#also these journal entries are so fun

[felicitykings]

MAJANDRA: [reading from her journal] "I have yet to hear words of love from him (Brendan) though." [...] "That's truly what I want too, if he could just go nuts over me or basically just behave the way I feel. I just get this feeling that he hates that I might have power over him and I hate that he has it over me. But it might be magical if we surrender." [...] AIMEE GARCIA: It's funny because even like in this episode when you're like, oh gosh, you go to Liz, you're like "you two (Max and Liz) have that, like, stare into each other's eyes, soulmate shit. But me, whatever, I can take it or leave them." And then your character says the same thing, you're like "yeah I don't get attached, I can leave anyone anytime", you know? And then I think it's so cute that behind the scenes you guys are like "ah, we should just surrender into magic." Oh my gosh. MAJANDRA: I just- the word "surrender", you guys, and then "magic." BRENDAN: It's really incredible. It's on another level.

THE EX-FILES with Majandra Delfino and Brendan Fehr

[king-midas-fortnite]

📿

Journal Entry

Ask: A dream your character believes is prophetic

I have this dream so often. I have had it hundreds of times since Jules was born, and I'm likely to continue having it for the rest of my life. 

I know what is coming every time the dream begins, and yet I am powerless to stop it. The painful irony in how little I am able to sleep these days, but yet somehow never being able to wake myself from it in time. 

Jules comes to me in this dream while I am standing in the same spot I was with Marigold. I am in the field behind our home, my hands brushing against the plants there as I go, turning the overgrown weeds to precious metal. I am trying to reign in control over the curse when she reaches me. 

There are only a couple things that change.

Sometimes Jules is young, my little girl just barely taller than my knee. Sometimes she's the young woman she is today. 

Sometimes, I reach for Jules just as I had my first daughter. My body moving as if I don't know I will kill her as I did that day despite my mind screaming in anguish to stop.

Sometimes, I try to back away from her, warn her.

The end does not change.

Whether I embrace her or she reaches for my hands to comfort her selfish husk of a father, I kill her. Just like Marigold, her skin turns cold and lifeless under my own, and her body glistens under the midday sun so horrendously beautiful as if her death by my hands is not an atrocity. 

Sometimes her face is frozen in pain, sometimes an expression of anguished betrayal, and sometimes it is placid. As if she knew it would happen. 

Regardless, I am only ever able to wake after I look at her from on my knees. 

I have to believe that this dream is a manifestation of my guilt. In much the same way the Underworld's shades used it to torment me in the visions they inflicted on my undead mind that could not sleep, it is my soul reminding me what I lost. What I still stand to lose. 

Marigold has told me as such when I have confided in her. (And how cruel fate is that I know a version of myself that bares her name. I care deeply for the woman, but saying that name aloud for a person never gets easier.) I have to believe this to be true. 

However, I can't. Not fully. There will always be a part of me that believes it's a sign that I am destined--cursed, to repeat the same mistake. To kill the person I love the most. It is why I stayed distant from Jules most of her life. I still largely regret my conscious decision to miss out on her formative years, but I also wonder if she only turned out as good as she is because I wasn't there after all. 

I want to be closer to her now. I am trying to be, but I am still afraid that this dream is more of a prophecy. I will always be afraid until it either happens, or I die again and she is truly safe from me.

Reminder: these are not "public" to other Tumblrverse characters. Okay to reblog, but please do not roleplay on journal entries!

[cryptidofthekeys]

Day 20... ...I'm honestly afraid to see what's next- bc last page, Coda was really scared and Puzzles was in his room literally

... oh my god... I just felt a chill go up my spine... ...Coda- ...oof... he... He got snatched didn't he- he got trapped in the show- there's even text written ON the book itself, like the top, bottom, and opening- its him begging for help and saying he trapped him in his show, that he wants out

...Also though thats, a REAL low blow for Puzzles to just write in the journal god DAMN- ...I mean points for pretty handwriting but still- jeez ya know I heard static the other day- but it was coming from my headphones lmao nothing to worry about here-

but that's the end of the journal, it abruptly ends there, I looked to see if there's anymore but there's not ...God, Poor Coda though-

and...

and...

