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nap-mak · 1 year

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What soft love songs the Fellowship dedicate to you (and why) <3

In the mood to make myself cry, plus I’m in my ‘i was i wasn’t lonely’ phase of the night.

Pulled most of these from my notes app lmao, and i listened to each one while writing, I highly recommend giving them a listen!

GN! reader, mostly you/your used :) (Obviously some songs will involve specified gender, please correct as you need, and remember that these characters would absolutely make these changes as well)

Frodo Baggins - Hopelessly Devoted to You - Olivia Newton-John (Grease)

He definitely has the distinct memory of the classic slow burn moment of “Oh. Oh.” happening, where he realises just how much he loves you. He knew he was head over heels, and he looks at you like you hung the moon. And if you sing it to him- UGH😩💙. IN LOVE, HE SHALL BE. He probably hums it a lot when doing work or writing. Of course, the lyrics are quite relatable to him. Frodo has this internal belief that the person/people he love/s can’t love him nearly the amount he adores them. He was willing to sit around and wait on you, in the hopes that you would see him in the same way. His brain knew he should just move on, but he couldn’t let go, and he’s glad he didn’t. He’s so devoted to simply loving you.

“Hold on to the end, and that’s what I intend to do. I’m hopelessly devoted to you~”

(gotta appreciate that me looking up his name resulted in a bunch of po-tay-toes memes. anyway. back to the hcs)

Samwise Gamgee - Hello, Hello - Elton John ft Lady GaGa (Gnomeo & Juliet)

He’s a sucker for meet-cute stories, and would unironically love this movie, even setting aside this banger of a song. The moment he saw you, he felt captivated by your beauty, whether or not the meeting went well or if you fell on your face. The song is just so cheerful and wholesome. He probably told you that the song reminded him of you, and that sparked the romantic relationship. Every time this sequence plays he’ll just look at you (if/when you watch the movie). PLEASE SING THIS AS A DUET WITH HIM AAAA. (He isn’t Elton John, but his voice is lovely 🥰)

“Hello, hello (Hello, hello), my, my, my, what have we here?”

Peregrin Took - I’ll Be - Edwin McCain

Honestly it’s hard to explain this one. It’s just so soft and sweet and really describes how he feels about you. Also as the youngest and a, quoting Gandalf here, “fool of a Took!”, the line “and I’ll be, better when I’m older…” is just- MWAH. This song reminds me of him honestly. He is, as the song states, “your crying shoulder”, the “greatest fan of your life”. Everything about you takes his breath away. We all know he’s the best singer in the fellowship, and its just gorgeous to listen to him sing it, especially because he means every word. He also probably dedicated this to you early on in the relationship, and it was definitely your wedding song (if you got married).

“I’ll be, better when I’m older. I’ll be, the greatest fan of your life~”

(tumblr needs more Merry gifs istg-)

Meriadoc Brandybuck - Nothing - Bruno Major

Honestly you wouldn’t expect such a lowkey song for such a high energy guy, but he’s a sucker for lazy days and sweet moments. He’s, as he likes to say, ‘work-avoidant’, and just wants to spend all his time on you. He also finds the song easy to sing to you, so thats a plus. The lyrics just resonate with him, similar to my picks for Pippin and Frodo. He’s very competitive, but he honestly doesn’t mind losing to you. He pretends like romantic or soft movies don’t make him cry, even if they do. He gets the appeal of going out and drinking and laughing, but just staying at home with you just sounds so much nicer to him. Its all about the little things in life with him, the small moments, the laughs, and every ‘I love you’ that makes him feel lighter than air.

“Dumb conversations, we lose track of time. Have I told you lately? I’m grateful you’re mine~”

Aragorn - Dark Red - Steve Lacy

He knows how dangerous his work and life is, and he’s always had this fear of leaving you behind (hence the ‘something bad is ‘bout to happen to me’). He only sees you in his life, no matter who else is wanting for his attention, he’s so devoted to you. He only hopes that you’ll stay by his side and fight with him, and he’s not willing to give up on you. No, he refuses to give up when you are involved, and he fights so hard to keep you safe and protected. The song also is easy to mumble to you when he’s tired, and it’s soothing for him to listen to. It’s just a symbol of how much you mean in his life, and how he trusts you with his heart.

“Only you, babe, only you darlin’, only you~”

Legolas - Lover - Taylor Swift

Unabashed Swiftie in general, but this song just hits different. So first off he probably already called you his lover, and when he found the song he thought it was perfect. I can definitely see him learning guitar and playing this song for you as well. Into the actual song analysis, this song frames his want to be close to you, the mysterious way he was drawn to you, the way he felt like time flew by whenever you talked. Also I feel like he’s made jealous relatively easily, and that’s also in the song. His heart has been borrowed before, but he’s glad he’s ended up with you, to hear your jokes, save you seats, and call you his lover. He definitely likes to sing this to you late in the night, and i can see him humming/mumbling it whenever the two of you just stand and hold each other. Its so wholesome, and he loves the way your eyes light up when he sings it with all the love in his heart, all of it for you.

“You’re my, my, my, my… lover~”

Gimli - If You Love Her - Forrest Blakk

Honestly, he’s not a very observant dwarf, but he does pay attention to you. He knows you, and he cares a lot. Protective of you to a fault, but just wants everyone to know that they shouldn’t take you or your heart for granted. He hates to admit it, but he thinks you are precious (I’M SORRy-) and every small thing about you is worth taking note of. And he does, so he knows exactly how to make you happier. He’s your personal hype-man, and truly believes that you are the best thing he has ever had. He uses the song as a guidebook on how to treat you, and while he won’t say it, or sing it, he does play this song for you and leave in a huff, just hoping you’ll know this song is meant to say that he loves you. (He might even dub it over with your preferred pronouns for the big reveal, and it’s quite funny)

“They’ll love you, if you love them like that~”

Boromir - Summer Love - The Workday Release

Boromir really thinks this song demonstrates his feelings towards you, and how he wishes you’d stick around with him. You remind him of the summer, warm, bright and hopeful. It was so simple for him to fall in love (it’s like counting 1,2,3). He’s awestruck by your beauty, and doesn’t find it enough to dream about you, he needs to be holding your hand, feeling your presence. He wants to face the world with you there next to him. You always manage to give him a smile, make sense to him, and be honest. He’s not sure how to articulate everything he feels around you, so he just says that he loves you.

“Surely this is love, this is love, this is summer love~”

WOOOOO IM DONEEEE

Ive been writing for the past 2+ hours and it’s late and I’m tired, but I really hope you enjoy. If you want to request a fic, any fandom will do, I’ll get back to you on it, I promise.

Let me know if you want me to do a Part 2 with some other characters <3 Have a great day!!

#lord of the rings #x reader #the fellowship x reader #music #headcanons #love songs #oops made myself cry #highly recommend!!#frodo x reader #sam x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #gimli x reader #boromir x reader

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wylanslcve · 2 days

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So if you've been following me on Instagram you would have seen me say recently that I've decided to take a step back from posting/sharing/creating Grishaverse content due to what Leigh Bardugo said (or rather what she didn't say) about the situation in Palestine. For context, during the press tour for The Familiar, an audience member asked Leigh about the justification for non-BIPOC authors profiting off BIPOC stories yet not advocating for real-life BIPOC people (since Leigh has been silent on Palestine since October, despite having expressed solidarity with Palestine in the past).

The video (which you can watch here) has been circulating the internet for a while, and I've already spoken about this on Instagram. I just forgot I had Tumblr for a second there, hence why I'm only addressing this now despite having already spoken about this. However, as someone who has an entire online presence dedicated to Leigh's work, it would be wrong and rather hypocritical of me to not address this.

Disclaimer: This is not a conversation about whether or not white/white-passing authors should be allowed to write BIPOC stories, as many people both in the comments of the original video and online generally have taken it. The issue isn't that Leigh is writing BIPOC stories - it's that she's writing them and choosing not to advocate for real BIPOC people.

The audience member asked a confronting but necessary question, and isn't harassing Leigh as many people online have interpreted it. Holding your favourite people accountable isn't "harassment", especially when that person is a successful author profiting off stories that reflect issues in the real world. Art is inherently political whether or not you want to acknowledge it. This also isn't about specifically asking Leigh this question because she's Jewish - it's because she profits off these stories and yet when these exact same issues are prevalent in the real world, suddenly they're "too political" for her to speak up about despite having expressed solidarity in the past. It has nothing to do with her being Jewish.

However, what's going on in Palestine isn't a political issue. It's basic human rights. It's about humanity, and acting as if posting about this issue is "performative" is ridiculous. I don't know what she's doing behind the scenes, so I'm not going to act as if she isn't doing anything outside of social media because I simply don't know, but when you have an online presence as big as Leigh's you should be using that platform to raise awareness and express solidarity. I understand that it's very easy to come across as "performing activism", especially on social media, but Palestinians have asked us time and time again to use our platforms to help raise awareness and amplify their voices. When you're someone like Leigh who profits off stories of the trials and tribulations of BIPOC people, the very least you can do is talk about the atrocities being committed against BIPOC people in real life.

No one is expecting you to be an expert on what's going on. If you've previously posted misinformation, why not learn from it and actually educate yourself and do better? You're literally an author who profits off stories of colonialism, oppression, dissemination, apartheid, segregation and genocide and suddenly that happening in real life is "too political"? And the amount of privilege you have to not want to get involved in talking about a real-life genocide because you "stopped being political on Instagram" is laughable. Just feeling sad about it isn't going to do anything. It doesn't erase the fact that an entire people are being ethnically cleansed in a genocide you refuse to talk about.

The Grishaverse means so much to me, it's gotten me through some extremely tough periods of my life, but I cannot in good conscience continue to support an author who chooses silence over her own humanity. All she had to say in response to that question was "free Palestine", but she instead said something akin to "I know about what's going on and I know silence and feeling sad about it probably isn't enough, but I'm just not going to do anything about it". Again, I know she's advocated for Palestine in the past, but why not continue doing so? No one is stopping her - she's actively chosen to stop.

As for my accounts? I'm still deciding what to do with them. I won't be deleting them, I'm not going anywhere, but I won't be posting edits or sharing analyses or general posts about the Grishaverse until Leigh decides to do better. This blog will probably turn into a multifandom blog, but who knows at this point. All I know is that I won't be promoting Leigh's work.

