#the fact that i have MET a few of you and just???? my fwiends... i wuv you....

[tracksdowna]

i’mmmmmmmmm drunk and i love my fwiends soooooo much i love you all sooooo much thank you for having me <33333333

[obsidiancreates]

Don’t mean to bother, just a fanfic request, CBF coming to bother Murder trio and Dark, and Jimmy is livid. Take care of yourself, goodnight!

(It’s no bother! :D I’m afraid I failed at that first request... wrote this at sunrise, lol. I hope that didn’t effect the quality too much!)

(I only put the w’s in a few words because I personally find it hard to read when all of CBF’s dialogue is written as it sounds..)

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“Okay, fire!”

Wilford shot the mini canon at Jimmy. Jimmy flew across the room and very nearly slammed into the wall, stopped only by Dark catching him with a shadow. “Wil, I thought I told you to do these kinds of things outside.”

“Oops! Sorry Darky, I forgot.” Wilford checked the inside of the canon. “Would filling it with cotton candy be any better?”

“No, that would make the whole room sticky.” Dark watched as Wilford started doing it anyway. “Wil, please-”

“Awww, please?”

Dark remained straight-faced as Wilford gave him puppy eyes. “No.”

“K̸illj̡o̕y̶.” Anti said, throwing his knife at Dark’s head. Dark’s aura caught it and sent it right back. 

Jimmy respawned and threw his arm around Dark. “In more ways than one, right?” He grinned. “Where’s your My Chem shirts?”

Dark pushed Jimmy’s arm off of him. “Oh, how clever.”

Jimmy and Dark continued to bicker, Jimmy cackling and screeching while Dark deadpanned and scoffed. Anti watched, highly amused. “I ͟ca͟n't ̢tell̶ if an͜no҉ying ͏Daŕk͘ ̴or̸ wat̴c͜hi͟ǹg s̛o̴m̧e͘one e͜ĺs͘e͘ an͞ǹoy̨ h͟i̕m ́i̶s ͢mor̡e ́fu̷n̸.“ He turned to Wilford, about to ask for some show snacks. But the pink ego was gone.

Anti looked back over at the fight. It wasn’t quite at the violence stage yet, in fact Dark shell hadn’t even begun cracking. He looked back at the empty spot next to him. 

It didn’t feel right, watching a fight without Wilford.

Anti scowled, groaned, and glitched away to go find his friend.

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Wilford scratched his head. He wasn’t sure how he got outside. He’d only gotten up to shout encouragement to Dark and Jimmy, and then found himself standing in the forest at the edge of the house.

He shrugged. It wasn’t unusual. At least he was nearby and not in another town. Or state. Or country. Or dimension. All were quite possible outcomes.

“Hello?” a voice said from behind him. 

He turned around and was met by a cardboard box with a face drawn on. It had two large black circles for eyes, and a tiny triangle for a mouth. It had a body also made of cardboard boxes, which seemed to be held together by... nothing, really. There was no visible way it stayed together.

“Well, hello there!” Wilford said, unfazed. “What brings you to our yard?”

“I’m looking for my bwother,” the box thing said. “Can you help me find him?”

“I’m afraid I have other matters to attend to,” Wilford said, putting emphasis on ‘others’ for no real reason at all.

“Please? I think he’s in there, but I can’t get in.” It lifted one of it’s rectangle arms and pointed at the house.

“I doubt he’s in there. That’s where I and my pals live.”

“He’s in there. I know he is. But there’s too many refwections.”

Wilford squinted his eyes and tilted his head with confusion. “Huh?”

“Refwections are bad. And there’s so many in the windows!” The box thing looked Wilford in the eyes. “I need to find him. He’s my family. I miss him.”

Wilford pouted. He... actually felt a little bad for it. He sighed dramatically. “O-kay, fine.” He took out his gun and-

“W̶h̷a̵t t̢hè ̧fu͠c̴k ͘i͘s t̷hąt̵?̴”

Anti glitched into existence beside the box thing. It’s triangle mouth turned upside down.

“That’s mean!”

