#thomas's grand tour

[ailendolin]

Thomas's grand tour day 4 - part 2:

We saw A Midsummer Night's Dream this evening and oh, it was amazing! The cast were absolutely brilliant - special shoutout to Ryan Hutton who played Lysander and made me cry with laughter (and fall a little bit in love with him)!

But oh, Mat's Bottom is such a delight! I did not expect to get to hear him sing and see him half-naked but I did and I'm not complaining 😂 He is both hilarious and adorable as Bottom, and there is a little bit of Thomas Thorne in there as well which was wonderful.

We met him at the stage door after the show and Mat was not only kind enough to sign my poster but also the replica of Thomas’s letter I got for becoming a Buttoneer. He was a little reluctant to sign the letter because he felt it might ruin it but I assured him it most definitely wouldn't. Fun fact - he's got one of those letters at home as well!

[reitsportportal]

Sie konnte es zuerst kaum glauben... Janne Friederike Meyer-Zimmermann siegt im Grand Prix von Cannes

Janne Friederike MEYER-ZIMMERMANN of Germany riding Messi van ‚T Ruytershof , Photo: Thomas Reiner JANNE FRIEDERIKE MEYER-ZIMMERMANN GEWINNT DEN LONGINES GLOBAL CHAMPIONS TOUR GRAND PRIX VON CANNES Janne Friederike MEYER-ZIMMERMANN of Germany riding Messi van ‘T Ruytershof (Photo: Thomas Reiner) In einem rasanten Stechen waren Janne Friederike Meyer-Zimmermann    und ihr Messi van ‚t…

[giuseppecocco]

Viaggio in Italia con Thomas Eliot

Questo viaggio in Italia è raccontato dal ViaggiAutore Thomas Stearns Eliot, poeta, drammaturgo e critico statunitense, Nobel per la letteratura nel 1948, con il suo libro-guida «Viaggio in Italia», contenente note prese durante un viaggio di due settimane nell’Italia delle tre regioni del nord: Veneto, Emilia Romagna e Lombardia. Estate 1911: un giovane Thomas Eliot, studente alla Sorbona,…

[sweetyyhippyy]

First TIme. Eddie Munson x plus size!Fem Reader. *SMUT*

Summary: Eddie plans a romantic weekend away with his girlfriend.

Word Count: 5.6k

TW: Reader has body image issues throughout. Shy reader. Asshole former boyfriend. Making out (under clothes). Dry humping (thigh riding). Eddie practically worshiping reader. Oral sex (fem receiving). Reader talking about her insecurities. Eddie praising a lot. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Lovers being in love.

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All Eddie wanted to do was make sure that the first time with his girlfriend was perfect.

Even though she had told him she had already had her first time with Thomas Carey when they dated back in freshman year, Eddie wanted to have a “do over” since Thomas was apparently a “two pump chump”.

Not to mention afterwards, Thomas spread it like wildfire that they had sex which meant everyone looked down on her, yet praised Thomas. When she broke up with him for telling the whole school about their night, he then humiliated her at the school pep rally by making a joke about her body.

Eddie talked Rick into letting him use his place in order to have a nice secluded weekend with her, bribing him with anything and everything he could think of. Rick finally agreed after weeks of Eddie begging and pestering and just made him promise not to break anything and not leave behind any bodily fluids for him to come home to.

It was comical that this girl had him, Eddie Munson, making a bed, something he has never done a day in his life. Even though in all reality the bed wasn’t going to look like this again after they got into it, he still wanted the room to look nice.

Candles were scattered through the room, the slightest bit of lavender wafting throughout. He contemplated being extra cheesy and sprinkling rose petals through the house but that would mean having to sweep them all up at the end of their weekend.

Finally he heard the squeak of her breaks, that he’s told her over and over again to take care of. He goes outside, meeting her at the back of her car, his hand flat on the trunk of her dusty green car.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Eddie greets her, a wide smile on his face as she turns around to walk toward him. Once she’s close enough he pulls her in for a tight hug, kissing her cheek.

She sighs happily once she’s in his arms, her nose getting hit with his aroma of weed, cigarettes, and whatever cologne Wayne has in the medicine cabinet back at the trailer.

“You are just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Eddie gushes, stepping back to look at her. “Do a little spin for me.”

She laughs, fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt. “Stop.” His attention making her stomach fill with butterflies.

“Let’s get inside. Open up the trunk so I can help with your bag.”

She unlocks it for him, letting him grab the 2 overnight bags she had back there. She follows Eddie inside, looking around the semi familiar house, having been there a few times with Eddie to get his supply.

“You wanna follow me? I’ll give you the grand tour.” Eddie walks in front of her, both of her bags slung over his shoulder.

She nervously nods her head, following close behind him.

She knew exactly what this weekend was about, even if Eddie didn’t explicitly say it.

The few months they’ve been together, they were always so close to going all the way but she always stopped him before he got her clothes off. Eddie had no problem shedding all of his clothes off in front of her, but when it was her turn to be touched everything was under her clothes.

To say she was insecure about her body was an understatement. After that asshole Thomas Carey humiliated her when he told the whole basketball team about how he felt like he was fucking a couch cushion because of how massive her ass was.

She hated her body more than ever after that, the constant jokes the mean girls at school would say to her face were somehow worse than the ones they said behind her back. All she wore year round were giant sweaters that covered her stomach and her arms, giving her no shape, other than a box.

Then she met Eddie and he had slowly made her comfortable with her body. He knew she was still self conscious, especially when they were making out and his hands traveled up her shirt. She would pull away from the kiss and scrunch her face, telling him that she didn’t want to go any further.

Of course Eddie would stop right away and just hold her close, which she was thankful for. There had been a handful of times where she was comfortable enough with Eddie rubbing her through her panties underneath her pants.

They made their way to the bedroom, dimly illuminated by the candles that were on the dresser and the nightstand. She couldn’t help but smile at him once he put her bags down and smirked back at her.

“You did this all for me?” She asks, touching the leather covering his arms from his jacket lovingly.

“Yeah of course. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.” Eddie says in a soft voice back to her, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. “I want to have a nice weekend with you. Just the two of us.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a deep kiss.

His hands immediately find her hips, closing the gap between the two of them.

She moans into his mouth softly once she feels one of his hands travel down the round of her ass, cupping the round mound in his hand roughly. Out of habit she pulls back from their kiss, looking down away from his gaze.

“Hey,” Eddie starts, placing his pointer finger below her chin, making her look up at him. “Remember what we talked about? It’s okay if you don’t want to do this, but you know that I’m not going to make you feel bad about yourself, right?”

She nods her head at first. “I know you aren’t. I’m just nervous is all.”

“I don’t want to make you nervous, baby. That’s not my intention at all.” His voice was deep and suave as he spoke to her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She stands between his legs, playing with the end of his hair. “I want to do it.” She quietly says. “You don’t know how much I think about sex with you, Eddie. The way you touch me is always so loving and soft.”

Eddie’s hand travels down her back to the back of her thigh, tapping her thigh for her to sit down on his lap.

She shakes her head nervously, gnawing at her bottom lip. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You aren’t, baby. I promise. I’m a tough dude.” He smirks.

She straddles his lap, still not wanting to put her full weight on his thighs.

Eddie could see it in her face she wasn’t in a comfortable position on his thigh, her whole body was stiff as a board and her hands were shaky. “Can I help you out a little bit?” Eddie asks, stroking both of her thighs with his hands.

She nods her head in agreement, resting her hands on both sides of his shoulders.

Eddie grabs her ass and slides her forward, earning a gasp from her. “You trust me?”

“Mmhm.”

“How about we take this slow? We do things how we usually do and then let’s see where it goes from there? If you want to take your clothes off, you can and if not that’s okay too. Whatever you want to do, baby, okay?” The tone in Eddie’s voice put her mind at ease, agreeing to Eddie’s plan.

Eddie pushes her hair out of the way before he kisses her soft neck delicately, treating her like a fragile flower.

She exhales shakily as he finds the sweet spot near the center of her throat as she feels him suck the skin. “Eddie.” She sighs, rolling her head back.

He moans in response against her skin, licking the bruise that was no doubt going to show up later. “Feel good?” Eddie asks, his breath making her shiver in his arms. “You know what’ll feel even better? How ‘bout you take a little ride on my thigh?”

She felt like a prude feeling how hot her face got at the thought of her getting herself off on his thigh.

Eddie could sense her nervousness and simply squeezed her hand in comfort. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, princess.”

The name alone made her whimper and start to tingle, making it near impossible to contain herself.

“I want to.” She mutters against his lips, moving her hips slowly. “I really want to.”

Eddie slides his fingers into her hair, kissing her while he wraps his arm around her waist, helping her move. He could feel the heat from her body against his, growling into her mouth once he felt the heat her pussy was radiating.

Hearing the low growl only made her grow more wet, and she only craved more of him while she rocked her hips back and forth his lap.

She pulls away from the kiss, panting and whining in frustration that she wanted something more.

“Talk to me, beautiful.” Eddie’s lips looked even more inviting once she saw how red and wet they were from making out.

“I… I want you to touch me.” She says in a low voice, almost feeling embarrassed.

“I can do that, princess. Do you want to take your jeans off, or you want me to unbutton them and reach in there?”

“I wanna take them off.” She says confidently.

Eddie nods his head, taking his arm from around her and watching as she gets off his lap and stands in front of him, unbuttoning the front of her jeans and pulling them down her thighs slowly until the blue jeans were down around her ankles.

Eddie couldn’t help but look at the cute baby blue silk panties that covered her lower half, a small bow in the very front. “Shit, princess.” Eddie exhales, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees as he gawks at his girlfriend. “You are a fucking goddess walking amoung this earth.” His hand reaches out for her soft thighs, cupping the back of one before bringing her back toward his open thighs.

Her hands were trembling the longer she felt his eyes on her exposed thighs. She couldn’t help but wonder if he saw the cellulite on the outside of her thighs like she did everytime she looked at her legs, or if he was disgusted with the fact her calves looked huge.

“Can I?” Eddie asks, looking up at her with those chocolate eyes full of lust and want. His hand runs up and down the back of her thigh, caressing the limb delicately while he moves his face closer to one of her thighs.

“Y-yeah.”

Eddie guides her leg up toward him, letting her foot rest on the bed beside him. He twists his body and kisses her knee and works his lips up toward the middle of her inner thigh. “You are fucking gorgeous, baby. You don’t even understand the half of it.” He holds the meatiest part of her thigh, near her ass, and kneads the fat in his hand. “Please don’t be nervous, baby.” He could see it written in her face once he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, letting the breath she had been holding in, out. “I’m trying not to.”

“I know you are, baby. You think I can touch what's underneath those cute little silky panties? You can keep them on if it makes you feel a little better.”

“Can I pull them to the side?”

Eddie was most definitely going to blow his load in his pants.

“Of course baby. You wanna lay down for me while I put myself right in between them?” He asks, referring to her thighs.

A small smile spreads across her face as she nods her head, sliding her foot off the bed and laying her head on the pillows at the top of the bed. She let her thighs fall open, trying her best to fight the urge to cover herself up with her hands.

“Is it okay for me to take my clothes off?” Eddie asks, taking his jacket off and tossing it across the room.

“Yeah, handsome. I love seeing you.” She responds, sitting up on her elbows while she watches him lift his shirt up over his head and discard it on the floor next to him.

Her eyes immediately fixate on his happy trail on his lower stomach, practically drooling already thinking about the countless other times she’s licked up and down his stomach when things got hot and heavy between them.

Eddie undoes the handcuff belt and drops that to the floor as well before unbuttoning his pants, slipping them off but leaving his boxers on. He crawls up the bed, putting his head between her thighs. Immediately he kisses both of her inner thighs, wrapping his arm around both limbs. “You know how perfect you are? I’m being so serious, baby. If I had to draw my dream girl… she’d look exactly like you.”

Her heart definitely skipped a beat at his words. “Is that right?” She replies, running her fingers through his unruly hair. “She’d look exactly like me? Rolls, cellulite, stretch marks and all?”

Eddie kisses one of her thighs one more time before looking up at her. “Baby, I love each and every roll, stretch mark, and I don't really know what the hell cellulite is, but shit yeah I love it.”

She can’t help but laugh at his cluelessness, finding it cute and endearing. “Can you touch me?”

“How and where?” He raises his eyebrows.

She pulls her panties to the side, exposing her pussy to him. She swallowed the nervousness

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie whispers, louder than he intended it to be. “Baby, you’ve been holding out on me. You are so fucking beautiful, better than I imagined in my head.”

“You’ve thought about me naked?” She giggles.

“Sweetheart, I’ve had countless wet dreams where you’re naked, and finally being face to face with this delicious feast I’m about to eat.” Eddie exhales, kissing the squishy part of her lower stomach, right above her pubic bone.

A gasp gets caught in her throat feeling his lips in a different place than she was used to, her body tensing slightly. “Shit, sorry.” She clears her throat awkwardly.

“Don’t be sorry.” Eddie says, kissing her skin again. “Try your best to relax and enjoy yourself, okay?” He strokes his thumb across her soft skin. “I’m going to take care of you.”

She moves her hands down to the side, fidgeting with the sheets under her.

Eddie drops his head down, kissing the puffy lips covering her clit. He could taste the slightest bit of her wetness on his lips. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, smiling up at his girlfriend. He flattens his tongue, licking a long, fat stripe up her slit then back down again. Carefully, he takes his pointer and middle finger, spreading her lips apart, her velvety walls were practically glistening with wetness already.

A surprised gasp creeps from the back of her throat, her eyes fluttering closed. “O-oh wow.” She shakes as she watches Eddie below her, his eyes staring back at her.

He licks his lips quickly before giving her a few broad licks against the little pearl that so desperately needed his attention. So easily he felt himself grow drunk on her taste, his lips softly sucking her clit into his mouth.

“Oh, shhhit, Eddie.” She exhales shakily, grabbing for his hair. She drops her head back, chin pointed toward the ceiling as her eyes roll back in her head.

As slowly and as delicately as possible he flicks his tongue around her clit, moaning against her the more he tastes her. He had dreamt for months, even before they officially started dating, about what she tasted like and how cute she would sound moaning his name while he was tongue deep inside her. Somehow she was exceeding all of his filthy fantasies.

She was holding her true moans back, her bottom lip pulled back into her mouth with her teeth gently biting down on the puffy bit. Her legs were already shaking, going back and forth between closing around his head and falling open to give him room to breathe. “K-Keep going, Eddie. Fuck-please?” She could already feel the build up happening inside and she was desperate to cum onto his tongue for the first time.

Eddie flicks his tongue quickly back and forth across her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance, wetting the tips of her fingers with all of the sweet juices she was giving him. As slowly as he can, he slides in one finger, groaning when he feels her muscles fit around his finger tightly.

She whines out loud, letting her guard down finally. “Oh my god, that feels so good, baby.” She reaches for him, twisiting her fingers in his messy dark locs.

His doe eyes look up at her, wanting to take in how beautiful she looked with her lips parted open, her eyes hooded half shut with her eyes rolling in the back of her head. It made his dick throb to see her relax and enjoying herself from pleasure he was giving her.

Regretfully he pulls back from tonguing her clit, kissing both of her inner thighs. “Do you think I can get you to cum on my fingers?” He raises his eyebrows at her, a single finger still buried deep inside her.

She huffs out a nervous laugh, biting her bottom lip. “I think so. Let’s try.” A little bit of confidence sneaking out.

“That’s my girl.” Eddie grins, kissing her clit before sucking at the button in between his lips. Eddie’s ring finger pokes at her entrance, trying to fit a second finger in her.

Her thighs close around Eddie’s head, her body having a mind of its own. “Sorry. Sorry.” She apologizes, laying her thighs out flat against the mattress to give him more access to her.

Eddie pulls back again, taking his two middle fingers and gathering all the slick he can from her entrance to lube his fingers up. “I’m going to try and fit another finger in, okay? Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

She nods her head, relaxing her body as she feels one of his fingers slip back in with ease, already stretched out enough to take one of his fingers.

Eddie drops a bead of spit onto his ring finger, gently fitting it along side his middle finger. “There you go, good girl. Take it nice and slow.” He watches her face carefully, making sure it doesn’t tweak up in discomfort.

Her back arches off the bed slightly, pushing her pussy closer toward him, helping his second finger slide in all the way.

“That’s my girl. Got two of my fingers in you.” He smirks. “Feel it stretching you out? It feel good?”

She shakily moans out a, “Yes.” Her cheeks getting hot at hearing the squelching from her arousal. “Feels so good, Eddie. Can you…” Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, nervous to request him to use his tongue.

“What baby? What do you want me to do?” He asks, arching his brow up. “Don’t have to be nervous. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Can you go back to… to eating me out? It felt really good before.”

Eddie wastes no time licking a long stripe in between her lips, his plump lips suckling her clit against them.

Her moan gets caught in her throat, the mixture of the stretch his fingers are giving her and the gentle sucking against her clit had her body buzzing. She can’t help but move her hips against his face.

Eddie could die a happy man at this moment with his face buried inside of his girlfriend’s pussy and moans filling his ears.

She tasted just how he imagined on nights they got hot and heavy but she put a stop to things before clothes were shed.

Eddie would lay in his bed after he dropped her off back home, a blunt half smoked on his nightstand, his hand wrapped around his cock while he pumped it furiously, desperately wishing he was devouring her pussy.

They were lucky there were no other houses surrounding them with how loud she was moaning Eddie’s name, surrounding his name with obscenities and pleas for him to keep going and not to stop.

Her fingers were intertwined against his dark hair, pulling at the root when the pleasure got to be too much for her, but she wasn’t strong enough to ask him to stop.

Eddie snapped out of his daydream about her, finding his tongue flicking her clit.

“Eddie please, please! I’m so close!” She was on the verge of tears the closer her orgasm got, the room turning blurry.

He zoned in, not stopping how quick his tongue moved or how fast his fingers moved inside her. His free hand gripped the softness of her thigh, squeezing the flesh.

“Eddie! Right there! I’m going to cum!”

Eddie watched as she lost herself on his fingers and his tongue, her muscles tightening around his fingers. Her whole body shook while her head rolled back against the pillow it rested on. Her grip against his hair loosened, her hand just cradling his head while she figured out how to breathe again.

Very carefully he took his fingers out of her, letting the cum on his fingers swipe against her sensitive clit, causing her to hiss slightly at the overstimulation.

Eddie parts her lips again, taking in the beautiful sight of her pussy glistening with his saliva and her cum. He shoots her a mischievous smile before licking at her clit again, being kind of theatrical and slurping up her cum loudly.

She can’t help but giggle, hiding her face behind her hands. “Eddie!”

