#one thing about me is i will absolutely go wild for a roomates sort of situation and we have been BLESSED a few times now

[thjslove]

I was waiting out there for hours!

[thelogicalroman]

Mysterious husbands

It’s is kinda a fic but it’s not in fic form. More like, idea form(?). Hope you like it.

Pairing: LAMP, Janus/Remus

Characters: Roman, Remus, Logan, Virgil, Janus, Patton, Emile, Remy, Nate, 

Warnings: Implied murder, Police, Maffiamention, Mysterious Disappearances, Dead body, Loads of weird stuff happening, Police Investigation. Implied husband murdering his husband (not the case). Implied affairs (not the case). (tell me if you find anything else I should put here)

...

Lamp relationship, where they hide they are polyam bc of sucky society. Logan and Roman are married on paper, Patton and Virgil are married on paper, but they all view eachother as husbands. They also married very early (high school sweethearts, married right after turning 18).

Then they move out of town, and in the new town they get become very respected,

Logan is a proffesor at the local university, teaching and researching the climate. (Ft him being pissed about people not believeing in global warming)

Virgil is the nice and surprisingly fun History teacher at the local high school. The kids love him, and he raised a lot of kids grades by learning in a way that benefitted each students personal way of learning.

Roman is a writer/musician/actor who has published two popular books and an album, as well as plays in the local theatre where he is known for being very friendly and overly dramatic.

Patton being a therapist, and helping a lot of the locals with dealing with their mental health. He (and his collegue Emile Picani) is very liked along the locals who have gone to them. He is known by everyone for being kind and loving, as well as a great person to talk to because he just gets you, no matter what.

(Also, Mayor Janus Deceit becomes great friends with them all, and eventually somehow becomes best friends and housemates with Roman's brother Remus, who somehow managed to really make a good impression by being highly inappropriate on a public event.)

And then,

Suddenly Patton is not showing up at work, and Emile calls to the husband squad being all worried, and they are like:

:O

Because he is not at home either, so suddenly there is a state wide search for the man, but there is no sign of him.

Obviously the police (Nate and Remy) goes to their home, being very suspicious of especially Virgil, because it's always the husband, isn't it?

They notice strange tension between the three, and Nate comes to the conclusion that obviously Patton has a thing with everyone, and the more interviews they do, the more sure he is. Virgil is kinda on edge att all times, and is mostly closed off (bc he is scared for one of his Husbands), but Nate and Remy takes this as a weird tension for all of them.

They make a whole theory that Virgil must've realized that his husband cheated on him, and so decided to get rid of him. But no body = no case, and they had no proof that Patton has been killed, just that his shoes and bag was gone, but that wasn't that weird as he had gone to work.

Anyway, a few months go by and suddenly Roman disappears too. Which is a bit bigger news, bc he is decidedly more World Wide famous, thanks to his books and album.

The police is once again back to their household, Virgil and Logan are all cuddled up, so the case seems obvious. They must've killed their husbands bc they were caught in an affair, so now Nate and Remy are actively searching for the bodies. Going through the house several times, using all sorts of means to find any blood or proof of struggle. Nothing is found. The two just seem to have gone.

They interview Picani, Janus and Remus again, trying to learn anything they can without giving too much away. Because they can't just go out openly accusing two very much liked people without proof.

Virgil and Logan are less nervous this time around too, and the police seems to notice. Their husbands, and best friends/roomates suddenly disappear and they don't seem to care.

But they can't prove anything, Logan and Virgil both have clear alibis, both being at their jobs, with several students having seen them there, as both disappearings took place.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, Remy gets a letter which says "This is the truth" and is a picture of what seems to be the missing two, in sunglasses, standing and talking with a strange man on the street somewhere.

And holyshit this turns everything around. Remy shows Nate, and they do more interviews with the friends and family of the missing, trying to ask questions without admitting to knowing the question.

Nothing new comes out of it, but suddenly Logan is breaking his usual schedule, and Virgil seems to visit Picani a whole lot more. Remus and Janus isn't seen much, but that really isn't too unusual.

Remy and Nate does what they can trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Until one day, they just admit to having the photo, showing it to the two husbands. Virgil take a look on it and breaks the story the group have this far held onto,

He tells them Roman had gone on a trip to Europe to gain inspiration for a story. 

The others doesn't change theirs, still stating they just disappeared. But now, now they have something to go off.

After a while, Roman and Patton is located to Paris, and then later London and Rome.

More photos of them surface, always wearing new sunglasses and clothes, sometimes alongside people who still are unknown, and no one seems to know them at all.

So obviously the locals are like, suspicious, like... Are all these respected and well liked people... In the maffia or something?

