Remus Lupin/Fatty Bolger
Yes. I actually did it. *cackles* I wrote a Remus Lupin/Fatty Bolger fic(let), inspired by the Almighty Prompt List I made ages ago (which, of course, anyone is welcome to take on... XD).
Read it and weep.
A bad day was when you woke up hung-over, with the unfortunate knowledge that you’d been fired from your job yesterday, and were once again unemployed, discovered that there was no coffee available to you and remembered, as you did most mornings, that all your friends were dead, so there was no one left to complain to.
A very bad day was when you woke up hung-over, with the unfortunate knowledge that you’d been fired from your job yesterday, and were once again unemployed, discovered that there was no coffee available to you, remembered, as you did most mornings, that all your friends were dead and that there was no one to complain to, and discovered that you were lying in the dirt in a place that you didn’t recognise surrounded by a bunch of midgets with fuzzy feet.
Remus Lupin was having a very bad day.
“Who are you?” asked one of the midgets curiously.
“Remus Lupin,” Remus said. Or, rather, tried to. His brain was not currently capable of speech, being still rather alcohol-infused and disoriented. Instead, he said something rather like: “Rmmmfffs Muuffin.”
“Earmuffs muffin?” asked one of the midgets incredulously. “I knew the big folk were strange, but that’s an odd name to be sure.”
“Ugh,” said Remus intelligently.
Suddenly, without warning, a bucket of water was dumped over his head.
After an indignant and decidedly unmanly squawk of terror, Remus sat blinking blearily up into the face of an angry-looking hobbit woman. “Whurr?” he said unhappily.
“Up,” she snapped. “Get up. We can’t have you sitting in the road all day.”
“Ugh,” Remus said again, and started to sit up, but thought better of it. “Feel sick,” he added.
“It’s alright Daisy,” interrupted another hobbit. “I’ll take care of him.”
“See that you do,” snapped the woman, who Remus was beginning to think was rather unpleasant.
“I’m Fredegar,” said Remus’ rescuer, stretching out a hand. “But everyone calls me Fatty.”
Remus nodded and grabbed the offered hand half-heartedly. “Remus,” he said.
“Well, Remus, my friend,” said Fatty cheerfully. “Let’s get you inside. I’ve got the best cure for hangovers in all of the Shire. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
Remus mumbled something incoherent, hoping that Fatty would take it as the polite thank-you it was intended to be. It was only then that Remus realised that short, hairy-footed people weren’t exactly normal.
“What the hell?!” he shrieked.
To Be Continued...?
Probably not. X-posted to closet-posse
Read it and weep.
A bad day was when you woke up hung-over, with the unfortunate knowledge that you’d been fired from your job yesterday, and were once again unemployed, discovered that there was no coffee available to you and remembered, as you did most mornings, that all your friends were dead, so there was no one left to complain to.
A very bad day was when you woke up hung-over, with the unfortunate knowledge that you’d been fired from your job yesterday, and were once again unemployed, discovered that there was no coffee available to you, remembered, as you did most mornings, that all your friends were dead and that there was no one to complain to, and discovered that you were lying in the dirt in a place that you didn’t recognise surrounded by a bunch of midgets with fuzzy feet.
Remus Lupin was having a very bad day.
“Who are you?” asked one of the midgets curiously.
“Remus Lupin,” Remus said. Or, rather, tried to. His brain was not currently capable of speech, being still rather alcohol-infused and disoriented. Instead, he said something rather like: “Rmmmfffs Muuffin.”
“Earmuffs muffin?” asked one of the midgets incredulously. “I knew the big folk were strange, but that’s an odd name to be sure.”
“Ugh,” said Remus intelligently.
Suddenly, without warning, a bucket of water was dumped over his head.
After an indignant and decidedly unmanly squawk of terror, Remus sat blinking blearily up into the face of an angry-looking hobbit woman. “Whurr?” he said unhappily.
“Up,” she snapped. “Get up. We can’t have you sitting in the road all day.”
“Ugh,” Remus said again, and started to sit up, but thought better of it. “Feel sick,” he added.
“It’s alright Daisy,” interrupted another hobbit. “I’ll take care of him.”
“See that you do,” snapped the woman, who Remus was beginning to think was rather unpleasant.
“I’m Fredegar,” said Remus’ rescuer, stretching out a hand. “But everyone calls me Fatty.”
Remus nodded and grabbed the offered hand half-heartedly. “Remus,” he said.
“Well, Remus, my friend,” said Fatty cheerfully. “Let’s get you inside. I’ve got the best cure for hangovers in all of the Shire. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
Remus mumbled something incoherent, hoping that Fatty would take it as the polite thank-you it was intended to be. It was only then that Remus realised that short, hairy-footed people weren’t exactly normal.
“What the hell?!” he shrieked.
To Be Continued...?
Probably not. X-posted to closet-posse