#I actually spent like 4 hours on an entirely separate drawing decided I hated it and started over

[strawberri-draws]

she's so precious <33 (wip)

[rose2jam]

Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose Jam

So, let’s talk about Cults. Disclaimer: This is just information I’ve gathered over the years from my personal fascination with religious cults.  I’m in no way an expert or a psychologist or whatever.  This is just my personal understanding from the research I’ve done.

A cult is started when a wildly charismatic Leader feels like they have a purpose, a higher calling, or a mission to be fulfilled (or they could also just be an egomaniac). Maybe they really do feel like what makes them special comes directly from a higher power, be that God, or the Heir of Slytherin, but either way, this person has a pathological need to be worshiped, and they need followers in order to do that.  

So, how does one obtain Followers easily? By finding the misunderstood misfits of society, and promising them something.  The people who feel like no one else understands them, or their ideologies.  But this Leader?  This Leader GETS IT, MAN! The Leader understands them perfectly, vindicates them, and makes them promises along the way.  Like, if they stick with the Leader, then not only will they finally be understood, but they themselves will also be revered.  That they will rise above all of the others who have put them down for so long, and will come out on top as a superior being.  

Any of this sounding familiar?

Charles Manson preyed on young people in the middle of the hippie movement, mostly women, who were feeling lost, lonely, and in need of guidance, or in terms of the men he recruited, seeking power over others.  Not all of these people were poor or helpless; some of them came from middle class, or even rich homes and families.  Yes, some of them came from broken homes, but all of them felt “broken” themselves, in some way. So Manson used their desires to have a family to draw them in.  He then used LSD and other drugs to keep them under his control, and he created a manipulative environment where the members of his “family” felt they could never leave him, and if they didn’t follow his commands, something horrible would happen to them.  I’m not going to go into full detail on the Manson Family Murders, but if you’re personally interested, check out the Podcast “Cults” on Spotify.

So back to basics, this Leader draws in Followers with flowery promises of community, power, family, or whatever.  But once the Leader has that following, the terror will begin.  Cult Leaders are usually master manipulators, and have completely brainwashed their followers into believing the “us vs them” mentality, that the outside world is evil, that the outside world will only harm them, that the outside world would never understand what they’re doing on the inside.  And that the Leader is the only one who knows the truth, so they better stick with him.  Or maybe the Leader has gaslit his followers so completely, that they become dependent on him for everything, to the point where they don’t know how they would possibly function without the Leader.  Or, the Leader has created an environment that’s so hostile, that Followers are too afraid of what might happen to them if they tried to leave, or didn’t do what the Leader commanded.  Typically, it’s a combination of all of the above.  Destructive cults will either hurt others outside of their circle (The Manson Family, Sect of Nacozari), harm themselves (Heaven’s Gate, The Ant Hill Kids), or both (The People’s Temple, Aum Sinrikyo).  

Now that I’ve laid this foundation, I’m going to tell you why it was practically inevitable that Severus Snape would join a cult.

Snape’s childhood ultimately laid the foundation for the mental state he would be in when he decided to join the Death Eaters.  He grew up in an abusive household, where his father, the muggle, had his magical wife so thoroughly whipped, that she couldn’t (or chose not to) use magic to defend herself, or her son (1).  Eileen had obviously told Severus about magic, about Hogwarts, about what a wonderful place it was, and what a wonderful gift magic could be.  Severus also watched as Tobias beat the magic out of her.  (I know it’s debated whether Tobias actually physically abused his family, but he certainly verbally/mentally/emotionally abused them, so the term “beat” could be used figuratively as well).  I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that Severus developed an extreme hatred of muggles with “burn the witch” mentalities from a very young age because of this.

Enter Lily, perhaps the only other magical person in his life besides his mother up to this point. He sees her using magic out in the open, perhaps recklessly, for fun, and he sees an opportunity to make a friend (and, admittedly, to be smarter than someone about something for a while). He was so eager to tell her all about magic, because getting to learn magic, and go to Hogwarts, has possibly been the only thing keeping him going in his young life.  And now he’s made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t think he’s weird because he’s magical.  Unlike Petunia, yet another muggle who makes fun of him for being weird (2). And Lily actually seems to like him back.  For a kid who probably hasn’t received a lot of affection in his life, this is monumental.  This friendship is everything.  Why wouldn’t he love her?

So the time finally comes to go to Hogwarts.  Severus gets to escape his abusive household, and finally has an opportunity to embrace magic for the first time in his life.  But almost immediately, he’s met with a hic-up.  Specifically, James Potter and Sirius Black.  So Severus is no longer facing abuse exclusively from muggles who think he’s weird, but now he’s also getting it from other magical people who think he’s weird (3).  And this started on the fucking TRAIN before he even GOT to Hogwarts. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t sour a kids dream right off the fucking bat.  And then, when he finally gets there, he’s separated from his only friend, by being sorted into different houses (4).  What a way for a life-long dream to be thoroughly dashed in less than 24 hours.

Let’s look at Snape’s Hogwarts experience.  He’s a good student, and he pours himself into learning as much magic as possible, and at being the best he can possibly be, probably motivated by a desire to be better than what his Father thinks possible.  During this time, he is regularly bullied and abused by the Marauders. Sometime before his 5th year, the Incident at the Shrieking Shack took place.  It definitely sucks to have been so thoroughly fucking duped, and put into a life-threatening situation involving a goddamn werewolf (5).  But perhaps even worse than that, the salt in the wound, was that no one fucking did anything about it (6).  He saw Sirius and James and Remus get out of that situation without facing any sort of proper punishment (as in, they all still stayed at the school as opposed to being expelled like they DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN (At least Sirius should have been)). Dumbledore was looking out for the Marauders, but no one was looking out for Severus.  On top of that, Severus isn’t allowed to TELL anyone about it, not even Lily.  So, he goes through what was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he can’t even tell anyone that it happened.

So, what sort of support system does Severus have during all this?  He has Lily, sure (who literally told him he should be GRATEFUL to James, one of his abusers).  But, what he really has, is Slytherin House (7). I’ll say it plainly: Severus was sorted into a house that was already full of existing cult members.  McGonagall says in Sorcerer’s Stone that “Your house will be like your family” (she at least says it in the movies, I’m too lazy to get up and reference my books rn lol).  So, Severus’ family, his support system, for 10 months out of every year, is a house that is already full to the brim with pureblood elitists with prejudiced ideals, who would absolutely vindicate Severus in his dislike for muggles.  As a kid first getting sorted into the house, it’s obviously not unreasonable to become friends with the people you’re literally living with.  His dorm mates became his family.  So, when his dorm mates started to become Death Eaters… This is headcanon, I fully admit, but like, fuck, Severus didn’t have a lot of friends, and was probably already drifting apart from Lily.  Do you really think he was going to tell the people he had to live with every single day, not to mention the only people that had been supporting him for years, to go fuck themselves for using Dark Magic?  Especially when he was probably feeling like he was on the verge of thinking that their rhetoric made some sense?

On to Snape’s Worst Memory (8).  At this point, he’s spent 5 years in Slytherin House, with fellow students who casually throw around the M word.  He gets attacked by James and Sirius, he’s practically defenseless, and then the girl who he’d considered his closest friend for so long… has to force herself not to smile when he’s thrown upside down and exposed to everyone on the grounds.  Sure, she was trying to defend him at first, but she also fucking nearly smiled at his humiliation, his pain, his abuse.  So he hurls the one word that he knows is going to cut the deepest, that will hopefully hurt her as badly as she has hurt him. And it works.

Severus had been beaten down his entire life.  By Muggles and Magic Folk alike.  And finally, he’s betrayed by Lily, his last lifeline to the light.  He betrayed her as well, of course.  But he did try to show remorse.  And she doesn’t forgive him (9), which was her prerogative, of course.  

So.  Who does he have left?

I’ve placed little (numbers) throughout my writing here.  Each of those numbers denote the specific events that led Severus to becoming an angry young man, who hates muggles, hates (some) magic folk, and resulted in him feeling weak, helpless, and desperate.  For what?  For power, for a family, for a community.  For a world where he is no longer the weird one.  For a world where he’s respected, strong.  For the world he thought he was going to be a part of, when he arrived at Hogwarts in his first year.

And it just so happens that this is the exact world that Voldemort is (allegedly) trying to create.

Severus Snape was angry, and vulnerable, and as such, he was practically the poster child for the type of person who would be susceptible to falling for a cult.  Maybe he was recruited by his friends in Slytherin House.  Maybe he was recruited directly.  Either way, charismatic Tom Riddle came along, understood how he felt, where he was coming from, told him he deserved better, and offered him all of the things he never had in his life.  And being at rock bottom, being the lowest of the low, to Severus it must have seemed like a miracle of an opportunity, or perhaps, like the only chance he had left.

Now, let me be extremely clear; everything I’ve written is not trying to EXCUSE Severus Snape for his actions.  There is always a point where personal responsibility must come into play.  Except for children born into cults or victims of kidnapping, nearly every person who has ever joined a cult has made the personal decision to join it. I’m just trying to express how unbelievably easy it is, for a Cult Leader to find people with damaged lives and low self-worth, to suck them in with promises of a fulfilling life and grandeur, and for those people to be easily swept up and brainwashed into believing that what they are doing is right.  (Or that what they are doing is required, because the alternative is more horrifying.)  

The type of people who joined the Death Eaters are the same type of people who joined Heaven’s Gate, or The People’s Temple, or yes, The Manson Family.  Now, I’m just going to say, from my own personal point of view, I do not vilify anyone who’s ever joined a destructive cult.  On the contrary, I feel sorry for them.  Because most people who join a cult, don’t necessarily do it signing up for the… end result of what happened to them.  Some of them totally do, like Heaven’s Gate. Most of them knew that the end result was going to be the “evacuation of their earthly vessel”.  But the people who joined the Manson Family, for instance, did not initially join it KNOWING how it was going to end.  They were part of the family long before Manson even came up with Helter Skelter, and by the time the Tate-LaBianca Murders took place, they were already too far gone to go against it.

I highly recommend anyone who’s interested in a humanizing view of former cult members, to read the essay “Leslie Van Houten: A Friendship” by John Waters. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leslie-van-houten-a-frien_b_246953

Or, at the very least, listen to this 7 minute NPR interview with John Waters about the essay https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111585116

It’s the story of how notorious film maker John Waters, became friends with former Manson Girl, Leslie Van Houten, and about how she broke away from the cult after her conviction, how she’s spent the last 51 years of her life recovering from the psychotic influence of a maniac who’d promised her the world, and how even though she was convicted to life WITH a possibility of parole, it’s never been granted to her, despite the fact that she has done literally everything possible to try and atone for her crimes.

Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart.  I’m pretty much the only person I know who feels sorry for Leslie Van Houten and other cult members who were brainwashed, abused, and manipulated into doing a lot of the horrible things they’ve done.  But there are people in the world, who have committed FAR more heinous crimes than the Manson Family murders, and who are far less repentant than Leslie, but because those crimes weren’t as notorious, they get to walk free.

Addendum: When I first posted this, I had a few people point out to me that they had always associated Voldemort and the Death Eaters with Hitler and Nazi Germany.  This is a perfectly fair point, but one that I personally don’t jive with, and the reason is simply the numbers.   There were literally millions of people in the Nazi party during WW2.   Death Eaters don’t even reach triple digits, as far as I’m aware.  As I hinted at in this essay, I consider Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be MUCH closer to Charles Manson and the Manson Family.  The Manson Family 100% had Nazi ideology, of course. "Helter Skelter” was Charles Manson’s prediction that there was going to be a massive race war; one that the Whites were going to lose, and that he and his Pure White family would emerge from it in order to rule over the remaining Blacks.  Kinda... sounds like a Death Eater thing, huh?

Sorry.  Back to Snape.  There is a lot we don’t know about Severus’ actual time as a Death Eater. I think it can be reasonably assumed he’s never actually killed anyone before Dumbledore (In Prince’s Tale, Severus questions if his soul would be safe from killing Dumbledore, and Dumbledore implies that his soul would not be damaged by helping an old man avoid pain and humiliation.  This leads me to believe that Severus never committed any soul-damaging murders before this).  Beyond being a sneaky spy and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort, his time as a Death Eater is all up for conjecture.  

Severus does make one important deviation from the typical cult member mold, however.  In the end, he manages to break away from the cult.  The scales fall from his eyes.  In a figurative sense, the LSD has worn off.  What made him sober up, was the threat to his last lifeline to the light. The one good fucking thing he’d ever had in his miserable life.  He was brought back by genuine love.  Ya know, the ENTIRE MESSAGE OF THE HP SERIES. And not only did he leave the cult, but he then spent the rest of his life actively attempting to destroy it, and atone for the mistakes he’s made, in an effort to bring back the world he’d been excited for, as an 11-year-old kid, so full of hope.

[theastrophilearchitect]

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

Writing journey #4.

15/05/2021 07.22 My break has officially been over for five days, and i have done some writing, but it’s been incredibly inconsistent, so I decided to start this blog post over. Bay Tree has been archived, and though FSB isn’t done, I’ve realised I need to take a step back. It’s why writers leave weeks at a time between drafts--so when they return, they’re in a different mindset, and can improve their work.

For this same reason, I need to take a step back before I finish my outline. My thought process is becoming monotonous, which means I’m losing my excitement. When you start a project, you have the idea in your head as perfect, and when those ‘vibes’ become tangible, it is less exciting. That’s unavoidable. But I just need to take a step back, so when I return, I have fresh ideas, and the plot becomes more exciting to me.

