The Shitbox Project

I become a sparkly pop girlband idol when I'm in Japan... wait, shit, there goes my secret identity

Sun, 25 May 2008 03:10:58 GMT

In a quick break from Teddy's Epic Mystical Homosexual Time Adventure, we bring you what Scorpius and Ferdinand have been working on since we last saw them:

we're baaaaack!

Sun, 11 May 2008 20:39:50 GMT

It was a day like any other. Teddy was back in Hogsmeade for the weekend, visiting his girlfriend Victoire, for whom he totally had the hots no matter what Rose might say regarding hugeness, fabulousness, gayness, or manliness. Wait, no. He was manly. He was manly as hell. He was manly as… as Albus Dumbledore.

He wondered briefly if Rose could question that kind of non-gayness.

Pondering these ponderings and fully ignoring his surroundings, Teddy walked blindly up the hill towards his old school--

And straight into a time portal.

"This is new," he said aloud, before his stomach was pulling in a different direction than he meant it to go. It felt a little like vomiting. He found himself in what looked like the Homosexuality Vortex.

When he landed, he found himself in a completely empty room but for a colorful flag on one wall (which, while he considered it a poor decorating choice, was a cheerful addition nonetheless).

"Hello?"

His voice echoed back at him.

"Is anybody here?"

Suddenly, there in the midst of a bright, green light, a figure appeared.

"Albus Dumbledore?" gasped Teddy, before promptly falling faint onto the ground.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 22:05:38 GMT

So...ahaha. How are you all.

Hey, so, we had a Christmas thing planned. Then life happened. Here's a lengthy, informative update:

i. Maartje's dying! Well, under work. So is everyone else. In an "oh, feel the burn, baby!" sort of way. Love hate relationships-- you gotta love/hate them!

ii. I got into college! My future as a hobo must be delayed for four years, sadly.

iii. ...

iv. Demetri Martin is STILL awesome.

Yeah.

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 20:33:27 GMT

HI GUYS. Just so you know, we totally haven't ditched this. SOON, we will have more installments. Sorry we're so lame, we know how much you all need some shitty ms paint drawings in your life. <333 Please bear with us!

the teddy and james mixes

Sun, 11 Nov 2007 21:13:15 GMT

So, guuuuys. We still don't have an actual installment. Ha.

Eventually, I swear! To tide people along...I sort of uh. Made two mixes. One is of songs that remind me of Teddy and one is for James. The cover art is purposefully horrific, FYI.

So. If you feel like downloading.

Is It 'Cos He's Cool: The Teddy Mix

Ok, I can explain. Teddy's is basically a bunch of eighties-eqsue music and, you know, horrible pop. Because even though he's pretty amazing, he's sort of. Really lame? You know what I mean.

And the hair song. Well. :) Just go with it.

A-W-E-S-O-M-E: The James Mix

Jaaaames. I had to try so hard not to have his go on for fifty songs. I listen to a lot of "let's dance around like loons on a sugar high!" music lately. It keeps me going when I'm ridiculously tired or frustrated. So, James has a lot of songs to me. These seemed to work best for a short little mix, though. The first one is dedicated to Teddy. :)

kldas I am so dead, can you tell.

in which i am james and britt is "naked"

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 00:04:49 GMT

So, on my final college touring session (Smith, BMC, Kenyon), I got to stay a night with bribitribbit at Bryn Mawr. Uh.

(based off of the basics)

To be fair, I screwed with the lighting as much as possible to try and make myself look less drunk (which I was not) and ridiculously nasty (it was late and I took a shower right after...hence Britt having my towel on). I also was blind because I was wearing my glasses over my contacts which is never a good idea.

Basically I'm just apologizing and making awful excuses.

YEAH.

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 18:30:02 GMT

Our very own likeafox is going as Dumbledore--or Dumblequeer as she affectionately calls him. This gave me much inspiration. Plus, it's a little bit of the taste of the huge, epic Rose-centered Shitbox arc that's coming up. Imagine: Rose, a Time Turner, and a trip through the gay relationships of wizarding history. It will be wonderful. Anyway, on that note, here's a Happy Halloween from us insanelings of Shitbox to you!

also coming up: bribitribbit and mysticblueside reenacting the naked shower scene--IN REAL LIFE. this is no joke, ladies and gentlemen.

