what to find & where to find it: i. trunk ii. bio iii. friends iv. journal v. music. vi. gemcore vii. letters discord: mchne grl#5409 (never be afraid to dm!)

「biography」

...they watched as the wind caught,
the fire spread a little further and died off.
sadie said, "i'm gonna buy us an old house in a big town,
where we can start a life and burn it all to the ground."

:༅｡.｡༅

full name: gem stuart age: twelve ↳ born september 2nd, 2007. school year: first species: human wand: 31,9 cm aspen wood and phoenix feather

likes: guitar and piano, reading, writing, coffee, succeeding in only one try, meaningful conversations, hugs (sort of), cats, and muggles.

dislikes: cinnamon tea, forced wittiness, mentions of his parents, dealing with his own emotions instead of someone else's, and sometimes, only sometimes, being a wizard.

:༅｡.｡༅

favorite class: charms favorite musician: the strokes relationship status: single terrible nightowl.

height: 5'1" hair color: brown eye color: brown musical prodigy

❝every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.❞

Reducio

Every story must have an introduction, whether that introduction begin with the end or not.

Gem’s story began on September 2nd, in Sheffield, England. His parents were both magical, but they spent a very healthy amount of their lives in muggle areas. He was quite an ugly baby, a child both his parents were a bit reluctant to have, but he was a new addition to the family, nonetheless.

Jeff Stuart was a half-blood, a musician that had no idea he was a magical being until he was eleven. His father, who was a muggle, was incredibly proud and sent his son off to Hogwarts, where he met Whitney King, a beautiful young lass that grew up with both of her parents who relished in the fact they were both magical. Their spark did not last long, but because they’d been through so much together, they deemed it fair that they get married and have a child, get a domestic lifestyle over with. Their relationship could be seen has despicable, with how Jeff often isolates, and how Whitney cares for not much of anyone but herself. The way their arguments last months, the passive aggressive aura they both carry, and, for lack of a better word, their nearly unbearable personalities.

Gem grew up in this environment, often feeling very alone and unhappy with his predicament. He didn’t get along with the kids in his neighborhood, his father did little to reach out and communicate with him, and his mum… well, all he ever found when talking to her was that she knew one word; gossip. He was bored, tired, and very, very dejected. He had little hope for his future at the ripe age of five, but that all came to a gradual change when he was introduced to sixteen year old Leland Mauve at the age of eight.

Leland was a young arts prodigy from Wales, now in Sheffield to help Jeff and his band produce another album. Leland was mature for his age, with a high stature and fashion seemingly transported from the American grunge 90’s scene. He always wore sunglasses, had a choppy black haircut, and often wore a dingy old shirt and pants. He spoke to Gem a lot, coaxed him out of the darkest depths of his mind, and sent him off to be a happy young lad. Gem still spends much time with Leland as he can.


So how does someone like Gem Stuart find his magical ability?
On his birthday, he was gifted an old, purebred bloodhound by his father. Gem loved that dog more than he loved life, let me tell you-- he took that dog (named Tate) everywhere he possibly could, running around, playing fetch. One dreary night, Gem decided to take a walk out with his cousins, and as tradition called, Tate tagged along.

Muggle drivers often don’t pay attention, and while Tate was distracted in the middle of the street, it seemed like a car going a bit over the speed limit would hit the bloodhound straight on. Gem turned around just in the nick of time, and the fear in his chest seemed to pounce out and swerve the car, right out of the way.
There were other incidences, too, such as one of his father’s guitars strumming without it being touched, or cassettes playing when no one else was in the room, but it was proof enough their son was a little wizard.
Gem’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts was sent in the mail, clutched tightly by him in a fit of childish excitement. He hadn’t announced it until dinner, when his family was gathered around and present enough to see. His expression must’ve betrayed him, the way his father looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Right, what’s allat about, scout? You look like yer about to burst.”
“I thought you’d never ask!”

Gem hadn’t waited, the way he pulled the folded letter out of his pocket and cleared his throat, announcing his victory to the two other people at the table.

"Dear Mr. Stuart, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on Septembah 1st, we await your owl no longer than July 31st.
Ya hear that? I'm goin' ta Hogwarts!"

Both Jeff and Whitney exchanged glances, then back over at their son, who seemed like he’d burst. Jeff managed a smile, a weak one, but because of his own time there… he was weary, sending his son off like that.

“Ehm, that’s great, lad. You’re sure ya want t-”
“Ov course I do! Are you mad?! This school is legendary! Le-”
“I know, I know. I went, so did yer mum. Guess you ought to get ready, you’ve got a long few years waitin’ for ya.”

「roleplays」

active:

secret blossom ball (open)
all the things you never said (closed)
the adults are talking (open)
the fire and the thud (closed)

completed:

the breakfast club
slumber party haul!
the order of the dawn
spare patience?
movie night!
i just wanted to be one of the strokes
studying (and other shenanigans)
not an 'o' in sight
at the break of dawn
only shallow
who REALLY needs feelings?
old cds, new friends
take up your guitar and try this at home
on the run
break a leg! (literally)
little things on skewers!
food for the soul
shh!
all smiles over here!
emotional dystrophy
the stars have faded
fingers crossed
the clear difference between cats and wolves
well we are too young, and they are too old
still lovely
the thunderbirds (1st meeting)
where is your will, friend?
warm treacle
one point perspective
the art of being a slag

abandoned:

smoke signals
a beautiful day for a picnic
c'est horrifique!
gradual change
ecstatified
the caulfield mindset
now my fears, they come to me in threes
how to preface a guitar solo
modern culture is rubbish
quit being a phony, phony!
blue boy
tracy jacks
broadening one's horizons
twelfth time's a charm...?
secret santa
teddy picker
what a charmer
's' is for sulking
the jeweler's hands

gryffindor
↳ almost the best house, but not quite.

Reducio

Veronica Turner
Acquaintance/Friend

Reducio

Gem's relationship with Veronica is brief and simple. They met on terms that could've been more lighthearted, but he doesn't seem to mind they met on the nick of danger-- maybe that's a bit dramatic, but she swooped in and helped him and Charlotte out from a difficult figure. Eventually, the three of them sat together in the Small Hall and conversed, clicking quite well.

Kyle DeRook | friend and wrestling buddy

Reducio

Gem had been watching Kyle from afar for a while, and finally decided to send him an owl. When they met up, they spoke for about two seconds before complete violence broke out. Gem's pretty sure he's in love. He isn't sure if it's with him, or his energy.

Rafael D'Spacito | ex-boyfriend

Reducio

Gem met Rafa in the library, where he got into a fight with his ex. After sauntering off to the abandoned restrooms, Rafa followed him and they talked it out. At that point, Gem felt like he could fully appreciate the person that Rafael was. Rafa (surprisingly) asked Gem out on a date, and found that they got on even better. Gem finds it very difficult to not want to hold his hand constantly. After a successful date at the leaky cauldron, Gem found himself happy in a blossoming relationship between the two.

ravenclaw
↳ the best house, hands down.

Reducio

Catriona Staverly | study buddies/best friends (currently going through friendship turmoil)

Reducio

They met through an unlikely situation between him, Charlotte, and an uncomfortably loud confrontation in the small hall. While "studying" in the library, they got into a bit of a tousle with two boys which ended in him with a bloody nose and a fuming Catriona. He likes her and appreciates her company, and hopes she shares that opinion with him and his company. She is also the captain and leader of the Gem Protection Squad. He really does love her a lot.

James McMurtrie | King of Sausages, husband, and best mate.

Reducio

Gem met him through them seeing each other around often, eventually recieving an owl to go hang out with him and his friends at the main hall. They got on pretty well. Gem feels they've got a connection that goes beyond best mates, and very much looks up to James. If James jumped off a bridge, Gem would jump right after him.

Lark Flaer | good friends/sister figure

Reducio

Met her through James at the main hall-- she was very sweet to him, which he is grateful for. They're close, and very much have a sibling-esque dynamic. He often confides in her, and he sees her confide in him - she's one of the closest people in his life, and he'd do just about anything to make her happy. She's more like family than his own blood.

Cormac McCarthy | friends

Reducio

Gem met Cormac simply because they were in a club together. He thought he was an amusing figure, quite funny, he hadn't had anything bad to say about him at all. After that, while Gem was laying on the floor of a snowy ground, rethinking all his life, Cormac saved the day with wittiness and humor - Gem is quite fond of him, and finds much solace in his person. He likes him very much.

Katherine Cobwebbe | friends

Reducio

In a bit of a frenzy, Gem found himself shooting her an owl just because he liked her haircut. She responded, and they wound up getting on pretty well, bonding by speaking about their interests in the common room. Gem thinks she's the coolest girl he's ever met.

Lana Monet | friends

Reducio

Gem met Lana in the common room while he was attempting to remember what the American flag looked like - later on, they met up (on accident) on the grounds due to proceeding unfortunate events. He's very attracted to her style (and her) and hopes for a deeper relationship than the one they have now in the future.

hufflepuff
↳ nice people, a bit wimpy, but nice.

Reducio

Asteria Kurokawa | friend & bandmate

Reducio

Gem met Asteria because of an advertisement he put up for guitar lessons, which she took up. Things got deep, mildly aggressive, but empathy and poetry made it a little bit better. After that, they mutually decided to create a punk rock band, the Wrecks. To say they're enthusiastic about it would be an understatement.

Aphrodite Bloom | acquaintances, friends, and allies.

Reducio

They met at the Leaky Cauldron after the two of them had a long day. They got on, and refer to themselves as friends, but also allies. He thinks she's real cool - also, she likes quite good music. And his dad's band.

slytherin
↳ demons from hell.

Reducio

Brielle Gray | friend / ex-girlfriend

Reducio

Gem had initially met her by being the most melodramatic child on earth-- and they actually got along pretty well. They'd moved a bit too quickly with their relationship, and Gem found himself a bit lost in his own feelings and how he could control them. Brielle sent him an owl, stating they'd be better off as friends, and he agreed. He still thinks she's one cool cat.

Emerly Pine | friends

Reducio

Gem found himself talking to Emerly because he was crying, right in front of the great hall. They sat down, had a very philosophical conversation, and compared themselves to a hare and a tortoise. He appreciates Emerly's advice and wisdom.

journal

- - -

“i'm quite illiterate, but i read a lot. ”

✰ ✰ ✰

a simple, brown journal, often hidden under the writer's pillow, kept safe from any wandering, curious eyes. Inside, a mess of items are found in it; writing, opened envelopes, letters, polaroids, and poetry are kept in, some taped to the pages with utmost carefulness. on the very first page, there's the writing of the owner in the top right corner;

gem stuart, ravenclaw.
if found, please return!! these are all of the things that have ever happened to me up until i die. i need them, so that when i'm old, i can laugh at myself and realize how right or wrong i was. (there is a reward!!!)

my mishappenings are very important to me. thank you, x.

✰ ✰ ✰

year one mishappenings.

