#he’s very much teenage yearning even as an adult

[cherryview]

yeah absolutely! sometimes it’s hard to picture what seven will be like once there is that resolution. i remember seeing amy say that they’re deliberately not including what seven is like after that in povs and stuff to avoid spoiling what it’ll look like…

but i think the unknown aspect makes it really cool! it’ll be nice to see both mc and seven navigating the mix of guilt and care and all while trying not to get too in their heads and make things messy for the band n performances…

v curious about which 5sos song you mean if you remember! my brain goes to try hard but i think that’s just because i like their old stuff too much. will def add whichever it is to my seven playlist ✅

it was heartbreak girl!!! but out of my limit would be really good too… maybe more so for rowan though maybe…

[stele3]

"The children yearn for the cape"

The Batkids, ranked by how much they actually yearned for the cape.

Dick Grayson. Literally invented the cape. He manifested it out of pure unbridled pre-teen rage.

Stephanie Brown. Technically already had a cape before she ever even met Bruce Wayne.

Cassandra Cain. Considering how she grew up, it's kinda hard to say. As an adult, very committed to the cape.

Duke Thomas. Manipulated by Alfred, along with a bunch of other vulnerable teenagers, into yearning for the cape.

Jason Todd. Yearned for a roof over his head and food in his mouth. Had the misfortune of getting "helped" by Bruce Wayne.

Tim Drake. Actively did not want the cape. Only took it up to keep Bruce Wayne from murdering people.

I haven't read any comics with Damian yet so I can't say about him.

[literatureloverx]

Mdni, ideal type! fem!reader x Dazai Osamu, VERY LONG AND DETAILED, platonic relationships such as: Odasaku, Atsushi, Kunikida, Chuuya and Sigma are briefly mentioned, Yandere behaviour, unhealthy behaviour, psychological disorders and suicide/double suicide mentioned.

DAZAI’S MASTERLIST => HERE

I really enjoyed writing for Dazai; he holds a special place in my heart. 🩵 I also received a request about PM!Dazai’s ideal type, and I’ll post it someday. 🩵

Dazai’s ideal type

Dazai is a complex and enigmatic figure, who can be described as a romantic—though not in the conventional sense of actively seeking love and connection.

Instead, he romanticizes the idea of meaningful connections. What does this mean?

Dazai is known to suffer from depression and harbors a deep desire to end his life.

However, he doesn’t wish to do so alone. He fantasizes about dying with a “beautiful woman” in a double suicide, which is inherently romantic.

This desire echoes tragic love stories like Romeo and Juliet or Cleopatra and Mark Antony, where love and death are intertwined.

This suggests that Dazai may deeply fantasize about love and being loved—perhaps even yearning for someone who loves him so much that she would sacrifice her life for him.

But why would someone wish for a double suicide in the first place?

Dazai sees no purpose in life, a perspective not commonly shared by others.

This makes it likely that his ideal partner would be someone who not only values life but is also grateful for what she has—because Dazai is only truly comfortable when he is surrounded by such people as Atsushi, Kunikida, Chuuya (debatable), and even Sigma.

He needs to learn this perspective to find his own meaning in life.

She would possess a sweet, positive spirit but would still be able to fully grasp Dazai’s bleak outlook, his feelings, and his philosophy—or the lack thereof.

Dazai might be drawn to a partner who is calm, patient, and nurturing.

Given his often childish behavior, it’s possible that he never had the chance to experience love in a normal, healthy way during his childhood.

We know little about his upbringing, but it’s clear he lacks any emotional connection or attachment to his parents.

Dazai is deeply wounded, depressed, and feels empty—though the reasons remain unclear.

The only person Dazai has truly loved, and who loved him in return, seems to be Odasaku.

So what makes Odasaku so special? What traits does he possess that Dazai might seek in a partner?

Odasaku was always calm and patient with him, seeing through Dazai’s lifeless eyes and empty heart.

He recognized Dazai's pain, suggesting that “someone needs to rip that pain out of this child’s chest.”

What if Dazai's ideal partner is someone who embodies these comforting and meaningful qualities, loving him unconditionally?

I believe this to be the ultimate solution to many aspects that trouble Dazai.

Teenage Dazai, in particular, strikes me as more of a “puppy” than the “cat” he becomes as an adult—craving affection and warmth.

He needed someone who cared for him, and that someone was Odasaku. His partner should be able to do the same.

Dazai might love a calm partner who can handle his antics but also sees through them without violating his comfort zone or coping mechanisms.

She would understand his inner darkness but wouldn’t fear it—instead, she would embrace it with a loving demeanor.

She would be confident, but in a strangely shy and quiet way.

She would be someone who is at peace with herself, someone who is inspirational to others.

She would accept him as he is and believe in him, helping him to become the best version of himself.

This is why Dazai is so fond of Atsushi.

Atsushi is empathetic, having suffered himself, and he embraces Dazai with unconditional love.

If Dazai were to meet a woman who could offer the same understanding and compassion, it’s hard to see why he wouldn’t be saved.

Dazai feels responsible for Atsushi, and it gives his life a certain meaning he doesn’t truly grasp yet.

If he felt the same responsibility for someone much closer to his heart—his lover—it would have a profoundly positive effect on him.

Regarding physical traits, Dazai doesn’t seem overly concerned with them.

However, he has expressed a preference for “beautiful” women, as seen in his desire to commit double suicide with one.

While physical beauty might not be his top priority, he likely appreciates aesthetically pleasing women.

Dazai claims to like all women, but I can imagine him being drawn to a feminine, quiet, and insightful young woman.

This woman would possess an innate ability to sense others’ emotions and motivations, her sensitive and calm nature allowing her to do so effortlessly.

She would be observant, with her beauty often leading others, including Dazai, to underestimate her at first.

And yet, it would be as if she could read his mind and heart—something deeply uncomfortable for someone as guarded and inflexible with his own vulnerability as Dazai.

Interestingly, some of these traits might also make her an ideal partner for Fyodor.

However, while Dazai and Fyodor are alike in some aspects, they differ in others.

Fyodor’s ideal type might align with Dazai’s, but with less submissiveness and more approachability.

Does it ring? The drama that might approach?

Let me summarize: In terms of personality, Dazai has a soft spot for empathetic and loving people.

Therefore, he would undoubtedly adore a darling who is very empathetic, sensitive, and kind.

I don’t see him having a specific preference for body type—short, tall, curvy, or skinny; it doesn’t matter to him.

He will always find a way to appreciate your body in every sense, as this is simply part of who Dazai is. You shouldn’t be surprised by that.

I can see Dazai taking a liking to long hair (similar to Fyodor), as it emphasizes femininity.

He might particularly favor wavy or curly hair because it gives a more approachable, sweet, and innocent appearance compared to straight or short hair.

This style implies youth and an ethereal quality, which aligns perfectly with Dazai’s romanticism.

Skin color, as well as hair and eye color, wouldn’t matter to him at all.

In his mind, he would view you, his love, as aesthetically ethereal and one of a kind.

Your features would be etched into the canvas of his mind's eye, surrounded by fitting backgrounds and colors.

With you, he would find solace, love, and acceptance, as well as the meaning in life he has been desperately searching for.

You don’t need to match his intellect or mastermind abilities; he cherishes those around him who don’t possess these qualities, and he doesn’t look down on them.

What he needs is someone empathetic enough (like Oda [ in his case platonically]) to love him unconditionally and sincerely, without judging him—someone who would guide him to the light without expecting anything unnatural or selfish in return.

However, his darling would need to be mentally strong and willing to share his burdens.

This is difficult to do and would only work with true, pure love, which is why Dazai needs someone who loves him unconditionally.

I don’t see Dazai manipulating his darling because he doesn’t manipulate or control the people he cherishes. Instead, he trusts them.

This would be the case with his darling as well. He would trust her, and this trust would be a choice that greatly benefits his well-being.

You would need to bring brightness to his life—love, warmth, connection, and compassion—balancing out his dark inner world.

He would be astonished when he realizes how deeply you love him without being manipulated, how pure your feelings are, and how you seem to see his soul and accept him as he is (much like Fyodor).

Your dedication to helping him improve, because you see the light and potential in him, would touch him deeply.

To you, he is human, and you wish to help him see that too. He loves you for it, so, so much.

Once Dazai recognizes this, he would never, ever let you go.

He might fear losing you or worry that you deserve better, but he would be too selfish to let you be with anyone else.

This would make him fiercely protective of you, even as he tries to maintain his enigmatic self, playing it off with his usual clinginess.

But of course, you would see right through this and reassure him that you’ll always be there for him, protecting him from anyone and anything else, even from himself.

In return, he would protect you, love you, and obsess over you—affectionately.🩵

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[mistmarigold]

It’s so interesting to me how the first frost is marketed as second chance romance especially with that opening break up scene but the storytelling is very first love coded. I’m not sure how to put this in words but just the entire show is portraying how it feels like to fall in love and be in love.

Sangyan-Yifan getting together or being together isn’t even the focus like that if you think about it? Yes, everything is a lead up to that point but at the same time there’s sooo much yearning and love involved at literally every step. His entire life is more or less influenced by her - Overtime, his job, his gaming - and then also his actions, it’s reflective of unrequited one-sided love where he’s doing these things for himself even if they are related to her. All the trips he had taken - to Beiyu, to Yihe. All instances of care and attention despite his hurt - it’s for her but it’s also for him. Her existence in his life itself is an act of love for him. From his teenage years to now, you can literally see how enamoured he is by her and how he wants to give her everything in this life. Even with his very legitimate reluctance, he still puts himself forward over and over again.

We’re only really starting to see Yifan’s perspective now that she isn’t actively in survival mode. But still, it’s so so endearing and just personal the way she’s basking in loving and being loved. That entire scene post-kiss is so feelsy like you’re truly there in her place, replaying that one fleeting moment over and over again. Even her open, constant praise for Sang Yan is so important because despite being about him, it is about her as well. By loving him, she allows herself to open up and make choices purely because she wants to do it - there’s no other reason. And by choosing him, she lets herself be loved and cared for - to take a step towards healing the damage that her own parent inflicted upon her.

I also love how they pick up right where they left off as teenagers so that first love giddiness, shyness and tenderness is right there even though they’re grown adults. I feel like with second chance romances, there’s tension first and then comes everything else. They had that too but it was prior to their dating - right now it’s still more like they are just letting themselves be and enjoy the tiny little moments with each other where they know they can love and are loved.

Their love is as much about themselves as it is about the other person (which is stunning to me because literally every moment of loving becomes an act of self-love by default).

[scribbles-and-sprinkles]

hii, i would love to see your take of a fem aroace!reader with the allies 🙏🙏

yandere! allies x aro/ace! reader - england & america

─── notes ➤ reader is implied to have disability for realism purposes, being late teenager / young adult + for ease of enjoyment -- ‘luna’ is placeholder for the reader’s name ;w; thank you so much for such lovely request! remaining allies are coming in the following days! long post ahead! ─── warnings ➤ abuse of political power / manipulation / questionable power dynamics / darker sensuality / controlling behaviour / isolation amongst others.

arthur o'neil kirkland / england

Arthur deemed himself as someone proud – man of the culture, wisdom and fixed values. As a reverent kingdom and empire of the past – certain notions never left his heart. Oh, you were his favourite, apple of the eye – even if did not dare to admit such reverence out loud. If circumstances should be different – of course, without hesitation, he would find himself steering away from any closer, more intimate relationships with mortals. Their lifetime was bound by fixed laws and mechanics, while land transcended centuries to behold. It was simply easier to avoid entertaining the heart-ache; sorrow – by circumventing such situations at all. But… how could he resist?

ᯓ★

Porcelain tea-cup clicked smoothly against the table, adorned with intricate, vintage floral patterns – from much older, chaotic times. By kindness of his truly. Faded, green eyes fixated for a brief on thoughtful expression etched into her gentle features. Something was going on – unspoken tension lingering for weeks now. Irony laid open – hoping that maybe, in a way – his sweetheart could trust him enough to reveal… specifics. ‘Arthur, darling… it is just I’ve been terribly unlucky with people around me… well…’ – oh, how her heart yearned to find enough bravery to gather thoughts fully into something comprehensible, but, alas. Her friend was much better at such a state of affairs than she could ever be. ‘Luna, what is going on? I am worried for you, and it deeply saddens me’ ‘It is just… people around me find themselves very happy in romantics, so easily. As if it was somehow universally understood, I don’t know…’ – dainty fingers trembled under the weight of never-ending accusations of mind; steady hands wrapping around shakiness as if to provide the slightest bit of comfort. ‘I really tried my best! I did! – and he seemed really kind, or I thought so… how could I have been so blind? Arthur, he merely entertained his own needs, physical ones–’ ‘Y-you warned me… I should’ve listened, I-I–’ – thought wavered over silence; tiny hiccups filling up the space with peculiar sorrow. Pure, unbridled vermillion blossomed in sight, reality spinning. Good heavens, help his soul. He was too old for this. Knuckles tightened until whites over the poor edge of the table, almost tipping it over – the girl ushered into a hug immediately. There were traditional, fixed ideals of what constituted a good and proper image of human interaction – especially, between opposite genders. Femininity consisted of warmth, grace – and fragility, intertwined with the need of masculine notions to protect, cherish, love its' existence. Such values, deeply ingrained in margins of consciousness, never wavered – and this went against everything Arthur could hold dear. That is, his darling. And if others would not conform to this – he would. However, this little… the issue would have to be solved quietly. No inference was necessary. Few days passed – the soul disappearing into silence; under charges of treason and conspiracy against the United kingdom and surrounding territories. He was ended switfly after. ᯓ★ headcanons! Darling, sweetheart, apple of his eye – you were absolutely his favourite – through and through. outside, arthur would be an ideal image of gentleman – from tactful behaviour to the very last word – all orchestrated, calculated, measured. Millenia of existence gave enough tools and time to perfect the art. That is not to misunderstand, he loved her – truly. Maybe in a more sentimental way – finding comfort in the very traditional dynamic of being the provider, the pillar of the home. Any attempt to carry more weight than the subtle role provided would be met with sweet-honey words of manipulation – immediately stopping any possibility of rebellion. Physical manifestation of darling’s disability would become the greatest tool of social isolation – were people not staring enough, talking behind your back in the study halls, speaking rumoured whispers – so… why should Luna entertain such ruckus, if she could be perfectly content with being his sweetheart? The queerplatonic relationship concept in itself – was not something old, reverent ways ought to be understood, but as long this dynamic remained – he would be more than happy to entertain such an idea. You had no idea what sort of sweet-honey trap you have gotten yourself into.

