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unforth · 9 months

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Y'all (general) really really need to exercise the block buttons more.

An opinion you don't agree with? Someone makes you uncomfortable? Something you don't like? Even just a person whose way of presenting information makes you uncomfortable (even if you agree with them)?

Block.

BLOCK.

B.L.O.C.K.

Look, I get it. I used to think seeing opinions I didn't agree with was important, that exposing myself was a way of staying informed. But finally, I hit a breaking point - I already knew the viewpoints I disagreed with, and seeing them every day was making me miserable.

I've blocked liberally since then.

And the most remarkable thing happened: I routinely see posts where lots of people are disagreeing with the same person...and I already have that person blocked.

Because the most insidious thing about letting myself see the negativity and things that made me unhappy all the time is that leaving it all there gave me the impression that there were a LOT of vocally awful people saying things that hurt me.

But there aren't.

There's actually a surprisingly small number of people who get off on trolling or are so marinated in hate that they have to spew it all around them, and when you block those people, the world gets much more peaceful.

You're not growing as a person by exposing yourself to rhetoric that hurts you. You're just hurting, which is exactly how those people want you to feel: they want you to be in as much agony as they are.

Don't give them the satisfaction.

BLOCK THEM.

(tbh I've hit the point that I think people who willfully, deliberately, loudly, intentionally don't block are engaging in a form of self-harm. seriously, you're not taking a noble stand, no one cares if you don't block except the people hurting you.)

#unforth rambles #my mutuals all know this so i'm preaching to the choir #did i see a bad jiang cheng take again #yes yes i did #but specifically i saw a bad jiang cheng take triggered by anti deciding to vent stupidity instead of blocking the things they didn't like #and then a stan engaging instead of also blocking #both these people would be happier if they blocked #like antis you do realize if you hate a character your best bet is to block the people who love them right #sorry the back and forth is just exhausting #i blocked the anti #and i almost blocked the pro too #stop engaging it's pointless just do your own thing and block the people who you don't agree with #it's not creating an echo chamber #i promise you're not a better person because you let the same terf or anti or racist or whoever #expose you to their toxicity over and over #you've already given them a hearing by reading their first drivel ya know the one that led you to block them #if you know enough to know they're terrible why would you want to give them a hearing on literally any other topic #block and move on #there are so many better people out there who are actually worth your time and energy

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theflyingfeeling · 6 months

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eyyyyyyy look what I wrote because I was umm... bored and procrastinating. yeah, definitely only that 🙂

additional tags: angst and smut of some kind (more the implied kind that the explicit one)

enjoy~

The last time they did it was supposed to be the last time. Then again, so was the time before that, and the time before that (and the time before that as well). Yet, here they were once again, in a dark hotel room, connected at the mouth, hands on each other's cocks.

It had all started on a particularly wintery night in early November, in the sauna of Aleksi's summer cottage, of all places. They had stayed behind, under cover of being too fascinated by the first snow falling softly behind the fogged-up window, while the others had gone on to crack beers and to destroy the remains of a birthday cake by the fireplace in the next room. When Olli had turned his head back to Aleksi – to comment on the beauty of the scenery or something else, Olli no longer remembered – his breath had caught in his throat when he had found Aleksi's blue eyes looking up at his as if he had just been caught doing something he was not supposed to, his red lips parted, and his hand a little too obvious in its effort to cover the... situation between his legs.

Despite the nearly eighty degrees surrounding them, Olli's skin had been on goosebumps and his breath trembling as he had struggled to control where his eyes travelled, to order them back up to Aleksi's face (as if that would've helped) or literally anywhere else. The thoughts of wrong and we shouldn't swarming in Olli's dizzy head had been muted the second Aleksi's warm hand had rested on Olli's bare thigh, its intentions as clear as the thin frozen cover on the lake by the cottage, and verily, Olli had gasped as if he had fallen through the ice into the frigid water when the hand had reached its destination in between Olli's legs at last. What had happened after that, Olli had blamed on the heat of the moment as much as that of the sauna, and despite having spent the entire rest of the song-writing weekend summoning up the memory of Aleksi's hand gripping his cock, of his own hand being covered in white pearls of Aleksi's cum, of Aleksi's lips on his lips and neck and fingers, he had still kept telling himself it wouldn't happen again.

He simply wouldn't allow it.

That was, until he had. In his defence, it's not like Aleksi had done much to prevent it either.

