threads can be carried over, just tag my new blog and I’ll be happy to continue

will probably work on inbox for a few days to get out what I wanna write then the rest will be lost to the void

I’ll still be on this blog to transfer headcanons/musings ect so I’ll see notifs for a bit

PLEASE only follow if you’re genuinely interested in writing and developing dynamics, I’m not interested in follower count, just writing/threads <3

I’m going to be going by rooney as per my multi over there too

hope to see you all there

@stagcharmed​     //     spots to kiss + # for dealers choice 👀 

      It’s mindless entertainment, Regulus thinks, but Harry seems to love the thing. It’s called a ‘television set’ and the only reason they even have one of them is because of Harry. Because he saw one in a shop window and wondered why they didn’t have one and they, in some attempt to pay homage to the boy’s late muggleborn mother, decided it was a harmless bridge between their worlds and bought one.

      James seems fascinated by it. Regulus appears to be less so but in reality he’s concealing his curiosity beneath old-fashioned pureblood pride. The child simply loves it. 

      But Harry is already in bed. And relaxing in the dimly-lit sitting room with the set on has become something of a late-evening routine for James and Regulus who sit now on the sofa while something-or-other plays on the screen. Regulus isn’t actually paying attention. There’s a person slumped against his side and Regulus has one arm around his back, curled up with a hand in his hair. Another new familiarity. He doesn’t exactly know when they learned to get so close; when James learned that if he leans into him or lays his head on his lap then one of Regulus’ hands will naturally gravitate to him of its own accord and run aimlessly through his messy brown locks. When they both learned that there’s a comfort in this closeness and that if they simply don’t speak of it, if they don’t shine the spotlight on it, perhaps it’s okay.

      Perhaps it would be okay either way. Perhaps neither one of them is ready for that, yet.

      The screen changes to something bright and Regulus drops his head back with a tired whimper, pressing his eyes shut. I could fall asleep like this, he thinks, Actually…

      James hasn’t moved in a bit. Now, he must be asleep. Regulus leans his head forward and twists to see his face and sees a man with his eyes closed, head on his shoulder, hair disheveled. Regulus smiles without realizing it. Silly man. He wonders what’s proper in this situation; does he stay there? Let them both sleep where they are? He can’t move without waking James and he certainly can’t carry him like this; but before he finds an answer he realizes that James’ eyes have opened and they’re looking at each other now. Meeting one another’s gaze with a pair of eyes that reflect the dancing lights from their television set.

      Time sits frozen for a handful of seconds. Regulus’ eyes flick between each of James’, searching them for something without knowing what he’s looking for. Perhaps it’s not something he is ever meant to find, or perhaps it’s the thing that he finds when James’ lips press to the corner of his mouth.

      For a moment he wonders if it was an accident. Maybe it was me? Maybe I’m tired, maybe I dropped my head, fell on him. But the weight on his shoulder is undeniably lesser and there’s a cold spot on his side that means James has shifted. But he, too, looks frozen and bewildered, or lost, or whatever it is that a person feels immediately after doing something like that. Regulus will know in just a moment—because with one hand still curved against the back of James’ head and the other gripping tightly the pillow beside him, he dips his head and presses his own quiet kiss to James’ lips.

he  hadn’t  intended  to  fall  asleep.   he  kept  telling  himself  he  would  go  up  to  bed,  but  it  was  so  warm,  and  quiet  and  peaceful  here  -  and  the  low  drone  of  voices  on  the  television  was  more  relaxing  than  he  thought.   as  was  regulus’  fingers  in  his  hair,   the  warmth  of  his  body  beside  him  on  the  couch.   not  so  long  ago,   being  this  close  to  him,  letting  regulus  touch  him  in  any  way  that  implied  intimacy  would  have  been  off  the  table .    not  only  because  he  had  spent  so  long  just  disliking  him,  but  also  because  those  were  gestures  that  didn’t  make  sense  between  them.    he  wasn’t  sure  exactly  what  had  changed,   maybe  he’d  just  got  so  tired  of  living  without  it.   before  all  this,   he’d  existed  between  bouts  of  affection,  always  tender  touches  from  lily  and  his  friends,  and  it  was  only  when  he  let  regulus  touch  him  the  same  way,  that  he  realised  how  harsh  the  drought  had  been  .  

so  it’s  easy  to  fall  asleep  at  his  side  .    he  thinks  once,   in  another  life  before  all  this  had  happened,   his  friends  had  once  joked  how  he  was  like  a  cat.   wanting  to  curl  up  anywhere  and  soak  up  any  bout  of  affection  going  around.   he  supposes  that  hasn’t  changed,   and  as  he  drifts  between  wakefulness  and  sleep,   he  wonders  at  how  much  he’s  grown  to  trust  regulus.   there  had  been  a  time  where  he  would  have  barely  been  in  the  room  with  him,  without  keeping  his  want  close  at  hand.   now,  he’s  willing  to  fall  asleep  beside  him.   now,  when  he  wakes  up  with  blinking  eyes,  and  hair  messed  from  sleep,  and  tilts  his  head  to  meet  regulus  eyes,  it’s  not  just  friendly  warmth,   or  trust  he  feels  -  it’s  something  else  to,  something  he  can’t  describe,  but  washes  over  him  as  regulus  eyes  flick  between  his,  their  bodies  and  their  faces  close  enough  james  is  aware  of  it,   and  what  he  feels  isn’t  friendship  or  companionship,  it’s  something  different,  more  .  