Eddie presses a few more kisses to her inner thighs and her mound before laying on the bed next to her. “You did so good, sweetheart.” He wraps his arms around her body, bringing her closer to him to cuddle against his side. “How are you feeling?”

She hums against his warm skin, smiling to herself as he runs his fingers up and down her arm. “Good. Really, really good. You made me feel amazing.” She smiles, kissing his neck. She shuffles off the bed and takes a deep breath, hooking her fingers under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down her thighs and onto the floor.

Eddie’s eyes practically jump out of his sockets, much like the men in cartoons when an attractive woman passes by. He sits up onto his elbows, his eyes scanning her lower half, taking in every detail of her. “You are beautiful.” He mutters softly.

She uses her pointer finger, motioning him to come to her.

Eddie barely skips a beat before he jumps to sit on the edge of the bed, watching his girlfriend for her next move.

Her eyes never leave his as she lifts her shirt up over her head, leaving it on the floor next to the rest of their clothes. Her whole body tingled as she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, letting the straps fall down her arms and tossing it into Eddie’s lap.

“Shit. Holy shit.” He licks his lips out of instinct, trying his hardest to be respectful and gentle, but in the back of his mind all he wanted to do was throw her into the bed and kiss every square inch of her body.

“I look okay?” She questions, nervously fumbling with her hands.

“Sweetheart… you are more than I could have ever imagined.” He takes her busy hands and pulls her into his lap, letting her straddle him.

The wet heat from her pussy radiated onto his still clothed crotch, the tent he was sporting was begging to be let out of its confines.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to show your beautiful body to me. You were so worth the wait, baby.” He mutters against her lips, kissing her softly.

She melts against him, holding onto both sides of his shoulders while they kiss, letting his hands explore her bare body for the first time.

Eddie’s warm hands grab her supple hips, his fingertips crawling across her back only to push her closer to his chest. He pulls back from her swollen lips, immediately kissing and sucking her neck. His hand massages at the rounded curves on her chest, kneading it in his hand.

The ends of his hair tickle her skin, making her laugh and attempt to pull back from his lips.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Eddie laughs back, trying to bring her back toward him. “Where you going?”

“You’re tickling me.” She sighs, trying to gain her composure back, but staring back into Eddie’s eyes makes her laugh all over again, hiding her face in his neck.

Eddie can’t help but smile, her laugh being one of his favorite sounds. “This is supposed to be sexy and instead you’re laughing.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Her giggles fading slowly as she takes deep breaths, but nothing working her out of her giggle fits.

He wraps his arms around her, rolling her back first onto the bed, putting his weight on top of her.

She beams up at him, her body relaxing as she stares at him with love in her eyes. “Sorry I ruined the moment.” She apologizes, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“You didn’t ruin the moment. I was just teasin’. I like when you’re giggly, it’s cute. Besides, sex can’t be so serious, then it’s not fun.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I think I love you more, sweetheart.” He flashes his cow eyes at her.

Her stomach fills with butterflies again, but this time there is a similar feeling in her pussy. She softly moans before she wraps her legs around his torso, pushing him into her. “I want you.” Her fingers intertwine between his curls, kissing him hungrily.

“You’ve had me since day one, sweetness.” Eddie’s cock was on the verge of bursting out of his boxers, he was dying to feel his girlfriend wrapped around his cock for the first time ever.

If her cumming around his fingers felt like heaven, then he was going to pass away feeling her cum on his cock.

“I gotta take these off, babe. My guy is suffocating in there.” He jokes.

Eddie had been naked in front of her plenty, but she still loved seeing his lanky body every time. He caught her staring at him kicking his boxers off, looking at him like an animal about to devour a piece of meat.

“Like something you see?”

Her eyes go down to his swollen cock, the tip of it shiny with precum already. She wanted to sink down onto her knees on the floor and play with him the way he did to her.

He climbs back on the bed, letting his heavy length rest against her thigh as he kisses her chest. “You have all weekend to suck my cock, sweetheart.” He all but reads her mind. “Right now, I need to be inside you. You okay with me taking charge? Moving you around where I need you and stuff?”

She blinks up at him, a little bit of nerves mixed in with the butterflies. “Of course. I trust you.” She smiles.

Eddie takes one of her legs, resting it on his shoulder. “Keep your leg right here for me, sweetheart.” He grabs the base of his cock and runs it up and down her soaking silt. “Fuck.” He whispers quietly as he feels their cum mix together for the first time.

He pushes his head to part in between her lips, pressing it against her hole. “If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.” Very carefully he finally pushes inside her, his tip already being squeezed. “Fuck baby, you okay to take the rest of it?” He grunts out.

“Yeah, I-I can take it.”

Eddie slowly pushes the rest of himself inside, trying his hardest to choke back his grunt.

She was a mess under him, her nails sinking into his shoulders as she stretches around his thickness for the first time. “Eddie!” She whines. “You’re so deep in me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Are you doing okay?” His cheeks and neck tinted red.

“I’m good. So good.” She sits up slightly and pushes him closer to her until they’re chest to chest and kissing each other softly.

The stretch he was giving her was something that she had been wanting for so long, it was like she was made to take his thick cock.

Eddie finally starts to slowly thrust into her, being mindful to go at a slow pace for now.

Her hands travel all over Eddie’s body, needing to feel him closer to her even though he was as close as he could possibly be.

Eddie takes her leg that was propped up on his shoulder and gently puts it back onto the bed, grabbing both of her legs and wrapping them around his lower back. “You’re doing so good, baby.” He whispers as he rests his forehead on hers, watching every single detail in her face each time he hits the back of her pussy. “Doing so good for me.”

“Want more.” She moans out, tightening her hold around his waist.

His head drops down in between her neck and shoulder, his lips kissing her bare skin as his slow thrusts turn into shallow and hard snaps of his hips. “That’s my girl. Taking my dick like a pro for the first time.”

She smiled to herself at his praise, feeling a sense of accomplishment that she could handle his thick cock.

They answered each other’s moans, the room filled with their sounds.

“Please.” She whines in his ear, holding his hip tightly, desperate for more of him.

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“Want you to go faster, Eddie please.”

Eddie sits up on his knees without pulling out of her, picking up both of her legs and throwing them up onto his shoulders. Instantly, he starts to drill into her. The hold he has on her thighs was tight, the likelihood of there being bruises from his hands definitely high.

“Fuck, Eddie!” She cries out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head.

A sly smirk spreads across Eddie’s face, quickly spitting on his fingers and gently rubbing at her clit. “You are really enjoying yourself, baby. I’m so glad I can make you feel good.”

A half growl and half moan comes from deep in her throat with her clit being played with. “Please don’t stop. I wanna cum for you again.”

“Yeah I’m not stopping, baby. I got you.”

Eddie was in full on tunnel vision, fucking her with all he had, his balls slapping against her ass quickly. All he wanted to do was make her cum because he wasn’t far off from cumming himself.

One of her hands slowly makes it way down to the hand playing with her clit, holding his wrist to keep him in place. She knew that Eddie would be more than eager to please her and he was somehow more than she had imagined.

“I love you, Eddie.” She whines. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Love my girl so much.”

His words go straight to her pussy, making it flutter before she cums around his cock, her walls clenching around him while Eddie continues to circle her clit slowly.

“Fuck, b-baby. I c-can’t hold it back! Gotta cum so bad.” Eddie pulls himself out of her quickly, shooting ropes onto her stomach as he jerks his length, unable to control his moans.

He collapses on the bed next to her, nuzzling his face in between her neck and shoulder to kiss her skin. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Really good.” She sighs, turning her head to rest against his forehead. “That was so amazing.”

Eddie wraps his arms around her, bringing her to rest in his chest. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself, baby. I’m so glad you trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

She can’t manage to keep her lips off of him, kissing all along his jaw, his neck and his shoulder, any part of his body that she could. “You made me feel so comfortable and made me feel beautiful.”

“That’s because you are beautiful, sweetheart. So goddamn beautiful it’s almost a crime.” He kisses her lips so delicately, wanting to savor this moment for as long as he could.

“You’re such a sap.” She jokes, nuzzling back into his chest. “But I kinda like it.”

“Let me get you something to clean you up, sweetheart. That way we can cuddle under the sheets together. Maybe get a nap in since you put in a lot of work.”

Eddie plants a kiss to her forehead before unlatching himself from her and grabbing his skull handkerchief and wiping his seed off her stomach and wiping her slit clean from all the leftover wetness.

“Meet you back here in 5, Eds. Don’t go to sleep without me.” She gets up from the bed, wrapping her arms around his waist as she kisses his chest before walking into the bathroom.

They were both in for a very tiring weekend.

[maxxi-the-procrastinator]

The Grand Tour

Interactive fiction novel.

Demo: First chapter to be released soon.

You play as the main character, Avery Sinclair, a young historian who has been invited to travel across the continent to join their younger brother; John Sinclair, on his coming of age grand tour. Avery jumps on the opportunity to excavate and uncover the hidden history behind the bronze age collapse. Thrusting their journey into a pleasing combination of business and pleasure.

On the tour the Sinclair siblings are accompanied and chaperoned by the bear-leader; Thomas Clark, his fiancee; Willow Button and Avery’s best friend; Landon Harrow. On their travels, Avery runs into a couple familiar faces from their college days, reigniting rivalries that they believed were left to the past.

Will Avery be able to uncover the hidden history lost to time, or will they become distracted as unexpected romance blossoms during their tour? Can Avery juggle this tantalising mix of business and pleasure? Or will hearts be broken across the continent in their wake?

Romantic tropes of each route; Landon Harrow ~ Friends to Lovers. Thomas Clark ~ Friends to strangers to lovers. Willow Button ~ Forbidden romance. Pierre Moreau ~ Rivals to lovers. Love triangle ~ Landon and Pierre.

[worldhistoryfacts]

Thomas Coryat, a British courtier, took a long trip through Europe in 1611 and wrote a popular account of it called Coryat’s Crudities. Coryat was a true adventurer, striking out into the world without a map or a plan. He had all sorts of adventures, some of which you can see on the title page of his book below (note the Venetian courtesan throwing stuff at him from a window on the lower right):

{Buy me a coffee} {WHF} {Medium} {Looking Through the Past}

[80ssuperstar]

Here's another Story I thought of and it's a Mythology Based on my Favorite Horror Stories of all time: DRACULA 🧛🧛🧛🦷🦷🦷🩸🩸🩸 I decided that I'd put regular show characters in them intercourse Mordecai as Dracula himself or should I say MORDRACULA Hee-hee 😅 I know that it's a little early when Halloween begins but you know I just decided to do it a little early so why not?? I hope you love this one. 🩸❤️🩸

**Title: "The Bride of Mordecai"**

### Beginning:

It was a foggy evening as Samantha approached the old, looming castle on the outskirts of town. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, and the trees seemed to whisper warnings with every gust of wind. She had received an invitation to visit, but something about it felt… off. Still, she trusted Mordecai, her beloved, and he had promised her an unforgettable evening.

As she reached the gate, it opened on its own, creaking loudly. Inside, Mordecai was waiting at the grand entrance, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the torches that lined the castle walls. Samantha smiled, relieved to see him.

**Mordecai:** "Welcome, Samantha. I’ve been waiting for you."

**Samantha:** "This place is… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it."

Mordecai extended his hand, and she took it. His touch was colder than she remembered, but she brushed it off as nerves. He guided her inside, where the castle’s true gothic beauty unfolded before her: dark velvet curtains, ornate chandeliers, and shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally across the walls.

**Mordecai:** "I thought I’d give you a tour before dinner. This place has been in my family for generations."

As they walked, Samantha marveled at the tapestries depicting ancient stories of creatures that looked both terrifying and beautiful. But she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something was being hidden from her.

---

### Middle:

After the tour, Mordecai led Samantha to the grand dining room, where the others were waiting. Rigby, Benson, Pops, Muscle Man, Hi-Five Ghost, Skips, and even Thomas were there, seated at a long, dark wooden table, their faces shadowed by the dim candlelight. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, though Samantha didn’t know why.

**Mordecai:** "You look lovely tonight, Samantha."

Samantha glanced down, realizing she was no longer wearing her casual clothes. She was now dressed in a stunning white gown that made her feel like an ethereal angel. Confused, she looked at Mordecai, but he simply smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The butler arrived, carrying trays of food. He set down what appeared to be a steak tartare in front of her, along with a glass of what she assumed was wine. The others eagerly began to eat, their eyes never leaving her.

**Samantha:** "This… this looks amazing."

She took a bite of the dish, savoring the rich, metallic taste, though it seemed a little unusual for steak tartare. She followed it with a sip of the "wine," which had a strangely thick consistency, but she didn’t question it.

As the dinner continued, the butler brought out dessert—a dish of what looked like fingers, arranged with disturbing care. Samantha's stomach churned, but the others devoured it eagerly. Mordecai leaned in, watching her with a strange intensity.

**Mordecai:** "Do you like the meal, my love?"

**Samantha:** "It’s... different. But, it’s good, I think."

The others laughed softly, their eyes gleaming with a dark hunger. Samantha felt uneasy but didn’t want to seem rude. The meal ended with a side of writhing worms, which the others enjoyed while Samantha politely declined. Despite the strange nature of the food, the night was going better than she expected. But as the night grew darker, Samantha began to feel dizzy and tired.

---

### Then:

The butler appeared once more, this time to guide her to her room. Samantha followed, her mind clouded with exhaustion. The room was magnificent—decorated with lace curtains, a canopy bed, and a beautiful nightgown that seemed to be waiting for her.

**Butler:** "Rest well, Miss Samantha. Tomorrow is a big day."

She nodded, too tired to question what he meant by that. She changed into the white gown, marveling at how perfectly it fit her, and lay down on the soft, luxurious bed. Within minutes, she drifted into a deep sleep.

But as the night stretched on, Mordecai made his move. He silently pushed open the door, his dark figure illuminated only by the moonlight spilling through the window. His hunger was too great to resist any longer. He needed her—needed her to be his, forever.

Slowly, he approached her bed, his eyes glowing faintly as he cast a spell to keep her unconscious. She lay still, unaware of the transformation that was about to begin.

**Mordecai:** "You will be mine, Samantha. My bride… for all eternity."

He bent down, his fangs elongating as he pressed his lips to her neck. With a swift motion, he sunk his teeth into her soft skin, the taste of her blood sending a rush of power through him. He drank deeply, filling her veins with his vampiric poison.

---

### End:

As the venom spread through Samantha’s body, she began to change. Her breathing slowed, her skin grew paler, and her heart beat less frequently. Mordecai watched, entranced by the transformation. His bride was becoming one of them—a vampire.

Hours passed before Samantha stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and when they did, they were no longer the soft eyes of the woman who had walked into the castle. They were sharp, glowing faintly with the same hunger Mordecai had felt for centuries.

**Samantha:** "What... what’s happening to me?"

Mordecai smiled, helping her to sit up.

**Mordecai:** "You’re awakening, my love. You are becoming one of us. My bride, my queen… we will be together, forever."

Samantha was confused, but she felt an undeniable connection to Mordecai. The memories of the evening began to blur, and her new instincts began to take over. She felt powerful, unstoppable, and strangely at peace.

The others joined them, their faces twisted into grins of approval. They were a family now—a dark, immortal family that would reign for eternity.

**Rigby:** "Told you she’d be cool with it."

**Pops:** "A most wonderful bride indeed!"

**Benson:** "Welcome to the family, Samantha."

Mordecai took her hand, guiding her to the grand balcony that overlooked the misty forest below. The night was theirs now, and so was eternity.

**Mordecai:** "Now we can be together, always. No one will ever come between us."

Samantha smiled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. She leaned into Mordecai, feeling a love deeper than she had ever known, and a hunger that would never be satisfied.

**Samantha:** "Forever… I’m yours."

Together, they gazed out into the night, their future stretching before them, endless and eternal. The castle, their kingdom, would be home to their dark love, and nothing would ever tear them apart again.

THE END

For: @fxe4596 , @nicomxm23 , @russthevampireboy , @jgquintelslut , @pinkcandycatmakesart , @anifaz , @isrrael120 , @notadumbdog , @martingeekermmd , @eeveepalooza , @apollothedeity , @sidoresca , @siinhorhy , @insomniacz , @rhyliethecaterfly , @yeetafry , @calledattherndoftime , @breekitty17 , @kiwithekool11437 , @kiko2032 , @orchestralauthor , @untitled14360 , @loudlyhappycupcake, @rigby123, @finn-pot, @konikat1, @moonlighteclipse17, @furrypandacollective, @dbd0812, @issacxjacob, @starwarspurgefan, @pokemonartextreme, @musclemanveryregular, @nastyablossomsworldxclover

[diceriadelluntore]

Storia Di Musica #340 - INXS, Kick, 1987

La band di oggi, a metà anni '80, era tra le più famose del mondo. Ma credo che anche all'epoca pochissima sapessero che il nucleo centrale di questo gruppo australiano fosse formato da tre fratelli. tutto inizia a Perth, nel 1979: i fratelli Farris, Tim, Andrew e Jon che avevano già un gruppo dal nome, inequivocabile, di The Farris Brothers, aggiungono al nucleo fondativo Kirk Pengilly, Garry Beers e un cantante, amico di liceo di Tim, Michael Hutchens. Si spostano a Sydney, dove cambiano nome in INXS ( da leggere come "In Excess") dove ottengono un contratto con una piccola etichetta indipendente, la Deluxe, con cui pubblicano il primo singolo, Simple Simon. Erano gli anni della pulizia dal rumore del punk, dell'arrivo della elettronica "dolce" e della new wave. È in questo solco che la band si muove, ma si apre in maniera piuttosto originale al funk e a piccoli innesti dance. All'inizio concentrano le energie nella nativa Australia, dove ottengono un buon successo con il loro primo disco, del 1980, intitolato INXS, che si ripete nel 1981 con Underneath The Colours, con la prima hit, una cover di un classico della musica australiana coverizzato, The Loved One, successo del 1966 dei The Loved Ones. Nel 1982 tentano il grande salto. Vanno in Inghilterra, dove li scrittura la WEA e la Atlantic li distribuisce negli Stati Uniti. Shabooh Shoobah del 1982 ha il primo singolo di successo mondiale, Don't Change, e il seguente tour internazionale al seguito di The Kinks e Adam And the Ants li fa conoscere in mezzo mondo. Nel 1984 ancora maggiore successo ottiene The Swing, trascinato dal singolo Original Sin, prodotto da Nile Rodgers. Il successo è sempre crescente: nel 1985 partecipano da Sydney al Live Aid, nel 1986 suonano con i Queen alla Royal Albert Hall, Hutchens addirittura esordisce come attore protagonista in Dogs In Space, film che lo vede interpretare Sam, il frontman avvezzo alla sostanze di una band post punk nel 1978 a Melbourne.

