Wednesday: Diaries/Journals

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

A wonderful Wednesday to you! Today's theme is diaries or journals. This may be as simple as a little food journal or as private as a book where your character keeps their innermost thoughts.

-
The rules are as follows:
*No more than five prompts in a row.
*No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
*No spoilers in prompts.

If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.

Go forth and write! Some examples to get you going:

The Babysitters Club, Mal, looking back at old diaries from sixth grade
Any, any, a dream journal
Any, any, going to the newsagent's for a diary

Comments

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, people write diaries for themselves -- but the notebooks end up being all that the world after has to understand what once was

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, if [person] had known just how well the album would do, [pronoun] wouldn't have written such personal songs



(Inspired by Adele, who actually said that in an interview at some point)

No fill, but

[canonisrelative.livejournal.com]

That's a really cool prompt and interesting to know about Adele. Bookmarking this one for later...

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, an amnesiac is given their old diaries to read through; they don't recognize the writer at all

MCU Fill: Remember When

[scribblemyname]

Steve had given him a stack of journals to read. It was a long slog of interesting but dated stories of decades ago, but he kept reading because Steve had asked him to and he wanted to stay here with Steve, which meant letting Steve make the rules until he could remember for himself.

But it really was tedious.

When the man introduced as Bruce walked in, glad for the excuse, he set the current journal down on the couch beside him.

"How many books did this guy write?" he asked with a weary sigh.

Bruce hesitated.

Bruce's eyes tracked to the kitchen, and he noted the mug in Bruce's hand. Coffee? Tea? Tea. He nodded to himself. Bruce liked tea.

"Why don't you ask Steve that?" Bruce brought out very slowly.

He scowled. He liked Steve but he wanted to make other friends too, even if Steve was the only one who seemed to remember him. He shrugged and picked up the journal again. He flashed a tight and totally insincere smile. "I'll just keep reading."

Bruce stayed hesitant in the living room for a little longer before finally making his way to the kitchen in silence.

The clock ticked loudly.

He was tired of being the only one who didn't know any answers.

[tigriswolf]

Highlander, Methos, the first record he ever wrote (and why)

[daria234.livejournal.com]

At first, he hated writing.

He was, as they would later call it, a bit of a curmudgeon about it.

It just seemed so vulgar, so base, to take the sanctity of the word, the voice ringing true from mouth to ear, and turn it into ugly little scrapings. To take a word, spoken and pure, and thrust it down onto a stone, to make it rigid and unchangeable for eternity -- it went against everything Methos knew of time and change. It was a violation. It was, truth be told, rather disgusting.

He was, he would later admit, somewhat stubborn about it. He refused to write when he was in Babylonia, pretending not to be elite enough to know anything about reading and writing (though of course he could read - he'd be a fool not to learn to read when he got the chance - but there was no advantage in allowing others to know he could).

Greece was harder. Writing was all the rage - letters, memoirs, books full of gossip about famous people (they called it philosophy and history). But Methos managed to get others to write things down for him when he absolutely needed it. He still felt a resentment toward those inane little marks. He didn't want to bring more of them into the world.

It was Rome, of all places, where he finally gave in. Rome, with the silliest, ugliest alphabet he'd ever seen.

But Rome, well, it knew how to feast.

After Methos had gotten his favorite cook drunk enough to reveal his recipes, Methos realized that they were far too detailed and complicated to remember. With a great sigh, he put ink to parchment.

He grumbled after, he would someday recall, something about children and their stupid fashions of the day.

Of course a mere few hundred years later, he was in a monastery copying hundreds of tomes into illuminated books. During those long, tedious days he often noted the irony that he now wrote more than almost anyone.

And he only occasionally mistranslated to insert dirty rhymes into the books. Hardly ever. (It turned out that the written word wasn't so unchangeable after all).

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, the diary ends up being all the proof that [person] lived

Filled - Sherlock

[tinhutlady.livejournal.com]

“Put that down.”

Sherlock didn’t, of course. “This is fascinating,” he said, waving around the little book filled with scrawls and sketches.

“It’s one of a kind, and what are you doing going through my room anyway?” asked John.

“Just curious.”

“Curious or not, your tea is far too close to those pages. That is something very precious to me.”

John’s voice should have warned him, but Sherlock nattered on.

