#...and almost... neglected in a way by younger adults. it's hard to describe but i sense some loneliness in some old people y'know?

[uncanny-tranny]

I went to a local yarn store for the first time, and while I was there, somebody was talking about getting a beginner's knitting kit, and she inquired about when lessons were, and when she was told that they'd be happy to sit down with her and teach her, she was so delighted. She talked about how excited she was and how much she wanted to learn to knit, and it just... it made me fall in love with humanity. It was this pure, unadulterated happiness coming from somebody and it was so genuine and kind, and I couldn't help but smile.

I guess all of this is to say... every moment, there are tiny little joys like this all over the world, and it makes this life worth living. I hope you witness and feel joy this simple, this pure.

[spicycowboyhole]

taking a shower tomorrow

i didnt get much for christmas this year tbh

im kinda jealouse cuz my siblings got really expensive shit and i got like pretty much just stocking stuffers lol. i guess if i really want something i need to get it myself huh

anyway,, he texts me constantly but also calls me everyday. hes so nice to me it makes me cry. H is nice to me too. when i think about how nice these internet strangers are to me it makes me sad because i feel like im not allowed to be myself and im not accepted at home. im so afraid to be myself here and i dont feel like i fit in but when i talk to the little people in my phone?? they make me feel things? like im not crazy or weird OH MY GOD istg i cry almost everytime i talk to him cuz hes soso nice to me

idk what it is or what i wanna say exactly i kinda just wanna figure out how to word this so ik how to tell my couonselor.

what happened recently was i went to walmart with my dad and like i didnt take a shower or anything cuz we were just going to applebees and walmart and i dont even like applebees so who cares if my hair is fucked up right but when we went to walmart my dad was like you need a makeover cuz ur hair is bad and i kinda took offense honestly cuz i dont like my dad making comments about my appearence like this one time he told me i "need to work on my glamour" like wtf so i told my mom what he said to me at walmart and she AGREED WITH HIM AND SCHEDULED A DAY TO TAKE ME TO THE MALL TO BUY CLOTHES. and then so we went like on firday before christmas and it just kinda made me feel like a child and also like i was neglected when i was an actual child cuz idk i have like a lot of self image issues and i just wear whatever makes me not hate how i look and rn thats big skirt and little shirt but my mom wants me to wear jeans and regular shirt and i just think i look so bad in it. like she wanted me to get 5 outfits at the mall and i was like "so we're just gonna buy 5 pairs of the ssame pants? what if i dont even wear them?" and she said "YOU HAVE TO" so after that i felt kinda belittled? basically like i had no power or say in what im allowed to wear like A KID. BUT when i was an actual kid i would litterally go to school and my shoes would fall apart and i used the same ugly backpack from like 6th til highschool. like i dont understand why my parents suddenly care about how i look? now that im an adult? theyr ebasically saying they dont like how i dress and that upsets me because i feel like im finally able to learn how to express myself with how i dress now that im not inschool and scared of how people might percieve me and theyre judging not just how i look but also me yk

i NEVER got compliments when i was younger. i mean definatelelty not as much as i do now that im not as afraid of being myself. i mean people compliment me on my hair, my outfits, my glasses, my voice.

IM SMART, IM FUNNY, IM SILLY, IM WITTY, IM CUTE, IM PRETTY

IM GOOD

my hwole life everyone would describe me as quiet, shy. i thought i was weird, abnormal, i thought everything i liked was stupid.

i think i just need to get out of here.

its so hard to not hate myself when everyone around me sucks.

again, self image issues, insecurity, shame. when i was younger i used to hide pictures of myself cuz i just thought i looked so ugly and i still do. i'll look at those old pictures and think why would my parents let me go out in public like that? like ive always thought i was only cute as a toddler and then went downhill after that lol. but anyway im working on that by saving pics of myself when i was younger cuz thats me!! and if i were my parent i wouldve been a way better parent than my actual ones. she deserves everything she wants.

[bonny-kookoo]

Tiny Treasures | JJK x Reader | 💜🐾(☁️)🔞

Commission for @eyerin !! Thank you sm for that request! 💖

Want to request too? Take a look at my ko-fi then! (ko-fi.com/bonnykookoo)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU, non-idol!AU, Web-Designer!Jungkook, bunny hybrid!Reader, featuring Taehyung: your local scatterbrain (TM)

Warnings: absolute fluff, it’s cotton candy I swear, so soft, so sweet, oh lord, reader is shy and sweet, Jungkook is whipped, he’s so sweet with her ugh, this is now my official emotional support Koo, some mentions of past abuse/neglect, did I mention that kook is whipped, because his heart go boom boom whenever reader so much as BREATHES, strength kink (hint), your local praise and size kink say hi as well, no smut would you believe it, possibly future parts? I dont know I just love them okay

Summary: Jungkook was a hopeless romantic believing in love at first sight- and then there was you, a bunny experiencing the tiny treasures of life for the first time. Together, with him.

It's busy in Jungkooks apartment- something thats unusual, considering that technically, the young man lives alone, doesn't really fuck around, and works at home as well ever since he took on the job as a web-designer. There was no reason to cause such an amount of stress in his home- other than the simple fact of his best friend currently pacing around, steps so fast and hard that Jungkook scared his flooring would soon melt underneath the older ones shoes he didn't take off in a rush. There were bags on his couch, bags on his counter, and a backpack somewhere in his living room- all because of;

"Okay so, she's okay with eating almost everything BUT!" Taehyung holds his finger up as if he's lecturing a child in front of him- which he's not, Jungkook is a full grown adult at this point, and looks at him unimpressed with furrowed brows as his older friend lists up things he needs to keep in mind for the hybrid he's looking after for the day. "Please make sure she's hydrated, she tends to forget to drink during the day. If she does and gets a headache there's medication in the bag that I've put on the couch- you've seen it right? Should I show you again?" He stresses, and Jungkook holds his friend's shoulders for a moment.

"Can you like, breathe for a moment please?" He says, and Taehyung nods, following the instructions for a moment before Jungkook continues. "Okay great. Now that you're not hyperventilating anymore I can tell you that yes, I've seen the bag-" He says, pointing towards the couch that's littered with so many things it seems like he's giving the hybrid up for adoption today instead of just dropping her off until tomorrow. "Second of all, I've taken care of Yoongi before and he's still alive, what's so different? Just because she's a bunny- or was it hare- wait is there a difference..?" Jungkook drawls off, suddenly thinking and not quite remembering if he's ever quite asked himself the difference of these two things. Taehyung however seems offended by that.

"Jungkook, she's a BUNNY, not a hare! That's a HUGE difference!" He whines out, and Jungkook looks at him a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Oh god maybe I shouldn't go, this is a bad idea.." He says, already taking out his phone to cancel the date he has tonight, but jungkook holds the elders friend before he can make that mistake. Taehyung was a busy man, running a hybrid rehabilitation center in Seoul and Daegu- while talking to Busan's department for partnership. He really loves his job- but sometimes he gets too invested in it, just like now. He's finally got a date for himself after years of being alone; but he almost shot the poor woman down when he remembered that you, a newly rescued hybrid was staying at his home- something he never did before. Sure, he had taken over the rehabilitation of hybrids before, but he had never ever taken a case home with him. But after meeting you, seeing you, and knowing what you've been put through, his heart simply couldn't leave you at the shelter- even though he knew that it was probably the best place to be for you. But he had done what he had done now- there was no turning back with you. He couldn't leave you alone yet, so Jungkook had volunteered to look after you for the day and night, until Taehyung would pick you up the next day. The younger one had always looked after Yoongi, a cat hybrid later on adopted by Jung Hoseok, a friend of both of them; so he personally felt good about taking you in.

It was just for a day- what could go wrong?

"Come on, don't you trust me? Or is she like, super aggressive or something?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs. He hasn't told the younger one much about you, believing it was bad karma to talk about others when they weren't present. Yet this time he'd have to make an exception- because Jungkook needed to know at least some things about you and where you came from. Everything else would be unfair.

Taehyung sighed. "She's a category 3, so she's still recovering from her past home. She's just.. super shy and timid, and gets scared pretty easily so, I'm just terrified Jungkook. I know you don't want to cause any harm, but what if something happens and she just falls back? She's come so far these days, you should've seen her when I got her.." He said, and Jungkook looked at him- the eyes of the younger serious, reminding Taehyung that deep inside, he was more than just a schoolfriend. "When she got to me, she didn't even know how to use cutlery Kook. She.." But Jungkook smiled, placing a hand to his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I get it. I'll do my best, okay?" He says. "I promise I'll call you as soon as something's up, okay?" He says, and Taehyung nods. With a small wave he leaves the apartment to pick you up from the shelter- and Jungkook, in exchange, began to rummage through the plastic bags Taehyung had dumped onto his couch.

He was familiar with hybrids to some degree- he never really had owned one, and neither did his family. He knew that his brother owned a dog hybrid, but he had yet to bring him to family gatherings; Jungkook had never seen the puppy hybrid himself. His parents however said that she was nice, and Jungkook never really had any bad experiences with them. He sometimes visited Taehyung at work and conversed with some of the more chatty hybrids.

He was familiar with caring for them to some degree. As already stated before, he'd looked after 'grumpy-cat' Yoongi a lot back in the days when he was still in the center for rehabilitation. Jungkook knew about their different preferences in food, and their different behaviors. He, sadly, also knew about the mistreatment most of the hybrids went through before getting to the center into Taehyungs and his Staff's care- and he always hated it. The stories he sometimes heard made him sleepless during the night, made him research donation websites just to cleanse his mind for the moment.

But it only ever lasted until the next case would turn up at Taehyung's doorstep.

Quite frankly, Jungkook didn't know what he'd expected. After all, he'd never seen you in person, he simply went after Taehyungs description of you, but what was now standing at his door, was something that erased any thought he may had prior to opening it.

You were so.. delicate? Cute? He's never used the word 'cute' for a person before, because he simply thought aegyo and all of that was something girls put up for a facade of innocence. He hated that with a passion, cringing any time he saw it- yet there was, in his opinion, no other word that described you better. You were just as shy as Taehyung said, yet you forced yourself to bow a little as a greeting, taking a small step back however when Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and opened the door fully to step aside. He threw a smile your way, hoping it could ease your nerves a little- and it seemed to work, because he saw your lips turn a bit upwards into a shy smile.

He felt as if he'd just won a ranked overwatch match against the seoul dynasty.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow ASAP, okay? Are you gonna be fine here?" Taehyung asked you, and you looked over his shoulder- your bright eyes meeting Jungkooks, who was leaning against his kitchen counter, smiling boyishly while waving a little. It made you feel okay; he seemed nice enough, and after all, any friend of Taehyungs was a friend of yours. He'd taught you that. So you nodded, and Taehyung smiled, patting your head for a moment, your ears flopping to the sides before standing upright again after his hand left you. He waved goodbye and seemed a bit reluctant to leave- but you knew that Taehyung was excited for his date. He'd talked about nothing else these past days, and it made you happy to see him so giddy over something.

"So." Jungkook started, his voice fitting him, you thought. He looked fit, and comfortable to you- his oversized sweater probably big enough for you to hide in. Wait- what was that thought?! You averted your eyes immediately, ears shyly drooping backwards as you began to shuffle your fluffy socks on his wooden floor, the laminate suddenly super interesting. "Taehyung said you should have a nice healthy dinner- but I may forgot to buy groceries, so, is it okay for you to tag along?" He asked. "You can choose what you want to eat while we're at it, too." He said, and you perked up at that.

"I can?" You asked, ears slowly moving into a more confident position again, and he smiled at that achievement.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket, before he looked at you. You were staring at something- and as he followed your gaze, he saw your shoes. Simple sneakers in colors that fit your current clothes, but, was he connecting the dots correctly? He didn't want to offend you in case you were simply deep in thought, so he simply waited, slipping on his own shoes, as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

You really were struggling to tie your shoes.

So he simply sat down on the small step that divided his entrance from the rest of his apartment, and tapped the top of his knee. "Come here, I'll help." He said, and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

"I'll- I'll get your pants dirty.." You said worriedly, but Jungkook shook his head again.

"Don't worry about that." He said, and you hesitantly placed your shoe on his knee with just the very tip- something that made him smile a bit before he placed it down properly, tying the laces quickly.

"Sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head yet again as he tied the other.

"It's fine." He simply said, before you both got up, going outside. "Do you, uhm.." He began, nervously picking on the slight fuzz of his skin against his chin before he finished, by holding his hand out. "You know, so you don't, accidentally get lost or something. Taehyung would kill me." He laughed, and you blushed, before hesitantly taking his larger hand, holding it as he walked to the nearby grocery store with you.

Inside, it was busy as usual- but Taehyung typically didn't take you out during these hours, something about you maybe becoming overloaded by sensations and sounds. You've never been to a grocery like this before though- because while yes, it was a lot, Jungkooks hand never left yours even for a second. He calmly explained things you seemed interested in, and his entire presence calmed you down, even though you didn't really know him at all.

But your instincts were telling you that he was a good person; and until now, they had never been wrong.

"So, which one do you like?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you were drifting off a little. He smiled at you, while you were looking at the shelves, pointing towards a pack of ramen. You've never tried it, but you had been interested when you saw them at Taehyungs place once or twice- however, back then you had been too shy to ask if you could maybe try it sometimes. "Hmm.. you sure about this one? It's pretty spicy sweetheart." He said, letting the petname slip as your ear flinched a bit into his direction, eyes widening a bit. Taehyung sometimes called you sweetheart as well- but somehow, in some weird way, it made you feel all tingly inside hearing it from Jungkook. "Uhm.. maybe, I can buy this one, and this chicken flavoured one- you can taste mine, and if you like it, we can switch. Okay?" He explained, and you nodded, not really listening anymore as you looked at him with an almost fascinated expression.

Taehyung had told you he had never truly taken care of a female hybrid, let alone a rehab-case such as you were. But he seemed so nice, so sweet, it was hard to imagine him not owning a hybrid- or being single. While Taehyung had never outright said that Jungkook was, you assumed so by the hints you noticed here and there. No other scent than his in his home, and you also remember Taehyung teasing the younger yesterday over the phone, saying something that at least Taehyung was getting himself some dating action.

For some weird reason, knowing that Jungkook didn't have a partner made you feel nice.

But then you remembered his words. "But- what will you eat if I eat yours?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"We'll simply switch then. I don't mind." He says, placing both packs in the shopping cart as you watched him. Your old home hadn't been too kind to you, yet you still didn't know anything else than the treatment you got back there. It was still new to you how easy going some people were, how much freedom you actually had. You've seen kids on swings last week, and a girl feeding a stray cat in an alleyway. Those were things you've never seen before.

"Okay, now the fun part." He says, and you look up at him, his head nodding towards something specific.

Icecream.

Your eyes widened seeing all the different packages and flavours, making your ears droop a bit in confusion. You were lost; what should you choose? You didn't know any of these except some flavors Taehyung had at his house. Jungkook, already connecting the dots, opens one of the doors. "Do you like fruity things? I personally like mild flavors, like vanilla." He says, picking a box of two separate containers. "How about this one?" He asks, and you nod excitedly.

"Yes please.!" You say, pretty much vibrating on the spot as Jungkook places the box into the cart, making an elderly lady next to the two of you chuckle.

"So sweet. And great manners too!" She says, before a hybrid walks up to her; his bright orange badge showing that the dog hybrid was a service worker. "Take good care of her, young man, yes?" She says, and Jungkook nods, squeezing your hand a little tighter as you both watch the lady getting escorted towards the cashiering section.

Jungkook had honestly never really thought about taking care of his own hybrid. He always worried that his friend's teasing was actually real- that he was too immature to quite take care of another living being except his own. Depp down he knew of course that he was capable of that, but insecurities sometimes still bit at his soul from the inside. He couldn't do much about that- he was a hopeless person in that department; still believing in love at first sight, and that human-hybrid relationships are nothing weird.He secretly loved romantic dramas, read shōjo mangas at the bookstore whenever he was too scared to buy them- afraid of being teased for it. He hated perfumes, enjoyed soft smells and fabrics, and even knew how to braid hair. He may looked like a typical muscle-head; with nothing filling his brain apart from protein powder and the need to work out and survive off of energy drinks and leftover cup noodles, but that wasn't really who he was. He simply liked to take care of himself, nothing more. He didn't work out for anyone but himself.

For some reason he enjoyed taking care of you like this. You were so sweet, so cute, that he couldn't help but already feel a little protective of you- that fact having only little to do with Taehyung. Maybe he simply needed a small push into the right direction to finally experience what it was like to have a hybrid, to test out what it was like to live with one.

But he didn't just want a hybrid, he noticed as he watched you carefully place the items of the shopping cart on the cash register, just like he'd asked you to do-

He wanted you.

He could feel someone staring at him. It was like it was piercing his neck, like laser dots on his skin, and it should freak him out like nothing else if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it couldn't be any other than you. He looked at the pot he was putting water in, the reflection showing your form sneakily watching him from the entrance of the kitchen. He chuckled. "Hm.." He began, dramatically sighing. "I wish there was a certain sweet bunny hybrid here to help me cook.. but I guess she's too busy.." He hummed, as he made sure the water in the pot was enough for one pack, before he turned around, your form now standing a few steps behind him. "Oh?" He said, acting surprised as you shyly smiled.

"Can I help.?" You asked, and he nodded, patting the counter to which you walked, squeaking cutely as he simply turned you around with gentle hands, lifting you up to sit between the stove on one side, and the sink on the other. You'd somehow come to the conclusion already that he was quite strong- but the short taste you got of his strength made your heart race a little. It was instinctively, really; your kind looked for partners with certain attributes, after all. They were supposed to protect you and your offspring at some point- even though that part made you look at your knees in shame, before Jungkook snapped you out of your thoughts before they could sway.

"Can you open the packages for me?" He asks, and you nod, taking them out of his hands and opening the foil carefully. You take out the still hard noodles before the flavor pack falls out, slapping on the floor as it falls down out of your hand. Jungkook however doesn't scold you- simply picks it up and gives it to you, and you look at him for a moment- watching him for any indication that he's mad. But he's not.

It's as if nothing had happened.

So you put the flavor pack and tiny oil package on top of the noodle blocks, so carefully Jungkook has to force himself not to just simply scream from how concentrated you look doing something so simple. "When the water boils, like, when it bubbles a lot, you can put these packs in, alright?" He says, and you nod, as if he's giving you instructions on how to prepare for war. He can't help himself at that moment, grinning so hard his dimples show as he reaches out to pet your head.

It's a little like Taehyung, but it feels a lot different.

With Taehyung, while you do feel safe and comfortable around him, and it feels nice, it's not at all like Jungkook. The younger one makes your heart race. He makes your pride swell, and your eyes sparkle- it's as if you've been given an award for the greatest achievement ever. You almost whine when he lets go.

So you later on put the packs into the boiling water with so much precision, immediately seeking his approval right after, to which he smiles at you. "Good job, Bunny." He says, and pets your head, absentmindedly moving the palm of his hand from the top of your head to instead cradle your cheek. Its such a soft and gentle touch that you almost go limp- closing your eyes and leaning into it. He only notices that when he looks back from the pots- now turned down a bit to a simmer as to not overcook- and his heart surely bursts in that moment.

You look so.. there's no word in Jungkooks head to properly describe the view he has, that image of you in front of him. He can't help himself- begins to trace his thumb against the soft skin, watching your ears relax and flop down. He can't imagine that someone like you could ever be done harm to; and while he doesn't know much about your past, he's sure it hadn't been pretty. It makes him want to just keep you right here, in his apartment, close to him, where he can make sure no one could ever cause you to be upset.

Both of you are abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by his phone ringing, the device so badly placed that it falls down to the floor after vibrating a few seconds. "Fuck!" He exclaims, picking it up and sighing in relief when it turns out to still be without damage. He takes on the call, and on the other side of the line, is Taehyung. He greets his younger friend, instantly asking him if you're okay- if you've eaten yet, drank anything, if you're homesick- all in one breath, it seems. Jungkook chuckles, simply placing a hand on your knee, thumb again tracing a pattern he's unsure of what its supposed to be. The warmth seeps into your skin through the fabric of your clothing. He smiles at you, and for the first time, maybe because you're feeling so.. smitten with him, you smile back. Not just a shy little lift of your lips, but a full on beaming smile, making his hand reach out to brush along your ear- internally gasping at how soft the fur is. How can something be this soft?! "Taehyung, she's fine. We're making ramen right now, she helped me cook, and afterwards we're gonna have icecream and watch a movie or something." He explains, and Taehyung claps back with something along the lines of 'but don't let her have the spicy stuff, she can't handle that-' but the younger one doesn't listen that much anymore. "Yeah yeah, listen, we're fine. Go get your girl, jesus." He laughs, and Taehyung chuckles as well, hanging up after reminding him to get you to bed at a reasonable time- as if you're a child he's taking care of.

Because that's the thing. You're not a child- and in Jungkooks eyes, you're not a pet. You're so sweet and easily interested in the simplest of things, he can't help but wonder if you had any hobbies. Did you like video games? Or drawing? Were you into books- hell, could you even read? He wanted to know so much more about you than just those tiny breadcrumbs of info he had gotten from Taehyung. He dearly hoped that maybe, maybe you would like to see him again after leaving tomorrow. He really hoped.

And as you ate, shaking your head at Jungkooks spicy ramen after tasting the broth a little from his spoon (which he did make sure to blow on as to not have you burn your tongue, bless his heart), he really did hope.

He really hoped that maybe, you felt just as happy around him as he felt around you.

It seemed that going grocery shopping, cooking, and eating icecream had taken its toll on you. Your eyes were practically falling shut every few seconds, yet you tried to stay awake as much as possible. Jungkook smiled at you, brushing some hair back before he moved your shoulder a bit. "Hey, bunny?" He asked, and you nodded, humming a noise of yes, you heard him. He chuckled. "You'll have to get up baby. I have to prepare the couch for you." Typically, it would be normal to give a guest the bed- if he was being a gentleman. But that was what he was being; because his couch was the most comfortable thing in his entire apartment for that matter. Yet maybe it was the sleep inside your bones making you drowsy, but you shook your head. "Hm?" He asks, and you suddenly move.