Dopo un tour lunghissimo, e con il management che ne programma uno nuovo in Europa, la band torna in studio. Guidati dal produttore Chris Thomas, uno dei grandi produttori inglesi (a lavoro con The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Procol Harum, Roxy Music, Badfinger, Elton John, Paul McCartney, Pete Townshend, Pulp, The Pretenders) le prime prove avvengono addirittura nella spettacolare Sydney Opera House. Il suono è più maturo, gli innesti da altri generi eclettici, i riff invidiabili e la voce di Hutchens è ormai una garanzia. Thomas però vorrebbe più canzoni, anche in previsione dell'atteso e imminente tour europeo, quindi manda Hutchens e Andrew Farris a Honk Kong, dove i due acquistarono un appartamento. Un giorno, mentre è in attesa di un taxi, a Andrew viene in mente una melodia, proprio mentre il taxi è arrivato. Chiede al tassista di aspettarlo cinque minuti, ma lui sale nel suo appartamento, scrive e registra i demo di una canzone, la riporta sulla cassetta e 45 minuti dopo, nonostante la furiosa cazziata del tassista, la porta a Hutchens che lo aspettava in un bar, e in dieci minuti ne scrive il testo, per quello che sarà il singolo di apertura, e hit mondiale, del nuovo disco.

Kick esce il 19 ottobre del 1987, un mese prima, il 21 Settembre, fu preceduto da quella canzone: Need You Tonight, dal ritmo funky, la voce sensuale di Hutchens e un bellissimo video musicale (che vinse nel 1988 5 MTV Video Music Awards) trascinano il brano in cima alle classifiche (primo negli Stati Uniti e secondo in Gran Bretagna) e proietta il disco e la band in una nuova dimensione. Tutte le canzone sono scritte dal duo Hutchens - Andrew Farris, che mediano tra il suono molto funk dei primi dischi a quello mainstream rock dei primi dischi a distribuzione internazionale. Più che altro, hanno il tocco magico di scrivere canzoni che diventano famose per come rimangono in testa: New Sensation, Devil Inside, Mystify, la toccante Never Tear Us Apart, la ripresa di The Loved One ne fanno un disco di grande qualità e di grande successo, con una serie di ganci musicali memorabile. Il disco venderà milioni di copie e li fa diventare rockstar.

Arriveranno anche al Festival di Sanremo del 1988, però perdono il tocco magico: nonostante tour seguitissimi, in studio perdono la magia e X (1990) e Welcome To Wherever You Are (1992) sono accolti con freddezza e non regalano grandi canzoni. Parallelamente, Hutchens diventa molto più famoso dell'intera band, complice anche la relazione con Paula Yates, giornalista musicale famosa per le sue interviste particolari fatte in programmi come The Tube o The Big Breakfast, dove intervistava gli artisti in un letto e dal 1986 al 1996 moglie di Bob Geldof. Hutchens pensa ad una carriera solista, ma il 22 novembre del 1997 viene trovato morto impiccato in una camera di Hotel in Australia. In un primo momento si scatenano le voci incontrollate di un tragico gioco erotico, in seguito un'inchiesta medico legale, contestata da Yates, accerta che la morte del cantante è suicidio, cosa che non interrompe minimamente il gossip sulla vicenda.

La band, scossa dall'accaduto, sostituirà per un tour celebrativo Hutchens con Terence Trent D'Arby (che fu amante di Paula Yates quando era ancora sposata con Bob Geldof), inaugurando il nuovo stadio Olimpico di Sydney, e nel 2000 alla chiusura dei Giochi Olimpici nella città australiana del 2000. La band continuerà in maniera discontinua anche a suonare dal vivo fino al 2012, ma senza mai arrivare alla qualità di questo disco. Ci sono da raccontare ancora due aneddoti: Hutchens era probabilmente molto simpatico, perchè era amico di tantissimi musicisti. Simon Le Bon dei Duran Duran, scrisse per lui prima della sua morte, Michael, You've Got A Lot To Answer For dall'album Medazzaland del 1997, canzone che Le Bon non è mai riuscita a cantare dal vivo per l'emozione. E Bono dedicò all'amicizia con Hutchens un brano molto famoso, Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of, da All That You Can't Leave Behind del 2000, che immagina un impossibile dialogo tra i due con Bono che cerca di convincere Hutchens a non farlo:

I never thought you were a fool

But darling, look at you

You gotta stand up straight, carry your own weight

These tears are going nowhere, baby

[ailendolin]

Thomas's grand tour day 2:

We braved the wind, rain and snow to visit the incredible Arbor Low Stone Circle. Unsurprisingly, we were the only people there so we got this wonderful site all to ourselves which was absolutely incredible. Such a beautiful, ancient and serene place.

Afterwards, we went to Kedleston Hall, admired a particularly Entish looking tree, had a wonderful lunch and explored the church and grounds a little. Thomas thought it was very nice 😉

[cynic-spirit]

Nightwindows ii

Bruce Wayne stepped out of his sleek black car, his usual calm demeanor just a little more frayed than usual. Gotham University had always been a place of importance to him. As a long-time benefactor, he’d given countless donations to support its growth, particularly the creation of a new library wing in his parents' names—Thomas and Martha Wayne. The university had been a safe haven for him in the years after their deaths, a place where knowledge and wisdom were revered, and now, he was giving something back to it.

But today was different. His pulse quickened as he walked through the grand halls, not because of the usual pressures of public appearances, but because he knew that she would be there. The woman who had been on his mind constantly since their last encounter—the woman who was his soulmate, even if she didn’t yet know it.

Y/N.

He was reminded once again of the strange pull he felt towards her, the connection that had been forged the moment she uttered those fated words. It was a sensation unlike anything he’d experienced before, both thrilling and terrifying.

As Bruce made his way to the dean’s office, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. The dean had arranged for a private tour of the new library wing, and Y/N, who had impressed everyone with her knowledge and dedication, had been asked to show him around. He could feel his heart start to pound as he approached the chamber, anticipation building in his chest.

The door opened, and there she was. Y/N walked in, carrying herself with the quiet confidence that had first caught his attention. She was dressed professionally, but there was a warmth to her presence that softened the edges of the formal setting. As her eyes met his, Bruce’s heart skipped a beat, his usual composure slipping for just a moment.

He hadn’t expected her to have this effect on him, but there was something about her—something real, grounded—that made him feel like he was standing on the edge of something monumental. It wasn’t just attraction, though that was certainly part of it. It was the sense that, in her presence, the world seemed just a little bit brighter, a little less dark.

Y/N approached him with a polite smile, not yet aware of the storm of emotions she was causing within him. "Mr. Wayne," she greeted him, her voice steady, though she couldn't help but notice the slight tension in the air. "The dean asked me to show you around the new wing. It's an honor to have you here."

Bruce smiled, his public persona slipping easily into place, though underneath, he was anything but calm. “Thank you, Y/N. The honor is mine. I’ve heard wonderful things about your work here.”

As they began the tour, Bruce found it increasingly difficult to focus on the details of the project. Instead, he found himself stealing glances at Y/N, captivated by the way she spoke about the library with such passion and care. She was everything he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for—intelligent, kind, and with a spark that seemed to light up the room.

Every word she said, every smile she offered, made his heart race just a little bit more. He’d never been one to let emotions rule him, but with Y/N, it felt like a losing battle.

As she led him through the various sections of the library, explaining the significance of certain collections and the history behind some of the rare books, Bruce realized just how deep his feelings were becoming. The connection he felt wasn’t just because of the soulmate bond—it was because of who she was, the person behind those fated words.

By the time the tour was over, Bruce knew that he couldn’t let this chance slip away. He had been alone for far too long, and now that he had found someone who made him feel like this, he wasn’t about to let her go. But for now, he kept those thoughts to himself, letting the moment linger as he watched Y/N speak with the same enthusiasm and grace that had first drawn him to her.

As they returned to the main chamber, Bruce caught Alfred’s knowing look from the corner of his eye. The older man didn’t say anything, but there was a glint of amusement in his gaze that told Bruce everything he needed to know—his emotions were showing more than he intended.

But for once, Bruce didn’t mind. As Y/N finished her presentation and the tour came to an end, he found himself already planning their next meeting, already thinking of ways to bring her closer into his world.

Because now that he had found her, he wasn’t going to let her slip away. Not now, not ever.

As Y/N guided Bruce through the expansive corridors of the new library wing, her voice was filled with an enthusiasm that was both infectious and captivating. She didn’t merely describe the architectural features or the layout of the space; she breathed life into it, weaving together history, literature, and art in a way that turned each room into a story waiting to be told.

“This section,” she began as they entered a room lined with old manuscripts, “reminds me of Jorge Luis Borges’ Library of Babel. It’s as if the infinite worlds of knowledge are all contained within these walls, each book a universe in itself, waiting for someone to unlock its secrets.”

Bruce listened, captivated by the way she spoke. He’d met countless scholars and intellectuals, but none who had the ability to connect with him the way she did. There was something about the way Y/N wove metaphors and allusions into her explanations that made everything feel more profound. It wasn’t just about the books or the space—they were symbols of something greater, and Y/N seemed to understand that on a fundamental level.

As they moved to another section dedicated to classical literature, Y/N smiled softly. “This area here is where we keep the first editions of some of the great works. It’s like standing in the presence of history itself. Whenever I walk through these aisles, I think of Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own—how she emphasized the importance of space, both literal and figurative, for a woman’s creativity. There’s something incredibly empowering about this place.”

Bruce found himself drawn to her in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Her passion for knowledge was intoxicating, and her intellect was a light in the darkness that so often surrounded him. She was a reminder of the good in the world, the beauty that could still be found even in a city like Gotham.

Just as Y/N was about to continue, a young student approached, holding a notebook filled with scribbled notes. “Professor Y/N, do you have five minutes, please? I’m having trouble understanding the symbolism in Moby-Dick.”

Y/N smiled warmly at the student, her demeanor shifting effortlessly from tour guide to mentor. “Of course,” she replied, her voice kind and patient. “What’s giving you trouble?”

The student hesitated, flipping through the notebook. “It’s the whiteness of the whale. I’m not sure I understand what it really represents.”

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Melville uses the whiteness of the whale as a symbol of the unknowable, the ambiguous nature of the universe. On one hand, white is often associated with purity, but in the context of the whale, it becomes something terrifying, almost supernatural. It represents the fear of the unknown, the idea that some things are beyond our comprehension. Ahab’s obsession with the whale is symbolic of mankind’s struggle against those forces.”

The student’s eyes widened in understanding, and they nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Professor. That makes so much more sense now.”

Y/N smiled, giving the student a reassuring pat on the shoulder before they walked away, notebook in hand.

As she turned back to Bruce, apologizing for the brief interruption, he found himself more charmed than ever. The way she interacted with the student—with such genuine care and insight—only deepened his admiration for her. Y/N wasn’t just knowledgeable; she was a nurturer of knowledge, someone who truly cared about the growth and understanding of those around her.

In that moment, Bruce saw a side of her that resonated deeply within him. He’d always been drawn to intelligence, to those who could challenge and inspire him, but with Y/N, it was more than that. It was her kindness, her ability to connect with others on a level that went beyond mere intellect. It was her passion for what she did, her dedication to her students, and the way she seemed to make the world a little bit better just by being in it.

As she continued the tour, leading him to the final part of the new wing, Bruce couldn’t help but smile to himself. He’d been impressed by her before, but now, after seeing her in her element, he was completely captivated. He wasn’t just admiring her from afar anymore; he was falling for her, piece by piece, with every word she spoke and every gesture she made.

This woman, with her sharp mind and warm heart, was everything he never knew he needed.

As the tour wound down, Bruce found his heart racing with an unfamiliar but welcome anticipation. They had spent the better part of an hour walking through the new library wing, but Bruce had been as much interested in Y/N as he was in the project. Her presence was like a balm to his often troubled soul, and as they reached the end of their time together, he couldn’t resist the urge to know more about her—about the connection that he knew they shared.

Pausing by a large window that overlooked the Gotham skyline, Bruce turned to Y/N, his voice carefully measured yet tinged with the weight of his emotions. "Y/N," he wanted to ask again, "have you found your soulmate yet?"

The question hung in the air between them, filled with both vulnerability and hope. He watched her closely, his heart thumping in his chest as he waited for her response.

Y/N's smile was soft and almost wistful as she looked down, her fingers tracing the edge of a nearby bookshelf. There was a moment of silence, a heartbeat of hesitation, as if she were recalling a memory that was both tender and profound. Bruce noticed how her eyes seemed to glimmer with something unspoken, a thought she held close to her heart—something that made his own heart swell with love and pride. He knew she was thinking of Batman, of that fateful encounter in the shadows, and it filled him with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of connection.

Then, with a gentle sigh, she looked up at him, her gaze filled with a mix of honesty and playfulness. "I think we are close enough to see the same moon at night every day," she said, her voice carrying a subtle but undeniable warmth.

The poetic ambiguity of her words struck Bruce to his core. It was a confession wrapped in metaphor, a declaration of their bond without revealing anything directly. Her wit, her ability to express so much with so little, made him feel a surge of admiration and love. She hadn’t given anything away, and yet she had said everything that needed to be said.

Bruce felt an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness. The fact that she had chosen to be honest, to acknowledge the connection between them in such a beautifully cryptic way, filled him with a love that was both profound and deep. Her answer, so perfectly attuned to the man behind the mask, made him realize just how special she was—how she saw the world, and him, in a way no one else did.

She might not know he was Batman, but she understood the man he was in both identities, the light and the shadow. And she had accepted that, embracing their bond with a grace that only made him love her more.

As they stood there, the city’s lights flickering in the distance, Bruce felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for years. She was everything he had never dared to hope for—brilliant, kind, and strong in her own quiet way. And in that moment, he knew that no matter the challenges they might face, he would do whatever it took to keep her by his side.

This woman, with her gentle smile and insightful heart, had become his world, and he would cherish her always.

As Bruce settled into the back seat of the sleek, black car, Alfred began the drive back to Wayne Manor. The city of Gotham sped past them, its lights blurring into a stream of colors against the night. Bruce stared out the window, lost in thought, the faintest hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

From the front seat, Alfred couldn’t help but glance back at his charge through the rearview mirror. The smile Bruce wore was so rare, so unexpected, that it caught him off guard. He watched for a moment, the silence in the car comfortable but curious.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred began, his tone laced with gentle amusement, “I haven’t seen a smile on your face stick for longer than…” He paused, as if searching for the right words, then finished with a small, knowing grin, “…one second.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked up to meet Alfred’s in the mirror, his smile widening just a fraction. He shook his head slightly, amused by Alfred’s observation but not entirely surprised. Alfred had a way of noticing the things that even Bruce himself sometimes overlooked.

“It’s been a long time, Alfred,” Bruce admitted, the weight of his words softened by the lingering warmth he felt from his encounter with Y/N.

“Indeed, sir,” Alfred replied, a touch of pride in his voice. “She must be quite extraordinary to have made such an impression on you.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he let the memory of Y/N’s smile, her words, and the way she looked at him with such honesty and wit, wash over him. She was extraordinary—more than he could have ever imagined.

“She is,” Bruce finally said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. “She really is.”

Alfred nodded, satisfied with the answer. He had watched Bruce navigate the most challenging and dangerous aspects of his dual life with unwavering resolve, but this—this was different. This was something that touched the very core of who Bruce was, and Alfred knew it was exactly what he needed.

As they continued down the road, Alfred couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope. Perhaps this was the beginning of a new chapter for Bruce—a chapter where he didn’t have to face the darkness alone.

As the car glided smoothly through the streets of Gotham, Alfred broke the comfortable silence with a wry remark, his tone as dry as ever. “Are we sticking to the usual process of admiring and pining after Miss Y/N from afar at night, sir?”

Bruce let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. “I don’t pine, Alfred.”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred responded with a knowing nod, but the corners of his lips twitched with barely contained amusement. He never missed an opportunity to gently tease Bruce, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

A pause settled between them, but it wasn’t long before Alfred couldn’t resist adding one more comment, his voice laced with affection and wisdom. “You long… sir.”

Bruce turned his gaze away from the window and back to the rearview mirror, where Alfred’s eyes briefly met his own. The older man’s words held a truth that Bruce couldn’t entirely deny. Y/N had stirred something deep within him—a yearning that had always been there, buried beneath layers of duty and darkness, but now it was stronger, more insistent.

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he allowed himself to acknowledge that Alfred might be right, even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud. The pull he felt toward Y/N wasn’t just a fleeting desire; it was something far more profound, something that made him ache to be near her, even if he couldn’t fully explain why.

“Perhaps,” Bruce finally conceded, his voice low but without its usual edge. It was an admission, however small, that there was something different about this time—about her.

Alfred, ever perceptive, nodded subtly, satisfied with Bruce’s quiet revelation. “It’s good to long for something, Master Wayne,” he said gently. “It reminds us that there’s still hope, even in the darkest of places.”

Bruce leaned back in his seat, contemplating Alfred’s words. The darkness had been his companion for so long, but maybe, just maybe, Y/N could be the light that made it all worth enduring.

The car continued its journey back to the Manor, but the conversation had left its mark, both men lost in their thoughts, each silently hoping that this new path Bruce was on would lead to something more than just longing.

As Y/N worked late into the night at the library, she found herself once again startled by the familiar, looming figure emerging from the shadows. Her heart skipped a beat, but her surprise quickly turned to a mix of amusement and defiance.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the ghost of Hamlet,” she mused aloud, her voice echoing softly in the vast, dimly lit library. She could almost picture him in a dramatic, brooding pose, the very image of Shakespearean melancholy.

Batman stepped forward, his cape billowing slightly in the still air. “And if you’re not careful, you’ll find me as elusive as the Ghost of King Hamlet,” he replied in his gravelly voice.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Shall I compare thee to the midnight darkness?” she quipped, a play on Shakespeare’s famous sonnet. “Thou art more enigmatic and more shadowed.”

Batman’s eyes softened behind his mask, though his expression remained stoic. The mention of Shakespeare made the atmosphere feel almost theatrical, and for a moment, he was caught off guard by her literary references.

He took a step closer, his gaze fixed on her. “Is that how you see me, Y/N? As the dark knight who wanders the shadows, only to be compared to the midnight darkness?”

Y/N smirked, leaning against a nearby table. “Perhaps. But in literature, even the darkest characters have their moments of light. So, who knows? Maybe you’re not all shadows.”

Batman’s heart fluttered at her words. He had never expected their encounters to turn into such a unique exchange of wit and literary references. There was something about her playful banter and the way she used language that captivated him.

“And what about you, Y/N?” he asked softly. “What role do you play in this ongoing drama?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m just the scholar who appreciates a good story, whether it’s set in the dark corners of Gotham or the pages of a Shakespearean play. Besides, every story needs its hero and its muse.”

