#pricked pages ;; diary entries

[brambleandblood]

We Are Winged Things

An entry from Bramble Rose’s diary.

I remember the first thing I noticed about him: the way he shined. For someone named for a dense group of foliage, usually seen as an indistinguishable mass, Thicket is far from indistinguishable. Even before I loved him, I could pick him out amongst the crowd without issue. The air above the Plains could be clogged with Small Folk and my eyes would find the flutter of his wings as if everything cleared at once. His always fascinated me: they’re iridescent, like that of an earwig, rounded and catching the light like glass that had been stained with pigment.

Mine have always been a feathery set of wings, even now in their newer, sparser, and flashier form. Before the Fire, before my version of Burning, I had been told they looked akin to that of a grouse. I never minded, really: my wings never needed to be for show, and they were relatively quiet when I foraged. No reason to look at me, really.

But Thicket… He is beautiful in a way that made you keep looking, just like his wings. And he always looked right back, smiling, as if I were the one worth staring at out of the two of us. Even now, he stares unblinking, but I know for certain it’s a gaze always looking for me. He has eyes that are dark and warm like hollows in trees are. Safe, willing to let you climb in, curl up, stay for a while. That’s how I knew his Giant form had him: the eyes are identical, even if the rest looks different.

Isn’t that the funniest thing? If I hadn’t seen his eyes, Bigger Thicket would have never caught me in terms of similarity. The Thicket tucked away at home has far darker skin, deeper even than mine, hair most like his namesake at night. Perhaps his build is similar, and his Giant most certainly has the facial bone structure to rival his Small Folk’s… But I shouldn’t think on the similarities and changes too deeply. Thicket is Thicket, even as this Tristan. I just know he is.

And besides, how often do we even, in our Small Folk forms, change the way we appear? Granted, I was never particularly good at it; I worked more with the flora around us than I did on my own form. Thicket himself, when he was Small and active in that body, always did best with little constructs made of the air and dust around him. Lovely things, so accurate I nearly swore up and down they were as real as he was! Sometimes he would put on little plays with the “characters” made up of things almost like refracted light. Dancing in sunbeams and shimmering like star stuff… Always the sun and the stars, he and I. He was always so talented in reminding me of that.

That, and keeping the barriers up. I wondered, in the darkest times after the Fire and Burning, how long he tried to hold a barrier around our home before it fell through.

Oh, my Stars. I will never forgive myself for not being there, for not pulling up roots from the ground to shield us from the flame, for not throwing together poultices and pulling the smoke from your very bloodstream to keep you as you were. I was too far from you. And even as you are now, tall and forgetful, I am too far from you. If I had it my way I would never be more than a step from your side, but you have forgotten yourself. You live now with Giants that love to throw us Small Folk in clear jars and use us like light. I’ve seen pirates beat us broken to collect our dust and use it for a myriad of purposes.

Do you remember when Hook got a hold of Tinker Bell in the early days? How he spanked her and tried pooling her Flying Dust? I wonder if it would horrify you in the same way now. If perhaps seeing me bludgeoned for my Dust that can make skin stitch would jog forth your memories.

Perhaps I should stay a step from you always after all, even like this. Perhaps the pain would be worth it if I could see the recognition flood your familiar eyes once again.

We will get this sorted one day soon, my Stars. I thank the Dust in the air every day that your voice still keeps its hoe in my ears, just as you always have lodging in my heart. You yourself will find your place back in your original body soon enough. I just need to figure out how to do it. But I will, my Stars. That is a promise I will die keeping.

#pricked pages ;; diary entries #tw blood mention #tw death mention #tw death #tw physical abuse #tw physical abuse mention

[remembertheplunge]

Writing Outside The Lines

November 9, 1986. Sunday

It’s been a nice weekend of big movement. I’ve been rereading diary entries from August to December 1983. I felt like God looking down: interceding, judging, commenting. And, generally being amazed at the graphic changes that occurred in that time span. The month of August started with me writing …right within the lines and margin (of the journal page) (As in life) I just fit perfectly into everybody’s little boxes. A coffin of conformity. Sufficating.

But then TM (Transcendental Meditation), Tristan Rainer (author of The New Diary) and Rainbow Clan punched in a few tiny air holes. And, I could see pin pricks of blue sky and shafts of hazy light strike and rekindled an ember of self love in my breast. And, I bust loose from the lines. And I’ve been moving to resurrect from that grave and airless place of conformity ever since! 

End of this part of the entry.

Notes: 5/15/2024

I’m posting a photo the page from my 11/9/1986 journal entry in which I demonstrate on the page how I went from writing within the lines on the page to busting through and writing outside the lines. This reflected how I was beginning to bust out of the constraints of my life.

From August to December of 1983, I was married to a woman and was trying to live a very straight existence. But, the 11/9/1986 journal entry reveals that massive change was welling up within me during this period. It would result in my coming out at a Sage event in February 1984 and coming out to and leaving my wife inn July-August 1984.

(Sage was an event that lasted several days. At least 100 of us were guided through different ways of expressing our being. I came out for the first time to a group of strangers during one of the Sage sessions.)

When I review former journal entries, I do kind of feel like God. I know how the story turns out. I see the events of the day I wrote about in the journal entry through the trajectory of events since then. But, unlike God, I can’t change what happened in the past.  I can "intercede , judge and comment” in the journal margins in the hope of integrating the past event with the present continuum.

I was 28 in 1983 and 31 in 1986.

Tristan Rainer wrote “The New Diary” in which she broght a novel approach to the journal writing experience. 

I’m not sure what the Rainbow Clan was, but, if I find out from reviewing the ’83 journal I will blog about it.

#journaling #writing #gay #gay history #busting through the lines of conformity #rereading journal entries #transendental meditation #Tristan Rainer “New Diary” #1983-1986 #Sage experience Sacramento Ca 1984 #coming out and leaving your wife #11/9/1986

[just-a-creep-babe]

Enjoy the backstory reveal 👀👀

- 🎥

(TW FOR ABUSE)

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ENTRY 20 – ???

(THE CAMERA TURNS ON AND IT SHOWS SAM AT HER DESK ALONE)

SAM: I’ve been thinking of this for a long time. Like, since the beginning of this project, or whatever you want to call it. With my sister having been missing for almost ten years, you’re probably wondering why haven’t my parents contacted me since i’ve begun this project. Since, you know, their daughter, my sister, just disappeared. 

(SAM SIGHS, LEANING BACK IN HER CHAIR)

SAM: Well, my dad is dead. I have no way of putting it nicely. 

(A PAUSE)

SAM: How did he die? Well, again, there is no way of putting it nicely…I did. I…shot him. When I was twelve. He wasn’t a good man but I've mostly blocked what he had done to my sister, my mom, and me out of my mind, but…yeah. One day, I was just afraid that…he would go too far and that it would be us or him. Let me make it clear, I did NOT WANT to shoot him, but my mom was hiding in the corner, and again, I knew it would be either us or him. 

(ANOTHER PAUSE)

SAM: I don’t believe in this paranormal shit that has been happening lately, because there HAS to be an explanation. There is no such thing as a haunted house, a creepy ghost kid haunting a game, or some supernatural serial killer! There always is an explanation! The dreams? Just guilt! The creep in the blue mask? Also probably guilt from shooting my abusive prick of a dad! The only explanation I don’t have is whoever it was who chased me, Finch, and Randy from the hospital that night. 

(SAM BEGINS COUGHING)

SAM: We KNOW that…whatever at the hospital was real. I mean, for fuck sakes, I had to get fifteen sitches in my shoulder and two doctors were confirmed dead! That is the ONLY thing I have yet to figure out. 

(SAM PULLS OUT A NOTEBOOK – IT’S NATALIE’S DIARY)

SAM: I found Natalie’s diary, hidden, in my bookcase. I had found it after I was cleaning it out and such, I just…forgot about it. Anyway, I was reading through it and there are pages upon pages talking about these weird…dreams and seeing these weird things and hearing things. The earliest entry in which she talks about this…thing…is dated october 10th, 2011, she was fifteen, I think, and she talks about this weird guy stalking her and he had a suit or something. I don’t know. I know this will sound crazy…but I think she…may still be alive. Maybe. I mean, that weird voice message that sounded like her? I mean, fuck, I’ve been having dreams about the exact same dreams as her. Maybe she is still alive. I’ll keep you updated. 

(ENTRY ENDS)

Ok but I’m LIVING for how much of a badass Sam seems to be

#giving like #grungy bisexual #and I’m #sO here for it!!! #creepanswers #🎥

[cwarscars]

📔 For Rufus~

SEND “📔” TO READ AN ENTRY FROM MY MUSE’S DIARY ABOUT YOUR MUSE

*an incoherent scribble takes up the top half of the page - the pen is a garish red, its strikes so ferocious that the paper has ripped neath the wrath of its strokes. the ramblings are inconceivable at an initial glance, a drunken rant of a man too intoxicated to know what he's scribbling. some words can be seen more clearly than others - bullshit, fuck, hate. beneath it, sits a few lines of text, neatly written. the pen, black.*

It would seem that last night, I got a little overzealous. I'm tasting vomit today so I will remind myself that last night was vodka. Not too different from vomit, but there we are. Looking back on what I've written, I stand by most of it.

He does piss me off and he does lead me to drink.

I must have been trying to forget something, however, I haven't forgotten it. I remember an argument; that smug little prick talking down to me as if I were his dog. He looked like his father. Had those same eyes, that same attitude. Gods, it was like reliving a memory. I couldn't help the way I was looking back at him - he picked up on that. He isn't stupid. Still did his best to get under my skin, rile me up.

I doubt he's any prouder than I am - I haven't yet even looked at my phone. Who knows the things I've said while drunk; he's my superior, I can't allow that boundary to be crossed. I must treat him as I treated his father. With absolute respect! Unconditional respect!