But nothing seems to prove that, except for them being a bit sketchy. Virgil eventually quits his job, shocking everyone. Then Logan does too, and everyone is in shock by the news.

Nate and Remy isn't even able to stop them before suddenly they have both left. All their belongings disappearing from their house overnight, proving this must have been planned. But the house wasn't sold, and as the four had owned it and not rented, it stands abandoned. Nate and Remy checks up on it all the time, making sure to know every person who goes there, but no one does.

Remus and Janus doesn't reveal anything, and Picani is ruled to simply not knowing anything at all.

Janus is still a good mayor for several years, and the people want to reelect him, but he doesn't run again. But he and Remus does not move from there either.

They are still seen around town, but no one knows what either do except shop groceries and going on a walk every now and then.

Remy and Nate is absolutely pulling their hair out because, this is weird, but not weird enough to arrest them or even question them. And the missing case had been put down a long time ago, with no new proof.

Then out of Nowhere. Suddenly the four moves back to town.

Logan goes back to the university, who does hire him again after a few months. Patton opens his own bakery. Virgil opens a bookshop, and Roman simply stays at home. No one really sees him, only proof of him being alive is the neighbours seeing him in the garden.

And then... Then weird stuff happens.

Because a body is found. Behind some trees in the park. And it is immediately identified as being Roman, but as those news go out, and Remy and Nate goes to the husbands house, the person who greets them is Roman.

So they think it must be Remus, but Remus arrives to the house before they can even leave. The twins beside each other, and a dead body looking like them.

And that's when a mystery is going wild, because no one knows how to take these news.

Roman and Remus tells them that there is infact no other siblings, and a quick look at their files can prove that.

So now it is up to Remy and Nate to solve what the heck happened, and how The Husband squad is connected to it all.

[demes-tumbled-sims]

Avyan Immortal Dynasty, Chapter 3: For Its Own Sake

Index

<- Previous

So, I head home for a while. Knock out a few drinks. Wonder when Zest’ll get a clue -- about the 

baby, I mean. It’ll probably be a few days. But I get a phone call. Now, the big mansion, with the maze is not where I would have a dance party.

But whoever Miko knows, they disagree.

It’s late, but it’s my day off tomorrow; I can manage, and sleep in in the morning. Or something. The night is old, but I’ll only be young… I mean, I’m aiming for twice, in the long run, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves; there’s going to be a lot of in-between I don’t want to regret.

“Besides, it’s useful.”

“Uh duh!” She says, giggling at me. “That’s why I invited you. I figured ‘she doesn’t know who’s who,’ but I’m an expert! So… I’d help. But, you know…”

Some of what she’s saying doesn’t exactly hit home. Because something about it does. It does so much I feel it in my whole body. Her tone is kind and sort of, well, teasing.

But there’s such a certainty to that. I mean, she’s right. It’s true. It’s just -- just that that’s the sort of certainty I have, in my head.

And she’s… really enthusiastic. About helping me out. She was thinking about me.

That’s something you don’t see every day. Is all.

I’m still absorbing that, while she keeps talking.

“It’s no good to think of having fun or meeting people in terms of being useful! They can just be people, for a while. I mean, you’re going to live forever -- you should try to appreciate people for themselves, because they’ll change all the time. Aren’t there people you just like for themselves?”

“It’s not like they’re separate,” I say, laughing. “Or that’s all I think about. Right now, I’m pretty deep in a fight. It’s hard to take my eyes off the prize.”

She pauses mid-swing of her hips, as if the music had frozen. She looks at me for a long time, picking back up the beat; compared to me, she has a pretty strong musical sense.

“You didn’t answer~” Like she’s got something on me.

Shoot. Shoot. Maybe she does. Maybe she does.

Let’s review:

She digs me; let’s not beat around the bush about it. I can’t blame her or anything…

But she gets that that’s a bad move for her, right?

I like her laugh for its own sake; I like her colorful taste for its own sake; I like the way she teases me for its own sake. But that’s not enough. She dreams of love and freedom and wild oats; there are a lot of things she wants that I can’t give. And I’m not…

Oh, plumbob.

“Okay, okay. Here’s my answer.”

I’ll fight for someone who has my back like this.

She kisses me back, her hand draping up across my shoulder. The music’s gone; the laser-light is blinding. She’s got strawberry-kiwi lipgloss. Perfect.

“Look,” I say, the moment we part. “Look. I get that this sort of permanence might not be your bag, but -- I -- I really do like you and we’d make a good team, so…” It’s too late. I shake my head. This wasn’t a bad idea, or anything, but I should have made a plan so I could make a better case.

