#ABOUT THE ACTUAL PROBLEM WHY IS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU

[ceesimz]

roses

you want to make your first sant jordi together perfect for her.

“Ale?” You called out, hearing a hum from the vague direction of the lounge. 

You'd just arrived at her place, reluctantly waking up in separate apartments on a free Sunday in early April since Alexia had a family thing the night before, and you spent the evening at Ingrid’s with a few friends. Individually, both of you had a good time, but it wasn’t without a grumble from you at having to walk up alone. You slept better with Alexia beside you, somehow she helped with your sleeping problems better than anything else you had tried. Whether that be because she’s a naturally calm person and that seeps into you, putting you at ease, or having her there worked as a distraction since you always fall asleep drowning in each other’s arms or with her fingertips running up and down your back soothingly.

The night before, however, you didn’t sleep too well. Your mind wouldn’t shut off at all. But, it allowed you to do some thinking. And the next morning, you walked into her apartment with a plan of action.

She was, what would seem uncharacteristic to others but not to you at all, sprawled out on her sofa, all long limbs in an oversized navy Nike tracksuit. The girl was like a sloth sometimes, a description of her she didn’t appreciate, yet one you loved to tease her with. As you rounded the corner from the hallway, she dropped her phone against her chest and glanced up at you with a warm smile. The sight of her so happy to see you never got old.

“Bon dia.” She uttered with a content sigh, moving an arm behind her head as she watched you take off your jacket and slide your shoes off. Then, you headed over to her, and her smile got wider as she braced herself for you to lay on top of her. You didn’t, to her disappointment. You sat by her feet, a determined look on her face. “What’s up with you?”

“I need you to tell me everything I need to know about Sant Jordi.”

Well, that, the brunette wasn’t expecting.

“Why?” She asked curiously, sitting up a little to lean back on her hands, her eyebrows pressed down into a confused scowl. All she wanted was a hug, but here she was having to give a history lesson.

“Because you said it’s your favourite holiday. So I need you to tell me all about it, so that I can make plans for us.”

Your words offered her a hug instead; her heart fluttered in her chest at the demand from you. It was incredibly sentimental to her, so much so she felt her cheeks heat up the tiniest bit.

“You want to make plans for it?” Alexia wondered, eyebrows now raised with a hopeful smile on her face that she tried to disguise.

“Of course I do. It’s your favourite.” You repeated, replying to her question like the answer was obvious. Because of course you wanted to make her favourite day of the year live up to her standards, and more.

“Okay.” Alexia blinked as she looked at the seriousness on your face, trying to process what was happening. There were butterflies in her stomach, like she was a teenager after their first kiss. But no, it was just you, and your limitless thoughtfulness and compassion. It only made her love you more, made her more excited for the holiday to come, because it was her first with you and that was good enough for her without all the added extras you seemed set on adding. “Well, what do you want to know?” 

You pulled your phone out, opened up your notes, pressing on the already half-written page from your impromptu research the night before, and looked back up at her.

“Everything, Alexia.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at your response. Not at your dedication, because she found that outrageously endearing, but at how deadset on this you were. How deadset you were on making her feel loved, and that was something she treasured more than you could ever know.

“Only if you actually give me a hug first. Maybe a kiss too for extra motivation if I have to tell you everything.”

You rolled your eyes at her, though fell for it regardless. You dropped your phone and watched as she shuffled closer, visible excitement on her face as if she hadn’t kissed you a hundred times before. She sat up properly and held your face with her hands on the side of your head, leaning in so fast you almost clashed heads, but that was the last thing on your mind the moment her lips landed on yours. They were soft, like always, soft and familiar, and the way they moved against yours had you wondering why on earth you’d delayed the moment when you arrived. 

Until your thoughts trailed off from her and back to the task at hand.

“So,” You started as you pulled away from her mouth with a wet smack. Your phone was back in your hand and you were straight back to business before she’d even registered that you had broken it off. “Tell me about it.”

Her hands were still cradling your face, eyes on yours as she caught her breath back. You looked down at her, eyebrow raised as you waited for her to compose herself again. After she inhaled another deep breath, she searched your eyes to check for any ounce of doubt or sarcasm as she took a moment to realise… just how much it meant to her that you were offering this.

“You’re really serious about this?” She murmured a moment later, a sheepish expression on her face. 

“Yes. I am. It’s our first together, I want to get it right.” You admitted quietly, a slightly embarrassed red tinge to your cheeks as she beamed at you, her thumbs stroking over your cheekbones. She leaned in again, a gentler kiss this time, one that conveyed her adoration rather than any other meaning.

“That means so much to me.” She whispered against your lips when she pulled away. A soft smile formed on your face at her words, because they alone were worth it and you hadn’t even done anything yet. That was exactly why you were doing it.

“Can only do it if you tell me.” You teased, turning your head to kiss her palm.

Alexia chuckled gently, shifting to sit back against the sofa and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into her a little. You turned slightly so that your back was to her shoulder and her hand slipped down to your chest, your own reaching up to link with hers and resting there. With a warmth in her chest, finally having you where she wanted you and a topic at hand where its future with you both excited her immeasurably, she was wholly content.

“I don’t even know where to start with it.” 

How could she explain it to you? The day spoke for itself. She hadn’t ever explained it to anyone before because it’d always just been there in her life, woven into April and she’d never known anything different. Now though, she had you, who hadn’t even heard of it until one movie night early on in your friendship where she rambled about it for twenty minutes straight when you asked if she liked Valentine’s Day. She had scoffed, to your confusion, before giving a hundred-and-one reasons why Sant Jordi was far superior due to the deep-rooted culture and everything else about it that fascinated her still, even after thirty years of it. Maybe you would have better knowledge of it, had you actually paid attention to what she was saying rather than how she looked. 

It wasn’t a holiday, exactly, more like the heartbeat of her city. A day where love drifted in the wind, swirling in the air, like oxygen, which it almost was. Nobody could survive without love and that’s what the day was about, always had been, since that time with the dragon and the rose that sprouted after. Since then, no matter what a person was going through, a simple rose was enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Because a Sant Jordi rose wasn’t simple, it was more than just a tradition. It was love with roots, dating back centuries and sure to last for yet more to come. Giving a rose to you and receiving one from you on this day, to Alexia, meant that you had both chosen to love each other and wanted to tell so in the language of the place that meant everything to her. As she was explaining, she felt herself become giddy with excitement. It was hard to put it into words when all that was on her mind was you and roses and books and dragons and-

“You’re trailing off, Ale. Stay on topic.”

Right.

The brunette wholeheartedly believed there was never a more beautiful day in Barcelona than on Sant Jordi. There was a particular way the city softened then. Streets transformed from fast-moving busyness to slow streams of people stopping in their step, not out of obligation but from wonder. From actually pausing their life, taking a breath, and appreciating things they missed in daily life. Love, community, humanity. Something shifted in everybody during the holiday. Strangers smiled easily, weightless from their usual burdens, desperate to share the serenity they felt with others. Vendors with hundreds of the most gorgeous roses you could find handed them out willingly to everyone with the same care reserved for their loved ones, because that’s just what the day made you do. It was good, whilst also unfairly rare to have a reason to give beauty just for the sake of it. 

Deep down, maybe that’s why most people loved it. It was an excuse to share the pure sides of humankind in a world that lacked it so much.

And the way people showed these things was with the roses, yes, but books too. Alexia recalled her mother saying something to her when she was younger, where she had asked why it was books and roses, and her answer was ‘one for the mind, one for the heart.’ That memory came racing back to her, bringing a reminiscing smile to her face, before echoing it to you too. There was the legend of the knight and the dragon, of blood turned into rose, of course, but there was the celebration of two authors too, Cervantes and Shakespeare. So while the rose speaks of love, the book speaks of connection. To give one is just as precious as receiving one. It’s a gift of thought and attention, where someone has listened to another and decided on something that will resonate with them, whether it’s a topic about what they long for, what they fear, what they want to learn, or what they treasure. It’s sacred, in a way that’s different to the rose, but just as meaningful. 

The day was solely dedicated to care, to language, culture, and love. All the things that were most important to Alexia. She thought about it often in the weeks leading up to it, and apparently so did you. That gave her even more reasons, added to the already infinite list, of why you were her person.

“Wow.” You breathed out in awe when she finished, thumbs paused over your phone screen because you hadn’t quite expected her to go so in depth. She opened up to you about it, completely and honestly. You might be the worst person ever if you didn’t make it the best day of her life. 

“Yeah.” Alexia hummed, her ramble having caught herself off guard. But, sharing her adoration for the day with someone new, where she had to explain all the reasons she enjoyed it which she hadn’t really done out-loud before, simply reignited her love for it and made it stronger. “Was that… too much at once?”

You put your phone down, it being the last thing on your mind then, then turned around to face her. The midfielder seemed a bit shy, embarrassed even, and you had to change that.

“No. Never too much. You explained it a million times better than I thought you would. Thank you for sharing all that with me.” You told her, eyes wide and sincere as she met your gaze. She let out a small relieved sigh, before her lips widened into an admiring smile. 

“I can’t wait to spend it with you.” You gave a cheesy grin at her adorable comment, then got straight down to business.

“Who do you want to spend the day with?” You questioned, waiting for her answer expectantly as she frowned at you.

“You, obviously.” The midfielder answered.

“Okay, but I mean, don’t you want to see your family too? Some friends maybe? You don’t want to have lunch with Alba and your mother, dinner with your close friends, that kind of thing?” 

“No. Just you.” 

Oh. That took you by surprise a bit. You were flattered by her, and you couldn’t exactly hide it either with the way you blushed a moment or two after she spoke. She noticed and smirked at you, proud of her charm.

“Well, I still think we should visit Alba and Eli anyway, give them some roses.” You compromised, feeling a tad guilty for snatching your girlfriend away from her family.

“Sure.” Alexia shrugged. “As long as I get the whole day with you.”

“You will.” You mumbled under her piercing attention, her eyes unmoving from your face. “And where do you want to go together? What would you like us to do?”

It was then that she looked away. How could she say what she wanted to say without extinguishing your excitement?

“Let me take the lead on that. I know you want to surprise me, and you still can, but I want to show you to some of my favourite places, okay? I know all the good spots and I want to show you why I love them. I'd really like to share them with you.” You seemed to deflate at that, her wishes going against the rough plan you had for how this conversation would go, as well as Sant Jordi itself.

“But I want to surprise you, Ale.” You said dejectedly, which only made her smile. She leaned forward and kissed your cheek, hoping to cheer you up back into your good mood.

