#i want to make friends but im... afraid...

[camficdiner]

You’re writing is so good im obsessed with it all and love when i get to read the new pieces you publish 🤭❤️

can I request [1.2 2.1 3.6 4.2] ? Dying for some Quinn atm❤️‍🔥

☕️ Cam’s Fic Diner — Order 040

🍒 Thank you — for reading every fic, for staying at the counter, for wanting this one to hurt and heal. I made this one sweaty, shattered, and a little sacred.

Enjoy your meal love

-your favorite server

💬 “I’ve Always Needed You”

✨ Description and prompts:

Character: Quinn Hughes

Prompt: exes → hallway kiss after a brutal loss → hurt/comfort + desperate smut in the medical room

Word Count: 1.6kk

Type: angst + comfort + rough smut

⸻

🛼🍒✨🧁

You’re not supposed to be here.

You told yourself you wouldn’t come again. Told your friends it was over. That you weren’t going to stand in hallways like some ghost of who he used to love. That you didn’t belong to him anymore.

But the truth is — no matter how many weeks pass, no matter how shattered the ending — you still come.

You still watch.

And tonight, you already know what’s waiting on the other side of that hallway door: Quinn Hughes, broken.

The game was brutal. A blowout loss. No energy, no rhythm. The team collapsed under pressure and he took it like he always does — all on himself.

You saw it from your usual place, just behind the tunnel. You watched him skate off, jaw tight, eyes stormy, stick clenched like it could crack in his grip.

And now, he’s coming.

You hear the gear before you see him. The click of skates on concrete. The hiss of velcro. The unmistakable rhythm of Quinn’s pacing when he’s too angry to sit, too heartbroken to breathe.

Then he turns the corner.

Sweaty. Red-faced. Still in his gear — chest heaving under the pads, mouthguard hanging loose, hair soaked.

He sees you. Freezes.

You don’t speak.

Neither does he.

Just one look — like the oxygen left his lungs — and then he’s moving.

He presses you against the wall in two strides, hands on your face, mouth crashing into yours like the only language he has left. It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s need — bitter and beautiful and real.

You gasp, kiss him back. His gloves scrape your jaw. His chestplate crushes against you, damp and solid and still warm from the ice. He kisses you like he’s forgotten you ever left.

“Quinn—”

“Don’t,” he whispers, panting. “Don’t say anything yet.”

He pulls back just far enough to look at you, eyes glassy, voice broken.

“I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

Your heart cracks in half.

“You left,” you whisper.

“You let me.”

“You said it was better—”

“I was wrong.” He leans in again, forehead pressed to yours. “I thought I could be okay without you. Thought I had to be. But now…”

“Now?”

“Now I feel like nothing.”

You feel his hands trembling.

“I skate and I don’t see the ice. I sleep and I don’t dream. I hear my name and I hate it.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

“Please. Just this. Just once.”

Your breath catches.

“Not just once,” you say.

“Then show me,” he begs. “Please. Show me I’m still yours.”

The med room is empty. Quiet. Sterile. The cot in the corner isn’t meant for this.

But it’s where you end up anyway — back hitting the thin mattress, Quinn kissing you like it’s oxygen, like it’s salvation.

He strips in pieces. Jersey tossed. Pads dropped. Hands shaking as he drags your shirt off, eyes darting everywhere like he’s afraid to miss a single inch of you.

Then he freezes.

His hand is on your ribs, thumb brushing under your bra — and that’s when he sees it.

A small tattoo, just under your left breast. Simple lettering. Familiar.

“Come home to me.”

He stares.

Doesn’t speak.

You feel your breath catch.

“You said that to me,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Every time you left for a road trip. Every time I panicked.”

“You said, ‘I’ll always come home to you.’”

His eyes flicker up to yours — glassy, wrecked.

“I didn’t know,” he says. His voice cracks. “You never told me.”

“You were already gone,” you say softly. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to show you.”

For a moment, he just cups your face. Breath shaking.

Then he kisses the ink. Presses his mouth to the words like they’re a vow.

“I’m home,” he says. “God, baby, I’m home.”

The need surges again. He tugs your jeans down, mouth on your skin. Pulls your underwear aside, barely patient enough to slide his own pants down before lining up — desperate, overwhelmed.

