FIC! and 'Whose fic is it Anyway?'
Well! thanfiction held a mini improv write-a-thon on his LJ last night and, seeing the word 'improv', I had to join in. XD SO MUCH FUN!! It was three hours to fulfill prompts given by five lovely users~ There were ten of us writing. Personally, and I'm pretty damn proud of my progress, as I usually have no attention span for writing. (Though, I do know that I operate well under pressure XD)
My stats - 4 prompts, 1641 words, almost three hours. I was watching a movie at the same time, though, and reading about some of the stuff I used in my prompts... ^^; My writings will be found below the cuts, along with links to the original thread.
The actual post where the prompts were left, dibs were called, and the fics were posted can be found [ here ]
The full results of the 'Whose Fic Is It Anyway' writing challenge can be found [ here ]
prompt: What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?
prompter: vegablack62
link to thread: here
wordcount: ~370
characters: Harry, Draco and likely Harry/Draco
rating/warnings: PG13, for swearing and drunkenness
notes This was the first one I did, so it's a bit sketchy? XD;
Harry was laughing that sort of hiccuping warble that one adopts after too many finished bottles too early in the night. He was jammed in between two railing spikes with his feet hanging over the rooftop edge. Wedged in the gutter was his beloved broom, and the left shoe of his companion, Draco Malfoy.
The blond Slytherin did not look pleased. Frowning down at the front of his shirt, then over at Harry, who was still chortling into the crook of one arm, Draco pointed the mouth of his firewhiskey bottle at him. "Just, just what is so bloody funny about....peace, and love and- no, shut up, Potter, just shut up - and...understanding?"
Harry wheezed, catching his breath. "Merlin, oh sweet Merlin, it's not that. You just. It's just funny coming from you."
The bottle slipped from Draco's hand and rolled down the rooftop. "Oh, piss shit." It caught on the metal windings of Harry's broom, and stopped, the neck of the bottle tipping out into open air. The two of them watched as the amber liquid inside slowly drizzled out and to the ground below. Draco swore again; it was his last of the case.
Harry gripped his shoulder urgently, his eyes wide and unfocused. "Draco...it's okay. I know how special that bottle was to you, t-that your relationship was something to outlast anything you might-"
"Oh shut up," Draco grumbled, swatting his hand off of him. "Just shut up now-"
"I just want you to know," Harry said, pressing one hand over his chest and smiling wickedly at him, "That I understand. I too have lost-"
"Shut. The fuck up." Draco said, reeling forward. His shoulders smacked against the iron bars and he winced. "Ow. Ow ow ow." He tipped his head forward, resting his chin on his chest.
Harry snickered and reached one arm over to press the mouth of his last bottle against Draco's lips. "No need to be angry - I'll share the love."
Bleary grey eyes narrowed in a halfhearted glare.
Harry smoothed back the blond hair, cooing, "Shh, shhhh," Only to get smacked in the chin by Draco's elbow, and to see the last of their Firewhiskey follow the other bottle down the side of the roof.
prompt: Lucius, endgame
prompter: vegablack62
link to thread; here
wordcount: ~465
characters: Lucius Malfoy/Andromeda Black
rating/warnings: G
notes I saw the prompt and had to do this - this is something I've been unable to get out of my brain for the past few months, and I'm glad this much managed to get out. DX I wanted to go with this forever.
Lucius will marry one of your daughters, then?.
Yes, I agree.
In the courtyard the following afternoon, Lucius met Andromeda on the second floor balcony, under the shade of the broken statues from the floor above. She was reading a book when he arrived, as it was her habit, and he brought nothing with him, for a change.
"It is done," he said, with a breathless smile. He didn't know if she had heard, but from her expression, it seemed he was the first to share the news with her. "Your father spoke with mine yesterday." It was their last week of Hogwarts and now that his wife had been chosen by Cygnus Black and Lucius Malfoy, the constant tension of continuing the Malfoy line was temporarily eased.
Andromeda carefully marked her place in the book before closing it, and folded her hands over the plain leather cover. "I'm pleased to hear that, Lucius. What did they speak of?"