“I know, and I’ll let you. But I want to give you a good day too. Let me organise where we go, what we see, and you can do anything else you would like. Fifty-fifty.” She suggested, watching your reaction as you took a minute to think. After a moment or two, your eyes narrowed skeptically at her.

“Sixty-forty.” You bartered, which she laughed at. Nevertheless, she agreed.

“Fine.” 

Once that had been decided, she wrapped her arms back around you and pulled you into her. She nestled her head into your neck and dotted kisses up and down it, before settling comfortably on the couch with you in her hold as she smiled into your skin, with daydreams of the two of you on Sant Jordi clouding her mind.

—

Then the day arrived, finally. It felt like you’d waited an age for it. 

You were up as the sun rose, Alexia still away with the fairies in bed, and moving around the apartment as you checked your preparations for the millionth time. There was email after email on your phone, confirming your various orders of roses and their deliveries. Yellow ones for Ingrid, since she was your best friend and it felt wrong not to acknowledge how much you loved her on a day like today. Then some more for Jana and Aitana, who had helped you in planning and with where to get the best roses one could find in Barcelona, as well as their meaning. You felt endlessly grateful for everyone in your life, you’d give roses to them all if you could. 

However, your main focus was the sleeping form in your bedroom, whom you were about to make breakfast in bed for. On the menu for her, a smoked salmon omlette with traditional Catalan toasted bread, and a coffee. Simple, but her favourite for a day-off. Except it was her favourite when… she made it. It wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were going to give it a try, considering you wanted to surprise her. 

And it worked, it didn’t come out half bad, and just as you’d served it up onto a breakfast tray for her with a coffee from the ridiculously fancy espresso machine she didn’t need (and took you months to learn just how to turn it on), the door rang with the most important delivery for the day. Her roses. Perfect timing for you to pick one out, wrap a Senyera ribbon around it, and put it on the tray with her breakfast. 

She was still out for the count when you walked back in, on her side with an arm outstretched where you would lay, something that brought a smile to your face as you put the tray on her bedside table. You sat on the edge of the bed and gently nudged her shoulder, causing her to stir.

“Bon dia, Ale.” You whispered, hearing her usual grumble at being woken up before she naturally woke up. “Wake up, you’ve slept long enough.”

“Wow.” She huffed groggily, rolling onto her back and rubbing her face tiredly. As she did so, you leaned over and grabbed the rose, presenting it to her as she opened her eyes. Her grumpy expression faded instantly, replaced by one of shy gratitude as she reached out to take it. “Thank you, amor.” 

“Feliç Sant Jordi.” 

Sitting up properly, Alexia met you halfway as you leaned in with a hand on her thigh to steady yourself. A kiss full of tenderness, brimming excitement for the day ahead, was the best way to start her day. Even better? It was followed by breakfast cooked with care and a coffee brewed to perfection (you couldn’t take credit for that, it was the machine) that hit the spot for her. It was only early morning, and it was already her favourite one she’d celebrated so far.

“Happy first Sant Jordi.” Alexia grinned sleepily, gazing at you with an admiration like it was your first day on earth. “You did a good job with the rose, it’s beautiful.”

“I had some help.” You admitted sheepishly, to which she shrugged it off. 

“Don’t care. Still your brain behind it.” She murmured, leaning back in again to steal another kiss from you. “I love you. Love everything about you. Happier than ever with you.”

“Shut up, eat your food.” You blushed, cheeks burning as she smirked at you before reaching for her coffee. “I love you too.”

“I can’t wait for you to see the city later.” Her eyes had a look of childlike wonder in them as she thought of what waited for you both outside the walls of your apartment. Before that, she had some bigger priorities she needed to deal with. She swallowed her mouthful of coffee before addressing you with a desperate question. “Did you leave time fo-”

“Yes, I left time for us to spend in bed after breakfast. Hurry up and eat, then we’ll have longer.” 

The girl was nothing without lazy mornings in bed, wrapped up in each other. Neither were you.

—

A couple hours later, after time together in the peace of the bedroom and a quick trip to her mother’s, the pair of you were wandering the streets, hand in hand and taking in the relaxed nature of everyone that you passed. There was this mutual contentment which possessed each person that celebrated the holiday, something that you loved being around. You hadn’t even made it to the main parts Alexia wanted to take you to.

She looked different. More relaxed than you’d seen her. She was calm, fully in the moment, everything loud in her life far away from her mind. Not a second went by without a smile on her face, whether it be one that stretched across her cheeks or one that was simply an upwards quirk of her lip. You adored seeing her so happy, seeing how much she loved the day.

At first, the city didn’t seem too different. There were red petals scattered every few steps on the tiled ground, some fresh and some bruised, and there was something poetic about that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The sun had decided to come out too, only adding to the atmosphere around. But apart from that, everything seemed normal. Just the early stirrings of Barna waking up.

Until you got closer and closer to the very heart of the city, where you turned one corner, and the streets became something else entirely. It was a slow unravelling of everything the day embodied; each person had a rose and a wheat sprig with an unbridled smile on their face, there was stall after stall as you stepped foot onto Passeig de Gràcia, tin buckets filled with bouquet after bouquet of flowers, wooden tables creaking under the weight of the countless books stacked on them. It was unlike anything you had ever seen.

Barcelona truly did look like something out of a fairytale, just like your girlfriend had rambled about.

“This is the best place to be.” Alexia murmured into your ear as you paused to take in everything that was happening ahead of you.

And like every time she’d declared something before, she really wasn’t wrong.

Despite the crowds, you didn’t feel overwhelmed, because every single individual was sharing the same passion, celebrating the same traditions, holding their love to a higher importance. It was addictive, you wished everyday was like it. You would be more than happy, consider yourself lucky even, to live in this city for the rest of your life.

You moved slowly through the street, another ripple in the current of people fascinated like you were. The scent of roses was strong, how could it not be with how many hundreds there were in every square meter, with the metallic echo of scissors cutting stems each time a fresh flower was bought for someone that was treasured by their company. Honestly, that might have been your favourite thing about it, like Alexia had said; the love was so easily shared, each person so deeply valued, it didn’t matter that you were all strangers because it didn’t feel like it there. With the contagion of love in the area, you felt bonded to everyone that passed by you. It was a weird phenomenon to feel such a way, but you didn’t question it. No one questioned it. That’s just what Sant Jordi was, that was its pride.

Alexia had given you a rose after breakfast, having hid a bouquet for you out on her balcony. Even if you had expected it, it still did something to your heart as she handed it over to you. However, neither of you had exchanged books yet. You had a plan you kept to yourself, and so did Alexia. Yours was the first that came to fruition. 

One of her favourite authors had a stall that day where they were selling a new book Alexia had spoken about a number of times in the last few weeks. You had to, shamelessly, stalk her Amazon account to make sure she hadn’t pre-ordered it for herself. Fortunately, she didn’t, and the days since it was released ticked by without it suddenly making an appearance in her travel bag or on her coffee table. So when you saw the stall in question, the book standing out to you instantly on the table, you stopped the pair of you in place and turned to her with a beaming grin.

“Stay here.” You told her randomly, before rounding the corner and disappearing from her view. 

She frowned, a little suspicious, but did as you said regardless. As she waited, she saw a stall for fresh churros with chocolate off in the distance, mouth already watering as she thought of them. Anyway, just as you’d demanded, she stayed where she was until you came back, twiddling with the rose she’d tucked into the pocket of her jacket over her chest whilst she took in the surroundings. All that crossed her mind was that this truly felt like home. It grounded her, a reminder of where she came from and what she was representing on the global stage that football was. And she was proud to do that, indescribably so.

“Close your eyes, hold your hands out.” You appeared in front of her again, hands behind your back as you waited for her to follow through on your instructions. Once she had done as you said, you placed the book into her hands, the seller having even gone one step further and tying a red ribbon around the item too. “Open.”

The brunette looked down at the gift and let out a tiny gasp, glancing back up at you in slight disbelief. There was something about not only being heard and seen by people in her life, but having someone actually do something with all they learnt that landed inside her with a quiet kind of significance. 

“Mi amor.” She exhaled a shaky breath, a downturned smile on her face at the surprise. “Thank you. This is… thank you. You’re amazing.”

She drew you in for a tight embrace, there, in the middle of the avenue, where you couldn’t fend off the pleased grin that grew as a result of her reaction. Maybe she had wanted to buy it for herself which, to some, might have made it less of a surprise, but not to her. Things like this struck a chord within her, triggered that sentimental part of her that couldn’t ever really get over the fact people adore her so much they’d do something this thoughtful. 

“I had to muddle through the limited Catalan I know to get it but… luckily I know how to say that I need a gift for my hot g-” 

“Alright, you ruined it.” Alexia tutted, cutting you off with her words and a kiss that silenced your teasing pretty quickly. “You keep beating me to things, I need to step up my game.”

“God, you really have to turn everything into a competition.” You scoffed, to which she grinned and took hold of your hand again to start leading you both down the avenue.

“Of course. And I’m going to win myself back a goal by buying you the best churros you can find, right now.” 

Suddenly, the most sickeningly sweet scent you’d ever experienced invaded your senses and you had to hold in a groan at the deliciousness of it as she slotted you both into the queue. Churros had fastly become one of your favourite treats, but not something you indulged in often since, obviously, you were a footballer and they weren’t exactly the most nutritious things in the world. When else was a better time to share some with your girlfriend than on Sant Jordi? 

“You’re saying churros are better than your book?” You feigned a dejected expression and tone, feeling a tiny bit guilty at the panic on her face, but not when she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and grazed her lips against your temple.

“Never.” She reassured you, rolling her eyes when she heard you giggle. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Very lucky, it turned out, because she wasn’t lying when she said they were the best churros. For a little while longer, you walked along the avenue, your hand on her upper arm which held the cardboard tray, each of you picking from it every so often and laughing when some of the chocolate dripped down Alexia’s chin. You swiped it away with your thumb before letting her lick it off, not even ashamed about being that couple in public. You were in your own bubble, basking in the company and the devotion that thrived between you. It was quickly turning out to be one of your favourite days with her, maybe even ever in your life.

Shortly before you left Passeig de Gràcia, Alexia brought you to the place everybody wanted to see on Sant Jordi – Casa Batlló. It was front and center of the holiday, the photo that marked every headline in the news, and rightly so. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it. 

“Worth letting me plan the day, no?” Alexia joked quietly, standing behind you as you gazed up at the building. Her hands were low on your waist, thumbs stroking up and down. As the day ticked by, it got seemingly harder and harder for her to control her devotion, it was just overflowing from her.

“This place is amazing.” You stated in awe; the longer you looked at it, the more details you spotted. From that building alone, with so much history embedded into its architecture, was enough reason to love Sant Jordi. “I never knew all this about Barcelona and Catalunya when I joined.”