“You don’t have to be so defensive, you know. I can see a lot of appeal -- and wouldn’t it be a problem for you?”

“Don’t just turn me down like that. It wouldn’t be. Look, I… I can’t make a case this late at night. Think about it, OK?”

She giggles, and snakes her arms around me.

“I will. I promise, promise, cross my heart and stick a needle in my eye, I won’t make a choice I regret.”

So I don’t exactly remember how I get home? There weren’t even any drinks, I was just dead on my feet, which is unfair.

When I wake up, I start planning my case. But when Miko asks me out to a lunch at a seafood place…

We just talk for a while. Just relax. I order the wine for both of us; I listen to her explain the connection between modern “ready-made” art and a show about rocks that sounds cute, especially put in her excited, bouncy tones.

The lunch is over by the time I make my move. Well, my non eyelash-batting move. Decidedly not the ol’ reach-around.. I don’t get jitters, but I might have had them, a little, waiting for her to come out from the bathroom.

“OK, here’s my pitch. Yeah, things are a little sparse right now; but we’re going up in the world, and you can count on me to earn our keep. If we time it right, I can watch the kid; I’ve got people to watch the kid. You can trust me not to sleep around.”

“What poetry… But what about you as a person?” She’s teasing me. “Doesn’t it matter if I like you?”

“Well, I would hope you would; I mean… I am pretty awesome. But... do you?”

She fidgets for a second with her hat, her face a blur of pink hair and pink blush.

“I like that sleekness you have! It’s cool!... But sometimes you just sort of expose some other part of you.  It’s like a window to a star. It’s kinda sweet and... kinda lonely. And I...I really love that person. I want to let that star in.” She finds her courage. “I love you!”

Love?! Really?...Heh. She's really surprised me.

“But I understand why playing the field is important to you; I can’t just sell you to come and live with me forever on the back of that!”

“Sure you can! You could swoop me up in your arms and say ‘Darling, come away with me! We can woohoo in the shade of blossoming trees and I will preen for you like a peacock on display!  Let me dazzle you in my dreams! I will remember your name when men are but fairytales in books written by rabbits!’ And I would say...”

“You would say?” I lean forward, until the space between us is very close.

“Well, wouldn’t you have to ask me the right way? I want to hear what Kestral feels; not what you’ve rehearsed.”

“Right. Right! It’s not ‘come away with me,’ we can save the blossom trees, but...”

“When you’re going on about something, it’s like a jewel.I can do anything if you’ve got my back. When I touch your hand, I want to grab it and make you forget about ever wanting anyone else… But more than that...”

“I need someone in my life -- and there’s no one I want it to be but you. Will you marry me?”

It wasn’t the sort of place you could imagine for a proposal, the kitchen of a busy seafood place. It was kind of perfect. She really surprised me.

“Sure! Let’s do it!”

She slips the ring on and beams, and then throws herself, to the surprise of the kitchen staff, into my arms.

“Okay! Now, we away to the casbah!” I spin her around, and out the door we go.

When she moved in after that (we’re not married yet), she brought one of her roomates with her, Akira. The teen girl? Optional. Fantastic. Akira himself? Not bad.

I ask her what she’ll plan next, since this will mess with her old dreams:

“Since I can’t express my wild side with romance, I’ll do it with art. For now, anyway…. It probably suits me about as well!”

I kind of wonder what made her think of serial romantic in the first place. I get its appeal, but not why just yet.

We remake our room to something full of her personal flair. I don’t know if we’ll have the look forever, but I want it to feel like her home.

And I throw the first of, let’s be honest, probably many dinner parties. Knock that out; I need to get Silver minimum, but I can hit gold without breaking my stride, going for an early dinner.

It’s really fun, having a bunch of people over, the dance music playing over my bar... watching Zest flirt.

“Those highlights are tickle-me-pink, right?” “Hot pink, my man,” Candy says slyly. “Are you sure? I’m positively tickled by them. And your hair certainly says ‘tickle me’ to me.” Well, I think that’s flirting. Who can say? It’s a vision of an alien world. “Try and keep up, Johnny,” is Candy’s answer as she dances forward.

And more than flirt. Zest is a total dog, and if he were not, I think I would have to make him.

“I just moved in, and I’ll tell you -- this is a funny little place. The rooms are so tiny, they’re mostly beds,” Akira was explaining to Ulrike outside, the music drifting over him.

“If it’s a good bed, that’s at least nice, right? Maybe you can make it more your thing.”

“Yeah, maybe. I hope so.”

And me? I’m talking to my girl a while.

