#This is just an idea idk if I'll actually write it

[myidealhousehaschickenfeet]

Thank you for tagging my fics!! Love to see people talking about some of the things I try hardest to pay attention to in my writing.

This is something I think about a LOT -- I see people talking as though the Jedi somehow have worse mental health/coping mechanisms than the clones and it just ... idk it makes no sense at all to me, and totally rubs me the wrong way.

I think every point made above is really really on the mark. There's also a certain amount of Jedi negativity that plays into this I think? People act as though Anakin being poorly adjusted or Obi-Wan being their whumpee means free reign for 'Jedi have no idea how to take care of themselves/are completely repressed/etc.' Plenty of people have talked about how no, the Jedi aren't terrible actually, and they didn't in fact deserve to all die, but I'll just add: being in a religious order doesn't automatically make you repressed or poorly adjusted, actually!

Meanwhile, being raised in an environment like Kamino definitely DOES create extremely repressed and poorly adjusted adults. There's an extent to which it's nearly impossible to give justice to the full implications of that sort of systemic abuse (especially since there was never time to explore that much in canon). Ignoring that altogether is fine in some contexts -- crackfics come to mind, or just things where it wouldn't fit the story or the tone -- but much more uncomfortable when you're delving into and expanding the trauma of the people around them. The clones are EXTREMELY competent at one very specific thing. Don't let that fool you into thinking they don't have a lot of very, very messy internality about everything else!

I already wrote a similar posts on how fics of this nature annoy me, but I would like to push it further by saying that while I am fine reading it, I feel kind of weird about fics where the clones like Cody are constantly taking care of and basically babysitting their Jedi General or acting as a major emotional pillar for them.

I think the reason it makes me so uncomfortable is that not only are the clones already going through their own extremely horrific shit, but the Jedi are their superior officers and have a lot more systemic power over them. I will never stop saying that the clones are slaves, and while I don't see the Jedi as being their enslavers, I do think that they are essentially in a "master" position of power whether they like it or not. So it feels weird when the Jedi are more dependent on the clones and the clones need to basically take care of them and are always needing to look after them.

I'm a half-black American who is very passionate about African American history and anti-black systemic issues. And I can't help but be reminded of the tropes involving black characters whose are constantly forced into what is basically a caretaker role for white characters. Think of the Mammy, or the Black Best Friend, or the Magical Negro. The clones are already oppressed, already marginalized, and already forced to constantly back up and support the Jedi in charge of them. And then they are forced to be their Jedi's babysitter on top of all that.

Helping their Jedi out and generally caring about their wellbeing on places like the battlefield? Yes, that can be very sweet and often involves a lot of emotional care and trust.

Needing to force their Jedi to take care of themselves even off the battlefield and having a whole system/thing about how the Jedi "never take care of themselves and simply need the clones in order to do basic self care and not overwork themselves all the time while being oh so self-sacrificial"? Slightly weird and honestly seems to be the other way around based on both canon scenes and their respective circumstances.

I feel like perhaps part of this is just a general desire for angst and classic whump tropes, and sometimes it seems to be used as a way to showcase, "see! The Jedi do care about their troopers!" It seems like an example of the Jedi taking on the caretaker position and being the ones to protect the clones. But it almost always ends up resulting in the clones being forced into a support/caretaker role even when it seems like the Jedi is playing the role of caretaker.

Now, I don't think fics that follow this overall concept are super problematic or whatever. I also think some dynamics like this can work, such as with the Padawans and the clones (though that is for very specific reasons). I really don't want to spread too much negativity or say that anyone who writes this stuff is automatically racist or whatever. It's more of a personal discomfort/distaste than anything and people can write whatever they want, especially since I know the intent behind these tropes are often sweet in nature.

But I do think it's good for us to reflect on the parallels the clones have to real life issues and the way certain harmful tropes and mindsets can be perpetuated through metaphorical allegories (whether intentional or unintentional), and discuss the way we as a fandom treat the power dynamics between the clones and Jedi, especially in regards to things like shipping.

I don't know if I'm making any sense, but please tell me what you think, especially since I think it would be a good thing to talk about.

[kasaru-chan]

Because the Brain rot truely never stops

I had an idea for a medieval AU with Prince Bradley but Max is a person that was cursed into being a dragon after he and his dad had gotten up to some shenanigans with a local witch.