Alas, a man can't help any natural thoughts he has along the way. I'm only human, aren't I? Not to mention, it's different now. His father was older than me - my superior in every sense of the word but Rufus? Rufus should be looking up to me. Worshipping me. At the heel of my boot!

I ought to stop writing lest the young president find my ramblings.

This is all so terribly embarrassing.

#(answered) #(ic) #(diarymeme) #heid is having some c oM PLex thoughts #it doesnt take much dlksngkdgndls #(queue; open the door get on the floor everybody walk the dinosaur)

[cheesysaggychick]

Tailoring Music with Threads of Literature: A Comparative Analysis of the Anthology, “Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories” and Taylor Swift’s Masterpieces  (A Song Association)

I have been staring at these blank pages for days now and I cannot seem to fill the blank spaces that need filling. I do not know if it is because I am still in the adjustment period coming from summer vacation to face-to-face classes or just the feelings I have felt after rereading this collection countless times. I believe it’s the latter. Honestly, if this were a physical, hand-written task, it would just be crumpled pieces of paper lying on the ground. As I was listening to music, trying to clear my mind, and rest my eyes, I was punched in the gut when I encountered the line “It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair” from the song Change by Taylor Swift. Like the threads that make up our clothes, coats, and masks, every prick of the needle of life is like death… by a thousand cuts, and yet we continue to live on every day as if we have no burns to hide, and bruises to cover. But what if the day comes when we just stop bothering about the blood and bruises? Stop hiding the cries and the curses. Become indifferent. Would that be a success or a failure in living life? I do not think it is the former nor it is the latter. Thus join me as I scour through the works of these two artists while I ransack my own mind.

First entry: “Dear Diary,” is a poem about regret and how the author is yet to overcome those regrets they wallowed themselves in. The persona discussed how the past two years have been a heck of a ride for them and that they have undergone several changes over the course of the years. Along the lines, “After a part of me died, over two years I froze inside, and locked myself unable to do things, I love the most.”, I cannot help but feel like in Taylor Swift’s this is me trying. Just the title says a thousand unsaid words of mine. When Taylor said at the beginning “I've been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting”, folklore’s ninth track could be the perfect parallel for this first entry. Both literary pieces have shown components of a letter written by someone that is only meant for themselves having no one to tell their feelings to. Both artists are on the verge of life, and they cannot seem to handle the pressure of things as a result of the inevitable passing of time. But at the very least, both are trying and are learning lessons as they move forward. The rest of the first entry ends with the persona showing a sense of acceptance. The author lets go and are ahead of a lifelong journey of healing as they move to discover their purpose in life and transform them into art, precisely like Miss Swift.

Second entry: The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus. Now, this hits close to home. As a bold young girl, there is always a moment when my views and ideals are questioned in a conversation hence there is a spur-of-moment decision about whether to speak up or not. This is no different, especially on social media. I believe this is because of the mindset of older people that when you are young, they assume you know nothing. Contrary to their beliefs, they might be bigger, but we're faster and never scared. This entry reminds me of two classic Taylor Swift hits namely Only the young, from Miss Americana, and The Man from Lover. Like the modern Sisyphus, these endless intimidations and expectations set upon us women, from the moment we were born, are something that only we can truly understand. Just as seen in the latest national elections, the invisible glass ceiling still exists and there will always be a barrier dividing men and women. However bloody a man’s hands are, a woman’s fashion sense will always matter more than that as said in the lyrics, “What I was wearing, if I was rude, could all be separated from my good ideas and power moves”. Now, what’s that like? Nevertheless, I happen to know an upstanding woman who is, as the poem describes “Not defined by her defeat, but of being gracious—, gracious to push the boulder up the mountain, and start once again like nothing happened.”. She would be the last man standing, whoever she may be. So, do not waste a moment and speak now.

Third entry: O’yayi is a prose poem that broke my heart a tad. When I looked for the translation of o’yayi, the prose made more sense since it means lullaby or an act of panghehele in Filpino. The narrator in the text took in and coddled a traumatized woman named Yayi, which was confusing, especially when he decided to marry her. What a godsend, some may say, but I do not. As the prose progressed, the persona professed his undying love and affection towards Yayi. It was evident in his flowery words how much he values her, it breaks his heart. Although they say true love hurts, I do not think this is that. He is imprisoned in his own mind and in the feelings he has for Yayi, and yet still, up to her death, his feelings were unrequited, at least it seems so. 

The entirety of the prose, unfortunately, reminds me of 1989’s all you had to do was stay especially in the lines “All you had to do was stay, had me in the palm of your hand, then why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?”. In the end, Dante was left to fend up for himself while he cleans the mess he’s made, which was just himself especially after Yayi dies. He really has his way of picking in the litter. 

(I am a child of divorce) (Disclaimer: I am happy for Tom having his first child okay)

Fourth entry: Two Red Laces on the Wonderwall. This exact poem ignites something in me among the rest. Its beat and words have some sort of wildness in them I cannot help but associate it with cruel summer from Lover. There is an obvious sensual romantic and erotic message conveyed in both passages. The narrator expressed their intoxication towards their partner in their entirety, especially when comparing them with wine. I cannot help but associate those lines with these lines: “And it's new, the shape of your body, it's blue, the feeling I've got, And it's ooh, whoa, oh, it’s cruel summer”. I know, reading the lyrics here may seem corny, but the giddiness both artists felt was comparable as it was tingling their insides.

However, in the poem’s lines, “I fell in your words. You, vindictive. I did what you said and leaned forward, I opened my whole to bare my soul.”, from tears of joy, the narrator’s tears ricocheted and became tears of pain and treachery. Don’t blame me talked about playing, and enjoying life fearlessly, and then one day it backfires. In both their works, they have expressed their lifestyles in lines wherein it was evident they did enjoy their lives. From then on, things went downhill for both artists as they were what seemed to be betrayed by their own objects of affection. What seemed to be a Wonderwall, was tarnished and tainted by laces of unfortunate phrases. This time, Taylor did the comparing as she compares her love with drugs. Just like Taylor, the narrator cannot help but feel a guilty pleasure for their choices because although a part of them is fulfilled and joyous, their relentless actions have caused the other side of them to be destroyed and become reliant on the cause of destruction. Well, I guess we cannot blame them, ‘cause don’t we all get too attached to someone at times?

Fifth entry: Umbilical, is a piece that talks about the narrator’s desperation to save their mother. This entry shows the narrator’s emotions which were generally pleas of gratitude and anguish. Umbilical began with lines of gratitude wherein they expressed them in lines like “The pain she suffered just for me to see” depicting how their mother resorted to different sacrifices just to provide them the life they deserve. It is undeniable that this is a sentimental entry that anyone who appreciates and loves their hardworking mothers can relate to. However, this is not about the glorification of suffering, it is about acknowledging them and how we think of paying back our parents. Along the lines “Hush, sleep tight. Everything will be alright., Lilom, Lilom, I beg. Spare her for me.”, this reminds me of the song soon you’ll get better. Not just by the lyrics, but also by the beat, tempo, and emotions, both literary pieces have shown agony from the authors. In the song, the line “you'll get better soon, 'cause you have to” was refrained giving me the impression that although we can get indifferent in life, we will always have a soft spot for those we love. As Taylor said, desperate people find something to believe in, which is parallel to the narrator’s tone in the poem wherein they were begging someone to spare their suffering mother who was never named but implied as a divine being. The poem and the song both end with a sense of hope as both accept their fate but still continue to hold on.

(a moment of silence for blondie’s hotness)

...........

okay, so...

.......

uhuh

.......

Sixth entry: RE: Paper (I’m Red, IMRaD)*, now this is a tricky one. It might seem obvious to assume that I would be using red for this poem, but I won’t, although I have considered it. Among the rest, this entry has to be the most intimidating of all. The entire poem is a descriptive reason, even though it has been years since the K-12 curriculum has been implemented, its efficacy has never been really proven. This is not just because of the shock core impact it has given the already inefficient educational system, but also the toll it has given the unprepared. Although the teachers are equipped with already excellent skills, in terms of the necessary ones needed for this system, they are not. As the poem states “Help teachers help students. After all, we cannot give what we don’t have.”, we may have hundreds and thousands of teachers, but if there is a scarcity of resources to help them perform to their extreme, we will achieve no more than a mediocre result. Just like what Taylor said in better than revenge, “And do you still feel like you know what you're doing, 'Cause I don't think you do.” With the wheelchair and neckbrace stunts, I do not think the system, and the authorities who run it will ever know what they are doing. And slowly, our economy, the teachers, and the students will suffer for it.

Seventh entry: 3 A.M. Awakening. As we reach the end, from here we take a sharp turn. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I have seen this before, and I did not like the ending. 3 A.M Awakening dwells on the narrator’s emotional state while experiencing what seems to be an emotional breakdown. In these first lines “Breathe as if it’s easy to do today, but I think much in a different way.”, this resonates with speak now’s innocent specifically in the line “Did some things you can't speak of, but at night you'll live it all again” as both have indicated struggles with their decisions and eventually overthinking about them in nights of day. I correlate one with another as both have shown symptoms of instability and indigency in emotional leverage.

Meanwhile, in the lines “Heaven spoke lies to me telling I’m sick, with people’s eyes daggering every inch.”, the narrator fights their loneliness as they try to break out of their intrusive thoughts. Among the rest, in my opinion, this has the most melodramatic and melancholic tone. The line resonates well with the lyric “I didn't have it in myself to go with grace” from the song my tears ricochet. Nonetheless, both were trying their hardest to live and not be swallowed by the depths of darkness as they used heaven, hell, and grace as metaphors for their experiences. For the narrator, “It's okay, life is a tough crowd…every one of us has messed up too”.

