why am i like this? | charlie

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

THE SMALL LEATHER SATCHEL HUNG NEAR HER hip, and was not at all unsightly. Matching her pressed robes and shiny Prefect pin. However, it still felt like a chain around her neck as she marched with purpose down the corridor. Some of her friends had commented on the way Jimmie had come to walk recently. Severe straight back and nose in the air. This was not due to her snobbish proclivities, as most had presumed. Rather, Jimmie found that if she didn't look below the neck of any of her peers she could hardly notice the strings tangling around them. It was a poor solution.

Down the stairs, the corridor was lit by intermittent lanterns that flickered angrily. Jimmie knew the passage fairly well, she had haunted the Hufflepuff common room on more than one occasion. The homely arena providing comfort when her own did not. Plus, quite a few of her friends were Puff's. She wasn't looking for her friends though, one hand going to the satchel as she eased past a gaggle of laughing first years falling around the barrels that concealed the entrance.

Jimmie squeezed through the nook, warm light emanating from within invitingly. She could smell the remnants of the nights feast, tickling her nose and rumbling in her stomach. She hadn't come for a social call, it was a much more mortifying purpose. The Weekly party had given Jimmie a bit of a reputation, the rumours flying about her burst nose and heinous appearance. Jimmie had been rather red faced after sobering up the following morning. She'd been stubborn to stay, but waking up in somebody else's shirt with a terrible headache had been a bit rough for the proud Gryffindor.

Since then, the memories had returned and so had Jimmie's pride. She remembered the roof, the blistering cold and Charlie Weekly's California smile. She also remembered pulling her hand to her cut lip and laughing far too much to feel dignified. Charlie had given her a shirt to go home in, her bedroom filled with expensive furniture and if Jimmie was remembering correctly some kind of heavy crystal ball. The shirt had been silken and so comfortable that when Charlie had left her room to collect something to fix her burst lip, Jimmie had laid down across the bottom of Charlie's bed and promptly fallen asleep.

The following morning, Jimmie had awoken in disarray, her mouth dry and head throbbing. She'd left in a hurry, the shirt still on her back and her tail between her legs. She hadn't spoken to Charlie since, avoiding her like the plague. But, she'd brought the borrowed shirt to school with her after the holiday's had concluded, feeling guilty and a little braver than she had the following morning. She had just never had the guts to actually cross that line from avoidance to confrontation. Plus, she'd been very busy. She was a seventh year, she didn't have time. Or, so she would say.

After clearing out her case in anticipation for her spring wardrobe, Jimmie had found the shirt again. Pressed in a neat pile, she'd examined it once more, finding the sewn tag and nearly fainting on the spot. The shirt had been bespoke, the stitching hand-made and spelled to fit the wearer to a T. Jimmie had wondered how it had fit her so completely when Charlie was much thinner and angular than she was. That's what had ultimately brought Jimmie to the Hufflepuff common room. She didn't mean to apologise, or thank her. No, she had to make amends for the precious piece of fashion she had been quietly hording for months.

Nobody batted an eyelid at Jimmie's appearance in the common room, much to her relief. She slipped up the side stairs, checking doorways until after asking two third years, she found Charlie Weekly's dormitory. She'd been hoping the girl would be in the common room, to no avail. Clearing her throat, she knocked once and poked her head around the short, wooden doorway. "Charlie...?" She asked tentatively, half hoping she wouldn't be there and she could simply leave the shirt on the foot of her bed before fleeing. "Charlie... Weekly...?" She said again, shifting restlessly as she eased herself more fully in to the room. 

charlie marie weekly

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[charlie marie weekly]

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Back to school. It was never as thrilling returning for the spring term as it was going back in the fall. That much hadn’t changed between Ilvermorny and Hogwarts. The weather was horrid at both, and while the Hufflepuff common room and dorms were quite cozy, neither felt like the Wampus dorms did. Maybe she had just become so accustomed to them over the years that they gave off that impression. She had no idea if she would ever make it back to her first school at this point, but it seemed almost pointless after spending two years at Hogwarts. It was easy to transfer her classes and knowledge from fourth to fifth year. Now she was in the middle of more advanced classes that would look better for her if she wanted to stick around in London after graduating. That would certainly get her away from her mother for a little longer. The independence she had been craving for herself was finally starting to form and she didn’t want to throw it all away just yet.

Huddled up on her bed, she had her Care of Magical Creatures text sprawled out in front of her. There wasn’t any homework yet, a new professor had taken over the class during break, so it was more casual reading than anything else. The funniest part about the new professor was that he seemed delighted to have a student with the same first name as him, which Charlie had sort of grinned and nodded her head at until he finished putting the spotlight on her. Professor Weasley was, for all intents and purposes, goals for what she eventually wanted to do. He was just a bit too charismatic for that early in the morning. She totally understood the excitement surrounding dragons though, and secretly hoped he’d be able to break one out to show his classes. Seeing two dragons in such a short span of time would be the highlight of her time at Hogwarts.