alfred franklin jones / america Soft, hazy lights filled up cozy space – Alfred shifting to be slightly closer, ghosting hand above small of the waist, not daring… to hold on, yet. Just yet. Every single conversation like this grated at the very last remnants of already frayed nerves. ‘Pfft, again? People have nothing better to do nowadays, really’ – he merely snickered, pinching the edge of his nose out of new-found frustration. These stories were starting to get hold of his psyche. ‘So, wait, what happened between Gabriel and Samantha?’ ‘As I was saying, Alfie – it was very sudden! One second they were in love in our class, another – screaming at once, another as the switch flipped over. As I was a friend of his ��� just a good acquaintance, you know – he asked for a favour, obviously’ – soft laugh filled the room, girl swatting imaginary nargles; expression full of sincerity. Way-too-happy girl was picked up with such ease, him merely nuzzling close, getting a few more giggles out. As affection could infer into deeper sources of the mind; dragging hidden, secluded parts into light. ‘Oh, you’re too sweet, ahahah!’ ‘It is the least I can do, darlin’, go on, I'm listening! You gotta tell me! Your little legs, careful!’ What favour? Nothing about this entirety of story played to be good-willing act of service. Pathetic, to say the least – eye twitching, jaw tensing up until teeth grated against each other in disastrous symphony; slender fingers digging just a little too much into the softness of her hip. Smiling until cheeks bled dry with falsified semblance. ‘Oh, yeah, thaaat! So, there was this kind of silly party last weekend, which we went together because he asked to get this revenge thingy going on, you see?’ ‘That’s great! How did it go? Must’ve been a blast!’ – plentitude of soft kisses peppered across rosy cheeks, as the girl swaddled him away in the most tender fashion; feeling… how pliant form became under hold, finding himself… just a bit closer. ‘Totally! Yeah, we might have gotten a bit… drunk, but it was all in good fun!’ ‘Yeah, sweets, in good fun’ – all it took – a few moments – Luna toppled over with such ease; his wrists holding his sunshine down – even if ache gnawed between arches of ribs through guilt. ‘What’s that? Huh? I thought I meant something for you?’ – with calculated, gentle touch fingertip ghosted above the collarbone, over faint marks. This entire situation blossomed into full circus with additional flair to follow… and it shall not be entertained any longer. ‘Do you even remember anything, mm?’ – little prefix as if flaunting clear mockery. ‘We just crashed at his place, nothing happened, Al! You know how clumsy I can be with my cane, you’re being ridiculous!’ “I dunno, angel, bruises on neck don’t kinda magically happen overnight… and we’re very sure you don’t recall shit. So… this leaves only one conclusion’ – starry, ocean blue eyes. These eyes, impossibly livid, entrancing with hypnotic dance of reverent hues. Glittering, sparkling, floating. ‘I-I- I’ve been–’ – Luna choked, world dizzyingly nauseous too suddenly, tears simmering in waterfalls over honest accusation of truth, entire frame wracked by sobs – enveloped in dizzyingly addicting warmth. Unconsciously, instinctively the entire form arched for him, for him only so prettily – as always meant to be – mere intention making his head spin with desire, want, need – to end this theatrics there and now – to claim, to devour, to make his sunshine happy. ‘Shh, I’ve got you…’

ᯓ★ headcanons!

Brighter than the sun – burning brighter than stars above heavens – america himself, independent and fierce– this is who alfred represented – force, larger than life itself; reflected from golden strands shimmering in the light until boundless positivity, seeping from every hug – every little affection he was entitled, privileged to give. You were his sunshine, his beloved! With beautiful energy and softness, meant only for him to indulge in – it was a life worth living! His beloved was a blessing from the gods, even if her love expression, or affection ways were different – yet, unspoken naivety, trust – it was a steep price to pay. It was impossible to understand – where friendship bounds ended or dark, obsessive devotion began. Of course, humans needed one another – it was an essential part of our being, ingrained into very core, into bones and narrows of the flesh – isolating fragility beyond promises could not be optional, but it could be beautifully contained. Nothing… nothing few nights of forgetful sleep, with skillful essence blossoming under hazy, sweet tea – and pliant, gentle form could not fix. There was no need to poison essences of mind with CIA agents, reverberating screams across walls or legal procedures, after all. Everything was provided, handed on the golden platter – most gorgeous of dresses, art supplies, position in the best of the universities – best healthcare – all hidden between gentlest hugs, softest cuddles and lingering kisses on the forehead. His sunshine looked incredibly beautiful as a little bird in a golden cage.

[katzkinder]

Me balancing Tooru and Kuro’s relationship between “this is now my second nephew who I love a whole lot” and “ah fuck this is a vampire right”

Like, to me, that’s the most fascinating thing about the Shirota household setup because yeah, usually, Kuro is perfectly happy to have Tooru treat him like a regular teenager he has to look after because let’s face it, he’s yearning for some kind of familial connection and the protection that provides him.

But Tooru is also a flawed human being trying to raise his dead sister’s kid while being part of a clandestine organization and the results of that mean he inevitably has fucked up and will continue to fuck up with regards to Mahiru, who is Kuro’s priority in the house

So sometimes Kuro is no longer Tooru’s cute nephew who he has adopted, but an immortal advocating for his much younger human friend when his guardian is dropping the ball

He just so happens to also be the type of immortal that Tooru grew up being taught to fear because the other ones were like. Killing his friends and their families. He even personally knows one of his own coworkers who came back as a vampire and killed another one so it’s Extra Fucked Up, so he’s having to like. Both view Kuro as a family member he loves but also someone way older than him who might not even necessarily be right but sometimes he is and Tooru has to like. Figure out which is which and communicate his own feelings properly to a guy who is probably constantly worried about whether or not Tooru is respecting him as a human being, much less an adult with a fuck ton of lived experience.

This is also one of the things about the vampire cast in general that’s so interesting for me, this difference between their apparent age and their immortality, because so many of them are so traumatized they’ve effectively stopped maturing past the ages of their deaths. Like Sakuya, for instance, is very much an adult chronologically and well within the bounds of “feasible age for a human being”

If he hadn’t died, he’d be a young adult right now!

But he did, and his behavior is explicitly that of a moody teenager, which matches his appearance and allows him to blend seamlessly with his other school age peers. But he’s also like. An adult. Being stuck in the body of a fifteen year old doesn’t really change that. (This is also why I like the little reminders when Strike is writing down the ages of the vampires because they use wording like “looks x” “appears y”. It’s a good reminder that their ages are kinda vague and throwing spaghetti at a wall)

The psychological aspect of vampires in Servamp and their circumstances is just fascinating to me because it’s not like you can have them pick! Both the immortality and relative maturity are them and frankly it’s a pretty good vehicle for exploring the ableism behind how people treat the Neurodivergent and the traumatized

[paddockbunny]

List B + [Necklace]+ Fernando Alonso

“I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck not because he owns me but cuz he really knows me, which is more than they can say”

The Present

Summary : You thought you would have to spend your special day alone. So when your boyfriend surprises you more than once, you have to show him how much it means to you. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Fernando Alonso x Reader Word Count : 2,221 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, PinV sex, unprotected sex, implied age gap but not explicitly stated Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List B. Prompt : Necklace - sender fastens a necklace around receiver’s neck, leaning in close to do so.

You had spent the whole day out doing things to avoid the fact you were spending your birthday alone. Fernando’s flight had been cancelled so he hadn’t been able to get home this morning like the pair of you expected. The next flight home hadn’t been until this afternoon either which meant he wouldn’t be home for another 12 hours yet.

You poured yourself a glass of your favourite wine and decided to go run a bath. If you were going to be home alone on what was supposed to be your special day, then you were at least going to have a nice relaxing time doing things you loved. After turning on the faucet, sprinkling in some soothing bath salts and lavender scented bubble bath you let the water run so the temperature of the water was nice at hot. While the roll top bath (the very one Fernando had actually installed for you on your last birthday as a surprise) began to slowly fill you went back through to fetch a fresh silk chemise from the drawer in the bedroom. You never wore anything to bed, not usually. There wasn’t much point when sleeping beside Fernando. Other than the fact the pair of you had sex like teenagers, he tended to run hot so cuddling into him was like holding on to a furnace. Tonight however, as you were solo, you decided to fling something on to feel a little special.

While rubbing your coconut scented body lotion into your calves you phone pinged on the marble counter top. The screen illuminated with Fernando’s name and you grabbed it quickly.

Good news, should arrive home earlier than planned. I’m sorry it’s still a day late corazón x

Ok, mi amor. Just hurry home x

I promise I will make it up to you x

Just being here will be enough x

You ached to feel Fernando’s arms around you. You longed to feel his hands on your skin or running through your hair. You desperately yearned to have him here kissing you because nobody kissed as good as Fernando did.

Grabbing your phone and your nearly empty glass of wine you padded from the bathroom, through the bedroom and out down the stairs to go refill your glass. You had the whole evening to kill and no idea on how to do it. But wine was a very good start at least. You turned down the corridor and toward the kitchen but something caught your eye. Fernando’s car was sitting in the driveway.“Surprise!”

A scream loud enough to wake the dead left your body but the sudden shock and alarm was immediately replaced by utter excitement and sheer happiness. “Corazón….” Fernando’s arms went around you tightly as you practically leapt into them. “How did you get here?” You asked when it dawned on you that he had to have already landed at the airport when he was texting you after you got out of the bath. He knew all along he was going to come surprise you. “Max.” Of course. The champion has a jet. It was very kind of him to offer the boyfriend you were tightly holding on to a lift home so he could make it home in time. Which, as he pulled back and gently caressed your cheek he wished you a happy birthday before placing his lips to yours tenderly. Fuelled by genuine shock, pure happiness and a little bit of lust your hands pushed through his hair and hungrily leaned into the kiss. Fernando took your hint and you felt his grip on your sides tighten. You groaned straight into his mouth when his tongue danced along yours. “Wait…wait…” Fernando stopped you, halted your actions when your hand travelled down toward his jeans. “Don’t you want your present?” “That IS my present.” You glanced down to where you were heading before he stopped you. The action o only made him laugh as his hands left your body and he turned to go to his bag. Watching him you wondered what he could have possibly brought you back from a race weekend. The thought of some silly little gift from the airport passed through your brain before wondering if it was going to be more of a gaffe gift and he was going to give you some Aston Martin merch. But your eyes couldn’t help but widen when you saw the distinct shape of a jewellery box.

Fernando turned and apologised for having not wrapped your gift but as he held it out for you to take you couldn’t care less if it were covered in some pointless paper. You took the black velvet from his hands and into your own as is eyes remained on yours. His smile broadened and he encouraged you to open the lid to your gift. Excitement buzzed throughout your body but you controlled it long enough to slowly push up the lid on the square box. And you had to try even harder to control it once you finally saw exactly what was inside.

“Fer” The diamonds shone bright in the darkness of the room. A single row of stunning multi cut diamonds set in silver. It was the most exquisite thing you had ever seen and nowhere near what he should have been spending on you but he loved spoiling you. Words failed to come to your head. You couldn’t think of a single way to say thank-you for a gift that took your breath away even though you tried. Your fingers ghosted across the ice like gems.

“Let me put it on you.” He took the box, lifted the line of diamonds from its home and motioned for you to turn around so he could place them upon your neck. You did as Fernando wished. You turned, lifting your hair out of the way for him as you did so. The precious stones delicately slid across your skin as they were placed upon your neck. Fernando’s hot breath caressed the sensitive flesh behind your ear as he clipped the clasp in place. Your throat tightened as a lump formed in it. You felt rather emotional knowing such a work of art now belonged to you. Then you felt Fernando’s lips press against your bare shoulder and you realised how you could thank him.

You turned, hands going back to his shoulders, as you looked into his eyes. God, how you loved Fernando’s eyes. They were the colour of freshly brewed coffee and the way the soft glowing light hit them they practically shone. Eyes locked together, you stepped backward away from him. One step, two, three, enough so that he could see all of you as you pulled down the straps of your chemise. It met no resistance as it fell straight down to the floor and pooled at your feet. Fernando broke eye contact to slowly cast his gaze upon your naked body before him. “Make love to me in them, Fer”

Fernando didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds of your request he had you in his arms and his mouth upon yours. His kiss was feverish and hungry. Triple headers were tough on your man but they were equally as tough on you. You craved him and you knew how badly he craved you. The second Fernando tugged on your hair and your body crumpled against him you felt just how badly he needed you. So it was no surprise when his hands trailed down your sides, down your butt and to your thighs. He lifted you up, clean off the floor, and pulled both your legs around his waist in a display of pure strength. What was even more impressive was how he effortlessly carried you upstairs to your bedroom without even breaking the feverish kiss the pair of you were locked in.

When you were finally there, Fernando let go of you and dumped you straight on to the bed behind you, just like he had done so many times before. The small delighted squeal that left your lips only served to encourage him. He pulled off his dark green team polo and chucked it away from himself. His tanned skin looked like caramel and you so desperately wanted a taste. You sat up and reached your hands out to help him remove the dark trousers but he playfully swatted your hands away. “You never let me remove yours” He mockingly scoffed but you knew he was only trying to be mischievous. Fernando rid himself of the remainder of his clothing promptly. There wasn’t any time for patience. Not now. Not when you were naked before him and growing increasingly more and more hungry by the second. You laid back and pulled your legs up slightly and let them fall apart. You knew how much Fernando loved seeing how wet you got for him. He loved seeing your slick wet folds awaiting him. And he was cocky about the fact he did’t even need to touch you, you were always so wet for him. He made a guttural moan when he saw you eagerly awaiting him. And you practically mimicked it right back when he was finally free and you saw how hard he was for you.

