And If U Do Hurt Someone—WHICH YOU EVENTUALLY WILL CUZ YOU ARE HUMAN—remember: A Good Person Acknowledges

rotating john gaius in my head and how he is both a coloniser and a victim of colonisation and how, when presented with the opportunity to rebuild all of society from the ground-up, chose not to model it after his own oppressed culture, but instead after an aesthetic VERY CLOSELY ASSOCIATED WITH WHITE SUPREMACY (neoclassicism), and how his daughter is the only thing in his entire, expansive empire that he named in his language in ten thousand years, and how he perpetuates the cycle he himself was a victim of. tearing my hair out tazmuir WHEN I GET YOU

on joints and movies | frat au prongsfoot | 652 words

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair.

It’s the only thing Sirius has been able to think all day. It isn’t fair, on violent repeat in his head, and it isn’t. Just last night, James had been on top of him— James, with his beautiful brown eyes and his soft honey skin and everything else that Sirius is addicted to— and now they’re back to being friends.

It isn’t fair, but it’s the only way it can be. Because for all the drunken nights and kisses and confessions, neither of them are gay. They aren’t. James runs through girls at a pace that is truly impossible to keep up with, and Sirius— Sirius has had sex with girls before, and it’s not unbearable. They seem to like it, at least, always wanting to spend the night and get coffee in the morning, and that’s more than can be said for James.

“Here,” James reaches over his shoulder, offering the joint to Sirius. He’s sat on the floor in front of the couch where Sirius is perched, watching Superbad for what must be the millionth time. One of the sororities had an event tonight that’s left the house mostly empty, and so it’s just the two of them in the living room.

Sirius takes the joint and puts it in his mouth to take a puff. He’s glad James is facing away from him. All day, he’s been putting forth a very concerted effort to not think about the pit in his stomach or the way his heart skips a beat every time James looks at him, but it’s futile, now. All he can think is it’s not fair, and all he can remember is the feeling of James’ fingers wrapped around him.

It might never happen again— maybe that’s what scares Sirius the most. Last night could’ve been the last time James ever touches him, and he’ll have to be at ease with that. This thing wasn’t ever going to last very long, anyway. James will pick one of his girls to start dating, and Sirius will find one that he doesn’t hate very much, and this entire thing will be a faded memory, a dalliance they might laugh over with their wives. 

Except, as his fingers brush James’ handing the joint back, he knows it won’t. Not for him. James is facing away from him, like he always is, and Sirius is melting into the couch. Sirius is being soaked up by the beer-stained fabric, and James doesn’t notice. Sirius is thirty years in the future still clutching on to the memory of James kissing his neck, and James is married with kids who don’t know that he experimented in college. 

By the time the credits roll, Sirius is doing his best to hold back tears. The weed wasn’t a good idea— it makes everything feel worse, every emotion feel amplified. It makes it all feel inescapable: that he can’t keep brushing off what he feels about James, that it means far more than what he’s been telling himself it does, and that none of this changes the fact that it means absolutely nothing to James.

They sit in silence until the screen fades to black, and even then it takes a minute for James to reach for the remote. Once the TV is turned off, James sets the remote back on the floor and turns to Sirius with those big, gorgeous eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Sirius’ heart stutters in his chest, because this is James. This is his best friend, his roommate, his soulmate. James, who isn’t a distant and apathetic love interest— he’s Sirius’ friend. And he’s right there, right in front of Sirius, and he knows that something is wrong.

“Can we talk about it later?”

They won’t, but James agrees. It’s enough, the little admission that there is something. It isn’t fair, but it’s enough.

James wished he could blame it on the alcohol, but the dizziness that overtook his entire body when Sirius whispered in his ear, his hips grinding against James’ arse, was from a whole different kind of drug.

He was almost tempted to dance off beat just to feel his friend redirect him again, hand pressing burns into his hip. But it felt even better when he did something right and Sirius whispered praises, breath brushing against the shell of his ear.

Ever the show off, he perused the dance floor for inspiration. Something flashy. His eyes kept drifting back to the couple dancing in front of them, one man wearing a hickey into the other’s neck.

Now, how to entice Sirius to do that to him?

There.