Blinking back the sandman as she mindlessly flipped pages in her book, she heard the dorm door crack open and her name called twice. It wasn’t uncommon for a sibling or someone sent by one of them to get thrown into the Hufflepuff common room to hunt her down, so she figured it was just that. Craning her neck around the half-shrouded four-poster, she tried to see who it could be. “Over here!” she called back, waving a hand at the blonde girl that stepped into the dorm.

The first thing Charlie noticed as she slid herself to the edge of her bed was that the girl was sporting a Prefect badge. So of course her immediate thought was that something had happened. “Did one of my siblings do something again?” she asked with a yawn, rubbing at her tired eyes with her hand.

Jameson Hera Blishwick ● 476 ● Sugar, Sugar by The Archies

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[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

THE BRIEF MOMENT OF SILENCE GAVE JIMMIE false hope. Her spirits rising until she heard the creek of a mattress and the shuffle of bed clothes. Jimmie's heart immediately started racing, face flushing an unpleasant red as she gripped the satchel closer to her hip, stuck at the edge of the doorway as an unkempt head of blond surfer waves emerged from a half pulled bed curtain. It was definitely Charlie Weekly, no matter how mottled Jimmie's drunken memory was. She'd noticed her before in the halls, the sight of her bringing a prickle of embarrassment every time. More than the sight of sister ever had.

"Right..." Jimmie heard the summons and stiffly moved from the cracked doorway, clearing her throat as she carefully stepped inside. The clubbed heel of her laced shoes clicking loudly on the cold, worn floor. She flinched with every step, mortified in to a stale silence. There was a brief moment where Charlie's eyes swung over to Jimmie, catching on her face and then her robes. It made her stop mid-way, palms sweating as she felt appraised. And then her lazy expression split in a yawn and Jimmie felt utterly forgettable.

Jimmie had spent months agonising over her secret shame. The memories clouded, but clear enough to sting as she'd thrown herself around the Weekly's penthouse flat. With a bloody nose and a borrowed jumper. How she'd awoken with spittle crusted on her cheek and an expensive cashmere blanket tucked around her. She'd felt talked about, ashamed. Charlie didn't even seem to remember her. All she saw was her polished Prefect pin before asking about her siblings, resigned to their troublemaking.

"Um, no- actually, I mean, I don't know." Jimmie stuttered angrily, clearing her throat again before she twisted the satchel around her front and carefully rummaged inside, dipping her chin as she did. Thinking all the while how she should have just kept the blasted thing. That Charlie would probably have never noticed, because she gave her shirts away often enough that it hardly mattered. The silk was folded and steamed to precision, a roll of decadence marred by sweating fingers as Jimmie pulled it free. She'd taken such care, it all seemed ridiculous now.

"I brought your shirt back." She thrust it out abruptly, eager to be free of it. However, the wealth of space between them was too far. Jimmie still leaning towards the doorway and Charlie's bed well out of reach. Jimmie took a few awkward steps forward, a curtain of blonde hair falling in to her eyes as she brandished it impatiently. "From the party." She clarified, mouth terse and cheeks flaming. "I forgot to give it back." 

charlie marie weekly

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[charlie marie weekly]

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The Prefect didn’t know if one of the Weekly siblings had done something? Wasn’t that the only reason one from another house would show up in a Hufflepuff dorm? Charlie was slightly confused by her own assumption, and it seemed like maybe she had also done it to the girl as well, who had stepped all the way into the room by then. She started rummaging through the bag that she had in her hands, and Charlie slid all the way to the edge of her four-poster, kicking her feet back and forth curiously. It wasn’t often that someone came calling to her dorm room, and when it did happen, it was usually one of her siblings. The girl definitely looked familiar, though the name was escaping her at the moment. She decided that staring intently at her guest until the lightbulb went off was her best course of action, as there really wasn’t much to ask if one of her siblings wasn’t in trouble.

