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firewhiskeyfic2018-03-06 06:10 am
torino10154) wrote in firewhiskeyfic2018-03-06 06:10 am
Entry tags:
ENTRY #5
Title: Fade to Black
Author:tjs_whatnot
I am of legal drinking age in my region: (yes/no/maybe)
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Hmmm… seamus, luna, rosemrerta, ron, harry, hermione, snape...
Challenge:I tried to pick one. I failed miserably.
Summary: I was to write a little something and pick one… insatead here’s a little of everything...enjoy… or not.
Rating/Warnings: good lord, where to start? Nothing too naughty...
Word count: I have no idea. Math isn’t my thing...oh wait, there it is right there at the bottom of the screen. 1204
Author's Notes (if any): What even is this?!? What even is my life?!?!
Seamus Finnigan-Begin-Again
Something about Finnegan Begin Again. Father Finnegan had Seven Sons, and Seven Sons had… wait, that’s not right. Hmmmm…. There’s a song in their someowhere, yes? I’m sure Seamus is sick of hearing it though. Take your nursery ryhmes and shove them up your arse for fucks sake, Seamus would tell you. Then he’d do a lot of other things that are steroetypically Irish and then he’d call you a fuckin’ racist for assuming and mybe you shouldn’t write about him in yur state, yeah?
Moving on...
The Three Broomsticks
If the term “Cougar” had been in the British wizarding venracular in the--shit, what year was these books taking place? 90s? Sure, lets go with that-- ninieties, Rosmerta would have probably been called one, though she wouldn’t have used the term herself, like she woulnd’t be one of those older ladies that were proud of this proclivity, or strove for it or anthing. She just had a type is all. Or maybe it was just that was the type that were on her radar working where she worked, that close to a boarding school full of young and lonely boys--and a fair few girls. Or maybe knowing this about herself, deep down, she sought this line of work at this place.
I’ts a lot to contemplate this late at night.
She liked the idea that she was maybe the ideal they fantasized about in their early discovers, and she liked that when they were old enough toa ct on this yernings, they sought her out. She didn’t take many of them up on their wooing fumblings, but eery once in a while, one would surprise her, would want more than just a realization of years of fantasy, would want the real her.
But only once, only one time did she feel like she was the one doing the chasing, the one doing the pouncing.
The girl had come in a few times during her school years, always alone. Rosmerta thought this meant that tje girl was sporting a crush on her, but later she realized tiat it was that she just didn’t have many friends but she liked to be around noise and activity when she poured through her books and newspaper articles.
Rosmerta might not have even noticed her except she was an oddity and hard to miss. She sat with her back to the room and didn’t seem to notice or care when the crowd around her talked about her and her funky earrings or choice of accessories in her hair. It was hard to be an original in a boarding school uniform, but this girl found all the ways possible, and yet, she didn’t seem to care how her presence was percieved.
She intrigued Rosmerta as a young woman, and later when she again started coming to the bar to pour over books and journals, she peaked in Rosmerta more than curiousity. Something much deeper than that.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Rosmerta asked, feeling ridiculous that she’d sunk to that level of cliche.
Luna looked up. “I’m sorry?”
“Would you… what are you reading?” She asked, changing tactics.
“Did you know there is a plant that can generate its own heat?”
Rosmerta giggled like a fuckin’ school girl. She felt herself generating her own heat her own self. “Is that a come on?” she asked, having no fuckin’ chill at all.
Luna studied the older woman. She turned and purposely closed her book before turning back. “Do you want it to be?”
Vernal Equinox--
ThingsThatAreWrong.com
On the exact moment of the Vernal Equinox you can stand an egg on its end. Did you know that? Ron asked.
“That is complete bullshit,” Hermione answered, takiing another drunk.
“Oh wait, I forget what a surly drunk you are. Nevermind.” He turned and faced Harry. “On the exact moment of the Vernal Equinox you can stand an egg on its end.”
“Ron, you’re fuckin’ magic, bro. You can always stand an egg on its end. The real question is, why would you wnat to?”
“Good point. Lets fuck.”
Harry looked over to Hermione. “HEy, you want in on this?”
