#Horatio Black (oc)

[wizarddogs]

Hero eavesdrops on her grandparents phone conversation and repeats everything they say, swears and all.

Edit: added the white stripes in their hair

[chiropteracupola]

tagged by dear @sailorpants in 'ten people I'd like to get to know better!' - delighted to get to know you, bestie of several years!

last song - jay foreman every tube station song because. that's what I've been listening to lately. in one of those 'I hate all known music' moods but not listening to anything is worse. jay foreman every tube station song.

last book - 'the byzantines' ed. guglielmo cavallo at the same time as volume 1 of codex black by camilo moncada lozano, and carnacki the ghost-finder as read by the antiques freaks podcast if that counts as a Book <- do not really think it does

last movie - alas I think it's captain horatio hornblower 1951 still. I should watch some other thing that is not captain horatio hornblower 1951.

last tv show - the taskmasterrrrrrrrrrrr. just finished s18 and now I will take a little break for the time being because little alex horne had begun appearing in my dreams. he is not wanted there.

last thing I searched - 'william hope hodgson,' due to the ongoing carnackening. had assumed that he had perished at a young age due to people saying things like 'sadly died in ww1' but he was in fact 40 at the time, which was an interesting surprise.

favorite color - quite probably ORANG or maybe RED

sweet/savory/spicy - in a savory mood of late. smoked fish 💯💯💯

relationship status - a magician never tells. okay fine yes also in a lesbian boyfriends type thing :]

looking forward to - got a new flavor of tea and I'm excited to try it tomorrow :)

current obsession - unfortchunately it is probably carnacki, given that I have been unable to get basic tasks done due to the fact that I need to hear more about these bad and not very interesting stories. and using the work 3d printer for my evil deeds (building steadily worse dolls) and the usual oc rotating and little medieval guys from real history rotating. you know the deal.

and I shall tag... @baronetcoins, @gigamuffin, @feline-evil, @subsequentibis, @beach-trash-360, @getblobbedcomics, @graveyardrabbit, @technofinch, @bluebstopcat, @aranov, and anyone else who'd like to answer some questionssss

[chris-hartley]

Happy Pride Month! This month I'll be partaking in the Pride Month Bingo challenge hosted by @queenofbaws, @unicornaffair, and @jadedsunshine.

(Feel free to blacklist #kenziewritespride or #pridemonthchallege2024 if you want to avoid these posts going forward!)

Today I've decided to start off with the prompt that came to me first: There Was Only One Bed! This fic is written about my Total Drama OC, Dannie, and her ex-girlfriend Lola (@horatios-mom's character)! Feel free to check out the @teadocs blog for more info on those two, but other that without further ado, my first fic for this month!

The competition was down to just a few pairs. Charlie and Chad (the married couple), Skylar and Ethan (the siblings), and Dannie and Lola (the exes). And over the span of the last round, Dannie and Lola had been all but at each other’s throats. And by the time they got back to the hotel where they’d been put up for the night, Dannie was exhausted.

All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and go to sleep and not speak to Lola until the next morning. After all, she’d been on the receiving end of a passive aggressive comment here and there and wasn’t 100% sure what she’d done to deserve most of them.

Lola unlocked their hotel room, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Knock yourself out,” Dannie muttered, carrying her bag into the room, but quickly her face dropped when instead of two beds, there was only one. 

The sound of the shower running came from the bathroom, and it wasn’t like Dannie was eager to invite Lola along to sort out this rooming situation. So she took a deep breath and went downstairs to the lobby, going to talk to the woman at the front desk.

“Hi, uh, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Me and my friend were supposed to have a room with two beds, but there’s only one. Can we get a different room?”

The woman clicked her tongue, “Sorry, no can do hun. It’s a busy season here. You see, the eclipse is in full totality so we’ve got loads of out of towners. Afraid there’s no more rooms to choose from.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dannie muttered.

“What’s the name on the booking?” The woman asked.

“Chris Mclean? I think.”

The woman typed it in and nodded, “I see. Three rooms, one bed each.”

“Chris did this? I swear next time I-” she clenched her jaw, “Thank you. I guess.”

“No problem, hun. Have a good night.”

Dannie went back up to their room, only then realizing she had forgotten her room key. She could picture it now, Lola chewing her out for yet another thing. She was definitely going to be banished to sleeping on the floor and that probably meant that she would be even more groggy for tomorrow’s filming. Fuck her.

She knocked on the door. Twice. And then it opened up to Lola standing there in a towel.

“What are you doing? I thought you were in here already?”

“Trying to figure out our room,” she admitted, “There’s only one bed.”

Lola’s face dropped, “Oh.”

“Yeah. But cause of the stupid eclipse, they can’t give us a different room cause there isn’t one.”

“And here I thought that just happened in Mads’ fanfics,” Lola chuckled lightly under her breath.

“Can I come back in?”

Lola nodded, moving out of the way of the door and ducking back into the bathroom as Dannie walked in. She walked to her bag, unzipping and pulling out her go-to pajama shirt. It was an old Five Nights At Freddy’s t-shirt with William Afton on it. The once black fabric was a faded charcoal gray, the vibrant purple on the TV screens behind him somehow in good condition. She slipped off her shirt and unhooked her bra, letting it drop from her arms before pulling the FNAF shirt on.

“That’s a blast from the past,” Lola said, emerging from the shower to spot Dannie pulling it on.

“Huh?”

“Do you remember? You used to wear that shirt all the time when we were dating,” she explained.

“Oh,” Dannie glanced down at it, “Yeah I did.”

“It’s seen better days,” Lola said, setting her bag down on the floor and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

That’s it, she was definitely on the floor.

Dannie took one of the pillows and blankets from the bed and laid it on the floor, and was just about to sit down when Lola piped in, “What are you doing?”

“Th- What do you mean? I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Why?”

“Because… There's only one bed. I figured you would want it.”

Lola blinked at her for a second, “Oh. I guess I didn’t… realize.”

“Realize what?”

“That we wouldn’t just share it,” Lola shrugged.

Dannie scoffed, shrugging, “I figured you wouldn’t want to.”

Lola was silent for a second, as if she was trying to figure out what Dannie meant by that. Then she sighed, “Oh. Yeah. Um. I’ve been PMSing a lot lately and I guess I didn’t think about the fact I was taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But if you want to take the floor that’s fine. I just figured it wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed. We’re both adults. We’re friends. We can survive one night in a comfortable bed.”

Dannie thought about it for a second. Lola did have a point. They were friends. Had been for years. Just cause the show had labeled them “the exes” didn’t mean they had to be enemies. And the more she thought about it, the more she felt the bed calling to her.

“Okay,” she picked up her pillow and blanket, setting it back on the bed, “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Lola nodded, getting under the blankets and settling down.

Dannie did the same, taking a deep breath as she sunk into the bed, “Goodnight Lola.”

“Goodnight Dannie.”

---

[lucero-is-here]

The camera shows a video recording of the courthouse in Concordia. All of a sudden, the doors are flung open and a man with white hair in a dark blue suit and a blue cravat with stars stepped out.

“Good morning, evening or afternoon, ladies, gentlemen and folks! It’s headcanon time! Archie Rochester!”

Requested by:

Now I have beef with Archie, a LOT of beef. But I’ll do him anyways, cause he was an interesting character nonetheless and a request is a request is it not? And TW for parental issues and drinking.

- he cares a lot about his looks. He spends a lot of time on fixing up his suit, styling his hair and making sure he looks presentable.

- When he was revealed to be Mr Alastor, and behind all the killings that happened in his parties, he mocked Arthur. He laughed on how he was so skilled for being able to pull this off, and questioned what Arthur did when he was 19. You can probably guess Arthur’s face from this, since he wasn’t actually able to argue back.

- close with Rockley and Bernadine. He spends more time with the both of them then his parents.

- (angst) after anything too difficult or stressful on him, he goes to Rockley to cry. He gets that upset by these things, but doesn’t trust his parents enough to go to them and cry about it.

- he really really cares about Bernadine. She was kind of like a second parent to him, and she spent a lot of time with him when he was growing up. His parents were often busy, so Bernadine let him stay with her. When she held exhibitions, he would help set them up sometimes (this was when he was a child), and she always made him part of something in a sense. So he’s really attached to her.

- he was genuinely scared when he got punched in that one case. But he acted cocky about it, cause he didn’t want to show fear or anything-

- if he was born in this timing with the same lifestyle and found out about twitter or some social media, all of his posts would be dissing off Malcolm.

- when Archie met Arthur again cause of Bernadine, his decision to remain civil was not to upset Bernadine, cause he really loves his aunt. Although he would have taunted and mocked Arthur again, he didn’t want to make Bernadine sad, so he stayed quiet and just acted polite.

- bisexual cause I said so

- he has a list of his family that goes from loves, to absolutely despise them. Here’s how it goes: Rockley, Bernadine, Leopold, Veronica, Larry, Clarissa, Horatio and Malcolm. Viola isn’t include cause Archie didn’t even try to get to know her.

- he likes lettuce. He doesn’t know why, he just likes eating lettuce-

- after he managed to properly meet Arthur because of Bernadine, conversations between the two were always awkward. Sometimes Bernadine would have Arthur over in her house, and Archie was coincidentally be there. And if Bernadine disappears for anything, Arthur and Archie just stare at each other questioning everything.

- Archie has committed a lot of crimes- asides from the killings, he may or may not have set something on fire once. You can probably imagine what happened to him when Malcolm found out.

- I like to think he called Rockley “dad” by accident once. Rockley’s reaction was to laugh at his nephew, and pat Archie’s back.

- he can play the piano and violin really well- Leopold taught him how to play the piano and violin ^^ Bernadine and Rockley also watch Archie when he practices, and always applaud and give me advice to improve.

- he drank whiskey once. He wasn’t even an adult he just- TOOK A CUP AND DRANK IT AND WENT: “…I think that was liquor,” before passing out. Rockley rushed him to a hospital.

- He’s not strong at all- he can’t fight, he can’t lift weights- He’s basically really kinda weak (yeah which wasn’t good for him)

- he likes candy, but hates black liquorice.

- he has no friends (okay I headcanon he has one friend which is my OC, but I killed off that OC so yeah Archie’s friendless)

- (him and Arthur’s relationship) at one point, he actually managed to have a half decent conversation with Arthur. They asked about each other’s day and everything- Until Archie tried to pry into the Concordian’s Flying Squad’s business, then did the conversation turned really awkward. Archie kinda regrets it- cause he was actually enjoying the conversation.

- he doesn’t talk to his parents that much. He’s kinda just been taken care by relatives and maids more than his own parents.

That’s all I got for now. If I somehow think of more, I’ll write a part 2.

[bowtomycoolscissors]

Born on July 12, 1896, Antinous was the youngest child and only son of the Bulstrodes. His mother was a celebrated potioneer in the Pure-Blood circles and owned her own shop in the Mysticked District. There she met Antinous's father, and after a year of courtship, they decided they were suitable for marriage and entered into a marriage contract. The lack of "love" between his parents didn't affect the family as poorly as many might assume. They greatly respected each other and gave Antinous and his older sister, Concordia, plenty of love and affection.

Being a decade younger than his cousin Violetta, family meetings were hardly pleasant affairs. It didn't help that Violetta was the favoured Bulstrode, her "golden child" status only increasing after her betrothal to Cygnus Black II was announced.

He grew closer to his other cousin, Ephesia, bonding over their dislike of Violetta. Ephesia, Concordia, and Antinous were notorious pranksters who often targeted Violetta and sometimes even Malasintha. The days leading up to Violetta's marriage to Cygnus II were filled with even more mischief — their crowning achievement being the near-ruination of her wedding dress with slime. A last-minute replacement meant she couldn't shine as brightly as she'd hoped on her wedding day.

Sorted into Slytherin, he threw himself to doing his duty: maintaining his grades and befriending high-society pure-blood witches. Antinous had no trouble conforming to pure-blood supremacy, upholding it unlike others, yet never quite understood the idea of marrying early and having heirs. Thus, he didn't marry until 1925, the year Violetta's granddaughter, Walburga, was born — much to his parents' chagrin.

He married Cresentia from the Slughorn family, a sister of Horace Slughorn, welcoming their son, Horatio, a year later. He would make Concordia, Horatio’s godmother. The man was unusually generous when it came to donations to support the pure-blood cause. They would have twin daughters: Concordia Ephesia and Hypatia Cresentia in 1932.

He was utmost proud of his family, yet was cautious when Hypatia was sorted into Gryffindor, instead of the traditional Slytherin. Not wanting to take dire measures against his daughter, he owed her after her sorting, saying that it was fine if she was sorted into Gryffindor but she had to socialize with fine pure-blood wizards and try not to befriend any muggles or half-bloods.

Hypatia would marry Corban Yaxley, siring his heirs and Concordia, named after his older sister, would marry a member of the Travers family.

He was present for the birth of his grandson, Angelus. He disliked Angelus, as he felt that he was not part of their family, and he was right to have his suspicions. It would truly be ironic when Angelus found himself smitten with a client Gascoigne, a muggle-born Hufflepuff in the same year. When he found out that Millicent was pregnant with his grandson’s child, he ordered Angelus to cut all contact with the muggle-born immediately or she would face severe consequences. It was thought that Angelus was a Seer, yet the theory was disproved since there had been no Seer blood in the Bulstrode lineage since the 13th century. But before Antinous could disown Angelus, he had a heart attack and fell down from his desk. (oof)

Millicent Gascoigne died giving birth to a girl who Angelus named after his mother. Millicent Bulstrode and her father, Angelus are still recognized as true members of House Bulstrode.

Concordia I Bulstrode is @theblackswan-and-thewhiterose's OC!

Louis Patridge as Antinous Bulstrode, younger brother of Concordia Bulstrode, and the cousin of Violetta Black, @konstantynowitz's OC, Malasintha Crabbe and my OC, Ephesia Nott.

Concordia is @theblackswan-and-thewhiterose 's OC! Thank you for allowing me to make this OC!

Side note: he is the great-grandfather of Millicent Bulstrode!

FC suggestion by @theblackswan-and-thewhiterose !

[bluelolblue]

Now I want to know what you like about Sebastian from Black Butler, hehehe!

AAAA YAY Sebastian ask, THANK YOU!! 🖤

A chance to yap about this demon YESS

Okay, I saw Sebastian when I was a kid at some point, I think at least once bc he really looked familiar to me when I saw him again a few years ago and that's when I really started liking him. To be honest, before I even watched the anime, I REALLY loved Sebastian's design and his look overall. Like, he's really handsome, I love the way he's dressed, he is so elegant, etc.

