like knitting or something

so i guess i really want to post more original content but here is a list of all the bujo pages in my bujo + others i see floating around and if you think i’ve missed out on any then please add them!

  • yearly calendar
  • monthly spread
  • weekly spread
  • about the owner
  • resolutions
  • idols page (list our your idols)
  • letters (if you start at the start of the year, i write a letter that sums up my hopes and dreams for the year)
  • birthdays (of people you know)
  • birthday wishlist
  • books to read
  • project tracker (projects that you’ve started or aim to start)
  • places to go
  • bucketlist for the year
  • school timetable
  • important school dates
  • un do list (things you want to stop doing)
  • key
  • money tracker (monthly, weekly or yearly)
  • books that have been read (include dates)
  • tv shows to watch
  • tv shows which have been watched
  • movies to watch
  • movies which have been watched
  • recipes (for special days e.g. valentines, christmas, halloween etc.)
  • packing lists
  • goals lists
  • exam planners (a summary of your exams if they’re all in a certain time period like the end of the year)
  • plans (if you’re hanging out with friends/going on a date/enjoying family time a plan and possible recount are really cute)
  • typography pages
  • mood tracker
  • doodle pages
  • habit trackers (weekly, monthly, fortnightly, yearly)
  • present ideas (for other people’s birthdays/anniversaries/holidays0
  • if you have a hobby e.g. knitting then knitting spreads (so planning your knitting with stitches and such, or something like guitar chords)
  • fun fact pages
  • positivity pages (fill with all the good things you like)
  • rant pages (just rant on them - don’t worry about making them look nice)
  • self reflections (taking some time to just write about your feelings - mindfullness)
  • list of favourite things
  • game challenges (so having a topic e.g. animals and going through the alphabet and naming one animal for each letter - this is a really good time killer if you have nothing to do, prepare a few beforehand)
  • quotes pages
  • self care pages (list of self care techniques as well as recipes for facemasks etc.)
  • how to pages (e.g. how to draw a fish)
  • to catch up pages (things you should watch or listen to when you have more time - things without deadlines)
  • song lyrics pages (just write song lyrics or typograph them)

when i was seven the sea-witch cursed me.

she cursed my great-grandfather, actually, who had spat on the hands of the ocean and disrespected the beating heart of the earth - for what else are waves but a pulse - who was silly and violent and who tried to rip from the water what was hers by rights. we were wealthy, before that, a family of merchants. my mother says in her youth she recalls white horses, the gleam of candles, early mornings with bread baked fresh by a horde of servants.

he didn’t ask permission to cross her. that’s what my mother tells me while she spoons porridge with no flavor into the wood of my bowl. he had no faith in superstition, rode with boats that were more decoration than strength, the folly of a man who was cruel and vain and proud of his own gold teeth. the sky had been blue, so regardless of what the village witch said, he would sail that day. and when his boat sank; their lives turned blue like the sky that day.

my mother says she thinks the curse on the men of our family, even if they come in when they marry, is that they will forever be violent, too foolish to see the storm on the horizon. she whispers this to me on the eve of my seventh birthday, while father is his own storm, thundering around the house, looking for her. later, when i am cleaning the cut by her cheek, she tells me the curse is on the women to forever be unhappy, to wane until they are shadows, to walk into the deep like a sinking ship. 

we don’t burn candles often, they are too expensive. she tells me this in the silk of a dark room. the moon kisses her hair. 

in three days, my mother will walk into the ocean, and my father will be my own problem. the curse will pass onto me. 

my father does not believe in superstition, no curse to conquer him. when he is gone, and i am heartbroken, i go to the village witch. i ask her to teach me about magic, and other things, and about how the ocean can be coaxed, and how to save my father’s soul. 

and my hands rot too, keeping a house by myself with things i barely knew. i learn the art of a good scrubbing, keep my mind full of white horses while i endlessly clean, dream of candles in dark while i make the bread that he will not allow me to eat. he keeps me from the ocean, from visiting the place that took my mom, from following in her footsteps where the water makes women undone.

i am sixteen when i see her in the water of a bowl. she scares me so completely that i drop it, and my father comes in with his hands, and the curse, and i almost forget all about it. it isn’t until after that i realize she is beautiful, and young, which surprises me. 

i think about it every evening. her face becomes distorted to me. i can no longer remember the exact shape of it, only the impression of beauty. 

i turn seventeen and wait for the high moon. i pin safety to my vest in little witch herbs and runes. i put naked toes on the sand and slip closer, closer, to the avenue of my family’s doom. i find a little private beach, small and surrounded by rocks, hidden from my father in the event he ever thought to come looking. at high tide, it is barely the span of my body. at low, it feels empty.

the witch of the land has given me what i need to call in the witch of the sea, but i do not use it. it feels wrong, somehow, standing here in the wind and the quiet pulse of the world. i put down the incense and sage and i sit just close enough it feels wild, dangerous - but not close enough to get caught up in thrill. 

when nothing happens, i go home and i make bread that i will not eat.

for months i do this. i climb down to my beach. i learn to do it when the moon is half, and then when the moon is empty. i learn to do it so well that sometimes i go to sleep in my own bed and wake up by the water. i take to sleeping with warding runes to keep me from being pulled in the rip out to the waiting hands of a hungry sea-witch.

i don’t know when i start talking. more often i sing, because singing in my house is not allowed, and something about the way the rocks echo my voice feels comforting. the older i get, the more i can pretend i hear my mother’s voice, answering me, harmonizing gently. i sing songs about sadness and lullabies about curses. when i have exhausted every song i know, i write new ones about fathers who have never learned how to be kind, about the house i work in but do not love, about mothers who left, and about a sea witch.

i see her sometimes. in a puddle, in the drop of rain, in the strangest places. i never expect it, although i always hope. i am never able to see her for more than the length of a wave, breaking, and each time, it does something new to my heart.