“Oooh, ooh. You did get a dress like mine!” “I did. Cooler colors, though -- even if the pattern’s not as cute.” “It looks nice, though. I couldn’t picture you in a dress before.” I forget if that coffee counted as a drink for the nonsensical and almighty party council, judge of social occasions. Well, the party council of public opinion, anyway. 

“Babe? Today’s been… Really special. Magical, even.” I caress her soft cheek. “It’s been a whirlwind, alright! You’re nonstop, aren’t you?” “Absolutely."

This isn’t *that* Woohoo, I mean, I’m not really where I’d like with my career… But there are some things that just won’t wait.

But this isn’t all smooching pretty girls; with the party gilt and the night won, I learn of just one other victory:

Gino’s caught us our first Angelfish. We’re getting on our way.

[otterlyardent]

A simple Dramione prompt

Dramione Prompt: What if Draco wasn’t the insufferable prat everyone knew him to be? What if he merely had to live up to the expectations of being a Malfoy? What if, after the first time he called Hermione Granger a mudblood, he’d overheard Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil speaking about how their roomate had cried and sobbed for hours after his terrible taunts? Later, hidden away from his own friends, in the sanctuary of his curtained bed he wrote her an apology letter. A way to alleviate some of his own guilt for behaving like such a scoundrel. And what if it became a regular thing? Each time he ended up throwing spiteful words and painful insults at the intelligent lioness, he’d spent the evening pouring out his remorse in ink on parchment?

♥♥♥

Granger,

Though I imagine I’ll never work up the courage to actually give you this letter, I felt compelled to write it regardless. I’m much too cowardly to try and approach you especially after my behavior this afternoon. It was a terrible thing to do, and though I’m sure you wouldn’t believe it - my mother would be ashamed of the horrid things I said in the company of a young lady and the fact that I said them to a young lady...well, let’s just say I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that howler.

Truth be told, Granger - I said those things with intent to hurt and I feel utterly ashamed of it. See, my whole life I’ve been lead to believe that those of muggle birth are wrong and dangerous. That they’re stealing our magic from us. I’ve been told all my life that muggle-born witches and wizards don’t have the control necessary to use magic safely and effectively. As well as lacking the intelligence needed to learn the proper use of said magic and spells.  

Imagine my horrified surprise to find that my whole life has basically been a lie. You’re not only incredibly gifted with your magic but you’re also undeniably brilliant. You’ve managed to surpass all of us and in such a brief amount of time. I fear my actions today were spawned from the argument I had with my father recently. He’s very put out with me because I’ve “allowed” you to beat me in each and every subject. He’s very cross with me at the moment, and told me in no uncertain terms that I’m sullying the Malfoy name each time you do better than I.

And it’s with a heavy heart that I realized I acted out of jealousy, spite and embarrassment and hurt you with my words. I overheard your friends speaking about your reaction later, and truthfully Granger - I feel like a bloody arse. No matter what your opinion is of me, which I’m fully aware must be very low - I feel no sense of victory knowing that my words cut deeply enough to make someone as strong as you are cry.

I don’t like making girls cry. I don’t like knowing I made you cry. I feel horribly about it all. It’s rather confusing, to be entirely honest.

I wish I could tell you how bloody brilliant I think you are. I’m sure you know this already, about your brilliance, I mean. But not only that, Granger. You’re kind and loyal and gentle and ...good. It’s no wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor - I don’t think anyone else embodies the house quite like you do. You’re rather amazing, Granger. Muggle born, or not. I wish I could tell you that instead of trying to tear you down each and every time we face off.

I am sorry, Granger. Truly. I wish I could be as good a person as you are. I wish I were allowed to be.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

♥♥♥

Hermione,

I swear by the old gods and new, I didn’t mean it.

I don’t want you to die. I don’t even know why I said such a horrific thing.

I do know that I’ve been sick twice just thinking about it. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

And now you’re in the infirmary and no one knows if or when you’ll all wake up and I’m so fucking sorry...so sorry. I’d curse my own bloody self if it’d help in any way. I wish there were something I could do, I wish I could atone for this disgusting, vile need to lash out at you so often.

I hate myself for it. You don’t deserve it, Hermione. I know you don’t, but it’s expected of me and I’m just not strong enough to forge my own way. And Merlin knows you deserve so much better.

Fuck, please wake up, Hermione. Even if I can never bring myself to actually apologize to you - you have wake up. You make the world brighter just by being a part of it.

Please wake up. And forgive me. Please.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy

♥♥♥

Hermione Granger,

I’m so bloody proud of you.

While you would probably never believe me, my wounded pride after the hippogriff incident isn’t what caused me to go to my father over it. And I truly didn’t know that he would be so savage in his quest for retribution. I know now that my behavior that day caused the attack, but the moment it happened you had looked so frightened and all I could think was that I didn’t want anything like that to happen to you, or anyone else I guess.

