I Wanna Write A Canon!characterization Fic Now 🫢 My Boys Have Been Butchered In Fanon

prongsfoot and their homoerotic on-pitch antics

marauders fandom hating dumbledoor but loving barty has always confused me

Being in the marauders fandom and also being a dumbledore fan is interesting sometimes

Like I UNDERSTAND why people hate him I really do but I just can't unsee him from being this eccentric grandpa who loves sherbert lemons and wooly socks, has twinkling eyes and a secret tragic gay past

Hopping on the Propaganda I Will Not Fall For trend:

Dog person Sirius

Intimidating Regulus

Nonchalant Remus

Pandora Rosier

Seer Pandora

Abusive Lucius

Immodest Bellatrix

Idiot James and Sirius

Gold digger Lily

Regulus’ Voldemort shrine = research

Pinterest tattoos on Sirius Black

Abusive Lyall Lupin

never getting over it. reghabi and cobel being pitted against each other as they climbed lumons corporate ladder, two genius women, spiteful and determined. finding solace in each other, matching each others frequencies. cobel telling reghabi about her mom. reghabi peeling back lumons layers, realizing how irredeemably horrible it is, thinking cobel will be by her side as she tells her her plans to quit. cobel being promoted to severed floor manager, growing distant from reghabi, believing she's sacrificed too much to walk away with "nothing". reghabi quitting, cobel never hearing from her again. until petey kilmer dies, and the rumor spreads that he reintegrating. and cobel knows. you see it you see it you see it

they make me sick (i love them)

Wildest Take about Sirius Black?

Unrequited Prongsfoot goes harder

than Wolfstar

Severus: i'm telling you, Potter and Black might be...involved!

Lily: okay, first Lupin is a werewolf and now this? enough with these theories Sev!

3 years later, on James's birthday

*Sirius and James just quietly staring at each other thinking no one else is watching*

Lily: oh...oh my god

no one asked, but i wanna yap :)

her name is Eulalia “Bodach Bairn” Teufel, a teifling fighter, former pirate captain, and now lich.

at 11 she accidentally killed the captain of an infamous and ancient pirate crew, The Southern Kraken, by shoving him over a railing when he groped her mother, the barmaid. following pirate inheritance law, eulalia became the new captian.

for the next nine years she strove to prove herself as a good captain, paralyzed with fear that one of her crew members would kill her im her sleep as revenge for their former captain or ambition for her position.

until during a sea battle in the midst of a violent storm, The Callisto sunk. Like a the good captain she had been spending the better part of a decade fighting to be for honour and survival, Eulalia tied herself to the mast and went down with her ship.

But the universe would not accept her sacrifice, dishonouring her for life. Eulalia found herself washed up on the shores of a foreign country, and ashamed of her failures as a captain she resigned herself to a life of gambling and drinking.

Rory was the one to pull her out of her wallowing; a mediocre abjuration wizard in search of a fighter. for the next three years they worked together (along with the rest of their party) on quests, building trust and friendship. She told him about her survivors guilt and her ultimate goal of finding true honour.

While fighting a white drake, Eulalia and her party—save Rory—perished. Eulalia got her dream: a hero’s death. Rory, who’s main function in the party was support, had landed in his worst nightmare. His friends were dead, and he had survived. He spent hours searching for any cleric or druid to help save his friends, months searching for someone to resurrect them, and years working to afford a spell that could, but it was too late.

There was only one option: turn them all into Liches. For the next 20 years Rory worked, cracking the secrets to lich-dom, until finally, after losing many pieces of himself in the process, he brought his friends back to un-life.

Unfortunately, he was not a necromancer, nor even a particularly skilled wizard at all, so something went wrong. None of them remembered him upon waking, and everytime he tried to remind them or even say his own name they immediately forgot again.

Crushed that he couldn’t get his friends back, but comforted by the thought that at least they could continue to live their lives, he let them go, and resolutely slaughtered people every full moon to feed their phylactories.

Eulalia awoke, yet again failing to die with honour. The universe simply did not think she was worthy. Now, she found, she could not die at all, lich as she was. It didn’t take their party long to notice the missing villagers each full moon, and to realize that someone was killing innocent people to keep them alive. Not only was she not a hero, but she was also an abomination.

After months of living as a lich, Eulalia slowly started to properly mourn her concept of a good captain, realizing that maybe there was life after tragedy, swimming after the ship sinks.

Until her memories were returned. It wasn’t the universe that denied her honour, it was someone she considered her closest confidant. She wasn’t being given a pass by the gods, but rather stripped of being a hero by her friend. Someone who knew how much survivors guilt had haunted her.

my dnd oc <3 i could talk for hours about the campaign my dm home-brewed, but the theme is grief

James didn’t realize it was a gay club immediately; he hadn’t been out in muggle nightlife in years, comfortably coupled up as he had been, and wasn’t quite sure what muggle gay fashion looked like. Or muggle fashion at all. He’d had to ask Remus for aid getting dressed (dress robes did not exactly blend in to the clubbing scene) who was uncharacteristically eager to help.

They’d settled on a a tight t-shirt, cropped to James’ middrift, and embossed with the word “Queen” which he recognized as the name of one of the muggle bands Sirius listened to. Over that he wore a light jean jacket, rolled up to his elbows because it was hot, and a tiny pair of jeans shorts that barely covered his ass that Remus insisted were peak muggle fashion. Used to flowing wizard robes, James had tugged at the bursting seams of the shorts uncomfortably, but he had to agree that his muscled legs did look great in them. He’d then imagined Sirius’s reaction to them, and ashamed, thought it maybe best if he didn’t look great tonight. Wear some baggy pants and a dunce hat as punishment.