at eighteen i am too much of my father’s burden. he tries to unload me onto other men. the land witch helps me with this. i rub hemlock, burn wolfsbane. we arrange so these men have other women to marry. the news of my curse is bad enough to scare most away. my father is not happy.

after a particularly savage night, i wonder how bad it could be. i could marry some boy from the village who didn’t quite bother me. i suppose they’re not ugly. timothy had always been gentle to me. i think about a life, and how i am cursed to be unhappy. my father would finally be proud of me.

i walk to the beach and i tell the waves about him and how i could convince myself it was love if i just never wanted from him. how i could be okay, if not content, how i could be free, how i already had learned life down on knees.

but i go home and i write a rune of warding. and the years pass and i find reasons each suitor is wanting. and the sea witch i see, sometimes, peeking out at me, staying long each time in the water, looking, watching. i see her in mirrors when my father storms against me. it is bad because he mistakes the cause of my smiling. it is better when she is there the next morning.

and i go to the ocean. when i am too sad to speak, it seems like the ocean is whispering for me. i picture my mother’s voice and tell myself i am happy. i am seven again and we are sewing. i am seven again and the curse has not been given to me. i am seven and she came home after she walked to the sea.

i grow silly, brave, unthinking. i leave behind the herbs and i wade deep. i teach myself the art of swimming. i am bad at it, at first, but something about it feels good to me. like the ocean wants to buoy me. in the day i think of it, guilty. what if there was a rip tide, and the water took me? who would care for my father if i stepped off the beach into a long drop? wasn’t i clever enough to know that the ocean is uncaring?

it is not this that does it. i go out after a rain and i slip on the rocks and suddenly i am in water above my head but without the moon i cannot see the up of it. i kick and i thrash and the water surrounds me. the tide pulls on my body and in the cold i feel my body grow weary. water spills into me. it punches through my body, up my nose and into my lungs and some part of me knows this is what mother felt before she was gone.

i kick ground by accident, reorient, drag myself heaving and spitting into the air. i lie there for a long time, half in and half out of death, enjoying the sensation of breathing and of life.

when i look up, i think i see her, watching me, her brows knit with something like worry. but we make eye contact and my heart leaps and then she is gone and i am left alone with nothing but the dawn breaking.

my father is furious when there is no bread. he finds my hair wet, and the salt of the ocean still smelling on me. and that is it. that day he goes out and pays someone to agree to marry me.

this feels right to me, i think. i’m twenty-one, three times seven, a perfect number for a curse to fully come down on me. i will be wed in three weeks.

the land witch comes to visit me. she looks like she’s sorry for me. she gives me a spell and tells me to put it under my pillow; i’ll dream of love and it will soothe me. instead i dream of the seawitch, and how wonderful she is, and the sight of her, out on the water, worried.

even though it is risky, i go down to the beach. i do not bother with protective spells, i have already seen that the water can kill me. fear alone keeps me from wandering. i sit on the beach and in the sand i draw runes for understanding and i make the small magicks i’ve spent years learning and i close my eyes and i ask the ocean “why do you do this to me.”

i fall asleep. i dream that the sea witch talks to me. i dream she is my age, that she is the great-granddaughter of the first to curse my family. i dream she has spent years watching, learning, finding the truth of me. that she just needs to get the courage to come and speak, that she has fallen in love with my singing, that she knows no curse but the one in her heart that brings her back to a human, to a creature of air and not water, to a mistake in the making.

in the dawn i know it is a dream and no more. i make bread. i pour water out before it can make mirrors. i do not look. i do not like the ache that has filled me, as if i’ve been looking for an answer and the answer only leads to longing.

the man i meet - my husband-to-be - is delighted by the house i keep. he believes a woman should keep in her place, and her place should be clean. he hears from neighbors that sometimes i sneak out to the land witch’s house. laughter barks out of him. not going to allow that behavior, not me. he does not believe in curses. he will pack me up and move me from the ocean to somewhere in the mountains, where i know nobody. and i will, he promises, learn to keep my place, and that place clean.

i tell myself i could love him. he is not ugly. he says i’m pretty enough after whiskey. my father mentions i used to sing. i refuse to perform for these men so instead i make them cookies. they laugh and talk about me, even when i am in the room, as if they cannot even see. they shake hands and talk about how useless a woman is for much else than breeding. it’s very funny. the man meets my eyes and promises he’ll put a baby in me. i look down and pretend the thrill i feel is excitement, not fear brewing in me.

the land witch comes by a week before my wedding. she is smaller these days, aging. her apprentice and i get along wonderfully. the two women stand before me, holding something. 

a small box, so tiny and lovely. “break the curse,” the witch whispers, “learn to be happy.”

i smuggle the box, take it everywhere with me. it is days before i have a moment to slip away, to open it by the sea. i take a candle with me, even though my father will notice and be angry.

by the light of fire i read the spell they have left me inside, and then i am so full of gratitude i cannot stop crying.

it must be a full moon, so i must wait. in the meantime, i walk home, and i bake. 

i do not see the seawitch, even though i look for her. maybe i have wounded her, getting married. my father asks why i keep smiling. i tell him it is because i am finally with a man. he grunts and says to stop looking so silly. 

the man kisses me. i let him. we are married on a night with a full moon, and i poison him and my father in the bread i did not eat. i think of how these men were cursed so they could not see a storm coming. i watch them as they lie there, dying, and then i put all of the things i own into a basket for the land witch. i leave it there with a song i wrote for her, a spell i know will make her happy, will stop the aging of her joints, will give her the kind of relief she gave me. 

i go down to the water. i find myself running, even though i am in no hurry. i know the way so well it is like i wake up there, panting. i ask permission first. i lay out the contents of the box, i organize and practice and when the needle and pain comes, i am ready for it. i am used to pain at night. i breathe into it and walk naked into waters that swallowed my mother.

i chew bitter herbs. i swallow fire. i feel myself drown as i change from land witch to sea witch. 

when it is done, i open my eyes in the deep of a moonlit ocean. and i see her. 

this time she does not flicker. this time when i reach for her, she is there, and she is pushing my hair out of my eyes, and we are kissing with the ocean rejoicing around us, and i am laughing, and i hear her voice as clear as bell inside me.

and we live like this, a whole world between us where white horses are the size of pinky fingers and swim with their thin snouts, where i need no candles because i was raised lightless, where we have no servants but the water takes care of us. i show her the magic of land and she unfolds the magic of water. together we are unstoppable. when i come up to the air to sing little girls a promise that they can survive the madness, she sings with me, and we make a beautiful harmony.