He can take on a smaller form where he looks like a scaly human with fangs and a tail which is easy enough to hide with a cloak and a mask.

He mostly uses his new dragon powers to terrorize shitty monarchs and to steal away princesses who really want to get out of marrying assholes. He arrives at the Uppercrust Kingdom planning to just do the former but accidently witnesses Prince Bradley's mistreatment at the hands of his father and decides "ah fuck it, I guess I'll do a kidnapping too."

Bradley is completely unaware of this plan and Max is entirely unaware that Bradley is an intolerable spoiled brat.

Hilarity ensues.

[sleepy-grav3]

DCxDP Prompt

Danny and Phantom were always separate beings, and Phantom becomes the Ghost King.

BUT Phantom's ghost species is a phantom, which Danny didn't know when naming him (inviting him to the Fenton family thing through a ghost pun)

And phantoms collectively haunt a region in the infinite realms. Specifically, what DC calls The Phantom Zone.

The cherry on top? Phantoms are genuinely malicious ghosts; Phantom just favors Danny enough to act like a hero. He only seems innocent and kindhearted when Danny looks his way, then second he turns his head, he's all creepy and evil looking.

And it all comes to head when there's a summoning.

Bonus: Danny is edging closer to insanity.

Mad scientist, traumatized to villainy, one seriously bad day away-

Meta or just a genius?

Extra bonus! Phantom doesn't care about mortals and he's the one holding Danny back and keeping him from falling to the deep end.

If this prompt has been done before, please comment some recommendations :)

[doubletroubletag]

i got almost all the next month's updates sketched! i'm not doing the last one simply because i am feeling the burn out of composing these pages. (each have at least 6 pages, a good amount have the max 12!)

that said, these are all just sketched. i want to do it in this order: backgrounds -> lineart -> transcript. i got other projects i need to work on (winning hat and NightFell) so I can't really guarantee when Tag will start to update again.

[somegrumpynerd]

Does anyone else hc that Nightmare can like, absorb his tentacles back into his body sometimes? Like the way Stitch does with his extra arms?

[qoldenskies]

So Donnie essentially is all bark? With very little bite.

Canon Donnie.

I MEAN HE'S GOT BITE he can certainly do some dangerous insane shit, but i dont think he's as wild and aggressive as he tries to let on. it's pretty obvious the "bad boy persona" thing is bs but i also think a lot of that murderous intent is not backed up by the way that he acts, because the second he gets pushback he starts crying and shitting himself 😭😭😭

[sympathytea]

So this is a sequel to this post mainly because there was some crucial details in the finale that I missed, but this is specifically going to be focusing on Parrot rather than Evbo, although Evbo is still going to be part of this whole theory. Lets start.

[Transcript Start] Evbo: -My iron sword, so their swords will never break. Thats why I have to get out of here, so that I can prove to people that there is a way out! Obviously, to do that, I need to make it to level 4. But its a bit tough to do that, since theres no way to rank up apparently. Parrot: ...Wait, what do you mean theres no way to rank up? Evbo: Oh yeah! I probably should've mentioned that every time I try to rank up to a golden sword- Woah, getting up close and personal. But..yeah, theres no water at the bottom, I've died-

[End of transcript.]

This exchange to me, at first, read as rather inconspicuous. Other players have killed Evbo before, or straight up hit him. So it didn't particularly click with me that this was something to pay attention to, but it was a bit weird considering how Parrot is first characterized. His whole introduction with Evbo and Tabi, and him talking about the iron sword layer being peaceful, and trying to protect Evbo's immortal identity, being depressed and isolating himself in a mansion.. It seems odd that this would suddenly shift when the situation becomes "Theres no way out" and him almost getting violent here, like every other character in the series. But he shows restraint in his anger rather than lashing out. Good right? Well... Next time we "meet" Parrot the implications are less than ideal. We learn he is a bow, and that he attempted to tell Evbo this, but the message about Tabi's betrayal got through to him too late. Then something else happens. Evbo, post betrayal and probably wanting to let off some of the stress that has most definitely been bubbling under the surface, Kills the entire iron sword layer. Or atleast very heavily implied that he did, along with Parrot's help. In Evbo's words, he "Killed all the people that were against me." which could either mean like, two people or the entire layer, and I don't think Evbo was particularly keeping track of the "bad" iron swords that came into his cell depending on how populated that layer actually is. The way someone would typically twist this, is that Parrot is willing to do terrible things for his friend's safety and comfort. Which is fine, but hear me out. Considering that Parrot got very close to snapping at Evbo back in episode 4, and was pretty absent throughout the arc where Evbo trains until he gets to the diamond sword layer, and then out of nowhere, helps with a murder spree despite him being one of the more peaceful residents? One that doesn't appear to get into fights, nor is seen going into Evbo's cell for kills? Evbo lets something slip near the end right after describing the massacre that he and Parrot did together. Parrot says:

"I will do my best to make a difference in this world."

Now, this sounds good in theory. Great, even! But consider the stuff we learned from him up until this point, the tiny details that you could easily miss or disregard entirely. Now, what does that phrase imply? Especially with the surrounding context being Evbo and Parrot killing a layer together?

What difference does he intend to make in this world? We don't get more than what Evbo tells us in the narration, but he does mention that he isn't willing to see Parrot just yet, and needs to piece his feelings towards him. What went down between these two that went unseen that left Evbo not wanting to talk to him let alone see him? Fishy, fishy, fishy.

[orcinus-the-orca]

Was going through my notes when I stumbled upon a snippet from a larger story. A Batfam x DCMK crossover, to put it plainly. The main jist is Conan, Saguru, Heiji, Haibara, and Kaito end up in the DC world because of gem shenanigans. And then somehow, the first four end up in the good graces of the Batfam. Kaito avoids them like the plague, and as far as the detectives (and Haibara) know, they don't know if he followed them to this world or not. Here's one of those proposed ideas of how they find out about KID's presence.

Further background: Tim Drake (as Robin) has had at least one run-in with a strange guy. I wrote this around the time of just getting into DC lore, so forgive some of the wording. This was also last updated in October 2022.

 “What do you have there?”

 Tim jumped at the small voice, swiveling his chair around to look at the little girl by his chair. She was staring at his monitor with a bored expression, though her blue eyes seemed to sparkle with something else. Curiosity, maybe, but Tim was too tired to properly guess.

 The teenager leaned back into the back of his seat, rubbing the sting from his eyes. He’d been twenty minutes without coffee and the effects were already getting to his nerves, “Some guy I met on patrol.”

 “Trying to find leads?” The little girl hummed, tilting her head back to view the bright screen better. “At least you’re being smart about it.”

 “Hey, I–“ Tim blinked, “What do you mean by that?”

 Haibara glanced up, surprise finally alight in her features, “You are reviewing footage. Had it been Kudo-kun, he would be breaking into homes and licking foreign objects.”

 Tim had no answer. He was already thrown off by the implications that he was doing something rational, which was not a word typically used to describe him nor his habits. He was the “weird” one by his family’s standards and had never once had himself compared to being normal about anything. Though he wasn’t sure the word described him, he wasn’t going to ruin it by admitting that he and Kudo shared a lot of things, actually.

 “Have you any leads?” Haibara asked, and Tim realized only then that she had dragged another one of the chairs to the desk. “Suspects?”

 “I– No,” Tim shook his head. “Just that he’s hard to trace, apparently. Impressive, really.”

 “How do you mean?” Haibara linked her fingers together.

 Tim waved his hand as he rewound the footage for the 53rd time, “I can’t find where he went; let alone where he came from. My only guess is he’s disguising himself, so maybe some sort of shape shifter…”

 Tim waited, expecting another question from the little girl, but she kept quiet. Her eyes were locked onto the playing video, following every movement of the man Tim had met. The man performed that trick with the cards, throw an eight of hearts and ace of spades at the two men who had been firing at them. The force at which each card had been thrown managed to knock the men off their balance while still being capable of embedding into the wall behind. Tim stared down at his notes, contemplating whether super strength was qualified to be added.

 “I was wondering where he might be.”

 Tim snapped his head to Haibara, whose expression had lifted into something amusement. Tim stared at the video then at her, “You know this guy?”

 “Who said anything about knowing?” Haibara asked with a coy smile. “I cannot say I know him, but I certainly know of him. Kudo-kun and Hakuba-kun, on the other hand, have had enough experience that I would reason they’re in a committed relationship by now.”