Eight entry: My Frail Lady is the one that truly broke my heart. As much as it is miserable, this reminded me of a lot of Taylor Swift songs however I will only cite a couple. The lines “Such frail, frail lady, bookkeeps her internal screams. soon she will be found—  dancing on her own”, is in parallel with the song right where you left me from evermore as both the narrator and Taylor were seemed to be stunned by the situations they were placed in by the one they love. This is specifically demonstrated in the lyrics “Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it”.

(literally my soul leaving my body goodbye)

The entirety of the poem is a tragedy, a sad beautiful tragic love affair. This song resonates the most with the persona as they were both in love, and pained by their personal manifestation of their destiny. In parallel, both artists ended things, for the persona, it was their life, for Taylor, it was her love. They are still considered beautiful not because of the traces of cadavers dented in the car, or the pain and suffering turned into a song, but because despite everything, they were freed. The memories that were left behind will never be taken by anyone even if the ones who made them are already gone. That is the beauty of preservation, it will always stay there, right where you left them. Although I must say, Taylor was a frail lady herself, now she’s out of the woods, and I hope the same for the narrator.

Ninth entry: the last one is Major Arcana. I can say this last piece does live up to its title, it is major. To begin, the lines “I…see a tragic past. A heavy, draining aura has enveloped—…trace lines of broken heart and hopes on your hand, scathing—.”, have an enchanting feel to them. It has an upbeat tone to it that makes it willow in my ears like a cool summer breeze. I correlate this part of the poem with the lyrics of evermore’s first track “I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans. That's my man.” not just because both artists used the word hand as an element of showing affection, but because there is a sense of desperation in both texts.

In the same album, when Taylor said “I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it“, this can be tied to the next line of the poem which was “find your future uncertain. Six years of adjustments await” which goes to show how we can tolerate even the ugliness of things for people who we are not even secured in (editor’s note: you mean like princess diana?). This means, that we do sometimes settle for less unconsciously. As the poem ends, the persona accepts their fate after a straight flush in the cards deciding their endgame as it is in the song for she decides to just “sit and watch” as their future unfolds.

So, after everything, it is time to answer the first and last question, is indifference a success or failure in living life? After all the poems, albums, and songs I have dove into, I have come to the conclusion that it is neither a success nor it is a failure. I have understood that that is just the way life runs. Indifference is an emotion that is caused by other repressed emotions. The day will always come wherein we would lose every bit of care we have, but the fact still remains that we are in pain. It will never dry the blood, nor tend the bruise, it will just silence the curses and the cries, ignore all the pleas and the sighs. In short, indifference gives no difference. Defeating our demons is something that only time can do for us, with much effort and grace. Thus it is the one thing that we should feel and acknowledge. We shall not ignore those because each demon, pain, and suffering is a lesson. Nevertheless, it takes time and effort to heal enough to be able to begin again. 

Alas! I guess I have finally filled the blank pages as I reached the end of this analysis. Although I must say I have gone through legitimate stages of existential crisis having finished this anthology which made me question my reason for living. Nonetheless, some pieces were affirming, they were affirming in a way I felt seen, and my feelings were validated and violated simultaneously but no worries for I have no bad blood towards either of the artists. I am ending this analysis with a line from the song Change, the song I started this analysis with,

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down It's a revolution, the time will come For us to finally win.

(ps. stream midnights!) (pss. eras tour in my dreams aaaa) (psss. read the anthology here)

#taylor swift #speak now #speaknow #red #taylors version #tswiftcreatorsnet #fearless #midnights #lover #1989 #bejeweled #willow #tom hiddleston #childofdivorce #princess diana #revenge era #revengedress #thecrown #my tears ricochet #marriagestory #onlytheyoung #the man #anti hero #this is me trying #london boy #joealwyn

[brycethinksthings]

I have tried and failed several times to get a diary or journal off the ground. During college, I used an old yellow notebook as a diary. I kept up with it for about a week. I was in a deep, depressive spiral after one of my best friends left town. I was so worried I'd never see her again. I did end up seeing her again, but that summer did have a profound effect upon me, as did many summers spent in that small studio apartment. I fell off of it and felt too guilty to pick it up again. Earlier this year, I picked it up again for a whopping two entries, but within those entries, I wrote it a lot. I really bared my soul on those pages. I don't know if that's what I'll do here, but I just want a place to stick my thoughts. What spurred it this time is a mix of a couple things, but the biggest one was that I saw too much of myself in a movie. This last Saturday, 10/28/2023, Matthew Perry unfortunately passed. I was throwing my Halloween party, and my girlfriend told me. I've never been the largest Friends fan, but my parents are. They love Friends and quote it quite a bit. Whenever we move furniture, it's "pivot, PIVOT". This may be what causes me to finally sit down and watch the whole show. It's a piece of my relationship with my parents. We took a vacation to Los Angeles recently, and we did the WB backlot tour. A large portion of that tour was touring sets where Friends was filmed. I was being a moody prick at the time, but that memory is special to me. It's not visiting the sets themselves, but the smiles on my parents' faces that I'll cherish the most. Back to the topic, there's a movie streaming site I like. There's a channel always playing movies. It feels like cable which I long for. I popped in tonight, and they were playing a memorial marathon for Matthew Perry. He'd starred in a handful of films following the end of Friends, and I'd happened upon one of the last films of the night. Numb. I decided to give it a watch. I'd seen the poster, and I'd been wanting to see what his career was like beyond Friends. I don't know what it was, but something about this movie really connected with me. Matthew Perry's character, Hudson, struggles with depersonalization and depression spurred by a bad trip. He falls in love with a girl and desperately tries to cure his condition. It's billed as a romcom, but I really connected with the drama of it all. I saw myself in Hudson. I struggle with the same things, and I've had some really bad trips. Part of the reason why I've sworn off smoking or getting high. I think Matthew Perry's performance is incredible, and I wish he'd gotten more work post-Friends. The movie is cheesy, but I'm just drawn to it. I've never felt myself represented on screen like that before. What an experience to have on a Wednesday night. Thank you, Matthew Perry.

[storiesforallfandoms]

all grown up ~ thomas shelby; peaky blinders

word count: 2432

request?: yes!

“Can I please request Tommy Shelby finding his daughters diary and realising she’s not as innocent as he once thought?”

description: when he reads entries in his daughter’s diary, he realizes he has to come to terms with the fact that she’s not a baby anymore

pairing: thomas shelby x daughter!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

I knew I was in trouble the minute I walked through the door and saw dad waiting for me, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. A handful of my friends had been following me, but the minute they saw my dad they quickly bid me farewell and ran the other direction.

“Hello father,” I said. “You’re home earlier than I expected today.”

“Didn’t leave for work today,” he responded. “I decided to work from home. I was looking through my desk for some paperwork and found something quite odd there instead.”

He held up a leather bound book that looked worn and well used in his hand and I felt my blood run cold.

It was my diary.

I had been looking for it for ages. I usually kept it hidden under my mattress in my room, but it hadn’t been there the last time I tried to write and I had basically tore up my room in an attempt to find it. I had forgotten that I went into dad’s study one day when he wasn’t there to write in it. It was stupid and childish, but I wanted to feel as important as I thought dad was.

I remembered shoving the diary into one of the drawers in his desk when the door to the study opened. I thought it was dad returning early and that he was going to catch me writing here. Luckily, it had just been Lizzie, who chuckled and told me to come help her make some sweets with Charlie and Ruby. Not that I expected dad to be upset that I was in his room or anything, but I didn’t want him to know about my diary. I trusted that dad wouldn’t invade my privacy, but I also knew he was more protective over me than he was of Charlie or Ruby because I was his first child.

“I didn’t read much of it,” he continued, undoubtable having gotten the reaction he had hoped for. “I opened it to see what it was and turned to an interesting page by chance. Something about meeting with a boy named Jack under the bridge that your Aunt Ada had told you about.”

For effect, he flipped through the pages of my diary. I wanted to snatch it away from him, but I felt frozen in place. I felt tears prick my eyes as he began to read the page in question.

“‘I told Jack I would meet him under the bridge. He asked why there specifically, and I told him that my Aunt Ada had told me how she met her first husband, Freddie, there when she used to fool around with him behind my father’s back. It was muddy and cold, but it didn’t take long for Jack to warm me up. It is not the ideal spot to lose your virginity, but what else are you supposed to do when your father has spies in every corner of Birmingham.” He looked up at me and asked, “Shall I continue?”

Frustration and anger ran through me as I finally managed to move myself. I snatched the book from his hand, snapping it shut and shoving it under my arm.

“That’s private,” I hissed.

“Evidentially so. I didn’t exactly want to have to read about my daughter being shagged under a bridge somewhere.”

He crossed his arms again, but now I wasn’t worried about his anger. It was unjustified. If anything, I should be the one who should be angry with him. He read my personal diary for fuck sake!

“What are you gonna do, dad? Are you going to ground me for having sex?” I challenged him.

“Tempting. I’m considering finding whoever this Jack is first and cutting his cock off.”

Against my better judgement, I shoved my father. He stumbled back and looked at me in shock. I pointed a finger in his face, the way he had done to others countless times before.

“If you harm Jack in any way, I will pack my shit and be gone. You may have everyone in Birmingham under your thumb, but you forget that I am your daughter as well. I know how to use the power you’ve given me to my advantage, and I will use it to disappear so you will never fucking see me again.”

I bounded up the stairs to my bedroom before he could say anything else. I slammed the door so hard that it shook my room. I was shaking and tears were running down my cheeks. I was clutching my diary to my chest, but tossed it to the floor when I realized I was, as if it were burning me just to touch it.

I wanted to break something, or to hit someone. Or both. I could’ve snuck out and went to the Garrison to start a random bar brawl, but I knew if I did then whoever was bartending would call dad to tell him I was there.

I wished dad wasn’t as powerful as he was. I wished he was just a normal person with a normal day job so that I could go out and be a normal teenager without worrying about if he would find out what I was doing. I wished he was a normal person so that I could get into bar brawls and actually have a fair fight, instead of my opponent taking it easy on me because I was a Shelby kid.

