Operator, my fingers can’t dial
Call my mother
Ask her about the gardens
Ask her about the skies
I searched for the fern I couldn’t find
But don’t tell her
She doesn’t want the failure of my lies
beep beeeep beeeep beeeep beeep
Operator, my fingers are numb
Let me borrow your pinky
Call my sister
I’m in a hurry
For something beyond hockey
Ask her about something with more variety
Ask her if she still cups her fingers for every heart
Tell her she’s off to a great start
Flootube ruined her laugh
I said it didn’t affect her craft
But don’t tell her
She never did like some paths
beeep beeep beeep beeep beeep
Operator, my thumb can’t press down for much longer
Shift the numbers to the right
Call my brother if you can reach him
He’s on a flight
Thank him for the pizza
It tried to fill a missing part
I was too watered down
Heavier than his larks
But don’t tell him
He’ll hold me to an IOU
That says I love you
beeep beeep beeep beep beep
Operator, my arm is trembling
Call my father
Who, once, let me wear his mittens
My prints couldn’t align with his
In his mind, I was already written
A dream I refused to seize
Regale him with my freedom
But don’t tell him
He seeks not a kingdom
beep beep beeep beeep beeep
Operator, I can’t hang on
This line is not by a spider’s brush
Will you hang up on me too
Off, on, off on, off on
On, off, on off, on off
I pushed the button so many times
Is it broken
Or is it my touch
How do you fix beyond Reparo
On, off, on
Is there no more yarrow
beeep beep beep beep beep
Operator, I’ll speak tomorrow
beep beeep beeep beeep beeep
linnea treats her life like her middle name. her middle name, for the record, is myungsun, and she goes on pretending it's not there. she goads people too much for her to not like it. it's nice seeing other people lose control for once. soap is what she is, when you've not washed it off fast enough and it starts sticking to your skin and getting itchy. her mind is as slippery as her hands, the way it's willing to ignore lines that shouldn't be touched. lines are meant to be cut, she'll tell you. lifelines, elastic waistbands, strings of fate, or someone's hair on the bus hitting you every time they move in their seat — she doesn't care. cut it. she hates loose ends and anything left hanging in the air. they get in the way when she's out doing. crash and burn or not, she won't leave her bolts unbolted. linnea treats her life like it's nothing. it's hers to deal with. now other gas lines? she won't breathe air that isn't her own.
words don't have to be textbook rated to work. linnea doesn't speak often. why would she need to when she does everything alone? in projects and mandatory team-up, she leaves it up to everyone else. there's a select list of what she wants. peer approval and peer attention are not on it. a position where she has to consider other people's feelings? hard dodge. lucky for everyone, she's milder than she comes off. (unless your name is lucien, but that aside...) linnea finds no charm in the battle of tongues. she says her piece and moves on. if everyone did the same, that would be great, but most people would rather have the last word than the truth. she thinks it's bullshit and people are full of it, including herself. brings us back to point one: she doesn't speak. no one listens anyway. she doesn't listen. too many people talk over each other as they claim a relevance that wasn't theirs to decide. join in and be one of the self important souls, wanting to prove whatever it is? she'll die without.
one foot in front of the other. no bounce, no skip, no twirl. linnea's fear of heights is the only thing grounded about her. she's a take off waiting to happen. and as long as she has any say in it, it'll happen. decisions can get too hard, too cruel, and to linnea, every single one of them is. she runs because that's her answer. does an answer equal solution? no. it complicates, it aggravates, and it holds nothing back. you'd be a damn fool to think linnea's anything outside of that. is it bad to only have one direction, one face, one flow? she doesn't think so. people have their faces. she has her hands. their faces won't stay steady. her hands won't let go. the moment she stops moving is the moment she starts lying to herself. she can't hold everything, but she can hold on to what's still real. better than waiting for someone to hold her hand for her.
11 Hours ago
this is a family portrait. like all wizarding photos, it has that magical quality of movement within its borders. there are exactly five people in the photo. erik, who stands out with his long dark hair and amused brown eyes that give the impression that he's about to do something mischievous. his wife looks more picture ready. myungeun, who can't help being pretty and having the natural aura of kindness around her. too focused on her husband, she doesn't notice the slight mutiny going on at waist-level. liselotte, the youngest, who is sweet-looking and obviously spunky. there's linnea next to hear, half a head taller and looking like she doesn't want to be there. and curled around his father's arm is lukas. bright eyes and a pretty boy face, sandwiched in the middle of all the chaos. the occasion should call for formalwear, but erik and lukas both have the unmistakeable teal jersey of the san jose sharks.