So today, I’m going to start brainstorming a new idea I had, which I don’t have an alias for yet, and I have an idea to essentially bind every project I have together, but not in Grishaverse- or Shadowhunters-style where you need to read ten books just to read the one you want. Just a nod to anyone who does read multiple, like when Aelin falls through worlds and sees Rhys and Feyre for a split second.

So. Let’s brainstorm.

My plan, I think, is to alternate weekly. This week, I’ll work on the new one, next week I’ll do FSB. I could just take this new idea and apply it to FSB, except I just don’t see how that would work. I have different worlds in mind, and this new one is a fantasy where FSB is sci-fi(/fantasy. It’s kinda both).

16/05/2021 07.07 I really wish I was a pantser. Even though I haven’t got to the editing stage, my favourite part of writing is implementing new ideas and making changes, but I’m just not a pantser. I need to know where each part is going. Instead, I have to sit here, brainstorming, for days, to figure everything out.

18/05/2021 07.06 I did a lot of work on the 16th, but I was busy yesterday, and didn’t get any writing done, because, when I was free, I was just reading. So, I’ve decided I’m going to at least write before I leave the house, which gives me about 45 minutes this morning. 

23/05/2021 18.30 Based on the fact it has been five days, I think you can tell how good I’ve been about keeping writing. The problem is that I don’t actually have much past a concept for my new project, so I’m trying to figure out how, precisely, I could merge the two projects. FSB is interesting, but doesn’t have a huge amount of depth, which adding the characters from the new project would absolutely do, while the new project is lacking plot, which FSB (at least the first book I’ve planned) does. So, I’m going to start a new Scrivener project, and consider how I can merge the two concepts while implementing both plots.

Is it too much? I have only two main characters in FSB, but five in the newer one, which gives me seven main characters, divided into three groups. And do I want to write a book with so many separate storylines? I know readers (myself included) always end up favouring one storyline over another, getting annoyed when certain POVs come up. I don’t know what to do.

I could keep the new project, but implement FSB? Hold up. New Project (NP) has two protagonists who could undergo a similar development to the protagonists of FSB... I had a plan for the male protagonist of FSB, his arc, which wouldn’t work for NP’s male protagonist, but would work perfectly for its female protagonist...

Tumblr’s glitching. It wouldn’t let me reblog a post earlier, and now it won’t let me save this draft. Please, no.

Okay, so I had to copy what I’d written for today, disconnect and reconnect to the Wi-Fi, then wait for my drafts to load to paste it. Going great!

21.00 So I didn’t get a huge amount done, because I caught up doing ~evening things~, but I at least have a plan going forward, which is an accomplishment

30/05/2021 09.29 I’ve spent the last couple weeks doing everything I can to avoid writing, but i now have an insane amount of free time, so I have no excuse. I want to use this time in a productive way, and, for me, that means writing.

03/06/2021 10.31 I swear to god, I’ve had ‘writing’ on my to-do list every single day, except not doing it is probably my own fault, because it’s been so far down on the list. Also, I’m doing a buddy read, but am also unfortunately descending into a reading slump, so even reading 50 pages takes me about 90 minutes--they’re not even long pages.

I actually went back onto my old Wattpad account earlier, where I found a load of old, unfinished stuff, but none of it was as bad as I thought it would be, and the ideas weren’t bad. I just really have no idea what it is I’m writing right now, and I hate trying to figure it out.

11.30 There are so many Ss in the word ‘assassin’ this is not okay.

This is actually going so well. I have two storylines in my head, a complex cast of characters, and I’m so looking forward to plotting this.

04/06/2021 08.04 Look at me, two days in a row. Anyways, I’m thinking I ought to name these characters ASAP, because it’ll be easier to shape them to their names than it will be to find a name which fits them once they’ve been shaped.

14.41 Here’s what I’m realising: I like to pants plots, but I can’t do that while I’m actually drafting, so I think my plan is actually to bullet point everything that happens, then revise that, then start drafting, so the story is basically set in the first draft.

I’ve actually gone through a lot of stuff--I have workable plot material!

17.16 So, me being me, I’ve semi-outlined (I say semi-, it’s more like a tenth) a trilogy, meaning I have ideas for three books following this storyline, and it... makes sense. It’s the kind of story where I can follow multiple arcs, a few at a time, instead of several overarching ones, or maybe it’s just that I’m letting myself.

07/06/2021 16.44 I don’t have a damn clue what I’ve spent the day doing. I haven’t done anything in a couple days because it was the weekend and I was busy, but I’m back now. The thing is, I haven’t spent the day reading, watching, drawing, or doing anything, really--it’s escaped me. But, at the very least, I’ve relaxed, so who cares?

I’m not applying story structure to the ideas I’m having quite yet--rather, I’m just developing them to see how they bloom on their own, then I’ll fit it in; it just seems like a more natural and effective way to develop.

Yeah, no. It’s too late in the day for this. I have zero motivation.

08/06/2021 09.49 Maybe I’ll accomplish something today; who knows? Certainly not me.

I’m now applying the 3-act structure, but I’m realising I have way too many details worked out for this--switching to more acts.

22.20 Why am I doing this to myself? I wish I could say I’m not entirely sure, but it’s because I can’t sleep, because this project, and my character Lihan, are the only things I can think about, so here I am. I don’t want to be a night writer, but que sera sera (I wish I could type accents on an English keyboard).

23.22 I accomplished more in the last hour on this project than I have in the last four days.

09/06/2021 - 1,115 words 09.29 I really hope I don’t prove today that night-writing is my sweet spot--I don’t want it to be. Can the world just let me have a functional sleep schedule??

Anyways, so, as I’ve mentioned before, I use Scrivener, which enables me to sort which documents are part of the manuscript from the ones that aren’t. I’ve been working outside of the manuscript, but I think I’m going to move them into it--I have a plan I believe will be more effective for my own drafting. I think I very much need the events to be set in stone before I begin writing in actual prose, so how can I do that? Especially when I also enjoy pantsing, but not in prose?

Here’s the plan: I plot out the main events, then bullet point everything in very high detail, similar to what many people call a zero draft, in which they draft a book in short form. I’ll sort the bullet points into chapters (but not scenes, because as I discovered with Bay Tree, I find scene-blocking makes the narrative less natural), leave it alone a while, then revise, so I can have my plot more-or-less set in stone before I work on prose.

As a result, I’m going to shift my plotting into the manuscript section, because it is, essentially, an early draft, and also I want a word count as a progress metre.

13/06/2021 - 1,611 words 8.18 Alas, I have been busy the last few days, but I’m here now.

9.20 The amount of secrets and who-knows-what in this story is genuinely absurd, but I’m sure I’ll clean it up eventually.

14.01 A few days ago, I came across a post about balancing large casts, which is exactly what I have, and the first thing it mentioned was the two-trait rule, in which every character has two traits completely unique to them, to help both reader and writer differentiate. Which I’m now going to implement.

14.42 I have these two characters, and I know exactly what I want their dynamic to be, except I can’t decide who should be which part of it.

I have made my decision. It probably works better now, but it does alter their roles, so I need to fix that.

I literally swapped them round solely because I decided one was taller than the other and thought it would be more interesting if the short one was the sadist. Why do I make my own life so difficult?

14/06/2021 - 1,574 words 11.08 I didn’t make an enormous amount of progress yesterday, but I did make some, and made notes of ideas for relationship arcs last night, so I count that a victory (forced optimism--surprisingly effective). I’m currently just working through bullet-pointing book one, while making notes of events I want in the rest of the series (I’m projecting three books, and telling myself I will finish them). I’m currently fiddling with one of my storylines to see how I can mould it to FSB’s and OH MY GOODNESS I JUST HAD A GREAT IDEA must take notes, one moment pleaseeee.

Okay, so I have four bullet points for relationship arcs and an idea to adjust one of the storylines--I’d say I have six main characters, two of whom are really the protagonists, two of which are my favourites, and the other two are fun, but in need of development. They’re split into a group of four and a pair, and I’m definitely more into the storyline of the four, mostly because the four contains my two favourites, and it’s more developed than that of the pair.

I’ve been keeping a list of things to add: motivations, loose plot threads, plot points I want to include--I really need to re-organise it.

On another note, I am so glad I named the characters as early as I did. I’m debating having two of the characters swap names, but I don’t think I will, because I will absolutely mix them up, and one of them is part of the perfect ship name.

My mouse isn’t working. I changed the batteries, but it’s not working, so now I get the joy of trying to figure out if the batteries I put in are just old or if the mouse no longer works, which would suck.

Yes, I’m going to describe this. Mostly because when I changed the batteries the first time, it took a minute to stop working, and this will waste a minute. So, first set of batteries, which we’ll call set 1, don’t work. I don’t know if it’s both or just one, but if it’s one, I don’t want to throw away both. I take out set 1, I put in set 2. Set 2 works perfectly. So it’s not the mouse. Now I take out battery 2B, and replace it with 1A, so I have 1A and 2A in here. I know 2A works, but I’m not sure about 1A, but the mouse works, so 1A is fine. Let’s replace 1A with 1B.

Yep. 1B is the problem child. 1A works fine, but 1B doesn’t. Lovely. Crisis averted. It would’ve really sucked it I had to get a new mouse. And back to writing!

12.13 I’m bouncing between documents as I organise, which means my word count is actually decreasing, so I feel like I’m making significantly less progress than I am.

I just realised my two protagonists are cousins. I’ve had it in my head that one’s father was the brother of the other’s father, but somehow I didn’t realise that makes them cousins.

I’m about to delete a list because I’ve reformatted it--my word count is currently at 1,958, but is really about to drop.

AND NOW WE’RE AT 1,572. My session word count is -32. Minus thirty-two. I hate it here, but it’s fine, because we’re ~developing~.

15/06/2021 - 2,113 words 09.39 It’s not even technically summer yet, but it’s too hot, and I hate it here. All the windows are open, so everything’s cool, there’s a nice breeze, and lots of light, but the birds are so loud, and I have to keep all the doors closed because the open windows send them swaying and slamming. You know when you close a door when all the windows are open and it slams? Yep. Not into it. 

I feel like every day I try a new way to organise my plotting. I’m unsure as to whether that’s helping me or holding me back, because it forces me to review what I have, which usually sparks new ideas, but I’m not convinced I’ll ever get to the end as long as I keep doing this.

21/06/2021 13.40 I spent the latter half of last week with zero motivation, then I was busy at the weekend, but I’m here now. I’ve been trying to make myself write basically all day--I have a plan, and a list of things I’ve come up with the last few days, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. I’m not in a good mood, but maybe this will help.

I have, however, just reminded myself that I need to prepare this week’s post, because I sincerely doubt either this or my ongoing Recent reads will be ready for Friday. Actually, if I do quite a bit of writing this week, this post might be, but I’m not willing to bet on it.

And oh, crap, now I just want to write a blog post.

No. No I don’t. I started looking at the list of ideas I had, and now I’m just not feeling it. I’m pretty sure when I open my document for this project I’ll lose all motivation too, but it’s worth a shot.

There’s a specific relationship in an anime I recently watched that I want to pull apart--there’s this ship, and the author of the manga has called the two characters ‘soulmates’. There’s just this huge amount of tension between the two, and I want to re-watch the show because I love it, but also so I can take notes to figure out what was so effective about it.

13.53 I’ve been doing this for 13 minutes, but I do think I need to leave this project/outline alone for a bit, give it an opportunity to ruminate, to evolve. In truth, I may not even come back to it until I’ve re-watched the anime I was talking about so I can tear that ship to pieces.

17.33 So I just learned brainstorming is apparently significantly easier on paper. Hm. I’ve just worked out so damn much, stuff I’ve been struggling with.

18.00 I have successfully tied up so many plot threads, simply by working with pen and paper. This is revolutionary. (I know, not really, but it is for me, someone adamant about working with a keyboard and monitor)

22/06/2021 09.42 Seriously, why did I never try actually working on paper before? Something about holding a pen to paper and scribbling and drawing a mindmap--it just works. I’ve been obstinate about avoiding working on paper because I hate physically writing, yet here we are.

25/06/2021 11.09 I’m really not managing much reading at the moment--since I started reading manga, my attention span has just gone down the drain. I’m currently reading Mister Impossible by Maggie Stiefvater, and I don’t think it helped that I had to stop less than a third of the way in to do a buddy read, but I just don’t have much motivation to read it, though I do so want to. I haven’t been listening much to audiobooks lately either, because when I’d usually listen--when I’m getting dressed, waking up, going to bed etc.--I just want to listen to music, because I also recently fell down the well of k-pop, and the group whose discography I’m getting to know at the moment is BTS. Basic, but they’re the fifth group I’m doing, and they have so many songs. Which would happen after eight years, but still.

I want to read so, so badly, but I just don’t feel like reading Mister Impossible. But I do want to finish it before reading anything else. I think I’ll finish my current audiobook, then if I’m still feeling stagnated in Mister Impossible, I’ll switch to the audiobook of that, then just take a break from reading until I’m ready to actually read. 

But this post is for writing, not reading. I did write on the 23rd, but I just didn’t update this post. The 24th I was busy, but my wall is now covered in post-it notes of world-building, characters, gods, plot points, and a whole load of other stuff.

Also, I had an idea for a book title this morning--not for this one, just in general--and when I went to add it to my list, I found a title that would so suit this project. I don’t want to say it, but let’s just say this project will be called ItLotG--or not. That’s a hideous combination of letters. I promise it is actually a good title.