I just wished I wasn’t a Shelby.

I jumped onto my bed and buried my head into my pillow. I muffled my sobs with the pillow until I eventually cried myself to sleep.

~~~~~~

I’m not sure how long I was asleep, but it was dark outside when I felt a gentle touch on my arm. I stirred slowly, my mind becoming aware that I was waking up before my body did. I opened my eyes and blinked until the blurry room became visible and the face of Lizzie came into view.

“Time to wake up, love,” she said, her voice soft and motherly. “Dinner is ready.”

“Is dad here?” She nodded. “Then I’m not hunger.”

Lizzie sighed and rubbed my arm gently. “You have to eat, hun. You can’t stay holed up in your room all night.”

“I’ll sneak out the window and go somewhere else for dinner,” I muttered into my pillow. “To Aunt Pol’s or Aunt Ada’s. At least they won’t rat me out to my father if I show up on their doorstep.”

My favorite thing about Lizzie was that she never pushed matters between dad and I. She had worked with the Shelby’s, and had been married to dad, for long enough to know not to push the two of us when we were already upset, especially when it was with each other. She knew to keep to herself and to not be caught in the crossfire. She was a smart woman.

She told me she’d bring me a plate after they had finished eating and got up, closing my bedroom door behind her. I was left in the darkness again.

My stomach rumbled, trying to tell me that I should go get dinner, but my mind was refusing to go face my father. It was a hard battle, but in the end my stomach won, and I begrudgingly got out of bed to join my family.

Dad didn’t even look up at me as I entered the dining room. I pat my two half siblings on the top of their heads before taking my place across from them at the table - between dad and Lizzie, unfortunately. Lizzie smiled gratefully at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

The meal was mostly silent, besides Charlie and Ruby who would occasionally jabber about one thing or another from their day. Lizzie tried to make conversation, but dad would only respond in one word answers and I refused to answer at all.

“If the two of you are going to have a...discussion, I just ask you wait until the children are finished eating,” she said after yet another cold answer from dad. “There are things you two are undoubtedly going to bring up that they don’t need to hear.”

I looked up at dad for the first time to find he was already looking at me.

“Agreed,” we said at the same time.

I was helping Lizzie take the plates off of the table when she finally dismissed Charlie and Ruby to go play. The minute the two of them were out the door and running down the hall, I decided to make the first move.

“I just think it is entirely unfair that you’re getting angry with me for trying to have a relationship when you were the one who read my diary.”

Dad had his glass of rum half raised to his lips, but put it down the moment the words were out of my throat. “Forgive me for being upset to learn that my daughter is sneaking around with boys I don’t know to shag them out under a bridge somewhere, like some common whore.”

“I guess that means Aunt Ada was a common whore, right?” I retorted. This rendered him silent, which I took as a point for me. “Can you blame me, though? The only times boys have ever shown interest in me, you’ve sent them running with their tails between their legs.”

“That’s not true.”

I scoffed. “Not true? Not true?! Remember when I was 13 years old and that boy in my class decided to give me a rose for Valentine’s Day? You had Uncle Finn and his friends corner the boy on his way home from school and threaten to throw him in the Cut if he ever even looked at me! Or what about that boy that used to walk me home, and the one day you met him you told him that if anything ever happened to me then he would go missing? You ever notice how you never saw him after that day. That’s cause you scared him so bad that he doesn’t even talk to me anymore!”

Dad took a swig of his drink, unable to face me. “You’re too young to be having sex, let alone to have a boyfriend.”

“I’m 18 dad!” I snapped. “I know that’s a shock to you because you see me through kiddie glasses, but I am a legal adult now. But, you know what? Before I was even a legal adult I was drinking, and smoking, and fucking, and you can’t at jack shit about it because I know that you used to do the same thing at my age. So did Uncle Arthur, and Uncle John, and I know you hired a prostitute to take Uncle Finn’s virginity before he was 18. So stop being a goddamn hypocrite and let me live a normal fucking life.”

The air in the room was tense. Lizzie was still there, looking between dad and I. She coaxed the plates I was holding out of my hand in order to take them away, an escape from this scene for her. I wished she had left just one for me so I could break it and get rid of some of this frustration.

“When I was your age, I was being forced into a war I didn’t want to join,” dad finally said, his voice dangerously calm. “Or rather I was being prepared for it. Then I was shipped off, where I lost every ounce of innocence that I had left. I had to watch my friends lose their lives, and I had to narrowly avoid losing my own life. I was afraid to close my eyes every night because I was so sure I wouldn’t wake up the next morning, and sometimes that felt like it would’ve been a gift. But do you know what eventually got me through it all?” I shook my head. “You did. Your mother wrote to me not too long after I was drafted to tell me she found out she was pregnant, and I used that to fight every day for the next four years in order to come home to finally meet you.”

I didn’t remember much of my early years, but I knew there were no pictures of dad and I until I was four years old. By then, my mother had passed two years earlier and I was being raised by her parents until dad came home. Aunt Polly told me that dad went to me the moment he got home and refused to let me leave his sight for nearly two days.

“I saw shit that gave me nightmares for years. Nightmares so bad that I would have to drug myself up in order to go to sleep at night,” he continued. “I still carry that shit with me to this day, even though I try to convince others that I’ve left the war behind. I had my innocence stripped from me, I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

I allowed my feet to carry me towards dad. He looked up at me and I couldn’t help but sit myself down on the lap, the way I used to when I was a child and wanted dad to tell me a story, or just to be near him in general.

“You can’t protect me from the world forever,” I told him. “You have to let me grow up eventually.”

He gave me a small smile and asked, “Who said I had to do that?”

I chuckled and just like that, any anger or tension between us was gone. Dad wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest, resting his head on top of mine. We used to sit like this all the time when I was little, and dad would rock me until I fell asleep. Even though I had just told him he needed to let me grow up, part of me still wanted to have those moments from when I was a kid.

“Okay,” he said, “I have a proposition for you.”

I sat up so I could face him. “I’m listening.”

“I won’t ground you for life and put constant surveillance on you - “ I playfully rolled my eyes at him. “ - if you bring this Jack over to meet me.”

“How do you know that Jack and I are still together?”

“Because if you’re not, I will definitely be hunting him down and cutting his cock off.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Aysm simp back with some number 11 thots to go with the last ch of aysm bc he somehow ended up being one of my favs despite only being there for 2 chapters (probably the last aysm thot tho bc I feel like its awkward now that the series got axed)

Most ayashimon don't like being out during the day time, so most of their disputes happen late into the night. As such, it's not uncommon to be working late in the Onmyo Bureau, even if you're just the assistant of an agent. But what stuck out to number 11's assistant wasn't that she was working late, it was the unfamiliar notebook lying on number 11's desk. Flipping through the first few pages, she quickly realized it was his diary, judging by how the entries were filled with how much he appreciates her, how cute he thinks her smile is, and that sorta thing. Typically, she would've just set it back down and respected number 11's privacy, but...just as she was about to, the entries began to take a rather...creepy turn, beginning to detail her favorite foods, hobbies, birthday, address, and even her bra size. Was...was number 11 really like this...? I mean, it explains why he's hidden this notebook so well until now, but...

"Whatcha doin', ___?"

Her blood ran cold as she recognized the voice to be number 11's. Number 11's voice from right behind her. So close she can just feel his hot breath on her neck.

"Oh dear. Did you read my journal?"

Taking the book from her hands, he quickly scanned over the page she was on, before tucking it away with a sigh. As she struggled to run, she quickly realized he'd already erected a barrier as a precaution, and he tenderly pulled her into his warm embrace. After a few moments of silently savoring the feeling of her in his arms, he began to reach into his pocket.

"___, you can't just go around touching other people's things, y'know? Shinjuku's a dangerous place, you never know what you might run into..."

And before she knew it, she felt a small and sharp prick in her neck as the world began to blur.

"Well then! I'm sorry about this, ___, but I just can't risk you causing a big fuss, y'know? Don't worry though, I'll be sure to take good care of you from now on."

— — —

Just wait until he realizes he doesn't have anyone to help him fill out the paperwork anymore lol

Lmao, the rush of adrenaline and the giddy little thrill of taking them goes away and he's just like "😃...Fuck, she can't do work around the office if she's at home...Eh, it's worth it"

#.number 11 #.ayashimon #yandere ayashimon #yandere number 11

[cuppachar]

saw that HC anon about Jamie and Roy and the part about Roy reading Jamie's diary and came up with this entry "Finally met Roy Fucking Kent today, dreamin it since I was a kid. I got nothin 'cept him lookin' at me like I am the dirt under his boots. He hates me, he's only just met me and he hates me. Fine then, fine he can think whatever the fuck he wants. If he's gonna be a prick, I'll be an even bigger one right back. At least then he'll look at me, he'll look and I'll fuckin' exist to him."

🥺😭

Yesss, that's perfect

Now I have a head-canon that someone prints Jamie's diary pages out to embarrass and hurt him and sticks the pages all over the changing room/the club/goes to the press etc (side eyes Nate the Snake) and Roy reads it along with everyone else.

That's a perfect entry and sums up the start of the Jamie and Roy frenemies relationship so well

#on my to do list #anyone? #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie and roy: the beginning #jamie the prick #ted lasso #fic #ideas #prompts

[novaethecosplayer]

Dabi 500 for the writing book 😍

Request: “Dabi 500 for the writing book 😍”

Prompt 500: The final entry of a Diary

———

You were rummaging through old stuff in your bedroom closet, shared with your boyfriend Dabi. You had gotten his permission to do some spring cleaning and throw out or donate things niether of you use anymore.

You recall his words when you had asked him, “Whatever, I don’t care about any of that junk.” That had made you chuckled as you opened a small cardboard box and began to shuffle through it. Soon you pulled out a small worn out books. Curious, you opened it up to find pages of writings, dated. You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You never had a journal and Dabi didn’t seem like the type to own one either?

