red, pink
“Send Red for an honesty post on what my muse dislikes/hates about yours.”
Friendly as some of the members may be, the Marauders were a notoriously closed unit, thank you very much. The greatest of affection stayed within the four and their greatest fights were contained too – at least, until Lily Evans came along. It’s not that Peter hates her for butting in, it’s not even that he sees her as stealing his friends. It’s just how easy it was for her to lay her hooks in someone he cared about and drag them away and okay maybe, yes, there is that deep little kernel of bitterness for her taking so much of James from them. He hates how much of a cliche he is against her, the jealous little peon lurking in the back and wondering why their gushing small talk and gooey eyes weren’t enough to hold interest. Even with Sirius, he’s at least worthy of garnering Lily Evan’s famously firey anger. For Peter, he only seems to be worth her pity. Those startling eyes of hers turn on him and it’s like being pinned under a microscope dead set on finding every one of his flaws and then kindly pretending not to see them once they’ve been dragged out into the air. He hates how she makes him feel inadequate, even when she’s trying to be his friend in that half-assed ‘at least i tried’ way.
“Send Pink for an honesty post on what my muse likes/loves about yours.”
Peter’s got a personality primed to be drawn to stronger ones and weak would be a word entirely Lily’s antithesis. Even when watching her and James together is an exercise in envy, the two at their best is like observing twin flames made flesh or two fireworks performing a waltz or some other weird, sappy metaphor. She shines just as bright alone too and that’s when Peter almost wishes he was brave enough to respond to those occasional attempts to connection instead of curling back into himself – at least she tries, vibrant and entirely out of his league as she is. Lily seems entirely free of the shackles of self-awareness that hold Peter back and sometimes he watches her weaving her magic with others just in the hopes that somewhere along the way he can mimic whatever it is that makes her so effortless in captivating an audience. Does she know how easy she stuns, even without magic? She has to know, all beautiful girls do, but she’s so comfortable within that beauty it’s like she barely notices it’s there. Peter can comprehend her just as little as he could comprehend what it must be like to be her, but imagination never punishes the daydreamer, even for something as badweirdwrong as imagining being your best mate’s girl.