But blimey, the way you looked when you were stomping towards me, your wild hair was crackling with magic and your eyes - your eyes were flashing with fury and righteous indignation and then you punched me and Merlin it hurt but I all I could think was how fucking proud I was of you. You showed absolutely no fear, and even though you must’ve been overwhelmed in your grief at the matter, not an ounce of it showed in that moment.

You looked like a glorious avenging angel ready to strike me down.

You never cease to amaze me. I’m sorry about the whole damn thing, except for that punch. I’ve deserved it for years and I’m quite happy you got the chance to do it. You deserved to be the one to do so.

Sincerely,

The foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach

♥♥♥

Hermione,

You looked utterly breathtaking tonight. I cannot express in words how beautiful you looked. It literally took my breath away. And trust me, I was not only one. I’ve always known that you were attractive on some level, I am man and you are a woman and we notice those types of things, but tonight?

You looked like angel.

I saw you after, crying. It quite simply broke my heart to see you broken mere hours after you looked like you were on top of the world. I had wanted to come to you and offer comfort, but I knew I couldn’t and you most likely would’ve have hexed me had I tried. So instead, I noseyed around until I found someone willing to gossip.

The Weasel is stupid, Granger. He’s blind and ignorant and I’d love nothing more than to break his stupid face with my fists.

You were glorious tonight, Hermione. He’s probably only cross because he was to thick to notice what we all have and embarrassed that he blew his chance. I sincerely hope you don’t take any of what that imbecile said to heart.

You’re much too smart for that.

You’re a beautiful girl, Hermione. A beautiful girl with a beautiful soul and brilliant mind. Anyone would be extraordinarily lucky to call you their own. And I’m so dreadfully sorry that your night was tarnished.

I feel kind of hollow and desperately sad about it myself.

Perhaps it’s because my evening was spent listening to Pansy ramble on and on about you in jealousy. But I doubt it.

Chin up, Hermione. You’re much too beautiful to cry.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy

♥♥♥

Hermione,

I am so sorry.

This is getting too hard now. How am I supposed to apologize for my own father trying to kill you and all of your friends? How am I supposed to make that any better?

I was so relieved when you pulled through. That curse you took, it’s ghastly. I thought for sure…

But you’re always surprising me aren’t you? You’re so bloody strong, Granger. Salazar forgive me, but I think you’re the most incredible witch I’ve ever met.

Things are getting bad, really bad and I’m bloody terrified, Hermione. I don't want this. Any of it, but - I have no choice. I don’t know what to do. Gods, I’d give anything to actually be able to talk to you about this. You’re so fucking smart, Granger. If anyone could figure a way out, it’d be you.

Fuck.

Should have, could have, would have…

Blast, Hermione, I’m never going to be able to earn your forgiveness now. I had hoped, desperately that one day, maybe...but no, not now.

Is it wrong of me to hate my father?

Regretfully and faithfully yours,

Draco Malfoy

[tsatsm]

[chapter 1: before the storm]

The chill of the morning quickly dissipated into the scorching summer heat on the 14th of February, 1900, with the boys of the Marble Hills College eagerly and unabashedly giving and receiving love letters from their would be suitors. 

It was a tradition of sorts, one Will Doherty, the oldest son of the college’s headmaster, presented some odd years ago as a jest at first, which quickly grew roots and only became more elaborate as the years went by. 

Today was also the day of the much expected trip to Hanging Rock, a mountain not too far from the college itself, where their annual picnic was held as a way to let the schoolboys loose for an afternoon before heading back to the order and familiarity of the college.

The first to wake up was, as usual, the light sleeping Karl Haas, whom the previous night had been haunted by terrible nightmares and wondrous dreams. 

Samuel P. Nabel, his roomate and close companion, found him reading tarot cards once he awoke much later that morn. “Any good news from your friends on the other side?” was all he needed to say to push poor Karl out of his trance like state and back into reality. 

His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and his hand shook, holding a familiar card to the Nabel boy. Upright tower. He remembered that one being either particularly nasty or particularly good, and by the looks of his roomate, the former one was truer in this circumstance. 

“It- it represents chaos and change..” Karl said quietly, to which Samuel sighed. His broad shoulders slumped as he waddled his way out of the now terribly warm bed and stretched. 

“Well, it can’t be all that bad, old chap. I’m guessing the only chaos and change happening today is we finally get a few crumbs of freedom for the afternoon.” He smiled. “Besides, we also have a few interesting things to look forward to excluding that. Like figuring out who exactly wrote to me in their love letter this year. I already have a few guesses.”

