DISSENDIUM's Journal [entries|friends|calendar] DISSENDIUM light up, light up, as if you have a choice. even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you dear. louder, louder, and we'll run for our lives. I can hardly speak, I understand why you can't raise your voice to say. profile , friends , recent , archive , layout [ userinfo | insanejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | insanejournal calendar ]

[Tue 14 Oct / 2:39am] fervently who; belladolphus what; talk of memos where; Ze office of Ze Minister when; 14 october, midmorning ( it just wasn't like the old days anymore / am i still ill? ) comment

It's almost wedding time. [Sat 8 Sep / 8:45pm] lil_lost_alice [ mood | calm ] Who:Frank and Alice When: Night of September 8, 1979 Where: Alice's flat What: Only a week until the wedding and Frank got icons, so there was reason to, um, celebrate with an rp? Alice had spent every spare moment she had in the past few months preparing for the wedding and now with only a week left, she finally felt the relief of having everything done, besides the day itself. In celebration, she had decided to prepare dinner for her and Frank. Besides, with everything else that was going on in the world, they had hardly gotten a night to themselves in weeks anyway. So, with the chance tonight, she seized the opportunity and basically gave him the ultimatum of showing up or being single. (Joking, of course.) Everything was just about ready for their late dinner and now all she needed was for Frank to arrive. So, arrive Frank! read (10) comment

You better run for your life. [Sat 1 Sep / 11:24pm] boardingstubby [ mood | chipper ] Who: Stubby & Mason. When: September 1, 1979. Where: Stubby's flat. Stubby's Lucyless flat. Summary: Stubby is being emo over Lucy. He invites Mason over so he can whine at someone other than Jane for a bit. Stubby was a whiny, demanding, melodramatic he-bitch. Despite what many of his friends, acquaintances, and deadly enemies may have thought, he was well aware of this. He wasn't proud of it, but he assumed it was pretty much as much a part of him as, say, his penis. His penis was pretty definitely a part of him. At least for now. Hopefully it'd stay that way for a long time. That said, he wasn't entirely without feeling. Technically he was full of feeling; otherwise he wouldn't have been able to be such a pain in the ass. He may have been selfish and often downright fucking aggravating, but he had a heart, and right then, it was in a lot of pain. This was, as any idiot would know, due to his Lucy's -- his Lucy -- unfaithfulness in the form of her aggravating jackshit of a new boyfriend, Roscoe. Stubby hated him. Stubby wished he was like him. Stubby hoped he fell off a cliff. Stubby had spent the time since his unpleasant discovery that Lucy was dating Roscoe -- and liked him, really really liked him -- clinging to his Jane, avoiding nearly everybody, doing lots of drugs, writing an obscene number of songs, most of which weren't very good (but some of which might've been brilliant), and crying. Stubby Boardman cried. He could admit that. He also pulled knives on people sometimes. The key was a good balance. However, Stubby had, at some point, recognized that he was being a bit pathetic, and that he was a lot cooler, more talented, and possibly better-looking than Roscoe anyway. So if Lucy wanted to fuck her life up with some new young asshole, so be it. She'd come crawling back eventually. Til then, Stubby had plans. Stubby had music to make. Stubby had bridges to fucking burn. Stubby wanted a double album. And he needed to recruit. To plan. To consolidate. To get his mind off of Lucy. As such, he had invited Mason over to chill out, listen to, make, and discuss music. Maybe smoke a joint. Have some drinks. Chill. Not so much talk, since it was Mason, but Stubby liked to think that they occasionally had understandings between them. If nothing else, he knew they respected each other as musicians. As they should. They were both fucking brilliant. Mason might've been a mute, Stubby might've been a fucking diva, but God damn, they were fucking brilliant. He grinned as he opened a beer, having just handed one to Mason. "How've you been?" he asked, since he hadn't seen his bandmate in person for weeks. Oops? read (6) comment

[Sun 24 Feb / 10:58pm] addictions who; curt lemonade, mason maXxXxXwell, lucy fucking caldicott. where; The Studio when; 26 august 1979 what; fun sounds and a talk to lucy about her new boy toy man thing. ( la la la. ) read (8) comment