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 02:55:39 GMT

Sat, 13 Oct 2007 20:59:31 GMT

mysticblueside found an interesting tidbit in this incredibly awkward post in a community called anony_moms. Then the following conversation happened--

mysticblueside: "I wanted him to leave my breasts the hell alone"
mysticblueside: "Even now he drives me crazy--yes I have boobs--do you have to play with them so incessantly every time you see me???"
mysticblueside: can we quote this
bribitribbit: where would we quote this
mysticblueside: klja
mysticblueside: askd
mysticblueside: i don't care
mysticblueside: l;kasd
bribitribbit: kfl;jad
mysticblueside: teddy can say it

And then this happened--

color me happy, drama clean

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 02:36:37 GMT

Sorry, once again; school is eating all of us alive. Maartje's off crushing on/seducing Cambridge professors, Britt's plotting Thanksgiving feasts, Ella's trying to major in Gay, and I...am still applying to colleges, oh gosh.

And how are you all this fine evening?

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 14:15:23 GMT

P.S. So sorry that we fail lately! School makes fools of us all. ♥♥♥

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 22:30:41 GMT

Albus Potter is a very impressive person. Scorpius has always thought this, and Ferdinand quite agrees. It's not just Albus's stunning good looks, skill at handling a broomstick, or ability to look attractively brooding even in bright sunshine or the presence of unicorns and rainbows and puppies. It's the fact that he's Albus Potter. Al has the Harry Potter for a dad, and anyone who can make Scorpius's father quite that violently angry at the mere mention of his name is terribly impressive to Scorpius, who only manages mild annoyance or amusement most of the time.

So, there are two facts:

1) Albus Potter is hawt, and Scorpius would like to, for lack of a better term, break himself off a piece of that bubble.

2) Scorpius pales (both literally and figuratively) in comparison to Albus's famous father.

Albus is worth many things to Scorpius, but skin cancer is not one of them, so he decides instead to try to make himself more impressive through a studious pursuit of academic betterment. Unfortunately, Scorpius has a bit of a one track mind....

The above is blamed on abbers44 because she told me to do it, and is dedicated to fantasylioness who is my loving roomwife and let me use both her MS Paint AND her tablet! She is the reason for the clearly improved drawing quality in this installment of shitbox.

Sun, 26 Aug 2007 16:58:37 GMT

Some of my best friends from LJ and "RL" are moving/moved into their schools this week or very soon. Being the youngin', I'm applying to colleges as the others (Ella, Maartje, Britt) get to either start at or return to their own schools (Oberlin, Newnham at Cambridge, and Bryn Mawr, respectively). On a rare serious note, I would just like to say how much I appreciate each of them and let you know that behind the crack they are all absolutely brilliant, beautiful people. One day they will take over the world, which may or may not be somewhat amazing.

So, for all of you returning to school, in the applying stage (like myself), still in a lower grade, or completely done with the education biz, I hope that this year shapes up to be productive, enlightening, and anything but shitty! :)

End cheesy sentiment.

(Also, a quick shout out to abbers44 moving into Wellesley today! I love you a lot, I hope you know. :( ♥ Hope you don't need any sweaters yet...)

So, anyone have any fun, school-ish things they'd like to share? :D

Sun, 19 Aug 2007 03:01:03 GMT

In honor of High School Musical 2, which made me laugh more than anything has in months.

I am so, so sorry. Maartje, Britt, and I are just in love with stupid shit like this. If you haven't seen it, YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST because you will then know the true love that is Ryan/Chad. Or Troy/Chad. Or Ryan/anyone really because he gets the Sparkly Award of Gheiness for all time.

Thank you Disney. Never stop. (Except with Hannah Montana, because that's just painful in so many ways.)

If you're dorks like us, let's discuss in the comments! :DDD

(kalsjdl Ella's going to kill me for abusing the community with High School Musical crap ajksldsad)

OK. NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

EDITed to add:

Ella is making me post this. :|

Fri, 17 Aug 2007 05:54:49 GMT

This is basically a bunch of insanity that may or may not make sense. Actual text (or something resembling it) along with shitty drawings!

Enjoy! :)

---

At the age of seven, James showed his first signs of magic. His parents were, of course, properly thrilled that they had managed to turn out a proper wizard. They had been a bit afraid that by sheer will James would suppress his powers until the day before his eleventh birthday, just to make them bite their nails and fret as he had done when learning to walk. They had spent two good months dragging him off to doctors to figure out what was wrong with his legs and why he couldn't stand properly. Then they discovered he could walk perfectly well, and in fact was the one secretly switching his father's socks with sausages every morning.

He and Teddy had been showing playing Wizard’s Chess, a game that James would learn to hate as Teddy left for Hogwarts yet never stopped playing in case he had a chance to challenge Teddy once he was attending too.

