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

[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 :)

[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?

[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.”

[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.

[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!)

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Hiii I really like your fics! They can be so cute and so angsty and I always enjoy reading them! <3

if possible, could you maybe write something for Gentan where Genya wakes up after a nightmare and panics and Tanjiro calms him down and then just holds him? I totally get it if you’re busy but if you’re willing to write this I’d be really grateful and excited to read it :)

HIIII ><!! soso happy you like my writing,, & i'll do my best w/ this!! thank u for giving me an excuse to write gentan

the butterfly mansion was quiet when genya woke up, but he barely noticed the silence, shooting up in his bed. the frame creaked with his movement and he flinched, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt. his breath came short, and it took him a moment to realize he had absolutely no control of it anymore. at that thought, panic surged through him and his chest constricted, throat tightening. he tried desperately to gasp for air, eyes shutting tightly, but that proved to worsen it, allowing the darkness to be flooded with incoherent flashes of color. he vaguely registered sanemi's voice ringing in his ears, and then a hand on his back.

instantly, his body tensed, but he forced his eyes open, turning to look up. panting for air, it took him a moment to notice the boy who sat beside him on his cot. but when his gaze focused, he found himself relaxing involuntarily, blinking quickly.

"t- tanjiro?" he gasped, trembling slightly. the sheets moved and genya shuffled to the side. tanjiro opened his arms, encouraging him forward. genya hesitated, trying to steady his breathing. when neither of them moved, tanjiro sighed and let his arms drop. instead, he patted genya's shoulder.

"it's okay, genya," he assured him. likely grasping genya's difficulty in breathing, he held out his hands instead, visibly relieved when genya placed his own hands in the smaller boy's. tanjiro smiled gently, squeezing genya's hands lightly. "alright, can you try breathing deeply. watch me, okay? breathe in slowly when i do, and exhale with me."

genya didn't nod, but tanjiro went ahead, sucking in an almost comically long breath. nevertheless, genya followed. he imitated tanjiro in breathing out, and they began to create a pattern until genya was able to slump against the bunched up blanket.

he let his hands slip out of tanjiro's, eyes flicking away. now that he'd gotten ahold of himself—and his conscience wasn't as muddled anymore—his cheeks rose in heat. he must seem pathetic for letting something as insignificant as a nightmare get the better of him and his hard-worked for control. but he mumbled something of gratitude, deciding tanjiro deserved that at the very least.

"no worries," tanjiro assured him. "are you okay?"

"fine. i'm fine," genya muttered, tugging the blanket up. he considered something for a moment, before offering it to tanjiro.

tanjiro beamed, for some reason, and snuggled up against genya so they could both fit under the blanket.

"if you say you are, then i'll take your word for it. but if you want to talk about anything, or just sit here with me, i'm completely open!" tanjiro insisted, tilting his head up to gaze at genya with his wide, pomegranate eyes.

genya nodded slowly, humming. "can you... uh...?"

"mm?" tanjiro looked at him, full of curiosity.

"...stay here?" genya finished meekly. "for a bit. you can sleep here, if you're tired. or, uh. just go back. if you want."

tanjiro's smile grew much too wide, and he all but scooped genya up into a hug, ecstatic. "of course!" he said, then quickly hushed himself, shooting a look over to where inosuke and zenitsu were sleeping. once he was sure they hadn't woken, he continued, his voice softer now. "i'd love to stay here with you. in all honesty, it was hard to sleep for me. and i'm glad i could help genya in the process."

"you couldn't sleep?" genya asked, curious. in his inquiry, he forgot to pull away, instead sinking into the embrace. "why not?"

"oh! well, i had a dream or something that kept me up. i can't remember it anymore, but i was a little distressed," tanjiro said sheepishly, shrugging. "sometimes, i feel like it comes with being a demon slayer. or maybe its my brain telling me there's something i have to acknowledge so i can feel better, i think? it's hard to say. but, yes, i was just awake and then noticed you were, also."