Fernando’s hands made their way up your legs as he crawled on top of your body. His lips colliding with different parts of your skin as he went. He kissed your hip softly, ghosted his tongue up your stomach, enveloped the soft peak of your nipple in his mouth as you arched your back in delight. “These diamonds are beautiful. But not as beautiful as you.” He tells you lazily as he settles between your thighs. You didn’t have time to answer him. He ran himself up and down your folds before he finally gave you what you wanted most, himself.

Fernando buried himself inside you. Every beautiful thrust was more powerful than the last and you never failed to adore the delicious fullness you felt while he fucked you. But tonight he wasn’t fucking you. No tonight he was taking his time. Every roll of his hips was deliberate. He made sure to make you feel his love and how much he adored you. Your fingers wound through his dark hair and you brought his full lips to yours. Moaning straight into them as he angled himself just right. Hitting the sweet spot inside you repeatedly. His name fell from your lips as your own collided as it flowed from him.

You were close to the edge. Dangerously close to tipping straight into the land of pure pleasure. Fernando always took you there. He knew every single sign that you were ready for the high and used it to his advantage. He spoke words into your ear; “I love you”, “let go for me”, “I can feel how close you are”

And he wasn’t wrong. Only moments later Fernando took you there. You felt like you were flying you were that euphoric. The orgasm was deep, powerful. It was almost as if your body was exploding for him. Fernando kept his pace up as you tightened and pulsed around him. His body practically begged yours to release him. His breathy, low, mumbled moans gave away how close he was himself. You clutched on to his strong muscular shoulders as finally, you felt him come undone inside of you.

You stayed connected, entwined even after he pulled out and rolled off to the bed beside you. His hand splayed over your stomach first before working up to rest on your chest. Watching him you realised he was staring at the gift he had given you. The one that led you here, to bed, in a orgasmic basked high

“What are you thinking?” You asked plainly before smoothing out his hair. God you loved his hair. It was so full and soft. It felt like silk under your fingertips. But you loved how little strands had begun to lighten, turn grey. It always reminded you of how safe you felt with him. He was a man, a real man, who loved nothing more than taking care of you. You were nearly lost in the thought of how much you loved being in love with Fernando when he finally admitted what was on his mind. “What you will let me do to you if I buy you the matching earrings.” His words made you laugh. They couldn’t not. The juxtaposition between you lying half in his arms thinking about how much you were in love with him and him hungry for more, still thinking about sex with you, pretty much summed the pair of you up. It was why you worked.

“Well, I haven’t thanked you yet for managing to get home today and surprising me.” You ran your fingertip along the diamonds that sat upon your neck so delicately before pushing him backward so he was flat on the mattress. He laughed smugly as his hands ran up and down your thighs after you straddled him. He had made love to you. But now, you were going to fuck him, exactly how he liked.

[chemxz]

any snace headcanons? :D

Sorry this took so long I was trying to gather all my thoughts properly! Also a disclaimer that these are just my personal headcanons but I actually love hearing about other interpretations of their relationship!

- Snake fell first and spent a majority of their teenage years trying to get Ace’s attention, willing to do anything to please him. (What we see in the show and comics)

- Ace had a crush on Snake as a teenager, but didn’t know how to express his emotions and this led to him using the violence and aggression we see in the show against Snake. As adults Ace lightens up on Snake, and isn’t nearly as harsh or aggressive but still has tough love tendencies.

- They tried keeping their feelings for the other a secret and they both remained clueless for a while but the rest of the gang was painfully aware.

- They eventually both confided in Arturo about their feelings for the other and made him swear to keep it a secret. Arturo found it funny so he never told either of them.

- They were each other’s first everything. Their relationships with other people were far and few in between due to their reputation, it was hard to find anyone who was willing to go out with a homeless green delinquent.

- Neither of them ever officially confessed their feelings for each other. With time they picked up on each other’s wavelengths and had an unspoken understanding of their feelings. It took a long time to put a label on their relationship.

- Their relationship as teenagers/young adults was casual, they knew they loved each other but Ace had a hard time facing this and committing fully to Snake. This left Snake yearning for a more serious relationship from Ace for a long time.

- Even though their relationship was casual Ace felt very possessive over Snake and still is.

- In their 20s they decided to take their relationship more seriously but Ace still struggled with commitment and Snake was tired of it. This led them to “break up” but they couldn’t stay away from each other. They were constantly on and off again but were never off for very long before running back to each other.

- When Ace was gone for The Now Now was the hardest time for their relationship. Snake begged Ace not to leave, but he promised Snake that he’d make so much money it’d be worth it.

- The Now Now was the first time he had been away from Snake for so long and it forced him to realize that he really is in love with Snake and that he wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

- Snake and Ace would call each other every night while he was away.

- Seeing the way that 2D talked about Murdoc and hearing how horrible he was to 2D made Ace look within and think about how he treated Snake as a teenager, realizing he never apologized. When he returned he finally told Snake he was sorry.

- Snake would die for Ace. Ace would kill for Snake.

I have a lot more but if anyone has any specific questions I would LOVE to answer them! These are a bit more in depth but if you were curious about more fluffy things in their relationship I am happy to answer that too. :D

[cerealboxlore]

you know those posts where cap’s seen as a dad figure? what if one of the reasons why the other superheroes think that way is because when league members bring up there kids or need cap to cover for them when their kids need them cap is just super understanding, empathetic and gets oddly proud of them for being with there for their kids

the actual reason why he’s like that is because billy just really values those things as an orphan and is proud to work with such great people

Whenever someone mentions or even breathes the implication of Cap being mistaken as a dad or seen as a father figure, I lose my marbles, because, oh cheese and crackers, I just can't express enough how much I adore this headcanon! I'm doin' a little happy dance :D

Billy Batson is someone who has always yearned and wished to be a part of a family again since his experience was cut short due to tragedy and made sour thanks to his uncle Ebeneezer being crusty dusty, so it's easy to see him respecting those who appreciate the family they have. He had to grow up and mature far faster than any kid his age, and compared to most adults, Billy is actually more mature and responsible than they are, unfortunately. It's reasonable to see that this would be reflected in Captain Marvel; someone who's immature at times, but ultimately a good-natured person with a golden heart and good intentions, who others can depend on anytime and anywhere (much to the sacrifice of his personal life).

Billy has been in enough foster homes at a young age to know the difference between a good parent and a rotten one, so seeing members of the league prioritize their family members and kids would make him really happy. He's the type to take on any shift or mission in the place of another member if they had something important to do with their family. What you said about him being very proud and empathetic towards parents in the league made me realize that Billy would have loved to have parents like them had his own not perished. In a way, he's not just proud of them, but a little bit envious.

This also brings up another headcanon of mine, where Captain Marvel is the unofficial designated babysitter of the league when emergencies come up. Because despite not knowing who he is/his secret identity, people trust him enough to let him know theirs. Like, it all starts with the Captain in the watchtower break room drinking apple juice, and is suddenly bombarded with a group of children or sidekicks being thrown at him by the other heroes, saying that the Captain was in charge while they were away before teleporting away.

All these kids and teenagers that he suddenly has to help look after, and while Captain Marvel is calm on the outside, Billy Batson is freaking out on the inside. Some of those kids are older than he is, and there's some hilarity to it. Shenanigans ensue in the Captain Marvel: Adventures in Babysitting day, but it all turns out okay in the end. As a kid, Billy would know how to talk to them and keep them busy with fun/educational stuff. Might even teach them a thing or two about good morals, manners, archeology, or ancient magic stuff.

I imagine some of those kids would want to be babysat by him again, and Billy would welcome it (with warning ahead of time). Captain Marvel is just someone people like being around with his good dad vibes. Some of them even ask if he has kids of his own, but are met with an empty room immediately as the man zooms off whenever people ask him questions about family.

Gosh I went rambling again, but I loved this ask!

[mk-wizard]

Elita-One NEEDS to Return to Form

As she herself says early in the video, THIS is Elita-One.

The Elita-One who had the spirit of a bold warrior yet the grace and elegance of a queen. She was not an angry, shrieking girl boss. She was a mature woman leader who like her husband Optimus Prime had a kind, patient and parental figure personality that was unbreakable. As another @chaoticcreatorgardendean brought up, the fact that real Elita-One is a woman is something to be celebrated not shamed. After all, we don't shame Optimus when he has softer and boyish moments such as the time he played basketball.

Or another time when he played his planet's favourite sport which is cube and mentioned being good at it.

If it's not silly for Optimus Prime to still be fun, sweet and lovable even after the things he has been through (and I am sure he has trauma), it's not silly for Elita-One or any of the female characters to continue doing them even after going through battle.

I stand by being ok with TF One Elita-One being hardened because she's still a teenager and thinks she has to be this way, but I really yearn for the days when the strong, courageous and capable yet motherly, feminine and charming Elita-One returns. And while I agree that her role should consist of being more than just Optimus Prime's wife, that doesn't mean we should remove it. She can be more than just, but still be that too. After all, Princess Jasmine from Disney was more than just Aladdin's love because a woman can have a husband and not be defined by him. Modern marriage is an equal partnership after all. Plus, being in love is beautiful and many woman Transformer fans are married to men (like me). Plus, let us not forget that one of the most icon Transformers Blackarachnia even found love and was shamelessly feminine. In fact, she herself was aware of how useful her feminine wiles could be which makes her not only smart, but also shows how confident she is.

Heck even the adult tomboy Strongarm had a feminine side. I am absolutely convinced that the thing she sought from Bumblebee was more than just his validation. As someone who speaks from experience, I think she was seeking his affections. Moreover, it also explains why she got so jealous and resentful towards Windblade. Personally, I think her and Bumblebee's chemistry was very good, and if written better, they could have been a beautiful couples, but that's another discussion.

The point is, the real Elita-One and everything she represents needs to make a comeback in Transformers lore. We need stop portraying her as a meanie or as the woman Optimus loves, but will never have. We need to stop femininity shaming in Transformers as well as romance shaming. There is so much maturity behind a woman acting like a lady in spite of her circumstances, her hardships and others' attempts at bringing her down. Might I also remind people that one of the whole points of feminism is that a woman should be able to be herself and have what she wants without shame which includes being a lady, a wife and a mother.

With that said, we need to also bring back the version of Optimus x Elita that is a happily married couple. No "it's complicated" nonsense or needless drama that nobody wants anyway.

PS: I also want to add that Elita-One's warm, nurturing and feminine personality also makes her the ideal contrast to the emotionless, cold and solely logic driven Shockwave. Can we also talk about how back in the day, being a genderless, emotionless machine like Shockwave who has no desire for love was considered as a bad thing for a reason? I am not saying being unisex bad. I am saying that Shockwave is an unhealthy extreme. PPS: I didn't like Skybound to begin with, but the butchering of Elita-One's character made me hate it. Do not want.

[mybeautifulwifegojo]

I am very much a monogamist even in my fictional ships but I can't stop thinking about an AU crackfic where Yuji is FWB with Megumi, Junpei, Yuta, and maybe Noritoshi (I have a soft spot for Mama's Boys) and Yuji is Utterly Convinced that every single one of them is on the same page--that is, they all enjoy making out/having sex with him, but it's all strictly platonic and they're all free to date/sleep around however they want, and if any of them decide to end or opt out of the arrangement, everyone else is chill

but the TRUTH. The truth is that Megumi, Junpei, Yuta, and Noritoshi all are desperately in love with Yuji. It is borderline pathetic how much they love him. They are all yearning their asses off, but they're all too depressed and traumatized to just say that to his face. And they all know that the other three love him, too. So these four gloomy dipshits are pining like the mightiest forests for Yuji and concealing it really really badly, but he doesn't notice because, as stated above, he genuinely thinks they all agree that this is platonic.

and then Yuji meets this really hot older guy who is NOT a dark-haired emo with untreated depression--Gojo Satoru is in therapy and taking his meds and hitting the gym and he is No Longer Emo, Thank You Very Much (he is absolutely still emo, he just doesn't tell anyone), and he's got a steady career as a guidance counselor at a low-income school where he's making a difference in the lives of hundreds of kids every day, and Yuji just. faceplants into love with him. you mean to tell him that hot guys with big hearts AREN'T all sad and anxious and hiss like angry cats when you mention talking to professionals??? sometimes they're just irritating rich bastards who care about protecting future generations??? and sometimes they blush all cute when they're caught donating enormous amounts of money to school clubs anonymously, or using their family's political influence to make it easier for kids to attend university, or physically beating the shit out of adult men who try to flirt with teenage girls???

So Yuji goes to his four friends who he also regularly sleeps with and says, "Guys, I can't have sex with any of you right now, I'm thinking about only one man's dick and it's making me feral how much I want his tongue in my mouth" and instead of being consoled or teased he is met with four grown-ass men having silent breakdowns internally while they try to figure out if they should team up to get rid of Satoru or be grateful that none of the others get to ride Yuji's dick either.

because this idea is coming from my head there is of course a happy ending where everybody gets help for their issues and Yuji and Satoru raise an army of children together and are Very Very Happy And In Love

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️ Loved By You ❤️

Summary; Eddie's ghost haunts Hawkins, Lovers Lake, The Hideout, the benches in the woods near Hawkins High, and especially the Trailer Park.

All your life you've heard of the poor souls who died in Hawkin's earthquake of 86.

Most passed on, Eddie wasn't so lucky he's been stuck in limbo for thirty-four years, fading in and out as time passes, trying to find companionship but failing.

That's until he meets you.

Love transcends death and happy endings can happen even when all hope seems lost.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. 18+, minors dni. Soulmate au

I don't give anyone permission to copy, repost or reuse my work.

If you enjoyed this pls consider reblogging, etc. It's much appreciated. ❤️

I hope you all enjoy it, it's a long fic and I hope you all love it as much as I do. ❤️✨

❤️

All your life you had heard about the great earthquake of 1986 that happened in Hawkins.

Every year the town held a vigil for those that died, your best friend's parents Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington held a special service along with Dustin Henderson and Robin Buckley for one person in particular.

Eddie Munson. The ghost of Hawkins, an urban legend whose name was whispered about by adults and whose legend was infamous.

Once accused of killing three high school students from Hawkins High, those of whom were in his (third) senior class.

Until Jim Hopper, Hawkin's most famous sheriff for a whole lot of things, the most amazing being coming back from the dead- or escaping the prison he was held at in Russia.