As she spoke, she turned back to her book, and when she glanced up again, Batman was gone, leaving only the faintest whisper of his presence behind.

“Serves me right,” Y/N said with a chuckle to herself. “He’s straight out of an Edgar Allan Poe novel.”

Unbeknownst to her, Batman had remained within earshot, his admiration for her deepening with every word she spoke. The literary references, the way she turned her fear into playful dialogue—it all made her even more intriguing in his eyes.

As Batman prowled through the darkened streets of Gotham, his mind often drifted back to the library, where Y/N's playful remarks and literary references had left an indelible mark on him. Alfred, ever the perceptive observer, took note of his mood and couldn’t resist a bit of teasing.

On one of those quiet, moonlit nights, as Batman perched on a rooftop, Alfred’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred began with a note of amusement in his tone, “I’ve noticed something rather intriguing.”

Batman’s voice, laced with a hint of curiosity, responded, “What’s that, Alfred?”

“Despite your formidable reputation and ability to intimidate the most hardened criminals,” Alfred said, his tone light, “it seems you’re rather easily disarmed when it comes to Miss Y/N. I dare say, the great Batman of Gotham often finds himself tongue-tied when she makes fun of you.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed slightly, though there was an undeniable hint of a smile in his voice. “Is that so?”

“Oh, quite so,” Alfred continued, barely concealing his amusement. “It’s as if she has a way of cutting through your armor and finding that soft spot where even the Dark Knight is caught off guard. How do you manage to stay so composed with her around?”

Batman’s silence was telling. He had indeed been caught off guard more than once by Y/N’s wit and charm. The way she turned their encounters into playful banter, often with literary references, was both disarming and endearing.

“Her words have a way of getting to me,” Batman admitted after a pause. “She’s perceptive and clever, and her humor is…refreshing.”

“Well,” Alfred said with a chuckle, “perhaps it’s a good thing. Even the most stoic of souls need a touch of levity. And Miss Y/N seems to have a unique talent for providing it.”

“Maybe,” Batman conceded, his tone softer. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten that you enjoy teasing me about it.”

“Teasing?” Alfred’s voice was innocent. “I simply observe and report, Master Wayne. It’s not my fault if you find yourself somewhat…disarmed.”

Batman’s laughter, a rare sound, echoed softly through the comms. “Alright, Alfred. I’ll try to keep my composure in future encounters. But you should know, it’s not as easy as it looks.”

Alfred’s chuckle was warm and genuine. “I’m sure, sir. And don’t worry, I’ll keep the observations to a minimum.”

As Batman resumed his patrol, he couldn’t help but reflect on Alfred’s words. Despite his best efforts, he was indeed affected by Y/N’s presence and words in a way that was both unexpected and deeply significant.

The next morning, Bruce Wayne stood in the grand hallway of Wayne Manor, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. He glanced at his reflection, then turned his attention to Alfred, who was calmly overseeing the preparations for the day.

"Is everything ready, Alfred?" Bruce asked, his voice steady but laced with a hint of anticipation.

“Yes, sir,” Alfred replied with a hint of amusement in his tone. “We are fully prepared for your... professional meeting with Miss Y/N, which, as you’ve requested, has been artfully disguised as a mere business arrangement.”

Bruce gave a small nod, though a faint smile threatened to break through his composed exterior.

Alfred, ever the observant one, continued with a wry smile, “Hence, the centerpieces are lilies and not red roses today.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. "I see you’ve thought of everything, Alfred."

“Of course, sir. We wouldn’t want to give Miss Y/N the wrong impression, would we?” Alfred responded, his tone light but knowing.

Bruce’s lips curved slightly. “The right impression, Alfred. Just… not too obvious.”

Alfred gave a slight bow, stepping back to let Bruce take in the preparations. “Subtlety is key, Master Wayne. After all, one can be professional and still leave an impression.”

Bruce chuckled softly, appreciating Alfred’s keen understanding of the delicate balance he was trying to maintain. “Let’s hope she notices,” he said, more to himself than to Alfred.

“Knowing Miss Y/N, sir, I’m certain she will,” Alfred assured him with a nod. “And if I may add, lilies are quite elegant—a fitting choice for such a refined lady.”

Bruce adjusted his tie one last time and took a deep breath. "Let's get started, then."

As Alfred led the way, Bruce followed, his mind already on the upcoming meeting—one that held much more significance than the typical business dealings he was accustomed to. He couldn’t help but wonder how Y/N would react, and more importantly, how he would manage to keep his emotions in check as he navigated this new and uncertain territory.

Bruce Wayne had always been known for his philanthropy, particularly in the realm of education and the preservation of knowledge. It wasn’t unusual for him to express interest in the expansion of Gotham University's resources, and so, when he reached out to the university's dean about the plans for the new library wing, it didn’t raise any eyebrows. But beneath the veneer of business as usual, there was a deeper, more personal motive driving his actions.

Sitting in his expansive office, Bruce reviewed the proposal for the new wing named after his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne. The plans were detailed, covering everything from the architectural design to the types of collections that would be housed there. It was all impressive, but these specifics held little of Bruce’s genuine interest. What truly mattered to him was the person he had requested to present these details.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to Professor Y/N. She was the real reason he had pushed for this particular meeting. The dean had suggested a few other faculty members for the discussion, but Bruce had been insistent. He had calmly, yet firmly, requested that someone with deep knowledge of literature, and particularly the kind of person who was intimately familiar with the library’s collection and its educational value, be present. In other words, he had specifically asked for Y/N.

It wasn’t a decision made lightly. Bruce had spent the previous night thinking about her—about the way her eyes sparkled with intellect and passion when she spoke of literature, the way she carried herself with grace and confidence, and the subtle way she had captured his attention from their very first encounter. There was a pull between them that he couldn’t ignore, and as Batman, he had recognized it immediately. Now, as Bruce Wayne, he was determined to explore it further.

When the dean had mentioned Y/N’s name, Bruce had fought to maintain his usual composure, nodding as if it were merely a matter of academic preference. But inside, he felt a thrill, a rare burst of excitement that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Yes, Professor Y/N would be an excellent choice,” Bruce had said, his tone measured. “Her expertise and understanding of the literary landscape will be invaluable in ensuring that this new wing meets the highest standards. I’d like her to come prepared with the architectural details and, more importantly, with a curated list of books that we might consider making exclusively available in the new wing.”

The dean had seemed pleased with the suggestion, not realizing that the books and architecture were, in truth, secondary concerns to Bruce. The real reason behind his insistence was to spend more time with Y/N, to hear her speak about the things she loved, and perhaps to see if the connection he felt was as strong as he imagined it to be.

As Bruce waited for the scheduled meeting, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. He knew Y/N was intelligent—her mind was a sharp blade, cutting through the complexities of literature with ease. But she was also kind, her presence calming in a way that made him feel at ease, even as his other persona carried the weight of Gotham on his shoulders.

Bruce closed the proposal folder, setting it aside on his desk. It was a calculated move, requesting her presence, but one he was willing to take. Y/N was someone who intrigued him on a level that was more than just intellectual. He found himself captivated by her—her wit, her charm, and the way she didn’t seem to be swayed by his wealth or status.

He knew that this meeting, ostensibly about books and architecture, was just an excuse—a carefully orchestrated opportunity to spend more time with her, to get to know the woman who had so effortlessly become the center of his thoughts. As he straightened his tie and prepared to head to the university, Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of seeing her again. Little did anyone know, the heart of Gotham’s most elusive billionaire was already spoken for, and the one who had claimed it was about to walk into the room.

As Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, staring off into space with a rare, unguarded expression, Alfred couldn’t help but notice the change in his demeanor. Bruce’s normally sharp and focused gaze was softer, his mind clearly elsewhere—lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with the papers in front of him. It wasn’t difficult for Alfred to guess what, or rather who, was occupying his thoughts so thoroughly.

Standing nearby, Alfred allowed a small, knowing smile to grace his features. After all, it wasn’t every day that he saw Bruce so preoccupied with something other than his nightly escapades as Batman. There was something refreshingly human about the way Bruce’s mind seemed to drift, a welcome change from the relentless vigilance he usually maintained.

Unable to resist a bit of teasing, Alfred cleared his throat gently and said, “Blink twice if you wish me to dim the lights, Mr. Wayne.”

The comment snapped Bruce out of his reverie. He blinked once, then chuckled softly, shaking his head as he realized just how lost in thought he had been. “No need for that, Alfred,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m fine.”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred responded, his tone light but his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Though it’s not often I see you so deep in thought. Perhaps there’s something—or someone—particularly inspiring on your mind?”

Bruce smiled, the expression lingering longer than usual. “You could say that,” he admitted, not offering more but knowing full well that Alfred was already aware of the reason for his distraction.

“Well, if I may say so, sir, it’s a welcome sight,” Alfred remarked, his voice carrying a note of genuine warmth. “It’s good to see you looking forward to something beyond the usual Gotham affairs.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, the smile still playing on his lips. “It’s not every day you find yourself captivated by someone who doesn’t even realize the effect they have on you.”

Alfred nodded sagely. “Indeed, sir. And if I might be so bold, it’s been far too long since you’ve had someone who could bring that sort of light back into your life.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately, but the thoughtful expression on his face spoke volumes. He knew Alfred was right. He had been alone for too long, shutting himself off from the world outside of his dual lives. But now, with Y/N, there was a glimmer of something more—a possibility he hadn’t allowed himself to consider in years.

“Perhaps,” Bruce finally said, his tone contemplative, “it’s time I stopped letting my past define my future.”

Alfred’s smile widened, a hint of pride in his eyes. “A wise decision, if I may say so, Master Wayne. And, of course, I’m here to assist in any way I can. Even if that means reminding you to blink once in a while.”

Bruce chuckled again, the lightness of the moment lifting some of the weight from his shoulders. “Noted, Alfred. Noted.”

At Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne paced the grand hallway with an unusual restlessness. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a barely concealed excitement as he glanced repeatedly at the clock. The upcoming “meeting” with Y/N had him unusually on edge.

Alfred, ever the keen observer, couldn’t help but notice Bruce’s uncharacteristic behavior. With a knowing smile, he approached Bruce, who was adjusting his cufflinks for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred began, his voice carrying a touch of playful amusement, “I must say, I’ve rarely seen you quite so... invested in a professional meeting.”

Bruce glanced up, momentarily caught off guard by Alfred’s tone. “It’s important, Alfred. We need to discuss the plans for the library wing.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his expression one of barely contained mirth. “Indeed, sir. And yet, I couldn’t help but notice that your eagerness seems to surpass what one might expect for a discussion about books and architectural plans.”

Bruce’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though he tried to maintain his composure. “I just want everything to go smoothly.”

“Of course,” Alfred said, his tone teasing. “But it’s not lost on me that this particular meeting has you more... animated than usual. Could it be that you’re anticipating more than just architectural plans?”

Bruce tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Alfred, I think you’re reading too much into this.”

“Oh, I doubt it, Master Wayne,” Alfred replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “From where I’m standing, it appears you’re as eager for this meeting as a schoolboy awaiting a field trip.”

Bruce shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Well, I suppose I am looking forward to it.”

Alfred’s grin widened. “Very good, sir. Just remember, while you may be waiting with bated breath for Miss Y/N’s arrival, it’s a meeting, not a grand performance. Try to stay composed.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bruce said, his eyes returning to the door as he eagerly awaited Y/N’s arrival.

As Alfred walked away, he couldn’t resist one last comment over his shoulder. “I must say, Master Wayne, the anticipation suits you.”

Bruce laughed softly to himself, feeling both amused and touched by Alfred’s gentle ribbing. The prospect of seeing Y/N was indeed exciting, and he knew Alfred’s playful jabs were all part of a familiar routine that made the moments leading up to their meeting even more special.

As Y/N’s car pulled up to the grand gates of Wayne Manor, the automatic gates slid open, revealing the sprawling estate. Batman, observing from the shadows, noted her arrival with a sense of anticipation. His voice crackled through the comms to Alfred.

“She’s here,” Batman said, his tone initially filled with a rare touch of eagerness. He quickly adjusted to a more stoic demeanor, adding, “She’s here with the files.”

Alfred, standing near the entrance, cast a knowing glance at Batman before turning his attention to Y/N’s arrival.

Y/N stepped out of her car, clutching a stack of files in one hand. Dressed casually in jeans and a fitted blouse, she took a moment to absorb the grandeur of Wayne Manor. Her eyes wandered over the manicured gardens and the imposing facade of the manor, clearly impressed by the estate’s opulence.

She took a deep breath and approached the entrance, her curiosity and professionalism evident. As she reached the door, Alfred greeted her with a warm smile and a polite nod.

“Professor Y/N, welcome to Wayne Manor,” Alfred said, extending a hand. “Mr. Wayne is looking forward to your meeting.”

Y/N shook Alfred’s hand, her smile reflecting both her excitement and nervousness. “Thank you, Mr. Alfred. I must say, this place is even more impressive in person.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “It certainly is. Please, follow me. Mr. Wayne is in his study.”

As they walked through the opulent corridors of Wayne Manor, Alfred glanced back at Y/N, noting her awe-struck expression. He could almost hear Batman’s thoughts as he watched from his hidden vantage point, waiting for the moment when he could finally greet Y/N in person.

With each step, the anticipation grew. Y/N was about to step into a world that had intrigued her from afar, and Bruce Wayne, both the billionaire and the masked vigilante, was ready to make a memorable impression.

As Y/N entered the study, she was greeted by Bruce Wayne, who rose from behind his grand mahogany desk with a practiced air of ease. Alfred, ever the gracious host, discreetly excused himself to fetch refreshments, leaving Bruce alone with Y/N.

“You have a wonderful place, Mr. Wayne,” Y/N said, her eyes taking in the luxurious surroundings of the study, from the ornate bookshelves to the rich leather armchairs.

“Thank you,” Bruce replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It gets things done.”

He gestured toward a large, plush armchair positioned before the desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Y/N settled into the chair, her demeanor professional yet warm. Bruce, meanwhile, remained standing for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that bordered on admiration.

As he finally took his own seat across from her, he leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed but attentive. “What would you like to discuss first?” Y/N inquired, her voice steady and confident.

Bruce’s mind was only partially on the files she had brought. Although he knew the importance of the meeting, his thoughts often drifted to how captivating she appeared in the setting of his study. Her casual elegance contrasted sharply with the formality of the manor, and it intrigued him. He found himself more interested in the way she spoke, the subtle gestures she made, and the intelligence that shone in her eyes.

“Anything you wish,” Bruce said, his tone casual, but his eyes reflecting a depth of interest far beyond the professional. He was absorbed by her presence, imagining scenarios where they could share more than just a formal conversation. In his mind, he envisioned walking through the gardens with her, engaging in meaningful discussions, or simply enjoying each other’s company away from the prying eyes of Gotham.

He watched as she organized the files and began to talk about the details. Her enthusiasm and passion for her work were evident, but Bruce found himself distracted by the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke, and the gentle confidence with which she carried herself. Each word she uttered seemed to captivate him further, drawing him into a realm where professional boundaries blurred with personal fascination.

As Y/N started outlining the plans, Bruce's thoughts wandered. He imagined what it would be like to have her around more often, perhaps even envisioning scenarios where their interactions became more than just formal meetings. The idea of sharing more of his world with her, beyond the confines of business, became increasingly appealing.

Alfred’s return with refreshments was a welcome interruption, but even as he served them, Bruce’s gaze occasionally lingered on Y/N, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of a future where their professional encounters could evolve into something more personal and fulfilling.

After nearly forty minutes of discussing the files and sipping coffee, Bruce Wayne leaned back in his chair and suggested, “Let’s take a break. Let me show you around the manor.”

Y/N looked up, surprised but pleased. “Oh, okay. I suppose we can take a break.”

Bruce stood and extended a hand toward the door, his demeanor relaxed yet focused on making the experience enjoyable for her. As they walked through the grand hallways and stepped into the lush gardens, Bruce felt a sense of anticipation. He was eager to share more of his world with Y/N, and he hoped that the serene environment would provide a backdrop for deeper conversation and connection.

“You know, if I had a garden like this, even I’d never leave this place,” Y/N remarked, her voice filled with genuine admiration as she took in the beauty of the expansive garden.

Bruce smiled at her comment, feeling a mix of pride and satisfaction. “So you know my reputation to be non-social, Yn?” he asked, a touch of playful curiosity in his voice.

“I have had my share of warnings given to me before coming here, Mr. Wayne,” she replied with a hint of teasing in her tone.

“And what were they?” Bruce asked, genuinely interested in her response.

Y/N’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Not interesting enough to stop me.”

Bruce’s smile widened at her defiant charm. He was captivated by her confidence and the way she didn’t shy away from engaging with him on a personal level. “You enjoy a good story, it seems,” he observed, his admiration for her growing with each interaction.

“I enjoy interesting characters too, and I am with one such right now,” Y/N said, her gaze meeting his with a spark of intrigue.

Bruce’s heart fluttered at her words. He was increasingly drawn to her perceptiveness and the way she seemed to see beyond his public persona. “What can you say about this character that you are with, Yn?” he asked, curious and hopeful.

Y/N paused, thoughtfully considering her response. “I’d say he has depth and probably does almost all the things someone might expect him to do, but one thing makes him rather unique,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of mystery.

“What is it?” Bruce asked, leaning in slightly, eager to hear her perspective.

“That out-of-order fountain over there,” she said, pointing to a large, dry fountain in the middle of the garden. “It is an almost ominous presence that makes me curious. Why would someone like you have a non-working fountain?”

Bruce felt a mix of emotions as he listened to her observations. He was both touched and slightly embarrassed by her keen perception. The fountain was a symbol of his own complexities—an elegant yet neglected feature of the estate. Y/N’s curiosity and the way she connected it to his character resonated with him.

“Seems like you have a mystery in your hands, Yn,” Bruce said with a chuckle, trying to mask his vulnerability. Her insight into something as trivial as the fountain made him feel both exposed and enchanted by her perceptiveness.

As they continued their walk through the garden, Bruce’s thoughts were filled with a deeper appreciation for Y/N. Her ability to see beyond the surface and her engaging personality made him eager to explore where their connection might lead. Each moment spent with her felt like a step closer to understanding the intriguing character she had described—both the one he played in public and the man he was beneath the mask.

As they continued their walk through the garden, the conversation drifted back to Batman. Bruce, driven by curiosity and a desire to gauge her thoughts on his alter ego, asked, “You might find Batman a very interesting character of Gotham then.”

Bruce noticed a faint blush touch Y/N’s cheeks at the mention of Batman, and it filled him with immense joy. Her reaction was subtle but significant to him, suggesting a deeper intrigue and connection to the persona he had carefully crafted. It was a silent acknowledgment that she saw beyond the mask, and it made him feel an unexpected sense of validation.