The heir of the Malfoy legacy sat at her feet, resting one hand on the gentle curve of her calf. He caressed the skin with his knuckles, as he liked to do when they were alone, and watched her face. She never gave him a reaction, and he never pushed for one, but he did like to try. "My father said our families would be joined by my union with your father's daughter." He smiled at her again, feeling foolish for doing so, but helpless enough to have to do it. "I can only assume they meant you. I am pleased."
The bell rang, marking five minutes until the next class period. Andromeda glanced down at the courtyard, distractedly. "Lucius..." She sighed. Whatever she had intended on saying was abandoned, and she leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. "I do love you, I hope you understand."
Puzzled, Lucius nodded. "Of course. Our families were aware of this."
With a strange, sad smile, Andromeda nodded, "Yes, I did make that quite clear." The smile faltered a little. "After all, anyone could see I've been happily in love these past few years. It would only be natural for me to marry so quickly..." She trailed off, as if speaking only to herself.
Lucius frowned, standing as she gathered her things. They did not share the next class together, and would have usually already parted ways. "Are you all right?" He asked.
She glanced at the courtyard again and then back to him. The troubles had vanished from her face, and she smiled sweetly at him. "Of course, Lucius. After all, there's just a week left of class, yes?"
Lucius nodded, and silently watched her walk away. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something secret hidden in something that she had said.
prompt: 'The Gospel according to Dumbledore', a character from Harry's generation
prompter: duck_or_rabbit
link to thread; here
wordcount: ~635
characters: Fred & George Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall
rating/warnings: PG, references to and blatant changing of the Catholic mass, humour
notes I wanted this prompt so BAD when I first saw it. It might have gotten away with me a little. XDDD I honestly don't mean to offend anyone by using the mass structure in such a way.
It was lunch time, on the most miserable rainy day that spring. The Great Hall ceiling was dark and voluminous, with rain pouring down like it was trying to flood the hall in any way possible. The tables were packed, elbow to elbow, with students dressed in their It's-bloody-miserable-out-I-want-to-be-in-bed-sleeping clothes; woolies, scarves, socks upon socks, and thick heavy jumpers.
Then, from the Gryffindor table, two redheaded boys stood up in unison, breaking the heavy fog of misery that hung over the students. They drew the attention of those around them, and eventually, that drew the attention of more. When they had a suitable audience, they spoke together, their voices ringing clearly in the near-quiet of the hall.
"In the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." They bowed their heads. "Lemon drops."
From somewhere in the hall, someone snickered. McGonagall started to stand up, from her place at the professor's table, but Professor Dumbledore only patted her arm and smiled. She grumbled, but made no further protest.
Fred raised his head to look directly at his brother George, and said, "May the grace of the Headmaster and his love of sweets be with you!"
George nodded and exclaimed, "And also with you!"
Quite seriously, Fred turned to examine the students around him. Almost everyone's attention was fixed on the both of them. "My brothers and sisters, let us prepare ourselves for the secret mysteries and call to mind our Dumbledore-like whimsies." He bowed his head again. George did as well.
"Dumbledore have mercy," George said. He continued, throwing his arms in the air, "Glory to socks! White beards and violet robes! Glory to Fawkes, the carrier of the Flame, the bird of everlasting life!"
Reverently, Fred said, "Lemon drops."
George spoke again, "A reading from the first words of Dumbledore." He cleared his throat. "'Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!'" He threw his arms up again, "Lemon Drops!"
"Dumbledore be with you!" Fred declared.
George clasped his hands in front of him. "Also with you!"
From his pocket, Fred produced a little book. By this point, the people around them were either stifling giggles or looking at Dumbledore in horror, as if they expected him to strike the twins down. The headmaster, for his part, watched them both with twinkling eyes, one hand poised over his mouth.
Fred opened the book and flipped to a page somewhere in the middle, "A reading from the Gospel, according to Dumbledore." At this, McGonagall stood from her chair, her wand in one hand.
"Licorice wands and peppermints," George said, with a glance at his Head of House. He looked back to Fred.
