(this is more "rp" based, lol. no-sleep-mitchy is me- "a/n", but mitchell underscore is sort of like a sona/oc thing. i'm writing this from underscore's pov)
photo reference
my name is Mitchell Underscore. I don't wanna be here. I just wanna go home, and go study, go to school like a normal kid- hell, Cross Country would be better than this.
at this point.. i fear for my sanity. 0-0 not a joke.
i mean, i get told by a guy who's supposed to be a FICTIONAL CHARACTER that my great, great, great, great, great, cube that great amount a few times, (iykyk, math nerds) grandparent is a multiversal god.
yeah. Legacy of Polycosmos. What the fuck, man- mix that with a little bit of influence from Dysnomia (chaos lady. oddball but she's ok) and Thalassa- (very cool sea goddess, sort of scary, gifted me a trident)
and you have 2 chaotic twins and a panicky middle schooler.
if i was by myself, i would truly be mentally better at this point. (no, no, no, no, i would not, i would be too worried, i would feel too guilty, i would have abandoned them, they could've died, i would get too attached-)
but now I have two annoying little brothers to take care of. WHILE KILLING THINGS.
running away with fucking highschoolers to another dimension, taking my brothers, picking one of them up, taking the other by the hand to an old demigod camp in montauk in the dead of night while they keep asking, and asking, and asking, and asking-
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"Mitchy? Where are we?"
"What's that gold stuff on your face?"
"Why is it so cold?"
"Where are we going?"
"Mitchy? Mitchy, i'm scared. I wanna go home."
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yeah- i thought stealing my dad's airsoft gun was bad. hopping multiverses is worse.
i'll try to keep things quick. i don't have much time on a device until something spots me-
shit. it's here.
this honestly scares the fuck out of me, i don't wanna relive my own writings.
i'm not- there could be an alternate version of me, saying the exact same thing.
or maybe they're running away? maybe they're a mercenary. maybe they're a famous indie game designer. maybe they're in algebra still. (like i was supposed to be.)
i feel pity for anyone in a universe remotely similar to mine.
i remember in elementary- for an assignment- i would write these weird unfinished self-inserts where my brothers and i get transported into a fantasy/horror world that i wrote
everyone died, in these horrible ways- and i would have to keep them unaware of what happened. because they're my little brothers, they don't deserve to see that. they don't deserve to see what i put the characters through.
because they're fictional characters- but then my character gets transported there and suddenly it's so much more real. and it's so much more terrifying to see their end.
it fills my "character" with guilt knowing i wrote that scene into existence. they should blame me, i created them.
thinking back, my writing was very repetitive and flawed- just because everyone's death is practically a danganronpa execution doesn't make it scary- but the way it scared my "character" in the story was because i had to hide the horror aspect from both of my little brothers "character". keep the facade up that it was an innocent story i wrote. they didn't get transported into a habromania work of my own design.
i'm getting horrific deja vu. this isn't whatever after. i'm not abby. jack and jerry aren't jonah.
and the thing that scares me the most
is that i don't think i can hide anything from them now.
these articles seem really self centered
but then again this is a "diary"
but really, then again
reincarnation has always been interesting to me.
...chat, i didn't type that
i'm not sure what the hell's wrong with me
but i know i must have caused this
i'm mortal. i am mortal, right?
yet i have this gift that lets me move. travel. run away from the original, divert from a set narrative.
i was mortal until i met them.
this gift hurts, it hurts, but i still use it. why did this happen to me? i don't know if it was polycosmos, the gods themselves, or some other higher power.
i see things. i see people who aren't real- hell, i met PERCY JACKSON. how much kids dream of that? i see dead people.
i'm not sure who caused this but i'm gonna find them. they know me.