“Where did you come from?” You softly question the book as if it was going to answer you. You almost set it aside before you had a lapse in judgement and decided to start causally skimming some of the entries. Quickly you realize that this is the journal of a teenager in bad home. Your heart ached to read that a kid is or was suffering so much. You turn to the last entry, wondering where this kid is now.

“06/18/20xx

I’m sick of this. I’m tired. He is a horrible person. Not only did he make me use my quirk until I began to literally fall apart, but now!! Now my poor little brother is suffering from neglect, being overworked, and emotional abuse. The poor kid. I’ve had it with being here. I’m leaving.

Should I ask my sibling if they want to come with?

No… they are happy with mom. I love mom too but I can’t stand being here anymore. I have to go. I have to leave. I don’t know where I’ll go but anywhere is better than here.

Goodbye mom, my brothers, and my sister. I wish you all luck.

And dad can rot in hell for all I care.”

You could feel tears beginning to prick at the corner of your eyes. This poor kid. You could hear Dabi shut the front door and begin to walk to your bedroom.

“How ‘spring cleaning’ goi—Where’d you get that?” He seemed to have been about ready to tease you before his eyes landed on the book in your hands, his voice turned dark and he seemed to tense up a bit.

“It was in this box.” You answered slowly. Something set him off and you didn’t want to anger him more. “Do you know whose it is?” Your question was innocent and he realized that you didn’t think it would have been his. Now he is given a choice, bare himself to you completely and let you know about his horrid beginnings or protect himself and leave you in ignorance.

He relaxes a tiny bit. He trusts you to know everything about him. “...mine.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “when I was a child and teen.. before I ran away”.

You can feel yourself trying to hold back your tears. He doesn’t need you to cry, you know this. You stand and walk over to him, grabbing his hand and then pulling him down to kiss his cheek.

“Well… you’re here now. You have friends within the League. A stable roof over your head. You have me too.” You tried to reassure him of his current situation and how it’s probably better now. He nodded, knowing you’re right, you’re almost always right.

“I love you.” He whispered, as he pulled you in for a hug. You could feel him take in a deep breath of your scent and exhale slowly. “I’m so lucky to have you”

“And I, you. I love you Dabi, no matter your past, present, or future. We are in this together now” you once again reassured him that you aren’t going to ever judge him for anything he ever does and he feels a twitch of a smile on his lips. He really does love you with all his heart. You’re the one good thing he has in his mess of a life

#dabi fanfic #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader

[animalgirl225]

Queen Susan the Gentle Comes Home

Because C.S. Lewis did our queen of the radiant Southern Sun dirty

No copyright infringement intended. 

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           Many years had passed since Susan had received the news on that tragic day. She had grieved for a time, but life had necessitated she move on. She had a comfortable home, a stable career, a loving partner whom she hoped to join lives with someday soon, and an overall good life, all things considered. One weekend afternoon, she moved about her small but cozy home, tidying and doing other such busy work. She lifted a small, intricate carving of a lion from a stand in the front hall, dusting underneath. She and Lucy had always shared an appreciation for lions. Such strong, graceful creatures. Why, Lucy’s favorite character from her silly imaginary land had been a lion. As she placed the lion back down, one of her cats, Truffle, walked into the room to join her brother, Hunter, in their favorite sunny window seat. She smiled as they cuddled, thinking of their slightly peculiar names. She had never been very fond of mushrooms, and while most cats enjoyed a good hunt, these two were rather lazy. Still, their names seemed right. She remembered the two words being used together a long time ago, but in what way she couldn’t recall.

Susan placed her feather duster down and looked around for her broom before remembering it had broken last week when Hunter had knocked it off the first landing. She’d have to go search her cramped attic for another. She climbed the stairs, the door creaking above her head as she pushed it open. Good gracious it was warm up here! Good thing she didn’t have long to find the broom; there it was; in a back corner by some large boxes. As she retrieved the broom and went to turn back to the stairs, however, she realized what the boxes were. The largest was labeled “Peter” the second labeled “Edmund,” and the third, and smallest box, labeled “Lucy.” Susan sighed sadly. She really must bring herself to organize her siblings’ old belongings and donate what she didn’t need, or want to remember. Slowly, she pulled Lucy’s box towards her, took a deep breath, and opened it, sneezing at the cloud of dust it raised. A small notebook sat on top of the rest of the box’s inhabitants. Two words were scratched upon the cover in a child’s handwriting- “Lucy’s Diary.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as Susan gently opened the battered notebook and began to read. The first entries were everyday thoughts, her anticipation for boarding school and her excitement to join Susan in her studies. Sniffling, Susan turned the page and froze. The date was the day they had left for boarding school, the day Peter had gotten in a scrum while waiting for the train. The entry, however, talked of none of that. The entry looked to be extensive, and detailed the siblings’ most recent ‘trip’ to that childish land, the one they had all called Narnia. She also noticed faded old sketches along the margins of odd creatures, half human and half animal. What had they called them? Fauns and centaurs? Such foolish words. Susan glanced at other notations and names. Trumpkin. Tumnus. Reepicheep. Oreius. Corin. Jadis. Maugrim. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. Susan laughed to herself. Lucy had been so imaginative with the other names, but Mr. and Mrs. Beaver? She must have run out of ideas. Having already put all that silliness behind her, Susan began to close the book, but something stopped her. What, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the sudden memory of standing in front of a crowd in a gorgeous marble building, a delicate, golden-flowered crown being laid upon her head, and a name, Queen Susan the Gentle. And there was that young man she thought she once knew. What was his name? Caspian? What an odd name. Certainly not from around her part of England.

Susan put the book aside and looked at the rest of the contents in the box. More drawings of flowered people coming out of trees, of small bearded men, a mouse with a sword. Susan made a strange noise, one of half impatience and half amusement. They’d all had such intricate imaginations, but Lucy was the dreamiest. She had tried to insist that this world was real, long beyond Susan’s patience for the childish game. While she had loved her little sister very much, it had eventually formed somewhat of a rift between the two, as well as her brothers, who continued to entertain Lucy’s imaginations. Continuing to browse through the drawings, she flipped over the last picture and stared at the sketch. A magnificent lion looked back at her, his eyes large and gentle. There was that lion Lucy had dreamt so much about. The picture was labeled simply. What a strange name for a lion, Aslan. As the thought crossed her mind, the softest sigh of a fresh breeze wafted a single dark hair out of her face. Susan looked around in concern; she’d have to find and board that draft before it became a leak. As she turned back to the picture and stared into those eyes, a small seed of doubt came upon her. It was just an ordinary lion, right? But where had Lucy ever seen such a lion? Certainly not at the London Zoo. Those lions had all been young the last time Lucy had visited with Susan, whereas this lion was grown and regal. And why did it look so oddly familiar? Susan shook her head and placed the drawings aside, reaching back into the box.

The bottom of the small box held some pictures. Most were of the siblings, and Susan gazed at them with a heavy heart. She wished she had been able to mend their relations before the accident, that she hadn’t let such a silly game split the family. She flipped through the pictures, and came to a stop at the last one. Within its borders sat the image of a beautiful, intricately carved wardrobe. What on odd picture to be in this box. Even stranger, Susan thought the wardrobe looked familiar. A strange sense of longing filled her heart as she stared at the image. She felt as though this wardrobe were oddly connected to some long-forgotten, wonderful memory.

She gazed at the image a while longer before shaking her head, repacking the box, gently placing the small diary on top, and closing the box back up. As she closed the box’s flaps to push it back into the corner, she thought she heard a gentle whisper, a deep, rich voice that simply said “Susan…” It must be the heat of the attic, she thought. It really was a warm day. She began to climb down the ladder of the attic, but gazed one more time towards that back corner. Did something just growl? How odd. Hopefully there weren’t any unwelcome guests in the walls. She’d have to keep a close watch on the area.

That night, Susan had the most vivid dreams she’d had in years. She dreamt of magnificent creatures, griffins and minotaurs, and talking mice and horses. She dreamt of epic battles, an evil white witch, and a duel between Peter and another man dressed as a king. She dreamt of a magnificent water god rising from a river, a bearded man presenting her with a horn and bow and arrows, and of the glorious image of a powerful, gentle lion. And her siblings. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, all of them together at a castle, celebrating a victorious battle. The last thing she remembered before she awoke was the strongest, loudest roar she had ever heard.  

           Susan awoke with tears streaming down her face. Everything had returned. Their rule over Narnia for 15 years, their return to England and the professor, their journey back to Narnia that one fateful day, and their battle to win Narnia back from the Telmarines. How could she have forgotten? She had lived a whole other life, a wonderful life, in a beautiful country hidden in a wardrobe. Susan cried harder than she had since the accident. How could she have left that world behind? Narnia had been everything to her. Why hadn’t she been there with her family on that fateful day? She arose from her bed early to begin her day; she was not going to get any more sleep this morning. Suddenly she was struck by the urge to visit the cemetery where her family was buried, a place she had not visited for some time now. She had to tell her family what she had remembered, and she owed them all an apology. Lucy especially. After dressing hastily, she was about to leave when she remembered Lucy’s diary upstairs. She must bring it with her. After retrieving the book, she ran towards the front hall, startling Truffle and Hunter as she passed. Clutching the book to her chest, she flung open the door and ran down the steps. “Lucy! Ed! Peter! I remember! I remember it all!” she cried, not caring in the slightest what the neighbors thought of her state. She felt she could run all the way to the cemetery, and in her rush, she forgot to heed her surroundings. As she entered the roadway, a car horn rang out, louder and louder until it became a roar. And then, quite suddenly, everything was quiet.