“Would you believe if I say he reminds me of both Hamlet and Hamlet’s ghost?” Y/N replied, her tone thoughtful and engaging.

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat. He was fascinated by her ability to perceive the complexity of Batman in such literary terms. “How so?” he asked, genuinely intrigued by her interpretation.

“Hamlet is vengeance, as he says once,” Y/N began, her eyes meeting his with a mix of seriousness and insight. “And then the ghost is what drives the vengeance.”

As she spoke, Bruce felt an intense wave of vulnerability. It was as if Y/N, his soulmate, could see right through him. Her words cut through the layers of his public persona and touched on the core of his internal struggle. The comparison to Hamlet and his ghost was strikingly accurate; Batman was indeed driven by a deep-seated sense of vengeance, while his own haunting past fueled that drive.

For a moment, Bruce felt as though he was stripped naked, his innermost fears and motivations laid bare before her. It was a profound and unsettling experience, but also one that brought him a deep sense of relief. Y/N’s perceptiveness and the way she articulated the dichotomy of Batman made him feel seen in a way he rarely experienced.

Her insight into his duality—the vengeance embodied by Batman and the haunting past that drove him—made Bruce realize how much he longed for someone to understand him at such a fundamental level. It was as if Y/N had glimpsed into the darkest corners of his soul and found a reflection of the truth he had buried for so long.

As they continued walking, Bruce’s admiration for Y/N grew even stronger. Her ability to unravel the complexities of his alter ego, combined with her genuine curiosity and warmth, made him feel a profound connection. He knew that she was not just intrigued by Batman but also understood the man behind the mask in a way that few ever could. This realization deepened his feelings for her, making him more determined to bridge the gap between his two worlds and find a way to be truly seen and loved by her.

y/n looks at her watch and says “You know, Mr. Wayne, I am so sorry for taking up so much of your time today. I really need to head to the university library for my own work.”

Bruce’s expression faltered slightly at the prospect of her leaving, but he quickly masked his disappointment with a hopeful tone. “Would you like to stay for dinner? Alfred is a wonderful cook.”

Y/N hesitated, clearly tempted by the offer. “I’m afraid I have to go, but I’ll definitely hold on to that offer for another time.”

With that, she turned and walked out, leaving Bruce standing in the study, watching as her car pulled away. A smile lingered on his face, and the glow in his eyes spoke volumes. Alfred, ever perceptive, noticed the heartfelt expression and the subtle longing in Bruce’s gaze.

As Bruce stood there, lost in thoughts of their conversation, Alfred approached with a knowing smile. “It’s time to meet her again, isn’t it, Master Wayne?” he said, hinting at the inevitable next step.

Bruce turned to Alfred, his smile softening. “Yes, Alfred,” he said quietly, his voice laced with determination. “It’s time.”

Alfred’s eyes twinkled with understanding as he nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

As Bruce prepared to leave, his thoughts were already shifting towards his next encounter with Y/N. The idea of meeting her again, this time as Batman, filled him with a mix of anticipation and resolve. He knew that this meeting could be the key to bridging the gap between his two identities and finally bringing his soulmate into his world—both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman.

Bruce glanced at the dry fountain in the garden, a symbol of the enigma Y/N had picked up on. With a small nod, he instructed, “Also, Alfred, please get the fountain repaired.”

Alfred, already anticipating the request, responded with a hint of amusement, “I’ve already called the repair team, sir.”

Bruce gave a brief smile of satisfaction, turning his attention back to the evening ahead.Y/N sat slumped over a stack of books in the library, exhaustion weighing on her. Her eyes fluttered open briefly as she heard the familiar, brooding voice of Batman.

“You shouldn’t work so hard if you’re tired,” he said, his tone both concerned and authoritative.

Without opening her eyes, she smiled and murmured, “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”

The quote rolled off her tongue effortlessly, a poetic response that acknowledged the darkness of her fatigue while hinting at the dreamlike presence of her enigmatic soulmate. Her eyes remained closed, savoring the brief moment of connection.

Y/N tilted her head back, her eyes still closed. “Does this library fall under your usual patrolling areas?” she asked, her voice teasing.

“Only when I suspect someone’s presence,” Batman replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Must be someone important,” she mused, prodding him further. She heard only a noncommittal hum in response.

“And how long do you intend to stay with this someone important?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

“Forever,” Batman responded, his voice steady and sincere.

Y/N’s eyes flew open in surprise at the unexpected confession, her heart racing. The gravity of his words lingered as she stared at the empty space where he had just been.

The following morning, Y/N found herself unable to shake the impact of Batman’s words. “Forever” echoed in her mind, leaving her wrestling with a whirlwind of emotions. Had he, in his own cryptic way, confessed his acceptance of her as his soulmate? Was it a declaration of love, cloaked in the enigmatic darkness that surrounded him?

As she went about her day, the weight of his words hung over her, blending with her thoughts and questions. The possibility that Batman had just shared his deep feelings, even if veiled in his usual guarded manner, left her both exhilarated and contemplative. The idea that he might truly want to be with her forever was both thrilling and daunting, adding a layer of complexity to their already enigmatic connection.

Y/N took a deep breath, grounding herself amidst the swirling thoughts. So what if he did confess? she reasoned. It wasn’t as though she knew his true identity or had experienced any tangible sign of affection from him, like a kiss to solidify their bond.

She reminded herself that the soulmate connection, while significant, was still shrouded in mystery and uncertainty. Until Batman revealed himself and their relationship evolved beyond these shadowy encounters, she couldn’t fully embrace or act on the emotions stirred by his ambiguous declaration.

The dean approached Y/N with a broad smile, his excitement palpable. “Yn, I have some incredible news,” he began, his eyes gleaming. “Wayne Companies has donated nearly $5 million for our new wing—five times more than we were initially promised!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “That’s astonishing!” she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement. “I had no idea they would contribute such a substantial amount.”

The dean nodded, clearly impressed. “Your efforts and the positive impression you’ve made must have played a significant role. This is a huge boost for our project, and it’s all thanks to you.”

Blushing modestly, Y/N smiled, feeling a swell of pride. “I’m glad I could help. It’s amazing to see such support for the university.”

Batman had grown accustomed to observing Y/N from the shadows, a silent guardian who found solace in watching her when he wasn’t actively interacting with her. On those quiet nights, he would see her in various states of serene engagement with her surroundings. From his vantage points, he could admire the way she would immerse herself in her work, her focus so intense it was almost palpable.

Some evenings, as the library’s grand halls dimmed under the fading light, Y/N would sit in a secluded corner, her posture relaxed yet intent as she leafed through the pages of her books. Occasionally, her concentration would waver, and she’d hum softly to herself, a gentle melody that echoed through the silence. Batman, hidden in the recesses of the library, would listen, mesmerized by her voice—a delicate yet powerful timbre that seemed to convey an array of emotions.

On other days, Y/N would arrive with her headphones on, lost in her music. She’d sway slightly, her movements fluid and carefree, as though the world around her had melted away. Her lips would curve into a soft smile, and sometimes she’d even sing along quietly, her voice a sweet accompaniment to the rhythm of the songs. Batman, observing from afar, felt a deep, unspoken connection to her in these moments. It was as if each note she sang and each sway of her body was an intimate glimpse into her soul, a side of her that was pure and unguarded.

The way she allowed herself to be lost in the music, oblivious to the world around her, spoke volumes to Batman. It was a beautiful contrast to the often harsh reality of Gotham and a reminder of the gentle, resilient spirit that lay within Y/N.The longer Batman observed Y/N, the more he found himself grappling with an internal conflict. Her presence had become a beacon in the otherwise dark expanse of his life. Each night spent watching her, each moment of witnessing her unguarded, genuine self, intensified his yearning to bridge the distance between them.

He was becoming increasingly aware that maintaining his distance was a losing battle against the pull of his own heart. The quiet moments of her singing, the way she immersed herself in her work, and even the occasional brief interaction they shared only served to deepen his attachment. Her laughter, her passion for literature, and her ability to lose herself in music had unwittingly become his sanctuary from the shadows he roamed.

The walls he had carefully constructed around his dual identities were starting to feel like prisons, trapping him away from the person who seemed to complete him in ways he had never anticipated. Batman's resolve to remain distant was wavering, overshadowed by a powerful realization: the more he observed Y/N, the more he understood that true solace might only be found in truly connecting with her.

The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. He knew that stepping out of the shadows and revealing himself to her was fraught with risk—risk of exposing his vulnerabilities and of disrupting the carefully balanced life he had built as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. Yet, the more he was near her, the more undeniable it became that the pull to be close to her was something he could no longer ignore.

He had to confront the reality that his efforts to distance himself were failing. The longing to be with Y/N, to experience a life where he didn’t have to hide behind masks and shadows, was growing too powerful to be restrained any longer. The internal struggle was no longer just about his dual identities but about his desire for a shared future with her—a future that seemed to be slipping away with each passing day.Batman’s fear about how Y/N would react if he revealed his true identity was palpable. He grappled with anxiety over several scenarios that played out in his mind. His fear was not just about how she would handle the truth, but also about the potential impact it might have on her safety, their relationship, and his own sense of security.

He worried about the shock and betrayal she might feel upon discovering that the man she had come to know as Bruce Wayne was also the vigilante Batman. Would she see him as a hero, or would the duality of his life make her feel deceived? The very fabric of their budding connection might unravel, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her trust and affection.

Moreover, he feared for her safety. The world of Gotham was unforgiving and dangerous, and associating with Batman was fraught with peril. He couldn’t help but think about the threats that might emerge if his enemies discovered his soulmate and used her as leverage against him. The idea of putting her in danger because of his decisions was almost unbearable.

The emotional vulnerability he would expose by letting her in on his secret also troubled him. Batman had always been a figure of strength and mystery, and revealing his true self meant exposing his fears, insecurities, and the pain of his past. He was concerned about whether she would be able to understand and accept the complexities of his life and the reasons behind his vigilantism.

In his quiet moments of contemplation, Batman was torn between the yearning to be close to Y/N and the overwhelming fear of the unknown consequences of revealing his true identity. The risk of disrupting their relationship and the potential danger to her safety weighed heavily on his mind, making the decision to reveal himself both a daunting and heart-wrenching dilemma.

As Batman arrived at the library that night, he noticed the absence of his usual punctuality and couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. The library's dim light cast long shadows across the aisles, and he approached silently, guided by the faintest of sounds.

The music drifting through the library was unmistakable—a classic disco tune, "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees. Batman's curiosity piqued, he moved closer, his usual stealth heightened by the soft, rhythmic beat that seemed incongruous with the library's serene environment.

Peering from the shadows, he saw Y/N standing near one of the bookcases. Her back was to him, and she was in the midst of packing her things. To his surprise, she was dancing to the song. Her movements were light and carefree, a stark contrast to the serious demeanor Batman was accustomed to.

She swayed her hips to the rhythm, her movements synchronized with the beat of the song. The library's silence was occasionally punctuated by her soft humming, and her face bore a relaxed, almost joyful expression. She was completely absorbed in her dance, her usual reserve melting away as she let the music take over.

Batman found himself captivated by the sight. There was something disarming and endearing about Y/N letting her guard down, dancing alone in the empty library. It was a rare glimpse into her personal world, one that he had rarely seen.

He remained hidden, watching her for a moment longer. The incongruity of the scene—Y/N dancing to a disco hit in a quiet library—was a small but significant reminder of how multi-faceted she was. Batman's heart ached with the longing to be part of that world, to be someone she could share these small, joyful moments with.

As the song came to an end, Y/N sighed and turned to gather her belongings. Her moment of spontaneity had passed, but the joy it brought her lingered in the air. Batman stepped back into the shadows, silently vowing to himself that he would find a way to bridge the gap between his two worlds.

------------------------------------

The Wayne Hall was alive with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses as the guests milled about, admiring the newly completed library wing dedicated to Bruce’s parents. It was an event that had drawn everyone from Gotham University, including the dean and various notable scholars. Yet, amidst the grandeur of the evening, Bruce Wayne’s attention was elsewhere.

Standing near the grand entrance, Bruce subtly adjusted his cufflinks for what felt like the hundredth time. Alfred, ever the observant butler, was helping him with his tie when he couldn't resist teasing Bruce just a bit. "Does Miss Y/N know that you just threw a 2 million completion party just to spend some time with her?"Bruce tensed, trying to maintain his composure. "Alfred, the party is not for her," he replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

With a glint in his eye, Alfred continued to straighten Bruce's attire. "Oh, then I shouldn’t worry if she doesn’t come, should I?"

Bruce’s confident facade slipped momentarily. "She won’t come?" he asked, the hint of concern clear in his voice.

"Is she invited?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce hesitated, realizing he was caught. He sighed, the truth surfacing despite his earlier denial. "Of course, it's for her… I don’t want these strangers in my house drinking free whiskey."

Alfred chuckled softly. "No, you don’t, sir."

As Alfred finished, Bruce gave a slight nod of thanks, though his mind was already elsewhere, his eyes frequently darting toward the entrance as if he could summon Y/N by sheer will.

The hall was full, with guests mingling and engaging in conversation. Bruce made the rounds, offering polite smiles and exchanging pleasantries, but his thoughts were far from the small talk. Each time the heavy doors at the far end of the hall swung open, he looked up, hoping to see her.

The evening progressed, with the dean delivering a speech that Bruce barely registered. Applause followed, but Bruce was too preoccupied with scanning the room.

Then, as the evening began to stretch on, the doors opened once more. Bruce turned, his breath catching in his throat.

Y/N had arrived.

She was a vision. Dressed in a stunning navy velvet off-shoulder mermaid gown that hugged her figure elegantly, she drew every eye in the room. The deep, rich fabric of the gown shimmered under the soft lighting, accentuating her graceful movements. She had paired the gown with delicate diamond earrings that sparkled with every turn of her head, and a small sapphire pendant rested just above her collarbone, complementing the deep blue of her dress. Her hair was styled in a low, sophisticated bun, leaving her shoulders bare and highlighting her flawless neckline.

Bruce felt his heart skip a beat. She looked breathtaking, and for a moment, he could do nothing but admire her.

Alfred, noticing Bruce’s reaction, leaned in and whispered, "It seems the guest of honor has arrived, sir."

Without a word, Bruce began moving toward her, his steps purposeful yet unhurried, his gaze locked on her. For all the planning, all the effort that had gone into the evening, none of it held a candle to the sight of Y/N standing in the doorway of Wayne Hall.

As he reached her, Bruce offered a smile, one that was warmer and more genuine than any he'd given that night. "You made it," he said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and admiration.

Y/N returned his smile, her eyes meeting his with a spark that made the entire evening worth it. "I wouldn’t miss it," she replied, her tone as warm as the soft lights that illuminated the grand hall.

Bruce felt a sense of peace wash over him. The party, the wing, the accolades—they were all secondary. All that mattered was that she was here, a vision in velvet and diamonds, making the evening truly unforgettable.

The grand hall of Wayne Manor was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of music that floated through the air. Bruce Wayne had spent the evening attempting to remain close to Y/N, subtly guiding conversations and encounters to keep her by his side. Each time he had to step away for the demands of hosting, he found himself returning to her, drawn back as if by some invisible force.

The evening progressed with laughter, toasts, and the occasional clatter of cutlery as guests indulged in the gourmet spread. The atmosphere was one of opulence and celebration, yet Bruce’s focus was singular: Y/N.

Finally, after navigating the throngs of guests, Bruce managed to catch Y/N in a quieter moment, standing by the now-repaired fountain in the corner of the hall. The gentle trickle of water provided a serene backdrop to their conversation.

"I see the fountain is working," Y/N mused, a playful glint in her eye.

Bruce smiled, leaning slightly closer. "I didn’t want others to notice my character flaw," he quipped, earning a soft chuckle from her. The sound of her laughter was music to his ears, far more enchanting than anything the band could play.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, an inquisitive smile on her lips. "Do you never dance at your own parties, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce’s gaze lingered on her face, admiring the way her eyes sparkled in the soft light. "I never found the right partner," he replied, his voice low and sincere. "Or the right song," he added, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She raised an eyebrow, the challenge clear in her expression. "So even this party would remain devoid of seeing the great Mr. Wayne being twinkle toes?"

Bruce's smile deepened, a playful glint in his eyes. "That depends, Y/N," he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Y/N hesitated, a mix of surprise and delight flashing across her face. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tone teasing but with an underlying sincerity.

Bruce didn’t hesitate. "Yes," he answered confidently, offering his hand. As she placed her hand in his, he gently led her to the center of the dance floor.

The guests parted slightly, giving the pair space as they noticed Bruce and Y/N taking to the floor. Bruce caught Alfred’s eye and gave a subtle nod. Alfred, ever the impeccable butler, signaled to the band. The music seamlessly shifted from the elegant background tunes to something more playful, more fitting—"Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and amusement as the unmistakable beat of the disco classic filled the hall. Bruce grinned, an uncharacteristically carefree expression on his usually composed face.

"Really, Mr. Wayne?" she asked, her tone light, as they began to move to the rhythm.

Bruce chuckled, pulling her a little closer as they swayed to the beat. "I told you, it’s all about finding the right song."

As they danced, Bruce found himself loosening up in a way he rarely did, especially at such events. The disco beat was infectious, and Y/N matched him step for step, her laughter bubbling up as they spun and swayed together. The dance floor, illuminated by the warm glow of chandeliers, suddenly felt like the center of the universe, with just the two of them in it.

Bruce’s usual calculated movements became fluid, easy, as he allowed himself to be swept up in the moment. He even attempted a few of the classic disco moves, much to Y/N’s delight, her laughter ringing out as he spun her around, the velvet of her gown flowing elegantly with every turn.

For a few minutes, the pressures of Gotham, the burdens of his dual life, and the stoic mask of Bruce Wayne all melted away. He was simply a man dancing with a woman he admired—no, adored. The joy in Y/N’s eyes, the way her smile never seemed to waver, made his heart feel lighter than it had in years.

When the song ended, Bruce dipped Y/N low, her laughter filling his ears as the guests around them clapped and cheered. As he pulled her back up, their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had vanished, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of shared joy.

Breathless, Y/N smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "You were right," she said softly, still holding his gaze. "It is all about finding the right song."

Bruce, still holding her close, nodded. "And the right partner," he added, his voice filled with a warmth that was meant just for her.

As they stood there, the applause fading into the background, Bruce realized that tonight had been more than just a party. It had been a revelation. Y/N wasn’t just someone he wanted to impress; she was someone who made him feel alive, who reminded him that there was more to life than the weight he carried as Gotham’s protector.

And as he looked into her eyes, he knew, without a doubt, that he would do anything to keep this feeling, and her, in his life.