“Hey, Teddy,” James said from his position on the ground which was, more or less, a supermodel sprawl (if such a thing exists). “You should probably move that bishop to h7.”

Receiving no response, James sighed quite audibly and started tapping his fingers on the board, rattling his pawns a bit and causing one to retch onto a rook, which screamed “HE HAS MOTIONSICKNESS, YOU TWOT.”

“Teddy,” James whined. “You concentrate too hard.”

“Can you stuff it for a minute, James, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Fine.”

Sure, he’d stuff it. But he was going to break Teddy if it was the last thing he did. Unless Mum came out with some sticky toffee pudding and Firewhiskey, in which case said breaking could take a tuck-in-check.

But how to get his attention?

“OH MY BLAZING BRIEFS, JAMES. WHERE DID YOUR CLOTHES GO.”

“No idea,” James replied happily. “I may never find them again. And wouldn’t that be a shame.”

“How did you magic your clothes away?”

“I’ve been harboring the Power of Naked. I’m pretty much a Naked Master, they’re making merchandise and stuff.”

“I’m going to get your dad. No, NO, don’t move, just…stay like…that oh gosh I’ll be right back!”

---

---

“It explains a lot.” Ginny shook her head, amused. “All those times I would take my eyes off him for one second and all of a sudden he was completely naked, his clothes nowhere in sight…”

“Ok,” Harry said. “But we can’t let him just. You know. We can’t let him in public if he just gets naked whenever he’s in the mood.”

“Harry, he’s seven. He’ll grow out of it! I remember when it was just me and Ron at home…well. Let’s not get into that, actually. But trust me, it’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” He smiled at his wife, believing her.

---

Harry was a complete and utter moron.

Harry,

I hope everything’s good on the home front! Susan has been writing me since before term started to remind me to send you this present. It’s a Pludasy! If you plant the bulb right away, you’ll have at least thirty come spring. They have an amazing defense mechanism against intruders (not like my Mimbulus Mimbletonia, though, don’t worry), but they’re really pretty to look at as well. Be careful, though, it takes a bit for them to get used to you and they like to lick.

Oh, and Susan sends biscuits.

What I really needed to tell you, though, is that we all got to see…er…a great deal more of your oldest boy than we were quite ready to this morning. He walked into breakfast and he was quite bare, Harry. It’s not that I have anything against it, really, not after rooming with Ron for so many years, but. Well. Maybe you should write and tell him that showing up at breakfast like that his first day of class is not the best way to make friends? The MacMillan boy in particular looked either revolted or incredibly excited.

Oh, wait, I am mistaken. He wasn’t completely in the buff. He was wearing socks—mismatched, if I recall, which I’m trying very hard not to do.

All my love,
Neville

---

“James. Dear, sweet James. What the hell made you think that this was a good idea." Teddy had taken the initiative to cover the first year with his robe and walk him up to Gryffindor Tower.

“I do it at home,” James replied, “and I was sort of going for the big first impression. You know, like in the stories.”

“What stories.”

“Oh, you know. Captain Commando.”

“But…Captain Commando wore clothes! He just didn’t wear any pants or anything. But you could never see his, you know, bits and stuff.”

“Ah, but Teddy! He was naked under his clothes. That’s all that really matters.”

“EVERYONE’S NAKED UNDER THEIR CLOTHES. IT’S WHY WE WEAR THEM.”

James sent Teddy a pitying glance. “Think what you may, you poor, Puff bubbus. Just remember that I—“

“—harbor the power of naked. Yes, yes, I’ve heard.”

“It’s the Power of Naked. Don’t think I can’t hear those lowercase letters, mister.”

“Just. Don’t do it again, ok?”

“I make no promises.”

Teddy had stopped in front of a classroom door. “Here’s your Transfiguration class,” he told James. “You better go or you’ll be late. You don’t want to be The Naked Chap and His Majesty No-Clock No-Robes.”

“Righto. Wait, Teddy, one last thing.”

“Yes?”

James smiled in what he probably thought was a cocky, sexy, come hither and you shall be rewarded sort of grin. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

Teddy promptly turned and headed to Herbology before he broke his promise to Harry about taking care of his son by turning him into a mango.

---

---

“Heeeey! It’s Too-Good-For-Pants Potter!”

“Shove it, Meading, I thought it was brilliant.”

“What, the part where he was completely mental or the bit where you could see—“

“Class is officially starting, boys, if you would be so kind as to give the chairs the honor of meeting your arses.”

Everyone immediately went silent except for that one boy with the big nose that had been sneezing ever since James had first met him on the train.