11.52 I’m having another crisis over these two characters. I’m thinking it would make more sense to have L’s betrayal ‘arc’ initiated before the catalyst, or rather have it be the catalyst, except the problem there is that they’re not in the city they need to be in to receive that offer.

UNLESS,,,, what if this point happens just while they’re in the capital.... I’ve got it. 

17.16 I’ve been taking notes this whole time of everything I want to happen in books 2 and 3, and I have so much now i think they’ll be so much easier to plot than this one.

The downside of working mostly on paper is that my plans on Scrivener have been refined to one document, which is now only 878 words.

Right now, there’s a glaring hole between the midpoint and the ending, but my climax is one of those where the climax itself is a very small part of a bigger event, so if I figure out what I want to happen in this big event which is essentially the whole of the third act, I should be able to fill in the rest of Act Two with the setup for that.

So I’m leaving it there for both today and this post. In the last month or so, I decided to start over and mash two projects together, which created a whole new storyline I love, and now I’m mostly done with the first outline. I want to treat outlines as more than just preparation for drafts, because I find notes so much easier to edit than actual prose, and I hate writing without a clear idea of where I’m going. 

I think I’m going to call these ‘runs’--an outline is a run through, a draft a run through, so I’m nearly done with my first run, and I’m very proud of that, so go, go write the idea you have, drink some water, take a nap if you need one, eat if you haven’t eaten in a few hours, and I’ll be back with another writing update innnnnnn probably august, honestly.

Go write that idea!

[plush-anon]

after many hours spent pausing the show bc good lord why did they do that, i have now finished Love Never Dies

annnnnd yikes 😬😬😬

I’ll start with the few positives I did enjoy from the recorded Australian production on Youtube:

1.) the camera work. This is the kind of thing I dream of for professionally recorded shows - it really allows for some lovely close-up shots of how the emotions play over their faces, it’s lush

2.) the costumes are well-crafted, and I desperately Want the Phantom’s long-ass swooshy trenchcoat cape thing he wore for the first half-hour 

3.) the sets used throughout this are honestly very impressively used and put together for some really fantastic shots

4.) the opening, with ‘Til’ I Hear You Sing Once More’. This song is honestly very lovely, and really articulates the Phantom’s loss and heartache for Christine. It’s sung very earnestly, and had the rest of the show been more like this I might have liked it more. 

5.) the Fucking Song, ‘Beneath a Moonless Sky’, is a guilty pleasure. It’s so over the top, and it is only about recounting that One Time they totally banged yo, and I love it. I think it’s the orchestration, but it’s also enjoyably silly even while it takes itself 100% serious. 

6.) As much as I hate to say this? ‘Devil Take the Hindmost’. While I hate the gist of the song - that being Raoul and Erik betting on who Christine will choose, and pretty much deciding for her who will get to be her one true love forever, completely negating the entire point of the OF musical where her choice was the most important factor for all of them - the pacing and the lyrics as they dance around each other are absolutely fantastic. It’s kind of sad to say, but Raoul and the Phantom, in this scene alone, display more chemistry in their singing than they do with anyone else. Let the hatefcuking commence~

7.) Some parts of ‘The Beauty Underneath’ I enjoy, particularly the ending scene where the Phantom is trying to talk Meg down. It’s very slow, melodic, and shows his more manipulative side, as well as how he can crawl into someone’s head, I love it. 

8.) This very interesting visual with a mirror in Christine’s dressing room. There are two separate scenes where someone is in the mirror singing. The first is the Phantom, between Raoul and Christine. The second is Raoul between the Phantom and Christine. It’s honestly a nice touch.

9.) The main three are excellent singers. 

 Unfortunately, that’s all on the list of what I liked. Everything else is a Giant Fcuking Mess. 

1.) The Phantom is no longer a complex, messed-up, but still somewhat sympathetic character, no; this is just a giant asshole who takes everyone for granted and barely realizes that anyone else exists except Christine, and even then only really as his personal instrument. 

He never actually apologizes to Christine for the shit he’s put her through and continues to put her through, but still demands obedience and forgiveness and understanding. It completely negates the entire point of POTO’s ending, where he actually realizes he’s done wrong by her and his actions pertaining her, and lets her go from his world entirely, and RESPECTING HER CHOICES AND LEAVING HER ALONE. 

Not to mention This Bitch also threatens to kidnap/possible “lose” her child if she doesn’t sing for him, keeps pushing her around and telling her what to do, and manipulating her life to change her decisions for her. 

AND HE’S FRAMED AS THE BETTER OPTION HERE

2.) Which reminds of me of the next big asshat: Raoul de Chagny, who has now become an alcoholic gambler who pushes his wife to do things she’s not comfortable doing to repay his debts, neglects his son entirely, and also is abrasive and controlling of Christine, to the point he yanks her back and forth on doing shit. Play this role! We should leave bc he was an asshole! No now we should leave bc Phantom is back! No take the role he’s paying triple! I’ll make a bet on whether she loves me to pay my debts! No wait you should quit ten minutes before you go on-stage bc I don’t want to lose you! MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND YOU MISERABLE PISSANT SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

Like I can understand being overprotective to a certain degree, which could eventually morph into being controlling. But neglecting your son, your wife, drinking and gambling your fortune away? ALL of that?!? Really???

Shouldn’t he be desperate to keep his wife and son close to him at all times after the events of POTO? Never leave, never go anywhere, only do what’s safe? You COULD have set this up as a continuation of Safety versus Freedom with Raoul and the Phantom, show the good and bad of both and have her choose from there. Show the dichotomies and hypocrisies of both men’s standards. 

But nope! We’re just totes gonna make the husband like this for no goddamn reason, especially since Raoul doesn’t start suspecting that Gustave (his son) isn’t really his until Devil Take the Hindmost. He’s just that much of an idiot!

3.) The presence of Madame Giry and Meg Giry. Oh gods, where to even begin? They’re pretty much only here so that Sir Andy doesn’t have to make new characters with different backstories and motivations and introduce them accordingly. Nope! Now both women are blaming Christine for leaving the Phantom Man-Baby, and talking about everything they sacrificed to help him make his stupid-ass circus, and talking about how they love him and GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH Madame Giry in the POTO musical YOU LED RAOUL DIRECTLY TO THE PHANTOM’S LAIR SO HE COULD RESCUE CHRISTINE WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW SHE BETRAYED HIM

And, oh, Meg... she reaaaaaaaaaaaaally got the short end of the stick here. I just... poor dear, she was horribly treated in this. 

Neither of them deserved to be like this, honestly. 

4.) Christine, to a lesser extent. Experienced Literal Character Assassination, forced to choose between two horrible options, stripped of her agency entirely, used as a bet in a game between said two horrible options, lied to and dragged around constantly, should have taken Gustave and run off with Meg to run a music store together. Fcuk you Sir Andy, for using POTO characters to act out your bitterness and frustration at your ex. 

5.) The entirety of the whole Boardwalk Circus schtick, spawning an additional Fuck You to Frederick Forsythe, who thought this was a tenable option for the story to progress. 

6.) The Phantom’s deformity was literally just four lines drawn onto his face with crayon and some smeared lipstick:

what even the fcuk, you couldn’t make the make-up crayon drawing more detailed??? take more than ten minutes to draw it on???

I never thought I would say this, but even the 2004 film’s depiction was better than this! At least that one partially drew from a real medical condition, Sturge-Weber Syndrome. What the fcuk is your excuse LND?!?

7.)  The Lyrics. Oh gods, the lyrics. Some songs were decent, mostly the ones I listed up top. But the rest? Did someone forget to give the writer a more advanced/creative guide to rhyming lyrics? I wrote better shit in middle school than Glenn Slater did for the majority of these lyrics. 

Glenn my dude, what the fcuk is this nonsense? You’ve written good shit like the Tangled songs and stuff for Galavant! Why are you writing worse than an angst-ridden middle schooler? It is immensely frustrating, to say the least. 

8.) The really WEIRD direction in acting. No one here acts like they know how to move their arms or hands naturally; there’s a lot of really odd and unnecessary gesturing that makes it look like everyone has just had their limbs replaced with faulty robotic arms. There’s also a lot of leaning the characters do, with their arms perfectly straight by their side and it just looks wrong. 

9.) The Phantom’s pseudonym is Mr. Y. No, they never explain why it is he chose that particular moniker. 

10.) Bathing Beauty. Just... all of it, here, tied to POTO, present and here. 

11.) It’s been exactly 10 years since Christine saw/banged the Phantom, and her son is precisely 10 years old. 

That’s... not how pregnancy works. At all. 

12.) This weird scene with the American press, where they are absolutely obsessed with Christine, despite the facts they present, such as:

- She hasn’t performed in 10 years anywhere. 

- She was a French performer, and

- She only starred in three operas at the Populaire (Hannibal, Il Muto, and Don Juan Triumphant, which wasn’t even finished. So technically 2.2 operas that we know of). 

Why, precisely, would American reporters be so obsessed with her upon hearing she’s coming? I could see some interest given the whole shebang with the Phantom, but after 10 years of radio silence, would she really garner an entire crowd of reporters and photographers... in America, no less? 

France I could definitely see. America? Not so much. 

13.) Gustave is a flat, generic kid character, who apparently is totes the Phantom’s son because... he can play the piano well. And also has the same ideas of music as the Phantom, despite never being taught about them, or discussed such things with his mother. 

Is musical talent only inherited through the father’s side of the family in this universe? I mean, we never learn about Christine’s mother, just her famous violinist father. Otherwise, why is it Gustave’s musical talent isn’t attributed to - oh, I don’t know - HIS FAMOUS OPERA SINGER MOTHER?!?

14.) Apparently the Phantom is also now the one who invented cars OH I MEAN “horseless carriages” 🙄 A carriage with no engine and a “ghost horse” appears, and everyone is just fcuking stunned by this, like they’ve never seen a vehicle move without a horse before. In 1907. 22 years after the first functional automobile was invented. Ugh. 

15.) seriously tho who thought basing a sequel on the Frederick Forsythe novel was a good idea why did nobody think to stop him apart from Sir Andy’s pet cat Otto. why.

16) The Phantom’s interactions with Gustave are distinctly creepy and unsettling. I keep getting pedo vibes from him and I Do Not Like It.

17.) The death scene at the end is so goddamn over-the-top and out of nowhere I just want to throw something, ugh

18.) And finally, my last gripe with this mess: This takes place in 1907, and declares that it’s ten years after the original musical. Despite the fact that the OG took place in 1885. Yippy skippy. 😑

I can honestly say I am Not a Fan of this musical as a whole, mostly based on the plot and the character assassinations (one quite literal) and the poor lyrics. I can admire the camera work, the basic singing ability, the scenery and costumes, and maybe two or three songs. But I just do not enjoy it. It took me two days to finish watching it because I kept cringing from what shit kept happening, and had to walk around and listen to other shit to get it out of my head. 

HOWEVER: People do enjoy this one on the sake of it being so bad and over-the-top, and I can honestly see the whys. It helps that most of the cast can sing, and the orchestration is done well. There’s a TON of stupid to mock, and a lot of over-the-top awkwardness to laugh at. This is a good one to watch and mock with friends, IMO. 

For those of you who do enjoy it, I’m afraid I have to disagree on most of it. Still, it is nice being able to watch this one for free, even if it is a giant hot mess.

And that’s all for me on this one! Have a good week guys!

[ineffable-endearments]

Self-Image and Roles

Aziraphale’s sense of self-worth was based on Heaven’s approval since the Beginning. The very first dialogue he has in the whole series is used to worry that he might have Done The Wrong Thing by giving away the flaming sword. It’s really interesting to note that the audience (Crowley, and most real people I know who’ve seen the show) is immensely charmed by this show of compassion, but Aziraphale is frightened by it. He couldn’t resist doing it because he didn’t want to see Adam and Eve get hurt, but now he’s just concerned that his pity for these naked, sad creatures might have been somehow wrong.

The next we see is of God asking where the Sword is. We joke about Aziraphale lying to an omniscient God and that is definitely hilarious, but if you want to take a more serious look at it, he is afraid to tell Her out loud. She certainly must know what’s happened. And I doubt he doesn’t realize that. I think it’s just that admitting it out loud would make it feel more...intentional, maybe? Like, more brazen. Trying to wiggle your way out of a situation with a superior with a vague lie is very different from looking them in the eye and saying “yeah, I did it”.

Noah’s Ark. Aziraphale is profoundly miserable to be there. This time Crowley’s here too, and he gives a voice to Aziraphale’s doubts. Aziraphale protests, telling him it’s all Ineffable, and you can tell his heart’s not in the denial. But he’s the picture of fear and anxiety here. He’s not interested in stepping away from Heaven, but he obviously doesn’t disagree with Crowley. I think he is caught up in the fact that he hates this but his own judgement has no value because you can’t judge the Almighty.

The Crucifixion. The only talk of Heaven is Aziraphale distancing himself from their “policy decisions”. He doesn’t agree with what’s happening at all, but he still operates under two assumptions beleaguered employees everywhere make about their employers: that Heaven knows best and that he’s powerless to do anything to change it. Otherwise, both Aziraphale and Crowley are about as miserable as we see them with regards to human business in this scene.