Anyway, Jim had cleared Eddie of any wrongdoing after his death, in fact, according to Dustin, and many others he had died a hero, helping save others during the earthquake.

Dustin told a lot of stories about Eddie, you'd heard a few when you hung out with Alice, it was bittersweet though because you could see how much pain it caused Dustin to talk about Eddie but he said he had to talk about him because he never wanted Eddie's memory to be forgotten.

You wondered what Dustin thought of the Urban Legend regarding Eddie's ghost. Over the years many people claimed to see Eddie, some were stoned, drunk or a little bit of both.

Others were curious, trying to find out if the tales of Eddie's ghost were true. Double dares to go deep into the woods and call out his name, mentions of the faint sounds of a guitar playing when everything was silent at The Hideout, the cave in Lovers Lake was a hot spot for activity too.

Some part of you yearned to know if it was true, even though the logical part of your brain dismissed it as nothing more than an urban legend.

Plus, you had seen how upset the rumours made Dustin, how much he hated that his friend was used as a laugh for dumb teenagers and even some adults looking for a scare.

Unfortunately, as much as you didn't want to entertain the rumours, some people were all for finding out if the ghost of Eddie Munson was real or not.

❤️❤️

Todd Carver was your ex and to say he was a dick was an understatement. You had dated him for two months and grew tired of his arrogant and boastful demeanour.

Graduation was fast approaching and you wanted more out of life than Todd and his asshole tendencies.

It was just your luck he was still part of your friend group however you did your best to avoid him.

He had been trying to get you to date him again but you just weren't interested.

You hear him goading someone and your stomach fills with anger when you notice its Dustin's son Ben.

He was exactly like his dad, you were very protective of him and follow Todd as he and his friends Calvin and Sam push Ben into the woods.

You can hear their laughter and it infuriates you.

"Come on dude, call out for Munson, didn't your daddy give you Eddie for a middle name? Talk about morbid man"

"Shut up" Ben snaps and you hear those morons laugh again as they tease Ben.

"Leave him alone!" you march up to Todd and he snorts.

"Come on Babe, we're just messing around" you glare at him. Steve said he was like his Uncle Jason in miniature, he didn't like to speak ill of the dead but apparently, Jason was an asshole, Todd was just like him.

"It's not funny Todd, Get lost asshole" Todd snorts.

"What? we just wanna know if Eddie Munson's ghost is real or not? What's wrong with that?" he replies innocently but his eyes are full of malice.

He imitates a ghost and at that exact moment, a branch falls and hits Todd, leaves fall on him and his eyes widen in shock and a small hint of fear.

"It's Munson! Let's get out of here" he rushes away with Calvin and Sam at his heels.

Ben smiles, relaxing as he watches them go.

"Thanks for helping me" You ruffle his hair and tell him to get back for his last lesson.

As he heads away you turn to look at the fallen branch and leaves and frown curiously. There's no wind? Was it an old branch or something else? Something spookier?

Then there's a voice behind you and you freeze on the spot.

"God, that Todd dude was a dick right?" when you turn around he's standing near the benches, arms folded across his chest.

His hair is wild, dark brown and long. Big brown eyes filled with annoyance, some of his tattoos visible and he's wearing a Hellfire t-shirt and jeans just like you saw in the pictures Dustin has on his mantelpiece.

What the fuck.

"He's related to Carver? Can spot that asshole smirk anywhere" Eddie grins at you.

"Shit, you're really... I thought you were a myth or some urban legend passed around by stoned guys and campfire tales" he snorts.

"I'm as real as it gets princess... The smile falls away from his lips, still very much dead though, which is shit"

You sit down on the bench feeling a little bit dizzy, you can barely believe what's happening.

"The branch" you ask faintly and he smiles, it's heart melting, all dimples and a hint of cheekiness.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Just that dick Carver. You dated that douchebag? Could do a lot better princess" you stare at him still processing everything.

"How did you know that?" he shrugs and sits beside you, the temperature drops a little.

"I'm a ghost, I hear all kinds of shit. Disappear for weeks on end, then come back again. It's confusing being stuck in this limbo world"

"I'm sorry" you reply feeling his sadness so acutely that it takes your breath away for a second.

"It's kay, not your fault. It's nice sticking around sometimes, even if I can't do much. Haunt the dickheads that come out here sometimes though the bullying little shits, keep track of Hellfire Club which is cool, amazing how massive it is now" he looks so proud.

"I know Dustin, Steve, Nancy, Robin. They've told me all about you. You died a hero" he gets up and smiles faintly.

"Decided to stop running, sometimes I wonder if it was sheer stupidity more than bravery"

"Bravery, not stupidity" you assure him and there comes that dimpled grin again. It makes you feel out of sorts, tingly.

"Must have been an awful earthquake" you sympathise and Eddie nods wincing.

"Yeah, was more concentrated on dying at that point though" this confuses you and you say so.

"It wasn't the earthquake that killed you?" he stares at you puzzled.

"No, it was the bats that killed me' he points to the tattoo of the bats on his arm. Ironic right?"

Wait... What?

"Bats?" his eyes widen.

"Shit you don't know?" he cringes and then turns on his heel and disappears. You call him back, curiosity piqued.

What the heck didn't you know? What was going on? More importantly, you just talked to Eddie Munson.

It's a thought that should terrify you but it doesn't and you find yourself anxious for the chance to speak to him again.

❤️

Eddie must be as curious about you as you are about him because he appears again at the edge of the woods while you are talking to your friends.

Anticipation fills you and you want to talk to him so badly, quickly.

You're a little breathless as you catch up to him and sit on the bench.

"Can you tell me what you meant about the bats, please? If you're okay to talk about it. I understand if you don't. The memories must be awful" he pauses for a few seconds then nods.

"Okay, I'll tell you but be warned. This shit is crazy. You might not believe me" you pay him rapt attention.

"Try me" and with that he begins to tell you everything.

You just talk a lot, he opens up about what really happened in Hawkins in 1986 you're stunned and have so many questions.

Demobats, Vecna, The Upside Down, The Mindflayer, The earthquake that rocked Hawkin's was caused by Vecna killing four people, their friend Max was the last death and it literally opened the gates to hell, where The Upside Down bled into Hawkins.

There was a massive group in Hawkins including Dustin, Nancy, her brother Mike, Steve, Robin and a super powers girl named El that fought against the monsters.

The evil was defeated but Max passed away and that caused a huge fracture in the group as well as Eddie's death.

"Sucked watching all the shit going down, doing my best to help when I could. When I wasn't vanishing for months at a fucking time" Eddie murmurs and his tone hurts your heart.

"Thank you for telling me Eddie. I really appreciate it" he offers you a warm smile and sighs as he looks to the darkening sky.

"You should get home, it's been hours" the darkened sky surprises you and you swear.

"Shit. Dad is going to be so pissed" You gather your things and Eddie clears his throat.

"Can I see you tomorrow sweetheart?" your heart melts at his hopeful expression and you find yourself aching to see him too.

"Count on it" you assure him. He sticks around to make sure you get to your car safely, he's gentlemanly and it's so sweet that you are smiling all the way home.

❤️

Even though you are still stunned about talking to a ghost you enjoy talking to Eddie, you talk a lot about many things and even though he disappears sometimes he always comes back.

The time between his disappearances begins to shorten as he mentions to you one day.

It's the first time he appeared outside your window you were just in your nightie and it was kinda cute watching Eddie stammer out his apology and turn around while you pulled on your robe.

If he could blush you're sure he would.

"Come in" you call to him and it's still pretty cool watching him go through things. He's beaming, something has made him happy and it makes you smile too.

That cute grin of his is infectious.

"The disappearances are shortening princess. It's like an hour now compared to hours or even weeks before we met"

It's amazing this is happening because you miss Eddie like crazy when he isn't around.

"This is amazing" You reach out without thinking and grab his hand, you except to feel cold, nothing at all.

Instead there is only a tiny chill as your fingers interlace through his and he is gazing at you in shock.

"You can feel me?" he whimpers and you nod tightening your grip on his hand as he squeezes your hand back, both of you are at a loss on what to say but it's also so wonderful what happened that you're both grinning at each other in a happy bubble.

❤️

Betty stares at you curiously as you doodle in your notebook, you don't mean to but you're doodling Eddie's name in little hearts.

Fuck. Over the weeks and weeks you had been getting to know each other, his form more solid with each passing day you're feelings are deep and growing by the day.

The truth was you were in love with Eddie.

"You've been lost in thought, daydreaming and smiling to yourself. What's going on? Are you in love with someone?" she asks excitedly.

Your heart speeds up but then comes crushing heartache and tears spill down your cheeks.

"It doesn't matter. It can't ever happen" she looks so confused as she rushes to comfort you.

"I don't understand honey" she wouldn't be able to.

How could you explain that you were head over heels in love with a ghost?

💕

It was a quiet night. Just you and Eddie. His body so close to yours, you bridge the tiny gap between the two of you and lay your head on his chest.

He feels so solid so real and for a few precious seconds you forget that you don't hear his heart beating. That it can never beat. All that matters is that Eddie is here with you.

That's until your doorbell rings and you groan getting up, you can hear that its Todd before you even see him and feel pissed. What the hell did he want?

You open the door just wanting to get this over with.

"Babe! It's been weeks and weeks. Graduation is next Friday! I've been super patient but when are you going to take me back?" you gape at him.

"Uh, how about the first of never? We broke up for good Todd because you're an arrogant bully" he looks stunned for a second.

"This is bullshit! You've met someone else haven't you" There's a shadow upstairs near your room, it's Eddie.

He's protective and you know he won't take Todd shouting at you lightly. However you're well versed in dealing with this dumbass.

"It's none of your business. Go away, Todd. You and I are never going to happen again" he scowls and reaches towards you to grab your arm.

"What are you doing! Let go!" his eyes darken and your heart sinks but then he comes to when you wrench your arm away and he snorts.

Then the next second he's literally flying out the door and lands right on his ass outside. You slam the door shut and head back upstairs knowing Eddie is annoyed.

He is quiet as you head into your room, still fuming that Todd thought you would ever want him back.

"Of all the arrogant, conceited assholes" you huff and you turn to Eddie who is resting on your bed his face blank.

"Eddie?" he gets up, he looks so tense and you move closer to him and gently take his hand.

"Eddie?" he turns to you and he looks forlorn, it makes your heart ache so deeply when he hurts, you hurt.

"What's wrong? Is this about Todd? I don't want him back. You know that right? He's such a douchebag and... He turns away and when he turns back to you his gaze is cold.

"Yeah, he's a dickhead but not every guy you meet will be. You'll find someone special, look at you. You're amazing, sweet, kind, beautiful" his words warm your heart and yet you still feel anxious.

"I don't want some guy. I... You're all I think about Eddie" It's the first time you've admitted out loud even though it's been obvious between you two for a while now.

He shakes his head, his eyes shining but his face set and angry.

"You can't sweetheart. I'm not even here, not really. You can feel me and I can feel you, yeah but it doesn't change the fact that I don't even have a fucking heartbeat"

"It doesn't change the fact that you have no future with me"

There's silence and he begins to fade.

"Please don't go" you beg and he smiles sadly.

"I can't be selfish sweetheart, you deserve someone real, someone who can be with you properly, that can't happen while I'm hanging around. Goodbye princess, thank you for making me happy for the first time in thirty five years" his hand gently strokes over your cheek.

"No, no" you beg but he disappears completely and he doesn't come back, not even for your heartbreaking calls.

Even if it breaks the heart that no longer beats inside of him, he knows he has to stay away.

❤️

It's been a week since Eddie left, sometimes you think that you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, smell his cologne when you wake up in the night but it's all just wishful thinking you realise.

You can't even explain to anyone why you're heartbroken, you feel so alone.

Graduation passes by and while you're happy that you and your friends will be together at the newly built Hawkins academy, there is still a heaviness in your heart that is left by Eddie's absence.

For a second you swear you see Eddie at the edge of the forest but he's gone the next second and you're sure much to your disappointment that you imagined it.

He really wasn't coming back. The thought broke your heart all over again.

❤️

The next night you find yourself wandering around Lovers Lake. All your friends are here and it's a massive party for all seniors.

As they party you head off on your own and find the cave that Eddie supposedly haunts, you just want to feel close to him for a little while.

The tears you've been holding in since yesterday fall and you cry it all out, all the heart ache and pain.

"Please don't cry," you think you imagine Eddie's voice but when you look up he's watching you, he looks agonised.

"What are you doing here, I thought you were staying away?" you wipe your eyes and stand up shakily. He swallows and moves closer to you.

"It's hell. Like a physical constant ache, it never goes away, the longing to be with you. When I'm not with you I'm in agony. Didn't know being dead could hurt this much. Hurt even worse than when I died"

Your whole body shakes with tears.

"I feel the same way, it feels like I can't breathe Eddie, it hurts so badly" he reaches out to you and his hand rests on your cheek.

"How can I stick around though? I'm just keeping you from moving on, finding someone who...who can really be with you" he spits out the words, the devastation in his eyes breaks your heart.

"This isn't fair. Life sucks ass you know that?" this brings a smile to his face and you cuddle into him, then you peer up at him.

"I love you Eddie, I'm in love with you" his expression changes, it's like happiness radiates from him and it fills your heart with joy.

"I love you too sweetheart, I'm so in love with you" his lips meet yours and you kiss passionately, pouring all of your love for each other into the kiss.

The kiss is incredible, perfect. You kiss for what seems like hours until you slowly part, Eddie's lips press to your forehead.

Then something weird happens, and Eddie's eyes widen. He stares at you for a second and whispers "Princess"

Then he's just gone.

❤️

Eddie expects to disappear and then re appear within an hour or so.

Instead of an hour it's barely a minute and something feels wrong. One minute he's in The Upside Down and he's bones and dust, the next minute, as if by magic he can feel his body coming back together, bones forming once more, skeleton then his body piecing itself back together, he opens his eyes and he can hear the most wonderful sound that he's heard in thirty five years.

The sound of his own heartbeat. He can't even comprehend how this happened. How he is alive once more.

Maybe magic did exist? If those creatures, the demobats, MindFlayer, Vecna and another dimension under Hawkins then who's to say that magic wasn't real?

