thinkin bout this video i saw that says every friend group has all fiveâŚâŚ.
1. the history obsessed time traveller - wilbur soot. wilbur with poorly hidden, old-timey vocabulary and language he accidentally slips into his speech. his affinity for writing with quills and parchment instead of pens, loving leather-bound journals and earth-toned clothes. being fascinated with history and dropping small comments of âthatâs not actually what happenedâ when others mistakenly quote things he has unexplainable knowledge about. wilbur with a golden pocket-watch and a strange craziness in his eyes sometimes that makes you wonder what heâs seen, where heâs been.
2. the mom friend thats been reincarnated one too many times - badboyhalo. his inexplicable maturity from a young age, constant âlanguageâ dropping and mother-henning of his friends despite their complaints. the way people naturally gravitate towards him for advice, hugs, and warm comfort. his strange ability to bake extremely well, even though he claims he doesnât remember learning how to. the times when his tone becomes so tired it hints that heâs said these words a hundred times before, that heâs seen friends grow, and change, and leave again and again. his subtle âi feel like this is my last oneâ comments, or when he stills with deep gratitude when someone says they love him, because heâs soaking it up like itâs his last time to hear it, ever. Â
3. the immortal that definitely got trapped in a well for about 100 years - dream. his intelligence and insight that transcends his supposed age and lifetime. him not liking to show his face almost as if he doesnât want to be recognized, or remembered, because his hair will never gray and the green in his eyes wonât fade. the way he talks like he fears nothing, and at times, like he is bound to no one - that time itself never worries him. his strange, specific fear of drowning and iron bars. claustrophobia. extremely touchy with others, and loves warmth, because he was stripped of company for so long. the sing-song cadence of his voice like the eons of echoing from the bottom of the well carved into his chest, somehow. his rambled tangents where he talks like no one is listening, or when he becomes oddly delusional or hysteric for no apparent reason. some type of deep fury or madness that slips through his cracks unexpectedly, an unstable rage that seems more than human. almost god-like.
4. the one thats from an alternate reality and is just confused by this one - georgenotfound. george and his inability to see colors the right way like everyone else does, the goggles he carries around and strange label on the front of his clothes almost like he was created, not born. his struggle to maintain an acceptable sleeping schedule, the sun rising and setting at times he isnât used to, often stumbling over the words of days or recounting plans because it doesnât sit right on his tongue. his silence in conversations where others expect him to speak. his general dazed aura, wandering eyes. tripping over his shoelaces like he doesnât expect them to come untied. calling objects by the wrong name, speaking with fond memory to friends of things that never happened. being reserved, and careful, yet also unpredictable and unknowable.Â
5. the ancient tree spirit with a shit memory - sapnap. his dark-oak hair and eyes, sturdy stature and voice that sometimes sounds like wind whistling through leaves, or branches creaking, bark scraping bark. his love and strange gravitation towards fire, almost like heâs been burned alive before and wants to feel that rebirth again. the deep anger he sometimes falls to when disrespected by others, as though they know not who they are dealing with. but even he forgets birthdays and what heâd eaten for breakfast like heâd lost some connection to himself somewhere. says stuff like âthat doesnât sound like meâ but outputs a perception of self that is fleeting, and hard to grasp, or understand. loving the color green, hiking, and small forest animals. can be oddly destructive, almost with vengeance of a wrongdoing he canât recall, or because he has an innate knowledge of how things live, and grow, and turn to rotting bones in the earthy soil.Â