He sinks into you in one smooth stroke, both of you gasping.

“Fuck—still perfect,” he groans, thrusting deep.

You wrap your legs around him. Cling to him. Move with him like you remember exactly how this goes — the rhythm, the stretch, the sound of his voice when he’s losing control.

“I missed you,” you breathe. “Every part of you.”

“I know, baby. I know. Never again.”

His thrusts get rougher. Sloppier. He buries his face in your neck, fucking into you like he needs to live there.

“Say it again,” he begs. “Say I’m yours.”

“You’ve always been mine,” you moan. “Even when I hated you for it.”

That pulls a choked laugh from him — then a groan as he slams into you one final time, spilling inside you with a raw, broken “I love you.”

You shake with your own climax, nails digging into his back, tears in your eyes.

After, you lie tangled together. Breathing heavy. Sweat cooling.

He traces the tattoo again.

“You kept it. All this time.”

“It was never about time,” you whisper. “It was about you.”

He nods.

And kisses the words one more time.

“Then I’m not leaving again.”

You help him undress the rest — slowly, gently this time. He’s quiet. Soft. He holds your hand the whole time, tracing your wrist like he’s learning your skin again.

“I’m sorry I let you go,” he says.

“I’m sorry I made you think you had to.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“We’re gonna fix this.”

“We already started.”

⸻

You leave the arena together. No disguises. No hiding.

Fans will notice. The media will guess.

But Quinn doesn’t care.

He laces his fingers through yours, kisses your temple, and says,

“Whatever it takes. I’ll make sure this time, you stay.”

[nostalgebraist]

When you finish writing a big story and you became very close the characters, was there a time after where you were like "i kind of want to revisit these characters again, but i should probably just let the story be, they deserve to rest" Im not talking about wanting to write a sequel, is more about still coming up with fun ideas for them, maybe a little scene or something, but choosing not to do anything with it because it'd feel disrespectful to the ending you gave them?

This doesn't happen to me, no.

The reason is that, once I finish the story, my sense of "being close to the characters" suddenly vanishes. And, although there are rare moments where it (briefly) returns, it mostly stays gone.

I can't remember if I've ever talked about this in detail before, but – when I'm in the process of writing a story, especially near the end, the characters feel "real" to me in a very strong and kind of uncanny way.

I don't actually believe that they exist as independent entities from me (much less sentient ones), but it does almost feel like that's true, when I'm in the thick of the writing process.

I have no trouble intellectually distinguishing fiction from reality, even in the state I'm describing. But my emotional and intuitive relationship with my characters, when I'm in that state, is pretty similar to the one I have with real people I know in real life. And there are a bunch of... uh, mental phenomena?... associated with this that I'm slightly afraid to describe because I worry they'll sound like hallucinations or delusions if I don't add a lot of caveats.

For example, when I'm alone in a room writing (especially if I'm writing in the middle of the night), I sometimes feel like it's not just me in the room, that the character I'm writing about is "there with me," in much the same way I'd be aware of someone real person's presence if I knew they were in the room but didn't happen to be looking in their direction. Or: sometimes I feel like the characters' voices are "flowing through me," that I'm merely taking dictation from them – and will sometimes even think to myself: "man, I'm so grateful that the character is helping me write this part, because if I tried to do it all by myself there's no way I would get it right." And it takes a moment before I realize, wait, no, I am writing it by myself – at least in a literal and physical sense.

Basically if you read this post, and then sort of read between the lines of it under the assumption that I'm downplaying how weird the experience actually is because I'm worried an accurate account would make me sound kind of unhinged... then you will have roughly the right impression of what the writing experience is like for me.

Whatever is going on here, it feels like it's probably on some kind of spectrum that also contains stuff like tulpas, multiple systems, and maybe also the way that children can sometimes get really deeply wrapped up in their imaginary play. I don't know how common this stuff is among writers (maybe it is common but rarely talked about?). It's not something I've experienced anywhere else in life; I don't experience it with other people's fictional characters or stories, or with fantasies I have that aren't associated with a work in progress, and I don't remember ever experiencing it before I started writing fiction as an adult.

Anyway, as I said at the top, the moment I finish writing a story, this phenomenon simply turns off, suddenly and completely. The transition is very noticeable when it happens, and makes me feel something akin to grief or loneliness over the brief span between the moment it starts and the moment it is fully completed – like I've just lost a bunch of close friends at once.