James bent over at the waist, keeping his arse firmly pressed against Sirius. Then he shook it, drinking in the way his mate’s grip clenched against his hips.

More, James thought, his competitive spirit and thrill at pleasing Sirius sending blood rushing to his head.

He popped a squat—his body flesh with Sirius’ the whole time—turning around to face Sirius, and grinned. He hoped his expression looked flirtatious and conniving, but there was a near 100% chance it was just goopy and giggly. James kept eye contact with his mate as he slowly stood up, swaying his hips and running his hands up the backs of Sirius’s legs, fingers learning every crook and bend of his body.

He stop one hand on Sirius’ backend, giving it a cheeky squeeze, and let the other arm rest loosely over his shoulder.

“How’s that, Pads?” James said under his breath. His whole body shook from nerves so violently that he couldn’t muster more than a whisper.

His mind nearly spiralled into the ‘oh my god, what have I just done’ territory when Sirius’s arm looped back around his waist, pulling him closer. With his other hand Sirius gently held James’ jaw.

“So you do have a little gay in you.” Sirius smirked.

James gulped. “A lot more than a little.”

Sirius had gotten good at faking it. He’d gotten good at the smiles and the flirting and the hinting at women sharing his bed. He mentioned the clubs and changed the pronouns and he got good at it.

He got good at lying to James. He’d never wanted to be good at lying to James.

He’d gotten so good at it that when James and Lily broke up and James needed an outlet to “let loose” that he’d turned to Sirius and asked where he normally went.

And, of course, Sirius had given the name of the only bar he could think of.

One he hadn’t been to in a year, which could be in his best interest now as hopefully none of his old hookups would be there. But still.

He’d very much given the name of a gay bar to newly singly James Potter.

He debated calling in help but Remus wouldn’t understand the urgency. Had never understood why Sirius didn’t go out with it and tell James he was gay. James would understand, Remus was certain. It wouldn’t change anything.

But Remus didn’t know about the countless practice kisses. The times they’d share beds to stave off the cold. Didn’t know that the only reason James couldn’t see Sirius’ feelings was that he’d never thought them possible.

Sirius was a womanizer.

He’d carefully made sure James knew that. Believed that.

Because otherwise, his friend might see. Might see the arms thrown over shoulders, the lingering hugs, the blushes, the smile he couldn’t control at hearing Lily had finally left him.

Things that a straight best friend might get away with. Things that a queer friend wouldn’t.

But then he’d gone and given James the name of London’s number one gay night club.

And he was fucked.

This silly little doodle was born from a hilarious convo with the wonderful @orangez3stt / @manilovewater ! You’re the best, vod 🥰

Inspo meme below the cut!

the doctor in the next season of doctor who should be played by hugh laurie, and he will be literally just playing doctor house as doctor who

and his companion, instead of some random girl, will be wilson

thank you for coming to my ted talk

i genuinely think a stud could fix me

prongsfoot and their homoerotic on-pitch antics

i love how as a fandom we have rejected the canon that kiriona and ianthes tower prince frogging is silver

we said “no, theyre gold embellishment girlies”

isn’t she just the sunniest

plus sized lily, HUGE nosed James, and butt ugly wet rat remus plssss

BRO LET THE MARAUDERS CHARACTERS BE UGLY

I'm so serious about this plsss they cannot all possibly be conventionally attractive

Genuinely though most fanart of the marauders characters is like INSANELY different from what they look like in canon,, which in a lot of cases is fine like I think making the marauders cast more diverse is a lot more fun and less boring and uh yes I'm a fan but this means more than making them different races/ethnicities this means making them different body types and different facial features

Because even though we pride ourselves on making the fandom super diverse and shit we still make all the characters adhere to like eurocentric beauty standards, and the only characters that don't look like fucking super models are characters the fandom generally dislikes.

a lot of times fanart is the same exact button nose, more like white facial features and the only difference is that some characters are darker than others and MAYBE they'll have different hair textures.

Just because a character isn't attractive to you doesn't mean they're suddenly a bad character or objectively unattractive.

plssss can we start diversifying the marauders cast (also I'm not gonna like beat people up if they keep drawing all the characters the same like you choose how you engage in fandom I'm just personally tired of this)