“Now, I’m assuming you all have done enough homework to realize that Transfiguration is fucking hard and, therefore, I don’t need to give an explanation. However, before I pass out these feathers for our first stab at making magic happen, I would like to congratulate Mr. Potter for giving me a reason to memorize his name before class even starts. I will warn you right now that I have little patience for memorizing names and will probably call you all by whatever nickname I feel like. Furthermore, I don’t give a damn about lame excuses or if Unibrow Meagan killed Mr. Body in the Potions classroom with a revolver. Although, I suppose, the Potions professor would, the wussy old bastard…”

“Isn’t Professor Edgecombe a young lady, though?”

“Still can be a wussy old bastard. Ok, time for Wingardium Leviosa! We’ll wait for this kid to stop sneezing.”

“I neber stop sneezig.”

“Great. That’s wonderful. We’re all going to have a wonderful few years together once I throw half of you out the window, I can tell. Also, in case you bunch of brilliant pipsqueaks haven't noticed, we're not shitting around with floating feathers. That's next class, I believe, so see if you can knock each other out. You all get to read this pretty little booklet I have about why you'd be mentally challenged to try to turn yourself into a minibar.”

James liked Professor Peebles. He would start writing her love poetry on his assignments within a week, and she would always reply with some snarky verse of her own, occasionally giving him detention so that the two of them could have an hour outside of class to talk about Quidditch over tea.

One day he showed some of the graffitied pages to Teddy, who merely raised his eyebrows (purple today) and shook his head a bit before returning to his book. “That’s kind of sick, mate. I wouldn’t show these to actual people—maybe portraits, to see how scandalized they’d get, but never to anyone you hope to associate with in the future.”

“That’s why I’m showing you! Aren’t they brilliant? I spent all of Charms thinking of the extended Lethifold metaphor. ‘The nighttime smothers me/I am being digested slowly/churning juices, all in my head/and then I realize I am dead, dead/for your love has sneaked up just so/I’m sorry, love, now I must go--’”

“—shut up, shut up, this is vile and you know it.”

“Do not try to stifle my muse,” James said, feigning being hurt and curling closer to Teddy. Only he could get away with such a thing, in the Hufflepuff common room no less. He had snuck in so many times already that Teddy’s housemates had started informing him of any password changes to save everyone the hassle.

“Consider it stifled,” Teddy replied, but he was already absorbed in the book again.

James poked Teddy in the ear with his wand.

“James!”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“The thing where you make me feel less significant than a book.”

Rubbing his temples and thwarting off another poke, Teddy spoke in a slow, well-enunciated way that even James couldn’t pretend to misinterpret. “I have classes to study for. I can’t spend every minute of my life talking to you, however enthralling your conversation matter is. Besides, it’s late. You need to go back. And here’s an idea,” he pushed on, trying to be as kind as possible. “Why don’t you arrange something to do with your other friends tomorrow night? We could both use some time apart.”

James’s face was the very model of longsuffering melodrama. “What are you saying, Teddy. That I’m not good enough for you and your books? Was it something I said, something I did? Or something I didn’t do? No, no, I’ll leave now, no more words from me. Obviously you’re not the man I thought I knew…that man was cool, handsome, generous with his ears when I spoke. Not a Ravenclaw reject that would rather go snog a History of Magic text than spend some time with his friend.

“It’s because I’m too young! I embarrass you! Say no more, dear Theodore, I’ve taken the hint. I know when my presence is not wanted. If only you knew the lengths—“

“Oh, be quiet, you ridiculous, ridiculous trout. I’m just trying to make you be more social with your classmates. I’m not going to be here forever.”

“But you’re here now,” James said stubbornly, his act over. “Can I spend the night?”

---

Dad (and Mum, and all the other little tykes if they can read yet),

I only got four letters from you last week. I am worried that someone got into a freak motorcopter accident on their broom or something so please please please return this letter with a good message ASAP or I might have to cry which would be very unmanly and sort of embarrassing now that everyone seems to think I have confidence the size of Maggy Brunwick’s behind ever since I showed up starkers that first day.

Oh, and I finally beat Teddy at Wizard’s Chess. Tell Uncle Ron that it is ON over Christmas.

Making you proud?,
James (and Teddy, who keeps saying I need to hire an editor and who currently has green hair that makes him look like a pudding covered with mold)

Pee Ess: Would you say that it’s a bad thing if, hypothetically, you and your female professor exchange love notes in a semi-regular basis as long as you know it’s in jest because ~~you don’t really like gir~~ she’s a grown woman?