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donniesexceptionalmind · 10 months

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Many thanks for the butterflies!

So, one more request:

Infodump, tell us how you’ve been, and drink some water!!

-Curious Anon

*looks over to my cold coffee*

This shall suffice. For now.

*thinks about my SPINS*

*Donnie.exe stopped working due to the inability to chose*

This is not how infodumping works, sadly. /g /nm

*Donnie.exe has rebooted *

Let's infodump about infodumping!

(*｀▽´*)

What is infodumping?

Infodumping refers to the autistic tendency to excitedly share a large amount of information about a highly-focused subject or passion at one time, usually very detailed & for long periods of time (at least thats how others see it, for me it's pure bliss & feels like seconds).

Regarding details, we might attempt to share absolutely everything we know about the topic since most of the time it is one of our special interests or something related to it. So, unsurprisingly, we know a lot about it.

* Infodumping is also known as monologuing. However, it's not my personal preference.

What starts off as sharing one or two interesting facts may quickly snowball into sharing an entire textbook worth of information or more. As a result, the information shared during an infodump session is often quite detailed, in-depth & exhaustive.

So: if you REALLY want me to infodump: ask a question about my SPINS, drop an interesting fact, anything & I WILL do so.

(I can not see the possibility for that to happen)

Note: with other autistics it can (it's not a must) quickly develop into a whole snowball game - we just talk about our SPINS to each other & have a great time!

What use do infodumps have?

It's important to know that infodumps are an authentic & valid form of communication & conversation style for autistic people of all ages, even autistic kids.

For some, infodumping is also a love language. For me, it's a way to express what I'm passionate about with those I care most about. If I infodump on you, you should know that I feel safe around you as well.

Why do we infodump?

I know it can be boring & annoying to hear me rambling about stuff that no one wants to know. I am aware!

Here are a few reasons:

Simply sharing our passion, joy, enthusiasm or excitement

Natural self-expression (I consider my SPINS as a part of me)

Building connections to other people

Finding like-minded people & friendships (RIP me & my nerdiness)

Self-regulation

Creating a feeling of pride or safety (for me it does, because the topic is something I know almost everything about)

Releasing built-up energy or thoughts (Sometimes I feels like I could explode if I can't talk about it)

Additional thoughts:

Like a lot of autistic traits & elements of autistic culture, infodumping is misunderstood by a lot of people.

Far too often, our urge to infodump is viewed as rude, self-absorbed, dominating, arrogant, uncaring,...

The reality, though, is that infodumping is just one way that we autistics communicate & engage in conversations with others.

It's how we connect & relate.

Also: not every autistic person is the same. You might infodump, you might not.

I can verbalize my knowledge very well - Leonardo can't.

But he knows a lot about his special interests! He has his whole room dedicated to them.

But he just can't put the information together when asked.

And that is valid, too.

What can you do?

Let your autistic friend, relative, kid (....) infodump. With that, you are validating & affirming what comes naturally to us.

Essentially, you're acknowledging that this is how we (like to) communicate & that you will honour our communication no matter what form it comes in. It's kind of like you should with echolalia & scripting as well.

What about non-verbal autistic?

You bet they can infodump!

If you give them the tools to do so.

For instance, you could create a page of things dedicated to their special interests on their AAC device to encourage infodumping.

They may also engage in infodumping by writing their thoughts down in a book or journal, showing you a video or book, pointing to things, and so on. Some do it in the form of art.

It might not be your favourite thing, when we talk about our SPINS, but it will give us immense joy & you could spark our will to 'exist' again - at least in me.

Have a cookie for reading all of that! 🍪

Regarding your question about my well-being:

Thank you for caring!

I am anxious as to how I'm doing this tumblr thing. Am I annoying with positing so much? I just - ugggh. I'm too self-conscious at the moment. I appreciate you all so so much, that's why I'm so active on here.

There are over 100 blogs following me - !

I can't believe it.

*wants to hide on my shell*

I have eaten & drank my coffee.

Yes, I will get myself a glass of flavourless juice now, or the AVENGERS of the 'Donnie Support Squad' will come at me. /g /pos

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wave2tyun · 3 months

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My day was pretty good!! The teacher for my only class today was sick so I had a free day, I've been chilling😼💞

I have a bunch of late assignments though... :/ and there's so many that it's stressful to even look at them right now, but I know most people in my class have a crazy amount of late work so that makes me feel a bit better😅

I'm gonna try to work through them slowly but surely and one at a time, so the amount doesn't overwhelm me more than it already does but... god I hate essays😖☹️💔

Basically I'm going through a bit of a rough patch right now and I'm a bit burnt out in several ways but I'm doing my best!! :D

-🐾

cancelled classes are always such a delightful surprise!!!!🤭 even better that it was your only one of the day, you really won hehe😼😼

oh my god, YES!!! it's so relieving to hear that others are in the same boat with studying/assignments!!!! i think it's best if you take it slow :0 what i personally like to do when i'm behind on things and feel overwhelmed, is to write down each of my assignments and kind of rank them in terms of importance and deadlines to kind of know where my priorities should stand. sometimes i also like to start off with something easier/less important simply because it gets me going with the work rhythm :00 cause when you finish something it just makes you feel good and motivated😋 and AHHHHHHHHH, i get your hatred, essays are the WORST!!!! i cry on the inside whenever i have to write a new one, it's like my ability to write them vanished into thin air once i finished high school?????😭😭😭😭

i'm sorry to hear that you've been going through a rough patch :(((( i'm here for you for absolutely anything, hang in there!!!🫂🫂🩷 it will be over before you know it☹️☹️ i also got easily burnt out in my first semester and struggled a bit with procrastination, and i think part of the reason why that happened is that i really, truly, did not make any time just for myself😭 so what i want to do from now on is take at least 30 mins/ 1 hour a day and be like: "okay, i'm gonna dedicate this time specifically for doing something i enjoy". i feel like if i don't "allow" myself this "time", i will either do too much and get burnt out, or procrastinate and feel guilty about it😖 maybe this can help you too!! :D<33💞💓💘💖

#wave2tyun answers!! ☆#🐾 anon

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kendobeauty28 · 2 years

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spacedikut · 3 years

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omg okay imagine being famous (and dating spence ofc) but then an ex-boyfriend (whom you're still friends with and dated for a long time) writes a song about you and the relationship and it's on the radio 24/7 and SPENCERS JUST SUPER GRUMPY AND HES LOWKEY JEALOUS AND INSECURE AND I JUST OFUEBUWBFOEUBWF my heart.

rereading ur ask makes me realise i diverted from ur ask entirely and im. sorry </3 fluff. 829 words

one day, when spencer comes home, you’re poised on the couch and spencer is terrified. because you look at him, eyes wide, and tell him to sit down because “we need to talk” and when has anything positive followed that?

he sits, satchel still strapped across his body, one shoe missing because he dropped whatever he was doing when he heard the tone in your voice. you hold his hand, make his heart flutter then sink because this is the textbook way a breakup happens and-

“there is currently a song written about me sitting at number 1 in the charts.”

he stares. blinks. moves in closer and narrows his eyes as if he didn’t hear you properly.

“...that’s...that’s it?”

he doesn’t want it to bother him - as much as it pains him, he knows about your ex and knows you no longer have any feelings for him, but...

he forgets about two particular nuisances: derek morgan and emily prentiss.

derek likes having the radio on during drives. spencer doesn’t seek out the song, because why would he, but the voice playing sounds familiar and the lyrics remind him of a certain someone.

the second it registers he’s jerking forward, making the seatbelt lock, and switching the radio station. he does it silently and doesn’t look at derek’s confused face, just sits back in his seat and mumbles: i don’t like that song.

enter: emily prentiss

she smacks a magazine on spencer’s desk and... you’re on the cover. with your ex. there’s a headline about him wanting you back, writing a song about wanting you back, and having that song about wanting you back break records. spencer turns away.

derek notices and reads it and- everything clicks. he lets out a heheheh like some kind of cartoon villain and spencer’s done for. he’s done for because derek and emily share this look and open their mouths at the same time and start saying things like - not the first time you’ve been associated with someone in the tabloids, huh, pretty boy? - well, if my ex wrote me a song... - how does it go again? let me look it up...

and they learn the words quickly, apparently, because every chance they get they sing it and hum it and emily sends him a video of herself playing it on the piano, and spencer grits his teeth and soldiers on. he won’t complain. it’s not your fault and every time it starts playing on the radio, you react before he even thinks about it - when he pouts, you squish his cheeks between your hands and kiss him between words: you kiss mean kiss so kiss much kiss to kiss me

and... how can he be mad at you when you try so hard to make him feel better? any time your ex is mentioned or derek and emily start laughing, you’re doing this thing where you show him you love him, by kissing the back of his hand or wrapping your arms around him or- or simply telling him, and he believes you because you do. and that somehow makes it worse.

then you’re at a bar, looking oh so pretty and spencer can’t stop staring. of course he can’t, because you’re his and he’s yours and every day he feels luckier and luckier.

until...

“spencer, cover your ears.”

emily prentiss is on the stage, microphone in one hand and wine in the other. she dedicates her performance to you, and begins belting out the lyrics that your ex wrote for you right to your face, in front of your current boyfriend.

the boyfriend that you watch turn into himself like a turtle retreating into it’s shell.

he keeps a straight face, forces a laugh when necessary, but then you’re telling everyone you’re leaving early and pull him outside.

“i love you, spencer reid,” and despite everything, those are the sweetest words and mean the world to him. “a whole lot. a stupid amount. and that song sucks.”

he usually avoids pda, but finds that your body close to his gives him the comfort he needs in that moment. “...the song is pretty good. you don’t need to lie.”

“have i ever lied to you?” you give him this look, with raised brows and a small smile. you know the answer.

“no, you haven’t.”

“do you think i should start now?”

“please don’t.”

“alright,” you wrap an arm around his waist. “the song sucks, and i love you. the song sucks, and i love you. do you hear me? the song sucks, and i-”

his laugh cuts you off. you join him, laughing into the night sky but hoping he understands your sincerity. he does. he’s good like that.

