‘ Hold Up ‘ Reverse

CARING SENTENCE STARTERS 

for muses that need a little love. 

❝  i’m here for you.  ❞

❝  let me help with that.  ❞

❝  i’m here.  ❞

❝  nothing’s gonna hurt you.  ❞

❝  if they do it again, you tell me.  ❞

❝  i’ll protect you. ❞

❝  i’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.  ❞

❝  let me take a look…  ❞

❝  i’m a phone call away.  ❞

❝  you should have called me.  ❞

❝  here, sleep.  ❞

❝  if you wanna talk, i’m here.  ❞

❝  hey, shh, it’s okay.  ❞

❝  i’ll never let you go.  ❞

❝  you’re with me now.  ❞

❝  nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  ❞

❝  i’ll do what i have to.  ❞

❝  i need you to stay here, okay? i got this.  ❞

❝  it’s safe here.  ❞

❝  i’m fine, let me see your face.  ❞

❝  we’re gonna have to keep ice on that.  ❞

❝ No, please don’t leave… ❞

"I'm not leaving you." He says it with determination, sweat mixed with rain as it drips down his temple, the pair of them huddled together in an awning. Hogsmeade is eerily quiet, a mist settling in over the moors as winter creeps nearer, and he has one hand on the bloody mess that is Sirius' chest, the other still clutching his wand tight. The fight itself had been a bloody ambush, in every sense of the phrase, Death Eaters poised and waiting for the duo to arrive, after an arranged meeting with 'a trusted source' to gather some intel from London. A trusted source, the little voice in the back of his head echoes, dripping with sarcasm and rage, though the hiss of pain Sirius gives is enough to snap James back into the moment. Apply pressure. Keep him calm. How many times had they sat through wizard and muggle first aid training with Shacklebolt, specifically for moments like this? He can see it in Sirius' face, the delirium of blood loss and the cold creeping in around them, and it takes every ounce of courage he's got right then and there to stay put, keeping a brave face for the both of them. He's got two options, reality setting in with the frost on the grass, and James tries to weigh up the pros and cons, still focusing on the blood pooling between his fingertips. The injuries to his chest aren't pretty. Too deep to be healed with magic, and even still James' hand is shaking a little too much to keep his wand steady. They're supposed to be meeting Lily in an hour, to pass on the information and head back to the Order headquarters, but it's hard to know how long Sirius can stand laying there. Their other option is a flare, lighting the evening sky with a stream of red, - but that in itself is a giant, bloody pin in the map, pointing out their exact location to the people they're trying to keep it from. He's running out of options. "I'm not leaving you," James says again, sure in his voice. His hand steadies, and he keeps the pressure.

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.

HP Character Aesthetics (8/?)

James Potter

I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.

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

Amelia Bones is a fucking force to be reckoned with.

James is a little convinced he's in love with her.

She stands tall, the picture of seventh year, head-girl, quidditch-playing, all-woman perfection. Maybe it's the fact that he's actually there, at their first quidditch lesson with Hooch, aiming to hold an air of confidence she's clearly overflowing with. The quidditch pitch is Amelia's turf, and he's not about to try to get in her way in the first place, but that doesn't mean the warning doesn't send a chill up his spine. He wants to believe she's actually paying attention to him, but her list of warnings is crucial, and fair.

All well-deserved, considering half the students who had shown up look bloody well terrified.

She's just there to observe, Hooch had reassured them. Even though she was playing for the Hufflepuff team, - one third their rivals, he had to remind himself, - James still feels a need to impress her. Especially when she seems entirely unconvinced that any of them will actually be good enough to beat her legacy.

Amelia glances at him as she says it, and James flushes pink, trying not to grin.

He loves quidditch.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

— Emily Bronte

░ Some angsty starter sentences !!  ❝ It’s okay — you’re going to be okay! ❞ ❝ No, please don’t leave… ❞ ❝ What do you mean you’re leaving?❞ ❝ I…I’m sorry. I have to go ❞ ❝ Where does it hurt?❞ ❝ What the hell did you do that for?❞ ❝ Why didn’t you tell me this before? ❞ ❝ No, they can’t be… they can’t be gone❞ ❝ I thought that we would go together ❞ ❝ I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it, but I had to tell them.❞ ❝ It won’t stop bleeding! ❞ ❝ Why do you make me feel so vulnerable? ❞ ❝ Who shot you?! ❞ ❝ What did you do? ❞ ❝ Are you all right? ❞ ❝ I can’t do this anymore ❞ ❝ I don’t think I can make it…❞      ❝ Why are you doing this to me? ❞ ❝ You’ve been unconscious for hours.❞ ❝ You have a fever…❞ ❝ I think I’m sick…❞ ❝ You shot me! ❞ ❝ What happened to you? ❞

Congrats to Bly, who’s been accepted as our James Potter! Please read our checklist, and get your blog sent in; we look forward to having you join us, and we can’t wait to see where you take your character!

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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.”