he  does  not  know  why  he  does  it  .      he  can’t  have  been  thinking,  it  was  just  an  urge,  a  sudden  but  unmistakable  desire  that  he  acts  on  impulsively  because  that  is  the  only  way  he  ever  acts.   if  he’d  been  thinking  about  it  more,  maybe  he  wouldn’t  have  done  it,    but  he  leans  forward  to  press  the  kiss  to  the  corner  of  regulus’  mouth  and  as  soon  as  he  does  it,  it’s  like  his  brain  begins  to  work  again .    and  he’s  definitely  experiencing  something  like  panic.   he  scrambles  backward,   his  heart   thumping  so  hard  in  his  chest  it’s  like  he  just  run  a  marathon  .  

he  stares  across  at  regulus,  waits  for  him  to  say  something,  feels  like  he  should  say  something,  except  he  isn’t  sure  what  .    he’s  done  so  many  insane,  impulsive  things  in  his  life  before  he  thought  the  consequences  through,  and  he  thinks  this  has  to  be  coming  out  somewhere  near  the  top  of  the  list  .     he’s  about  to  open  his  mouth  to  say  something,   though  he  doesn’t  know  what  when  regulus  leans  forward  himself,  and  suddenly  it’s   james  being  kissed.  

it breaks his heart, really. ‘ it’s too much ‘ is said so quietly, like some kind of confession in the dark between them. sirius thinks it is, to james. james, who’s always seen the whole world as one big quest to conquer, who throws himself into everything with so much determination and fearlessness that it’s hard to imagine he’ll do anything but succeed. and now he’s being told to step back, live under this threat without fighting it, keep himself and his family safe by never leaving, never raising his wand in defence - by hiding. sirius can’t imagine how he feels. and it only makes his own determination to fight for james that much stronger. it’s that thread that’s always connected them ; sirius just wishes it didn’t twist like this now. 

❛ he’ll think of something. ❜ sirius believes that ; he doesn’t have the same kind of dogged faith in dumbledore that some people seem to, but he believes well enough. dumbledore’s proved himself and his loyalty - he’s older than any of them can even pretend to figure out, and he’s one of the strongest wizards ever. maybe the strongest. if anyone can help james, it’s him. ❛ it’s not forever, prongs. you’ll get through this. ❜

he shifts his head from where it’s pressed to james’ shoulder so that he can look up, grinning. ❛  she liked you, she just didn’t like the way you seemed determined to bash your own fingers in with muggle tools every lesson. ❜ sirius wonders if james feels the same way about school - like it was a lifetime ago, another world, rather than a few years. everything feels so monumentally, insurmountably different. sirius can’t tell if he longs to have school back again, or if he’s just seeing it through rose tinted glasses. he supposes the question is answered by the presence of the war - it hadn’t been quite so much, then.

❝   yeah .   it’s  nothing  to  worry  about  ❞    he  wonders  who  he’s  reassuring.  himself  or  sirius.   maybe  dumbledore  would  think  of  something.  if  anyone  could,  it  would  be  him.   and james trusted him.  probably more than sirius did.  now  more  than  ever,  he  felt  like  he  had  to.  james  couldn’t  see  any  other  path  out of  this.  it  was  like  their  life  had  suddenly  flipped,  had  come  to  be  defined  by  one,  stupid  prophecy.   he  didn’t  even  think  to  believe  in  divinination,  until  dumbledore had  insisted  this  one  carried  weight. 

but  it  still  felt  like  a  lot,  like  too  many  things  to  worry  about.     he  doesn’t  want  to  press  it  upon  sirius,  who  can  probably  tell  anyone.  but  despite  his  words,  he  is  worried.   not  just  about  harry,  but  about  the  reality  of  what  this  meant  for  their  life.   how  many  people  led  good  lives,  when  they  had  been  singled  out  by  voldermort.   still,  he  accepts  sirius  words  with  a  nod,  a  flick  of  his  fingers      ❝   I  know,  I  know.   there  is  worse  things    ❞      they  were  alive,  after  all.   too  many  of  their  friends  couldn’t  say  the  same.      ❝   like  I  said.  nothing  to  worry  about    ❞ 

        Regulus shrugs away the response; he knows James couldn’t possibly love Harry less regardless of what the boy did, but it doesn’t hurt to ask the questions. Sometimes the only thing a person is missing is a point of perspective—one they wouldn’t have found without another person offering it.