Reducio

7.29.19

Reducio

Death.
Death is a curious concept. It's always been a wonder to me and more, and is also something we will have to come to terms with eventually. That, or you will be driven to the brink of insanity, and maybe fall over the edge.
I don't know how else to preface this, but my grandfather is not doing too hot. My great grandmother, on my mum's side, is going to die. I was never close with her, but plenty of my family members were, and it has lead me to believe that this is, in fact, an upsetting situation at hand. I can't even necessarily be there for them, because of how much I've distanced myself from them. They were born in another generation, which is just as good as them speaking another language. I don't think that me not being able to feel bad that she is dying makes me a bad person, but it very well might, depending on who you are and the people you hang out with. My extended family are awkward, and difficult to talk to. I am too. This is a problem.
If I were there for the wake, I would hide in my room until it was over. I have no cute stories, jokes, or opinions about my great grandmother. Although, if I were to be there, I might have just come out to see and hear plenty of stories about her from people who knew her, and maybe that would help with my weighted pity and unfortunate lack of knowledge about her. Maybe it would help me see what everyone is so upset about.

Or maybe I'm just making this all about myself.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.1.19

Reducio

Curiosity is certainly going to be the death of any person who has the nerves to go through with their curiosities.
I know that the full phrase is "curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back", but I can't be bothered about being brought back when I've already been dead. I haven't ever felt the effects of puberty simply because it hasn't hit yet, but I'm afraid of what will happen when I eventually do. I never want to feel obligated to feel attracted to other people, girls, and particularly boys.
It isn't that I'm afraid of being teased, everyone will call you gay even if you're the straightest person in the whole world. I'm afraid of myself feeling the effects of being different, it doesn't matter what year it is, how much people have changed, I will not feel like the same person if I discover I'm not as normal as I thought I was. I think girls are pretty, I don't feel any sort of attraction to boys, so what's the worry? I might just be spoon feeding myself anxiety for shites and giggles, but this is a genuine concern that keeps me up at night. A ghost. A ninja.

I recently made a new friend by the name of Ana, who I met in the abandoned toilets. She's got quite the attitude, but I found myself enjoying her company very much once we were able to get past her constant stream of insults and shoving me out of the way whenever I was too slow.
Another girl I met is named Veronica, who I met a couple of days ago with Charlotte. She's very calm and kind, with sweet green eyes. She reminds me of happiness. I like her very much, and she never said anything mean to me, and in fact said I was lovely. This made me blush, but there were no stomach butterflies like I had been told a crush feels like. Not that crushes are checkbox things, but it makes enough sense to me.

This is the part where I become terrified of the kind of person I am going to become.

Early this morning, a boy named James sent me an owl, informing me that he had seen me around and asked if I wanted to hang out with him and his friends. Naturally, I had nothing better to do and agreed. When I saw him, he looked almost exactly like my cousin, Theo, which scared me a bit. He does seem to have a blabbermouth, but I don't mind that. In fact, I like it very much, because I can hear him when he speaks. He's pleasing to look at, sure, but I like to hear him talk. There's a sort of pureness there that I can't quite put my finger on, but I appreciate it. Maybe I'll just brush it off as me enjoying listening to someone who has something that isn't complete bogus to say, but I can't keep my nerves out of my head.

I think these are just things that I'm thinking of so I have something to worry about. Not particularly a fan of said thoughts, but purposefully worrying myself is one of the bummiest, stupidest, most rubbish thing I can ever do right now. School starts soon, I've got things to do before any of that begins. I can't be bothered, and I should try to keep it that way.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.3.19

Reducio

Words will never be able to describe the amount of misery and also joy I have felt today, so this will have to do.
Today, Catriona and I had decided we were going to study together in the library. We had plenty of fun, did impressions of each other, discussed the possible professors we may have, all of that-- that's when I'd taken notice of the two bumbling idiots rearranging the books in a confusing way so it'd be nearly impossible to find the book you were looking for. Charlotte had joined us by the time I'd had the wise idea to ask for her rubber band, promptly shooting it at the back of his head; whatever, he deserved it. He seemed confused at first, but after I shouted at him to quit, he told me to bugger off.

I decided this was a declaration of war.

We shot rubber bands at them until they were absolutely fuming, it seemed like 's shot was the very last straw. She mouthed him off, but instead of just stopping like we'd instructed them to, he began to size her up. I had to defend the honor of my friend, so I mouthed him off to distracted him, which worked! However, this ended in me getting caught in a headlock, and two punches in the face. I could've won if he didn't catch me off guard. He was just massive, but size is... well, size is a lot in a physical fight, but I really could have! Either way, they decided to take me out to the hospital wing, but not before Catriona gave me a hug, which felt very nice in a moment like that. I feel like our relationship has definitely taken a step up, which gives me a feeling of true accomplishment. Life is good, especially when I was told my nose was not broken.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

Reducio

I return with yet another concern, absolute fear, actually.
I was enthusiastic about potions class, and while the professor is terribly intimidating, it wasn't too off of what I expected. I did my work, turned it in, quite confident in it-- the homework, I mean. It was late at night, I was quite sleep deprived, and perhaps in a bit of a frenzy. As I sit here, writing this, I am in complete fear of my life.
I don't think I answered two of the questions he gave correctly.
I did them right, I hope, but the more I think about it, the less confident I become. He asked about the three types of potions; environmental, physical, and mental. This is not difficult, but finding potions of that exact nature certainly is. I don't think I got mental or environmental correct. That would take off two thirds of a point! I am not prepared to get an A. I would pray for an E at the very least, but I suppose we all aren't so lucky. Again, I am in fear of my life. There are other anxieties too, that he may not approve of my writing, or maybe it just isn't up to standard, but I am terrified. Perhaps I should ask him to tutor me a bit after class if I'm able, but aside from that, I'm as good as dead. It was nice knowing you all.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.7.19

Reducio

I spend a lot of time thinking.
A lot of it may remain invested in my parents; more specifically, their marriage.
This has been an upcoming issue, and I often wonder when the last time they did anything together. These questions come into my head like bubbles, but they never quite pop.
When was the last time they were intimate?
When was the last time they agreed on something and vocalized it?
When was the last time my father took my mother out on a date?
Is my dad gaining weight?

They do not speak to me very frequently, so I get my aunt to keep tabs on them discreetly. She's got a big mouth, so if I owl her one simple thing, I'll get hot takes on every aspect of family drama, even about relatives I don't know. Every time she does this, she starts it off with,
Christ, you're a child, I shouldn't be telling you this, but-
My guess is that she likes to have someone to listen to her. I am happy to, and every time I do, I take notes in a journal that I found on the ground of the astronomy class, which had no name or writing in it. By that, I'd decreed that it was mine.

I sometimes wonder if my mum is cheating on my dad. When I asked Isabella, she owled me back in nearly an instant and told me not to be worrying about such things, how I was maturing too fast, and how it was my father's fault I was getting these things into my head. This is not the case. I have a mind of my own, and if it concerns my parent's relationship with each other, then I ought to know. I didn't tell her this, and just asked if my dad had another CD for me to listen to.
I usually wonder if a divorce for them would be the best, and I certainly haven't ever gotten the impression that they love each other. Rough, it is, but I don't want to give anyone the impression I'm from a broken home like Henry from Brown Street, who wore cheap, ugly flannel parachute sweaters instead of coats and did gateway drugs in shopping malls and on the rooftops of a pizzaria. I always value domestic dynamics, this would be no different- I wonder if they would ever stay together for me, because if they could keep it together by the time I'm out of the house, that would be great.
Otherwise, I'd have to lie and say my mum fled to the Himalayas shortly after my birth, leaving me and my father in an estranged relationship with one another because we both blame one another and ourselves for her disappearance.

I suppose only time will tell.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.9.19

Reducio

I've recieved another letter from my aunt, just heartwarming stuff, truthfully. I wanted to tape it in here, because she's right. I miss my mum, even her weird side-hugs she gives me. I miss being younger than I am now, I don't like understanding adult things, sometimes. Sometimes, I feel like a limit we put on children's knowledge is evil, but I get it, because I was never given that opportunity. I never got a childhood, I grew up too fast. It's all my dad's fault, I suppose, with his sickening behavior, the way he likely changed my mum, the way he looks at me like I've been the reason behind all of his adult troubles. I want to go back home, sometimes. I miss normality, but something tells me it's the homesickness talking. I want a hug. I want someone to tell me things are going to be okay, that I'll have someone there for me with open arms.
I suppose we aren't all given reassurances like that.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.14.19

Reducio

I will begin this with the fact that my life is going objectively well. I am a part of a group, a club, called the Knights of Dawn, a counter to a fascistic regime by the name of the Dark Witch Society. I am not at all scared of these girls, but what they are capable of puts me on edge. However, we've got a good chance of getting the rest of the academy on our side... who knows?

My friend, James, is very likable. Everyone knows this, he's funny, he's smart, he's sweet, considerate, everything you might want in a person is what he is the embodiment of. This unnerves me.
Charlotte grew up in a not-so-nice neighborhood, where all of the kids try to be cool by beating on each other and heavy insults that attack you so harshly your self esteem will not ever recover from it. She wasn't ever shown much kindness, she's been beaten in the middle of the street and left to die, the sickening things she's been called-- it's hard to say she's ever gotten much kindness from anyone outside her family.
This is where the unnerving part comes in.
James is very good to her, as he is good to everyone. She appreciates this, she likes James. James likes her, but not in a boyfriend-girlfriend way, he likes her in the friend way. Our friend, Lark, likes James in the boyfriend-girlfriend way, and I think James likes Lark in the boyfriend-girlfriend way, too. This would be fantastic if Charlotte wouldn't inevitably like James in the boyfriend-girlfriend way. When we were in the library, Charlotte beat a Slytherin to hell, and James told her that he could just kiss her-- she reacted to this in a very non-predictable way. Usually, when boys say that stuff to her, she gets mad and tells them to fuck off, but not this time, she got all beet red and thanked him.

Not good.

I don't know if Charlotte is ready to handle rejection, and I don't know if I'm ready to watch her be rejected. She is unpredictable, and seeing her cry is likely one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do. I never want to do it again, but this seems like a likely conclusion to the situation at hand. I am scared, and I am already pre-sad at the ending of this, because I've seen it, and I know how it will end.

I haven't received any owls back from any of my family members, not even from my aunt. I can't say life is lonely, but everything is beginning to feel a bit dull, like if my emotions were slightly greyed out and less exciting. I'm not sure what it is, but being able to grapple myself enough to even speak when spoken to is hard, moving is hard, feeling properly is hard-- everything is much harder, now, for some reason. I'm not sure why, maybe I'm sick, because sometimes my chest feels so heavy that it feels like it'll pop. It sort of feels like when you have a lump in your throat, but it's in the pit of your stomach- dread, perhaps? I don't know. I just hope it'll go away soon.
The only time it doesn't feel this way is when Catriona, James, Lark, Veronica or Charlotte are around with me to distract me from this kind of desperation. Even eating has grown boring and unflavorful. Maybe I'm dying. I sometimes wonder who and how many people would attend my funeral, if I even had one. I don't really believe in funerals.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.16.19

Reducio

Again, I return with more thoughts that plague me and never leave me alone!
Love. What would be considered love? In the movie 500 Days of Summer, you just feel it, and I believe it. When I asked my mom, she was probably drunk because she said, "Definitely not what I feel about your dad." Thanks, mum, now I know. I love my mum, I love my dad, and I love my cousins. That's for sure, but that's a familial love, not the one I'm always curious about. I do not feel love for anyone outside my family, just fierce protection. I say I love my friends, and I mean it in a sense, but I also don't? I would do anything to make them happy, but I don't know if that would be solidly considered love. I hope that makes sense, because I'm hardly getting a grip on it.