“Now you have me to show you. Every year, for the rest of our lives.” She spoke soothingly, the words meant for you and you only. This woman.

“Somebody is really in their feels today, huh.” 

You were joking about it, but the whole day it’d set you alight. Never had being in a relationship felt so right to you. You were certain that you hadn’t known love before her, and she was really taking advantage of the holiday to show exactly how she felt towards you. God only knows you were feeling the same about her.

“What better day to do it? I love you. Let me love on you.” She replied, raw, vulnerable, honest. Her openness was one of the things you adored most about her, she never shied away from saying exactly what was on her mind. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” 

With her hands that sat on your hips, she span you around to face her, drawing you in closer just a bit. Her gaze was intense, communicating things that you didn’t want to share with anyone else, wanting to keep it between the two of you. 

“Your book.” She said out of nowhere, dragging you out of your thoughts and back to the present. One hand slipped away, reaching behind her back and presenting a small book, small enough to fit in her jeans pocket. You scanned over it, not quite sure what it was. “It’s a poetry book in Catalan. A lot of my favourites, some that are really important to me. Some that I’ve shared with you before and some that I haven’t yet because they feel too special to speak aloud, too sacred to translate. I wanted you to read it because it’s everything I’ve never said. But it’s always been for you, about you. And, I don’t know, maybe you’ll read the things in there and… think of me.” 

You didn’t answer, not right away. You stared at her, then the book, and back to her. The object turned from something light, like a feather in your hands, to something heavy with a pulse. This was the closest she could get to giving you her heart.

No part of you could quite comprehend how esteemed and dear this gift was. Whether the crowds were dying down or you were just honed in on the book and your girlfriend, but it was like the world around you knew not to intrude on such a moment. Nothing ceased to exist outside this pocket of time where you stood, with the woman you love, in the city that raised her, and a piece of her soul in your possession. 

One deep breath, then two, before you blinked and a tear fell. You didn’t wipe it away. She did.

“I don’t know what to say, Ale.” You whispered as if afraid that a decibel higher would steal the memory away from you. “This is everything to me.”

You couldn’t believe she had chosen you to share this part of her with. 

“You’re everything to me. That’s what I wanted to show you.” Came her response, in a soft, dulcet tone. Her knuckle wiped away another tear. “Don’t cry outside of Casa Batlló, that is so guiri of you.” 

Her humour broke through your astonishment and caused you to burst out into tearful laughter, the brunette joining you instantly. You tucked the book against your chest, coincidentally right over your heart without even thinking, before rushing forward to get a hug from her. She accepted it immediately, leaning her forehead against your temple, her heart rate higher than ever from the nerves she felt at giving you her book. In that silence, punctuated periodically by your sniffles of disbelief, she held you. Like she always did. 

—

It was a miracle that the pair of you made it to the dinner you’d booked later that evening. You with your emotions and Alexia with her lack of restraint at keeping her hands to herself. 

You did make it, though, of which you were glad for. Not only because you were hungry after a day of walking and a few too many tears, but also because the restaurant you’d booked a table at was difficult enough to find a reservation for, nevermind on Sant Jordi too. It was one of Alexia’s favourites and yours too, a surefire way to cap off the day successfully. 

Neither of you could stand being away from each other for a second; had anyone been with you for the duration of the day, it would have been sickening for them to see. But you just didn’t care. You sat in the same side of the booth at dinner, either with hands linked, a hand on the other’s thigh, or knees touching as you used your cutlery, like a couple that hadn’t seen in each other a year, not one that had spent the last twelve hours constantly in each other’s company. Dinner was perfect, the company even better, and the aftermath back at home just to top it all off.

Together, you ended the night with a bath. A cliche, rom-com type setting, with low light and candles and glasses of champagne seated next to each other on the ledge of it. You had your back against her chest, her legs caging yours, with her arm around your waist. In her hand, the book you’d given her. In yours, the poems in her mother tongue you were slowly making your way through with a little help here and there. 

You wanted the day to last forever. 

Instead, midnight was drawing near, the water was cooling, and yawns kept sounding from the pair of you as you read your books. Eventually, you heard the gentle sound of Alexia closing her book echo through the bathroom, before she carefully dropped it to the tiled floor. Both her arms came to wrap around your torso then, her head ducking down to scatter kisses across your shoulder, back, neck, any bit of skin she could comfortably reach. Then, in a low, coarse, tired voice-

“Best Sant Jordi ever.” 

[technofeudalism]

i addressed why this is a dog shit defense like a week ago. i am going to make the assumption that you are entirely too intellectually lazy to go read it, so i'll paste the important part below.

the problem isn't what Van Hollen said, but how he said it, and what that framing reveals about liberalism's continued suicidal obsession with procedure over principle. you are right that conservatives will exploit soundbites regardless, but the issue is that this defense constantly centering the "rule of law" reinforces the logic that grants permission to fascists to dehumanize people in the first place. when he says, "this is a person who the courts have determined was illegally taken," he’s tacitly accepting the premise that the legality of the deportation is the primary moral question and not the fact that this is a human being who was kidnapped and tortured. this is the same kind of morally bankrupt liberalism that treated Jim Crow as a "states' rights" issue and framed lynchings as "local legal matters" for as long as they could. i think both of us can agree that the Civil Rights Movement didn't gain anything by repeatedly appealing to the "rule of law." that's why the appeal was "I am a man" and not "I demand an adequate court hearing over the way that I was tortured and dehumanized." it's successes were gained by forcing the rest of the country into recognizing the basic humanity of Black people, something liberals today are totally allergic to doing for migrants. the law is not a neutral entity. it is a tool of class power, and what we refer to as "due process" (once again, while important) has always been selectively applied (see: above, and also the Fugitive Slave Act, Stop & Frisk). making an appeal to the public that someone's worth hinges on the precarious whims of the federal court system and not their inherent human dignity is part of the entire problem that we have created. and history has proven what happens when you cede that ground: the right will escalate, liberals will keep retreating and insisting the fight take place on narrower, more "respectable" terrain until all of a sudden we're having real debates over whether a crown tattoo should subject you to waterboarding or not.

i beg you to obtain some semblance of political instincts whatsoever rather than defaulting to assuming the most charitable interpretation of a fucking politician's words. the hilarious thing about this chain of responses is that it's all entirely based on the fact that the most important thing to protect, as always, is not human beings, but the institutions that have been built that we pretend have been designed to protect them.

the number of reblogs that these additions have gotten is pretty indicative of the total and complete inability of this website as a whole to analyze anything deeper than how it makes them feel on a surface level. you people exist in a state of permanent vibes and feels. you suck up and spit out whatever makes you feel good uncritically and repeatedly needle and deconstruct everything that makes you feel bad like you're fighting for your life.

the institutions do not matter if you do not value human life. laws do not govern morality. once again, for the ten quintillionth time, due process is an extremely important bedrock legal standard that should be followed. but realistically, it never has.

this is the last time i'm responding to this post. read a book and stop harassing people because you can't think beyond a world where judicial precedent actually means something to wider society.

yeah.......... i truly hate the democratic party with everything i have in my soul. all he had to say was "yes, i'm defending this innocent man because he did nothing wrong but come to america seeking a better life" and he couldn't even do that. naturally the comments i've seen say shit like "i don't have to agree with you but i'll defend your rights" and i ask once again what are we disagreeing with Kilmar Abrego Garcia on???????? what did he do besides be brown and have tattoos???????? why shouldn't we defend him??????? oh my god this fucking country

[reidyourpalms]

on air

summary -> you’re a guest on the useless hotline podcast hosted by your secret boyfriend | george clarke x fem!reader

wc -> 1.2k

WARNINGS -> secret/private relationship, george is smitten

masterlist | main masterlist

george knew inviting you on the podcast was a bad idea.

not because you wouldn’t be great - quite the opposite, actually. you were quick, charming, dangerously funny. the kind of guest that made a podcast episode fly by and rack up views. but because george had a very hard time pretending you weren’t his girlfriend, and the useless hotline was filmed in 4K and recorded with high-grade microphones that picked up everything - including every slip-up, lingering stare, and voice crack.

and right now? he was seconds away from combusting on camera.

you were sitting across from him, legs crossed, mic in front of you, hoodie sleeves pushed up to your elbows, looking like you didn’t have a secret in the world.

meanwhile, george was sweating. literally and figuratively.

“right, welcome back to the useless hotline,” he said into the mic, trying to sound normal, casual, definitely not like a man who had been up until 2 a.m. last night with the very guest now smiling sweetly across from him. “the show where we help you with your problems, whether you want us to or not.”

“usually not,” max muttered next to him.

you laughed—a soft, familiar sound george had heard a thousand times before, but now it echoed in his headphones like a siren call.

max leaned forward, smirking. “and today we’ve got a very special guest... content creator, chaos gremlin, and george’s—what was it? longtime friend?”

george gave him a look. a subtle but deeply meaningful shut up look. you just smiled and said, “that’s what we’re calling it, yeah.”

you were good at this. at pretending. too good.

george could barely keep his eyes off you. the way your fingers tapped the mic stand absentmindedly, how your lips twitched whenever max made a joke, how you’d glance at george when you were holding back something private - something only the two of you knew. well not just you two but also not the rest of the world.

he was so screwed.

“so,” max said, reading the first listener submission. “this person says: ‘my situationship keeps liking my Instagram stories but never replies to my texts. what do I do?’ classic.”

you leaned in, “oof. see, that’s emotional terrorism.”

george barked a laugh - too loud, too sudden. you glanced at him, amused, and he felt his neck heat up. “sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “just - ‘emotional terrorism.’ that’s gold.”

“tell me I’m wrong, clarke,” you teased, tilting your head.

his full name. dangerous territory. it made his stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t while on camera. “nah, you’re spot on,” he said, but his voice cracked slightly at the end.

max turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. “you good, george?”

“yep. yep. great.” you smirked. george wanted to crawl under the table.

the episode went on. more questions. more advice. more jokes. and the longer it went, the worse george got. because you were so effortlessly you. because every time you teased him, he had to stop himself from reaching across the table and grabbing your hand like he always did when you were off-camera. because every time you laughed, he remembered what it felt like to kiss you mid-laughter, tangled in sheets and sunlight.

you reached for your drink, eyes flicking to him mid-sip. that look. the look you gave him when you wanted to be alone. private. quiet. yours.

he nearly dropped his mic. max noticed—of course he did.

“george,” he said suddenly, interrupting whatever nonsense advice you were giving. “what’s going on with you today? you’re being weird.”

george flinched. “i’m not being weird.”

