Send Me   ‘ Hold Up ‘   for Your Muse To Grab Mine By The Back Of The Shirt To Keep Them From

Character Appearance Meme:

A faceclaim only goes so far, and even then sometimes their accuracy next to the vision in your head is only so-so. Send a symbol for a clearer picture!

☼ How does your character usually dress in daily life?

♔ How does your character usually dress for a fancy event?

✍ How does your character usually dress when going to work/school?

✂ How does your character usually style their hair?

♔ What (if any) jewelry does your character usually wear?

∇ What (if any) make-up does your character usually wear in daily life?

▼ What (if any) make-up does your character usually wear for fancy events?

👠 What kind of shoes does your character usually wear in daily life?

👓 What kind of mobility or assistive devices (if any) does your character use in daily life? (Glasses, canes, hearing aides, wheelchairs, etc.)

✗ What (if any) scars does your character have?

♠ What (if any) tattoos does your character have?

☾ What (if any) birthmarks does your character have?

Ұ How short/tall is your character compared to their peers?

■ How thin/heavy is your character compared to their peers?

'Hold up'

Their hand is on the back of James' shirt, catching him before he leans too far forward.

It's a rush, sometimes. The same exhilaration he gets from flying, from swinging out of his broomstick around the goalposts. There's an infinite feeling that comes with being so high up, so far away from the ground below, and he wants to believe he can hold onto that sensation forever. The astronomy tower comes pretty close, and James finds himself up there with Charity far more than he'd realised.

He likes them. A lot. He likes their honesty, and their freedom. There's a bravery in being so entirely who you are that the rest of the world melts away, and it's a feeling he's chased for years. Charity embodied it like it's second nature, weightless, and he's jealous.

They're too nice for him to be mad about it, though.

The pair of them are pressed up against the railings of the tower, watching the world go by. There's a peek of Hogsmeade in the distance, and the train tracks over the lake and the moors, and James can appreciate the view.

He'd been so enveloped in it, however, he'd almost leaned too far over the edge, and Charity had caught the back of his shirt just in time.

He's lucky they're around.

☆ + QUIDDITCH

"Seeing her in the stands, way back in Hogwarts, cheering us on."

He says it with a laugh, light on his lips, a fondness shining in his eyes. It comes naturally, when he thinks of Lily. "I remember.. - our first match, in sixth year, against Hufflepuff. It wasn't even a big one, just a friendly game, to get the ball rolling for the year. But we'd had a really good summer, and she had actually said hi to me on the train on the way there, and just before the match, she'd wished me luck."

He grins then, lifts a hand to his hair, a soft, embarrassed flush of pink tinting his cheeks. "She shouted my name from the stands, and I was so distracted, I got hit in the head with a quaffle. Absolutely worth it."

Friend

HEADCANON:

So much of James' personality is based around his ability to have friendships. He considers himself practically everyone's friend, unless they've been a dick to him, or he's got good reason not to like them. For years growing up, he had always seen how his parents were treated, liked, how they had so many people they could rely on and turn to, people they trusted, people who could just pop by the estate and were greeted with a warm welcome. Acquaintances, they would call them, but James always knew better; they were friends, as simple as that.

Marlene had been his first real friend, aside from his parents, and she has a special place in his heart. But something had changed on that first train ride to Hogwarts; when he had met Remus, Peter, and Sirius. There was a shift in his very core understanding of friendship, in the way he saw how it worked. Friendship was so much more than just people you got along with and saw every now and again, especially when those friendships turned into a family.

Family are people you want to stick by. People you want to surround yourself with. They're the people you call home, when you have nowhere else to go, and no-one else you want to go to. People you trust, people you would do anything for, even without asking, no matter what.

James has plenty of friends.

Sirius is his family.

Sad/cute shippy sentences

zetterdamn:

There’s no doubt it was always you.

From the first time i walked you home from school you stole my hear.

It was always you.

It hurts to see your pretty smile fade.

I know there’s nothing left for us to say but it’s okay.

It’s okay-

There’s no getting over you.

I tried my best to tell the truth but the missing is tearing me apart.

Forgetting is the hardest part.

