8 Days Of Simon Lewis Positivity + Emojis

I’ll see you

with your

laughter lines

“You have me. Until ever last star in the galaxy dies. You have me.”

— Amie Kaufman

Send a word and I will write a drabble or headcanon based on it

Sunlight

Alone

Darkness

Streets

Cupboard

Snacks

Doubt

Joy

Peace

Moment

Rain

Hum

Kitchen

Bedroom

Family

Friend

Garden

Relax

Stress

Job

Fury

Betrayed

Absence

Vices

Pets

Absolve

Stars

Scorn 

Praise

Laundry

Papers

Smoke

Wine

Couch

Kiss

Doors

Tree

Dirt

Flowers

Collect

Remove

?+ add your own.

Katherine McNamara Photo shoot with Joshua Shultz

Doors

HEADCANON:

The Potter estate is big.

It's not unwelcoming, or imposing, by any means. Any aspect of being too much is immediately washed away by his mother's warm hugs, his father's booming laughter as he greets guests, and the fact that it's James' home. Marlene had been enamored by the place from her first steps inside of it, and while he had tried to be boastful about how many rooms were simply for sleeping in, she had been more interested in the doors.

There had been many generations, passed through the estate. And with it came many tastes, and senses of style, and urges to make a house a home. All of these things added together had turned the estate into a miss-match of different rooms and different stylistic ages, the house it's own portrait of a family tree woven into the very brick work and foundations.

There's big doors. Small doors. Doors with peeling paint, and doors made of concrete, reinforced with charms. Doors for house elves, and doors for half-giants. The back garden can be reached through wide, gaping, fifteen-foot-tall glass doors, - or through the little side entrance, a little wooden door, built into the side of the kitchen.

Marlene had laughed at him once, at the age of fourteen, when he had walked through and smacked his forehead right off the awning.

He was left with a bruise on his forehead for a week.

He's learned to duck.

who: @mxrlenemckn​ when: january 2nd, 1979 where: marlene’s flat

He hadn’t slept all night.

It was impossible. Not when he knew what he knew. Not when his friends had been hurt, so badly, for so long. Trying to wrap his head around why he and Lily were back in the first place had been a challenging enough venture, but after facing Remus and Sirius, and hearing Lily had gone to Peter’s, all of it was simply.. too much. Too much for any one man. The exhaustion had settled deep into his core, had made a home right alongside his mourning, and James had learned to sit with it, alternating between staying in bed with Lily, holding her as she cried, to sitting out in the back garden, and simply looking up at the stars.

He’d become so accustomed to sleeping with a fussing baby in the night, that having the Hollow be so quiet was simply too unnerving. There was no pattern of feedings, or bedtime stories, or baths to take. Their routine had been entirely wiped clean, replaced by the pair working on autopilot to unpack what boxes they could.

The few moments of sleep he managed to get were plagued by nightmares, and flashes of green, and the haunting sight of his son, in that forest, ready to go. None of it felt right, like they had been nightmares, - more like prophecies. Visions. Memories of what could be.

Harry had been ready to die.

The guilt could swallow him whole.

Finding Lily after lunch had been.. a challenge. Not because she had gone anywhere, but simply because someone had come to her.

A ghost. A memory of what was, from their own past.

Marlene.

It was his final straw. The thing that broke him. Losing Marlene had been devastating, beyond all belief, and hearing that she was back, - how was he supposed to believe that? How was that supposed to help make any sense of what was going on? They may have been brought back from the dead, Remus and Sirius may have lived whole lives, gone on decades without them, but Marlene had died before them.

And now, two years in the past, she was visiting their house to steal their food, like she always had, as if nothing was wrong.

Lily had only just calmed him enough to get him to breathe again, arms tight around him as he choked on air. She had soothed him, healed him, petted through his hair until he could find his balance again, held his face and reassured him that he was alright, that Marlene was alright, and that she would be there, waiting, when he was ready.

Which was where he found himself the next morning, standing at the door to her flat. 

It looked the exact same. Cracking paint, a crooked number. A little imperfect, just like Marlene. 

If she wasn’t behind the door, he wouldn’t know what to do.

James knocked.

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.”

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?

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.