“you’re being super weird,” max insisted. “you’re staring at her like she’s about to float away.” you raised your eyebrows in mock surprise. “am i?”

george laughed nervously. “i’m just - she’s just funny. that’s why she’s here.” max narrowed his eyes. “uh-huh. not because you live together or anything.”

you coughed. george blinked, “we don’t live together.”

max smirked. “not technically. but didn’t you stay at her place last night?” george’s mouth opened. closed. you shot Max a look that could kill.

“wow, max,” you said slowly. “way to make it weird.”

george leaned back, palms up. “can we not do this on air?”

“oh my god,” Max gasped. “you two are actually—?”

“nope,” you cut in smoothly. “still besties. he just likes my cooking.”

“yeah,” George added, voice hoarse. “just... spaghetti and stuff.”

you knew he was remembering last night. the way you kissed him in the kitchen, salt still on your fingers, shirt half-unbuttoned from laughing too hard during dinner. the way he picked you up and laid you across the counter, like-

“george,” max said again. “dude. you’re gone.”

“okay, next question!” george blurted, slapping the desk. “this one says: ‘is it a red flag if my boyfriend won’t post me?’”

max raised an eyebrow. “a very fitting question for the current vibe.”

you looked at George. your voice was low, almost teasing. “well, it depends, right? some people just like privacy.”

“yeah,” george said, throat dry. “privacy’s important.”

max squinted. “sure, but like… if you’re dating someone and you’re never in their stories, never on their grid, don’t even get a soft launch - what’s that about?”

you shrugged. “maybe they’re just waiting for the right time.”

“or maybe they’re secretly dating their podcast guest,” max said under his breath. george choked.

you snorted. “i think we’ve veered off-topic.”

george could barely look at you for the rest of the episode. he was red, flustered, and so obviously not okay. the fans were going to eat this up. the clips alone were going to break tiktok. you were cool as ever - effortlessly gliding through the chaos.

but as the outro music played and the red light on the camera clicked off, you finally looked at him properly. the kind of look that said, you’re in so much trouble, but i kind of love you for it.

george leaned toward you, voice low, private, almost pleading.

“i was trying so hard to keep it together.”

you leaned closer, “you did terribly.”

he laughed, soft and warm, “i know.”

you looked over at max, who was pretending to check his phone but was definitely eavesdropping. then you reached over and squeezed george’s hand under the table, a quiet promise between the chaos.

“next time,” you whispered, “maybe we don’t pretend.”

george blinked. “yeah?”

you grinned,“yeah.”

TWITTER

@/uselesshotlinepod - Y’all… there’s NO WAY George and y/n are just “friends.” This episode is wild and you can go watch it now.

i’m on a role rn slayy. feel free to request i get to them within a week of when they are requested

[womanofwords]

Frozen Heart (Part 6)

TW: hospitals, descriptions of injuries.

Jason was the next to visit you, striding in all businesslike. How cute.

"Y/N, I need to know everything that happened," he said, taking a seat near your bed. "I need the names of the people that beat you, and the names of everyone that ever even looked at you the wrong way. It's important. I need to know."

You stared at him with confusion and disgust, like he was a dog turd that peeled itself off the back of your shoe and started telling you its life story. "What?" you croaked.

"I want to know about you and your life. Let's start with school. Who do you hang out with? What do other kids call you? When did all this bullying start?"

You rolled your eyes. What a poser. He was so invested after the all-important thing had happened. "Why are you asking me this?" you asked.

"Because . . . it's . . . important," Jason said, talking slowly as if you were really stupid, a little kid, or a really stupid little kid.

"Jason, I don't have brain damage. I have multiple broken bones, cracked ribs, suffered from hypothermia, and there was some internal bleeding, but no brain damage." Every injury you listed made your hardened big brother jump.

"Oh." Jason looked sheepish now, looking down at his combat boots.

Time to really twist the knife. "And you're wrong. It's not important, what just happened to me. It's trivial compared to the suffering you've gone through and see other people go through all the time. This is the mildly unlucky story of a kid who got whatever they wanted except school popularity. I live a good life, except for this part, of course." You pointed at the door. "You don't need to be here. You can leave my room and find a room with someone that is actually suffering. That won't be difficult; it is a hospital, after all."

Jason slunk out of your room, wanting to die. You didn't believe you were important to him, to anybody. What a heartbreaking revelation. He'd written you off as a spoiled brat with no issues, and he'd openly wished that you'd get some real problems to humble you a little and just shut up a little. And now you had lots of real problems and weren't talking to him at all, just when he really wanted you to.

Talk about being careful what you wished for.

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Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @kittzu, @justwannabecat, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @vanessa-boo, @jscrawls, @sirenetheblogger.

[drdemonprince]

Holy shit. I’ve never been on Reddit until recently. So I missed the fact that people are like completely feral about you on there. For unhinged reasons like not believing you’re really autistic, mad because you don’t like diagnosis, you being a social psychologist, calling you ableist and weirdly misgendering you as if pronouns were really hard to understand. Why are people like this? I’m just an autistic person who follows a ton of autistic people but most don’t get the hate that you do. I mean maybe that’s like a positive thing because it shows your level of unmasking where you’re ok with being unliked by some? But it’s still shit. I’m sorry people are like that about you. It’s not ok.

awww wow thank you. That's really nice of you to recognize and say. There are several reasons why things have gotten to be like this. One of them is that people on reddit generally adopt a more medicalized understanding of everything from Autism to transness -- and so they reallly hate someone who pushes back against the medicalization of both. There's a lot of conservativism and self-hatred in reddit communities for marginalized groups, and really high respectability standards. The Autism in women subreddit hates me because i have challenged the idea that there's gendered variants of Autism, and it makes them uncomfortable to see trans women, queer people, and men of color lumped in with themselves.

There are also things I have done to contribute to this problem -- I used to fire off hot-take versions of my opinions on Twitter that were very easily misunderstood by those with the intention to do so or no context on the conversation, and there's the fact that I write about and for a predominately masked Autistic audience that has a lot of privileges that higher-support-needs Autistics do not have. People take umbrage at that and I don't really fault them for it, because even I am troubled by the ways in which the online Autistic community caters to those who can speak/mask/neuroconform more than those who are nonspeaking, intellectually disabled, or more visibly disabled in general. If people would really pay attention to my work they'd understand that I'm not the Aspie supremacist dipshit they think that I am, and that I actually do find the exact same things as them concerning, but some of them are just so sick of how overhyped they perceive me to be to really care about the nuances, or they've seen full on hate videos about me made on Tiktok by a few people who stalk me.

There sadly is a small but vocal community of people who viscerally hate me and spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about me and my work. It's sad. I've done my best to detach from the aspects of public life that would force me to deal with all of that, but some people are obsessive enough that it still breaks in.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Rest - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader Rating: We all need fluff right now and that's what this is. Word Count: 1133 a/n: I hope everyone is surviving out there. In an attempt to halt my near-constant crying I wrote this. Note that there are two little references in here that will hopefully help everything feel a little bit better are also little spoilers for Part II, so if you want to avoid any and all spoilers, let that be known. It's pretty darn tiny though.

"Joel?"

Your voice is soft, but it still feels obtrusive as you sneak your way past the door to his office. It's actually pretty spacious, the space his brother has set up for him amidst the growing town of Jackson, but in the quiet of the night, even though you know you're not bothering him in the slightest, it still feels almost like you're intruding.

He's at the desk, though, right where you expected him to be. His glasses are perched low on the bridge of his nose and you can see the tension in his neck and shoulders, a sure sign that he's been focused on the plans in front of him for far too long.

"Hey," he breathes out, looking over at you with what seems to be relief. You knew from Maria that he's been bombarded all day with everything from questions to problems to Tommy's constant insistence that they have to work faster. You and Joel could both easily admit that there was an obvious need for additional homes, but you were also aware that construction takes time. One would think Tommy would understand that, especially considering his own background and the fact that none of this is what it was before, but you'd also known from the look in Maria's eyes and the lateness of the hour that Joel was the one putting it on himself to try and make it happen.

The door closes softly behind you as you move to his side, setting down a thermos on the desk next to the multitude of renovation plans. "Brought you some coffee. I thought it might help."

"Come to check on me is more like it," he jokes, but he's already taken off his glasses and is reaching to draw you into his lap. You don't argue, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you settle onto his thighs, a light kiss pressed to his forehead as he buries his face against your neck.

"Maria told me Tommy was on your case today," you explain simply, fingers running carefully through his curls.

Joel nods. "Maria and I met this morning about the houses on Clark Street, but then her idiot husband had to come in here and give me a debrief of everything we'd already covered because he missed the meeting. Wasted nearly a fucking hour of my day."

It makes you laugh, the way the rivalry between the Miller brothers seems to transcend all reason, even if at the heart of it you knew they love each other more than either would be willing to admit. "Is that why you're still here working when he's at home?"

There's no response from him, just quiet, and you know you've hit the nail on the head. This isn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last, that Joel took the needs of the town on his own shoulders. You needed houses and somehow he always made it happen, even if it meant stretching himself too thin.

"You know what? Come on," you continue suddenly, pressing another kiss to his hairline before standing. "Let's go home."

The protests begin immediately. "I really need to..."

"Joel," you return sternly, already grabbing his coat off the hook. "Home. Now."

There's a long sigh and then he stands, turning off the desk lamp and crossing to take his jacket from you. He shrugs it on and then his hand finds yours, fingers woven together as you lead him from the office and out into the cool night air.

Spring hasn't quite set in yet, but the harsh realities of winter are finally behind you. It's one of the reasons the council has been pushing for new houses, almost too aware of the fact that construction is easier with the warming weather and with new people showing up every day it's become a necessity to move as quickly as possible.

Not that Joel needs to be thinking about that right now.

"I made some chicken for dinner," you tell him, swinging your arms about just slightly in the way that makes you both feel like you're simply two lovers on an evening stroll. You do your best to find these kinds of moments, the ones that remind you of the good, because if you didn't you'd simply spend your whole existence dwelling on the opposite. On the constant weight of ensuring the survival of a community twenty-seven years after the end of the world. "I could heat it up for you when we get back."

"Sounds nice," he returns, his pace slowed to match yours as you make your way home. There are still a few people out and about, but not many, and it almost makes your town feel small again, in the way it had when you'd both first arrived. You're quiet, even as you pass to the edge of town and eventually find your way along the dirt path that will guide you home. The house you share sits in the distance, unassuming amidst fields that will soon blossom into a lush green landscape.

He doesn't let go of your hand until you're both through the door, only relinquishing his grasp after you kiss him quickly and head to the kitchen to find him some dinner. You hear him sit on the bench by the door, removing his boots with a huff, and then the unmistakable creek of the floorboards as he transitions to the living room.