I know love and attraction are different, by the way. I am not attracted to people right now, but my dad says I will be in due time. I think girls are pretty, and I find some boys handsome, but I never really stopped to really think about it. Usually, I just walk past someone, think, Oh wow, that's a looker, and then continue on with my day. I think my friends are attractive, a good lot of them, anyway. I don't take their looks into consideration, usually, because it doesn't matter what they look like, I just like their personalities, that's what I'm friends with them for. Lark is pretty, James is handsome, Margo is pretty, Logan is handsome. That's all I think now that I'm actually thinking about it. I've never seen someone and thought they were ugly unless it was me. In which case, good god I hope whoever I have a crush on in the future likes something that isn't faces, because my genes are devastating. My mum told me I'm handsome, but now I don't trust her because she's a liar, I have a big nose, buggy eyes, and always look like I'm gawking or in fear. I even have big ears.

Whenever I have nothing to do, I lay down in my bunk and think about the people I might like someday. What kind of person would I be attracted to, boys, girls... whatever. I don't know if I like boys, and I don't know if I like girls-- the only reason I say that is because my dad's friend, Leland, said that you shouldn't feel like being straight is the default, because attraction is attraction, and it doesn't matter who you're attracted to because labels are overrated and useless. I like Leland, he's a genius, my dad says. He's got a cool haircut and is significantly younger than my dad, he's got pitch black hair, pale skin, thin as a pencil, and always wears black pants and graphic t-shirts for bands that I've never heard about-- he also always wears sunglasses, which is weird because he usually doesn't go outside. I have never seen Leland's eyes before. Whenever Leland and I were alone, he would smoke a cigarette and tell me everything I needed to know... he was a Ravenclaw, too, and only dropped out of Hogwarts because he wanted to pursue art and music, and school just wasn't doing it for him. Leland is the only person I feel truly understands me, and it's been a while since I've spoken to him, I miss his wisdom... he never made me feel stupid, he's always kind and cool as a cucumber, and even taught me how to tie a cherry stem in my mouth!
Anyway, he told me all of that. Dad says Leland identifies as bisexual, and when I asked him what it meant, he told me to go to him myself; so I did. Leland lives in a shabby apartment, and when I stepped in, I was hit with the strong odor of paint, cigarettes, baked goods, and strawberries. It was cool, his floors were tiled and his walls were light grey, paintings stacked over each other at every corner, some polaroid photographs, newspaper clippings, and spray-paintings on the wall of words I couldn't yet comprehend. I wish I could, I would've taken a picture. Anyway, he lead me to his studio, which was filled with guitars, CDs, books, and other pieces of technology I couldn't begin to even comprehend at that age. He instructed me to take a seat, which I did, and he sat on the windowsill across me. I was shaken, I thought it was just the coolest thing that he did that. The windowsill. I was so enraptured by his calmness, I hardly snapped back to reality when I heard his voice. He was tapping the ashes off the end of his fag.

"What are you here for?" He asked me, his expression chilled out. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could tell they were lidded.

"My dad says you're bisexual, and I don't know what that means. I wanted to ask you." I remember fidgeting, and then stopping because my dad once said it made me look mentally retarded.
Leland smiled at me, blew some intoxicating smoke out of his lips, away from me, and then looked back over. He seemed annoyed, in a sense, but not at me. I didn't know that, so I backtracked.

"W-well, he- y'know, he said-"

"Hey," He cut in, saving me from embarrassment. I felt like I was dying. "I'm... he's right, I guess, in a way. Bisexual... it means that you're attracted to boys and girls."

Both? I'd never even considered that an option.

"You want to shag both?"

He laughed. I felt good about that, even if it wasn't on purpose.

"Sure, you want to shag both. Date them, you love 'em... there are other ways to put it, but the bottom line is, you'd date both genders, yeah."
I was beginning to understand.

"So you like both?"
"I like everything, kid."

Was there... more than two? I must've looked visibly confused, because he glanced at me, and then continued.
"Some people don't think they're boys or girls. Some people see themselves as both, so their brain decides which one they feel like. Or... sometimes, neither. Nonbinary, they're not of the typical gender binary."
I squinted.
"Neither? What'd we call them?"
"What they want us to."
I then frowned, furrowing my brows a bit.
"But... wouldn't that get confusing?"
"Sure, but you have to try. It's called respect, and it's not hard if you don't make it. If someone looks like a girl, but they tell you to call them a boy, you do that. If someone looks like a boy, but they ask you to call them a girl, you call them a girl. If someone looks like a girl and asks you to call them 'them'," he used air quotes, "then you do that. How would you like it if I called you a girl, introduced you as a girl, made you wear dresses and makeup, all around present female... how would that make you feel?"
"Uncomfortable," I answered honestly, my fingers tightening around my sweater.
"Exactly, so imagine feeling that every day. Wouldn't like it, right? So, in order to respect people, you call them as they are, no matter the situation. Never use that against them, because it's not your business. Got it?"
"Got it." And I did get it. Leland liked people's bodies, Leland liked people's minds, he didn't care what they were or who they were, he just liked people. That was fine with me, and I got it. After that, I ate dinner and slept on his couch, and he took me home the next day.

What I'm getting at here is I don't know what I am, who I'd like to be, or if I have a choice in the matter. I should ask Leland that, actually, but later. I often think about Catriona, I don't know where she's been, but I miss her. Maybe she's just busy, but I asked my mum to send my guitar over, maybe when she gets back I'll sing her a song. I like to see her smile, and I like it when she looks at me, I like talking to her, and I like her. Just in general, I like her, I like her so much. This is where the train of thought began, because maybe I just... like Catriona, maybe I have a crush on her. I like to think about her, I get butterflies in my belly, I smile when she's around... I can never distinguish the thought of a friendship-crush or a crush-crush, but maybe I'm just a dumbarse who has too much time to think. And the idea she might feel that same confusion, way, or even be certain of how she feels about me? Fat chance.
In conclusion, I need a therapist.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

8.28.19

Reducio

Unfortunately, I've had little motivation to write anything lately.
Maybe it's the fact that things have been going grey fairly gradually, but it's just... hard. Hard to think, hard to focus because all I want to do is cease to exist. Not die, no. Just... not be bothered by whatever's happening here. Not be bothered by anything, god, it would be incredible.

To update you on current events in the most minimalist way possible, I'll put it in bullet points and vaguely elaborate;

• Dad sent me new CDs to play, also my guitar.
The CDs had good bands like My Bloody Valentine, Patti Smith, and a band I haven't heard of called Modest Mouse. I like all of them.
• Drama between James and Charlotte
Charlotte likes James. James teases Charlotte as a joke. Charlotte snapped at him one day. I had to talk to James through it, he decided to ask her on a date. He did. She said yes. The end.
• Drama between Catriona and I
This went too deep for me to even feel inherently ok with elaborating. She's a nice person. I like her, and I hurt her feelings or something. We had a long, deep talk and then made up. The end.

I'm tired. I want to sleep, that's all you're getting. How unfortunate for you.

Sincerely,
Gem.

9.1.19

Reducio

I am feeling consumed with a rage unable to be put in text, and nothing’s even happened at all. Actually, a very good and nice thing happened which was the fact that my mum finally sent me my typewriter, so I’m documenting my misadventures via typing instead of writing with my ridiculously ineligible writing.

I’ve slowly been getting nightmares, or no dreams at all.
My nightmares often contain me finding out the greater of two evils, and I’m being told that there is nothing I can do to prevent the greater evil from collapsing all of my thoughts. I’ve tried many routes for this, but I always end up losing and end up having my brain eroded to nothing, and then I become nothing. Not even a piece of matter, or an atom in the air. I am nothing, but I’m able to watch the same thing happen to people, and no matter how hard they try, they reach an inevitable fate of choking on their breath and vomiting their own words, everything they know becoming a splatter of disgusting garbage right before their eyes.

The nothing dreams have become a relief in a way, but not comfort or solace. I’m becoming too scared to even sleep, and I worry that it’ll stunt the way my classes go. I haven’t faltered, yet, but I still feel myself stilled in fear over the prospect of me losing what may be the thing that keeps me working hard. Once I drop below an E, then that’s it for me. I’ll give up. I don’t want to do that, but it feels like it would be impossible to keep my head up after that. It brings me the same amount of fear going on stage in front of 10,000 foreign critics who are known for how harsh they are. I’ve even been losing weight from how stressed I’ve been— I thought you gained weight when you were stressed, but I guess not. It doesn’t matter.

My friends are okay, by the way. I haven’t asked how James and Charlotte’s date went, but she doesn’t seem upset so it was probably fine or mediocre. and I have just been spending time together reading in comfortable silence, which is all I need to properly stay comfortably sane in my area of work. I still feel like I’m dying, but reading with her makes me feel like I’m not quite suffering a painful death, just laying on the floor and waiting for it to happen with the comfort of inevitability.
Is that too dark?

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart

9.9.19

Reducio

9.10.19

Reducio

A lot of things have happened in the past few days, and I have no idea how it all happened because it was very quick and scary. I was invited to a movie party by a girl named Brielle, who is one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. She has long, black hair and the most piercing green eyes-- she's also a bit shorter than me. I think I like her, but I don't know. I get excited and all that when she addresses me and such, or when she smiles and thinks I'm amusing I get butterflies, but I'm not sure if that really correlates to me being attracted to her. It definitely does.
We met because I was throwing a tantrum in the study room, very loudly banging my head into the table because my father sent me an owl about Lou Reed. She was concerned, asked how I was, and then we ended up practicing a spell together. Even though she's a Slytherin, she is one of the nicest people I've ever met and I would very much like to hold her hand. We got on very well at the sleepover, which makes me happy. If she thinks I'm funny, she might ignore the fact I look like a bird with big, deep set eyes. A newborn, ugly baby bird. I'll be lucky if she doesn't slap me across the face if I even build up the confidence to ask her on a date.

Besides that, my friends and I spent time outside and talked about puberty. There was a lot of tension, but also lots of joking around. Lark seemed upset about the fact James and Charlotte went on a date, we spoke about sweet nothings, and then I was suddenly upset. Or, maybe not upset, but very emotional and reflective. I laid down and looked at the sky, and I told them something that I couldn't remember. I can never really remember what I say, no matter the day. Some people find it very emotional, and I do too. I think that my thoughts are separate from me, but they aren't. I know they aren't, because I think the same things my thoughts think, it's just the idea that my thoughts are so overwhelming that they just leave my mouth without my permission. I can never think straight, and sometimes, I think that's okay because at least I'm thinking.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

9.12.19

Reducio

I'm beginning to regret saying I'm happy to think. That was two days ago, this is now.
Ever since my friends and I spoke about puberty, I've been thinking a lot about how hormones work. I did a lot of research, looking through the dictionary and all, and found the word psychosomatic. It means you're already sick, but it gets worse because of stress and anxiety. It didn't seem like the word I was looking for, but it was as close as I think I was going to get.

I'm like this often, and Leland even said that I was a hypochondriac with the way that I was acting. I was at his house, and there was a bit of an illness going around-- I think it was tonsillitis. Anyway, he was talking about it and how nasty it was, and so I asked him what the symptoms were.

"It's just inflamed tonsils," he told me, "your throat hurts, you're booger-y, it's kind of hard to swallow becuz'... it feels weird to? It's tender."

The more I thought about it, the more my throat started feeling funny. I started to feel my nose get runny, and began to sniffle. Oh no, I thought, I'm getting tonsillitis.

Leland didn't seem to care very much, he was sitting on his couch, lighting himself a cigarette. I sniffled some more, and felt the weird scratchiness in my throat again.