A miracle had happened that's for sure. Tears burn in his eyes and he knows so much has changed over the years, his friends are grown up, his uncle an old man.

And yet he was given a second chance, another chance at life and he wasn't going to waste a single second.

At first he's unsteady on his feet, he cuts himself some slack. Shit he's been dead for so long.

Somehow though he gets out of the cold desolate world of the destroyed Upside Down.

He crawls his way out of hell and into the light.

❤️

It's a couple of hours later, you're at home and the sun is beginning to rise. Bird sing fills the air as sunlight fills your room.

That perfect kiss with Eddie fills your mind. Was it a goodbye kiss? Something didn't feel right when he disappeared and it's troubling you what it is.

"Princess" you peer up and Eddie is at your window, you race over to open it and he comes in.

"I thought you were gone" tears blur your vision and you throw your arms around him.

It takes a second for you to realise that he's warm, so warm, Eddie smiles through tears as he says something to you.

He's beaming, absolutely radiant,his whole body is solid and through your haze of tears you hear the words he's been saying to you.

"Princess, listen" he places your hand on his chest and you lean in close.

Thump, thump, thump.

You can feel the steady thump of his heart beat. It's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"How?" you're barely able to gasp out and he shakes his head, he has no idea either.

"After our kiss, I woke up in that place, everything was desolote and there was barely any sign of an exit but I crawled my way out of where my Uncle's trailer used to be" he closes his eyes.

"I was down there in the upside down but then I got to the surface, I could feel the sunlight, hear birds singing and could feel my heart racing, by some fucking miracle I was brought back"

"I've been given a second chance to have a new life, connect with Dustin and the others, spend my life with you if you'll have me, you're the woman I want to spend my life with" you kiss him elated.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll be by your side through all of it Eddie". His eyes darken in a delicious way that makes your whole body tingle.

"There's so many people I want to see but first I really want to spend the morning making love to my girl. Does that sound good to you Princess?"

"Yes", you manage to say as his arms wrap around you pulling you close to him.

For the first time you make love, feeling Eddie's body close to you, the way he makes you feel is everything.

Mind-blowing orgasms sweep over you both but the absolute best part is when you cuddle into his arms sleepy, when you wake up he's dozing peacefully, there's a smile on his face and you sigh content as you rest your head against his chest.

His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep once more, a smile on your face as you slumber.

❤️✨

[kikyoupdates]

Leave Your Mark ⭑˚🧪⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last. No matter what it takes, you are going to leave your mark.

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Despite the concerning interaction you had not long ago, you try not to let Chisaki discourage you. It would have been unrealistic for his entire personality to have changed overnight. You need more time to help him see reason, and besides, it’s not like he’s already a villain. He just needs a bit of a change in perspective, that’s all.   

Now that you’ve officially obtained your Quirk, you’ve been doing your best to get used to using it, and so far, you’d like to say it’s going well.  

You can only create those star fragments within the palms of your hands. It’s hard to describe exactly what they feel like, but it’s almost as if they flow between your fingers, like some sort of energy. You’ve mostly been practicing with moving them around and getting the hang of changing their shape, but just yesterday, you pulled off a rather impressive feat.   

If you direct the fragments in a particular direction, they can pick up small objects and interact with them. It’s like telekinesis, to some extent, although you’re very young and not that good at using it yet. But you have more than enough time to practice, and with a power like this, you feel confident about taking the necessary steps towards becoming a hero.   

Even if your Quirk isn’t outlandishly strong by default, you will make it strong. You will turn it into something of your own and use it to protect the people you care about.   

Plus, it’s also quite pretty to look at. You doubt you’ll ever get tired of staring at the shimmering star fragments, little mouth hanging open in awe.   

Testing out your Quirk takes up a lot of your time, and since you’ve very much still a little kid, you end up depleting quite a bit of energy along the way. You’re happy, though. You feel like your prospects so far are good, and you’ve got the potential to make a real difference at some point.   

Everything is going well— too well, as a matter of fact.   

Perhaps that’s why the world feels compelled to remind you that life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows.   

It happens while you’re playing just outside the Shie Hassaikai complex. You haven’t strayed far from home, and Pops has tasked Chisaki with the responsibility of looking after you, so you have no reason to be on high alert. Instead, you scribble on the pavement with the colored pieces of chalk Pops gave you. Even though you’re a teenager, you have to admit that it’s a fun way to pass the time.   

Suddenly, some asshole decides to shove you to the ground. Hard .   

You’re not sure what the hell is going on, so the most you’re able to do is look up at him in disbelief. The person who pushed you is a man, a young adult, by the looks of things. He’s grinning crudely, and it seems like he takes great pleasure in bullying children.   

“What’s a snotty-nosed brat doing around here?” he sneers. “I guess the old man has finally lost his marbles. What, he’ll kick me out of the group, but he’s happy to look after a fucking toddler? Give me a break.”   

You’re starting to piece things together. It sounds like this man used to be a member of the Shie Hassaikai, and at some point, Pops must have kicked him out. Given how scummy his personality is, it honestly doesn’t surprise you.   

You’re not an actual child, so instead of crying, as he probably expected you to, you merely furrow your brows at him.   

“Bullying a kid,” you mutter, shaking your head disappointedly. “That’s so lame.”   

It turns out that was the wrong thing to say, and he really doesn’t seem to care for your precocious demeanor.   

This time, he grabs fistfuls of your hair and drags you closer to him. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he hisses. “I could give you one hell of a beating if I wanted to. Is that how you want to play this? Hm?”   

You wail out, because it’s starting to hurt a lot . Your mind may be advanced, but your body is still that of a child, and you’re a lot more fragile than you would like to be.   

The man cackles in delight, then raises his hand, as if he’s about to smack you, but before he can, someone grabs his arm and pulls him back.   

“Stop it,” Chisaki glares. His eyes are cold, almost devoid of any emotion. “Let her go. If you don’t, you’ll seriously regret it.”  

“Ha! Another fucking kid? Man, this place is full of you all of a sudden. The Shie Hassaikai has really gone to shit.”   

Despite Chisaki’s warnings, the man has no intention of letting you go. His grip on you remains tight, painfully so, and he shoves Chisaki back with his elbow.   

That’s a big mistake.   

“Fine,” Chisaki says coldly. “You asked for this.”   

Less than five seconds later, the man is screaming at the top of his lungs. Chisaki uses his Quirk on him, and several of his fingers have now been disassembled into bits. Blood splatters onto the concrete, and you take several steps back, horrified by what you’ve just seen.   

The man gasps for breath, clutching at his mutilated fingers. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, and all the while, Chisaki just stands next to him with a passive, unfazed expression.   

He’s barely ten years old, but violence doesn’t scare him in the slightest.   

“I did warn you,” Chisaki sighs. He walks over to you, then pats your head a few times. The gesture is far from gentle, but you suppose it’s his way of making sure you’re alright. “She’s just a little kid,” he says, glaring at the man—who is still keeled over and wailing from the pain. “You’re such a degenerate to attack her like that.”  

You’re glad that he protected you. Having known each other for a while now, Chisaki has come to care for you, even if he doesn’t openly admit to it. And it’s true that the man was about to hurt you just then. He deserved to be punished to some extent.   

Still. You can’t help but feel like this is too far, and it’s setting a terrible precedent for the future.   

Taking a deep breath, you pull on Chisaki’s shirt. “Kai,” you mumble softly. “Thank you for helping, but... he’s hurt really bad. Can you please fix him? I’m sure he knows not to do this again. You can fix him, right? I don’t want you to get in trouble. It isn’t good to hurt other people.”   

“But he hurt you first,” Chisaki blinks. “He deserved it.”   

“I’m okay now. Can you just fix him? For me? Please ?”   

He hesitates for a while longer, and you can’t stop glancing towards the injured man, who is losing blood at an alarming rate. Chisaki is only a child. You don’t want him to carry such a heavy burden already. You refuse to let him turn down a dark path this early in his life—or at any point, really.   

Apart from the man’s screams, the street is silent, but eventually, Chisaki lets out another sigh.  

“Fine,” he frowns. “But I really do think he deserved it. Bad people shouldn’t get away with doing this stuff. Still... since you want me to fix him, I will.”   

Relief floods your chest, and you watch as Chisaki walks over towards the man and restores his fingers back to the way they used to be.   

The man stops screaming. His mouth is left hanging ajar, and he just stares down at his hand, as if he can’t believe what just happened.   

Then, he jerks away in a fright.   

“G-Get away from me!” he cries out. “You... you fucking monster!”   

He runs off after that, with his tail quite literally in between his legs. His fingers have been fixed, but there’s fresh blood next to the chalk drawings you made earlier. You can hardly bear to look at it.   

That was a close call. Things almost got really, really bad, but you’re proud of Chisaki for listening to you.  

“Thank you, Kai.” You’ve already thanked him, but you do it again. This time, you hug him and press your tiny face against his chest. “I... I don’t want you to hurt people because of me, or for any other reason. Please promise you won’t do it anymore. If this ever happens again, we can just run away and get help instead. Okay?”   

Chisaki makes no attempts to push you back. He doesn’t say anything, but eventually, you feel his arms wrap around you.   

Everything is alright. He listened to you. He listened, and you’re sure that he’ll continue to listen. He won’t ever take things too far or stray from the right path.   

There’s no reason to be afraid.   

Several months have passed since that incident, and Chisaki appears to have grown more protective of you ever since, because he insists on escorting you pretty much everywhere .   

“Where are you going?” Chisaki asks one day.   

You blink. “Um... the bathroom?”   

“Okay. Be careful,” he says, then proceeds to wait in the hallway until you’re done.   

Does he think you’ll get sucked into the toilet or something? It’s kind of ridiculous, but you suppose it’s nice to know how much he cares.   

Anyways, long story short, that moment has clearly had a lasting impact on him, and since Pops has told him time and time again that he needs to look out for you, that’s exactly what he does. He’s eleven years old now, hardly old enough to be someone’s bodyguard, but since he’s always been especially mature for his age, Pops doesn’t have any qualms about leaving you in his hands.   

Any time you want to take a trip into the city, Chisaki is the one who goes with you. In fact, you’ve just spent a fun day together, getting pancakes at a nice family diner. Chisaki made sure to wipe all the syrup off your face, but not before remarking upon what a sloppy eater you were.   

You’re heading home now, and Chisaki holds your hand firmly in his. For all his aversion to germs and touch, he doesn’t seem to mind touching you or Pops. You assume it’s because he considers the two of you to be special to him, a thought that makes your chest swell with pride.   

Chisaki told you not to get distracted or leave his side, but when your eyes happen to land on a familiar face, you can’t help but break free.  

“[Name]!” he cries out. “Get back here!”   

He chases after you, of course, but you’ve already made contact with the person that caught your interest. A little boy with ash blonde hair and striking crimson eyes, who is grumbling to himself as he tries to get a toy capsule from a vending machine.  

“Not this one either,” he mutters irritably. “ Ugh ! I keep getting everyone but All Might! And now I’m out of money...”   

This boy is Bakugou Katsuki, the protagonist’s main rival, and once again—you are fangirling.   

“I told you not to run off,” Chisaki scowls, immediately grabbing you and trying to pull you away. You put up a fight, though, stubbornly rooting your feet into the ground, and it’s only when you speak up that Katsuki takes note of you.  

“Kai,” you say, looking up at him hopefully. “Can we lend this guy some money? He’s trying to get a toy, but he keeps striking out.”   

You expected as much, but Chisaki refuses.   

“Why should I give out money to a total stranger?” he snaps. “Pops gave me this money. Everything we have left over from the diner, I plan on giving back to him. I’m not just going to waste it.”   

“But it’s not a waste,” you insist. “He really wants the toy, and I want to help!”  

“No. I’m not handing out money. What are we, some kind of charity?”   

Ah. So, it’s finally come to this. Fine, then. You still have one last trick up your sleeve.   

Special move: begging and whining until you get what you want.   

“Please, please, please ! I want to do this, I want to do this, I want to do this—”   

This carries on for quite some time, and you can see how Chisaki is becoming progressively more horrified, especially with all the attention your tantrum is drawing. Katsuki just stands there in disbelief, no doubt wondering what the hell is wrong with you.   

“Alright, fine !”   

Even Chisaki, for all his strength and intelligence, can't seem to handle you when you’re annoying him at full force. He angrily shoves several coins into your hands, and you giggle in delight before inserting a few into the vending machine.   

It turns out that your luck is a lot better than Katsuki’s, and you end up getting the All Might figurine on your very first try.   

Katsuki watches with wide eyes, obviously jealous. If you really wanted to, you could probably tease him a bit, but you choose to act your age this time.   

“Here,” you say, grinning widely and handing him the figurine. “I like All Might too, but it seems like you really wanted this, so you can have it!”   

Katsuki is silent for a few moments, but he soon turns awfully red and reels back.   

“I-I don’t need it!” he insists. “I can get it by myself! I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.”   

“But you ran out of money, which means you can’t get it anymore. It’s not because I feel sorry for you. Just consider it a gift!”   

You know all too well just how stubborn Katsuki can be, and how he prefers not to accept help from anyone else. Still, he’s only a little kid right now, and personality-wise, he’s nowhere near as angry as his future self.   

He’s also itching to take the figurine for himself. That much is painfully obvious.   

“I want you to have it,” you say again, then go as far as to grab his hand and place it into his open palm.   

Katsuki blinks several times. He’s struggling to make sense of what just happened, but despite his tiny budding ego, there’s still no mistaking the smile that forms across his lips.   

He grips his new All Might figurine, eyes glossy as he gazes upon his biggest role model. His lips part slightly, and for a second, you’re wondering if he might thank you.   

Then again, this is Katsuki you’re talking about.   

“You didn’t need to give it to me,” he huffs. “I would’ve gotten it eventually. I would’ve come back another day, with more money.”   

You keep smiling. “Sure, but this way, you get to have it sooner. I hope you like it. All Might is really awesome, huh?”   

This time, Katsuki replies without sparing a breath.  

“All Might is the best ,” he grins. “I’m gonna be just like him when I grow up! No—I’ll be even better!”   

You let out a soft, happy giggle, but before you can say anything else, Chisaki starts tugging on your arm impatiently.   

“[Name],” he mutters. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s hurry up and leave.”   