With Almost Nowhere, I remember a very specific feeling – on the evening of the day when I finished writing – that the characters were "departing 'into' the finished book," reverting to a lesser existence as "mere words" rather than "real people," as though they had been plastic toys animated by Terra Ignota's Bridger, and were now turning back into toys again. It made me sad, for a little while, but once they'd fully "lost their reality" I no longer cared, because it was that same sense of reality that made me care, and now it was gone.

So, to finish answering your question: I don't feel an urge to return to my old characters, because it feels intuitively obvious that doing this is impossible. That anything else I wrote about them would be inauthentic, somehow, in a way that the original work wasn't. They were "there," before, but they're "gone," now. This difference is very stark, and very hard to ignore.

(As I noted above, they do sometimes "come back" to me – very rarely, and very briefly, but that is enough for a proof of concept. Perhaps, if I were to try, I could find some way to "bring them back" for longer intervals. But I doubt I will ever try that. I feel a bit afraid of the concept for several reasons – for one thing, the "inauthenticity" I just mentioned squicks me out and I'd prefer not to come too close to it, and I also have a baseline wariness of doing stuff that seems too much like messing around with my own mental health. There's also a "catch-22" involved here, where I don't feel motivated about the characters the way I used to, and that means I'm not even motivated to do things that would generate that motivation. The "target" of the effort won't appeal strongly to me until I've already gone to the trouble of obtaining it, which means the effort doesn't feel justified in the first place.)

[jimmyjamz10]

the bully fandom situation.

i love bully so so much and i could never just leave it because of some problematic people.

im not saying i condone any of that really weird shit but only a few people in the community are doing all this shit, so why should the bully fandom (esp on tumblr) just collectively decide to ditch such an amazing game and otherwise truly great community/fanbase?

I dont really like making serious posts as im afraid of having my contention misinterpreted, but this is seriously something that should be talked about in an almost formal matter. I find that the bully fandom either goes really overboard or doesnt talk about it at all when some serious stuff happens like whats been going on right now.

I also wanted to stay quiet and hopefully let this all pass, but I just wanted to also have my point go out there and maybe fill some minds with hope for the future of the bully fandom.

ever since i’ve joined this community everybody has been so overwhelmingly encouraging and welcoming, and I’ve made some pretty cool friends along the way.

As far as right now, I will NOT stop posting bully related things, as I love to draw and write or even just rant, especially about my interests, so to anybody wondering if I’m ‘quitting’ the fandom, my answer is absolutely not.

this feels like some fuckass patriotism speech but like hopefully i got my point across w this

[kituono]

𝅄 ꣑ৎ ࣪ㅤ𓈒 Yandere Werewolf small fic.

W/c: 1016

A/N ┊ GUESS WHOS BACK SHADYS BACK/j HAYO im coming back for like a short amount of time and surprisingly I made a fic that's like 1000 words?!? OK SO he's not like ur average werewolf guys pls give him a chance lol I'll be happy if atleast 1 person reads it NOT PROOFREAD Im sorry im lazy pls

No spicy stuff sorry guys :(

PAIRING ┊Yan!Werewolf x You.

TW ┊ Dead body, Mentions of stalking, obsession but not a cutesy your mine type of way yknow? Would kill for you, literally

Many of the villagers have mumbled and whispered about a werewolf prancing about. Such nonsense couldn't be believed by you. To see is to believe...

Everyone shut their doors that night, the moon was full after all. Nocturnal beasts were not something to snicker at. A werewolf has no choice but to turn into a beast, when the moon is out they have no choice over their body. You could hear a beast howling in the night, its crying echoed throughout the forest and sent chills down your spine.

Mary, your friend has reassured you nothing will come to harm the both of you. After all this town was filled with many rumors, and words of the town meant nothing to us. Superstition was nothing but words spoken by elders to scare kids, werewolves, old hags, and vampires were but old fairy tales.