And then I got into the anime. And oh my... his voice... J. Michael Tatum is a perfect choice for his English voice. Other than his look and voice I love his character because, to me, he really is a special character. He's a demon who is also a butler. His abilities, his personality, the cool mark that he shares with Ciel for their contract. That's so cool to me, like AGHHH I think he is very well written. And hot as fuck. And he's also silly! He likes cats, and yeah he's not only a badass one hell of a butler, he can be funny. I also love his loyalty and his very gentleman behavior. That's perfect, I know he is probably loyal to Ciel only because of the contract and the fact he will get his soul, but still I really like how he acts with Ciel. There's so much about him and so many episodes but yeah I love him 😭

Silly Sebastian ^ ^

One hell of a butler Sebastian >:]

ALSO yes of course Sebastian was my inspiration for Acheron and some of my other oc's, for example Horatio and Sylvain. I think he's really handsome and well written character, I literally have a few mangas and I love how when I read them, I just look at him AHAH

I also love the whole aesthetic of the whole anime/manga because it's also set in (if that's the correct information) 19th century in the Queen Victoria era and just looks so pretty to me :]

Sebastian has a special place in my heart and the whole anime, actually. But yeah, Sebastian, my beloved 🖤

[greenorangevioletgrass]

haven: winter [b.w.]

< previous chapter | series masterlist | ko-fi

pairing: college!bruce wayne x OC

summary: On his final year at Yale, Bruce Wayne, aged 21, stumbled into a theater class and fell for the girl who played Hamlet. In his coming of age, Bruce is torn between his past and his present, and whichever path he chose would determine his future.

word count: 12.9k

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, developing relationship, yearning, mutual pining, angst, brief mention of jealousy, Shakespearean feels, allusions of death & suicidal tendencies, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut [oral (m&f), penetrative sex, bruce's first time! yay!, cockwarming, just general horndoggery lol], bruce is an awkward lil bean, an awk lil bean with a big dick apparently 👀

notes: it's back! im not sure if you guys even still remember this, but i'm slowly trying to finish this. big thanks to @awkward-darkness @shipping-not-sailing @cumholland @blue-aconite @spnbarnes for making this all possible! see y'all in spring <3

*follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest works <3 happy reading and please reblog and share if you liked it!*

ACT ONE

Bruce had heard the phrase ‘tech week is hell week’ being thrown around among the cast and crew many days before they officially moved into the theater, and he never got any clear explanation, save for sympathetic pats on the back and ominous ‘you’ll see’s. And after his little tryst with Eden in the dressing room, he found it difficult to imagine something more hellish than having to wait to touch her again until closing night.

Boy, was he sorely mistaken.

Anything that could go wrong did go wrong. A wheel from one of the set pieces broke and it took half an hour to fix it and roll onto the stage to get the lighting set up—and it was only the second scene of the show. An ensemble can’t fit into one of his costumes, zippers getting stuck and snagging the changing time, a prop went misplaced…

The cue-to-cue ran so slovenly despite all the fires to put out, and they were stuck to their own posts; Bruce backstage—just off of the wing, and Eden onstage, shuffling between her heels as she moved from one mark to another. Patient, despite the banality, as they made changes to the blocking and tried to get the lighting right. She absently turned to the side and caught a glance of Bruce in a rare moment of idleness, and winked at him discreetly, sending him smiling back. It gave him enough to hold on until they wrapped up, at 1.28AM that night.

The second and third day was a blur. There was no way of savoring the moment of fixing her corset in the wing, because people were milling around. All they had was a secret, split-second graze of their fingers before she strode into the spotlight.

The stumble-through was just that—stumbling through as they tried to get everything right. There weren’t as many fuckups, and he was starting to get the hang of it. The bouts of high-pressure moments in the quick costume changes, and the longer minutes of nothingness. Keeping an eye out for his own cue to get the next costume ready as he watched from the wings. Observing how everyone tried their utmost not to lose their mind in this tiresome tedium. It kept his mind off of Eden.

Eden, currently lying on her side on the floor, more beautiful than a John Collier painting. Deceivingly feminine in high-waisted pants and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The black corset remained a staple around her torso, making Bruce feel some type of way.

Okay. Maybe it didn’t keep his mind off of her entirely.

“Alas, poor Yorick!” She studied the skull in her hand pensively, twirling it and staring right at its hollow eye sockets. And then she laughed wryly, turning to her scene partner, “I knew him, Horatio! He’s a fellow of infinite jest—of most excellent fancy.”

The exhaustion was apparent in her thoughtful musing. For a moment, he thought it was a new discovery in her character. But then he spotted her dozing off on Kola’s—who played Horatio—shoulder during the final debrief, and he was equal parts amused that she was genuinely tired, and amazed that she could still pull it off and make the performance make sense.

So when Eden schlumped out of the theater with just a general wave to the company, Bruce didn’t pay any mind. He wasn’t all that relieved to receive a text from her that said ‘Opening night! You excited?’ right out of his Law Adjudication exam the next day (he sent her the Italian hand emoji and got back a ‘noice’ in return.) He certainly didn’t sign into the theater early, knowing she’d be there.

The pit stop at the local florist, however, had no other excuse.

He came in through the audience’s entrance and there she was, sitting by the aisle that split the seats down the middle. Her smile lit up the dark hall, and he was beckoned in.

“Hey, uh…” he shifted on his heels, gingerly handing his modest gift, “Happy opening night.”

“Oh…” Her mouth went agape upon receiving a single-stem sunflower bouquet, tastefully framed with pretty leaves and baby’s breath. She inhaled the floral scent deeply. “I love sunflowers. Thank you!”

He knew that. Her phone lockscreen is a sunflower field and she had a habit of doodling sunflowers with yellow highlighters on her script, but he’s glad to be right anyway.

She scooted one seat over so he could sit next to her. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. But it makes sense, now that I think about it.”

“Well, this is my church.” Eden motioned around them. “Before opening night, I like to come in early and sit in the audience and just… take it all in. The quiet, the stillness. It’s like the calm before the storm, you know?”

They stared at the empty stage before them. The set was partially set up, but there wasn’t much else. Just dust dancing under the house lights. And for a moment, they just sat there, arms propped on the seats in front of them like they were in church.

“How are you feeling?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, that’s a loaded question.”

Her palm facing upwards on the backrest, he put his hand over it. Finger lightly tracing the lines that twisted and branched on her skin. Thumb resting over the pulse point on her wrist. Hoping this brought her comfort, because it comforted him to be in the warmth of her closeness. It didn’t feel as new anymore, although it perplexed him all the same; the very act still made his heart race.

She kissed him on the shoulder and propped her chin there. “You know… we might not need to wait til closing night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying…” her lips ventured closer to his neck, less innocently this time. Grazing his freshly shaven jaw before whispering, “We have time.”

Bruce tried to hide his bounding heart with a rare teasing smile for her. Just for her. “Right here, in your church?” he was met with a cheeky look on her face, and his smile widened. “The sacrilege!”

The kiss went so easy this time. Bruce didn’t give himself time to overthink—he simply cupped her chin and leaned in. Savored the sugary taste on her tongue. The little giggle that bubbled up from within her. The shameless wanting that emanated from her—from him, as his cock stirred under his jeans. God, they wanted each other so badly.

He groaned into her mouth. “How do you do this?” anxiously glancing at the closed door, then at the empty stage, “Anyone could walk in here. It’s giving me—” she cut him off with another searing kiss and it took him everything to finish his sentence, “...anxiety.”

“Maybe you’re just a pussy.” she bit his lower lip playfully. “Or maybe, I like putting on a show.”

Jesus.

Bruce must’ve stopped dead in his tracks, because she pulled away with a shrug. “Or not,” she added. She fixed her bouquet wrapping as she said nonchalantly, “Shame, though. I wouldn’t mind sucking your dick right now.”

“What?” his head whipped towards her faster than he could blink.

“It’s cool. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—”

“But I do.”

This time, she stopped in her tracks, surprised by how quickly he’d answered. “Really?”

He swallowed hard. It was a bad, bad idea. He could make a whole list of reasons why; the sheer exposedness of the space, the lack of professionalism, the trouble they’d get into…

But above all, this impossible girl had just offered to go down on him for the first time, right here right now, so… he nodded.

“Okay. Just sit back and relax.”

There was something about the way she kissed him. So simple, so… soft that his worries melted away for a second. It all felt so distant; in that moment, there were just the two of them. Sitting in the empty theater, two hours before anyone’s supposed to be here.

Alone together.

“Fuck,” she cursed as she released his cock out of his pants. All thick and hard and purplish, gleaming at the head. Pulsing as her fist closed in around his shaft. And as she put her mouth on him…

“Eden.”

He didn’t even know whether he was calling her or this. Not anymore. Not when her tongue was laving on the tip of his cock. Gathering, devouring his arousal. Spreading down his length as she took him by every inch.

Heaven.

Heaven was the warmth of her mouth that enveloped him. The obscene wet sounds she made as her cheeks hollowed out around him. The noises threatening to escape from his kiss-worn lips as she took him in so deep. So good.

“Fuck, Eden…” his hand found the back of her head—not quite pushing her down, not quite pulling her back either. Just carding through her hair, finding some solace because he felt his nerve endings going haywire. He couldn’t think. Oh God. “I’m gonna come…”

His quiet plea echoed through the empty hall in a hush, and he knew he should’ve stopped. He really should have. But he was bursting at the seams, arching into her mouth. Her fist. And he tangled his own fist in her dark waves, breathing hard and heavy to keep himself at bay.

And failing.

Not that it mattered.

She kept him close and snug and safe as he surrendered and came apart down her throat. Sucking and swallowing until there’s nothing left but shivers running down his spine.

“Well?” she straightened up, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth with her thumb and kissing him on the cheek innocently. Fuck, she’s unbelievable. “Still think we should wait until closing night?”

Maybe it was the post-nut clarity. Maybe he was just being dramatic, but he swore he’d never seen her so beautiful. “What are you suggesting?” He smoothed out the messy strands of her hair.

“Well, tonight’s opening night. We’ll drink and dance and celebrate…”

And they did just that. The company popped a few bottles of cheap champagne and drank out of plastic cups, blasting late 90’s hip-hop backstage. They had made it through hell week, through a successful opening night, a well-received performance by the audience.

But Hamlet was three hours long, and Eden was onstage for most of it. And as much as she was in high spirits, her energy was visibly—understandably depleted. And Bruce could see that. It was one of the few things he could empathize with.

“You’re not coming in?” she frowned, when he just hovered by when she walked up the steps to her building.

He shook his head apologetically, shoving his freezing hands deeper into his coat.

“But—”

“You need to rest, Hamlet.”

“I’ll get plenty of rest! It’s barely midnight, it’s—” her argument was cut off with her own yawn, her breath fogging up the cold night air.

He threw her a knowing look.

“Fine,” she relented, hiding her face behind the sunflower bouquet—still smelling it fondly, trodding back to give him a brief hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Walking away, melodramatic as it may have sounded, was the most difficult thing he’d had to do all week. Maybe even more so than the first time, in that dressing room. Bruce had to remind himself that tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday is closing night. And come Sunday, they would pick up where they left off without any interruption, any passersby. But until then…

Until then, he would have to share. With the crew getting her ready and briefing her on technicalities in this two-show day (or as everyone called it, two-doe shay). The downtime she used in between shows to take a power nap. The cast that she hung out and warmed up with. The audience that took selfies and gave her flowers after the show. As an only child, this was a massive learning curve for Bruce, but he was doing alright.

He didn’t mind.

He really didn’t mind when a beautiful blonde girl in knee-high boots came up to Eden with a big bouquet of roses out at the foyer. The stranger seemed well-acquainted judging from the warm, lingering embrace they were in, and it’s fine. It was fine that the blonde’s hand stayed on Eden’s waist as they talked. It was no big deal at all when Eden’s hand landed on her arm when she laughed at something the girl had said. So intimate, so… familiar.

She could do whatever she wanted. If he really minded, he was free to leave.

“Hey Bruce, wait up!” she hollered, catching up with him on his way out with barely a quick kiss goodbye on the girl’s cheek. “You wanna walk home together?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but held the door for her anyway. “Thought you were… occupied.”

“Who, Gwen? Nah, it’s no big deal. She’ll be fine.” Eden stuffed the bouquet into the canvas bag in her hand, along with the other flowers and cards she received that day.

“Hn.” He didn’t know what else to respond, continuing their night walk in silence. But it seemed that not responding only raised more question, because she eyed him curiously and inquired,

“Are you jealous?”

“No.” and he really wasn’t. Eden was just a generally tactile person—she greeted her friends with hugs, leaned on people’s shoulders like it’s no big deal. Why should this be any different?

“Aw, Brucie!” She cooed, linking her arm around his as if it’d ease his mind—although to be frank… it did. But he also hated the nickname with that tone. “She’s an ex for a reason, you know.”

He knew there was something about her, about the encounter. “So she was your ex.”

“So you were jealous,” she echoed his intonation playfully.

He scowled, not liking how he accidentally revealed his own cards. But she smiled, and he wasn’t sure how he could feel better and worse at the same time.

“Oh, that ship has sailed and sunk a long time ago. We’re better off friends anyway,” she mused. “Don’t worry. I’m still yours tomorrow night.”

His heart skipped, although Bruce tried not to shift out of place. What the fuck does that mean? He knew very well that she was talking about their little closing night plans, but those three words echoed in his mind. Pulling all kinds of abstract meanings that he couldn’t quite put into words. I’m still yours. And only for tomorrow night? He felt his gut twist, whether in worry or anticipation—or both—, he had no idea.

***

ACT TWO

In his college life, Bruce had two types of morning: the one where he had to fight five different alarms of varying intensities to wake up, or where he got up before any of the alarms rang (whether he’d had any sleep beforehand was an entirely different matter).

That Sunday morning, he felt like a schoolboy before a field trip as he counted the minutes until his phone would make a peep—way too many— and decided to work off the jittery buzz in his body on a morning run—away from his residential college courtyard and towards Grove Street Cemetery across the street. Avoiding farmer market crowds and whatever sports game was happening in the gym. Steering clear from Eden’s building in case he bumped into her and risked looking like a stalker. No, thank you.