“the song sucks,” he repeats. quietly, timidly.

you hum.

“and i love you.” louder, more sure.

you grin.

this time, when you get into the uber and the goddamn song plays, you look at each other and laugh.

#headcanons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds x reader #ask #mine #😂😀😶‍🌫️

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blackradandmad · 3 years

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why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

#lil rambles #long post t #idk why it's formatted like this ig cos i copy pasted from my fb?#whatever anyway idk why i waste my writing skills on shit literally nobody else but me cares abt #blippi #children's television

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alicanta77 · 3 years

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How to adult: writing a resume

A resume is quite possibly the most important thing when applying for a job. Statistics show that an employer can decide within 6 seconds if they want to throw out your resume or not. I’m not saying that to scare you, I’m saying it so you know how important it is, and that you don’t rush this part of the application process or not spend enough time on it.

In the UK a resume is called a CV which stands for Curriculum Vitae which in Latin means “course of life”, and in contrast, resume in French means “summary”. In the UK a resume and CV are the same things, but that may differ around the world and it’s good to check what it is that your employer is asking for.

Layout

The layout will be the first thing that your potential employer will see, and that is what is going to need to differentiate you from other candidates. Whether someone is willing to put the effort into making their resume look appealing, says a lot more about them than you may think. If it’s boring or a mess, employers may think you’re lazy and wonder that, if you can’t put the effort in for something like this, what can you bring to the job?

First thing to remember: appearance is important

I’ve attached photos of a layout of my CV, and added false information so that you guys can get an idea of what I mean. (i will elaborate on what you can put in each section later on)

How to write it

When you are writing your resume and talking about yourself, remember, you are the most perfect person for the job and a fantastic individual. You need to make yourself seem incredible. Use words like “driven, optimistic, professional etc.” to describe yourself, and, if you know what job your applying for, cater your resume towards them. For example, if you’re applying for restaurant or bar work, then talk about how you’re good at acting under pressure and capable of learning things quickly. Know what the challenges of the job may be and put in qualities that would make you be able to deal with them.

An employer will always see and read a CV/resume before they meet you. This means that this is their first impression of you as a person, and it already needs to impress them. This begins with the layout but also continues very much through the writing.

Use some more inventive words to describe yourself rather than sticking to stereotypical ones, especially if you’re applying for a competitive job. Employers will be looking for someone who stands out from the crowd due to their resume. This doesn’t mean use a thesaurus on every word and make it sound ludicrous, but do try to expand the vocab you’re using.

Check multiple times for spelling or grammar mistakes. Then download grammarly and have that check it for you. Then get someone else to read it. Then check it again yourself. The last thing you want is a spelling error or typo, this could make your employer think that you were too lazy to even proof read, or that you’re not as professional or thorough as you make yourself sound.

DO NOT LIE

I cannot stress this enough. If you don’t have experience in a certain area, do not lie and say that you do. I have gotten work as a waitress/bartender without having any waiting or bartending experience. Apply for jobs where experience is either not necessary or listed as preferred. That way they won’t throw out your application simply because you don’t have experience.

If you don’t work well under pressure, don’t say that you do. Instead list a different quality, talk about how your dedicated to doing things correctly and like to make sure that things are done to the best of their ability. Or say how you work best with a team around you where each worker can support each other.

But do not give your employer the impression that you’re a master mixologist or as calm as a rock if you’re not. You’re not a sims character, you can’t master a skill in two days and you can’t cheat your way out of a stressful situation. You’re going to make mistakes, you’re going to get stressed and you’re going to receive a lot more support if you’re honest about being stressed in a new environment.

Do not waffle. Keep it short and to the point. This is who I am, this is why I’m great, this is what I’ve done, this is why you should want me. Simple.

If you waffle, you risk boring your employer with too much information. List things that are relevant. If you’re applying for a job as an Operations Manager, no one wants to hear that you used to play netball when you were 16. That only matters if you were captain of a team as that shows leadership skills.

Your employer does not care about every little thing you’ve done in your life that may possibly be of relevance, they care about why you can do the job you’ve applied for, and if they have to dig through loads of unnecessary information to find that, they may not want to put in the effort. Try to write nothing more than a couple of lines to each paragraph.

What to include

As I said before, attached above is a layout of what my CV looks like. It is up to you what sections you include, but again, try to not to keep it too long, and make sure it’s tailored towards the area you want to work in. I applied for hospitality (restaurant and bar work).

In the photos I have briefly written about what you can write

Professional Summary:

This is a chance for you to sum up you as a professional. This should be tailored towards the job field you are applying for. Make yourself sound perfect. Everything you say should make them want to hire you. Never list weaknesses, they will probably ask about them in the interview. If you want to say “Can be stubborn but...” or “Struggles with organisation but...” don’t. Seriously, NO. You can explain that in person, but never waste the small space you have to talk about why they shouldn’t hire you.

Skills:

This I bullet pointed to change up the layout. It’s a chance to list one or two more skills that make you suited for the job without taking up too much space in your professional summary. You can list some of the same things you’ve already listed, but make sure that over 50% of them are new. If all you can name are the same skills, your employer will think that that’s all there is too you. You should not run out of reasons as to why you’re perfect for the job.

Experience:

Any experience you have should be listed here. When applying for a first job especially, it doesn’t matter if it’s relevant or not. Any experience is good experience, especially when you’re young. Make sure to list the company you worked for, the date you worked and the location.

Include a small description of what you did in that job. Make sure it is no more than a few sentences, and that should be about your part of the job. Don’t talk about what the company does, talk about what you did for them.

This section can also include any interning you do, so if you’ve done work experience, put it here as interning. Same as before, include the date and location of where you worked. If you interned for a short amount of time, such as a week, then just put the month and year e.g. Intern - 04/19

For first jobs, this section can be nerve wracking. Just take a deep breath and think back over you life. You’ve always done more than you think.

Education:

Your school/uni. Include the name, location and any exams that you took there. You will also want to list the grades you received. Whatever your most recent exam was, list those subjects individually with their grades and any others just list the grades. e.g. GCSE - 2018 (A*-B) A Levels - 2020 - Maths (A) English (A) French (A)

The above is obviously tailored to England, so that may differ depending on the exams you take and it would be best to check that with someone who understands your education system.

Volunteering:

Any volunteer work you’ve done can be listed here. Try not to overload it, and keep it concise. Same as before, include the title, date and location and a sentence or two about what you did. If you were a school officer, put that down, or captain of a sports team then put that down. Also talk about your duties such as, organising team meetings, running sports drills, being responsible for a group of people etc.

These do not have to be related to the job your applying for, but the qualities that they should you have, do need to be.

Overall

Keep it short and to the point.

Use an eye catching layout.

Only describe yourself positively.

Do not lie.

All experience is good experience.

And most importantly: You are perfect for the job, now make them believe it.

#advice with felix #how to adult #i really hope this helps #and if you have any questions do not hesitate to ask #i'll be here to answer all of them #if you think of anything i may have missed or any incorrect info #please lemme know that as well #this is written very much off my own expereinces #so you may not be able to directly translate it for your expereince #but it should give you a good start #<3333

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linosies · 3 years

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written for @districtninewriters most recent writer's room! thank you so much for the prompt, this was a lot of fun to write ♡

in which working with who you've deemed to be your worst enemy amounts to more than you could ever imagine.

wc: 1,960

genre: enemies to lovers, college!au

pairing: gn!reader x minho

warnings: swearing, reader has minor breakdown, mentions of school. also, not proofread (yet)

"Dammit," you groan, louder than you should have. Your dance instructor shoots you a glare, whereas your partner smirks at you. The simple action makes your blood start to boil.

"Everything alright, (Y/N)?" Mr. Kim asks.

You huff, crossing your arms, never bothering to hide your annoyance. He knows very well that you and Minho can't stand each other—hell, it's been hard enough to keep you two civil during practices—so why did he pair you up? And for regionals of all things? "Peachy."

"We'll talk after practice."

You give a curt nod as Minho stifles a laugh behind you. You turn to glare at him, but it leaves no effect. He simply winks in your direction and walks off to get water.

Fantastic. You roll your eyes and get into position for the group number, trying to ignore the boy's gaze following you as you loosen up.

The rest of practice goes by painfully slowly as you dread what's to follow. And within two minutes of practice ending, you're not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream.

"You're two of the troop's best dancers, and I know you both know that. But now it's time to lose the egos; neither one of you is better than the other. It's time to put all that passion and energy you've been putting into hating each other back into dancing. Maybe then you'll be able to see how strong a pair you two truly could be."

You open your mouth to speak, but Mr. Kim raises his hand to silence you.

"No objections," he turns to Minho just as he clears his throat to speak. "You either. No going solo, and no joining other groups. If you're going to regionals, it's as a duo. You need to get over these feelings, disagreements, whatever they are, and pay dance the respect and humility it deserves. Friendly competition is one thing, but dance is not a tool to be used to try to better each other. Now, have a nice night."

The instructor bows silently in your direction and exits the room, leaving the two of you alone in the studio.

You're dumbfounded. The man you went to and confided in about your struggles, just like that, is feeding you to the lone wolf that has made the last two semesters your personal living hell.

"How badly do you want to go to regionals?" Minho hums. "Because I don't want you ruining my chances. I've worked too hard to give up for something—for someone—so stupid."

"Oh please, don't worry about me ruining your little dreams. I want to go just as badly as you do."

"Bet."

By the time your first practice session with Minho is about to start, you want nothing more than to quit and cry. It's been a bad end to a rough week, and you feel like you would give anything just to give up everything. Your major, your job, the dance crew. Everything. Nothing seems to be going your way, and you sure as hell don't want to spend the next two hours with someone who makes it their mission to ensure just that.

Your eyes shut as your hand touches the knob on the door to the dance studio you had reserved. With a sigh, you turn it and walk in. Luckily, you have the room to yourself for a little before your partner joins you.

Without turning on the lights, you find a spot along the wall and plop down onto the floor, letting the weight of the past week take you down. Before you can help it, tears begin to fall. You hug your knees to your chest, letting out a small curse.