The sun shone on your skin, the rays blinded you and you started to feel a little lightheaded from all this sun. The morning sun never fails to shine brightly in your face and make you regret coming outside. The weather smelled of freshly baked dough and bird poo. You bumped into a man who was currently runningーhastily in fact! He looked like he was going to be late at any moment to something, or for someone. His face was gaunt and slim but his body was muscular and lean, dirt was stained on his cheeks and nose. He ended up bumping into you, and the collision made you both fumble backward and you dropped whatever groceries you bought that day. He dropped a few pieces of bread which now were sullied from the dirty gravel.

“S’cuse me! Sorry!-” He panted before trying to get up and tried to get as much bread as he could from the floor. A merchant, who was a little plump and had some stubble, approached the boy.

“oi! You!- Don't you know better than to steal?!”

Spat the merchant from whom the boy stole from. The boy didn't fight back, he couldn't. He didn't have the strength to even stand up after such a harsh beating from the merchant afterward. Most of the folk stared at the boy who was lying there, then carried on with their day. Not even stopping to help out the boy, they were afraid of getting stolen from him. You too joined in the crowd and ignored the fellow. As heartless as this was, there wasn't much you could do to help him anyway; your groceries were now a little bruised from falling out of your bag, but they were still good to eat and none of them can be spoiled just from a little dirt.

You walked through the streets, watching horses pass by and people. Your mind was still stuck on the poor boyーand how he looked. But, It was a common sight to see people go through such desperate acts to get an ounce of food.

The boy lingered in your mind for days until you soon forgot about him a few weeks later, and you never saw him again in the streets. It seemed like he had already got caught or chased out because of his misbehaving. That's when you heard shuffling nearby. It was the same disheveled boy you saw earlier. He was rummaging around the town to find scraps of food, his itchy hands wanting something to steal. His face looked starved more than usual, there was nothing. Not even a bit of money to buy anything. Not wanting to feel guilty this time, you decided to reach into your pockets to give a few coins to him.

When you offered a small bundle of coins, he was elated to see such kindness from someone. He looked.. more like a happy puppy. His posture wasn't straight and refined but more hunched, his hands were rough, and the texture of his skin on yours was interesting, to say the least.

“thank you..” he whispered in a soft voice, his throat coarse and it made yours feel itchy in a way.

He ran off, with the little coins you gave him. Maybe he was just a common beggar, after all, it hurt your peace of mind that you possibly just gave a no-good thief money to spend on something that wasn't food.

Surely the good deed you did would reward you? But nothing good has come yet. Only suffering, it seemed everyone around you was wary after that incident. It seemed the werewolf everyone was talking about has now placed its target on you, rumors spread like wildfire to avoid you or else they'll be taken too.

Mary had been too close to you, the wolf had noticed such a thing. It was a horrific sight, her body mangled and bruised in the forest. Her limbs dislocated and cracked, it was as if a vile animal attacked her. But no such thing could be done by an animal in the forest. Not even a coyote could do something like this. Only tiny flies swarmed around her, attracted to her scent.

The loss was nothing to the werewolf, only attracted to you. Fond was the boy, he could not approach you directly but only howl at night and lose his humanity, but his lust and love for you hadn't gone. Envious of the others who came near your kindness, it sickened the werewolf. In exchange for his loyalty, you unknowingly gave him something he wished for; generosity. No one could love a man who possesses lycanthropy. To the point where they'd ostracize him even if he did no wrong to the village but eat wildlife in the forest, and a few of their barn animals too.

For the rest of your life, it was a cat-and-mouse chase, he wanted to devour you whole. He desperately yearned for just an ounce of your affection, anything to satisfy his heart from the constant cycle of changing. The poor beggar you saw that day hadn't forgotten you as you thought, instead, he made your life hell if you weren't cooperative with him.

@kituono

[huckingitup]

in honor of the jdtz reunion im posting this fic rec list i sent to my friend back in 2023 I may post a part two with fics ive bookmarked since then but this is a good start for anyone wanting to dive in to their tag or revisit some faves

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45105727 - Don't Want You Like a Best Friend by Linsky

Summary: Jamie’s not gonna lie, it throws him a little when he realizes Trevor is gay.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33301879 - ain't going down without a fight by countthestars

Summary: Trevor may not be patient, but he is persistent. (Werewolf au)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30566318 - any excuse to stay awake with you by andthreequarts

Summary: "Bro," Trevor says, fake hurt in his voice, hand placed dramatically over his heart. "You're going to leave me to sit this out alone? What if I'm afraid of the dark?"