(He did touch himself in the shower thinking about what they did in the dressing room, in the empty theater. Imagining her in her dress. Unlacing her corset. Touching her everywhere.)

“Bruce!” Eden flagged him in the backstage corridor, her bag slung on her shoulder and coffee tumbler in one hand. “I got something for you.”

They stepped aside to a little nook full of stored props, away from the crew setting up for the matinee like they’re sneaking around with a secret—then again, they sort of were.

“Happy closing night,” she beamed, bringing her other hand out from behind her back. Brandishing a flower bouquet—three stalks of red carnations wrapped in coffee-colored cellophane paper.

“But I… I’m not—”

“Flowers are for anyone working on the show. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He smiled sheepishly, unable to hide the rose blush creeping up his neck and ears. She’s gonna be the death of him. “Thank you.” He plucked the card out from the back of the bouquet. It said ‘Hakuna matata!’ scribbled in her cursive handwriting.

“Get it? ‘Cause Lion King and Hamlet…”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “This is lovely. I mean it… thank you.”

Bruce looked up at her, and it’s truly amazing how she looked as happy as he felt (because let’s face it, knowing his poker-faced tendencies, he probably didn’t look it). But there’s that twinkle in her dark eyes, and the smile that lit up her soft face, and all he wanted to do was to lean in and kiss her.

And he did.

Eden gasped, jaw dropped as she pulled away, looking around to check if anyone had seen them. The ghost of a smile still persisted on the corner of her lips, but now there’s a tinge of color on her cheeks, too. “And, uh…” she cleared her throat, backing away into the hallway— accidentally bumping into Louie from Sound, “Try to have fun. Enjoy the show when you can.”

He took her word for it. Part of him wished he was in the audience, watching everything unfold in full view. But he also liked that he could see the inner workings at the same time. He liked hearing the stage managers’ cues, and the actors gossiping about who was in the audience, who’s falling asleep, who’s very cute and attending without a date. He liked watching the crew take out whole rooms from the stage and put together a new one in a matter of seconds. He liked watching the shift from night to day from the lighting above.

But most of all, he liked watching Eden. She walked past him just as the show started, her hand sliding across the small of his back and he’d squeeze her hand in that brief second. And then she stood there in the wing, watching the opening scene. He couldn’t see her face—just her silhouette. So still, almost statuesque as the ghost of the King, her father, appeared before her peers. And as the ensemble, the music, the wedding festivities rushed in…

She crumpled.

Closed in on herself and he could see the breaths struggling against her ribs—almost like sobs.

And then… she straightened up again, making herself presentable for the social event and walked into the scene.

“How is it that the clouds still hang on you?” King Claudius, her uncle-turned-stepfather, put a friendly arm around her shoulder.

But she tensed at the touch, swiftly squirming away towards a waiter, taking some fake champagne from the tray. “Not so, my lord; I am too much in the sun.” She flashed a saccharine smile, raising her glass.

It was fascinating to see her Hamlet; so regal, so imposing in the presence of others. This was the Hamlet who grew up on etiquette lessons, on stuffy outfits and stuffier social functions and was told to grin and bear it. She carried herself like she belonged there, in her silk dress and diamonds on her neck and wrists. But there was something about the way she listened to people; her mother prattling on and on about ‘all that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity’ that just screamed… exhaustion. Seething. Like she was close to breaking her champagne flute and shoving the shard into someone’s neck.

It was kind of hot.

But his most favorite thing? Her version of Hamlet was funny.

And no, it wasn’t just moments of comedic relief deliberately placed after scenes of high tension. Her dry humor was consistent—from her first scene to the last, where she had just witnessed her mother’s death, followed by her uncle and her lover’s brother. Knowing she would be next in just mere minutes.

“I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu,” she blurted out matter-of-factly, laughing in disbelief as she threw a mock-salute. It felt like one of Hamlet’s usual sardonic quips—except it wasn’t.

The audience laughed with her for a bit. But the air of unease was palpable, and for the first time, Eden all but broke the fourth wall, sharing her final moment of vulnerability with the audience as the poison coursed through her veins. “Had I but time…” she mused. She didn’t, as Death was as punctual as it was unexpected. “Oh, I could tell you—” she gushed. It was the first time she didn’t want to die. Just for a split second. Just enough to speak her truth. Enough to make dying actually hurt. “But let it be.”

In a fit of shock and grief and helplessness, Horatio—her best friend and right-hand man— tried to drink the remains of the poison in the cup, but she wrestled it out of his grasp. Knocking it away, and collapsing into his arms afterwards.

“If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart… absent thee from festivities awhile, would you?” she patted his cheek limply, comforting him even though she was the one dying. Softening as he choked out a sob at the sight of her.

Bruce would never consider himself an emotional person, but even his eyes welled up as he watched from the side.

“O, I die, Horatio,” she sighed—not in regret, but in relief. All too glad to surrender to her fate. Her business was done. She had entrusted the future of Denmark in the hands of her very best friend. “The rest…” she rasped out, pushing through her words for the very last time,

“...is silence.”

Horatio’s wailing was gut-wrenching as it echoed through the hall, but Bruce couldn’t help but focus on how peaceful she looked. How breathtaking. How lucky she was for meeting her end so swiftly. And perhaps, on a much lighter note, how amusing it would be if Eden genuinely fell asleep playing dead (she did on last night’s performance.)

He envied her either way, and adored her in every way possible.

The show ended, and the cast took their final curtain call to the raucous standing ovation, amidst the cheering and the applause. But as soon as the curtains came down, Eden all but raced to the wing where Bruce was standing.

And as she came closer, he could see her lips wobbling.

“Hey, are you ok—” his words were cut off with her arms thrown around him, wrapping him into a crushing hug. Her face buried in his chest— and he could feel her tears seeping through his black hoodie.

She lifted her head up, “Sorry about that. This, uh, this happens. Closing nights. Always emotional,” she sputtered around, sniffling a bit. It’s endlessly endearing whenever Eden, ever so eloquent and witty, stumbled on her words because she’s so overcome with emotions.

“That’s okay,” he soothed her with a fond smile, smoothing the hair tumbling down her back as she tucked her face back in his chest.

She was soon tugged away and drawn into a hug after hug by the other cast and crew, but he didn’t mind it. He was happy with the handshakes and high fives and pats on the back and half-hugs (or a full hug from his esteemed department head Laura, who told him, “you’re a solid dude, B.”) His heart already swelled from the fact that in a crowd of openly emotional people, she came to him first.

And when all was said and done, her hand sought solace from the cold in his hand, tucked in his coat pocket, all the way to his dorm.

His dorm. With his worn Gibson J-45 perched on a guitar stand in one corner of the room, the mess of wires and parts and analog cameras on his desk. The small bookcase with books nearly spilling out. The standard-issued twin bed by the window (that he made earlier that morning, thank God.) 

“The room where it happens, huh?” Eden cheekily remarked, glancing around the clutters and the mess that probably told her more about him that he did in the past few months.

“Would you like a…” Bruce gingerly asked, though the words faltered on him as she closed the distance between them with a single step.

She didn’t lean in, didn’t pull him in—save for the hands slipping under his coat and around his waist. There was no more sneaking around. No more stealing time. It’s finally just the two of them.

Alone together.

“You never told me you played guitar.” The fabric of his clothes comforted her hands, but she still chased the warmth underneath. Despite the sudden touch of bare skin, it felt… nice.

“Never came up.” He paused, and then winced, “You’re not gonna ask me to play, are you?”

“Well, not now…” she rolled her eyes playfully, “I think I have something more important in mind.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like this.” she tugged the lapels of his coat to bring him down to her face, making him smile into her kiss.

He never, ever smiled like this. Like some regular person with an uneventful personal history and a normal life. He almost felt like he shouldn’t. But within the confines of these four walls, in the arms of this impossible girl who dragged him around from the woods to the stage (and whom he so happily followed to the ends of the earth)... he allowed himself to.

They’ve stolen kisses countless times, but they’d never kissed like this before. So free, so unfettered, so… devoid of a single care as they unhurriedly shed each layer of their clothing. Scarf. Coat. Sweater. They both secretly wondered if they should make haste —they were so desperate to feel each other up all week— but at that moment, they didn’t mind taking it slow.

After all, they had all the time in the world.

He didn’t outwardly ask, but he was thankful that she took the lead. Backing him up until his legs find the bed frame. Sitting him down and straddling his lap. Tugging her dress over her head as she kissed him so fiercely, so that he could focus on her. Committing every inch of her to memory with his touch. Her lips, her thighs, the curves of her waist, the…

“Is that a—” his hand finished the rest of his question, tracing the hair-thin lines on her skin. Pinkish, purplish orchids blooming from her ribcage, with leaves sprouting and buds blooming on the underside of her breast. “You never told me you had a tattoo.”

“Never came up.” she shrugged, echoing his words. “Do you like it?”

He kissed her there, from the petals to the florets. Tracing the lines with his tongue this time, up the soft swell of her flesh. Sucking her pebbled nipple. Feeling her gasp deep in her core.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she simpered blissfully, one hand buried in his mess of dark hair. Not quite grabbing, not quite pulling, just… playing with it, twirling it around her fingers. Urging him to keep going, keep taking, more more more, because she had so much more to give, if the dripping mess in her panties were any indication.

“Bruce…” she hummed, “Where’s your condom?”

“In the— in the, uh, drawer,” he struggled against the haze in his mind. Motioning at the nightstand next to bed, but refusing to unlatch his mouth from her tits, his hands from her supple thighs, until she had to pry him off of her.

And even then, she had to make up for it in a blinding, heartstopping kiss, before she pushed herself off of him.

If he were smart —and Bruce had always prided himself on his intelligence— he would use this time to undress. But he watched her hips sway, her ass jutted out as she bent over in his full view… and he was hypnotized. The foil packet rustled in her hand, and the radiator creaked in the background, but nothing could tear his attention away from the way Eden shimmied out of her panties. Even if the world was ending outside the window.

He seized her in a flurry of kisses and groping hands, and even as he clumsily kicked off his shoes and got the fuck out of his pants. And as they stumbled back into bed, her hair tumbled down her shoulder just right, and her profile illuminated by the moon.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she breathed out.

His heart stopped, wondering if he’d accidentally said it out loud. But then, all thoughts went out the door as her hand stroked his hard cock (as if it weren’t already aching for her), lewdly studying the pinkish purplish head as she circled it with her thumb. It took him everything to tear her hand away to make way for the condom along his length; he had to remind himself that he’d be inside her soon.

She ran him up and down her slit, spreading her wetness all over him, lining him up just right. Her opening hovered over his fat, blunt tip, and she could feel herself seizing up as she sank down on him—or at least, tried to.

“Fuck, you’re big,” Eden muttered brokenly, taking deep breaths as she prepared to try again.

There was no hiding his deep blush now. “Thank you…? I, uh, really wouldn’t know.”

She frowned, somewhat incredulous. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t—? You mean nobody’s ever told you…”

“Well, I’ve never been with…” he trailed off, desperately hoping she’d get his point without having to say it. It’d save some of his dignity, at least.

But her face lit up, her jaw dropped, and she all but cried out, “No way. Bruce! Am I popping your cherry right now?”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that,” he grumbled, which only made her giggle.

“Okay, fine. Deflowering.”

“Oh my God, this is my worst nightmare…” His forehead fell onto the crook of her neck, and he hid his beet-red face there in embarrassment.

But she lifted her chin so tenderly, stroking his improbable jawline. Dammit, she’s gonna be the death of him. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

How could he? Eden was naked in his bed, perched on his lap, taking his cock inside her. This was his whole dream. “Not really, no,” he lamely admitted. 

“Good. Cause I want all of you inside me.” She smirked, kissing him, although she fell out of it as she tried to sink down on him again. Struggling with the sheer size of him. Still too fucking big. “Fuck…”

“I thought I was the one getting deflowered.”

She shot him a sharp glare.

He kissed her back passionately, rubbing slow circles on her clit to ease her up. Trying to focus solely on her—the way her fingernails dug into his back, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip.

Her pussy taking in the head of his cock in a tight clench.

As their moans united in the silence of this humble room, so did their bodies. It was overwhelming. His mind felt hazy, yet at the same time, never been clearer, and he hoped, dear God, he would remember every inch of her. By feeling, by sight, by touch.

By the breathtaking whine that escaped her lips with every inch she took him deeper. Drawing out again.

Painfully slow, but maybe just as well, because any faster and Bruce might just combust from the sheer pleasure of it all. And as tempting as it was to surrender, he really, really wanted to make this good for her, too.

She withdrew nearly all the way off of him and then plunged herself all the way to the base, eliciting a restrained cry from both of them. He smoothed his callused hand up and down her thighs, leaving hot wet kisses on her bare neck.

“You okay?” he whispered, holding her close to him, around him.

“Mm-hm,” she replied, her voice tight. “Are you?”

He nodded. “Just… stay here for a while.”

“Okay.”

It was strange how… innocent they both sounded, despite the obscene nature of their activity. Bruce had resigned his fate (in the biblical sense) in her hands a long time ago, but what he didn’t realize was that, stripped down to her most vulnerable form, she laid her own fate in his hands, too.

And for a while, time stopped and there’s just the dull, throbbing ache between his legs, comforted and aggravated at the same time by the snug, silky pulsing of her walls around him. And it almost didn’t matter, because Eden kissed and held him like she never wanted anything else. And neither did he.

Almost.

Somewhere between desperate hands and even more desperate mouths, Bruce’s hips started grinding against hers, shallowly thrusting at first, setting the delicious ache inside her alight. It was nothing like he’d ever felt—nothing his hand or even a panic-bought fleshlight could compare. And the more she responded to his motions —the roll of her hips, the moon crescents she left on his skin, the quiet little moans she made.

He bucked up into her particularly deep, pushing out a sound that sounded more pained than pleased, and he stilled immediately. “Sorrysorrysorrybaby,” he murmured, breathless, cupping her face in both hands. “Did that hurt?”

“No, I’m—” Eden chuckled lazily, “I’m good.” She kissed him once on the lips. “Feels good.” and another on his jaw. “I promise.” her mouth veered down to his pulse point and she bit him lightly.

His head lulled back with a groan, she’s gonna be the death of him, as he picked up where he left off. He was so drunk on her, and yet… he wanted more. Devouring everything he could get his mouth on; her mouth, her neck, her tits. Kneading her ass like he wanted to claim it.

Like she hadn’t already claimed him with every thrust she met halfway.