You shuffle around, suddenly hugging him tightly, head hidden in his chest as you rub your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt for a moment. "Don't wanna." You complain, and he swears he dies and gets ressurected all at once seven times in total at your next words. "Wanna sleep with 'koo." You drawl, and he knows he should not let you. You're not thinking clearly- but he can't deny you anything when you're like this, it seems. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, tightly, with no chance of escape.

So he gently picks you up after turning off the TV, bringing you to his bedroom, where he puts you on the bed, your tired form struggling to stay seated. He picks out a shirt of his to wear, and a pair of your shorts out of your backpack Taehyung has left for you. "Sweetheart, can you change for me?" He asks, and you simply let yourself playfully fall ontop of his mattress, making him sigh. You're going to be the death of me. "Oh really now?" He says, before he crawls over you, with the intention to tickle you a little awake- but he stops in his tracks. In fact, time seems to stop as well, as your eyes stare at him, so big and full of wonder he almost can't stop himself from looking at your lips.

But its you who shyly- and so quickly he almost doesnt catch it- pecks his lips before sneakily slipping out his grasp, taking your clothes with you into the bathroom, leaving him on the bed. He sits down, touching his lips for a second, absolutely unsure if he'd just experienced this, or if he had just had a fever dream of some sorts.

It's only when he notices you don't emerge from the bathroom, that he moves. He gently knocks at the wooden door, asking for you, but you don't answer. "I'm gonna open the door, okay?" He says, and does so seconds after, spotting you sitting on the tiled floor- now dressed in his sweater and your shorts, ready for bed. He notices however how you're hiding in the sweater- the hood covering your ears, while your hands shield your face. "Whats wrong?" He asks as he squats down in front of you, his hands gently pulling yours away from your face. You're not crying, thank god, but the look on your face speaks entire novels about how embarrassed you feel.

"M'sorry." You say, and pout, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be." He simply answers, helping you stand up after a moment. "Why do you feel bad?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"I just.." You start, but suddenly your eyes grow glossy. "I miss Taehyung-" You say, and Jungkook's heart drops for a moment. "-but I also don't wanna go home tomorrow." You finish, and Jungkook blinks twice, before he looks at you, confused. You didn't want to leave? Him? "I.. no, it's fi-"

"Say it." He demands- its not harsh, its not even loud, its almost just a whisper, tuneless words pressed out in a breath of air. "Don't keep it in- say it." He prompts you, and you swallow, not looking at him.

"I wanna stay with you." You say.

And he swears, the pain in his heart was the sweetest he'd ever felt.

The next day, after breakfast, Jungkook and you sit on his living room floor, him teaching you how to build a rubber powered plane- the one's he used to make as a kid. He'd kept a kit in his apartment back when he moved out of his family home but never got around to really use it. It was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy the things you had missed out on in your life. He loved the way you so intensely watching his every move as he showed you how to put the pieces together. "And that's gonna fly?" You ask curiously, leaning over a bit as to get a better look at it.

"Hmhm." He says, holding it up, before giving it to you. "Here, turn this part until you can't anymore." He says, and you start twisting it for a while. "Don't worry, you can't break it." He says when you hesitate a little. He highly doubts you'll be able to snap the rubber band. "Tight?" He asks, checking, before he nods, standing up. "Lets go fly it outside!" He says, opening the glass door to the small backyard of his apartment. "And- Go!" he says, and you throw it just how he showed you minutes prior; letting it fly for a good moment before it landed.

"It flew!" You exclaimed happily, and he laughed as well, congratulating you as if you had just won a competition. He held you tightly to his body for a moment after you had jumped into his arms- and that was how you just stood there for a moment, simply existing, holding each other. For you, this was a moment of realizing that no, you're not alone. You're not useless, you're not just a pet, you're not just existing for someone's enjoyment. You had this one person at your side now, someone you could count on, someone to make you feel safe. And for him? Weirdly enough, he felt like the male lead of a romantic drama show- finally getting the happy ending he always craved in his life. He never knew what exactly he always wanted from his time here on earth. Was it success? Was it money? A big apartment, a nice home, a lot of friends? No, it was building a blanket fort with you in his living room. It was going to the grocery store with you, protecting you from big dogs that scared you, or holding you during the night. Every cheesy romantic thing he could imagine, now always featured you in his head; and it just, fit. It fit perfectly.

You fit into his life just perfectly.

It's later that day when Taehyung picks you up that he realizes that yes, he's positively in love with you. Because how can he not fall in love with those glistening eyes, hand waving goodbye for now because of course he can't just keep you like he wants to. There's paperwork involved, and your things need to be moved to his place- all of that needing to wait for social services to check his home, so that they can make sure he's really the right fit for you. It's then that he finally lets everything sink in, finally lets him think about what's going to happen, whats going to change.

And for the first time, he couldn't wait for it. He couldn't wait for things to change.

Jungkook baked you a small cake for your welcoming into his home- finally yours as well, as you hug Taehyung for the last time, the older friend waving before the door closes, Jungkooks arms instantly pulling your back into his chest. He leans his head down, kissing your shoulder, before he runs his sensitive lips over the so unbelievably soft fur of your ears. Three weeks had passed, yet to him it had felt like an entire year. Jungkook was sometimes impatient, and waiting had been pure torture for him. So now, as he was finally able to hold you again, he felt his entire stress vaporize into nothingness.

You giggled, before turning around, hugging him fully, and rubbing your face into his sweater, as if to get your scent onto him. Which was exactly your plan- after all, he was your human now, officially yours, so everyone should know that. The rumble in his chest that was his chuckle made you smile widely, grinning as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

Oh may god have mercy on his soul!

He leaned downwards, finally capturing your lips with his, the first real long kiss to be shared between the two of you. Both of you melted into the sweet gesture, your ears falling down lazily as he showered you in affection; kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and your lips again. He continued until the corners of your eyes gathered tears from laughing so much.

This was how you were supposed to be. You were never supposed to cry because you were upset-

the only tears you should ever have to shed, should be tears of happiness.

(c) Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not translate, re-post or claim as your own. Thank you for reading- and please stay happy and healthy.

[plant-flwrs]

Can I request a ilvermorny transfer x one of the twins? I think it'll be cool if she wore roller skates to school (charmed by yours truly) since it's the 90s and she's cool but super sweet and caring - maybe when they invite her over to the burrow for the summer or their birthday she can give them a pair? Thanks ily!!!

roller skates // fred weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: ok i always feel bad when my fics take so long to set up and theres barely any like actual romance and i am trying to work on it. i think its hard for me to go into a fic where a relationship is already established, so i like writing them coming together and the immersion of it. but i hate reading fics where it takes forever to get to the good parts so just know that i will be trying to work on that flaw in my writing! thanks so much for reading! (i made the reader from florida just because my mind blanked on any other places that don’t have snow lol, but it’s not really relevant in any other situations so ignore it if u please) also just realizing all of my summaries sound scary and ominous also just realizing how i say way too much in these author notes im so sorry bye

summary: The American transfer student draws attention to herself with her accent, but Fred is drawn to something else about her.

(10.4k hehe sorry :D)

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Looking around at the students bustling past you, the only word you could think of was “proper”.

Looking down at your muggle clothes, loose and mismatched, your hair resting naturally, the only word you could think to describe yourself with was “improper”.

A boy with a permanent scowl and striking blond hair glanced your way, and the taller adults behind him followed his eye line. The three of them looked you up and down and their mouths all distorted into nasty grimaces. You felt your father’s comforting hand clasp over your shoulder, trying to help you remember everything he had said to you before arriving at King Cross Station.

“They aren’t that different from us,” he repeated, and you could tell he was doubting himself as he glanced at the uptight children and their matching parents.

He guided you forwards, and you pushed your large cart in front of you, navigating through the crowd. It started to separate around you, and even more odd glances were thrown your way. You supposed you should have felt a little insecure- you looked quite out of place- but the feeling could not overwhelm the excitement you felt. You had read all about Hogwarts, its history, its architecture, and you even picked up a few books about muggle London.

You were stood in your father's embrace, about to board. Your things were stored away, and you heard the train roaring louder and louder. You glanced around, the fathers in their dress shirts and ties, mothers in long skirts and blouses. Their children wore sweaters and jeans, or suit jackets and dress pants.

Something caught your eyes, though; a few feet away there was a large family, mingling in embraces. They all had flaming red hair, and their clothes looked like yours. In fact, your clothes resembled the oldest woman’s clothes, mismatched and colorful. Her eyes watered, and she smoothed down the hair on a fidgeting boy.

“Ronald, hold still!” she shouted at him, and he reluctantly allowed his mother to soothe his red hair down into a part on the side.

Once the woman had moved onto another child, Ronald roughed his hair back to the mess it was before. The woman now clutched a smaller boy, who looked like he was Ronald’s age, by the shoulders. She moved a hand to soothe his unruly hair off his forehead. Your eyes widened when you saw the lightning bolt on his forehead.

The books you had bought about the English Wizarding World did not neglect to mention the boy who lived. Elbowing your father, you both cast glances at the family. Your father nodded his head, looking impressed at the sight of Harry Potter.

“Thanks again Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, and it sounded like he had said it millions of times before.

Mrs. Weasley waved off the two boys, who went to gather a girl with large bushy hair.

“Come on ‘Mione! We’ve got to get a good compartment,” Ronald said impatiently, tugging the girl's arm onto the train.

Mrs. Weasley was left with four other children. One of them looked like all the other proper British people you had seen at the station, a permanent sneer on his face. He shook his head stiffly at his mother and shook his father’s hand. You thought it was quite odd, and two identical boys standing with the family couldn’t contain their laughter.

“Yes,” one of them started, doubling over in a bow, “good day, mother,” he said pompously, imitating his brother.

“May you have a wonderful few months,” the other started, moving to shake his father’s hand as his brother had moments ago, “I’ll be looking for your owl,” he said, sounding incredibly posh.

The younger girl, with the same fiery hair, began to giggle, earning a scowl from the eldest brother as he boarded the train.

The girl pulled her mother in for a hug, and then her father, and waved to them fervently as she followed after her brother.

“You boys, stay out of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley said to the remaining twins, waving a finger at them.

“We always do, mum,” one said, and it was obvious by his tone that they didn’t often stay out of trouble.

They waved to their parents at the same time, stepping onto the train with a certain enthusiasm.

You averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at the family you had been staring at. You looked up at your father, hugging him one last time. When you pulled back, you heard his name being called.

“Mr. Y/n?” the voice called out, approaching the two of you.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley already had his hand stuck out to your father.

“I’m Arthur Weasley, I’ve been the one to hire you at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. This is my wife, Molly. Funny to meet you here,” he said politely, looking at you and your father in a nicer way than any other wizard had during your time at the station. His eyes didn’t wander down to your brightly colored shoes, or your patterned pants, and he didn’t even cast a second glance at your oversized, offensively colored sweater. You beamed at him.

“Oh! Yes, it’s great to meet you,” your father said, shaking his hand. He squeezed your shoulder, jostling you a bit, “This is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Oh, would you hear that accent, Arthur!” Molly gasped, smiling as if she was astonished. Your father chuckled at her reaction. You supposed it would happen to you a lot at Hogwarts.

They both smiled at you, and Arthur offered you his hand to shake. You held your hand out, but the sleeve of your sweater swallowed the limb. You shook the extra clothing away, and Molly chuckled. Finally shaking his hand, you held it out to Molly. She bypassed your hand and began to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, accomplished, at you.

“Better get her going,” your father said, and the Weasleys nodded at you.

“Have a good term, dear,” Molly said to you, patting your shoulders the way she had done to Harry.

“Thank you,” you repeated, moving past them and heading onto the train.

You waved one last time at your father, and the door closed behind you.

You wandered down the isles, looking for an empty place to sit. You pretended to look like you knew where you were going, hoping fewer people would stare at you if you did. Your plan didn’t work, and you caught the eyes of almost everyone you passed.

You had made it to the end of the train, and your eyes peered into the last cabin. It was empty except for a girl and a boy. They seemed friendly enough, so you slid open the door.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” you asked, and the boy looked at you quizzically when he heard your voice.

“Not at all,” the girl said.

She had strikingly blonde hair and gray eyes that poured deeply into you. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her head was cocked to the side.

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she said, and her voice was light and airy, “This is Neville Longbottom.”

The boy shifted in his seat, casting a shy glance at you. He raised a shaky hand and gave you a curt wave.

You smiled widely at the two of them, glad you seemed to have picked the right place to sit.

The train ride went fast enough. Luna asked you all sorts of questions about America, and you asked her all sorts of questions about England. When Neville warmed up to you, he asked some questions about Ilvermorny. They asked what house you had been in there, and you told him you were a Thunderbird, the soul of the witch.

“Where do you reckon she’ll be sorted into here?” Neville asked Luna. You leaned forwards, curious for the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, peering into a magazine she had balanced into her lap, “but if I’m lucky, it’ll be Ravenclaw.”

“Which one is Ravenclaw?” you asked, trying to remember what you had read.

“The wise and witty,” Luna said, moving her robes to show the crest on it. It was blue with a bird over it.

“A raven, clever,” you said, looking closer at Neville’s red-trimmed robes.

“You’d think,” he said, “but it’s an eagle. I’m a Gryffindor, we’re meant to be brave but,” he trailed off, and Luna placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Oh, stop it, Neville,” she said gently, her gaze back onto you, “there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

You nodded, recalling what little you read.

“My dad said he figured I would be a Hufflepuff. The Ministry told him he was a Ravenclaw, he had to do the silly sorting hat and everything,” you said, and Neville smiled at you.

“Hufflepuff? They’re quite nice, I suppose,” he said, sounding disappointed that you weren’t in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

“Well, we won’t know for sure,” Luna said, closing her magazine, “until-” but the train’s brakes began to screech.

Her smiled widened, and you looked down at your robes you had changed into. Maybe now people would be less inclined to stare, you thought.

You were right, but only briefly. Once you had gotten to the Great Hall, you were shuffled in with the first years. Your face burned a slight red the whole time, your larger and older stature standing out amongst the sea of younger students. Your name was called, and you heard a faint whooping coming from the table of red.

You glanced at it, seeing Neville lowering a cheering fist from the air. He looked around nervously, and you saw one of the Weasley twins glancing at his quizzically. You smiled at Neville’s support and sat in the stool.

An old and tattered hat was lowered onto your head, and suddenly it began speaking in your ear.

“Hm, very interesting. You’re not from here, that’s obvious,” it spoke quickly, echoing in your skull, “but I think the choice is simple. I’d say,”

Suddenly the voice left your skull and boomed into the room, for everyone to hear.

“Hufflepuff!”

Cheers from a table full of yellow sounded off, some raising from their seats and clapping for you. You beamed, moving off the stool and skipping cheerfully towards the table. You walked down the aisle between the red and yellow, and Neville’s hand stuck out at you.

“Congratulations!” he said excitedly, holding his hand up for a high five.

You hit his hand, and he waved you off.

A girl with a yellow tie and dark hair waved you over. She inched over, giving you room to sit with her.

“I’m Sarah, happy to have you in Hufflepuff!” she beamed, and you didn’t think you would ever get used to the British accents.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you watched her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re American! You must have come from that American school, what’s it called, Ilmorny?” she asked, ducking her head and whispering as the sorting continued.

“Ilvemorny,” you corrected her, still smiling.

Sarah asked you a lot of the same questions Neville and Luna had asked, but you didn’t mind answering them. She had even offered to give you a tour of the school tomorrow, with the promise that you would choose the bed next to her’s in the dorm.

Sarah had lived up to her promise. You walked with your head permanently tilted upwards, admiring the greatness of the castle. Sarah ate with you at every meal and even insisted on walking you to your classes until you knew the way on your own. She had been so nice to you, and when Luna told you about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, you knew you had to ask her to go with you.

The two of you walked through the snow, wrapped up in matching yellow and black scarves. She had linked her arm with yours and pulled along to all her favorite shops.

The two of you ducked into The Three Broomsticks, sick of the ice sticking to your face.

You saw a red scarf and a blue scarf sitting at a table, and when you saw the flow of blonde hair peeking from the blue one, you knew who it was. You pulled Sarah over to Luna and Neville, and Neville told you to pull up two chairs. You introduced Sarah to Luna and Neville.

“We’re just waiting for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to meet us,” Neville said, smiling cheerfully.

“Oh, should we go?” you asked, offering to free up your chair.

“No, no, stay,” Luna urged you, pulling your arm back down, “I’ll introduce you.”

This was how you were going to meet Harry Potter, you thought, huddled up at a small table, drinking a foamy beverage that left a little white mustache on your upper lip.

Harry was just like every other kid, and he was with the people you had seen at the station that day.

“What did you say your last name was?” Ron asked, leaning over the table so you could hear him.

“Y/l/n,” you said.

“Does your dad work for the Ministry?” he asked, and you nodded, “Our dads work together!” he said, elbowing Harry.

“Her dad is the bloke my dad was raving about all summer, the guy from America,” Ron said to Harry, and Harry nodded at you.

“What a coincidence,” you said, dipping your head to take another sip of the drink Sarah had ordered you.

You all fell into a natural conversation, and Hermione asked to switch seats with Sarah at one point. Sarah had no protests, filing easily into the seat next to Harry, glancing at him dreamily.

“Will you tell me about America? I’ve been to other parts of Europe for holidays, but never America. What’s it like? How different are the wizards?" Hermione sounded off questions like she had them rehearsed, but you were happy to answer them.

You and she were in a fit of laughter after she had told you about her parents’ reaction to her letter. Your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, as Hermione recounted her mother’s jumping up and down.

You were so involved with your conversation with Hermione, you hadn’t noticed Ron’s brothers come into the restaurant.

“Hello, Ickle Ronniekins,” one of them teased, messing a hand through Ron’s overgrown hair, “when are you gettin’ a hair cut?”

“Mum’s gonna cut it all off the second you get home,” the other said, pulling a chair in between Luna and Ron. The other pulled a chair in between Harry and Sarah, and you didn’t miss Sarah’s annoyed sigh at the interruption.

You and Hermione were recovering from your laughter, clutching your stomachs and breathing heavily.

“What’s so funny ladies?” one of them said, shoving Ron aside so he could rest his elbows on the table.

“Just telling Y/n about how my parents reacted to my letter from Hogwarts,” Hermione sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You’re the famous Y/n?”

“The American?”

Ron elbowed each of his brothers in their sides, frowning at them.

“That’s me,” you answered cheerfully, smiling at them, “Are you Ron’s brothers?”

“More like,” one of them started.

“Best friends,” the other finished.

“He really would be nowhere if it weren’t for us,” they said at the same time.

A smile slid across your face; it was easy to smile around your new friends, you found.

Hogwarts was better than you could have ever hoped. You wrote to your father nearly every week, recounting the amazing things you had done with Sarah, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The seven of you were becoming inseparable.

Luna’s blue tie dangled over your face as you lay on her lap, she was trying this odd head charm she had read about in the Quibbler. Your head rested in between her legs, back on the ground. Her skinny fingers were pressed to your temple, and they hesitantly pressed into your skin.

“Is that right?” she asked, consulting the cartoon pictures that moved on the Quibbler laying next to her.

“I don’t reckon, it doesn’t feel like anything’s happening,” you said, sitting up and rubbing where Luna’s fingers had been.

“Neville,” Luna said, motioning him over. His face grew white as she pulled him into him, moving to where you had been. Luna’s fingers pressed against Neville’s head, and his eyes fluttered closed. Luna began to hum to herself, and Neville smiled.

You crawled over to sit by Ron under the tree. Sarah was talking to Harry, her eyes dazed over as he gently brushed off a leaf that had fallen on her shoulder. Hermione was near, her head resting on her bag, laying on her back with his legs crossed. She was deep into a muggle book you recognized, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to put it down.

“Hi, Ron,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, ending his obvious staring at Hermione, “enjoying the weather?”

“Yeah, it’s just about my favorite time of year,” he said, twisting a blade of grass in his fingers.

The snow had melted, winter break had ended. Ron was able to shed his mother's heavy knitted sweaters and wear some of his more comfortable shirts.

“I quite liked the winter,” you said, your head leaning against the tree, “it was my first time seeing snow.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell us that?” Ron asked, seeming bewildered.

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling at him.

“Hermione! Oi, Hermione! Y/n had never seen snow before she came here,” Ron said, calling out to Hermione.

“I know, she’s from Florida,” Hermione said, uninterested, head still buried in her book.

“Florida? Why didn’t I know that?” Ron asked, feeling out of the loop.

“Don’t know,” you repeated, shrugging again.

“Because you don’t ask, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding unpleased with Ron’s loud volume.

You stifled a laugh, but Ron looked at you, feeling guilty.

“Hermione’s right, I guess,” Ron said, casting a sad glance at you.

“It’s alight, Ron, I won’t hold it against you,” you reassured, and Ron perked up a little.

“Tell me one thing no one else here knows about you,” Ron said urgently. To this, Hermione closed her book and lay it on her chest, interested in what you were going to say.

You thought about it. You didn’t have anything to hide from your friends, but you felt yourself blanking on even the littlest fact about yourself. You tried to think of any special abilities you had, besides being a wizard, or any life events that were significant. The only thing you thought of was the hesitance you had when packing your trunk for school, debating on whether or not to bring your roller skates with you. Ilvermorny had allowed them, and you skated to nearly all your classes. The school's cold granite floors were just begging to be skated across, you had thought, and it was ten times faster than walking.

You thought about your skates, you missed them more than you thought you would. The white boots with slick, black wheels and rainbow laces were one of your most prized possessions. You wondered now, again, if you would have gotten in trouble for bringing your roller skates to school.

“Oh, alright, I’ve thought of something,” you began, and Hermione sat up a little, resting on her elbows.

“I really like to roller skate,” you said proudly.

“Roller skate?” Hermione and Ron repeated at the same time. Ron sounded confused, but Hermione sounded entertained.