"You're not," Jamie responds, dry.

--

Jamie and Trevor handle a blackout.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790633 - my blood is red and unafraid of living by clementiae (lovesicker)

Summary:

Jamie Drysdale is nothing if not polite to Trevor, but when the team asks them if they’d be okay with living together, a muscle in his jaw twitches, blink and you’d miss it.

“Fine with me,” Trevor shrugs. A gauntlet, thrown.

Drysdale’s eyes flicker over to Trevor, almost involuntary, before he looks back at the team realtor. “Me too,” he says quickly.

(Or: Jamie Drysdale is the epitome of a nice Canadian boy, all slicked-back hair and a picture-perfect smile, but Trevor can fix that. Just give him some time.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36205570 - no more hesitations by blamefincham

Summary: “It’s not a curse,” Jamie says when they’re in the car.

“What? Bullshit, it’s totally a curse, I dunno know how I didn’t see it before,” Trevor says. “Not being able to make any decisions is exactly the kind of weird shit magic makes people do. Or, uh, not do, in your case.”

“It’s magic,” Jamie says, leaning his head against the window and closing his eyes. “But it’s not a curse.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38757903 - caught up in circles by countthestars

Summary: Jamie pauses. This feels like a test, or maybe a trick. (Time loop fic)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33007714/chapters/81927247 - California, dude. So sick. By dilangley

Summary: Jamie’s indignant expression is priceless. It makes Trevor want to annoy the shit of him every minute of every day just to watch him try to hold back that smile.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32061001 - steal the air out of my lungs by andthreequarts

Summary: It’s not just that Trevor wants to be choked by his medal. It’s that he’s actively asking Jamie for it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30649481 - What's The Over/Under On Getting Over/Under You? By neerdowellwolf

Summary: "Can we just, you know, pause for one second here," Jamie says. "Five minutes ago you were straight and now we're making you a Grindr profile?"

Trevor does stop. He sets his shirt on the bed next to him and fixes his gaze on Jamie. "I'm still straight. I just want to suck a dick. It's called coping."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36108415 - no pleasures here on earth i found by crawsley

Summary: “Z,” Josh says, and he can’t help the way it comes out kind of exasperated. “Will you just shut up and let me fuck you? What is your deal, man.”

“I don’t have a deal,” Trevor says, immediately, even though he has his face buried in the pillow and Josh can barely hear him. “Why would you think I have a deal?”

“Well,” Josh says, cautiously, slowing his thrusts to a deep grind, which actually feels good enough that Trevor muffles another moan into the pillow. “My first clue was that you called me Jamie just now.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42281415 - There's Gold in Them There Hills, or Alchemy for Dummies by CitrineDaydream

Summary: Jamie Drysdale is a witch. Well, a witch-in-training, out on his final journey to prove himself-- a pilgrimage to put himself through the seven steps of Alchemical Process. His contentious spirit guides have sent him across the continent from Ontario to California to find something that they refuse to reveal to him. Trevor Zegras is a rookie ranch hand, leaving New York for the freedom of the West. Far from home, he's still kept up with his families traditions and the ways they work with nature for prosperity and protection. He is absolutely, definitely not a witch.

Jamie is at least intuitive enough to know the gold he seeks isn't literal metal, but that's about as far as he trusts his instincts, and that's the majority of the problem. When his spirit guides freeze him out in an attempt to foster his intuition, the goofy cowboy seems to be the best bet he's got to unlock his path to growth that he can't seem to find to on his own.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34974916/chapters/87103744 - Thinking about making a comeback by theaa

Summary: “Going once. Going twice. Going three times — to — would you like to let everyone know your name, sir?”

Dylan leans over the stage and to the right, where the dude’s voice had been coming from. The mic squeals for a second before he cuts through.

“Trevor. Trevor Zegras.”

There’s some collective murmuring from the audience.

Jamie doesn’t know a Trevor Zegras. Does he?

- or Jamie signs himself up to a charity date auction, against his better judgement.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42605811 - bide your time by fiveandnocents

Summary: When Trevor finally gets his arms around Jamie’s neck, content to grind against Jamie’s thick thigh until he comes, Jamie shifts away.

“No,” he whines, trying to pull Jamie back in.