She took his hand, kissing his wrist and palm and letting his thumb drag along her lower lip. Trailing the outline of her soft, kiss-worn flesh, before he tentatively, ever so lightly, inched it inside.

And when she closed in on her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she sucked his finger…

“Eden…” her name came out in a rumble from deep within his chest, and he had to close his eyes. But that didn’t work, because the image was seared into his mind and it melded with the fantasy of having his cock in her mouth again.

Bruce eased his thumb out of her mouth and onto her clit, rubbing it firmly —and secretly thanking God she seemed to like it. His hips started to falter, and with Eden controlling the pace now, he was close.

Dangerously close.

And apparently, so was she.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she chanted, shamelessly bouncing on his cock. Unbothered to hold back her noises anymore as she powered through the stretch of his girth.

And as her voice went higher, so did the pleasure coursing through her veins until it coiled deep in her core. Gripping around him like a vice, throbbing, squeezing, and oh God, he wanted to give her that forever, but he couldn’t, he was selfish and he wanted to punish himself for chasing her orgasm with his own, but—

“Oh, fuck!” he lurched forward as he came inside her. Heartbeat rang in his ears, his whole body set ablaze in waves of unadulterated pleasure. Holding her waist in place, riding out his high with one, two, thee thrusts until he rested limply on her chest.

And she rested her chin on top of his head. Holding him flush against her. Alone together.

For the first time in his many restless years, Bruce’s mind was…quiet. There were just breaths slowing to a calm, hands settling on the small of her back. Her fingertips caressing the nape of his neck. He always imagined his peace of mind in solitary, but in that pocket of time of space, he couldn’t imagine anyone else by his side.

Anyone but her.

***

ACT THREE

Bruce saw a lot of Eden that week.

It was the final week of the semester. There were exams to take and essay deadlines to catch, and he spent most of his time hunched over his laptop. Sometimes in the library, sometimes at the Beanjamin, though most of the time he stayed in his dorm. All warm and lively and cozy now, with his new… guest gracing it with her presence on a near daily basis. Hogging his bed, wearing his Nirvana t-shirt she grabbed from his drawer, reading his weathered copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.

As soon as his Victimology paper was marked ‘successfully submitted’, Bruce shut the laptop and swiveled in his desk chair, stretching his arms and neck with a groan. He turned towards his bed—or rather the girl occupying it.

Legs swinging in the air as she laid on her stomach, shirt riding up to reveal the lace of her panties like a dirty fucking dream.

“You done?” she asked absently without looking up from the book.

He flopped half on top of her, smushing his face onto her back, reveling in the smell of her shampoo, her scent on his shirt. “Yeah. Are you?”

Eden hummed, stroking his hair a little. Her attention was still glued to the page.

Bruce peeked over her shoulder. He was going to let her enjoy it —it was his favorite part— but his hand was too tempted to explore the curve of her hips, her thigh, her ass, squeezing the soft swell of flesh playfully. He’d never been a physical person, but he was starting to get the hang of it… and he liked it.

“You’re distracting me,” she whined, light-and-half-hearted at the same time, if the little trail of giggles were anything to go by.

He smiled, brushing her hair to the side. “Am I really?” He murmured, nuzzling her cheek. 

His finger traced between her nether lips over the fabric, and she groaned. A low, playful sound that had become an expression of fondness. And out of fondness, he smacked her ass.

“Bruce!” she gasped, turning on her back. The thick book in her hand fell back against her clothed chest and made a muted thud. She turned to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, surprised and pleasantly scandalized. Maybe a little turned on?

“What?” he looked at her, feigning innocence. And she knew he was pretending, based on the sheer fact that he’s working her panties down her hips. 

She stared at him, searching, and then…

“Nothing.” She picked up the book again. And then, as she opened her page again, she kicked the scrap of panties off of her legs. Spreading her thighs. “Carry on.”

There was a command in her every gesture. A directive. He loved it.

Bruce was, by no means, good at eating pussy. How could he be good at something he’d just started doing? But what he lacked in skill, he made up in enthusiasm. How could he not like how wet she was for him, how she arched up into his touch? People spent their lifetime chasing the very thing that would quench their thirst, but his oasis came to him and was all too happy to show him how to enjoy her.

And God, he enjoyed every bit of her.

“Fuck…” she bit back, her grip tight on the book as his teeth grazed the soft flesh on her inner thigh. There was an affectionate little blue mark just next to it, and he remembered how she moaned and grabbed his hair when he did it two nights ago—and maybe she liked it as much as he did.

His tongue dipped between the cleft of her cunt. There was no time to tease her; he needed to taste her now. Needed to lap up her juices, her clit, and feel her pelvis gyrating into him, one leg hiked up on his back. A sign that he was doing it right.

She sighed, seemingly pleased with the motion he’d settled into—because he was certainly more than happy to be licking her cunt up and down, all sloppy and greedy and good.

“Bruce, baby…” Eden put the book aside, fingers carding through his messy hair. There’s that nickname again. He couldn’t remember when they started using it, but they only ever used it in the most vulnerable and desperate moments. And in that moment, all signs pointed to Eden wanting more.

He slipped a finger inside her, wetting it and curling it against her inner walls. Patient and observant as he looked for that spot that made her melt. It never ceased to amaze him how Eden, ever so bold, could ever be so putty in his presence. In his hand.

“More please, stretch me out for your cock,” she moaned quietly.

His eyes closed shut. “Jesus Christ, Eden…”

“Mm.” She leaned into the vibration of his voice, the low growl she never thought she’d coax out of quiet and elusive Bruce. Relishing in the second finger he added, his mouth not letting up from her swollen clit. 

She was fully, shamelessly fucking his face now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It should make him feel powerful. And while a surge of pride ran through him as he found his bearings in her pleasure, he knew she also had the upper hand.

Even when she came apart on his mouth, his fingers, tugging at his hair desperately. When he eased up and crawled up her body, swallowing her little whimpers and gasps into his kisses. Even when he pushed his cock inside her, fucking her slow until agony had the best of him, and he came in the warmth of her throbbing cunt as he plunged into her so deep.

She had him wrapped around her little finger, and he was more than happy to be there.

“Hey, you wanna take a nap?” He softly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, noticing her eyes growing heavy as they laid there in post-coital bliss.

She looked at him, and then out the window, and back at him. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“Fuck. I have a class in an hour,” she groaned. “But hey, we got the Hamlet party tonight. The Dolphin Den, 8 PM. Don’t forget.” And with a quick kiss on his lips, she rolled out of bed.

He watched her get dressed, unhurried but haphazard anyway, not bothered to return his t-shirt, and his heart swelled at that. God, he was so gone for her. “Would you, um, like to go together?” His heart suddenly started racing for no reason. Why was he nervous about asking her this?

“I’ve already promised to help them set up. But I’ll see you there?”

“Right. Okay.”

“And don’t even think about skipping.”

She must’ve noticed the slightest deflation in his tone, the way he tensed up at her ‘threat,’ because she sat back down on the edge of the bed as she put her shoes on.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But I do hope to see you there.” She kissed his shoulder and his nose and his lips one last time, and then she was off.

Shit. 

***

The Dolphin Den was a common room in the basement floor of the Grace Hopper Hall, where Eden lived, the last door on the left from the west staircase—a fact Bruce had looked up in the three torturous hours he had between his final class of the semester and the production-slash-Christmas party he was apparently invited to. Going back and forth between going and not going, even as he got dressed, put on his jacket, and stepped out into the cold. Taking the scenic route on purpose.

(He very nearly turned back. Stopped right in front of the building, wondering if he was underdressed or overdressed in his hoodie, if fifteen minutes was acceptably late or it’s still considered very early for this kind of event, and… he just kept walking.

He walked and walked for a block, and another, and stopped in front of a liquor store. And as the neon sign flickered over the storefront, a lightbulb lit up over his head.)

So, when Bruce walked back to the Eden’s residential building—now a good twenty five minutes after the start time— he felt considerably less nervous. Still nervous enough, though, to count every stair step as he made his way down to the basement, carefully reading every room sign even though he had the layout memorized. Pondering whether he should knock or just walk right in. 

Bassline thumped faintly through the corridor, and he took it as a sign to go for the latter. Half of the production team was there already, occupying the couches and corners of the wood-paneled room. Table tops covered in red solo cups and beer cans. Indistinct conversations going over and under the music, a dance pop song. Some of the people nodded at Bruce as he made his way inside. It was… strange to be on familiar terms with this many people.

But not unwelcome.

Still, he was relieved to see that familiar face waving at him from the drinks table. Her pale yellow skirt flared around her waist like a burst of sunshine, although her long legs reminded him of all the nights he had them wrapped around his waist. He weaved through the crowd, bumping and murmuring passing apologies unlike those dramatic slow-motion scenes, all the way across the room as she excused herself from Kola and Angela, too.

He was probably a few steps away from her, before he panicked. How should he address her? Sure, they were very… intimate in private, but what were they in public? Were they friends, were they together? Oh God, they never talked about it—

“Hey, you made it!” She hugged him and briefly kissed him on the cheek. Okay, standard Eden protocols, at least. Dark eyes flickering down to make sure she didn’t leave a lipstick mark on his skin.

(No matter. She left plenty more lasting marks in more discreet places.)

Her lingering hand on his arm left way too soon, but he supposed it was for the best as her two friends joined them, still engrossed in conversation.

“So I told him, back the fuck off, let me do my double pirouette in peace and— ‘sup, Bruce?” Kola nodded up at him, offering a high-five which he didn’t take.

Not out of ill will or anything, just because he’d already raised the paper bag he was holding in his hand.

Bruce made an apologetic smile that looked more like a wince. “Hey, I got, uh—for the, um…” he gingerly handed him his last-minute… offering.

Kola accepted one and gasped when he took the bottle out of its paper bag. “Vodka!” he cried out like a kid at Christmas, offering yet another high-five that Bruce reciprocated this time. And as he brandished another bottle from the bag, he proceeded to announce to the whole room, “Yo! Bruce got us more vodka!”

He was met with overlaps of whoops, cheers, and Bruce’s name and in various levels of inebriation and excitement. It’s impossible for Bruce to fight the heat creeping up his face now.

“It’s no big deal.” he shrugged a little.

“Dude…” Angela beamed, her hand on her chest like she was about to shed happy tears, “I thought you hated us.”

He tilted his head curiously. “Why?”

“I dunno. We just assumed…” Kola shrugged, trailing off, making a face, hands flailing around in the air.

It was understandable, he supposed. He never hung out with anyone except for Eden (for obvious reasons) and the costume department (also for obvious, albeit entirely more professional, reasons.) Come to think of it, he didn’t think he ever exchanged a single word with these two that wasn’t about the production.

But they were warm and welcoming nonetheless, and it put him more at ease.

“Nah, you guys are alright,” Bruce eventually said casually, matter-of-factly.

Angela and Kola immediately exchanged looks. A moment of silence, before they full-on freaked out, clutching onto each other for dear life.

“Oh my God, you like us!” Kola squealed, while Angela fanned her face with her hand. Despite the dramatic reactions, they seemed… genuinely touched?

“Well…” Bruce went to interject. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He had yet to decide whether ‘like’ was an overstatement. But he didn’t dislike them, that’s for sure.

“Guys, stop it. You’ll scare him,” Eden lightly chided her friends. Then, stepping up to lead him away, forever his knight in a stolen Nirvana t-shirt, “You want something to drink?”

“He totally likes us, dude.” The duo gushed to themselves as Bruce and Eden moved away a little, not bothered by his lack of decorum, apparently.

“Are they drunk already?”

“Nah, this is how they normally are when they’re hanging out.”

“Really? Even Angela?” As stage manager, she was efficient. Level-headed. A bit on the stricter side. Bruce didn’t expect her to be so… goofy in real life.

“Mm-hm. So, we got…” Eden rolled up her sleeves, “Rum and Coke, vodka and Coke, whiskey and Coke, and… tequila and Coke?” she raised a cheeky eyebrow. “Marc’s still picking up the rest of the mixers. Oh, and we got club soda and cranberry juice and… beers of many varieties, good sir.”

She was more animated than usual, and it’s very cute. Like she was amped up from the drinks and the room itself. And perhaps, a small part of him wondered if his presence had anything to do with it.

“What are you having?” Bruce propped himself up with both hands on the table.

“Vodka. We’ll save the tequila for later.”

His heart jumped to his throat. He’d never been much for drinking and partying, but he liked the idea of letting loose with her. So he squared up. “Sounds good.”

“Coming right up!” She flipped a new cup and began preparing his drink. Lightly briefing him on what a cast party was, the things he’d missed in the first 25 minutes of the party, and the potential rowdiness of it all as the night went on. “Trust me, the bonfire had jackshit on this.”

Bruce received the drink she handed and took a sip tentatively, and blink as the sharpness hit his senses. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

“I think I should’ve prefaced this by saying I’m not the best at mixing drinks.” She winced apologetically. “The ratio might be a little bit off.”

“A little?” He side-eyed her, but raised his cup slightly to toast her. “Thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you for coming.” She met his cup halfway.

He wanted to kiss her senseless—and from the way she hovered, shifting on his heels and stared at his lips, he’d guessed she wanted to do that, too. But the room around them still felt too… mild, too sober, and he couldn’t handle the prying eyes. Not when he’d grown so used to being alone with her. So he joined her and her friends, listening to their plans for next semester.

Well.

Until Eden got whisked away, leaving the three of them in favor of song and dance as they played a Motown musical number over the sound system. The conversation halted for a moment as they watched and nodded along to the familiar tune.

(Familiar for them, of course, not for Bruce. He was just happy to watch her sing along and reenact a dance routine with two guys who were definitely not the Dreamgirls.)

“So Bruce, how’s life outside the theater’s treating you?” Angela piped up, snapping him out of his reverie. 

“Well,  it’s finals week, so… busy. But you know, quieter.”

She nodded knowingly.

“Yeah, we were, like, belting fucking Sondheim at, like, 9 in the morning.” Kola huffed. “It was rough.”

“Ugh.” Angela rolled her eyes and turned to Bruce. “Actors, am I right?”

Bruce stammered. The only thing he could relate with that was the time he woke up to Eden making those funny humming, trilling noises in the bathroom for warm-up. Was it too early to disclose that they were having sleepovers?

“Bitches, besties!” Laura suddenly joined them, popping up between Angela and Kola, a bit tipsy. Guess who’s dressing A Doll’s House at the Rep next month! So I guess I’ll be seeing you, Madame Stage Manager.”

