Omg The Way I’m Screaming And Smiling And Kicking My Feet Over Your Addition To My Dribble ❤️It’s

McGonagall was a jily shipper and partnered them together for class work every chance she got from 5th year on. Lily assumed it was because she struggling in the class but she secretly loved having a reason to spend time with James.

McGonagall was James’s biggest advocate for becoming head boy

someones coming alright….

this was @ taylordaisies on tiktok, i jus cropped for better viewing

I’m planning an au fic where Maysilee wins the 50th hunger games 🤭 it’ll centre around life as a mentor, up until the end of the 74th games

and she’s also a lesbian in it duh

“the gaylors are going to have a field day with this”

so you agree, it seems gay? it’s queer coding? you see it too.

Lack of wolfstar is my middle name actually

"How can you say Sirius was best friend with Lily- he didn't even mention her!"

All I need to know is Lily's letter. Thank you.

“We need more fucked up women characters” “we need more evil gay characters” oh but Ianthe Tridentarius is too much for you? A woman eats her cousin, puppets his corpse around like a meat bag, and sides with an all powerful god-emperor and suddenly she’s “wrong” and what she’s doing is “unforgivable”? God forbid women have hobbies.

nvm so I did finish the second half lmao

they pining 🙄🤢

btw can James wear lipstick more pls.. he's so...

if I get a content label for this completely non explicit art, I'm suing Tumblr

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.

The Emperor Undying, the Kindly Prince, Necroslut Prime.