Rome. Aziraphale is alone, and approaches Crowley to ask if Crowley is still a demon. This is a bit offensive to Crowley, I think, who responds that there is no other option. But Aziraphale persists, bringing up the oysters, “well let me tempt you to - oh that’s your job, isn’t it?” He’s reinforcing their angel and demon roles while at the same time informing Crowley that if he’s asked for social time, he will definitely say “yes”. Probably sees himself as 1. an angel (inseparable from Heaven’s will) and 2. an idle pastime.

Arthurian England. Crowley first suggests not doing their work and just telling Heaven and Hell that it’s been done anyway. At first Aziraphale makes a show of looking like he cares about lying to Heaven, but as the scene goes on it becomes clear that what he really cares about is Heaven’s approval. Not only would he be lying, but he’d be found out. Probably sees himself as 1. an angel and 2. an excuse.

Shakespearean England. Crowley tempts Aziraphale into teaming up to deal with the blessings and the temptation in Edinburgh. Aziraphale’s one and only complaint here is that “if Hell finds out, they won’t just be angry - they’ll destroy you.” As with Adam and Eve, Aziraphale doesn’t want anything bad to happen to Crowley, but he thinks this softness means there’s something wrong with him.

Also, up until now, it appears that all of Crowley’s suggestions have been work-related, and Aziraphale ends up losing the coin toss. Aziraphale does convince Crowley to miracle Hamlet into a success, but he seems actually surprised by the favor. I think around now is when he’s realizing he might actually be a friend.

TL;DR Aziraphale’s own self-worth is based in Heaven’s opinion, but he genuinely enjoys “the enemy’s” company and is upset by the notion that something could happen to said “enemy.” Because of this, I think it is safe to say that Aziraphale arrives at the conclusion that his desires do not matter.

Paris. This event, which I think was a conscious test of the relationship, should be the first big proof to Aziraphale that he means more to Crowley than an easy way out of work. It can’t be said out loud, as Crowley reminds him, but Aziraphale is now 1. an angel and 2. a friend but also 3. a risk.

St. James’s Park, Victorian era. During this particular episode, Aziraphale denies that he and Crowley have anything in common, because Crowley is Fallen. He’s once again reaching to Heaven for his personal worth. When Crowley persists in asking for a favor (it’s the Holy Water), Aziraphale’s first instinct is to cite Crowley’s safety, stating he won’t give him a suicide pill, and then to cite Heaven, stating that he would be in trouble with them.

This is Aziraphale desperately, desperately trying to maintain a comfortable status quo. His own self-worth is tied up in Heaven, but he still cares about Crowley. These two things are entirely not compatible, because as has been established, Aziraphale’s opinions and feelings do not matter. From this perspective, if Crowley really thinks this whole thing is so dangerous, then it’s going to be better for both of them if they just separate. Crowley then outright tells Aziraphale he doesn’t matter. Aziraphale seems to believe him. Aziraphale is 1. an angel and 2. a risk.

London, 1941. The church bombing. Aziraphale starts out this interaction quite angry, then relaxes when it’s clear Crowley is here to help. Then Crowley does The Thing. The saving of the books. It’s a gesture of real caring - he knew Aziraphale would care about the books, and he knew Aziraphale would forget to save the books, and he chose to do the kind thing for someone who had yelled at him last time they talked. There is no plausible deniability here, not to Aziraphale or to anyone else. Everyone loves to speculate about this moment, given that Michael Sheen said it’s when he thinks Aziraphale fell in love, but among other things, I think that this is also the moment Aziraphale realizes Crowley’s connection to him is real, heartfelt, and not going away. Aziraphale is 1. an angel and 2. a friend and 3. a risk Crowley is choosing to assume.

Soho, 1967. Aziraphale finally capitulates and gives Crowley holy water, demonstrating that he, too, cares for Crowley, but is unable to leave his own Side the way that Crowley would be willing to leave Hell. Aziraphale is 1. an angel, 2. beloved by the enemy, 3. dangerous.

Jump to modern times. Birth of the Antichrist. They make a whole new agreement, shake on it and everything, to be “godfathers” (and yes, it seems like Aziraphale is enthusiastic about that role). He is actually afraid of Heaven, intimidated by their power, but still draws personal meaning from them; being an angel still matters. I think in some ways he’s holding out because he’s hoping Heaven holds the key to stopping Armageddon if all else fails (early on, he asks Crowley what they’ll do if their godfather plan fails, and Crowley doesn’t have an answer). Aziraphale does view himself as an important friend to Crowley, but I think he finds himself questioning his importance a bit as Crowley seems to be declining all his ideas for saving the world...

...Except then, Crowley COMPLETELY shocks Aziraphale by suggesting they should run away together. Aziraphale was obviously not expecting that, and took it as a betrayal of the Side they’d created for themselves by being godfathers (even though this is so painfully not even remotely what Crowley was trying to do).

The bandstand breakup parallels the 1862 breakup to an absurdly close degree - same park, Aziraphale approaching Crowley looking anxiously over his shoulder. If things aren’t going to work out anyway, if Crowley refuses to join Heaven and keeps rejecting Aziraphale’s plans to save the Earth, then his association with Aziraphale is nothing but a danger to himself. It’s the same thought process that took place in the same park in 1862, except for one key difference: Aziraphale implies that Crowley could be an angel again this time. He does retreat to “I’m a great deal holier than thou, that’s the whole point” but this is only after Crowley has vehemently refused any notion that he could ever align with Heaven again.

In this complicated case, Aziraphale is 1. a questioning angel, 2. a godfather to Earth, 3. beloved, and 4. a huge risk.

Because he STILL identifies with being an angel (more and more hesitantly every hour), Aziraphale’s opinion on all this does not matter. It was not allowed to matter thousands of years ago, it was not allowed to matter in 1862, it was not allowed to matter in 1967, and it is not allowed to matter now.

Until.

Aziraphale’s tenuous balance is finally overthrown when he discovers that Heaven does not care about protecting Earth and will stop at nothing to decimate its enemy, which necessarily includes the “enemy” who loves Aziraphale. There is literally no Higher Power to turn to. Aziraphale decides he really doesn’t care about being a good angel so much anymore, and prefers the godfather role, seeking out his fellow godparent right away. He is no longer bound by Heaven’s approval.

Through the millennia, time spent balancing life on Earth, Crowley gave Aziraphale his second meaning, the one after being an angel, the one he eventually chooses. And that second meaning came through the Earth, through their mutual love for this place that Heaven and Hell disdained - and their love for each other and the gifts that each gave the Earth as well.

[ashes-and-ashes]

So, apparently it has been 6 months since I first started posting my stuff on Tumblr.

6 months! It feels so long and yet so short, all at the same time. Tumblr has become such a huge part of my life now, and I am so grateful that this community is so welcoming and accepting.

I remember when I decided to first write this. I always wanted to post my stuff on Tumblr, always wanted to be able to share my writing, but by God, I was so damn scared. I always made deadlines for myself, “I’ll post over Christmas! I’ll post on my Birthday!”

That was actually the major deadline for me! I always told myself that I’d start posting on my birthday, that it would be like a present to myself. At the time I set that goal for myself (August Something), March 11th seemed so far away, and I was basically procrastinating.

And one day, I was watching he Winter Soldier and I was thinking about Stucky. And it was 12 at night and I don’t know what happened, I just thought to myself, “Screw it. I want to write something and I’m going to post it.”

So I did. I spent 4 hours on this semi-decent fic and I got a grand total of 12 notes. And I was ecstatic because holy shit, 12 people like my stuff?

So I kept going! And now here I am! I think it’s pretty funny that the first thing I ever decided to write was an angsty fic about Stucky and their relationship.

Anyways, here it is down below! Thanks for supporting me, and encouraging me to keep writing! :)

Thoughts

Bucky’s falling, wind whispering in his ears, snow covering his face, the screeching of the train on top of him. A scream rises in his throat, as he stares up at the sky above him.

And suddenly, he’s 9 years old again, cracked shoes and dirty clothes, sitting on top of the swing set in the park. It was a hot day, a dry summer. He sees dead grass drying in the cracks in the pavement, hear the wind whistling through the trees.

And he hears them. There’s Ricky King, 3 years older then him, towering over all the boys in the neighborhood. He’s laughing, a group of older boy around him, all kicking at something hidden in the middle of the throng. Bucky finds himself leaning forwards, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay in the middle. The crowd shifts, and Bucky sees a tiny figure, all bones and cuts and the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. The boy is bleeding, marks all over his face, yet he still pushes himself off the ground, glares at Ricky, and says something that makes Ricky flush and punch him square in the jaw. And Bucky is angry, because surely the boy knows that talking will only get him more hurt? So he sits there, and watches the fight.

After 10 more minutes, the boys leave, and Bucky hops down off the swing set and heads over to check on the boy. He’s curled into a ball, yet when he glances up, his eyes are filled with defiance. Pain fills his every move as he slowly pushes himself to his feet, still glaring at Bucky. And Bucky is speechless, because why would you let yourself be tortured like that?

He doesn’t know what to do, so after a while, he says, “Um...are you ok?” The other boy nods his head, tears welling up in his eyes, desperately trying not to cry. Bucky is still frozen, helpless. He puts his arms around the other boy, because that’s what his mother did when he was sad, and gradually, the boy stops crying. He lets go, looks at the other boy in the eyes and says, “Hi. I’m Bucky.” The other boy smiles back, eyes red from crying, and says softly, “Hi. I’m Steve.”

And they are 13 now, young and careless and rebellious. Steve is still small, bones protruding from his chest and half a foot shorter then everyone else in school. Bucky is taller, broader, dark hair and darker eyes, and they are inseparable. They spend the days at school, learning math and english and science. Afterwards, they go to Steve’s place, into the forest behind his house, and Steve draws and Bucky climbs trees and they are happy. And he’s 13, getting looks from the girls in his class. They giggle, hide behind the gates at recess, and he sometimes hears them whispering when he exits the classroom. He’s confused, because he’s never noticed these things, never noticed anything besides Steve, and he wonders if something is wrong with him.

They’re 14. Bucky is tall, towering over Steve, who is still skin and bones and blue eyes. It’s winter, bitterly cold, and they can’t light the fire because logs cost too much. They lie huddled in the narrow bed, Steve against the wall and Bucky pressing close to him. Steve is barely breathing, his last asthma attack not even 10 minutes ago. He shivers, the movement shaking the entire bed, and Bucky presses closer. He hesitates, because he is 14 and should he really be sharing a bed with his friend? And he hates himself for it, hates that little voice of doubt in his head because Goddamn it, he’s your best friend for Christ sakes Bucky! but he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. He’s noticing things, the curve of Steve’s wrist as he turned the page on the sketch book, the way his hair fell over his face, how his cheekbones and nose casted a shadow over his lips when the sun was in the right place in the sky.

And Bucky is scared, because this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be like? He almost edges away from the sleeping figure of Steve, but another wave of coughing overwhelms Steve’s thin body, and Bucky is back to his old spot on the bed. He reaches over, wraps an arm around Steve’s bony ones and holds him tight.

And they are 15, and Steve still can’t fade from Bucky’s mind. He tries to hide it, destroy it, burry it with wine and women and dancing. He takes his shoes, shines them until you couldn’t see the cracks in them, smiles to hide the holes in his heart. He spends the days working at the docks, hauling box after box after box. The money is barely enough to get by, the work exhausting, but Bucky can’t quit, because he now has to support not only himself, but Steve as well.

And it hurts. Everyday, 5 in the morning until 7 at night, hauling boxes and tying knots, until his back is screaming and his fingers are bloody. He waits outside of the apartment that him and Steve share, looking at himself in the shard of mirror hanging outside of the front door, pasting a smile on his face and he clenches his teeth hard. He knows that if he breaks down, Steve would be out on the streets, and he would not, could not abandon Steve. He’s 15, working his ass off, trying to support 2 orphans, and still when he falls asleep, all he can see are Steve’s blue eyes in his dreams.

They are 16, the world going to absolute shit around them, and all Steve wants to do is fight for his country. “They are ENSLAVING people over their Buck,” he says one evening, glaring at the radio set in front of them. “I need to help. I can’t...I can’t just stay here and do nothing!”

Dread pools in Bucky’s stomach, because how can he protect Steve if he is somewhere in a goddamn war zone? but he holds it together, smiles, manages a small “calm down pip-squeak,” and exits the room.

He’s scared, because he knows that while the army may never take Steve, they’d sure as hell take him, and then Steve would be on his own. He can’t handle that, the thought of leaving for some separate country, and never seeing Steve again. It’s worse though, because despite all that’s happened, he can’t stop having those dreams. Dreams of Steve’s hands on his body, and those blue eyes, and kissing him, Bucky’s hands tangling in his hair. He’s disgusted with himself, knows that this is wrong, but he can’t decide if he is relieved or wrecked that he may leave without ever telling Steve Rogers the words I love you.

They are 17, now, the war still raging around them. They’ve been lucky so far, but Bucky knows that this luck can’t hold for much longer. Steve is at the recruiting station everyday, a different state on his form every time, and yet all Bucky can do is stare at the envelope placed in front of him at work. His name is printed in bold letters on the paper, James Buchanan Barnes, and the only thing that runs through Bucky’s head is Steve. Because the day had finally come, the clock had run out. He knew that they were on borrowed time, knew that every moment was another moment lost, but goddamn him, he thought they would have more of it. And he knows he’s going to die there, die without ever saying goodbye to Steve, and he can’t think, his breath coming in tight bursts. He stands up, shoves his chair underneath the table with a violent jerk, and somehow he is standing outside the apartment, in his uniform, his hat cocked to one side, and trying not to fall apart.