She thought for a mmoment. “Nah, I’m too drunk, I’;l just sit over here in the conrer and give a runing commentary, yeah?”
“Like your a judge at a sporting event?”
“Sure, like that.”
Ron grabbed Harry and kissed him. “LEts make Britian proud.”
Harry rolled over to his back and pulled ROn on top of him. “Lets go for gold!”
Felix Felicis
Like with any drug addiction, by the time you notice the substance had lost its effect, it’s too late. It took Severus a ridiculous abmount of time to realize that Felix Felicis didn’t really do its thing anymore. IF it ever really did.
When your life was mostly shitty luck after sitty luck, any moment that wasn’t wrapped in the suck that is the everyday of life seemed like a four leaf clover of a day. Felix used to give him those days Those days where the students did their fuckin’ work, Peeves fucked with someone not him, someone like Lupin or Mad Eye, and the Dark Lord got his noseless face out of his arse and let him have a fuckin’ moment free of his mind intrusions.
When he was really lucky, Felix made him invisible. Made him immune and able to drift his mind to places of his own choosing. Places with no Dumbledore, no ridiculously named gang members, no fuckin’ Chosen Ones.
Okay, sometimes when he was really lucky, his mind drifted to Chosen Ones quite often.
But he hadn’t been that lucky for a very long time. Didn’t stop him from trying to get it back.
Over…
...and over.
“Can you believe our luck?”
“Oh god, are we still here?” Seamus asked, looking around.
“I have to imagine she’s almost done,” Luna responded, settling into Rosmerta’s lap.
“She didn’t even finish our story,” Rosmerta pouted.
Luna kissed her nose. “I see a Happily Ever After in our future.”
“Ugh, good luck with that with this one,” Hermione said, holding her head with one hand, thumbng off the page with the other. “She’s morea fade to black sort of writer, ya know?”
“We know!” Harry and Ron said together, still rolled up in the sheets.
“It could be worse,” Seamus surmised, nodding his head towards the lump of pathetic in the corner singing Auld Lang Syne to hinself in the corner. “I think we got off pretty lucky.”
“The luck of the Irish?” Ron asked.
“Fuck off,” Seamus answered.
They all sighed and faded to black.
The end.
Author:
tjs_whatnotI am of legal drinking age in my region: (yes/no/maybe)
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Hmmm… seamus, luna, rosemrerta, ron, harry, hermione, snape...
Challenge:I tried to pick one. I failed miserably.
Summary: I was to write a little something and pick one… insatead here’s a little of everything...enjoy… or not.
Rating/Warnings: good lord, where to start? Nothing too naughty...
Word count: I have no idea. Math isn’t my thing...oh wait, there it is right there at the bottom of the screen. 1204
Author's Notes (if any): What even is this?!? What even is my life?!?!
Seamus Finnigan-Begin-Again
Something about Finnegan Begin Again. Father Finnegan had Seven Sons, and Seven Sons had… wait, that’s not right. Hmmmm…. There’s a song in their someowhere, yes? I’m sure Seamus is sick of hearing it though. Take your nursery ryhmes and shove them up your arse for fucks sake, Seamus would tell you. Then he’d do a lot of other things that are steroetypically Irish and then he’d call you a fuckin’ racist for assuming and mybe you shouldn’t write about him in yur state, yeah?
Moving on...
The Three Broomsticks
If the term “Cougar” had been in the British wizarding venracular in the--shit, what year was these books taking place? 90s? Sure, lets go with that-- ninieties, Rosmerta would have probably been called one, though she wouldn’t have used the term herself, like she woulnd’t be one of those older ladies that were proud of this proclivity, or strove for it or anthing. She just had a type is all. Or maybe it was just that was the type that were on her radar working where she worked, that close to a boarding school full of young and lonely boys--and a fair few girls. Or maybe knowing this about herself, deep down, she sought this line of work at this place.
I’ts a lot to contemplate this late at night.
She liked the idea that she was maybe the ideal they fantasized about in their early discovers, and she liked that when they were old enough toa ct on this yernings, they sought her out. She didn’t take many of them up on their wooing fumblings, but eery once in a while, one would surprise her, would want more than just a realization of years of fantasy, would want the real her.
