#yeah i give up idk what to tag

[planetbefall]

albedo lockscreens (800x1731)

[bedforddanes75]

im not american but some of you guys are just fucking stupid ong what do you MEAN youre not gna vote because you disagree with like one part of what youre voting for. like okay me when im fucking thick

[wardingshout]

Viridian trainers for day 5 of spesilverweek! they are my most beloved but Lance is a cursed character who is impossible to draw or portray in any way to me

[soupmanspeaks]

the topic of Helpy makes me go insane /pos like I have this headcanon that William/Springtrap just, DESPISED Helpy because William took heaps of pride from the Funtime line of Animatronics, he saw it as his son's crude mocking of HIS creations, when in reality its just Michaelangelo S Afton trying to use humor to once again cope with the horrors™️ Like I've probably said this here before but I headcanon that Helpy found his way into the PizzaPlex's marketing is because after the FNAF6 fire he just was under the rubble remarkably preserved or something and instead of going into the RockStarRow Museum, the FazExecs had dollar signs in their eyes and were like "yeah, that one will make us bank, ong" Ive also probably said this (bad memory sozzz) but a headcanon to go in tandem with that headcanon, is that Glamfreddy sighs in resignation whenever he passes by one of those Helpy monitors (he wasn't paid royaltys <//3 ) AND LIKE I GOTTA KNOW WHAT (glam)MIKE WOULD THINK OF THE ENTITY THAT IS SATAN DISGUISING HIMSELF AS AN AGENT OF LIGHT (Helpi) WOULD HE FEEL SAD? ANGRY? AT THE MIMIC? THE COMPANY?! please the topic of helpy is so interesting PLEAs-

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Sometimes I try to write down thoughts about this campaign but I admittedly have not been paying enough attention to feel confident in my character analysis so I write an incoherent text post and then delete it because I don't know if I'm actually making the correct judgments.

[dootznbootz]

I think some folks MAY have gotten the wrong idea about how I feel about Circe with some of my posts. So, to clear the air...

Homies, I love that fucked up sorceress.

I love how we're never given a reason why she turns people into animals. That's so funny and so awful. And another potion-making magic gal?!?! I love that she's just basically vibing on an island doing whatever she wants. I even love the fact that she scares Odysseus shitless! She's morally gray and that's why she's FUN.

I just sincerely hate when people try to girlboss her or have her be a victim of SA when she never was Looking at you, Miller. Especially when she was actually the one who coerced Odysseus in exchange for his men being transformed back into humans. And even then, while he was clearly afraid of her, (it's in the language of the Odyssey) she likely meant him no harm after a certain point. He just didn't know that.

Why does she need a reason to do awful things? Why can't she just be a goddess who does whatever she wants? That's the reason why I love her!!! She's fucked up!!! :D

I hate what the Telegony did to her as well! >:( You're telling me, this sorceress goddess, who makes potions (!!!) wouldn't have magic contraceptives??? Would WANT CHILDREN?!?! WITH THE PATHETIC WIFEMAN?! No. Fuck no. Eugammon of Cyrene, I have beef with you 🤬

Anyways!!! Understand all the "#anti circe" I have is simply Anti "Girlboss Circe" or the book. I genuinely think she's neat af as her morally gray, fucked up sorceress self and just get frustrated with...everything :'D

[straight-to-the-pain]

I don't know if anyone else in the whump community has read 'A Constellation of Vital Phenomena' by Anthony Marra but it is genuinely a really good book and also has some of the best depictions of torture and its aftermath that I have read in fiction.

I wanted to share some of my favourite quotes, hopefully without too many spoilers as it is out of context, but maybe skip this post if you don't want to know anything at all going in.

To give a brief summary, the book centres around the lives of people in Chechnya during the first and second war between the Russian government (Feds) and the separatist rebels. The main story focuses on a man (Akhmed) who is trying to save his neighbour's daughter from being killed by the Feds after her father is taken away in the middle of the night. He does this by taking her to a hospital where he then volunteers. One of the people in his village (Ramzan) becomes an informer for the Feds after being tortured, and this is explored in the excerpts below.

‘Information the Feds would torture them for was written here on the walls for all to see. It was well understood among the men that the Feds had as much sense as two bricks smashed together. It was also understood that pain, rather than information, was the true purpose of interrogation.'

'During his first detention in the landfill, in 1995, in the first war, he had refused to inform. They had wrestled down his trousers, shown him the bolt cutters, and still he had said no. Screaming, thrashing, with his manhood half severed, he had said no. He had done that, and now he was ready to start saying yes.'