The girl produced a shirt from inside the back, and then stated that she was bringing it back, having borrowed it at the party. The lightbulb went off immediately, and it all flashed back instantly. “I’d forgotten too!” she exclaimed, hopping to her feet and covering the remaining distance that the other girl had already tried to walk, meeting her in the middle. “Jimmie, right? There was so much going on the next morning that I completely forgot to tell you that you could keep it. That’s on me,” Charlie grinned, pushing back at the brandished shirt. If she had expected it back, she wouldn’t have offered it in the first place. Plus it was mostly because Monday had punched the poor girl earlier in the night and completely ruined the shirt she had been wearing with bloodstains. Obviously nothing magic couldn’t immediately fix, but none of them were thinking too much when that amount of alcohol was involved. “Sorry again about Mo. There isn’t any lasting damage, right?” she asked as she leaned in closer to Jimmie, inspecting her nose. She was almost positive that was where she had been slugged, but there were some things that were still a bit hazy from that night.

Jameson Hera Blishwick ● 371 ● Egyptian Pools by Jinsang

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[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

THE EXPENSIVE FABRIC CLUNG TO JIMMIE'S damp palms. Mouth dry as she saw the recognition alight Charlie Weekly's pretty face, hopping up so quickly that Jimmie flinched backwards. "R-right." She nodded, her brow creasing as she watched her close to space between them but not grab the offered shirt. Jimmie felt silly, her arm floating in the middle of the air as Charlie insistently pressed it back towards her. She clutched it to her chest, confused and still wildly embarrassed.

"Oh..." She said quietly, her thumb rubbing against the luxurious stitching. "Are you sure? I mean, I had it cleaned if that's what your worried about." She said stiffly, unsure if she should feel insulted or not. The Weekly's were an odd family, she'd known that already. But, Charlie's persistent kindness was a little unsettling. Still looking downward, Jimmie didn't realise how close Charlie had come to her until she lifted her chin and almost headbutted the girl. They were near nose to nose, Jimmie's eyes crossing as she realised Charlie was inspecting her nose.

"N-" Jimmie gasped, a laugh caught in her throat as she leaned back and covered her face. Her face hot as she felt her gaze flicker over the gentle plains of Charlie's familiar face, the way her cupid's bow stretched when she smiled. They'd been this close before, Jimmie remembered, a hand pulling Charlie's own over her bruised face. Jimmie blinked and looked down, body stiff was awkwardness. "My face is fine." She muttered, a crease in her brows as she took her hand away and gestured nervously. "I mean, does it look fine?" She was only half joking, the other seriously considering Charlie's shrewd, but kind expression.

charlie marie weekly

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[charlie marie weekly]

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Goodness, this girl was really going to fight over a silly t-shirt, wasn’t she? Charlie had a dozen others that were exactly the same in the trunk at the foot of her bed. One white shirt wasn’t going to be the end of the world for her, and even if her mom noticed one was missing, the loss of one shirt while at school was miniscule compared to some of the designer items that had been thrust upon her and her siblings. Poor Thursday was the recipient of most, but Charlie had her own handfuls that were in the rented apartment the siblings shared outside of school. None of it was inherently appropriate clothing for Hogwarts and she would absolutely stick out in most of it. Heck, people back home didn’t even wear some of the fancy stuff that the Weekly family was gifted, so much that their closets had closets in the family mansion. So the loss of one shirt from months earlier wasn’t going to hurt her in the slightest. “It’s yours,” Charlie said with a hint of finality in her voice. “Unless it didn’t fit? Could’ve sworn it did that night when I helped you get it on…” she trailed off as she looked Jimmie up and down. Yup. Same height and everything. What fit her would definitely fit this girl too without a doubt.

When Charlie leaned in closer to inspect the other girl’s face, it was immediately covered by a hand. It hadn’t looked like there were any scars or marks left, but maybe it was small and almost unnoticeable until up close? She furrowed her eyebrows as she leaned away from Jimmie a bit. There was a chance that she had gotten a bit too close, though how else would she have been able to see? After a moment, Jimmie pulled her hand away, and Charlie grinned at her. “Looks perfect to me!” She tilted her face closer again, remembering that it was the nose that Monday had punched. It seemed like it was the right shape, similar to how it had been that night over the summer. “You have a cute nose. Did you know that?”

Jameson Hera Blishwick ● 363 ● Thinking of Japan by Roo Panes

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

THOUGH JIMMIE LIVED AND BREATHED FOR A good debate, there was a finality in Charlie's tone that gave her immediate pause. She found herself obediently folding the shirt into her arm, possessively tucking it into herself lest Charlie change her mind all of a sudden. It was an odd gift, Jimmie overthought, given that she wore fairly nice clothes and didn't appear to need the Weekly's persistent charity. Did Charlie think she couldn't dress herself? No that was ridiculous. She was just annoyingly kind. Everything would have been much simpler if she'd just taken the bloody shirt back. "It fit fine," She muttered reluctantly, averting her gaze in awkward confession.