“Yeah.”

“Like from the 80′s?” Hermione asked, still sounding entertained.

“They’re making a comeback,” you defended.

“What’s roller skate?” Ron asked, looking between you and Hermione.

“It’s like shoes with wheels on them,” Hermione said, used to having to explain muggle inventions her friend, “You tie them up and you skate around.”

“What do you do that for? Do they go really fast?” Ron asked.

“They can,” you said, “but it’s really just for fun. I used to take them with me to Ilvermorny and go to my classes on them, but I didn't know if Hogwarts allowed them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ron asked, “Are they dangerous?”

“They're not dangerous, I suppose you could fall on them, but it’s not as bad as that Quidditch game you guys play,” you explained, “I just didn’t know if Hogwarts allowed those kinds of muggle things.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione looked to be in deep thought.

“I’m sure they would,” she said, returning back to her book.

“What do you reckon they’re doing down there?” Fred asked, looming over George’s shoulder as he held the Marauder’s Map in his hands.

“Do you think Ron’s finally gonna get a girlfriend?” George teased, looking at you and Ron sitting together under the tree.

Fred sneered at his brother. Ever since he had told George he thought you were cute, it seemed George wanted to push his buttons any way he could. He would make jokes about you and Ron flirting, and for some reason it made his blood boil. He hadn’t even spoken to you on more instances than he could count on a hand, but he was enticed by you.

Your eyes were always moving, and they were always wide with excitement. He thought you were beautiful, you were always wearing your muggle clothes when you didn’t have to wear your uniform. You dressed kind of like his mum, he realized one day, but in a cooler way. That’s the word, cool, he thought you were cool. You fit in easily with Ron’s friends, you could talk about anything, and you were always so sweet.

“Where are they going now?” George wondered out loud, watching the names on the map begin to move.

You got up and dusted off your pants, feeling the baggy jean material under your fingers. You helped Ron up, offering him a hand and pulling him off the ground. You, Ron, and Hermione trailed after Harry and Sarah, who trailed after Neville and Luna. You had all been feeling a bit warm outside, so you decided to go to the Gryffindor common room for the rest of the afternoon. You and Sarah were always excited to go to the Gryffindor common room, feeling it was a nice change from yours in the basement.

Fred’s eyes watched as you, Ron, and Hermione walked together towards the Gryffindor common room. He suddenly felt nervous, even though he was up in his dorm with George. He stood, and looked at himself in the mirror. He pulled down at the bottom of his shirt, tugging uncomfortably at the way it clung to his arms. He hadn’t been dressed to impress, and he usually didn’t, but at the sight of your name getting closer to his on the map, he ignored George’s torments and changed into nicer pants and a more flattering shirt.

Harry stepped passed Neville, who had forgotten the password, and held open the portrait for everyone as they stepped through. You, Sarah, Luna, and Hermione occupied the biggest couch in front of the fire, and Neville and Ron took the armchairs on either side of you. Harry sat on the floor in between Ron’s chair and where Sarah had sunk into the corner of the couch.

Sarah beamed at you, taking notice of the small action, and you wiggled your eyebrows back at her. She blushed and leaned over the side of the couch, resting her chin in her hand and starting a conversation with Harry.

Hermione pulled her book from her bag again, reading the pages eagerly. You and Luna sat shoulder to shoulder as Luna began to tell you about her plans for the summer.

“I think I’ll try to learn French,” she said, toying with some sunglasses she pulled from her pocket.

“You’re going to learn French?” you repeated, a smile pulling up your lips.

“I think so, might also help my dad with his plums,” Luna said, turning to you as she slipped on the sunglasses. They overcame her face, entirely oversized and wonderful. They were bright green and had purple lenses that were reflective. You could see your wide and amused smile in them.

“Your father grows plums?” you inquired, always enjoying conversation with Luna.

“Yes, they’re Dirigible Plums.”

“What are those?”

Luna pulled her hair back and showed you a pair of earrings she wore. They looked like little orange balloons, but leaves hung from them.

“Oh, those are very pretty, Luna,” you said, admiring them.

“My dad says they make you wiser,” she explained, “so he grows them in his garden.”

“And you wear them as earrings,” you said, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she nodded and gave you a crooked grin.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Luna asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My father will be working, so I’ll probably be home all day,” you said, feeling a little lonely already, “I’ll have my roller skates though.”

Luna looked at you, confused, but you were more talking to Ron anyways, who you noticed was listening to your conversation.

“You should come to the Burrow this summer! Everyone does, even for just for a week,” Ron said, standing and moving over to sit on the coffee table in front of you.

“That sounds cool, I’d love to,” you said, grinning at Ron.

You looked around you and felt so lucky, lucky to have found such kind and accepting people at your new school.

Pacing upstairs, Fred smoothed down his hair before ruffling it again and then smoothing it. He knew you were downstairs, and he knew he wanted to talk to you, but you just made him so nervous. He never gets nervous.

George sat with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows raised, watching his brother obviously losing his mind.

“Just go down and talk to her,” he said, a little afraid his brother might explode, “you’re gonna wear a hole in the ground.”

Fred stopped where he stood, near the door. He sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard, “I’ll just go talk to her.”

Fred recalled the day he had formally met you at the Three Broomsticks. He was smooth, able to mask the way your curious gaze had made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t very well go down there and make a fool of himself, could he?

“Oi Fred!” he heard Lee call from where he stood near Harry, which was also near you, “Come over here a minute.”

Fred sauntered over, forcing himself not to stare at you.

Hermione had put down her book, and Luna had left to go to her own common room to do some homework. You and Hermione sat cross-legged facing each other, playing a muggle card game.

“Yeah?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the banister of the fireplace.

Harry and Lee sat at two wooden chairs near the fireplace, only a few feet away from the couch you were on. This angle allowed him to watch you as your head threw back in laughter as Hermione scowled at her losing the game. His eyes easily flickered back to Lee, who pulled him into the conversation he and Harry were having about Quidditch.

Ginny walked through the portrait hole, returning from some Quidditch training she had been doing. Ginny was taking Quidditch very seriously this year and had taken to exercising on the pitch with Angelina every weekend.

“Ginny!” Ron called out to her, putting down the newspaper he was reading. He waved her over with a hurried hand.

“What?” she said, plopping down on the empty space next to Hermione, “What game are you guys playing?”

You looked up from the deck of cards you had begun to shuffle as Hermione told her.

“Ginny,” Ron said again, pulling his sister’s attention back to him.

“Hm?” she said, and it was very obvious she was tired from her day's activities.

“Have you asked anyone over for the summer yet?” Ron asked, and his eyes flicked to you, “I just invited Y/n, so I don’t want it getting too crowded.”

Ginny looked over to you, her gaze becoming analytical. You raised a hand to wave and cast her a kind smile, and she returned it.

“I don’t have anything planned, it should be fine,” Ginny turned away from Ron and back towards you and Hermione, “When are you lot coming? At the same time?”

You looked towards Hermione, not knowing the answer.

“Oh, I didn’t have any specific ideas yet, Ron’s just asked me. Still have to write to my dad,” you said, and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be the usual time for me, though,” Hermione said, and Ginny smiled.

“What’s the usual time?” you asked, beginning to deal the cards to you and Hermione.

“A few weeks before school starts, Mrs. Weasley takes us all to Diagon Alley for our school things,” Hermione said, speaking fondly of the memory.

“Should I ask my dad to come then, when Hermione does?” you looked towards Ron, “Unless I should come at a different time,” you said, not trying to intrude.

“That would be perfect! Harry comes ‘round that time too, so we’ll all see each other,” Ron said.

He looked over at Harry, and upon seeing his brother, he called Fred over the way he had done to Ginny.

“Fred, have you invited anyone home for summer yet?”

Fred’s gaze immediately went to you, and he found you looking at him too.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and over to Ron.

“Who?” Ron said, curious because his brothers usually didn’t have people over to the Burrow during holidays.

“George,” he said, smirking.

“Git,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Why do you ask, Ickle Ronniekins?”

“I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get too crowded when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n come ‘round,” Ron said, squirming as Fred forced himself into Ron’s seat that was only big enough for one of them.

Fred’s cool demeanor dropped for a moment, his eyes widening. He quickly recovered, wrapping an arm around Ron.

“How considerate of you,” he said, giving his brother an unwanted side hug.

Ron got up from his seat, leaving Fred to sit by himself. He watched you with unblinking eyes as you listened to Ginny talk about her time with Angelina on the pitch.

Looking down at your packed to the brim suitcase, you glance to the corner of your room. Your pristine roller skates sat there, one on their side. They looked sad and forgotten, but you knew that wasn’t true. Ever since you had gotten home from Hogwarts, you had taken to skating around ‘muggle’ London. You had also just gotten used to saying ‘muggle’.

Your father left early and got home late, and part of you was jealous that he got to see a Weasley every day and you didn’t. To ease your envy, you took to your skates.

You weren’t sure if you should pack them with you for Ron’s house. You were leaving when your father got home for work, the two of you setting off just before dark. You shoved a sweater deeper into your bag, making room for the skates.

Your father was to eat dinner with the Weasleys, sleep on the couch, and set off with Mr. Weasley for work in the morning. No point in two trips, they figured.

You were traveling by Flu powder, and your father went first. He heaved your bag into the fireplace with him and erupted in green flames. You carried a backpack on your shoulder, filled with little things that couldn’t fit in your suitcase.

Fred was more nervous and excited than he had ever felt in his whole life. He was determined to chat you up this summer, at least do something to make sure you knew he existed. He had been pacing in he and George’s shared room, but George pulled him down to the kitchen and made him drink some tea, hoping to calm him down.

You twisted your fingers, looking nervously into the fireplace. You were extremely excited to spend the remaining weeks of your summer with the Weasleys, but a small part of you was scared. You were nervous that Ron’s parents wouldn’t like you as much as they did at the train station. You were nervous that Ron, and his siblings, would get sick of having you around. You were nervous that you would become a burden.

You had been writing with Hermione, and she ensured you of how kind the Weasleys were. She told you that you had nothing to worry about, and you felt a little relieved.

You had visited Sarah a couple of times during the summer. She lived fairly close, close enough for you to take muggle transportation. Her family was welcoming and all had wide eyes at your accent. Thinking of their kindness, you felt confident enough to finally step into the fireplace.

Green flames surrounded you, and within seconds, you were stood in a different fireplace. It was a little shorter, and you were glad you had hunched over a little. Mr. Weasley and your father were shaking hands off to the side, over by a large couch. Mrs. Weasley was looking into the fireplace and waving you out. Ron was trudging your suitcase upstairs already, and Hermione and Ginny stood by Mrs. Weasley smiling widely. You noticed Fred and George sat at a large wooden table near the kitchen both drinking some tea and eating.

You took a step from the fireplace, making sure to wipe off any ash that may have stained your clothes, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to pull you into a hug.

“Oh, so good to see you again, dear!” she said, rocking you back and forth in the suffocating hug.

You didn’t care if you couldn’t breathe, you decided at that moment that Molly Weasley gave the absolute best hugs. She released you, patting your shoulders and running a loving hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You beamed at her, and she smiled back at you.

When she moved away, Hermione quickly replaced her. Hermione’s arms pulled you close, wrapping around your backpack.

“I missed you!” she said, smiling at you.

“I missed you too!” you said, nearly ‘awing’ at everyone’s kindness.

Ginny hugged you too, and when you stepped away, Ron had come back downstairs. You hugged him, and then Harry, and finally you were left to be able to breathe your own air.

The house around you was adorable. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Magic was everywhere, and everything just felt like home.

“You’ll be staying with me and Ginny,” Hermione said to you from her spot next to you at the table.

“Perfect,” you replied, the same awestruck smile plastered on your face since you had arrived.

Fred looked at you from across the table. He felt like his dinner was moving in his stomach, and his hands were sweating. He’d nearly dropped his fork three times. He breathed deep, and when the conversation lulled, he took his chance.

“How has your summer been, Y/n?” he asked, and you looked up from your plate to him.

He nearly died, your happy eyes looking at him.

“Great!” you said, wiping your hands on your napkin in your lap, “I’m glad to finally be here.”

He smiled back at you, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been staring for a little too long, and that you had asked him a question.

“My summer? Oh, my summer’s been good too,” he replied, nodding.

You looked to George, who was next to him and raised your eyebrows, inviting his answer.

“It’s been good,” he said casually, and then an evil grin spread across his face, “but I think Fred’s just about worn my ear off talking about you.”

Fred coughed, choking on his mashed potatoes. His face went red, and he looked at his twin with an anger George had never seen before. Fred quickly looked back at you, as if to gauge your reaction. Your head was tilted down, but a shy smile was on your face and a blush crept on your cheeks.

Fred’s anger subsided at the sight of it, but when George kicked him from under the table, he was reminded.

“What is wrong with you?” Fred asked, nearly yelling at his brother in the privacy of their own room.

“I gave you a push,” George answered, not looking up from the Zonko’s catalog in his hands.

Fred simmered, coming to the realization that George was right. He fell onto his bed, thinking back to the pink on your cheeks and the bashful curl of your lips.

He didn’t know how he was meant to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that you were asleep just a room away.

“Did you hear what George said to Y/n at dinner?” Hermione asked, pulling Ginny into the argument you were having once she got out of the shower.

Ginny shook her head, removing the towel from her hair, “No, what’d he say?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione as she divulged into every little detail of what George had said.

“And Fred could not stop staring!” she finished, and you let out an exaggerated breath.

“He was not staring!”

“Yes, he was,” Ginny said cheekily, sitting down on her bed.

“Ginny!” you said, giving up hope of having her on your side.

“He totally fancies you,” Hermione said.

Your face twisted for two reasons: the word ‘fancies’, and the fact that she thought Fred Weasley might fancy you.

“He does not!”

Ginny sat on her bed, listening to you and Hermione go back and forth. She knew Fred fancied you, he had since they had been at school. She saw his longing looks, the way he looked at you first after he told a joke, and the pure admiration he had in his eyes any time he looked at you. It especially convinced her when Fred had been talking about you all summer. She came to a decision.

“He does,” she said, watching Hermione’s face change into the proud one she wore when she answered a question right in class. Your mouth hung open.

“What?” Hermione’s gaze turned towards you, and she smiled widely. You liked to think it was her infectious smile that made your mouth turn up, and not the idea of Fred liking you.

“He has been talking about you all summer, I’m surprised Ron didn’t tell you earlier,” Ginny said, bringing the towel to her hair again to catch some dripping water.

“He probably hasn’t even noticed,” Hermione said, the tone of annoyance dripping off her tongue.

Ginny flashed her a sympathetic look, but Hermione ignored it, continuing.

“Do you like him?” she pried, and the whole room felt like it was frozen.

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

You didn’t know. Fred was handsome, and funny, and clever, but you hardly knew him. You knew he was mischievous, and that he tormented Ron, but other than that you might as well have been strangers. You could not deny, however, that he was attractive.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly.

“You don’t know?” Ginny repeated, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, I barely know him,” you answered, the obvious energy in the room shifting to something of deep thought.

“Do you fancy him, though?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

“I think he’s cute, yeah, but how can he fancy me? We’ve barely spoken to each other. Are you sure Ginny?” you asked again, still doubtful.

“I’m sure he’s noticed the little things more than you think he would, Fred can be pretty considerate when he wants to be,” Ginny said, and you breathed out loudly. You flopped on your back, the mound of blankets around you and Hermione soothing your landing.

“See? I wouldn’t know that!” you said.

You knew it was a little silly, to focus on something like this. You had an older, attractive, popular boy head over heels for you, but you were harping on the fact that you didn’t know whether or not he was considerate.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione said harshly, “I mean it’s not like you’re forced to marry him. You go on dates with people to get to know them, after all.”

You were nearly offended by Hermione’s tone, but you figured she was just getting irritated on the subject of crushes.

“I know, ‘Mione, I’m just confused by it,” you reassured her.

“Well, test the waters tomorrow,” Ginny said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cringed away from her, and swells of giggles were coming from Ginny’s room nearly all night.

The three of you slept late into the morning. The Burrow’s eventful noises were nothing compared to the sounds of muggle London, so you slept peacefully. It wasn’t until something began tapping on Ginny’s window, did the three of you wake up.

“What the-?” Ginny started but soon fell silent at the sound of a loud crashing noise. Shards of glass scattered around the room and Hermione was lucky that she had rolled away from the window in her sleep. You put your hand up, flinching at the noise, and when you dropped it, the warm summer air flooded into the room.

A small golden snitch was soaring around the room, averting every swipe of Ginny’s hands, and ducking behind her dresser.

Ginny slipped on some shoes, and carefully navigated through the glass. She leaned cautiously out of the window, and that's when the screaming started.

“Harry! Are you mental?! What on Earth-” her screams divulged into threats and insults, and you looked over her shoulder, watching Harry hover many feet away on his broom, his face looking quite guilty.

You found your shoes and moved over to the window. You then realized that Fred and George were hovering closer to Ginny’s window, silencing the snickers and amazed faces they wore. At the sight of Fred, your eyes widened, and his eyes met yours. He smiled kindly at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you ducked behind the window, crouching by Ginny’s feet.

You heard George’s laughter, and Ginny’s ramblings stilled.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she asked you, lowering herself to crouch with you.

“I don’t know,” you answered, whispering. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were wide. Ginny’s threatening look turned into a smile.

She began to giggle, and soon enough, Fred and George hovered just above the window, peering into Ginny’s room.

“What are you girls doing down there?” George asked, resting a hand on the part of the windowsill with no glass on it, peering into the room.

Ginny looked at you, her smile wide. You looked around and began to pick up large shards of glass.

“Cleaning up the glass,” you said casually, although you could still feel the distinct burn of blush on your cheeks.

You could only safely pick up two large shards of glass without cutting your hands, so you raised yourself from the ground, meeting Fred and George’s eyes. Ginny followed you, crossing her arms and smirking.

The boys wore their practice robes, their names and numbers on the backs. They both had discarded goggles hanging from their necks, and their hair was wild. You looked between the both of them, swallowing thickly.

“Could you keep it down?” Ginny finally said, trying to ease the situation, “We’re trying to sleep.”

George removed a hand from his broom and glanced at his watch, “It’s nearly 12 in the afternoon,” he said sarcastically.

“Really? Well, we need our beauty sleep,” Ginny said, and you noticed she nearly reached out to close the window.

George rolled his eyes and zipped away on his broom, leaving Fred.

“I’m gonna go get a broom, clean this up,” Ginny said, huffing as she navigated her way back through the glass on the floor.

You and Fred were left there, staring at anything but each other. Fred moved slightly up and down on his broom as he hovered. He finally cleared his throat and looked at you.

“Sleep well?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and smiled, rocking back and forth on your feet, “You?”

He nodded too and looked away quickly.

“Oh, I think George, is calling me,” he said, and it was obvious George was not calling him. He flew away on his broom, and you closed your eyes, letting out a restrained breath.

You groaned and threw yourself on Ginny’s bed. Hermione rolled over, a large and entertained grin on her face. You covered your face with a pillow and ignored Ginny and Hermione’s imitations of the incident while they swept up the glass.

Mrs. Weasley was furious to see Ginny’s window. She had come in later in the day, a basket full of laundry on her hip.

“Hello girls,” she said pleasantly, “Do you have- what the bloody hell is that?”

Ginny’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s deep and serious tone.

“Mum! It wasn’t us,” Ginny leaped from her bed and ran to her dresser, she quickly caught the snitch from where it had been hiding behind her dresser, “It came through the window this morning when the boys were playing.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at you and Hermione, and you both nodded your heads furiously. She huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

Finally looking up, she set the laundry down and stood in Ginny’s doorway.

“BOYS!” she shouted, and you heard the sudden halting of George and Fred’s laughter, and Harry and Ron’s footsteps upstairs silenced.

The sound of four hesitant feet walking to Ginny’s room was the last thing you heard before Mrs. Weasley’s screams burst your eardrums.

The Burrow was crowded now that the boys had been banned from leaving the house. They had only briefly been allowed out of the house to de-gnome the garden, but Mrs. Weasley stood at the door, making sure they had absolutely no fun.

Your suitcase lay open in Ginny’s room, the three of you dressed and having absolutely no ideas as to what to do. You had all already ran through your spending money going to Diagon Alley on your first days there, and without the boys offering some entertainment, the three of you were idle.

Ginny paced, looking through her own things with interest. She twisted her broom in her hands, offering the idea of Quidditch, but Hermione wasn’t interested. Ginny was scanning her room, and her eyes fell on your bag. A pair of white shoes with wheels on them lay tucked away in the bag. She walked over to them and pulled them out hesitantly.

“What the bloody hell are those?” George said from the doorway.

The three of you girls turned, looking to the door. The four boys crowded in the hall, all peering into the room with interest. It seemed they were bored too.

“Are those the roll skates?” Ron asked, mispronouncing the word and shoving past George and taking the roller skate from Ginny.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes flicking up over the top of your magazine.

The rest of the boys filed into the tiny room, nearly all of them shoulder to shoulder. Hermione rose from her spot next to you, picking up the other one from your bag.

“I remember seeing commercials for these things when I was a kid,” Hermione said, spinning the wheel in her hand.

“Commercials? What are you on about?” Ron said, and Harry caught your baffled look and smiled.

“What are they?” Fred asked, taking Hermione’s seat next to you on Ginny’s bed.

You lowered your magazine and looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. He gave you a crooked smile and nodded in greeting. You successfully fought a blush and smiled back at him.

“They’re roller skates. They’re like shoes with wheels,” you explained, taking the skate from Ron.

You rolled up your jeans a little and slipped on the skate. Fred watched your delicate fingers lacing up the shoe, noticing the way your hair fell into your face as you looked down at them.

Hermione handed you the other one, and you did the same to the other foot. You stood easily from the bed and nearly lost your balance. It was lucky that Fred’s strong shoulder was there for your hand to clasp onto, or else your feet would have slipped from under you.