The thought of losing you is all too much.

I’m a long, long way from home… From you.

I’ll be back some day.

We’ll do it all, everything.

We don’t need anything, or anyone.

If I lay here, If I just lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Those three words… Are said too much. They are not enough.

I don’t quite know how to say how I feel.

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told, before we get too old.

I need your grace to read my needs, to find my own.

Your perfect eyes is all that I can see.

I’m sorry for hurting you.

I’ll be here to hold your hand.

If only I knew what I know today.

I would hold you in my arms, and take the pain away.

Thank you for all you’ve done.

There’s nothing I wanna do to hear your voice again.

Sometimes… I wanna call you, but I’m scared that you won’t be there.

I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do.

I’ve hurt myself by hating you.

Some days I feel broken inside, but I just don’t want to admit it.

It’s so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this.

Would you tell that I was wrong?

Would you help me understand?

Are you proud of who I am?

If I had just one more day I would tell you how I’ve missed you since you’ve been away.

I’m sorry for blaming you.

Blame it all on me.

It was my fault – This wasn’t supposed to…happen.

Please forgive me.

I can’t stay… I really can’t –

I have come to talk with you again.

We need to talk…

Can we please just – Talk ?

I think we should… talk about… This – Us.

They know about us.

Oh come on – Look at us! Is this what we really want???

… I don’t think there’s anything left to say. 

Do you even know how to answer your phone?

I keep messaging you, but you never reply?

Never mind. It’s nothing. It never is. 

Can’t you just listen to me!?

I’m fine okay, can we drop this?

I’ve heard that you… Found… someone new?

There will always be things I can’t give you, things I can’t say – And I all I want… Is for you to be happy. 

It isn’t over – We are not over, yet.

I wish nothing but the best for you.

Don’t… Forget me – Please ?

I just want to forget everything about you. 

It hurts. It hurts so much – Don’t you understand!?

I can’t do this.

We can fix this.

We can’t fix this.

We could always…stop here and stay friends?

Are you sure that…we should – ? You know… do this?

I won’t ever find someone like you… You are special to me.

You are perfect.

We always were a thing, weren’t we?

Rub my back softly as we doze off to the sound of rain falling outside my window.

“It’s been a decade since you’ve been gone.”

"Don't be so dramatic, Moons."

There's a crooked grin on his lips as he steps into the shack, a bag of goodies thrown over one shoulder. Getting to the castle and back had been a challenge, especially with McGonagall on edge around the full moon anyway, and while he appreciates her concern, they very obviously have this entire thing under control.

They've healed Remus' wounds to the best of their abilities, and settled for muggle bandages for the rest. He'd earned a laugh and a shove, when he'd tried to kiss the cut on Remus' cheek, and that was reassurance enough to know his best friend was alright.

Peter had stayed with him as he and Sirius made the trek back to the castle, picking up a selection of essentials; chocolate from the house elves, clean clothes, a blanket to keep around his shoulders for the walk back. It wasn't long, but James knew he would be tired, and every little thing would help.

"I made it worth the wait, though," he adds, kneeling down where Remus is sitting against the edge of the bed, covered only by the blanket they'd left there the month before. From the bag, he pulls out a piece of chocolate cake, a little smushed in it's wrapping, but still warm from the ovens.

"Saved you a slice," James teases.

nighttimestorrm​:

Sirius had pieced together what had happened that night. But it was different hearing it. A fresh wave of anger rushed through him that he tried his best to push down. Peters betrayal feeling as though it had just happened all over again and was just as raw. Except James wouldn’t know all of it. And, as much as he hated the rat right now, he didn’t want to tell him and make things worse. After everything, he still wanted to protect who he believed was his friend.

How pathetic.

Taking a drag from his cigarette he watched the smoke drift through the air while he listened. He couldn’t even imagine how James felt right now. He was back and yet still lost what had been the most important to him. He couldn’t imagine the pain. And there was nothing he could do to make it any better for him. Though he wished that he could.

