Memes:all - Blog Posts
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 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.”
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.
‘ hold up ‘ reverse
It takes everything he's got to hoist Peter back, ripping the back of his shirt in the process.
There's a panic in it, an urgency to run, and James follows that instinct like it's the only thing guaranteed to keep them alive. He keeps one hand on Peter's shoulder, pulling him tight, the other one covering his mouth quickly to stop him from making a peep. At the same time, there's footsteps rushing down the alleyway behind them, chasing them, and James keeps his eyes on Peter's, staring him down, daring him not to say a fucking word. Their silence is crucial, especially now, and the last thing he wants is for either of them to get caught.
Lily's due in a week. He can't leave her like this.
There's a second set of footsteps, and James' eyes widen slightly, still watching his friend. They're the only two out of the mission, and while part of him wants to believe it's just concerned citizens rushing to help, another part of him knows it's their worst fear; an ambush, more Death Eaters, coming to get them if the first pair couldn't. It's a lot more dangerous than either of them had realised, and James sits with the reality of it for a beat, trying not to get too overwhelmed.
When enough time has passed for him to be convinced that no-one else is coming for them, James finally lets his hand drop, resting on Peter's shoulder instead as they both catch their breath.
"Too close," James decides, slumping agaisnt Peter in a half-hug.
❝ I don’t think I can make it…❞
"You say that every time." It comes off as a little more of an accusation than he intends, but it's not necessarily untrue. Peter does say it, almost every time he suggests something, and James is reaching his tipping point. There's something going on. The war has taken it's toll on all of them, dragging down their spirits like a fucking vice. It's not fair, not when they're only just graduated, only just on the precipice of becoming adults, and they haven't had a chance to live. And as tolerant as James wants to be, tries to be, none of that can relieved the ache he feels every single time Peter says no, or doesn't show up, or cancels at the last minute. Once upon a time, all he could do was spend every waking moment at James' side, and James misses his best friend. It hurts. It's his fucking birthday. It's a slow descent into losing him. He can see it from a mile away, can tell that Peter's mind is somewhere else, even in Order meetings. Maybe he's planning on becoming a hermit, on running away, on totally disengaging from the wizarding world to keep him safe. James wouldn't blame him, really, - the bigger Lily's bump gets, the more tempting the thought becomes for him, too. "Don't worry about it," James settles on finally, lifting a hand to pat Peter's shoulder. He doesn't smile when he says it, simply shrugs, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "There's always next year."
Doubt
HEADCANON:
Despite how much of his heart and soul he puts into it, James has so many doubts about himself being a father. His own father had always been a great example, and that was never in question, but he's seen first had what shitty parenting can do to a child. The first time Sirius had openly talked about his parents, something about it, - not just a hatred for how they treated Sirius, their son, but a sense of unrest that came with knowing people could just be like that to their children and be perfectly content with it, - just never sat right with him.
When he and Lily found out she was pregnant, the first thing he felt, above all else, was euphoria. Pure, complete happiness. But the doubt crept in, and the fear, and even when Harry had arrived, and he was set in James' arms in a little bundle of soft blankets, James couldn't deny that haunting doubt that loomed in the back of his mind.
He always wanted to be a good father. The only thing standing in his way was his own insecurities, doubts and fears.
❝ I…I’m sorry. I have to go ❞
"Go where?!" He asks it with a laugh, using it to hide the disappointment he feels. It's natural, he knows, his mum had warned him a thousand times; people drift apart by the time school starts to end, friendships change, people change. James wants to believe that Peter's only running away from hanging out behind the herbology greenhouses because he's stressed about NEWTs, or because they all still have a history essay due in two days, or because McGonagall's been breathing down his neck about his plans for the future. They're all stressed about NEWTs. About classes. McGonagall. It's barely an excuse. It's been happening more and more lately. Peter's distance. Seven years of being joined at the hip is starting to dwindle, and as right as his mother usually is, James doesn't want it to be true. Any plans about the future are usually shot down, any questions about hanging out for the weekend, or going to Hogsmeade, or even just studying together, most of them are rejected. And he understands, truly, - it's an exhaustive time for all of them, mutually. But surely they're supposed to be leaning on each other, supporting each other, not drifting apart? They're supposed to stay together, the four of them. They're supposed to save the world. He seems insistent on leaving, however. And for the hundredth time, James lets him go, letting out a soft breath of Peter's name in protest. It's not enough to keep him around. It never is.
❝ 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.
“We always were a thing, weren’t we?”
"I think so." There's no arrogance behind his words, no self-righteousness that would have come if she had asked him three years ago. Their relationship is a relatively new thing, in terms of official labels, their first kiss, everything that had happened on Halloween night, but everything they are goes beyond so much more than that. To the eye, sure, they've only been together for two months, and they're still going strong. But Lily's right, as she usually is. They were always a thing. She's always been on his mind. She's had his heart for at least a year, now, if not more. He's learned to adapt, to accept the way Lily had wanted them to be, simply friends and nothing more. Getting any ounce of a positive relationship with her, even a platonic one, was more than James had ever imagined possible, and he wasn't about to take it for granted. Every moment spent with her was a gift. Is a gift. But there's freedom, in honesty. He can tell her these things, can admit to watching her in class, feeling his heart soar when she cheers from the stands during a quidditch match, the way her foot would knock against his ankle under the table at breakfast. Little details that add up, things that culminate and become love, and hearing her admit to that makes him feel warm all over. He's unafraid, then, when he leans over, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. "You've always been it, for me."