---

James and Teddy of the Fungi,

We are not dead. You mom said we need to “wean” you off letters, since the owls are looking a bit under the weather lately. I think it’s just because yours is ready to lay an egg, but she won’t hear it.

Do not try to seduce your teachers.

How old is she?

--Dad

---

Dad,

EEW HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?! WHY IS IT GONNA HAVE A BABY?

--James

Pee Ess: I asked her and she gave me another detention. I also got a wink, though, so I think it means she brought cake this time. I’d say maybe forty thousand and six.

---

James,

We’ll, er, talk about this over break. I’d rather not in a letter.

Better yet, ask Teddy.

--Dad

---

the rosecest war continues.

Thu, 16 Aug 2007 20:04:32 GMT

View Poll: #1040323

This means WAR!

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 06:47:27 GMT

Cough ahem cough cough.

*The ninja finger is the middle finger. Also, the ring finger is the pirate finger.

Pee Ess: Ella would like to make it perfectly clear that she does not do Wincest. She may occasionally... appreciate some of the literary efforts of people who do do Wincest. (HEE! DO DO!) But this does not mean that she herself "does Wincest." The end.

Pee Ess Ess:

Claire: Oh
Claire: and tell birtt
Ella: askfdj birtt
Claire:i hate drawing her glasses

Icons, Icons, Shitty Paint Icons

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 07:03:28 GMT

Some people asked for icons. Others probably don't care. Either way, here are some. The end.

by mysticblueside

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by bribitribbit

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by talimeeka, our Talented and Beautious Graphic Person
(also check out her other stuff at faultycameras!)

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If taking, please credit either the maker or shitbox_project, s'il vous plaît et merci!

Several of you have actually made some icons, surprisingly! If you have and would like to share, comments are always a great place to socialize. :)

EDITed to add: Aw, screw it. I hate html.

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 19:31:16 GMT

September 17th

Dear Teddy,

I miss you. The idle conversation of my well-meaning friends means nothing now that I have found love. How can I survive without you and your ever-changing hair, my dearest? Perseverance, I suppose. But food does not sustain me; drink does not quench my thirst. Oh! These words, too, do not justify these emotions which run amuck in my soul.

Write soon.

Yours,
Victoire

September 20th

Teddy, my love,

I suppose you must be busy. I understand. The teachers here take for granted my desire to study and make good marks; I believe that their souls have run dry and that none of them have loved as we have loved. My days are filled with homework and thoughts of you. Memories of your turquoise locks torment my soul! Sometimes I want to travel out to the moors and cry your name to the wuthering wind, so that it may carry words of my adoration to your ears.

Write soon.

Yours always,
Victoire

September 27th

Dearest Teddy, my shining star,

I miss you. A week has passed since my last letter to you, and these past seven days have been torture to a soul so bruised with love and tenderness as mine. Where are you, my dearest? What fate has befallen you, that your sweet words do not reach my eyes? You must know that I cannot live without you! Temptations have put themselves in my way; my friends have told me that I must move on without you eternally at my side. How much longer shall I endure this, my only, my lovely? Oh, that I was with you now instead of trapped inside the prison-like walls of this house of pedagoguery.

Write soon.

Yours always and forever,
Victoire

September 30th

Teddy,

WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU? ANSWER ME, YOU IDIOT.

Victoire

September 30th

Teddy Lupin is not available at the moment, but if you leave a message after the hoot, he will be sure to get back to you shortly.

~*~

September 28th

Dear Teddy,

Hey! How are you? Hogwarts sucks even MORE without you here, can you imagine? At least I can play Quidditch this year. The captain let me straight on, sort of, cause of Dad and all. Pretty cool, yeah?

Last week my friends and I found this loo on the seventh floor where the toilets explode. We locked Albus and his stupid friend Scorpius Malfoy in there and I swear I haven't laughed that much in AGES. We were planning to let them back out straightaway, really we were, but your stupid girlfriend came and took points off us anyway.

Rose reckons Victoire is heartbroken, by the way. Don't know why she'd think so, I mean, you're an all right chap, a girl couldn't be all that sad about having you for a boyfriend, I don't think. Unless you're really bad at snogging or something. You aren't, are you? See, I wouldn't be able to tell, cause I'd have to be on the other end of the snoggage. I wouldn't know how to judge, either. It looks like mostly spit to me, which is gross, really. I don't see the point of snogging.

Hey, my dad says he's going to come see my first Quidditch game. You should come too! It's in October. Please please please say you will?

- James

September 29th

Dear James,

Hi! I miss you too. I hope Hogwarts is treating you much better than you say it is; I wish I was back there with you. Don't let the staircases eat you, mate.