'He would have confessed everything, but they didn't ask, weren't interested, threatened to cut out his tongue and put pliers to his teeth if he spoke one more fucking word. Electric wires were wound around his fingers. A car battery was drained into his bones. God might have been watching, but it wasn't God's finger on the battery switch. The interrogating officers didn't speak. Instead he was an instrument they played, performing a duet, and in their own way they conversed through his sobs. They both wore very shiny shoes. That was all he would remember.'

'He had trouble walking, He had forgotten torture could be so exhausting. The new interrogator, the one with less shiny shoes, held him upright, using his whole body as a crutch, and helped him walk. He carefully wiped Ramzan's forehead with a handkerchief before opening the door to the next room.'

'The interrogator with less shiny shoes crouched behind him. His hands were wet. Ramzan promised everything, and the interrogator, like the parent of a child too old to believe in ghosts, watched him with disappointment, his clear eyes saddened by Ramzan's sincerity. The interrogator took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, laid the live wires on Ramzan's chest and mapped the border of their shared humanity. Ramzan offered his soul. He begged to be enslaved. The known universe contracted to the limits of the cement floor, and on it, the interrogator was both man and deity, prophet and god. By ten o'clock the interrogator with less shiny shoes asked his first question. By eleven the electrical wires were unwound from Ramzan's fingers. By noon he was allowed to dress. By one he was on the FSB payroll. He kept thanking the interrogator with less shiny shoes.'

‘Greed didn’t motivate his informing, at least not primarily; primarily he informed by necessity, to survive, for his love and hate and above all awe of the power wielded by the interrogating officer with less shiny shoes.'

'That was his greatest fear. Could he stay silent? Could he withstand what awaited him? He told himself that his love for the girl should fortify him against any torture, but this, like so much of what he told himself, was a lie. After all, he was squeamish at the sight of blood, what would he say when lying in a puddle of his own? But he saw no other way. He would pray for the strength to stay silent, for a quick heart attack, and leave the rest to God.' (This is Akhmed POV)

'When they threatened to beat me, I said nothing, Akhmed. When they threatened to beat me, I said nothing. When they threatened to electrocute me, I said nothing. When they threatened to castrate me, I said nothing. I said nothing, Akhmed. Whatever you think of me, you remember that once I said nothing when a wiser man would have sung. And the interrogators, they couldn't believe it. They called in others to examine me. I was there on the floor, and above their faces were dark ovals silhouetted by the ceiling lights. They had beaten me hard and I couldn't hear right, but I kept saying no, with every breath I had. The main reason they let me go, the only reason they didn't shoot me right there was out of perverse respect, some sort of professional courtesy. But I wish they had shot me, Akhmed, because the good part of me died there, and all this, everything since, has been an afterlife I'm trying to escape.'

‘I knew what was coming. I knew it never stops. They put a shame inside you that goes on like a bridge with no end, the humiliation, the fucking humiliation of knowing that you are not a human being but a bundle of screaming nerve endings, that the torture goes on even when the physical hurt quietens. People treated me differently when I came back the first time.'

[mars-ipan]

god i cannot wait to be off these steroids…

[doodlingwren]

I had a vision.

Shaka with a bunch of cats. Shaka's cats. Sha...cats??

[narugen-moved]

keep thinking abt hoshina and mina GOD.. (spoilers for manga and kn8 bside)

given what hoshina said about his previous division treating him like a burden/parasite just because he can’t handle firearms and specializes in his swords… how tiring must it have been to have to work with those people each mission despite having a common goal?

and how tiring must it have been to be constantly told off by his own father for wanting to continue his family’s tradition, or to be told to give up on being part of the jakdf by his own teacher -

before mina, a high ranking commander personally reached out to him, to recruit him into her team?

the fact that she didn’t see him during joint trainings and think: why bother with that? why bother with blades when bigger kaiju will appear? when she personally deals with bigger kaiju herself.

but she instead saw him and thought: he can help me, he can cover my weaknesses (mina not being able to handle a vegetable peeler is hilarious) and he’s someone i can trust

she sees potential in him, she sees how he can excel within her division, she saw hoshina and as captain - has probably heard everyone talk shit about him but she was still certain that he’d be one of her division’s greatest asset

(and even when platoon leader ebina refused to let hoshina help out, mina stood firm on her decision and her claim that hoshina would be useful. when she asked him if he could take down the big kaiju, and he could only promise saving the child within it - she believed him, took his word for it and waited until he carried out his promise.)

and now hoshina is the vice captain, putting faith in a new recruit whom most people wouldn’t have believed in… full fucking cycle..