           The bustle of the London morning was gone. Susan opened her eyes. She couldn’t describe what she saw; the light was strangely hazy, and were those trees? She couldn’t tell. She looked down and saw herself standing on a carpet of soft grass, small wildflowers growing among the green blades. How on earth had she gotten to the cemetery so fast? She had barely left her house, last she remembered. But as she looked around, she didn’t see any headstones. In fact, she couldn’t see much of anything in this dim light. Something rustled behind her. She turned quickly and saw a massive shape in the haze. “Hello?” she asked tentatively.

           “Susan.” a voice said. She remembered that voice. The very voice that had given her that name, Queen Susan the Gentle, and had told her all those years ago that her time in Narnia had come to an end. “Aslan?” She whispered in stunned disbelief. “My child, why have you forsaken me?” the great lion asked, still shrouded in mist. “Aslan, I, I just…” She started, but she couldn’t finish. She had no excuse. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, and fell to the ground in tears. “I lost myself. I lost Narnia. I lost my family. I lost…you.” She sobbed into her hands. “I’ve lost everything. Please, forgive me!”

           Something soft touched her knee, and she looked up to find the magnificent lion before her, his long tail resting on her leg. She sprang forward like she did all those years ago with Lucy at the Stone Table, burying her face into his glorious mane. “Oh Aslan, I’m so sorry.” she whispered. “Dear One, I never forgot you. You did as I asked, growing and living in your world. I was saddened to watch as you forgot me, however. That, I did not ask of you.” He said with his rich, gentle voice. “I know. I’m sorry, Aslan. I was wrong; I forgot who I was. Can you ever forgive me?” Susan replied, pulling away and looking the lion in the eyes. “Child, I could never not. It is as I said before: once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia. Welcome to my country, Queen Susan. Welcome home.”

           At his words, the haze cleared, and Susan found herself in what looked like Narnia, but everything was so much more beautiful and…perfect. She gazed around in wonder at the magnificent waterfalls, the towering snow-capped mountains, and the wildflowers growing in beautiful clusters. And then, there they were. She saw figures walking toward her and ran to meet them with tears in her eyes, the great lion following at a distance. Lucy, Edmund, Peter, her parents, Caspian, Mr. Tumnus, Trumpkin, and the Beavers all gathered around her with joy, welcoming her as a Friend of Narnia once more.

#narnia #susan pevensie #queen susan the gentle #aslan #lucy pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #trumpkin #mr. tumnus

[darkshadow90]

His Obsession Chapter 5

A/N: Hey, guys. I had some time, so here’s chapter five. Things get pretty intense in this one. Just a quick note about Arthur’s diary entrees: I know a lot of the words are misspelled, and I tried to be creative and do that, but auto correct kept messing it up, so the words are spelled correctly. I hope that’s okay. I hope you like it.

Chapter 5

Ashe walked over to the table and carefully opened the notebook. It seemed Arthur was using it as both a personal diary and a book of jokes. The jokes were pretty tame. It surprised Ashe she figured the jokes would be a lot worse considering Arthur is so strange. ‘He must be trying to get into comedy.’ She continued flipping through pages and a personal entry. ‘I went to the pharmacy to get my medications today. Someone cut in front of me, like I wasn’t even there. I would have thought he would ask if it was okay if he went ahead of me, but no. He didn’t ask. No one ever asks. Everyone just walks right past me, it’s like I don’t exist. Why is everyone so rude?’ Ashe continued flipping through the pages. There were several pictures of naked women from magazines. There were also drawings of more naked women sketched next to some joke entries. Ashe knew it was normal for men to have interests in pornography. She would have put it out of her mind, but it was excessive. The drawings and magazine clippings were scattered throughout a bunch of pages. ‘This is kind of perverse. Does Arthur think of me like this?’ It made her feel sick. She didn’t want to think about it.

She read another personal entry. ‘Randall and the guys got me another...date tonight. It was my fourth date with a woman. I guess I can’t really call it a date, can I? If a woman has to be paid to go out with me and have sex with me, it’s not a real relationship. I know it’s more for the guys’ benefit than mine. It’s not all bad. All of the women have been nice to me. They even showed me how to please a woman. This time, I actually felt confident. I’m glad I didn’t doubt myself as much as I have been in the past. She enjoyed herself. It was a very sweet moment, and while I enjoyed it too, I want a real relationship. Well, if I ever get a girlfriend, at least I have an idea of what she’ll like.’ Ashe kept reading. ‘I met with the social worker today. As usual, she never listens. She just asks the same questions every week. She told me social services are getting cut. I can’t believe this shit. How am I supposed get my medications now? Can it get any worse than this?’

Unfortunately, it did. Ashe felt a little sorry for Arthur. She kept reading. ‘I got jumped by some kids today while I was working. They stole the sign, Hoyt called me into his office. When I told him what happened, he didn’t believe me he said he would be taking the sign out of my paycheck. He said he would give me another chance, but he also told me the guys think I’m weird. He said when I’m working at the hospital entertaining sick kids I make the mothers uncomfortable. Why? What did I do wrong? I just want to make people laugh, to see them happy.’

Ashe became unsettled by the next entries. They were about her. ‘Today actually ended on a high note for me. One of my fits of laughter started up, and the guy sitting next to me was about to beat me up. But a pretty girl stopped him. I couldn’t believe it. She noticed me. She actually cared. She gave me my card. Her smile was so pretty, she seemed happy. How could she be happy in this city? She said her name is Ashe. I want to know more about her. I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s not like the women in my magazines at all. She’s a good person. I can tell by the warmth in her eyes and her smile. Penny, who I thought was my mom, never showed much concern for me only herself and Thomas Wayne. Well, I don’t need to worry about that anymore. I gave her what she deserved. I need someone like Ashe. I need her warmth, I need her compassion.’ It got worse as she came to the next page. ‘I got fired from my job yesterday. I guess I won’t be working as a clown for Ha-Ha’s anymore.’ Ashe felt a chill go down her spine. ‘A clown? No, he couldn’t be...’ There was still more of the entry to read so she kept going. ‘That fucking lying piece of shit Randall got me fired. He fucking told Hoyt I bought the gun off him. If I ever see him, I’ll...well, it doesn’t matter. I probably won’t see him again anyway. I was heading home on the subway, and three Wall Street pricks were harassing a girl. She looked over to me as if she was asking for help. It was the only time I was grateful to have an uncontrollable laughing fit. The shit heads directed their attention to me and the girl got away. They were beating me up and I shot them with the gun. The third guy tried to get away. I wasn’t gonna let that happen. I cornered him and shot him. I know that girl was grateful. Three less miserable little piss ants around to make people’s lives hell. I feel pretty damn good. I feel even better since I saw Ashe tonight. I was just taking a walk, and there she was. What was she doing alone at night in the city? I saw her give a sandwich to a homeless man. I was right. She’s genuinely a nice person. I know what I have to do. I have to keep her safe, I have to protect her from Gotham. I’ll do anything to keep her safe and happy. I love her.’

Ashe swallowed and kept reading. ‘I’ve been following Ashe for about a week now. I know where she works, what her favorite coffee is, her cute mannerisms. She lives in the same building as me. I went inside her apartment while she was at work. It was easy enough to get inside since the lock is broken. She’s so trusting and fearless. That night when she was walking down the street, it made me think that homeless man could have done something awful to her. She could have been that girl on the subway, but not as lucky. She can easily be taken advantage of. I won’t let that happen. I’ll bring her here so she’ll always be safe. We won’t have to worry about anything. We’ll have each other.’ Ashe couldn’t read any more. She closed the notebook.

Ashe’s mind was racing. ‘Shit. He said he would protect me from danger. He said he would protect me from the clown. He’s the clown. This whole fucking time...he’s the killer. Oh, God. Oh fuck, no. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to tell someone.’ She saw the phone, but before she could get to it, she heard the lock turn. He was back. Arthur came in. He was soaked, his wet hair hung in his face. Ashe panicked. “What’s wrong, babydoll?” Ashe couldn’t answer him. He was trying to calm her down, but she wouldn’t. He had no choice but to use a sedative. He got one out of the drawer, and filled the syringe. Ashe never saw it. Arthur held her tightly in his grip. Ashe couldn’t break free. Arthur held her still and injected her with the sedative. “Shhh. Good girl. That’s it. There we go. You can sleep now.” Ashe began to calm down and passed out.

#arthur fleck #joker fandom #joaquin phoenix joker #joker movie #joker 2019

[absolutelyfucking-whipped]

The Diary of Remus Lupin

Sirius had just finished potions and was now heading back to his dorm to enjoy his free period reading. While Sirius wasn't usually the reading type, he definitely was when it came to Remus Lupins' diary. He knew he should have put it back where he found it, but just a few pages couldn't hurt to read, plus he doubted there was anything he could find in there that he didn't already know. "Lemon crystals," he whispered to the fat lady, who gave him a wink as she opened up to let him in. While a compliment was a compliment, some were just a little creepy. He subconsciously tucked his wand behind his ear, waved to some first years and headed up the stone stairs to the dorm. 

 He checked the dorm to make sure no one else was there, then jumped on his bed, grabbed the book from under it and flipped open the pages. The first three entries were just as boring as his potions textbook, but eventually, it got interesting.

   'June 7th, 1971

Lily Evans always hangs out with that prick, Severus. I found her crying in a corner of the library today, so I sat down with her and gave her the most awkward hug ever. We sat against the wall together and I let her cry on my shoulder while I read and patted her back sometimes. When she was done she told me that Severus had said he hated her mudblood family, and when she tried to tell him to stop using that word, he charmed her hair blue, so she ran off. One day I'm going to turn his hair into a bunch of snakes.'