As Y/N excused herself to go to freshen up , Bruce watched her retreating figure, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of their dance. The warmth of her presence lingered, making him feel lighter than he had in a long time. He barely noticed Alfred approach until the older man was standing beside him, his usual composed expression tinged with the slightest hint of amusement.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred began, his tone respectful but with that familiar undertone that suggested he was about to say something Bruce might not want to hear, “it seems the evening is going rather well.”

Bruce nodded, still half-distracted by thoughts of Y/N. “Yes, it is,” he replied, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Alfred adjusted Bruce’s tie, a gesture that was more symbolic than necessary. “It’s not every day that we see you dancing, sir, especially not with such... enthusiasm.”

Bruce’s smile grew, though he attempted to maintain his usual stoic demeanor. “What can I say, Alfred? Sometimes the occasion calls for it.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agreed, his eyes twinkling with a knowing glint. He took a step back, studying Bruce with a look that only someone who had practically raised him could pull off. “You know, sir, I couldn’t help but notice how much effort you’ve put into this evening. The lavish party, the music, the… fountain,” Alfred added with a slight emphasis, referencing the earlier conversation with a barely concealed grin.

Bruce gave a small, almost sheepish nod. “Well, it’s an important night. The university, the new wing—”

“—And Miss Y/N,” Alfred finished for him, his voice gentle yet firm.

Bruce didn’t reply immediately, his gaze drifting back to where Y/N had disappeared. “She’s... different, Alfred. She makes everything feel... less heavy.”

Alfred’s expression softened. “She does seem to bring out a side of you that’s been missing for a while, sir. It’s nice to see you... enjoying yourself.”

Bruce let out a soft chuckle. “I suppose it is.”

Alfred stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly, as if confiding in Bruce. “You know, Master Wayne, while it’s wonderful that you’re connecting with Miss Y/N as Bruce Wayne, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before you introduce her to the other side of your life.”

Bruce’s demeanor shifted slightly, the weight of Alfred’s words settling over him like a shadow. “I don’t want to rush anything. She deserves to know, but... it’s complicated.”

“Life always is, sir,” Alfred agreed. “But you can’t keep the two parts of yourself separated forever. Not with someone who means this much to you.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. It’s just... she sees through me, Alfred. Even when I’m Bruce Wayne, she knows there’s more beneath the surface. But Batman... that’s a whole different conversation.”

Alfred placed a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “When the time is right, you’ll know. But don’t let that fear keep you from moving forward with her. She’s a remarkable woman, and it’s clear that you care for her deeply.”

Bruce nodded, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. “You’re right, Alfred. As usual.”

Alfred gave him a small, encouraging smile. “It’s my job, sir. And might I add, Miss Y/N seems quite fond of you as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been waiting for you to make the first move.”

Bruce looked back toward the hallway where Y/N had disappeared. “I just want to do this right, Alfred.”

“And you will,” Alfred assured him. “Just be honest with her. She seems to appreciate that about you.”

Before Bruce could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps signaled Y/N’s return. Alfred straightened up, giving Bruce one last knowing look before stepping aside to allow the two to continue their evening together.

As Y/N rejoined them, Bruce felt a renewed sense of determination. Alfred was right—he couldn’t keep his dual lives separate forever. But tonight, he decided, he would focus on being in the moment with Y/N. The rest, he would deal with in time.

As the last of the guests filtered out, Bruce’s attention was barely on the formalities of bidding them goodbye. His eyes kept darting past the departing dignitaries, searching for Y/N in the crowd. When he finally caught sight of her, she was standing by the entrance, her delicate fingers fumbling with her coat.

Bruce excused himself quickly, weaving through the few lingering guests until he reached her. As he approached, she turned to face him, a soft, tired smile on her lips. Without a word, he gently took the coat from her hands, helping her slip it on. His fingers brushed against her shoulders as he adjusted the fabric, and he found himself lingering, not wanting to break the connection.

"You threw a wonderful party, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, her voice warm but touched with exhaustion.

Bruce forced a smile, trying to mask the ache in his chest. “I hope you liked the food, Y/N,” he replied, though he hardly cared about the food at that moment.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Yes, the food was okay. But for me, the highlight was the working fountain—it really brought the hall together,” she mused, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

Bruce's smile became more genuine, but there was a heaviness in his heart as he watched her stifle a yawn. “Good night, Mr. Wayne,” she murmured, her voice a sleepy whisper.

"Good night, Y/N," Bruce replied, his voice barely audible. As she turned and walked away, he felt a sharp pang of longing, as if a piece of him was leaving with her.

He stood there, frozen in place, watching as she made her way to the door. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he considered calling out to her, asking her to stay just a little longer. But the words caught in his throat, and he could only watch as she slipped out into the night.

The grand hall, now nearly empty, felt hollow without her presence. The lingering sound of her voice echoed in his mind, and Bruce realized just how much he had come to depend on these moments with her. It was more than just attraction—he was falling for her, and the thought of her walking out of his life, even for the night, left him feeling utterly bereft.

As the door closed behind her, Bruce's heart sank. He wanted so desperately to follow her, to confess everything he had been holding back. But instead, he remained rooted to the spot, the weight of his dual identity pressing down on him.

Bruce sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the door long after Y/N had left. The night air from the open entrance felt cold against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth he had felt when she was near.

Alfred approached him quietly, having observed the entire exchange. “She’ll be back, Master Wayne,” he said gently, sensing Bruce’s turmoil.

Bruce nodded, though the reassurance did little to ease the ache in his chest. “I hope so, Alfred. I hope so.”

As the door finally closed behind Y/N, Bruce remained motionless, his gaze locked on the spot where she had stood just moments ago. The grand hall, now almost deserted, felt unbearably empty. The echoes of laughter and conversation had faded, leaving only a profound silence that magnified the void in his heart. Bruce had faced countless dangers as Batman, had endured physical and emotional pain that would break most men, but nothing had prepared him for the overwhelming vulnerability he felt in that moment.

"Alfred, do I deserve love?" Bruce's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as if he feared the answer. He couldn't bring himself to look at Alfred, his eyes still fixed on the door. The question carried the weight of a lifetime of doubt and guilt, all stemming from the night his parents were taken from him. Since that day, Bruce had armored himself with stoicism and a sense of duty, leaving little room for anything resembling love. But now, in the stillness of the night, with Y/N’s absence fresh in his heart, that armor felt like it was crumbling.

Alfred, who had been by Bruce's side through every trial, every heartbreak, and every victory, stepped closer, his expression softening with what could only be described as fatherly affection. "More than anyone I know, Master Wayne," Alfred replied, his voice filled with a quiet but unwavering certainty. To Alfred, Bruce was more than just the caped crusader or the billionaire playboy—he was the boy he had helped raise, the man he had watched grow into a symbol of hope for Gotham. And in this moment, Alfred saw the fragility beneath Bruce's formidable exterior.

Bruce’s hands clenched slightly, his knuckles white as he fought to contain the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "She has become everything to me in a matter of few weeks, Alfred," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. It was a startling admission for Bruce, who had always been careful to keep his distance from others, to protect them—and himself—from the darkness that consumed his life. But Y/N had slipped past his defenses, touching a part of him he had thought long dead.

Alfred nodded, understanding the depth of Bruce's words. "She is your soulmate. And you cannot deny it," he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce's shoulder. The bond between Bruce and Y/N was undeniable, something even the most hardened parts of Bruce couldn’t ignore. It was as though she had rekindled something within him, something he had buried deep down for so long.

Bruce swallowed hard, the words he had long kept buried rising to the surface. "I have never felt human since that day… until today," he admitted, his voice breaking as he referred to the night his parents were murdered. That night had shattered him, turning his world into one of darkness and vengeance. He had become Batman to channel that pain, to protect others from ever experiencing the loss he had endured. But it had come at a cost—his own humanity.

Alfred's gaze softened further, his heart aching for the man who had sacrificed so much. "We all need the right person in our lives, Master Wayne, and everything becomes easier with her," Alfred said, his tone gentle but firm. He knew that Bruce had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for so long, but Y/N had given him a glimpse of what it meant to live for more than just duty. She had shown him that it was possible to find solace and even joy, despite the shadows that haunted him.

Bruce nodded, his mind swirling with the realization that Y/N had brought light into his life, a light he hadn’t known he was missing. She had made him feel alive, feel human again. The thought both terrified and exhilarated him. For the first time in years, he wanted something for himself—something that had nothing to do with Batman or his mission.

But with that desire came fear. Could he protect her, knowing the dangers his life entailed? Could he let himself love her fully, without reservation, when he had so much to lose?

Yet as he stood there, Alfred’s words echoing in his mind, Bruce knew one thing for certain: Y/N had become a part of him, a part he wasn’t sure he could live without. And the thought of a future without her in it was unbearable.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce finally said, his voice low but steady. The gratitude in his words was more than just for the comfort Alfred had provided tonight—it was for everything Alfred had been to him: a mentor, a confidant, and the closest thing to a father Bruce had left.

As Alfred gave him a small, reassuring nod, Bruce turned his gaze back to the door, his heart heavy but filled with a newfound resolve. He wasn’t sure how he would navigate this new path with Y/N, but he knew he had to try. Because for the first time since he was a boy, Bruce Wayne had found something he was terrified of losing, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her luxurious navy velvet gown replaced by soft, comfortable pajamas. The party was long over, but her mind was far from settled. She had slipped into her familiar, cozy attire, hoping it would bring her the comfort of routine, yet she couldn't shake the lingering thoughts that clung to her like shadows.

As she brushed out her hair, now free from the elegant bun it had been tied in, her thoughts kept circling back to Bruce Wayne. The evening had been a whirlwind—his warm smile, the easy banter, the way his eyes seemed to follow her even when she wasn’t looking. It had felt strangely intimate, and that was what baffled her the most. There was something about him that tugged at her heart in a way she had only ever experienced with her soulmate, Batman.

The connection she felt with Bruce was undeniable, and the more she thought about it, the more unsettling it became. It was as if being near Bruce made her soulmate’s presence even more palpable, like a force that was pulling her closer, drawing her in, making her feel... alive. Every word Bruce had spoken, every glance, every small gesture—it all resonated with her on a level that was inexplicably deep. It was the same intensity, the same inexplicable connection she had always felt with Batman. But how could that be?

She sighed, rubbing her temples as she tried to make sense of it all. The pull she felt toward both men was eerily similar, as if her heart was trying to tell her something her mind refused to acknowledge. Every time she was with Bruce, she felt that same magnetic force that she did when Batman was near—a sense of being seen, understood, even protected. And it wasn’t just physical proximity; it was in the way their conversations seemed to flow effortlessly, the way their silences were never uncomfortable, and how his presence alone seemed to calm her, yet at the same time, set her heart racing.

Y/N found it baffling. How could she feel this way about two different men? Or were they different at all? She couldn’t help but wonder if she was missing something—some vital piece of the puzzle that would explain the strange connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman. It seemed absurd, but the thought kept nagging at her.

Her mind drifted back to their moments together that evening, how Bruce had made her feel as if she was the only one in the room, the subtle way he touched her arm as they danced, how his voice softened when he spoke to her, how he had looked at her when he helped her with her coat—as if he was afraid to let her go.

And then there was Batman. The way he made her feel safe, cherished even, despite his brooding nature. The way his words, even when brief, held a weight that made her feel like she was the center of his world. The way he had said “forever”—a word that had echoed in her mind since that night.

As she lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that the lines between Bruce and Batman were blurring. The idea was impossible, wasn’t it? Yet, the more she tried to dismiss it, the more it seemed to make sense. Could it be that the two men who had captured her heart were, in fact, one and the same?

But then again, what were the odds of that? She shook her head, trying to dispel the ridiculous notion. Perhaps she was just overthinking things. Maybe it was simply the allure of both men—the mystery of Batman and the charm of Bruce Wayne—that had her feeling this way. Yet deep down, a small voice whispered that it was more than that.

Y/N rolled over, pulling the blanket up to her chin, trying to push the thoughts from her mind. But as sleep eluded her, she knew that this was far from over. There was something between her and Bruce—something she couldn’t ignore. And as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn’t help but feel that her connection with Batman and Bruce Wayne was somehow intertwined.

And it terrified her, because if she was right, it meant that her world was about to change in ways she couldn’t yet comprehend. But more than that, it meant that her heart was already in far deeper than she had ever intended.

As Y/N lay in bed, her thoughts drifted restlessly, swirling around the events of the evening. The party, the conversations, the way Bruce Wayne had looked at her—it all felt strangely familiar, almost too familiar. There was a lingering feeling she couldn’t shake, a nagging suspicion that had been quietly gnawing at the edges of her mind for some time now.

She couldn’t deny the uncanny similarities between Bruce Wayne and Batman—the way they moved, the way they spoke, the way they made her feel. It was as if they were two sides of the same coin, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Could it really be possible? Could Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy known for his charm and sophistication, also be the brooding vigilante who haunted the streets of Gotham by night? The very idea seemed absurd at first, but the more she dwelled on it, the more it felt like the only logical conclusion.

The way Bruce had spoken to her, the way he had held her during their dance, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her—it was as if he was hiding something, something significant. And then there was Batman, whose words always carried a weight of unspoken emotions, whose presence made her feel safe and protected, just as Bruce had tonight.

Y/N couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the man behind the mask was none other than Bruce Wayne. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, and the picture they formed was almost too incredible to believe. But it wasn’t just about the similarities in their behavior or the way they made her feel—it was the deep connection she felt with both of them, a connection that went beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

She thought back to Batman’s confession, the way he had said “forever” with such certainty, as if he had already made up his mind. And then there was Bruce, whose gaze lingered on her just a little too long, whose touch sent shivers down her spine, whose presence made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered. The pull she felt toward both men was undeniable, and it terrified her because if her suspicions were correct, it meant that everything she thought she knew about Bruce Wayne—and Batman—was about to change.

Y/N’s heart raced as she tried to make sense of it all. Was it really possible that Bruce Wayne and Batman were the same person? The more she considered it, the more it felt like the truth. But what did that mean for her? What did it mean for them?

As she lay there, staring at the ceiling, she knew that she couldn’t ignore this feeling any longer. She had to know the truth, even if it meant confronting Bruce—or Batman—directly. But the thought of doing so filled her with a mixture of fear and excitement. If Bruce was indeed Batman, then everything between them would be different. Their relationship would no longer be just a flirtation or a friendship; it would be something much deeper, much more profound.

But could she handle the truth? Could she accept that the man she was falling for was also the Dark Knight, the protector of Gotham, the man who carried the weight of the city on his shoulders? Y/N wasn’t sure, but she knew she had to find out. The lingering feeling that Bruce Wayne was Batman wouldn’t leave her alone until she knew for certain.

With a determined sigh, she resolved to uncover the truth, no matter where it led her. Because if Bruce was indeed Batman, then everything she thought she knew about love, about soulmates, about herself, would be turned upside down. But deep down, she also knew that it might be the start of something extraordinary.

Y/N knew that asking Bruce Wayne to reveal his soulmate words would be crossing a line, a line she wasn’t sure she was ready—or even willing—to cross. Bruce was a private man, one who guarded his secrets with an ironclad resolve. The more she got to know him, the more she realized how deeply he valued his privacy. He was always measured in his words, careful with his actions, as if every move he made was calculated to keep people at arm's length.

Demanding to see his soulmate words would be invasive, disrespectful even. She couldn’t just confront him about something so intimate, something that might unravel the very fabric of who he was. If he were indeed Batman, then his soulmate words would hold a significance that she couldn’t even begin to imagine. They would be a key to understanding the man behind the mask, the man who had dedicated his life to protecting Gotham at great personal cost.

Y/N’s thoughts churned with uncertainty. How could she bridge the gap between her growing feelings for Bruce and the overwhelming suspicion that he was hiding something monumental from her? She couldn’t just come out and ask him if he was Batman; that would be absurd, and if she were wrong, it would likely destroy whatever bond they were building.

But even without demanding to see his soulmate words, there were other ways to get closer to the truth. Y/N realized she had to be patient, observant. She needed to watch for the small things, the subtle clues that might confirm her suspicions without forcing Bruce into a corner. Maybe, just maybe, if she earned his trust, he would reveal the truth to her in his own time.

For now, she would have to tread carefully, respecting his boundaries while keeping her suspicions close to her chest. The truth would come out eventually—whether through his actions, his words, or perhaps a moment of vulnerability. And when it did, she wanted to be ready to face it, no matter what it might mean for their future.

Y/N sighed, turning over in bed, her thoughts still restless. She couldn’t demand to see Bruce’s soulmate words, but she also couldn’t ignore the growing connection she felt with both him and Batman. One way or another, the truth would reveal itself, and when it did, she would have to decide what it meant for her—and for them.

As Y/N’s thoughts swirled and her eyes grew heavy, the haunting words “yes sure Mr. Batman sir” echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the enigma that was Bruce Wayne and his alter ego. The weight of her suspicions and the deepening connection she felt with both sides of the man troubled her, but exhaustion eventually overtook her.

As she drifted off to sleep, a familiar figure perched atop a gargoyle overlooking the quiet cityscape, his cape fluttering slightly in the cool night breeze. From his vantage point, Batman could see her peacefully resting below. His voice, usually gruff and commanding, softened to a whisper as he gazed down at her.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he murmured, his words carrying a blend of tenderness and longing. His heart, hidden behind the mask, ached with a blend of love and sorrow. He wanted to protect her from the turmoil he knew his dual identity could bring, yet he could not stay away. The pull of their soulmate bond was too strong, driving him to remain close even from the shadows.

The city below was silent, save for the distant hum of its nightlife, as Batman remained vigilant, watching over Y/N with a fierce protectiveness. His presence was a silent promise, an assurance that despite the secrets and shadows, his feelings for her were genuine and unwavering.

In the quiet of the night, both Y/N and Bruce were bound by an unspoken truth, their destinies intertwined in ways neither fully understood yet. For now, the enigmatic Batman watched over his soulmate, ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead, all while hoping that the dawn would bring clarity and resolution to the tangled threads of their lives.

In the quiet, dimly lit library of the new wing, Y/N was ensconced in her notes, but her focus was fractured by the swirling thoughts of the past few days. The soft glow of her desk lamp cast gentle shadows on the walls as she tried to immerse herself in her work. The calm of the night was abruptly interrupted by a familiar presence—a presence she had come to recognize as both comforting and unnervingly elusive.

“You are late tonight,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of weariness but also familiarity.

“Were you waiting?” Batman’s voice, though gruff, held an edge of concern.

Y/N’s gaze remained on her notes as she replied, “Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear. Tonight, it seems it was the latter for me.”

“Do you fear something, Yn?” Batman asked, his voice now softer, almost tender.