"I think I'm getting it."

He looked at me, one of his eyebrows were raised high on his forehead.

"Getting what?"
"Tonsilitis."

He went quiet, looking around the room, and then back at me. He looked like he was about to laugh.

"I legitimately can't tell if you're joking right now."
"I'm not!" I said, "My throat feels funny and my nose is all runny. I can feel it."

He didn't look like he was taking me very seriously, but he seemed to humor me anyway.

"Okay, well... better run home so your ma can make you some soup."
"Sure."

When I went home, I told my mom and she blew me off. It felt worse the more I thought about it, I sniffled more, my throat was all scratchy like it had been scribbled on. I laid down and tried to rest, but I couldn't. The tonsillitis was too overbearing.

I ended up not having it at all and I was fine, but it was still weird. The more I focused on it and thought about it, the worse it got. That's sort of how I feel about hormones and puberty, the more I notice it happening, the worse it gets. The more I focus on girls, the more I feel for them and get all dumb and lame, the more I think about anything that may possibly be changing, the worse it gets. I don't know how to stop it. I'll have to ask Leland, he'll know what to do. He always does.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

9. 13.19

Reducio

I'd like to begin this with: Happy Friday the 13th, I am Terrified Of The Person I'm Becoming.
Allow me to elaborate;
I thought about kissing a boy.
It was a mere consideration during class, something I daydreamed about. It was strange, because I couldn't put my finger on who it was. He had a similar haircut to mine, but his eyes were hard to distinguish because I had my eyes shut and so did he. It was nothing out of bound, it was a kiss on the lips and a hug. I've thought about these things, daydreamed about romance to pass the time, I've just never thought about a boy like that. Romantically, I mean. I wasn't even thinking about trying to make him seem like a girl, it was a boy my age, holding the side of my face, kissing me. I enjoyed it as much as I enjoy thinking about kissing girls, it was just different. Not bad different, just different. I liked it, and I guess he did too. It didn't go past that, because I snapped out of it.

I'd never really had a problem with boys kissing boys, it's a very normal thing in my family. My dad's drummer is gay, and Leland likes boys and expresses it as casually as he does with girls. I have no reason to think I'm off the heterosexual binary because I think girls are attractive, but this daydream made me consider the other option, which made me... confused. Not in a bad way, just the same feeling you get when you're introduced to a new subject or style of book. As far as I know, I don't have a crush on any boys at all. I find them attractive, but I haven't ever asked one on a date, thought about it, or thought I will. I might one day, but I don't know. I'd be too scared to, anyhow. I can never tell with anyone these days, not to mention my personality doesn't flatter my face very well. If I were to turn someone gay, that would be a travesty. Can you turn gay? I don't know. Maybe I turned gay because of the daydream. That's something to consider.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

9.20.19

Reducio

I've recently been loading myself up on a healthy diet consisting only of carbs, water, juice, and cigarettes. I only ever smoke outside, generally because it's against the rules to go out chuffing smoke out like a damn chimney in the boy's dorms-- not only that, but it's rude. I've looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in a hot minute a few days ago, and I didn't even recognize myself. I didn't look half bad! I took a photo on my camera (the one Leland gave me) and sent it to my mum, and she seemed overjoyed about the way my bone structure is starting to develop. My voice hasn't changed very much, but I've been speaking with my chest more frequently than not and it makes it a bit deeper without sounding like I'm attempting to mock someone with a very deep voice.

My dad sent me a pack of cigarettes and told me he was sort of congratulating me for making my first step towards being a man. He told me that rockstars smoked and had their very own signatures, so I decided to make one of my own while I smoked my third cigarette. The first two were very hard to get down my throat, I coughed like I'd puke up my lungs and stomach simultaneously, but once I got the hang of it, I felt very cool. I mean cool, like a damn rockstar. Really. While I smoked, I practiced a signature to the very best of my ability until I thought it was nice enough, and then I repeated it until it stuck. I'm very excited to use it right now, once I'm finished with this journal entry. I just feel so great.

That aside, mum sent me my other guitar, the acoustic one, so now I have two sitting by my bed! I decided to put up a paper offering lessons to anyone at Hogwarts wanting to get some jamming done, or if they want to learn a few chords and chit chat about some music. I'm pretty excited about hearing from some people, it's been a bit since I've stepped out to really talk to people. It really has felt like forever, I haven't even really been speaking to Catriona-- I miss her a lot, actually. I miss her, I miss reading to her before bed in the common room and such, I don't think I've really left the dorms unless it's to attend class. My mum always worried about me isolating, but... I haven't noticed that time's really been going by. It's bonkers, really, just to think about it slipping past you like that. It gives me the heeby jeebies.

I suppose the bubbling possibility of inevitability will pass one day.
In conclusion, I'm very pleased with myself right now. I haven't felt this chuffed in ages.

Sincerely,

9.22.19

Reducio

I think that falling in love with the idea of a person is too easy for comfort. I can spend hours looking at someone, boy or girl, and see their smile, and come up with a personality for them, their life. How they'd react to me reaching over to hold their hand, or maybe them doing it first. I forget people have flaws, maybe because I'd like for people to forget I have my own. I frequently wish I didn't have any, and maybe one day I'll find someone who overlooks all of them and doesn't necessarily mind the fact I've got any.

I remember the first time I saw Leland in love, the guy was a real weirdo. He was tall as hell, towered over everyone, had a very similar haircut to Leland except it was just a bit longer, and reddish. Like a reddish brown, it was very pretty. I never saw his eyes, nor did I see his smile. His name was Tommy. Leland loved him, I wondered what they'd talk about whenever no one was around, because old Tom hardly did any talking at all. Leland just held his hand while they sat, or kicked him in the cheek very lightly with his shoe and earned a light shove on the ass in response, if he could reach it.

Tom had a lot of problems. He was addicted to stuff, I heard, and whenever I'd call Leland, sometimes he'd be choking up on his own tears and I'd hear any bumbling off in the background. Hearing Leland cry was one of the worst things my ears had ever heard, I couldn't sleep for days because of how depressing it was. When I visited Leland spontaneously, he was slunk over the couch in a very sad, lazy manner, and his arms were limply tossed over his chest. His sunglasses were on, but I could see the hot tears that had freshly dragged down his cheeks and on the side of his head. It was horrible, I wish I could get that image out of my head. It was just awful.

I sat next to him anyway, on the floor. I didn't say anything, and he didn't look at me. He did speak, however, after a few minutes of silence. It felt like hours.

"Never fall in love with the idea of someone, Gem." He said, his voice thick and hard to swallow. "Never. It'll ruin your life. You know why? Because they'll either fall in love with the idea of you, too, or they won't fall in love with you at all."

I didn't say anything, I just stood up and moved his head, sitting where it was. I put his head in my lap, and pressed my hands into his hair. I didn't move them, I just left them there. He turned on his side, facing me, and cried into my stomach for hours until he fell asleep. His breathing was slow, and eventually, it was calm enough for me to fall asleep too. I would wake up every hour or so, mostly to check and make sure he was still breathing. I knew he wasn't on anything, but I felt like the slim possibility he might just choose to stop was plausible enough for me to paranoid about it. I never knew what Leland was capable of. I still don't.

That's all I can say. It mostly scared me away from wanting to fall in love, if it's even possible for me to really fall in love with someone. I swear I can, it doesn't matter my age. I love so many people, but I'm waiting for butterflies. I always will wait for butterflies, and sometimes, I feel like there's the beginning stir of them right in the pit of my belly. And then, after a few sentences are spoken, they die. Sometimes, but I guess it won't matter when I'm thirty-eight. I just want to know what being in love feels like. I'm even more curious about what it feels like to know for certain when someone is in love with you. I hope I learn sometime soon, because the impatience is getting overbearing.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

9.28.19

Reducio

I'm so ridiculously tired of breathing its just become as simple of an idea as walking.
I'm not sure how else I could put it, aside from the fact I spend much time pondering the worth of my existence, and while I felt good about myself for about a day, it went away when I realized the shallowness that was to come. Smoking doesn't really make me cool, I'm the same guy, I just have an increased chance of lung cancer and also my breath smells delicious because I've become obsessed with brushing my teeth, eating mints, and eating foods with a sweet aroma and taste. I've avoided candy, unless it's the kind that melts in your mouth slowly.

Spending time on my own has given me much time to reflect on things that have never ever happened before. I'm spending time with myself and my homework, and when that's all said and done, nothing more comes of it. At night, I stare at the wall or type up some useless nonsense that I give to Charlotte later so she can burn it up in a fire she sets whenever she's having emotional problems I can't work her through.

On a brighter note, I'm thinner, I've gotten better at playing guitar, and made a few new friends. I haven't spoken to much, in fact, I haven't seen her at all, but that's my fault. I've sort of become a recluse since the happening of me suddenly thinking human interaction wasn't a necessity. Humans are social creatures, and when you take companionship away from them, it becomes a sort of mess. Their heads are like bowling balls, but with 700 bees running around inside of it frantically. My eye bags are a bit dark, but to some people, that's attractive. I'd like to have a girlfriend or boyfriend who thinks my eye bags are attractive.

Speaking of boys, I've begun to take notice of them far more often than I usually did. In primary school, relationships were very common, except they lasted about two days. I want something real with someone, I want to hold a hand and like them when I do it. My dad says that his very first love was a girl named Vanessa in secondary school, and she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"She had long brown hair, real soft," He said, "Just the most wonderful girl. Big green eyes, pink cheeks... she and I spent so much time together."

He was speaking like he never wanted it to end, and I was pretty sure he didn't want it to. He was sort of drunk, I was presuming, because he just told me everything about the stuff they did, even the stuff I didn't know or understand. Some parts made me want to throw up.

At the same time, my dad was a kid. He remembers things the way he did when he was a kid, and I want to remember something when I'm older. I want to have a girlfriend or boyfriend, just to see what it's like. I never had one, except in my very first year of primary school. I gave her one of my cookies and she announced to everyone that I was her boyfriend, and then hugged me to seal the deal. Her name was Beatrice, and she was sort of French. She had dark brown hair that curled real nice, and super red lips. Her eyes were blue, too. She was pretty, and I felt very cool that she was my girlfriend. We played house, she was the wife and I was the husband, and my friend Roci was the kid and some kid named Aaron was the dog because Beatrice insisted he'd be.

I learned passion rarely lasts because she cheated on me with Ronnie, since he gave her a flower and a piece of cake that he had leftover from his birthday about two days ago. I wasn't too broken up about it, but I pretended to cry when she told me it was over. It was really badly done, but I'm pretty sure she believed it. After that, I've never been in a relationship before. I've pined over some girls in Sheffield, but now that I'm at Hogwarts, I've started to pine after boys too. Boys. Man, they'll really screw you up. Get you to fall in love with them and that's it.

A lot of the boys here are very attractive, I've noticed. Mostly the upperclassmen, since their faces are more defined, but some of the boys in first year just have me starstruck. One kid, I've seen him around, I even owled him, is my favorite to look at. His name is Daniel, and he's got fluffy brown hair, real light skin, and probably the most perfect nose I've ever seen in my whole life. What I'm trying to say is, I can't stop staring at him whenever I'm given the chance, which isn't very often since we've only got Charms together. Still, I look forward to charms often, only because I get to look a few times. I hope we get to hang out, I think he's just the best.