You talk to him absentmindedly all the while, about your day, about watching JJ for Dina and Ellie, about what you're hoping to plant in the garden this summer, but it's only when the chicken is plated that you realize he hasn't said a word.

"Joel?" you question, making your way back to the living room. "Baby?" you ask again, crossing the threshold to find him sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep.

It's peaceful, really, the way he seems to soften in slumber, and it makes you relax, too. Your feet carry you to his side, abandoning the food on the counter as you grab the blanket from the back of the couch. You shift him slightly, just enough for you to wedge onto the sofa next to him and drape the afghan over both of your bodies. He wakes, ever so slightly, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back against him, nose tucked into the back of your neck as he drifts off once more.

And the next day, when you wake to find him already gone, the blanket wrapped tightly around your body and a note on the coffee table that reminds you he loves you, all you can hope for is that the coffee in the thermos still on his desk isn't too cold.

[maxdibert]

You took the words out of my mouth. Yes! That is the problem with Marauders stans - they take their OCs, slap a name sticker on them and claim its canon.

Severus becomes the most evil of incels, when he was 9 years old he was already lusting after his first friend, sometimes he is rich, sometimes he is poor - but he always deserves being ganged on 4 on 1 since he was 11, maybe he kicked a puppy in Potter's vicinity, who knows? - sometimes he is even more evil than Voldemort himself (makes you wonder why he wasn’t kicked out of the school already, its not like he is a gryffindor and Dumbledore is protecting him like he did with the Marauders);

James becomes the queer hero (read a fic where he was teaching purebloods in gryffindor about labels and pronouns - Sir, this was the 70s, not 2016), defends the innocent, saving everyone from the evilest of them all: Snape;

Sirius becomes a poor baby, his mother uses the cruciatus curse on him all the time (and somehow he didn’t go mad like the Longbottoms or died) - he goes around with every girl in Hogwarts but the one he really wants is Lupin, look at his puppy eyes.

Lupin, he is brave, he is assertive, he growls, his eyes glow yellow all the time and he acts like the alpha of the group, James and Sirius trust and respect.

Regulus becomes the poor victim (he totally doesn’t have a Voldemort shrine in his room, what are you talking about? XD), he is abused by his mother, by other Slytherins, by Snape, he is prideful and goes against his mother all the time, he is a crybaby in need of a queer hero, he cries himself to sleep thinking of Potter's strong arms.

Peter, he is a cowardly rat, always snickering something evil (you wonder why Potter would ever trust him with the life of his child).

And Lily, hmmm, she a secret lesbian and is going out with Mary/Marlene/Dorcas/Pandora (chose your flavor, its the same either way, she only appears to cheer on the boys) and would absolutely loooooove to carry Jegulus's baby.

Rinse and repeat.

And they come and say they are just "exploring" with the characters - what characters? If you change so many parts of their personality and history are they the same characters?

No. They are just your OCs.

Look, it’s not about the characters, it’s not about the Marauders, it’s not Snape, it’s not Regulus—it’s not the people you see in the actual series. Not even Lily is really Lily, because they always portray her as some kind of girlboss feminist icon when Lily Evans was a girl completely alienated by the patriarchal views of her time. I mean, we’re talking about someone who chose to marry a guy who had abused people right in front of her. But not only that—she got married and pregnant as a teenager. She was a very traditional person, just like her sister Petunia, so I don’t know where this whole Gloria Steinem fantasy comes from because she was nothing like that. In fact, she doesn’t even seem to have female friends—the only one vaguely mentioned is Mary McDonald, and the only real friend she has throughout her life is Severus. After that, it's just her boyfriend/husband’s friends. She’s the furthest thing from a feminist icon, but whatever.

They just make up characters who didn’t even attend school with them. Suddenly Barty Crouch, who canonically was three or four years younger, is in their same year. And not only that—he’s portrayed as this super spicy, sarcastic icon, when canonically even the Death Eaters were shocked to find out Barty was a loyal servant of Voldemort because everything indicated he was the kind of guy who tried to blend in and pretend to follow his father’s orders. Dorcas Meadowes was supposedly a pretty powerful witch and only gets two sentences in the books, but that’s enough to infer she not only didn’t go to school with the Marauders, Snape, and Lily, but was significantly older. The McKinnons are mentioned as a family, suggesting Marlene McKinnon was older than the Marauders and probably married with kids. So what the hell are they talking about? Why are all these people suddenly the same age and in the same year? And why are we suddenly in a senseless teen soap opera with a bunch of pop culture references from 2025 in the middle of the 1970s? Why is just saying “David Bowie” and “the Beatles” considered “period accurate” when these characters clearly think with a 2025 mindset? Even if they kept some traits from canon, it would still feel totally off. You have to understand the historical context you're writing in.

James being queer or James being POC is something I’ll never understand because James Potter represents the progressive elite who, despite having socially acceptable views, are still classist, abusive, and discriminatory. James thinks he’s better than other pure-bloods because the only thing he sees as wrong is blood purism—he doesn’t realize he has a deeply classist, possessive, and dominant mindset, and he’s jealous as hell. He bullies a much poorer boy, with no resources or stable family structure, just because that boy is friends with the girl James likes. He blackmails the girl he likes into going out with him. People say Snape couldn’t be Black because it would make his “obsession with Lily” look bad, but James can be? When he literally blackmails her into dating him? When he bullies her friend out of jealousy? Like, another one they portray as a feminist ally (one of the most absurd and vomit-worthy claims I’ve seen) who was canonically a total macho douchebag. He was the average jock in your high school—the guy who bullies people out of boredom, who torments people he knows won’t fight back because there are no consequences, who behaves like a piece of shit. So I don’t get it. I don’t get why they turn him into a golden retriever, why they whitewash his actions like that. I don’t think people realize how terribly problematic that is. James Potter was not a queer ally—James Potter reeked of toxic masculinity and probably would have made the most homophobic comments. He literally gave Severus Snape a nickname referencing his failure to meet conventional standards of masculinity, and people imagine him as some kind of Che Guevara or something? Get out of here.

There’s no proof that Walburga physically abused her children. In fact, Regulus was considered “the golden boy”—Sirius’s own words—because he followed the family ideology. He had posters of Voldemort in his room, his mother spoke well of him—where is the traumatic childhood? Sirius had a really sadistic and cruel side. He tried to commit murder. He used a supposed friend as a weapon. He felt zero remorse for his actions. He was tall, aggressive, girls swooned over him—he had bikini posters in his room, for God’s sake. So where the hell did this image of him as a crying little baby come from?? We’re talking about Sirius Black, whom Rowling explicitly created as the epitome of traditional masculinity. She repeatedly described him as this incredibly handsome man that girls would swoon over. In contrast, Lupin was always described as shy, hiding behind his friends, unable to tell them to stop or speak up when he thought their actions were wrong. They’ve literally killed these characters, mutilated them, annihilated them.

But the thing is—no, that’s not what happened. What happened is they don’t know the characters. They say there’s not enough information about them, but that’s a lie. There is. You just have to read the damn books, not just watch the movies or read fics or watch TikToks. One of the people replying to the post yesterday told me she hadn’t even read the books—then what the hell are you talking about? What characters are you referring to? Because the ones in the movies don’t even match either. Movie Severus Snape is very different from book Snape, same with Remus and Sirius. In the films, we know nothing about their school days because they’re barely shown. Everything we do know, we know from the books—and it’s more than enough to work from canon and come up with headcanons that are respectful to the canon and make sense within it. Which these so-called fans don’t do. Because these so-called fans aren’t fans of the Marauders—they’re fans of a bunch of OCs someone invented and kept developing, and just slapped the names of real characters from an existing lore on them so people would read their fics. That’s it. And they have the audacity not to warn people that the characters are out of character or that the world they’ve made is an AU. And then they complain about lack of tagging? You want to talk about lack of tagging? How about their audacity to pretend something is canon when it’s not, and not tell people that what they’re doing is just an AU or completely OOC. When they respect tagging, then I’ll respect it too.

[liberalk1tsch]

mom come pick me up there’s racists in my comment section

so actually i DONT have a problem with black representation in media cos im not a raging racist (and blackwashing is such a disgusting and inaccurate term).

i’ll admit — i’m like the least qualified person to be discussing racial injustices. i’m a scandinavian white woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. but that’s exactly why i can speak to the fact that i don’t need anymore representation in media.

i’m privileged.

from the time i was a kid, i’ve seen myself everywhere. from the books i read, to the series and films i watched, to the toys i played with, i see my demographic in everything.

annabeth chase (prior to disney’s adaptation). luna lovegood*. madge undersee. tris prior. feyre archeron. y/n in every 2014 fanfic. britney. gaga. kesha. avril. hannah montana (and lily). jo harvelle. sam puckett. aurora. rapunzel. elsa. barbie. polly pockets. groovy girls. to name a few.

i never struggled to find someone or something that looked like me.

but i have dear friends who did.

i wont pretend to know their experience, because i know i never will, but to act like i’m losing something by uplifting others who haven’t had the same privileges as me is utterly ridiculous. i have more than enough. wanting the same representation for poc isn’t «blackwashing», it’s wanting people who look differently from me to have beloved characters and singers and toys who look like them too. where they can see someone who looks like them as the heroic mc, not just the one dimensional side character who gets killed off first. where the media is representative of real world diversity as opposed to conceding to one «token» poc in an attempt to appease their audience whilst still catering to the whiteness of people like me.

the identity of every single one of those characters i mentioned would not be diminished by making them poc; if anything, it would be only add to it. the opposite isn’t true, and that’s the big difference — white people stealing poc representation actively diminishes the nuances of that particular character’s identity and erases the dynamics that have shaped their lives.

in this particular case, having a white haymitch erases the racial divide in thg. the actor has merchant class characteristics to play a working class impoverished brown kid, and while this is nothing against the actor or his appearance, it is taking away representation from some poc kid out there who saw themselves in the books, only for a casting director to decide it’s easier to double down on film continuity rather than accurate representation.

because white people are so lacking of representation, obviously. 🙄

i’m gonna shut up now cos i know this is about as far as i can go without sounding like im trying to speak over poc voices, but. yeah. this really pmo and if you think «blackwashing» is a genuine problem, please block me. and if you’re poc and i got smth wrong/phrased weird, pls lmk. i want to be corrected.

*obviously i hate jkr and think she’s a god awful bigot who deserves to burn in hell, but i did grow up on hp. luna was also one of the only characters not dripping in racial stereotypes, but that’s a whole other story😖

[rederiss]

In today’s session of Rederiss Rambles, we will be talking about: Jeremy Knox

Buckle up guys, this will get sad. (This is your warning. If you have not read TGR, STOP NOW!!!)