Smart!Lance Headcannons (Part 3)

Lance can knit

His mom use to teach him and his siblings to knit. Her lessons were fun and noisy. It was a miracle that no one accidentally poked their eyes out. As they got older, Lance ended up being the only one sticking with it and practicing regularly. His siblings would proudly bring it up with every chance they had. Gushing about their new sweaters or plush toys, they would tease him until he went bright red.

Little does he know, the lessons have stopped after his disappearance. Without him his mom had no one to knit with. His mom`s face would twist into a fond yet sad smile whenever she sees kneedles.

One day Lance finds kneedles in the castle. He starts using it immediately. He uses it in Blue or in the comforts in his own room. No one knew. He wasn’t ashamed of being able to knit, he just doesn’t want to tell anyone. Knitting felt like something private he wanted to keep to himself.

- His first project was more of a warmup; tiny colourful sweaters for the mice. They loved it and swore not to tell Allura where they got it from. (Despite her curious pleas)

- Lance crocheted a mini blue lion and gave to Blue and she was so happy. She purred loud and proudly as the others looked on with a twinge of jealousy “LOOK LOOK AT WHAT MY SON MADE ME,” He laughed at this and happily continued to make more mini lions for the rest. She grumbled in slight disappointment but if it makes her siblings happy she is all for it.

- The team is just like what the heck what is this toy doing in my lion??? Where did this come from?????

- Imagine everyone in the team getting hand knitted onesies as a surprise gift from him.

- Keith and Pidge come up w multiple conspiracy theories to where these random presents are coming from??? Was it Hunk??? Was it Coran??? Was it the government ??? They even created a club called ‘Sweater Weather theories,’. It was mandatory to join or else Keith will side eye you and start talking milk shots. He will only stop if u join. (He is lactose intolerant)

- It was hilarious, Lance would never tell them.

- but they do find out eventually and soon enough he starts his own knitting lesson but with the team. His best students to worse students were Hunk, Allura, Shiro, Coran, Pidge and then… Keith. Keith sucked. But he was the most dedicated and enthusiastic about knitting so Lance respects that.

-It was great he never had that much fun in a long time.

- AlsO, imagine happy cosy Lance in a mermaid tail blanket.


((Does this count as a smart!Lance headcannon?

Yeah so I interpreted that episode w the Arusians where Lance said “We can knit them tiny sweaters” as proof he can knit

Send me some more Smart! Lance headcannons in my ask guys pls))

Hestia/Vesta

Originally posted by frost-gold

Small devotional acts.

  • Keep a tealight on you, light it wherever you may be
  • Clean one small area of your house
  • Savor a hot drink
  • Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness
  • Always greet animals, both big and small
  • Do anything by candlelight 
  • Get cozy and read a good book 
  • Wear colors you associate with her
  • Practice your patience, both external and internal
  • Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it
  • Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties
  • Bake!
  • Become the one who always has a lighter or matches
  • Listen to music that reminds you of her
  • Spend time tending to your body
  • Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance
  • Practice kindness in all areas of your life - including driving
  • Host/organize a gathering of friends or family
  • Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit
  • Decorate a space
  • Leave the first bite of your food for her
  • Build a fire!
  • Veiling (can come in many, discreet forms)
  • Compliment people - both strangers and loved ones
  • Donate something, be it clothes, money, or your time 
  • Create something - I really like knitting!
  • Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia 
  • Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her
  • Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset
  • Watch/read about acts of kindess - be inspired!
  • PRACTICE LOVING YOURSELF
  • Many, many, many other things not said here
  • Additionally, this post is great!

My wee little brother is finally going to be a freshman in college (I’m so proud :’)) and was asking me for advice the other day. It occurred to me that most of the advice I heard going into uni was stuff like “you can’t live on ramen” and “don’t strangle your roommate in their sleep.”

Solid, but also fairly common sense. I felt that most “college guides” didn’t address the real challenges I ended up facing with school and academia my freshman year, and there was other important but overlooked advice one should keep in mind. So I wrote this for him, and might as well publish it here, as a guide to any incoming freshman on The Real Things You Need To Know For College.

- Go. To Fucking. Office Hours. Especially if you’re writing a paper. Be not afraid of professors, they are nerds who want to talk this one really specific thing they’ve been working on for a decade and want to help you. I used to be afraid of office hours but now I practically live in them, ending up in some office or another talking about research projects and readings at least twice a week. Most professors love engaged & interested undergrads, and will talk you to your grave if you let them. I’ve never regretted an office hour visit.

- If you plan to go to grad school, get involved in research early and stay involved. This is easier than you think - keep an eye out for opportunities and take chances on applying to things - and GO. TO. OFFICE. HOURS. Ask profs if they know any projects you can be involved in. Ask your advisor. Ask your T.A. Let people know you’re interested.

- If you’re not going to grad school, *get an internship.* Make sure you get course credit for it if it’s not paid. Unpaid internships suck esp on top of school and jobs, but they make a huge difference when it comes to experience, your resumé, and figuring out what you want to do.

- Sometimes college is going to suck. Sometimes it’s going to be 3am and you’re at the library too broke to afford coffee, considering sleeping on the chair. Sometimes you’ll be taking 18 hours, working two jobs, and running an organization and can’t remember the last time you called your mama. Those are the most important moments of college, if you ask me. They test if you really want to be doing what you’re doing, if you’re willing to push yourself to the brink for it, or are just doing it bc it’ll make you money or your parents said so.