“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
James doesn't quite believe her. He believes her with most things. Everything. She knows far more about the world as a whole than he ever has, ever will, and it's one of many things he adores about her. She's shameless about it, too; having held so much pride in her grades, and her differences, and her position as Slughorn's favourite student, and McGonagall's. Everything she had learned from her parents, her sister, from home, a world James knew so little about, she eats up every ounce of information, keeping it stored carefully away from when she needs it most. In the real world, outside the castle walls, Lily blooms, growing into so much more than he could have ever imagined, - because she's smart. And she's always right. James loves her. James knows she wouldn't lie. And still, those six words feel fake, like a knife in his back, like some kind of mockery. It's not her intention, he knows, but the letter sits in his shaking hands, pinched between calloused fingers, and nothing feels real any more. His mother is dying. The inevitability of it looms over his shoulder, haunting, curled around the nape of his neck like a cool breeze, sending a shiver down his spine. His parents are young in heart, and that's something he's always known, but their age has begun to show. Scrawled handwriting in their letters, more visits to the healers, more time needed to rest when they visit. It's little things that add up, brush-strokes that paint a whole picture, but losing his parents before he's even seen twenty is - He doesn't like it. Lily repeats her words, an arm curling around his shoulders from where she had been stood behind him. For a brief moment, her warm embrace replaces the cold clutch of fear that had seized him, and James leans into her hold, looking down at the letter again. It's only a matter of time.
‘Hold up’
The hand on his back is light, a gentle touch, and for a brief second James is convinced he's imagining it. "..what is it?" he asks softly, voice barely breaking the quiet of their bedroom. Her fist is tangled in the soft fabric of his t-shirt, worn throughout the years, - stolen by her, too, on a number of occasions, - though it's enough motivation to make him sit back down on the edge of the bed, turning to Lily. She had tangled her hair up into a bun before sleeping, though most of it is unraveled now, a flame licking across her pillow. She still looks half asleep, like she hadn't actually meant to reach out to stop him from leaving, but how is he ever supposed to walk away? Dumbledore's owl had come the night before, asking James to meet him urgently just after midnight the next, and he's not one to leave Albus hanging. Not now. Not when every single piece of information is so crucial, so key to turning the war in their favor. They need all the help they can get, and if his former headmaster demands his presence at 2 in the morning, he can't turn away. Still. He's not an idiot. He had planned on getting up a few minutes early before floo-ing, to at least get a cup of coffee and settle his nerves before hopping in the fireplace. And with Lily's hand dropping, moving from his back to tangle her fingers with his own again, James can think of a much better alternative to sitting alone in the kitchen. ".. five more minutes, then," he decides, slumping back to sit against the pillows, using his grasp to tug his wife in a little closer.
❝ 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.
‘ hold up ‘ reverse - cause its happened a lot lets be honest
He's got one hand on the back of Sirius' jacket, and if James looks close enough, he's pretty certain he can see the sheen of the leather fading from where he's grabbed the same spot so many times. London is busy at the best of times, and even busier on a Saturday night, he's noticed. Not that they've been in the city all too often; the extent of their time hanging out outside of the castle has been sorely restricted to Hogsmeade and the Potter Estate, for the most part. It's only in the past year or so that he and Sirius have really been given permission to go out into London, to enjoy the free time they have the summer before their seventh year and upcoming graduation. He feels light on his feet. Unstoppable. Invincible. They'd downed half a bottle of firewhiskey between the two of them before leaving the house, portkeyed to a little village just outside the city, and got the next bus right into the center of town - and thank you, Evans, for the scintillating lesson on muggle public transport. Still, Sirius seems intent to end their night early, and as a double decker bus goes whizzing past on the road, horn honking loudly, the wing mirror of the muggle monster of steel and dusty seats nearly smacks his best friend clean in the nose as Sirius tries to step out to cross. It's barely seven in the evening, and too close a call. "Thought I was supposed to be the blind one?" James snorts, trying to ignore the racing in his heart as he pulls Sirius back onto the path.
Send me ☆ + a word and my muse will reveal the first thought they have about it regarding your muse.
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.
‘ hold up ‘
He lets out a strangled yelp as the collar of his shirt is roughly tugged from behind, and James tries not to trip over his own feet as he's pulled back into a doorway. He's already on high-alert, heart beating rapidly in his chest, pounding in his ears, and changing their hiding place had been a bad decision. His palms are sweaty, grip loose on his wand as his back is pressed against the cool stone of Hogwarts' ancient walls, and while part of him wants to keep pushing forward, to keep their heads low and their position a Godric-damned secret, it's becoming an increasingly difficult tactic to maintain. Sirius is nowhere to be found, after taking a wrong turn on the fourth floor, Remus and Peter having split off within moments of the team's arrival. James feels decidedly out of place, nose-to-nose with Marlene in the tiny doorway as rushed footsteps hurry by, not stopping to investigate their spot. It's the most intense game of muggle hide-and-seek he's ever played. Not that he's ever played it before. Marlene is staring him down, gaze pinned to his own, and James can't look away. It's years of friendship, over a decade of knowing each other, bottled up into one intense stare-down that he doesn't actually remember agreeing to take part in. There's a storm in her eyes, he notices, something that's always been brewing under the surface, - and not for the first time, James is wondering what's on her mind. She's his favorite type of mystery. She looks like she's about to say something when someone else runs by, again, footfall echoed in the halls around them, and James resists the urge to flinch when they come just a little too close to their hiding spot. "You owe me," she states finally, when the quiet that signals safety and a close call creeps up on them again, and James grins at her.
❝ 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.
░ 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? ❞
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
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?