I Don’t Have Casual Obsessions, I Have All Consuming Fixations That Send Me Into A Downward Spiral

Juliette Cai x Jude Duarte headcanons

Them comparing their knives and daggers and giving each other advice on how to be better at murdering people.

Juliette giving Jude fashion advice because Juliette's outfits are on point🤌🏻

Jude telling Juliette how to better hide a dead body

They both would definitely talk about their husbands and the stupid things they have done

Juliette: I once held Roma to knifepoint.

Jude: Weak! I held Cardan to knifepoint and then proceeded to make out with him.

Juliette: I faked the death of Roma's bestfriend to save the city

Jude: I straight up killed Cardan's best friend and hid his body in my murderer step-dad's estate.

Jude: Cardan threw me in the river because he didn't know how to handle a crush

Juliette: Roma shot at me in a theater full of people and then hurt himself in the process. I had to save myself and bandage up the idiot🤦🏻‍♀️

Jude: Gurll?? Are you sure he is the one?

Jude: Cardan has a tail!!

Juliette: No way! Does it wag when he gets excited to see you?

And Roma and Cardan would be standing in the corner looking at their wives in awe and being utterly grateful that these godesses haven't left them.

if i bite my lips it’s not to flirt, i’m just ripping the skin off my lips because of stress

I respect poetry so much because it does what I cannot do - say so much with so little.

When I have something Much to say, it takes me just as many words to say it. I say it with words that are each of them bland and common, unimaginative by their lonesome, with the hopes that if I stack so many together and squeeze a single drop of Much from each that it might flow into something meaningful.

When I have something to say, I say it twice. I say it three times. Because the first or second may not have captured the point. Because I do not trust myself to express the full essence saying it just once. Like just now, those last two sentences. I’ll repeat myself a third time for good measure - because I do not say it right just once or twice.

Poems say things in only a half, only a quarter. They choose single words worth more than ten of mine. I want to know how their minds shop for words. I want to distill myself like poets do. I want to trade in all my too many common words for the way they use an extraordinary few.

If I keep writing this, I’ll write it forever. I’ll explain myself again, as I have already, as I’m doing now. With more and different other words, with the hope of saying myself fully, like how all the hatched and messy wanton scribbles from a pen might finally color in a page. I want to change that. I want to not rip the page I’ve oversaturated by the tip of my pen.

I’ll start tomorrow, maybe, to explain myself less.

i love tumblr bc nothing matters here but pictures and inner thoughts

what if people made human versions of iconic tumblr posts and shipped them

no. no no no

purgatory is not a circle in hell, it is a thermodynamics lab where the water refuses to boil and the gas-flask is leaking and the temperature won’t stabilize

The desi urge to scream 'yaar' at every minor inconvenience in life

Naomi: [eating a cinnamon roll]

Pippa, whispering: Cannibalism.

Naomi: [confused chewing noises]