Victoire's a prefect, I reckon she's got a quota to fill, re: taking off points from you and your mates. I'm glad I never was one. I don't think it really would have been my type of thing anyway. I'm much too nice; I'd see someone doing magic in the halls and I'd ask them what spell it was they were using.

Snogging has its merits, I assure you, but as much as I like you I don't know if I really should explain said merits to you just yet. Ask me in a couple years, all right? (And tell Rose she hasn't got any idea what she's talking about--Victoire's been writing me and she's perfectly fine.)

I'll be there in the Gryffindor stands, cheering you on.

--Teddy

P.S. Don't tell Victoire I wrote you, all right? -T.

September 30th

Rose,

Think you could lay off the unfounded accusations?

Teddy

October 1st

Teddy,

Maybe you should tell your girlfriend that you are a HUGE, FABULOUS GAY MAN.

Rose

P.S. Suck it.

Scorpius Malfoy would like to inform you all that he is the star of this show. And Ferdinand too.

Sat, 11 Aug 2007 01:42:38 GMT

Scorpius Abraxus Malfoy was born at two in the morning, a time which his father quickly decided was the most inconvenient hour ever invented.

The first thing the newborn Scorpius did upon being placed in his father's arms was bite him. Surprisingly hard for someone with no teeth and barely half an hour's worth of motor skills. Draco nearly dropped his son on his head, and also nearly decided that this having kids thing had been a horrible idea, just like he'd feared.

The second thing Scorpius did upon meeting his father was grin. This shocked the healers on duty, who had never seen an infant with any kind of grin, much less one quite as large and shit-eating as Scorpius's. As Draco nursed his sore finger, however, he thought this might be okay after all, as long as the biting thing stopped.

The biting thing didn't stop.

Neither did the grinning, which made Scorpius something of an anomaly at Malfoy Manor. The last person who had grinned on a regular basis there had been Draco's great uncle Orion, who had finally been committed at the age of seventy. But they didn't mention him often.

The grinning, though, wasn't the reason Scorpius had no real friends for many of his formative years. Parents just stopped sending their children to play after the third or fourth playdate that ended in a missing chunk of child.

The tentative solution to this problem came at Scorpius's fourth birthday party. Bored because all the neighbor kids who had been invited were hiding from him, Scorpius wandered away from the cake and presents and into the yard. His father had told him to leave the albino peacocks alone, because they might hurt him, but Scorpius never listened to his father anyway so he went ahead and toddled right up the the small bird he found. The bird was pure white and fairly scrawny and clearly very young, so Scorpius looked him intently in the eyes and then bit him.

This was usually the point where the person Scorpius had bitten jumped up and starting shrieking, thus proving themselves supremely boring. The bird did neither; it just bit Scorpius back. Scorpius giggled wildly at the tiny peacock latched onto his nose. Then he wrapped his arms around the bird's neck, hugged it a little too tightly, and named it Ferdinand.

Ferdinand let go of Scorpius's nose and started nibbling happily on his ear.

After that Scorpius didn't mind so much that all the neighbor kids wouldn't let him chew on them, because Ferdinand always would and Ferdinand had prettier feathers than those kids anyway.

Scorpius was seven when he and Ferdinand decided to be superheroes. Actually, it was Ferdinand's idea. He came marching up to Scorpius one day with a muggle comic book clutched in his beak, and Scorpius decided this was a very good idea. He knew it was a muggle comic book because the people in it were all very impressed by the ability to get little old ladies down from tall buildings.

Recently, Scorpius had discovered that if he concentrated hard, he could float things down from high shelves, and if he concentrated really hard he could even make them come down sort of gently and not upside down.

The hero of the comic book looked quite dashing in his cape and tights, and with magic on his side, the whole saving things from tall stuff business would be a piece of cake.

After the third time Mrs. Smitty from next door came over to complain about Scorpius manhandling her precious Snookums, Draco finally sat his son down and forbid him from levitating cats from anywhere, no matter how much imminent danger they were in.

"Scorpius, Mrs. Smitty's cat does not need rescuing," Draco told him. "Especially by you."

"Well, that hardly seems fair," Scorpius said and crossed his arms defiantly. "I am fighting for truth and justice and other such things."

"I didn't know justice involved dropping Mrs. Smitty's cat on its head. Multiple times." At that point, Draco was starting to worry he had raised himself a little Gryffindor or, god help him, a Hufflepuff. He could feel a panic attack coming on.