“Ye͠àh̸, n̢o shi҉t.̀ ̕Do͘ ̨I l͡ook͝ ̸n͞i͝ce͘?" Anti looked at Wilford. “G҉et ba̸c͟k i̶nsi̸d̴e,͞ màn.͞ T͢hey'́ll̸ ͡s͝t̷a͏r̵t ͝b͜e͜at̡i̸n̛g҉ ͠each o͠th͏ér̵ ̕up͝ an͠y̵ m͡o̕mén̸t!”

“Oh, right!” Wilford turned to the box thing. “Sorry, little cardboard thing! Goodbye!”

“No!” It stamped it’s foot. “You’re going to help me find Gwegowy!” it screamed.

“Who҉ t̀ḩe fu͢c͏k ̀i҉s-͘”

Before Anti could finish his sentence a knife embedded itself into the box making the body. The cardboard thing screamed, in both rage and pain. Anti looked over at the house. Jimmy stood, arm still outstretched from the throw, fuming. His eyes were a brighter red than Anti had ever seen them. “MY NAME IS NOT GREGORY!”

The box thing pulled the knife out of it’s chest. “Yes it is silly!” It looked between Anti and Wilford. “Did you find us a new family?”

“Get away from them!” Jimmy summoned Knifey back to his hand. 

“I like the pink one!” It put it’s arms around Wilford.

“I SAID GET AWAY!”

“But where’s the mama?”

“There’s no mama! There’s no family! Wil, Anti, get away from it! It’s evil!” Jimmy kept his eyes locked on the box creature.

“S͝o ar҉e͟ ̷ẃe͜.” Even as he said it Anti was backing away from the thing. Wilford was trying to pry it’s arms off of him, but they wouldn’t budge.

“It’s a different kind!”

“I’m not evil, Gwegowy! I’m your fwiend!” It’s hold on Wilford tightened. “I’m your Cardboard Fwiend!”

“SHUT UP!” Jimmy threw Knifey, again and again and again, but never moved closer. “JUST! GO! AWAY!”

“I don’t mean to interrupt this fascinating interaction,” Wilford said breathlessly, “But I can’t feel my body anymore.”

Cardboard Friend pat Wilford on the head. “Just relax new bwother!”

“What’s happening out here?! Who are you idiots-” Dark walked out of the house, ready to scold the trio, but stopped. “What is that?” he demanded, his shell cracking a bit. “Wil, are you alright?”

“I’m dandy! And also passing out, but I’ve been through worse!” Wilford chuckled, and then wheezed. He coughed and tried to catch his breath. 

Dark walked towards Cardboard Friend, his shell seconds from shattering. “Let. Him. Go.”

Cardboard Friend looked at Dark, still holding Wilford. “No.” It tilted it’s head. “Are you the mama?”

Anti burst out laughing, but the look of horror on Jimmy’s face quickly silenced him.

Dark scowled. His aura wrapped around Cardboard Friend’s arms and forced them apart. Wilford dropped, gasping. Anti glitched over and then glitched them both away, to Jimmy. 

Cardboard Friend’s mouth turned upside-down again, and the centers of it’s eyes began glowing red. “You’re a bad mama! Give him back!”

“I’m not your mama, and if you don’t leave right now, you’re going to wish you never met me,” he growled.

“Show it it’s reflection!” Jimmy shouted. “It’ll have to banish itself!” He gripped Knifey so hard his knuckles had gone beyond turning white and had started to go red again because of the cut off circulation.

Dark grabbed Cardboard Friend and brought it to the windows. It screeched and flung it’s arms in front of it’s eyes to it couldn’t look. Dark forced it’s arms down with his aura. It screamed again and struggled in Dark’s grasp, turning it’s head away.

Jimmy looked at Knifey, and then grinned. He ran over and, as Dark struggled to keep hold of the thrashing entity, grabbed Cardboard Friend’s head. He held it still and put Knifey up in front of it’s face. 

“NOOO!” It’s final scream echoed off of the trees as it sank into the ground, banished.

Jimmy giggled. “Oh, that felt good! Ha, I didn’t even lose my mind when I got near it! Ha ha!”

“What was that thing?” Dark demanded, his shell still cracking.

“Part of my backstory. It’s... really complicated. And vague. Even I’m still not entirely sure what that thing is. Just that it’s creepy, and it’s always after... well, it’s always after Ghost, but right now I’m possessing Ghost, so it came after me this time, and it has an effect on me too-”

“Don’t.” Dark held up his hand. “Don’t try to explain your lore. I get a migraine every time I have to hear about it.”

