#i would say something funny or relevant here but im so no thoughts head empty lately. have this
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#hiveswap#hauntswitch#jude harley#dammek#my art#fiaposting#i would say something funny or relevant here but im so no thoughts head empty lately. have this#1k
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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.
#fred weasley#fred#weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley request#fred weasley fic#fred weasley fanfiction#fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#hogwarts#hufflepuff#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley x you
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Loki & Thor in “Thor & Loki – Double Trouble” n° 2
I really, really, really wanted to read this one from when it was announced so here are my two cents on the new number.
BEWARE FOR SPOILERS?
So, “Double trouble” continues on the same line on which it’s started. It’s fun and cute and it’s based on having a funny situation after another, in total contrast with “Thor” of this month.
Anyway, where were we?
We’ve left Thor and Loki having to deal with Mildred, the sister of the Midgard serpent, which is really not happy at having been summoned.
The story starts… showing us two panels. In one we can see Thor’s eyes, in the other Loki’s.
Although they’re physically different, the fact they’re shown in the same way, remarks a similarity. It’ll be something recurring in this episode.
Thor is conveniently saying it’s all Loki’s fault.
Now... I won’t deny Loki has a HUGE share of the blame, but Thor knew they shouldn’t take the lur, knew it could be dangerous, and that giving it to his brother was a bad idea and yet did it anyway over a dare. He was a willing accomplice and, while he couldn’t figure out the full extent of what this would have caused, he could have avoided the whole thing by saying ‘no, I’m not retrieving the lur’. He didn’t, afraid he would look a coward so yes, he’s also to blame.
Loki, who’s still being held there by Thor, points out whoever is the fault (and he remarks he’s not conceding anything), this doesn’t matter as they’re both doomed.
He seems relatively calm and rational (really, Loki, shouldn’t you worry a little?) and I really wonder why he wanted to play that lur so badly, he recognized Mildred so maybe he knew what playing it would cause, beyond causing mischief.
I mean, to use a way to say from my country which is particularly fitting here, was the play worth the candle?
Mildred attacks, parting them and sending them both flying.
Thor says he guess it’s up to the more HEROIC brother to make short work of this mess as he tried to use his hammer against Mildred.
Indeed, the siblings have a poor relation, as this is also a jab implying Loki is ‘less heroic’ (coward), as well as a demonstration of Thor’s big ego. Loki doesn’t seem offended though as he pats dust away from his clothes and smiles as he agrees and look at his brother.
There’s to wonder why Thor kept him there if he thought he could solve it on his own, did he want to show off?
Mjolnir hits Mildred. Thor seems proud of this but Loki is much faster to understand this only angered her more.
As the siblings hurriedly and not so heroically run away (in an hilarious way... I mean, look at them!), chased by a furious Mildred, Thor tells Loki to be the one to think of something.
Loki’s plan… is to have a bouquet of roses magically appear and then to try to swoon Mildred over.
Honestly it’s hilarious (he even has a shine effect around) and, considering the cover, one might even think it would work (it doesn’t as Mildred uses her tongue to toss him away) but it’s not really particularly clever or make special use of magic, which should be Loki’s two strongest points.
Still it’s interesting how he tries to deal with her pacifically, not fighting but trying to ‘make friends’.
Anyway, as Loki flies away, Thor comments he’s not her type.
Mildred heads for the market, devastating it. It’s probably a good thing this is meant to be a funny thing or there would be a massacre. Instead the market place seems to be empty.
Thor points out they need a new, new plan to which Loki retorts it’s Thor’s turn.
I like the visual of the panel, with Mildred’s body cutting the 4 panels in halves and Loki and Thor alternating between panels, Loki on a side and Thor in the other, well balancing the symmetry of the scene.
Thor spots the lur and makes a run for it, telling Loki to distract Mildred. Loki points out that was what he was trying to do previously but it didn’t work.
So… I take if this was what he was trying to do when he attempted to seduce her, Thor didn’t realize and he didn’t take the hint.
It’s also clear Loki doesn’t look pleased with this plan, yet he still does what his brother says and, after catching Mildred’s attention, since Thor has previously suggested he was rejected because he wasn’t her type, he turns himself in a snake… maybe thinking she might like him more in this form.
She doesn’t.
As Thor grabs the ‘dreaded object of his brother’s schemes’ (which actually belonged to Odin and Thor totally contributed in handing it to Loki) Loki, in his snake form, escapes from Mildred, urging him to act.
Thor explains he believes if a note summoned her, another note might send her back so he bets on him guessing it. I’ll say it would have been better ask Loki first if he had an idea which one it could be as it’s Loki who’s the magician but whatever, Thor has the good luck of being the heroic main character.
Loki, still in snake form, comments it’s a solid plan… (it’s not really, it’s more a risky bet in Loki’s style) and then we see him draped on his brother’s shoulders, which is kind of cute, as he wonders if it did work, wearing the same expression as his brother.
Call me weird but I find adourable Loki crawled on Thor’s shoulders in snake form and Thor isn’t even fazed by it, as if this was perfectly normal for him.
Anyway turns out Thor has summoned an even bigger snake, which Loki recognizes as Mildred’s mom.
Mildred is dragged home by her mother and while Thor and Loki comment on how she’s going to be grounded, a voice calls them, saying their names in 2 different fonts. It’s Odin who wants to know what’s going on.
In the most (im)mature manner the siblings blame each other in a mirroring way, each refusing to act as an adult and take his share of the blame.
Odin though, is distraught over the loss of his favourite ice cream stall (who cares about the rest of the market and possibly of the city being in ruin?) and, as the siblings get another image in which their position mirror each other...
...he condemns them to clean up duty.
Thor is pissed but, as he carries a huge load of ruins, comments maybe this will curb Loki’s craving for mischief. Obviously not, as Loki, who’s carrying just a rock, immediately starts suggesting something. Thor cuts him, insisting he doesn’t want to hear it.
Loki is disappointed, he doesn’t get what Thor’s problem is.
Thor, covering his ears, insists Loki does this to him every! Time!
Loki still doesn’t get the problem, saying he’s just trying to keep the days lively with intriguing solutions to their problems and asks him if he wouldn’t like the cleanup done faster… so Thor can go chase his adouring fans.
Really, I do wonder if Loki does all this not so much for the mischief but because this is the only way he knows to have Thor paying him attention. He really doesn’t seem to get what he’s doing that’s so bad… but he seems to get that Thor would prefer to be elsewhere than with him.
Anyway Loki’s ‘brilliant’ plan is to use his cunning and genius and… some sort of crystal ball he has snatched from Odin’s vault while Thor was escaping from the guards because sacred objects can be useful and it’s better to be prepared. When Thor asks what the ball does Loki claims he’s glad Thor asked… but it turns out he has no idea what it does and discovers it just by testing the ball.