WHERE WERE YOU WHEN... the Ministry exploded! [Sun 26 Aug / 4:51pm] sensentitled [ mood | scared ] Who: Anybody. When: August 26, 1979-- from noon onwards. Where: Anywhere. Summary: For those of you who haven't participated in a Where Were You When before, the concept is, anyone can reply with their reaction to a particular event. Generally, it's been deaths. You simply write third person in reply to this post with your character's reaction to the event in question, or something to do with it, at any rate. This post is for both posts taking place during the fight at the Ministry, and for other posts relating to it -- people elsewhere, like in Diagon, where a panic broke out, or at their homes, hearing the news of the rioting. Whatever you want. If you want to reply, have at 'er. Mozart didn't know how everything had escalated so quickly. There had been the gasps when he'd been escorted in by what seemed like a group of real life superheroes, mostly legends in their own right, Dumbledore's hand firmly on one of his shoulders, Emmeline close to his other side, all these adults who knew and understood this so much more than he did. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd suspected when he'd gone with CJ to tell the Conclave, but it certainly hadn't been this. Suddenly, all the sad looks some of the adults had been giving him made way more sense than he'd ever have wanted them to. He saw some of his relatives in the fray. Some on one side, some on the other. He wasn't sure when the Death Eaters had shown up in their robes, but he supposed that if they lost, the Ministry would be a real proper dictatorship from now on. After all, it couldn't go on pretending to be legit and anti-Voldemort now that the Death Eaters were fighting alongside its top Ministers, fighting to keep the Ministry afloat. There seemed to be far more people fighting on the other side than there were on his. He wasn't sure exactly what he should have been doing. Dumbledore had said people his age could come and fight if they really wanted to, if they thought they could do it. The problem was, Mozart didn't want to. And he didn't think he could do it. At all. He'd been supposed to escape, with Emmeline if she'd been able to, or by himself. Emmeline had got caught in a duel with a mean-looking witch in green robes, and Mozart had meant to run to the Floo, but people had been Apparating everywhere and something in him had just snapped. He couldn't keep track of the thoughts racing through his head as he crouched underneath the table he'd ran to. There were people fighting everywhere. A lot of pieces of the wall had been blown off. There was a lot of yelling. He wasn't sure if the Floos were still open, or if Apparating was still a possibility. He didn't have the heart to try. His blood ran cold -- he'd never thought it could really do it, but he felt it, all through his upper body and spreading -- as he looked into the wand of a hooded, masked Death Eater. All he could do as the Stunning Spell was cast was blink. read (8) comment

[Sun 17 Feb / 10:29pm] forthegood Who: Matthew Jepsen and Frances Monaghan Where: A cafe in Diagon Alley When: Afternoon of August 18, 1979. Summary: Frances and Matt meet up for some lunch, as both have decided it would be better than sitting around doing nothing. Indeed. Some would say that Matt had grown rather obsessed with this war business. He now spent a majority of his days on his own, avoiding his foster parents. This would be his only summer with them, anyhow. He turned seventeen in less than a month, and he'd legally be allowed to be out on his own without any worry. He didn't quite trust the family, anyway. They seemed to go through his stuff often, though whether that was cause for concern or just nosiness Matt was unsure. Better safe than sorry, though. He kept all his stuff in a backpack he kept with him at all times. It had been charmed very thoroughly to keep it safe, so he didn't have to worry about random people looking inside. Didn't mean he'd just leave it lying around, clearly. Truth was that Matt had sort of missed random excursions with people from school. He didn't feel the desire nearly half as badly as his earlier school days, but things had changed. People had changed. People had died. He couldn't exactly put his finger on what it was about Frances' post that got him to finally get up and do something, but he could only guess that it was relief to see that he wasn't the only one with these feelings. So here he was, at a cafe, waiting for Frances to come. He wasn't as worried as most others in the Conclave, as he was never really brought up as a threat to the Death Eaters, who mostly saw him as just another stupid kid thinking he could make a difference. They may have been right. The point was that Matt felt it safe enough to go out in public without anyone really recognizing him, and even if they did, they wouldn't particularly care. He hoped more than anything that he'd be able to prove them wrong. He sat at the table, waiting for Frances before even ordering a water. He figured it would be the most polite thing to do. It wasn't as if he was parched or anything. read (13) comment

