☆ + QUIDDITCH

❝ What did you do? ❞

"Did I do something?" He sounds drunk when he says it, voice a little slurred and nasally as he tries to make sense of the situation. Marlene's here, which is always a nice thing, but so is Sirius, and Hooch, and they're all standing around him, looking down at him like he can't quite believe he's actually there. He is there. Isn't he? The sky above them is blue, and despite the lack of clouds, he can still see it swimming. There's a bludger to his left, pinned to the grass by a quidditch boot, and James tries to focus for a moment, brow furrowing, - but the action itself causes a sharp, aching pain to shoot right up his nose to the back of his brain, and it takes all he can not to hiss in agony, trying desperately to not do that again. It's a tough challenge, something for him to focus on while Hooch leans down to turn his head this way and that, poking at his chin to get him to turn his jaw to the side, and Poppy pops up beside her, looking remarkably unimpressed. "Third broken nose this month, Potter?" she asks, already shoving something minty and sharp right under his face, and James tries his best not to sneeze. "Think he's going for a new record," Marlene remarks, rolling her eyes. He lets out a laugh, and immediately regrets it, pain hitting his nose all over again.

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mxrlenemckn​:

It had been a long, sleepless night.  Sirius had been a welcome break from the heavy realizations the day had brought.  But once they parted ways and the tequila settled into a heavy ball in her stomach she could no longer ignore the truth she had been avoiding.  It was her fault.  Fully ignoring the fact that she was the only one of her family that was in the Order, the only one with a job that would have created any sort of target upon them, there had been a million opportunities to stop it.  She should have made sure the house was protected before they all gathered there, or demanded they wait to gather until they knew they could do so safely.  When she saw the shadow she should have thrown up a shield.  When Travers removed the immobilization spell she should have fought back.  There were a million things she could have done to save her family.  She had failed them once.  It wouldn’t happen again.

July 29, 1981.  She had two and a half years.  Thirty-two months to figure out how to save them.

The headache started setting in as the sun tipped above the horizon – the second night in a row she was up before the sunrise.  She sat on the window sill, watching the sun streak orange and pink across the street.  She sat, listening as the street became alive again.  Muggles stepping out on their way to work, cheerful and energized in that way you became after a short vacation, unaware that for some people everything had changed.

Eventually the hangover induced headache escalated to the point that she was motivated into moving.  Walking barefoot across the worn carpet, she made her way to the medicine cabinet, pulling out one of the hangover potions she kept for moments like these.

She had just unstoppered the vial when a quiet knock came from her front door.  She startled, the cool, glass bottle nearly sliding through her fingers.  Tipping the potion back, she swallowed it in a single gulp and already began to feel the comforting warmth working its way through her.  In another time she may have simply been confused by the door.  Literally no one she knew would be calling on her before noon.  But curiosity go the best of her and she stepped hesitantly forward, loosely holding her wand in her right hand.

But when she opened it and saw James she froze.  It had been a long time.  Maybe not in 1979 – but in 1981 it had been over six months.  And she understood.  She had understood the need for the hiding and for the secrecy without knowing the exact reasons for it.  If they thought it was necessary she supported them; truthfully, she couldn’t think of a circumstance when she wouldn’t have supported the pair of them.  She had always understood, but she missed him and Lily.  And here he was, at her front door as if nothing had changed.

But it had for him – she had seen the look on Lily’s face, heard the glass shatter as she dropped the mugs.  She had seen the way Sirius tensed when she approached him.  She had died, been murdered. They had accepted that and maybe even mourned her a bit – and she was back, some kind of fucking ghost.

With most people she wouldn’t have considered it, but with James it had always been different.  There was something different about someone who had seen you through nearly every stage of life, from an awkward child to an adult.. sort of.   She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.  She stood there like that for a long moment before letting out a breathy laugh.  “You look like shit, mate,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.  What a fucked up twenty-four hours it had been.  “Come on, let me make some tea.”

--

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.

For how messed up the past day had been, how much information he and Lily had been forced to sit with and process, nothing had prepared him for this. Nothing could. Losing Marlene had taken an entire piece of his heart, ripped it right from his chest, and no force on Earth could have brought her back to him. He had tried to accept that, tried to live with it, had mourned every day since Moody had come to them to break the news, and James had to use every ounce of strength he had to keep Lily upright, to cling onto her like it was the only thing keeping him holding on, too. 