“Oh, okay.” You suppose he’s gotten tired of waiting around for you. From his perspective, it must be quite mind-numbing to stand by while two four-year-olds converse. You glance back at Katsuki one last time, still smiling. “Well, I have to go now, but I hope you like your new toy! And I’m sure you’ll be able to do it. Become a hero even cooler than All Might, I mean.”   

Katsuki doesn’t know how to respond, and by that point, he’s already watching you walk away while holding onto Chisaki’s hand.   

As he glances down at his All Might figurine, he can’t help but frown a bit.   

I didn’t get to tell her my name, but I know hers. Maybe... I’ll see her again?   

For the second time that day, his face turns unspeakably red.   

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[ahsokatroi]

TW ⚠️: dark adult topics

So we all know that underneath the growling and the punching and the adopting and the fighting, Bruce Wayne is a heavily traumatized and severely depressed man.

My brain, being the angst-lover that it is, decided to think about what that would very likely mean, and thus handed me the conclusion that Bruce struggles with suicide.

It wouldn’t have started with his parents’ deaths. He was barely old enough to understand death, let alone yearn for it. Besides, he was grieving and lonely, but at that point still more shocked than depressed.

Fair warning, I didn’t really make a plan writing this, so it’s gonna be slightly unorganized and the transitions are shoddy.

———

Bruce was bullied, because adolescent/prepubescent children are cruel, spoiled rich ones even more so. They haven’t lived long enough to have developed filters, so they just spout whatever they think will make them fit in. Unfortunately, that often comes in the form of cruelty. He was bullied relentlessly. One would think the worst of it was about his dead parents, but no. The worst of it was when the older kids and even some of the adults insinuated that the reason the Wayne family’s butler was raising Bruce himself had less to do with Alfred genuinely caring about him and more to do with a certain dynamic that unfortunately is not uncommon in wealthy circles.

Bruce finally understood what those comments meant the first time a socialite cornered him in a dark hallway during a gala. He looked at Alfred differently after that. Not in suspicion, but with a sick understanding. When his peers said things like “your parents must’ve hated you so much they let the mugger shoot them,” he knew it wasn’t true, however much it hurt to hear. Just as he was certain that the implications against Alfred were outrageously false.

Then there’s the kidnappings. Back then, the manor wasn’t a fortress. It was just a big house with a big fence and a very basic security system. And newly-orphaned Bruce Wayne was vulnerable. The first time, he was taken straight from his bed. Officer Gordon later opened the closet he was found locked in, wrapped him in a blanket, and carried him to the ambulance. The second time, he was lured into a room where he was smothered with a chloroform rag. He was still unconscious in the backseat of the getaway car when Alfred cut them off with his car, shoved their heads into the doors, and gently carried Bruce away. The third time, he was snatched during a school trip. He was tied to a pole, blindfolded, hungry, and dehydrated, when he heard the door slam open. Shouts rung out through the room, and gunfire deafened his ears. He curled in on himself, trying to make himself small. One of the kidnappers pressed the hot barrel of a gun to his chest (an act that left him with a circular burn scar) and screamed that he’d shoot. He didn’t get to finish his threat before another shot was fired, and he dropped dead. When all was quiet, Alfred untied Bruce, picked him up and placed him on his hip, and walked out with the gun pointed ahead of him.

As Bruce grew into a teenager and then an adult, he aggressively leaned into an outrageous persona, one that his social class despised. He was still bullied, but he became good at pretending he was unaffected, even enticed by the opportunity to retaliate. He was still a target for kidnapping, but he learned to make himself a rather difficult target. He was still targeted and propositioned, but he learned to use the predators’ desire, to manipulate them. He learned what they were willing to say (secrets) and agree to (favors, donations, etc) in the heat of the moment, and he learned how to manipulate their bodies to drive them so deeply into pleasure that they couldn’t think straight.

The socialites hated him, but they had to hate in secret, because the rest of Gotham loved him. Between free clinics, homeless shelters, food pantries, charitable donations, and instances of him stepping up to defend people before he even claimed his seat at WE, the public adored him.

In the privacy of his room (his actual room, not the one he pretended was his in front of the people he took to bed), he wasn’t loved. In the bathroom mirror wasn’t the face of someone adored. In his own eyes, he was disgusting. No amount of showering could scrape off the filth he felt coated in. No amount of scrubbing could pry the feeling of hands and tongues and other various body parts off his skin. No amount of praise from the public could drown out the guilt he felt over failing to protect…people. There was nothing he could’ve done to save his parents, he knew that. Really, he did. He…of course he knew it.

The bathroom mirror was unbiased, and Bruce both hated and appreciated it for that. He saw himself for what he was. Used, but somehow simultaneously useless.

On his chest was the old circular scar. No longer raised, but still discolored. He raised his hand to his neck, where distinct oval bruises and teeth marks remained from earlier that night. He pressed on the indents with his fingers, trying to smooth them out. The effort did little but turn his skin slightly red. A heavy weight settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe, and he pressed harder. The indents still wouldn’t fade. His swollen lip started trembling, and he dug his fingertips in until his nails were scratching at the marks. His breathing became shallow and fast as he scratched at his neck, silently begging the teeth marks to just go away. Hickeys could be covered in makeup, but teeth marks were harder to make invisible. Harder to pretend had never marred his skin.

Before he could think, he shouted and shoved his fist into the mirror. He stood there, shaking and struggling to breathe, and realized there was blood on his neck from where he’d scratched too hard. Suddenly his world froze and a buzzing began to fill his ears. His vision zeroed in on the blood on his neck. After a moment, his eyes refocused and left the sight of his neck in the mirror’s reflection, instead focusing on the cracks in the mirror itself, webbing out from beneath his fist. He slowly pulled his arm away, watching as shards fell from the frame into the sink. He followed them down with his eyes, briefly glancing at the blood on his fingers as he reached for one of the shards.

If someone were to ask him how long he stood there holding that shard, his ears buzzing with the deafening roar of his blood vessels, he would have no answer for them. But the moment the glass found an angle that showed him his own reflection, the hand holding it was no longer perched over the sink. He raised his gaze back to his reflection in the broken mirror and stared at the blood on his neck from where he’d scratched it. He brought the shard up to his neck and pressed it against the artery that lay pulsing under his left ear. He gripped the sink tightly with his other hand as he met his own eyes in the mirror. Not empty, not sad, not panicked. Just heavy.

He hadn’t heard the footsteps or his name being called through the cacophony of his blood vessels, his heartbeat, and his unsteady breathing. But the moment he felt Alfred’s gentle but firm grip pulling his hand away from his neck and taking the shard away, the deafening buzzing ceased, like a snapped rubber band. His breathing went from unsteady to outright erratic, and his legs collapsed under him. He gripped the sink with both hands, his head pressed against the side and his eyes shut tight as his diaphragm convulsed and spasmed and refused to let him take a deep breath. Alfred pried his hands off the sink and dragged him to the other side of the bathroom, then crouched beside him and stayed there. Bruce’s hands found purchase on Alfred’s arms, squeezing them in a death grip as he hyperventilated and sobbed.

When he woke up, in his bed with his hand and neck bandaged, he didn’t move. He lay there staring at the underside of the canopy, thinking. His brain was sluggish, but he clearly remembered staring at the scar on his chest and the marks on his neck. What happened next wouldn’t necessarily qualify as a lightbulb moment, but in that moment, he made a decision. He stood up, grabbed a bag, his most sturdy shoes, and a few hundred dollar bills from his wallet. When he opened the front door of the manor, it was still dark. Whether he’d barely slept or slept a full day, he neither knew nor cared. All he knew was that he was determined to make sure that the next time a mark was left on his body, it was from a risk he actively chose to take.

[aarghhaaaarrrghhh]

What Lastochka Left Unsaid/О чём молчит ласточка - Chapter Fourteen

Master post here

Chapter Fourteen - Reference Point

Upon Volodya’s return home, his familiar, habitual routine and all the everyday life that he had established for himself lost its colour, its meaning and sense, because Yura wasn’t there.

Before, Volodya had thought that he had set his life up for maximum comfort: he had a house, a purpose that he put his all into, acquaintances, Gerda. Now, though, all that had shifted into meaningless background, while in the foreground, there arose loneliness. It had been there before, but like an old, scarred-over wound, it didn’t hurt if he didn’t prod it too much. And the week in Germany had reopened that wound.

As he opened the door to his house, he understood that a lot had changed for him. He was glad to see his dog. He was glad to be between his own homely walls, to sleep in his own comfortable bed, to walk around the spacious rooms and the wide garden. But nothing made him happy anymore. His dog, his favourite being as she was, wasn’t a person, his bed was comfortable, but too big for him, the garden was dull, the rooms were spacious but empty. Everything was grey and empty without Yura. During his trip, he had found the answers to a lot of questions, and his life had been split into a too-obvious ‘before’ and ‘after’.

‘Before’, Volodya had not been sure about anything. He didn’t understand who they were to each other, he had himself affirmed their friendship. He hadn’t known what Yura was like now, having not seen him in the flesh, and was in love with the memory of that sunny teenager from his youth, and not Yura himself.

‘After’, though many questions had been resolved, others grew even larger. Now Volodya knew who they were to each other. They were a couple. There was a relationship between them. It was just that they still lived in different countries, they were separated by miles upon miles of road, and Volodya’s life seemed to be frozen in place in anticipation of Yura’s arrival.

And now he had seen what lay beyond the confines of Yura’s monitor and the walls of his office. In the end, he had fallen in love with this Yura - the handsome, talented adult. Returning to communicating online was torturous: remembering his facial features, but being unable to make them out through the interference, remembering the sound of his voice and hearing the way it was being distorted by the connection. And, worst of all, knowing that they were together, that their feelings were reciprocated, but being unable to be with each other.

From his first day back in Kharkiv, his hand was drawn to the CD he had been gifted, but he consciously stopped himself from putting it on. He needed to return to reality, to begin to live again, and not wallow in daydreams, which the music clearly would not help. He was certain that as soon as he heard the first notes, he would be plunged back into the magic of the past week and begin to yearn. It was made all the worse by the fact that Yura couldn’t give an exact date for his arrival. They agreed to the end of March, but that all depended upon his commissioners.

Volodya and Yura messaged each other on ICQ and called on Skype as before. Germany did not have as long New Year’s holidays as Ukraine did, and Yura started working on his commissions as soon as Volodya flew off. Volodya also decided not to get lazy and was back at work by the sixth of January.

The security guard on shift was very surprised to see the boss in the empty office when all self-respecting people would have been preparing their Christmas spread and waiting for the first star to appear in the sky. In actual fact, Volodya had gone to the office more out of boredom than any great necessity. He had been invited to Zhenya and Irina’s for the evening and he didn’t know what else to do all day. By the morning, he had already taken Gerda for a run, shovelled the snow in his driveway and even taken his car for a wash.

Not much work had piled up - he didn’t have to do much to make up for his time off. However, there was a problem with holidays: it wasn’t just those people who deserved it who got to rest and relax, but also those who should probably be working. Volodya found out that the truck with the construction materials for their February project was being kept at the border for forty-eight hours, despite Braginsky calling him before the holidays to assure him that everything was alright. Good luck trusting him now.

At lunch, Yura messaged and Volodya immediately suggested going on Skype.

“What are you hanging around the office for?” he said in surprise as soon as his surroundings appeared onscreen. 

Volodya explained it as it was, saying that he was bored of sitting around at home.

“And also the connection is good here, I wanted to listen to you rather than messaging.”

“Oh, come on, you. Sure, of course,” muttered Yura, chewing something. “If I had the chance to sit around at home and do nothing, no fucking way would anyone be able to drag me away from that.”

“Well, I’d still have had to come into the city anyway, for Ira and Zhenya, so… I’m trying to think what to buy Olka. I asked Irina and she had a go at me at first, saying I always spoil her kid. But how am I meant to go without a present for her?”

Yura shrugged.

“I’m definitely not the one to ask questions about kids.” He began to laugh, but, seeming to hear Volodya’s tense sigh, he added, “Although… If you want, we can have a think. What does she like?”

“She loves mermaids. But I can’t give her a Barbie again, and anyway, it’s Christmas, not her birthday, it needs to be something purely symbolic.”

Yura shrugged again.

“Get her a set of Kinder surprises. What kid doesn’t like those? I have friends who collect them, even at forty years old.”

They chatted for another half hour, after which point Yura left to work - he still had his routine. After logging off, Volodya looked around the empty office. The building’s quietness was disrupted only by the distant murmuring of the security guard’s television down below. And to think, Volodya had once found that quiet cozy…

***

Yura turned out to be right: Olka’s reaction to the Kinder eggs was unambiguous. In reception of her guest, she hung off Volodya’s neck, then, satisfied, whirled off to her room to get her treasure out of the chocolate eggs. 

Irina regarded Volodya reproachfully. 

“Vov, I did ask you not to get her anything, what the…” she grumbled, but more for the sake of it. She knew that Volodya would never come to his goddaughter with empty hands.

Christmas was in no way different from other celebrations there - except perhaps for the fact that Irina cooked fully twenty dishes, among which there was, of course, the traditional grain pudding kutia. There were less people as well: Ira, Zhenya, their son Pashka, Olka’s godmother Natasha with her young son, and Masha. 

Volodya calmly sipped his juice - this time, nobody was aiming to get him drunk. It was not very noisy around the table - everyone was listening to Zhenya’s story about the family trip to the Carpathian Mountains in the New Year holidays.

“...Well, on the whole, it’s well worth the money,” he was already wrapping up, “the nature is crazy, if only you can get there in the summer, of course.”

“Volod!” exclaimed Masha. “Now you tell us about your trip to Berlin.”

“Oh, you’ve been in Berlin?” Ira was surprised. “For work, or on holiday?”

Volodya shrugged and replied briefly:

“I flew for a week-long trip.”

“And? Why Germany in particular? Why’s it always like combing for fleas with you?” Zhenya was indignant.

“Oh, damn it!” exclaimed Masha, evidently no longer able to restrain herself. “Konev invited him to stay!”

Zhenya looked at Masha, silently questioning with his eyes, while Ira frowned, as if trying to remember where she had heard that surname before.