The two girls squealed and hugged, and Bruce suddenly remembered what Eden said to him on the first day of tech: it was never just about a show. It could be a gig, a collaboration, another project to keep them in this neverending rat race a little longer. 

“That’s awesome! I auditioned for that.” Kola stared down his drink pensively. “They said ‘Hard pass.’”

“Aww, you don’t even like period shit.” Angela wrapped her arm around her friend in comfort.

“I liked our Hamlet,” he said lamely.

“Yeah, but this one isn’t like ‘period’ period, you know? Like, it’s not… stuffy. I mean, not to suck our own dick or anything, but…” Angela trailed off, eyes scanning over them for validation.

And Laura was right there for her. “Nah, we nailed it with this one. I couldn’t fucking stand Hamlet before this, but our version? All the female rage? Fuck yeah.”

“I just feel like we should accept the fact that Shakespeare, in its true form, is boring now. Nobody wants to watch people in big frocks, speaking in big words for like 4 hours. And it’s fine! We don’t have to like that shit anymore. We like badass corsets and queer relationships and dick jokes and sassy comebacks. And that doesn’t cheapen Shakespeare; that keeps him relevant, and frankly, that’s what we should be focusing on, instead of sucking the dick of some dude who’s been dead 400 years.”

The three of them stared wide-eyed at Kola, watching him take a casual swig of his drink after his unexpected hot take, all 5’7 of athletic muscles and nerd rage.

“Holy shit, you’re right.” Bruce blurted out.

“Thank you!” Kola lifted his red cup, knocking it softly with Bruce’s—and he found himself drinking to that, too.

Angela was still quiet, though. Thoughtful. “Yeah, but it’s hardly fair to say all historically-accurate adaptations are shit, right? Like, some people just happen to like period pieces, you know?”

“Fuck off with your contrarian shit, Ang! Bruce—back me up here.”

“Uh…” Bruce paused, scrambling for a response. “I think neither is mutually exclusive?”

“Well, that’s a lukewarm take if I’ve ever heard one,” Laura remarked. “Come on, man. Humor us.”

“Honestly? I… like those period pieces, too. I really do. This reimagined version we did was new to me and it’s… pretty eye-opening.”

It felt like a fever dream. Bruce never would have thought he would be engrossed in a conversation about Shakespeare adaptation at some theater cast party, which led to more drinks, which led to tequila shots with this merry band of misfits… and actually enjoying it.

Eden occasionally joined them for a chat and a drink—he suspected it’s mostly to check on him and make sure he’s not feeling ignored. And while it was sweet of her, he also enjoyed watching her do her thing. Sometimes singing along to whatever song they were playing, sometimes simply vibing and cheering on whoever was taking the lead. Sometimes just…

Standing on the coffee table now with Marc, arm-in-arm, raising their drinks, leading the crowd to the big Latin number. And straight out of a movie, people were spontaneously singing and harmonizing to the ensemble lines in Spanish. These theater kids never ceased to amaze Bruce.

And as the beat dropped, they hopped off the table and danced. Despite the close proximity—all the spins and the turns— Bruce didn’t feel a pang of jealousy like he did with her ex-girlfriend. On the contrary, he was simply enthralled. She was truly at home in her body. In the heat, the beat, the people all around her.

And why wouldn’t she be? She was surrounded by people who had made a home out of this little corner of life, too.

“So, what are you up to next semester, Bruce?” Laura asked him.

“I don’t know, just… trying to graduate in time, I guess.” He shrugged. It sounded a lot less exciting than what they had lined up, and he didn’t realize he was a bit… miffed as he said it out loud?

“You can always join us again. The Costume Department’s always open. Or maybe you wanna try something else?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Bruce smiled sheepishly. “I appreciate it, though.”

“I’m serious. Hamlet was a trial by fire, and you handled it really well for your first time.”

“Whose first time?” Eden showed up, resting her chin on Bruce’s shoulder, and he nearly passed out from sheer shock and panic that she might have slipped on by talking about his first time. But she wrapped her arm around his middle, and the group was considerably more interested in this new public display of affection.

“Ooh, what is this?” Kola motioned between them. “Bruce, did she finally Shake your Speare?”

“Yeah, did you finally go Ham on her Let?” Angela added.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmured into his drink, completely horrified.

His survival instinct should’ve kicked in moments ago and told him to run for his life, but somehow, even as the group made puns out of their expense, turning him beet red, Bruce didn’t feel like running away. Despite everything, they’re laughing with him, not at him. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but he wondered if, perhaps, there was room in these people’s home —Eden’s home— for him, too.

***

ACT FOUR

Gotham City, Bruce’s true home, was quiet. Cold. All too vast in the dining room where he and Alfred had their Christmas dinner, and the halls they wandered through in their own time—dark and desolate in its Gothic nature. But all too cramped and chaotic as he weaved through the streets and back alleys in his beat-up Honda CB, the city too grotesque, too… somber.

Bruce’s phone buzzed in his pocket, twice, just as he worked on the Corvette in the spacious garage basement of the Wayne Tower. He rolled out from under the car, wiping the oil grease off of his hand before he opened the text.

‘Say hello to my new friend!’ Eden’s message said, with a selfie to go with it. She sported a toothy grin, wavy hair blowing in the wind, pointing at a green crab in the sand by the shoreline. A true embodiment of a ray of summer sun on a gloomy winter day.

“Since when d’you text?” Alfred commented.

“Dunno,” Bruce hummed absentmindedly, typing a reply. ‘Ugh, extroverts. Can’t relate.’

She texted back immediately, ‘You’re just jealous you’re not A) at the beach and B) hanging out with me right now,’ with another selfie — this time laying on a beach towel, throwing a peace sign as if her yellow bikini didn’t draw his eyes right into her cleavage and her curves weren’t angled in the exact way he fucked her before he drove her to the airport two weeks ago.

And the worst part of it all? She was right on all counts.

Bruce bit back a smile, forcing himself to look away from the screen because he would definitely pitch a tent if he looked a little too long. It was just his luck that he happened to meet Alfred’s gaze peering from behind the hood, secretly (but also, not so secretly) elated by this new development.

“So I take it you made a friend, huh?”

“Hn.”

“What’s she like?”

“She? That’s presumptuous,” Bruce grumbled, tucking his phone back into his pocket. But Alfred raised his eyebrows at him as if saying he wasn’t born yesterday, and he found himself rolling back and forth in his spot on the wheeled slider. And then… “But she’s alright.”

The older man kept his voice even and his gleeful grin at bay, for which Bruce was somewhat grateful. “And where is she now?”

“Back home in Hawaii.”

“Huh. I hear Hawaii is great this time of year.”

Bruce tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Hawaii’s great any time of the year. That’s why they have a rainbow on their license plate.”

Alfred actually snorted this time —he never recalled this proper British gentleman ever responding to his remark in such a… juvenile way. “And what does Gotham have?”

“I don’t know, rain and—” he motioned around the garage, “Home, I guess.”

“Yeah, what else is new,” Alfred dryly noted. Then, leaning back against the bumper of the car,. “Hawaii, on the other hand… You’ve never been, have you?”

Bruce side-eyed him, an all-too-familiar, non-verbal look that meant, where are you going with this?

“I’m just saying,” Alfred started, “Enjoy the sun, drive a car with a rainbow license plate on it.” He returned the side-eye right back at the younger man. “Hang out with your friend.”

Bruce was ready to brush it off. It was simply something he didn’t use to do —but then again, neither was texting. And as much as he wanted to make another counterargument, his phone buzzed again in his pocket. Alfred returned his attention to the engine in front of him, as if he’d made his point, and it somehow felt worse than being looked straight in the eye.

“It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy yourself every once in a while, you know.”

***

Bruce had a very particular way of texting, which Eden found endearing. He retained that placid —at times seemingly aloof— tone, but his dry humor shined through over a higher word count than his usual spoken conversations and came up at the most random times.

One message came in just as she dried herself off after an early morning surf.

‘Alfred just went on vacation and he doesn’t trust me enough to NOT set the house on fire, so… wanna hang out?’

Eden frowned at the screen. The lack of emoji didn’t usually bother her, but this time, she wasn’t sure if he was fucking with her or not. ‘Wtf are you talking abt?’ she replied.

Her phone dinged twice —first with an incoming picture of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the back porch of a house, pristine blue water gleaming in the background; and then a location pin, merely 15 minutes away from her house. No caption, no context whatsoever. And yet, Eden understood it just enough —she always did with Bruce. 

‘NO WAY!!!’ she texted back immediately, and then added, ‘Send me a selfie so I know you’re not an axe murderer trying to lure me into your trap.’

The three-dotted bubble hovered in their chat window for a few seconds, and then disappeared. Popped up, and then it was gone again. Eden couldn’t help but picture him trying to protest, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he typed up and deleted his response. She was certain she was gonna get a sardonic Bruce-esque quip in the reply, but instead, she received something better.

Another picture of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach. But this time, Bruce was there, squinting in the sun, lips pulled up —is that a smile he was attempting?—, his sweater hoodie pulled up to the top of his head. God, he was adorable.

‘Don’t fucking go anywhere.’ Eden’s thumbs were frantic against her phone screen and she stuffed all of her belongings into her bag and hauled her surfboard onto her car.

She loved the unhurried pace of her home island. Time moved slower on Maui and so did she. It was an ordinary Tuesday morning and the cars cruised along the road like they had nowhere to be… and Eden would have enjoyed it on any other day. Any other day, God, but this. When this peculiar, funny, handsome boy happened to show up just minutes away from her house, nearly 5,000 miles from where he lived.

She held back from honking the horn on every car in her way along the main road. Instead, she kept her mind occupied with some questions. Yes, she did wish he was here since she arrived, but did she think he was actually gonna do it? And now that he did, what then? Should she bring him home to her parents? That sounds so serious, she cringed at the idea. Oh God, what does this make us?!

“Your destination is on the right,” the navigation AI on her phone startled her. Eden nearly jumped out of her seat and missed the driveway, tucked between palm trees and shrubberies.

A black Porsche Cayman was already parked outside the villa. The white exterior was simple —modest, almost, but the tall glass windows and the sheer size of the building gave away its true luxury. Eden had to remind herself to slow down, give herself time to collect her own thoughts. But as she climbed up the steps to the entrance, Bruce emerged from the front door, wearing the same gray hoodie he took the selfie in, just with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose bridge this time. He sheepishly waved at her.

Her heart grew three sizes at the sight of him, and yet the first thing that flew out of her mouth was, “You fucking bitch!”

His hand, still held up, was now alert. “Look, I can explain.”

She stopped, just a few steps away from him. “Explain, then.”

“I know it’s…” he took off his sunglasses. “It’s a lot. And… I hope you don’t find it creepy—”

“When did you fly out here?”

“12 hours ago.”

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

He paused. “Remember when you were texting me about the green crab?”

Eden did the math. There’s only a couple of hours gap between his decision and his departure.  “Right, I forgot you were stinkin’ rich.”

“Are you mad?”

He sounded so quiet, so timid, and it had only just dawned on her how new this was for him, too. How nerve-wracking. “Of course I’m not mad,” she immediately brushed it off, closing the distance so she could hold him in her arms again —oh, how good it was to have him in her arms again. “You’re just… gah!”

There was disbelief in her tone, maybe frustration, but it wasn’t the slightest bit venomous. Instead, she pulled him into a kiss. Fervent, as the weight of separation in the last two weeks had been lifted off of her shoulders. Amorous, as the weight of her… feelings set in. The fondness. The longing. The yearning of everything she remembered —his kiss, his touch, his presence— and everything she couldn’t have possibly memorized no matter how much she wanted to. 

The softest scent that lingered on his clothes and his person. The pattern he drew on the small of her back. The ever so surprising strength of him as he hoisted her legs around his waist and carried her into the house.

He set her down on the oversized couch, kneeling between her legs. A silhouette of sharp nose and sharper jawline backlit against the late-morning sun streaming in from the French doors behind him. She wanted to admire him so bad, to get the offending sweater and the pants out of the way. To immerse herself in his lean frames, the taut lines of his collarbones, his torso, the grooves on his hips. Instead, he just… stilled.

“What.”

“I like this.” His finger traced the front of Eden’s rashguard, ghosting at her teasing neckline. Hovering over the zipper tentatively as if asking for permission.

She tutted impatiently, pulling it down to reveal the electric blue bikini top underneath. Peeling the outer layer off and shimmying out of her pants. And throughout all of this, Bruce still stood by, shamelessly ogling her. She playfully kicked him in the back of his thigh. “Take your clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tugged the sweater off over his head and leaned in to kiss her again, like he was still craving more of her (she couldn’t blame him, she also hadn’t had enough. She’s not sure she ever would.)

The straps behind her neck and in the middle of her back came undone with one pull, and Bruce was all over her newly-exposed tits. Reacquaint himself with her ribcage tattoo as if he didn’t commit every line, every stroke of color to memory. Fluttering as he knocked the wind out of her with every line, every stroke of his fingers on her slick cunt.

After spending most of their last couple of weeks at school together, Eden thought they’d get it out of their system. The novelty of it all. But the sun never shined on Bruce’s pale skin like this. It never streamed in from their dorm room windows quite so warmly in the New Haven winter. They’ve never had this much room to themselves, not having to worry about noises and next door neighbors.

It was just the two of them, naked and hidden away at the same time in this tiny pocket of a cove.

She’d never been shy about anything ever, but somehow the heat got to her cheeks when she heard her own obscene moan reverberate through the entire first floor, over the sharp slapping of skin as Bruce pounded into her through her orgasm. Arching into him to take all of him deep inside, two weeks of pent-up release and all.

“Okay?” he tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

His breathing was heavy, too, but his hand on her back was soothing. He kissed her shoulder and neck, barely —mostly just nuzzling his whole face against her like the gentlest creature she’d ever known. And he truly was a gentle thing. She loved that about him.

And for the first time, she entertained the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she loved him, too.

“I…” she started. “I’m glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t what she was gearing up for, but it would have to do.

For now.

***

ACT FIVE

I’m glad you’re here.

Those four words kept playing on loop in Eden’s head as they made out half-asleep on the couch. Standing under the rain shower in the main bathroom (Well, he was standing; she was on her knees, gagging on his cock.) Giggling in the kitchen as they attempted —and failed— to recreate the Beanjamin’s famous grilled cheese for breakfast. Dipping their toes in the sand, leisurely wading into the shallow waters behind the villa.