You looked down at your hand still on Fred’s shoulder, even though you were standing fine. He slipped your hand off but kept it in his hand. You then became aware that you were just holding hands at this point. He stood with you and turned to face you. He pulled your other hand into his, and pushed you away from him, smiling widely as you rolled easily on the hardwood floors.

Everyone knew then that they had found their entertainment for the day.

The sound of joyful laughter flooded your ears as Fred pulled you around the limited space in Ginny’s room. Your hands fit together perfectly, and he walked backward as he pulled you, keeping his smiling eyes on you the whole time. Soon he was pulling you into the hallway, and everyone trailed after. You felt Ginny’s small hands pushing your back, and you began to gain speed. Fred hadn’t caught up, and you were coming closer and closer to him. You looked down but didn’t want to put your toes down to brake, in fear of scuffing up the floor. So, you let yourself fall into Fred’s arms.

The two of you stayed upright, but his long arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands fell to his chest, and his chin pressed against his neck as he looked down at you. His hair fell into his eyes, and yours fell gracefully in its natural place. You smiled, and he smiled, and soon you erupted into giggles at the silence behind you. George catcalled, and you stuffed your giggles into Fred’s chest, tucking your head under his chin. You felt him take a sharp inhale, and his arms became a little tighter around you.

When Mr. Weasley got home, he was accosted by his children.

“Dad!” They said in unison, all waiting for him by the door.

He jumped at the sight of them all, then began taking off his coat.

“Look at these!” Ginny said, pointing to your feet.

You did a little spin, careful not to make any marks on the floor. Fred watched you spin elegantly, your arms coming out a little like a ballerina.

“Remarkable!” Mr. Wealsey cried, moving to look at them.

Questions came from his mouth faster then you could answer them, and you slid the wheels against the floor under the table while you ate dinner.

“We had an idea, Dad,” Fred said, looking at you proudly.

“Yeah, think you’ll like it,” George added, glancing at you with a smirk and then looking back at his dad.

“We need you to conjure some sort of track outside,” Ron finished, talking with his mouth full.

“A track! That’s brilliant!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, missing the worried look from his wife.

“It was Y/n’s idea, she’s brilliant,” Fred said, looking across the table at you.

You giggled as George made a gagging noise.

“With what? Stone?” Mrs. Weasley inquired, placing a hand on her hip.

“Oh no, they’re usually made of wood or asphalt,” you explained, “they have a whole building of them in the muggle world. People rent the skates and pay to skate on a big rink.”

Mr. Weasley's eyes widened with excitement, and Mrs. Weasley’s worry tamed.

“Let’s do it tonight.”

The eight of you walked to a clearing on the side of the house. It was where the boys usually played Quidditch, but it hadn’t been in use for days. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t stopped the boys from helping with the track, and you were grateful.

“Hold it higher, Ron!” Mr. Weasley called out, and Ron raised his father's wand with a bright orb of light coming from it.

The track was nearly done. It was huge, a large hoop secured to the ground. There was an enchanted orb of light in the center of the circle, and it illuminated the entire rink.

Your friends watched you blaze around the track, your hair whipping around behind your face, the sides of your cardigan flapping in the wind. You heard loud cheers when you successfully began skating backward.

The rest of your trip to The Burrow was spent out there. The boys were lifted from their punishments, and the rink became the one place you all went to when you woke up, and the last place you were before bed. Soon enough, though, your father appeared in the fireplace with your school trunk by his side. He quickly took back the bag you had been keeping at the Weasley's, and you went through your trunk one last time, making sure you had everything.

This year, walking through the train station, you were still stared at. But you didn’t care because an entire family surrounding you, and they all looked like you.

Your father gave you a lasting embrace before Fred followed you onto the train. He had waited for you, watching as you hugged your dad. He waved to your father, and his hand grazed your lower back as he walked behind you. The two of you found the compartment that had to be the most crowded of the lot.

Lee, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sarah, George, and now you and Fred, packed into a compartment, the entire room filled with busy conversation the entire ride.

It was weird to be in the Hufflepuff common room, your bedroom devoid of Ginny’s huffs as she rolled over to get comfortable, or Hermione’s anxious mumbles she said in her sleep. You pulled your blankets off of you, your legs feeling sore from the constant skating you had been doing for weeks.

Speaking of, you had made the decision to bring your skates to Hogwarts. You slipped them on, tightening the rainbow laces. You pointed your wand at the wheels and cast a silencing charm, so the turn of the wheels would be silent.

You carefully climbed the stairs from the Hufflepuff basement and looked both ways before you skated towards your destination.

Fred had been sitting under his covers, looking over the map as he usually did before he snuck to the kitchens. Out of habit, he looked at the Hufflepuff common room for your familiar name. He was shocked to see you across the castle, in a long-abandoned classroom. He suddenly lost his appetite and slid into some slippers.

He rested his forearm in the crook of the door, leaning against it. He watched you illuminated by the candles lit on the wall. You easily glided between the desks, twisting and turning, spinning, and navigating between them. His eyes followed you, your body moving naturally. He watched the sway of your hips as your wait transferred from foot to foot, the skates rolling against the smooth stone. You moved to the open space in the room, skating backward, your back to him. You turned just a few feet in front of him, and when you saw Fred, your surprise ran through your body. Your feet faltered and you bumped into a desk, making a loud crash.

He jumped from his spot in the doorway, closing the door behind him. He moved to you in two long strides, crouching to reach you on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Fred!” you said, smiling up at him.

“Couldn’t help it, I had to come see you,” he said smoothly, bringing the map from his back pocket.

“What? How did you know I was here?”

He unfolded a piece of paper and held it out to you. You took it in your hands and realized what it was. Before you could look at it for long, Fred took it back, a worried expression on his face.

“Filch is coming, he must have heard the noise,” Fred folded the map and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, and he was guiding you to your feet. He looked around the room and saw the door to the supply closet.

With a wave of his wand, the flames of the candles were extinguished and he was pulling your gliding figure to the closet. The door closed just in time, and Filch burst in. You and Fred were pressed together, his hands still on your waist. You opened your mouth to ask him about the map, and one of his hands covered your mouth. He felt your soft lips, and his eyes locked onto yours. You heard Filch’s heavy feet stomping around the room and the screech of the desk against the floor.

Your mind was occupied by the lack of space between you, your back pressed to the door, and Fred’s warm hand on your face. He looked deeply at you, and his face was inches from yours.

You thought back to the day Ginny told you about how Fred felt, and you realized that you no longer had any hesitations about Fred. Standing this close to him, his leg slid between yours, his chest against yours, you felt what he felt. You fancied Fred.

Fred felt your lips curl into a smile beneath his hand. It was dark, so he couldn’t see your face, but he wished more than anything that he could. He heard the door close, and Filch was gone, but neither of you moved. Fred’s hand retracted from your mouth, moving to your neck. His fingers slipped under your hair, and his thumb rested in your jaw.

“Why did you come here?” you whispered.

“I like to watch you skate,” he answered, his voice devoid of any laughter.

“You’ve watched me skate for weeks,” you said quickly, inching your face closer to his, craning your neck to look up at him.

“I like to watch you,” he said without thinking, “I like you.”

You closed the space between you two. His lips were slow, and so were yours. You arched your back against the door, anything to get closer to him. His face was warm, and yours was cold. His lips pressed hard against yours, and the kiss held everything he had felt since he talked to you in the Three Broomsticks. It was all the nights he had ranted to George about you, all the times he had mentioned what little time it was until you’d finally be at The Burrow, all the times he looked at the map just to see your name, all the times his stomach had flipped just at the thought of you.

You pulled away, breathless, and he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder. His breathing was heavy, and your eyes had fluttered closed. He reached for his wand and said “Lumos,” just so he could see your pretty face and swollen lips.

He walked you back to the basement, and you shared another slow kiss. He had almost followed you down the stairs, watching you leave with your skates hanging from around your neck.

The next morning in the courtyard, Ginny was the first to notice.

“What happened?” she said, skeptical of your dazed face and the constant flush you had from just being near Fred.

He sat a few feet away in his own world, avoiding George and Lee’s conversation about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

You smiled at Ginny, and she furrowed her brows at you. You were about to tell her, but Ron fell with a thud onto the ground next to you.

“It’s been three bloody weeks and Snape’s already assigned 100 pages of reading,” Ron groaned, pulling a heavy textbook from under his arm. Hermione and Harry trailed behind him, sitting with much more grace than Ron had.

Hermione also noticed your at peace look and looked at you analytically.

You were finally able to tell them in the hall, during an extended period between classes.

“He kissed me last night,” you said with a blush.

“I told you!”

“Finally!”

You hushed them, a bashful smile coming to your lips. Fred passed the three of you, his eyes locked on yours as he walked. Over his shoulder, he sent you a flirty wink. You felt weak at the knees and was glad that you were leaning against a wall.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, tugging you off the wall and in the opposite way Fred was walking. You looked over your shoulder to see him walking backward, watching you walk away.

“Knowing Fred, he’ll probably pull some elaborate prank or get fireworks to spell your name out,” Ginny said, watching you look at her brother.

Fred did something like that, the two of you in the courtyard, laying in the grass. He had pulled you from dinner just after you were dismissed, and he led you to the courtyard. You both stared at the sky, and he looked at you. You met his gaze and then he pointed at the sky.

In huge, shining, red words read “Y/n, Hogsmeade this weekend?”.

You smiled at him and nodded. His hand snaked to cup your cheek still laying down. He pulled you towards him, and you moved to look down at him, propped up on your elbow. His lips met yours, and the sound of more bursting fireworks flooded the air around you.

It was nearly Christmas now. You and Fred have been dating for a few weeks, and he invited you back to the Burrow for the holidays.

You accepted, and you trudged your heavy bag into the fireplace. It was filled with gifts for the Weasley’s, and you were feeling quite confident about it.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stayed at school for the holidays, leaving you, George, Fred, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in front of a fire on Christmas eve.

You had called your father on your flip phone he had given you as an early Christmas present. He was coming over tomorrow for Christmas morning, and you felt incredibly content.

Coming back to the couch, tucking your phone into your pocket, you slipped back under Fred’s arm, curling into his side. Mr. Wealsey had already had a go at the device, and he just watched amazed at it fitting into your pocket so easily.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of your father’s booming voice downstairs. You sat up, stretching, and looked over to Ginny’s bed. It was empty, the covers were thrown aside. You slipped on a large cardigan, pulling it around your cold arms and going downstairs.

You were met with what felt like a dream. All the Weasley’s sat around the table, eating a huge Christmas breakfast and drinking tea. They each wore matching sweaters with their initials on them, and your father was standing with Mr. Weasley by the couch.

“Happy Christmas!” they all beamed at you.

Ginny tugged you over to the couch, sitting on one side of you while Fred sat on the other. Your father stood behind you on the couch, and a pile of presents were stacked in the room. You had brought your presents for the Weasley’s down last night, and you saw them on the ground.

Wrapping paper was everywhere, and the sound of happiness flooded the room. It finally came time for everyone to open what you had gotten them, and Fred went first. He tore away the red paper and held the plain box in his hands. He shook it, holding it up to his ear and smiling at you.

“Careful!” you told him, and he tore away the tape holding the box shut.

Inside, a brand new pair of garnet roller skates. He gasped, his large hands holding a skate up.

“Oh, my-” Mrs. Weasley said, already thinking of the awful thing he and George could do with those.

“It’s amazing!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you.

You returned the hug, and whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Fred.”

Soon, all the Weasley’s were holding different colored skates, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

[saby-chan]

Fire Lord Ozai: A blood thirsty monster or the less fortunate “Zuko” of his generation?

Hello again and thank you as always for clicking and allotting some of your time to read my humble post! Since I’ve happened to notice quite an increase in posts lately regarding the controversial character and nature of the former Fire Lord, the now imprisoned fallen prince Ozai, and I’ve personally promised in my previous post that I will share my own analysis on him if people asked me to do so (which actually happened), I am here to deliver my own take on this very intriguing man’s character, while also building a potential past for him based on stuff gathered from the show’s cannon.

I would like to start this essay with what I find to be my favorite quote ever: ”Monster’s aren’t born, they are created.” ~ Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto) What I like about this quote soo much and find very inspirational is the truth it holds within its short, yet powerful message. We are often fast to judge a “book by the cover”, to reduce others to what we assume of them by their appearance or latest actions that we’ve seen them do, but never actually take a moment and wonder where they come from, if this person we soo harshly look down upon really has been this way since their very beginning?

I’ve come across many comments on social media related to ATLA, especially on YouTube videos on which people would throw with harsh comments such as “Aang being a coward for choosing to spare the villain just because they saw a dumb baby pic of them” or “Ozai is the essence of evil and even as a baby he’d been a monster”. I can’t help but wonder who hurt these people to make them be so cruel? Like, how messed up must you actually be to say that a baby, a friggin baby, is the embodiment of all evils? Or that a child was a coward for choosing to see his opponent’s last bits of humanity and opted to spare them?

Aang was soo morally conflicted about the idea of killing Ozai not only because it contradicted the morals of his people, but because he himself understood that this man hadn’t always been the cruel beast he came to met in their first and final showdown. It’s important to note here the fact that upon finding that picture, Aang was actually convinced it had to be Zuko as a baby since it looked so innocent and cute and was actually surprised to learn it was Zuko’s father. And that’s the thing, Ozai was born like us all as an innocent and sweet baby. Babies aren’t in any way evil or twisted, they don’t even have the notion of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ defined in their small, still developing minds. In fact, the very choice of the creators to add this picture in the show is meant to tell us this very thing: this man wasn’t always like this. But if he wasn’t always like this, then what happened to make him become this way?

Well, in order to find out the reason, we must go back in time to the very beginning: Ozai’s childhood and upbringing. For this next part I am going to solely focus on the show cannon, as the comics aren’t the products of BryKe and have a lot of inconsistencies to the source’s cannon (you can go and read my other post on why they fail when it comes to Zuko’s character and his family).

 From what we know and can easily deduce by ourselves just from their appearances, Ozai and his brother Iroh have a huge age gap between them (somewhere between 10 and 15 years). This has to be our first red flag: isn’t it soo odd that this family opted to have their children at such a long distance between pregnancies? It almost feels as if Ozai hadn’t actually been part of his father’s actual family planning... In other words, he was a ‘mistake’ child (I actually hate having to use this terminology, but it will become relevant to when we expand on Azulon’s relationship with his sons). Sure, some may argue that Azulon actually decided to have two sons in case something were to happen to his first born, but wouldn’t it have been more logical to have his second born at 2-3 years max distance from his first? Why choose to have your second child when you are much older and thus risk having a baby with issues, if your sole purpose of this child is to serve as an insurance that you don’t ‘run out’ of heirs? It just doesn’t make much sense, so let’s go for the moment with the possibility that Ozai was an unplanned pregnancy.

This perspective actually gives way to another very interesting aspect: remember the infamous “Born lucky...Lucky to be born” quote? What if I tell you that there is a possibility that this quote wasn’t Ozai’s personal wicked invention, but actually something he himself heard from his very own father? It had been puzzling me for a long time why he choose to say “You were lucky to be born” to Zuko, which implies that Zuko wasn’t supposed to exist. I mean, it’s soo odd that Ozai went with something implying that Zuko was an unplanned pregnancy, since Zuko was the first born. So my theory is that maybe Ozai wanted to convey a different message to Zuko when he said that quote, but due to his anger he ended up replicating the same line he received from Azulon at some point in his childhood. We never got the exact flashback when the line was delivered from Ozai to Zuko, so we don’t have the exact context that lead to it (remember, we are excluding Yang’s take on the matter from the comics).

I mean, this feels like something that wicked old Azulon would have said to his least favorite child. Okay, so let’s go with the scenario that Ozai was an unwanted child, to which we could also add the possibility that Ilah’s health deteriorated after the first birth, which makes plausible the family’s initial decision of stopping at 1 kid.

Moving on, we know from the old ATLA character wiki’s that Ozai’s character design was made with Zuko in mind, being meant to be a grown up version of Zuzu, without the scar. An interesting choice indeed and even Iroh’s letter to Zuko on Ozai from one of the ATLA books describes Ozzy in a similar way to teenage Zuko in book 1: stubborn, feisty, determined and with a volcanic personality (easy to anger and competitive), so it means that these were intentional choices to imply that Zuko and his father are more similar than we were led to believe at first glance. Maybe Ozai was the “Zuko” of his generation. Also, in one of the interviews on the royal family, BryKe stated that Ozai worked very hard to get where he is in book 3, referring to his firebending specifically (we all know how Ozzy got the throne, so clearly, he didn’t “work hard” for that), so maybe he wasn’t always the strongest man alive, with the most exceptional firebending skills out there, like Azula who showed ease in her learning, but rather someone closer to Zuko’s weaker performance as a child, building his way to success through endless hard work until he became the prodigy we know today.

Continuing with our theoretical scenario, after his birth, the second child show’s lesser skills compared to his brother Iroh (by that I don’t mean that he wasn’t gifted at all, but that maybe Ozai wasn’t as fast and great of a learner like his big bro), so Azulon opts to just ignore him and continue focusing solely on his golden child. In my headcannon I actually think that Ilah survived the birth and so she was left in charge of the younger child’s education and upbringing. At this point Iroh is already 10 or older, so he is forced to focus on his development, which prevents him from spending time with his lil brother, but just for the sake of being positive, let’s assume that Ozai still had both his mother and his big brother to keep him sheltered from Azulon’s darkness for a small portion of his childhood.

I choose to believe that Ozai had his mother’s love for a small bit of his childhood due to his willingness in the show to allow Ursa (who mind you, as the granddaughter of Roku was considered a treacherous individual) to spend a ton of time with both Zuko and Azula and share her philosophy with the children, as seeing his wife playing with their children probably reminded him of his own bitter-sweet memories he had with Ilah. They also probably spent a lot of their time near the turtle-duck pond since that pond’s existence prolly dates long before Ozai and Ursa married and had their own children.

Unfortunately, Ilah dies and little Ozai remains all alone, to be influenced negatively by his father (and even by his grandpa Sozin, we don’t really know for certain when the old man died, so he prolly was there for a short time when Ozzy was still a child). Azulon most likely blames Ozai for his wife’s death as the second birth might’ve really had a huge toll on Ilah’s already fragile body, bringing her closer to death, so he still neglects and ignores the child, if not straight out bullies and abuses him for not being on par with Iroh. This prolly leads to Ozai becoming jealous of his brother since Iroh has their father’s love, pushing them further apart. I headcannon that this jealousy between the siblings led to Ozai complaining to his dad when he finally had too much of their father’s discrimination (at a similar age to when Zuko prolly did and got the infamous line, if not younger) only to get the “Iroh was born lucky, you were lucky to be born!” line with the sole purpose of hurting him since now the child knows that he was never wanted.

When Azulon scolds very furiously adult Ozai in Zuko’s memories for daring to ask to be named crown prince, he literally says something like “What, you dare ask me to betray MY own son?!” (this is like red flag number two), line that pretty much testifies how Azulon chose to pretty much treat Ozai as if he wasn’t his son too, showcasing how much he despised his second born and favored the first child over him. Since we are on the topic of their last conversation, the punishment Azulon gave to his son alone proves this man’s level of sadism, which leads me to be believe that Ozai’s childhood was full of this type of punishments for bad behaviors that could be easily corrected trough a long serious lecture or a lesser punishment focused more on teaching him an actual lesson. 

The old wikis also mention on the page about the hall with portraits of the previous Fire Lords that it was the place where Ozai chose to spend most of his time in his youth, seeking advice from his ancestors. I mean, seriously now, if he had a good and supportive father and a present brother in his life, would Ozai had chosen to seek guidance from the dead instead of his living family? That piece of information that was easily overlooked by many proves how lonely this man was in his youth.

So for the most part of his life, Ozai grew up under the toxic influence and abuse of his tyrant father who refused to acknowledge him. Yet he managed to grow up still full of determination to one day prove his worth to Azulon and gain his acceptance (just like we saw with Zuko in book 1, who was desperate to regain his honor and be accepted by his father). But unfortunately, no matter how strong he became or how good of a firebender he was, Azulon was unmoved and unphased by his second son’s performance.

From what we could gather from the little info we received in the show, it seems that Ozai was never sent to the battle field to aid his older brother, being kept as a stay home prince, with the only occasion he actually left home being to search for the Avatar (I don’t think Iroh was sent to do his part on searching the Avatar since he strongly believed that there wasn’t going to ever be one, so it’s safe to assume Azulon assigned Ozai with this mission just to get rid of him for a few years) and the only purpose he ever served to his father was to become part of the old man’s genetics experiment in order to create strong unparalleled firebending offspring (which I am pretty sure were meant to be ‘biological war machines’ used by Azulon in the war, as he didn’t really seem to give a shit about Ozai’s children compared to Lu Ten). So just imagine the level of disappointment and dishonor Ozai must’ve felt as a man and young aspiring soldier to find out that he was going to be used like a ‘non-bending daughter’ in a strategical marriage and never get to serve his country in what he’d been taught was the greatest and most important war for their Nation.

All in all, this marriage didn’t really end up that badly because it seems he and Ursa were actually very compatible. The old wiki for Ursa states that she was a noble woman and the perfect match for Ozai, which leads me to believe that show Ursa was intended to be a very strong willed and determined woman who earned his respect. The show never stated that Ozai never wanted his first born or that he was disappointed with Zuko from birth like the comics say, so it’s safe to assume that Ursa and Ozai actually ended up falling in love at some point since they had not one, but two kids with relatively a short time in between pregnancies. 