Jamie lets himself be dragged down, but only to press placating kisses to Trevor’s jaw as he runs soothing fingers through his hair. “You have two days to go.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41069556 (this one and the next work in that series r both decent Trevor/Jamie content) - Jamie All Over! By Anonymous

Summary: Trevor Zegras really needs to get over The Jamie Problem.

(Or: Jesus Christ, are these two ever stupid. I say this affectionately.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47797258 - Short Sleeves in December by makeit_takeit

Summary:Outside the windows that look out into the gym, is a guy.

He’s got dirty blond hair, sun-bleached ends curling shaggy and disheveled around his ears, sticking out from under a flat-brimmed hat. He’s wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, sides hanging open down past his ribs, and athletic shorts that are hiked up to stretch around the considerable width of his upper quads. He’s standing there on the wooden floor of the basketball court, barefoot and sweaty and tan all over, looking like what California would look like if it was a person.

And his pale blue eyes (of course they’re blue eyes) are narrowed, laser-focused, and they’re staring right at Jamie.

(High school AU)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38598030 - take a bite of my heart tonight by bropunzeling

Summary: Jamie stands in front of the meat section in Vons and considers his options.

He knows he’s kind of—okay, make that an extremely—shitty cook, but fortunately the requirements for tonight are pretty simple. Meat, raw. Preferably red. Even Jamie can manage that.

(Werewolf au)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46697140/chapters/117608428 - still on my way to the top by Lewsy

Summary: “I didn’t realize you wanted me to leave you alone in the car so you could jack off.” Jamie’s eyes are wide, and he looks a bit panicked, but he still hasn’t budged from the passenger seat. “I thought you had started some weird visualization exercise or something, like the trainers always say we should do.”

“I don’t even know what visualization means,” Trevor says. “And I have to jerk off before games because it’s good luck.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32186563/chapters/79754521 - Checked Swing by dilangley

Summary: Every morning, Jamie walks out into the kitchen of the little team-provided apartment and sees Trevor Zegras in his kitchen. And it ruins his fucking day. Every fucking time.

(Baseball au)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45401050 - in the honey by donderwolk

Summary: In the club, with Trevor hanging over him, Jamie says, “It’s not really my thing, bro.”

“What do you mean?” Trevor knocks his forehead against Jamie’s, talking kind of obnoxiously loud even if he does have to raise his voice to be heard over the music. “She’s hot and blonde, babe. That’s everyone’s thing.”

“Yeah, hot and blonde isn’t the problem,” Jamie replies, at a slightly lower volume. “But like, the girl thing is. I’m gay, dude.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34128502/chapters/84909955 - We're the heirs to the glimmering world by theaa

Summary: It could rain the whole time they’re in Michigan and Jamie doesn’t even think he’d mind.

[rabbitsfrommars]

Hello fellow girlkissers do you guys think women are actually into girlflops or is it just on this website? I feel like you get the consensus that like the girlies love pathetic women and I... I'm a pathetic woman but I am too scared to talk to other lesbians irl because women are just so so so froths at the mouth

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[choccy-milky]

MC doing what we all wished we could do (aka napping on the floor with ominis )😴💕

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

I don’t have any other way to describe my read on their dynamic other than Geode is in a gay relationship and Cole is in a QPR that is all

[donutcats]

I think it makes sense that wally was an asshole when he was alive. at first I didn't really like the choice, but sitting with it and thinking it over has started to convince me. because it was the 80's and homophobia was stupidly normalized, and I also think wally has always been the type of person to mold himself to what others expect of him. he did it with his mom, and I like to think that maybe he did the same with his friends. not even realizing he was doing it, because he wanted them to like him and because they made it seem normal.

he wasn't a very good person around his friends when he was alive, and it took him dying and living in limbo for decades to acquire new friends. people who actually called him out on his bullshit, people who made it easy for wally to change his very small worldview into something different.

he was an asshole and it's really important that he admitted it.

it's so important that he apologized because he knew what he did was wrong and he wants to be different and he loves charley so much, wally never wants him to feel unsafe or upset around him.

so like, sure. wally was a dickhead when he was alive because it was easy, because his friends were dickheads, but now he has better friends and he has a better outlook and he needs to let go of his high school nostalgia. it's not doing him any favors.