[backdated] Lol. [Wed 15 Aug / 2:37pm] salicious [ mood | stressed ] Who: Salazar Brownless, Samuel Bigglesworth, no consciences included! When: August 15 1979, morning. Well. Afternoon. Knockturn morning! Where: La res Brownsworth, Sal & Sam's room. Summary: The last time we saw Sal and Sam, Sal had ingested E and Sam pretended to be on it too to get in bed with Sal! Now, a few weeks later, we had Sal's birthday! ... on which he slipped Sam E to get him into bed! Hilarity ensues! Liberal drug use! Probable hangovers! Awkward moments! Sal was very confused. This was understandable. If you'd spent your entire life being a raging homophobe, largely due to the training of your best friend, but had spent the past number of weeks having Funny Feelings for said friend, and had gone so far as to drug them to get them to sleep with you, you would be confused, too. It's a confusing sort of situation. Sal's 27th birthday had, as far as 27th birthdays went, been very fun, he thought. He couldn't fully remember. He did remember buying the E, though, and slipping it into Sam's drink while he'd been doing lines. And, being that there was an obnoxious amount of sunlight pouring through their constantly closed curtains, and being that they were both naked, and being that he had his arm over Sam's chest, that had probably gone well. He was distantly aware of being very sore, so it must have gone very well. Still, there remained the nagging problem of the morning after. Well, afternoon, probably. Sal wasn't entirely sure how to handle this. Not that he'd been sure the last time, but Sam had woken up first the first time, so Sal hadn't had to wait. Now Sal was awake and Sam wasn't yet, so Sal was just lying there, trying not to move, wondering what Sam would do when he woke up. He wondered if Sam would figure out what Sal had done. He wondered what Sam would do if he did. He wondered if it mattered. He wondered how much longer he could stay still before that godawful feeling throughout his body led to him retching. read (6) comment

[Sun 10 Feb / 9:38pm] thevirginadonis Who: A bunch of people! Where: The Edelen Residence. When: August 12, 1979. Summary: Adonis made too much food, Venus invites people to eat the food. Thus a party is had. There weren't very many people who handled situations quite like Adonis Edelen. He was a male. A heterosexual male, to make that clear. And yet, when he found himself overcome with one too many thoughts, he would make his way straight to the kitchen. He didn't bake cakes or cookies, oh no. Adonis cooked lasagnas and pastas and briskets. Real food. On this particular day, he had received news that the old lady who ran the florist shop in which he worked in was practically on her death bed. He had worked for the woman since he was 13, delivering flowers and moving up to arranging them. There was no news as to what the fate of the store was, and that worried Adonis. So he cooked lasagna. And made a lot of salad. And there were fresh dinner rolls. Venus took one look at all the food in the kitchen, and without a word disappeared. Adonis could only assume she went to invite a few people over to eat the food. Adonis continued with his cooking, washing a few apples as he prepared to make a very tasty fruit salad. Yes, Adonis was a very heterosexual male, damnit. read (78) comment

talk. [Thu 2 Aug / 10:54pm] gaygaygaygaygay [ mood | crappy ] Who: Tim Harbourne and Devin Lyle. When: August 2, 1979- evening. Where: Wherever the hell they're residing. Summary: Devin and Tim discuss stuff. Tomorrow, Devin Andrew Lyle would turn 19 years old. Rightfully, he should have been in some sort of anticipatory celebratory sort of mood, but as it was, he was brooding nervously and wishing he was somewhere else. This was largely because he and Tim had agreed to have A Talk. Like most talks to have to be agreed to being had, it was not likely to be a particularly enjoyable one. Devin had called this Talk specifically because he wanted to fight a war, Timothy didn't, and this needed to be sorted out. Devin and Tim rarely disagreed on anything, or at least anything major. Devin didn't like the feeling. It had been putting him in a bad mood for weeks on end. Not that he hadn't tried to hide it. Looking tired, nervous, and generally like he didn't want to be where he was, Devin waited for Tim to walk in so they could talk. Apparently. read (8) comment

[Fri 25 Jan / 10:36pm] ton_chevalier Who: Emile Chevalier and Gisèle Facet When: Evening of July 26th. Where: Chevalier mansion. M. and Mme. Chevalier had taken his sisters out for the night, leaving Emile all alone in the Chevalier mansion. Emile had decided this was the prime opportunity to finally show Gisèle his home. Though he knew they wouldn't disown him, Emile had yet to tell his parents about Gisèle: their displeasure over him dating a halfblood would not make his life any easier. Any time they had met up this summer, it had been at her place, and considering the apartment's size and the amount of people they had to fit in there, they hadn't had much in the way of privacy. To be honest, it was maybe too startling a change of scenery; after Gisèle's minuscule three bedroom apartment, his house seemed five times larger than it usually was. Emile became increasingly conscious of this fact as he walked across the hallway to let Gisèle in. "Hey," he smiled, greeting her with a kiss. read (27) comment