There are actually many signs in the show that actually prove that these two loved each other and Ozai didn’t abuse his wife: from the fact that they went every year to see Ursa’s favorite play despite Ozai hating the poor performance of the Ember Island Players (I mean, what man would do such a sacrifice as to endure the same torture every single year just to make his wife happy if he never loved her?), Ursa’s undeniable and sincere love for their children (in the show it was never stated that Ursa saw Zuko and Azula as someone else’s children, so if she were indeed an abused woman who was forced to have these children, she wouldn’t have ever loved them to such an extent, especially Zuko who resembled his father the most physically), the fact that Ursa had equal rights in their marriage and raising of their children (her even scolding and grounding Ozai’s favorite child without hesitation), to the most significant scene to the Urzai ship in Zuko’s flashbacks: Ozai sitting troubled all alone in Ursa’s favorite spot by the pond, in a sad and brooding atmosphere, after he lost her, instead of celebrating what had to be the happiest day of his life since he was finally crowned Fire Lord (it’s clear who had more importance in his heart: Ursa meant more to him than the throne, so losing her outshined his achievement). In fact, Ursa must’ve been the only thing that still kept him outside of the darkness that threatened to swallow his heart and once he lost her, Ozai had nothing else to keep him on the right path.

And even as a father, it seems that Ozai wasn’t always cold and distant to his children, as his true self depicted in Zuko’s memories on Ember Island shows him caring for both of his children, even holding Zuko close to him with a protective arm on the boy’s shoulder. Except the Agni Kai, there don’t seem to be any instances in which he was physically violent towards his son before the banishment (Iroh literally let Zuko in to join that faithful war meeting willingly. Would’ve he done that if he knew his brother to be very violent towards his children in case they disobeyed? If yes, then it would make Iroh actually very questionable on a moral standpoint) and even on an emotional level, I don’t really think that he was actually abusive to him (at least while Ursa was there) because from Zuko’s conversation with Zhao, he’s adamant that his father will take him back and even states "You don't know how my father feels about me. You don't know anything!", meaning that the father he used to know showed him a level of respect and genuine affection (if Ozai were to bully Zuko since the boy’s very early childhood, do you think this kid would grow up to be so sure that his father wants him around and would he defend this bully when someone badmouths them in front of him?).

Even with Azula, despite people demonizing her from early childhood and saying that she was manipulated since birth by Ozai to become a war machine, I do believe that she shows genuine love and affection towards her father. I do choose to believe that back in the good times when the family was happy, Ozai spent quality time with his daughter, filling in the gap left by Ursa’s neglect. I theorize that the reason why kid Azula badmouthed her grandpa and uncle was because she was being very protective of her father: since she used to like spying and eavesdropping, it’s safe to assume that she prolly witnessed many instances in which the old man bullied or insulted Ozai, favoring Iroh over him. It’s a bit harder to see it that way since her snarky comments involve dark topics, but since they live in a society governed by power and war, I see them as something similar to if Azula would’ve said “Uncle sucks and he will surely be fired from his job!” or “Grandpa is old and weak, he should leave the family business to dad!”. Even the fact that the only thing capable of shattering her to pieces was her father leaving her proves how much she cared for him. Ty Lee and Mai’s betrayal was a big blow on Azula’s control and sanity, but she didn’t breakdown until Ozai discarded her after his coronation as Phoenix King. There’s nothing more painful in this world than to be left behind by the person you loved the most and was there by your side your whole life, whom you wanted to follow to world’s end and back. That was the moment Azula finally realized that the father she used to know and love was actually gone and had been in fact, long gone for years at this point.

But if Ozai cared for his family what made him change? Easy, it all comes back to the fact that his father never acknowledged him. The throne doesn’t seem to be his ultimate goal in life since Ozai discarded of the Fire Lord title very easily, tossing it to Azula without any remorse or hesitation. It was more about the meaning behind getting the crown: replacing Iroh in the line of succession was the ultimate proof of his father’s acceptance, that he wasn’t only a “mistake” and “failure” in his father’s eyes, but since Azulon ended up saying and doing what he did, backfired Ozai and made him understand that no matter how hard he tried, the old man will never see him for what he is. So yeah, for a proud man like Ozai this was a hard defeat to swallow, which in turn sparked his strong desire of winning the war and becoming the king of the world: if Azulon wouldn’t accept him even in death, then Ozai will prove to the whole world that he was above his father and his “perfect” brother by accomplishing what they never could and even better and no one was going to stop him, not even his own family.

This is what differentiates Ozai from Zuko: while both had similar upbringings, Ozai never broke away from his obsession of gaining his father’s admiration, allowing himself to fall prey to the darkness left by Azulon in his heart and abandon his true self, only to become the copy of his abuser, while Zuko stood up to his dad and chose his own destiny. If Aang were to come back around 20 or 30 years earlier, then he might’ve actually been able to save Ozai just like he saved Zuko, but unfortunately it wasn’t this way.

Do I think that Ozai could still be saved and redeemed even after the events of book 3? Definitely! Since he’s actually a broken man and still has a tiny bit of humanity left within, I think he still has a chance to change his heart. The only thing is that it’d be a long lasting process: first off he needs to spend a long time in solitude and reflect on his life’s choices and his past, understand where he went wrong and that what happened to him in his childhood is called abuse, which he ended up replicating on his own children. After he understands his wrongdoings and becomes willing to rediscover his true self, he needs to understand the truth about the war, that everything he’d known was fake propaganda and that there was nothing glorious in what he, his father and Sozin did under the excuse of “sharing their Nation’s greatness with the rest of the world!”. But most importantly of all, the only remedy that could possibly save him is love. It sound cliche, but by responding to hatred with more hate like Zuko did in the comics would never change the world “for the better” or bring it “to reality”. The only way to save both Azula and Ozai would be trough showing them the power of love, hope and empathy, how they don’t have to struggle alone and push everyone away. And especially by redeeming Azula, she would be a very important piece in Ozai’s redemption: since he had a closer parent-child relationship with Azula and cared for her the most when he did care, realizing how much he made her suffer through his actions, that would probably break Ozai enough to make him admit that he was wrong all along.

So yeah, this is my analysis on Ozai’s character using the cannon information from the show and old wikis and why I think he is just the product of a very bad environment and an abusive parent who never showed him love (if there’s a reason for why Ozai might be uncapable of showing a healthy parental love to his children is because you can’t show what you’ve never learnt yourself), being the Zuko of his generation who never got to experience the positive influence of an “Uncle Iroh” to guide him on the right path. 

You can agree with me or not on this one, but this is what I choose to believe. Maybe I am way too good by choosing to see any potential good in anyone, but I feel it’s a better way than to counter hate with more hate like Yang did in his monstrous portrayal of Ozai in The Search.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and if you agree with anything I’ve said, feel free to leave a like and to reblog this post.

See you next time and stay safe! Bye-Bye!

Saby out.

[kaijuno]

I (@el-smacko) am genderqueer. I ignored JKR’s stupid essay as long as I could but having finally succumbed to the temptation I found it far worse than I had imagined. It’s so poorly-written I’m surprised she’s a professional writer. Despite her claim of abundant experience and research, the essay has no sources and the “experts” she talks about are either not recognized or their ideas are rejected by their peers. I’m not going to write a whole essay, just zero in on probably the worst paragraph:

“I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.”

“60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will” is an incredibly dishonest way to word who she’s talking about. For one, it’s in the wrong tense. These are not teens who experience gender dysphoria, but teens who had experienced gender dysphoria prior to puberty. Puberty, you may recognize, is an incredibly hormonal time and one of the therapies for gender dysphoria in adults is hormonal. Out of ignorance or malice she neglects to mention of course that if dysphoria persists into puberty (into actually being a teenager unlike the prepubescent children she’s actually talking about) it is of course more than likely permanent.

I’m also going to ignore the anonymous tokenism and also “adorable,” but hoo-boy dude, really? Are you fucking kidding me?

So like, this hedging thing that TERFS do is probably worse than just outright denying the existence of trans women. Regardless, let me make it clear what she’s NOT saying:

“trans women are women but they have to go through the proper channels if they want to be recognized or it puts cis women and girls in danger.”

What is IS saying:

“Transgender women aren’t women but if they’re committed enough to being what I think women are, they might as well be women once they’ve put in the work and met the requirement of being ‘transsexual.’ Otherwise, they’re men and if they aren’t motivated enough to meet my standard, they must have ulterior, heinous motives or if they’re teens/young adults, they’re just confused and following a trend that ultimately acts as a screen for the former evil men.”

It sucks and I’m sorry such a formative role model turned out to be an idiot who thinks you need a permit to be who your are or doesn’t recognize that for a large part of her fan base in the US it’s literally impossible to receive the healthcare that would make a UK permit even possible.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Alone together at the Summer Sweets Festival

Sweet treats, flying carpets, and colorful blooms - it's a magical day in Falcon Harbor when the Summer Sweets Festival comes to town. Everything's so soft and pastel, it's such a lovely sight to take in. Standing on the bridge, getting a full view of the festivities, I feel peaceful, like despite everything going on in the world right now, as long as I'm here, I'm safe.

Since we've been busy with camp stuff and running the shop, Daisy Jane and I felt that we needed some time to ourselves. Up until now, we haven't really had one on one time together, something we knew had to be fixed.

Hard to believe that Daisy Jane's been here for over a year now - how different things were back then. She went from stagnating in life to living her dream, being independent and creating art. And not too long ago I was in a similar position, trying to find my place in the world but having a hard time doing so. People objected - usually for good reason - but we took the plunge anyway, stumbling more than succeeding, but finding our way eventually. To some, it's still not ideal, but to us, we're happy, and that's more than enough for us.

Like I said, it's been nice just the two of us hanging out. I mean, we did meet up with friends but for the most part it's only us off on our own while occasionally meeting up. Not that I don't miss the campers but sometimes you just gotta go off and do your own thing. I've been so wrapped up in camp events lately that I haven't had time to do that and it was starting to affect me. As I'm still learning, it's important not to get too wrapped up in things - and there's nothing wrong with taking things slow, even slacking off if you can.

Since Pai brought along Connie and the gang, I've been thinking about that a lot. As much as I enjoy and look forward to camp events, they take a lot out of me. I get that they're kinda necessary to keep things running - and it's not like we're running out of ideas (I'm starting to think that's becoming one of my worst fears if I ever get to that point) -  but it's important to know when to slow down. I've made the mistake of back to back events so now I know to space them out for everyone's sanity.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that burnout ain't good. Know the signs and take steps to prevent yourself from crashing and burning. Problem is that it can sneak up in unexpected ways, so it's extra important to catch the warning signs as soon as possible.

A festival may not seem like an ideal way to get some rest and relaxation, but this one's different. I think it's the peaceful atmosphere in general - things aren't too crazy or crowded, just people vibing in their own spaces. Kinda like a cafe's that's sorta busy but not too crowded or loud so you can just chill out and do your own thing without feeling like you're in the way. I always feel bad for taking up space, especially when I know that someone else needs it more than I do, which is why I tend to feel self conscious out in public. Doing stuff at a cafe sounds nice but actually doing it? I need to find the right place, the right atmosphere, the right spot that gives me privacy while not be closed off from everything else.

In other words, the Summer Sweets Festival's kinda like finding the perfect cafe to hang out in. The vibe's similar to the Traveling Fika, a relaxed atmosphere that doesn't compel you to have to try out everything all at once but instead encourages you to take your time and explore at your own pace. As much as I enjoy festivals - even more so as I've had a hand in behind the scenes for some - they can take a lot out of me. Again, there's nothing wrong with slowing down and taking your time.

While enjoying the festivities we ran into some friends. Turns out Emmaline and Minnie had the same idea of going to the festival for one on one time. I think this is the first time I've hung out with them since their wedding. As usual, they've been traveling around the universe, though they've been slowing down a bit and visiting home more often. It's still up in the air, but they're really considering the idea of buying a place in Rosevine. They'll still be traveling but that means they'll also have a home base to go back to.

The four of us enjoyed galaxy themed dango and fresh jasmine tea while catching up. I think since getting married, Emmaline and Minnie have fallen even more in love with each other. It's always so sweet seeing them side by side, holding hands and just being together. Like me and Daisy Jane, they also took a gamble by going off on their own - they were always more bolder than us in many ways despite being younger. In a way, they seem older, though it's more of a kinda had to grow up faster because of life circumstances.

Now that I think about it, no one really comes out unscathed from their upbringing. I'm lucky to not experience the traumas Emmaline and Minnie went through, though I can relate to being seemingly older than your peers. I'm not knocking my upbringing but the culture I grew up in - where my parents were also brought up - tends to put pressure on all of us. Maybe I'm biased because I'm the firstborn daughter in an Asian family but in a way I'm kinda expected to be maternal - not that I don't want to be, it's just the pressure of being that gets to me. It's the whole idea of you have to be the best, not just for you, but for your family - in other words, you have a lot to carry on your shoulders.

Then there's the whole debate of whether I should do something because it's for me or should consider my family over myself. Eh, that's something for another time I don't feel like getting into all that today.  Will I have to address it someday? Probably but I don't have the brain power to even touch on that.

After getting lost in the stars, the four of us hopped on a flying carpet for a scenic view of the harbor. They say that Falcon Harbor's known for its magical carpets, from their beautiful and intricate designs to the magic these threads possess, it's amazing to see how much work is put into making a single one. The view is absolutely gorgeous - it adds to the dreamy vibe of the festival.

Not too long after parting ways, we ran into Blossom. It was an unexpected surprise as she came here on sort of a whim. For the past year or so she's been hanging out with a time traveling professor and exploring various parts of the universe with him. She posts a lot of about her travels on social media and it sounds like she's having a blast.

Though as much as she enjoys going on adventures with the professor, Blossom finds him a hassle to get along with sometimes. She describes him as the kind of guy who's used to pretty much getting away with everything and doesn't really know how to take responsibility, so inevitably that ends up getting him into a lot of trouble. Jamie's heard stories about him and while he has good intentions, most tend to have a like-hate thing with him. I get where Blossom's coming from with the lack of foresight and accountability - like it's understandable if you're from an upbringing that neglects that but at the same time you're a grown adult so act like one.

Aside from that the professor guy sounds cool but to be honest I'm not sure if I can stand to be his traveling companion. Blossom finds him to be good company most of the time and he brings some excitement to her normally monotonous life. Now with her little sister moving across the country, Blossom finally has more freedom to do what she wants. The main reason why she accepted the professor's offer to join in on his adventures was to get away from her, which is understandable. Her sister's a lot like mine in which I love her, but she can be a bit much to deal with - and not ideal to live with 24/7. With her sister gone, Blossom doesn't have to deal with nosy siblings who, while well intentioned, make her feel bad for doing her own thing. And yes, I speak from experience.

Originally, Blossom and the professor were gonna go on a space adventure but that was scrapped at the last minute. Basically, the professor owed an old friend big time for something he sorta screwed up on the last time he visited, so now, after avoiding it for years, he has to finally pay up. It's not as bad as it sounds as he knew that he would have to own up sooner or later, plus Blossom knows them to be good friends.

As much as she wants to see the cosmos, she's been busy helping her sister with the moving out process so she'd rather have a lowkey weekend. Since she lives about 20 mins away from town, Blossom figured that maybe she'd pop in to join in on the festivities for a bit. So we enjoyed candied strawberries, tiger milk tea, and a boat ride around the harbor before going off our separate ways again.

At night, we met up again with Emmaline and Minnie to set up a picnic and watch the fireworks show. Seeing all those bright, vibrant colors against the dark night sky, it's a pretty sight to look at. We also chose a good spot to view it as there's not too many people around and the sound doesn't break our ears. After that, we hung around a bit longer, exploring stands we haven't gotten around to visiting yet. The quiet atmosphere along with the gentle glow of the lanterns - I almost didn't want to leave because it felt so comforting, especially when it's just us alone.

Did I just say "us" alone? Maybe it's just because we've known each other for so long and have a lot in common, but as much as I like having alone time, I'm starting to see myself more open to sharing that time with Daisy Jane. Not exactly interacting, but existing in the same space, doing our own thing. I still need my solo alone time, but I also wouldn't mind being alone together with Daisy Jane, like how we were at the festival.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #392

“l.a. is where stars come to die”

Do you think there’s anything you did better when you were younger? I think I was a better writer, honestly. Like I've developed in some areas, like being less over-dramatic, but I just think my creativity in wording and such has dulled down. Who was the craziest teacher you’ve ever had? I've never had a "crazy" teacher, honestly. What’s the last thing you got paid to do? Take pictures. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone else? How should I know? Ask either Jason or Sara. Have you ever wanted to model? No. Have you ever seen someone have a seizure? I THINK my sister? Teddy had seizures in his old age, too. What’s your favorite car? I don't have one, really. Do you know any HTML or CSS? If yes, how much? I know veeeeery little basics. LIke, I can change the color of shit and that's about it lmao. Do you tend to care about the lives of celebrities? Why or why not? Only celebrities I really really care about, like Mark. What do you think of the scene style? #aesthetic and I will ALWAYS be envious of the hair. Have you ever told an extremely inappropriate joke? Oh god, I remember one. What is the highest you have been up, other than in an airplane? On a certain faire ride, I wanna say. Is there any hope of you ever seeing your favorite band in concert? Ozzy does want to do another tour at some point, but he's fighting Parkinson's currently, so it's not guaranteed it will happen. Mom and I planned on going to his last one that was scheduled, but the diagnosis cancelled it. :( What is your favorite non-green vegetable? Uhhhhh I guess potatoes. What is your favorite non-traditional fruit? I don't think I've even had a non-traditional fruit. Just basic stuff. Have you ever had Swedish Fish? Yeah, I'm not a fan. What is your favorite origami shape? Birds, I guess. Do you usually take the stairs or the elevator? I pretty much always take an elevator if one's available because my legs can barely handle stairs at all. It's agonizing for me. Do you need a key card to get into the building you live in? No. What was the last takeout food you had? I had a burger from McDonald's a few days ago. Do you take the pickle off your burgers? No, I love pickles on burgers. Do you share a bed with anyone? Just my cat. If you’ve read or watched Harry Potter, which book/movie is your favorite? I haven't. What’s the last app you downloaded on your phone? I re-installed DragonVale. What do you know the most about? Meerkats, Markiplier, and Silent Hill, probably. What TV shows can you not stand? What's that stupid show on Adult Swim, Rooster Teeth or something like that? That shit was so dumb. Have you ever tasted your own tears? I mean not intentionally. Sometimes tears just fall down a spot where it happens. Are your legs hairy? I can almost guarantee to you that I probably have the hairiest legs of any woman you've ever met. Do you like Cheese-Itz? I love them! We don't really buy them though because both Mom and I can destroy a box of them. Have you ever built a sandcastle? I have. Did you ever watch Barney as a child? Yeah, I loved Barney, but not as much as my older sister. She literally "married" him, haha. Have you ever had a pet rabbit? No, but my older sis did as a kid. That poor thing died and Ashley didn't know for THREE DAYS. Mom took it out earlier and I guess she wanted to see how long it took Ash to notice? She didn't take great care of it, so. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? Yes, my friendship ring with Sara. To you, what is especially distracting? Tapping noises. When was the last time you did some major cleaning? MAJOR cleaning? Good question. How do you feel about people who neglect their pets? It sickens me. Have you ever contemplated cheating on anyone? Nope. When are you likely to lie? Probably when I don't want to seriously hurt someone. What is a personality type that you do not like? I hate people who think they know everything, are unwilling to acknowledge their flaws and work on them, feel they're better than others, are closed-minded, sexist, bigoted, racist... What is a personality type that you DO like? I am drawn to people who are empathetic and try to understand and consider more than just themselves, are caring and genuine, philosophical and think deeply, are calm, friendly, good listeners, and have a light sense of humor. Which of your friends is the least like you? In what way? I actually don't know. MAYBE Mini with her being extremely conservative to a frustrating degree and overwhelmingly religious. We diverge pretty strongly in beliefs that are important to me. How about the most like you? In what way? Sara! We have incredibly similar interests and morals, and we both are wild over animals. When was the last time you felt under-appreciated? I'm gonna be completely transparent here, even though it's uncomfortable to admit. I was very unhappy with the literally two interactions a poem I was really proud of got on dA. Like it was one I was trying to get published prior to just posting it there, so it was really disappointing to feel so overlooked when you worked hard on something you felt came out great. Does anyone take advantage of you or take you for granted? No. Are you taking anyone for granted? I sure as hell hope no one feels like I do. I definitely try to appreciate those I have to the utmost. What is one selfish thing that you do? I prioritize my alone time probably too much. How about something selfless? I'm pretty much always willing to listen to people's hardships and comfort them even if my own mental health is in poor condition. What do you like to do on your favorite holiday? Just be with family and really focus on how lucky I am to have them. What helps you fall asleep? I guess really paying attention to slowing my breathing, but that doesn't always work. It takes me at LEAST half an hour to fall asleep, so I struggle no matter what. Is there anyone you wish you were still friends with now? Megan. I really, really miss her. What is a fear you want to overcome? SOCIAL ANXIETY. UGH. What is something you do not like about yourself, with good reason? I'm lazy. What do you usually cry about? PTSD. Do you like pizza better on the second day? No. What do you like on your pancakes? Butter and normal syrup. Have you ever made up your own emoticon? I don't think so. How do you generally meet people? Online in one way or another. Have you ever seen a Broadway show in New York? No. Are you listening to music right now? Yeah, "God Hates Your Outfit" by Jeffree Star lmao. Look, it's catchy. Can anyone in your immediate family play the guitar? No. Have you ever wished to be an internet celebrity? How about a ‘real’ one? No. Like I've actually *loosely* considered trying to be a let's player with my love of games, but I don't even want to *risk* popularity; not that I think I'd get to that point, but still, I don't like the chance. Have you ever been kayaking? No. Do you still live with your parents? Yes. Do you believe you will never get over someone? I think Jason will always occupy at the very least a small corner of my mind. I just deal with loss so poorly in general, but that... that breakup was something. What do you order at Burger King? I don't like BK. Have you ever lived by yourself? No. Pretty sure I never could with my depression. What brand cell phone do you have? It's just a Tracfone, lol. Did you ever have a ‘security blanket’ when you were younger? Yes, my stuffed moose. What is your lucky charm? I don’t have one. Have you ever been in a wedding? Yeah, I was a bridesmaid in my sister's. Do you believe in yourself? ehhhhhh What time does your dad usually wake up in the morning? I don't live with him, so I can't say for sure. He's a mailman though, so he gets up early, I know. Who was the last person/people you were in a car with? Mom. What movie do you plan on watching next? I've been meaning to watch Jacob's Ladder for like... over a year, lmao. It served as an inspirational work for Silent Hill, and I know its reputation is brilliant, so I really want to see it. I just... don't really watch movies unless I'm in the theater. When something really scares you, what’s your immediate reaction? Gasp or go "what the fuck" or something along those lines. I can almost promise a curse word is coming out of my mouth, lol. Using song lyrics, say something to your most recent ex: I don't wanna get emotional digging through the songs that remind me of her, so pass, lol. You can only watch 4 TV shows for the rest of your life. What are they? Meerkat Manor, That '70s Show, maybe Pokemon even if I don't watch it anymore (it could be like a comfort show if I'm limited to four), aaaaand I think Ginga Densetsu Weed. Do you think it’s possible for a rap song to make you cry? ... Yes??? There are a couple that have for me. Does the idea of having a baby at your age scare you? I'm not having kids, sooo I don't have to worry about this. What band has the power to make you cry by splitting up? None. I'd be really upset if some did, but I wouldn't cry. Who is your favourite famous person who isn’t a singer, actor, or athlete? Well, I WOULD say Mark, but considering he's officially an actor now... guess not, haha. Uhhhh. Put him aside and I guess maybe Bindi Irwin. I'm not sure.