Thesis: Jeremy Knox has a disassociating problem, and I will be shedding light on how this affects the narration, his views on himself, and his views with sex. (This is a very shitty thesis, but whatever. Im graduating soon, so i dont give a fuck)

Before we get going, I am not saying he has a disorder. I am specifically looking at disassociating as a form of coping and disconnecting from the world.

The very first time we, as the audience, may experience may experience a potential disassociating moment from Jeremy Knox is when his brother texts him, and he drops his phone into his coffee (Exhibit A below). I’ve only added these parts of the whole scene to show the full shift. Jeremy literally went from casually talking about the issue at hand to completely a whole different side of him. He starts feeling dread, reads the phone, then drops his phone into his coffee a moment later. He does not even move. Laila had to take the mug out of his hands and the whole scene feels as if everything becomes a fog. The tone Jeremy uses goes from focused to distant, and he’s not fully back until Laila presses a kiss on his temple. Now, we all know that he very much so needs that touch to anchor him…

But sometimes touch doesn’t always anchor him! Sometimes, he uses it as self harm, though he labels it as “rebellion.” Yes, we are now going to talk about his sex life becuase that is such a huge part of Jeremy. Has anyone noticed that Jeremy never details the sex? At first, I thought it was because Nora purposefully omitted those parts, but then after thinking on it, this is Jeremy. If Nora is omitting in Jeremy’s POV, it probably means we should focus on what is being omitted and how she details the omission… and yes you can detail omission. Jeremy Knox is notorious for omitting that we need to focus on it to know more.

For instance, a great example is when he saw the police and kept his eyes forward, trying to ignore the police. We all noticed this, of course. Jeremy was omitting information from us and framing it in away where he attempts to gloss over him doing that, but in reality, it’s a focus point. Why is he doing this? So, we need to really dig into his narration to have some understanding… it’s actually how I figured out he had a sex scandal before TGR came out (look, I made that post as half a joke, as a meme…)

OKAY, so let’s look at an example omission scene… Actually two and compare them now that we know we need to look at how he is framing these omitted information. If you compare both the Leo and Faser sex scenes, you’ll notice the same framing: Jeremy describes some foreplay then omits the entirety of the sex and describes how he leaves. It’s like he mentally goes in and out. We don’t even know that his neck gets bruised until much later. When we learn about the bruises, he passes it off pretty easily and quite literally says “he remembers…” and that it was “easy to ignore” which show some sign of dissociating/disconnecting.

At face value, we wouldn’t think much about Jeremy omitting those scenes, but when you compare them and then add in the “Jeremy remembered Faster’s bruising grip” we get to see a more clear picture. We all know that Jeremy is using sex as self harm, but he also uses it to disconnect from what he doesn’t want to face. Him dissociating during sex is very harmful, which we see with Faser. He remembered, but he ignored since he was more focused on the pleasure (we see this in the next line, I purposely didn’t include).

What I am trying to say is we don’t get details… because Jeremy may just completely disconnect and allow himself to fall into sex. With the extreme that he does this, he no longer uses sex to cope, he uses it to harm himself.

There is one more that I wanted to discuss, that I think is a missed sign of Jeremy having a problem with disociating…

Did not want to add the full scene because it is a couple pages long, but this is the most relevant part. Though I do suggest rereading how this part is framed. Jeremy and Jean are talking, then Jean gave him a reassurance, causing Jeremy to immediately go into a full LONG paragraph about his family’s lackadaisical care for Jeremy/how they view him and how Jean views Jeremy (which Jeremy mischaracterizes). We get this in Jeremy’s POV so it may not have seemed like he became disconnected, but then the above ^^ happened where Jean brought him back.

Jean saying “You go away when you go home” shows how much Jeremy does disconnect, and it’s framed as a coping mechanism… but then the sexual encounters becomes so extreme that it becomes unhealthy, so therefore his coping mechanism is unhealthy. Jeremy needs touch to feel grounded, which is why he uses sex, but it’s now going so far that he’s completely disconnecting and causes himself harm.

[bbina]

it was nice that kun wanted to treat you out for lunch to celebrate your first month of successfully working and dealing with chenle because last time he checked, all previous assistants didn't even last a full week

"a toast to y/n" kun raises his glass up in the air. you let out a chuckle, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you too raise your own glass

"to being overworked" you chirp, clinking your glass with kun, side eyeing chenle who rolls his eyes but raises his glass nonetheless

"i'm literally not overworking you but okay" chenle murmurs, clinking his glass against yours and kun

you and kun both share a laugh of disbelief. him not overworking you? yeah right. says the same man who makes you work overtime just to finish an unfinished report he had given you 5 minutes before you had to clock out

"so, y/n.." kun starts, "any complaints, reviews or what not that you've kept to yourself for the past month about working with chenle here?" kun nods his head towards chenle's direction who glares at him

because in his defense, why do people keep saying that he's such an evil boss?

you take a good look at chenle and kun before you try to formulate your answer. if you had to be honest, you had a lot to say about working under chenle

first of all, he was unpredictable. you literally cannot guess if the day was gonna be a calm day because most of the time, it won't be one

second, there are times that he's so moody but maybe that's what running a company does to you at such a young age. you do admit that you commend him for such feat. it isn't easy being a young and successful ceo. you can say that now because you literally work with him

sure there are some positive sides working with him but it's mostly with chenle's overall character that you still can't quite get a hold of properly but given that it's been a month and chenle hasn't fired you despite talking back to him more now, then that should be a good sign itself

"oh she's thinking. there must be a lot" kun comments, shooting chenle a look to which the latter brushes off

"let's not get ahead of ourselves. we already know what she feels about me.. right, y/n?" chenle smirks, clearly referencing to your viral tweet. its been two weeks since the incident but it seems like he's the only one still holding onto the comment

"i bet you liked the compliment since it clearly got to your head" you murmured, sipping on your water as you look at chenle

kun snorts at your answer, clearly amused by the way you talk to your boss. it's honestly so refreshing to see someone who isn't afraid of chenle. maybe that's why his previous assistants didn't last long, or so he thinks

"but seriously though. it's an actual miracle that you lasted this long. chenle here had 3 assistants and they all ran the way" kun recalls, reminiscing the three assistants that only caused them more work than help since they all just left without a trace, "so you still being here has to mean something" he smiles, reaching over to pat your shoulder

"so sir zhong is the problem?" you ask, obviously a joke but the way you say it makes it sound like you were being genuine causing chenle to glare at you across the table and kun to laugh his ass off

chenle scoffs, remembering those dark times (not really) at the company where he and kun managed everything themselves. how he had to constantly rely on kun for the smallest of things because he couldn't keep track of anything anymore with everything going on all at once. how he had to balance his work and life balance all himself. review all those slides, papers, reports all on his own because he couldn't find competent people to actually help him and get the job done

it wasn't easy at the time but now, things have felt so much lighter now that you stuck around

not that chenle will full on admit that out loud. so what if you lasted a month with him? so what if you just magically get the shit he dumps on you done before the day ends even if it costs you to work over time (little did you know, he actually takes notes of the hours you spent working over time and adds it to your paycheck as incentives. huge incentives at that. his own silent way of thanking you for your hard work but you don't have to know that)

"i'm not hard to work with" chenle grumbles, eyes straying to you, "it's just that the previous assistants didn't do their job properly"

"so you're saying i do my job properly in your standards? thanks for the praise boss. i'll be sure to remember this forever" you coo dramatically, putting your hands on your chest as you smile at chenle

"thin ice. ms. jung. thin ice" chenle warns, eyes narrowing slightly at your playful remark. he would rather die than to admit that right now

"you said that earlier but look at you treating me out for lunch to celebrate me dealing with you" you retort

"you mean kun is treating you. not me because if i did, i would've chose the cheapest thing on the menu here"

"yeah sir kun did. with your company card so thanks anyway" you smile fakely at your boss

kun could only watch the way you two bounce off each other. even if it sounded like you two hate each other, the banter was something else. you actually match his energy. maybe that's why chenle keeps you around

"you two get along so well" kun comments, smiling between you and chenle

"no we don't" you and chenle both say at the same time. you let out a little gasp as chenle turns away huffing

"my point exactly" kun grins, seemingly happy at the situation. chenle had found his perfect assistant for him

BUSINESS PROPOSAL ᝰ.ᐟ . . . A MONTH

✎ . . . things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

[ PREV / NEXT ]

✎ AUTHORS NOTE . . . we're getting somewhere + i think this might be the last implied timeskip chapters for now. ive only been doing that to establish how theyre getting closer lol

✎ TAGLIST . . . @mrkleelvr @jenodigital @https-dandelion @rik0shii @spacejip @yyangj3lly @multifandomania @taroddori @222brainrot @amouriu @defzcl @va1entinaa @carelessshootanonymous @onlywonb @flaminghotyourmom @do-you-remember-summer-127 @grimlinshere @yayayaiheardyouthefirsttime @hoeingthefuckup @meltinghershey @alwayswook @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @dudekiss3r @sibwol @planetmarlowe @doraemiz @morklee02 @httpsxnox @firydst @yuyita-rosier @ayukas @cottonjaems @monomya @neocults26 @greenyweirdo

[bakug0uzb1thc]

Hihi! I was wondering if you could write about bakugo x autistic reader. Like reader getting overstimulated and being nonverbal most of the time. Tyyy!!!

I can try my best !! :3

Sorry?

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x GN! Reader

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Everything just seemed to be overstimulating you, you could taste iron flavor of blood as you chewed on the inside of your lip. You pulled at your nails as your breathing picked up. You were extremely overwhelmed and overworked and all you wanted to do was crash on your bed and sleep away your problems but the class 1-As hothead decided he had something to say to you.

“Why are you so quiet.” He pushed at you cocking an eyebrow.

You gripped onto your bag until your knuckles went white and you tried to look anywhere else but Bakugou. “I mean you left everything up to me to solve-“ you stopped, turned and glared at him. “Shut up Bakugou, how do you think I feel 90% of the time when all you wanna do is bicker about Izuku? Huh? I’m having a shit day and it would be a whole lot better if you would just shut up!” You yelled at him, completely out of breathe now from your complaints. You expected him to yell back, to storm off and curse about how immature you were but he didn’t. He just stood there and took it. “y-you talked..” he was wide-eyed. “So what of it.” Your lip quivered, all the confidence fleeing within seconds. “Youre just usually quiet. I just- I’m sorry or whatever..” he looked away putting a hand behind his head and sighed. “Sorry for being a dick.”