“What’s with you all? Yurka Konev, from Lastochka!” Masha exclaimed even more loudly. “Zhenka might not remember him, fine, but you, Irina! You were our troop’s counsellor!”

“That Konev? Seriously?” Irina looked at Volodya. “Really?”

“Really,” he nodded.

Volodya was restrained in his answers because he worried that his retelling of his trip might arouse suspicion. Wasn’t it strange to up and go off to a different country on a trip for a person you haven’t seen in twenty years just like that?

But Irina was too enthused - he would no longer be able to deflect with silence.

“Wow, look at you! You never said you were still in contact!”

“We weren’t… In the autumn, we crossed paths by accident; he was here on tour.” Volodya gave Masha a nod. “Masha came across his poster and showed me.”

“Tour?” Irina was so surprised that she covered her mouth with her hand. “What, he’s a musician after all?”

“A composer and conductor. He came with his programme… ahem… symphony.”

“Well done him!” Irina clapped her hands. “And to think, what a blockhead he was, eh! Zhenka, don’t you remember him at all?”

Zhenya waved his hand in the air vaguely.

“Come on, he went to Lastochka for five years in a row! He was such a wild one, the leadership was always having a go at me on his account. You remember, there was that scandal, he broke the nose of someone in his troop who turned out to be-” She paused in thought, trying to remember. “Either the son of the chief of the City Executive Committee or the foreman of a factory… You were the one who stuck the cotton wool up his nose, there was blood…”

“Vishnevksy,” prompted Masha.

“Ah!” Zhenya pointed. “That’s it! I remember!”

Ira side-eyed him.

“All it takes is being reminded of trauma for you to suddenly remember everything.”

Zhenya merely spread his hands.

“Well, well, well, what about it, Vov?” Irina continued to question him. “He moved to Germany?”

“A long time ago as well, back in the beginning of the Nineties.”

“Oh-hoh-hoh! Listen, you’ve absolutely got to give us his contact details, I also want to have a chat with him. Do you chat over the internet or something?”

“On ICQ,” specified Volodya.

“Oh, let’s message him right now, he might come onto Skype!” suggested Masha. “You’ve got good internet here, you call your relatives in France all the time!”

Volodya gave her a look from under his brow, but she didn’t catch the hint.

“I’ll message him now!” Masha grabbed her flip-phone and began typing something.

Volodya somewhat leisurely got out his phone, went to ICQ and quickly typed to Yura:

Hi. Irina and Zhenya were asking about you, want to see you. If you don’t want to, just don’t answer Masha right now, and added a row of smiling emojis, feeling guilty that he had had to distract Yura.

But Yura suddenly replied:

I’d be very glad to see everyone, let them call.

Over the course of the next half-hour, Zhenya tried to find Yura on Skype and set up a webcam, while Irina went around him, dispensing advice. To the all-encompassing hubbub was added the squeals of Olka and Natasha’s son, who almost came to blows in the living room over some toy or other from the Kinder eggs. Volodya was on edge, hearing the echoes of an irrational and utterly stupid jealousy inside himself - as though now that everyone knew about Yura’s presence in Volodya’s life, he would have to share him with them all.

Masha held his wrist, smiling conspiratorially. 

“Why so glum, huh?”

“I’m not, everything’s fine.”

“No, you’re glum, I can see.”

“What are you staring at?” he asked, not strong enough to hide his irritation. “You, Masha, should definitely not go into espionage.”

“Huh?” she stared blankly, then quizzically at him. Finally grasping his meaning, she whispered, “What, you’re afraid they’ll get the wrong idea? Nah, don’t worry, Volod. Even if you know, it’s hard to believe.”

Soon after, Zhenya managed to get the call through and after a few seconds, the image of Yura loaded in the Skype window.

“Konev!” Irina exclaimed right away. 

“Ira Petrovna!” he replied, playing it up for laughs and even giving a salute in welcome. “How’d’ya do?”

Irina quickly displaced her husband from the chair and sat in front of the monitor herself.

“How are you, how’s things? Come on, tell us!”

“Do I have to tell my whole life story for the years that we’ve not seen each other? I’m afraid I’ll have to stop for food and sleep.”

“Goofing off as always!” Irina burst into laughter. “Vova already told us that you’re a musician now, but that means a serious person…”

Perhaps it was the fault of the indistinct picture, but Yura clearly made a face when Irina called Volodya Vova.

“It’s not all that serious. I’m just here tinkling away on my piano…”

Between Zhenya and Irina, Olka woke up, curious.

“Where’s the piano?” she asked.

“This is our little daughter, Olya.” Irina sat her on her lap. “Olya, wave to uncle Yura in the camera.” She waved without any particular excitement, while Ira continued, “We also have her learning to play the piano, as it happens. She goes to music school after class, doesn’t she? Tell uncle Yura how much you like to play!”

Irina obviously wanted to boast about her daughter’s musical talent, but Olka suddenly exclaimed:

“No! I don’t like it! I’m bored of that piano!”

“Olya!” cried Irina severely. “What’s this?”

Yura guffawed on his end.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Olya, I understand perfectly how you feel, I was also forced to go to music lessons when I was a kid. And who cares about that piano, huh? You sit and learn notes, play some études day after day - what a snoozefest!”

“Yeah! And that giraffe doesn’t like how I play them!”

“What giraffe?” said Zhenya blankly. 

“You know - Andrei Vasilyevich! He does look like a giraffe!”

Ira began asking Yura about his wife and family when suddenly static interference crackled across the image, the sound cut out and then the call completely broke off.

“Hey, at the most interesting part as well!” Masha feigned being upset. Volodya looked at her as at an enemy of the people.

“The card’s probably run out,” Zhenya shrugged as he tried to reestablish the connection. He tugged on the modem cable and called again on Skype, but in vain.

“Hrmph,” sighed Irina. “Well, send me his ICQ, Vov, we can chat there…”

***

 After Christmas, work started to heat up. Because of the hold-up with the trucks, Volodya couldn’t take Braginsky at his word and spent the whole week going around the different sites on checks. The builders eyed him suspiciously - as if the director himself had ever turned up without warning, let alone taken it upon himself to stick his nose in every document, check every corner and personally demand reports on finished and unfinished work. Volodya strove to always be proper in his relationships with his subordinates, but the two foremen drove him mad: the first by his reeking of alcohol, the other by his five whole ‘I don’t know’s in response to the questions posed to him.

In the middle of the week, his mother flew in from Tver. Volodya drove to meet her at the airport, take her home and help her to sort her things out. Her apartment had stood empty for four months, and although she looked far better than she had before she left, as soon as she crossed the threshold, she grew noticeably sadder. Volodya had already grown used to his home being empty, but his mother probably subconsciously expected to see her husband. 

Volodya talked her into a trip for groceries: both to fill up the empty fridge, and to distract her from her sad thoughts. Then he helped her to cook dinner and stayed the night - so as not to abandon her on her first night. 

He tossed and turned on his old sofa - the springs dug into his back and stopped him from sleeping.

Why aren’t you asleep? came an ICQ message from Yura at one in the morning. And you’re online to boot.

I just came to see if you weren’t also here, and lo and behold! Why aren’t you sleeping? You have your routine!

Well a certain someone came and mucked it all up and now I can’t just go straight back to it, so I’m up late thinking… about all sorts.

What exactly?

I won’t say! Yura sent an emoji with its tongue out. How’s your mum?

I met her, took her home and now I’m staying here for the night. I’m laying in my old bedroom on a very uncomfortable mattress where I can feel every spring in my back. And just how many years did I sleep on this?

It’s because I’m not there. It would be more comfortable with me.

Volodya sighed.

Yes, Yur, with you, I’d even be comfortable enough to sleep even on Tibetan thistles.

Yura was silent for a little while, then wrote:

Although not necessarily; with me, there’d be something else prodding you in the back.

Yura!

Yura sent a laughing emoji.

Alright, I’m going to sleep. I hope you’re now overloaded with thoughts about me. Good night.

Night. Volodya’s finger hovered over the kissing emoji, but he rethought it at the last moment. He decided that it was far too childish.

Being overloaded with thoughts about Yura was actually nice. It was very easy to imagine him laying next to him, snuggling closely up to him and breathing into his neck. Getting away from these thoughts was not simple, and as soon as he slipped somewhat into dreams, the image of Yura grew even clearer, almost tangible. The knowledge that it was just a fantasy cast a shadow over it - when would they next get to fall asleep in the same bed in real life?

By morning, his mother had livened up. In the evening, done in by her journey, she had been on the silent side, whereas now she had woken up earlier than Volodya, woken him up, and was telling him about her trip in full details. He half-listened, while simultaneously wishing Yura good morning on ICQ. He was offline, but Volodya still decided to send him:

Last night, I barely slept for thinking about you. I’ll become some sort of night owl if this continues - I won’t be able to sleep at all, adding a laughing emoji.

“Her kids are of course such little tykes,” his mother babbled as she poured herself tea. “And, you know, newborns are always such terrors, but these ones - what delights! Vova just dotes on the twins, he’s constantly taking them out on walks and telling them stories - as though they’d understand anything, being a month old! It actually annoys Alina: when Tanya brings them to visit their grandfather, he forgets about everything else. And he won’t let anyone else take care of them, he even changes their nappies! Isn’t that funny? Vova’s gone bald already, but the kids already have hair just beginning to come through, it’s all light, almost unnoticeable. He carries his granddaughter around in his arms, like a regular bald Zmei Gorynych, with three heads!

Volodya gave his mother a questioning look as he tried to imagine the monster she was conjuring up. He was tripping over the names even more so than on the timeline of events, and over the past five minutes had lost the thread of the story. He tried to figure it out: Vova was his cousin, Alina was his wife. Tanya was some relative of theirs, but what twins was she talking about?

“Mum, I’ve gotten mixed up, where have these twins come from?”

She stared at him in surprise.

“You mean I didn’t tell you? Tanya gave birth!”

He nodded, but still understood little.

“And Tanya..?”

“What’s with your memory, my dear? Tanya is Vova’s daughter. The twins are his grandchildren.” She paused for several seconds, then added: “That probably makes you their grand-uncle.”

Volodya was at a loss. He remembered that Vova had married early, twenty years ago, and that his daughter had been born soon after the wedding. And he understood that she was grown up, it wasn’t surprising that she’d have given birth. It was just that the difference between Volodya and his cousin was only four years, but the latter was already a grandfather? He already had grandchildren? Were Volodya a normal, heterosexual guy…

“What are you thinking about, my dear?” His mother looked at him with concern.

“Nothing much,” he waved away. “I’m surprised, to be honest.”

“By all means, my dear. It wouldn’t do you wrong to give some thought to a family and children; at that age, and you…”

She neither reproached nor moralised to him - she simply stated a long-known fact, but a wave of irritation was already rising inside him.

She placed a small bowl of biscuits on the table in front of Volodya and took a seat opposite him. 

“I’m not trying to offend you, my dear, you know I just worry for you. I really don’t want you to remain alone, you understand?” She reached across the table for him and took his hand.

Volodya mentally reproached himself for his irritation. His mother was genuinely simply worried, it was just that he wasn’t alone. But did that make any difference to her? He would never dare tell her - it would just make things worse, more painful, for her, as well as for himself. If she were to find out about his relationship with Yura, she would probably prefer her son to remain single.

The thought that his cousin had become a grandfather had a grip on Volodya all the way until the evening. While he returned home, he turned it around in his head and looked at it from all sides and different angles. The thought aroused some poorly-understood disappointment. But in what? In whom? In himself - because at his age, other, normal men had families and adult children? Or in Vova - could it be that, being the first person he had felt true attraction for, he had no right to age?

Volodya did his head in trying to decide what to do to get away from this pointless, torturing sensation. Igor would have advised him to figure out the cause of his strange feelings. But he didn’t want to indulge in introspection. However, he did not start trying to suppress the feelings.

He decided to share them with Yura:

My mother has brought news: my cousin Vova has become a grandfather. That Vova. Remember?

As if I could forget, replied Yura without any emojis. Several seconds later, he added, He tore our photo when he slammed the door in my face.

He’s only four years older than me, and already a grandfather. I can’t believe it.

Ha! You’re a grandfather by proxy, Volod! Yura joked.

But the joke made Volodya angry.

Uh-huh, keep the congratulations coming, he typed, pounding the keys loudly. Yura, of course, couldn’t hear that, but it seemed like he caught the change in mood. 

Alright, alright, the humour’s set aside. I can see you’re not in the mood.

Volodya didn’t start on a reply; he could see that Yura continued to type.

Volodya, what exactly is it that’s troubling you? You can become a great uncle at fifteen, age has nothing to do with it. Or are you…

It was like Yura hadn’t managed to delete the part that was too far and had sent the message as it was.

Am I? Volodya prompted him.

Jealous?

Are you joking? Who should I be jealous of? Because of who? Volodya wanted to add an emoji, but didn’t - it would have come across falsely.

Listen, don’t be offended if I’ve got it wrong, but you only gave me one line to work with. What’s upsetting you? Are you envious of him because you also want a family?

I have a family.

Such as it was. He also wanted to consider Yura part of his family, but he decided not to make such a thunderous declaration just yet - it was naive, and there was no reason to go full steam ahead. However, Yura was right: he was laconic, and angry and envious of Vova. But there was some more to it he was keeping concealed that he was still not going to share with anyone.

Actually yes, I also want children, but what difference does it make, I’m never going to have any, he wrote. He stared at the message for a long time, considering whether to send it to Yura. He sighed, closed his eyes, and sent it.

A reply flew in rapidly.

You could adopt a child.

And who’s going to let that happen for someone like me?

For someone smart? Rich?

Stop it Yur, you know what I mean.

Not really. If you mean your orientation, then, firstly, let them try and prove it, and secondly, even if they find out and they don’t allow it in Ukraine, then they will soon in Germany. You know our activists are fighting so that we get the right to this.

Do you think it’ll work? Even if it’s not right away, even if it’s in ten years, but they let gay people have full marriages, and it’s fully believable that they’ll allow adoption and surrogacy to be part of that life.