She meant every word, sure, but that wasn’t all she meant to say. It’s one word less, but weighs more than what she could imagine. But she couldn’t say it. Not now. Not when things were so nice and quiet and good.

“You know you don’t have to spend all your time with me here, right?”

Eden threw him a funny look, hiding the sudden spike of worry inside. “It’s been, like, half a day. Are you kicking me out already?”

“No! God, no. I know that —I mean, you must’ve made plans, right? With your friends and your family while you’re home. I’m just saying…” he took a deep breath, trying to gather his words —and in doing so, gathered her in his arms, too. “You should still do that. I’ll be fine.”

She hummed, not disagreeing. “And what are you gonna do while I’m away?”

“I don’t know, see the sights? Hike? Snorkel?” Bruce looked out at the horizon, where the sea met the sky, and the trees fringing on the side. 

“Snorkel? I didn’t even know you could swim.” Eden grinned at the thought of Bruce swimming with little fish. They found a whole throng of turtles just off of his back deck and he nearly lost his mind over excitement —as much excitement as his range of expressions allowed, anyway.

He made a face, incredulous and just a little offended. “Of course I can swim.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I can get you a floatie if you want. I think I saw a flamingo one back at the house.”

“Fuck you…” he giggled —a sound so bright and warm that she couldn’t resist being infected by it, even as he attacked her with tickles on her side.

“No, fuck you, Brucie.” She struggled to keep his hands off, even weaving in some pokes on his waist as well, getting into a play-wrestle until they tumbled into the water. Eden came out on top, laughing victoriously as Bruce’s eyes squeezed shut as a wave crashed into his head from behind. “You sure you don’t want the floatie?”

He splashed her right in the face.

Eden had never seen such color in Bruce, such life, and she hoped it would stick around. Happiness looked good on him.

***

Bruce would never admit this to Alfred or Eden, but coming to Hawaii was a huge gamble. He couldn’t remember the last time he went on vacation out of his own volition. He did remember the last time he went to the beach; 14 years ago with his parents. He couldn’t remember if it was this place or somewhere in Southeast Asia, and he regretted that the memory was lost on him.

Part of him was terrified setting foot in the sand would set off an ugly chain of reaction. He was worried that he would be overcome with loss —everything he’d buried in the back of his mind. But he liked the warmth, he liked having the turtles in his backyard —even though one of them bit him in the ankle on the second day and seemed to develop a personal vendetta against him. And Eden was right there to ease him into it.

At this point, he’s pretty sure she could talk him into anything. She successfully talked him into drinking coconut straight out of its shell (which was awesome), surfing (which was awful and he came out bruised and sunburned), and a beach rave on New Year’s Eve (which was… not as bad as he expected.)

“I could get used to this,” Bruce piped up, unsure if he meant the sun and the beach… or playing house with Eden, eating pancakes for dinner on the daybed as the sun set before them.

“Mm, I think you’re having the Last Day syndrome.”

“What’s that?”

“Your vacation’s about to end and you kinda wish you could stay just a little longer —or even like, move here— but trust me, you don’t.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Because it’s an escape. The moment you give it more time than it actually has, it stops being a vacation and it just becomes… your life. And you might grow to resent it.”

They were quiet again. And once again, Bruce was not sure if she was talking about Hawaii or him.

“Then again, maybe a vacation is just what you needed. Remind you of what’s important,” she lightly said through a mouthful of pancakes.

She turned to him then, and her gaze nearly made his heart burst. The light hit her face just right, all tanned and golden. The saltwater made waves in her hair, and a cheeky smirk tickled the corner of her lips. In that moment, he knew what was important. And as she opened her mouth, so did he.

“Like wearing enough sunscreen —what?”

“I love you.”

Bruce froze. The smile on Eden’s mouth fell. And he thought it was over. This blissful honeymoon period, the whole fucking situationship between them… done. And it’s up to him to salvage whatever’s left of it. 

If he could still salvage it.

“I’m sorry. Fuck. Forget I ever said anything —”

“No, wait. Hold up.” She sat right up, and Bruce had never been more terrified in his life. “Do you mean that?”

“I don’t know.” That was completely untrue, he does know if he means it. “Yes!” He went way too big, and she could totally hear the overcompensation in his tone. “I think so.”

“You think so?” her eyebrows shot up.

Great, now he sounded like a dick. “Wait, that’s not what I meant. I… Look. I’ve never —”

“Been with anyone, I know. You were a blushing virgin when we met,: she huffed playfully.

He groaned. “Can we not?”

“And this has nothing to do with dating experience whatsoever. I just… I just wanna know if this is the Last Day syndrome talking, or if this is… it.” 

Bruce had no idea how to answer that. He wanted it to be true, but he had no way of knowing which one was wishful thinking and which one was plain old fact. And Eden had no way of knowing how desperately he wanted it to be it.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he eventually said. A relent. Acceptance.

Defeat.

“I know I don’t.” She took a heavy breath, looking out at the horizon. It’s mostly dark now. “I want to, though.”

“Really?”

Eden nodded tentatively. “I just need to figure out if this is it. I hope you understand that.”

“Right. Of course.” And with that, Bruce nodded back, straightening up, giving her some space —well, as much space as they could allow in this daybed. It’s funny how massive it felt before the elephant in the room got between them.

But Eden closed the distance again, planting a kiss on his lips —nothing but warmth between them— and said, “But I really hope it is.”

And God, they really hoped it was enough.

[thepetrichorcollective]

Alters looking for sourcemates

feel free to interact even if youre not a sourcemate!

Undertale/Deltarune:

Sans

Ralsei

Undyne

TOH

Luz (host)

Eda

Amity

Danganronpa

Makoto

Aoi

Overwatch

Hanzo

Jesse

Genji

Tracer (host)

Dva/Hana

Aoi Shimada (oc)

Jack/Soldier 76

Pharah

Mei

Lucio

Youtube

Jacksepticeye/Sean

Corpse Husband

KallMeKris

Riley

Kristina

Mystic Messanger

707

'mc' (host)

Yoosung

Hades the game

Hypnos

Achilles

Meg/Styx (host)

dusa

Arcane

Ekko

Jinx/powder (host)

the arcana

asra

portia

nadia

julian

lucio

apprentice (host)

Faust

critical role campaign 1

pike

vax

keyleth + cassandra (host)

Scanlan

CR campaign 2

jester

molly

nott

beau (host)

yasha

Mha/Bnha

katsuki

apollo (dabi)

shoto (host)

denki

mina

jiro

momo

marvel

thor

valkyrie/wanda/layla (host)

khonshu

carol

Sif

dc

dick/nightwing

rachel/raven

kaldur

wally/kf

artemis

poison ivy

connor

black manta

harley/barbara/kori (host)

Jason todd

fire emblem

camila

corrin (host)

elise

she-ra

entrapta

bow

double trouble

scorpia

catra (host)

Adora

wrong hordak

stranger things

Will

El (host)

Tales of arcadia

jim

claire/douxie (host)

toby

AAARRRGGHH

Blinky

Strickler

Barbara

not Enrique

merlin

krel

TLOK

Asami

Korra (host)

MLP

Apple bloom

Sweetie Belle

transformers

Knockout

bee/soundwave (host)

Arcee

RVB

Tex/Maine/479er (host)

north

south

tucker

carolina

minnesota

rhode island

york

theta

delta

omega/o'mally

simmons

grif

caboose

Eta

Iota

Sigma

wyoming

Subnautica

Al-an

Robin (host)

RWBY

ruby

Yang (host)

qrow

blake

weiss

jaun

pyrrha

nora

ren

neptune

sun

Adam

Cinder

Oz

Neo

Mercury

HXH

Killua

Alluka

7DS

Elaine

Ban

King

Meliodas

Hawk

Elizabeth

Gowther

Merlin

Diane

Dragon Prince

Rayla

Ezran

Aaravos

Callum (host)

Claudia

Soren

Carmen Sandiego

Agent Devineaux

HTTYD

Astrid

Hiccup (host)

Sucker for love

Nyan

Monster prom

Zoe

Pokemon

Delcatty

James (host)

Pichu

Umbreon

Sylveon

Missmagius

MortalKombat

Cassie

Smoke

Res E

Chris

Jill (host)

Claire

Watch Dogs

wrench

sitara

josh

Clara

t-bone/ray

horatio

marcus

Genshin

childe

zhongli

aether (host)

lumine

paimon

venti

albedo

kaeya

diona

xiangling

lisa

hu tao

thoma

Monster high

Cawdeen

Clawd

draculaura (host)

Hetalia

england

canada (host)

Star wars

Padme

ahsoka (host)

Obi wan

JJK

nobara

panda

sukuna

The quarry

Ryan

Kaitlyn

Dylan

Abi(host)

JATP

Reggie

Luke

Jules (host)

Black Butler

Sebastian

Grelle

Ciel/Astre(host)

Ciel(Lyric)

TUA

Viktor

klaus (host)

Murder drones

Uzi

N

FNAF

Vanessa (host)

Phineas and ferb

vanessa

perry

/ngels of death

zack

rachel (host)

Artists

Ashnikko

Eddsworld

Tom

list may be updated in the future!! feel free to ask for someone specific or for other sources not listed! this isnt a full list of our introjects but its a huge chunk of our system

[birlwrites]

Okay so more questions fjsbsjsjsj: Who is your favorite OC in ttdl and why? Ramble to us about themmmmm

HMMMMMMMMMM

alright i have to say i've been obsessed with priam lately - i think my favorite OC is likely to change a lot depending on who i'm thinking about at any given time, because there was also a period in which i was obsessed with heather. geoff always deserves better and megan is always fun. but i haven't talked about priam much so i'm gonna do that here!

priam is one of the people who would have been contenders to take over the dark arts study group after horatio nott if regulus hadn't jumped in and seized it. he's not bothered by this because he is pretty chill for a slytherin - if regulus wants to run the study group and be liable for everything that happens there, so be it, priam is fine with that

BUT. he was not always so chill. actually he was always pretty chill with regard to dark arts. but he was a huge neurotic mess for uh. let's call it a year or so. because of his embarrassingly massive crush on heather. it was disastrous. she knew about it for months he's lucky she found it endearing

but by the time that ttdl starts they've been dating for a while (a couple of years which is ETERNAL for teenagers) so he's considerably more relaxed around her

okay now on to my favorite thing about priam which is his absolutely shit eyesight!!! i'm joking but also i'm not. i can feel my vision getting worse so i really relate to him afjslghskfjslskjf

my actual favorite thing about priam is actually more about his family magic. he's a parkinson, which means he deals with enchanted/cursed objects. he has this super cool workshop at home that definitely has all sorts of magical gizmos and cool shit - also the wood for his wand came from a grove of trees on the grounds of the parkinson estate

ON TO HIS GLASSES WHICH ARE THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS

so priam actually has 3 pairs of glasses, but to anyone who isn't a parkinson, he appears to only have 1. they are completely identical... unless you can see the enchantments on them. which most parkinsons can!

the reason priam needs enchanted glasses is specifically *because* he can see magic. (he also needs glasses in general but like, this is why they're enchanted.) it's not like the blacks, who can feel the presence/absence of magic (more on that in a few chapters) - parkinsons can see *acts* of magic. so, spells, enchantments, runes, wandwork, potions (yes potions tend to be visible to all, but parkinsons can tell what they do)

different parkinsons have different strengths when it comes to this - some find certain types of magic easier than others to identify. they can train their eyesight - to develop a particular skill, switch around between types of magic more easily, or just get more dextrous with it in general. they are working on figuring out a way to train their eyesight to be Less Fucking Nearsighted (the eye strain struggles are REAL, and also it's a side effect of the parkinsons choosing, magically speaking, to focus on the fine details)

so, priam's glasses. as i said, he needs them because he is nearsighted. the reason he has 3 pairs with varying levels of enchantment is so he can have varying levels of blocking out magic, because he lives at magic school surrounded by magic students who constantly do magic when they're not supposed to and that's not even taking into consideration the enchanted portraits and all the spellwork they do in class and--anyway priam needs enchanted glasses so he's not super overstimulated all the time

(like - enchanted portrait? priam sees the magic. moving photos in the newspaper? he sees the magic. schoolwork? cosmetic charms? basically every single book? enchanted quills and candy? how is he not constantly in the middle of a meltdown? special glasses.)

so he has his Work Glasses (just plain regular unenchanted ones, for when he needs to see everything), his Everyday Glasses (dim the magic halfway - he can see it, but it's subtle), and his I'm So Tired Of This Shit Please Make It Stop Glasses (block the magic out entirely, which feels weird to priam because he's used to just. *seeing* way more, so that's why he uses the halfway ones as his day-to-day glasses - some of his family members block out the magic entirely by default because they don't want to deal with that shit).

priam pretty much always wears the third pair in classes where there's a lot of magic flying around, but it's not dangerous enough for him to want to keep an eye on it - charms is a good example

the glasses are identical to non-parkinson eyes/without a magical examination, but priam can tell them apart super easily just by looking at the vibes (when he's not wearing his complete-blocker ones). he only has one glasses case, but it uses an undetectable expansion charm and some other magic and stuff so it can store all his glasses while making it look like he only has one pair - like, you know how on a ferris wheel, there are multiple cars/carriages/whatever, but only one of them is on the bottom at a time and they rotate? that's what the glasses case is like, except you can't see the glasses that aren't in the front position, and the glasses in the front position look like they're the only ones in the case. SO priam can carry around all his glasses at once in case he needs to switch, which he usually does under the guise of needing to clean them, as he has 3 actually identical cleaning cloths in his glasses case

AND at home in his funky workshop he also has... you guessed it.... EVEN MORE GLASSES!!!!! and just more eyewear in general, like there are goggles and such. they all do different things - emphasize certain types of magic and deemphasize others, magnify vision and such. and they also have corrective lenses because, again, he's nearsighted as shit

ADDITIONALLY another fun thing priam and his family can do is 'zoom in' on their vision and do things on that scale. this is either a skill they can practice or a handy-dandy set of goggles they can use to help, made by them. you know how when you zoom in on a digital drawing, you can make changes on a much smaller scale than when you're at 100%? that's how it works. for a parkinson, magnifying their vision allows them to navigate the world on that level. like suddenly, priam can draw polka dots on an ant

it doesn't really work the other way around - like, if you 'zoom out' your vision, suddenly everything looks super distorted as your eyes and brain try to fill in new stuff, and it's just super disorienting, so not a skill they try to cultivate

also, you remember miles mckinnon, marlene's cousin in third year who is now in regulus's study group? he's decided priam is now his role model for all things magic, and where miles goes, his pack of slightly hazardous loud friends follows. priam is trying to prevent this from becoming a problem because he takes lab safety responsible magical experimentation very seriously

final priam thoughts: the greatest tragedy about him as a character is that due to his milieu he has no idea what a rube goldberg machine and thus does not realize he could make the most LEGENDARY ones ever. i am saddened

[wizarddogs]

The Granger Family / The Lost Branch of The Black Family

Bellatrix Pegasus Black XV is the squib daughter of Pollux Betelgeuse Black XIII. She and her twin brother Cygnus were born in 1928. After the Black family threw her out for being a squib, she changed her name to Beatrice Pegasus Granger. Her best friend was a muggle named Hubert Hugh Hughes, who taught her about the muggle world. She taught Hugo about magic and royalty. Several years later she started going by her middle name, Pegasus.