You choke out a sob, letting your head fall. Everything is occupying your mind, but at the same time, there's nothing. Panic bubbles in your chest, setting your senses alight. As you try to force yourself to take a deep breath, the studio door opens and the lights come on.

You jump up as fast as you can, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. Sniffling, you try to focus on regulating your breathing.

"(Y/N), you look like… shit."

You feel something in yourself crack. All your emotions bubble to the surface as you turn to him and shout. "What the fuck is wrong with you and what the fuck is your problem with me?"

The boy stares at you, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"You act like you're the hottest shit, the only thing that matters. And why? Why is it so important for you to be better than me? Is it because you're a dance major and I'm not? What difference does any of it mean, Minho. My god, you are impossible to deal with. I can't do this. Do whatever you want, I'm leaving."

You grip your bag tightly and throw it over your shoulder, heading straight for the door without sparing a glance behind you.

The rest of your night is a blur of tears, music, and blankets as you try to turn off your mind and get a decent night's sleep.

The next morning isn't any better as your body switches to autopilot; you get up, shower, have breakfast, and leave for work at the cafe near the campus. The three hours of your shift go by without incident, your mind foggy but focus sharp enough to serve the morning crowd.

You glance at the clock and see that you only have 15 minutes left before the end of your shift. With a small nod, you half-heartedly cheer yourself on, though you know that you'll only be going back to your room to spend the next few hours writing a surprise essay for your communications class.

The bell at the entrance rings, pulling your attention to the door. You head over to the cash and your welcoming smile falls right away. Why is he here?

"Um, hi (Y/N). I'll have a…" he trails off, looking at the menu. "A large iced americano, please."

You don't reply, simply pressing keys on the screen in front of you.

"When do you finish?"

You stop, eyebrow raised.

"I just… we need to talk. I'm really sorry about last night, I didn't mean to upset you like that."

"Okay," you say curtly before giving him his total, silently urging him to leave.

Not quite 20 minutes later, you're changed out of your work clothes and sitting down in front of Minho. Before you can as what he wants to talk about, he speaks:

"I'm sorry (Y/N). About last night. About the past few months. About everything, I guess.

"You're right, I've been a dick. I didn't even realize it at first, but things got out of hand and I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner. I guess… I think it always bothered me how talented and dedicated you are, you're such an incredible dancer, that I didn't understand why you didn't just major in dance? Because… well, for me, it's the only thing I'm really good at. I guess—I guess because you're good at a lot of things I just wanted to at least have something that I was better in. I know it doesn't matter, at first I wanted it to be playful but I guess it really wouldn't have been easy to deal with. I'm sorry things got so bad."

You stare at him with wide eyes, trying to process his words. This is the most you've heard Minho speak at once, and you're surprised by how gentle his voice is.

"I'm sorry too," you say softly. "I didn't mean to lose it like that, I've just had a really, really rough week. And I'm also sorry it spiraled out of control. The idea of being seen as less just because of my major really… frustrated me."

"It's okay, (Y/N)," the corners of his lips turn up slightly. "So, what do you say to calling a truce and making the best choreography those decrepit judges have ever seen?"

Before you can stop it, you let out a giggle which you know surprised both of you. And it started the friendliest conversation you've had with the boy across from you.

After an hour and a half, you couldn't even believe he was the same boy you were sure you hated for so long. That hour and a half bleeds into practices after long days in class, where you laugh, good around, and get to know each other.

And you hate to say it, but you'd be lying if you said you don't like this Minho. And, by god, you don't want to be caught dead thinking it but you have to admit that he is attractive. You always loved the way his body moved to the rhythm, it's like the beats serve him.

"Like what you see?" He smirks, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Though a blush rises to your cheeks, you stand strong. "Not unless you trip over your laces. Do you take requests?"

"You wish."

Though the session started well, after an hour your body stopped cooperating. As you tried to move forward with the section of the choreography Minho created, you can't seem to get this one set of moves right. You keep putting the wrong foot forward, which is keeping you from shifting your weight properly and rolling back into your hips.

"Let's slow it down," your partner says. He approaches the mirror, signaling you to do the same, and breaks down the mechanics.

"I know how to do it," you huff, "I don't know why I can't."

"Maybe you're just tired. How about we work on this a little more and then call it a day?"

You nod, joining him in slowing down every small movement. After a few eight counts, you start feeling more confident and tell him you'll try at full speed. But after two tries, you fail again.

"Dammit!"

"Hey," Minho says softly, coming up behind you and looking at you through the mirror. "It's okay, (Y/N) We've already been working on it a lot, we can call it a night."

You shake your head. "You can if you want to, but I need to get this down."

"Okay." He hums. "What if we try… me guiding you? Can I touch you?"

Your face heats up immediately as he chuckles awkwardly and you pull your eyes from his. "Um… we can try."

His hands gently land on your hips. "Is this okay?"

You nod, not daring to look in the mirror.

Minho begins to count softly, hands reminding your body of where it's supposed to be. You know you're supposed to be focusing on the movements and your own body, but you can't. All you can think of, all you can feel, is his body behind yours, moving against you. The way his hands hold you feels so right.

"(Y/N)?" Minho breathes, searching for your eyes in the mirror. It takes a few seconds, but you lift them.

You don't have time to register what's going on until he's already spun you around and pulled you close. Your noses brush against each other. The feeling of his hot breath against your skin makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Minho glances at your lips, and then meets your eyes. "Can I?"

"Please do," you whisper before feeling his lips press passionately against yours. Your hands move up his neck as you gently thread your fingers through his hair.

He pulls away slowly, resting his forehead against yours. The smile on his face brings one to your own.

"How about dinner?" He suggests with hopeful eyes.

You laugh. "Only if you're paying."

taglist: @imkyunies @stayctday

#districtninewriters #prism.nw #multifandomnet #stray kids imagines #minho imagines #lee know imagines #skz x reader #stray kids oneshot #minho oneshot #my writing #stray kids x reader

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teyvattherapist · 3 years

Text

Write to Me

eh fuck it here ya'll go. pspspsps dain simps come get your food.

Anyways it features my oc, I'm too lazy to rewrite it, and I think this is cute. Sooo, posting it anyways.

tags: gn!readerxDainsleif, fluff, soulmate au babyyy, it do always be angst when u squint, dain was a ho as a young man as he should be honestly, oc mention? not massive tho just in the bg, kaeya and albedo making bets

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When he was younger he wasn’t exactly monogamous, sleeping with whatever pretty thing piqued his fancy, his status and good looks lending to men and women throwing themselves at him. He didn’t think he had a soulmate, no lovely voice in his head, he could see colour just fine, and whenever he wrote or drew on his arm there was nothing in return. Not a single scratch that wasn’t his own, nothing. So he did whatever he wanted, there wasn’t anybody matching his soul.

But he was older now, much older. Centuries passed since he was a young man at the centre of many people's hearts. Now he was a disgraced knight and a traveler. He was busy tracking down and destroying the Abyss Order, his traveling companion gone, he had nothing but his duty once more. He stayed away from cities as much as he could, only going in to restock his supplies.

Imagine Dainsleif’s surprise when he woke up one day, odd blue squiggles on the tainted skin of his right arm. It wasn’t anything fancy, a small little smiley face with awful handwriting beside it, a tiny ‘hi’. He outstretched his arm, blinking once, twice, he tried to rub it off. But it didn’t come off. Now? Really? NOW?! He didn’t want to write back, he didn’t want to draw anything. They were more than likely a child judging by the writing, he could just pretend he never saw this.

But they didn’t cease. Apparently when he had rubbed the drawing, it had showed up on them. ‘Yuo real?’ Dainsleif groaned, pulling his gloves on instead. He didn’t have time for this. So Dainsleif ignored it, ignored the messages that sometimes showed up on his arms and he ignored the drawings, no matter how good or awful they were. His duty came first, and he was several centuries old. He simply couldn’t pay attention to it.

But as the years went on the messages began to slow. How many years had passed? Ten? Twenty? He wasn’t entirely sure, his memory blending together, fragmenting and hazing over. Bits and pieces here and there. ‘I hope you’re well, you’ve been quiet.’ A message scrawled on his left arm and he stared at it in the dark of the tent.

‘I am well. And you?’

‘And here I thought my soulmate died. I’m fine.’

Dainsleif sighed, blue eyes flicking upwards at the material of the tent. They deserved somebody so much better. The Twilight Sword was not that somebody. He looked back at his arm, a name, he assumed, was scrawled beside the words.

‘Dainsleif.’

‘Like the sword?’

‘Like the sword.’

“Fascinating. I must be going to sleep now, I have work early. Goodnight, Dainsleif.’

Dainsleif dropped his arm beside him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. How ridiculous was this. The Gods truly hated him to gift him a soulmate when he was what, five hundred and twenty five? His poor soulmate, too. He couldn’t stop thinking about what an unfortunate situation it was for them, perhaps it was the way he showed he did care, even if he hadn’t met them or spoken to them beyond reading the occasional message they wrote.

You hurried through the hallway, already late for work, the fifth time that month. You spared a wave to Sucrose who was exiting Albedo’s laboratory and she smiled, waving back. You quickly threw open the door to the laboratory across from Albedo’s, entering swiftly. “I’m so sorry Ohm, my alarm didn’t go off again and- Oh!” You stopped, realising there was somebody else in there.

The medical captain looked around the man dressed in interesting garb, smiling when he saw it was you. “Hello, (y/n)! Nothing to worry about. Ahem, where was I? Oh yes! Same rules as before, but try to apply it more sparingly, I don’t want you building up an intolerance until I can find something stronger.” Ohm held out a jar of azure gel but the man was stiff, unmoving. “Teyvat to Dainsleif?”

“Wait- Dainsleif?” You stopped, dropping the papers you had been holding. They scattered everywhere and Ohm tilted his head, periwinkle hair falling into his face, a clear sign of his utter confusion. Dainsleif turned to you, his eyes were stunning, blue and the pupils- he was gorgeous, that was the first thing that came to you and you felt your cheeks warming at his piercing gaze.

“Well would you look at the time, I have to go uhm, annoy Albedo. It's in my schedule. Please lock the lab if you are to leave. Dainsleif heed my orders or I’ll find you.” Ohm stood up, he rounded Dainsleif, grabbing the bough keeper’s hand and placing the jar into it. He then let go and walked away. He put one hand on your shoulder and leaned in close. “Be nice, he’s shy.” The doctor whispered and then he was off, shutting the door behind him with a click.