        Though in Regulus’ case he’s rejected the offering too many times to count.

        “No chance of that. Harry’ll be a celebrity until the day he dies.” There’s no point in convincing themselves of otherwise. Imagine the world forgetting about him! His story! “Actually… I’d be surprised if they didn’t make a Chocolate Frog Card out of him eventually.” And internally Regulus makes a note to add it to his collection. No, he doesn’t like the fact that the entire world has made a spectacle of the boy and he desperately wishes they could achieve an illusion of normalcy for him, but… he has a very impressive collection. It’d be an unusual addition.

        Anyways.

        Regulus turns back to his basket of potions and bandages and sets to reorganizing it; it’s a fitting mental distraction from the heaviness of the conversation and the near-reality that might have been James’ demise. Best not to think on it. “That’s an idea, though. The novelty will wear down, I think. No, people won’t forget about him entirely but the beginning will be the worst. I suppose it comes down to… when we think is the best time. Now? When he’s young, and will likely forget it? Or will it traumatize him? When he’s older and more aware? Or will it discourage him from going out again?” Question he’s asked himself in his own mind when he plays with Harry in the yard, or watches him eat breakfast, or sees him doing a million other normal, child things that he rest of the world will never appreciate.

        Unfortunately, he’ll always be special.

        “It’ll be a long time before we can forget about them entirely, I’m afraid,” he glances down to James’ bandaged wounds, crinkling his brow, “Thankfully I think you’ll be alive to see it. Just don’t do any more stupid things. Or… maybe we can all get away. The three of us. Safely, but together?” 

regulus is right.  he will be,  and james hates it.  he hates how little he can do about it.  he can’t stay sheltered from the world forever, and james wouldn’t want him to be.  he wants him to be able to go to hogwarts, to diagon alley, even to have friends and people to talk to outside of this house - but the possibility of that seems a long way off.   he tries not to fall into self-pity.  even when he and lily had first learned of the prophecy,  they had tried to find optimism in their situation.   but sometimes,  like when regulus suggests harry could become a chocolate frog card, and the thought almost makes him flinch,  he wishes it could have been someone else.   and then he feels guilty,  wondering if lily would have chided him for his selfishness.  

but these are not things he wants to broach with regulus.  maybe regulus would have answered, suggestions  -  but james doubts it.  he doesn’t think regulus could ever really understand.  even if he cares for harry,  even if he wants to protect him as much as james does.  it isn’t the same.   

he grabs one of the rolls of bandages from the pile regulus is organising,  feels instantly calmed by the weight of it in his hand,  by the movement of tossing it from hand to hand.  when he’s focussed on something like this,  it’s easier to think,  to listen to regulus questions and remain grounded despite how much they make him uneasy.  all questions he’s considered himself,  but he has no real solutions,  and it’s uncomfortable how real they are.  they are not just academic,  baseless questions.  if they got them wrong,  what damage could they do to harry.      ❝    I  keep  thinking  about  it.  but  I  don’t  know  ❞   he  catches  the  bandage  in  his  left hand,  pauses  his  movements  to  hold  it,  a  fist  tight   -  and words  more  honest  than  he’d  expected.  maybe  grappling  with  the  reality  he  could  have  died  will  do  that   ❝   I  don’t  want  to  mess  it  up.   him.   only  one  chance  to  get  it  right,  y’know ?  and  what  if  I  get  it  wrong,  and  he  hates  me  for  it,  or  he  gets  hurt.  ❞ 

rapunzel  can’t  explain  the  relief  that  floods  through  her  at  his  words.  she  had  always  been  under  the  impression  that  they  could  end  their  act  early  if  needs  be.  after  all,  didn’t  they  want  to  spend  as  little  time  together  as  possible.  wasn’t  the  whole  point  of  this  to  be  free  of  each  other?  she  doesn’t  feel  like  that  anymore,  she  soon  realises.  rapunzel’s  grown  to  like  james,  maybe  even  care  for  him.  as  a  friend,  she  tells  herself  sternly.  that’s  all.    ❝    right    –    of  course.    ❞    lips  quirk  up  ever  so  slightly,  despite  the  princess  fighting  the  urge.  there  shouldn’t  be  a  warmth  that  spreads  through  her,  nor  a  fluttering  in  her  heart.  she  tells  herself  it’s  just  the  excitement  of  birthdays.  she’s  always  enjoyed  them,  getting  to  celebrate  and  spoil  someone  she  loves.  it  was  always   a  big  deal  in  the  castle,  with  a  grand  ball  for  her  parents  birthdays  and  the  lantern  festival  for  her  own.    ❝    maybe  we  should  go  somewhere  more  private.    ❞    gaze  glances  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye,  where  two  ladies  are  pretending  not  to  watch  them  while  whispering  behind  their  hands.  she  stands,  suddenly,  holding  out  a  hand  to  james.    ❝    have  you  ever  seen  the  portrait  gallery?    ❞