What difference did it make, what it was like over there in Germany? That was Yura’s country, not his, Volodya was a guest there and that was how he would remain. On the streets of Berlin, at Dachau, and even in Yura’s home, he did not for one minute give any thought to staying there permanently. Become a migrant? Again? No way. It had been enough stress for him back in his youth, although the changes had felt minimal - in the mid-Nineties, Russia and Ukraine were very similar.

He chatted with Yura for over an hour, but the conversation didn’t put to rest his doubts, and he didn’t feel any better, just as it didn’t grow any clearer what the issue was.

After saying goodbye to Yura, he promptly received three kissing emojis in reply, and headed off to sleep.

But before laying down, he hung around in front of the mirror, searching for wrinkles, grey hairs, and bald spots. When they were young, he and Vova had been two peas in a pod, and if Vova was already bald, then did Volodya also risk losing all his hair in four years? Impossible, he affirmed to himself as he appraised his still dark, still thick hair. But he still found a couple of grey ones. He tore them out.

He took a pill, then laid on his bed and looked up at the shadows on the ceiling, with his hand on Gerda’s warm side, who was snoring tremulously next to him. He slowly fell asleep, but the intrusive thought kept on turning over in his head: Vova can’t get old, he has no right. And, just as he finally fell into a dream, Volodya at last found the reason for his heartfelt irritation: he couldn’t forgive Vova for his aging, because he had once had feelings for him; Vova was the very first, everything had begun with him.

***

It was sunny that day in Moscow, but gusts of chill wind were already foretelling autumn’s approach. All the same, fourteen-year-old Volodya had two causes for happiness.

Firstly, his parents had bought him a new Salyut-brand bicycle. The rain had only stopped pouring that day, and he could finally ride it to his heart’s content around the courtyard, to the envy of the neighbourhood kids. And secondly, the day after the next, Vova should arrive from Tver. That year, he was beginning his first term at a Moscow university, and until he received a place in the student accommodation, his aunt and uncle - Volodya’s parents - had agreed to house him.

He hadn’t seen his cousin for a long time - four years. The last time was after fifth grade, when he had gone to Tver to see his grandmother and grandfather. Back then, he had had a good time walking and laying with him, going down to the creek and helping their grandmother in the garden. And Volodya was sure that this time they would have a great time together!

He paused in front of the statues of the pioneer girls. The two plaster of Paris figures in school dresses bent over their textbooks reminded Volodya that there was less than a week until school started again on the first of September.

And what about it, there’ll be time to go walking with Vova after school as well! Besides, he’s older, he can help me with my homework! Volodya dismounted from his bike and, after leaning it against a big, sprawling oak tree, he climbed up onto the statues’ pedestal, sat next to the pioneer girls and began to swing his legs. And I could take him to the construction site, climb in there and show him the foundation pit! he thought. And we’ll get onto the roof of the five-storey building, it’ll be so cool!

As he planned out where they would walk and how they would spend their time, Volodya noticed a tall guy with a rucksack on his back and travel bag in his hands. But, even with his eyes narrowed, he couldn’t make out his face. And only once he’d reached the very entrance of the four-storey apartment building did Volodya realise: it was Vova! He had stretched out, grown wider in the shoulders; it was genuinely difficult to recognise the boy from Volodya’s childhood memories in him.

Picking up his hefty bike by the crossbar, without giving any thought to the fact that it would be faster to sit on it and ride up to the door, Volodya ran after his cousin. Out of breath and sweaty, he caught up to him by the fourth floor. Vova, after pressing the doorbell, turned around at the cheerful shriek:

“Vovka! You weren’t supposed to be here until the day after tomorrow!”

“Heya,” he greeted him drily. “I got lucky with changing my ticket.”

After dragging his bicycle up over the final step and chucking it straight on the floor, Volodya wanted to go hug his cousin, but he suppressed his outburst - in Vova’s calm look, he encountered less excitement than he was expecting.

Vova held out his hand for a handshake, utterly adult. Volodya nervously wiped his sweaty palm on his shorts. Vova’s skin was warm and dry. He squeezed his hand hard, and his touch startled Volodya - it was like an electric shock had run through his body.

In all, Vova stayed with them for longer than a month - nothing ended up happening with the student accommodation. There weren’t enough places for all the students, and they hadn’t managed to build a new dormitory in time for the start of the new school year. His parents weren’t put out: Vova didn’t get in their way; they gave him his own separate room in their three-bedroom apartment, and generally returned home closer to nighttime most often. In the mornings, he went to his studies, and in the evenings, he went walking with his classmates and then got to know the older kids on the block.

But he didn’t want to go walking with Volodya. The difference made by the three and a half years that he hadn’t felt as a child was now substantial. Volodya was still a child, a pioneer and a schoolboy, while Vova was by then a Komsomolets, a student. Their interests had greatly diverged. Vova, for instance, was into motorcycles, and didn’t share Volodya’s excitement for his new bike. On one occasion, Volodya had decided to invite him to come for a ride around the park; he had even asked his neighbour Kolka for a bike for Vova, but Vova had waved him off, saying that he needed to study.

Sometimes he helped Volodya with his homework, but it was obvious that he wasn’t very interested in it - he had some textbooks on his shelf that were a little bit more serious than high school stuff. Volodya tried to study alongside him a few times, but he barely understood the university curriculum, and he didn’t want to disturb Vova for no reason.

Vova probably noticed that his younger cousin was hurt by him, and, seemingly in apology for spending so little time with him, he gifted him a watch. Volodya was giddy like never before: Montanas were so rare! Vova had been awarded it for winning his city’s Physics Olympiad. He could have worn it himself, but he gave it to Volodya. 

Not a trace of his excitement remained once he put the watch on his wrist and pressed the button. The clock face swam before his eyes and he could only make out the time if he squinted very hard. He knew that he had issues with his vision, but he had been refusing to the last to get glasses. His long sight wasn’t bad, but up close, it got worse with each passing day. And if it didn’t bother him, not being able to see the letters in books when he read or did his homework, not being able to see the numbers on the clock that his cousin had given to him as a gift, he deemed a catastrophe.

Volodya asked his parents to take him to the doctor’s. After the checkup, the optician was furious: Volodya had left it too late, he needed to have had glasses prescribed sooner to stop his vision deteriorating so quickly.

In the evening of that same day, as he stood in front of the mirror in his room, Volodya turned the brand-new, clean glasses over in his hands and decided not to even try them on. They looked unlovely: dark horn rims, thick glass - just like the ones his grandfather in his sixties wore. Taking a deep breath, as though about to dive into water, Volodya put the glasses on anyway. He opened his eyes and frowned. Over the last few months, he had developed a distaste for his name - it sounded the same as his cousin’s. But now, as he pored over himself in detail in the mirror, Volodya saw just how strongly he resembled him in appearance too.

He understood why Vova didn’t want to spend time with him at all. What did construction sites, parks, and roofs have to do with him? Those were all childish amusements, while Vova was at the point of being interested in adult relationships. More than once, Volodya had seen him playing the guitar in the courtyard, surrounded by the older guys, had seen the delight and interest with which the girls looked at him. Volodya, though, had never once fallen in love; he made friends with the girls in his block the same as he did with the boys. He knew that eventually he would also begin to take an interest in girls, and then he too would become an adult.

On one of those November nights, he was woken up by the creak of floorboards in the corridor. The coat rack squeaked, there was the rustling of clothing, then the front door quietly closing.

Volodya leapt out of bed and ran up to his window, which opened onto the courtyard. He watched Vova come outside and head in the direction of the neighbouring block.

A sense of fear mingled with trepidation, as though something bad were inevitably going to happen, gripped Volodya. He didn’t understand what was provoking these feelings, and without really being conscious of when, he had put on his jacket straight over his pyjamas, stuck his feet in his boots and run out after his cousin. Vova was by then hidden behind the gate to a building - only his back could be glimpsed.

Feeling like a spy and knowing that it was none of his business, Volodya crept along the walls, disappeared through the open door of one of the entryways, then quickly dashed across the lit part of the yard and hid behind the trunk of an apple tree.

He watched the open, circular plaza, paved with slabs and with a flowerbed in the centre. It was pretty there. Right then, in the yellowish light of the street lamps, dampened by the autumn rains and overflowing with fallen leaves, the place looked gloomy, but the statues of the two elk with their broad, heavy antlers like maple leaves gave it a sense of majesty.

On the side of the flowerbed, shivering from the cold wind and hugging herself by her shoulders, there stood a thin girl in an open coat above a short dress. She was roused by seeing Vova approaching her, and she waved. He went up to her.

Volodya could not hear their conversation, but he clearly saw him shyly enclose her hands in his own, raise them to his face and warm them with his breath. She giggled loud enough to echo, and put her hands on Vova’s shoulders, while he held her around her waist. They stood like that for three minutes, talking about something, the girl smiling broadly. Volodya’s heart beat somewhere in his throat and his eyes began to swim; those minutes felt like they lasted an eternity. Vova said something else, then moved ahead, drawing close to the girl’s face and lightly making contact with her lips.

Volodya grabbed hold of an apple shoot that was growing from the roots of the tree - he felt like he was falling. But it wasn’t him falling, it was the world that was spinning around him. Conscious of nothing, without seeing anything ahead of himself clearly, he whipped around and broke off home. At the entrance to the block, he stood in a deep puddle, soaking his boots through, and in the entryway, he almost tripped over a stair.

After throwing off his shoes and jacket, he flew into his room, fell upon his bed, pulled his duvet over his head and tried to stop his trembling. Because of his soaked feet, a gross, slimy coldness was spreading through his body, but that wasn’t why he was shaking. He didn’t understand why - it was like anger, but why did he hurt so much? He screwed his eyes up tight, as tight as he could, but he could still see Vova and that girl - them holding hands, them hugging, him kissing her.

Why her? She’s probably only talking to him because he can play the guitar well! The hussy, dragging him out in the middle of the night, like what, they can’t go for a walk in the daytime? She doesn’t deserve Vova, she shouldn’t be with him!

But then who should? Some other girl? What would the difference be then? It wouldn’t make it easier for Volodya were some other girl in her place. But then who should be?

Heavy, restless sleep fell upon him and through the muddy haze of a dream, he saw that yard again, that flowerbed, those two elk statues. Only, it wasn’t autumn; everything around, sunny and springful, had gone green. Volodya smelt the sweet scent of lilacs and the wind blew petals of apple blossom upon his hair. He saw Vova again - smiling just like he’d smiled at that girl. But he was smiling at him - at Volody! His palms were surrounded by warmth when Vova took him by the hands. His skin was scorched by his breath; it seemed to melt away at the touch of his soft lips. And there was no-one around - they were the only two in the whole world. Volodya looked at his cousin’s happy face, stroked his cheeks and his neck and felt his heat. It was so hot, so unbearably sweet to press himself up against Vova’s bare chest… In the blink of an eye, they were for some reason no longer standing on the little plaza on the block, but in his bedroom, on the floor by the bookshelf. Vova’s tender caresses were so nice. His fingers were on Volodya’s back, his lips were on his cheeks, and lower down: on his chin, on his neck. Volodya gasped; he felt like he was about to explode from tension, from the unbearable languidness spreading through his whole body, but particularly in the spot where Vova was touching him.

He abruptly opened his eyes. It was dark in his room, and the moon shone wanly through his window. He was shaking, but no longer from the cold. He felt hot, he was drenched. He threw off his duvet and tried to roll onto his other side, when he quietly gasped as he felt a wet spot beneath him. Forgetting to put his glasses on, he ran to the bathroom in a couple of seconds, turned the tap on and put his pyjama bottoms beneath the stream of water. He scrubbed them so vigorously that he almost tore them. It was disgusting, repulsive, extremely shameful and unbearably painful. So painful that he wanted to stick himself under the water and drown himself there, if only it meant not hearing his own aching heart, not thinking about what he had dreamed about. Who he had dreamed about.

Steam wafted out of the bathtub - without his glasses, Volodya hadn’t noticed that he had turned the hot water dial up too high and not added cold.

His hands went red from the searing pain, while he kept them there for longer and longer, clenching his teeth so as not to cry out. The pain was hellish, but in comparison to what was blazing inside him, it was perhaps even pleasant. And with each passing moment, his heart grew lighter and lighter.

[cruesuffix]

The yearning for Mick is actually insane. Just looking at his beautiful face makes me wanna cry, knowing that I'll never get a chance to hug him or even say a word to him. I'm a broke teenager, and I don't have the money to buy his signed album, plus shipping to Europe is hella expensive. I wish I could buy it so much, to have him acknowledge my existence in some way, but I fear that he'll just die by the time I turn 18 or have enough money. Him being just pixels in my screen, a few headcanons and a chatbot on c.ai hurts so much.

i felt this to my very core UGHHHH

like… as an adult i’m still too broke to buy his album. embarrassing to say too cause like… i should be able to buy the album he worked so tirelessly on, at least to give back in some way. that’s the thing that trips me up the most. he’s spent his entire life to give to his fans and what am i doing to give back to him?? absolutely fuck all. i want nothing more than to just sit with him for a moment and really tell him how much i appreciate him but i can’t. i hate it. listening to him album on Spotify really isn’t enough. he deserves all the money coming out of my pocket. (too far??)

like omg not to be parasocial but i just want him to know how much i love and appreciate him… like it’s so bad and pathetic for me tbh. i personally can’t do all that ai stuff but it’s still bad cause i’ll literally just sit in bed at night and think about lil scenarios between me and him like a fucking lunatic AHHHHHHHH (so now do we understand how insane i am??)… like isn’t it so crazy to be going this insane for someone who doesn’t even know you exist? i still do it though! i’m so crazy i even made a twt post for his birthday thinking he’d actually ever see it LMAOOO like it’s so bad. i’m so delusional sometimes i think someone important will see this blog and alert it to him so he can stalk through it. not like i’m doing anything impressive on this acc but… actually this is making me sound very insane omg but you started it anon!! (also… maybe it isn’t a good idea for peepaw to peruse this blog cause i do make fun of him a lot LMAOOO and i call him peepaw which also makes me lose ten points in the likability factor)

still… i understand this to a T. wanting any sort of acknowledgement, any way for him to at least know you exist, even just a word or a hug. literally anything… cause i would probably do anything just to have him know how loved he is. ofc realistically, the probabilities of that happening to any of us is pretty low but A GIRL CAN STILL DREAM!!