Hormones really are the most scary things anyone has ever come up with.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

9.29.19

Reducio

I had a dream, just a few hours ago. As I type this, my hair is unkempt, my eyes are likely bloodshot, and my breath smells like the cigarette I’m puffing on right now. I know I said it was impolite to smoke inside, I still think that’s true, but I’m also so nervous that my hands would shake if I didn’t do it. My reliance to nicotine is already growing concerning and I think I’ll limit myself to one to none a day unless it’s a special occasion.

My dream was not too adventurous, but it’s something I don’t want to forget.

I spent much time standing in an art gallery, with paintings that weren’t too distinct to me. They were all blurs of lame colors, beige, baby blue, and dark, forest green. None of them made too much sense, because I couldn’t focus on them. As I walked, a few people passed me by. Their faces meant nothing to me, most were standing and looking at other pieces, but some were talking to the person beside them.

The more I walked, the more I found that there were less and less people, yet the paintings frequented. I couldn’t say they were repetitive, but they began to vex me because of how similar they were as I swept past them. I don’t know why I didn’t just look, try and look to see if they were all the same, but I didn’t. They weren’t, because as I kept walking, there would be blurs of some red dots in them, or yellow, something bright enough to be noticable.

Eventually, I was stopped by a big wall. There was a painting on it, one I could see clearly. This one was lame, but it wasn’t lame at all.
It was a portrait of a boy, likely a few years older than me, who greatly resembled someone I knew I’d seen before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was buttoning a shirt up, a white one, and sort of facing me, but he wasn’t looking at me. He had the softest looking pale skin, his shoulders dipped so beautifully into his collar bones, which were a bit flushed with pink. And his face, I wish I never forgot it. He had a straight nose, which was a bit pink right at the very tip, and his hair was a darker brown. His eyes seemed big and green, full of joy, and he had dark eyebrows. The ends of his lips were turned up into a small smile, and his teeth stuck out a bit, but just the front two. I don’t know how long I stared at it, but I knew it was a long time. I was entranced, just because he was gorgeous.

I lost myself again, and kept walking, more paintings, and then another, of the same boy. Except, this time, he had a hand coming in to help him button his shirt. It looked like he was smiling at whoever’s hand had come in to help him out. If I looked for long enough, I could’ve sworn it moved for a second, his eyes, trailing from the hand to the face that I couldn’t see.

I moved on, and then there was another wall, and then another. Each one had just been the hand, but I stopped when I saw only half of the other person’s face, covered by his hair. It looked an awful lot like my hair, only longer, and just the tip of my nose. I couldn’t see anything else, so I kept moving. On and on, I went, slowly as if it were frame by frame, and then I stopped.

It had to have been me. Only, I was older. My hair was longer, my bone structure was far more developed, the way my eyes bulge and sag, it was me. It had to have been. I watched myself lean in and kiss the boy beside me, in the painting. I shook my head, and kept going, but it wouldn’t stop. I and the boy were laughing, but there was no noise as if it were a film whose audio had been stripped. And then, all of a sudden, I was in a theatre.

It wasn’t a nice one, it was a projector on a wall, with fold up chairs. It seemed like I was the only one there, and… on the screen, it had real-time playing, and it was the compilation of paintings of me and the boy, but moving. Moving like we were in a film, and I was laughing, he had kissed me, and I had a cigarette between my fingers, and he took it and pulled a big drag and blew it in my face, and we both laughed. Still, no audio. Just the visual. I wanted so badly to hear what his laugh sounded like, because I felt myself from that video, and I loved him. I knew I could hear that laugh and all of my problems would just be gone, like nothing. I knew I was in love with him, but only on that film.

I watched it loop a few times, and then I looked over my shoulder. On the aisle next to me, I saw him. I saw the boy in the film, only he was younger. He was my age. I had to gather courage up to speak to him, so when I got up, my feet scuffled on the floor, over the film. The projector blinded me for a moment, but I found myself right next to him. I sat, and turned my head. He didn’t look until I asked him,

“Who are you?”

He turned his head, and I could feel those green eyes burning into my chest like the sun. I felt no love, only hate. I hated him, but I didn’t. I just wanted to grip his hand and cry, right into his shoulder.

“Who are you?”

I asked him again, and he blinked very slowly, like a cat would. He opened his mouth, and I woke up.

Here I am now, that dream made me a goddamn mess. If I could recreate those paintings, I know I would. I would, I just want to be able to. I want to see him again, but I know that if I saw his face, that’d be it for me. There wouldn’t be anything left. There just wouldn’t.

9.30.19

Reducio

Desperation claws up my throat like the beginning of a vomit-burp. Acidic, horribly tangy, and never leaves a good taste in my mouth. I feel like I could write a book about how easy it is to lose, and how easy it is to lose at a magical boarding school with your other bunkmates. I love to sing and all that, I love to dance to music, but where the hell am I supposed to do that where wandering eyes won't follow me around like a suspicious parent.

No matter to that, the weather has been gorgeous lately. The rain sends me straight to cloud nine, it's like speckles of candy popping against my skin, exploding into little bursts of euphoria that run down my spine and make me sigh like I've just been told relieving news.

As much as I miss my freedom to play piano around, I'm attempting not to be as miserable as I could be. I think I'm a bit homesick, but winter break is running up on me and soon I'll be able to see my dad and mum, and they might act happy to see my face gloating around the house. I'm very excited to see Leland again, too. He says he's going to show me how to play the bass and sing, next!

Today was alright. I don't have very much to complain about right now. I'm very pleased about the weather, and that's about all I can say.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

10.7.19

Reducio

This month is packed with a lot of happenings. First, Katherine asked me to the dance as friends. She also told me that she wanted to show me her outfit for the dance and said that she'd help me come up with an outfit of my very own since I don't think she thinks I have an eye for that kind of stuff. I'm okay with it.
When she showed me, I was really taken aback at how nice she looked. I think I might've fallen in love for a few hours, watching her walk around the room in her dress and that leather jacket. We were in the trophy room since hardly anyone goes in there unless it's to reflect on their failures. I wonder if Catriona wants to go to the dance with me.

I feel like I'm losing my touch. However, and I have been speaking about how we are going to go and get ourselves some pets. We're saving up as much as we can and are almost there, we just need to find some free time. I want to get an orange one, I think I read somewhere that they're the most loyal. My dad used to have an orange cat, and he once said it was the best cat he ever had. His name was Fishel.

I have not heard much from my family yet, but I feel like that's something to be mildly expected. My dad has been working on a new record and is also going on tour with the Revolvers again. He isn't responding to me, but I can only assume that it sounds great. I heard all of their music, and even helped him once by telling him that he should add him saying the lyrics very quietly towards the very end. He actually did it. I was very pleased. In his last letter from about a week and a half ago, he told me he misses me and thinks I should help him with his record and play the guitar for some demos. He thinks I should start my own band, and I told him that no one really wanted to do music with me since everyone is very caught up with school. He said I should force my friends to learn. I am considering it.

I am not thinking very much lately. That is a problem I will consider later.
P.S. I think that Catriona is getting more beautiful day by day. I'm worried she'll end up flawless by the end of the year because that means I'll probably die. I'm very scared of her. Gynophobia is the irrational fear and hatred of women. I do not have gynophobia, because I like girls and women very much, but sometimes, I hate them for making me fall in love with them. Irrational fear of them breaking me. I am not looking forward to that.
P.P.S, I mean it when I say I don't have gynophobia. I don't. I am not scared of girls, I just like them so much it scares me. I'm worried that I will like them so much I turn gay. I'm already very attracted to boys as is. Help.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

10.11.19

Reducio

As it turns out, I am not turning gay at all. I didn't think that someone breaking their leg would benefit me in such a way that I'm quite chuffed it happened, but it did. Remember Brielle? Stunning bird I've mentioned before? Well, I'd almost wormed my way into a conversation between two Slytherins, second years, and just as they seemed like they'd kick me into the ground, I heard a scream from right behind me. When I turned around, I saw Brielle there, all twisted up on the verge of tears. It seemed like she'd fallen off a real high branch of a tree, since... there was a branch nearby her that looked freshly cracked.

I managed to grab her and carry her around, she's quite light, but I'm not necessarily the strongest boy, so it was difficult towards the end when my arms got all tired, but it was nice. She was smiling the whole time, was sort of playing with my hair since she had her arms around my neck to keep balance. I felt great, even if we didn't say anything. Chuffed. I felt so goddamn chuffed.

We spoke a bit, and then she asked me if she could ask me a question, and when I said yes, she goes, "Would you like to go on a date with me?" and I was frozen. Not only is her timid voice one of the prettiest I'd heard, but she'd meant it! She isn't a mean girl, I know Slytherins are often seen as mean, but she isn't mean at all. She's great. We decided that we'd meet up after transfiguration, since we have basically all of our classes together.

I can't stop thinking about her. How her hair is all nice and soft, real dark, and how her eyelashes and the ends of her hair turn up all pretty, or the way her jaw comes down to her pointy chin real gently and nice, how she looks when she smiles, even if it's shy or sarcastic, how soft her lips feel-- when she kissed me on the cheek, I don't think anything could beat that, that was, in its very own, euphoria at its finest-- and how well her hand fit in mine. That was my favorite part, when she reached out and locked our fingers together. I could've died and been okay with it. She's the only person I'd allow to be shrunken down in a microscopic size and swim inside me in a tiny submersible machine. I'd let her drink my blood. She's just that great, and I feel real butterflies now. I can't keep myself from smiling, or getting all wormy, because she just sends me to cloud nine, she does. I like her! I can confidently say so!

I heard she likes Aphrodite, but I wouldn't be sure if I could doubt if she was her daughter, or even her herself. I think she's all that she represents, beauty, love, passion... and the... other stuff, but that's off limits. I can't wait for our date. I like Brielle, I like her so much! She's too good for me. She's too good for virtually anyone.

Sincerely, with a heart full of butterflies and birds,
Gem Stuart.

10.12.19

Reducio

It's late, but I couldn't give a shite about it. Why? Because the date went spectacularly, that's why.
I'd initially thought that I'd be the one treating the date, but she took me to the grounds and showed me the picnic she'd thought up and made. It was incredible, so incredible I couldn't put it into words. My favorite was the oatmeal cookies! I don't know how she knew my favorite was oatmeal, but I think that she's spectacular for doing that. She's an amazing baker.

We spoke for a bit, and while it was a bit sad that she was worried Catriona and I liked each other, I was very quick to reassure her that was not the case and we carried on very quick. We sat close to each other, and I only went quiet so I could hear her breathing, or feel it, because I had to keep reminding myself how real this was. I did a lot of flirting, and I think that it worked because she told me that she loved me. I don't know shite all about love, but it scares me a bit. My mam and dad loved each other at one point, I'm guessing, and seeing their relationship now puts me off to degrees that I couldn't even express without writing a fifty page essay. I don't know a thing about love, but I do know that it feels good - or, it's supposed to. It hurts people sometimes, but I don't feel hurt, and rather, I feel very rejuvenated, like I've got a lot of energy. There are sparks flying, I don't feel like I need a cup of coffee to get myself out of bed, I can just tell myself that if I don't, I won't be able to see Brielle, and that's enough to get me jumpstarted for the day. So I think I do love her, I do love Brielle. I love Brielle a lot.

