you’re gone in a hurry. Dad always keeps our suitcases packed in the den, a reminder I’ll never stay here too long. New town, new school, always a new place and I’m never truly home. Because home is with you and home went up in smoke with that library you died in.

I don’t learn the names. I don’t bother with faces. Most people don’t learn my name either. All I can trust is the 7-Eleven right around the corner and the local library to keep me preoccupied. I don’t expect that to be different this time. It really never is. It’s always the same old. The usual routine. This was what you left for me. Was it worth it? Is being in heaven worth the hell I live everyday? I have so many questions about everything I know you’ll never be able to answer. But, you’re still watching over me right? That’s what everyone always says but it never seems to be enough. Just an easy way to clear their head of having to think about my own pain too much.

It’ll just be the same again. I know it will. In six weeks I’ll be back on the road off to who knows where and I’ll be writing you again. Hope you’ll miss me until then.

Best wishes,

- 𝒥𝒶𝓈ℴ𝓃 𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓃𓂃🖋️

(P.S. I prefer “J.D.” for short but uh, I know I’ll always be Jason to you, Mom)

(ADMIN + RP INFO)

(ABOUT J.D.) [TBA]

Divider credits: @/sister-lucifer and @/saradika-graphics!

[myaltarofslush]

Greetings and salutations,

I suppose I should introduce myself though I don’t entirely see the point of it. I’ve been through ten high schools and will likely be at the eleventh one in six weeks time. There’s no point in planting roots or getting attached when I know I’ll be gone before you even learn my name.

What? Didn’t catch my name, did you? Well, I didn’t throw it…

I’m one for the belief that the extreme always seems to make the most significant impression. Which is why I’m likely to be perceived as extreme. (Sometimes desperate times require desperate measures. Have you seen your society outside? You all eat up any horror the American teenager can bring upon themselves like it’s some movie you rented from the goddamn video store.) You know "Morality is simply the attitude we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike."

My perception typically follows me everywhere, hence why you’re more likely to remember me than I am to remember you. Not that any of it really matters in the end anyway, does it? What I’ve seen, what I’ve done, what weapons I’m proficient with…none of that matters unless I make it matter to you.

(RP + ADMIN INFO)

(ABOUT J.D.)

(NAVIGATION/RP MASTERPOST)

(Divider credits: @/enchanthings and @/thecutestgrotto)