 “Kudo and Hakuba?” Tim mouthed.

 “For both of our sakes, I would recommend you not tell them of this,” Haibara explained, inching towards the edge of her seat. “When it comes to him, the detective will do anything to have one of their confrontations.”

 Tim’s eyes narrowed, “Why is that? Who is he?”

 Haibara placed her elbows on her knees, creating a rest for her chin to set upon, “You have heard his name before. He is a criminal of many faces, a thief who steals his prizes only to return them to their rightful owners. The magician dressed in white to perform his tricks for his faithful audience. The one thief those detectives have never bested.”

 Haibara lifted her gaze towards Tim, her blue eyes sparkling with humor, “He is the internationally wanted thief, Kaitou 1412. Better known by his name KID.”

 “KID,” Tim mouthed, then with louder ferocity, “That was Kaitou KID?!?”  Haibara closed her eyes, “Bingo.”

[confused-disaster32]

i wanna write horror or stories with almost horror like themes or scifi themes about being trans not particularly because being trans is something horrible and terrifying but bc there's something to me about the ideas of stuff like being trapped within ones self, about experimenting and making things beyond human comprehension, about tearing apart a human, about sometimes tearing apart something that others have deemed 'beautiful' (even if you have not), about looking into a void, about coming out of something changed to your very core that resonates with me on a deep level as a trans person and to me reflects on my own thoughts and experiences whilst I was figuring out my identity

[king-candybug-backup]

I'm noticing an uptick in comments complaining that most of the current WIR fandom content is Turbo instead of the other characters and, like... you guys know you can search other characters by their specific tags, right??? Or exclude Turbo from search results by temporarily blacklisting him in your filtered tags?

Idk, it's just weird to me to be discouraging towards people making fandom content just because it's not the specific content you want to see, like, it's ok to want to see other content, but complaining about how other people aren't catering to your tastes enough instead of just making the content you want to see yourself is kinda bad vibes, y'know?? (And that's not to say that I think those comments are intended out of malice of course, I really don't think they are, I just wanted to point out that it can come off as a little entitled, as well as discouraging towards people who just want to draw Turbo, which is something that should be fine if that's what they want to do. Fandom should be fun for everybody, and there's lots of tools available to curate your experience with it!)

[gunpowder-gemini]

Eyo finally settled on a design I like for my Rito OC Cirra! I have gotten so much practice drawing braids now lmao. She's got a dad, 4 little sisters and a dead mom I'll draw (eventually)

I got the sheikah brush pattern for the background from @/ezlo-x here

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about my swinger! con artists! Odypen and diomedes being their much younger bratty thrid au

[fadewalking]

no one wants to hear a longform think piece about Solas' hardcore Utilitarian fundamentalist perspective on ethics and morality and how it contrasts with a seemingly more popular rights-based perspective followed by my totally-not-biased evaluation on which view (if either) has more ethical merit and where maybe everyone falls into a trap of moral objectivism as if we as individuals are the poster children of what Is and Isn't moral, then followed by my own personal critique of the more nuanced direction i think we ought to go when handling these moral conundrums, right?

i should maybe just work on drafts, right??

[jerreeeeeee]

hm. struck all of a sudden with the urge to write a candlenights fic. i don’t think i really have the time for that but its. really strong.

[qoldenskies]

Donnie for sure the second youngest but I don’t think he probably thinks of Leo as older practically. They’re probably only a few months apart at most and I don’t think Donnie would consider that developmentally significant enough to see Leo as a big brother like he does Raph. Leo on the other hand, absolutely views Donnie as a bratty little brother. Basically they’re not twins but still do the twin thing when someone asks who’s older.