When I kissed her-- that's right, I kissed her-- it was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt in my entire life. I want to do it again and again, I want to hug her and run around with her, I want to do everything with her. I think she's the most beautiful girl in the entire world, I love her smile, I love her eyes, I love how she sounds when she laughs, I love the way she looks at me, I love how tame and soft her hair is, I love Brielle. I love her! I'll say it to anyone! There are very limited things we can do together, we can't necessarily make out right in class and claim we're doing a project, but I'm quite happy just being able to fawn over her whenever we have some extra time to do homework. We can just hold hands when we're transitioning to another class.

I very much look forward to getting a hug from her. Her hugs are the most warm and fuzzy ones, and kissing her is sweet like a strawberry, and I'm a very big fan of strawberries. I think that was her first kiss, and if it was, then she did an amazing job for her first time. We didn't use any tongue, I think the moment was a bit too innocent for something like that, but if we did, I think she'd be just fine. She makes me feel good! I think I consider her my girlfriend, but I didn't ask for confirmation. I probably should have, but I will next time I see her around.

I'm off to bed, now. I'm getting ugly stares for using my typewriter so loud so late at night, I ought to sleep. I'm beat.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

10.13.19

Reducio

It is late at night yet again, and I am once more filled with appreciation and fuzziness that I am unable to get rid of because I never want it to go away. Brielle is my girlfriend now, MY girlfriend. Mine mine mine, I feel so selfish claiming all of that, making a proclamation that something belongs to only me, but it feels so good. The girl that I love is mine, and I'm hers, and we belong to each other and that's that.

I told her I wanted to sneak out very late at night, and she said I was crazy but agreed to do it anyway. This made my stomach do flips, and I can't pin point why. It must've been twelve in the morning, by the time we'd settled down. I finally got around to asking her if she'd like to be my girlfriend, and also if she wanted to go to the dance with me, and she agreed in a very, very weird way. She also reminded me about me going with Katherine, but I think I'll just let her know that I've got a girlfriend now. I know she'll understand, she's so cool. I love Kat.

I typed her up an updated note, and told her not to open it until after she was ready for bed. She was very reluctant, but she agreed, and I was there to make sure that she didn't pull a fast one on me and read it while I wasn't looking. It was so nice, feeling her kiss me and all that- we held hands too, something I know I'll never get sick of no matter how many times we do it. I even took a photo of her, she's so beautiful. I'm going to send it to Leland, but tell him to send it back so that I'll have something to keep around with me if my spirits are ever down. She's the prettiest bird in the world, Brielle. I love her face, she makes me so happy.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

10.14.19

Reducio

It seems like there are just good things happening one after the other!
Catriona and I thought it fitting to go get out cats today, and the lady and man tending the shop were very kind and patient. We'd decided that, in advance, we'd have matching names for our cats. I ended up naming my son Basil Hallward, and hers is named Dorian Gray.

Basil is very fat, I can say that much. Very fat, but very loving and kind. He's got a very attractive young face, with big eyes and an upturned grin, and a little pink nose. I know that he was the right decision. He always hits me right in the face, and when I lay down, he sits on my chest, right near my face. One thing I do not appreciate is when he screams, and then puts his stupid arse in my face. Apparently, they do this when they're pleased and happy. I don't know why he has to shove his arse in my face, but I guess that's just a miscommunication we'll have to go over. He always responds when I talk to him, too. That's one of my favorite parts.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

10.20.19

Reducio

I know I'm getting bad again because I woke up on my stomach rather than on my side. I don't quite remember when that observation came to light, but I remember that it was my father who said it. I remember how it happened, I just can't remember how old I was, exactly. I had just had a fit and was crying my eyes out because I didn't get my way or something like that, and when my father came to check up on me, I was asleep on my stomach. The next day, he went out to go get ice cream with me, and I went to bed very happy, and I slept on my side. He decided to make me into a lab rat.

The day after that, he went to take me to a carnival, and I slept on my side. Then, the next day, he ignored me, and then shouted at me before bed, and I slept on my stomach. And then he was kind to me the next day, played guitar with me, and I slept on my side, so on and so forth. He told me that it was an experiment about a month later, he'd logged everything, the things he did, and what position I slept in. There is no scientific proof for this to date, I don't think. It was very traumatizing.

Back to my original point, I've been feeling very bad lately. Sleeping on my stomach, hardly paying attention in class, moping around, speaking to Basil and Basil only. I do think Basil makes me feel a lot better because I smile the most whenever he talks back, but he's been getting so fat lately that whenever he lays on my stomach when I'm reading or sommat, he near suffocates me. Still, he keeps me very warm when he lays on the back of my head. I'm shocked he hasn't broken my neck yet.

I remember writing about everything feeling dull, well... that's back, but it's more intense, more deafening and distracting. I don't want to do anything, and it feels real terrible. The only thing I want to do is sleep with Basil all day. Oh, to be a fat ginger cat that gets everything served to you on a silver platter. Life would be so much easier.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

10.23.19

Reducio

10th October, 1877
I am in love! Her name is Drusilla MacAvoy!

15th October, 1877
Too hasty by far! The MacAvoy woman was not for me.
I am planning to kill myself, and if the remainder of these pages are blank anyone who comes across this diary will know I succeeded.

Relatable emotions were invented in the 1800s.
I was right when I said that I do not understand love, and neither did Brielle. I was spending a lot of time in isolation, away from all of the people I could've spent time interacting with. I have discovered this is not good for relationships. I knew in the very depths of my mind that I didn't love her, but the emotion over rationale really did take over my ability to understand the real human mind and how it functions and also how to CONTROL IT.

I can't say I'm necessarily sad that we've broken it off, but I do feel bad in the case that she might still have feelings for me. I don't know how I'd be able to respond to that, because I know that if she came and wanted to try it again, I wouldn't have the capacity to say no. I made a mistake, I shouldn't date people because I've got a lot more to discover about myself. How am I supposed to do that when I hardly grasp the true understanding of human beings at the age of twelve? No one knows a goddamn thing when they're twelve, even me, a twelve year old, can admit that. I know myself, though. I know myself and I can promise you that it isn't so hard to get a grip on the kind of person I am. People like sensitive men, not sensitive boys.

Another note, I'm starting a band with Asteria. I'm incredibly excited about that because she's great at guitar, and I think that her musical influences are just stellar. She's amazing, I can't wait to make music with her. When I told Basil, he seemed just as excited as me.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

1.11.19

Reducio

So maybe I am gay.
I don't know whether or not the hormones are starting to do ballerina dances in my entire body, but I am going insane. My attraction has been flipping back and froth, but lately, I've had my eyes on boys. Boys, god, they're nothing much and everything all at once. The way that they crack on each other and do... boy things, that gets me. It gets me so good, I swear to God. Boys don't do pretty things like girls, they don't do pretty things, but they do something that makes me fall in love with them. They aren't that much to look at, their personalities aren't necessarily impressive, they just exist and my entire being flips around and loses its course.

It has been 16 days since Brielle has ended things with me, and I am not feeling that much different. I feel bad, since I got all those gifts for her that she cherished a lot. The turtle dove, I know she loved that one - apparently she took it to class with her, that's what she said anyhow. I wonder if she burned it, burned that and the letters I sent her. I get the feeling that her friends are gonna come for my neck, especially Aphrodite. I spoke to her a day or two before Bri ended things, and she seemed all right, liked similar stuff to me. I was offbeat, but I can never be so sure sometimes - I ended up leaving sort of early, but she left before I did. I guess she noticed and thought I didn't like her or something like that, and the truth is, I don't know if I like her or not. I thought she was a pretty thing, she was witty, but I wasn't present enough to know whether it was an act or not. People always try to be intimidating when you break their friend's hearts, they try and act all mean, but they end up looking like goddamn idiots.
"You better not hurt her, or else." Or else what? What are you going to do that'll make me regret hurting her so bad that I'll beg for her back? It ends up the same. I don't want her back, she's still hurt, and I think you're an idiot. It never works out in their favor, so the very best I could do is leave her alone. The worst you could do is kill me. Everyone is all bark and no bite, it sends me to a state of wondering how the world works. They want to be scary so bad, but they always fail. They fail without fail. I don't know how they handle that, looking at someone in the face and making an empty threat. Christ.

I'm starting to understand why my dad acts the way he does. I don't know how dangerous that's going to be someday.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

11.3.19

Reducio

Leland's sent me a new poster, and I feel like this might be the final seal to my sexual awakening.
It's a poster of the band MGMT, a group I've found myself quite a big fan of, and... well, the lead singer? I'm just now realizing how attractive he is. He's got some soft-looking brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, this brow furrow, his cheeks are round and smooth - and his lips. Don't even get me started on his lips, Christ. I've been listening to his music entirely differently now, and... uh, well. I've got a very big imagination, so it works out.

I don't know who to tell about this, but I'd very much like a boyfriend. If Andrew VanWyngarden asked my hand in marriage, I couldn't say no to that kind of offer. Not only is his voice heavenly, his face matches. I am in love.

P.S., here he is. I'm going to relish in that face for the rest of my life.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

11.16.19

Reducio

I hate referring to people as bitches, but sometimes, I feel like I'm able to deem it necessary when the time comes.

My ex girlfriend can be A RAGING BITCH!!! I cannot believe it, I didn't expect it from someone like her. She hits below the belt, I'll tell you, calling me annoying and all. I won't say I didn't snap back, of course I did, but Christ be, I ought to have slapped her right in the face of that library there. We did end up making up, but not before I found myself hidden in the abandoned bathroom, the nearest place to go and sulk off in.

I met a boy, and his name is Rafael. I think I am in love.
He's a bit aggressive, don't get that wrong, but he's just got me awestricken.
You know, a lot of Americans like to say our accents are the sexiest? British ones? They're wrong. Argentine accents are, and I don't think I'd be able to get enough. He could talk my ear off, and I'd be just fine with that. He's sort of loud, his laugh is all goofy, but his smile is just... I couldn't word it right. It makes me feel weird in my chest, whenever I'm the source of that laughter, or even just the smile.
He's got lovely skin, tanned, a rarity for people here. He's got a red nose, and long, thick eyelashes that make me want to stare at his eyes forever. He told me that my eyes were special, that he could get lost in them, but his are like melted chocolate, carefully mixed, the kind that smells sweet and makes her cheeks ache all nicely before you even get a taste.

He let me put my head in his lap and lay there, and he touched my hair and I felt all right. I felt like I was okay, that there was nothing to be worried about. I told him that I was bisexual, and he didn't seem so worried. He didn't even care, I don't think, because he said he liked boys too. Nothing happened after that, although I did sort of ask him out on a date. He told me I should play the piano for him, and I told him he needed to sing for me- that's another thing, he sings. Be still, my beating heart, I think I might have daydreams about marrying him or something.

Or maybe not. That's a bit weird.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

11.24.19

Reducio

Just my type. It keeps running around my head, just that over and over again. It's consuming my brain like a bloody boa constrictor tightening around its prey, prowling and hungry. I can't stop thinking about him, that's all I feel like. It's making me feel frustrated, the way my school work has started to falter and twist around, my wrists feel so tied behind my back right now.

I wasn't supposed to know anything yet, not now, but everything is whisking me away. He's got me all confused, my heart feels warm, like it'll burst in any sort of second. My eyes never waste a second not lifting from my desk so I can steal a glance at the side of his face, a sort of weak representation that I've already lost to him. No one ever won, but I could just drown in his being, seeing as I relish in it whenever we're nearby each other. I'd love to hold his hand, I want him to break me apart and make me think about every decision I've made until now.