He opens the door, finds the window open and sees a note saying On Roof. He climbs out the window, sees Steve on the roof, and his heart catches in his throat because he is so freaking beautiful, all golden and shadows, and all he wants to do is to kiss him. Steve comes over, smiling, greets him with a simple “Hey Buck.”

He leans over, puts his arm around Bucky, and Bucky feels his heart hammering in his chest. Steve notices this, turns his head towards Bucky, a confused expression on his face and goddamn him in hell, but Bucky can’t take it. They are only a short distance apart, and Bucky leans forwards and meets Steve’s lips with his own.

And Steve stiffens for a moment, and Bucky nearly pulls away, petrified because shit, shit, shit what if he didn’t like me in that way?? And he is about to apologize, beg his forgiveness when Steve pulls him closer and kisses him again.

They are 2 boys, rain pouring down on top of them, buckets and buckets of it, and yet all either of them can do is breathe each other in. And Bucky pulled away, looking at Steve Rogers in the eyes, and thinks how can I let this go?

And as Bucky falls, he remembers. Days and days of golden summer, crisp fall. Lying in beds as boys, pressing Steve against his body. Sitting in trees, Steve drawing and Bucky reading. Snowball fights and sleepovers and campfires and how the light reflected off of Steve’s face. 2 boys kissing on the rooftop, not giving a damn what others thought as the skies opened on top of them. And he was grateful. Grateful for all that stolen time, those early days and late nights, that hot summer day long ago, because without Steve, Bucky knew that his life would be meaningless.

So Bucky fell, thousands of miles off a steel train, and the last thing he saw was the blue eyes of the boy he loved best.

[diegoalvesisgod]

Top 5 Ostrava games ?

Ummm, that’s hard. It’s not like I remember entire games, rather I remember that something special happened during them. This will be long, btw. I love my stories.

1. Ostrava - Znojmo (May 2017) - Back to the 1st League

I don’t even know why this one is my favorite. But it was the first match since 2004 (our title year) that was an opportunity to celebrate something. We got relegated for the first time in nearly 70 years, and our club was just done. Done. Then we got a new owner, and a very, very controversial coach (who actually spent some time in a mental asylum because he got addicted to gambling during his time in Petersburg, yeah). And this coach came and looked everyone in the eyes and said “We’ll be back in the league in a year.” We were pretty traumatized from all the years prior to that, and we were like “Ha ha ha, okay, maybe five years.” But no. The year in the 2nd league was a fairy tale. Imagine witnessing a phoenix being reborn, that’s how it felt. We drove through it so smoothly, and were holding onto the 2nd place (Olomouc were still kind of another level) comfortably... except then... we choked. We lost a 9 points advantage we had over Opava, and here we are, playing our last match against Znojmo, and it’s win or die. And what’s with the daring predictions, a player who is no top scorer by any means says before the match: “There’s no way we’re losing this.” and we are like “Suuuure, boy.” Guess what, this boy scores the first goal. And I’m like “Boy, you score another and I’m taking off my shirt.” He effin’ did, so I’m on the tribune jumping in my bra, waving the shirt above my head (I said if he scored a hattrick, I’d take off the bra as well, but that didn’t happen). Anyways, we win, and the speaker goes: “Please, don’t run on the pitch, the players will come to celebrate later on the parking lot...” Bitch, I wanna be with my boys - he wasn’t done speaking when I was jumping over that fence, and the security were of course very chill (because you’re not stopping 5 thousand people who have decided to have a party on the pitch). We also had the celebration on the parking lot, don’t worry. Free beer and all. I don’t drink beer, but it was nice of them.

2. Ostrava - Sparta Prague (April 2018) - Beating Sparta at home after 10 years

Okay, so Sparta is our biggest rival. Some might say it’s Opava, and I get it, because we fight over who is the king of Silesia (WE ARE), but we really don’t like Sparta. We’re not friends with Slavia either, but it’s not hate, and we don’t really give a damn about the other two Prague clubs, Dukla and Bohemians, but we hate hate hate Sparta. You go from our club to Sparta and you’re dead. Or you’re not dead, but Milan Baroš has to vouch for you saying “please, dear fans, he’s just a stupid child, he didn’t know what he was doing, don’t kill him!” and hold you around your shoulders, and then you have to have a long talk with the fans, wait a couple months, and score some goals, and then we will maybe forgive you and take you back (that’s what my favorite did - stupid, stupid boy). Anyway, we usually don’t beat Sparta. And especially not at home - it hadn’t happened in 10 years before this match. BUT THEN IT DID. We were leading TWICE, but then it was 2:2. And in the 86th minute Milan fucking Baroš scored the 3:2 goal with his head. The stadium EXPLODED. It was insane. We didn’t even know what was happening, it was so intense. The ref of course gave Sparta like an hour of prolongation, because it’s Sparta. It was terrible. We couldn’t even sit anymore, we just stood there, and I think we sang our anthem, and then I prayed Our Father over and over again (I do this a lot at football matches, sometimes the whole rosary when I can’t take the nerves anymore because it calms me down), and then came the final whistle, and I just fell on my seat and started to cry hysterically. I literally couldn’t calm down. It was so beautiful, and I’ll remember it until I die.

3. Ostrava - Slavia Prague (September 2018) - Winning in 10

It was a nice, sunny day, a match against Slavia like any other (which means we were bound to lose, because, hehe, Slavia is a different level *whispers* money). But things got crazy. Crazy crazy. It’s the 10th minute, and Milan Baroš commits a foul. Um, yeah, he does, let’s admit that. An elbow. The ref gives him a yellow. But then, the 4th ref (who can’t set his foot in this city anymore) tells him to go consult VAR. He does. And gives Milan a red card. Milan being Milan (I swear to you, he’s the sweetest person off the pitch... but on the pitch, he’s a monster) tells the ref something along the likes of “You fucked up the match, you fucking c*nt!” and other things, during his approximately 3 minutes long rant prior to leaving the pitch (he got a 6 match ban after that, that’s how bad that rant was). We are in 10, we don’t have our top player, and we think that we are royally fucked. NO. The team decides that they will FUCKING WIN THIS FOR MILAN. The crowd decides that we will HAUNT SLAVIA TO THEIR GRAVE. The remaining 80 minutes are hell on earth. They never, never stood a chance. We massacred them. The crowd was so hyped, like, I was so hyped that I could have killed someone. If Milan Baroš showed up on the tribune and told me to kill the ref or one of the Slavia players, I’d probably jump onto the pitch and strangle them with my bare hands. If you don’t know what deindividuation in a crowd is, that was it. It was so intense that even our coach got sent off - our coach is a former teacher and he literally never gets mad or violent or anything, but he was sent off. We won 2:1. Nobody knows what happened here. Everyone was traumatized. And we will surely be telling our children and grand-children about this match.

4. Ostrava - Zlín (February 2016) - Winning for Pavel

Okay, this match wasn’t special in terms of football (I don’t remember anything that happened on the pitch), but I’ll always remember it. It was the match where we said goodbyes to our former goalkeeper, Pavel Srniček, who died in December 2015, actually a day after my birthday. I attended the traditional “New Year’s Eve Match” that is played every year, and that year it was on December 27th, and Pavel was already in hospital, and we were chanting his name there and sending positive energy. I couldn’t even imagine that day that he would be gone in two days. It was even harder for me because we played tennis at the same club, always in the early mornings in the same hall, neighboring courts, and we would exchange balls that flew over the net separating the courts and laugh all the time - it was just a constant in my life, that thing you just really feel isn’t there when the person is gone. Anyways, this match was the first match home we played since his death, and the club made a video homage to him that they played in half-time on the big screens. As I was standing there watching it, tears rolling down my cheeks, an elderly man was passing through the stands, and he just stopped and clipped me on the shoulder, and walked away - a moment I’ll remember forever. This was the season we got relegated, and we lost literally everything we could have lost, but this match we won 3:0, out of the blue. Look at this:

Strange, right? I’m probably the thickest person when it comes to spiritual stuff, I’m the first one to tell you things like that don’t exist, but that day, I simply felt that Pavel was there with us. He was there and nobody will convince me it’s not true.

5. Ostrava - České Budějovice (February 2013) - Milan Baroš’s Comeback

This was the match when Milan Baroš came back to Ostrava after 11 years. Which made me feel very old, too, since unlike the excited kids around, I remembered when he left. Ahem. I don’t even remember the score, I think it was a draw, but it was freezing cold (February, eh) and the staff had to literally clean 1 meter of snow from the pitch and the stands (open stadium, where half of it didn’t have roof, so), and there were piles of snow everywhere. Which we promptly used to make snowballs and throw them at the opponents when they were about to take corner kicks... it was fun. We had a special presentation for Milan, and I had a picture of it, but I can’t find it now. Anyways, I like the memory of this one.

[nightglider124]

Japan: My Trip

Thought I’d put together a little photo diary of my two weeks in Japan because why not and I just like to share with my tumblr pals.

Read on to find out what I got up to.

Sunday 13th May

This was the day I flew out to Japan. I packed my bag and was ready to leave at 11am UK time. I’m not gonna lie to ya’ll, I was an emotional mess, leaving my family behind. 

You should know, I’ve never been on a trip without my family and I’ve never been out of Europe. So, going out to Japan with just my best friend was a big thing for me. So, was pretty tearful and then my mum like burst into tears; she’s a worrier. 

Anyway, my dad dropped me off at the airport to meet my bestie and we did all the boring airport stuff and soon enough, we were on the plane. The sky is ridiculously pretty at different times during an overnight flight or at least, a flight that crosses different time zones. 

Pretty uneventful. I mostly ate, slept and wrote chapter 1 of CTD: Bound. 

Monday 14th May

So, I arrived in Japan’s Narita airport at 11am.

Then I went up and grabbed my suitcase as well as going and grabbing my pocket wifi - Something that is tremendously helpful if you go to Japan. I don’t know what it’s like for you guys but in London, I pretty much have wifi anywhere I go whereas in Japan, it wasn’t as easy to come across; at least not for free. 

The pocket wifi was a godsend. It can connect up to 10 devices and it lasts all day long when fully charged. Now, there were a couple times it tapped out but you just need to turn it off and turn it on again. 

It cost about £60 for 2 weeks but if you’re going with people, it works out better. Me and my friend split it so we only paid ��30 each but very worth it.

But, yeah, defo recommend this for anyone who is going to Japan. It was a big help, especially when needing to look up locations and/or directions.

Next, we went and grabbed our Japan rail passes which look like so:

This was probably the best thing I bought for Japan. Not even joking. 

Even if you aren’t going very far, this thing helps so much. It’s a pass that allows you to use any trains that are owned by the JR company which is a fair amount that helps you get around Tokyo and surrounding districts. Note: You have to buy it before you fly to Japan and take the exchange form that comes in the post with you to Japan. You exchange it at the airport and they give you the passes above. Just make double sure your passport has been stamped because otherwise, they won’t let you have it. 

Anyway, this was £310 for 2 weeks but again: WORTH IT. It does depend on what you’re doing but me and my friend were out and using transport every single day. We also went far. We went to Hiroshima, Kyoto and Osaka - All covered by the passes. And for example, £310 is basically a return ticket to Kyoto so you are already making your money back. 

So, we picked these up and using them, hopped on the shinkansen (bullet train) to Shinjuku (Sound familiar, Titan fans? Yes, it’s the ‘roughest part of town’ according to Robin in the Trouble in Tokyo movie). It took about an hour and then we checked into our hotel which was: Shinjuku Prince Hotel.

It was a really nice hotel actually. The staff were friendly and spoke really good English. I recommend staying here; it’s right in the heart of busy Shinjuku and was only 5 mins from the station. We booked a deluxe twin room because two rooms worked out more expensive and it was not too shabby at all. I didn’t actually take any pictures so I snubbed some off google.

Anyway, we were running a little late and we had tickets to the Studio Ghibli museum so naturally, I was freaking out because the website expresses that they are strict on being on time for your slot. I nearly had a breakdown because... dunno if ya’ll remember but I had a right time trying to get a hold of these tickets. They sell out so quickly it is unreal. Anyway, our slot was 4pm and they only allow you to be 30 mins late. 

We arrived at 4:50pm and I was close to tears as I ran into the park it’s situated in. I was so annoyed and so scared they weren’t going to let us in. But...

They did!! The guy was so sweet; I think he could see by my face how much I wanted to go inside. He was like all smiley and was like it’s okay, go on in. I was like THANK YOU JESUS. Here are some photos:

They don’t allow photography inside to preserve the magic of visiting. And honestly, it was so nice inside. It felt just like a Ghibli movie and seeing the animation process and the short film and the original drawings... it was all so amazing. Being a Ghibli fan makes this 1000% better but it’s still great for people who aren’t as into it. My friend isn’t really into Ghibli movies but she thought it was still pretty cool whereas there was me in like awe over all of it.

Anyway, we stayed there about an hour and as you can imagine, we were frazzled af. We were tired from the flight but I wanted us to force ourselves to stay up so jet lag wasn’t as much a problem. 

After, we made our way back to Shinjuku where I took some pics from my hotel room:

Then we grabbed some McDonalds which was literally just across from us; something quick so we didn’t starve. I facetimed my family, showered and fell asleep.

Tuesday 15th May

So, the first full day we were there, it was a more chilled, sightseeing day. Nothing too taxing and we felt a lot more refreshed after a proper sleep.

First, we went and checked out the Tokyo Imperial Palace which was really pretty but we couldn’t go inside. It was mega hot the entire time we were in Japan; I thought I’d die. I hate the heat.