"I'm still perfecting my superpowers," Scorpius said. Then his eyes got very wide and Draco had to hurry away before Scorpius cried, else the tights and cat dropping would never stop.

Scorpius did stop trying to rescue cats, luckily for the neighborhood wildlife, but he and Ferdinand kept wearing the capes for another month and a half.

Scorpius was one of the very few children who cried when they received their Hogwarts letters. He wasn't crying about going to school; Scorpius had been looking forward to Hogwarts since he'd been old enough to understand the concept of a magical castle where wands are allowed but parents aren't. No, what caused Scorpius to break into copious, unstoppable tears was one line on the required equipment list.

"Students may bring an owl or cat or toad."

Scorpius looked over at Ferdinand, who was pecking hopefully at the Hogwarts owl that had delivered the letter, then started to sob more furiously.

Scorpius's first thought was that his father would solve this problem. Surely a man who commanded enough respect that he could get Scorpius to clean his room (even under the bed!) could get Hogwarts to bend one silly rule.

Draco, however, was still vaguely terrified that he'd fathered a Hufflepuff, so his response was that "a proper Slytherin would find a way around this problem."

Scorpius teared up again, but Draco hurried off and Scorpius was left to storm up to his room and not come down for the next two meals.

By dinner the next night, though, Scorpius had forgotten about hating his father forever. This was because he had thought of the most clever plan ever devised, one worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself. Scorpius let Ferdinand hop onto his shoulder and chew on his ear as he went down to the dining room, smiling over his own natural cunning.

in light of...er...recent events

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 04:57:01 GMT

We interrupt your regularly scheduled LJ Mass Riot to bring you this Revamped Shitbox Special:

I do hope you can all find it in your hearts to not report this. If this Possibly Insinuated Paint Stick-People Nudity Which May Or May Not Have Been Intended As Anything Remotely Inappropriate (PIPSPNWMOMNHBIARI©) has offended you in any way, shape, or artistically insulting form, please place concerns in the comments of this entry and we will

i) take great steps to take down the offending artwork*
ii) make a public apology*
iii) take advice on how best to reform The Shitbox Project*
iv) I dunno. Make you all pistachio pudding or something fun like that.
v) ...hell. I'll do that anyway! :D

*We will take at least five days to do any of this and we may or may not actually respond to concerns. This is, after all, the One True LJ Way. :) </ snark>

PEE ESS. You do not need to know the exact nature of the conversation bribitribbit and I were having, but let's just say it involved...well, Voldemort/Corbin Bleu covered in pistachio pudding.

Here is the wonderful song Britt put together for my (and now YOUR!) listening pleasure: Slither Slither Mmm Pistachios

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 21:02:34 GMT

Draco Malfoy, especially, was eager to wish Harry many happy returns.

Naturally, his actions baffled the children, who knew nothing (yet) of gay love affairs.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY.

this is all the fault of bribitribbit and mysticblueside.

Sun, 29 Jul 2007 18:05:59 GMT

This is insane. Thank all of you a lot. As long as you be watchin', we be ms-paintin'.

Part the First: Albus, Scorpius, and a Pumpkin Pasty Named Jocelyn

Sun, 29 Jul 2007 17:20:46 GMT

~~108~~ 109 WATCHERS. We have no idea what we did to deserve this BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH. Anyway, today we have fic AND shitty art! EXCITEMENT ABOUNDS.

Albus really wanted a pumpkin pasty.

He was nervous and hungry, and Rose had gone to meet some girls that she knew, and James had left him to go hang out with his friends, so Albus was all alone in a train compartment with just one companion, a sullen-looking boy who seemed to have contracted a case of laryngitis, as he hadn't said a word so far. A pumpkin pasty, he was quite sure, would be the only redeeming factor to the day.

"I want a pumpkin pasty," said Albus unnecessarily, as if voicing his desire would make it come true.

"Why don't you get one and marry it, then?" said (croaked, really) the other boy in the carriage, who had, until now, stayed completely quiet. He had clearly meant for the retort to sound disdainful, but the laryngitis made him mostly sound thirsty.

Albus thought about it. "I could. I'd name it Jocelyn."

The other boy raised an eyebrow at him. His suspicious-looking owl made an odd sound that sounded nothing like a hoot.

"Are you sure that's an owl?" said Albus, looking up at the white--thing--with interest.

The other boy narrowed his eyes, only to be overcome with a coughing fit. "Yes," he managed, spluttering.

The boy had already been inside the compartment when James, passing by with his friends and laughing loudly, had shoved Albus into it, and had neither protested nor encouraged the invasion. Albus was starving for friends, and he'd even take this morose, scowling kid Fate had dumped on his lap.