Younger: we’re twins it doesn’t mat-

Older: me I’m older

its honestly why i usually like to make their twinship a compromise for donnie's sake. he doesn't really accept the idea of there being a power dynamic between them with their ages (even though there kind of is? raph and leo are in their own little camp separate from donnie and mikey, it's pretty clear by the way raph puts so much pressure on leo in particular) and i usually dont have him bring it up much it at all unless he's thinking more about mikey because i think them having solidarity over having to deal with their older brother bullshit is true and like. genuinely kind of canon? they're so fed up with them LOL

like ngl i actually care so much about second youngest donnie BECAUSE of his relationship with mikey. b team is my favorite thing in the world

(also yes absolutely no matter how small the gap is to me, leo will use EVERY opportunity to hold it over donnie's head. i mean i think episodes like lair games make that clear. when he grabbed donnie's vambrace and held it out of reach in smart lair too LMFAO... genuine bastard older brother behavior)

[theflyingfeeling]

hello if you thought that this stupid band going on a stupid devastating world-crushing well-deserved hiatus would stop me from writing the terrible tragic miserable galaxy-brain Olli/Allu infidelity AU... lol think again <3

this one is sort of an independent sequel to this ficlet and takes place after The Decision™ 🖤

~

When Aleksi got back from the Hilltop Forest cottage, the first thing he did was get out his drum set. 

It was dusty from having been untouched for months (or for years? Aleksi wasn’t sure anymore) and he suffered through multiple coughing fits while assembling it, but at last everything was in place. He spent another moment giving the cymbals a final polishing, a hint of a grin on his lips as he imagined Tommi’s voice scolding him for handling them so carelessly, then he sat on the stool that squeaked from the first touch since– yes, Aleksi still couldn’t remember since when exactly. Come to think of it, now that he was seated, alone in his studio, he tried and failed recalling the last time he had had time to just sit. 

So he sat. He sat, until voices started echoing in his head. They were the voices of his bandmates, of their management team from Century Media. Of Joonas crying silently in the woodshed. Of her saying hi and how was the meeting before Aleksi had rushed to the studio to avoid having to say out loud what they had agreed on at the cottage. 

Of Olli’s whisper by his ear, ordering him to stay quiet. 

When the voices got too loud, he started playing. 

And once he had started, he played for an entire week. 

He played, until the bang of the drums muted all these voices. He played to mute the suffocating silence behind all that noise. He played until it became almost too dark to see in the studio, with the curtains drawn and the midnight sun covered by a thick veil of clouds, so he lit one of his scented candles and resumed playing. He played and played and played, from breakfast until sunset, skipping dinners and ignoring text messages from upstairs, asking him to please come to bed already, and when he stopped at last, when he could no longer hear a single thought swirling in his head, he was left in silence, his hands aching and trembling, his breathing coming in short puffs. 

Something wet was spread on his cheeks. Sweat, he decided, and dried them off with the back of his palm. 

Then he set the drumsticks aside, took out his phone and texted Olli. 

I miss you already. 

The second he had sent it, he wanted to unsend it, because fuck if it didn’t sound ridiculous and desperate – both of which he was, of course, but he didn’t need Olli to know that. 

(As if Olli didn’t already, from the way Aleksi had begged for him to let him cum the last time they had been together.)

It was too late, though, because the second after the regret had hit him, the message was marked ‘seen’. Aleksi couldn’t pretend to be surprised, because that’s what he had gotten used to when texting with Olli. Sometimes he felt as if Olli was already typing his reply or calling him when Aleksi had barely lifted his thumb off the ‘send’ button. That was why it felt odd to see Olli was viewing his message but not writing back to him or to not feel the phone in his hand vibrate from an incoming call. 

No matter how hard he stared at the screen, there seemed to be no reaction from Olli. It was such a strange feeling, one that scared him to the depths of his soul. 

Is this what it’s going to be like from then on? Him in Oulu living his idyllic northern life in his idyllic northern home with her, and me down here in my desolate studio, missing him so much that I want to scream and rip my hair off? 

Suddenly it was getting too loud again in Aleksi’s head, so he grabbed the drumsticks and was all but ready to bang his longing away, right until he’d feel numb, and not just in his hands. He never got around to it, though; if he had started playing a second earlier, he wouldn’t have heard the quiet knock on the door interrupting his intentions. 

Which was an odd thing to hear in the first place, because no one ever knocked on his door. 

Joel never knocked, because he always just sent Aleksi a text informing him he had arrived and Aleksi would find him standing awkwardly behind his studio door. Niko never knocked, as he just stormed right in the studio to play Aleksi his new song ideas, not noticing (or caring) what he was interrupting, even if it was Aleksi about to slide his hand down his pants in a delusional daydream about a mutual friend of theirs. Joonas never knocked either; Aleksi usually learnt of his arrival from upstairs where he’d be playing with Rilla before coming down to greet Aleksi. 