I take back my previous speculation about Loki having better chances than Thor to know which note to play with the lur. It seems Loki’s way to deal with magical objects it’s not to read instructions but to test try it on the nearby object. Really Thor, why would you trust ANYTHING in your brother’s hands?
Well, credits when it’s due, Thor tells him to put it back and, after finding back his hammer that he has somehow left behind, that it will be a bad idea.
I’m not really sure why we had this scene with Thor searching for his hammer. Is it a clue Thor isn’t the ordered type? Is it going to be relevant later on because, let’s say, Thor picked up the wrong hammer or something like that? Or it’s just to fill space? No idea.
Anyway as Loki asks him if he wants to resume clean up duty, Thor gives up.
Loki tells him to then shut up and let the smart brother do some cool magic.
Now… hum… I’m not really sure it’s smart to use some magical artifact Loki doesn’t really know how it works but whatever, we know this is just the prelude for another disaster.
Again they reinforce the previous dynamics, where Thor defined himself the heroic brother, Loki calls himself the smart brother… and even if Thor knows it’s a bad idea, ultimately he plays along because he doesn’t want to do the clean up.
Anyway the panel with Loki holding the ball is quite awesome, there’s the focus on the shining ball, Loki on the front in a powerful position and Thor behind, which causes him to seem conveniently of the same idea as his brother, which, symbolically, proves how they’re actually the same. Loki partially standing in front of him connects their figures, reinforcing the idea they’re on the same page.
In a way this episode showed them more similar than they seem to think to be, remember also how they previously blamed each other in an almost mirroring manner?
Or how Thor totally risked everything randomly playing the lur even if he had no idea if it would make matters better or worse?
I don’t know if there’s a goal in this comic beyond being funny, but I wonder if it could be they could understand they’re more similar than they think.
Whatever, Loki is clearly very happy to do his cool magic to the point he doesn’t even notice some sort of hole is opening up below them. Thor does and manages to warn his brother about it just in time for Loki to begin to say he is sure it’s noth—before they fall through it, losing hold of the hammer and the ball..
Thor blames Loki for this (forgetting he has allowed him to play in hope he wouldn’t have to clean up things) while Loki insists he maintains no responsibility.
Again though the image plays on how they’re similar. Both let go of their objects and both are in almost exactly the same pose, although Thor is upside down compared to Loki.
The comic ends here.
I’ve to say this volume was very well balanced in term of portraying both the siblings, with the visual depicting them often in the same position or in a mirroring one, but also with them making mistakes similar to their counterpart, or adopting their same behaviour.
So, as I said before, I don’t know if this comic has a point beyond the cute and funny tales but maybe it’s trying to set up the brothers so that they’ll realize they’re more similar than different?
We’ll see, maybe the meaning is just to make us smile, and in these times of pandemic this too is an important goal.
Anyway I love how cute and funny it is, I love the characters’ expressions and the dynamic of her art, the costant bitching of the siblings and... everything really.
Really, maybe it’s just a weird AU universe story but it’s lovely, you must read it.
As for me I just can’t wait to see the next episode!
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Candy 12-14
Even Jake’s having his proverbial love triangle troubles
It’s clear he genuinely cares for both Jane and Dirk, but if he’s being honest with himself, the one he romantically loves would be Dirk, the one he would prefer to be with, who he’d choose if they were equal options, would be Dirk
But he’s also right that it’s not like Jane’s a bad choice either, sure it’s not his preference if he’s being honest, but he’s also not about to look the gift horse in the mouth if it falls right into his lap
13 is where we start start to see the unraveling happen I suppose though
Again, everyone is acting so drugged up in Candy
Jane and Jake getting literally inebriated and Dave acting like he’s going through Dirk withdrawal
Then Gamzee being the weird ugly poster child of both drugs and candy, honestly it really did make sense to shove him into this timeline in a weird and uncomfortable ham fisted way, it gets that “are you fucking high right now” feeling across really well
Gamzee really being the cloud cuckoolander here though
hold on let me un-gamzee-ify it just reading his text quirk makes me feel like im on drugs
Gamzee: you don’t got any need to go and concern yourself with his mortal flesh body out here in this candycane whirlpool beyond the infinite black wink of the wicked singularity, my ninja.
Gamzee: a sack of meat and bones in one life or the next is only a means to the final totality that will damn and raise us all in brilliant apotheosis.
Gamzee seems clearly meta aware of the situation he’s in which is interesting, This is indeed a candy swirled timeline hidden inside an infinite black hole singularity
the second line seems to be describing the meat timeline in a way though too
a sack of meat sounds worthless, but it is apparently only a means to a truer end, it has to happen for something else to happen
Essential, but irrelevant, again
funnily enough he’s also seems to be referencing gnostic concepts, not that i’m surprised really at this point
one sack of meat, or, one body in one life or the next
so reincarnation
is only a means to an end that both damns and raises a person into apotheosis, or their “zenith” their highest point
which, i mean, yeah, you live life again and again, differently each time, becoming closer to ascension, and ultimate consumation of every version of you is the basic tenet of the reincarnation gnosticisms
Also, a lot of text was put into describing Gamzee haphazardly crashing into things and setting off rube goldberg machines, which I guess sort of describes his escapades through Homestuck lol
“cinder block, crusty puppet, and Japanese sword in a tornado’s radius off balance and avalanching them catastrophically onto the hapless clown’s torso. “
So the Sword is Dirk (or AR) the crusty puppet is Caliborn (because Lil Cal) which I guess leaves the cinder block as Equius? He’s built like a brick shithouse? eh only problem sleuth stuff comes up so 2/3 ain’t bad
Speaking of Equius, oh look, A feminine half finished robot in Dirk’s basement
the uncomfortable Equius vibes ping once again though I don’t think this is robo-Aradia, but likely something meant to serve a similar purpose and almost DEFINITELY Rose related if reading meat wasn’t already obvious and if the skull for an inner head thing wasn’t immediately referring to the headaches Rose was known to have
though it’s also uncomfortably a symbol of her Doom
---14---
“A flip of the cosmic coin has rendered your entire life completely inessential.”
yup what did I just say, Meat is representing the essential bits of the story, candy is decidedly, not
hm, Dirk’s going to kill himself for the supposed greater good of his own making again
not unsurprising, but a guy like him always like to make an escape rather than give up, is he thinking death will unlock this part of his conciousness and send the memories back to the ultimate self? probably
“and one final act of relevance that can bequeath your meager energies to the cosmic well from whence they came.”
yup!
Though as much as he keeps saying none of this matters he did leave an explanatory note specifically for his friends to find, so there’s still something in him that cares
Don’t like how the bigger blacker text is basically instructing this version of Dirk to kill himself though, that again implies there’s part of Dirk that are subservient to other parts, so again it’s a question of if his ultimate self got tainted through the connecting pieces of Arquisprite > Lord English > Doc Scratch, then who’s actually pulling the strings in Dirk’s Ultimate Self and directing the behaviour of “Dirk” in general
Is it Dirk Strider? Or Doc Scratch? and does that even matter anymore since it’s all DS all the same anyway?