You bent down to pick up the paperwork now that the initial shock wore off. Dainsleif also seemed to snap back into action, pocketing the jar. He stepped forward, crouching down to help you with the papers. “I apologise, your Gods have chosen an awful soulmate for you.” He was blunt, apparently. His voice deep and soothing nonetheless. He held the papers out in a bandaged hand and you hesitantly took them.

“I don’t know, I think you’re pretty. Even if you ignore me.” Did you really just- You stood quickly, walking by him and to the desk on the other side of the room, the small wooden desk you had claimed as your own. “Ahem, are you injured? I suppose you must be if you’re visiting the medical captain.” You trailed off, sorting the papers neatly on the desk.

“No, yes, technically.” Dainsleif stood, brushing off his dark pants. You turned, quirking an eyebrow at him as he moved back to the captain’s desk to retrieve a glove that matched his other one. Was it worth it? To give up his secrets? To show just why they should stop speaking to him and run far far away? He grabbed his glove and hesitated, looking at the thick material. He shook his head, pulling the glove over his bandages.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of care and you’re in Mondstadt, just write. Ohm has been teaching me how to do what he does. Though I can’t really do it like him yet, I’m still a pretty alright healer.” You offered with a soft smile even though he wasn’t looking at you. Dainsleif hesitated, adjusting his glove. Kind, dedicated to a good cause, funny sometimes. He cursed his feelings.

Dainsleif turned towards you, pressing himself against the desk as if to steady himself. His eyes flicked to the side, he was clearly thinking of something. He closed his eyes for a moment, nodded to himself, and then opened them again. “Ask your mentor about the Twilight Sword. I’m afraid I must take my leave. Write to me.” Dainsleif pushed himself off the desk and with a swiftness you weren’t sure was human, he was gone.

Immediately you brought your nail to your arm, writing gently. ‘I like your cape.’

‘Thank you, I like your cloak.’

Oh he was awkward awkward. Cute. You smiled at the words before getting back to work, these medical reports wouldn’t process themselves, after all. Though his words played through your mind, Twilight Sword.. It was oddly familiar but no amount of examining your brain proved useful, oh well. You’d just have to ask later.

Ohm snickered with Kaeya as they watched Dainsleif breeze by them, practically throwing himself down the staircase and out the door. “I’ll bet you one thousand mora he left the explaining to me.” Ohm spoke when he heard the heavy door to the headquarters slam shut.

“Neither of us are dumb enough to bet that, he absolutely did.” Albedo commented, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “The feared Twilight Sword, Bough Keeper of Khaenri’ah brought down by a soulmate, so silly.”

“I don’t know, Albedo, I think it's quite endearing.” Kaeya teased, tapping his chin thoughtfully, but his eye told another story, glinting mischievously. “I’ll take that bet, Ohm. I’ll bet one thousand mora he tells them before he gets back to camp.” He held his hand out and Ohm took his hand, shaking it. Unfortunately, sealing Kaeya’s fate.

“Wait, hold on. I’ll bet one thousand mora he doesn’t do either.”

“That’s the spirit, alchemist.” Ohm shook hands with Albedo who huffed. “We should get back to work.” The medical captain gave a curt nod before he headed further up the stairs and towards the direction of his laboratory.

#dainsleif x reader #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif #genshin impact #soulmate au #lane writes #idk do i tag my oc? will he show up in future fics? probs #ohm ambros #queue #maybe i'll come up with a cooler genshin queue name but for now no #yes i pair dain up with a healer s/o a lot dont even LOOK at me

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pinoy-culture · 3 years

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before I ask my question, I just wanted to say thank you so so so much for keeping up your blog and consistently giving out information where its readily accessible!!!

maybe this will make me sound like an idiot but to preface, I’m a mixed filipino american. My mom is filipino and some chinese and my dad is some sort of european and puerto rican. i was wondering, in your opinion, do you think it’d be okay for me (eventually) work with diwata and anitos? And how can I start? Ive been trying to communicate with my ancestors and I’ve been looking for books to one day buy (im extremely broke so your blog and any filipino witches i come across is all the info i can get) but i honestly have no clue where to start other than with my ancestors (weird dreams lately but nothing ancestor related i think). i took a DNA test as a gift and it pointed, predominantly, to the Western Visayas so im assuming i should study more on pre-colonial Bisayan culture (my lolas from iloilo so it makes sense i guess) but i also know that “blood quantum” is a colonizer concept so i dont wanna rely on it too much :/ sorry to ramble but pls help lol

First, I'd like to say thank you for following the blog! It really does mean a lot to me to hear from others over the years on how much my blogs have helped them learn about our history and culture.

Now as for working with our diwata and the anito, that is completely ok. The whole blood quantum thing among some Filipinos I honestly don't agree with. As long as you have a family member who is Filipino, you are Filipino regardless of your "percentage" and of how you look. If you have Filipino blood in you, the ancestors are there with you. Even if you weren't raised within Filipino culture or a Filipino household because your parents never brought you up in it, or you are an adoptee like some I've met over the years. Your ancestors are your ancestors regardless. They see you and know you and that is all that matters.

Now there really isn't any book focused specifically on reviving our precolonial beliefs and practices. Yes, some did survive and some even blended in with a form of Folk Christianity in the Philippines. You can see many of the older practices and beliefs still alive, but they have been replaced with Catholic imagery and Saints.

But, in regards actually believing in and worshiping our old deities, doing rituals dedicated to the deity, or even some rites of passage like the Tagalog first menstruation rite of passage, or making carved figures dedicated to the diwata and anito, or performing maganito/paganito or atang to the diwata and anito, majority of Filipinos don't do this, or even know it.

So for being an Anito Reconstructionist, which is a label I personally use for my spiritual beliefs and others have adopted, there really isn't a book for it. A Reconstructionist in other ethnic spiritual paths, such as the Celtic, Roman, Aztec, Kemetic, Greek, Norse, etc., are those who look at historical records to try and piece together what was once practiced and believed in prior to Christianity. Over many years, these different spiritual paths have eventually come together, formed a community, and have resources like books and teachers. They have had the time to do all the research and put together a more formal spirituality based on those Pre-Christian beliefs and bringing it to the modern day where they have hundreds to thousands of people who have gone back to those beliefs. With some, they have even created temples, shrines to their deities, and even have celebrations.

Unfortunately that is not the case for us. However, due to the growing interest in our precolonial beliefs and practices over the years, I can see Anito Reconstructionism growing within the next several years. It already has, with many people actually trying to learn more about these beliefs and our old deities. The amount of people of people I've seen and talked to who have expressed their interest to reclaim these precolonial beliefs and practices is nothing compared to 10 years ago when it was hard to even find one or two people who did.

It is why I've been writing this book for a few years now dedicated to helping others in wanting to reclaim our precolonial beliefs and practices as a starting point in their research. For now though, I always recommend those who are starting to simply just read the historical texts. Grab a notebook and write down notes. Organize your notes into deities, rituals, how to make an offering, any prayers to a specific deity, how to set up an altar, etc.

Seeing as your family is from the island of Panay in the Western Bisayas, like my moms side are from, I would start with looking at the Bisayan precolonial beliefs and practices. A really good reference is reading Francisco Alcina's History of the Bisayans (1668). Volume 3 is available online in English which you can find here. Volume 3 goes into a lot of detail in the beliefs and practices. The Boxer Codex, if you are able to get a copy of the English translation, is also really good reading material.

Getting Started:

In terms of getting started, keep in mind that there is no one monolithic belief system or practice in the Philippines. Before there ever was a Philippines, we were different nations with different beliefs and practices. It is important to know your ethnic groups beliefs and practices and know their history. For example, I am Bisaya (Akeanon specifically) and Tagalog and that is what I work with. Others who I know follow the Bikolano, Kapampangan, or Ilokano beliefs. Though there are some similarities, each ethnic group had their own set beliefs and practices.

I often tell people that you can't just mix and match between them. For example, though I work with both the Tagalog and Bisayan pantheons, I wouldn't dare do a ritual offering to both a Tagalog or Bisayan deity at the same time. It's always separate. You also can't combine 2 similar deities together from different ethnic groups just because they share similar attributes. It's just rude and disrespectful.

Start out small. Set up an altar dedicated to your ancestors. If you have any family members who have passed, put a photo of them on the altar. Leave offerings of rice cakes such as suman, food like chicken adobo, or even a cup of drink such as tuba, lambanog, or even Red Horse beer. But if you can't get access to an alcoholic drink either because one you are a minor or 2 it's not available where you live, you can simply replace it with a non-alcoholic drinks like coconut juice. Get a coconut shell or a seashell to either place these offerings as bowls/plates or even use them to put your kamangyan or incense.

Then start researching how our Bisayan ancestors worshiped and practiced. Study the history and read historical accounts, books, and articles about them. Write down what you have learned on these precolonial beliefs and practices and reconstruct or revive them. This is what Polytheistic Recinstructionists do. I have listed links to these texts here.

Ask questions to your family, particularly your elders. See if they know of anything or if they can share some traditional practices and beliefs they know of have heard of. You would be surprised how, despite some families being really religious, many still believe in the spirits, do some form of ancestor veneration, believe in omens that are being told to you by the ancestors or spirits, etc.

If you can, try to go back to the Philippines and see your family's ancestral home, see where they grew up, etc. Ask about family stories and folk stories. For example, my mom grew up in Aklan and has always told me stories of the aswang and certain omens. She also constantly talks about the mischievous "little people" who play tricks on you (for example putting something down like your keys and then it goes missing, until you find it again somewhere else). In the Western Bisayas, they are known as kama-kama. There is also a story of how her grandmother's cat visited her during her wake. The cat was missing for years, but it came back and stayed sleeping on top of the casket for days before it left. My mom told me that it was the cat paying their respects to her grandmother.