I do an awful lot of daydreaming, and most of my brain is invaded with the thought of him. Those brown eyes, that hair of his, the type I'd very much like to run my fingers through. I can't even sleep sometimes, if I don't get thoughts like these out somehow. I've made a bit of poetry, but it's not much help. Not when I'm choking on this kind of want for affection, I couldn't get it out of my head, I can't ever. I feel so... warm, so happy whenever I'm around. Too young to comprehend the heaviness of love, but not too immature to feel it, right.

I'm burning up right now, my face, my thoughts. They're racing, I couldn't put it any other way. I'm going crazy, I think. I'm sure. Fucking Rafael.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

11.28.19

Reducio

A date! It was a date! I've gone on my first official date with Rafael.
First, he asked me out while we were throwing pieces of wood out at the lake, and just talking like usual. It wasn't so much, I didn't expect much. He did beat me at a competition of how far one of us could throw a piece of bark, even though my arm is strong.

I would throw a whole lot of stuff out in ponds back in Sheffield whenever I could get outside. I would bring Tate out with me, throw all this stuff at a body of water, and think about all the stuff that had ever happened to me. Sometimes, I would throw so hard that I would forget about thinking, and then I would just keep on throwing until I couldn't find one more rock or bug or whatever to toss. After that, I would sit down by the bank and watch the water, which Tate would sometimes jump around in if it was shallow enough, and think some more. Sometimes, it wouldn't even be about my life currently, I would contemplate some of my past lives, if I ever had any. I remember Leland said that if you don't have a deadly fear of anything but death, you'd never ever lived before now.

"Whatever you're afraid of- deathly afraid of- now," He said, "is how you died in your past life." He was smoking something, I don't think it was a cigarette, but maybe he'd hand-rolled it or something. He was sitting on a big chair sideways, with his legs folded over one arm, and his head lolling back against the other.

"How does that work?" I asked, picking a few cat hairs out of the carpet. "I don't get it."
"Well, see," He sat up a little bit, adjusting his back by cracking his shoulders. "I'm deathly afraid of water. So... I probably drowned in a past life."
"Hmm," I thought aloud, "I'm afraid of choking. Maybe I was hung in a past life?"
"Sure," He said, "Maybe you were a with at the Salem Witch Trials."

I thought about it for a moment, and then nodded slowly. It would make sense, since I was a wizard now. I'd heard about the Salem Witch Trials, and I cried for a whole day afterwards. I will never forgive American muggles for something like that.

So as I was saying, I would think about it. And then I wouldn't want to think anymore all of a sudden, and then I would start to find more stuff to throw. My right arm is uneven to my left, because I think it's more muscular than the other. Embarrassing that Rafa beat my by a little bit, but I had to keep reminding myself that he was a lot more built than I am.

He was very casual about it, when he asked me. I swore to God I tasted iron when he said it, my face was so red that I could feel the blood in my mouth. Obviously I said yes, and off we went... right after Transfigurations.

For the most part, we spoke about our family members? Apparently, he's got a relationship with his uncle similar to the dynamic I've got with Leland! He's a lot more modern look to him, I think he said his name was Daniel? Diego, probably? I've got a memory that rots like wet wood, and I can't have remembered much anyhow. We ended up kissing three times, or maybe four. The first time, he did it, and then me, and then him again. We both tasted like butterbeer, but again, I had no intention to get my way inside his mouth. That's gross.

Afterwards, we decided to head out. I asked him if he'd like to be my boyfriend, and he said he would, and then we went to the great hall to go on and eat. I've had a cheek-splitting grin for about two days counting.... it isn't enough to distract me from school work, but I do get a bit tumbly in Charms. I do not blame myself.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

11.30.19

Reducio

I've been feeling good lately, and I think it is definitely because of Rafael. I don't want to have all these journal entries about him like a lovesick mardy bum, but I do a lot of thinking. I've written some stuff down, but none of it sounds quite right? Being with him was more intense than being with a girl.
I don't... want to draw any conclusions, since I'm a bit stupid and that wouldn't make for such a good admittance, but it is a bit gay. I'm a bit gay.

All that mess aside, I think things have started to settle down. I'm at an emotional high, I've relaxed, I'm not freaking out as much as I often do, and Leland is a great help towards the guidance of... me. 'You're twelve', he reminds me, and 'you're not obligated to have everything figured out until you're forty.' I will always keep that in mind, because I'm a way's away from forty.

I think I'm the happiest twelve-year-old in Hogwarts. (Right now, currently. I don't want to jinx it, but it feels so nice to say. Or write. Whatever.)

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

12.18.19

Reducio

I'm officially convinced that if one good thing happens to me, another bad thing ends up being roundhouse kicked right in my jaw.

I try to spend the last few days of school before enjoying myself, keeping my spirits up so that I have something to run off on when I get back home, but Catriona thought it right to explode at me. She'd been ignoring me a whole lot lately, so it was in my immediate nature to bother her as much as humanely possible until she gave me the time of day.

It was not difficult.

I threw papers at her until she got angry, and then I told her to meet me after class. That she did, and then she began to shout at me and nail me down until I shouted back, and that was a mess in its own. She thought I didn't tell her anything about myself as if I do it on purpose. I always just say whatever I'm thinking when I'm THINKING it at the time. Does she not know that's how stuff works? I could be having the worst day of my life, but I'm too busy being distracted by... by, whatever, and the fact that I'm having a bad day doesn't even pop up in my head.

Aside from all of that, I have been thinking about my future a lot. Sometimes, I like to think I'll become a writer, or a musician. I'm pretty dead set on making music, partly because I've got a running start thanks to my dad... I would say I don't want to be completely associated with him, but our likes in music are quite similar, I've found, so that makes it a little more difficult. We also write very similarly, but it's difficult to describe.

"You get so reclusive!" My mum would always say to him, "it worries me."
"When have you ever given a damn about me shutting off, aye? Seems a bit random to me." My dad would reply. "Mind your business."
"I'll mind my business when you start to pay attention to our son! We had him together, I can't raise him on my own. He doesn't want to wind up without a dad!"
"We have our moments," father would bumble, "you're just too busy on the phone to hear about it."

He was right, surprisingly. Me and my dad would have moments, and I'm quite fond of them. I would sit by him on the couch and listen to him play the guitar, and he'd get annoyed that I was just watching, so he'd tell me; "Go and get a guitar and an amp, we can play together."
And we did. He always said if we ever made music together, it'd be splendid.

"Why don't we record an album together, dad?"
"The world inn't ready for it, and you aren't ready for the world."

I took that with a grain of salt. I'm excited to see my dad again, maybe I'm ready for the world now.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

12.21.19

Reducio

A flask full of applejuice, it seemed like. I was shocked when I got a letter from my dad, when I hadn't received anything from anyone in well over a month, and when I opened the package he'd supplied me with, it was a small flask. Silver, sort of like the lighter he'd given me a few years ago. The difference, though, was the small detail in which it had my initials in it. G.S., carved right into the bottom left corner to what I assumed was the front of it.

While I held it in my hands, I noticed it had a liquid in it. For a moment, I was frozen still, shocked at the idea that my own father would be okay with his twelve year old son was drinking alcohol, but... out of morbid curiosity, I twisted the cap off with the utmost gentleness in case it was a trap. Leaning my head forwards, I sniffed it--

no alcohol.

It took me a moment to process the fact there was nothing dangerous, so when I finally took a sip, I expected something very bland, like water, or maybe even spoiled butterbeer, but when it hit my tongue, I tasted applejuice. He left no note, he left nothing for me to see. Maybe it didn't mean anything, but it made me feel more familiar with myself. It brought back a lot of memories I didn't know I had, and I wish it hadn't.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

december 26th, 2019.

Reducio

Well, I can officially say that we've gone on break.
I was able to do a secret Santa with my friends, Lark, Elzabeth, , all of them, and then we left.

At the very last moment, I was told we were going to Wales. I have no idea why, but I'm currently on an airplane with my dad, Leland, and the rest of my dad's bandmates. I have never ever been on a plane before, and I would very much like for this to be the last time it ever happens. I'll stay in Wales, for hell's sake. I wish I could smoke on the plane, this is the most stressful thing I've ever done in my LIFE.

I'm sat between my dad and his guitarist, Rick, who I originally thought was a muggle but is actually capable of magic and is allegedly very good at it. I haven't asked him if he knows any cool spells, but I'm sure he's loaded up on knowledge even though he looks like a himbo. That's what my mam said, anyway.

Earlier, I asked him if he liked the Strokes, and he said he was more of a Suede kind of guy. I have no goddamn idea what that means, so I just nodded and pretended like I didn't think he was stupid for not answering my question. I like Rick. I think. He has very strong hands, I know this on account of the fact they are very big and I asked to compare sizes, and when it was absolutely confirmed his gigantic, bony, veiny hands were bigger than my twelve-year-old sized ones, he laughed very quietly and squeezed my hand. I thought he might crush all the bones in my fingers.

On the flight, my dad and his band were asked by seven different people if they could have a picture or an autograph. Since the seventh person got their way, my dad has put sunglasses on and pretended to be asleep by breathing very slowly and crossing his arms tight over his chest. No one has bothered him, but I have had a few people stare at me, Rick, Wybie, and Corg. It makes things weird, but Wybie just stares back and Leland starts to laugh.

Those are the only things that have happened on the flight at all. I will keep this book updated assuming that I'm not dead by then.

Sincerely,
Gem.

december 30th, 2019.

Reducio

After plenty of unpacking, sleep, and a bit of walking around, we've finally started to do recordings. Wales is a very serine place, so I can properly understand why anyone would want to ever go there for recording, or enjoying yourself at all as an individual.

I have discovered many things from only a day of recording.

One, Leland becomes an entirely different person when he's producing, recording, and editing.
I'm so glad he wears those sunglasses, because if I had to see his bare, naked eye when it was that hard and cold, I might drop dead. His voice flattens, he cares NOT for anyone's opinion nor their feelings, and is generally absolutely terrifying. Corg played one wrong string on the bass and Leland went off on him for about five minutes about how 'if he ever wanted the record to succeed, then get your shit together'. Weird part? It works. I tried to play a solo and a backing vocal for a track, and I messed up a bit, and Leland threatened to murder my mum. I cried. He told me to shut up and start again. It was successful. I think Leland might be the devil.

Two, my dad is incredibly nice when recording.
He patted me on the back, offered me toast, spoke firmly but with a light air, and poked fun at any screw-ups his bandmates had. When Wybie fucked up on the drums, he walked into the room, whispered something in his ear, and I've never seen fear and depression cover one's expression that quickly. Maybe he isn't pleasant, but he's certainly a joy to be around when you're me.

Three, all the bandmates think I'm a prodigy.
I was able to practice single string picking on both bas and normal electric guitar and everyone was so shocked. You should've seen the look on their faces!! I'd never felt so confident about my skills in my life. Rick said he'd never been that good, not even now, and that I must've had a gift from God bestowed upon me. I said I didn't believe in God. He said that was completely fair. The conversation died after that.

So far, all of the songs sound good. Leland's had some dude with a mustache come in a few times, he's got curly hair and dresses like he's from the 90's. They seem in love. Every time they kiss, I make a gagging noise to try and halt the kissy kissy noises I have to withstand after the recording sessions are done. I think his name is Frankie, but I don't know. I think he's weird.

Sincerely,
Gem.

january 1st, 2019.