The Haas boy nodded, his blue and brown eyes looking away from him at that moment, blush creeping onto his ears. Samuel instantly took notice, and concern spread across his face like ants over a newly rotting apple. He placed his hand over the boy’s forehead,“Are you feeling unwell? Should I call a teacher or the headmaster-”

The sudden movement away surprised Samuel, and Karl practically leapt away from the touch. “No, it’s.. it’s just too damn warm. In here. We should get ready, to not make the others wait.”

He hopped off his bed with little grace, but he still landed on his feet, so it was a small success. “Besides, if we doddle, we’d have less time on the rock.”

“I guess.. not like that place is interesting in any way, shape or form..” Sam watched as his friend poured some water into the basin to freshen himself up.

“Well, I like it.”

“Only because of the spiritual bullcrap you generally like. It’s a rock that’s been there forever, and it’ll be there long after all the humans are gone off the planet.” He could hear small giggles between the cool splashes of water infused with rose petals.

“That’s why I like it so much.” Karl’s voice became so quiet it’d be considered a breath, if even that. “It’s waited all these years- all these forevers- just for us.”

Though he did not see it, the Nabel boy’s concern hadn’t faded away with those words. They did the complete opposite, in fact. Even if Karl would never see the face, he could still feel something off with Samuel. Dressing up for the day without peaking had become a chore all on its own, now that the boy’s poor hormones worked against him in every aspect possible. To distract from this, Karl’s eyes focused on the tower tarot card, squinting ever so slightly before he was brought back by Samuel’s excited voice. He knew what had to be done today.

                                                        [...]

George Welford had never slept in before. He wasn’t the most timely fellow of his class, that was true, but he was never so late his slacker friend Dorian Thatcher had to be the one to knock on his door to make sure he was up and about. 

The boy’s raspy voice from all the secret cigarettes he’d smoked on the roof, coupled with his rather obnoxious banging on the door, made George painfully aware that he was, in fact, late. 

Cursing himself for being so careless, he dressed up quickly, almost forgetting to put his black gloves on before being seen outside his room, and opened the door. The blond boy with rather long, unkempt hair that morning, smiled mischievously as he spoke, “You’re gonna miss the trip at this rate, idiot. As a fellow lazy man, I only saw it fit that I try to pull you out of that dreadful slumber of yours once and for all.. at least for today.” The devilish wink did not go unnoticed by the shorter brunet, who rolled his eyes so hard they hurt by the end of this.

“Only because I had a dreadful sleep last night. Must’ve been that Haas boy working his witchcrafts on me-”

“To make you fall for him?” Dorian rudely interrupted as George’s face flashed pink. “Or to fall for someone else who paid him to do a little spell on you?”

“You absolute fiend! I’m sure he has no such- such idiotic knowledge! By God, you embarrass me every day by saying nonsense as if your life depended on it.”

“Well, maybe it does. Don’t you like it when I-” The boys quickly turned at the sound of something whooshing through the narrow opening between the door and the bed. The two looked at each other, then back at the strange card, curiosity filling the room like honey, ever viscous and ever present. “..Do you know what that is or..?” Dorian was the first to make a sound.

George, slowly, picked the card up, brows knit tightly. It was unmistakably from Haas’ little tarot collection, the picture depicted a tower burning and collapsing, people jumping or falling to their deaths. “What the hell..?” The name of the card was ‘the tower’, and its number was sixteen written in bold roman numerals.

“Ominous. I love it. We should probably give this back, right, George?” The Thatcher boy looked at the slightly frightened companion who just nodded along, not listening one bit. “Or.. we could burn it. Teach him a lesson for messing with us, yeah?” George’s head shot up in relief, as though he’d just now figured out what to do and how to do it. “I’ll be right back. You wait for me in the lunchroom, yeah? This shouldn’t take long.” He was already halfway out the door when Dorian realised what was happening.

  “Wh- hey, where are you going, leaving me in your room like I’m some pervert!” He closed the door behind him, but he was no match for the running boy. Frozen in place, Dorian grit his teeth ever so slightly. “..It’s for William, isn’t it?” He spoke all too quietly at the dead air.

                                                       [...]

“-And besides, it’s not my fault dad enrolled me here a year earlier. Now I have to wait a whole year before I get the chance to see High Rock up close!” Thomas fidgeted as William brushed his baby brother’s golden hair carefully. “And then you’ll be last year, so you’ll probably be too busy-”

“Tommy.” His brother shushed, “You can still go to High Rock without me, you know that?” William’s laugh sounded almost like bells to Thomas, always surprising him despite knowing him his entire life. “And besides, it’s high time you find friends of your own. Friends besides me and father and the calculus professor.”