They fell in love, got married, and Hugo took Pegasus’s last name. Pegasus and Hugo became mages and wanted to live in the wizarding world, but mages were illegal preventing them from living normal life. Their anger at this injustice led them to robbing the Ministry of Magic several times.

After Pegasus’ older sister, Walburga, attempted to murder Pegasus and Hugo, they returned to the muggle world. They moved back to Hugo’s birth town of Pentref Coedwig (Welsh for Forest Village) in North Wales.

The only one of Pegasus’ siblings who didn’t disown her was her younger brother Alphard. Alphard did not believe in blood supremacy and was hiding his marriage to Minerva McGonagall from most of his family. Pegasus and Hugo allowed Alphard and Minerva to build a semi-independent flat in their attic. Minerva lived there during the summer and Alphard to keep their marriage hidden bounced between different relatives’ houses.

After moving back to Pentref Coedwig, Pegasus and Hugo had three sons: Antigonus in 1959, Florizel in 1961, and Dogberry in 1963. Pegasus and Hugo told their sons about magic and when they turned eleven started teaching them how to use enchanted items and brew potions.

When Florizel was fourteen he was injured and while recovering he developed an interest in healing. He sought to have dual training in both muggle medical school and as a wizarding healer apprentice. He decided dentistry was the most interesting medical profession.

A year or so later, Alphard broke ties with most of his family and permanently moved in with Pegasus and Hugo.

While Antigonus was dating Elen Awbrey, they decided to set Florizel up with her cousin Jean Awbrey, who was also interested in becoming a dentist. Florizel and Jean hit it off and started dating. They made plans to attend the same university so they would stay together in college.

The spring before they started college, Jean discovered that she was pregnant. Florizel and Jean married in the summer. In September 1979, Jean delivered her daughter, Hermione. Pegasus, Hugo, Alphard, and Minerva offered to help raise her so Florizel and Jean could stay in university. Florizel and Jean named Alphard and Minerva as Hermione’s godparents.

Antigonus and Elen married. Their first son, Dromio was born in 1982. Both Florizel and Antigonus decided that not telling their wives about magic was the best idea. Their primary reasons for not explaining the wizarding world were the civil war, the fact that their parents were legendary criminals, and that their first cousin, Bellatrix was murdering any relatives she deemed un-pure. 

Florizel studied magical healing during summers between college. After finishing medical school, Florizel and Jean set up a dentistry clinic in the city of Bangor in North Wales. Hermione now lived mostly with her parents but still stayed with her grandparents for part of the summer. In October 1985, Florizel and Jean’s second daughter, Hero, was born. 

Antigonus and Elen’s second son, Lysander, was born in 1986. Four years later, Elen died after several months of battling illness. Grief-stricken, Antigonus moved to France. 

In November 1990, Florizel and Jean’s son, Horatio, was born.

When Hermione received her Hogwarts letter, she didn’t know anything about magic or her family’s connections to the magical world. 

Minerva told about magic and the wizarding world; however, she didn’t mention the Granger family ties to the magical world. Additionally, Minerva explained that she is also a witch, but Hermione should not tell anyone, especially Florizel, Jean, and the rest of her family and friends. Minerva also informs Hermione that she is a professor at Hogwarts and it would be best if they pretended not to know each other.

Dromio, in France, received his Beauxbatons letter two years later. While at Beauxbatons, was bullied by the other students for being both British and being the smartest in his year.

Hero and Horatio were staying with Pegasus and Hugo in 1997 when Hermione modified their parents’ memories. Hermione wrote some letters to the rest of her family claiming that Florizel and Jean were working for Doctors Without Borders in Africa and that she was in a foreign exchange program in America. Lysander received his Beauxbatons letter that summer. Hero would have gotten her Hogwarts letter, but Snape’s Hogwarts didn’t admit muggle-borns. 

Alphard got Hero a wand from a French wand-maker and her family started to teach her basic spells. While at Beauxbatons, Lysander became friends with Gabrielle Delacour. 

Around November, Florizel and Jean got their memories back and returned to Great Britain. Florizel started helping his family fight in the war but still refrained from telling Jean anything. The turmoil from moving back into their house and reestablishing their dentistry clinic meant that Hero and Horatio were still living with their grandparents. Florizel believed they were safer with Pegasus and Hugo, anyway.

In March 1998, the Death Eaters launched an attack on Beauxbatons. Dromio broke from his class during the evacuation to warn Lysander and Gabrielle who were studying in an empty room. Dromio retrieved them but couldn’t rejoin the other students before Bellatrix cornered them. She injured all three kids before the teachers rescued them. Dromio had the worst injuries, Gabrielle had the least severe injuries.

The school believed that the primary targets of the attack were Dromio and Lysander and that the best way to protect the rest of the students was to expel them. Antigonus and his sons moved back to Wales and lived with Pegasus and Hugo.

Pegasus, Hugo, Alphard, Antigonus, Florizel, and Dogberry all fought at the battle of Hogwarts.

[talesofphantombandits]

1796

Summary: Narissa was travelling with one Horatio Hornblower, she was heading to her new life with a husband that she had been promised to since the age of six. But when the ship she was traveling on gets commandeered by the Spanish, she joins Horatio and the Duchess to be held captive on the island. There she tends to a young man who is on the brink of death, little did she know then but this man would slowly become the love of her life. Unfortunately there was no way to stop her doomed fate.

Character Pairing: Archie Kennedy/ OC (Narissa McKenna)

Masterlist Here!

Taglist ~

Narissa sighed as she stepped out into the sweet ocean air, she felt like she’d been stuck in her cabin for far too long and so her and the duchess decided to take a little wander around the ship. The Duchess also wanted to find her feet again after being so terribly seasick, but Narissa was more than happy to oblige. But as soon as the Duchess voiced and quite loudly at that about how peckish she was, now that she was feeling so much better. Mr. Hornblower had walked over hurriedly and shushed the pair of them. It was only then that Narissa had taken in her surroundings. Fog, as thick as the black smoke that came from a out of control fire was surrounding them, but it was what Mr. Hornblower had said next that frightened Narissa. They were surrounded by some of the Spanish fleet, this was not going to be good. 

Once they had fully surrounded the ship it was quite obvious that the disguises weren’t going to work, the ship was boarded and we were taken back to land. The men placed in cells, luckily for Narissa and the Duchess a more kind hand was dealt and we got rooms each, both of which were quite comfy. 

They would see Mr. Hornblower every now and again at dinner, the Duchess even had the pleasure of evening walks with him. Narissa on the other hand had to take her morning walks with a random Spanish guard that was obviously not use to walking such lengths for she had to constantly wait for him to keep up. She got so fed up with it that she just said she would get air twice a week instead of everyday. Mr. Hornblower, who had insisted that Narissa call him Horatio from now on had been telling them all tales about an old friend, he’d long thought lost but had discovered him sleeping in the cell they had been put in. Narissa was so intrigued about the whole story and about how fate had brought bother Horatio and his friend back together again. She was however becoming distressed about how apparently increasing sicker his friend, who he mentioned was called Mr. Kennedy was getting. 

It wasn’t until one rainy day when she would actually be able to put a face to the name of Mr. Kennedy, she had been reading a romance novel in her room, no morning walk for her if the sun wouldn’t shine,  when the Duchess had rushed in and informed Narissa that Horatio had brought a half dead Mr. Kennedy inside the main house for medical attention. They both raced to the room where all the chaos was happening to see if they could be of any assistance, and that’s when she saw him. Pale as a ghost, rain still dripping from the tips of his long over grown hair, she froze for only a moment as she felt a strange feeling stir in her. She thought suddenly of love at first sight and if this is what it felt like, she’d been promised to Arthur since she was five years old and was always kept away from all the society balls, while her sister and cousins would go out and enjoy themselves while also getting to feel the joys of falling in love with their own choice of person. With in reason, of course.  She was snapped out of it when two guards rushed in with fire wood, chucking the logs into the fireplace they set fire to them and suddenly a warmth traveled over Narissa, but at the same time she could see Mr. Kennedy start to shake. 

She would watch over him for the next three days, dabbing the sweat off his forehead and making sure he didn’t get cold again, she also read Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ to him every night, it was the only book she had been giving to fill the time she spent here And every night she would accidentally fall asleep in the chair beside his bed. It wouldn’t be until Horatio would come to relive her, gently waking her and telling her to go get some sleep in a comfortable bed, always fearing for her neck and scolding her about how much pain she’d be in the morning. But she didn’t mind, she found that she couldn’t sleep when she wasn’t sitting in the chair next to his bedside, she boiled this down to worry about his condition and if it was to worsen she wouldn’t be there to tend to him. Then again Mr. Hornblower, his good friend was now beside him, so she knew deep down that he’d be just fine. Where had these deep feelings, for someone she hadn’t even said two words to come from? She didn’t know, hell the man wasn’t even conscious yet and didn’t even know she existed, but she just had this strong urge to make sure he was okay. 

Unfortunately she wouldn’t get to see Mr. Kennedy come around, on one of her morning walks her guard had got on her last nerve and she slipped him, running down to the beach. she looked back to see if she’d lost him and it looked like she had, she smiled to herself, finally some peace and quiet and she could finally walk at her own pace and not have to turn and stop every two seconds. She’d nearly got back to the house when slowpoke rounded the corner she was about to take, nearly bumping into each other by the speed he’d taken it, obvious that he’d been frantically looking for her everywhere. She started to giggle which didn’t last long as he grabbed forcefully onto her left under arm.

“God okay! I’m sorry I slipped you but you’re hurting me, let go of my arm and treat me like the lady I am.” Narissa tried to get his hand off her but with no luck, he was stronger. All she got back was some angry Spanish, and unfortunately she wasn’t fluent. 

Once they had got back she was stripped of all her privileges and confined to her room, she was however informed that there was another ship ready to take her and the Duchess the rest of their journey, she had try to negotiate so she could see her patient one last time. For she was the one doing most of the work looking after him but was denied. All night she was kicking herself, why did she have to run off? Why couldn’t she have just put up with that stupid guard for one more day. The next morning her and the Duchess were back on the sea again, Narissa looked back to land sadly, she didn’t even get to say goodbye to Horatio, she would miss him also. They had been sailing for days, what felt like weeks. Every time they thought they were getting somewhere the captain would be spooked by every flag thinking it was a British one, then one day it was and Narissa noticed that they were back where they started. The other ship was approaching fast and even Narissa, with zero sailing skills knew that this wasn’t going to turn out well for them. And she was right, as soon as they where close they had started firing on them, Narissa and the Duchess were told to shelter in their cabin, but both were far too concerned of a sinking so they stayed on deck, but in the lowest place possible, which turned out to be the best possible choice. The sail above them ripped and the next thing they knew they was an almighty crash and they both jolted forward violently, Narissa falling hard onto the wooden deck which was now splinted, she hadn’t even noticed she had been bleeding until the Duchess had come beside her, cupping Narissa’s face in her hands and wiping the trail of blood that threatened to go into her right eye with her sleeve. 

“Thank you.” Narissa said weakly, she felt dizzy and her vision was starting to become blurred, but the Duchess reassured her and kept her awake as they both headed up to the front of the now damaged boat where all the other, remaining crew had gathered. They waited there for about an hour, but it felt like years. They were all getting battered by the rough waves of the storm, Narissa was actually surprised that there were still seven of them left, the waves were so violent that two crew members had nearly gone over board at least twice but both had clung on for dear life to the edge of the ship, if you could even call it that anymore. Finally they all spotted a tiny boat heading toward them, they would have cheered if not for exhaustion  and the fact that they had to keep focus or they would become apart of the sea forever. Narissa’s vision had become darker and she felt like she could loose consciousness at anytime, but she fought her hardest. She told herself that she had one more hurdle, she just had to make it into the boat and the she would be safe to just let the darkness take her. The first man jumped and made it over to the smaller boat, it only then dawned on her what she was going to have to do, luckily the Duchess, in that moment grabbed onto her hand. 

Narissa looked down at their locked hands. “I know that you’re injured and are fighting it, so we’re going to do this together.” Narissa had no words, but she hoped that the weak smile she mustered would tell the Duchess just how thankful she was. 

They waited for instruction on when it was safe to jump, the last thing Narissa remembers was thinking just how familiar the voice of the man shouting the orders was, and then darkness, she doesn’t even remember making it to the boat. The next thing she remembered was the smell of coffee, which was strange. Was she not just in the middle of the sea, fighting for her life in a terrible storm? And yet that was definitely coffee she could smell. Then it dawned on her, was she dead? No she couldn’t be, she didn’t even like coffee so if she was in heaven why would God make her smell that first? Unless she was in hell? 

She opened her eyes and was met with a white celling, she looked around and took in her surroundings as her brain fog cleared. She knew this room, it was familiar because she had spent many days, happily reading sat in front of a log fire. She sat up slowly, her body ached but it was bearable and she was too curious. She pulled back the covers and swung her legs off the bed, taking a moment to make sure she was actually feeling physically ready to stand up. She moved over to the window and peered out, just as she thought. She was back with the Spanish and the bed she was in was the same one Mr. Kennedy had laid in. 

“So, you’re the owner of the little voice in my head that was reading Shakespeare?” Narissa span around so fast that she wobbled a little, Mr. Kennedy who was leaning against the door frame chuckled a little. 

“You heard that?” This was the first time that Narissa could see his eyes, they were the deepest blue she’d ever seen and she had a hard time looking away from them so that she could sit down to steady herself, apparently she wasn’t as stable as she first thought she was.  