- If you don’t want to be doing what you’re doing, it’s okay. Talk to people about it. Reach out to professors, classmates, people in your major, and counseling and career services. People want to help you, whether you’re changing paths or turning down a side road, and their guidance will be a blessing in a troubled time.

- Don’t skip class. Just don’t. Go to even the most boring, read-off-slide-doesn’t-take-attendance class. Don’t let people tell you skipping your whole semester’s worth of classes is normal, because it’s not. You’re paying for these courses. I have anxiety, I know what it’s like to be so paralyzed you can’t even get out of bed, but make yourself at least show up, even if you’re in sweatpants-sweatshirt-no-bra spending the whole class writing on your computer. At least you’re there.
Skipping one “mental health break” class isn’t terrible but it’s a slippery slope that I’ve seen more people fall down than not. Do what’s healthy for you, and talk to student counseling if you really are having trouble wanting to go to class, but try your very best to attend every single one.

- And beyond all this, the biggest advice I could give is to have a life outside of college. If you’re taking 15+ hours and working in labs or on campus, your whole life becomes the university. It can quickly start to get overwhelming, like you can’t escape. Do something for yourself - I knit and listen to audiobooks or podcasts for at least four hours a week, as well as blog, and honestly that’s what keeps me sane. Take up ice skating at the local rink every week or plan dinner and movie dates with friends. Join a church group or start crafting or fishing or something equally quirky. Give yourself something that’s not school (and not drinking/partying) to look forward to, and it’ll make all the difference in the world.

I’ve never knitted an edge on something like this. I’ve certainly never knit a lace edge on to anything else.

When i reached this part of the pattern and it was all “yeah put aside ALL that entire thing you just knit and cast on 13 stitches on some DPNs” needless to say I was fuxking baffled to begin with.

BUT ITS ACTUALLY REALLY NICE! and it feels a bit like a magic trick how im suddenly knitting in another direction and just attaching it with a K2tog every other row.

Like, this is good. This LOOKS GOOD.

When I finish this shawl I reckon I deserve some sort of graduation out of ‘novice knitter’ ranks.

What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace any thing, solemn, slight or beautiful that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk, or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art.
—  Virginia Woolf, in a diary entry from 1919, A Writer’s Diary: Being

anonymous asked:

I will never get over how smiley and flirty Magnus and alec were on their date

i know

it kills me all the time when i think about the soft focus lighting, the laughter and their smiles. there was such heavy sweet flirtation in that let’s play moment that just echoes still. it was so god damn them and seeing alec’s face light up like that when he knew magnus was playing him, how much he loved it. imagining that warmth and the hum of the bar around them, sticking close to each other but not close enough to touch, slow smiles and i think in between all of those fairy lights and all of the warmth, it was just filling all that charged air. this deep pulling attraction, but more than that a sense of potential. 

until that conversation happened it was just something fucking else. i just keep imagining the little details we missed. both of them finishing their drinks and magnus asking if he wanted another, somewhere in the middle of the game of pool. alec nodding although he held up a hand.

“just… not another beer.” and he said it kind of quietly, but with a little bit of a smile. the way magnus would look at him and then raise a brow, laughing softly.

“not another beer,” magnus would say, with a nod. “i knew you hated it.” right before he walked back to the bar.

when magnus got back alec took his martini glass and rolled his eyes, soft laughter. “i didn’t hate it, i just want to try something else.”

but the way magnus was staring at him and smiling at him, his eyes sparkling, catching all of the light around them, it was clear there was no judgement there. there was however, a lot of fondness. “of course, alexander.”

then after the game concluded, alec leaning back against the pool table and watching magnus over the rim of his glass. the look he had in his eyes made magnus feel like something was sparking in his chest, frayed connections knitting themselves back together and burning electrical as those hazel eyes appraised him.

so he breathed in, needing to do something with himself, turning to the jukebox and picking out a song. that was enough time to relax himself, if only a little bit. but the thing was it was pulling at his mouth because although it was a lot, it was good. this feeling was good, in the warmth of a bar he frequented so often, alec existing in this place he loved in a way that was so easy. it felt a little bit like a possibility of the future.

anonymous asked:

Hi! I was just wondering if you knew of any nice fingering weight lacy wrap/scarf patterns because I'm looking for a gift knit for my grandma and she doesn't like something too heavy and she likes silky scarves. I was thinking of getting a small silk blend gradient kit to knit it in. Also i absolutely love your blog there are some lovely patterns out there that don't get the attention they deserve and you totally bring them out into the open its great! :)

Thanks for your kind words!  I just love looking at knitting patterns, and it’s so much fun to share them with others.

As far as your grandma’s project, here’s a Ravelry search for fingering-weight scarves made from silk (or a silk blend).  There are also some small wraps included.

Personally, here are a few that I like:

Winter Flame by Juliet Romeo Juliet

Feel Pretty by Caoua Coffee - FREE!

Aria Delicato by Anne Hanson

Coleridge by Elizabeth Doherty

Hogwarts! Mingyu

@itsmultifandomshit requested: “Heyyy could you do Hogwarts! Mingyu??😊” and “Could I possibly ask for a mingyu Hogwarts au? I really love your writings their so cute~ ^^“ 