“Nothing’s precious, John. It’s a cheap diary, old but well cared for. You can pick these up anywhere even now. And these ramblings, while amusing, are hardly priceless.” He took a sip of tea and put the cup down. “One of your friends from Afghanistan, obviously,” he said as he callously turned more pages. “Your age, not your background, talented though, introvert, and trusts you immeasurably for giving you this.” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked up from his seated position. “Or did he die?”

John was standing right in front of him now, his hand out to claim the book and his face unreadable. This time Sherlock acquiesced as he gently closed it and gave it back.

“He was an orphan,” John finally said. “No family. No wife. All his friends were in the unit. This is practically all we have of him to prove he existed.” He sighed. “We take turns, each of us keeping it for a year at a time.”

“Ah,” said Sherlock, and he wisely said nothing else.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

Veronica Mars. any. Places to hide a diary.

set in high school - cracky

[daria234.livejournal.com]

"How do you know your dad won't find your diary?" Mac asked.

"Trust me. There's this part of the carpet that's loose."

"That's where you hide it?"

"No, that's where I hide my key to my decoy diary."

"Decoy diary?"

"Totally. And my decoy diary has a secret compartment that has a fake ID in it. And I take the fake ID to the bank to get into a safe deposit box."

"You keep your diary in a safe deposit box?"

"No, that would be trackable, even with a fake name if someone tracked my phone data."

"Obviously."

"So the safe deposit box has a key to a locker where I keep another key that opens a door to a shed on an abandoned lot, where there's a safe, and that's where I keep my diary."

"But... how do you do all that every time you want to write in your diary?"

"Yeah. I haven't figured that out yet. Probably why I only write once a month."

"Yeah. Something to think about."

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

BtVS. Anya. She used to make careful notations of every wish. (Now she notes down every item she sells.)

fill

[likewinning.livejournal.com]

The first wishes she granted were sloppy. Half-hearted. At the time, she had a thirst for vengeance but also, she still loved the man she had turned into a troll. Behind the demon she had become, there was still a young woman with a broken heart.

That changed when she began to keep track.

Ripped out hearts. Men turned into goats, into donkeys, into any imaginable thing. Sometimes the wishes actually helped the girls who had wished them.

Most of the time, Anyanka was not at the time particularly sorry to say, they weren't.

If no refunds had been a phrase back then, it would have been stamped next to her name in the books of monsters.

You get what you paid for, and when you wished upon a vengeance demon, what you paid for was... Well, vengeance. You want justice, you find someone else.

When she lost her powers, she ditched her books. All those minute details of wishes granted and their results. It's a shame, really. Some idiot Watcher probably would have paid a fortune for them, and if there's one thing Anya loves about being human, it's money.

She sells other things these days. Magic tricks. Herbs. Potions that quite frankly won't work for most of the simpletons that buy them, but Anya isn't in the business of helping people create chaos anymore.

And if the magic stone that's supposed to make your best friend fall in love with you doesn't work quite as planned, well - sorry, no refunds.

[canonisrelative.livejournal.com]

ACD Sherlock Holmes, Holmes/+Watson, Watson leaves his pocket-notebook somewhere Holmes finds it. Does Holmes discover something about Watson he hadn't previously deduced?

Fill:

[thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com]

Doctor Watson had accidentally forgotten his pocket-notebook and Holmes, curious to see the entries that Watson normally guarded so carefully, picked it up and started to glance through it. At first there seemed to be nothing of interest, gambling debts, nothing large and nothing he couldn’t have deduced, even if he wouldn’t have been sure of the exact amounts. But then Holmes found a series of initials and dates with further annotations after each set, which at first he couldn’t interpret. Some of the initials were repeated and slowly Holmes came to understand that what he was looking at was Watson’s medical records for when he had treated the Irregulars, together with their sisters and younger siblings. Carefully Holmes replaced the pocket-notebook and resolved to make no mention of his discovery.

[canonisrelative.livejournal.com]

Star Trek, any, a character's personal log before leaving on an away mission they might not return from.

[canonisrelative.livejournal.com]

Dexter, Dex/Deb or gen, Debra reading her childhood journals

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward+Any, Edward's journal is a fascinating read, even for people who aren't alchemists.

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Fullmetal Alchemist, Alphonse+Any, Checking off his list of things he wants to try

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Parker+Any, Parker has a diary?

Leverage Fill: Intel, Dressed in Pink

[scribblemyname]

Sophie passed through the living room like a hurricane, flipping couch cushions and shoving Hardison's mess of papers aside on the table.