And because I was out in the heat all day and didn’t think to put suncream on... yeah, you can see where this is going... 

More on that later, because then we carried on to the Yasukuni shrine which is just down the street from the East Gardens of the palace. 

The shrine was cool and everything was so pretty; very tranquil and peaceful.

In the afternoon, we headed over to the Sunshine City mall in Ikebukuro where I forced my friend into the Pokemon Centre Store which was LIT.

I was fucking excited, ya’ll. I got some really cute stuff too. Got myself some Mimikyu chopsticks, an Eevee tail key holder, a Pikachu glasses case, a Pikachu makeup bag and a little Mimikyu figure bc Mimikyu is a fave and I have no cool stuff with it on. 

I also got my brother most of his souvenirs in here because we have loved Pokemon since the dawn of time. I mean, we’ve fallen out of it in recent years because all the new gen pokemon etc... we’re more for the original pokemon and original series and games. Seriously, when kids come up to me like, do you even know Pokemon I’m like bitch step back you don’t even KNOW. It’s like I got a Pokemon CD for my brother and it had a japanese version of one of the songs from the first movie and we were like screaming. That film man, don’t even look at me.

Ahem... the Pokemon store was so wicked but mega expensive like shit son. Glad I took so much money with me because I NEEDED IT.

After the Pokemon store, we went down a level to the Studio Ghibli store where I didn’t get as much stuff as I thought I was gonna. 

But, I got a Spirited Away fan with No Face on it, a Totoro and No face figure as well as a Totoro bib and hat for my niece. 

Then we went and had fooood where I noticed... I was extremely sunburnt... Like in the below pic, you can’t see it that much because it hadn’t really come out full pelt yet.

Pls ignore my hamster face but see my chest? Burny burny burnt burnt. I got back to the hotel later that night and I had the shakes where it was hot and all the heat was there rather than all over. It was horrible.

I’m lucky I decided to wear full on makeup that day otherwise my face would have gotten buuurnt. Well done, Estee Lauder foundation, well done.

But yeah, it wasn’t the best end to the day because then I was all uncomfortable and my skin was sensitive and I was mad at myself for not putting on cream so then I got all upset and cried but I think I was still tired from the journey too and I was overwhelmed but yeah; kinda sucked.

Other than the sunburn, I also didn’t pack shorts for under my dress so my thighs rubbed and were in agony as well as my vans gave me like 4 blisters on each foot so I couldn’t walk or at least was in extreme pain when I tried so getting back to the hotel was a damn hoot.

Besides all that, it was a pretty good day!

Wednesday 16th

This was the day we trekked all the way down to Hiroshima which is like a 5 hour journey by train. We had to take two trains but it was actually not too bad. It certainly didn’t feel like it took that long to get down to Hiroshima. 

One thing I will say about longer train journeys; remember to reserve a seat. Some like the one from Narita Airport are reserve only so you have to reserve a seat for it. But, others don’t need it and have “non reserved” cars but mark my words, if you’re travelling on these trains at a busy time, it really pays off to reserve a seat. We didn’t for Hiroshima and whilst we found seats for the 3 hour part of the journey; on the second train, we had to stand for like 45 minutes because there were no seats and then even when we did get to sit down, it was separated so yeah; book your train seats, people.

Once we arrived in Hiroshima, we hopped on a ferry which took us to Miyajima island. It’s about a 10 minute journey and once again, it’s covered by the JR pass. I loved that thing to death not even kidding.

Here’s some pictures I took on the ride over:

This island is home to the big red Torii gate that people may know of. I picked up some cute souvenirs and ate katsu. And there were even deer roaming around the place! A couple got married too whilst we were visiting and it was so nice. Again, it was mega hot so I was dying from that aspect but otherwise, I could live on this little island.

Unfortunately, we spent so much time at the island; we didn’t get round to doing the two other things we had planned which were seeing Hiroshima Castle and the Atomic dome memorial. I was kinda bummed by not seeing those but the last train was at 5pm and we weren’t staying the night so we had to get said train. It was okay though; it’s something to add to the list of things to see when I eventually revisit.

We got back at about 10pm and then it was lights out because we were exhausted.

Thursday 17th May

This was another sightseeing day that was fairly local considering we were pretty tired from Hiroshima still. 

We traveled over to Asakusa which has the lovely Senso-ji temple and shrine. It was really cute, the walk up to the temple is lined with all these little shops and souvenir like places which have charms and fans etc. Really nice.

Inside, they do this thing where you pay 100 yen and you shake a metal box that contains lots of sticks with numbers on. When you bring out a stick, you find the number it matches and you bring out the fortune. You get a good fortune, regular fortune or bad fortune. I got myself a regular ol’ fortune XD. 

But, they also have this rack so that if you get a bad fortune, you tie it to the rack to rid yourself of the bad fortune whereas a good or regular one; you would carry it with you.

Other than that, we hung out and then went back to our hotel for a while before heading out again to check out the nightlife of the area. Everything was mega lit up and was so nice. We went and grabbed dinner and also went and got crepes. They were a m a z i n g. Like they were so good ugh. 

After that, went back, showered and slept. Pretty uneventful day; just being touristy. 

Friday 18th May

Again, more sightseeing on this day. We went and saw the Tokyo Metropolitan Building and looked out over Tokyo.

Then, we went to the Meiji Shrine.

Aaand lastly, we went to Shibuya for the evening.

Yes, those are people dressed as characters from Mario Kart driving in the streets of Tokyo. This place was crazy. XD

After seeing the crossing scramble that is so infamous, we trekked back to the hotel and fell asleep.

Saturday 19th May

This day we literally went on trains all day to collect stamps. In Japan, they do these things called Eki stamps which are stamps you can find at stations, museums, shrines, tourist spots etc.

I haven’t got any pictures of mine but i got like 50 of them whilst I was in Japan. Going on one train line at all the stops got me like 30. 

We had nothing else planned on this day so my friend suggested the collecting stamps XD.

Sunday 20th May

This was one of my two absolute favourite days whilst I was there. It was the day I went and saw Mt Fuji and went into Aokigahara forest. 

It was approx 2 hours from Tokyo but we’d booked a tour instead of trying to do it ourselves. It worked out a lot easier. When we reached the highest point you can go to on Mt Fuji, by vehicle anyway, we had 30 mins to sightsee. We took pictures and went into the souvenir shop etc. 

My god, it was so frickin’ cold up there. Obviously. We were high off the ground like shit, it was freezing. But, pretty pictures.

We then went caving in an ice cave that is iced over all year round and is not usually open to the public. 

After that, we were taken back to Shinjuku where we grabbed food and went back to sleeeep.

Monday 21st May

We went to Kyoto on this day. We managed to see all we wanted to as well but then again, Kyoto was only a 2 and a bit hour train ride away.

When we got there, we saw the Fushimi Inari Taisha.

They were pretty but boy, was there a lot of people. I had to wait for so long to get pictures with none of very few people in it.

Then, we headed over to Kinkaku-ji which is this golden temple.

Again, very pretty.

Lastly, we checked out the Arashiyama Bamboo grove which was pretty also.

After that, we headed home to our hotel. We had an exciting day the next day.

Tuesday 22nd May

TOKYO DISNEYLAND, BITCHES.

I was excited and I can see why people hype Disneyland up. No matter which one you visit, there is this big sense of nostalgia and magic. It was unforgettable and wasn’t half as busy as some theme parks get here. But, I suppose we did go on a Tuesday.

Would hate to see it on a weekend.

The mike melonbread was delicious <3

Disneyland catered to the childish side of me and I loved every single bit of it. <3

Wednesday 23rd May

On this day, we visited Osaka which is about the same sorta time out from Tokyo as Kyoto is. Again, not too much going on. We checked out Osaka Castle.

And then, we checked out Dotonbori which was also very cool.

After that, we headed back to Tokyo. There wasn’t too much we were desperate to see in Osaka and it was raining which wasn’t the nicest.

Thursday 24th May

Last full day meant Harajuku and Shibuya for shopping day. I haven’t got any pictures but omg we went and did those purikura photo things? They are hilarious. It was funny doing them but even looking at them; they funny XD

I bought a bunch of stuff for myself as well as my family as souvenirs. It was funnn. 

Friday 25th May

The day I flew home to London :(. I was sad to leave Japan but I was really happy to be coming home. No matter how much you may call your country a shit place, there’s no place like home. 

Omg, I went over my bag weight limit with all the stuff I bought. I’m allowed 23kg and my suitcase was 27kg -.-

I paid £65 for that extra weight because I was not about to be that person who opens their suitcase in the middle of check in trying to decrease the weight XD

Pretty straight forward afterwards. I flew home and when I got to my house, my family let me have reign on dinner so we got KFC.

So, that is what I got up to in Japan. I loved every minute I was there. It is so very different than London and it has much more beauty than any city I’ve been to has.

I can’t wait to go back someday and I encourage anyone and everyone to go there. It is something else! <3

Thanks for reading if you made it to the end! I appreciate it ^.^

[ernmark]

Can I please have a vixen Peter sequel

Can I just say?

I love that we’re well into the seventh part of this particular series, and all this time the unwritten part is always referred to as the “Vixen Peter Sequel”.

I actually thought of a plot point at work a little while back, and I mentioned it to a coworker. To which she goes “oh, you’re writing this story now? What is it called?”

“Uh….” And honestly, I have no idea. Because all this time, I’ve always been calling it “Vixen Peter”.

Gonna need to come up with a better title before it goes up on AO3…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

I’ve had some pretty bad hangovers, but they’ve been nothing like this. I squint against the light that hits my eyes, but it doesn’t hurt like it usually does. My vision is swimming– usually that stops by the time I pass out– and I usually don’t get as nauseous as I am right now.

The ceiling over my head is too close, all neutral tones painted over riveted alloy plates. 

This isn’t any bar I’ve ever been to, and it isn’t my apartment or my office. And I… I distinctly remember drinking at home. A bottle of bottom-shelf rotgut I had stashed under the sink. And sure, it tasted kind of funny, but that comes with the territory of “bottom-shelf rotgut I had stashed under the sink”.

But it wasn’t just that, was it?

I try to sit up, and my vision sloshes again. My thoughts are slow, but I can rub enough brain cells together to draw a conclusion: I’ve been drugged. 

I’m too busy trying to figure out which way is up to notice the other person sharing the cramped berth with me until he speaks. “Oh, good. You’re awake. I was starting to worry.”

Peter.

I whirl to face him, and it feels like the inside of my head decided to keep spinning without me. I think I’m gonna throw up, but I manage a glare. “Where– where the hell am I?”

He looks down at a tablet in his hand. “We are… passing through the Solar asteroid belt at the moment, from the looks of things.”

“The as–” Oh god. I’m on a spaceship. “How the hell did I get here?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Peter admits. “You’re heavier than you look, Juno, but I can be quite resourceful when I need to be.” 

It’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one, but it tells me enough. “You kidnapped me.” Which means… “You drugged and kidnapped me.” 

“I rescued you,” he says, like this whole goddamn thing is just a matter of semantics. “I take it you’ve never read A Tale of Two Cities?”

“What?” 

He waves me off. “Never mind, it’s ancient literature. These journeys get rather dull if you don’t bring reading material.”

Right now I have half a mind to slug him, but I’m pretty sure I’d miss. “We’re getting off the topic that you drugged and kidnapped me.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he says– no, whines. He abducted me, and he’s got the nerve to whine about it. “The police were closing in. If I waited much longer, they would have caught you. I wasn’t about to let you rot in prison.” 

“Are you serious?” I’m practically shrieking. “Fleeing the planet just makes me look guilty!”

“But you are guilty,” he points out.

“That was entrapment and you know it.”

“That’s what I said, but the officers didn’t seem to care. In fact, they didn’t seem particularly interested in whether you were actually involved at all.” He sniffs indignantly. “I can see why you quit the force. You’re in better company without them.”

“I didn’t quit,” I mutter under my breath, but my mind is elsewhere, and I’m still too foggy to multitask. “If you actually wanted to help me, you wouldn’t have drugged me to do it.” 

“You were fairly clear about not wanting to see me again. I didn’t think you’d actually listen if I tried to reason with you. You might have turned yourself in, just to spite me.”

I huff. “Come on. Like I’m that petty.” I am, and I know it. And judging by the look Peter gives me, so does he. “Why do you give a damn what happens to me, anyway? I’m nothing but your fall guy, aren’t I? That’s all I ever was to you.”

His expression softens. “Oh, Juno…” And he reaches for me.

And that’s the last straw, more than the drugging or the kidnapping or the fact that he fucking dragged me into this mess in the first place. There’s plenty of time to be pissed about that later. But after all of that, he still thinks he can just bat those pretty eyes at me and I’ll be putty in his hands again? How goddamn pathetic does he think I am?

I slap his hand away before he can touch me. “Don’t even start. I’ve had enough of your lies.”

“Alright.” He sits back, putting more distance between the two of us. “Then turn me in, if you don’t trust me.” 

I glare, but my head is still too foggy to process it. “What?”

“Turn me in if you don’t trust me.” He’s completely calm and composed. “There’s a marshal on this ship with the authority and equipment to detain me. It isn’t as though there’s anywhere for me to run. I’m at your mercy, Juno. Do with me what you like.”

I swallow. There are a few dozen things I’d like to do to Peter, and handing him over to the authorities is pretty low on that list. I’m pretty sure Peter knows that.