[voidcat]

bestfriend!narumi who one day kinda complains abt not getting the hype abt kissing/making out esp during or before sex

and u just mindlessly offer a quick explanation while working on ur project, not realizing him watching you like a hawk, drinking each word you say

"for many i talked with, and myself, i heard it helps to know the person beforehand. have some sort of attaraction to them as a person too, not just a face. it helps if you care about them even if it wont bloom into a proper relationship ykno"

and after sitting in silence for far too long, enough to make you suspicious, making you turn in your place only to find him in deep thought with his lips pressed firmly, he shrugs and says with such a nonchalance to show then. "what" "you said it helps to know the person. and who knows me best more than my best friend?"

it makes sense, in some weird, slightly deprived way. yet it feels heavy in your stomach as you scoot closer to him. sure, you two had sex but it was one time- one night to be precise. and somehow, what he's asking of you now feels more intimate, crossing a line the two of you have been dancing around, juggling, for a while now.

maybe it's the reasoning you've offered or his, the intimacy of your friendship, maybe it's the lack of alcohol in your systems tonight, maybe it's how he asks with such an ease, like it's something so simple, so normal, so casual when it is not- not when he knows what your stance is on the whole sex and hooking up scene, when he knows how hard it is for you to get intimate with someone, to open up to such levels.

you can picture what'll come next already. big eyes and dragged words and a plea. 'come oooon, are we not best friends? friends help each other, no?' and as you sit a lot closer to him now, your knee is pressed into his leg, you know already that you won't be able to refuse him.

[non-un-topo]

More cishet observations from the past month at work:

- They really fucking buzz off of the TERF wizard book series

- Their favourite place on Earth is Florida (why???)

- If you tell them you're an artist, they will ask you if you've ever "tried out AI"

- They will joke about OCD a lot

- They absolutely hate their bodies and will take any opportunity to talk about food in a toxic way (bonus points if they compare their body/food to yours)

- They hate their spouses and think that this is funny

- They. Do not. Have interests. (Besides the TERF wizard book series)

- They don't watch movies or TV??

- If they have kids, the way they talk about them makes it sound like it was genuinely the worst decision they ever made

- If they don't have kids, they will still fucking talk about having them

- They don't like cats??

In other weird news, I'm gendered correctly at work and I pass to the point that cishets actually talk to me like I'm a cishet guy.

[om340700]

i like to think that my mc has huge ass mer dca plushies & belphie takes them every once in a while

[heal-the-ashes]

I feel like Hershel and Desmond would both be afraid of themselves.

If they stop and look at themselves. If they realize what they're doing came from years of pain. Would it all lead to a question of "Who else am I going to hurt?" "How many people have I unintentionally hurt because I never realized what I was really doing?" "How many things of my life have I missed because of this?" "How many things do I—or will I—regret?"

I feel like Layton self-sacrifices to a fault. That others get hurt trying to protect him. That he unknowingly drags other people through pain to get to where he thinks he needs to go. To solve every mystery there is. To get rid of his pain from outside sources, he needs to make as much of it himself under the titles "Determination" and "Amazing at solving things" and "Helping others" because then, how could those things ever hurt him? How could they ever be seen as pain? They're not like his (other) traumas. They don't cause pain at all. Not to mention what he thinks about danger. Danger? What danger? There's no danger here. Just people who are willing to hurt others to get what they want—Which is very sad and shows their pain and he'd very much like to help them in any way possible, if possible. If they show that they don't want to be helped, then it's better to leave them be.

But then again, nothing can ever be someone's fault other than his around him. I think he goes over betrayals thinking, "There must have been something I could have done." or "There must've been something I did." or "If I learn from this, I can make sure it never happens again." or... ... I think he has a hard time accepting that things really aren't his fault / there's really nothing he can do about some situations. Actually, when it comes time for Unwound Future and the whole Evil Layton arc... The only time in which he actually raises his voice is at himself. Is at the version of him that betrayed all of the morals in which he's held onto for so long. But a part of me thinks that, if he knew things were actually his fault, he'd have a problem with that, too... I mean, look at how he reacts to him getting puzzle answers incorrect in CV. In CV. In the 4th game of experience that he's had with puzzles. And a movie. With all that experience and he gets something wrong... he's disappointed in himself. Going back to the UF/LF thing... "I demand an explanation!!" I don't think I'll ever forget that line. I think, from his journal... We know he was trying to think of reasons why he would do something like this. Idk. I'm. Thoughts are not thinking anymore. Um. Wow I really lost my thought process. I was also gonna talk about Desmond. But I guess that's not happening at the moment.