 Sirius chuckled, he knew Remus didn't like the greasy-haired bastard, but he never felt right about participating in many of their pranks on him. Even as a kid, he guessed Remus was just as protective as Lily as he was now. With only thirty minutes left of his free period, he slid the book back under his bed and left the dorm room to go get a snack from the kitchen. 

 Most people in the common room had left, but Lily was seated in his favorite squishy armchair, snoring softly, her red hair up in a messy bun and her homework still sat in her lap. Sirius walked over and gently took her homework and set it on a nearby table then picked up Lily and carried her to the stairwell leading to the girl's dormitory. Now, while he wasn't one hundred percent sure this work, he thought that as long as there was a girl with him, the stairs couldn't change. Tentatively, he placed his feet one the first step, and nothing changed. So he kept going up and eventually, he reached the top. Lily was halfway awake by now, so he looked on the dorm room signs that said her name and once he'd found hers, he knocked. Marlene McKinnon answered, and Sirius smiled sheepishly. "Only Sirius black could manage to somehow make it up the girl's dormitory stairs," she sighed. "It is why they call me Sirius Black, the great," he stated as Sirius gently set Lily down on her bed, who mumbled something about her charms homework, but he told her it would get done.

  "Thanks, Marlene," He said on his way out, and headed to the stairs, and when he put his feet on the step, it automatically changed to a slide sending him crashing into a table. 

 Once he was in the kitchens he said hello to all the elf's, grabbed an apple off the counter and sat down atop the Gryffindor table. Sirius asked an elf for some chocolate, and shepherds pie. As he enjoyed his apple, he watched them work quickly, while most people found them ugly, Sirius thought they were endearing. Soon he was given a bag full of food and some forks, Sirius hopped off the counter said goodbye and sauntered out. With 10 minutes to spare, he made his way up to his least favorite class, arithmancy. Sirius didn't even take this class, Remus did, and quite frankly, he didn't even know what it was about. Sirius used his wand to put up his hair in a bun, and he took off his leather jacket.

 The bell wrung and people began to file out of classrooms, when he spotted Remus, Sirius trotted over, chocolate bar in hand. When he came up, he saw the curly-headed boy talking to a pretty Ravenclaw. She had shiny straight dark brown hair, and she was 5 or 6 inches shorter than Remus, her socks went up to her mid-calf and her skirt was a little shorter than dress code requirements. When he waltzed up, she looked him up in down with distaste. Sirius chose to ignore this, and her presence overall. "Here you are, Moony," he smiled and handed over the chocolate bar to Remus, who took it happily, opened it and broke off a piece for Sirius. "Thanks, pads, we should get going to Minnies," he smiled and waved to the girl he was talking to, then led them down the hallway.

 "By the way, have you seen Lily? I have some homework of hers I finished since she was so tired today," Remus asked. Sirius told him about how he found her asleep and then took her into the dormitory, but he was really thinking about how much he was such a good person, and how that Ravenclaw girl seemed like a bitch, and how he didn't like Remus around her. 

#sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #James Potter #Lily Evans #marauders era #Harry Potter #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[fakeit-jenna]

Maybe, I'm just wasting time believing, That you're waiting for me, And maybe there's just a chance that I'm to blame, For all of those cold and lonely nights

“Stop saying sorry, Dom.” Jenna looked at her friend sadly as he apologised again, trying to reassure him desperately - reaching out a hand as if to touch him but retracting it almost as quickly. 

Awsten let himself into Dom’s room as Jenna recoiled from him. The young girl watched the worried expression on the young doctor’s face turn to confusion and quickly excused herself from the room, leaving Awsten’s knitted brows directed toward Dom. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jenna frowned as she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers flicking through the small selection of Polaroids that had gathered on her bedside table. Her thumb smoothed over a one of each of her daughters, a small sad smile on her face as she willed herself not to cry. A few of her friends - Andy and Awsten grinning like idiots with their faces mashed together, a one of Ashley up on stage doing what she did best, a one of her matching tattoo with Red and finally, Dom. His hair pushed back with the sunglasses she had given him to protect his eyes from the blinding sun, a sweet expression on his face and those signature stripes.... below his upside down form was her messy pink scrawl YUNgBLUD  ♥️. 

She sighed softly, bringing the photograph to set it beside a framed photograph of her husband. Tears pricked her eyes as she stared at the black and white photograph she had taken of Kier, that brooding look on his face as he stared out of the window of their new home... 

Dear Diary,  I hate that I find myself confiding in your once more (it always means the same thing) - but here we are. I almost feel bad that I turn to the comfort of your pages when I have something bad to share, but you are my closest confidant. 

I look at my friend and I want to cry. It is unmistakable that my bond with Dominic has only grown stronger since I found myself readmitted to Trenowl, but today I feel I have been in the dark, hiding something from myself...and I’ve suddenly been caught out. 

I have been ignorant to the soft touches and softer cuddles I have smothered young dominic with, and not given a second thought to how he would accept my affections. I’ve been reckless and stupid....and it may have cost me my only true friend in this place. 

Dom. Likes. Me. And I almost feel guilty for not saying i back. I like Dom, yes, but not quite in the way that he admitted it to me. I like Dom as much as I love Ashley and William and Andy.... But it in no way compares to how I feel for Kier. Kier Dorran Kemp, my man, my rock, my love.... my husband. The man that I have neglected while curling up to another. 

I am ashamed.  I don’t deserve either of them. 

But I most definitely don’t deserve to be married to Kier. 

He’s gentle and loving and sweet and soft...He’s mine. The most perfect father and an even better husband. And I feel as though I’ve betrayed him. Even sleeping with Andy never made me feel this guilty.... 

I’d be lying if I claimed innocence while my husband was locked away on the third floor. I don’t deserve Dom’s sweetness, not if I only manage to lead the boy on... and I don’t deserve Kier’s love or trust... 

I don’t deserve either of them. at all..... 

FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK. fuck.

Jenna scribbled through her latest entry before throwing the book aside, bringing her knees up to her chest as she began to sob. Her fingers scratched at the material of her jeans and she hugged her legs into herself, her nails seeking out and plucking at the loose threads in her torn up jeans. 

Her frame rocked slowly as she continued to cry, chipped nails straying to pick at the skin on her knee, scratching and wearing away until red blossomed beneath the distressed material. Jenna’s breath caught as she calmed, a small hiccup leaving her chest as she focused on the droplets of blood she had beckoned. 

Grimacing, Jenna straightened her legs from her body, trying her best to ignore the rough drag of fabric over her now raw skin. She rolled over onto her stomach to fish out the squashed box of cigarettes from under her pillow, collected as Dom's friend Kels had left them deposited on her bed as he stood to leave. She propped one between her lips and rolled onto her back, bringing a hand up to light it before taking a long deep drag. 

[meganlpie]

A Diary

A Wattpad request! I do not own Tony Stark. He belongs to Marvel. 

Warnings:Body-Switching AU, slight angst and some fluff

Pairings: Tony Stark x fem!reader

When Bruce’s experiment went wrong and Tony woke up in your body, he thought it was going to be the worst day in the world. He certainly wasn’t equipped to be in a woman’s body, let alone yours. And seeing you in his body was weird. But it was all made better when he realized he had an opportunity.

         You hated Tony. That much was obvious to the genius. You never let a moment pass that you didn’t let him know that. So Tony had decided to act like he hated you right back. The two of you fought constantly. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Tony had been harboring feelings for you almost from the moment you met. Since you hated him though, he wasn’t about to tell you that. Instead, he gave as good as he got from you.

         So now that he was in your body and you were in his, it was the perfect opportunity for some sabotage. Maybe he’d try to convince Cap or Sam that you were head over heels in love with them. Or maybe he’d take your body to the salon and have them do something outrageous with your hair. The possibilities were endless. He didn’t realize that you had the same idea.

         All day long, the two of you did whatever you could to make each other look bad. At one point, Tony had Steve blushing furiously at something while you had Pepper smacking you over the back of the head. You’d then smirk at one another and continue on as if nothing had happened. By the end of the day, Tony was exhausted. It was difficult being a woman and making that woman’s life hell. Still, he felt victorious. That is, until he found your diary.

         He hadn’t meant to find it. In fact, he had intended on going into his own room. But Steve found him. “Uh, Y/N? Why are you going in Tony’s room? You’re not going to prank him again, are you?” Tony’s eyes went a little wide. “Of course not. I was just…never mind. He’s probably in the lab anyway.” With that, Tony scurried off to your room.

         He was surprised at how simply the room was decorated. You had a few odds and ends, but really there wasn’t much to it. What stuck out to him was the open drawer of your nightstand. Everything else was in its place so why was the drawer open? Unable to contain his curiosity, Tony peeked inside. He found a few pens and pencils, a bookmark, along with the book you were currently reading. Then, under that, Tony found an unmarked book. He opened it and realized it was your diary.

         A smile made its way onto Tony’s face. No doubt there were some juicy details written in that book. Flipping through the pages, he stopped when he saw his name.

I start working with the Avengers today. They are all so amazing. Especially Tony Stark. He’s brilliant and gorgeous. Hopefully I can get into the groove with these guys.

         Tony smiled. You thought he was brilliant? What had happened then? Why did you act like he was the scum of the earth? He kept on reading. The next entry with his name was dated a couple months later.

Why does Tony hate me? I don’t understand it. I know I’m pretty shy and that I don’t worship the ground he walks on, but still. I don’t recall doing anything to make him hate me so much. I guess I’ll just stay out of his way and not make it obvious that he’s hurting me. I won’t let him know that it kills me that he doesn’t love me the way I love him.

         Tony stopped reading after that. You didn’t hate him at all. You loved him. You really loved him. And here he was acting like a prick. You were just giving back was he was giving. Tony had really dropped the ball and now he had to make it right. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., locate Y- I mean, locate Tony Stark.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. gave him your-his location and he ran off to find you. It was difficult for him to run in your body, but he managed.

