#toujourspunk

[wolfxwithin-blog]

Serious Business || Remus & Sirius || 6th Aug. ‘78

Sitting at the small kitchen table Remus stared down at the front page article of the Evening Prophet from the previous day. It was still rather early in the morning to be up but it did not matter as he hadn't managed to get much rest. When he realised all he would do is toss and turn all night he had gotten up. The article plagued his mind and as always there was no rest for the weary.

Remus found he could not even enjoy his tea thanks to this stupid article. The constant fear that loomed over him growing with one simple statement, the Werewolf Capture Unit was mobilized. It was like his worst fears were coming to light. It was only a matter of time before someone uncovered his furry little secret. Then everything would fall apart. 

There were so many questions he kept going over in his mind. If discovered would the Order still want him among their ranks? Would they think him a spy? Would he have to go on the run? How would this effect Sirius? He knew that it was too much to ask of the other to stand by him if these things happened. Though Remus also knew his friend. Sirius would insist even if it meant his own ruin and that was the worst of it. He could not let his affliction destroy Sirius’ life as well. 

At the sound of footsteps he looked up to see the other man standing in the kitchen doorway. He looked adorably sleepy and Remus couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips despite his worries. “Bit early for you to be up Padfoot.” 

{ @toujourspunk }

[ameliasashes]

BlackBones Friendship Moodboard

[jamesiepotters]

☂ Killed

The worst part is that he isn’t there when it happens, so it doesn’t feel like it’s happened at all. 

He should have been there. He and Sirius have been doing everything together for the last eight years, inseparable - and James wasn’t there. 

"I’m so sorry," someone says to him, the moment he enters the room. James’s heart flies into his throat, his mind flies to Lily - but she’s beside him - and James suddenly realizes, suddenly feels so guilty for worrying about Lily - Sirius was there first, Sirius is his best friend, Sirius is - 

"Dead," Moody says abruptly. James must have been speaking out loud. "It was an ambush." 

"You’re kidding," James croaks, sure this is some cruel joke, unable to comprehend that the vitality, the life that is Sirius Black could suddenly be gone from the world. Moody shakes his head once, and James physically reels. Only Lily’s hand, which tightens compulsively around James’s even as he tries to pull away from her, keeps him grounded, keeps him from running out the door and away from this, away from everyone. 

Everyone.

They’re all looking at him, or not looking at him, determinedly. Remus isn’t there - James doesn’t know where he is - and he hasn’t seen Peter for days - the attention is all on him, the next of kin, Sirius’s brother, the casualty in this information, waiting for some kind of break. 

Just like they had with his parents. 

This time, James doesn’t let himself break. He takes a deep gulp. He’s not sure how, but he makes it through the meeting, and one by one the gazes turn away from him.

Later, when all the eyes have gone away, Lily holds him together as his world shatters apart. It will be hours before his body stops shaking, before his broken not-quite-sobs leave him. 

It will be years before he stops reaching for his two-way mirror.

[the-bellis-perennis]

☝

my character’s private thoughts about your character

Complicated. Just so very complicated.

Sirius and Daisy have found a way around their awkward break up and back to being friends. Despite that, things can still be tense when relationships come up; Daisy is not a fan of Remus Lupin. She tolerates him from a distance for Sirius' sake, but that's it. For Sirius himself, she wants him to be happy but sometimes theres's still some resentment there. They got to know each other pretty well, she knows enough about his history to wish him whatever peace he can find and knows that if she needs him, he'll be there and vice versa. All that said, he's not her first call anymore. 

[jamesiepotters]

Special Delivery | James & Sirius

That was it, that was all the permission he needed. James crumpled Sirius’s letter in his fist and stood up so fast his vision swam for a moment. Finally, after far too long locked away in the house he’d grown up in, enough was enough and it was time to leave. James knew that Sirius had extra space in his flat in Camden and it was time for James to leave Cardiff and move himself a little closer to the action, away from the ghosts that haunted him in this house with no one’s company to help fight the melancholy.

Quickly, he began to move, gathering things he might need and throwing them haphazardly into the trunk that had stood open at the foot of his bed since the day he’d disembarked the train from Hogwarts. His room was an absolute disaster, filled with everything James had, at one point or another, used in the last month to keep himself occupied and his mind off the empty vastness of Potter Manor. Packing took him mere moments, having kept what he could ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and with trunk in one hand and broom in the other, James started to leave. In his haste to get out the door he stepped on a Snitch and almost went down, hard - only pure luck managed to save him from plummeting face first into the wall. He shook himself off and grabbed the offending Snitch from the floor and in a flurry of gangly limbs was out the door without so much as a goodbye to his House-Elf, so eager was he to escape his prison. 

A crack echoed through the alley beside Sirius’s flat as James Apparated behind a rubbish bin, still all smiles and eclectic, eager energy. Another few moments saw him flying up the stairs to Sirius’s front door, bags in hand. With a chortle to himself, James looked around and checked for onlookers; sure there were none, he knocked heavily on the front door and waved his wand to Transfigure the wad of paper in his hand to a large cardboard box which he immediately used to cover himself up. Sirius would get his delivery, that was certain - just perhaps not in the form he was expecting. He prepared himself to jump out the moment Sirius opened the front door.

[semper-vigilo]

Work While They All Play ; July 25th, 1978 ; Alastor & Sirius

No one quite knew how to ruin the good mood the weekend had inflicted on him like Albus. Asshole.