admin seri: i’m so sorry about how late this is :(

  • the boy’s crazy 
  • okay not really 
  • but WHAT is he ON to be so good at everything?!?! 
  • like everyone wants to know how the hell he has those looks and aces everything in school 
  • the running joke is, “what potion are you drinking?” 
  • even though they were highkey serious in his first year 
  • he just gives them a smile and laughs while answering honestly, 
  • “studying.” 
  • okay but that doesn’t explain everything else Kim Mingyu 
  • like Qudditch 
  • was legit keeper since second year because he’s a tower compared to the others 
  • and coming pretty close to being the same height as a fifth year likeee 
  • basically LONG arse limbs  
  • it’s rare someone gets the ball through the hoop while he’s playing 
  • like the first time he played, the other team is all cocky like ‘lol fresh meat ain’t gonna be that good' 
  • so right away they get a chance to shoot the ball 
  • everyone’s like the first goal of the game, on the edge of their seats 
  • because they all think Gryffindor’s new clumsy keeper won’t make it 
  • but Mingyu stretches his hands out super calmly and catches like YOU THOUGHT AHAHA 
  • flying around with a happy grin on his face, everyone SHOOK 
  • and not only quidditch, he’s good at cooking, knitting, calculus, basically you name it he could do it 
  • potions is and will always be his best and favorite subject
  • and his creations always turn out good too
  • he can space out in class all he wants and doesn’t even need a textbook
  • just starts throwing things in his cauldron from the top of his head and the teacher will walk by like “great job Mingyu!”
  • Minghao will be half-glaring, half 'what-are-you?’ at the side
  • top of the class of course 
  • obviously at least half of the younger portion of the girls has had a crush on him at one point or another 
  • it kinda goes away though because Mingyu’s obviously not looking for anything and just subconsciously friend zones everyone 
  • so he’s just known as that cute boy who can do everything 
  • except like not hurt himself everyday 
  • at this point no one’s even surprised when Mingyu comes in with a bandage around his pinky or a giant bandaid on his head 
  • the professor will be looking around for people that can perform the spell first, and her eyes will stop at Mingyu expectantly 
  • and gets surprised when Mingyu’s struggling to even hold his wand correctly let alone perform a spell 
  • “Mingyu, what happened?" 
  • he’ll chuckle sheepishly, "well i was knitting a friend a new scarf and got scared by something so somehow my thumb broke in my process" 
  • and by something he means one; Jun. two; Jun getting Hoshi to mess with their fireplace 
  • he attempts to scratch his head with that hand and reels back in surprise because he forgot about his thumb 
  • the dork 
  • "why didn’t you go to the nurse? come then i’ll write you a pass" 
  • "ah! nope it’s fine I’m trying to practice healing spells so i think my thumb will be fine in a couple hours" 
  • yeah, him preforming the spell with his non dominant hand is way better than a nurse 
  • but he manages and actually
  • that’s how you meet him
  • no not by an accident 
  • pfft how clichee pfftt 
  • your friend’s birthday was coming up and you know how she’s been wanting mittens and a scarf 
  • so you go to out to hogsmeade and scavenge for some and can’t find anything perfect enough 
  • you were a third year Hufflepuff and happened to be kinda close to Joshua 
  • so you were just telling Joshua the prefect about your problem 
  • and he’s like, "hey i have a friend in Gryffindor, your year, he’s great at knitting" 
  • "OMG REALLY PLEASE PLEASE CAN YOU TELL HIM FOR ME" 
  • he just smiles and shakes his head, "nope go make new friends, Mingyu’s really nice" 
  • he really just wanted the both of you guys to have another friend since he thought you guys would get along well, no other intentions 
  • well at first 
  • you’re just like okay no biggie, Joshua wouldn’t recommend him if he wasn’t good right?
  • one night after dinner you manage to see someone who fit Joshua’s description 
  • and man he was cute 
  • going up to him, you smile, introducing yourself 
  • "hey my name’s y/n, Joshua told me you’re really good at knitting so could you help me with something?" 
  • you’re half excepting him to be like no i don’t make things for random people 
  • “yeah sure! you can come back to the common room with me and choose yarn and stuff" 
  • so the two of you make small talk, about how you know Joshua, how you guys are in the same year, random stuff 
  • until you reach the common room and he brings down his yarn collection for you
  • and you’re low key surprised because wow there’s literally every color you could have asked for 
  • "so what colors are you looking for" 
  • "um my friend lives for blue and silver like the Ravenclaw she is,” you tell him laughing 
  • he laughs also, “alright i’ll make it for you as soon as possible!" 
  • "no!” you shake you head, “take your time i’ll need it in like two weeks” 
  • he shakes his head and grins, “I’ll give it to you when it’s done” 
  • and that’s pretty much it, you say thanks and leave 
  • except not because you were expecting it like a week? later 
  • because i mean you guess you kinda knew Mingyu, just as that smart Gryffindor keeper 
  • but when MIngyu comes up to you two days later 
  • “psstt come to the library after supper I have it” 
  • you’re not even processing it right away, just kinda like ‘what is he talking to me for’ 
  • then you’re like oh dang ALREADY??? 
  • walking to the library, your mind is running miles 
  • and you realize like damn the library is huge how am i gonna find him 
  • nvm this guy is a clumsy third year giant,, not the best match 
  • you catch him loudly shuffling through books 
  • “pssst Mingyuuuu” you say, laughing as he turns around with a little jump of surprise 
  • “AH!” he chuckles nervously at his slightly loud yell 
  • coming back to his senses, he reaches in his bag, and pulls out the most beautiful scarf you’ve ever seen 
  • “here i finished” he grins 
  • “omg it’s so pretty THANK YOU” you reach into your bag trying to find your money 
  • “here” you hand him a few galleons, making his eyes widen 
  • “WOW WAit i can’t take this!!” he whisper yells 
  • shaking your head, “yes you can!! this is way nicer than anything i could find at hogmeade” 
  • you push the money into his bag and grin, “don’t worry about it alright” 
  • thanking him again you turn around to leave with him waving at you 