. . . ??? what the fuck-

...Oh HELL naw- ...Chat, am I cooked? ...Y'all I think I'm cooked-

[narcsmelly]

k fine i'll turn do not disturb off 😒

[labyrinthofcrystals]

fellas is it a fic if it's through journal entries and only your OC's POV

[beastsovrevelation]

I realized in all my Good Omens WIPs, the pairing of my Antichrist and War is just... Already established.

I mean...

She's on the verge of proposing in one scene, and it's Ch1 (like, do it, Maxine). *Insert me complaining about still being in skeleton dialogue phase with this - it's a long chapter, though*

It's kind of unusual, but, all the stories are set in timelines where they're already established. I don't mind, exactly... I might be interested in exploring the beginning at some point, but that would be set during Max's time in the military, as they met when she was in the military.

I suppose, Max might just be a character whose arcs aren't primarily focused on romance. There is romance, and it's a part of her, but not the essence of her. I shouldn't be surprised, I didn't create her just to be shipped. Especially not in solely Good Omens universe.

Oh, by the way, in case you (the soul who stumbled upon this somehow) didn't know, Enyo's ( Ἐνυώ, ha) a spirit of war from Greek mythology. I thought, I'll make it War's real name, I'm such a fan of it.

[quitefair]

dont talk to me, i'm shifting into corinth mode.......

[toestalucia]

btw calico's msq archive is currently at act3............<333333

[micamone]

actually i think one of the best, most unhinged, type of fan art is a whole-ass site dedicated to it. just fully immersing yourself in the universe to make a functional website that would be in it. it’s writing it’s coding it’s art WHO is that insane enough to do that to themselves. i love it.

[sp00pypumpkins]

[sondersil]

it's a feeling of victory and sadness to realize that my brother-in-law would've been proud of me for finally enjoying whisky.

[wollfling]

I've been having a hard time finishing illustrations lately and it has me panicking that I'm falling into another art block after being productive for a few months. It's genuinely been nerve-wracking 😞 I was able to get the monster illuminated manuscripts/ carnis script. stuff made though still. But its not what most of the people who follow me care about.. but them I'm like why should I care if I'm having fun... but also 😭 not sure I have the luxury to think that way..

[teddywormwood]

1st Aug 85

Dear journal,

I wrote a letter to mum for the first time in years today. A proper one, like how this journal stuff used to be at the start. I told her about everything I could think of since we last spoke the last letter. I don't know what it was, but I woke up and knew I had to. It felt important.

Sometimes I feel like the entire island is holding its breath, waiting for something.

Maybe I'm the one holding my breath.

What am I waiting for?

Yours,

Teddy.

[butnobodycame627]

don't think I've mentioned it on here but I'm hoping to get every achievement in nitw

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

word count \ 3.7k | fluff & stuff | slash / mattheo riddle x reader

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time (part one to lovesick!mattheo) author's note at the end!

SECOND PART HERE - lovesick!mattheo christmas edition

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he��d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

if you would like to read the second part, click here!

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[pochx]

so like some thoughts yeah?

i've always had a love and fascination for like forever right? reading either fictionalized diaries or historical ones as a kid and then to how i still like to follow random people doing their silly little micro blogging.

it's fun and y'know feeds that need to be a nosy little bitch. and uh. i think it's something very human to do.

ironically i've never been able to keep a diary or anything of the sort lol god knows i've been trying since i was like 7 or 8. and idk i've just been thinking on like. not having anything to say.

not everyone does i think? there's a lot of things that people kinda assume to be relatively universal, but i don't think that's true entirely. (which as an aside: this might be where i get friction w a lot of ppl who get offended on my behalf (did not ask) when i say smth that goes against this. if only bc i think they assume i mean i am the only person like that. in reality i think there are many ppl in whatever way i mean! just it's a minority. not everyone lives or sees the world the same<3)

anyways. "this is a lot for someone who doesn't have anything to say" but like am i really saying anything orrrr

point being at the end of the day that there are people out there who don't have anything to say. there is nothing going on and i mean that genuinely while also knowing that i have a lot going on in my brain but trying to verbalize it outside of myself makes it all go away (perhaps another point of my struggles to communicate: i leave a lot out and a lot gets assumed)

at the end of the day i am trying to say "i am jealous and deeply interested in people who have things to say. all there is to say from me is....there is nothing."