Never let it be said he didn't respect the hell out of the man, and one would be a fool to put that to the test or to insult him within earshot of Moody, but all of this hardly meant he wasn't going to gripe about him at every chance he got and wish (not for the first time in two days) that he had stayed in Norway. The real world and the office demanded his attention, and regretfully, his presence; this didn't mean he couldn't miss the branch of his family tree he'd tied to his shriveling one long ago something fierce, no matter how futile he knew it to be.

It had started, as most things did, with an errant complaint. The structure of the Order frustrated him; putting so much faith into what amounted largely to children drove him insane. Their response to the recent murders, regardless of the fact they'd stopped the second attack from succeeding, had been sloppy and uncoordinated, and they would remain such until the littlins learned a drop of discipline between the lot of them. It's like herding cats, he remembered saying, along with some other gems like cannae see what you expect from them until their balls drop.

The elder wizard had expressed concern that they should all be of age and not have had successfully navigated puberty. Moody was fairly certain he was kidding-- or at least hoped as much. (That man was difficult to read on a good day, much to his annoyance.) What he wasn't certain of was how that tangent had somehow led to him accepting the suggestion to offer himself up for more training sessions, or how all of that had wound up with him having time alone with the first weeane not a day later, nor how that had turned out to be Black, of all the little bastards that could have come to him for help. Moody stood off to the side of the yard, back pressed firmly against the crumbling wall of the shack they'd transformed into a safe house, and wondered if he hadn't been Imperius'd at some point or another. Maybe he had been drunk. Maybe he was still drunk and just couldn't tell. Wouldn't be the first time.

Resolving to drink less (though not very firmly), Moody took one more good look over the clearing they'd utilized as a training-yard of sorts with a critical eye, noting anywhere the ground was uneven and spots where the grass had been ripped apart, burned, or otherwise destroyed by wayward spells. It certainly looked like the kids were training their arses off, but practicing for the sake of practice did no one a lick of good. He needed to beat them into an effective force and quickly, and perhaps it was that realization that had led to him hauling himself out there after work to meet with Black.

Black. His eyes narrowed faintly with distaste, mouth gathering into a firm scowl, arms crossing over his chest to pull his coat better around himself despite the pleasant temperatures. He tolerated him only because Dumbledore seemed to trust him; he didn't buy into the idea that there was anything particularly special about him because he'd gone and turned his back on the rest of his family. Once a Black--

The door to the questionably-stable-shack-turned-safehouse opened audibly. “You're late,” Moody snapped in the direction of the door. In truth, he hadn't checked his watch and thus wasn't sure whether the boy was on time or not-- it was just his nature to assume the worst from everyone he met and punish them accordingly. Besides, couldn't have Black feeling too comfortable around him, now could he?

[pacem-para-bellum-blog]

❄

[Sirius... Where can I even start? Kingsley is a man who lets precious few things really get him going. The fact that Sirius manages to do it both routinely and efficiently is a perfect example of how flawlessly you write him. Sirius is the biggest yet most loveable pain in the ass there ever was. What really slays me is that behind the bad-boy Johnny Rotten persona there's this young man just aching to be loved. You're walking this fantastic balance between "look, I lost everything and am keeping it together" and "I'm about to literally blow up because I'm so very alone". The interactions with Regulus? Half the time I make a point not to read them because I like my day left intact, thank you very much. You remember what Shrek said about ogres being like onions? Yeah, that.

The ability to write emotion-- real emotion, not melodramatic bull-- into your character is one you should cherish. I'm not sure if you've cultivated it or if you were just born with the ability to make near-strangers cry, but either way, I couldn't be more impressed. Your Sirius is such a novel take on a character that fanon tends to box up into a two-dimensional sex god. Thank you for breathing life into one of my favourite men.]

[pacem-para-bellum-blog]

Goodbye

Goodbye: My muse watching yours die

Whether he was guilty or not was not and had never been Kingsley's decision to make. Whether he had done it-- had drenched his hands in the blood of his own brother-- was a question he had not dared examine too deeply. His job was merely to find the boy-- boy, not a man, certainly not when he was in a state like this-- and bring him in.

Even the winning of the war was tainted by this. The world around them rejoiced around their uneasy bubble; Kingsley's own brother, maimed and left for dead himself, was rabid both in his efforts to suss out the last of them and to refute claims that it was truly over. Once a Black, he had muttered that dark night. While the hair on the back of Kingsley's neck rose in response, he had stayed silent. They had never discussed it again. 

Moody's scarred and grizzled face was every inch a mask to mirror Kingsley's own. The fight had gone out of the lad, him with his lank hair and sickly-pale skin, rings around his eyes so dark they looked bruised. The chains wound tight enough to mark around his wrists were more for show than for restraint. He had been a pretty thing once. All that remained was a shell. He would not survive Azkaban. The Kiss was a stretch, perhaps due to Bones' influence and a general sense of disquiet with loss of more lives. It mattered not. He'd be dead within a year, perhaps two.

Kingsley had captured him and brought him in. Had turned a deaf ear to pleas for help, to vows that it had not been him. The court would decide-- and Kingsley would stand guard for the trial, would escort him back to his cell after he was declared guilty, shoulder to shoulder with his brother, facing the man who had lost two and killed the others.