With a hand still pressed against the lower half of her face, Jimmie mirrored Charlie's furrowed brow with one of her own. Did she have to look like that?, Jimmie thought. As if she'd seen something on Jimmie's face before she'd covered it. It left her feeling somewhat insecure, so that when she pulled away she was ready to go on immediate verbal defence. The words died on her tongue the minute Charlie's face split into a blinding grin that left Jimmie squinting, her mouth pursed to stop herself from instinctively smiling back. There something addictive about Charlie's expressions, something Jimmie couldn't put her finger on.

"I'm relieved..." Jimmie drawled, her brows lifting slowly so that her forehead creased gently. She sounded bored, but underneath her practiced reply she was terribly relieved. Merlin, if Charlie had pointed out some miniscule flaw on Jimmie's face, she felt sure she'd have fainted on the spot. The followed statement broke the shaky veneer Jimmie had adopted and she found herself unable to refrain from smiling at Charlie. Her brows pulling together in confusion as a pink blush coloured her cheeks. "Uh- it's the first I've heard, actually." She stuttered, sniffed as she dropped her gaze and fought the urge to prod her 'cute' nose to check it was, in fact, observable.

Stepping back, Jimmie cleared her throat and rubbed the heel of her palm against her heated cheek. "You know-" She shook her head, still smiling softly as she half turned away and then swayed back towards Charlie all at once - a restless ball of energy. "You're sort of odd," She half laughed, no insulting but inquisitive in her confession. "You give me your shirt, you let me sleep in your room after your sister punched me in the face..." She shook her head again, squinting at Charlie in that curious suspicion Jimmie was so familiar with. "Is that a Weekly thing, or just a Charlie thing?"

charlie marie weekly

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[charlie marie weekly]

▲

Oh Merlin, what was she even saying? The words had slipped out as she inspected Jimmie Blishwick's face without even realizing it. Still being close enough to see the physical reaction the other girl had to the compliment, Charlie also felt her face start to burn a bit, and she mimicked Jimmie's movement and moved slightly back to create space between the two of them. If only she could come with lines and be that smooth consciously. The fact that it slipped out like that without trying made her want to scream, because usually it would take an entire week of mentally planning every scenario possible before she got the courage to even drop that sort of word on someone other than an animal. It simply didn't happen. And now she had maybe driven a wedge between the two of them? It was hard to tell because Jimmie was sort of covering her face with a hand.

The other girl took a moment but eventually told Charlie that she was odd; no disagreements from her on that one. Growing up in her family, she sort of had to be when she was literally the only one that could be considered 'normal'. All her siblings were normal in her eyes, but in the grand scheme of things they weren't. Charlie liked to think that any of her siblings would have helped Jimmie out if they had witnessed a similar situation (except Monday, unless she wasn't the one throwing the punch), but the rest of it was all her. One-hundred percent Charlie. "Err...it's a me thing. I think..." What else could she say now? Her little compliment had her brain halfway between short-circuiting and working on overdrive, which wasn't a great state to hold any meaningful conversation with. Especially when she'd caused it to do that. "Yeah...definitely a me thing," Charlie repeated lamely.

Jameson Hera Blishwick ● 311 ● Song by Artist

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[Jameson Hera Blishwick]

no care in the world.

THE SHIRT PRESSED FIRMLY TO HER CHEST, Jimmie found herself slowly relaxing. Maybe it was the easy going way Charlie lounged on her bed, her smile loose around the edges. She had the kind of face that looked like it smiled a lot, like it fit on her face. Jimmie found herself self conscious with each smile she managed back, afraid it wouldn't look half as natural on her face as it did Charlie's. Her hand slowly, but surely, pulled away from where she rubbed her nervously against her mouth.

"Thought so," Jimmie confessed, pressing her lips together to stop herself from smiling stupidly. There was something hypnotic about the way Charlie just said whatever was on her mind. For some reason she thought Jimmie had a cute nose, so she had told her so. There was no social filter, and Jimmie found herself wondering what she'd say next. She stepped closer to the bed, dropping her gaze and relaxing her arms so that they were hanging at her sides, shirt bundled into one hand.

"Do you always say exactly what you're thinking?" Jimmie asked after a moment, rocking forward in place so that her knee knocked against the edge of the mattress. After a second she used the reserve of her nerves to turn and finally sit in place, bouncing slightly on the thick duvet cover. "Bet this place is a bit of a dive compared to your... penthouse." Jimmie thought allowed, looking up into the canopy. "You're pretty rich, hm?" The shirt was in her lap now and she rubbed the decadent fabric between thumb and finger. "I mean, this isn't a cheap shirt." She shook it up and held it against her body. "This is a nice shirt and you've just given it away." She turned her head to catch Charlie's eye, lifting her brow inquisitively. 

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