"What happened to your voice? I mean, you lost it, didn't you?"

The other boy nodded.

"I'm sorry. That must--you know, it probably sucks. I would hate to lose my voice."

Albus stood, sliding the compartment door open to look up and down the aisle, hoping the trolley lady--whom James had said always came along--had begun her trek through the train.

There wasn't a sign of her.

He sighed. And then he remembered something.

He turned to Anonymous Laryngitis Boy and said, "How much does it cost to buy sweets from the trolley lady?"

Anonymous Laryngitis Boy shrugged, and there was an expression on his face that told Albus just how odd he seemed.

Albus's mum and dad had given James and Albus each a bag of money to last them until Christmastime. Albus had put his in his trunk, and he didn't fancy very much the idea of hauling it down and searching through it for his money. He glanced at the other boy.

"Want to come with me to find my brother?"

The kid considered, looking for a moment as if he'd refuse. Finally, he shrugged and nodded, getting up (with a bit of a struggle--he was short) to follow Albus.

The aisle between all the compartments was quiet, though anyone could tell that the compartments--filled with laughing people, a few of whom Albus recognized from when his parents had had parties and things--were anything but. He wasn't exactly sure where he would find his brother.

He didn't have to look very hard. James was at the end of the corridor, though a bit hidden. As Albus approached the familiar figure, he saw that his brother was not alone: Victoire, their cousin, was with him. She looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"And Lily said you two should get married--" James was saying. He interrupted himself when he realized that Victoire's gaze had fallen on Albus behind him.

"Hello, Victoire," said Albus tentatively, smiling nervously. "And James. Er--"

"What do you want?" said James quickly, looking angry that he'd been interrupted by someone as unworthy as Albus.

"I just--Mum and Dad said to share the money. I want to get something from the trolley lady."

James frowned, pulling the little bag out of the pocket. "Here, take it, use as much as you like but pay it back."

"Wow--thanks, James!" said Albus, astonished at James's sudden generosity.

"Whatever--just go--hey, is that Mr. Malfoy's kid?" James had only just noticed the boy from Albus's compartment, lurking behind Albus and coughing very quietly. "Dad told me about him--what are you doing with him?"

The boy looked angry and opened his mouth to croak out a retort, but Albus ignored his brother and turned around to make his way back towards their compartment. He grabbed the other's arm and dragged him along.

"Ignore him, he's a really big prat," said Albus to his companion when they were back inside. "He's really stupid, you'd be amazed."

The boy--to Albus's own amazement--smiled a bit, shrugging again.

Albus grinned back. "That was my cousin he was talking to. She's really nice. Her name's Victoire. She's a prefect, isn't that cool? And earlier today, James--that's my brother--he caught her snogging my dad's godson, Teddy, except Teddy's a bit like my brother too, anyway, my little sister said--"

There was a soft knock on the door and someone slid it open. A cheery-looking woman was standing there, her hair gray and wispy. "Hello, boys. Would you be liking anything off the trolley?"

"Yes!" said Albus, a little forcefully, just in case this was a hallucination. "Do you have pumpkin pasties?"

The woman smiled. "That we do. How many?"

"Four," said Albus, dropping Sickles into the little jar in the corner of the trolley. "And some licorice wands, too, and cauldron cakes."

When she was gone, Albus turned to the other boy. "I got some for you too. Just in case. 'Cause you can't talk and stuff, you wouldn't be able to tell her what you want. You want the cakes?"

The boy nodded, and Albus passed them over.

Albus picked up one of the pumpkin pasties and held it in the air. "This is Jocelyn. My wife."

He looked at the other boy, who was chuckling a teeny bit. Albus beamed and took a big bite.

Swallowing, he said, "What's your name, anyway?"

The other boy cleared his throat as best as he could. As best he could, he choked out, "Scorpius."

"Great. Both our names suck. Mine's Albus." He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

art by greensweaterlj

Sat, 28 Jul 2007 21:03:21 GMT

Hi guys! We're all really stupidly excited at how many people are watching this. Sorry about the fact that we poop over chronology; that'll work itself out.

ELEVEN YEARS AGO...

Until he was three, Albus wasn't sure if his brother really liked him. He thought the world was built on James, though. James could nearly fly. James was the eldest. James was the best. James only ever thought of Teddy.

Scorpius thought this was ridiculous. He told Albus that for one, the thought of looking up to a brother instead of being looked up to by a soppy little sister didn't really work out in his book. And for another thing, he thought, how could anyone think James is the better of you two.