me: I ship them

friend: oh like romantically?

me: no. like cursed object passed between hands for centuries, they are cosmically linked, probably bonded by blood ritual, I think they’ve fought in a war together in at least three lifetimes, and their souls make direct eye contact every time they breathe in the same room

friend: so… romantically?

me: yeah. like. with kissing.

me: i love this ship because they understand each other on a level no one else does

also me: i love this ship because they misunderstand each other constantly and it’s causing irreparable damage to them and everyone around them

Authors who post like this are so deliciously unhinged. At this point it’s not even a fic- it’s a literary hostage situation, and i am ✨sat✨ ☕️

why do ppl do drugs when you can just experience the absolute high of meeting someone who isn’t just unhinged about your fandom but is also feral about your otps

I love when authors get all hyped about their own fics and the plot twists they just dropped. Like, I’ll scroll down to the author’s note and it’ll be something like, “omg you guys I can’t believe that just happened!!!” — as if they weren’t the ones who literally wrote it 😭😭 It’s so cute. It makes me ten times more excited to read because if the author’s losing their mind, I know I’m about to lose mine too.

Icl my favourite trope at the moment is two super buff boyfriends, except one of them is an absolute BEHEMOTH of a man, and when they stand next to each other it makes the other look downright twinky

like both have gym memberships, but one guy is so freakishly massive he could bench press a car, and the other—who’s still built like a Greek statue—looks like a malnourished twig in comparison.

Like, this “tiny” guy is objectively huge, but standing next to his boyfriend, he might as well be a featherweight.

true artistry.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot more since the 8b of 911 premiered, but its honestly so frustrating how queerbaiting has conditioned us to believe that if two queer characters have a quiet, subtle moment, it doesn’t mean anything. Meanwhile, if it was a straight couple having the exact same moment, we’d be calling it canon without hesitation. We’ve been gaslit into thinking that subtlety in queer relationships isn’t enough, that it has to be loud and in your face, or it’s just not real. And it’s honestly so exhausting, because it means queer love stories get stripped of the complexity and depth that we get to see in straight couples. We can apply this to so many couples, but for the sake of argument let’s use Buck and Eddie from 9-1-1 and early Jake and Amy from Brooklyn Nine-Nine—both have these subtle moments that could’ve been treated as romantic, but one gets to be labeled as canon while the other is constantly written off as queerbaiting.

From Season 2 of 9-1-1, Buck and Eddie have this bond that’s built on shared trauma, vulnerability, and understanding. They have these quiet, emotionally charged moments—like when Eddie confesses his fears to Buck, or when Buck rushes to Eddie’s side in moments of crisis—that scream romantic tension but are always kind of brushed aside as “just friendship.” If it was a straight couple, we would’ve had no problem calling it chemistry. But because it’s two men, it’s somehow dismissed. These moments are treated like nothing even though they’ve got all the depth and emotional weight of any romantic interaction we’d get with a straight couple.

Now, let’s look at Peraltiago in the earlier seasons. Their connection, especially in Season 1 and 2, had that same kind of slow burn. They shared subtle moments, too—like when Jake has Amy’s back, or when Amy sees Jake in a new light—but no one ever questioned whether those moments were romantic. They were just treated as chemistry, and we accepted it as part of the slow build to their eventual relationship. But Buddie gets no such luxury. Those same subtle moments, those shared glances, those intense, vulnerable moments between Buck and Eddie are left in limbo, constantly ignored or written off as “just queerbaiting.”

This is the heart of the issue. Queer couples have to fight for every moment to be validated, while straight couples get the benefit of the doubt. These subtle exchanges—where love can be felt through small touches, shared looks, and unspoken words—are treated as legitimate romantic tension when they happen between straight characters, but are seen as “nothing” or “too subtle” when they happen between queer ones.

And that’s what’s so draining about this whole system. The constant pressure for overtness makes queer relationships feel shallow, forced, or like they came out of nowhere when they’re finally allowed to be canon. And worse, if a show is canceled or a relationship isn’t explored enough, that same ambiguity leaves us in a space where we’re denied even the potential for recognition. Meanwhile, straight couples with the same kind of tension—those little moments—are just automatically treated as “canon,” even when the relationship never fully develops.

We deserve more than just “okay, fine, you can be gay if you must, but don’t make it too real.” Let us have those subtle moments, let queer love stories be allowed to grow in their own way without the constant demand for them to be louder or more explicit. Not every romantic relationship needs to be announced with fireworks. Sometimes, love is just there,quietly, in the moments that we don’t need to explain. It’s frustrating to see subtle, emotional connections between queer characters treated as nothing, while the same moments between straight couples are celebrated as tension or chemistry.

Just let us have our quiet love, too.