Keep in mind also and acknowledge our indigenous communities who have kept their beliefs and practices. Don't try to take them into your own. I have seen people cherry pick things from the Manobo of Mindanao or the Kalinga in the Cordillera, which is just disrespectful. Many of the IP, though some still have kept their beliefs, it isn't the most important aspect to them. What they are most concerned about are other issues such as losing their homes due to occupation by oil or logging companies, other settlers such as the Tagalog and Bisayans (especially in Mindanao), getting targeted as "rebels" by the Philippine military and often getting killed. But, by cherry picking beliefs especially of the IP groups, it's just disrespectful.

I will be teaching classes on Anito Reconstructionism soon and will have my first class possibly at the end of the month or next month. I decided to do these classes seeing as there is a growing community who are interested, but don't know where to start. I'll be doing a proper announcement on these classes real soon so look out for the announcement and hopefully you will be able to join!

#filipino #diwata #anito #anito reconstructionist #polytheist #polytheism #precolonial philippines #faq #question #long post

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thekitschdiet · 3 years

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my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet.

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days.

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress.

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram. Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it.

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even…

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera.

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead. Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit.

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read).

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secretlittlerandezvous · 3 years

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A Day With The Benns - Jamie Benn

Summary: A look into the Benns household and a day spent with the family.

To the angel who requested this: From the bottom of my heart THANK YOU. I don't know who you are but I love you - for this request and for the beautiful words that came with it. It keeps making me feel like my heart will burst from happiness. I also thank you for giving me a reason to write about how I see my future life and what I hope for (this is basically me writing about my dream life) 💘🕊💫

Note: D/n means “daughter’s name”. The bedtime story is an excerpt from the book “Goodnight, hockey fans” by Andrew Larsen.

Words: 2487

“The truest, best love had nothing to do with luck. Luck was faithless, and worth little. True love wasn’t fancy, and it wasn’t magical, but simply true in every sense: honest, loyal and sure.” — Sonja Yoerg

It was that kind of a morning when you wake up and you know summer finally arrived. The sun was nicely warm and comforting unlike the stinging and cold winter sun, the birds were chirping in the trees from early in the morning and the air was fresh and warm. Y/n was woken up by the streaks of sunlight creeping into the bedroom through the window. She opened her eyes for a second and then closed them again and enjoyed the peace she felt which was quite unusual in the past few weeks. She didn’t hear a baby crying or the older kids running around the house wildly, she wasn’t woken up by them jumping on the bed to wake her up or by her husband leaving early for work. She loved her life and the chaos of it but it felt so nice to have a calm morning for once. After she fully enjoyed the silence, she opened her eyes, stretched her arms, and with a smile already present on her face she turned around to see her husband. Jamie had his back to her, but she certainly enjoyed the view at her husband’s muscular back and arms and she even blushed at the sight of him. But what warmed her heart, what couldn’t be beaten by his tattoos or muscles was the way he talked to their four months old baby girl. He had his arm protectively around her and Y/n found the contrast of his strong tattooed arm and her tiny little hand and fingers covered in a pink onesie absolutely adorable. He tickled her on her belly, and she smiled at him or watched him with her bright eyes with pure love. Y/n and the kids wished he could spend a little more time with them but they all understood why he couldn’t and whenever he was home he made the most of it and he dedicated his time to help his wife and to entertain the kids.

“Good morning my loves,” Y/n said happily as she looked over Jamie’s shoulder, kissed his cheek, and then smiled at their daughter who got even more excited when she noticed her.

“See? I told you mommy will wake up soon to give you a breakfast,” Jamie said to the little one. “Unfortunately, that’s the only thing I can’t do honey.” He said to Y/n and kissed her back.

“Not sure if anyone would want you to breastfeed babe,” she joked and took their daughter into her arms to feed her. “Are the kiddos awake?”

“Don’t think so,” Jamie mumbled. “I’ll go wake them up in a bit.” But first, he wanted to enjoy his wife’s company.

She was beautiful. He found her so beautiful. And he adored everything about her. Her kindness, the way she always loved him even though he could get a little grumpy sometimes. The way she handled everything with such ease. How smart she was. How supportive and understanding she was of him and his career. How she raised the kids, took care of them and their household on her own when he was away, and never used that against him. How good she was at her own job. How she created such a loving atmosphere in their family. Everything.

Jamie soon left to wake up the two older boys who even despite the complaints got out of the bed pretty quick and happily ran downstairs to help their dad in the kitchen. Y/n stayed behind a little to take care of D/n and to put herself together before she headed to the kitchen to join the rest of the pack. She heard laughter and giggles coming from there and she stopped and listened to the conversation they were having, she smiled to herself and enjoyed everything that was said.

Y/n often felt that she didn’t have enough time to pause and enjoy the present moment, but she was slowly learning to do so. The kids were growing up way too fast for her liking, life kept moving forward without a chance of it ever slowing down and she got sad at times when she realized how fast the kids will turn into adults. Y/n wanted to stay stuck in time, stay this old for a little longer and have the kids stay little longer, and have more time to process it all. But mostly she wanted a little more time off for Jamie who even though never said it out loud regretted not being there for them all the time. But they knew he loved them more than anything or anyone else in the world and that was enough.

“Can we go skating with you dad?” Their oldest son asked with hope, but he knew what answer was coming. He asked the same question, every morning when Jamie was home and about to go to practice. Each time the answer was no but he never gave up. The positive attitude towards everything and how he was never losing hope was Jamie’s favorite trait of their oldest son. It reminded him of Y/n.

“You know you can’t come with me buddy,” Jamie said with a sad voice. He hated saying no to him and he even wished he could bring the boys with him, but it was never convenient. “But I can ask the boys and we can go skating together on the weekend. What do you think?”

“I think we should hurry up,” Y/n joined the conversation, but no one heard her because the boys started screaming in excitement. She then sat down at the table and enjoyed the pancakes Jamie and the boys made for her and she helped their younger son with eating because he preferred to play with it rather than eating it. “Did you guys tell daddy where you’re going today?”

“No,” the older boy said. “We’re going to the zoo with the kindergarten.”

“And you wanted to miss the zoo to go skating? The zoo’s more fun for sure.” Jamie answered.

After the tasty breakfast, everyone headed to the bathroom to get ready for kindergarten and the day. Jamie helped them brush their teeth and hair, he even let them use a tiny little amount of his deodorant because both boys adored their dad and wanted to be just like him. It wasn’t rare for the boys to draw on their hands and pretend the drawings were real tattoos or them putting on Jamie’s hockey gear and playing hockey around the house. Y/n in the meantime prepared their outfits, soothed the crying baby, and managed to get dressed up without being disturbed.

“I’ll drop the kids at the kindergarten,” Jamie whispered as he wrapped his hands around Y/n’s waist from behind and hugged her tightly. “And I’ll try to get back home sooner than usual, and we can then do something fun.”

“Aren’t you amazing?” Y/n said happily, turning around to face Jamie, wrapping her hands around his neck, and kissing him before he got to answer. She expected a cocky answer from him, and she wanted to avoid it.

A few minutes later the whole family was outside their house, all of them about to head in different directions to different places. The boys were going to the kindergarten, Jamie to the arena and Y/n and D/n were going for a regular check-up at the doctor. “I love you boys,” said with a proud face and kissed all three boys goodbye.

“And we love you girls,” Jamie said, kissed Y/N and their daughter and the boys repeated after him before they all jumped into the car.

Later that day after Y/n returned home from the doctors and the grocery store, she cooked lunch for herself and then picked up the boys from the kindergarten. They then went for a walk around the neighborhood to put D/n to sleep in her stroller and the boys being the amazing brothers argued about who was gonna push the stroller. Y/n felt joy in her heart she couldn’t describe. She was simply proud of how loving the boys were.

When Jamie returned home, 2 hours earlier than usual, he expected to find his pack in the living room and he secretly hoped they would greet him, but the house was empty. He went to the living room and that’s when he finally found Y/n and the kids. They were in the garden enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine, eating some fruit, and playing with way too many things but they seemed to be enjoying. Jamie watched them from behind the glass door and adored Y/n once again. She was smiling widely, she glowed and looked even prettier than usual at that moment. She was showing D/n some flowers they probably picked in their garden and D/n was from what Jamie saw laughing at it. The boys were sitting on the blankets around the girls, their younger son was drawing something (and judging from the dozens of papers lying around it wasn’t his first artwork that day) and the older son was playing the puzzles while telling Y/n some exciting story. She listened carefully to every word and looked at the kids with so much love and adoration that Jamie wondered how he could get so lucky.

“Dad!” The younger boy screamed when Jamie came to the garden and both boys happily ran towards him to hug him.

“When you said you were gonna come home earlier I didn’t expect it would be this early,” Y/n said to Jamie as he sat down next to her. “But I’m not complaining. I missed you.”

“Missed you too love,” Jamie whispered as he leaned closer to kiss her and he then picked up D/n and took her in his arms to cuddle with her. Jamie was such a great dad and Y/n always knew he would be even though Jamie used to call himself a boy dad and say that he wouldn’t know what to do with a girl. But the moment they found out their next baby was going to be a girl he changed his mind completely and couldn’t wait to have a daughter. And from the second she was born she had him wrapped around her finger. “If you want you can go take a nap, I’ll stay there with the kids. I know you didn’t get much sleep.” Jamie offered.

At the first moment, she wanted to accept the offer and go to bed but when she looked around, she changed her mind. The sky was still blue, the sun was still shining, and the kids were having way too much fun and there was no way she was gonna miss this moment with her whole family. “I think I’ll stay right here.” She said with a smile.

The family stayed in the garden until the sun disappeared from the sky and just when the air got significantly colder, they all realized it was time to head home and have dinner. Neither one of them wanted to move because they were having so much fun but all of them were hungry and tired after a long day. The boys happily helped Y/n with dinner and although it took a little longer and the kitchen was a little messier than if Y/n did it on her own she enjoyed it as any other activity with her loves. Dinner was a favorite time of the day in the Benn family because it was usually the time when they all gathered and spent time together. For Y/n it was a time where she finally had everyone home and that was when she felt best even if it meant Jamie would leave for a game later. Jamie loved it because he was finally home with the ones most important to him and nothing could ever compare to the warmth of being home with his family. The kids loved dinner just as any other time they would get to eat but even they knew it meant they would most likely be all together.

“Dad? Can you read to us tonight?” One of the boys asked Jamie after the dinner.