[faaun]

said goodbye to him feeling weird!

[light-wrath-paradise]

Animorphs Book club book 8

My reaction can be summarised as this (yet again):

I don't have many thoughts because uh. That was depressing as hell and I need to stare at a wall.

But I DO gotta say that the subplot with the dead "wife" was so telenovela-esque that for a good minute it was more funny than depressing. Then it got depressing. But it was so jarring and so far out of the left field that for a good second my friend and I had to pause the audiobook and laugh because ????????? Unhinged to just appear, go "I am Eslin, I have a G U N. My secret wife was killed. By my boss. Now I yearn for sweet sweet revenge." and not elaborate. Like. Damn dude ok. Sorry about our wife also. Fucking killed me that he continued like "So anyway I reacted adequately by killing all of my boss' friends. Starvation style." Like ???? Jjhsgdjsdfghsjdfh what????? I mean damn I do respect the grind set but also that's such an absurd escalation out of context. Did your boss kill your wife? Kill all of his friends! And in context the most absurd part is probably the notion that Visser 3 has friends??????? Like??? Wait no Eslin. Eslin wait. I love your John Wick-esque "fridged wife" trope swag but you need to slow down. I need details. I need you to tell me HOW your boss even has friends.

In my heart I do not believe we will see that madman ever again but on god I do wish for an insane telenovela-esque sequence of him just showing up at the most random moment to do exactly one thing and that's to pull a gun on Visser 3. For no reason, I just think it would be kinda funny. Like,,,did your boss kill your wife?:

Kill all of his friends

Acquire a G U N

Attempt to make the local Andalite youth assassinate your boss for you

Pull the gun on your boss

???????

Profit (probably die)

Aside from that, I also need to say that the moment when Ax called Tobias his close friend at the end was so sweet. Also ngl kinda...concerning/harrowing how much Tobias really doesn't give a shit about not being a human. Like it doesn't seem so concerning from other points of view but the way Ax gets increasingly weirded out by Tobias not asking him about the nothlit (idk if I'm spelling that right rn) really reminds you that it IS kinda worrying. Like I get it, I mean...Tobias has no family that cares about him, he has no friends outside of the Animorphs friend group, why would he care? But it's still kinda...yeah.

Also unimaginably surprised by the amount of collective guilt present in the Andalite society. You'd think they're Catholic or something the way they keep beating themselves up and force everyone to also beat themselves up and their system itself is saturated with the guilt and shame and they teach it to kids at school from an early age. Like. Jesus Christ calm down. Stop that. As the Animorphs said at the end of the book - the Andalites made an oopsie once. It sucked, yes, it continues to have consequences that suck, yes, but it happens. Sometimes you think you're doing something kind and it turns into a disaster. That does not mean you should beat yourself up for it or, god forbid, tell other people that they should not be kind lest they make a mistake. Damn I guess we should all be cold assholes forever, huh? I'm sure that can't have any negative consequences.

Andalite society in general seems kinda unhinged. Like...do I get why it is like that? Yeah. But do I find it unhinged? Also yeah. Like ok duty and the collective being the most important things is totally sensible for a prey animal. Safety of the herd and all that. But it's still kinda unhinged that they do make everyone have duty as their number 1 priority and that they have rituals devoted to it. Not all rituals are spiritual or religious in nature, but the morning ritual is kinda...borderline religious in a way. More spiritual than religious, I suppose, but yeah.

Also I love Ax so much. 10/10 character. He has it all: an incredibly hilarious desire for cinnamon buns, the inability to act like a human being (same dude), spitting random facts at completely random times, a thirst for blood only a 13(?) years old could have, a dysfunctional obsession with duty and doing what is right that only a 13(?) years old could have (also lol yeah dude I was like that when I was 13 too. dw you'll grow out of it), he can even code. And he might even be bi (I'm joking but I' referring to the fact that he was like "Yeah so when I morph into a human form I suddenly agree that Rachel is beautiful and that Marco is cute.").