Fred cleared his throat, looking a little nervous at McGonagall quickly came their way. "'I remember once,' the Headmaster said, 'A humid summer too many years ago. I thought a swim would take my mind away from the heat, and so! When everyone was sleeping, early in the morning, I would nip down to the lake and-"
"And," a bristling Minerva McGonagall said, her mouth drawn in a tight frown that was in danger of meeting the collar of her tartan robe, "that is quite enough. Misters Weasley - my office. NOW."
Quickly, George called out above the rising laughter, "This is the Gospel of our Headmaster!"
"Praise to you, Supreme Mugwump of the ICoW!"
"ENOUGH," McGonagall said. Fred and George scrambled to leave, still trying to finish their 'mass' for the student body.
"Shall we skip ahead, Georgie?" Fred asked, stuffing the book into his pocket again.
"Maybe we should, Fred," George agreed. They were almost out the hall doors, with McGonagall right in front of them. "Go in the light of Fawkes!"
Fred shouted to him, "Thanks be to Dumbledore!"
"ENOUGH."
And in unison they cried, "In the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! LEMON DROPS!"
prompt: The Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron, sunlight
prompter: bluealoe
link to thread; here
wordcount: ~165
characters: The Grey Lady, The Bloody Baron
rating/warnings: PG, mild angst
notes I looked them both up on the wiki/lexicon, and found out about their history, so I had to write this...I think they might be characters I'd be willing to investigate further.
Her face turned to the light, the Grey Lady almost seemed to be substantial. Her vacant eyes glittered with a mild sense of self awareness, and she gazed deeply into the sun like she would into the eyes of a lover. Slowly, distantly, she faded back, and drifted away from the corridor window, her features and dress becoming transparent. Her hair fluttered behind her in waves though she did not move, and quietly she drifted down the hall.
The Baron watched her morosely, his ghostly fingertips reaching out to touch the lace of her dress as she passed him by. Her mouth opened the slightest bit, as if a breath had been startled from her. In the next moment, her lips pressed tight together, and continued to float away.
The silver blood shone brighter on the Baron's clothes, and a sound echoed; a knife slicing through flesh and air. Instead of following the Grey Lady, he sank through the floor, rivets of silver blood quietly gushing.
My stats - 4 prompts, 1641 words, almost three hours. I was watching a movie at the same time, though, and reading about some of the stuff I used in my prompts... ^^; My writings will be found below the cuts, along with links to the original thread.
The actual post where the prompts were left, dibs were called, and the fics were posted can be found [ here ]
The full results of the 'Whose Fic Is It Anyway' writing challenge can be found [ here ]
prompt: What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?
prompter: vegablack62
link to thread: here
wordcount: ~370
characters: Harry, Draco and likely Harry/Draco
rating/warnings: PG13, for swearing and drunkenness
notes This was the first one I did, so it's a bit sketchy? XD;
Harry was laughing that sort of hiccuping warble that one adopts after too many finished bottles too early in the night. He was jammed in between two railing spikes with his feet hanging over the rooftop edge. Wedged in the gutter was his beloved broom, and the left shoe of his companion, Draco Malfoy.
The blond Slytherin did not look pleased. Frowning down at the front of his shirt, then over at Harry, who was still chortling into the crook of one arm, Draco pointed the mouth of his firewhiskey bottle at him. "Just, just what is so bloody funny about....peace, and love and- no, shut up, Potter, just shut up - and...understanding?"
Harry wheezed, catching his breath. "Merlin, oh sweet Merlin, it's not that. You just. It's just funny coming from you."
The bottle slipped from Draco's hand and rolled down the rooftop. "Oh, piss shit." It caught on the metal windings of Harry's broom, and stopped, the neck of the bottle tipping out into open air. The two of them watched as the amber liquid inside slowly drizzled out and to the ground below. Draco swore again; it was his last of the case.