Anxious to see what Sirius himself was wearing, James sat on the living room couch, tapping his hands absentmindedly against his bare thighs. Sirius’ couch. The one he’d been sleeping on for the past two weeks while Lily moved out of his apartment. Was it wrong that he’d felt a tad relieved when she flooed him yesterday to say she hadn’t yet found a place to live? That he’d almost offered she just keep their apartment and he move in with Sirius?

Yes. James thought decidedly. He needed to move out before he got the urge to ask Sirius to share his bed.

It had been nice. Too nice. Living with Sirius. The quiet domesticity of it all. He’d accidentally made enough coffee for two the first morning, used to brewing it for Lily as well, but Sirius had happily lapped it up and then made them both dinner the next evening, and so they had fallen into the rhythm of living together. As easy as it was back at Hogwarts, and as easy as it seemed it could be forever. James would sweep the floors, Sirius would put on a record—something with a sexy beat and a raging guitar—and start miming the chords with those nimble fingers of his, and James would join in their air-band using the bewitched broom as his microphone. Soon they’d be dancing up on each other in the kitchen, faces flushed, screaming along to Dorea and The Dwarves.

But they were just playing house. And Although Sirius had ardently promised it could be forever, James knew he’d have to leave at some point before he did something so far out of the realm of platonic that he damaged their friendship forever.

So he’d kiss a girl at the club tonight, move back into his own apartment the next week, and pretend to wallow over Lily for a few weeks after that. It would be easy: he’d already been doing that his whole life.

Determination set in his brow, James stood up then, eager to take the first step towards this bleak future—when Sirius came hurdling into the living room, tripping himself up on James’ feet, and landing on the floor one hand gripped on James’ thigh for support.

A flush crept up James’ leg, over his abdomen, under that tiny Queen shirt, up his neck, and all over his face. Sirius was looking up at his with tentative horror, wide eyes lined with black so his grey irises stood out strikingly. He was kneeling at James’ feet, mouth slightly parted, and a large hand wrapped around James’ bare quad.

Sirius stood up quickly, rising over James so he had to look up to meet his friend’s eyes. This was almost worse. James had to do everything in his power to keep his gaze from wandering down to Sirius’ tight jeans or the shirt stretched across his broad chest.

Gods, James needed some firewhisky NOW.

“Smooth, huh?” Sirius chuckled, not meeting James’ gaze. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. The one that had just palmed James’ thigh. He didn’t dare look down, convinced he’d see his friend’s fingerprints inked into his bare leg.

“Yeah,” James said, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Seems you’re as ready to head out as I am.”

Sirius took the invitation to leave eagerly, stomping into his leather boots and passing James his sneakers.

James wished he owned those kiddy velcro shows as his trembling hands struggled to do up the laces.

They apparated to the bar—James side-along with Sirius since he wasn’t familiar with the location. It was in Soho, a neighborhood James didn’t frequent, a bustling place that night, the air filled with loud hoots, blinking lights, and the smell of cigarette smoke. Sirius led him out onto the street and down a block until they reached their venue. The Sundown Club sat on the corner of two streets in the basement of a building called the Astoria. A sign outside advertised a disco club called “Bang!”

“A lot of men here.” James noticed, eyeing the long line of 20-something men crowded around the street. They had barely left the house and his Be Straight plan was already falling apart with no potential women to seduce.

Sirius hurriedly mumbled something in response to not having been to the club in a year and how it could have changed from when he used to come and it was “just bursting with birds.”

James wasn’t a fan of imagining Sirius being swamped by drunk girls, so he changed the subject. “Hey, I’ve got you, so as long as they provide liquor and good music I’m content. What’s a ‘disco’ anyway?”

“Oh boy,” Sirius clapped, lighting up, “you’re gonna love it. Just wait till you see the ingenious way muggles light up the dance floor; they call it a ‘disco ball’.”

They made their way inside the club, passing by throngs of men lounging on the stairs. The men, James noticed, didn’t seem like the muggle ones he’d seen on the telly. Their tank tops bore long v-necks and they lay comfortably on each other, arms around the others necks, hands on their lad’s waist a little too low. Not a single girl was in sight. One man gave James an appraising look.

Sirius’ grip was tense around James’ bicep as he led them to the bar. He waved to the bartender, ordering them a round of shots. The man returned shortly with two glasses of amber liquid and refused the muggle money Sirius offered him.

“On the house,” the bartender boasted, “celebrating you finally finding someone.” He pointed his jaw at Sirius’ hand wrapped around James’ arm. “Cute one too.”

It was then that James noticed the word printed on the man’s tank top. ‘Gay.’ His stomach dropped to the floor. This was a gay bar.

How did Sirius know? He’d been so careful. Did Remus tell him? James couldn’t meet his friend’s eye.

“We’re not,” Sirius said tersely, dropping his arm like a hot coal. “He’s not.”

At the same time James said: “He’s not—“

“Ah.” The bartender said disappointedly. “Well, they’re on me anyway, Sirius.”

Sirius downed his shot faster than James had ever seen someone take one. James toyed with his, running a finger along the rim of the glass.

“He knows your name.” James didn’t know what to make of it.

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.

"Wolfstar would never happen during Hogwarts." I say. People are boo-ing. They want me off stage. "Wolfstar would only happen in adulthood if James died. As the last two survivors trope. In no universe that James is alive would Sirius end up with Remus." I continue. The crowd gets worse. "She's right!" I hear. I turn my head before leaving and see Remus fucking Lupin, who in fact is aware that he can't have Sirius in any universe where James breathes.

read here for more context