“In a certain sense, you’ve never felt so free.
> Kill yourself.”
That’s hilariously also a JailBreak reference, I think, but definitely played for the morbs instead of as a joke lol
https://www.homestuck.com/jailbreak/109
Literally this MC kills himself when his friend dies and he’s now alone in a vast cosmic emptiness and the text is:
“Yes! Finally! Free at last!
Though the victory is bitersweet. Your friend has died of blood loss.
This is no victory. The feeling is vast emptiness. You are no longer bound by bars or concrete, but you feel more incarcerated than ever. You come to the heartwrenching conclusion that the only true prison... is loneliness.
There is only one thing left to do.
> Continue”
and it just resets him back to the first panel but this time he makes choices differently
ironic that Dirk does literal the exact same thing but comes to exactly zero of the same conclusions
“Just as your epiphany occured at sunset, your death must occur at sunrise to complete the ouroboros of symbological harmonic resonance that is your personal arc. It is the very last moment of narratively consequential action that will happen in this whole, barren world.”
I wonder what about this death makes it so narratively significant? just because it passes along the knowledge of what not to do back to the Ultimate Self so he can avoid it? Probably nothing more than that
“but there really are no words that can adequately express the sound someone makes when they die. It’s a phenomenon that happens on two levels. First, there is the literal termination of organic processes, which is to say, the destruction of the meat. Then follows the dissolution of the ego. And you have quite the ego to dissolve, one that has flown so high above the forest that not only can it no longer see the trees, it cannot even conceive of the trees as material substance with objective meaning.”
funny it mentions a forest which is also where that happened in JailBreak
Basically describes how death in general works in Homestuck, the body dies but can leave a ghost/ego behind, but eventually that dissolves as well
Again though, making a compariosn between the Meat and the Body/Flesh and the Candy and the Spirit or Ghost
or another pun between Candy and Drugs if you take Spirit to mean alcoholic spirits
Candy seems ironically and symbolically the place where Breath Meets Void, no wonder John and Roxy hook up here lol
Does that make Meat then the place where Blood and Light meet? I have before put significance into the crossover of those symbolisms in Homestuck before, but couldn’t really conceptulize it as a solid symbolic thing and the Meat and epilogues in general did a really good job of conjoining them into the idea of the story what with the Narrative having importance but also Veins and the idea of Karkat as being reliable narrator etc etc
Meat’s as good a symbol as any for that I suppose
“ When you think so little of yourself as a moral character, any act of self-termination will result in a death that is Just. “
so this line seems to imply that Dirk’s death was permanent and Just here because he thought so little of his own moral character aka deep down he knew he was terrible person, amount of remorse felt over that not applicable, and because of that perception of his, the clock tick tocked over on to Just
Again reinforcing that the Clock is less of an ultimate moral judgment from down on high and much more like an influenceable moral compass, given form by the person affecting it at the moment
I actually kinda like the new spin on that it gives Vriska’s original just death, since that slow ticking of the clock was not just a decision, but a battle of wills between herself and Terezi, it could have easily gone either way depending on how each saw Vriska
neat!
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"Secrets" vs Secrets
I tell myself I'm an open person who tries to, and wants to, discuss stuff about myself and preferably receive the same from others. But I don't, not really, I share "secrets" but not secrets
I share, for example, laughing as though it's funny, how I and H never really talked until A joined the group. How A made our friendship group work
I don't share how scared and jealous I was. How I didn't know A well, and was divided between being angry on her behalf for her shitty ex-friends, or angry at her, because H was the only one I had even if at that point we barely counted as acquaintances, and I was really scared A and H would go off and I would be alone again. Or how, at times, I thought H was better than A or vice versa and wanted to be friends with one of them and the other to leave. How sometimes I felt so guilty for that. How sometimes I didn't feel guilty for it at all, but knew I should, and wondered if that made me a bad person
I share how I feel like when I'm alone with Iz, we both become really awkward and never really manage to have a decent conversation alone. I don't share how I sometimes get caught up in the differences, because I worry they mean we're not as close or I won't act as though we're as close as Iz believes us it be, because I struggle with how little she talks about deep feelings, how she isn't a fan of physical affection, but am equally aware that just as I feel as though she's failing to speak my language on those levels, I'm just as highly aware that I'm utterly failing to make hers when she makes jokes or comments, and sometimes I don't understand them, or I understand them literally but can't tell if that's what she means, what she may mean if the meaning isn't that literal. I'm overly aware that in my admittedly limited circle of about 6 friends,she's the only one who isn't white, and I'm overly aware of my stupid lack of knowledge there and the subconscious tendency for me to be slightly racist and not even realise for a long moment, and how I try to fix that, but maybe not hard enough? What if she picks up on it? What if I fuck up badly and say something awful? I'm a pathetic coward for not being able to address her about this to her face, I know, but I equally fret that if I did force myself to tell her this or ask her to call me out if I do mess up, that this may be overstepping a line - I know for example that many lgbt people get angry when people ask a lot of questions in a poor manner, for acting like they have no choice but to sit there and be a source of information instead of a person. Does the same apply here? Would I be doing that to Iz? I do not want to hurt her. As much as I don't understand her, I like her, I consider her a friend...I feel awful for thinking about her like this. I don't know how to fix this, or if it needs fixing - maybe as far as she's aware, there's nothing wrong except mild awkwardness, and I just need to fix my issues on my own time. I don't know
I share how I don't really want to go to the school counsellor or whatever because I don't think they address such serious stuff, I have always been given the impression that they address things like exam stress and bullying only, and that even then they dont address it very well it seems. I share how I'm worried things would get back to my mother
I don't share how I'm also afraid it would get out to my friends, the decent people in my family, the school. I don't share that I'm afraid if I went, the counsellor would write everything I say down and then take it back, report every word to my mother, my abuser - and I'm aware this is in all likelihood a ridiculous fear but it is a real fear to me. I'm scared that, even if no specific information got back to my parents or family, they may be informed/find out I'm going to counselling at school, if not why or anything - and I hate and fear the idea of that. I don't know HOW I'd get to see a counsellor at school, meaning I'd like to have to go via teachers and leading staff, meaning many of the staff would know. I don't want them to know. I don't want anyone to know. I don't want it. I'm scared I'd go to it, and the counsellor would either tell me nothing was wrong with me and send me away without help, or tell me far far more is wrong with me than I think there is and make me have to confront that. Or they'll tell me it's something entirely different from what I expect, or they won't be what I expect, or they'll call me out on my redirecting, or they'll look at me and say okay. You've told me all your problems - you've revealed you know what they are, often why they are, you've considered what you could do to solve them. What have you actually done to try and solve them? And I will be forced to look right at them and say I have done nothing, or as good as nothing. Because it is true, as much as I like to claim otherwise. I could do so much more.