You were in shock, complete and utter shock. Thee Katsuki Bakugou apologizing to you of all people.

You were speechless but a different type of speechless, usually you had things to say but just didn’t feel any need to say them but now you actually had no idea what to say.

“It’s fine.” The ground looked very interesting all of a sudden. “I’ll see ya later then.” He said in a softer tone as he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. His figure becoming smaller with more distance.

The interaction repeated in your head until you became sick of him. Sick of the thought of him. You couldn’t believe he apologized to you, you didn’t even know that man was capable of muttering the words ‘I’m sorry.’ But he did to you, and it made you roll around in your bed.

The only thought that occupied your mind was of Katsuki bakugou.

[riorgail]

since this is getting so much attention, i want to make my point clear.

my point is—why are we making grown fucking women so childlike and weak? why are we not giving them a personality or a backbone?

and also, what’s happening to diversity? why is there a lack of diversity and representation on these fanfics? or even inspo/aesthetics pics

anyways, i wrote some stuff down from what people replied to make my point as clear as day, so here goes nothing

(you might notice how i mostly talk about an mmc x fem!reader and that’s because those are most of the tags i read. but i’ve been told that it also happens in wlw fics)

a lot of people told me about tagging. they told me that i didn’t have to choose those tags or that i could just ignore the fics people post with the tags i don’t like. you see, the problem is that a lot of the authors who write the stuff im talking about in my post don’t usually use the correct tags. when i say that i have tried to ignore the fics with things that i didn’t like but it got so repetitive that i had to speak about it, trust me. im anything but interested in the “bimbo!reader” or “trophywife!reader” tags i talked about in my original post.

someone mentioned in my comments that tumblr is supposed to be a “safe space” and that they don’t like negativity, but it’s hard to stay positive when “x reader” fanfics are starting to become anything but “x reader.” and also, let’s be real, fandoms/tumblr are never going to be a 100% safe space.

this same person said, and i quote, “I hope everyone is doing okay and learns that things that aren't actually hurting people can coexist with the fact that some people just don't like it.” sorry to break it to you, but this problem does hurt people. for example, women of color, including me. i wrote this post because i started to feel like i wasn’t being represented in fics that SHOULD make me feel represented. and im sure that a lot of women of color or women that don’t want to be seen as dumb or stupid can agree.

can someone please tell me when we started normalizing objectification? a user replied on my original post complaining about the “bimbo!reader” tag and they basically said that the reader gets reduced to this pink and stupid girl that just gets fucked and that’s the whole point of the fic. honestly, i couldn’t agree more. why are we making the reader dumb and stupid? why is the whole point of most fanfics with that bimbo!reader tag to get fucked by whatever character you’re reading about? it pisses me off that most “mmc x reader” fanfics make the reader (that is a woman, like, 93% of the time) submit and allow to be treated like an object. another user also said that fandom is a tool of patriarchy and i couldn’t agree more at this point.

also, i’m sorry, but i don’t give a FUCK if “objectification” or kinks where a woman gets constantly put down—by, specifically, a man—is your kink. it’s not empowering. you’re reading about a woman being narrowed down into a fuck toy and completely disregarding everything else. and trust me when i say that i used to be into this stuff until i realized how smut/porn addicted i was and how this type of kink just shames women and narrows them down to pocket pussies. i don’t know what radicalized me but yeah.

i know people can write and post whatever they want, but it gets to a point. and that point is when you completely disregard the years of work it took for women to be treated as anything but objects. and some may say “it’s not that deep,” but trust me, it is. with the state of the world and the very clear recession there’s going on, it IS that fucking deep. and if you can’t see how media/pop culture and the current state of the world influence each other, then research. for the love of god, please research it.

i’m pretty sure that’s the end of this post, but i just wanted to make shit clear because i didn’t in my original post (my bad sorry). all love to anyone that reads this.

if anyone wants to talk about this with me, just send me a message through my anon request thingy.

why do i keep seeing “young!ditzy!reader” or “trophywife!reader” or stupid shit like that where authors make the ‘reader’ the most fragile person in the world??

at the end of the day, this recession theory shit is real. and it is seen clearly as day on this app.

why are the inspo pics for the oneshot just blonde and skinny white girls?? why are we making the reader sweet and innocent and fragile??

and look, there’s nothing wrong about being a blonde and skinny white girl, but after seeing the same pictures as inspo for a series or a oneshot, it gets annoying and repetitive how there’s no diversity.

also, i’m not saying every post in the “x reader” tag is like this, but they just keep popping up on my feed and i had to speak my mind about it.

please, if anyone reads this, tell me if you found the same problem or i’m just going crazy.

[amphitriteswife]

Goo dating headcanons

💸 Dating good can be a real roller coaster. A fun roller coaster that is. There could be problems here and there but in his eyes it’s nothing he can’t solve. Yes it is true that sometimes he prioritizes his job over you sometimes. But that’s because his job is very ‘demanding.’ But it pays well, so he hopes you understand.

💸 Fair dates, cinema dates, shopping spree, restaurants, coffee dates and karaoke dates. (Sometimes with jonggun tagging along even though he himself doesn’t want to and goo forced invited him to go) he can’t always make it, but he does make it up to you in one way or another. Always.

💸 if you go to a far date, expect him to scream and yell in every attraction you go to. Yes he’s afraid of heights. Too bad you didn’t know, you have to put with him now. Luckily he don’t throw up. Oh but he WILL try the claw machine’s and not win shit. He spent a lot of money on it too by the way. Bro might start crying. Or just sit on the ground or sum. You might even feel bad for dawg😔

💸 if you are the one to actually win a plushie and give it to him, bro will scream. He’ll immediately hug it and start thanking you. You bet he’s taking pictures of it and posting it on all his socials. Even sending it to groupchats and Jonggun himself with a caption of ‘look what my girlfriend got me hehe😝😈’ and yes he also sends it to you. He’s putting the plush on his bed or in a special shrine he made with a gifts from you.

💸 personally, i think Goo also seems to be a best friend and boyfriend. He would want to be in love and love you if you get what i mean. Ofcourse his best friend is jonggun, but that’s different from how he loves you. A main thing that is important to him is understanding, you don’t need to accept. Just understanding for him is enough.

💸 If you date Goo, it’s high likely that you too are a fan of anime. He doesn’t really mind which type you are. Manga, manhwa, anime, donghua even BL or GL. He doesn’t really care which one you enjoy. He just likes the swords in em you know. He would probably talk for you about his favorites and you about yours. It could be that the two of you read/ watch together of that you made trades on watching each other’s faves. For him it feels like he can share a hobby with you which he appreciates.

💸 I can see you meeting Goo at a bookstore. Both of you at the Manga section eyeing the same manga. You having if in your hands first and Goo demanding that you give it to him with a serious gaze, however his face would twist in mild surprise when you do actually hand it to him. He would say he is joking but you would insist that he can take it, he would find your indifference and calm nature intriguing. He would stare at you for a while you pick at another manga and decide to buy that one instead. You didn’t bother arguing with him because you didn’t think you’ll see him again. Unfortunately, he kept showing up even when he saw you avoid him. Which eventually made him say. ‘Miss. Go on a date with me.’

💸 Goo likes to call you ‘sugar’ or ‘sweetheart.’ Because he thinks you’re lively, sweet, addictive and always lighten his heart. He feels as if he can say anything to you, no matter what it is. Sometimes he even wants to tell you everything about his job, but he knows he can’t because it’ll put you in danger and he can’t risk that. You mean too much to him to make you see the stuff he does.

💸 Now when it comes to you being Goo’s girlfriend. There are a lot of people you don’t know who are in Goo’s life. And he also doesn’t think it would be relevant for you to know all of them. He would probably introduce you to Jonggun who wonders why you haven’t left Goo yet. And maybe James who is rather aloof and is on pretty neutral terms with you. Its save to say that James likes you better than Goo. Jonggun on the other hand doesn’t necessarily engage with you, but does little things like asking you to look after Goo or keeping him on a leash.

💸 Goo would go to concerts with you. Even if he doesn’t listen to the same music as you. He’ll make sure he handles everything from tickets to seats to time stamps. He’s pretty laid back about it too, he has it handles but isn’t stern about it. He’ll buy you merch if that’s what you want, even going as far as to go buy it himself during the concert so that you can still enjoy seeing your artist(s). If it’s in another country he’ll ditch his work probably and still go with you anyway. If the concert has lightsticks you can be rest assured: he already bought those.

I’m sorry it’s short. I ran out ideas😭

[theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming]

Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you): Week 16

Week [1] [2] [3] [4/5/6] [7] [8] [9] [10/11] [12/13] [14] [15]

Alright. Here we are with Week 16.

It's been a week of living in Delulu land. A warning for this Rec List: if the fic is in orange (or contains orange like that one fic I did in both colors) it is a POST 8x15 Fic. Now some might be a little speculation or ignoring canon but... If you are not in the mental space for what that may entail, stay clear of those fics :)

Sterek: 2 Buddie: 18 (8 post 8x15)

Find Me At The Tree (Waiting For You) by Arvak (2025•M•15.8K)

He'd seen it on the Nature Channel: Yellowstone National Park, one of the greatest marvels of nature, nestled right nearby in the good ol' Western States. And on a complete whim, he'd decided to pack the car and hit the road to get the hell away from customers and bosses and traffic and bills. He never expected to come face to face with a wolf. Or, rather, a werewolf who'd had very similar thoughts to his own, and who was much worse at social interaction. - OR - A total therapy fic about escape and freedom and achieving a better life that I hope you might enjoy as well.

Magna Cum Ardoriter by Waddiwasii | @waddi-writes (2025•E•31.8K)

Stiles can’t help but feel like he’s been lied to. Legally Blonde all but guaranteed immediate mastery over all coursework and an effortless discovery of his one true purpose. Instead, every class is a confusing nightmare, and the only revelation he’s had so far is that he might actually be too socially incompetent to make friends. Given that the sum of his accumulated attempts at having a quintessential, life-changing college experience is a resounding zero, Stiles is left with one very disappointing conclusion: Elle Woods is a fucking liar.