At least that time the tragedy had occurred far away from home, on their short trip to Germany for a promotion event for their record label – which didn't make it any less immoral, of course, no matter how many times Olli had tried convincing himself that whatever happens in Berlin, stays in Berlin.

No, that's Vegas, Niko had helpfully reminded him when Olli had slurred his worldly wisdom, to which he had kept hanging on ever since that night in a doomed attempt to assure himself that the fact it happened in a foreign country would somehow justify what they had done.

He had almost believed it too: almost, meaning not even a little bit, and that was essentially why Olli's articulation had been so thick and sloppy, although he had found no help for his despair in the bottom of his pint glass either. No matter where he had looked, his eyes had kept travelling back to Aleksi's, staring at him from the other end of the table, equally miserable as his own; no matter what Olli had tried to busy his mind with, his thoughts had always returned to the way, back in their hotel room, Aleksi had pushed him against the mattress and Olli had let him, or the way Olli had slid his hand under Aleksi's sweatshirt and inside his trousers and Aleksi had done nothing to stop him.

If drowning himself in some overpriced German airport beer had helped him get rid of the crippling guilt, he probably would've done that on the spot. Funnily enough, if only Aleksi had given him the word in the form of a nudge against his feet under the table or a gentle brush of his hand while waiting for boarding to start, Olli would've dragged him to the nearest restroom in a heartbeat, just to hear Aleksi panting in his ear again, to feel his hot, heavy breathing against his neck. Instead, they had sat in silence for the whole flight back home, their thighs warm and firm against each other, forced to touch in the limited space of the ecomony class, a constant, intolerable reminder of their sins from the other night.

Please don't let it go that far next time, he would've said to Aleksi, had he been sober and half as brave as he wished to be. Please don't let there be 'next time'. You've always been the stronger one of us.

Alas, Olli never knew if his pleas would've made any difference, for when he had travelled back to Helsinki two weeks later, he had found himself craving for the man's touch just as much as he had ever since they had gotten off that plane from Berlin, and judging by how tight Aleksi had been gripping on to the collar of Olli's shirt, Olli could tell he shared the sentiment.

There had been a new kind of desperation to their touches and to their silent moans as they had rubbed against each other on the couch in Aleksi's basement studio. Maybe it was because they hadn't spoken for days. Maybe it was because Aleksi's girlfriend was upstairs.

When Aleksi had come all over Olli's stomach, his eyes had welled with hopeless tears. Olli wanted to brush them away, but he had feared that would've only made matters worse.

"Fuck. Sorry," Aleksi had whispered with a trembling breath before getting off him. Olli hadn't needed to ask what Aleksi had been apologizing for; he understood it was complicated without Aleksi telling him so. He understood it perfectly well, in fact, having rolled around in bed night after night for the past weeks dwelling on the matter himself, cautious not to awaken the sleeping figure next to him.

The true tragedy was that by then, they had gone far past the point of a simple apology to be any good.

The next day, soaking his sorrows in a bottle of gin on Joonas' sofa, he had told his oldest childhood friend everything, because they didn't keep secrets between them and, well, because Joonas had asked.

"So it's true, huh? Fuck, I thought it was just Niko making things up again. You know, like that time he was convinced Joel had hooked up with that Italian guy, what's-his-name."

(Olli hadn't had the heart to tell him that Joel had, very much indeed, gotten intimate with that Italian guy, a little too loud in a cleaning closet with the door a little too open on a backstage corridor next to a vending machine that had eaten Olli's money once upon a time in Rotterdam, but that was a conversation for another drunken Thursday.)

"So, umm... does... does she know?"

Olli had shaken his head.

"Are you gonna tell her?"

Olli had been too busy practically inhaling the liquor in his bottle to answer. Not that he would've had an answer ready anyway.

"Is it... I mean... It's just sex, right? There's... nothing more to it, is there?"

That time, Olli had wanted to answer. He really, really had. But whatever would've come out of his mouth instead of the broken sob he had let out once the comforting burn of the alcohol had left his throat would've been a terrible lie, so maybe it was best he hadn't.

"Oh, Olli..." Joonas had whispered into his hair as he had wept against the soft, pink fabric of Joonas' hoodie. It had been little comfort to ease his pain, but at least he hadn't been back at Aleksi's making more poor judgements.