I share little about how I used to be so convinced supernatural stuff was happening, how some things my sibling said seemed to match up. How unsure I am about hat was telling happening, in hindsight - was it real, dream, hallucination, daydream? I was losing time at that point in time - was I passing put for some reason, or just forgetting, or what? I half convinced myself at the time it was linked to supernatural - was this my way of covering up what didn't make sense to me? I know this was a time where I was increasingly reliant on "thought processes", as far as I know faced no physical danger but did face immense emotional stress constantly - I was convinced I could be killed any moment - and I was losing time and it felt like I was slipping out of control and then there was that night where I was not in control of my body. But someone else was and I could hear their voice and a sliver of their intentions without a full view of their big picture and I remember screaming panicking flailing at the back of my mind while at the same time, at the same time I was them and I was drifting and idle and my smile was unnatural and felt wrongwrongwrong and I was looking for the key to the window, and so too was I my body just empty, just moving, while these two within were in conflict, and I remember finally a voice, a third that was not mine or theirs, and it made them retreat, and I was in control, and I was shaking and felt like I was in shock afterward. The dreams, too. How I have wondered for a while now whether, at that stage, had DID. If that was even a possibility, or what could have caused it to happen - whether, if I did have DID, if that means that there is bad stuff I dont remember still? Wondering whether it even matters now, as I seem not to lose any time now, as I seem to have somehow fixed it. Wondering if, if I did have it, maybe I didn't 'fix it' - maybe I'm still losing time and whoever may or may not be in my head with me just got better at hiding information that would indicate as such for the sake of the system being healthy. Wondering how close I pushed myself to that stage with my refusal to deal with anything, whether if I do or did have DID, how much of that is/would be my fault. During that night I had been messaging an online friend the whole time, even when it didn't exactly feel like it was me typing - I want to discuss it with him, badly. I wonder if he remembers. I wonder if he actually knows or realises what had been going on - how, although in retrospect I realise I probably would have been unlucky to even break an ankle, I had been so scared they would find the key and open the window and jump and I would be dead with no prescense more than hysteria trapped in my own head and watching. How I sat there afterwards and a while after, when it had processed, I felt trapped and scared - so terribly scared - and desperate and actually...rather bitter or angry. Because this was a time where I felt my control and free will were practically non-existent, self harm used to make me feel I had control but then people took that from me, so that night...When that person took control and seemed like they were aiming to commit suicide, they took the last two things I felt belonged to me - my mind, and my death. I was angry and scared and desperate, and I felt so trapped I wanted to scream because it felt like everything was closing in on me so tight I wanted to rip my skin right through and climb out of it, I could barely breathe, and I'm not sure but I think I had a panic attack then (?)
I share little bits about this, but not the full extent of it - I don't DO enough and that scares me. I'm scared I'll end up alone and starving and useless because I don't do enough to socialise with the people I hace,p or nake new friends, or learn to cook or naythibg else I need. I frequently struggle even to get the things I WANT done. I'm scared there's simething wrong with me.
I have no sense of time. I don't know why - when I searched it was suggested this could be part of being subject to emotional abuse and gaslighting, depression, or dissassocitation. I know the first two are relebent to me, I don't know about the other two but I'm fairly certain if thet arent relevent now then they used to be. I struggle with things because of this - I can't tell what happened when, Ive literally said that something that turned out to have happened less than two weeks ago happened about two years ago, and vice versa.
I have massive issues with control: I make decisions either to comply entirely with what people suggest/order or do the exact opposite of what is suggested/ordered, far far far more than I actually judt make the desciison that I want or seems sensible, meaning I effectively dont have control over my decidions. I constantly lose the battle agaunst my own mind. I go into exams every day absolutely exhausted because whenever Im at all stressed, my automatic response is to deprive myself of sleep in order to prive to myself that Im in control, that I wont heed the orders of any people I know, society, or my own fucking body if it disagrees with me. But this is one area where Im veey very very wrong, especually since despite my tendency to deprive myself of sleep, I function awfully on even as much as 5 or 6 hours sleep - it makes my brain fuzzy, I function on autopilot, I strugfle to tune in or concentrate or eat......and of course thsi makes me feel out of cobtrol, so I sleep even less
I struggle to distinguish between what i genuinely want, and what are self destructive thoughts. For example - hypnosis - is this self detsructive of me or not? I don't know. I know when I used to be obsessed with the idea of bdsm, that was self destructive, tying together things I wanted and things that would harm me badly in all sorts of ways together - now I'm still attracted to incredibly specific ideas of powerplay, but I camt figure out if thats a genuine want Ive separated from all he rest, or just the new disguise my self destructive tendencies are now wearing. Same with ideas of sex - explicit references to sex, as in acyual genitals an dstuff, makes me feel uncomfortable, grossed out, unsafe, nervous. But I like stuff that is intended to be expicit or pornographic - but stays almost entirely as mental games, and feelings, no physical stuff or sex stuff please. But wheres the line here? I don't know.
(This is tmi but sometimes I get really frustrated, and feel very alone and angry and ashamed....because with vague stuff like I mentioned, I enjoy it, I get pretty aroused, it's good. But if I try to deal with it, like masturbate or anything, it ruins it because then I feel gross and unsafe and very much like I want to cry. So although I want to be able to enjoy myself sexually, it inevitably ends either in failed masturbation making me want to cry, or in me eventually losing interest in the activity but my body fails to correspond properly so I'm forced to be there, struggling to distract myself from how my body is still aroused, and feeling increasingly ashamed and self pitying and stupid while that's happening. Neither are good and I hate it because I know I can like, feel all hot and nice and stuff, but there is no way i can have that without it ending in misery one way or another. And of course both make me feel very distanced from my body, inevitably making me feel very very insecure)
I used to age regress. Not sexually, but just...to deal with things. Because my problems are generally big, overwhelming and complex, I was able to put them in the box of "grown up stuff" in my head, and it wasnt the same as repressing it or ignoring it - it was still very much there, and I was very much aware of it, but it just didn't register as important to me while in 'little space', which meant I was able to relax, feel safe and happy and vulnerable without fear for a few hours, and then I could gradually ease myself back into opening that box up again and be able to deal with all of it in a much better fashion because I would be so much calmer, with a clear head.