“He, um…” Clearing his throat he tried to come up with the right words. If there were any. He wanted to reassure his friend that his son was okay. But Sirius didn’t know that for sure. He hoped he was. He would need to find Remus and find out what happened after he…he died. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He died. It felt too unbelievable to be true. Out of everything he has been through it was his damn cousin that did him in. 

“He’s fine, James. He’s a fighter. Just like his dad.” He said, and gave James a nudge with his elbow. “I can’t imagine how you and Lily must be feeling. I’m so sorry, James. This…it’s confusing as fuck.” 

Sighing he took another drag. “It must have happened for a reason though, right? Maybe we can do things differently this time. Or…I don’t know…but there must be a reason. Even if it feels like shit. If other people remember then we have more information than last time. We…it has to end better this time.”

He wished this was a happier reunion. But his mind kept wandering to where he should be. And it wasn’t here. If he had only not been so close to that fucking veil. If he had stopped fighting once Dumbledore had turned up. All his mind was filled with was what if’s. And it was going to drive him mad.

--

‘He’s fine, James. He’s a fighter. Just like his dad.’

Those words made him freeze up. The way Sirius spoke about him, the way he held Harry in such a high regard, already, as if his son hadn’t only been a year old, to them, just a few months ago. Harry wasn’t a fighter, - he could be, in the future, if he needed to be, - but he was only a baby. Soft round cheeks, big green eyes, a messy head of hair he hadn’t even grown into yet. They still needed protective charms around the house to stop him from bumping into the cupboards, and climbing up the stairs. 

James had only just bought his Baby’s First Fly broom for his first birthday. 

And while he had wanted to believe that Sirius had been there when they had gone, after Halloween night, Lily’s own dreams, - her visions, her memories of Harry’s future, which matched up with so many of his own, including the forest, proved the worst of their fears. That Harry had gone to her sister’s, and barely knew a thing about being a wizard until he had turned eleven. The vow Sirius had made when he’d taken on the title of godfather was robbed from him, - and where had he been since, if Lily’s memories were true?

He turned, then, looking at Sirius quietly, gaze searching. They were both nineteen again, the mirror had proven that much, but Sirius still looked older. Tired. Like he’d seen a thousand years before, and was dreading the thought of seeing them, all over again. If he’d really appeared in the forest with them, with Harry, then there had to have been a reason for it, surely. Not just because he and Remus were their friends, but because, -

It hit him.

The way Sirius spoke. ‘It has to end better this time,’ he had said, and if that was what he believed, then what way did it end before?

And, more importantly.

“.. you met him?”

mcrningecans​:

   HIS FINGERS ON HER SKIN WERE THE ONLY THING REMINDING HER SHE WAS HERE. Here and not there; back in that place, where everything felt sunken. The loss of him was alive here, but at least it was alive, breathing life into the places of Lily she thought had been lost. Every part of her ached for Harry, and yet every part of her ached for James, her James, who sat in front of her now. It was a confusing battle; one that she didn’t know how to win. Because there was no winning.

     Either she was alive, and Harry was gone. Or Harry was alive and she could never hold him.

     The thought was almost too much to handle, so Lily watched James’s fingertips, watched their circles; the swoops and the dives. His voice brought her back from her trance, reminded her that there was more to the world than her own grief. There was James. And right now he needed her. She put her cup down and gently, with shaking palms, cupped his cheeks. Lily was afraid if she pressed too hard, got too greedy with connecting, that she’d shatter this illusion. And bloody hell, what would she do if everything crumbled apart around her? What would she do if she learned this was all some kind of sad, twisted trick? Still, James was still there, even with his cheeks in her hands. Even as her thumb gently brushed away any remaining tears on his face. 

     “James,” Lily said, softly. “You saved Harry. You were trying to save us.” If this were another time, she might’ve made a joke about him being an idiot. But it felt wrong now no her lips, and she let it die. And then the thought of Harry; the part he didn’t know. The part that, somehow, she knew, even though there was really no way for her to have known. How could she know that her son survived? She had died, and now she was alive again, and he wasn’t even here. But in that world, in that scenario, Harry had lived. He’d grown. “I… I didn’t make it either. I had enough time to get in front of Harry; to shield him–” Lily shook her head. “But he lived. I’m certain of it.”