“We͘ ͟wo̷n̢'t͟ ͡hav҉e̷ to͞ ̢deál͝ ͏w̡i҉th ͢it҉ a̵g̴ąi͏n̛,҉ ̢ri͠gh͢t?̨ E̷v̸en I̴ ͢thǫught t͜ha̵t͞ ̵t̀h͝i͜ng ̧ẁas͏ ͘c̴reeṕy.” Anti stared at the spot on the ground it had sunk into. The grass had died almost instantly, leaving it the same color as the cardboard.

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said.

“Well if we do, I’m going to leave,” Wilford said, still wheezing a bit. “You’re all perfectly capable of handling it, so I wouldn’t be needed. Or wanted. And by that I mean I won’t want to be there.”

(And that’s where it ends because I’m about to pass out lol.)

[maraudersmessrs]

Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban--- Chapter 15: Ups and Downs

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

Left to his own devices, Remus fell into a comfortable routine. He slept well and ate well, taught his classes with vigor and enjoyment, and enjoyed actual leisure time. In the past, he was too exhausted or too worried to do much else but work and look for jobs when he wasn’t. It was often spent dreading the upcoming full moon, even when looming weeks away. But now, he had more options than he knew what to do with for the first time in a decade; some days he was in the library perusing books, others he was taking a stroll down around the lake, others still he would take tea with one Professor or the another and they would chat about various things. No one ever broached the topic of Sirius, and Remus had to wonder if that was because they were too polite or too uncomfortable. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried about much of anything; he was simply too busy. And too busy enjoying himself.

He had had the girl Luna in his class a few times and her questions always made him smile. They were always about the sentience of the creatures he talked about and theories and spells he’d never heard of, which he admitted to her. She offered him a copy of her father’s magazine, the Quibbler, after class one day and he graciously thanked her and promised to read it. She had studied him a minute behind the fronds of a quite spectacular hat that seemed to be made of swamp material--in honor of the kappas they were learning about, she had confided when he’d asked-- then announced with great conviction. “You’re doing better.”

That had startled a short laugh out of him, as she so often did, and he had said, “I beg your pardon?”

She pointed at him. “Since the Hospital Wing. You look better.” Her hands went to her own cheeks and pinched them. “Meatier.”

He bit his lip against the snort that was trying to force it’s way out of him. That’s a new one. “Ah, well, thank you. And you--no more incidents with any stairs?”

The swamp hat wobbled precariously as she shook her head, smiling. “No. Most of my hats end up destroyed one way or another--but I can just build another one; I wouldn’t have much room for them anyway, if they weren’t.” She looked down the corridor, which was draining rapidly of people down the stairs. “I’d better be off for lunch. See you on Friday, Professor.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, gently tapping between his eyes with the rolled up Quibbler. If only she would just ask for help…. It had come up in a moment at breakfast with Dumbledore one day and the conversation had wandered onto her, the peculiar girl he had met.

Dumbledore had watched him shrewdly and said, “A lesson each must learn in their own time, perhaps?” And took a sip of cordial.

Remus had flushed at the poke and had gone back to his sausages.

Neville had come back in a few times to his office for tea and had brought some biscuits his gran had sent him, apparently for doing so well in Remus’ class. “I figured they were partly because of you, so you should get some,” he’d said eagerly, flushed face shining. And who was he to refuse that?

They hadn’t necessarily talked about much in particular, just chatted about Neville’s class and friends, dunking the treats in their tea. It was getting much easier to just talk with people after being alone so long. He was getting used to being addressed as Professor Lupin, now, and no longer startled when people greeted him by it in the halls. He was starting to grow into the halls, feeling less like a child playing dress up and more like an actual teacher who belonged there. From what Neville told him, Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the most eagerly anticipated classes of the set and he had to admit, he felt deeply touched by this fact. When Neville had seen his face when he said this, he had added, “I mean, how could it not be? Especially since you don’t just set pixies on us and tell us to clean it up.”

Remus stifled a chuckle at the haunted look on Neville’s face and nodded. “Not, at least, without telling you how, first.”