Except obviously, when i was in little space I acted childishly. Not overwhlemingly so, I don't think? But I'd speak weird, and be very overenergetic and stuff, and I'd be a bit jsut different. Problem was....I had nobody to take care of me when I was in little space, and nobody made me feel safe to even be around - even if they didnt know what was happening, some people like my mother were deliberately cruel about my acting immature and whatever, some friends just...questioned it a lot and asked me to calm down a lot, and some theoretically were absolutely okay with it but just seemed so obviously to be humouring me......It upset me a lot to get that sort of reaction in little space when I was so much more vulnerable emotionally. And it just...escalated. very quickly, the constant mantra of "they hate me they hate me they hate me why am I here I shouldnt be doing this they hate me they hate me" had infiltrated my little space as well as my normal life and I could no longer just file it away in the "grown up box" for an hour or three
I tried only age regressing on my own, but as a kid I was afraid of being alone, and now I'm afraid of being alone, so ultimately all it did was make me feel helpless, incredibly lonely and put me in a state emotionally vulnerable enough that what I would normally get over fairly easily quickly had me hysterical. I also started losing control of going in and out of it? Easing myself in and out of it was vital for it to actually help me, but I started rapidly falling into little space as I became more and more distressed and panicky and miserable in normal life, and equally (largely due to other people, but then after due to my own emotions) started crashing after little space instead of gradually easing out of it - which not only undoes any and all good that little time may have done, it also makes me feel unsafe, empty in an awful way, miserable, and overall awful.
Eventually I stopped regressing at all
And that made me pretty miserable - because while i found other ways to solve issues, I lost the ability to just put it on pause for a while. I almost never am able to relax, I sometimes relax more than other times, but when I stopped regressing I lost the only time I felt safe enough to relax COMPLETELY. And while I know at least some of my friends and family love me unconditionally, and are proud of me, feeling it is another thing entirely - and when I was little I was absolutely certain on that, and that carried over into normal life giving me confidence. Now i don't have that.
The other day A, me, an english teacher and a classmate were discussing stuff in class, and it somehow got onto people who identify as an age (??? Never heard of that before and personally think it makes no sense, but anyway) and that led onto age regression as a method of coping?
I spent most of that part of the conversation feeling like I wanted to participate, but equally wanting not to sound too passionate or knowledgeable because he was there, a TEACHER was there, and I could feel A's eyes on me, god I was so aware of A and so terrified she'd turn around and say she hated me.
But. But that conversation made me want it again, and feel sad about it because I know I can't- like literally, I cannot, it's been plagued with bad stuff enough that I don't feel able to and I'm constantly so incredibly tense and feel do unsafe I cannot relax enough to slip into little space and haven't been able to for probably two years, but i have no idea, because as previously mentioned I'm crap with time. It also made me kinda wanna mention the fact that I used to do it to my friends? Idk
I'm just. I'm very very aware that while I want to be, and lie to myself saying I am, an open person, I'm aware there's a lot of stuff I keep quiet (thid is oh so little of it) and what's more, I lie about the little things. CONSTANTLY. So. So I'm a fake.
I just....I don't know
I don't know what more to write
#DID#dissassocitation#mental illness#mentions of self harm#reference to suicide#emotional abuse#sex stuff#age regression#venting#oh my god im a mess#lies#secrets#im a awful failure of ahuman bring basically#and my friends are like no youre not! you never do anything freaky!#and im like#yeah i do! i judt dont mention it#or lie aabout it!#im an awful person
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here’s me talking about the month since i was last online
firstly it was/is depressing not to be able to talk with ppl or hear from them. or just to be able to talk somewhere i know people CAN hear. i also mentioned being completely detached from the news. i like to be current about the news. anyways i was like “well not like this is anything new” as its technically unusual for me to NOT be cut off both irl and from the internet. but, shockingly, that doesnt make it not depressing. and having something for even a bit makes it more frustrating to lose it even if its “normal” for you not to have it. also by depressing i mean i was going like hmm i sure am even more tired than usual and i am less interested in my few lingering faint interests. whats up with that! and then i was like oh yeah thats called Even More Depression
it is funny because im someone who has never really had that many friends and when i do we often end up separated one way or another. Very Close friends &/or Very Longtime friends are a foreign concept. basically the heights of my “what i wish it was like” for life involve having a group of friends with whom you can have fun in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night just talking and hanging out and messing around. friends that you feel comfortable being yourself around and like they appreciate you as much as you do them. i do not think this is ever going to happen, but oh well because in reality i can be very picky about people because i am weird, to put it that way for now. my social landscape and language is not always considered normal or even tolerable. and i have a lot of standards for who i want to have around me in terms of traits and personality. theres a lot of things im not interested in. anyways. i also just, in the way things actually are, often prefer to be alone, so that i can be myself and do things i feel like. i dont have to worry about being strange or feeling like i need to please people. anyways. unfortunately i dont ONLY like being alone. i actually really like to be with people and talk with them but i rarely can, and i figure this is bad for me. isolation isnt good for anyone obviously. not being able to be around friends in person depresses me. not being able to talk online either depresses me further.
i think sometimes about how much i dont say. its a funny place to say it, in an overly long text post. but one of the reasons they can be so long is because irl i dont really talk much to people. so it builds up and can come out through writing. sometimes it comes out in talking. i think that in conversations, when i do talk, i talk too much because of this. so one of the reasons i dont talk much is to prevent this, which obviously is like “well that would just cancel out” but there are other reasons i dont talk. but i have loads of thoughts and things to say. i end up keeping so much of it to myself and wonder sometimes if i’ll ever get to say some of it. sometimes i’ll have something to say and bite it back. i’ve been “quiet” all these past twenty some years of talking and i know the reasons i dont talk. i was thinking about the feeling of biting something back in an individual occasion feeling like the cumulation of all the years worth of keeping my own voice running in my head alone. it kind of feels like what you want to say is in your chest and throat and the roof of your mouth.
speaking of the roof of your mouth, theres a weird sensation i can feel sometimes, seemingly at random but mostly in strange times like trying to fall asleep. it is so transient and unlike any actual externally caused sensations that its been difficult to try to get a grasp of how to describe it, but i think i have it thanks to ongoing effort and an unusually long period of it a few days ago during which i was especially alert about it. it’s like having a pressure radiating out from inside your mouth. like an orb pushing outwards against the teeth and roof of the mouth. which i’m fairly sure isn’t anything that would ever happen, so i am assuming its some little neurological hiccup that happens to align every now and then, but maybe a previous life cycle has put something weird in their mouth. or shot into it, because i would be like, well not much has changed.
anyways. words sitting like a pressure in your mouth. i was seeing a thread about how grief is ongoing and reoccurring which also mentioned that people who specialize in knowing how grieving and living with it works often consider it to be a form of grief when someone’s life is affected by something like trauma. they have to grieve themselves because of the possibilities taken away from them. i feel that, sometimes. thinking about how i wish i had a life where i felt free to speak and where my identity mattered and i got to feel like i could be myself and it was important and it was important what i thought and wanted and who i really was. and where i got to have friends and do things and realize what it was to actually feel happy, not try to understand an unhappy existence as what must be okay. its not just what couldve been in the past, but also how that couldve affected the present and future. im not sure who i’d be if my life didnt have to be about survival and escape. i say i never had dreams, which is true, but in retrospect i DO think that when i was fifteen and really bearing down in trying to figure out what i wanted to do, i was already seeing activism as the answer, which made sense why it wouldnt register as a dream or ambition and why it was also impossible to pursue. i still dont think of anything like personal fulfillment through a career/job or anything. but i also dont think of what i want to do as very relevant to anything at all anymore.