Ice Cream Trucks by glorious_spoon | @glorious-spoon (2025•M•1.2K)

"What's so funny?" Eddie murmurs. He's pressed so close Buck can't see his expression, but he can feel the shape of his smile against his jaw, and that's even better. "Nothing, nothing," Buck says, breathless, and kisses him again, because he gets to do that now apparently. "I just can't believe this is happening. Feels like a dream." "You have a lot of dreams about me?" Eddie asks, in a tone that's definitely trying to be smooth but is just a little too uneven to completely pull it off.

want to feel you when I'm falling in love by smilingbuckley | @smilingbuckley (2025•GA•1.0K)

Buck keeps getting cold at night and struggles falling asleep. Eddie cuddles him about it. -- There’s grumbling next to him before the duvet shifts. “Come here.” “What?” Buck’s voice is too loud for two in the morning. “Come here,” Eddie repeats. Buck’s been awake long enough for his eyes to have adjusted to the dark. Eddie’s hair is ruffled, standing up at the top. His hand is motioning Buck to come closer. “Why?” Buck asks instead of doing what Eddie asks him to, still confused. Eddie sighs, “Body heat.” Buck blinks. Okay, normally he’s a smart guy, okay? But it is 2 in the morning and Buck is freezing his ass off and they had a long shift the day before. When Buck doesn’t move, Eddie sighs again and pulls him closer. And… oh.

pushing the limits by Tizniz | @tizniz (2025•GA•5.3K)

The point though is that Buck doesn’t push his magic. He doesn’t know his limits. And that proves to be a problem.

slide into home base by sibylsleaves | @jeeyunspetrat (2025•E•5.1K)

Eddie's the star pitcher of the 118's intramural softball team. Buck is the assistant coach who has a few pointers for him.

Exhibit B by Daisies_and_Briars | @cal-daisies-and-briars (2025•T•10.8K)

Seven years in the future, an adult Christopher has a chance to see his grandparents - and subsequently, his father - in a new light, on a family trip to El Paso.

god loves you, but not enough to save you by justhockey | @everything-i-am (2025•E•30.3K)

He’s big, is the first thing Eddie notices about him. Not just his body - though his shoulders are broad and his biceps are thick - but his presence, too. He’s so commanding that he’s impossible to miss; he draws all of Eddie’s attention even as he sits silent and motionless, like he’s trying to disappear. He has a halo of curls on his head and a shock of pink above his left eye. Angel, Eddie thinks, and something twists uncomfortably inside his chest. Or: Eddie is a priest, and Buck is a firefighter, and once their worlds collide nothing will ever be the same again.

room for two by 42hrb | @exhuastedpigeon (2025•E•3.3K)

“Dude, you’re not sleeping on the couch, you pay half the rent,” Eddie pushes Buck into the bedroom when he walks out of the bathroom on the third night of Buck’s 4 off. He’s almost dreading Eddie coming back to work next shift, then he’ll have no reprieve. “I promise I don’t bite — not unless you ask nicely.” Oh Buck is so fucked, but there’s really no way out of it. At least not while Eddie is awake. Buck decides he’s going to lay in bed and wait until Eddie falls asleep and then he’ll sneak out and onto the couch. “Yeah, fine,” he huffs and lets himself be bullied into the bedroom. 

The Eddie Diaz Lore Drop by onedropstories (2025•GA•6.0K)

Chimney sighed. “Well, man, like I said earlier, of course you can bring him.” Hen watched her best friend deflate into the couch cushions, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “Man, I was not expecting this Eddie Diaz lore drop today.” He turned back to Eddie. “Got any more secret family announcements in your pocket?” “...can I bring my kids?” “Your WHAT-”

just one single glimpse of relief (with you i serve with you i fall) by instantcaramel | @toxicpositivitybuddie (2025•GA•2.2K)

“Someone has to tell Eddie. I have to call him. I have to - have to tell him and Chris. I have to call them.” He knows he sounds frantic, almost panicked, but he can’t calm himself down. “I have to tell them. I have to - “ He sobs into his own hands, and he just wants to collapse to the ground again. or; There's only one person Buck wants to talk to tonight. (Coda to 8x15 Lab Rats)

won't say it (don't make me say it) by Tizniz | @tizniz (2025•NR•1.3K)

There’s absolute silence for a few seconds, and then there’s this broken and wounded sound. Eddie bolts up in bed, heart racing in his chest, “Buck?” “H-he’s…he’s…” Buck chokes out another sob. He sounds like…well, like he’s dying. OR: Eddie finds out.

all the quiet nights by becausebuckley | @becausebuckley (2025•T•3.8K)

“You don’t have to do that,” Buck says, averting his eyes as Eddie’s fingers begin working at his belt. “It’s just my wrist.” “Just- just let me take care of you,” Eddie says. It’s a question, but it comes out somewhere between a statement and a plea. “Please.” or: eddie takes care of buck.

who the hell likes living just to die? by BekkaChaos | @bekkachaos (2025•T•1.7K)

Set after the events of 8x15, Eddie gets a phone call.

i can take the pillowcases off the yellow pillows by atlasblue85 | @atlasblue85 (2025•GA•1.6K)

It almost sounds like someone is crying. He heads toward the source of the sound – Christopher’s room, except he knows Christopher is outside goofing off with his cousins. “Eddie?” he calls again, gently nudging the door open. He’s greeted by an unfamiliar sight: his son, sitting on the floor of his old bedroom, sobbing.

the autumn chill that wakes me up, you loved the amber skies so much by deanvrse (2025•GA•3.7K)

“I heard Maddie won’t be walking you down the aisle.” At those words, Buck’s face shifts. The flicker of a smile fades, replaced by something smaller—something quieter. He glances down, avoiding Bobby’s eyes in the mirror. “Yeah,” he says softly. “She’s officiating, so… I guess I’ll just walk myself down the aisle.” He shrugs, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter, but Bobby sees the way his jaw clenches, the way his shoulders tense again like they’ve been carrying that thought all morning. Bobby’s hands still on the tie. He doesn’t speak right away. “Or—” he says eventually, voice gentle, “I could do it.”

Or it’s Buck and Eddie’s wedding day and Bobby is their gentle pillar

i fear the worst (how could you leave us all behind?) by buckleysbest | @langdonsmel (2025•GA•673w)

Eddie gets the call at 9:32 on a Friday morning.

It was night (when you died) by ranbling | @ranbling (2025•T•1.3K)

Eddie gets the first text a little after 10 pm, it's Karen telling him everyone is okay. Buck calls him after midnight. "Buck? You there?" he breaks the silence and it feels wrong. It feels like the calm before the storm, the calm before something goes wrong on a call. It feels like the calm before he got shot by a sniper in the sunlight, before Buck got struck by lightning. "I-it's, it's Bobby" Buck chokes out.

killing time at the cemetery by playinginthunderstorms | @playinginthunderstorms (2025•T•1.8K)

You’re gonna be okay, Buck, he’d said. They’re gonna need you, he’d said. Captain’s orders. Buck will not fail him. Not ever again.

and longingly i long by effervescentwolf | @effervescentwolf (2025•M•13.9K)

He’s still greedy, even now. Still can’t figure out how to loosen his grip on it just a little, knuckles white with how hard he’s holding on, but he’s trying so hard to give Eddie space and time because he asked for it, because when they got together, Eddie couldn’t seem to stop looking at him when he asked Buck to be patient with him, couldn’t hide the nerves from his voice, the vulnerability of his open chest, the honesty in his fingers against Buck’s wrist where he’d held on so gently as if he was afraid to come any closer. So Buck is trying, to just sink into having it rather than wanting more, to let it be enough rather than him being too much, and he’s been doing good, mostly. He’s been doing good. - Or asking for what you want is asking too much of Buck, except it isn’t really. Not when it’s Eddie.

[chaifootsteps]

Honestly flaming hot take for the critical community, but I don't wanna see Stolas get humiliated or hurt or anything like so many critics seem to want to happen. I just want bro to sit down and have an honest to goodness (Badness?) big thonk about what he's done and all he's done to bungle up and how he's treated people he cares about. He has so much potential to grow and be a rich, thematic character and yet, Viv really doesn't wanna see him actually take the time to do self reflection. It's just, "Oh, he lost is powers and some imps are a bit mean to him. That comeuppance enough for you?" That's not a character arc, that's just making your characters (and the audience) miserable and calling it a meaningful change. Have bro have a breakdown and like, have Blitzo or someone try to sit down and chat to get to know him better like what Millie did when Blitzo had a break down in the ghost episode. HAVE CHARACTERS ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT THEIR PROBLEMS AND GET OVER THEM FOR PETE'S SAKE! Thyat's why everyone likes Blitzo and Fizz, they're the only guys who actually did go through major growth together and communicated and aired out their issues to move forward.

Rant over. Stolas and Vassago along with Blitzo and Verosika should be endgame. Viv needs a co writer to help keep track of everything and say no to her. I still think Stolas is cute and fluffy despite being a stuck up airhead. Thank you, and goodnight.

Stolas sitting down and have an earnest, adult conversation with Blitz where he takes accountability is something I've wanted to see since the very beginning and still do, but every time Viv takes an opportunity for this and instead turns it into Apology Tour and Sinsmas, it makes me want to see it less. Stolas trashing Blitz's office after Blitz set himself on fire to keep Stolas warm was a big moment of "not only is Viv never going to let him be better, she's really never going to let him be better," which makes me want to see him humiliated or dead in the street.

The longer she writes him as selfish, childish, and manipulative, the harder it will be to pull him out of it, and I think Stolas and Vassago is probably one avenue she could potentially go about doing that. Stolas needs something or someone that brings out the best in him, and it's sure as hell not Blitz.

[moonilit]

Im reading more about Jason and just wanted to read from his origins and all that, which yes i know this is pre crisis and it all going to be retconned in a minute but its way too funny to me what I found

both these two different issues where published December 1983

New Teen Titans #37

And Batman #366

And apparently Bruce DID respect Dicks wishes and did not allow Jason to just take Robin

Then next issue Batman #367 January 1, 1984

Idk why jason just continued to dye his hair black ig its too late to go back now, so basically Bruce give him a chance but not as Robin, as a new partner with a new custom and name.

and he wanted to be called ISHMAEL 😭 idk if he referring to the character from the Moby-Dick novel but in any case. Non of the names stick, like they go do their thing and close up a case and everything and Bruce STILL can’t digest any of them. Which gonna be real, Jason was quite chill about this because he just start brainstorming new ones like ‘what? Ishmael didn’t cut it? A mouthful when in danger ok’ like :( I really liked Ishmael tho, bruce you brood.

problem solved when DC hold a gun to dicks head and tell him to just let Jay have the name:

So I just wanna say, that if you ever wrote or thought that Jason todd look back at his younger more naïve self and get embarrassed that he wore the leotards. Just know that its actually worse, because Jason Todd stood there saying “WWWOW” With sparkling eyes and WILLINGLY, with all his mental capacities chose the leotards over his own personalized custom. Like where is the sibling bullying for that fanfiction???

Dick: feast your eyes on my Spiffy custom Jason:

THEN DICK JUST FUCK OFF 😭😭😭 its so unserious 😭😭😭