"Hey, watch it, watch it," Hardison protested.

"What you looking for?" Eliot asked.

"Have either of you two seen a pink book about so big?" She held up her hands to indicate.

Eliot frowned. "Pink?"

"Well, I don't have a pink book." Hardison looked at Eliot. "Do you have a pink book?"

"Oh!" Sophie sighed in frustration. "It's Parker's diary."

"Oh." Eliot waved in the direction of the stairs. "Check someplace high that she can hang off of. Doesn't she have a hanging bar somewhere?"

"Great idea!" Sophie smiled and squeezed his shoulder as she went by. "Thanks!"

"Wait a minute..." Hardison looked at Eliot.

Eliot looked at Hardison. "Parker has a diary?"

Hardison groaned. "I knew she was taking notes about us, man. I knew it. Ever since she grifted that Attorney General. She's been watching us, brother." His eyes looked a little crazed as he fixed them on Eliot.

"Wait, wait, forget about that." Eliot waved it aside. "Why is Sophie looking for it?"

They stared at each other, then scrambled out of their seats as one to do what they could.

"Oh, man," Hardison said for the both of them. "We are doomed."

[scribblemyname]

MCU, Natasha, her ledger is a small journal that could give someone nightmares

[Fill] Making Notes

[lil-1337.livejournal.com]

When Natasha says she has red in her ledger she means it - literally. The notebook, a small diary with an idyllic scene on the front, records every kill. Each sin carefully noted in dark red ink that bleeds slightly into the thick paper. The things she does to balance them out, the good deeds performed because of love or duty she doesn't record however. Each one is etched into her heart and soul; so deeply treasured that not even the most miniscule detail will ever be forgotten.

[scribblemyname]

Firefly, River + any, let's not keep the stories of our heists in a diary; that's called evidence

[daria234.livejournal.com]

"I hear you've been keeping a diary of our heists?" Mal said, standing in the doorway to River's room.

"It's a scrapbook of happy memories," she said, browsing her colorful book.

"It'd actually be called evidence, if the wrong person takes hold of it," Mal pointed out.

She looked up at him, amusement not masking the steel, "You think I'd let someone take my happy memories from me?"

Mal paused, then smiled. "Only if they were idiots."

She nodded and then looked back down at her book. "That reminds me, tell Jayne if he touches it without asking, I'll put a knife through his hand."

"Maybe that's something you can tell him yourself," Mal answered, trying not to smirk.

"Good advice, thank you."

"Hey, is that a picture of that planet I almost got killed at?"

"It's a picture of a place you came back alive from," she said, eyes serious. "So it's a happy memory."

"Fair enough, then. It's a nice book, River."

"You can look at it sometime if you want."

"Thanks."

"But just you. Not Jayne."

"Yeah. I haven't forgotten."

[scribblemyname]

any, any, the journal she/he left behind was clearly written to someone but no one knows who

[tigriswolf]

Harry Potter, Ginny, after first year, she never keeps another diary

fill

[likewinning.livejournal.com]

Her professors have always been impressed with her writing. Even Hermione tells her there is a voice to it, that she should do more with her abilities than just drudge through Snape's three foot long potions essays.

"You should keep a jour -" Hermione starts, and then all at once her face turns bright pink and she corrects herself. "I'm sorry," she says. "I only meant. You should practice."

It's not quite Harry's I forgot, and Hermione is rarely insensitive, so Ginny lets it go, just as she has let go of every half-hearted diary sent her way by friends and relatives at Christmas and her birthday with cute little inscriptions about how every young lady should have somewhere to put her thoughts.

Much as she'd like to be rude, or at least unleash her mother on them, she simply writes them thank you and tosses the journals in the fireplace. She'd stab them with a basilisk fang, too, if she had one handy.

But there is a truth about this that she never tells anyone. It is not, deep down, that she fears that another diary might talk back to her that prevents her from keeping one. It's the fact, plain and clear, that it won't.

No diary will ever understand her the way that first one did. She stays with her essays instead.

[scribblemyname]

Andromeda, Harper + Beka, Beka stops letting Harper write the mission logs for the Eureka Maru

[samueljames]

Teen Wolf, Stiles (gen), Dear Diary, my teen angst has a body count.

[oh-mcgee.livejournal.com]

Stiles writes.