But only once, only one time did she feel like she was the one doing the chasing, the one doing the pouncing.
The girl had come in a few times during her school years, always alone. Rosmerta thought this meant that tje girl was sporting a crush on her, but later she realized tiat it was that she just didn’t have many friends but she liked to be around noise and activity when she poured through her books and newspaper articles.
Rosmerta might not have even noticed her except she was an oddity and hard to miss. She sat with her back to the room and didn’t seem to notice or care when the crowd around her talked about her and her funky earrings or choice of accessories in her hair. It was hard to be an original in a boarding school uniform, but this girl found all the ways possible, and yet, she didn’t seem to care how her presence was percieved.
She intrigued Rosmerta as a young woman, and later when she again started coming to the bar to pour over books and journals, she peaked in Rosmerta more than curiousity. Something much deeper than that.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Rosmerta asked, feeling ridiculous that she’d sunk to that level of cliche.
Luna looked up. “I’m sorry?”
“Would you… what are you reading?” She asked, changing tactics.
“Did you know there is a plant that can generate its own heat?”
Rosmerta giggled like a fuckin’ school girl. She felt herself generating her own heat her own self. “Is that a come on?” she asked, having no fuckin’ chill at all.
Luna studied the older woman. She turned and purposely closed her book before turning back. “Do you want it to be?”
Vernal Equinox--
ThingsThatAreWrong.com
On the exact moment of the Vernal Equinox you can stand an egg on its end. Did you know that? Ron asked.
“That is complete bullshit,” Hermione answered, takiing another drunk.
“Oh wait, I forget what a surly drunk you are. Nevermind.” He turned and faced Harry. “On the exact moment of the Vernal Equinox you can stand an egg on its end.”
“Ron, you’re fuckin’ magic, bro. You can always stand an egg on its end. The real question is, why would you wnat to?”
“Good point. Lets fuck.”
Harry looked over to Hermione. “HEy, you want in on this?”
She thought for a mmoment. “Nah, I’m too drunk, I’;l just sit over here in the conrer and give a runing commentary, yeah?”
“Like your a judge at a sporting event?”
“Sure, like that.”
Ron grabbed Harry and kissed him. “LEts make Britian proud.”
Harry rolled over to his back and pulled ROn on top of him. “Lets go for gold!”
Felix Felicis
Like with any drug addiction, by the time you notice the substance had lost its effect, it’s too late. It took Severus a ridiculous abmount of time to realize that Felix Felicis didn’t really do its thing anymore. IF it ever really did.
When your life was mostly shitty luck after sitty luck, any moment that wasn’t wrapped in the suck that is the everyday of life seemed like a four leaf clover of a day. Felix used to give him those days Those days where the students did their fuckin’ work, Peeves fucked with someone not him, someone like Lupin or Mad Eye, and the Dark Lord got his noseless face out of his arse and let him have a fuckin’ moment free of his mind intrusions.
When he was really lucky, Felix made him invisible. Made him immune and able to drift his mind to places of his own choosing. Places with no Dumbledore, no ridiculously named gang members, no fuckin’ Chosen Ones.
Okay, sometimes when he was really lucky, his mind drifted to Chosen Ones quite often.
But he hadn’t been that lucky for a very long time. Didn’t stop him from trying to get it back.
Over…
...and over.
“Can you believe our luck?”
“Oh god, are we still here?” Seamus asked, looking around.
“I have to imagine she’s almost done,” Luna responded, settling into Rosmerta’s lap.
“She didn’t even finish our story,” Rosmerta pouted.
Luna kissed her nose. “I see a Happily Ever After in our future.”
“Ugh, good luck with that with this one,” Hermione said, holding her head with one hand, thumbng off the page with the other. “She’s morea fade to black sort of writer, ya know?”
“We know!” Harry and Ron said together, still rolled up in the sheets.
“It could be worse,” Seamus surmised, nodding his head towards the lump of pathetic in the corner singing Auld Lang Syne to hinself in the corner. “I think we got off pretty lucky.”
“The luck of the Irish?” Ron asked.
“Fuck off,” Seamus answered.
They all sighed and faded to black.
The end.
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(and I love breaking the fourth wall, but only get the balls to do it when I'm drunk.) ♥