“It’s not my fault Mr Talbott simply likes me more than the rest.” He stated proudly, eyes and smile shining like the crests of Orion. “I bet I’ll be his favorite soon enough.”

“I’m sure you are already, but..” William looked to the ground, still combing carefully, “I won’t be here for much longer. ..At the college, I mean. And I’m worried you’ll only stay by my side and never come out of your shell.”

As Thomas looked at their shared mirror, he couldn’t help but notice the gap between him and his brother. William, the tall, intelligent and charismatic leader of every group he is in, and.. Tommy. The younger brother with no potential and too big shoes to fill. “..I’ll try, Will.”

“That’s all I’m asking of you.” With a quick hug and a light ruffling of hair, he smiled again. “Now, don’t forget your gloves or father will be furious.”

The younger Doherty boy laughed, taking his ironed gloves off the dressing table, noticing all the strange gadgets and trinkets his brother had collected over the years. Most were stones, all pretty shapes and wild colors, all things he knew nothing of but knew that it made William happy, so he was content with just that. Carefully, he picked up the shimmering fool’s gold and twirled it in his hand. “What’s this one for?”

William, now without glasses, turned and made a small huff. “I told you a million times already, Tommy. It’s for confidence.” He pointed to the thicker book on his nightstand. “Any more questions you have, Miss Hannah Rose has all the answers for you.” His slender arms looked ridiculous in that puffy shirt that they called a part of their school uniform, Thomas thought to himself. 

A quiet knock filled the room, and before William had the time to even open his mouth, the Welford boy rushed in, holding up a card with a weird drawing on it. The younger boy tried to squint to see the illustration better before George gave it over to Wilbur, “Can you help me with this? I’m not sure who it belongs to.”

A deep, terrible silence befell the Doherty room, one where the awful heat simply added to the bad feeling pooling down in the pit of Thomas’ gut. Something seems wrong today, and it was only the morning. Sure, it had become a normal part of the day for a boy or two to come into his and William’s room for advice or a chat, but this.. didn’t feel like any of the other times.

“Tommy, can you wait for me in the lunchroom? I’ll be down shortly.” With a soft, comforting smile only his brother could do, Thomas had no choice but to nod and leave the room as quickly as possible, still holding on to the fool’s gold. 

It was for courage, after all.

[welcometoneptune-blog1]

my mental condition causes weird-ass dreaming conditions.

(Sorry for the format, I'm on mobile.)

So, a bit of backround on this condition. It's really two different things melded into one. Maladaptive Daydreamer Syndrome and Derealism & Depersonalisation. Maladaptive Daydreaming Syndrome, or MDS causes me to have extremely vivid, realistic daydreams and to have no control over my daydreams, but lucid dream at night. So it's kind of switched, I can't control what I do in my dreams when I'm conscious, but I can when I'm not. It makes it so I cannot stop myself from daydreaming. I'll do it at random times, even during a conversation, while I'm reading a book, watching a movie, in class, even while I'm doing something that requires my full attention, I'll somehow daydream. Like I said, I can carry out a full conversation without knowing a single word I said to you, or even that we spoke. I've gotten through multiple class periods without once leaving my daydream. (This is why I'm leaving school and doing online schooling) MDS also makes it so I remeber Dreams/Daydreams from the beggining of when I developed it (4 years ago) to now, I follow the same dream path, or plot, for a while. Like a story! I follow the same story line for a while until my experiences/surroundings/books I'm reading/music I'm listening to change. That sort of introduces Derealism and Depersonalisation (D&D) (haha) come in. Derealism causes me to feel like I'm constantly in a dream or a daydream, even if I'm not. Lights are weird, I can't remember five minutes ago, my surroundings are super whacked up, so is my vision. I can't ground myself, I can be sitting in my bedroom and I won't recognize it. Depersonalisation is like that- but with myself and my body. I don't know who I am, I don't understand myself, I look in the mirror and just feel.. odd. Like I can't quite place where my nose is. It causes lots of mental breakdowns, anxiety attacks, and random crying. Like, I cannot control my tears. (Dodie Clark also suffers from D&D) Now.. Music. Music comes into play a lot. It helps me ground myself, feel something familiar. Like I said, a lot of my daydreams are centred around certain songs or genres or bands. I follow a dream path, or a story line, based of those songs and my own emotions. Members of a band may often slip into my dreams, and I found that I feel a personal connection with them because of the emotions they've already shared with me through their music. To my friends and family, it seems as though I'm obsessed with that band. But really, I'm just emotionally connected to them. It's a connection I absolutely cannot break.