anyways. i’m “used” to things, but they still depress and hurt me. i actually have a lot of sadness and anger about some of these things, like never getting to have the friends i wanted or never being able to speak and it not mattering who i really was, and how long it took me to realize this really wasn’t okay and it wasn’t because of some personal deficiency which made me deserve it somehow. also the abuse. i remember i had this how-to book about weaving friendship bracelets which i got sometime in elementary school, and it even supplied some twine and stuff. i had always wanted to have occasion to use it, and i never did, which is just symbolic. the twine/potential friendship bracelets can also be things like positive social connections that feel real and open, or my ability to feel secure in expressing affection because it seems mutual. but anyways. i also just go along.
i was thinking about the Being Gone For A Month thing and the not-talking and holding all my words back even though i think so much about all sorts of junk and thus have too much to say, and about a week ago i just spent like six hours writing about myself. i was debating doing so in the first place because i figured i wouldnt post it. i did write it, but i won’t post it. its just good to talk to myself in the form of writing. getting thoughts into that form requires an extra level of analysis and coherent flow that can help put even things you already knew more in order. so here’s this stuff instead.
there’s not much to say about this past month. the worst of it was that discovering my weird tooth is all janky and broken has made me on edge about teeth. i mean, i’ve already all but stopped worrying about the broke tooth, because i kind of do that sometimes when i can. just worry hard and then stop, because what can you do? might as well try to avoid stressing even worse. and in this case i dont have money and doubt i will ever have a job w dental coverage, so i cant do anything about it. but im always worried about my teeth because, fittingly, my parents dental genes seem to combine into that of a tasmanian devil. i think im in some Dental Report b/c i had this weird situation that needed basically a root canal but it wasnt the normal kind of root canal situation and the dentist said he hadn’t seen it or heard of it even. special. i was horrified about needing the root canal, because of the clichés. but it ended up being fine and i really just sat there for an hour thinking about whatever. dental procedures are truly not what theyre hyped up to be. on account of local anesthetics. anyways. when i left my parents house i was specifically worried about leaving my access to a dentist, but obviously it wouldve been far from worth it. but that doesn’t mean i dont worry about my teeth. so i had these few days where i just had a spontaneously sensitive gum spot and another one which im guessing i caused by jamming corn shards down in there by eating corn on the cob. that happened sort of last year, i got really worried about an angry-looking spot on my gums and finally realized something was just up in there that needed to be flossed out. anyhow. the point is i got overly worried about everything that always worries me even though it used to worry me even before going to the dentist and they’d say the stuff was fine actually. but still. i got
very worried for a minute there and i realized very easily that if i start getting any really serious tooth problems i am out of here. i have no motivation at all to live through it. i don’t want to have to deal with that. it’s way too much. i dont even have motivation to be alive now. but when i was worrying i was thinking about not using my handful of cash to change locations, but instead to get some fancy Dying Equipment. there are still some methods by which im not sure i could try offing myself. but if things got a lot worse, like teeth problems, i could probably lower those standards. i COULD obtain some items for one method, or by necessity do it for free. im less worried about the tooth stuff now. it was just an unfortunate convergence of a couple tiny things. but ive still got a sensitive spot or two, and im always a bit worried. if something bad happens i cant do anything about it except get tf out of this life cycle, right.
there was something else unfortunate i was going to talk about. maybe just the depression.
there were nice, small things. i always knew how to enjoy those kinds of stuff. i like the sky, and i appreciate that its summer. theres a lot of fireflies sometimes and i saw kittens chasing them one day. one of those kittens mightve gotten killed by something since. i got to hear rain on the roof a few times. i like corn on the cob even if it betrayed me. i was wanting some last summer. i also got to make sweet tea and lemonade for the first time in forever. i’d been wanting that for a long time too.
the nicest surprise was that i had been writing extra hard since the start of june. i sort of really pushed at it and got to the dividing point between the section and the next, and i was sure it was shorter than previous sections. but actually it was just over 1000 words short of being 140k, and i’d written it all in about five weeks, and it was abt 22.5% longer than the next longest section i’d written. i’ve since gotten to a point i’ve been writing towards since this whole time, and im right on the verge of another long awaited one right now. it’s nice, but writing has been fun, and i hope i dont get depressed if i hopefully do finish it. i can just write some more, but doing so on my phone isnt the most efficient. it doesnt seem sustainable.
anyways thats it for now before i can think of anything else to say am i right
#talking abt being nervous abt it has made me a bit more nervous abt it...im trying to simmer down...dont have to die just yet...But You Know#also i could.
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December 2
I’m currently listening to Overwhelming while eating candy corn Jin got me for my bday (so its been a month and yet) and I feel like I have a lot to say that I don’t have someone to tell to all in one sitting so here it goes.
A few weeks ago I decided to stay at Biola for the spring but now I am having second thoughts. I am WAY happier at school away from my family/house and the thought of living at home 24/7 aka how summer was aka hell makes me actually want to kill myself. I really hope that there’s a chance Karina and I both go to Fullerton so we can have a place together. It sounds so fantastical but also just imagining how amazing my life would be is just all I am looking forward to.
I think that I am going to end up enrolling late and not get any classes I want because people have already signed up for classes and most are full lo l but yeah.
I am suffering from writer’s block. I tried writing tonight and I actually started crying as I was singing but it just didn’t feel right. I really want to write songs that I can 100% sing-cry to and make it feel so right. I just haven’t found it yet.I wonder how Jon Bellion wrote these songs haha. His lyrics are just so fucking wholesome and relevant to so many aspects of my life.
Listening to him tho makes me feel so fucking confused cause the first time I saw him, I was “happy” and brown haired and dating John and the last time I saw him in September I was black haired, single, and broken. I still am those three things.
Work has taken over my life again.
I am scheduled Friday-Sunday for the next 2 weeks and as $$ as that made me think I was be, honestly it just doesn’t feel worth it right now. Granted, when I get paid, I will probably feel otherwise.
I’ve been telling myself and others that I am okay with things with John.
I honestly can’t fucking tell what I am.
I obviously miss him. I am doing fine without him, I will keep doing fine without him, but I miss having that person. I guess it’s slowly transitioning to the point where you miss the feelings and not the actual person. But just typing that made me realize how false that is. I miss John a lot. He was so funny and caring and loved me so much. I honestly think I can now realize that he loved me just as much as I loved him. And I loved him so fucking much. Just being next to him made everything okay.