“Of course!” Jamie answered with excitement. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll be there in a second okay?”

The boys listened and ran upstairs to their bathroom to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas and quickly jumped to bed and waited for Jamie. Jamie soon left Y/n alone in the living room so she could feed the baby in peace and went to the boys’ room.

“Alright, boys, ready?” Jamie asked the boys as he sat down with the book the boys picked. It was their favorite book about hockey that Jamie got them when they were younger and both Jamie and Y/n lost track of the number of times they read it to them. “A young boy doesn't want to go to bed. The hockey game is on! ‘What if I can't fall asleep?’ the boy says. ‘Don't worry,’ says his dad. ‘You will.’ After his parents have tucked him in and turned out the light, he shines a flashlight on his prized hockey possessions around his room: the posters of his favorite players, the pennant for his favorite team, the puck.” Jamie read. Not for too long though, the boys well asleep after a few minutes. “Good night boys,” Jamie said quietly as he left the room.

Y/n just finished putting D/n to sleep when Jamie walked into their bedroom. “That was quick,” Y/n noted.

“Told you I have a talent at putting the kids to sleep.” He said with a grin. “Abd good night to my little princess.” He whispered and kissed his little girl gently on her forehead before Y/n put her into her crib.

“You’re just lucky,” Y/n answered.

“I am,” Jamie said with a proud smile as he looked at his wife. He knew he was lucky. He hardly ever told this to his family, but he knew they knew he loved them more than anything. “And now I can finally focus purely on you.” He announced when he got out of the shower and went to Y/n.

“This was one of the nicest days in a while Jamie,” Y/n snuggled to Jamie and traced Jamie’s tattoos mindlessly. “Oh, and you better don’t forget to take the kids skating on the weekend. They were talking about it all day.” She laughed.

“I told the team and they all agreed to hang out,” he said. “And now give me a big kiss.” He said seriously.

“You’re horrible,” Y/n laughed before she kissed him. No matter how annoying and cocky he could get she loved him with all her heart.

#jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn one shot #jamie benn writing #jamie benn imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars writing #dallas stars one shot #dallas stars imagines #nhl players imagine #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl writing #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey writing #hockey imagines

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citydreamgrls · 3 years

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the empty diary - part one

fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: it had appeared out of the blue, a diary that contained an odd power, one which would backfire and reveal her true feelings to the one she wished to hide it from most.

an: this is the first part in a new mini-series, i hope you all enjoy !!

words: 4,051

warnings: smut in later parts

The book had appeared on top of her cases when the girl had arrived in her dorm the previous day, its crimson red cover sticking out amongst the dark wood trunks. It had been a small surprise, the pages between all empty to her eyes as she scanned through it quickly. But something had drawn her to the mysterious object as she felt the leather slip between her fingers as if it was somewhat familiar.

Since it was empty, and there was no one who was asking after a lost diary, the girl decided to use it as just that. Spending most evenings of the first few weeks back at Hogwarts hiding herself away to spill out those nagging thoughts; thoughts that she’d never before had the idea to write down.

Most days she could time it so that Hermione was busy helping Ron with transfiguration work and not sitting around watching her write furiously, doing her best to not interrupt. As much as she trusted Hermione, she knew how curious her best friend could be at times and wanted to keep this one thing private for as long as she could manage.

It wasn’t long, however, as she’d imagined.

“y/n-” Hermione had burst into the room, catching the girl off guard, who had learnt to zone out all noises while she wrote. Which meant she hadn’t noticed the rushed footsteps pounding up the stone steps to their room before it was too late. “What’s that?”

The girl did her best to act casual, her little desk which she was sitting at normally gathering dust, and slid the book beneath some forgotten homework from last year.

“Oh… nothing.” She panicked, and blurted out, knowing full well that no excuse would satisfy Hermione’s interest more than the truth.

“Show me,” A hand reached past her, pushing papers away to reveal the red leather standing out amongst the white sheets.

“It’s really- Hermione!”

No amount of body blocking could have stopped the girl’s friend when she was determined, regardless of how much she tried; Hermione was a surprisingly strong girl.

“Stop it!” Y/n cried out, laughing when she felt the girl hovering over her reach down to tickle her. Grinning at the way she crumbled beneath the feeling, whining out about foul play.

Hermione’s hands had already grasped the book, frowning at its blank cover and holding it heavy in her hands. The other girl, now released from the temporary torture of tickling, stood beside her friend and tried one last time to reclaim her new diary.

It, in a clumsy turn of events, fell to the floor. The pages audibly flicking through themselves, as they watched it cascade to the ground as it was slower than time.

Y/n silently prayed, begged and wished that it would land with the covers closed over her intimate thoughts, fearful of how the girl beside her would react to something so personal. But as two pages laid out before them both, and the girl held her breath, it seemed as if fate heard her call as the pair stared down to see a blank response.

She let out a little breath, forgetting that she needed to reclaim the book before Hermione got a chance. The girl in question, however, seemed confused by the book before her.

“What?” Y/n scoffed, following her eyes to see what had made her speechless in the last ten seconds or so. Joining the silence as their jaws dropped agape at the sight before them both.

“Am I going mad?” Hermione asked, seeing the ink appear slowly on the once empty page, words coming into view in the form of sentences y/n had curated herself only moments before her friend had burst into the room. She just shook her head at the empty question, too amazed by what they were witnessing to bother talking.

Shaking hands reached for it, worried it may combust between her fingers as the girl held it tenderly. Hermione’s name was printed in bold amongst the rest of the words, something she herself hadn’t done.

“Did you write about me?”

“Only good things,” She smiled, trying to avoid her prying eyes, but it was no use.

“I think it’s been charmed… but by who.”

There was a silence between the two girls as their mind’s whirred for a moment, the faint echo of passing owls sounding amongst their breaths. Y/n was close to a scream when Hermione lunged towards her, taking the book from her and throwing it onto the bed with a panicked look, a thought having plagued her mind suddenly.

“We shouldn’t trust it, not after what happened to Ginny in second year.”

“Oh come on Mione, you-know-who isn’t going to try the same trick twice.”

“Well, where did you find it then?” She demanded to know, her hands resting all too comfortably on her hips like an angry mother.

“It was just… onmycases.” The girl mumbled, now understanding where the hesitance was coming from.

“Where y/n?” Her voice was stern.

“On my case, it was just laying there for me.”

“Well then we definitely can't trust it!”

“I’ve had it for weeks already, and still nothing bad has happened, I think I'm safe.” A laugh sounded from her mouth, more to reassure herself as she picked it up again, the leather still feeling natural between her skin.

Her friend didn’t seemed convinced and took it from her yet again, making y/n groan out in annoyance as Hermione paced the room, trying to study it for herself.

“Give it back Mione!”

“I just want to try something-” “It’s private!” “I’m not interested in your crushes y/n,” She scoffed, but noticed the entry she had dedicated to how good Oliver Wood had looked at the first quidditch practice.

“Oh come on it’s not a crush- what are you doing?”

Hermione held her wand out, muttering as many spells as she could think of to try and reveal the whole book to her, having noticed the stray empty pages between entries.

“I wrote on those, what’s it doing?” The girl asked, peering over her friend's shoulder as she refused to stop walking round their dorm.

“I think it’s charmed to the reader, here, you hold it.” “Well, it’s not like it’s mine or anything.” She huffed, finally taking it back and flicking between pages. Where Hermione had seen blanks, she watched the words reappear. “See, now it’s coming back.” “Not for me, that one’s still blank.” Her friend furrowed her brow, thinking intently as the girl placed the book back down on her pokey desk.

“I think it’s been charmed so that whoever reads it only sees entries in which they’re mentioned. You can see all of them because you wrote them, but I could only see the ones which you had written me into.” Her brain spilled out this theory so confidently that all y/n could do was nod in agreement, seeing no flaws to what she was stating.

“That seems, risky, right?” She offered up, unsure of what else to say.

“Very, but somewhat safer than muggle diaries at least.” Hermione giggled, laying back with a sigh. “I only came up for a textbook, but it seems like Ron’s troubles are nowhere near as interesting as this is.”

“I’m glad I can at least entertain,” The girl rolled her eyes, “Hey, maybe we should test this out a bit more.”

“That way we can know whether what I think is right, great idea!” Hermione seemed excited at the prospect of an experiment, regardless of how mundane or easy it was.

“We can use Ron and Harry!”

The two girls peered around a bookcase, spotting the redhead and four eyes struggling to think of an original thought between them as they waited for Hermione to return. She rolled her eyes, knowing they’d get nothing done without her.

“Give it here,” Y/n took the red book from her friend, spotting how possessive they’d both become of it.

“I was keeping it safe for you, this could be bad in the wrong hands y/n,” She hissed, not wanting to draw the boys’ attention until they were ready. “Now, write Ron’s name in here and Harry’s on another page. That way we can see which one they can see when holding the book.” The top student explained simply, the girl beside her just nodding as she scribbled quickly, their sneaky stances now garnering a bit of attention around them.

“Done. Let’s try it out.” She smiled, holding the book amongst others she’d brought down with her, hiding their plan behind the lie of another outstanding essay to complete.

“Finally!” Ron huffed, seeing the girls arrive after enough time waiting.

“Well, if you actually listened to Mcgonnagall during class then you wouldn’t need to wait for me to come and hold your hand.” Hermione snapped, taking her seat beside the boy as y/n joined Harry.

He seemed unfazed by the bright red leather slipped between her plain school books as she placed them down, he was too preoccupied by a girl making eyes at him from across the library.

“I just don’t get why I need to know all this, I don’t even want to take Transfiguration next year so it doesn’t matter, it’s a waste of time.” Ron was groaning as Hermione watched her pull out the diary subtly, sighing and flicking open the pages. She hushed the boy beside her as y/n began further writing next to his name, he watched her with a scowl before she held up the page to him.

Ron, Mcgonnagall’s in here you git! Be quiet.

“Is she, oh bloody hell.” He put his head down after reading the words she’d written out for him, Hermione nodding to her when she hadn’t been able to see it herself. It was a lie of course, the Professor’s very rarely spent time in the library, and Ron probably knew it deep down, but it was enough to prove that their theory was right. The girl’s friend stared at Harry, who was still distracted from the rest of them, signalling that she should still try it with him.