Both these conditions help my depression and anxiety grow. All these things that fuck up my brain combined with an eating disorder and my body that gets seriously sick at least twice a month seriously screw stuff up for me. But my depression is weird. It's a different kind of depression than most people have explained to me that they feel. They explain it as a dark, looming cloud pressing them down. What I feel- and what others may experience as well - is the feeling that you have no control over yourself, that you are not you and no matter how hard you try, you will never fully understand who you are. Because you're so many people. You've lived so many lives, felt so many things, been so many genders, sexualities and ages and identified in so many different ways, lived in so many eras with so many people. You can't possibly know which one was the original you. (This slightly affects me in my beliefs. I believe in reincarnation and the possibility that I was once all of these things and knew all these people I've met in my head.) And of course, there's nostalgia.

Nostalgia for past you's. Past dreams, past realities. Realities you've moved on from. A song may trigger feelings you felt in that dream. For example, Nine In The Afternoon by Panic! At The Disco. This was my favorite song to dream to about all of second grade. I remember the dream was based loosely on the music video. Now, whenever I hear that song I can't help but feel extremely nostalgic.

Anyway, dreams and daydreams meld, making me forget what happened while I was conscious and what didn't. I follow the same dream path for as long as my brain feels there is more to happen.

My current dream began when I (unconsciously) dreamt my own fiery death, then returning as a ghost to my apartment, which also housed my sister (@ellie-thats-all-there-is), someone who wasn't quite but had the face, past, social relations, and career of Gerard Way, and multiple characters from passed dreams. The person who was Gerard Way but wasn't quite was my roomate, and we were close. Like siblings, or maybe parent and child. But we were not blood related. When I returned to my apartment, I found him passed out drunk on the floor. He responded aggressively to seeing me, angry, thinking his drunken brain was causing him to have hallucinations. He eventually passed out. After some time passed, he woke up, this time more sober. He was frightened, but I was able to calmly explain to him that I had appeared beside my grave, which I found salted and burned (for god's sake). I told him I had no idea how, but as time passed, I was able to do things only people with bodies could do, such as eat and sleep. Together, we came to the conclusion I was slowly coming back to life. We didn't know how, but something caused it.

Anyway, that's the overall plot, but many things happened, such as going to concerts with him, when summer ends being told I had to go to a new school with a new name, stuff like that.

But last I had another dream. One I woke up in tears from. It began on the school bus, but it was night. We were all dressed up. There was a dance at the school that we were headed to. The steps to the school were massive, grand, elagant. They dropped off at the sides, though, with no railing. It had to be at least 45 ft. of stairs. Remeber this for later. I climbed the steps to the dance hall, and inside found a dance partner. He was my sister's friend, I met him a few weeks ago at a hot spring. He's 3 years older than me. We danced, he was kind, and we spoke about school and my sisters. For some reason, I had the impression that he would propose to my sister. I was glad with that. I liked him. The moment shifted, I remember running into the bathroom, then out the doors of the dance hall. I suppose my extreme depression and thoughts of death caused me to do this, but I walked to the side of the stairs and jumped off. It was a gorey and grotesque suicide. And it stopped there, then repeated. I was on the bus again. I was given a second chance. People knew of my suicide. It must have been the night after or something, but we were back at the dance hall now. I chose not to dance with the boy from before. I found a girl from school, standing in the corner in the bathroom. We decided to ditch the party. We ran miles and miles, past the city, past everything we knew together. We came to an old house. Behind it was my place. A place I came many times before. It was a field, with thicks of trees along the edges and occasionally in the middle. It was a spacious field, went as far as the eye could see. Wild flowers, sunflowers, red berries, willow trees and long grass. At the back of the field was where a large hill, maybe the beggining of a mountain, started abrubtly. If you climbed a few sharp, jagged cliffs and rocks, which weren't too high, you'd come to a river, just below one if the cliffs. That was the cliff her and I sat on. We kicked our feet over the little river, which was more of a stream. On each side of the hill, or mountain, was an opening. Or- how do I explain this? The hill, which was quite tall, was not very wide. You could walk around it. The tress that outlined the field stopped just before the hill? making a path between the hill and the trees on both sides. You could follow that path, behind the the hill, and come to an even larger field. We never went back there that time, as we weren't looking for an adventure, which we knew that would be. There were psychics and witches and coyotes and all manner of things back there. And even though I was good friends with all of them, her and I just wanted to sit on our little cliff above the stream, or river, feeding each other strawberries, laughing, and kissing in the light of the sunset. It was peaceful. I haven't felt so happy in a while. This experience connects to the song She's The Prettiest Girl At the Party And She Can Prove It With a Solid Right Hook by Frank Iero and The Patience. Maybe today, in my daydreams, her and I will go behind the hill.