"oh." genya inspected him for a moment. it was hard to tell tanjiro, ever the cheery boy, had recently awoken from some nightmare. "i hope it wasn't too bad."

"nope! i was able to calm down," tanjiro said, tightening the hug around genya. "but i do feel a bit better being with you. it's comforting, because i know you're so amazing and it feels like you could ward off any bad feelings."

"oh...?" genya cocked his head to the side, unsure what he should say to that. then he realized tanjiro was currently hugging his lungs out and wriggled out, batting tanjiro away. "you're... squeezing my life out."

tanjiro scooted back, eyes wide, lips forming the smallest of a frown. "oh, no, i'm sorry!" he said quickly. "i got distracted in being happy that you were letting me sit next to you—"

genya sighed, shifting on the bed to sit vertically. he ushered tanjiro over, encouraging him to sit beside him. "'s fine. you can stay here, as long as you don't strangle me again."

instantly, tanjiro perked up, an almost smug smile brightening his face as he closed his eyes, leaning against genya. "works for me," he decided. "you can hug me, though, if you wanna."

scrunching his nose up, genya shook his head. "no, thank you."

"..okay."

"okay."

genya sat patiently, eyes closed as he allowed his mind to calm. somewhere through the night, he realized tanjiro's body had begun to completely depend on genya to stay up, and that the boy had fallen asleep. against his own instincts, genya took tanjiro into his arms, patting him gently.

"...alright. take two on sleeping," he murmured to himself. "'night, tanjiro."

[boyfriendyke]

there r a lot of things about the myth of psyche and eros that makes me a little insane but one of them has always been the tasks from aphrodite and the unfairness of it. they're not intended to be possible. they're so obviously not meant to be possible, and psyche isn't fucking hercules, you know, she's not a demigod or whatever, she's mortal and these aren't mortal tasks!! it's why psyche has to be helped with each one, fucking by like ants and river gods and shit. and so like. idk. i know ppl see psyche and eros as like a story about love and shit which obviously it is but as a kid psyche and eros always felt like a story about being able to accept help

[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.

[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.”

[cloudcountry]

i'm noticing that when people request things and i write it for them, sometimes the people i write for dont reblog or give me any feedback. ^^ its starting to get a bit irritating when i take the time to write something and i just get a like from the person. the twst fandom has been talking about this since forever but literally the least you can do is reblog. seriously.

[specialgradefckr]

i dunno man. i'm writing this stuff and i look at it and go "i feel like i'm repeating sentiments here. like all these sentences shouldn't be the same place. i'm packing too much detail or action between dialogue and it just shouldn't be like this."

but then i ask my brain, what's the alternative? what other way can this work look like? and it just doesn't turn out anything better. i don't like taking things out.

i do think i can get better at like. not breaking up dialogue with tags CONSTANTLY and not putting actions between dialogue. god i wish i could write dialogue that flowed more.

but maybe sometimes i have to admit. i'm not that good a writer. or, i dunno, maybe that's just not my style. but like idk sometimes i feel like i just don't have a style at all. like i have plots, i have ideas, i have the same five words i re-use over and over sfjlhdgffg but style, who knows

anyways i'm just rambling now when really i should be writing. i've had this gripe with my own writing for a long time now but i still enjoy it so don't feel too bad for me jksdghdfg every writer has one

[halojalex]

the more i read multi-chaptered fics, especially slow burn ones, the more i feel like i lose faith in my own chaptered fic that i have yet to even start

like i don't mean this in a self-pitying way, i just feel like i don't have enough motivation to write it as well as some of the other slow-burn fics i read. it's not even like i don't like the premise, like i feel as though it could be really good if written well, i just don't have the motivation to even start it

[akirakirxaa]

Persephone's not sure what's going on but she and Pommy are going to figure it out.

[corioliseffect]

new curse dropped: having fic ideas but i refuse to write rpf/don't think i even could