She never knocked, because she never came to the studio. It was the one place that was his, only his in the house, from the walls he had painted himself, to the wobbly Ikea shelves he had assembled alone at two in the morning with a great deal of swearing and maybe even tears – although he wouldn’t admit it – to the shabby couch he had gotten from his mother when she had moved houses, to the polaroids that kept him company by his computer when he worked and which could have him travel back in time and space in the blink of an eye, to memories he would be treasuring until the very end of everything. 

(All of them had Olli as the main character.) 

And, well, Rilla never knocked, because she was just a little dog with no hands, so Aleksi was baffled as to who would be behind his studio door, at almost midnight on a Tuesday. During the four steps it took him to reach the door, Aleksi’s guesses on who he’d reveal when opening it ranged from an annoyed neighbour complaining about the noise, to the studio ghost his Twitch viewers kept joking about, asking to be let back in after having sneaked out when Aleksi had gone upstairs for some coffee, and somehow all of that seemed to make much more sense than what he did find behind the door.

He had not expected to find a familiar mop of curls and a pair of sad, grey eyes staring straight into his. 

“Hey,” Olli said. 

“Huh,” Aleksi replied, which was an accurate expression of how he was feeling. 

“I’m just… here are your shorts.” Olli was handing him a bundle of black fabric. 

“Huh,” Aleksi repeated, still bewildered about the latest turn of events. He looked at the alleged shorts in Olli’s hand, then at Olli, and again at the shorts. “You… did you come from Oulu just to give me these?” 

“Uhhh. Yeah.” Olli looked almost embarrassed now, his gaze having fallen to the garment he was holding, his chin lowered closer to his chest. 

“But… We’re gonna see each other next week. You could have given them to me at Provinssi.” 

As if there was something in Olli’s eye, he blinked rapidly while reaching towards Aleksi until he took the shorts from Olli’s hand. 

“I thought you’d maybe need them before that. They’ve promised a heatwave after midsummer.” 

Aleksi felt the worn fabric. It smelled different, of an unfamiliar conditioner. He wanted the garment out of his hands, but he didn’t want to seem rude; Olli had travelled all this way, seemingly to just give Aleksi back his stupid shorts, the ones he had seen Olli pack in his backpack (by accident or on purpose, Aleksi could only guess) the morning after they had made love for the last time and had said nothing of it (out of courtesy or on some twisted, selfish whim of his mind, Aleksi wasn’t sure). 

“Well. Thanks,” he said, and tried his best to sound grateful. Perhaps, if Olli had stolen a piece of his heart and taken it to Oulu with him, it was only fair that he at least returned his shorts. 

“Well,” Olli’s eyes wandered somewhere past Aleksi, now that he no longer had anything his hands to fix his eyes on, “guess I’ll get back, then.” 

“No,” Aleksi heard himself say, way before his useless brain could follow. “Don’t go.” 

Aleksi searched for Olli’s gaze, but when he finally found it, he regretted it immediately, for Olli’s eyes had welled with tears and his bottom lip was quivering. 

“Don’t go,” Aleksi echoed himself. By then he was prepared to repeat it over and over, would have gotten on his knees if that was what it would have taken to make Olli stay, now that he was there in front of him again, for him to touch and hold if Olli only would let him. 

Like he had, so many times before. 

Even though he maybe shouldn’t have, for both their sake.

(Aleksi was terrified he might not, ever again.) 

Olli stepped inside, the tips of their shoes touching. The sorrow in Olli’s eyes was going to drown Aleksi if he kept staring into it for too long, yet he couldn’t force himself to look anywhere else except into the depths of grey and blue. 

How could he ever? Whenever he looked into Olli’s eyes, he felt loved like he had never before. He felt safe, even when the world around him was changing and scared him to the bone. 

“I miss you already too,” Olli whispered. His voice was just as full of melancholy as his eyes. “Every day. Every second.” 

That was the reply Aleksi had been left hanging without just a moment earlier. That was the reassurance Aleksi needed to toss the shorts in his hands aside and pull Olli in, their hips and chests and lips crashing together. 

