[Luciana's Diary] <3

I have this weird thing where I like to put the song that I'm listening to into my diaries, but I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't want to, so. Your loss.

Anyway, I just woke up from one of my naps.. well, one of my 'Pretend-to-be-studying-and-fall-asleep-instead' naps, and I'm kind of upset that I woke up. Not that I wanted to DIE, no, but like.. okay, here's the rundown.

Okay, so, me and Ambrose Maguire are like.. friends. Best friends.. at least, that's what I think. Anyway, we poke fun at each other and flirt.. do cute stuff cause we wanna, whatever, 'cause, y'know, I'm a Veela and he's a cutie pie. In this weird ass dream I had, though.. we were a couple.

YEAH, YOUR FACE IS LIKE NOW, RIGHT?

YEAH, OKAY.

So like, apparently we were in this huge fight, and we split up and he left town, 'kay? So like.. a few months later he just shows up in my dorm and shit, and he was all




"I need to touch you."

So like, at this point, my subconscious mind is like "What kind of sick mindfuck is this" BUT IT KEEPS GOING WITH THIS WEIRD DREAM ANYWAY.

And me, being the stupid blonde I am, just stand there staring at his sexy-- I mean, CUTE self as he just leans the fuck in and kisses me. Like, hot hot HOT.



So, at this point I believe you all are having either

a) an orgasm

b) a heartattack

or c) a orgasmheartattack.

YOU RIGHT NOW:

How did I know, you ask?

Cause I'm the fucking best, that's why.

Anyway, I woke up right after the makeout session started, so naturally I was like:



(I made that gif xD)

And that is when we come to the present, where I am still writing this damn diary entry.

Pfft, like anyone will ever read this.

Okay, so maybe I like Ambrose as a bit more than a friend. Obvi that's not gonna happen, 'cause he's engrossed in that Juliette girl, but we'll see. If I can make grown women jealous, I can work it on some slutty snake fetish-having creep.

--Luciana Avery St. Clair

ENTRY #2: I'm like.. really screwed up right now man.

Date: Johnny Depp
Time: Of my fucking life.
Mood: SHOTSHOTSHOTSHOTSSHOTS

I don't know what fucking time it is and that pisses me off to the max. I, uh.. I dunno. I guess I'm s'posed to write in this bastard now. Okay.

I hope you know I'm using a self-correcting quill cause you wouldn't be able to read this crap if I didn't.

Anyway, I went down to the Three Broomsticks or whatever and got drunk as hell.. and I still am. Anyway, my mind is just fucked to Hell still after my last entry, so I went to sleep shortly after doing God knows how many shots by myself.. in my dorm room.

Now, I don't know if somebody put happy crack in my drinks or what, but I had a freaking erotic dream about that snake fetish biatch.. um.. Juliette, yeah, that's her name.

So like, I guess we were doing shit on the couch, and then my vision blurs and stupid Ambrose is in the kitchen making cupcakes for some batshit crazy reason. And his face is like:



And me and MissFuckingValentine are still going at it on the couch like fucking rabbits.

WHERE. IN THE FUCK. DID THIS GO?!





I WOULDN'T OF MINDED IF IT WAS THAT. HELL, I WOULDN'T OF MINDED IF IT WAS THIS:





Now keep in mind, you nosy ass bastard, that I am drunk right now and I would never admit to this if I was sober.

EVER.

Now, close this fucking book right now before I wake up and kick your ass.

Oh yeah, btw, if this is Ambrose OR Juliette reading this:

This never happened. Forget it. FORGET IT ALL. ALL OF IT, OKAY, BITCHES?

i love you Brosie. <3

Juliette, I'd would totally hit that. With a spike covered broomstick and a quick Avada Kedavra.

How you like me now, biatch.

--Luciana Avery fucking St. Clair, bitches.