There'd be more opportunities for that, Olli was to find out, although they had agreed with solemn nods and lumps in their throats that they'd have to put an end to it before it would be too late. It seemed, however, that neither of them wanted to acknowledge it had been too late the very moment they had first kissed in Aleksi's sauna that snowy November night; Olli could only speak for himself, of course, but once he had had a taste of something he had until then only fantasized about – for longer than he was willing to admit – he had known there was no coming back. One look at Aleksi's lustful gaze on him when they pleasured each other was the only reassurement for Olli to believe he felt the same.

Lust. Olli could fool himself and say that was all that it was: carnal desire, instinctive, uncontrollable somehow, but was it lust you felt when your daily thoughts became consumed by this one person, their smell, their taste, their voice that even came to lure you in your sleep?

Olli knew what it was. He didn't dare say the word out loud though, ignoring how it was just another way to fool himself.

Come their spring tour, and Olli's head felt too heavy with thoughts to carry on his aching shoulders. Aleksi's tongue managed to empty it momentarily the way it emptied his balls, but sooner rather than later, his head was full of mixed messages again: ones that told him he had nothing but misery coming for him if he let this go on, others that asked him how something that felt so world-shatteringly good and right could be so wrong.

Maybe it's not wrong, Olli's post-handjob brain tried to reason, like it did each time these days. He knew he'd come to his senses (or what was left of them) soon after, but every time they had gotten together on that tour – which was almost every other night if they weren't too sleep-deprived or too busy hating themselves – Olli found himself believing it more and more. Maybe it's not wrong and we're just the victims of our circumstances, of having met other people before we met each other. Maybe we're right to touch and crave each other the way we do and it's the universe that's fucked us over for never even giving us a fair chance to see if we could be something.

And Olli really, truly wanted the two of them to be something; something more than hasty handjobs in backstage bathrooms or quiet, needy blowjobs at 3 AM in the tour van; something more than a mere fraction of the life they could never have, at least not without breaking some hearts first.

Olli almost felt his own shattering into pieces when Aleksi spoke to him in the dark of their hotel room.

"This is the last time. It has to be."

Perhaps it would've been more convincing if Aleksi's thumb hadn't been stroking his collarbone, or if he hadn't felt the softness of Aleksi's lips on his shoulder.

"I know," he said anyway, like he always did. He stared up at the ceiling until his eyes began to burn, so he closed them and focused on the gentle touch just above his chest. He set his breathing to the rhythm of Aleksi's thumb, forcing away the dread and regret, hopefully until morning.

"I just..." Aleksi paused to huff out a short exhale, with an undertone of frustration or perhaps even anger, "I just— I wish it... didn't have to be."

Olli opened his eyes again, only to find the ceiling even more blurry than the last time he had stared at it.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish I could... I wish we could..."

Olli couldn't force himself to speak and tell Aleksi that he, too, wished their situation was different, to tell him just how much he wanted him, so he silenced Aleksi with his lips and showed him.

He showed him, not with his words, but with the way his hands gently pushed Aleksi to his back. He showed him with his tongue that explored the insides of Aleksi's mouth and the smooth skin below his jawline. He showed him with his fingers that wrapped around Aleksi's erection, stroking his length while Olli's other fingers prepared him. He showed him with the way he moved inside him, slowly, tenderly, then faster, more desperate, until he lost himself completely in the feeling of Aleksi.

Aleksi's breaths came out short and fast, and Olli knew he was close. His thrust became more determined, less for his own pleasure than that of the man trembling under him when his orgasm hit him. Only then Olli allowed himself to let go as well, coming inside Aleksi, filling him, taking him.

Aleksi's eyes were glassy as he sunk his hand into Olli's hair and brought him in for a kiss to make up for all the ones that were cut short while they had been gasping for air. In those moments, when they were both weak and vulnerable, it was too easy to imagine this was exactly how it was supposed to be, or, the very least, where Olli wanted to be: their their bodies having become one with him still inside Aleksi, their sweaty skin sticking together, their tongues working in sync. He hoped it spoke more than any words he had left unsaid.

I want this. I want you.

#i wanted to read a particular kind of fic but couldn't find one so i wrote it myself. voilà ✨#just so you know: this is devastating and awful and i told you i'm sorry. i wrote this mainly for me but you may read it as well 🙃#truly one of those 'getting this out of my system' kinda fics lol #also one of those 'read between the lines' kinda thingies. because i just love writing those kinda thingies 💖#i promise my next fic will be happier 😭#random tumblr ficlets by theflyingfeeling #soon to be posted in the compilation i made for ao3 #ollixallu #blind channel rpf #blind channel fanfiction

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