  • then stopping in your tracks, you bite your lip subconsciously, and turn around 
  • “hey don’t be a stranger! we’re friends now!” 
  • a bright smile spreads across his face 
  • “yeah!” 
  • his simple answer making you smile, you walk out a little happier than normal 
  • you not knowing why 
  • you both start talking together more and realize you share a few classes since you’re both in the same year
  • but lord 
  • don’t let anyone ever tell you Joshua Hong isn’t nosy, 
  • especially when it involves his friends
  • “Y/nnnnn…” he sings happily, walking down the stairs and sitting on the couch next to you in the common room
  • "yes?” you answer looking up from the essay you’re stressing out about 
  • “how are you and Mingyu doing?" 
  • you raise an eyebrow at him 
  • like okay maybe you’re dense but you’re not THAT dense
  • you know exactly what he’s implying 
  • "we’re friends” you say emphasizing your words 
  • he smirks with the gears obviously turning in his head 
  • “well okay then,” he says cheerily, “how do you feel about him" 
  • when did he become so BOLD 
  • you know better than to lie to Joshua, he can find out anything 
  • so it’s better to not say anything at all 
  • you just sigh, biting your lip and get back to your essay 
  • faintly hearing Joshua chuckle and walk away, your mind drifts away from transfiguration to a different subject 
  • Kim Mingyu 
  • ‘agh, whatever,’ you think
  • you don’t wanna stress yourself out about a guy that doesn’t even think of you as more than a friend
  • WELL 
  • Joshua Hong is pretty talkative with Seungcheol and Jeonghan
  • and you know Junhui be nosy and eavesdropping always playing that matchmaker ever since he got himself a girlfriend
  • then telling alllll 12 of them
  • so they all know, 
  • and not a day goes by where someone doesn’t mention you to Mingyu 
  • seriously Minghao was about to just walk up to you to scream “MINGYU LIKES YOU A LOT AND WANTS TO TAKE YOU ON A DATE SO SAY YES” 
  • except he got stupefied by Mingyu who was totally not blushing like an idiot at the thought of Minghao exposing him
  • then Mingyu got detention curtsy of Jeonghan
  • “for not being a man” 
  • but Mingyu’s good at stupefying people so this whole process actually gets drawn out for a while
  • like a couple of months of just you and Mingyu being friends
  • and you trying to hide your blushing cheeks whenever Joshua walks past giving you the look
  • until Seungkwan overhears that your birthday is coming up
  • gets Mingyu in a panic on what to get you 
  • will not stop talking to Seokmin and Minghao about it
  • until Minghao kinda just sighs like, “knit her a scarf? go bother her friends about colors or something”
  • “OOH OOH” Seokmin screams getting hype, “MAKE HER FOOOOODDDDD”
  • Joshua walks up to you the night before your birthday
  • “go to the empty potions class room!” he whispers to you
  • you’re confused as hell, flashing him a confused look, “it’s after curfew? JOshua HOng your a prefect!” 
  • “sssh no one has to know” 
  • you’re walking to the classroom carefully, with zero clues about anything
  • opening the class room door, peeking your head inside slightly
  • your jaw drops, hands automatically pushing the door wide open at the sight
  • Mingyu standing right in front of you, a flower in hand, shyly grinning at you
  • all the classroom desks are gone and somehow it’s just a cute vintage table for two right in the middle
  • with beautiful arrangements of food, one flower placed on the table perfectly
  • “happy early birthday” 
  • you take the flower he hands you, getting flushed
  • “i love this,” you sigh gently, staring at it all in awe
  • he smiles, the apples of his cheeks showing, and leads you to the table
  • pulling out a chair for you, “sit please”
  • you do so, placing you flower in the vase ever so carefully
  • you’re at a lost for words honestly, “i … why would you put so much effort in for me?” 
  • it really is a dumb question
  • “because…,” he trails off for a moment, “i like you, i like you a lot”
  • “i-i-i” you stutter stupidly
  • “i should’ve confessed after we ate right? then at least you don’t feel…” you hear the words he mutters under his breath nervously
  • “no no no wait stop!” you reach over the table and food to grab his hand, holding tightly in yours
  • “i like you a lot too”
  • he just stares blankly at you, and you can see the emotion slowly coming into his eyes 
  • “so let’s eat yeah? i don’t want to let all this food go to waste~” 
  • the time you guys spend eating and talking really goes by quickly 
  • as the night naturally comes to an end the both of you are much more comfortable with each other 
  • “hey so i got you something” he scratches his head nervously
  • “what no you really didn’t, especially after all this” you exclaim
  • already he’s pulling out a prettily wrapped box out from somewhere, you don’t know
  • “just open it” you can tell the smile he shows is laced with worry
  • carefully undoing the ribbon, opening the box, your hand touches a soft material
  • eyes meeting a scarf in your favorite color
  • “Mingyu… this is gorgeous, beautiful, seriously there’s not enough words in the dictionary” 
  • picking up the scarf, he chuckles quietly and walks close to you
  • wrapping this around your neck, he softly asks, “wear this at my next game?”
  • “that sounds awfully girlfriend-like of me to do,” you say, playing with the ends of the scarf 
  • “will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, the tone in his voice heavy with many emotions 
  • even though he shouldn’t be worried or nervous at all
  • “are you expecting any other answer besides of course?” 
  • you stand up, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest
  • suddenly you feel the wand in his pocket buzz quietly
  • giggling into his chest, you lift your head up to look at him, “Mingyu what even?” 
  • “oh that!” he moves his arms from your shoulders to your waist, “well this didn’t go as smoothly as planned” 
  • laughing under his breath for a moment, he then stares into your eyes
  • the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, “Happy Birthday!” 
  • leaning down he presses a kiss right at the corner or your lips
  • your cheeks can’t help turning a red pink and your giggle can’t help but come out
  • “you dork, you really set a wand alarm?” 
  • shaking your head, you tippy toe
  • and press you lips over his, smiling into the kiss
  • leaning back, you smile satisfied 
  • “but that’s why I like you.”