And now, she was here. Hugging him. Sane and sober enough to joke about how he looked.

The last time he’d seen her had been in a fucking grave.

She was everything like he remembered. Eighteen years old and bright eyed, even with the hangover that haunted her expression. Blonde hair in waves around her shoulders, wand in hand, still in the same clothes she wore the night before. Sirius had gone to see her, Lily had explained, and James had needed the few hours to reason with the fact that Marlene, his Marlene, had come back to them. As much as he’d wanted to run to her as soon as Lily had told him, James knew it was a reality he couldn’t face.

Hell, it was the exact same thing stopping him from running back to the estate, crying for his parents.

She was warm. Very much real, and very much alive. Her arms were tight around him, voice as choked up as he felt, and James stayed quiet as she suggested tea, the comment so bizarrely normal that some part of him refused to believe it was happening at all. Maybe he was still dead. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory, while Marlin or God or whoever was up there decided what to do with him, after he hadn’t done enough. Maybe this was hell, forcing him to relive the past two years of losing his friends, and his family, and fighting a losing war, and facing Voldemort again, and learning how to fucking handle everything he’d done wrong in this world.

Or. Maybe it wasn’t.

His hand lifted before he could stop it, catching Marlene’s cheek. 

They always could have been something.

“.. you’re really here?” he asked finally, still in the threshold of her home, afraid to take another step forward. James searched her eyes, looking for the truth in them, and felt tears in his own. “You’re -”

Peace

The grounds are quiet.

The sun is shining. Classes are finished, and the train is leaving tomorrow. They're all packed, surprisingly actually on time, for once, - and hell, it's only taken them six years to perfect the art of moving back home for the summer.

James feels entirely at ease. There's the looming darkness that haunts them all, of course; a war on the brink of beginning, and smug pureblood students who believe they know right from wrong, bad from good, pure from filth. The thought of it makes his blood boil, makes him detest everything and anything being a pureblood wizard has become.

But for once, it's not on his mind. It's a privilege, he knows, and one he doesn't take lightly; but for a brief moment in time, everything feels normal again. They're sitting in some shade under the tree by the lake. Sirius is skipping stones, using his wand to propel them farther, and Remus is taking down the last of the notes he needs for whatever summer study he plans on doing, to make up for lost time with the moons.

None of them are talking. They don't have to. His gaze drifts to Peter, looking far too deep in thought to truly be enjoying this gloriously sunshine-y day, and James makes an effort to reach his foot out, knocking it against Peter's leg lightly to get his attention.

It snaps his friend out of the moment, and when Peter looks at him in confusion, James simply smiles.

'Relax,' he mouths, with a small shrug, refusing to break the quiet.

Whatever's on his mind can wait for another day.

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?

send me   ‘ hold up ‘   for your muse to grab mine by the back of the shirt to keep them from doing something dangerous / foolish 

send  ‘ hold up ‘ reverse  for my muse to do the grabbing

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

HEADCANON:

In the earlier years of Hogwarts, James would have been considered pretty tall. He'd hit a growth spurt early, which definitely made it easier to get onto the quidditch team sooner, rather than later. He learned how to use it to his advantage, though as the years have gone by, he's settled into a comfortable 'just a little taller than average'.

Tall enough to give Lily a kiss on the forehead, and to hold Harry on his shoulders so he feels like he's flying, and to make fun of Sirius for being a little shorter than him, he'd say. That's all that matters.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ bo burnham: inside sentence meme

part 1/3

“Interesting, now leave me alone.”

“Sorry that I look like a mess”

“____’s been a little depressed.”

“I’m sorry I was gone.”

“Daddy made you your favorite, open wide.”

“It’s a beautiful day to stay inside!”

“The world is changing.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Should I leave you alone?”

“Should I be joking at a time like this?”

“I wanna help to leave this world better than I found it.”

“And the fear is not unfounded.”

“The world is so fucked up.”

“There’s only one thing I can do about it.”

“Making a literal difference metaphorically.”

“So maybe I should just shut the fuck up.”

“I don’t wanna do that.”

“There’s gotta be another way.”

“Lord help me channel sandra bullock in the blind side.”