Mr. Kennedy smiled and motioned to the seat beside the bed that she had spent many a night in beside him. She nodded her approval and he cam further in the room, taking the seat. “Romeo and Juliet, a good choice.” 

“That’s all they had to give me, more of a ‘Much Ado About Nothing” fan.”  

[groundcontrol21]

I’m about to begin what will likely be a hard, depressing, busy summer for me. To try to keep myself out of spiraling, I’m going to try to dedicate myself to writing (no guarantees, for the aforementioned reasons). Feel free to send me ideas if you have any.

What I’ll write for (give me a shout if you’ve heard of more than two of these):

Black Sails

Merlin

Pride and Prejudice

Yuri on Ice (depends on my motivation, I’m kinda burnt out on this atm)

The Three Musketeers

All Creatures Great and Small

Horatio Hornblower

Ted Lasso

any of the OC’s I’ve created and shared here (yes I know I still owe a finished Jonathan and Sarah fic!)

any historical/period setting (NO high fantasy or nonhuman characters though, sorry)

Could even just be a generic scenario tbh. I’ll do really any non-life-threatening illness but no allergies soz. If in doubt, just send it my way and if it isn’t my thing, I’ll just let ya know.

I’ll reblog with any more things I’ll write for if I think of them!

[timaeuslover001]

Carla Dominguez (OC ) "CSI: Miami" Headcanons

Born February 5, 1957 in Harlem NYC

She is Dominican and Black

Her mother is balck and her father is Dominican.

Her family comes from both the US and Dominican Republic were once slaves, but gained freedom in the 1830s and made a life in the USA.

Her grandfather started a jazz club at the height go the Harlem Renaissance and Passed it down to her father and eventually her.

Horatio and Carla meta at 4 years old at the same pre-school and became instant best friends.

She is the extroverted of the two, New York aggressive (iykyk) but very nice and sweet.

He learned Spanish from her but never picked up on the language. he understood it over time but couldn't speak it. He couldn't roll his R's.

Hasn’t been in many fights but can hold her own.

She taught him how to dance and he even got exposed to latin music through her. Her parents owned a jazz club in Harlem and he and his friends would spend some nights or weekend there dancing at her house or dancing out in front of the club learning how to dance.

Carla became so much more than a friend but became family and they considered him as a son. for him and they gave him so much more valuable than he can ever repay: gave him love, kindness, fun, laughter and good food of course and how to party, but more importantly how a family should be.

She never knew he was being abused until one day , Her father got him a bike at 10 years old and he rode it home, his father was off that day and all she knew is an hr and a half later a a loud bang o n the door she was in the living room with her cousins watching tv and as her father opened the door there was this large red head short haired man , Horatio In the hands of his towering father, as big as their door, Barked at her father about the bike short and quick and threw it, literally threw it on the stoop and drug him back where they came. she was in shock not only as that her first time seeing him but the sheer anger and seeing Horatio in that state, she just clicked it all together.

After that event , her father decided to just keep future presents for Horatio at his house form that point on, they had an extra room usually sued as play room for her cousin but they dubbed it Horatio bedroom and they had parties as

The next time she saw him,He profusely apologized fearful of losing her as a friend , his face red and with tears trying to explain. she never blamed him or was upset. But It was like word vomit for him , he was like that for weeks until she had to tell him to stop. They never spoke about it again.

Carla had chosen to have a Quince over a sweet 16 and Horatio helped her plan and even came up with the color scheme: pink and brown . he regrets util this day lol but at the time it seems like a good idea. He was in a brown with pink vest in the vest toe and Carla in two gowns , one for church and another for the party after which was a pink prairie dress style gown less tules and fluffier so she can dance with a few brown accents and a Tiara. but they had a good time.

3 months later tragedy struck her best friend when his arrests died , allegedly murdered, by Horatio. Something she never believed even after the charges were pressed. All he members her telling is that his father and mother were at it again , and he was in the house and hearing the argument and watching them and seeing his mother hit the floor and then , next thing he woke up in the hospital covered in cuts and bruises and his head hurting. No memory in between.

Her family became legal guardians to Horatio and his brother a year later, it was a long hard fight with the state but they it finally happened. Horatio initially tried to refuse but they isisted plus he didn't want his brother separated from him.

She stuck with hm through it all, even though he still had nightmares and wetted the bed still, had to deal with prying eyes for the rest of high school, she was still there.

She got married on May 3rd 1974 to a tall handsome mocha skin colored black man named David Rayes a tax consultant, who was tall handsome.

She wanted to make Horatio her maid if honor but he vehemently said no, plus he would not have had time as an officer, so she got someone else.

Carla had to be convince several times by him not to fight his ex gf that was getting physical with him.

Carla ended u having 5 children, 3 boys and 2 girls. one if her daughters Kelly, enned up later on pursuing music as a singer and plays several instruments including percussion , piano and guitar.

when Horatio moved to Miami ,she was sad to see him go but she didnt fight him when he left, he looked so emotionally worn out she was the one to get him a Spanish learning audio set and headphones because she knew he would NEED it in Miami.

They had a hard time keeping in touch over the years, more Horatio part than hers but he checked

In every now and then but his life has been a series of uos and downs since then

When he finally got out on trial for his Mirder charge, she testified on his behalf

[dandy-rp]

Fandoms & Muses

Harry Potter - Harry Potter - Ron Weasley - Sirius Black - Hermione Granger - Draco Malfoy - Luna Lovegood

Soul Eater - Soul Evans - Dr. Stein - Maka - Lord Death - Black Star

LET IT DIE - Uncle Death - Player

House MD - Greg House - Dr. Foreman - James WIlson - Thriteen

Criminal Minds - Aaron Hotchner - Spencer Reid - Penelope Garcia - Derek Morgan - David Rossi - Emily Prentiss

My Hero Academia - Izuku Midoriya - Katsuki Bakugou - Snipe - Midnight - Ectoplasm - Fat Gum - Shota Aizawa - Hitoshi Shinso - Hero Killer Stain - Shigaraki - Toga - Mr. Compress - Spinner

CSI: Miami - Horatio Caine - Erik Delco - Ryan Wolfe - Alexx Woods - Time Speedle

Marvel - Bucky - Steve Rodgers - T'Challa - Erik Killmonger - Tony Stark - Stephen Strange - Thor - Loki - Gamora - Peter Parker - Bruce Banner

Demon Slayer

To be added…

OC's - To Be Added...

[wigs-and-wonder]

Happy Birthday, Tatiana and Holly:

Holly and Tatiana Rose have a bad habit of getting into a really big fight right before their birthday—and while a lot has changed since they moved from California to Virginia, it seems that tradition, at least, has stated the same. But is this the year that they both went too far to patch things up, or can their special day be salvaged at all?

 Continuing on with writing the books for my modern, OC-dolls, here we have the fourth book for the Rose twins, Holly and Tatiana, Happy Birthday, Tatiana and Holly! (The link leads to where the books are posted on my AO3 account.)

Holly’s ‘Birthday Outfit’: Reversible halter-top (made from a pattern by Eden Ava Couture), a faux-wrap skirt (pattern attempt by me—have few kinks to work out), and a pair of puppy-faced shoes (ReeRaa was the brand. I bought them a few weeks ago because good LORD my girls needed shoes.) Special bonus: her special doll, a crocheted Black Panther doll, and her cat, Horatio (a webkinz of mine I held onto.)

Tatiana’s ‘Birthday Outfit’: medieval-style gown and cape, both patterns by Read Creations and gold flats (also from the ReeRaa set; not the most historically accurate, but it is supposed to be a child’s costume, and their not always known for their accuracy…) her ‘belt’ and ‘tiara’ are old necklaces form my grandmother’s jewelry box that didn’t quite fit either Mom’s or my usual style. Special Bonus: her special doll, a crocheted Captain America doll (with removable shield!)

 (Other books in the series:)

Book 1: Meet Tatiana and Holly

Book 2: Tatiana and Holly Learns a Lesson

Book 3: Tatiana’s and Holly’s Surprises

 See Also—

Happy Birthday, Alex!

Happy Birthday, Maddie!

[ham0ma]

Watch Dogs OC part 2

Continuation of the post - https://hamomanna.tumblr.com/post/633616051114065922/watch-dogs-oc-well-i-dont-know-who-needs-it

For the second part, I have a fairly abstract scenario. And there are quite a few ideas. Actually a LOT. And I just don't know what to implement, develop, and what to weed out... so I'll paint a purely general picture.

Before the main events WD2, Ann and Aiden spent 2-3 years in San Francisco. During this time, Ann managed to make a name for herself as a Plague Chimera and become a legend as she was soon considered missing. No one knew what she looked like, most of the story (where she came from, when she became a hacker), or where she was. They only knew how she worked, some of her motives, and the mask / avatar in the form of a black leopard (panter) skull. Once again, she had a secure blanket that Aiden had given her, and now she uses it expertly on her own. By the way, in the previous post I forgot to write one important element in Ann's story. After Ann had gotten over Clara's death a little and asked Aiden to be his apprentice, she'd given herself changes in appearance. Specifically, she cut her long hair to pixie and painted it snow-white. She got rid of the glasses that she had been wearing all that time, replacing them with contact lenses. Painted her upper lip black and applied a black eye contour and shadow, (before that, she didn't even paint her eyelashes, yeah) emphasizing her large, light and now tough eyes. She built up strong fangs. Finally, she changed her name to Alianimal{”alien” and “animal”} (yes, yes I know...) thus announcing ''the fall of the Plague Chimera".

The wardrobe has not changed much. The same black tones and the same heavy-soled boots, but now the sweater is bright yellow, and underneath it is a black mask that Ann pulls out and tucks back into her collar when she needs it. The jacket has a very high collar (because of this, it looks a little like a Disney villain) and ‘’Fox’’ symbol on back. In general, she has more pockets and belts on which she carries ammunition, such as a pistol, stun gun, bombs, knives, syringes, etc.

OF COURSE she will be in THAT DedSec team. How... At first, I thought that Aiden would somehow force her to work with them, "to unwind", although Ann was very much against it. She has no desire to deal with "these teenagers!" (she is 24-old now yeah). But the Fox persuaded her.

But now I like this version better: For one reason or another, Ann had to work with T-Bone. And soon they went to a festival in the desert. That's how Ann gets into the team, as a bonus to the Legend.

And here time to describe the "new" character of Ann and how it works with others.

As before, she is still nervous, anxious, cautious, distrustful, depressed, self-critical, defiant, proud, honest, ironic, sarcastic, smart and greedy for knowledge BUT now she has become self-confident. And from the usual whiner, she became... Stoic-whiner :D

And I can see how, at the start, she showed herself to be a haughty, prideful woman who, from the very doorstep, poked DedSec's noses into their mistakes related to the workplace, their methods and planning, as if she were some kind of inspector. She was mostly do it with Marcus and Wrench. Sometimes T-Bone was also have a hit too. It was a good thing that despite the fact that Sitara didn't like this gesture either, the girls quickly got along. Ann soon ceased to engage in harsh criticism, and Sitara did not forbid her to scold someone sometimes. Ann found in Sitara just a gorgeous woman with whom she has many of the same interests and views. She did not have a problem to call her ''sister'', although she still kept a certain mental distance.

With Josh she just didn't want to fight, and neither with Horatio. For a long time, Wrench would be an uncouth, vulgar, annoying asshole in her eyes. How did Sitara even allow this crazy monkey to be on their team?! Only Sitara's belief that he is a good hacker and not such a bad person will sometimes change Ann's anger to mercy (she cares about people, no matter how disgusting they may be to her, but she is also practical). And Marcus... Ooo-ho-ho! It's hot here! Ann had been a leader since she was a baby. Although she never aspired to be a leader. It happened by itself. But now that she feels like an alpha, she sees in Marcus… The wrong colleague. To Ann, he's a sycophant, a flatterer. No, don't get it wrong, she appreciates all the merits of Marcus and does not consider him a bad person. But she is annoyed by his naivety and that he is all so sweet, and acts exclusively according to the carrot method. She is an adherent of using both methods at the right moments, that why next to Marcus she wakes up a burning desire to use a VERY large stick. Well, just a duet of a good and a bad cop! But they don't always work together… And it will be one of the main conflicts of the story that will move the plot and the arc of these two.

Speaking specifically about Ann, the main goal in this part is for her to stop feeling useless and learn to trust people all over again. At least few of them. Or, at least, not to let Clara down…

But the clouds are gathering over Ann, and she risks letting down not only Clara or Aiden, but herself as well.

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And there will also be a lot of introspection on Ann's part in the story... It won't just be Ann talking to herself in her head... OK, I'm not write about it now. There can be MANY descriptions. If you want, I will write an additional post about it.

AND, OF COURSE, 1) I really want to write a moment in the story where suddenly there will be a rumor in San Francisco that the Plague Chimera, a Haker of Mind has appeared! And the team will want to find the hacker. Would he join their team? That would be SO COOL! Another Chicago hacker! As if in a game to make an alliance with two mini-bosses! But Ann would be against it. She doesn't want to reveal that side of herself. She still does not trust the team, does not consider them friends (for her, ‘friendship’ is an intimate topic), and she does not want their attitude towards her to change on the basis of this truth. She wants to be treated like... To her. Not to the shining image that is stuck in the minds of these fanboys. She will try in every possible way to lead the trail away from herself. But team can show what they made of, and they succeed…

2) Not manifesting itself explicitly, as well as not playing a very important role in the plot, but a love line between… Oh, damn, you won't guess?! I'm not the only one, by God. WrenchAnn

But I'm not sure I should write this. I don't want to make a Mary Sue out of character. Of course, the first scene will not be for DedSec's " WOOOW! COOL! " (Well... for this too, he-heh!), and the second is not just for please myself, buuut… I don't know. I mean I can do it from my OC side but canon... HOW PEOPLE DO IT?!

Oh, and Horatio won't die. Ann, as mentioned above, is very anxious. Her motto ‘’better safe than sorry’’. So she will notice his loss before anyone else, and they will have time to save him. And he will have more character development.

AAAND, I want more Lenni. Yes. Exactly. Like many people, I do not have really warm feelings for her, but ... maybe I'm wrong, but I can see that Lenni isn't that bad. And that it wasn't because of a too good life or a bad temper that she became like THIS. And I would like to be able to write a line where Ann literally use the Magic of Friendship on her :D (But for first is psychological skills of course...)