Originally posted by sevixxteen

~admin seri

MASTERLIST 

Romance - Tommy Shelby

48 + 76 w/Tommy please!! I can’t wait to see what you come up with for this one!

From this prompt list:

48)  “I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

76)  “Please put your penis away.”

Part One | Part Two

—————————————————————–

“Tommy, I want go out, get something to eat, go dancing. Anything. Just us two,” I pout.

Tommy looks up from the work he’s doing and quirks an eyebrow.

“Dancing? You’re pregnant and you want to go dancing?”

“Right, well dancing may have been a stupid idea, but we can do something else.”

Tommy waves in the maid that’s hovering by the door with a tray of tea and she sets in on the desk. She offers me a cup but just the thought of milk makes me heave a little and Tommy catches me covering my mouth.

“See, you can’t even stand the thought of a cup of tea! We’re staying here. I’ll get the cooks to make something nice to eat.”

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anonymous asked:

Does 5.0.5. have a hobby that he keeps secret from everyone else? Like being part of a knitting club or something?

  • Tbh he doesn’t seem like the type to keep secrets?? He’d probably be PROUD of his knitting haha.
  • he knits the whole group sweaters for christmas or something. Dementia’s is really cute with neon colors, Flug’s has some kind of science puns on it. BH’s matches his edgy villain aesthetic, but he makes a big deal about how “fucking unvillainous” this whole thing is.
  • (he wears it secretly, of course. Probably under his hugeass coat like a fucking dork. “its red and warm okay fight me”)
  • apart from that, perhaps gardening? he’s already a maid, wouldn’t surprise me if he tended to BH’s greenhouse of Extremely Exotic And Poisonous/Carnivorous Plants (and the little patch of assorted wildflowers BH pretends to not notice)
  • he runs a blog where he posts pics of himself in the maid costume and various others what?
Oh Shit it's P5 headcanon time

Lets get this fucking show on the road alright wooo (Only the first 4 party members bc i only really have in depth headcanons for them. and i haven’t gotten much further past the second palace)

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Glass Heart - Part Four

Ubbe x Reader

Part One   Part Two   Part Three

Notes: 2164 words. Still T-rated. Read on and let the gods smoosh their faces together already.

Read on Ao3

By the way this spring ritual was inspired by a Czech tradition for Walpurgisnacht, according to Wikipedia. My cursory internet research said there’s not much from the primary sources about how the ancient Vikings celebrated the spring equinox, so when I found this “kissing under a blossoming tree or you’ll be dried up all year” Germanic thing I decided to use some artistic license and add it in as a tradition at Kattegat too.

You feel frozen to the ground as you watch Ubbe approach. You like to think of yourself as an assertive person, but right now it feels like all you can do is hold still and wait for him to notice you. If you call out to him, only to find that he was actual searching for another woman, you are not sure your heart could take it.

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War Ficlet Series Part II (Part I) (Part III) (Part IV)

Draco was writing a proposal for the new Minister for Magic, the fourth one in three years, when the owl arrived. At first, he thought it was just one of many inquiries he’d received from Nott Sr. regarding his son’s place in the ranks, but when he saw his name scrawled across the top his heart stalled. He’d recognized the handwriting anywhere.

Draco,

I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been so long since I’ve written you, and for that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you are very much aware of the dangers that come with our correspondence so I hope you don’t begrudge me for it.  I didn’t want to jeopardize your position and I couldn’t afford my location being exposed if the letters fell into the wrong hands. I made myself a promise that I wouldn’t contact you until this whole mess was over, but I have no other choice. I’ve run out of options and I need your help. I know it’s rather unfair of me to ask anything of you, after all, I turned down your offers in the past, but I am in a desperate situation. If this letter reaches you, and you can find it in your heart to forgive me, please meet me in the back room of the place that used to be Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes at 10 o’clock in the evening on the fourth of March. I can’t disclose any more information than this. The rest will have to wait until our meeting. I truly hope to see you there. 

H.G.

He stared at the parchment and reread it until all the letters blurred together. There were no traces of enchantments, curses, or spells on the letter itself so he knew he could trust what it said.

It had just been so long since he’d heard from her. Sometimes he’d wonder if she was still alive, but then he’d remember that if she were dead The Dark Lord would most likely be holding a celebration revel in her honor. But this was the absolute and undeniable proof that she was alive. She was alive and she needed his help.

***

He showed up to their meeting place two days later, and twenty minutes early. The blonde had tried to go about his business like usual and he mostly succeeded, but he hadn’t been able to curb the nervous energy inside of him. He’d have thought his feelings for her would have waned, but obviously, that wasn’t the case. As soon as that letter dropped into his lap all the thoughts and feelings he’d ever had for the woman flooded back.

Despite their history, meeting with her still posed a risk, he knew that. It could possibly be a ploy to get him alone, allowing him to be ambushed. but he highly doubted that. He was more worried about being tailed on his end. He’d been extremely thorough in covering his tracks and making sure no one knew what he was doing tonight. He couldn’t afford to get caught fraternizing with the enemy, not when he finally had a foot in the Inner Circle.

When the sound of a back door alerted him to another presence, he turned around and stood perfectly still, wand at the ready just in case he’d fucked up and had been followed. There was a soft click and then the shuffling of feet on the floor. His heart raced in anticipation. This was it. He was going to see her for the first time in years.



When the witch finally rounded the corner, wand also raised and as cautious as a mouse, he had to stop himself from rushing forward and taking her into his arms. She looked so….small…and tired, so unlike the vibrant Hermione of the past. The woman in front of him wasn’t the shining book lover, the spirited fighter and spellcaster he’d come to know and love, this woman was war torn and defeated.

Her hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it, her curls tangling just below her ears, and her cheeks were a bit sunken in as if she was half starved. Which….she probably was. The very thought of her hiding somewhere cold and starving made his heart twist uncomfortably.

“Hermione?” He winced at how gravelly his voice sounded.

She gave him a tiny forced smile. “Hello, Draco.”

He pocketed his wand and raked his eyes back over her body, cataloging how thin she was. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but it seems that it would be incredibly pointless.”

“The same could be said about you.” She replied simply.

He knew she would have been keeping tabs on him. She was one of the very very few that knew where his true allegiance lied, so she would know most of the things he’d been doing. The sometimes despicable things he’d been doing in the best interest of this long con. It still made him feel dirty when he thought about it too long.