The heaviness inside Aleksi, the one he had tried to suffocate, gave room to hunger and yearning, to lust and urgency as they stumbled towards the couch, tangled in each other like vines. Olli let out small, soft whines with every kiss, as if he was in pain, and perhaps he was, although Aleksi hoped it was the kind of pain he himself was experiencing: pain of not having Olli close enough even though he was right there, in his arms, skin on bare skin once their shirts had flown off; pain of wanting someone you could not have, or rather, someone you did have but could not keep. 

He could never keep Olli, not the way he wanted to, not for as long as he needed to. Keeping him forever was out of question, and it was naive to even wish for it, but would even that have been enough? Keeping him for one more night was nothing like forever, but it was more than never at all, was it not?

Maybe one more night was their forever. 

Olli’s face was sombre, with his eyebrows straight lines and his lips only just parted, when Aleksi took off the rest of his clothes, never taking his eyes off Olli who lay on his back. Their eye contact was broken when Aleksi touched his lips on Olli’s exposed stomach and Olli closed his eyes, sighing out loud his satisfaction. The sighs grew louder the closer Aleksi got to Olli’s cock, so that when he finally took it in between his lips, Olli was full-on moaning – dangerously loud, but Aleksi had no intention to silence him. Olli moaning out of pleasure was the most beautiful sound Aleksi had ever heard, and if he was the cause of it, he would always do his everything to keep Olli going. 

Olli was perfect under his touch. Olli was perfect inside his mouth. Olli was perfect in all the ways Aleksi could imagine; so perfect and gorgeous and sexy that Aleksi could have come just from sucking him off, just from making Olli feel good, which he had had done, in fact, many times before, but tonight he was feeling a little more selfish. He could have rubbed himself off against the couch cushions while having Olli flood his mouth with his hot cum, but the heaviness that threatened to return to his chest had other ideas. 

He expected Olli to object when he gave the tip of Olli’s erection one last kiss before sitting up, but the man only looked up at him in silence with hooded, darkened eyes. Without a word exchanged, Olli spread his thighs as Aleksi positioned himself in between them and guided his own throbbing cock to Olli’s rim. Then Aleksi glanced at Olli, to wordlessly ask if he needed preparation, but instead of nodding or showing any hesitation, Olli took Aleksi by the back of his head and brought him in for another kiss. 

They kissed until Aleksi slid inside Olli, as slowly as he could so as to not hurt him without driving himself crazy with want. They kissed until the throbbing of Aleksi’s cock became unbearable and Olli urged him to do something about it with a roll of his hips, because of course Olli noticed when Aleksi was losing it. They kissed until Aleksi began moving, in and out of Olli, tears rising into both their eyes with every deep thrust. They kissed until Aleksi was fully fucking into Olli, no longer able to hold himself back. They kissed and kissed and kissed, soft and rough at the same time, loving and furious, blissful and heartbroken, until Aleksi felt Olli tighten around him and cry into his mouth, until Aleksi filled Olli with his seed and kept on rocking his hips until he was spent, until there was nothing left of him except what there’d always be left of him, even when he was too exhausted or fucked up to feel anything else: 

his love for Olli. His bottomless, hopeless, good-for-nothing love for Olli, which he would soon have nowhere to put, nowhere to waste on, nowhere to keep it safe until–

Until what? Until the stars would align and everything keeping them apart from each other would magically disappear with the northern wind? Until Olli would abandon his perfect life in Oulu and run back to him?

It was foolish, Aleksi knew, but it was his only hope. It was all he had left. 

Besides, is that not exactly what Olli had done tonight? Perhaps it wasn’t as foolish after all, Aleksi thought as they lay naked on his studio couch. There was still no room for words, despite Aleksi’s insufferable need to tell Olli how much he needed him and how much he was going to miss him, even if Olli wasn’t exactly going anywhere from his life. He wasn’t going anywhere, except for his home in Oulu, but somehow, suddenly, Oulu seemed farther than it had ever been. 

And Aleksi was scared it would only move farther away in time. 

Slowly, drifting them apart. 

There was no room for words, but there were two that Aleksi still couldn’t keep inside his mouth. 

“Don’t go.” 

Olli traced Aleksi’s arm with his fingertips. Aleksi wondered how long it would take for them to touch a bass again after Christmas. 

Or him, after this night. 

Still, Aleksi found great comfort in the touch and buried his head against Olli’s neck. The kiss he then felt on his forehead would have been enough of an answer already, but he didn’t mind hearing Olli’s words either. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”