“I said I’d never be back.”

“But now I’m back on my feet.”

“Pour me a drink and clear my schedule.”

“I’mma FaceTime with my mom tonight.”

“These forty minutes are essential.”

“How’d you guess?”

“And that’s the deepest talk we’ve ever had.”

“It must be complicated.”

“That’s how the world works.”

“It’s similar to a constant state of sleep paralysis.”

“Don’t you know the world is built with blood?”

“That’s pretty intense.”

“No shit.”

“What can I do to help?”

“This isn’t about you.”

“So either get with it or get out of the fucking way.”

“Watch your mouth, buddy.”

“Have you not been fucking listening?”

“I can’t go… I can’t go back.”

“Look at me.”

“Are you going to be on the right side of history?”

“Who are you?”

“Or you can roll up your sleeves and get to work.”

“Is this heaven?”

“Or is it just a white woman’s Instagram?”

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

“ Is it necessary that every single person on this planet um, expresses every single opinion that they have on every single thing that occurs all at the same time?”

“Can any single person shut the fuck up about any single thing for an hour?”

“Is that… Is that necessary?”

“ Who needs a coffee? Cause I’m doing a run?”

“The coffee is free, just like me.”

“I’m an unpaid intern.”

“You just torrent a porn.”

“I’m being a little pretentious.”

“It’s a defense mechanism.”

“ I’m so worried that criticism will be levied against me that I levy it against myself before anyone else can.”

“Oh, if I’m self-aware about being a douchebag, it’ll somehow make me less of a douchebag.”

“Self-awareness does not absolve anybody of anything.”

“I want this to stop.”

Rain & papers

HEADCANON: James adores rain. The sound of it, the smell of it, the exhilaration that comes with feeling alive. One of his earliest memories is being whisked up into his father's arms, and taken out into the rainfall, bundled up in a warm embrace and surrounded by his mother's laughter as they danced together, James between them. He can remember the feel of each drop, the smell of springtime and the flowers Euphemia had planted the week before, the joy of being safe, and home. Lily can find him out there, sometimes. Sitting on a broomstick on the quidditch pitch after a tough match, eyes closed, only a foot off the ground, but still weightless. In the summer before their seventh year, the pair tucked up together in a small doorway of some little pub near her hometown, and he takes a deep breath in, a small smile on his face despite the cold that seeps into his socks. In their last few weeks at Godric's Hollow, it becomes his coping mechanism. To sit out on the step of their back door, watching their little garden, rain falling on his outstretched palm. Harry's usually asleep by the time he goes out, and Lily is quick to follow her husband, only stopping behind him to thread her fingers through his hair. The combination of her touch, and the fresh smell of the rain, and the gentle sounds of Harry fussing in his cot nearby is everything that feels like home to him. He loves the rain.

-

DRABBLE: It looks like a bomb has hit their living room. For a moment, James is willing to not ask any questions. His girlfriend, - fiancée, his mind helpfully corrects, and he has to stop himself from dancing on the spot right then and there, - looks to be the culprit of the crime, a bundle of scrunched up papers in a little pile behind her as she tries to organise through.. whatever she's organising through. It's far too early in the morning for her to have any reasonable excuse, but he's long since learned to roll with the punches when it comes to Lily Evans. She's a whirlwind, a woman who can't be stopped when she's on a mission. Merlin, he fucking loves her. She's frantically writing something on a new piece of paper, and James knows better than to stop her and ask exactly what she's doing. Instead, he turns his attention to the tossed-away, crumpled up paper ball that's nearest to his position at the living room door, and he carefully leans down to pick it up. There's writing on the inside, scribbles, and James scrunches his nose up in confusion as he unravels the paper ball, reading over her handwriting. Blue flowers. Red? Yellow? Check J suit. No white. Center pieces. NO LILIES. Green foliage - talk to Molly about best leafy flowers for center pieces. framed? keep one center piece. preservation charm - ask alice. A smile pulls at his lips, and James tucks the paper into his pocket, picking up another. The same, again, - scribbles of wedding plans and ideas, written down like it's plucked straight from her mind and shoved onto the paper. Something about it makes his heart soar, the fact that she's so invested in making their day absolutely perfect, for both of them, while still keeping their friends in the loop. It's a small blessing, given the circumstances.