Harry gripped his shoulder urgently, his eyes wide and unfocused. "Draco...it's okay. I know how special that bottle was to you, t-that your relationship was something to outlast anything you might-"
"Oh shut up," Draco grumbled, swatting his hand off of him. "Just shut up now-"
"I just want you to know," Harry said, pressing one hand over his chest and smiling wickedly at him, "That I understand. I too have lost-"
"Shut. The fuck up." Draco said, reeling forward. His shoulders smacked against the iron bars and he winced. "Ow. Ow ow ow." He tipped his head forward, resting his chin on his chest.
Harry snickered and reached one arm over to press the mouth of his last bottle against Draco's lips. "No need to be angry - I'll share the love."
Bleary grey eyes narrowed in a halfhearted glare.
Harry smoothed back the blond hair, cooing, "Shh, shhhh," Only to get smacked in the chin by Draco's elbow, and to see the last of their Firewhiskey follow the other bottle down the side of the roof.
prompt: Lucius, endgame
prompter: vegablack62
link to thread; here
wordcount: ~465
characters: Lucius Malfoy/Andromeda Black
rating/warnings: G
notes I saw the prompt and had to do this - this is something I've been unable to get out of my brain for the past few months, and I'm glad this much managed to get out. DX I wanted to go with this forever.
Lucius will marry one of your daughters, then?.
Yes, I agree.
In the courtyard the following afternoon, Lucius met Andromeda on the second floor balcony, under the shade of the broken statues from the floor above. She was reading a book when he arrived, as it was her habit, and he brought nothing with him, for a change.
"It is done," he said, with a breathless smile. He didn't know if she had heard, but from her expression, it seemed he was the first to share the news with her. "Your father spoke with mine yesterday." It was their last week of Hogwarts and now that his wife had been chosen by Cygnus Black and Lucius Malfoy, the constant tension of continuing the Malfoy line was temporarily eased.
Andromeda carefully marked her place in the book before closing it, and folded her hands over the plain leather cover. "I'm pleased to hear that, Lucius. What did they speak of?"
The heir of the Malfoy legacy sat at her feet, resting one hand on the gentle curve of her calf. He caressed the skin with his knuckles, as he liked to do when they were alone, and watched her face. She never gave him a reaction, and he never pushed for one, but he did like to try. "My father said our families would be joined by my union with your father's daughter." He smiled at her again, feeling foolish for doing so, but helpless enough to have to do it. "I can only assume they meant you. I am pleased."
The bell rang, marking five minutes until the next class period. Andromeda glanced down at the courtyard, distractedly. "Lucius..." She sighed. Whatever she had intended on saying was abandoned, and she leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. "I do love you, I hope you understand."
Puzzled, Lucius nodded. "Of course. Our families were aware of this."
With a strange, sad smile, Andromeda nodded, "Yes, I did make that quite clear." The smile faltered a little. "After all, anyone could see I've been happily in love these past few years. It would only be natural for me to marry so quickly..." She trailed off, as if speaking only to herself.
Lucius frowned, standing as she gathered her things. They did not share the next class together, and would have usually already parted ways. "Are you all right?" He asked.
She glanced at the courtyard again and then back to him. The troubles had vanished from her face, and she smiled sweetly at him. "Of course, Lucius. After all, there's just a week left of class, yes?"
Lucius nodded, and silently watched her walk away. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something secret hidden in something that she had said.
prompt: 'The Gospel according to Dumbledore', a character from Harry's generation
prompter: duck_or_rabbit
link to thread; here
wordcount: ~635
characters: Fred & George Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall
rating/warnings: PG, references to and blatant changing of the Catholic mass, humour
notes I wanted this prompt so BAD when I first saw it. It might have gotten away with me a little. XDDD I honestly don't mean to offend anyone by using the mass structure in such a way.
It was lunch time, on the most miserable rainy day that spring. The Great Hall ceiling was dark and voluminous, with rain pouring down like it was trying to flood the hall in any way possible. The tables were packed, elbow to elbow, with students dressed in their It's-bloody-miserable-out-I-want-to-be-in-bed-sleeping clothes; woolies, scarves, socks upon socks, and thick heavy jumpers.