Harry, is she your new girlfriend? ;)

She wrote, sliding the message over to him, and nudging his side with a giggle. It made the dark haired boy blush but still he scoffed and denied that he’d been making eyes at anyone. Ron had seen the quiet exchange and frowned, seeing a blank page from his point of view.

“Was there anything on there?” He whispered to Hermione, who dismissed his question with a sigh and quickly changed the subject to keep their little secret.

The two girls sat awake on their beds that evening, having proven the true powers of y/n’s diary and agreed that something this simple was unlikely to be dark magic. They had tested as many spells on it to show if it was capable of more, but it seemed that hiding irrelevant entries was all it could do.

“You should keep a locking spell on it, and probably keep it safe, if someone managed to get it open that would be awful.”

“Who do you think would be the worst person.” Y/n inquired, her brain worn out from all the possibilities she’d run through.

“Oliver Wood.” Hermione teased.

“Shut up! I don’t like him.”

“There’s someone though, right? I saw some words about a boy.”

“Not really.”

“It seemed like you were interested in them.” She let out a small laugh in the dimly lit room at her friend’s blatant lie, knowing that when she liked someone she would deny it for the rest of her life until she too believed it not to be true. “It’s not a bad thing to like someone.”

Hermione did her best to reassure her friend, but the girl seemed caught in her thoughts as they welcomed the silence between them, her wand spinning between her fingers mindlessly. She decided to drop it, seeing how uncomfortable it had made her, but surprisingly it was y/n who spoke up.

“I don’t think they would feel the same way, that’s all.” Her voice was quiet, and reserved. A world apart from how she usually acted around her best friend.

“Who is it?” Hermione asked, seeing the hesitance on the girl’s face as she thought about how to answer.

“You really cannot tell a soul, I mean this.”

“I promise y/n, no one will know.” She placed her hands into the girl’s, squeezing tight to try and relax her as best as she could.

“Okay, well, it’s nothing big it’s just an interest that’s it. And really, I’m not too sure about it myself.”

“Okay, go on.”

A few days passed, with Hermione and y/n successfully keeping the diary a secret between them. Not that Ron and Harry would have ever been that bothered by it, or its powers, at all.

It was yet another night spent studying in the library when things went wrong. The girl had been there for a good few hours now, her diligent friend always one to motivate her whenever she needed it. The diary had been forgotten amongst her other books, its locking spell casted safely over it.

Still, that spell wasn’t completely safe and they had done all they could to strengthen it, but someone would most likely be able to crack it open after some research into counter spells.

They had chosen a small table by the windows, the beginnings of a storm crashing against the glass as hushed voices floated around the large room. It was private, and not many people seemed to pass by, so when Hermione went to find yet another book to help with her latest essay, the girl decided it would be a chance to write in the red bound book for a little while.

She held her wand and whispered the words to open it up to her, its pages flittering to the next empty piece of paper within. The quill in her hand danced around as she wrote all about her day, about the storm, about the people in her classes and about the boy she was learning to like with every second spent in his presence.

Beyond the castle walls the wind blustered against the stone, the howls tunneling through the hallways and creating a small breeze at her feet. She shivered, ignoring the cold as best she could and focused instead on the words she wrote.

“God that rain sounds awful!” A voice boomed nearby, dragging her away from her thoughts hurriedly.

“Do you think quidditch will be cancelled?” Another droned on, obviously annoyed at this prospect. She recognised the twins immediately as their footsteps reached her side.

“I hope not- oh y/n you’re still here?” George asked as they both stopped. She shut the book quickly, looking up from where she sat to smile politely. Both boys towered above her as they stood with hands in their pockets.

“We saw you earlier with Hermione, but you looked busy so we didn’t dare interrupt.” Fred laughed lightly, peering over at her work beside her. “You got much to do?”

“Uh not too much, Hermione is here somewhere but she’s-” “Off being a goody two shoes?” Fred teased.

“Hey, that’s mean.”

“Sorry, I should have included both of you in that statement.”

The girl had wondered how long it would take for the twins to start annoying her again, their greatest pleasure in life was seeing someone bothered by them and that never excluded herself.

“At least I don’t fly around like a maniac every other night,” She huffed.

“Hey, quidditch is very respected.” George snapped back.

“Yeah, for teenage boys that is.” She scoffed, ignoring their grimaces and pulling out her potions book.

“Yeah well-” Fred was cut off by the sound of glass smashing somewhere else in the library, the storm from outside flying in with no regard for the panicked students. Screams sounded out as more and more windows caved into the growing pressure, and the girl stood up to see if she could spot Hermione amongst them.

“We need to go!” George cried out to his brother, who grabbed the girl’s arm. She took it back, needing to find Hermione first before getting out.

“Y/n!” Her friend called out over the howls of wind, appearing from behind a stack of books and taking her friend’s hand. “Come on!” She dragged her away from the table.

“Wait, what about-” SHe started, remembering the red diary laying unprotected on the table. She hadn’t had time to cast the spell over it, and now as they ran through the small crowd of students she had no chance to turn back.

“Y/n come on!” Fred yanked on her arm again, giving her no option but to follow as he overpowered her protests easily.

They weren’t allowed back in until the next afternoon, once the room had been cleared of smashed glass, and the windows were repaired. It was quiet now, the storm having been and gone, and the sun shone in calmly as if nothing had happened.

“Over here, this was where we were yes?” Hermione asked, spotting her pile of textbooks stacked neatly on their table. A few pages had been ripped at the edges, and she could see obvious signs of water damage. But mostly, it was salvageable.

“I can’t find it!” Y/n said, rushing to shove everything out of the way. The diary was nowhere to be found.

“It’ll be here, just keep looking.”

The girl threw herself to the ground, crawling beneath the table where she’d had it last and looking in all the dark corners. But no matter where she looked, the red leather was missing.

“I’ll go ask Madame Pince, she may have picked it up if it looked important.” Hermione told her friend as she slumped into the chair, her head falling between her hands in despair.

It was open, unlocked for anyone to look inside. Whoever had it may not be able to read anything, but if it got passed around to someone mentioned then it was over. The girl collected the things that had been left in the midst of the storm and remembered how adamant the twins had been to get her out, especially Fred.

They could have easily taken it while she was distracted looking for Hermione, not to mention that they would revel in knowing her every secret. But that was the last thing she wanted to believe, as it would mean she would need to drown herself in the black lake out of embarrassment.

Since she learnt of the diary’s power, she had been careful not to mention him by name, knowing that it would immediately reveal itself to him if found. But, what about the ones before when his name was repeated over and over, when she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to write about him, or her feelings towards him. It just felt right.

Now, it was all wrong. What if there was more, what if the power stretched to intention too. If it knew that the person reading it was being written about, without blatantly stating their name, would that mean it would still reveal itself. She hated that her and Hermione hadn’t thought of this idea until now, when it was too late.

“It has to be the twins!” Y/n stated, when her friend returned from the librarian’s office empty handed, her eyes wide and determined.

“You really think so?” “Who else would want to have that kind of upper hand over someone?” “It would be their best prank this term, even if it’s a bit cruel.”

“We need to get it back! Remember what I said the other night, all of that could be unveiled if they are the ones who have it.” She urged, getting to her feet in an instant, forgetting all the things they needed to carry back to their dorms and storming out of the library.

Fred would have recognised the red cover from a mile away, it had been clutched between the girl’s hands for weeks now, obviously full of secrets since she felt the need to cast a locking spell on it. She thought she had been subtle about it, but he had seen her do it every time she closed it in the great hall or the common room.

But it wasn’t in her hands, it was poking out of a pile of books a random second year boy was carrying. He frowned, leaving George’s side to follow the Ravenclaw boy round the corner and down an empty hall.

“Hey!” He called out, making the younger boy jump in surprise. “Is that yours?” He pointed to the book in his arms, making his eyes widen in fear at the tall redhead. Everyone knew who they were, but they were always known for being easygoing. Now his stern tone instilled fear in the boy’s face as he got closer. He shook his head, the red book falling as he scrambled away in a panic, not wanting to stick around to find out what Fred would do if he found out it was stolen during the storm.

“Little bugger.” Fred mumbled, picking it up and seeing the page that it had fallen open onto. He could hear footsteps running after him and quickly shoved the book into his robes, turning just in time to see his brother turn the corner with a look of confusion on his face.

“What was that all about?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw something…” Fred trailed off, quickly losing George’s interest.

“God, anyone would think you’re going mental.”

Maybe he was. Racing after someone over a diary that wasn’t even his, but he had seen the unmistakable scrawling’s of y/n’s writing. Then his name, as clear as day.

Fred waited until everyone in his dorm fell asleep before taking out the diary, casting a quiet lumos spell and slipping beneath the covers to secretly read what was inside. He started with the first entry, his name appearing first before the other words faded into view.

Dear Diary,

Maybe I’m going mad, or someone has cursed me to think this way, but something feels different about Fred Weasley. For the first time in years I can definitively tell that it is him when he’s stood beside his brother, instead of having to guess like I used to. It’s like I can finally pick him out in a room, when before he just blended into everyone else, yet when I see him he’s just getting on with his life and doing nothing special.

He’s taller than he used to be, and he smiles more, and his voice is deeper than I realised. But maybe these are all things that I’m just noticing now, because I want to know more. Everything about him makes me want to know more, and I can’t explain why, it’s pure curiosity.

Now when he talks to me, the same way he has done for years, I feel excited and nervous and all these other emotions I wouldn’t have expected to relate to Fred. It’s as if I see him as a new person, like we’ve just met… properly.

Maybe I am going mad, or maybe this is all a prank to him to make me feel this way, but until I fix it I will just have to live with it. I’m hoping writing it down may help hide how I feel from him, for a little while.

Fred’s eyes read fast, each word dragging him in deeper and deeper into her mind, as if he could see every thought as it was produced. He read it over and over, slowly and carefully, to make sure what he had seen was true.

He could never show anyone this, that would crush her, but he enjoyed this little secret. The boy liked knowing that she saw him differently to all the other boys in her life, but what made him the happiest was that he was the only one to know what she was thinking.

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