[anyu-blue]

So a friendship ended... But luckily in this case it's absence leaves room for better things to grow.

I was rambling in the tags of my previous reblog, but yeah...

'friend' decided that Empathy and Sympathy mean the same thing, that I am not, in fact, an empath/able to put myself in others' shoes/sometimes unwilling pulled or made to feel things against my will (experience things that aren't may own), that NO ONE could feel what he feels or know what he's going through, that I have a messiah complex, that he 100% wants something (that I, being me, cannot/will not provide), and that families and friends cannot possible hold one another accountable/truly be honest with each other.

I have tried very hard for months to be patient with this man. Tried very hard to be a good friend and more. Tried very hard to give him the benefit of the doubt too. But, well, he isn't worth my time and effort I've decided.

Maybe I'm wrong in that I'm an empath and I've just got another form of psychosis. I fully admitted it was a possibility... But I was honestly helped by people being willing and able to kindly explain how they could put themselves into my shoes almost perfectly and WERE me at one point- with all my experiences and feelings... Not with the same names and faces of course, but knowing my experiences aren't so unique and I wasn't so alone as I thought was such a comfort to me. And it certainly feels like I can do the same that they were describing of being in others' shoes.. and that sometimes too it's involuntary..

Of course I was a stubborn teenager at the time I was being told all of this and going through that teenagery 'you don't know what it's like!!' stage... But I learned. I was able to step back and take stock when my hormones weren't flying all over the place (made worse by an undiagnosed hormone disorder at the time (woo nonbinary body!), but I still managed with help and good role models)... I'm sad my former friend never got that and can't clearly draw understanding of stuff like that. He's into his 30s so, well.. it's harder. I get that. In a few years almost on the dot I'll be 30 myself. I know how much harder some of this stuff is now that I'm very much an adult vs when I was a teen.

According to him though... Yes. Empathy and Sympathy are the same thing. Completely overlooking that Sympathy is having a common feeling and being able to feel sorry for someone... And empathy is SHARING a feeling and being able to experience/feel what it is that's being gone through- not just feel sorry (And I'm explaining it this way because he pulled up Definition number two of Sympathy and Definition one of empathy from google and demanded to know how they were different- common vs sharing is definitely a key difference in those Definitions... And Empathy's specified it was an ability on top of that so... Hmm). I wasn't there for that type of ignorance.

Next is the idea that his experience is SO unique I couldn't possibly understand and then his demand of me to explain how he felt if I 'thought I could'. Okay, first of all it's is heckin' RUDE to demand your friends explain how they could 'possibly know' how/why you're bothered by Something... But I did try- after telling him I wanted an apology for him being so rude as to demand that... he half apologised and mostly went into detail about his woeful feelings.... And yet when I told him I made my reply/explanation much earlier in the day and copy/pasted it to our chat from my Docs (which, to be fair, matched what he said incredibly well) he told me that I was 'just regurgitating' what he told me about how he felt. Um... You asked me how you felt and then I told you what it feels like to go through what you're going through and why it's so bothersome (because I've BEEN there myself?)... Only for you to tell me I don't understand and I'm just echoing you rather than feeling anything? Um?? Empathy is FEELING what YOU feel??? Hello??? And you asked me to describe it??? WTF? I wasn't there for THAT either.

And then he had the idea to accuse me of having a messiah complex (because he 'had one too when [he] was younger and had to learn People weren't worth saving'). Okay. I didn't 100% get what that was/didn't entirely trust my gut feeling on the Google Definition... So what did I do? I googled it. And then I asked my sister (without context) if she thought the description matched me before I replied. According to Google and my sister and the rest of my family... I do not have a messiah complex. Not the first Definition of believing to have some calling or right to heal people, nor the second Definition of believing to be responsible for helping people... As I told him I only offer bits and pieces of advice and different outlooks on the same situation because I am trying to be a good friend. Sure I HOPE it'll be helpful or someone might gain Something from it- but I'm not Sharing because I BELIEVE it will solve the problem or that I'm responsible for fixing someone (I know the line is fine and blurry, but I s2g caring for a friend by sharing stuff and believing you HAVE to help someone are TOTALLY different things)... People sharing their experiences and what works for them to help them not be so miserable is what has helped me throughout my life... it's a mark of my best friends. And I truly don't understand some social cues of how sometimes sharing advice or ideas or memories even ISN'T needed, wanted, or helpful... Obviously. (Because I'm clearly neurodivergent- uh, hello?! Can't 100% help it but trying my hardest?!)....

But according to him... I'm just blind and needed to be knocked down a few pegs rather than thinking I'm so great and could possibly understand him/anyone else... Okay. Not here for that.

I admitted to him that sure... Some of my own experiences bleed into empathetic episodes. It happens!! Like when he's told me multiple times that he's been left out with his family (no one shares information or events beyond what's ABSOLUTELY REQUIRED with him- won't tell him a family member is dying but will talk about Christmas sort of deal) and is a black sheep (different political/life views and feelings of only being tolerated) the ways he has... I put my own experiences of being neglected/abandoned into that. He swears he had always been loved and never felt alone/mistreated by his family (even though he's the one who described these things and Is partially why the feelings of abandonment popped up as I went into his shoes more or less-- but hey. Mistakes happen as do unintentional bleeds. I get that it's not perfect because ultimately I'm still me even when experiencing others. I can and will admit to skewing some things like so on accident if it's true.. but I refuse to believe I understand absolutely nothing at all when we are ALL human and typically have emotions and certain reactions to certain things. Most of us REALLY aren't THAT unique!! Sorry.. it's extremely true based on science's understanding/research anyway).

One of the last things he said to me after accusing me of the messiah complex was he just wants me to 'listen and agree' with him about stuff instead of telling him about my/other ways of looking at things, telling him he's off the mark, or trying to help with the misery.... When previously (and over and over and over) having demanded my absolute honesty and having said he appreciates what I do.... I will not lie to him and say he's right in what he's doing or does with a given situation if he's wrong or looking at it through a lens. Duh. That's 'bad' friend stuff. And sure I can listen no problem!! IF I am told outright/first that what he's saying is JUST a vent and not supposed to be a conversation at all. I've mentioned I need that sort of thing!! If it's just a vent, tell me!!! I'll stfu and listen knowing that... But I'm SORRY I CANNOT just outright TELL. It's not a skill I have!! I HAVE been attempting to get better at it... But anyone can tell you text is especially HARD. Especially when we DO have a conversation about it? A back and forth? And you NEVER once say 'i don't want your take. I just want you to listen.' Even my own sisters and I have to stop ourselves and go... Hey... I really appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm just venting. And then everything gets so much easier!!! And if we can open with that- 'hey, can I vent to you?' OMFGGGGGGGG it's SO much EASIER!!!

... and yet still.. following that... I am INCREDIBLY LUCKY... Because in venting or in sharing and asking for advice and more... MY family is made up of the type of people who can step back and be unbiased!!! And we can stop each other and TELL each other if we are, in fact, fucking up!!! I mean sure... There's always going to be that love and desire for better for one another... Be ALL of us are under the impression that sometimes the people we love are WRONG and sometimes they are BAD no matter how much we don't want them to be.. and it's far kinder to be honest and take the 'right' side than to give each other all the quarters we want. We cannot learn and/or grow if we cannot hold each other accountable... And Sharing experiences and saying why is designed to be a kindness no matter if it actually helps them or not.. But guess what my 'friend' thought of that? ROFL I was obviously under the incorrect impression and my family will always take MY side simply because I'm family...

In the end...

I do NOT need a 'friend' like that. Who questions everything I do, demands more of me/everyone than I/anyone can provide, who cannot and will not learn or be open to learn in any form, and who takes - dude, you're pissing me off. Fuck off for the night and maybe we can talk again in the morning once we've both gotten sleep- as a 'challenge' to prove this that or the other thing and attack their friend... What the ever loving FUCK is WRONG with you?!

... if you want to know what started this whole thing... He was complaining that none of his friends 'will' hang out with him anymore. Totally understandable to feel awful and lonely (and everything I described to him that he demanded I do)...

But he kept taking it father saying people always changed their schedules on purpose or clearly had nothing else going on in their lives but avoided him anyway and stuff like that... And I dared to question and suggest that some of us DO have good reasons for canceling and not spending the time he wants/needs... That some of us have offered compromises that have never been enough but we still try and SOMETIMES life really DOES just get in the way!!! Like my being sick all the time!! I don't WANT to stay cooped up in my house every day fearing even a passing cold will knock me off my feet!! But dude!! I HAVE to!! And People don't USUALLY demand schedule changes!! It usually kinda gets thrust upon them!! Hello??? Don't we live in america where that's WIDELY KNOWN?! Where sometimes people CAN'T take what little spare time they have and spend it on YOU?? ESPECIALLY during a PANDEMIC and other big changes??? That sometimes that time NEEDS to be taken up with simple pleasures like a single player game in their own home?! Don't People USUALLY have reasons for their habits too? Prerogatives/needs that they don't or can't share with others during those habits because MAYBE it's what they need and you just happen not to be a part of it but could be if you actually ASKED what was going on?! Or idk... LISTENED to what they're telling you about WHY-- especially when you yourself admit you are the ODD one who needs other people physically around to recharge (where most other people don't/only get more exhausted)?!

In the end... I did tell him that sure... If he's treating his other friends like this (which clearly he was treating me pretty darn awfully) then maybe YEAH some of them do it on purpose. We already know how younger brother (my ex) does and that he's not exactly shy about that. Friends may do it on purpose eventually- especially if he's treating People awfully and accusing them of doing it on purpose when they DON'T have control over it... Maybe they WILL migrate to doing it on purpose because of the accusations and inability to make him believe life is just messy sometimes!! But they don't want to lose an occasionally really great friend (because good or bad losing a friend is HARD on the mind and body) and/or don't see how manipulated they are?

In which case... He deserves it. Just like he deserved my wrath (at least in part- I was told I took it a bit too far in that I didn't block him sooner. I did make that mistake for sure XP) when he decided to be so fucking rude to me and then piss all over my efforts to try and be what constitutes a good friend.

Fuck you, dude. You're clearly not worth my time.

And of course the very very last word he had was 'you deserve better friends than I am right now.'

Which, while true and would have been sweet, is something I know (and he has admitted to in the past) is a 'feel sorry for me' tactic. It's not 100% true remorse any more than 'oh no I fucked up and don't want to deal with the consequences of my fucking up, maybe this will get them to feel sorry and let me do it again/get away with it.' I've used it too and understand the tactic all too well. So again I say and know he's not worth my damn time.

Without him in that space of my life... I have more room for others and especially more for myself. I don't need that toxicity. I've been that person too and I know it. I still have my days. And yet it's still okay and good I've walked away.

Fuck you, dude. You're clearly not a friend for me.

[scripttorture]

I'm currently writing a character around the age of 13, who has been in solitary confinement since the age of 9, they were locked away by someone they saw as an older sibling figure (and were previously abused, physically and emotionally, between the ages of 5/6-9) by this person. They were taken out for “missions” (which involved having to hurt/kill people) by other people they considered their friends. They had previously existing mental health issues and were notably viewed as sadistic- (1-?)

by the people around them. Prior to being in the company of their abuser they were abused by their parents / people at a hospital they were sent to. During their time in confinement they had almost no contact with anyone for the first year (other than a guard sliding meals into their room), and then later contact every three months with one of their other abusers, then eventually contact to some of the people who took them out for missions. Otherwise they have had no contact with people (2/?)around their age, and have not had contact with anyone around their age since they were three. They had no way to see the outside world, and in their cell they only had very dim light. Later on they are severely traumatized by two people who torture them to use their fantasy-esque hallucination powers against a large amount of people. They hate this ability very much and really wish not to have it. I’m really sorry if this question makes you uncomfy or if it’s too long or specific,, (¾)but are there any tips you can give me for this character and their reactions to what they have been through? I really want to portray them in a more varied light even though they have both been through a lot of horrible things and done a lot of horrible things (hurting people willingly n such),,, I’m sorry if it comes off as insensitive as rude.

-

It’s not rude or too long or specific. And it takes quite a bit to make me uncomfortable. You are fine Anon. :)

 But this scenario isn’t realistic. I’m going to talk about what you’ve got wrong here, but try not to beat yourself up about it. I’m here because it’s difficult to find this information and a lot of people make these mistakes.

 First off if you’re using torture to ‘force’ a character to be violent then you’re buying into two very common apologist tropes: the idea that torture makes survivors obedient and the idea that it makes survivors violent/dangerous. These are not true. And they are used to justify barring real survivors from treatment and support.

 You can read about commonly used apologist tropes here.

 You’re massively underestimating the damage caused by solitary confinement, especially to children this young.

 For reference the ‘safe’ period of solitary confinement for adults is thought to be a week.

 You may want to have a look at the masterpost on solitary confinement, here.

 I’m not sure a child of nine would survive four years in solitary confinement. Some adults don’t and all the evidence we have suggests solitary is much more dangerous for children then adults.

 If they did survive they’d be even less use on violent missions then an ordinary child. Their physical and mental development would be severely impaired. They’d probably be able to talk but- they’d appear visibly mentally ill and would probably not be able to blend in around other people in any way.

 They’d be likely to have obvious, severe panic attacks and meltdowns when taken outside. They might not be able to walk down a normal street. They could also have pretty bad eye sight due to the dim lighting in their cell.

 Depending on how some of their symptoms manifest they could easily have problems related to starvation and sleep deprivation as well. At this sort of age that means a permanent drop in intellectual and physical ability/potential. It means an individual who is weaker, less intelligent, more prone to illness and has a slower reaction time. They also tend to have a shorter overall life.

 Insomnia is a common symptom of trauma generally. Depression, which is another common symptom, can cause nausea and sometimes vomiting. Over a long period of time that can mean a character isn’t eating enough and over this age range that is especially dangerous.

 You can find the masterpost on sleep deprivation here. And the masterpost on starvation here.

 This is without factoring in the other abuse this character is suffering throughout their childhood.

 Solitary confinement makes all tested mental health problems worse (and oh boy we have tested a lot of them thanks to the American prison system).

 The kind of familial abuse you’re describing makes it likely that the character would already have several severe mental health conditions before being put in solitary confinement.

 Keep in mind that the data set for children is almost entirely older then the character you’re writing (majority 15-18, I am aware of one 12 year old in the data sets I’ve seen). The trend suggests the effect is worse the younger the child. So I may be underestimating the damage.

 Honestly? Factoring all of it in I’m not sure a child this young would survive six months. Solitary confinement is dangerous and it’s especially dangerous for children.

 These are common mistakes. I run this blog because I know it’s really easy for authors to make these mistakes. Especially with ‘clean’ tortures like solitary confinement.

 So let’s move on from what’s wrong to ways you can try and fix it.

 Get rid of any suggestion that torture or abuse ‘made’ this character dangerous or bad.

 If you want the character to comply with their abusers think about why they might choose to do that, rather then assuming they will be forced to by pain. Provide a clear reason for compliance.

 Take a look at this ask which talks about slavery and compliance to get an idea of why a character might choose to comply and how they might resist.

 I think you need to massively scale back the abuse this character suffers. I think you’d be better off removing the physical abuse, neglect/poor living conditions and reducing solitary confinement to a maximum of a month.

 If you want to you could split the incidences of solitary confinement up. So for instance the character might be confined for a week at a stretch, but this might happen every two or three months. In an adult I don’t think this would necessarily cause permanent damage (although it would cause pain and distress). However since solitary has a bigger effect on children I think this would probably have a lasting effect on a young child.

 That’s if you’re sure you want to use solitary confinement. I think you need to decide whether solitary confinement or these successful violent missions are more important to the story. I don’t think you can have both unless you’re prepared to age the character up by about a decade. (Even then I would consider it extremely unlikely: trauma survivors do not make good soldiers).

 I can not tell you what the most important aspect of this story is. That decision is yours.

 But I don’t think solitary confinement in a child this young is compatible with learning or success in anything but the most basic tasks (ie menial labour, breaking rocks, making bricks etc). The sheer scale of health problems, mental and physical, would get in the way.

 Having the character fail, or be unable to do something, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. From what you’ve said I get the impression that what this character actually does isn’t necessarily the focus so much as what they feel they’re to blame for. And what other people blame them for.

 So if the character is sent ‘on missions’ which they can’t successfully complete, that would be possible. And I think that it could feed in to this idea of the character carrying a lot of guilt and self-blame.

 That could also fit very well with realistic memory problems as a long term symptom of solitary. I have a masterpost on that here.

 Inaccurate memories are very common in torture survivors. Usually this means that the basic details are correct but a lot of the other details of the memory are wrong. So for instance if a survivor says they remember being beaten that probably happened. But they may be wrong about the timing of the attack, the lay out of the room, the clothes the attacker was wearing and a dozen other things.

 Your character could remember being sent on these missions with other people, being told to attack people and honestly trying to do it. But they might be wrong about who actually killed the target and how useful they actually were on the mission.

 I think they’d be especially likely to over-estimate how dangerous they are if the people around them keep telling them they’re dangerous, violent etc.

 It’s possible to write that sort of scenario without falling into tropes about torture giving torturers complete control over their victims. Or suggesting that abuse has made torture survivors dangerous.

 But honestly? That’s hard.

 I think the better options (especially if you’re just starting and not confident writing survivors) are to either remove all kinds of physical abuse/neglect, keeping the missions and emotional manipulation/abuse or to remove the missions and keep a very scaled down version of the physical abuse/neglect.

 The masterpost on solitary, starvation and sleep deprivation linked above and the sources in those posts should help you if you feel the abuse is the more important part of the story.

 Remember that children are more vulnerable to the effects of solitary confinement and starvation, both have a greater negative effect at younger ages. Remember that my estimates and lists of effects assume the character is an adult.

 Remember that while long term psychological symptoms are unpredictable (making it perfectly fine for authors to pick and choose the psychological symptoms they want to write) the physical effects of starvation and lack of sleep are not unpredictable. If you want to commit to writing this sort of torture then you are committing to the character suffering from those physical effects. At this age range that means lifelong effects ranging from a higher cancer risk to stunted growth and weaker bones.

 For the other option it’s a lot simpler: show how awful emotional abuse can be.

 You’re talking about a nine year old child. Someone who is almost entirely dependant on the adults around them.

 Without other input if those people tell this child they are dangerous, they are bad the child will probably believe it. If they tell the child the only ‘good’ and valuable thing they can do, to please the adults, is these dangerous missions, then the child will probably do their best to complete these missions.

 A child who is raised to believe that no one outside their familial circle could ever love them is unlikely to try and leave. In fact they’d probably bend over backwards to stay in the family and prove their worth. Even though the environment is toxic. Even though that love is conditional and comes with a high price.

 We value our social circles incredibly highly. It takes a lot to make us go against them or leave them. Physical abuse and neglect is one of the things that can drive us to leave.

 I feel like one of the problems here is a lack of confidence, or may be conviction on your part. I get the impression that you don’t feel entirely confident in your ability to show this character is suffering. So you’re compensating by piling more on to the character.

 In my experience that approach just doesn’t work. It’s understandable but you have better options.

 First off, read what survivors say about their experiences and their lives. You can find quotes from survivors of solitary confinement in this sourcebook. You can find accounts of emotional manipulation and abuse by looking up accounts from people raised in cults.

 Secondly practice. Write different scenarios. Experiment and give yourself permission to fail, that’s part of how we learn.

 Remember that it isn’t what happens to the characters that effects readers. It is your words. It really is all in how you write.

 A good writer can make the loss of a sock emotional and a bad writer can make the loss of a limb seem dull.

 I hope that helps. :)

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[chwrpg]

What's happenin', hot stuff? -- Duk Barnes

A NOTE FROM ADMIN R: Can I just say, you knocked this completely out of the park, Kayla !!! I am so, so, so, so ready to see what you’ll be doing with Duk given the groundwork you put down in this application. Not just that, but Duk was simply missed on this dash. I love, love, love him and thank you for taking him up once more.

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE:

Your fave Kayla, she/her, 26, EST

DESIRED CHARACTER:

Donald “Duk” Barnes

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE?

Okay so like I am always trying to be better for you guys, so let’s be optimistic and say 6 out of 10.

SECONDARY CHOICE:

N/A

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:

One of the things I’ve always loved about Duk is his kind heart. Like, underneath that very attractive exterior, there’s really a heart of gold. When I have written him before, I’ve always enjoyed how much he loves his family. It’s something I connect to and part of what draws me to him. He especially loves and is close to his sister, Sage. He never has seen her as weird, she’s just Sage. His relationship with his two younger siblings is different, of course, but I know he loves them and would do anything for them. It’s the same principle that I see in him with his friends. He’s very much ride or die, as the kids say. He’s also respectful and so funny. I love him so much and I’m forever grateful to be part of giving more depth to a character that was originally just a stereotype.

