We only come out at night
Who: atrumcanis + cowboy_newsie, bffls
When: 19 October, evening of
Where: the super secret firehouse!
Summary: It's time to plan for that trickiest of tricky holidays, Halloween. There will be no dog costumes worn. And no trick-or-treaters are welcome, thanks. This is a very sophisticated and grown up planning session, okay, that's why they will be discussing the amount of explosives that it would take to blow up a toilet. Highly sophisticated.
If the night was dark and full of terrors--shared terrors, which was disconcerting by a half--then the only solution was to stay up all night. This wasn't a unique notion--half the Port had probably already thought the same, and there were probably loads of dry and boring figures and facts and numbers reflecting the sudden increase in coffee sales--but just because half the Port had the same idea didn't make their ideas better. Things were always better done in the firehouse. That was the considered opinion of its residents anyway, and anyone who thought otherwise didn't get a vote, who the hell cared what they thought, et cetera et cetera.
There was a weird sort of camaraderie that came from sharing nightmares. It wasn't one that Sirius was well at ease with--it was weird, knowing everything about the inside of everyone's heads, even people he'd never once spoken with. To say nothing of having the nightmares of those that he did know--and his own, and that thought--
But there was no point in thinking of that. They'd fall asleep eventually, and then-- Well, whatever. Sirius flipped over his notebook and started in on the fresh sheet in the back, first scratching out one of the rats. He smudged the whiskers with his fingertip, and then gave it up and did a pumpkin head over all of it, a tiny headless horseman. Brilliant. That was a far better thought anyway: Halloween.
There was Friday the thirteenth, and there was April Fool's, and the there was Halloween: the triune holidays of the Marauders, nearly better than Christmas and Easter and birthdays. They could at least go toe to toe with Christmas and Easter and birthdays, and they had they added advantage of being bad, of being peppered with tricks and pranks and plots that were nearly expected. And it was high time they had some tricks and plots. It was high time that they did something with themselves. A Marauder did not rest idle when there was an Important Holiday fast approaching. One always needed holiday plans.
He put some blood on the headless horserat's axe and sat back, considering his drawing.
"Oi, Jack," he called out. Jack was somewhere--it was rare to have him without Alice, but that might have been exaggerated; that might have been Sirius' predictable jealousy getting in his way once more. Get out of it, Black.. "Jack! Kelly! Light of my life! How do you feel about humorous explosions?"
When: 19 October, evening of
Where: the super secret firehouse!
Summary: It's time to plan for that trickiest of tricky holidays, Halloween. There will be no dog costumes worn. And no trick-or-treaters are welcome, thanks. This is a very sophisticated and grown up planning session, okay, that's why they will be discussing the amount of explosives that it would take to blow up a toilet. Highly sophisticated.
If the night was dark and full of terrors--shared terrors, which was disconcerting by a half--then the only solution was to stay up all night. This wasn't a unique notion--half the Port had probably already thought the same, and there were probably loads of dry and boring figures and facts and numbers reflecting the sudden increase in coffee sales--but just because half the Port had the same idea didn't make their ideas better. Things were always better done in the firehouse. That was the considered opinion of its residents anyway, and anyone who thought otherwise didn't get a vote, who the hell cared what they thought, et cetera et cetera.
There was a weird sort of camaraderie that came from sharing nightmares. It wasn't one that Sirius was well at ease with--it was weird, knowing everything about the inside of everyone's heads, even people he'd never once spoken with. To say nothing of having the nightmares of those that he did know--and his own, and that thought--
But there was no point in thinking of that. They'd fall asleep eventually, and then-- Well, whatever. Sirius flipped over his notebook and started in on the fresh sheet in the back, first scratching out one of the rats. He smudged the whiskers with his fingertip, and then gave it up and did a pumpkin head over all of it, a tiny headless horseman. Brilliant. That was a far better thought anyway: Halloween.
There was Friday the thirteenth, and there was April Fool's, and the there was Halloween: the triune holidays of the Marauders, nearly better than Christmas and Easter and birthdays. They could at least go toe to toe with Christmas and Easter and birthdays, and they had they added advantage of being bad, of being peppered with tricks and pranks and plots that were nearly expected. And it was high time they had some tricks and plots. It was high time that they did something with themselves. A Marauder did not rest idle when there was an Important Holiday fast approaching. One always needed holiday plans.
He put some blood on the headless horserat's axe and sat back, considering his drawing.
"Oi, Jack," he called out. Jack was somewhere--it was rare to have him without Alice, but that might have been exaggerated; that might have been Sirius' predictable jealousy getting in his way once more. Get out of it, Black.. "Jack! Kelly! Light of my life! How do you feel about humorous explosions?"