tldr: it makes me rly fucking emotional to think about how hoshina was given a reason to continue improving with his swords after being told to give up all this time… and how mina had never once thought his abilities were useless 👍

also makes me crazy how protective he is of his position as vice captain, as the person who stands by captain ashiro’s side…

[anxiously-sidequesting]

My Personal Shadow Magic Headcanons - "Shadow Sickness"

I'm so autistic and lazy so here's another weirdly-worded headcanons post from me at 4 AM (lmk if I need to tag this as anything specific btw

What I'm personally calling "Shadow Sickness" is the official, prolonged version of Backlash - adverse effects that target the practitioner even outside of the duel circle and in their everyday lives. While "Backlash" refers to the immediate and spontaneous barrage of attacks that takes place after a Shadow spell, "Shadow Sickness" is the gradual deterioration of the practitioner's mind, body, and soul. True to the name, this effect likens more to an illness, a virus; something that's alive and slowly takes over until there is nothing healthy left behind. The symptoms are emotional, physical, mental, and even spiritual.

While regular Magic has life force within it, Shadow Magic is the only type of magic that can be considered "sentient". Not a thinking being with goals and plans, but something living and breathing with the most basic instincts. It's what's considered "Chaotic" and dangerous about it - the Wizard bends and controls regular Magic, but Shadow Magic can bend and control the Wizard. It is the only type of magic that can "fight back" in its own way.

This sentience is what allows for Shadow Sickness and Backlash to happen - these are purely just the results of it "fighting back". The Shadow Magic is reacting to the practitioner. It's acting by its nature by rearing its head back and snapping the hand that controls it. If the practitioner is NOT sound and secure in their mental, physical, and spiritual health, then Backlash and Shadow Sickness can cause even more adverse effects within the Wizard and as a result can suffer more severely.

Symptoms of Shadow Sickness

Symptoms of Shadow Sickness can vary between physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. The "virus" affects every single aspect of the being, down to their very life. The severity of these symptoms can also vary depending on certain variables. Unlike a true virus, Shadow Sickness has no "incubation period" and can flare up at any time during which the Wizard is practicing Shadow Magic. These symptoms include:

Physical scarring (physical, emotional, mental, spiritual) - one of the only symptoms that comprise of all four categories. Scars may appear on the Wizard's body that take various shapes and forms: most commonly taken after that individual's unsolved trauma. This includes old grudges, previous serious injuries that have not healed correctly, repressed memories, obsessions and delusions, etc. No two scars look the same (i.e. two different wizards who have a fear of spiders will have scars that look entirely different from the other). Depending on the severity these scars can cause physical discomfort (tingling, numbness, pain, leathery skin, decay/cellular deterioration) and can greatly impact how the Wizard looks to others to how the Wizard can move around.

Involuntary movements (physical, mental, spiritual) - the Wizard may begin suffering from accidental and spontaneous gestures and movement that is either randomized or triggered. This can include loss of coordination, disorientation, mini seizures, jerks and spasms, etc. Other than being physically affected, the Wizard is not suffering from any medical emergencies. The individual is fully conscious and aware when this happens and depending on the severity, can recover seconds after. This is one of the only symptoms where others could be harmed due to a wayward hand that comes flying out by accident. There is also a magical version of this, where involuntary spells or bursts of magic can be cast spontaneously (hence the 'spiritual' aspects of this symptom as mana comes from the soul). Usually these magical bursts are Shadow Magic and not the Wizard's primary or secondary Magic abilities. (Another involuntary trait recorded is the Wizard suddenly switching to an ancient "Shadow Language" in mid-speech.)

Hallucinations (physical, mental) - the Wizard may begin to experience things that cannot be detected by any other individual. Usually these hallucinations start out as smells or taste first, but there are reports of the Wizard hearing, sensing, and even seeing things to start out with. Contrary to popular belief not all hallucinations are violent or even turn out to be that way, some reports even describe them as pleasant. Hallucinations vary from each Wizard even with those who share the same traumas or fears. Depending on the severity of the symptoms, the Wizard can either be fully aware or completely immersed within them. Since these are only hallucinations they cannot harm the Wizard but can cause further deterioration to the mind.

Depleted energy/"Mana Loss" (physical, spiritual) - as the Shadow Sickness takes hold, eventually the Wizard will be slowly sapped of strength and magical energy. THIS IS DIFFERENT FROM IF THE WIZARD IS SKILLED IN SHADOW MAGIC. A Wizard can practice Shadow Magic and still NOT be affected by this. Since Shadow Magic "takes", Shadow Sickness does the same and gradually depletes the Wizard's energy. Like how Backlash takes health in a duel, Shadow Sickness takes your life. This is the only symptom that is constant in all cases of Shadow Sickness. Not only will the ability to cast spells be taken away, but overall physical health will suffer as well and the individual is more susceptible to regular diseases due to a compromised immune system. This symptom only appears in the very last stages of Shadow Sickness and is the last symptom of the individual experiences in their lifetime.