As the weeks rolled on into October, however, the weather got wetter and colder and the dark began to close in around the castle earlier and earlier. The bite was starting in his office and it became habit to start his fire first thing in the morning. The next full moon grew closer. Halloween was coming. His thoughts, inevitably, drifted darker as well. He kept it to himself, but the more he heard that the students trusted and liked him--while it did please him greatly--he felt...like an imposter. Like the way that Snape still glared at him whenever he was around at meals or in the halls or in the staff room. It wasn’t that he took more stock in Snape’s opinion, he just felt something in him agree with it more, day by day. Traitor, it whispered. Monster. If only they knew, would they love you?

No. And he had known that. He would be feared, loathed. They wouldn’t look to him with eyes brimming with curiosity. They wouldn’t speak to him so readily and certainly not alone.

You’re lying to them.

Whenever Neville asked a question about his time at Hogwarts, he would deftly spin the conversation away. Not only because he didn’t want anyone asking questions about what the murderer Sirius Black had been like in school--loud, hilarious, arrogant, insatiably loyal. I thought-- but because the wall he had constructed so carefully between those times and himself were becoming permeable. Things were leaking through.

He had been doing well, until now, ignoring the ghosts of memories in the corners of his eyes, purposefully shoving away the familiarity of certain spots in the castle. But it was failing. 4 times, now, he had almost called Harry James when he spoke to him in class. Each time he had felt that same lurch in his stomach, for the comparison would not just hurt him, but the boy as well. And that was the last thing he wanted. He would see someone pass in front of his door that he could have sworn was Peter, hear a snatch of Sirius’ laughter from down the hall. Even now when he visited the library, he would avoid looking at the table they had favored when they researched the Marauder’s Map. But by avoiding it, the awareness of where he was not looking left a burning focus in his conscious mind. He stopped going.

I want to be who I am now. That hurts less. Who I am now doesn’t have anything to lose, because he’s already lost it.

He had made the mistake of irritably telling Peeves to get lost, one day, when the poltergeist had popped in through the ceiling and snidely asked where all his ickle friendies were. A wide, malicious grin had spread across his face and he had revolved slowly through the air. “Oooo, temper temper, Lonely Loony Lupin. You 4 played some naughty tricks, I remember you, I do. Did you wose your fwiends? Whewre have they gone?”

Remus had taken out his wand slowly while making eye contact and the little man’s eyes had narrowed into mean slits over his grin, but he had blown open the door and flew threw, singing at the top of his voice, “Loony Loopy Lupin! Loony Loopy Lupin!”

Peeves didn’t dare bother him during class time but would take to hovering outside his office door and doing voice impressions of people who were dead. Some were bad imitations. Some...weren’t. He ignored him.

A week before the next full moon and it was time to start his first inoculation of the Wolfsbane potion. Snape banged it on the table next to him at breakfast with a little more force than was necessary and stalked away without even looking at him. Remus had taken it apprehensively and peered into the smoking goblet; it was a brownish-green and smelled vaguely of compost. Promising. He glanced around, almost furtively, and taken a sip. He clapped a hand to his mouth and almost choked. It tasted worse than compost--like old socks and rotting things and metal. He forced it down and reached hurriedly toward his orange juice, but caught Snape looking at him from down the table, shaking his head. When Remus scrunched up his face in confusion, a malicious smirk spread across the other man’s mouth and he slowly mimed drinking the whole thing at once. Remus stared at him. Was he serious? Nothing in between sips? Or was he just being an ass? Snape’s smile grew and he raised a mocking eyebrow at him.

Ugh. He would not be dared by Severus Snape. But if that’s what needed to be done. He stared at the goblet grimly with new eyes and keen awareness of exactly when and where Snape had chosen to give him this potion; in public rather than his office or the staff room or Hospital Wing. Fine. It will be worth it. No more rage. No more losing yourself. No more fear every full moon that this will be the time that you escape and…

Determined, he lifted the goblet and drained it in one, long pull, trying his very best not to gag, but unable to keep the twist of revulsion off of his face. It was even worse, now, with the aftertaste in his mouth as well. He felt the whole thing writhe down his throat and slosh in his stomach. Eyes closed, he willed it to stay down, still gripping the goblet hard, but after a few moments, his gut settled. Slowly, he went back to eating. He did not look at Snape, but he also did not drink any orange juice.