Reducio

Well, I've officially finished recording. My parts are done, after a sleepless night, being yelled at, and becoming a different person, I've finally been able to go to sleep. I have never slept for an entire day up until yesterday.

Today, I went out to the market with Leland and my father. Both of them had gone back to their regular selves, which I was relieved about, and we bought a few groceries to make some dinner for. I was even bought a new camera and a writing book, which has gold on the edge of the pages and thick lines, just for my messy handwriting, Leland said.

I've just finished dinner. we made some kind of a beef stew. Leland's boyfriend made it, and it was so surprisingly flavorful, I could feel the saliva glands in the side of my cheeks explode. This is the last page in this notebook I will be writing, and the only thing I can think about is Rafael. I hope he's doing well, I can't wait to see him again.

Sincerely,
Gem Stuart.

january 17th, 2020.

Reducio

I haven't said much, but that's because I've spent a lot of my time being so angry it is difficult to write legibly. I've ripped out all the pages that I wrote in previous to this one, and I'm starting on a clean slate.

Recently, I've been smoking a bit more. That's one thing I can thank stress for, making me into a goddamn mardy chimney. I've stayed focused on school, too, obviously, but anywhere outside the classroom is spent behind a tree. I think my mouth is going to go numb from how many peppermints I've consumed - my cheeks are always a bit sore.

Aside from that, I've been assaulted both emotionally and physically.
I don't normally like to push my nose into people's business, but I suppose this time was different; I wish it wasn't. Some girl named Opelia was crying out in the courtyard while I was reading, and then this redhead GOBSHITE named Jack went over to comfort her. She had some secret to tell, right? And I wasn't going to prod for that, but Jack got all fussy about it. I stayed behind to comfort Opelia, but she didn't... want my help, so I went for Jack, instead.

Worst mistake of my life, and an incredible stressor for me. I spoke to him, and while I'm a bit of a nihilist, he's on a different level - an annoying level. And when I started to talk about Rafa, and how I wasn't so scared about losing him because that's what we were talking about - losing things/people - he told me something about how he wanted to tell me something, but that he would rather I learn from them myself. And then he kissed me on the cheek and said we were even.

I've never knocked someone across the face so quickly and viciously in my whole life. I even spat on him too, and while I'd normally be incredibly ashamed of my actions, I could truly give a shit. It felt like a threat, the things he was saying - that we were even? What is that supposed to entail? Said I was a smart eagle, that I'd figure that out - so what, he was saying him and Rafa had something going on? It sickens me some people have the ability to be that way, but all I'm able to think about is how it absolutely ruined my week. I'm overthinking everything, I feel trust beginning to sizzle out, I don't know what I'm going to do.

I miss my dad. I miss Leland, I miss home. Nothing like this ever happened back in Sheffield.

Gem.

jan. 31st, 2020.

Reducio

I've had my first fight with Rafa, but I don't think it ever really ended.
I'm having a hard time putting it into words, mostly due to the fact I might be dying of internal bleeding in my skull because, while he was lecturing me, I rolled down the hill (on purpose) and the side of my head smashed into a rock. I have a big cut there, now. I hope it doesn't scare, because it really is quite ugly.

I haven't heard much from my family, per usual, Leland sent me another tape that I can't listen to. I miss the muggle world, I could listen to as many tapes as I wanted. Lucky for me, though, Leland has recently started a radio station with his friend Fiona and also my dad, so sometimes I listen to it to go to sleep. My dad plays the morning songs, Fiona takes the noon and afternoon, and then at eight at night, Leland plays his until six in the morning. Sometimes, all of them will talk and tell stories about their life, so I peek in. Fiona's got an interesting life, and her music is magnificent.

I think life is wet and messy, but it'll be fun to look back on.

Sincerely,
Gem.

may 3rd, 2020.

Reducio

Journal,

I don't know why I thought that I'd be excited to return to you, but now that I have the quill on my paper, I can feel the doom I may or may not have brought upon myself. I missed out on so much since the beginning of the year, and I wished I hadn't. I wish that I could've stayed in school, I wish they'd never brought me along on that God awful trip to Manchester so I could stay in a house with no outdoors, no interaction with anyone except for Basil-- I couldn't even write letters to my friends to tell them why I had left so suddenly. It was a nightmare, that's all I'm able to say. Truly a nightmare, one I wouldn't wish on anybody.

My grandfather was dying, my favorite one. I wasn't so broken up about it at first, but we bonded quite a bit when I was allowed to speak to him. He told me stories about his youth, how his grandmother was a wizard and passed the gene on to my dad, how delighted he was to have known that his own son was a wizard - that magic was real. He kept me smiling in the coming days, and even before his passing, I knew that he'd give me a final story before he was gone.

There was a lot of fighting, that I remember.
I tried not to focus on it, but my dad, my mum, my dad's parents, they were fighting and fighting, and I never heard about what. When I would ask, they'd insist it was all family matters. I was only able to catch one thing before they shut the kitchen door on me, and it was the fact there was something dark plaguing the Stuart bloodline. As I sat in my room, I thought that maybe it meant we had muggle blood, but... that wasn't ever a problem for them, so now it burdens me. I wish I hadn't heard anything, because now, I can't stop thinking about it. It won't leave my head.

I don't know how I'm going to tell Rafael about this, I don't know if I even should. I don't know how to tell any of my friends, or send an owl to my father and ask him to take me back home, I don't care if I have to suffer or be held back another year, anything would be so much easier than having to rekindle the relationships I've spent ruining-- and it isn't even my fault. I cried over it today, and I'll cry over it again and again. Maybe that's why I'm so pathetic, maybe it would make me less pathetic if I just solved the problem. But how? How do I go about cleaning the mess I didn't even make? I don't know what to do, but everything hurts so much that sleeping feels like my only escape, and even when I close my eyes, I see my grandfather, I see him smiling at me, but it doesn't feel like him. It's a shell, with his skin pulled over it.

Gem.

gem's essential albums/artists:

kiss my super bowl ring - the garden
mirror might steal your charm - the garden
haha - the garden
the life and times of a paper clip - the garden
everything is perfect - the garden
self titled - the garden
humbug - arctic monkeys
suck it and see - arctic monkeys
favourite worst nightmare - arctic monkeys
heaven surrounds you - surf curse
nothing yet - surf curse
...because i'm young, arrogant,
and hate everything that you stand for - machine girl
small car, big wheels - enjoy
soaring - puzzle
loveless - my bloody valentine
is this it - the strokes
wild heart - current joys
2 - mac demarco
this old dog - mac demarco
salad days - mac demarco

gem's essential songs for survival:

small car, big wheels - enjoy
sitting in the back of my car - puzzle
doom generation - surf curse
nothing lasts - bedroom
you bet i stare - bane's world
sunflower - rex orange county
ampm truck - the garden
disco - surf curse
whoa - inner wave
dirty boots - sonic youth
american boyfriend - kevin abstract
tripping in amsterdam - gap girls
blondie - current joys

Name: Donovan Salinger
Age: 14
School Year: 3rd
House: Wampus
Race: Human
Blood Status: Wizardborn

Appearance

As if he needed to be more predictable, Donovan has a very simple look to him;
blonde hair, brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and a tight-lipped smile. His jangly appearance is often due to his skinny arms and legs, and his face that never has a serious expression on it. Though he considers himself painfully average, and sometimes even ugly, he got lucky with the developing bone structure in his face. He's often told he looks very mature for his age, and he can't help but agree - not that that's inherently good. He feels like he might age badly, if that's the case. That being said, he hasn't quite figured his appearance out yet and continues to shuffle around with a goofy, dumb look on his face to try and avoid having to smile for a camera.

Personality

A common complaint amongst adults when speaking about Don is the simple fact that he has an answer for everything, and in just a few seconds. He'd heard it all, how he should be a lawyer, if he spoke to his mother with that mouth-- whatever it was, he knew what to hear, and he had an rebuttal to that statement in its own. His biggest fault is that he thinks he knows everything. Not quite when it comes to science, or math, but when it comes to how people think. Once he has his opinion of you, it will likely stay that way for a long time unless you give him a reason to think otherwise. He's stubborn, but his heart is the biggest. He's passionate, emotional, and often succumbs to his bad habit of his feelings clouding the way he sees things logically.
He can be a joy to be around, as he's goofy and expressive, but he loses his energy quickly and will become grumpy if pushed too far into a social situation. He could write letters for decades, draw pictures and comics, or make short films as a back and forth, but communication isn't necessarily his strong suit.

History

You're not usually destined for greatness when both of your parents decide they aren't ready for a kid about a week after they've had you, but some of us are unlucky enough to experience it-- Don happened to be one of those kids in a situation like that.

Both Maeve and Curtis Salinger decided that shortly after baby Donovan was born, a kid was too much of a burden for them. They had no trouble finding a right home for their son, and oh-so gracefully handed him over to Curtis' older brother, feeling safe in the knowledge that Sam pined over Don the second he met him. There was no need for name-changing, just some legal documents, and the baby was all his.

Both Sam and Donovan did everything together, no matter what. Whether Don was laying by Sam's desk and drawing while Sam did work, or the two of them taking a stroll around town, it was done as a duo. Don likes to remember these things whenever life gets heavy, he knows he had a good childhood and holds on to it with all he's got-- it wasn't always domestic like he'd often fantasize about, but it was rich in love, care, and a more genuine father-son relationship than his biological father could ever offer him.

Sam would often encourage Don to do what he loved most, no matter how many times he did it. The ones that stuck? Politics, social justice, drawing, film-making, and writing. Don went through many phases of interests, but Sam stuck by his side and funded the ones he noticed made his nephew the happiest. It was a good distraction from the fact that his parents thought lowly of their son, Don was pretty good at oppressing his dark thoughts until he was able to take them out on a piece of paper or film.

Don doesn't have trouble making friends, per se, he just has trouble connecting with other people. He has a small group of people he spends time with at Ilvermorny, and while they don't quite see him for the person he'd like them to, he figures that it'll have to do, for now. He likes to write to people more, anyway.

other notable things:
- he's in a band. they're called benson mingus.

they're punk rock, and their lyrics are so cryptic they barely make any sense. at least they sound good!
- he's got a huge passion for film making and frequently
writes scripts and acts out scenes for them. he hardly tells
anyone about this because he thinks they suck. they're too
good to quit making, though.
- he loves wearing makeup and confusing people when he
does. he's told he's very androgynous, and he loves it.

- he's a pathological liar.
(and he's really good at it)
- he likes to set bugs on fire. he hopes they come back to
life and take revenge on him one day.

Friends:
Delia Finch (girlfriend)
Owen Morrison (close friend)
Genevieve "Gene" Davis (close friend)
Hunter Reys (good friend)
Eris Fawley (new friend & also totally already has a small thing for her)
Headmaster Lazarus Plott (don't laugh, he's quite good company.)

some other pictures of don so you get a feel
(can't cop a feel, though)

Reducio

(there's him and uncle sam)

Approved

Being a wizard-born he would obviously be surrounded by magical people primarily. The political climate in America is a separation of these groups, while not upheld by law it has been deeply ingrained into the culture of wizard families and there is little mixing due to a general sense of fear expressed by wizards of muggles. One could go as so far as to say that some wizards "find muggles to be very dangerous because they fear what they both do not understand what they do not have." A lesson that may have been passed onto you, although it is up to you if you share in those fears of course.

One of the few wizardborns participating in the event, one would think that the muggleborns and half-bloods were the "special ones" but no, it was Donovan. [An owl will be incoming.]