Tulpas (emotional, mental, spiritual) - contrasting hallucinations, Tulpas are the Wizard's visions made real. A Tulpa (from Shadow Sickness) is a physical and magical manifestation of the Wizard suffering from the Shadow "virus". Although it is born from the subconscious of another being, it is a separate entity all its own and has the ability to make decisions and have feelings and desires. However, these feelings and desires are not really of their own and reflect the Wizard's subconscious fears and threat responses. (i.e. our Azteca Tulpa in Khrysalis that formed due to unresolved survivor's guilt. Its "goal" was to destroy us and fully consume us within itself, similar to how guilt behaves in reality). Tulpas can either be created from visions, nightmares, intense and obsessive thoughts, or even previous hallucinations.

Can Shadow Sickness be reversed, or cured?

Shadow Sickness can be reversed, yes, or more commonly halted. Unless the Wizard is fully submersed in their mental and spiritual anguish ((Malistaire even though he wasn't using shadow magic; Morganthe even though that wasn't what killed her)) Shadow Sickness can be stopped. The road to recovery varies wildly from each person so there is no set "recovery time" in which you are expected to be fully healed. It is your own journey and it is ultimately your say whether or not you are better. Clinically, recovery can be sorted between these categories

HALTED: In which the Shadow Sickness is no longer infecting the individual but the symptoms may still persist. These symptoms do not get worse or better, but the Wizard's mind is clear and their soul is at peace. Wizards may either learn to live comfortably and adapt with their Halted condition or could continue to strive for partial or full recovery.

PARTIAL RECOVERY: In which the Shadow Sickness is reversed slightly or moderately. The effects are not all the way gone but are measured to be better than when the Wizard was still infected. In this state any severe symptoms the Wizard is experiencing are now moderate or slight, or less frequent. Just like in the Halted category, the Wizard is sound of mind, body, and soul.

FULL RECOVERY: In which Shadow Sickness is totally reversed and there are no more symptoms that persist. Full, 100% recovery is actually quite rare in the Spiral and a lot of scholars consider the Full Recovery to count as "70% or more reduced" - meaning the symptoms are very slight and few and far in between. Technically this is still a Partial Recovery but due to the above fact and how difficult it is to reverse Shadow Sickness, 'Full Recovery' is an umbrella term. Some individuals even claim Full Recovery even if their symptoms are moderate, because their mind and soul are no longer diseased.

ONE LAST FACT TO LEAVE OFF WITH: Not every Wizard who practices Shadow Magic suffers from Shadow Sickness, and alternatively even the most skilled Shadowmage can develop Shadow Sickness.

okay this took days. bye hope you liked this

[wildflowercryptid]

something that's been weighing on my mind ever since learning about the situation with ezra / toonimal is seeing how these predators will take the active hostility that is frequently directed towards minors in online spaces to their advantage and use it to prey on vulnerable children. i think that we as adults in online fandom should probably come together and maybe rethink the language / manner we go about interacting with kids bc clearly the way things are rn is causing active harm.

like obviously, if you're an adult and aren't comfortable with minors interacting with you or your content, you should be allowed to set that boundary and should be vocal about it, ( especially if the content you create isn't safe for them to consume. ) but i don't think talking to them like they're a blight on all that is good and holy is the way to go about it. maybe just saying you're an 18 plus account will suffice, you don't have to tell them to fuck off.

[lavender-temult]

why do baby otohan’s colors look like fuckign TOOTHPASTE in this version 😭😭😭

[torchickentacos]

you ever scroll past some sort of discourse that you didn't even know existed, and you have to take a second and realize that, while none of us are superior to others, some of us ARE much better at choosing which dumbass hills to die on? because I think sometimes you deserve to go 'huh. at least I'm not getting involved in all that'.

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[macs-doodles]

ms paint is so crunchy in the best possible way. your art looks so good on it--

also, another request, because the way you draw him sits in my brain 24/7

bisexual stress charley

take that as you will

YIPPEE THANK YOU!!!

not ms paint this time but enjoy some self projection cause i. very much took it as i would!!! (aka i keep questioning my sexuality and so that means my favorite guy ever has the same issue).

little doodle of him for now since ive been drawing more ocs mored lately...