Then, from the Gryffindor table, two redheaded boys stood up in unison, breaking the heavy fog of misery that hung over the students. They drew the attention of those around them, and eventually, that drew the attention of more. When they had a suitable audience, they spoke together, their voices ringing clearly in the near-quiet of the hall.
"In the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." They bowed their heads. "Lemon drops."
From somewhere in the hall, someone snickered. McGonagall started to stand up, from her place at the professor's table, but Professor Dumbledore only patted her arm and smiled. She grumbled, but made no further protest.
Fred raised his head to look directly at his brother George, and said, "May the grace of the Headmaster and his love of sweets be with you!"
George nodded and exclaimed, "And also with you!"
Quite seriously, Fred turned to examine the students around him. Almost everyone's attention was fixed on the both of them. "My brothers and sisters, let us prepare ourselves for the secret mysteries and call to mind our Dumbledore-like whimsies." He bowed his head again. George did as well.
"Dumbledore have mercy," George said. He continued, throwing his arms in the air, "Glory to socks! White beards and violet robes! Glory to Fawkes, the carrier of the Flame, the bird of everlasting life!"
Reverently, Fred said, "Lemon drops."
George spoke again, "A reading from the first words of Dumbledore." He cleared his throat. "'Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!'" He threw his arms up again, "Lemon Drops!"
"Dumbledore be with you!" Fred declared.
George clasped his hands in front of him. "Also with you!"
From his pocket, Fred produced a little book. By this point, the people around them were either stifling giggles or looking at Dumbledore in horror, as if they expected him to strike the twins down. The headmaster, for his part, watched them both with twinkling eyes, one hand poised over his mouth.
Fred opened the book and flipped to a page somewhere in the middle, "A reading from the Gospel, according to Dumbledore." At this, McGonagall stood from her chair, her wand in one hand.
"Licorice wands and peppermints," George said, with a glance at his Head of House. He looked back to Fred.
Fred cleared his throat, looking a little nervous at McGonagall quickly came their way. "'I remember once,' the Headmaster said, 'A humid summer too many years ago. I thought a swim would take my mind away from the heat, and so! When everyone was sleeping, early in the morning, I would nip down to the lake and-"
"And," a bristling Minerva McGonagall said, her mouth drawn in a tight frown that was in danger of meeting the collar of her tartan robe, "that is quite enough. Misters Weasley - my office. NOW."
Quickly, George called out above the rising laughter, "This is the Gospel of our Headmaster!"
"Praise to you, Supreme Mugwump of the ICoW!"
"ENOUGH," McGonagall said. Fred and George scrambled to leave, still trying to finish their 'mass' for the student body.
"Shall we skip ahead, Georgie?" Fred asked, stuffing the book into his pocket again.
"Maybe we should, Fred," George agreed. They were almost out the hall doors, with McGonagall right in front of them. "Go in the light of Fawkes!"
Fred shouted to him, "Thanks be to Dumbledore!"
"ENOUGH."
And in unison they cried, "In the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! LEMON DROPS!"
prompt: The Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron, sunlight
prompter: bluealoe
link to thread; here
wordcount: ~165
characters: The Grey Lady, The Bloody Baron
rating/warnings: PG, mild angst
notes I looked them both up on the wiki/lexicon, and found out about their history, so I had to write this...I think they might be characters I'd be willing to investigate further.
Her face turned to the light, the Grey Lady almost seemed to be substantial. Her vacant eyes glittered with a mild sense of self awareness, and she gazed deeply into the sun like she would into the eyes of a lover. Slowly, distantly, she faded back, and drifted away from the corridor window, her features and dress becoming transparent. Her hair fluttered behind her in waves though she did not move, and quietly she drifted down the hall.
The Baron watched her morosely, his ghostly fingertips reaching out to touch the lace of her dress as she passed him by. Her mouth opened the slightest bit, as if a breath had been startled from her. In the next moment, her lips pressed tight together, and continued to float away.
The silver blood shone brighter on the Baron's clothes, and a sound echoed; a knife slicing through flesh and air. Instead of following the Grey Lady, he sank through the floor, rivets of silver blood quietly gushing.