SAMPLE WRITING:

Adjusting his AirPod in his ear, Duk Barnes reached for his phone, hitting play on his coming to America playlist he had curated specifically for this moment when the pilot announced they had reached America and would reach their destination shortly. 

In a second, he heard the familiar strains of his first track begin just before: “I hopped off the plane at LAX / With a dream and my cardigan / Welcome to the land of fame excess / Whoa, am I gonna fit in?” 

It was a surprisingly apt song for having been released over ten years ago in what felt like an entirely different world. He could remember Sage playing this song over and over until he broke her CD in a moment of anger. He smiled to himself, thinking about how she’d laugh about how he was willingly listening to it now. 

It had been over two months since he’d seen her in person. Or anyone in his big, loud, crazy American family. He’d talked to them through instant messaging, Skype, FaceTime. But that was it. For he had done something crazy on his own. 

He’d gone to Singapore. To meet his biological family for the first time. 

The thing was when Duk had turned 18, his mom had sat him down and presented him with a rather thick packet tucked inside a time-worn Manila envelope. 

“This,” She had said with a shaky breath “Is everything I have about your biological family. You’re an adult now and your dad and I think that it’s time for you to have it.” 

At the time, he didn’t know what to say. He’d taken the big envelope without a word, just nodding. 

“You don’t have to do anything with the information if you don’t want to, of course.” His mom said rather quickly, having taken his surprised silence for disinterest. “But it’s yours. You used to always want to know more about your… your roots. At the time, I didn’t think it was right for me to share. But in there,” She nodded then to the packet where Duk was touching the golden brad holding the envelope shut. “In there, I think you’ll find the answers.” 

In truth, he hadn’t opened it until a year later, He’d found it stashed in a neglected high school science textbook he had forgotten to return while preparing his things to return to college. Sitting at his desk, he finally pried it open. And his mom had been right, the answers to each question he could have wanted to ask were there. 

There was also a letter. In a perfect script, on a fine soft-feeling stationery, written in English. It was from his mother’s mother. She wrote about her disappointment that Duk was given up for adoption, how she wished to raise him herself in Singapore, and gave some background about their family, how they were proudly Chinese and Malaysian and had such history that could be traced back over centuries. She wrote about how his mother had come to Chicago to study and fell in love with a white man. They’d broken up before Duk was even born and it was clear that the man didn’t want to be involved in raising the child. But his mother gave him up because she wanted to focus on her career and how the whole family had prayed that this baby would find a good home and a good family to love him as much as they all did. 

However, most importantly, it said that Duk was, no matter what, part of the family and welcome to come to Singapore and meet them. 

Using some of the names mentioned in the letter, Duk cautiously typed them into Google. The results were mostly in Mandarin, which he knew very little of, so he used the translate function to see what could be made of the articles. It looked like his maternal grandfather was something of a mogul. He had created a hotel and resort empire that spanned not only Singapore, but other countries in Asia and, apparently, a few in development in Europe. It felt unreal, and sat heavy in his chest. So much so that he had abruptly shut his laptop so hard he thought he would break it. 

But it all had stirred up something in Duk. A yearning for something he couldn’t quite name. So, he took up learning Mandarin. He wanted to be able to communicate with his newfound biological family, on the off-chance that maybe some of them wouldn’t speak English. First with Duolingo, then borrowing Rosetta Stone from the local library. He wasn’t fluent, might not ever be so, but as he kept working on it, he realized he took to it almost naturally. The words felt right in his mouth. He saved money in a Tupperware container that he hid in the back of his sock drawer. He had given the adoption agency his information in the hopes that he would hear from his family and the first person to email him was his maternal grandmother. She was who he practiced writing Mandarin to, then, slowly, spoke to on Facetime. She was an adorable lady, with a big smile that reminded Duk of his own and the same shared love of the chaos and beauty of life. She encouraged him to come to Singapore and offered to help financially, but he told her it was okay. He could do it. He’d get there, he’d just need a place to stay. 

“Well,” she said, a determined but amused look on her face. “That much I can do.”

Singapore was… beyond words. He would never be able to put words to the beauty of the country of his biological family and the feeling that settled in his chest when he stepped off the plane for the first time. It took his breath away, looking out across the tarmac, toward the trees and then the city skyline just beyond. It looked like something out of a movie about the future. If he didn’t know better, he would have been anticipating to see flying cars in the sky. It was amazing - and insanely scary - to meet the family, some of whom were eagerly awaiting him as he walked out of customs. It was kind of freaky, too, to notice how he could see himself, for the first time in real life, in other people. Grandma had given him the biggest hug and kissed both his cheeks. He wouldn’t remember all their names and how they were connected to him at first, his head felt full with information and tired from long hours whiled away in the air. He was, however, mildly surprised to discover that his family all seemed to speak English better than he could and playfully teased him with smiles on their faces about his choppy Mandarin. 

Looking at his phone now, he flipped past photos of himself with cousins and various friends of the family, past the TikToks and other videos he had made of his travels (he had been surprised when his video of himself dancing in various airports on his way to Singapore to Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself” had begun raking in the likes). It made him smile and he knew already he couldn’t wait to go back. Grandma had begun hinting, toward the end of his time there, that he could try for dual citizenship and had outright offered him a job with the family company, even though Duk wasn’t sure if his uncle - the current CEO of the business - was certain of him. He stops on a video of himself doing one of the many TikTok dances with his cousins outside of a nightclub. They’d been the ones to show him the country’s nightlife, showed him what was what and brought him up to speed on the culture. They’d even managed to get him onto Weibo, the Chinese social media site, and looped him into their WhatsApp groupchat. 

They had encouraged him, too, to meet his mother. Which was… easier said than done, it would turn out. He didn’t meet her until his last few days in Singapore. They’d texted a little before that, mostly just to set up a time and place. And when he had seen her, sitting by the window at the tea shop, it was like looking in a mirror. They had the same eyes, same mouth. And she had smiled at him like he was an old friend. Their meeting had been a little awkward, with pockets of nervous silence on both sides. But when they said goodbye, they hugged and Duk held his composure until he was back in his room, where he broke down into tears. Not sad tears, but tears of relief, of joy. It was all so much more than anything he could have expected. 

The plane makes its final descent into O’Hare and Duk closes his eyes, uncomfortable still with the way the plane downshifts toward the ground, even though he knows it’s safe. He gets his things together once the plane settles on the tarmac, steering toward the gate. Turns off his AirPods, checks his phone for messages. He smiles at the notifications already popping up on his screen; friend requests on Facebook, new followers on Instagram, new likes on TikTok. Most are family, but he doesn’t recognize several of the new likes on TikTok or followers on Instagram. There’s also a text from his sister that just came through: Why is there a video of you dancing on TikTok????? 

He shrugs it off, blowing up on social media doesn’t mean much since he’s still on cloud nine about his trip and eager to just get the hell off this plane already. He’s tired, almost running on fumes, but he still has a bounce in his step that always seems to be with him. 

Then, once he makes his way through disembarking and through hectic customs, there’s the Barneses. Crowded right up to the metal barrier. They’re there to greet him, his mom waving her hands in the air as if he can’t see her in the crowd. His father is saying something to Michael, who is hoisting a big sign up into the air. Sara is picking at Mike, as usual and Sage is just looking around as though she would almost rather be anywhere else. But their eyes meet and she smiles. And he knows she is glad to see him, too. Duk tilts his head to one side, studying the simplified Hanzi type lettering on Michael’s sign. “You do know that the sign says ‘fried rice here’ right?” He asks the group. He didn’t expect this to be his first words to his family upon his prodigal return, but then again, normal to the Barnes family is always entirely subjective. Immediately, his mom shot a look at Mike, who is covering his face to hold back a burst of roaring laughter. “Michael!” She hisses and the boy finally lets loose peals of laughter. Sarah punches his shoulder and he grimaces as Sage rolls her eyes, turning her attention to her phone instead. It was the best welcome home he could have ever received.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nothing! I love you all!!

[porchwood]

ToastedTHG: Does Katniss (protectively) infantilize Prim?

[I may revisit this post later in light of CF and MJ, but it’s ridiculously long already and I really want to stick with THG for the moment.]

I don’t mean this as harshly as it sounds, simply that, to my way of thinking, Katniss depicts - and likely perceives - Prim, especially early on in THG, as a much younger child. I find with older siblings (my own sister and friends that have little sisters), the younger sibling sometimes gets “stuck” in their head at a certain age/stage, and it stands to reason that Prim would be locked in Katniss’s mind by the trauma of Mr. Everdeen’s death, Mrs. Everdeen’s neglect, and the girls’ near-death by starvation as seven-year-old “sweet tiny Prim, who cried when I cried before she even knew the reason.”

When I first started reading THG fic, it bothered me that Prim always came across as so much younger than she’s supposed to be (though I found myself doing the same with her character when I first started writing THG fic). She always seemed to be about eight years old, whether Katniss was twelve or eighteen. And then I went back to THG and really looked at how Katniss presents her:

She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. 

My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together. 

The community home would crush her like a bug. 

Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. [...] Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

I reach out to Prim and she climbs on my lap, her arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, just like she did when she was a toddler. 

“She’s just twelve.” (not that age twelve isn’t still childhood, but this reads to me like “She’s just seven years old...”)

The woods terrified her... 

...Prim, who’s scared of her own shadow... 

In this way [Rue’s] exactly the opposite of Prim, for whom adventures are an ordeal. 

I’m not suggesting that any of this is negative or untrue, and as I’ll explain in just a moment, as the story goes on, Katniss paints quite a different picture of her sister between the lines. But as I revisited each of these passages (not to mention the “little duck” references on reaping day), I couldn’t help feeling that Katniss is still seeing and describing a sweet, frail, starving seven-year-old. And it’s not hard to see why.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. 

Katniss is an exemplary protective older sister - the only thing she wanted in all of this is to protect Prim :_( - and I would never find fault with her depicting Prim as a tiny frightened thing who needs shielding from the world at all times. But there’s a whole lot more to Prim that her sister eventually lets slip out (intentionally or otherwise):

Sweet tiny Prim...who brushed and plaited my mother’s hair before we left for school, who still polished my father’s shaving mirror each night because he’d hated the layer of coal dust that settles on everything in the Seam. (This is that same tiny vulnerable seven-year-old taking care of her adult mother and tending to her dead father’s memory - every single day, even while she’s starving to death! I can’t think of anything I did that consistently at age seven, let alone taking care of another person!)

On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping day. (As @ghtlovesthg pointed out - this means Prim must have been up before Katniss!)

“I’ll be all right, Katniss,” says Prim, clasping my face in her hands. “But you have to take care, too. You’re so fast and brave. Maybe you can win.” (Prim reassuring Katniss at the Justice Building! I’d forgotten about that one!)

...When she sells her goat cheeses at the Hob... (Prim is a businesswoman, not just a sometime-trader! Discussed a smidge more in this post.)

Prim milking her goat before school. (Again, uniquely responsible in a child, because this is an every-single-day responsibility, not something you can skip if you sleep in or rush if you’re running late. At least, not if I understand milking correctly.)

What’s funny was, Prim, who’s scared of her own shadow, stayed and helped. (With that miner’s awful leg wound)

That’s another thing about my mother and Prim. Nakedness has no effect on them, gives them no cause for embarrassment. Ironically, at this point in the Games, my little sister would be of far more use to Peeta than I am. (I’m almost 40 and I’m still squeamish about male nudity! It’s part of why I love Katniss so much! And I love Katniss’s admission of sweet, tiny, vulnerable Prim being useful to a mortally wounded Peeta.)

Something that’s only faintly nodded to (and that in CF) is that Prim has been dealing firsthand with pregnancy/labor/delivery, probably alongside her mother - I’d hazard she’s something of an apothecary apprentice at this point - but certainly with Lady, her goat. Lady was a gift for Prim’s 10th birthday (just over two years before THG begins), which means she’s been tended by Prim through at least two pregnancies, as well as the mauled shoulder. I belabored this a bit in WtM, but this also means that Prim had a small side business in goat kids, either trading them back to the Goat Man for the stud service that keeps Lady in milk, selling male kids to Rooba for meat (which would probably break Prim’s tender heart a bit), and/or selling females for a tidy sum as future dairy goats.  

What’s more, if Prim hasn’t gone through menarche herself by the start of THG, she’s surely intimately aware of it (between close living quarters, limited “sanitary supplies,” and her mother’s patients). This is something else I’ve touched on (and will belabor in the near future) in the Mooniverse, but I think menstruation was both a hopeful and a terrifying thing to the women of Twelve. (On the one hand, they would certainly experience irregular/absent periods, delayed menarche, etc due to malnutrition, so the appearance of a steady cycle would mean joy for those who dearly wanted to get pregnant, but there would also be something of Katniss’s “terror as old as life itself” at the prospect of those children who might result.) We never get a chance to see this, sadly, but I’ll bet Prim had a crush (on Peeta’s oldest brother, who was crazy about her in turn). Did she share Katniss’s fear about bringing children into the cruel world she lived in, or was she looking forward to being a mother one day? 

To wrap this up, for a little perspective, let’s take a quick peek at another example of a twelve-year-old female character. Say, an intelligent one with an ugly yellow cat...

(yes, I know Crookshanks comes along a smidge later, but I’m not crazy about movie!Hermione and this gif was too perfect!)

At the beginning of THG, give or take a few months, Prim is the same age as Hermione in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. 

Please tell me this gives someone else a wee start (and I don’t mean the gif of Captain Kirk)!

Now, I’m not trying to equate these characters by any means, though there are similarities between the two (and I’ve been wondering for days now: if Prim was Hermione, Rory Hawthorne would be Ron, for so many reasons, but who would be Harry??)...The Grangers are dentists, Mrs. Everdeen is a skilled apothecary; both girls have a heritage looked down upon by some of their peers (though it’s interesting that, at least from Katniss’s perspective, Prim is universally adored rather than scorned as a “Seam brat” - and she’s got to look the tiniest bit Seam in some way!). I would hazard that Prim knows the plant book cover-to-cover at this point - and heck, Katniss even describes Prim (and their mother) as “work[ing] magic” in their healing! :)

I freely admit that Hermione had loads of advantages Prim could only dream of (relative affluence in the Muggle world, 20th-21st century conveniences, access to superior education from the get-go, not to mention real magic), but one would expect - and I think, will find - a similar emotional maturity in Prim at that age, if not more weighted to Prim's side, since she's living in a brutal post-apocalyptic dystopia where she lost her father (in terrible circumstances) at a very young age and works alongside her mother to tend sick/wounded/dying coal miners - surely a harrowing experience for even a seasoned healer.

Anyway, I found it interesting to compare the two, however briefly, and consider just how competent Prim totally is may be behind the scenes. I mean, she should have a Time-Turner by CF, at the very least. :)

[thelittlepalmtree]

Chloe is Fifteen

This started out as a quick post and then I got really upset lol

I think a lot of the people in the fandom forget how young the characters in MLB are. I honestly think they’re all around 15 if not closer to 14 though I know there’s some ambiguity. We have to remember the kids watching the show are even younger, between 6 and 10 as far as I know.

A few months back I got into a very heated argument with some people because they seemed happy to write off Chloe as a villain. After all, she’s a bully, and they were bullied, so she’s a terrible person, right? But the truth is, even if you were bullied as a kid, it’s not all or even mostly on the bully. Because the fundamental truth about kids that young is that they can’t be blamed for their actions.

Now I’m not saying don’t hold them accountable, by all means, we should respond to negative behavior in a way that teaches them why it’s wrong and that they can’t do it again. But the reason we do that isn’t for the pleasure of punishment, but in order to teach that child more appropriate behavior. If punishment isn’t what they need, it’s not going to be the best response because at the end of the day the goal is to end that behavior and replace it with positive behavior.

To me, Chloe shows a lot of signs of being a child with an Emotional/Behavioral Dsiability (that’s what we call it in education though to earn that label you can have any number of diagnoses) and therefore needs some serious help learning coping mechanisms. We’ve even seen evidence of childhood trauma (a neglectful parent: Audrey) which is almost always present in children with E/BDs. Chloe clearly has really strong emotions, and when she feels them she gets overwhelmed and struggles to control her behavior. Does that make her a bad person? On screen it certainly comes off that way.

I recently subbed for a paraprofessional who was a one-to-one aid for a girl who seemed to have an e/bd. She was academically on grade level, but needed to take breaks when she got worked up. When I arrived, she was in crisis, crying in the back of her room because her teachers basically didn’t give a fuck about her. Throughout the break she took (which was about an hour long), she expressed how angry she was at her class for being chaotic. She couldn’t cope with the teacher’s shaming the class for their behavior when she was behaving properly (the fact that the teachers sucked in that class is another story), something that most of us adults would probably be able to realize wasn’t a big deal. At several points during her crisis she threatened to hurt herself or other students in the class (I was the school counselor this whole time so she responded to this behavior). If another parent was watching this happen, they might be angry and demand she be taken out of the school, they might feel unsafe even. And she knew the severity of what she was saying, but she was upset and she couldn’t control herself. When I and the other teachers were patient with her and finally helped her focus on other things, like drawing and sensory activities she was completely calm and able to return to class. The rest of the day, she only took one more break which was during a test. 

I think most people, if they met the girl I worked with that day, would never classify her as a “bad person.” It is very clear that she simply needs extra help. She needs to learn more appropriate coping mechanisms for her emotions. And yet Chloe, who does not have any support at all, could be described almost exactly the same way. It’s easy to hate Chloe because she’s mean, but why is she mean? Why is Marinette nice? Why is Alya nice? Why is Adrien Nice? It has very little to do with some inherent goodness and quite a lot to do with how all of these characters were raised. We see Marinette with loving parents who are always there to support her. They encourage her to pursue her dreams and work hard, but they also give her all their love and attention, maybe not pushing her to excel. This is unlike Alya’s parents who both work hard, Alya is clearly given a lot of responsibility as she takes care of her little sisters. That might be why she’s always willing to jump into the action, her parents have shown her that she not only is capable, but that she needs to be capable. And Adrien, who still has trauma in his past, was always held to high expectations, his bad behavior would never have been enabled the way Chloe’s was. The backgrounds of all these characters were made clear specifically to show us what makes these characters who they are.

And Chloe was given that background too. At first we see that she’s spoiled by her father, but the slow release of details about Audrey was so vital to the growth of her character. Honestly, as a teacher, seeing Chloe’s backstory is heartbreaking. Having a parent that doesn’t give a shit about you and a parent that tries to overcompensate by just giving you whatever you want and not actually parenting you is such a recipe for disaster. Think about it, when you were a kid, if throwing a tantrum got you everything you ever wanted, would you ever learn to stop throwing tantrums? This kind of lazy parenting on the part of Mayor Bourgeois is so damaging to a kid. If all goes well, they might be able to get past it when they’re in school--except for Chloe everyone at school enables her behavior as well, so she’s never learning the basic emotional control that we all learned.

And on top of that her mother is Audrey Bourgeois. Chloe is clearly so desperate for her mother’s love, I mean it’s honestly heart breaking to watch. I mean in Audrey entire screen time she only ever gave a shit about Chloe when someone said she was the meanest girl in Paris. That’s just more reinforcing of negative behavior. She never stood a chance.

So we’ve got a girl with a lot of anger and no positive ways to manage it. On top of that she’s fifteen, and even the best fifteen year olds are still fifteen. She’s got all kinds of hormones and feelings running through her, oh and did I mention, because of her behavioral problems, all her peers hate her? So of course she’s got no incentive to be nice to them.

So how do we help kids like this in real life? How do we get them ready for real life? Well we show them a lot of compassion and understanding first of all. Then we teach them positive coping mechanisms, and then we manage their behavior (meaning reinforce good behavior and punish bad behavior). When it comes to behavior management it is so much more important to reinforce good behavior than to punish bad behavior. Because that shows kids how managing their feelings well gets them a reward, and makes them want to manage their feelings in a positive way.

The fact that Chloe loves being Queen Bee is exactly what makes her such a great character to me. She is finally being given positive reinforcement for her positive behavior and she loves it. She’s so excited to get to be good! That shows me what a truly realistic and sweet kid Chloe really is. It shows me that she has so much potential if only one of the adults in her life would just step the fuck up and PARENT her.

Unfortunately, that role went to Ladybug, who is just a teenager herself. Of course Marinette can’t understand the complexity behind Chloe’s behavior and how much being Queen Bee meant to her. This is nothing against Marinette, just that she is also a fifteen year old kid. It’s not her job to parent Chloe, and she’s not doing that job. So Chloe, who was finally making progress (albeit it was set back by the visit from her mom), is now being thrown back into the terrible situation she was in.

Criticizing or Hating Chloe is not like Criticizing or hating a typical villain. For one, Chloe is not the villain and is (as of right now) one of the heroes of this story, Marinette just doesn’t like her. Secondly, criticizing White Diamond, or Shadoweaver is completely different from criticizing Chloe. They are adults who are completely aware of how their behavior is toxic and yet still behave that way. They have control of themselves and even if they did have a tragic backstory, they aren’t children with brains that haven’t fully developed. Chloe is.

If you hate Chloe, ask yourself whether you’d hate Adrien if he behaved the way she did. The truth is, what makes you a good person at fifteen isn’t anything inherently good and special in you. It’s your experiences and how the adults in your life taught you to behave that made you that person--even if they were bad like Gabriel Agreste is to Adrien, they may have taught you to be good.

[moistwithgender]

Monthly Media Roundup (June-July 2019)

Well, I neglected doing a post last month, and now another has passed. I haven’t done too much, about three games each month and not anything else media-wise, so let’s get it all done right now!

