FIC: Bad Moon On The Rise (LOST) (over_look: 9 - Luck)
FTitle: Bad Moon On The Rise
Author: chicafrom3
Fandom: Lost
Claim: Adam "Sinjin" St. John
Other characters/pairings: All the band, mate.
Table/Theme Name & Number: I, 9 - Luck
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really.
Summary: Sinjin was always the lucky one. Or was never the lucky one, depending on who you ask.
A/N: Ninth of ten for over_look, for the claim of Sinjin. No spoilers beyond the basic premise of Lost. And for anyone who doesn't know: Sinjin is the lead guitarist for Driveshaft.
A girlfriend had once told Sinjin, "If it weren't for bad luck, you'd have no luck at all," which was patently untrue. Given the number of times he'd managed to narrowly escape death-by overdose, by mugging, by electrocution, but a million other things-he figured he had to be one of the luckiest guys in the world.
Add in Zap, the best friend you could ever ask for. Add in the band, and the CDs he could walk down to the record store and buy with his name there in the liner notes, their friendship and talent immortalized in a cheap plastic case. Add in his solo CDs-okay, so they hadn't sold at all, but he'd done what he'd wanted to do with them, made the point he'd wanted to make. Add in the girls, and the money that hadn't quite run out yet.
See? Lucky.
Charlie's Fender sitting in the corner of his flat where Zap had left it, unable to take keeping it himself anymore. Liam's voice mail and the many messages Sinjin had left, calls never returned, letters mailed back unopened. An invitation on the coffee table, Patrick and Melissa Gleason cordially invite you to attend their anniversary party, with a scribbled note on the envelope, Sin: you don't have to come if you don't want, but Melissa and I miss talking to you and Liam and Cha Zap, would like to see you again, -Pat. Busted knuckles and a guitar in desperate need of restringing and a résumé full of nothing bands that had gone nowhere.
Maybe Emily had had a point after all.
He fooled around for a couple days with writing a song about the double-sided coin of luck but couldn't make it come out right and gave up. Went out and got drunk and picked a fight, woke up the next morning with a headache and a black eye and a girl whose name he couldn't remember, if he'd ever known it.
Luck was in the eye of the beholder, he decided, and went to email Pat an RSVP to the anniversary party.
Author: chicafrom3
Fandom: Lost
Claim: Adam "Sinjin" St. John
Other characters/pairings: All the band, mate.
Table/Theme Name & Number: I, 9 - Luck
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really.
Summary: Sinjin was always the lucky one. Or was never the lucky one, depending on who you ask.
A/N: Ninth of ten for over_look, for the claim of Sinjin. No spoilers beyond the basic premise of Lost. And for anyone who doesn't know: Sinjin is the lead guitarist for Driveshaft.
A girlfriend had once told Sinjin, "If it weren't for bad luck, you'd have no luck at all," which was patently untrue. Given the number of times he'd managed to narrowly escape death-by overdose, by mugging, by electrocution, but a million other things-he figured he had to be one of the luckiest guys in the world.
Add in Zap, the best friend you could ever ask for. Add in the band, and the CDs he could walk down to the record store and buy with his name there in the liner notes, their friendship and talent immortalized in a cheap plastic case. Add in his solo CDs-okay, so they hadn't sold at all, but he'd done what he'd wanted to do with them, made the point he'd wanted to make. Add in the girls, and the money that hadn't quite run out yet.
See? Lucky.
Charlie's Fender sitting in the corner of his flat where Zap had left it, unable to take keeping it himself anymore. Liam's voice mail and the many messages Sinjin had left, calls never returned, letters mailed back unopened. An invitation on the coffee table, Patrick and Melissa Gleason cordially invite you to attend their anniversary party, with a scribbled note on the envelope, Sin: you don't have to come if you don't want, but Melissa and I miss talking to you and Liam and Cha Zap, would like to see you again, -Pat. Busted knuckles and a guitar in desperate need of restringing and a résumé full of nothing bands that had gone nowhere.
Maybe Emily had had a point after all.
He fooled around for a couple days with writing a song about the double-sided coin of luck but couldn't make it come out right and gave up. Went out and got drunk and picked a fight, woke up the next morning with a headache and a black eye and a girl whose name he couldn't remember, if he'd ever known it.
Luck was in the eye of the beholder, he decided, and went to email Pat an RSVP to the anniversary party.