Lacking a snappy comeback, I drag himself out of the berth and stomp away. Peter doesn’t try to follow me.

I wander the public halls of the ship, feeling lost on more than a few levels. This is all actually kind of new to me, beyond the drugged-and-kidnapped bit. I’ve  never been on a spaceship before. I mean, I’ve considered buying a ticket and leaving Mars for good, but I could never quite justify it in my head. Where would I go? Why would it be any better out there than in Hyperion City?

Technically now I have the chance to find out. It’s either that or go back and spend the rest of my life in prison over a grudge and a misunderstanding. It might not be all that bad, going out into the great big world and seeing it all firsthand. Maybe Peter might be able to recommend a few good places to start–

“Not going to happen,” I say aloud, and immediately I get shushed by the occupant of a nearby berth with its hatch still open. Frustrated, I keep moving. 

Peter’s a criminal. The last thing I need is to get even more involved with the likes of him. Shady morals aside, that’s a fast track to getting stabbed in the back.

But Peter tried to plead my case to the police, didn’t he? Why the hell would he risk talking to the cops when they’re actively investigating him? Or did he do that at all? Did he make it all up? And if he did, how did he know about how much the cops hate me? It’s not the kind of thing I ever told him myself, after all. 

Dammit, I want to trust Peter. More than anything. But I can’t. I shouldn’t.

I keep walking.

It’s hard to keep track of the exact layout of the ship, but I try anyway. Most of its mass is taken up by passenger berths, some of them large enough to accommodate couples, like the one I woke up in, while others are only meant for a single occupant. They’re not big– long enough to lay down in, tall enough to sit up, and not much more than that. There are larger, more luxurious suites cordoned off to one side of the ship (the back, maybe? It’s hard to be sure), kept separate from the other spaces by a little public area that’s probably meant to resemble a park. At least, it’s painted green and there are a few potted ficuses scattered around. The park is mostly there to let passengers stretch their legs; most of the several-day trip is meant to be spent sleeping or reading or watching the in-flight entertainment.

Which would be fine if I wasn’t trying to avoid my bunkmate. 

I can only make so many laps around the ship before I take a wrong turn and wind up in front of the berth I woke up in. Peter’s still inside, reading something off a tablet and sprawled across the small space in a pose that shouldn’t be nearly so sexy. 

He looks up with a bright-eyed smile that has quite literally brought me to my knees. 

“Ah, Juno,” he says warmly. “Did you enjoy your walk?” He glances over my shoulder. “I see that the marshal hasn’t come for me yet.”

“Not yet they haven’t,” I mutter under my breath. 

But Peter just beams at me. “I take it you aren’t planning to turn me in, then?”

“Maybe I’m still making up my mind.” 

Peter’s smile turns indulgent. “Come now. You won’t be stuck on this spaceship forever, Juno. Once we dock on Europa, you’re free to go anywhere you like. To the Outer Rim, back to Mars– or perhaps somewhere else entirely.”

I keep my mouth clamped shut. Nevermind that I was just thinking the same thing. It’s not going to happen. 

It doesn’t help things in the slightest when Peter puts down the tablet and comes crawling toward me on hands and knees in the narrow berth. It paints a picture that I really, really didn’t need in my head.

“We could go together, you and I. We can sell the loot and live a life of thrills and decadence across the galaxy, always running, never looking back. We could have quite a time together, Juno. Who knows what kind of trouble we could cause?”

I almost bite through my lip trying to remind myself that I’m not interested. Because it does sound like an adventure. Like everything I could possibly want. Only I’m not supposed to want something like that with someone like him. 

“I should turn you in.”

“And yet you haven’t.”

No, I haven’t. And I already know I’m not going to.

I turn around and walk away.

It’s been hours.

My comms isn’t good for much right about now, but at least the clock still works. Unfortunately, all it’s showing is how very slow time can move. 

I won’t go back to the berth– not when Peter’s still in there– so instead I walk laps around the ship. Just endless walking, round and round and round.

No wonder I never hear much about space travel. It’s really boring. 

When my legs get tired and my feet hurt, I slump down in the park and checks my comms again.

Six hours down. Just… sixty-two left to go.

Goddammit.

A shape steps between me and the nearest shrubbery. “Have you been enjoying your new exercise routine?” Peter asks.

Not this again. “Go away.” 

Peter just crouches beside me. “You can’t keep avoiding me forever, you know.”

“Doesn’t have to be forever. We’ll be docking in a few days. I can hold out that long.”

“Can you?” He sounds concerned. “The body needs sleep, Juno. And the flight attendants aren’t about to let you nap out here.” 

‘The body needs sleep’? Sounds like a challenge. “Watch me.”

“Then take the berth now. I’ll wait out here if you want; you can lock it from the inside. All I ask is that you talk to me.” 

I’m about to point out that we’re talking right now, but that might just invite more of a conversation. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“You–” He stops himself abruptly. When he continues, his voice is lower. “No, you don’t.” 

It’s about goddamn time he figured that out. “You lied to me, you used me, you drugged me, you kidnapped me, you let me think–” I clamp my mouth shut before I say something I’d regret. He let me think he could love me. “There is absolutely no reason why I should want you in my life.” 

I throw myself off the bench and stumble to my feet. My legs feel like jelly and I stagger, but I keep marching because I can’t take this anymore. I’ve just had too much. It needs to stop now.

“Then what do you want, Juno?” Peter calls after me.

“I should–”

“I’m not asking you what you should do or think or feel. I’m asking you what you want.” 

I don’t turn to face him. I can’t, because he’ll see it in my eyes.

I want to be his. I don’t care if that means being his muscle or his fall guy or his side piece or whatever. I want him, and I hate myself for it.

“I…” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’d really like to lay down right now.” 

“Alright, Juno.” His voice is soft. “I hope you sleep well.” 

I don’t need help finding the berth– not after all the times I’ve rerouted my pacing to avoid it. After all that marching, it feels amazing just to lie down. 

I pull the hatch door shut after me. There’s a lock on the inside, just like he said. I can lock him out and avoid him for the rest of this trip.

I leave the door ajar.  

I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or relieved when I wake up alone.

[linssikeittomies]

VR Chapter 4 - 24 hours

Masterpost <-Chapter 3 Chapter 5->

--

Ritideea kept her hand on my shoulder and mumbled sweet nothings the whole way. The girl genuinely felt bad for me, which made it less awkward. She almost made me feel like things really would be okay. She even left the curtains open this time to cheer me up. Not that there was much to look at, just the same colorful, detached houses, until we went underground.

That was why there was no traffic on the streets. All the buggies ran under them. There were smaller, less fancy ones than ours, ones without roofs, and ones that could only be buses. At times I could swear felt a slight tremor, like there was a tube below. How on Earth (or whatever this planet was called) a tiny town like this could afford a tube was beyond me.

We resurfaced next to a park, where two separate parties had gathered on a picnic. It was a pretty nice day out, sunny but not too hot. Maybe I should take a walk after changing. Maybe I could have someone show me around town.

Or not. There was a small crowd gathered in front of the manor. The two guards at the gate had received backup that was keeping an eye on the people. Everyone of them erupted into overjoyed hoots when they saw the buggy pull up, soon synching up to a unified cheer of “Rititeea! Rititeea!”. The name that the father had called me, so similar to Ritideea. Were they actually chanting “Ritideea”?

No, pretty sure that was a T.

A few tried to rush the gate as it opened, but overall the small crowd was remarkably well-behaved. They came to the gate once it was again closed, and quieted down almost instantly when Ritideea addressed them. She bowed to them (eliciting some more cheers), drew me to her side and started explaining something, it sounded like. It was a short explanation, after which the crowd started whispering amongst themselves. We went inside before they dispersed.

Now, the inside. It was nothing but bustle. Servants cleaning like mad, scrubbing the floors, walls and windows in each floor, dusting artwork, polishing furniture and decorations… Was this normal spring cleaning…? It was getting difficult to tell what was normal behaviour. I was already getting used to being bowed at every five minutes, but was Ritideea pausing to chat with a servant typical? It didn’t happen this often yesterday. Was lunch usually this busy? Alehleh and Soonee had a bunch of papers with them at the table and they were almost more interested in them than the food. Ritideea was apparently making some kind of plans with Kika, while Keenahty inhaled his food and ran off. Seemed to be his thing. He also had a servant with him today, an androgynous person with their hair on a large bun, who went after him slowly and composed. They were almost as refined and chilly as Alehleh.

Speaking of whom, she was trying to write something on her paper with a fine brush. The paper wouldn’t stay still, so her husband reached over to hold it in place. He got a quick smile as thanks. The two were an unexpected pair – the wife decked out in silk, the husband in cotton. The wife aloof and difficult to approach, the husband emotional and always smiling. The wife well into her forties, the husband only approaching them. Opposites had attracted? Probably Alehleh, the jewel business owner’s daughter, had found a commoner interesting. There was such a contrast between them. Alehleh was so clearly upper-class: her patterned silk blouse and long, azure blue pencil skirt looked expensive as hell, while Soonee’s straight, cranberry red dress  lacked any decorations. He also didn’t bother doing his hair, aside from putting it on a ponytail at the nape of his neck – Alehleh on the other hand had hers on an elaborate braided bun. Wealth and style next to comfortable affordability. Maybe one day I could ask how they met.

...one day… Would they even let me stay? I was a complete stranger who didn’t even speak their language, why would they let me stay? I had already overstayed my welcome if you asked me, I’d have dumped me at the nearest police station the minute I came to the house. But instead they had taken me in, fed me, given me a place to sleep and bribed a beastman into helping me. That bribe had looked nothing short of extravagant. Did these people really just have that much spare time and money? Can you imagine how bloody bored you’d have to be in order to take a distraction like this?

Well beyond anything I could imagine, it turned out. After lunch, Asahana appeared and guided me to one the rooms on the first floor – one that had already been scrubbed squeaky clean, thanks to the Spartan decoration. Just a single table with six chairs around it. In one of the chairs was sat a woman, and on the table was a stack of papers, an inkwell, and two brushes.

The woman turned out to be a teacher. She used a brush to write something on the paper, then read it out loud to me, and started teaching me the alphabet. Writing with a brush was surprisingly tricky, but after a few hours of practice I could manage it all right. I could also remember most of the letters, at least for the time being, they’d probably be out of my head come morning. Same went for the few words I had learned. Maybe I could get Ritideea to practice with me, she always seemed eager to spend time with me. She would help with the language, too, for sure. At least some words, something simple to start with. The phonems of this language were really different from English ones, and she had the patience to help me polish up my pronunciation. Plus she actually would correct it, instead of just smiling politely and suffering in silence like Asahana. The aforementioned man, by the way, stood in a corner the whole time. I guess he was supposed to be my moral support, but honestly it was just annoying. I mean, I understood he was probably instructed to be within reach in case I had trouble or something, but his presence was really distracting. He just looked so proud – like a parent whose kid just wrote their name for the first time. I wanted to snap at him, but I figured escaping to the guest room would spare the family a complaint of mistreatment of employees. He wouldn’t come in there unless he had actual business.

Ritideea came to get me for dinner. It was a little bit less busy than lunch, even though it had one more person – Famffarah. She was sat on the opposite side as Ritideea and Keenahty. It was only then that I wondered who she might be. I had just assumed she was a servant, but she wasn’t wearing the uniform, but a loose-fitting sleeveless top tucked into floral print harem pants. Neither was that haughty look typical for a servant. She had the look of a woman who didn’t take no shit, and it was entirely up to her to decide what shit was. She must’ve been a relative. She did share some of her features with Alehleh, namely her sharp jaw and narrow eyes. I didn’t think she much looked like anyone in the family, but then again, it’s not like first cousins usually resemblance each other much. If she was a cousin, I suspected on Soonee’s side, since she didn’t have that upper class feel to her that Alehleh did. Whoever she was, she was friendly with Ritideea. Alehleh and Soonee acknowledged her presence but didn’t talk to her that much, while Keenahty only glanced at her shyly every now and then. I think he found her quite scary – can’t say I blamed him, that great posture made her cool calmness and severe look quite effective. From the start I had been scared of saying a wrong word to her, now I was nervous to say anything at all. I tried to listen to the conversation, to get a feel of what the language sounded like, but everyone spoke so quickly and mumbled so badly it was very difficult to pick out any single words. Every sentence just sounded like baby babble. The only things I could gather were that the language had a lot of vowels and short sentences. Evidently the laconic style was in vogue. Ritideea tried to follow fashion – but often her enthusiasm took hold of her and she ended up holding a long speech. She was more child-like than her little brother.

After dinner I meant to draw some things to ask the words for them, but I couldn’t find paper in the room. Well, I had an artist as a neighbour, and if I used her bathroom door Asahana wouldn’t even have an excuse to come with me. I heard Ritideea talking with Keeka and Famfarrah, so I knocked three times before creaking the door open. Thankfully she wasn’t busy, just having her hair done. Keeka was good at braiding, that French braid was super even.

“Paper?” I asked and mimed writing. I think she understood, even though she did nothing – just looked concentrated for a few seconds and then smiled. She said something to Famfarrah, who was lounging on Ritideea’s bed. They really were friendly relatives, that’s strictly a friend activity. It seemed odd, Famfarrah was about ten years older, around 25. Maybe Ritideea was just a lot more mature than she seemed? After all, I understood zero of the things she talked to me about, maybe everything she said was actually really eloquent and deep. Even that excited babble she now started on.

