Bring me the nastiest colours known to humanity (blpaintchart) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2007-10-19 09:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | art: g, art: photomanip, fic: pg, resurrection fest |
Week Three: Friday Fun!
Well, it's nearly the end of the working week, and to celebrate that fact, I bring you some Friday fun!
Firstly, I would like, if I may, to share my Snape and Lupin Top Trump Cards. Woot!
Here they are, hiding at my LJ
Now we've got that silliness over and done with, let's bring on today's story:
It's called 'Game Over' but I don't want you getting the wrong idea, and crying yourselves into a fit: Week Three ain't over yet! What fabulous treasures will the weekend postings hold? Who knows? (We haven't finished writing one of them yet!)
But, I digress. Here is today's daft:
Title: Game Over
Author: blpaintchart
Rating: PG
Word count: 100 x 6
Game Over.
“Game Over? Game bloody well over? It can’t be!”
“I’m afraid it is. Never mind.”
“But I only needed another swig of the anti-venin, and then I would have been able to get into the battle arena and help you!”
“Yeah, what bastard luck. If there had been two of us, that final AK wouldn’t have caught me unawares.”
“We were that close to finishing! Come on, there must be a way of doing that last level again.”
“Nope.”
“Isn’t there a password or something?”
“Don’t think so.”
“That is so bloody annoying!”
“Well, that’s computer games for you, Sev.”
“Here, have a beer.”
“Humph! I’ll need something stronger than beer.”
“Gin then. That was such bad luck at the end.”
“Are you patronising me, Remus?”
“Certainly not. I know how hard you had been working on that level. Well, throughout the whole game, actually.”
“We both had. Seven bloody levels, and to get killed right at the bloody end. It’s…”
“Unbebloodyfuckinglievable.”
“You said it. Exactly how much time have we wasted on it?”
“I’m not sure. Several hours, certainly. Although I wouldn’t call it wasted time.”
“Humph! We didn’t even finish.”
“No, but time with you is never wasted.”
“Fancy something to eat?”
“No.”
“Come on Sev, don’t sulk. It’s only a stupid computer game.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Really?”
“Alright, I am sulking. But what gets me….”
“Yes?”
“Is that there were so many bits in the earlier levels that were more difficult, but we managed them well enough.”
“Level three was tricky, eh? Those Dementors were right bastards!”
“Nasty. And then you unexpectedly turned into a werewolf! I thought we were finished.”
“You weren’t in the fight at the Ministry during level five, were you?”
“No. I’m quite glad, really. It looked a bit haphazard.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“That was a nice manoeuvre of yours on the
“Thank you. It set me back quite a bit for the last stage, though.”
“I suppose so. Which was your favourite level?”
“Can’t decide between six or three, really.”
“Me neither. The worst?”
“Oh, the last one. Definitely.”
“You’re only saying that because we didn’t complete it.”
“Not at all. There was extra random weirdness that I couldn’t stomach.”
“Like what?”
“Like your bloody stupid ‘romance’, for starters! What was all that about?”
“I’d forgotten that! I expect they put that in the programme to keep teenage girls happy.”
“Anyway, my character might have turned into a sap, but yours had some kind of breakdown.”
“What do you mean?”
“It can suddenly fucking fly! What was all that about?”
“Ha! That was quite good fun, actually. You sound envious.”
“I’m not. Still, it didn’t do you any good in the end.”
“I suppose not. Can we stop talking about it now please?”
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t like seeing you so upset, Sev.”
“I’m not upset! I’m just… frustrated.”
“Ooh, my eyes hurt… and my back aches, and my neck...”
“Indeed. Sitting on one’s arse for hours is surprisingly tiring.”
“Perhaps we ought to go for a walk, get some exercise.”
“Remus, it’s pissing down outside. That’s why we started playing the poxy game, remember?”
“Suppose so. But we ought to get our muscles moving.”
“And our blood pumping.”
“Well then, we shall exercise indoors. I’ll help you work out all that frustration.”
“Sure you can handle it?”
“I’ll rise to the occasion.”
“I’m sure you will. Your mind lives in the gutter.”
“And yours keeps it company.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?”
“More exercise? Or, if it’s still raining, I have another game.”
“Not more bloody wizards?”
“No. Pirates!”