The night my mom found an empty cartridge in my room and messaged me about it asking and I thought I was done for, and all I did was just cry, John was just there and as terrified as I was, I was okay because of him.
I think its because its December and the holidays are coming and last winter was probably one of the best parts of my life so far.
My 6 week winter break was full of shabu, Fiona, my new polaroid, and just freedom. I was so happy I had Sen Nick and Tyler. I was so happy I had my friends at home. Everything was just so nice. And I had the plan to go to slo with Faith before break ended, and it was just so nice.
I miss that feeling of being so excited to see John again.
As hard and fucking unfair the distance was being with him obviously made it worth it.
I wish I realized how unhappy John was.
But there’s nothing I could’ve done.
And I need to accept that so that I can stop hating myself for not being better.
Maybe I need to take the next semester off.
Maybe I just need to find new things I could enjoy.
I don’t think I want to go to Disneyland next week with my family.
My sister isn’t talking to me again.
I feel like the family is broken again but its just with me.
I’m slowly turning back into the person I was during the summer.
There are so many people in my past that I want to rekindle things with and just fucking get a meal to catch up, but I can never do that.
I don’t want to talk about John I don’t want to talk about how unhappy and depressed I am.
But I am so tired of pretending like everything is okay.
I feel like deleting all social media again.
Looking on insta after shifts is just shit because I just feel this urge to fucking post but i have nothing to post because I spent my night inside working.
Last night was really fun though. I got off work at around 11 I think and came home and showered and was just going to be on my phone for hours till I was okay enough to sleep.
I knew Shin wanted to fuck haha but I told him that I felt like shit so he called me and asked what was up and why I’m depressed.
He actually listened even though I was barely telling him everything because then he would probably think I’m insane if he doesn’t already but yeah he told me to just focus on things I love and that it really helps.
It’s so admirable how much he loves working out and playing basketball.
But yeah we talked for nearly an hour until he decided to get me and I came outside when he said he was here and as I walked out i noticed he was outside walking to me and he gave me a hug and we drove behind Target and sat there for maybe like 30 min just talking and listening to jbel and the script LOL HE SANG THIS ONE SONG SO FUCKING LOUD he said hes never sung that loudly in front of anyone before hahaha i wish i knew what song it was but i will cause he plays it daily. i just hate asking so im gonna have to snake a peek at his phone the next time it plays.
my toes were rlly cold and so he started warming my right foot with his hands and blew air into them a lot haha it was so cute and he gave me a dank ass fucking foot massage holy shit. it hurt like a bitch but in the best way possible. my feet/ankles are always so fucked when i work. so it was especially dank.
I also didn’t wear makeup and he said I look better without makeup haha i was like ooooooooooooooooooooook but rlly yeah i was happy he said that especially because I’ve been wearing makeup daily because I just hate myself without it.
But that day I had a bare face and actually felt okay.
He kissed me and he kept saying how he loves kissing me so much.
Omg and we made out to jon b like im sorry but it was fucking amazing. ok we also fucked to him too HAHAHAHA
And then kevin told us to cruise outside cydni’s house cause him paul and esther were smoking so we went and as we pulled up, paul looked at us through his open window and we both laughed in the same explosive way HAHAHAHAH and they told us to shut the fuck up jk they just sushed us ahahahah omfg. it was just too gold. i really don’t want to ever smoke in front of shin again but yeah I couldn’t just say no to weed haha so we hit a piece which burned the shit out of my throat and I was pretty faded I guess and shin kept coughing cause we werent hotboxing the car but it was still potent and i felt bad :(
and he was like IS SECONDHAND FADED A THING hahahaha and esther had her juul so i hit that and then we left the car to smoke and i smoked a stoog. oh yeah so immediately after we got out of the car to walk to their car in the beginning, we were just standing outside their car as they were sitting inside and shin like immediately took off his jacket (the warm flannel we got at pacsun whom he loves) and gave it to me even tho he was wearing a tshirt and shorts ugh. i took it off before smoking cause i didn’t want it to smell so he put it back on and he was like “you can wear it once youre done smoking” haha.
and he offered to give it back on the way back to his car but i said i was ok.
then on the drive to my house i stuck my body out the window to vent out the smell LOL and it was cold as fuck but felt cool esp with shin’s crazy ass driving hahahahah and i was like i wish you had a sunroof and he was like “yeah thats my bad” and i was like NO BITCH IM NOT TRYING TO COMPLAIN ITS NOT UR BAD I MJSUT SAYING lol
and shin has told me how much he hates smoking and the extent of it and how its so unattractive to kiss someone whos smoked so im like welp but as i was getting out of the car he was like yeah fuck u u smell i aint kissing you and i made a pout as i was getting out and he was like no wait and he kissed my cheek hehe. and before that he asked if i was feeling better and i said yes and thanked him and he said yeah of course anytime in a tone like ofc bitch. haha
i love when he kisses my head T^T
but yeah i came home around 4:40 or however long it took to get to my house and I was happy and hickey’d up and i was just so happy we ended up doing that.
i slept right before 7am and woke up like 11 so yeah i barely slept which is probably why i felt so off today.
but i just stayed in bed till my hair cut which was at 2 and kathy was so shocked to see i cut my bangs LOL going on and on about how i never wanted bangs and then i do it and i WISH I DID NOT TRIM THEM LAST WEEK CAUSE THEYRE SO SHORT NOW CAUSE THEY WERE SO UNEVEN AND I LOWKEY HATE MY HAIR AND I WISH I DIDNT GET IT CUT SHORT UGH I FUCKING HATE MY LIFE but im gonna work with it and we’ll see.
I wanna change my hair color again but idk what to change it to.
Then i went to emily’s and we picked up at unity and smoked and caught up and she was doing her interior design homework and i had to leave cause of work which sucked cause i just wanted to actually hang out but i covered shin’s shift today cause he spent all day studying so im glad i got to help him out and if it were anyone else’s shift i would’ve hated myself lol.
but he didn’t call me until like 1 or something but i knew he would call eventually and he said he wanted to finish his work early so we could’ve hung out but he has way too much and so we just talked but i could barely talk cause my bitchass sister always fucking goes off about how inconsiderate i am so yeah lmao but yeah and i told him i got off work early to which he said he knew cause i got home around 11 and i ate and he calculated it and theres no way i couldve eaten after getting off at 10:30 and got home HAHAH like he cared enough to think about that....
and then i told him i have work tomorrow 11:30-5 and he said then maybe he’ll come bring me boba
i dont expect him to but maybe he will
im so fucking over work
i cant believe its already sunday tomorrow and i have to go back to school for chapel i think.