“I am afraid I am losing my mind,” she admitted, her head bowed, her words laced with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

The usual distance between them seemed to dissolve in that moment. Batman, usually so removed and enigmatic, took a few deliberate steps closer. His presence, while still cloaked in shadows, seemed more palpable, more intimate. As he approached, the library seemed to hold its breath, the silence punctuated only by the soft rustle of papers.

He gently lifted her chin with his gloved hand, a gesture both intimate and reassuring. His touch was warm despite the coldness of his attire. The mask, which had always kept him hidden, now seemed to melt away in the softness of this rare moment. And then, without warning, he kissed her.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with an intensity that spoke of unspoken emotions and the depth of their bond. It was a kiss that conveyed not just affection, but a profound sense of connection that transcended the barriers of their identities.

Y/N's breath hitched in surprise, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of his lips against hers. The kiss was a revelation, a tangible affirmation of the feelings they had both been grappling with. For a few fleeting moments, the world outside the library ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them and the silent acknowledgment of their bond.

When the kiss ended, Batman remained close, his breath mingling with hers. His touch lingered, offering comfort and solace in the quiet of the night. The gravity of the moment settled between them, a silent promise that despite the uncertainties and the darkness that shrouded their lives, there was a light that bound them together.

For Y/N, the kiss was both a balm and a beacon, providing clarity amidst the confusion. And for Batman, it was a step toward embracing the vulnerability he had long kept at bay, revealing a part of himself that he had always been reluctant to show. The library, with its vast shelves and soft lighting, bore witness to a profound shift in their relationship, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their intertwined destinies.

“I don’t care who you are behind your mask,” Y/N said, her voice steady despite the tremor of vulnerability. “If you’re concerned about that…”

Batman’s grip on her chin tightened slightly, as if he were holding onto the moment, reluctant to let it slip away.

“I know that you are my soulmate,” she continued, her whisper a soft declaration that cut through the darkness. “And I’m not letting it go.”

“There are dangers associating with me,” Batman replied, his voice carrying a grave undertone, a reflection of the risks that came with his dual life.

“Well,” Y/N said softly, her gaze unwavering, “the heart wants what it wants; otherwise, it just doesn’t care.”

Her words resonated with a profound sense of acceptance and courage. In the quiet of the library, amidst the shadows and the hushed stillness, their bond was palpable, transcending the fears and uncertainties that had previously held them apart. The kiss had bridged the gap between their hidden selves, and her declaration was a testament to her willingness to embrace their connection despite the complexities of his world.

“I don’t care who you are behind your mask if you’re concerned about that,” Y/N said firmly, her voice a soothing balm to the tension that hung between them. “I know that you are my soulmate, and I am not letting it go.”

“There are dangers associated with me,” Batman replied, his voice low and heavy with the weight of his fears.

“Well,” Y/N said softly, a gentle smile gracing her lips, “the heart wants what it wants; otherwise, it just doesn’t care.”

She reached out, placing a hand on his armored chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the suit. “Take all the time you want to reveal who you are. You’ll always find me waiting for you.”

Her words were a promise, a reassurance that no matter how long it took for him to unveil his true self, her feelings for him would remain unwavering. In that quiet, sacred space, their connection solidified, transcending the shadows that had once separated them.

After the kiss, Y/N felt an overwhelming surge of clarity and certainty. The touch of Batman's lips against hers ignited a profound realization: their bond was real, undeniable, and unbreakable. The fear she had felt moments before—of losing her sanity, of the elusive truth—dissolved into a newfound strength and purpose. The kiss was a bridge between her doubts and the undeniable truth of their connection.

Her heart raced not just from the intimacy of the moment but from the powerful confirmation that Batman was indeed Mr. Wayne. The realization brought a mix of exhilaration and relief. She felt a deep sense of belonging and a fierce determination to stand by him, no matter the shadows that loomed. The kiss cemented her resolve to embrace this unbreakable bond, to trust in their love despite the dangers and mysteries surrounding it.

Batman glanced at the sky, where the Bat-Signal illuminated the darkness with its familiar beacon. He looked back at Y/N, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in his eyes.

"Go on, you're wanted," Y/N said with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting both warmth and understanding. "I'll be here, waiting."

With a final, lingering look, Batman stepped back into the shadows, his figure gradually blending into the night. The signal's light flickered as it faded, but the promise in their exchange remained clear in the space he left behind.

For Batman, the kiss was a revelation, a moment of rare vulnerability in his guarded world. The physical contact was more than just a gesture; it was a profound affirmation of his deepest emotions and the truth he had been struggling to accept. As he kissed Y/N, he felt a surge of warmth and an almost overwhelming sense of relief. The kiss bridged the gap between his isolated existence and the emotional sanctuary he had found in her.

The bond they shared, now unbreakable, provided him with an anchor in the storm of his dual life. It was a moment of clarity that allowed him to see beyond the shadows he navigated daily. The kiss was a promise of unwavering loyalty and a profound connection that surpassed his fears. Bruce felt an intense mixture of love, protectiveness, and a renewed sense of purpose. Y/N was not just a part of his life; she was his soulmate, the light that guided him through the darkness.

As Yn arrived at Wayne Manor, she carried a folder of papers related to the new wing's project. She had come with a plan in mind, determined to uncover the truth about Bruce Wayne and his connection to Batman. Each visit, she intended to unravel a bit more of the story, starting with this encounter.

Bruce greeted her warmly as usual, his charm effortlessly in place. He led her to the study, where he gestured for her to sit. Yn placed the folder on the desk and began discussing the new developments.

"Mr. Wayne, I wanted to update you on the new wing. It’s coming along beautifully, and I met the new senator who’s been showing a lot of interest in the project. Quite a handsome fellow, I must say."

As she spoke, Bruce’s expression subtly shifted. There was a brief, almost imperceptible tinge of jealousy that flickered across his face. His usual composed demeanor faltered just for a moment, and Yn caught the slight change in his eyes.

Bruce masked his reaction quickly, but Yn’s observant eyes had already noted the shift. She could see a tightness in his jaw and a momentary darkening of his gaze.

“Really?” Bruce said, his voice smooth but with an edge that suggested he was keenly interested in the details. “And how did you find him?”

“He seemed quite charming,” Yn replied with a casual smile. “But I suppose you have a lot on your plate, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce nodded, though his attention seemed to be elsewhere. His fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the desk as he tried to regain his usual composure.

Yn could tell that her mention of the senator had struck a chord with him. This was just the first act in her carefully crafted plan. She would continue to weave these threads, each interaction a step closer to understanding the full story behind Bruce Wayne and his enigmatic alter ego.

Yn leaned back slightly in her chair, her demeanor nonchalant as she continued to probe. “It seems he’s single too,” she added, her tone light and casual.

Bruce’s reaction was immediate and more pronounced this time. His fingers stilled their drumming on the desk, and a tight smile flickered on his lips. He shifted in his seat, clearly trying to maintain his composure. The casual tone with which Yn mentioned the senator’s single status seemed to cut deeper than she had intended.

“Is that so?” Bruce replied, his voice a little sharper than before. “And what of his intentions toward the project?”

“Oh, he’s very supportive,” Yn said with a smile that hinted at her amusement. “But I couldn’t help noticing his interest in the new wing’s progress. He seems eager to contribute.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he quickly masked his concern with a mask of professional interest. “I see. Well, I trust your judgment in these matters, Yn.”

Yn’s subtle probing had achieved its aim.

She could see Bruce’s reaction was more than just professional interest—it was personal. The jealousy, though barely perceptible, was unmistakable. It only reinforced her determination to uncover the full truth behind Bruce Wayne and his connection to Batman.

As she gathered her papers to leave, she noticed Bruce watching her with an intensity that was hard to ignore. His feelings, masked behind his stoic facade, were a testament to how deeply involved he was—both as Bruce Wayne and as her soulmate in the shadows.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Wayne,” Yn said, with a warm yet knowing smile. “I’ll see you around.”

Bruce gave a curt nod, his mind clearly preoccupied. As Yn walked out, she could almost feel the tension radiating from him, making her smile with the satisfaction of having stirred the waters just enough.

Yn left Wayne Manor with a sense of quiet satisfaction. She had managed to plant a seed of jealousy in Bruce’s mind, and the subtle shift in his demeanor confirmed that she was on the right track. Her strategy to uncover the truth about Bruce Wayne’s connection to Batman was unfolding just as she had hoped.

As she walked to her car, Yn's mind raced with plans for Act 2. She was determined to push Bruce further, not by asking him directly, but by creating scenarios that might force his hand. Her goal was to subtly nudge him into revealing more than he intended, especially about his soulmate words, which she knew he kept closely guarded.

In the coming days, Yn meticulously planned her next moves. She decided to frequent places where she might run into the new senator, positioning herself in such a way that she could have casual yet meaningful interactions. Her aim was to gather enough information and, if possible, a candid picture with the senator that could provoke Bruce’s jealousy further.

Yn attended various public events and gatherings where the senator was known to appear. She dressed impeccably, ensuring she looked both professional and approachable. At these events, she managed to engage the senator in light conversations, maintaining an air of friendly professionalism while subtly letting Bruce’s name come up in conversation.

One evening, at a charity gala the senator was attending, Yn successfully captured a candid photograph of herself and the senator chatting amiably. The image, showing her laughing and interacting closely with the senator, was exactly the kind of provocation she hoped would reach Bruce’s eyes.

Each interaction and picture was designed to be discreet but impactful. Yn knew that Bruce was intensely observant and would likely see through any overt attempts to manipulate him. Therefore, her approach was to be both subtle and strategic, ensuring that her actions seemed natural and incidental rather than deliberate provocations.

As she moved forward with Act 2, Yn remained focused and determined. She understood that patience and careful planning were crucial. Her aim was not only to uncover the truth about Bruce Wayne but to ensure that her efforts led to a revelation that would be both satisfying and enlightening.

As Bruce paced the grand expanse of Wayne Manor's study, he could scarcely concentrate on the documents scattered before him. His thoughts were consumed by Yn and her recent interactions with the senator. The image of her laughing and conversing closely with another man gnawed at him. Despite the knowing glances and silent whispers of the staff, Bruce felt a pang of insecurity that he couldn’t shake.

His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and unease. The jealousy he felt was both unexpected and intense, seething beneath his stoic exterior. He questioned whether his fears were irrational or if Yn truly was drifting away from him. The specter of losing her hovered over him, unsettling and relentless.

Alfred, ever perceptive to Bruce’s mood, entered the study with a measured step. He watched Bruce’s agitation with a mix of concern and understanding. The butler knew the weight of Bruce’s heartache and had witnessed his struggles with vulnerability.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred began gently, his voice imbued with a fatherly affection, “you might be looking too much into this. Miss Yn is a friendly person, and her interactions with the senator are likely just part of her nature.”

Bruce’s eyes, shadowed with worry, met Alfred’s with a hint of desperation. “But what if I’m losing her?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if she’s growing closer to someone else?”

Alfred placed a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You must remember, sir, that Miss Yn’s presence and affection for you are genuine. Her friendliness and warmth are part of who she is, not a sign of her drifting away. Sometimes, our own insecurities can cloud our judgment.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He knew Alfred was right, but the fear of losing Yn was a powerful and unsettling emotion. The butler’s words were a small comfort, a reminder of the bond they shared and the trust that was integral to their relationship.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said quietly, his gaze returning to the scattered papers before him. “I suppose I need to remind myself that Yn’s feelings for me are real and that I should trust in that.”

Alfred nodded, his expression softening. “Indeed, Master Wayne. Love and trust are built on more than just moments of doubt. Sometimes, it’s best to focus on the positive and give yourself the space to understand that everything will work out as it should.”

With a deep breath, Bruce resolved to trust in his relationship with Yn and in the strength of their bond. Alfred’s reassurance was a small but significant step towards easing his inner turmoil and finding clarity amidst his doubts.

Yn sat in the library, surrounded by the soft glow of the desk lamp and the rustling silence of books. Her mind was a whirlwind of satisfaction and anticipation. She was almost certain that her subtle manipulations had successfully triggered Bruce’s jealousy. The signs were there—the tense undercurrents in their conversations, the way his eyes followed her with an intensity that spoke volumes.

As she settled into her thoughts, she felt a familiar presence draw near. The Dark Knight’s voice cut through the quietude of the room. “I didn’t expect you to be here, considering all the time you’ve been spending with the senator.”

Yn raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips. “Now why would I do that?”

“He is not a good man...” Batman’s voice was low, laced with a hint of warning.

Yn tilted her head, intrigued. “Who is?”

Without waiting for a response, Batman turned and retreated through the window, his silhouette disappearing into the night.

A satisfied smile graced Yn’s lips as she watched him leave. Her thoughts raced with a mix of triumph and resolve. “Mr. Wayne, if you really are the man behind the mask, you will regret keeping this secret from your soulmate.”

She relished the knowledge that her strategy was working, her feelings a blend of exhilaration and resolve. If Bruce was indeed Batman, he had been pushed closer to revealing his true self. Yn was ready for whatever came next, confident in her plan to draw out the truth while keeping her own heart open to the possibilities of their bond.

Bruce paced the study, his thoughts tangled in frustration and worry. The thought of Yn with the senator gnawed at him, each mention of the senator’s name intensifying his unease. He had to speak with her, to understand what was happening, and to regain some semblance of control.

He picked up the phone and dialed Yn’s number, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yn, I need you to come to the manor. There’s some paperwork I need to go over with you.”

Her voice was light, almost too casual, as she responded. “Oh, I cannot come today, Mr. Wayne. I’m working with the senator tonight.”

Bruce's pulse quickened, his attempt to keep his tone neutral faltering. “Oh? Where exactly?”

“You know, the usual place. Bye, Mr. Wayne,” she said before hanging up.

The click of the phone was a jarring finality. Bruce’s hand clenched into a fist as he tried to suppress his mounting frustration. He paced the room, his mind racing. He needed to confront his feelings, to address the growing distance between them, and to figure out what was really going on. The secrecy surrounding her time with the senator was driving him to the edge, and he knew he had to act before his anxiety consumed him completely.

Yn was seated in the dimly lit corner of the library, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows on the neatly stacked papers before her. The quiet hum of the library’s air conditioning filled the space, mingling with the faint rustle of pages as Yn pretended to work. Her mind, however, was fully alert, anticipating the arrival of her dark visitor.

The heavy silence was suddenly interrupted by a faint shift in the air, and Batman's imposing figure emerged from the shadows. The faint click of his boots on the marble floor echoed softly as he approached her, his silhouette a striking contrast against the backdrop of books and antique furniture.

“Hey,” Yn greeted with a playful smile, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and satisfaction. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Batman’s eyes, hidden behind his mask, narrowed slightly as he took in her casual posture. “You’re working alone,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that reverberated through the quiet room.

“I am. I usually do,” she replied nonchalantly, not missing a beat.

Batman’s gaze seemed to pierce through her, searching for any hint of deceit. “Wasn’t the senator supposed to be here?”

Yn’s internal smile widened. She had succeeded in drawing him out, making him confront the tension she had carefully orchestrated. She tilted her head slightly, maintaining her calm demeanor. “And how would you possibly know that? I only told this to one person.”

A beat of silence hung between them. Batman’s posture stiffened slightly as he realized the implication of her words. Yn’s earlier hints, her strategic maneuvering, had been a deliberate ploy. He understood now that Yn, his soulmate, had orchestrated this situation to make a point.

For a moment, Bruce was taken aback by the realization. Yn had bested him, turned the tables on him with her cunning. The weight of it settled on him, mingling with the growing frustration and vulnerability he felt. It was clear that Yn had not only seen through his attempts to protect her but had actively used it to her advantage.

As the revelation sunk in, Batman's expression remained unreadable, but internally, he grappled with a storm of emotions. The complexity of their relationship and his own hidden fears about revealing his identity to her were now painfully evident. Yn had made her move, and Bruce knew he had to face the consequences of their evolving dynamic.

  "So do you want to talk here or the wayne manor?" She asks playfully. "The manor" he says barely above a whisper before he leaves

Batman’s response was barely audible, a murmur swallowed by the vastness of the library. Yet, the decisiveness in his tone was unmistakable. He had answered her question with an air of gravity that contrasted sharply with Yn's lightheartedness. As he turned to leave, the shadows seemed to envelop him, his cape sweeping behind him like an ethereal shroud.

Yn watched him with a gleeful smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. The corners of her lips curved upward in a soft giggle that echoed gently through the quiet library. The tension between them had shifted, and she felt a thrill of triumph. The evening had unfolded exactly as she had hoped, with her plan revealing the depth of Bruce’s feelings and his struggle to maintain control.

As Batman’s imposing figure disappeared into the night, Yn sat back in her chair, her heart fluttering with anticipation. The library, once a place of solitude and work, now felt like a stage where her intricate game had reached a new, exciting act. She marveled at the skill with which she had managed to navigate the complexities of her relationship with Bruce, intertwining their professional and personal lives in a dance of strategy and emotion.

The quiet of the library settled around her, but her mind was alive with possibilities. She knew that the evening's events would change things between them. The playful banter, the strategic moves—everything had led to this pivotal moment. With a final, satisfied glance at the empty room, Yn gathered her things, ready to face whatever awaited her at Wayne Manor, her spirits buoyed by the success of her plan and the promise of deeper revelations to come.

As Batman moved through the city's labyrinthine streets, his voice was a low, tense murmur over the comms link with Alfred. The hum of the Batmobile and the occasional flicker of streetlights provided a rhythm to his thoughts.

"I can't believe I fell for it, Alfred," Bruce admitted, his frustration and disbelief mingling in his tone. He felt a profound mix of relief and vulnerability. "She knew. And she’s known for a while."

Alfred's voice was steady and reassuring. "It seems Miss Yn has been one step ahead of you. But it’s clear now that she understands. She knows who you are, and she’s chosen to accept you."

Bruce took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. The secrecy that had long bound him felt lighter, the burden of maintaining dual identities now lessened. "I’m relieved. It’s been so hard keeping my feelings restrained, pretending around her. Now that she knows, I can finally love her the way I always wanted."

Alfred’s response was calm and wise. "You’ve both navigated a difficult path, Master Wayne. The fact that she understands and still chooses to be with you speaks volumes. You can finally be true to yourself with her."

Bruce’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but his heart felt lighter. He was ready to face Yn with honesty and the freedom to express his love without the constraints of secrecy. As he maneuvered the Batmobile through the night, the city’s skyline seemed to promise a new beginning, one where he could be fully himself with the woman he loved.   

Bruce watched from a window in the Wayne Manor as dawn began to break, casting the first light of morning across the estate. His heart raced with anticipation and hope, knowing that Yn was about to arrive.

He saw her car slowly approach the driveway, its headlights cutting through the early morning fog. As she parked and stepped out, Bruce's gaze was fixed on her. Yn moved with a grace and confidence that only heightened his excitement. She looked radiant, her presence a stark contrast to the dim pre-dawn light.