Little Nightmares (PC/Steam): 

These types of spooky “cinematic platformers”, like LIMBO and INSIDE, never really scare me or fill me with dread. Part of this may be that due to the trappings of cinematic platformers. Checkpoints are very fair, and nothing is too difficult because priority is on delivering the story. Little side challenges exist, like trying to light all the candles or break all the porcelain dolls in the short 3-hour run of the game, but these are also pretty reasonable, even if you’re in a chase sequence. I’m reminded of a youtuber I briefly followed who talked about how horror games aren’t scary anymore, and somewhat unintentionally delivered the point that as you become accustomed to the limits of a medium, and therefore are less likely to be surprised by it, you’re also much less likely to be scared by it. It’s a somewhat unfortunate and inevitable trade-off to becoming more invested in a hobby. When I was a kid, all games held infinite possibility, and so an NPC in Harvest Moon telling me that wild dogs came out at night led me to think that night time held the possibility of ENEMIES in a game without combat. What the NPC meant was that you should build fences. As an adult who has spent my life playing games, I can tell you that a game is almost never going to put you in a situation without the means to deal with it. If there’s going to be combat, you’re going to know how combat works before an ambush. If there’s an escape sequence, you’re going to be in an area that facilitates your escape (often a narrow space that leads you in a direction while also making it as harrowing as possible). Games are theme park rides, and while learning that can make seemingly difficult games more manageable and enjoyable, it also gradually disillusions you. Thankfully, there are always new things to learn if you keep an open mind.

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D (3DS): 

2019 has been about thoroughly enjoying the games that I considered overrated in my young adulthood. I joked on twitter that 70% of my personality was disliking Final Fantasy VII and Ocarina of Time, and honestly, it might as well have been. I earned a lot of undeserved respect in college through arrogantly spouting hot takes about “objectively good art”, and a lot of people reasonably assumed this must mean I know exactly what I’m talking about. The way I process art and media is much looser and more personal than it used to be, partially due to burning out and becoming too exhausted to deal with other arrogant people. I think a lot about how tiring I had to be for other people to talk to. Watching Tim Rogers bleed his personal trauma into his video series on the subtleties of FF7’s japanese script was the most instrumental in turning me back toward the game. When Square Enix revealed gameplay footage of the remake at E3 this year, I was hooting and hollering with the longtime fans.

But, this is about Zelda, not Final Fantasy. I had already played through OoT, as hurriedly as possible, just to say I had done it. It was the better part of a decade ago, at the urging of a then-girlfriend who had nostalgia for it. Frustrations with the Water Temple in the original version are valid despite it being largely well designed, due to some minor shortsighted-ness that blows up into nagging issues, but I think I had put myself in the headspace to dislike it from the get-go. Similarly, I didn’t want to do any collecting in the game as a whole. I had convinced myself that there was no joy to be found in collecting in games (a take bereft of nuance). When the point of Zelda games is to inspire the player to explore every nook and cranny in search of rewards, going in as a player and stubbornly trying to avoid any of that ensures that you’ll miss the point of the whole experience. I’m not sure what it was that made me want to go back. It might be that I wanted to prove my younger, cockier self wrong, and pave over my old evaluations with more nuance. 

It certainly worked out that way, as several previous opinions changed entirely. Ruto used to be annoying to me, but was now one of my favorite characters. Doing all the little minigames felt rewarding in itself, and in turn I was unexpectedly rewarded with important items (they really did bet everything on the entire world they’d made). The Water Temple, now tweaked for a bit more convenience in the 3DS version, was extremely interesting. The side quest to acquire the Biggoron Sword was easily doable, whereas I had grown up assuming it impossible. And the story which had never appealed to me (because I wouldn’t let it) now felt relatable in a way I hadn’t expected. Link intends to do good, but through unfortunate circumstances and honest mistakes becomes unable to take part in the world, and it spirals downward for years as he remains trapped in a room, aging but inactive. Something about that mirrors my own experiences with depression. Sure, Link, can travel back to his younger self at any time, but there’s still a powerlessness in the inability to affect the seven year gap. You can flash back, but you can’t change what you’ve lost.

Banjo-Kazooie (N64): 

You know, as a kid I probably would have just accepted that Grunty was evil, but as an adult it’s hard not to see her as a product of her environment. Obsessed with asking her cauldron who the objectively prettiest in the world is, she seeks out and kidnaps the younger girl given the title in an attempt to steal her youth. Every character in the game describes Grunty as ugly, rather than evil, and even her own sister shows up in every area to tell you how gross she is and how terrible her lifestyle is. I ended up sympathizing with her more than anyone else. I’ve only played half an hour of Banjo-Tooie, but it was a relief in multiple ways to see her pivot to straight up murder after rising from the dead.

Despite playing Donkey Kong Country multiple times growing up, I’d never really grown to love Rare’s in-house aesthetic of big-eyed cartoony animals. It might be hypocritical, but Smash Ultimate’s reveals for both King K. Rool and Banjo (and) Kazooie made me see the charm in these characters. Something about how Smash canonizes characters as essential pieces of game history always causes me to drop any negative pretense and adopt them as favorites. It’s a little intellectually hypocritical, but I can’t help liking what I like. After the trailer for B-K in Smash, I immediately started up the original game in Retroarch. Thankfully the core I used was advanced enough to play the game without issues (the same cannot be said for Tooie), as other alternatives were expensive or hard to get a hold of. While the slightly-mean humor and talking animate objects took a bit of getting used to, I get it now. I get the children’s show aesthetic they were aiming for, and I appreciate the feel of the physics and control of the interspecies friendship of the protagonists working in tandem with each other, even if the game is at times quite difficult.

Dragon Quest I, II, & III (SNES): 

Yes, I did play through three JRPGs in a row! And yes, you might notice that the hero of Dragon Quest XI (and VIII, and IV, and III) was also announced for Smash Ultimate. They recently released, as of this writing! A lot of what I’ve been playing has been influenced by outside forces, whether it be Nintendo news or friends, but I’m not bothered at all when otherwise I might not have the energy to play anything. The games I’ve been playing are also ones I’ve intended to play for a while, so the excuses have been convenient for me. Though, actually, this decision had less to do with the Smash announcement and more to do with the upcoming re-release of DQXI, which seems to be related to the original three games, known as The Erdrick Trilogy. I had heard that you can play XI on its own, but that there is an extra layer of appreciation to be had if you’ve played the original trilogy. Me being me, I naturally queued them up. I chose the older fan translations of the SNES remakes, and though I did finish them, I can tell you that they have their fair share of bugs (DQII even has a game breaking glitch I had to finagle through using save states across multiple versions, phew). Besides that, those old translations lack the modern localizations of the games, so if they namedrop something in XI, there’s a chance it’ll go over my head. Oops! If you want to play these games, the best versions are currently on mobile phones.

Around a decade ago I was in early college, with no friends except for those still in high school or at another university. I was very lonely and nervous. I started playing Dragon Quest V purely by chance, and it served as the perfect salve for that loneliness, with its lonely child protagonist traveling around the world accumulating found family. It’s one of the more poignant and cathartic JRPGs I’ve ever played, and for the next decade I would actually be bothered that the rest of the games didn’t live up to the catharsis of DQV.

In revisiting the roots of the series, and playing it through to see how it develops from title to title, it finally clicked with me, and continues to click with me, as I keep learning more about the series. Rather than comparing every entry to DQV, I should have been comparing them in order. This might sound obvious, but it really did make a world of difference to see that V’s narrative is placed on top of the foundation the previous games set, rather than a singular case of lightning in a bottle. And the games have always featured loneliness, but in differing contexts, and to different degrees. The hero of DQI is almost entirely alone through the full game. In DQII, the princess comes from lonely circumstances, and one of the princes comes down with a sickness that leaves him temporarily unable to help his friends. In DQIII you can make as many team members as you want, but you grow up with an absent father, and your own good deeds receive bittersweet resolution. They are all games built on simple settings and followed through with empathy. The series is at times disarmingly heavy, which is part of what makes the games as memorable as they are. You’re never quite as prepared for Dragon Quest as you think you are.

As of this writing I’m currently half-way through a replay of Dragon Quest IV, and I’m enjoying it a lot more. I’m looking forward to replaying V. I have no idea what VI will be like. I’ve heard it’s a lower point in the series, but that’s what I heard about II as well, and I ended up loving it, so who knows. Dragon Quest is good.

---

Well, I managed to catch up. I didn’t get into the finer details of the DQ playthroughs, but DQIII is honestly so good I don’t want to spoil it for anyone (you should play these games). Maybe in August I’ll actually get back to watching and reading things. Maybe I’ll try to keep these things to a single paragraph per item, to make it more manageable to read. Let me know what you think, if you think.

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Allison Mertz

Is she still wearing glitter all over her face?

Allison has been accepted! Send in your blog ASAP.

out of character info

Name/Alias: sam(ael) Pronouns: she/ he / they / them Age: 20 Join Our Discord: hella ( exhausted n queer#8766 ) Timezone: est Activity: 5 bc work n stuff Triggers: n / a Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: “Kinder Vamp” Allison Mertz Favourite ships for your character: Allison / chemistry

in character info

Full name: Allison Verona Mertz Birthday: December 19th Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Heterosexual – questioning, cis female, she / her Age and grade: 15, freshman Faceclaim: Meghann Preddy / @sugoimeg on instagram

Appearance:

Head / face: Allison’s face just exudes innocence. She has big, honey colored – often concealed by colored contacts – doe eyes framed with thick black lashes and sharp eyebrows above. Her features are delicate and feminine – she has a button nose, full lips, rosy cheeks, and a heart shaped face. Her pale skin has few imperfections, she doesn’t have much acne, but she does have moles and freckles scattered about – however, they’re pretty light, making them barely noticeable if you’re not standing close to her. When she smiles, she has soft dimples and pearly teeth with caps over her canines to make them look like they’re longer and sharper. Her hair is naturally black – however, over the years, her purple highlights have started to cover more of her thick locks. The purple fades often – sometimes looking pink-ish, but she tries her best to keep up on dying her hair. She has a deviated septum – this makes it so she can hardly ever smell and breathing through her nose is a struggle.

Body: Allison didn’t grow much since her younger years, topping off at only five feet tall. She’s stayed relatively thin over the years, and if you look at her torso, you can faintly see her bones.   She is actually very anemic – she gets dizzy a lot ( sometimes she even faints ) and craves medium rare steak. Her porcelain skin gets cuts and bruises quite easily, so it’s not unusual for you to see a few cuts or bruises on her at any given time. She has a pear-shaped figure, meaning that her hips are wider than her waist and shoulders.She has a lot of moles and freckles on her body, most of them are pretty light, but there are still a few dark ones. On her ankle, she has a dark birthmark that looks like a big bite mark.

Style: Allison is very into dark and muted colors, so it’s safe to say that her wardrobe isn’t that bright or colorful. On a normal day, you can see her in a pair of dark jeans, combat boots, a simple dark shirt, and a cardigan or jacket / hoodie of some sort. She doesn’t like wearing skirts or dresses much, because she strongly dislikes showing off her legs, as she often gets random bruises from going about, and isn’t comfortable showing them off. In the warmer months, showing off her midriff isn’t an issue for her. She has prescription glasses, but hardly ever wears them in public. In style terms, she can be described as edgy, in a classic way, but still comfortable, and more than willing to accessorize. Allison is the type of person to hang chains from her belt loops, and decorate her book bag with pins.

Personality:

Allison is generally a sweet and bubbly girl – but, that’s not to say she can’t be a bitch at times, particularly when provoked. She’s very opinionated, so sometimes her words don’t always come out the way she wants them to. What I mean is that she’s kind of a passive aggressive brat – unless she likes you, then of course she’ll tell you exactly what she thinks, in a assertive, rather than undertone based way. When it comes to emotions, she doesn’t really know what to do about them. She tends to isolates herself until they go away – or if she’s around people she trusts, she’ll try and distract herself with them or ask them for advice. Most of the time, she tries her best to conceal her feelings and show everyone her best self.

She’s a very intelligent kid – it’s more book smarts than street smarts – and she earns mostly a’s and b’s. Despite that, she isn’t the fastest learner, her best work takes the practice from revision. Taking the extra time to study so she can keep up with other students, she has an intense phobia of failure. Even though the young girl knows she’s pretty smart, she’s very insecure about her knowledge. She will often beat herself up over getting things wrong as she hates messing up. Her smarts are more rooted in her hardworking and studious habits, something she tries her best to work towards, and gets upset when she fails at.

Like most girls her age, Allison strives to be liked and validated by her peers and even of her elders ( aka the older kids ). She does her best to be nice to mostly everyone – offering her friendship to those who she feels are worthy, or who she thinks is just plain interesting. For instance, she still doesn’t smoke cigarettes, but due to seeking validation and sequentially falling into the trap of peer pressure, she started smoking weed. Flora was the root provider, and instigator of this. Which in turn, helps with her chronic migraines.

History:

One freezing December night, young Olive Mertz went into labor, her husband Xavier by her side at all times. The birth didn’t go as planned, halfway through, the baby girl got stuck. The doctors had no choice other than to transition into an emergency caesarean section ( c-section ). Thankfully, there weren’t any other complications, and the birth went well. Olive and Xavier decided to name their new baby girl Allison Verona Mertz.

Allison was a pretty abnormal baby. She was quiet most of the time – hardly ever waking her parents up out of their sleep – and was very calm. She never got along well with most other children, so Olive didn’t take her out much, trying her best not to upset her little angel. Since she was an only child, she got almost all of her mother and father’s attention – and they were guilty of spoiling her with gifts and almost anything she wanted. When she hit the age of four, her parent’s marriage started to fall apart bit by bit.

Of course, Allison was young and didn’t really understand what was happening between her parents – but she knew that it wasn’t good. Olive and Xavier got into arguments almost daily. The quarrels were rarely about anything in particular that would cause problems – such as neglect or affairs – no, it was mostly little things that the two found annoying about each other. Maybe one day, Olive would hear the smack of Xavier’s lips as he ate, and she’d put up with it for mere seconds before bursting out in anger. Allison would often go to her room and occupy herself with drawing or writing – trying her best to not pay attention to the screaming adults downstairs.

Around a year after the arguments started, she started school. Allison felt out of place in Kindergarten, but quickly found a group of people that were willing to take her in; The South Park Vampire Society. The group comforted her during hard times and made her feel at home. They were like her second family. She loved them with every fiber of her being. She dealt with the disgusting taste of clamato juice just to feel like she was a part of something. The vampires were her happy place – they felt like home.

Five years of the constant arguments had passed before the two got divorced. Once Allison understood what they were going through, she was actually happy that they’d gotten away from each other. Not long after the split, Olive and Xavier had started a custody battle over Allison. She bounced between her parents houses, which exhausted her mentally. In order to ease her mind from all of this, she began taking piano lessons and writing poetry.

Two years after the custody battle started, it had ended. Olive and Xavier settled for joint custody – meaning that Allison would be spending the weekdays with Olive and she’d spend the weekends with Xavier. When Allison’s twelfth birthday came along, Olive decided to get her a pet – at first, Allison requested getting a bat, but her mother wasn’t too keen on that – instead she got a Brewer’s Blackbird.

Now, she’s fifteen and much happier than she used to be, from utilizing healthy coping mechanisms, and healthier habits, her stress levels have lowered and she’s pleased with her living situation. She’s kind of a ( not-so-secret ) weeb, from using anime as an escape from her problems, like when she’s too drained to play piano or write poetry.

Sample paragraph:

It was the end of the day and many students were rushing the leave the school, but Allison stayed behind. Today, she was going to try something new – something that scared her out of her wits. She was going to share her poetry. She’d contacted the leader of the poetry club earlier in the week, she was told to come by to check out the club before she officially decided to join – and she was doing just that.

Allison took a seat beside the one person she was familiar with there – Bloodrayne, or rather, Katie Gelson. The club leader stood before the rest of the members and began to speak. “Today, instead of working on something new, we’ll share something we’ve already written. Each member will stand where I am, and read their poetry. I’ll go first.” They said with a gentle smile. One by one, each member read a piece of their poetry, and then it was Allison’s turn.

“Allison, come on up.” The leader spoke. She obeyed and went before the rest of the members with a piece of paper in her shaky hands. She examined the faces of the members who were waiting for her to read the words on the paper. Her eyes landed on Katie, who just gave a nod and a barely noticeable smile. She nodded to herself and began,

“Somewhere, tucked away in the vastness of it all, hidden between the horizon and the sea, there exists a world where you are loving ‘the one who got away’, where the words you never allowed yourself to say flow freely between your teeth. There exists a realm where everything you’ve done, you’ve done differently. It’s where you chose happiness. Maybe you’re much more joyful there – but that’s not the point. Maybe, just maybe, despite the regret, despite everything, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here, right now.”

The members shared a quiet applause. Allison felt like she was going to burst out in tears, but she didn’t. She just smiled sweetly and went back to her seat, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Maybe this is where she was supposed to be.

Headcanons:

♡  She still doesn’t drink coffee; she usually goes for tea or hot cocoa.

♡  She loves the vampires dearly – and still goes to meetings and stays active in the vampire society.

♡  She has a lisp, even without her fangs in. She actually considered getting her teeth permanently sharpened to look like a vampires, but she decided against it because it was way too expensive.

♡  She also still writes poetry and plays piano at school. In fact, she really likes classic literature and poetry, she’s in the photography club and the poetry club.

♡  She has a pet Brewer’s Blackbird named Echo. Originally, she wanted a bat, but her mother is was very against it ( as mentioned in history ) – so she got a blackbird. Echo is now three years old. She’s also very protective of Echo, and doesn’t usually resort to violence, but if you hurt her birdie, she’ll probably try to stab you.

♡  She loves cop dramas and true crime shows, she really enjoys the mystery behind them, and the suspense leading up to the grand reveal.

♡  Her dream job is to own a funeral home and be the head mortician.

♡  She used to have one of the biggest crushes on Dougie O’Connell – the feelings have mostly dissolved.

♡  Her aforementioned chronic headaches have lead to having to take time off of school, and will often impair her vision.

Anything else: i hope i meet the requirements this time!! thank you for the second chance and putting up with my shit!! ♡♡

[buzzings]

letter no. 3

i never thought i would see for myself those two shiny, gold numbers floating around in the bouquet of balloons. but they were there, and i saw them; i was the one who put them there.

i say that i never thought i would see this age for two reasons:

the first reason is i lived in an abusive home for twenty-three years, and i couldn't conceive of ever having a life outside of that household, which i knew (arbitrarily) would have to happen by at least age twenty-five. i was raised by a narcissist who ignored my needs and forced me into a state of dependence in favor of her own grandiosity, even though she was adamant that i was at fault, and it was just that i was too lazy and ungrateful to change it. it was through sheer luck and circumstance—and with a lot of help from my friends—that i managed to claw my way out, and i've been away from her for nearly two years now.

the second reason is mostly as a result of the first, but i didn't think i would live this long. i didn't know when or how or why, but ever since i can remember, i had recurring thoughts that i would simply have stopped existing by now. i've had my share of near-death experiences, whether that be from parental neglect, personal negligence, or random happenstance. a lot of my memory is lost or hazy due to the aforementioned household, but the most recent, notable chunk of it is college. i remember most of my freshman year, and then almost none of the rest except for a handful of traumatic stretches of time (usually toward the middle and end of every semester). i thought i was living my best life, so to speak, because that's what everyone told me i was supposed to be doing. however, it was a four-and-a-half-year-long dissociative episode, during which i contemplated more than once walking out the front door of my off-campus apartment and lying in wait on the train tracks beside my complex. perhaps it was a lack of conviction or an abundance of fear of the unknown (or both), but i really couldn't say why i didn't do it.

it's strange. for one, the passage of time itself. for another, the way i have dreamt of and fought hard to be this age for as long as i can remember, yet it's nothing like i had imagined.

in high school, i would scroll through countless apartment websites during math class and daydream of twenty-five (the age i always associated with full independence). living in a nice, clean, modern apartment in a big city (it was always washington, dc), with a blooming career and vibrant social life (both of which were always completely vague in my mind but still appealing). very sex and the city, very the devil wears prada.

in reality, it is more broad city, hold the city.

at twenty-five, i live in a suburban two-bedroom apartment with my cat, two roommates, and their cat, hamster, two guinea pigs, and leopard gecko. my friends are mostly younger than me, which i didn't expect but rather enjoy; we get to help each other grow up while still getting to participate in youthful shenanigans. i don't have the office job of which i fantasized, and i can't say i'd even want it if i did (growing up, the adults around me told me i could be anything, and then proceeded to box me into a life of student debt and a terrible job market, which is miserable enough without the stress of keeping up corporate appearances just for the approval of people outside the situation). i work a low-paying, entry-level food-service job at a company which one could describe as the amalgamation of east coast bustle and fast food. it is thankless and not-at-all-glamorous or anything to boast about, but it is a job that pays me enough to live, covers my healthcare, and lets me enjoy my life as much as i can within the means i have been given. i am comfortable, and i am loved, and that's really all that matters.

this past year has felt like six. i lost one of my uncles, and then lost my last living grandparent not even a month later. her funeral was a disaster, and not only because the wrong burial plot had been excavated. i was broke and struggling to pay my bills for over half the year, and my SNAP benefit eligibility was revoked because i made just $37 over the income limit. i lost my wallet during my birthday trip to atlantic city. i ran out of forbearance time on my private student loans, which meant i had to figure out how to pay $800 a month on top of everything else. more often than not, i was not sober simply for the fact that i was depressed and had nothing better to do.

but this last year has also been the kindest to me. i held down a job. i saw a dentist for the first time in five years, and i only had one cavity. my friend's parents helped me get my car inspected and let me use their tools/garage to learn how to change my inner tie rods by myself (her dad also found my wallet). i saw the jonas brothers in concert, which is something i've wanted to do since i was eight. i was diagnosed with adhd and prescribed medications that have drastically increased my quality of life. i became eligible for workplace benefits. i met one of my best friends for the first time since we met online 7 years ago. i started writing a novel, and just surpassed 25K words in the first draft. my cat turned one.

to be clear, i'm not writing all this for pity or as a cry for help. this is a celebration; despite all the suffering and listlessness that i'd endured for the majority of my life, the clock struck midnight on january 1st, and i made it to twenty-five. here's to twenty-five more.