fucking kill me. i just want to have free time
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tfw hating life enough for a reeadmooore
yesterday afternoon i’d blocked out 3 pgs in my sketchbook & by that night i was thinking like well i’m so close to finished the sketchbook finally (ive been using it about a yr and a half by now) that i could just stop drawing when i hit the end there
but i’d mentioned the impending end of my sketchbook space a friend is already in the process of sending over some they havent ever used so that will at least mean if i stop drawing it’ll just have to be because i want to lol
like in this case it’s special b/c of course i’ve had periods where i’m like smh what if i just don’t draw anymore, but that’s tended to be about being frustrated w some element or other of it all. this time it was mostly just that every day of my life i have a tiny bit less motivation or energy or etc. yesterday i was thinking all day about offing myself, which i’d done the day before, and done today too
like, it’s nothing new, i’ve been hating being alive and wanting to kms and only moving in the direction of less disappointment to more disappointment and having to care less about things i previously cared about because for one reason or another things get to a point where it only adds frustration to my life anymore
but despite depression and wanting to die and life being miserble all being Not New, that doesn’t mean that it doesnt matter anymore, because after day after day after day after day after day of it for years and years, you’re in a worse place than you were a while back, even if you do feel the same. even a single day of wishing you were dead the whole time is shitty enough. feeling overall like even if you’re in a good mood now, you know your life is trash and you’re going to go back to feeling bad soon, is also shitty enough
like the thing that drawing had going for me is that, like reading and writing sometimes and even some other shit, it’s something i like to do. i do it for myself, really. but it helps that its the way i trick ppl into being here in the first place to see anything i’m talking about. i have really crap appeal. i mean i’m bad at being appealing thru shit i draw, but it’s still way more of something anybody wants vs like five yrs worth of my text posts. like...i have over 10x more followers than i did on a blog where i rarely drew anything ever
but anyways despite me drawing b/c i enjoy it, i enjoy enjoying things less. always in the middle of that “loss of interest in pleasure” life lol.......it doesn’t really matter how long i do or don’t keep drawing, b/c i mean, it doesn’t much matter to me whether i’m having fun or not. i can be enjoying drawing and still wanting to die, because that’s whats happening lol.....nothing that’s a personal factor of my life is all that important to me, because my personal existence is not that important to the person living it
also it sure hasnt helped that my sense of things like whether my life can get better or i’ll have the opportunity to pursue my nonexistent dreams or live an ideal version of my life that also doesn’t exist are all at all-time lows and only just getting lower day by week by month by year. the only way i can even look at cheering myself up is from a day-to-day perspective. and i can have a slightly more fun day than usual and then be extra down on the very next day b/c of how being a bit less numb means you’re crap-feeling emotions are now game too. and i’m very aware of how, if you’re not in a position that insulates you enough, if things get worse for you, that makes “things getting worse for you” more likely, and it’s an exponential drop that gets harder and harder to climb out of, and even if you move back up a notch out of good luck, you’re still just as likely to be knocked back down to where you were. the odds of me suddenly not only not fucking hating being alive but also having a life that doesnt fucking make me hate being alive? that’s a funny joke
also it’s frustrating that whether i feel good or miserable on any given day only really exists if i say something about it in a post like this lol... like i might feel awful one day but if i dont have it in me to spend ages writing about it, which is difficult also b/c putting feelings into words where ppl will only fully Get It if they’ve felt that way too, anyways if i dont write about how shitty i feel and post it then maybe later on when i’m feeling a little better or feeling a different kind of shitty, i also won’t be interested in being like “oh btw i felt awful the other day.” and if i don’t mention it, as far as everyone in the world knows, it was never a thing that happened, so it might as well not have. i mean, as a person i might as well not be happening, especially since i don’t want me to be happening lol
and like i was saying to someone the other day, its a lot harder via text to talk about shit b/c like, if you’re with a friend in person, you can talk abt boring or silly things and its easy and makes a good conversation. whereas talking via twitter means it would be clunky and time consuming to layout exactly had empty and depressing my existence is, and silly shit isn’t even worth the energy when you’re having a convo w lengthy gaps in it, so you can only really talk about the broadest, most interesting shit. which i don’t have much of, oh well
i do like talking and talking to people actually, it’s just rough when it’s all a few ppl online, even though i alsp extremely appreciate those people and enjoy the talking. it’s like, chatting to ppl online is like a piece of chocolate cake. it’s delicious and you love it, but it would be amazing if it was the extra bonus on top of getting solid meals every day, instead of it being the only thing you have to eat and you get it maybe once or twice a week and it’s still wonderful and is all the more valuable for it, but it isnt the same as getting enough to eat always, or Knowing you’ll keep getting enough to eat
anyways my social life is always its own special kind of depressing, even when i AM in the same place as friends. you’d have a hard time finding a situation where the concept of What I Have To Say seems interesting or even relevant to other ppl. and im not sure i’ve ever been in groups where i feel totally comfortable with everyone there and don’t feel out of place. so talking about the idea of knowing you always have access to someone to talk to or be with in person or having friends who you know you can hang out with and they actually like you and you still expect to have them a few yrs down the road—all that’s always been a “well, in theory i mean” or “at least, i imagine it would be like that” issue for me
tbh i generally feel the most comfortable enjoying myself when i do something alone; maybe it’s because i have more experience of ppl im around treating me really shittily than treating me well
ohhhhhh wellllllllllllllll what else do i have to talk about. hmmm the fact that feeling like i wanna die only seems to be regarded as an issue of “well are you gonna or not,” aka if you havent its a Victory and a happy situation instead of it being a matter of EVERY DAY I’M A CONSCIOUS ORGANISM I WISH I WAS DEAD AND MY EXISTENCE HAS BEEN HEADED IN THAT DIRECTION FOR AT LEAST THE LAST HALF OF IT
like how heartwarming that i’ve been actively suicidal for how many years? 6? 8? but i havent yet!! i always want to but just never get around to it and so this time for sure lol no more fooling around!! oh dammit and there goes another birthday still alive. like this is some elusive new years resolution or novel i mean to write.
funny i mention it because there’s practically nothing anymore that i want to do. even if i THOUGHT my life would ever become okay, i want fuckall out of it. i only exist, baby............and it’s like i said earlier, whenever i try to come up with a sad amount of potential motivations NOT to die, i have to realize that none of the shit is actually for me, or directly about me, or centered on me. like, this shit lost its charm ages ago.
well anyways. i suppose thats all i can think to say now. and it doesn’t make a difference whether i talk about my shitass existence and how crap i feel or not. it just gives the chance for a bit of it to exist in the world via a few other ppl being aware of it for a few minutes maybe, because who DOESNT want to thoroughly read a shit essay by some random weirdo about how everything sucks. the end
#i was innovative and typed this in twitter dark mode so my phone could have a break from me embedding the keyboard in the screen#anyways i wanna dye 😂😂😂
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