He writes down letters and numbers that sometimes turn into words and sometimes those words turn into sentences. Sometimes they don’t, though. Sometimes what he writes looks like he’s seeing it through a mirror, backward and Greek. But its only sometimes.

He writes in a blue, spiral bound notebook with college ruled paper because he thinks wide-ruled paper is a travesty. He writes down thoughts, memories, dreams he had the night before, even has a special pen that’s his favorite. The day it runs out of ink, he’s grumpy and agitated for hours and doesn’t know why.

It’s not until months after they’ve killed the nogitsune that Stiles finds them, stacks and stacks of one subject notebooks, all wide-ruled, collecting dust in a corner of his room. He picks one up using just the tips of his fingers, treating it like toxic waste. He doesn’t remember ever writing in these.

Stiles turns the first page and drops the book. Page after page and after page is filled with the words LET ME IN STILES scrawled over every inch in dark, heavy ink.

LET ME IN.

STILES.

LET ME IN.

WHEN IS A DOOR NOT A DOOR?

WE’RE TRYING TO SAVE YOU, STILES.

“Another stack of journals, son? I know that they are important to you for some reason, but you can’t keep -”

“Burn them,” Stiles says immediately, kicking the cardboard box full of them across the room to his Dad’s feet. “Burn them till they’re ash.”

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

Highlander, Methos + Watchers, there are several watchers in the research division who have complete and utter linguistic boners over the Methos journals, for reasons of a) the number of languages they're written in, b) the progression of those languages over the centuries, and c) the fact that several later journals are written in older or then-dead tongues, with linguistic differences because while Methos remembered the vocabulary and grammer of the older languages, his syntax, phrasings and idioms unconsciously (?) changed with each new 'mother' tongue he spoke. Methos, when he finds out about said linguistic happy-land, is somewhere between bemused, alarmed and sort of proud.

Look, apparently I have feelings about Methos and languages, yes? It's a thing. I apologise for the thing.

[falkner]

Kingdom Hearts, any, someone finds Jiminy's Journal and reads through it

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

BtVS. Buffy/Angel. He should have read her diary when he had the chance.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter. any. Riddle's journal.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

BtVS. any. Dawn's diary.

Mini Fill (for your Boston Verse)

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Li'l Bit not being home meant he could do some snoopin', and Spike was not the person to not take advantage of such a thing. Her bedroom was off-limits - pssh - and he pushed through the door, glad Red hadn't shown Dawnie just how to make a Vampire-Proof Doorway (yet). She found out he was messin' around in her small clothes, well, Red might getta call yet.

But the underthings (disappointingly plain, no frills or lace or thongs or anything fun) were ignored for the leather-bound book. "Oh ho," Spike said, smiling, and reached for the book. He started to open it and -

- the bloody thing bit him! With with teeth and damn it, he was bleeding and Spike shoved his finger in his mouth as fast as he could, 'cause if he leaked blood on Dawn's clothes, he might end up ashed.

But what the hell was up with her diary, anyway? Using a long hair barrette, Spike pried open the book - only to have it bite the barrette.

"Oh, so smart," he growled, realizing from a faint flicker there was some sort of magic involved. Dawn wasn't taking any chances, and booby trapped her diary rather than her booby trappers.

[falkner]

MCU or any Avengers comic/cartoon, any, a journal keeping track of all the damage they cause

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Okay, Coulson. You were right. It turned out that I SLIGHTLY underestimated how much damage I was causing.

But: swinging from a line through large windows is awesome.

It just so happens that being awesome requires replacing very large windows. Which are apparently the most expensive kind of window.

And shooting fire at enemies with an arrow is an age old technique. Don't lie, I've seen all the history books at your house. You know I'm right. And yeah, fire spreads, but that's WHY it's such a popular weapon.

Furthermore, I would like to point out that shooting grappling hooks into 'architectural treasures' sounds much worse than it actually is. Those buildings are old anyway!

And there's no way I'm taking the blame for anything that happens when I'm out with the team. Those guys are fucking nuts. I don't even meen Big Green, Tony fucking blasts his way through everything, and Steve throws aliens crashing into buildings all the time. And you've worked with Natasha; you know how she does things. And that's not even getting into the big hammer.

By the way, I would like to point out that I just said 'big hammer' without making a dick joke. I feel like I've come a long way.

Anyway, yes, there is a lot of 'damage' that I have technically 'caused.' But I don't see how being all dramatic about it is going to help anything.

Cordial regards,
Clint