         Tony found you in the living room. You were sitting in a recliner staring out the window. “Y/N?” You looked up and gave him a half-hearted frown. “What do you want, Tony?” He pulled you up and to him. To your surprise, he wrapped you up in a hug. It felt odd hugging yourself. “W-What are you doing?”

         "I’m not good at apologies, so just let me do this, okay?“ You pulled away with a look of confusion. "Apologies? What are you apologizing for?” Tony looked up at himself and sighed. “For being an ass. I don’t hate you, Y/N. Far from it. In fact, I could go so far as to say I lo-”

         "Don’t. Don’t say it, Tony. You’ve made it very clear how you feel about me. Why are you suddenly trying to be nice and tell me that you…“ you trailed off and stared at him with wide eyes before continuing, "Oh. My. God! You read my diary, didn’t you?!” Tony had the decency to look ashamed. “A little. I was curious as to why you hated me. Only I learned that you don’t. You were only responding to my treatment of you. Which I was only doing because I thought you hated me.”

         You laughed. “I guess we really got our lines crossed, huh?” Tony smiled and nodded. “We did. I am sorry, Y/N. If that helps. I do love you. I have for a long time.” You glanced down at him with a grin. “I love you too, Tony.” Tony pulled you close again. “I may have to kiss you now.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “I may have to let you.” You and Tony leaned in and let your lips meet. It was wonderful. Soft and sweet and just perfect.

         When you opened your eyes you laughed in surprise. You were you again. Tony felt his face and smiled. He was himself again. Without waiting another second, he grabbed you again and planted a firm kiss to your lips.

(a/n: I really hope you enjoy it! I’m getting through the last bit of these old requests as quickly as possible so I can start on the new ones.)

Tagging: @brewsthespirit-blog @esoltis280 @aikibriarrose @jotink78 @ghostie-writes @iwillbeinmynest @mala-firebringer

#marvel #body switching au #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony x reader

[uta-no-fan-sama]

okay so your dress hcs were 10/10 and i realllllllly would love it if you could do an hc about starish finding their (female) partner's diary? (bonus points for satsuki haruka and tomochika and if the diary has romantic stuff in it)

Thanks for the ask, and I’m sorry for the delay, since I don’t have much time nowadays… ^^; I hope this makes up for it, though!

Haruka:

it was an accident

she swears it on her life

she was looking for a composition notebook and saw your diary

she didn’t know it was your diary

she just needed a blank notebook and she will emphasize it forever

she was going to put it down as soon as she realised it was your diary

and then she saw her name with little hearts around it

she turns bright red when she sees all the lovely stuff you write about her

the poor girl is so embarrassed

but so happy

all of her next songs show it

Ren even asked if something happened (aHEM) between you two

she couldn’t look anyone in the eye after that

Tomochika:

she’d actually forgotten you used a diary

and honestly she probably wouldn’t have realised when she picked it up

but then she remembers that was the notebook you write in all the time

so she thought, “Why not take a peek?”

and oh gods

“It’s her diary???”

this was gonna be good

Tomo barely read the first few pages and she’s a little embarrassed

because her name is right there on the first page

she literally cannot stop herself from reading

she’s on cloud nine for weeks

like Haruka, all her idol performances show a new energy

you’ve never seen her so animated and upbeat

and then she confesses that you’re the sole cause of her happiness–

“Even though the world has my songs, you’re the only one that has my heart. Forever and always.”

ahhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhh

[emma.exe will restart in a moment]

Otoya:

he’s seen you write in your diary before

of course, he’s curious as heck

but he knows it’s wrong to take it without your permission

he leaves it alone

…for like three minutes

poor boy can’t help himself

give him credit he tried

he turns into a literal pile of mush while he reads it

but when you’re back he tries to play it cool

of course you end up seeing right through him

if you ask him, he would confess to everything because he can’t lie to you

but really, can you stay mad at that face?

…later he asks you to write letters for him everyday so he can look at them when you aren’t around and smile because he’s so happy you love him as much as you do

he thinks he’s the luckiest person in the world to have you as his girlfriend honestly

Masato:

he sees your diary from across the room

and unlike Otoya, he actually leaves it alone

he doesn’t want to invade your privacy

(also, he knows he won’t be able to stop if he started reading it, and if he did read it, he would want to savour every word so it would take a long time and you’d probably catch him)

but he wouldn’t read it anyway

lies

Ren is the sinner here

he switches the cover of Masa’s notebook with your diary cover so Masa reads it by accident

Ranmaru probably helped him

(which explains the lingering smell of banana on the pages)

goddamnit Ranmaru at least cover your traces properly

but once Masato realises that it is, in fact, your diary

he panics “because he’s too far in to stop reading”

it’s the first page Masato and you know that isn’t your handwriting

you just want an excuse to read it blame Ren and Ranmaru all you want

surprisingly, he doesn’t get that flustered?

he’s just sitting there in the sunshine as he reads about how much you love him

Masato Has Reached Enlightenment

“Masa, why does your notebook have my diary cover on it?”

SHIT ABORT ABORT ABORT

he spends the next hour explaining that it wasn’t his fault

“The bananas explain everything! It smells like bananas!”

Natsuki:

“This is the Piyo-chan diary I gave her!”

you know Natsuki would do that

and you know you would use it don’t lie to me

“I wonder what she wrote in here~!”

unfortunately for you, Natsuki is humanly incapable of getting flustered

“Aww, she’s so cute~” is all you’ll get out of him

honestly he’s just too doting

he asks Syo to help him photocopy the diary so he can always see the sweet stuff you write

Syo is scandalised because privacy is a thing, Natsuki

Ai, being the oblivious robot he is, helps him after Syo leaves

Suddenly, Natsuki decides it’s a good idea to leave “reply notes” in your diary

he buys Piyo-chan post-its and gushes about your cuteness on them and leaves them after every entry

dear gods in heaven Natsuki

your diary isn’t even a diary anymore, it’s like two grade schoolers passing notes in class

you have another diary now that Natsuki absolutely cannot find

Ai finds it and gives it to him anyway

Satsuki:

“This is the Piyo-chan diary Natsuki gave her.”

he isn’t as pleased since he gets a little jealous

he actually decides to read it just to spite you

Because Natsuki gave you that diary

he loves Natsuki but still

when he starts reading it he gets a little embarrassed

he’s bright red but he threatened me so I can’t tell you that he was bright red

whoops

but by the time you get back, he’s fully recovered from that

“I didn’t think you thought so highly of me.”

“What?”

“It’s all here,” he says as he holds up the diary

cue tons of wolfish kisses

maybe more

g o o d   l u c k

Tokiya:

you never even told him you had a diary – somehow it just never occurred to you

Tokiya saw a book lying around that he’d never seen before

being the bookworm he is, he took it with him to read during his next tour

he put it in his bag without opening it to check

he’s on one of Saotome’s private jets (with Otoya and Reiji, honestly, who thought those two should tag along? gods, they’re so noisy why won’t they let me read in peace?)

he shakes his head and opens the book to see…

“Shit, is this her diary?”

well it’s too late now, may as well read it, right?

Tokiya? flustered? Nah, he loves reading about what you think of him

when he stumbles across a particularly… juicy detail, he’ll commit it to memory and bring it up later (or not, depending on what exactly it is)

meanwhile, you’re panicking because where the hell is my diary

when they land and reach the hotel, Tokiya calls you (as he promised he would) and tells you that he took your diary by accident

“…Did you read it?”

you can’t see it, but Tokiya’s grinning slyly, “Every last word.”

keep it PG, okay?

this is gonna end up like Fifty Shades of Tokiya Ichinose

Ren:

what, you think he’d pass up an opportunity this golden?

he doesn’t hesitate at all

he reads it so voraciously, you’d think his life depended on it.

he’s also so proud of himself – he can make you feel like this by just being himself?

he’s more of a cat than Cecil

like Tokiya, your diary won’t fluster Ren one bit

in fact, for a while he’s torn between teasing you about it and keeping it a secret

after a while, he chooses to keep it secret

that way, he can keep reading it without you noticing

though sometimes, he makes little innuendos which imply something, but they’re minor enough to be coincidence

he uses every bit of information to his advantage

you’ve been feeling lonely lately? somehow his schedule is already cleared for a date with you

he loves you to the ends of the earth and will shower you with kisses and affection to prove it

even if it means reading your diary to make sure you’re okay

Syo:

this tsun wouldn’t even dare trying

for one, he respects your privacy

two, he knows exactly how flustered he’ll get

Natsuki finds it and reads the first few pages aloud

Syo tries not to listen

but when he’s brought up as “the most amazing guy I could ever have”

yeah Natsuki isn’t reading anymore

Syo vaults himself across the room to grab it from him

and guess who the one reading it now is?

so much for privacy Syo Kurusu

eventually he calls Kaoru for help because his heart’s beating too fast

it may go into overdrive and he doesn’t want his childhood heart problem to revive itself

Kaoru calms him down while making unnecessary shipping comments

Ai thinks this data on Syo is interesting and saves it as “howtogetkurususyoflustered.docx” but all that’s there is a bullet pointed list with a single point – to give him your diary

he also notes that this improves Syo’s overall performances by roughly forty percent

accidental teasing ensues:

“Your body temperature rises significantly when you think about her. Why is that?”

“Shut uP YOU PRICK”

Natsuki joins in and it never ends

ever

Cecil:

he picks it up as soon as he sees it

it’s like he doesn’t know he shouldn’t touch it

he’s such a cat about it

he walks around like he owns the place more than Camus does

he commits every word to memory

and whoops there go your surprise date plans

you don’t find out until

he uses something in one of your entries in his song lyrics

you call him out on it later but his response?

he pouts and says, “But how can I keep myself from worshipping the poetry that my princess creates?”

how can you stay upset?

I hope that satisfied you, Anon~!

I convinced Indi to help me make one for QN and HE☆VENS too

Quartet Night | HE☆VENS

#uta no prince sama #utapri #headcanon #emma post #starish #ST☆RISH #haruka nanami #tomochika shibuya #otoya ittoki #masato hijirikawa #natsuki shinomiya #satsuki shinomiya #tokiya ichinose #ren jinguji #happy birthday syo #cecil aijima #writing