     The boy who lived. Their boy who had lived, despite it all. Despite all the trials he certainly had to face; despite the fact that, somehow, he’d had to face Voldemort again. That was the part that kept returning to her, circling in and out like a dream. Why had she seen her son face down that monster? Why didn’t Harry get peace after all he’d had to endure? It killed her to know that they might have died in vain; that all their sacrifice, and Harry still was forced to be the hero. 

     “None of this makes any bloody sense,” she said, dropping her hands to her lap, watching James trace his circles again, waiting for them to give her an answer. 

--

 If there was anyone in the universe who understood him, it was Lily.

Lily, who had seen the best, and the worst in him, even when they were kids. Lily, who understood that all they needed was a little time, and a little faith, and everything they wanted became everything they had. Lily, who had been forced to face the worst parts of the wizarding world, and had lost the dearest friendship she had at the age of fifteen, and still believed that she could do some good for the people who had wronged her, and the world who was so willing to turn it’s back on her. It was a true miracle, he believed, that she had ever given him the time of day at the start of sixth year; and while neither of them were perfect, - bloody hell, was he far from it, - it meant they could have this.

Total trust. Total honesty. Total belief that the life they had built together, both through their home, and through Harry, was still with them. 

She had gone through so much. Too much, for someone just touching twenty-one; though she looked younger, now. There was no scar on her hand from where she’d broken a glass on their honeymoon, and still, she lifted her hands to cup his face the way she always did, gentle, and some part of James eased. There was a storm, still. Brewing. But the waves had calmed, and for a brief second in time, James found some peace. 

If this was purgatory, he could have sat there with her for eternity. ‘Til death did them part.

What did that even mean any more?

He closed his eyes, listening as she spoke. Even now, there was hope in her voice, laced with confusion, and hurt. It pained him to listen to her own side, to the fight she had lost, - won? If Harry was still safe, somewhere, wasn’t that a victory? Better yet, if this was their opportunity to change things, so that Voldemort never found them in the first place, and they could still have Harry with them, wasn’t that the goal?

He had a headache. He frowned, slightly, setting his cup down to hold Lily’s hand to his face, keeping it there, as he turned to press a soft kiss to her palm, his own hand still gentle against her thigh.

They had each other. They needed each other.

He needed her. 

James let her hands go, blinking his eyes open again. It caught in his chest, the loss that ached like nothing he had ever felt before. Losing Marlene, his parents, their other friends, all of it hurt. Losing Harry?

It burned.

“.. I had a dream about him,” he whispered, taking up Lily’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together lightly. If there was one person he could say this to, it was her. “Harry. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. I don’t know. It was like.. his life, all muddled up together. And then we met him, in this forest. And we got to talk to him.” There were tears in his eyes, then, and James sniffled lightly, giving a small shrug. “I probably sound crazy. I feel crazy.”

❝ It’s okay — you’re going to be okay! ❞

[TW: injury description.]

"Your faith in me is absolutely reassuring." His words come out dry, forced through the ache of the pain shooting up his leg. He's fine, for the most part, - the Death Eaters they had been chasing have long since been taken care of, and he and Amelia are a bloody good team. "It's a quidditch thing," she had joked, though he had agreed wholeheartedly. Their issue now is the nasty way his leg is twisted, and James stays slumped up against the brick wall, keeping his weight on the other foot. He's had injuries, before. Quidditch, stupid tricks and pranks with the boys, that one time he had flown around to Lily's window of Gryffindor tower in the rain, and had slipped off his broom. Countless full moons. Auror training, and being in the Order. He's seen the inside of the medical wing and St. Mungo's more times than he can count, and he's learned to handle the pain. But it's something else. The hex the Death Eater had used is nasty, and James feels like his leg is still twisting in the wrong direction, tightening, like bone and muscle is fit to burst. The longer they wait, the worse it feels. Amelia's there, though. She's got one arm under his shoulders, helping to keep him upright, and he's more than grateful. There's a grimace on his face, and James fights a groan as his leg twists again, his hand grabbing onto her tightly. "Please don't tell my wife about this," he huffs, giving her a look.