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@whoisinmyfridge
i think there’s an awful sort of poetry in knowing smoking is bad. being aware that with every puff your lungs blacken. i don’t know why i smoke. maybe it’s to feel some modicum of control in this fucked up world. breathe in that hazy poison and things are easier.
the darjeeling limited you are so so special to me. complicated sibling relationships you are so special, controlling eldest who fucks things up but only wants the best you are so special, distant mother who you know loves you but you resent her too you are so special. travelling through india, grief, love, cigarettes, tea, trains, healing you are so fucking special to me.
something about bartylily and cannibalism. corruption and walking headfirst into hell, because the gates are open so why not?
sirius sat on an armchair in the common room, bottle in hand, surrounded by people talking and laughing. he’s silent, mouth tight and jaw flexing as he watches james, his james, across the room.
tall figure, muscular from quidditch and exercise leaning against the wall, shirt tight across his chest, cuffed above those glorious biceps. he shifted and leaned down, mouth lifting to cup her cheek. sirius’ glare shifted as he eyed the redhead with distant disgust.
a breath forced itself between his lips as he let his eyes wander across the room, painfully aware of his best friend kissing that know it all slut. his eyebrows creased as he mulled over how pussy-whipped his james had become, saying no to hilarious pranks and tricks because of that siren.
she wasn’t even that pretty. sure she had nice eyes and tits, but compared to james? james was an alter to the gods. beautiful curls and a wicked smile that made sirius’ mouth dry. every blink of those doe brown eyes made him even more alluring, changing from chocolate to amber to coffee to jamesjamesjames.
now sirius wasn’t an idiot. he knew why he didn’t want the harpy to kiss his james. having a childhood as fucked up as his made him possessive. and james, his brother by choice, his first real friend, was surely the thing he wanted to keep more than anything.
like magnets his eyes returned to james. still kissing. someone hooted at the pair, and with red lips grinning james looked up and winked at sirius.
he felt sick as he smiled back.
hey void, just to let you know i have a letterboxd. same name as this. check it out if you want to? i don’t know
when i die i want people to wear colour. i want to be dressed in my favourite clothes, whatever they may be. i want to be celebrated for my life - however glorious or terrible it may be. i want to be missed. i want to be buried under an oak tree.
james and sirius kiss occasionally. it doesn’t mean anything of course - they’re brothers! best friends! it’s only ever at a party or if someone dares them or late at night squashed behind the thick drapes of the bed. it doesn’t mean anything.
i love the sun.
i love his soft brown eyes.
sharp jawline.
hair long or short.
it doesn’t matter.
the sun is beautiful without looking,
a certainty unshakable.
update: we kissed
i love the sun.
i love his soft brown eyes.
sharp jawline.
hair long or short.
it doesn’t matter.
the sun is beautiful without looking,
a certainty unshakable.
ok so quick question to the void, if my friend (who i have got a bit (big) of a crush on) has suggested that we go to comicon as constantine and zatanna is that a hint? are they asking me out?? idk anything about comics but they’re really into it. does this mean i have a chance???
loving the sun is difficult. it shines so brightly, it draws so many people in, it’s hard not to resent it a little. but it can’t last. it’s the sun. bright and beautiful and you can’t help but gravitate towards it.
it is, perhaps, rather embarrassing. i mean having my stomach twist slightly from the mere mention of a name. troublesome. feeling my eyes soften at pictures with that face. really rather intolerable. and smiling at text exchanges. fucking mortifying.
you are what you eat if you eat sad music you’re gonna be fucking sad you are what you eat if you eat self hatred you will hate yourself you are what you eat of course you have to eat happy media you fucking moron beautifulconfidentamazingperson you are what you eat eat good you are what you eat
ok so i feel like it’s important for me to specify that whilst i adore otto octavius and enjoy writing and reading age gap media, i do know that romanticising such relationships might set a bad precedent. pls be aware guys. and men leave me alone.
you guys will never guess whose an adult now. well. more so. no more teenage for me. lost my privileges. have been upgraded by mistake.
what the fuck do you mean i’ve posted 100 posts. since fucking when??
IVE GOT 100 REBLOGS????? INSANE
i feel like ppl who hate journaling or use ai cos they’re lonely could instead purchase one (1) imaginary friend. boom. solved.