And speaking of eloquent and deep, here’s someone who was neither – Asahana. He knocked on Ritideea’s door and brought with him three drawing pads, two notebooks, a veritable bouquet of brushes and inks in all the colors of the rainbow. Overachiever, much? I only needed one pad, one brush and one inkwell.

Wait wait wait. How had he known to fetch them? No one had said a word to him. Was he also a telepath? Oh God, was he reading my thoughts all the time? The things I had thought about him! He was grinning and bearing it bravely, but he must have hated me!

I took the stuff meekly and slinked off to my room. I don’t know how Asahana still managed to be so pleasant and cheery around me when he should’ve been punching me in the face, but I was thankful anyway. I spent the next few hours painting whatever things came to mind – apple, house, tall, short, bottle, plate, glass… the last two were really only recognizable next to the fork, knife and spoon. My artistic talent was next to nonexistent. On a whim I added the family and wrote their names next to their respective stick figures, and then that long-haired dickhead and his pet. I doubted I’d ever see them again, but knowing how their names were actually pronounced felt appropriate. Also, doodling was fun. I would have gone on, but Asahana came to give me the evening snack. I shooed him out quickly, embarrassed by both his enthusiasm and my own hostility.

Ritidia gave me the proper spelling for each name: Alele, Suni, Kinati, Asahana, Kika, Famfara, Jotiri, Joijaa, Marsohu – as expected, she looked a bit uncomfortable when she got to those two. She also gave me the words for most of the objects - I didn’t blame for not getting “dog” because the doodle was shady as hell, but I thought “man” and “woman” should be clear enough. Instead she informed that both of them were “kikota”, while Joijaa and Marsohu were “kini”. I had no theories as to what she thought I had asked.

What was even more surprising was that she borrowed a brush and ink to paint me(with considerable skill and speed) next to to the family, and labeled me as “Rititia”. Again with that? I shook my head and pointed to myself, and very pointedly said “Mimi.” She got up from the desk to point at the family portrait above the bed, and pointed to each family member in turn.

“Alele. Suni. Ritidia. Rititia.”

Rititia was the eldest sibling. Shit. Had they got into their heads that I was Ritidia’s older sister? Had she gone missing? Was that why she was never at the table, not that she was in aboarding school? Was this her room? Was that why the “guest room” shared its bathroom with Ritidia? But… why was the room so barren? There was nothing personal in here, just the bare necessities and the one painting! You’d think they’d have kept the room the same as it was when she disappeared, they had space to spare!

Crap, but it really did make sense. That woman had recognized me as the missing daughter of this family thanks to my resemblance to Ritidia, and that was why she had brought me to this manor instead of the police station, and why the family had welcomed me with open arms. They’d been shocked when I didn’t speak their language, because it was Rititia’s mother tongue, she must have been a daddy’s girl since Suni got so upset when I didn’t recognize him and then continued to mangle his name beyond recognition.

Did I want to set this misunderstanding straight? If I convinced them that I wasn’t Rititia, they were bound to throw me out, I wouldn’t survive three days on the street. I highly doubted I’d find a homeless shelter in time, and forget about finding a job! I couldn’t even ask how to find a job!

Okay, this had to stay a secret for just long enough until I knew the language enough to land some kind of cleaning gig. After that, for sure, I’d tell them I wasn’t their daughter! For sure.

Ritidia pointed at me smiling patiently and said “Rititia” again. I didn’t correct her this time. What had happened to her? Even if I resembled her greatly, I couldn’t look identical. She must have been missing for years, long enough to allow a margin of error in looks. Had she been kidnapped? With this family’s wealth, that option sounded realistic. Had something gone wrong? Had she died? Her body must never have been recovered since I was so easily accepted into the family. If a body had been confirmed, there would have been a lot more suspicion.

Oh God, how low can a person sink? Was I seriously going to take advantage of this grieving family? Fooling money and hospitality out of them was one thing, not a very good thing, but at least it wasn’t posing as their dead daughter and sister! Emotional manipulation is the one thing villains can’t be forgiven for!

The dead girl’s sister noticed something was wrong but didn’t know how to comfort me. After a while she took the brush again and painted more people. She connected the people with lines, and I realized she was making a family tree. It started from her and her siblings, continued to her mother and her siblings, then their children, then to her father’s family, and her grandparents. They were quick doodles, so there weren’t that many distinguishing features in them, but she gave all of their names anyway. She had eleven cousins(none of whom were Famfara), some of whom already had their own children, five aunts/uncles, and all four grandparents alive. I remembered hearing some of the names on the tour she had given me yesterday. Oddly enough they were all from Suni’s side of the family. Who would’ve ever guessed Suni was the heir to this huge manor? Alele seemed so much more fitting! Unless her family had an even more splendid castle somewhere… But castles can’t bring back your dead children. This family held a lot of love towards Rititia, and I didn’t want to use that. Tomorrow – at breakfast I would try to explain that I wasn’t her.

[flashinglights-rp]

Thank you for your audition, JEANNE. We are thrilled to welcome you into the group as the Third Smythe who you have chosen to name GABRIEL ALEXANDRE, with the faceclaim of Grant Gustin, and we truly cannot wait to meet them. Please send in your account in the next 24 hours, and read over the new members checklist before sending in your link.

ABOUT YOU ➝

NAME/PRONOUNS: Jeanne. She/Her AGE (18+): 23 TIMEZONE: EST ACTIVITY LEVEL: 7/10. I work part time three days a week and I have other rp things but I like to be on as much as I’m able, and give a head’s up if something gets in the way of that. TRIGGERS: Removed. ANYTHING ELSE?: Removed.

CHARACTER BASICS ➝

CHARACTER NAME: Gabriel Alexandre Smythe FACE CLAIM: Grant Gustin GENDER/PRONOUNS: He/Him AGE/BIRTHDAY: 24. October 1st. BIRTH ORDER: Third. Twin. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic JOB ROLE: Lead psychological researcher for Out of Mind, a hit crime show  that focuses on the underlying causes of behavior and the field of criminal psychology.

FAMILY STATS ➝

HOMETOWN: Paris, France, but they moved to the States when the twins were 7 (approx. 1999). PARENT NAMES/STATUS: Victor and Anaïs Smythe. Recently separated but not divorced.   NUMBER OF PLAYABLE CHILDREN: 4. NUMBER OF NON-PLAYABLE CHILDREN: 0. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Victor is a high-power lawyer, based in France but who has (over the years) branched out his law firm into the States.

Even without his successful career, the family comes from old money

The family moved to the States when the twins were 7 (in 1999)

After a tumultuous marriage marked with constant arguing, Victor and Anaïs have decided to separate this past summer.

REQUIREMENTS:

All childrens’ first name, middle name, or (preferably but not mandatory) both names must be French.

Middle names must begin with a vowel.

There must be at least one girl in the family.

ADOPTED SIBLINGS ALLOWED?: No HALF-SIBLINGS ALLOWED?: Yes but they would have to be older than the twins.

BIOGRAPHY ➝

Wealth, power, status – growing up, Gabriel Smythe was the picture-perfect example of what a child born into the upper class should be. He grew up in Paris, France, surrounded by his nannies and servants who almost exclusively watched over him and his siblings while his parents were working. His family came from old-money, dating back as far as anyone could tell, and his father’s choice of going into the law field only blessed the Smythe children with more money than they would possibly know what to do with. They were spoiled, that much is something Gabriel wouldn’t ever deny. It never even bothered him that his first word had been the name of his nanny rather than ‘momma’, or that the only time his family was ever together for meals were on the occasions when the Smythe children were whisked away to some fancy dinner party to be shown off as trophies and told not to do anything to dishonor the family. Really, it all became second-nature to Gabriel. He took it all in stride, not caring that he barely knew his parents. He had everything he could ever want, and his older siblings who he loved more than almost anything else in the world. For the first decade of his life, Gabriel was a perfectly content child.

The Smythe family moved to San Diego, CA when Gabriel was 7, thanks to their father opening up an American branch of their Parisian based law firm and wanting to overview the development. This was when things started to take a turn in the wrong direction for Gabriel. He was whisked away from his friends and the city he’d spent his entire life falling in love with, the family workers who’d been more like parents to him than his own could ever even dare to be… It was a change, to say the least. Whereas most of his nights in Paris had been spent barely registering his parents absence, now he was all too aware of how empty and quiet their new home was late at night when everyone else was asleep and his parents were out working on establishing some sort of social status. He slowly became acclimated to the new language and culture that he really had no choice but to accept, improving his English over the years as things around him started to settle, albeit temporarily.

With adolescence came a new area of adaptation Gabriel had to learn to navigate, and by the time he was 13, he had picked up a rather intense sense of perfectionism that managed to worm its way into every aspect of his life, putting an unprecedented amount of pressure on him. His parents weren’t much help, unfortunately. They had very high ideas of what their children could and should accomplish, and they made sure to let these thoughts be known. It wasn’t long before Gabriel started to crack, desperately trying to hang on to any sort of control he could find in his life. If he’d thought he’d had pressure from his parents to be perfect before, it was nothing compared to the unrealistically high standards he set for himself. Perfect grades, perfect body, perfect self- that was his goal, no matter what the consequences.

It took a drastic toll on his body and mental state, both of which have never been able to reach the level they were at before his gradual decline. It wasn’t just his eating habits and body that he wanted to control, it was every single aspect of his life. It didn’t help that, back at home, his parents were starting to show signs of breaking under the pressure as well. It wasn’t uncommon for him and his siblings to be woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of angry French being yelled downstairs. About his mother’s numerous affairs or about his father’s inability to think about anything other than work…. It never mattered to Gabriel what they were fighting about, just that he had to listen to it and act as if it were a perfectly normal thing. It made it harder for him to maintain the picture-perfect image of his family he’d deluded himself into thinking was real.

His life came to a complete stop when he was fifteen. One second, he was arriving home after his usual morning jog, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the hospital with doctors surrounding him, using words like ‘malnourished’, ‘dehydrated’, and ‘anemic’. It wasn’t long before a few answers from his parents and an impromptu meeting with a psychologist that it was finally revealed the damage Gabriel had done to his body over the last two years. His parents immediately placed him in therapy, demanding he ‘get over himself’ or risk being disowned for the way he’d been acting. He did as they ordered, hoping to maintain the perfect family image and keep them happy, though with every pound he gained and every meal he finished, he hated himself more and more. By the time he was 17, he was working his way back to normal, though his attitude towards food and his workout routines were still cause for concern. Nevertheless, Gabriel did everything in his power to keep himself above the water. He graduated top of his class, and after a bit of deliberation about exactly what direction he wanted to go with his life, decided to make the very long journey to New York to make his way in the Ivy League following his admission to Columbia University with a concentration in psychology, hoping it would help him put the past behind him. It did for a bit, but he would be a liar if he said his time in undergrad didn’t tend to have an overhanging thread of relapse throughout the majority of it.

Through the aid of summer classes, Gabriel managed to complete his bachelor degree a year ahead of schedule, graduating shortly after his 21st birthday. From there, he was admitted to USC’s master’s program in neuroscience, and promptly made his way back to California, though he would be lying if he tries to say that it didn’t have a less than ideal result on his recovery attempts. Although much more difficult than he’d anticipated, Gabriel completed the program in the estimated two-year time frame and earned his LLPC soon after. He was fully prepared to apply to a doctoral program when he was, instead, contacted by an executive who had received his name from a former professor.  The man was in the middle of creating a new tv show, focused on the criminal aspect of the law system and meant to shed a new light on human behavior. They had a crew set up, producers, writers… the only thing they needed to pull everything together was someone who knew psychology like the back of his own hand, and who would be committed to spending hours every week researching and helping along side the writers to make the show as accurate as possible.

After a big of deliberation, Gabriel accepted the job and made the incredibly tough decision to push back his goals of obtaining a doctorate. There was no guarantee he would have been accepted into school in LA, and the thought of having to move yet again was incredibly hard to think about, especially after his parents broke the news to him that they would no longer be living together, neither one wanting to be the one to actually draw up divorce papers. Taking the gig seemed to be the safest bet for his own sanity, and the facts certainly don’t prove that thought wrong. Out of Mind was an overnight sensation, with many critics praising the accurate portrayal an representations of behavior and illness that the show quickly became known for.  Having recently ended its first season with critical acclaim, Gabriel has already been asked to continue helping the show into it’s picked-up second season. He has also been approached by a handful of other directors and writers, willing to pay him big to bring to their show what he did to Out of Mind.

Although it means that he does not have time to invest in a doctoral program as much as he would need to, Gabriel has actually found himself quite content with where this strange yet fulfilling road has taken him. With his limited license, he is able to supplement additional income  with the occasional counseling client, though between money he still receives from his parents and what he earns from his research,  it is far from needed. LA is a city he never thought he would find himself in, but it’s soon become his home as he delves into the world of entertainment. He still has plans to achieve the title of Dr. Smythe one day, that has never stopped being his dream. He considers this to be a temporary side road, that’s all. If that road has had the unexpected consequence of allowing him to slip into a few old, less than healthy habits in regards to his body… well then, that’s not really something anybody else needs to know.

AESTHETIC ➝

Gabriel prefers to find the fine line between style and comfort. Blues and greys are the main colors of his wardrobe, always keeping himself clean cut and dressed to impress, should he be leaving the comfort of his home. He likes to carry himself tall yet relaxed, hoping to give the impression that he is more sure of the world around him than he actually is. He has glasses, though he can often times be found opting for contacts instead. He has a tattoo on his left wrist, the symbol of the NEDA as a reminder to himself.