linnea hates that portrait of them. it was the last photo they took together before she realized she didn't belong in the frame with them. did she ever belong? that's a question she'll skip in favour of arithmetic. she doesn't like arithmetic. linnea is the middle child of erik and myungeun, but no one, including herself, remembers that until she's arguing loudly in swedish with lukas using the tone you reserve for older siblings. lukas is erik's favourite, and liselotte is myungeun's. since birth, linnea showed no interest in the things their parents tried to get her into. she couldn't see the appeal in k-pop or exo and variety shows were too scripted to be enjoyable. her voice was too low for singing along to pop songs, her body too gangly for ballet. on the ice, she was too stubborn to do what erik told her to do. he was sad that day. she remembers one of lukas' friends giving her a pitying look. "guess not every karlsson is good at this game, after all".
she ran off after that, shedding her skates as she went.
it turned out she was really good at running. part of why erik had begged her to give hockey a shot was her long legs. for a good two years, she was a head taller than lukas. he caught up eventually which prompted erik to stop badgering her. outside of that, her height caused more problems. school wasn't so kind to a girl being the tallest in her year. linnea's math teacher was half a centimeter shorter and openly persecuted her. she ditched class so much she had the fastest route to their neighbours' back door plotted three days in her first grundskola year. recess gone wrong? linnea ran. deskmate being obnoxious? linnea ran. her shoes stolen? linnea ran. one day she was called up for her numerous absences and the amount of scuffles she'd gotten in when she did stay in school. erik and myungeun were on her side at least. the school environment must be sapping her energy, they argued. they weren't wrong, but so was her home environment. "since she likes running so much, maybe she should join the track team." so her grades and record were salvaged by her legs. if you ask her, it was all they were good for. it helped that (when she tried, an exasperated teacher reported), she already knew french for the future foreign language course. she wouldn't ever be have to do it, since at age 12 everyone expected her to be in a magic school, but multilingualism sat nicely with the school administration.
lukas had the unfortunate idea of nicknaming her linny. she was eight and the previous day hadn't been the best. one of their hockey pucks flew from another room to smack lukas in the mouth. it wasn't very bloody, but it did lukas good that they had magic and his teeth could be fixed. he took it pretty well, because lukas myungjun karlsson is perfect and doesn't lose his temper over silly things like his little sister decking him in the face. when he calls her linny these days, he does it fondly. she wonders if he actually cares (he does) or he's still guilty over her quidditch accident. he didn't have anything to be guilty over except woefully neglecting her existence. of what she's assumed, he thinks he should've gotten her to come with them to the game instead of stay behind with their neighbors. then she wouldn't have fallen so hard from her broom, the copse of trees and bushes nearby wouldn't have had its roots stained with her blood, and she wouldn't have arrived at the nearest wix hospital medically dead. thanks to the grandmother couple next door, she was alive. but they did tell linnea about how upset her brother and sister were, and the proof of it was the mismatched flowers they'd gotten her. the flowers had been wrong for the occasion, but they'd gotten her favourite colours down.
things were looking up for their relationship. lukas knew how to get to people and linnea was more open then. lucien fleury ruined all of that with his stupid lips. linnea resents him deeply for that. all of a sudden, lukas didn't have time to reach out to her anymore. no, he was too busy cozying up to every male his age and experimenting. they were divided beyond after school destination again. she thought, fine, i don't need you anyway, as she learned more and more about cars at the repair shop the grandmothers owned. it was where her phone (the biggest miracle in the world is that her parents remembered to get her into the loop of things) leaped out of her pocket with her durmstrang notification. the same day she was allowed to take her first look under a vehicle. she cared more about that than having to go with her brother to shop for books she needed. the next week, she broke from his crowd of friends (she may have untied lucien's shoelaces) and cleared up her list on her own. no one gave her a second look. in their eyes, she was a third year. lukas didn't notice (he did). she gave the quidditch shop displays a second look then bailed right out of there. three years after the accident, her feet stayed on the ground.
first year wasn't anything different from the rest of her life. she threw up on her broom on the first day of flying lessons and was excused for the rest of her school years. she batted away potential friendships and went to classes alone. lukas would try to invite her to sit with him every now and then. she said no every time. he found her pitiful (he didn't). linnea had plans and magic was in none of them. those were skewed when the points decided to transfer to hogwarts and the rest followed. myungeun absolutely insisted that linnea should go too, so lukas could keep an eye on her. what eye? she'd said for the sake of protesting. their word was final.
11 Hours ago
Extended social contact, commitment, heart to hearts, heights
Plans half undone, running, saying no for the sake of saying no
Cars, driving, Muggle life
Skateboarding, flower arrangement
Skilled At ||
Repairs, Transfiguration, speaking and doing things on her own terms
More Trivia ||
Her favourite drink is vegetable smoothies.
Her favourite flower is the one in her name - the twinflower.
Her favourite Quidditch team is the Vratsa Vultures.
She speaks French so well that natives would think it's her second language if she actually opened her mouth.
Spanish is fucking confusing. Doesn't stop her from understanding the basic levels.