I’M SOBBING

reblog if your url represents who you really are 

We are the Pride Knights, and this is our battle cry No enemy can shake us, as hard as they can try There’s a fire in our eyes that no hatred can kill A passion in our hearts that’s as strong as our will To our fellow queers who fight their battles on their own We promise to fight with you, you are never alone To our fellow queers who have fallen with the pain We thank you for your courage, your fight is not in vain We are defenders of the right to be proud of who you are To love who you love and to accept every scar We are your knights, protectors of our pride Together we stand, together we ride

THESE ARE BACK FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY(!) The Pride Knights Playing Cards are now available for pre-order until June 30, 2024! Shipping to the US, UK, EU, Australia, New Zealand, and Canada!

prideknights.com ⚔️🌈

*The Balck brothers speaking French*

James: *Literally melts on the spot and finds it extremely hot*

Remus: Shut the fuck up, I don't speak croissant.

we love a devoted husband 🙏🏻♥️

©: credits

Percy: Nico is at that very special age where a kid only has one thing on their mind.

Jason: Boys?

Nico: Homicide.

you dislike Luke Castellan because he disagreed with an oppressive government system and actually took action to change the abusive ways him and his peers have been forced to follow for millennia.

I dislike Luke Castellan because in the Titans Curse he manipulated Annabeth, who he raised as his little sister, into holding up the sky, the FUCKING sky, for over 20 hours and had the audacity to walk away as though he was completely apathetic towards it while she begged and pleaded with him to help her.

we are not the same.

do you think j.k. rowling has read all the young dudes

reporter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 651

“Mr. Black!”

Regulus froze.

He turned, shoulders drawn tight beneath his coat. A woman in sleek navy robes with a press badge clipped to her chest pushed past a half-hearted security ward with a quick flick of her wand.

She smiled. “Regulus Black, isn’t it? Mind if I ask you a few questions? Just a minute of your time—”

“I don’t do interviews,” Regulus said curtly, already stepping back.

“But the fans are dying to know more about the man behind the legend,” she pressed, stepping in his path. “What’s it like, being married to James Potter? Is he as wild at home as he is on the field?”

Regulus’ stomach twisted.

She laughed at her own innuendo. “Is he competitive? Messy? Or does he practice catching things around the house just for fun?”

He didn’t answer. He was trying to breathe—trying to remember how to breathe through the sudden thundering in his ears. He hated this. He hated being seen. He was never meant to be a public figure, even in marriage. James understood that. James promised.

But the woman wasn’t done.

“Come on, just one detail. Where’d you two meet? Is it true he chased you for years? Or that he proposed midair? Was it a Quidditch ball or a ring he tossed you first?”

Regulus flinched, like she’d thrown it at him now. The crowd behind them blurred—cheering, chanting, whistling, calling James’ name like he was a god.

He was going to throw up. Or hex someone.

And then like magic James appeared:

“Oi! That’s enough!”

The voice cut through everything. James.

Regulus turned, relief hitting like a gust of wind.

James was still in half his gear—pads undone, gloves hanging from one hand, hair a chaotic mess from the wind and the win. He was flushed with victory and still flying high, but the moment his eyes landed on Regulus, everything softened.

He didn’t even look at the reporter.

He walked straight to Regulus.

“Sorry,” he said, not even breathless, not even pretending. “My husband doesn’t give interviews. He barely gives me answers, and I’ve been trying for a decade.”

Regulus’ laugh was small, but real. He felt James’ fingers skim the back of his hand, the smallest touch. The only one he needed.

The reporter opened her mouth again, undeterred. “James, just one—”

James turned, all charm now sharpened to steel. “No.”

It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t loud. But it ended the conversation.

He reached for Regulus properly then, tugging him close by the waist, arm slung so securely it felt like armor.

“Let’s go home,” James murmured, forehead resting briefly against Regulus’ temple. “I left the champagne chilling and the bed unmade.”

Regulus didn’t reply. Just nodded. Let himself be led past the flash of cameras, the calls of teammates and fans. Let himself breathe again.

It was only once they were safely past the warded doors, walking the empty corridor toward the locker rooms, that he spoke.

“You unmade the bed on purpose.”

James grinned. “Of course I did.”

Regulus looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes. “I hate that they talk to me like that. I hate that they think being your husband means I owe them anything.”

James’ expression gentled. “You don’t. You never have. You know that, yeah?”

“I know,” Regulus murmured. “It’s just... overwhelming.”

James pulled him closer, walking slower now, dragging them both to a stop beside a bench.

He kissed Regulus’ cheek—soft, warm, grounding. “I play for the world,” he said. “But I fly for you. And I’d give up the whole damn stadium if it meant you never had to flinch again.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but they were glassy. “You’re dramatic.”

James shrugged. “You married me anyway.”

A beat. Then Regulus said, “I’ll unmake the bed next time.”

James’ smile turned wicked. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”