“So, what’s this about, Granger? Your note indicated that you seemed to be in some trouble.”

“It’s something like that, yes. I just….” She paused and bit her lip, something she always did when she was thinking about what to say. “This is extremely hard to ask. We…we are estranged,”  When he opened his mouth to protest she threw up her hand to stop him. “And that is my fault. You tried….you tried to help and I didn't….I ignored your worries and spit on our relationship and….I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t do that.” He said, frowning down at her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She gave him an incredulous look but didn’t respond to his statement. “This is a big request, Draco. One you may not be able to, or even want to, fulfill, but I’m desperate.” She closed her eyes tightly and breathed through her nose. “I’m so desperate.”

“What is it?” He hated how eager he sounded but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to help this woman. He had loved this woman and wanted to just reach out to her and tell her he would take care of everything. His fingers twitched uncertainly; he had not been within touching distance to her since that last day. “I will do whatever I can.”

She regarded him with an expression somewhere between hopeful and heedful. “Wait here.”

He did as she asked and watched her walk out of the room. A moment later she was back, but he was surprised to see that she wasn’t alone. She held the hand of a small child. He couldn’t see them clearly because of the, most likely Weasley made, knitted hood with bear ears concealing their head, but something strange settled in his gut.

“This is my daughter Rhea.” She told him quietly.

Eyes widened. “Your…daughter…” A spike of jealousy ran through him at the admittance, but he quickly schooled his features, not wanting to give himself away. Of course, she’d have moved on. It had been years.

The witch nodded. “She’s the reason why I’m here. I’m sure you know the state of things in the city, in the slums. It’s worse for those of us in the resistance and I can’t just wait around for something bad to happen to her….or me when I’m with her…” She patted the child’s shoulder. “So, I swallowed my pride and came to you. You’re the only one that can help her.”

Confused, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Me? How am I the only one that can help? What is it, exactly, that you want me to do? Smuggle her out of London? I can’t say it would be easy but it is possible.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to smuggle her out, at least not at this time. There’s no one outside of the city that could take her yet and I honestly don’t trust she’d be any safer out there than by my side.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion.“Then I really don’t know what we’re doing here.”

Again she bit her lip. “I was hoping you would take her. You’re the only one I could trust to do it. Just take her with you and protect her. Watch over her. Eventually, take her to France, make her your heir, or whatever it is you have to do to keep her safe.”

What?” The request was even stranger than he’d first assumed and it left him blinking with his mouth hanging open, all pretense of calm completely gone. “Have you gone barmy? I can’t…it would be one thing to sneak her out but..to do that?  I haven’t the foggiest clue what to do with children and don’t you think it will seem incredibly suspicious if I just show up with a child? Besides, why in Salazar’s name would I even want take your daughter into my home, risk everything, and pass her off as mine?”

Hermione sighed in that way of hers that always made him feel like he was being scolded, and pulled off the girl’s dark hat, causing a cascade of curly blonde hair to tumble out of it. “Because she is yours.”

His world stopped for a moment as he stared down at the little girl. He’d been so focused on Hermione that he hadn’t taken a second glance at the child. She looked to be around four years old which would definitely line up and when he met her eyes it was like he was staring at his mother. She had sharp features that were associated with his family too and the only thing that looked like the woman behind her was her curls, her nose, and her mouth, which was now turned downward in a frown.

The little girl, no Rhea, he chastised himself, did not make a noise as she regarded him suspiciously.  “She’s…” he swallowed, “mine?”

“Yes, Draco, she’s yours. And I realize how confused and angry you might be at me for hiding it from you, but we really don’t have the luxury of time to have a good row about it right now.”

The urgency in her voice reminded him that she needed his cooperation and help. He had no interest in the “why’s” before, but now? She needed him to protect her ch-…to protect their child and he needed to know why. “What happened, Hermione?” He asked, taking a tentative step forward. “Why come to me now?”

Her frail looking hands gripped the girl’s shoulder. “That's….people are being snatched off the street. People not in the resistance. Harry’s sources in the city have been concerned. Children have been disappearing too, at a rapid rate. We’re scared of what that means.”

Draco frowned. As far as he knew nothing like that had been sanctioned, at least not in an official sense. He knew there were plenty of things that happened under shady circumstances but he couldn’t keep track of them all. He should look into that.

“Mummy?” The soft, fairy-like voice nearly startled him as it filled the silence. She’d been quiet this whole time. “What’s wrong? Who is that?”

He watched, mesmerized, as Hermione dropped down in front of her daughter and ran her fingers through her curly hair. “Grown up stuff, baby. You remember mummy telling you that we were leaving Uncle Harry’s?”  The girl nodded. “And that we were going to meet your daddy?” Blue eyes shot up from her mother’s face to stare at him, mouth parted in awe. Hermione nodded. “Yes, Rhea. That’s your daddy.”


Hearing the words out loud was jarring and he felt something inside him crack. He was a father. Honestly, The whole world could have crumbled beneath him in that moment and Draco wouldn’t have noticed.

i always think it might be fun to have an etsy store or commissions or something for my knitting but then I remember how long it takes me to knit fucking anything and it’s like “hm no thanks!!!!”

I COULD do hats. I can do those really fast like in a day. When I get my yarn out of storage I’m gonna make an N7 hat and if it turns out decent I might put that up as like something i would make for people.

late au:  t h e   a n t i - v a l e n t i n e s   d a y   c l u b

Years later, they decide to forego the holidays.

“We can try something different, you know? Like, what if, for once, we celebrate by not celebrating?”

It’s all Caroline’s idea, obviously, and Klaus is just happy to go along.

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A Night to Remember (Grayson Dolan x Reader)

Summary: Requested. You meet a stranger at a party with the same dilemma as you; neither of you want to be there. This stranger decides to take you somewhere for the ride of your life.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,564.

(not my gif)

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