o hai imperius. my pwn, let me show u eet. [Sun 22 Jul / 8:51pm] poldie [ mood | happy ] WHO: Poldie Lochlin, Conor Moran, and Death Eaters™. WHEN: The evening of July 22, 1979. WHERE: Conor Moran's flat and Outside™. SUMMARY: Conor asked Poldie to save him from Imperius. So Poldie is. Kind of. Poldie Lochlin was at his best when he was risking everybody's lives. This was, perhaps, part of why he was a Slytherin rather than a Gryffindor. Yes, he was very brave, but he enjoyed being stupidly reckless to try to save the day with little hope of succeeding and just barely pulling it off. It was fun to him and this, more than the guiding morals of his actions, was what had led him down the path of Aurorhood. Never mind that he made a good Auror and a good hero; he just liked doing it. If he hadn't, he probably wouldn't be doing things like this. Well, not probably. Definitely. So, you see, when I tell you that Poldie Lochlin had just deliberately let the Death Eater he'd deliberately let catch his tail catch a solid glimpse of him, yelled out, "I'M OFF TO SAVE CONOR MORAN, PASS IT ON!" triumphantly, and Apparated to the outside of Conor Moran's apartment, which he quickly knocked on with all his might, hoping Conor was there (as Conor was under the Imperius, telling him Poldie's plans for saving his soul would have been impractical), you should not get it into your head that Poldie was being entirely selfless. He was having a lot of fun foolishly risking his neck. "CONOR MORAN OPEN UP YOUR BLOODY DOOR BEFORE I KICK IT DOWN MYSELF," he yelled, all wild eyes, not-enough-bathing, and messy beard as he looked wildly around the corridor for any quick pursuers. The way he saw it, his tracker, even if he was his tracker, probably wasn't good enough to remember where Conor's flat was to Apparate to it. That was the beautiful thing about Death Eaters: they just weren't well-trained enough to do their job right. read (20) comment

"but he probably screams in his sleep a lot" [Fri 13 Jul / 11:14pm] salicious [ mood | chipper ] Who: Sam & Sal. When: July 13, 1979. FRIDAY THE 13TH, BITCHES. Where: Their flat, Knockturn, Hell, London. Summary: Jess said that Sam screams in his sleep now thanks to Azkaban, so Sal demanded a thread. Sal was not okay with the world. True enough, Sam was out of Azkaban, and that was good. Nobody he cared about had died lately (which wasn't saying much as he only cared for a handful of people, but still). He had booze and cigarettes! All the basic requirements were there. He'd even gotten laid the day before! Consentually! However, Sam wasn't 100%, and when Sam was not 100%, Sal was not satisfied. They were best mates, and as such, should always both be 100%. So, of course, to cheer Sam up, Sal had picked him up some coke and booze on the way home from beating up a 14-year-old boy for money! It was like getting the groceries, only better, because food is for morons. "'Lo," he said cheerfully as he walked into the flat (because when Sal gets laid, gets to beat on people and win, and buy drugs and booze, life is good). read (8) comment

I've got my sights set on you... [Sat 7 Jul / 11:19pm] diadia [ mood | determined ] Who: Dia Zappa and Stephen Bysshe When: Saturday, July 7, 1979-- fairly late. Where: Stephen's place Summary: Dia knows she's stupid, now she apologizes. She hopes Stephen realizes that this is a VERY BIG STEP FOR HER. xD Dia had spent a good part of her afternoon and evening working at the bar with noticeably less spunk than usual. There was no bar dancing, no drinks on the house, no Zeppelin. She was quite obviously very preoccupied. When she'd finally gotten to leave at about eleven she had made up her mind to talk to Stephen. She hadn't figured out when, exactly, she would do that, but the fact that Lo had gotten her to this point at all was a very big deal for Dia. Normally, she had a tendency to brush it off when she messed up. Let it go. Get over it. Forget about any hurt she might have caused. Move on. It was selfish as hell, but it had worked fairly well before now. Granted, she also didn't always hang around the best group of people and that sort of betrayal was reciprocated regularly. But, Stephen, was a really good guy. He didn't deserve her bullshit and as hard as she'd tried to forget about it all, well, she couldn't. Though she refused to admit it, she was falling hard for him--even during this little period where they weren't speaking. As this ran through her head while she headed out of the bar she realized she couldn't wait. Without a second thought, she Apparated to Stephen's, walked up to the door, and knocked. Only after this did she notice her hand shaking a bit. read (8) comment

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