When Yn saw him waiting at the door, a knowing smile spread across her face. It was a smile filled with warmth, understanding, and a touch of mischief—one that made Bruce’s heart swell with a mix of relief and joy.

As she walked toward him, Bruce felt every second stretch into eternity. When she finally reached him, the unspoken words between them were as palpable as the morning air. He opened the door for her, his eyes meeting hers with a look that spoke of everything he felt and had longed to express.

"Good morning, Bruce," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm.

"Good morning, Yn," he replied, his voice filled with a tenderness that belied his usual demeanor. The night’s revelations had cleared the way for something genuine and heartfelt.

Her smile widened as she they share a kiss. “I hope you’re ready for a new chapter.”

Bruce's expression softened further as he closed the door behind her. "I am," he said, his voice resolute and full of promise. "And I’m glad you’re here to start it with me."

Bruce pulled Yn close, wrapping his arms around her waist with a sense of urgency and desire. His lips found hers in a kiss that was both passionate and fervent, a release of all the pent-up emotions he had been holding back.

"You have no idea how hard it was for me," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion.

Yn, her arms around his neck, responded with a teasing smile. "Well, Mr. Wayne, I think you deserved it."

Bruce's smile widened, and he hugged her tighter, his heart swelling with a mix of love and relief. The weight of secrets and the strain of deception melted away in the warmth of her embrace.

Finally, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes, he said softly, "Can you call me just Bruce, please?"

Yn's smile grew tender as she nodded. "Of course, Bruce."

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside fading as they began their new chapter together.

Bruce's eyes softened with a mix of affection and amusement as Yn mentioned her evening plans.

"I'll pick you up, and we can have dinner here," he offered, his tone carrying a hint of hope.

Yn's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I'll think about it. I usually keep my evenings reserved for the masked vigilante."

Bruce chuckled, the corners of his lips turning up in a warm smile. "Well, I guess I'll have to make sure I'm more charming than him."

Yn laughed lightly, her gaze lingering on him with fondness. "That’s a tall order, but I'll see you tonight."

As she prepared to leave, Bruce watched her with a contented smile, knowing their future together was filled with possibilities and shared moments.As Yn drove away, Bruce stood at the entrance of Wayne Manor, his gaze following her car until it disappeared from view. He couldn't help but smile, a rare, genuine expression of contentment and peace settling over his features.

From behind, Alfred watched the scene unfold with a knowing smile of his own. "Who knew the great Dark Knight would be brought to heel by his soulmate," he remarked, his voice tinged with affectionate amusement.

Bruce didn't turn around, but his smile deepened at Alfred's words. "For her, Alfred," he said softly, his voice filled with an unmistakable warmth, "I’d willingly do it."

There was a serenity in Bruce's tone, a sense of relief that had long eluded him. The burdens of his dual life, the constant vigilance, and the relentless battle against the darkness that threatened Gotham—all of it seemed a little lighter now. The woman who had just left had managed to slip past his carefully constructed walls, to reach the man behind the mask, and he was more than willing to let her in.

Alfred stepped closer, his eyes reflecting the fatherly pride he felt for the man who had always seemed so distant, so unreachable. "She’s good for you, Master Wayne," Alfred said, his voice gentle.

Bruce nodded, finally turning to face Alfred. "She is, Alfred. More than I ever thought possible."

The two men stood there for a moment in shared understanding. For years, Bruce had been driven by his mission, consumed by his need to protect the city, often at the cost of his own happiness. But now, with Yn in his life, there was a newfound balance, a reason to look beyond the darkness.

"She brings out the best in you," Alfred added, his voice thick with emotion. "And you deserve that, Master Wayne. You deserve to be happy."

Bruce looked down, his expression softening even more. "I never thought I’d find someone like her," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who could accept both sides of me."

"And now that you have," Alfred said, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce's shoulder, "I have no doubt that you'll protect her with everything you have."

Bruce met Alfred’s gaze, his eyes filled with quiet determination. "I will. For her, I’d do anything."

As the first light of dawn began to break through the horizon, Bruce felt something he hadn’t in a long time—a sense of hope, not just for Gotham, but for himself. And as he and Alfred turned back into the manor, there was a new resolve in Bruce’s heart. He would cherish Yn, protect her, and above all, love her with everything he had.

Because for the first time in years, Bruce Wayne felt complete. 

[vicaliciouz]

RIPTIDE - vance joy feels like..

B99, murder most unladylike, percy jackson, harry potter, the hunger games, the maze runner, 10 things i hate about you, clueless ,1D, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina carpenter, sally face, ariana grande, billie eilish, little misfortune, the owl house, korn, limp bizkit, noah kahan, gracie abrams, the walten files, fnaf, conan gray, life is strange, grown ups, heathers, hamilton, newsies, beabadoobee, legally blonde, friends, gilmore girls, gossip girl, the whisper of the heart, studio ghibli, nirvana, my neighbour totoro, spirited away, little mix, hooky, marionnetta, titanic, costa concordia, IT, stranger things, the black phone, marauders, home alone, home alone: lost in new york, laufey, mitski, true crime, rotten mango, adele, kanye west, simgproductions, mlpstopmotion, a good girls guide to murder, binding 13, yellowjackets, bojack horseman, metallica, tate mcrae, chappel roan, megan thee stallion, doja cat, nicki minaj, caraval, one of us is lying, five survive, reappearance of rachel price, larry stylinson, omori, tattletale, kindergarden, laurenzside, yammy, gloom, azzyland, kubscouts,pewdiepie, jacksepticye, weebynewz, blaze ,high school musical, pitch perfect, the perks of being a wallflower, SZA, rihanna, the big bang theory, young sheldon, 💜 , clairo, super danganronpa another 2, danganronpa another despair academy, danganronpa, danganronpa despair time, heartless deceit, project edens garden, danganronpa lapse, to all the boys ive loved before, the summer i turned pretty, outer banks, the mandela catalogue, coraline, dead poets society, white chicks, the outsiders, fear street, be more chill, waitress, phantom of the opera, cinderella, beauty and the beast, princess and the frog, shut up and dance, peraltiago, the office, kesha, wicked, the eras tour, chicago, royale high, roblox, bloxburg, fashion famous, adopt me, green day, lady gaga, payno, nialler, derry girls, heart break high, lps popular, gogglebox, bad education, victorious, meepcity, kim possible, the princess diaries, pretty little liars, modern family, little Einsteins, jake and the neverland pirates, die hard, why dont we, girl in red, dodie, greys anatomy, mean girls, tmz, marina, 2010-2019, maisie peters, molly grace, holly jackson, rick riordan, robin stevens, anthony horowitz, james dashner, dylan obrien, the promised neverland, teen titans, lana del rey, alessi rose, grishaverse, doki doki literature club, niall horan, frat boy harry, thomas brodie sangster, bridgerton, cookieswirlc, ldshadowlady, krew, among us, kreekcraft, piggy, lps, gacha life, mlp, yandere simulator, vine, ifunny, ___ characters as vines, baldis basics, glmv, glmm, bendy and the ink machine, fnaf trilogy, game theory, matpat, slenderman, shopkins, bohemian rhapsody, project sekai, vocaloid, flamingo, leah ashes, denis daily, pals squad, fran bow, talking angela, pink, halsey, katy perry, miraculous, SIX, the lightening thief musical, dear evan hansen, little shop of horrors, the loud house, annoying orange, larva, monster high, ever after high, life in the dreamhouse, a fairy secret, elsia and annia, equestria girls, pj masks, total drama island, horrid henry, henry the viii, bubble guppies, sofia the first, disney junior, pop, cbeebies, x factor, Britains got talent, jaquenline wilson, dork diaries, diary of a wimpy kid, alex rider, tom gates, jojo siwa, vacations,

It never leaves you

[itstimetojellyfish]

White Sakura ( Ayato x reader)

…. I couldn’t help myself, I had to .

Senbonzakura(English cover)

Thousands of cherry blossoms ,

Dwindling in the light….

You heard that song from your father , who was stuck in Inazuma thanks to the degree , locking down all islands and keeping your father there , luckily though , he was allowed to ship items and send letters so he shipped over a music box , elegantly decorated with flowers .

Now , the degree has been lifted and you can finally visit you Inazuma , you’ve heard many things about Inazuma , from the excellent clans to the beautiful city and flowers .

Though , what you wanted to see most , was the White Sakura tree he told you about in his letters , as white as the snow in Snezhaya…

He told you that they were beautiful and could lift your spirit immediately, for the way the light bounces off the petals made them look ethereal.

He wished you could see them ,

(You wish you could see him one last time )

Your father died during the war , he was forced to become one of the shogun’s soldiers as repayment for something .

He was one of the servants of the Kamisato clan , you’ve heard many good things about Lady Ayaka and Lord Ayato , but you were still surprised when you say the Kamisato symbol on the letter you received.

You read that the Lord sent his condolences to you and since your father was loyal , the Lord has decided to pay for your travel plans and give you a tour of Inazuma.

So here you are , in front of the Kamisato estate in the most traditional clothes you could get from Inazuma .

You nervously walked up to the grand , dark brown doors , carved with the Kamisato clan’s symbol before timidly knocking on the entrance asking ,” Hello? It’s Y/N L/N? Is anybody there?”

You shifted your weight around as you waited , recalling all the rules of proper etiquette in order to not offend the head of the Kamisato clan.

It was only 10 minutes before the giant doors opened and you saw a soldier at the door , looking you up and down before letting you enter , but not before he checked your invitation.

When you walked in you felt the stares of people who didn’t know you , judging you , whether it was a good or bad definition, you didn’t care .

The guard escorted you towards the entrance into the house before knocking on the door and announcing your presence here.

When you looked around , you didn’t see the so called , white sakura anywhere , was it all a hoax just to keep your hopes up and to give you something to look forward to?

You were dragged out of your thoughts and brought back to reality when the door creaked open and a servant stood at the door and was ready to guide you to the head.

“ Hi! You must be the new guest , I’m Thoma , the house keeper and I’ll be here to introduce you to lady and lord kamisato!” He smiles at you like the sun and you smile back .

“ Hello , my name is Y/N ….” Your words got caught in your throat as you remembered your father .

Thoma looks at you sympathetically and then asks” Was your father Mr.L/N ? “

You nod and you stuffed a sob back into your throat ,” He … told me about how wonderful it was deriving the Kamisato Clan ….”

Thoma’s smile droops down as he pats your back and then leads you through the house towards Lord and Lady Kamisato.

He opens the door and behold , the pale blue haired male , Ayato , the head of the Kamisato Clan , was revealed dutifully signing documents.

As soon as he heard the door open , he looked up and smiled at both of you , thanking Thoma for guiding you.

Thoma left you alone in the room as he closed the door , Ayato decided to start the conversation.

“ Hello ,Y/N , your father has told me many things about you .” His smiled softened , “ I’m sorry for your loss.”

You stare at him before shoving a sob down your throat and telling him,” Thank you for your concern.”

He nods before pushing his chair back and standing up to walk towards you ,” I’ve finished the documents I needed to place , now , shall we?”

He slowly raised his arm and held his hand out for you to take , you didn’t refuse the offer and held his hand as you walked out of the house and estate , the people working staring at you .

He brought you to the grand Narikumi Shrine , but you didn’t see the white Sakura trees…

He brought you to restaurants , islands , and villages , all a great place to visit and just as beautiful as your father described it .

But you never once saw the so called White Sakura trees he mentioned.

Ayato noticed how glum you looked when he brought you to a restaurant, so he asked what’s wrong.

You replied with ,” In my father’s letters , he would tell me about the Sakura trees that would bloom beautiful white petals and reflect the light . I haven’t seen them anywhere…”

His eyes softens and then he replies ,” I know a spot , would you like to see?”

You stare at him in disbelief before nodding .

Soon enough , he’s leading you down a tunnel , when you turn the corner , you see a wonderful , pearl white Sakura tree with Wisteria trees surrounding it , a hole in the ceiling had sunlight pour down from above making it look ethereal .

You rush to stand under it , and unknown to you , to Ayato , you look like an angel who fell down from heavens .

As you stare in wonder , you don’t hear him say .

“ As pure as the petals , aren’t you?”

Yes white Sakura and wisteria exist

[art-portraits]

Lord Byron In Albanian Dress

Artist: Thomas Phillips (British, 1770–1845)

Genre: Portrait

Date: 1813

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Government Art Collection, London, England

George Gordon Byron (1788–1824), 6th Baron Byron, Poet

This portrait of Lord Byron by Thomas Phillips depicts the renowned poet and society figure dressed in traditional Albanian costume. He wears an oriental-style, red velvet jacket and headdress, with a velvet cloak draped across his left arm. Byron bought the costume in the region of Epirus (part of modern Greece and Albania) in 1809, while on a Grand Tour across southern Europe with his great friend, the politician John Cam Hobhouse (1786–1869). Byron sat for this painting in 1813, at the age of 25, and evidently had some influence over its appearance. He was particularly sensitive to full-length representations of himself as he had suffered from a lame foot since childhood and had a noticeable limp. He also asked Phillips to repaint his nose in a more flattering fashion.

In the portrait, the translucent paleness of his skin contrasts with the dark velvet of his costume, inspiring Sir Walter Scott to liken the portrait to a beautiful alabaster lamp, lit from within. The portrait was exhibited to great acclaim at the Royal Academy in 1814. It was later bought by Lady Judith Noel, Byron’s mother-in-law, and hung at Kirkby Hall, her residence in Kirkby Mallory, Leicestershire.

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

We Should have Stayed in Gotham ch1

(Almost every Maribat fic I read has the akuma class going to Gotham. But tell me which is more likely, a class touring the city of crime, or a class touring the city of lights? So here it is, the Daminette fic that only I asked for, where Gotham goes to Paris, and the poor students have to grapple with the fact that they have competition for the most dangerous city in the world. I wonder what will happen?)

ao3

The Gotham students stepped out of the airport and immediately had to squint against the sudden bright light of the mid-morning sun. Already the differences between Gotham and Paris were making themselves known causing every single Gothamite to scoff, laugh, and shake their heads at the Parisians' apparently unwarranted paranoia. There was absolutely no way Paris was more dangerous than Gotham. And yet for some strange reason the Parisian administrators of the International Friendship Conference petitioned to have the conference in Gotham? It was pure insanity.

Even the smallest child knew that having over a dozen schools from five different countries gather together in one place was a recipe for disaster in the city where the opening of a new bank could be the precursor for a terrorist attack. And yet Paris was insistent, that Gotham take its turn hosting the celebration, saying that it was “Too dangerous.” Everyone had laughed at that, literally. There was not a single Gothamite who had heard the news and not laughed. Even now driving the buss to their first location, even Damian “Ice Prince” Wayne was fighting an amused smirk and a soft chuckle, as his peers laughed at the naive and clueless Parisians walking the street below.

In Paris, the sun was shining. In Gotham, the sun barely ever broke through the smog and the rain. In Paris, pedestrians chatted amicably while walking at a leisurely pace. In Gotham, if you didn’t rush to your next location with your head down then you were asking to get mugged. In Paris, police directed traffic and waved to children. In Gotham, the police were always running from one armed robbery to another. Damian scoffed. Paris was like Metropolis, shiny and clean. Gotham was dark and dirty.

“It was probably a prank,” one of the Gotham High students said to his fellows. “You know a joke to get on our good side!”

“Ha!” one of the Gotham Academy students scoffed, “They should know that unlike Two-Face we don’t have a good side.” The bus was filled with laughter, and even Damian’s smirk twitched into a brief smile at the words.

It was no secret that the class divide in America's most dangerous city was as wide as the Grand Canyon. In fact, the only reason the students from the public high school were able to afford this trip was because of the Thomas and Martha Wayne Scholarship Foundation, which—among other opportunities, provided money for Gotham High Students to attend international trips with Gotham Academy. Damian could appreciate the elegance of the arrangement. The spoiled brats, that were unfortunately his peers, could jet off to Paris for the weekend whenever they wished and cared little for school functions where they could not display their wealth. But students from lower income families would probably never leave the city. So why not have them tag along on one of the prestigious rich school field trips where half of the students would opt out of going anyway?

Now, usually this meant that the trip was split into two very distinct groups with each side antagonizing the other, while Damian scowled in the middle. But whenever anyone said anything bag against their shared city, the class divide vanished. Suddenly they were one group united against the outsider who dared insinuate that Gotham was anything but superior in every way. So at that moment the bus was filled with rich and poor laughter as another student said,

“Can you imagine what would have happened if these people had actually come to Gotham!”

“They would’ve folded to Condiment King!”

Damian saw that even the chaperones were smiling softly at the front of the bus. They were probably predicting their easiest trip yet, and Damian found himself agreeing with them. He liked Paris. He had gone here on a mission with his mother. It had been one of the more pleasant ones, considering he had not had to kill anyone. And it was a beautiful city full of art, culture, and history, and since the class seemed to be united, Damian predicted a nice relaxing vacation with no troubles whatsoever. He found himself actually a little excited.

Eventually their laughter was cut off by the fact that they had arrived at their destination. Collège et Lycée Françoise Dupont was the host school for the conference, and they had requested that all of the attending schools participate in a brief assembly with their corresponding classes before going to their hotel and seeing the city. Damian’s class filled into a large classroom with teared desks facing a chalkboard with a projector in front of it. Two teachers were waiting for them. One was a stern looking woman with sharp features and sharp eyes, and the other was her exact opposite. One look and every Gothamite silently agreed, the second woman would not last two minutes in their home, while the first might last long enough to run screaming.

Damian found his way to the back of the class and glared at anyone who got too close, but he needn’t have bothered. The GA students knew him too well, and the GH students were subconsciously separating themselves from the “rich kids.” Once everyone settled the soft teacher cleared her throat and spoke in a sickly sweet voice that made all of the Gothamites cringe against the unfamiliarity of such a tone. No one in Gotham spoke with that level of cheer, unless they were brainwashed…or a villain…or a brain washed villain.

“Greetings everyone!” she said in English, “I am Mme. Caline Bustier, and this is Mme. Mendeleiev. We are the French chaperones for this trip. For the next week you will be partnered with our advanced English Class as you tour the sites and participate in other Conference activities. But before we begin, our class representative and her co-representative have prepared a little presentation to ensure that your time in Paris is as safe and as enjoyable as possible.”

The Gothamites snickered quietly as three girls entered the room each carrying a stack of binders which they stacked on the teacher’s desk at the front of the class. Damian narrowed his eyes at the three girls and found them…strange. They were just too different from each other and yet they moved together with familiarity. It didn’t make sense to him. First there was the blonde girl dressed almost entirely in yellow and black. With her perfect posture, designer clothes, and her narrowed eyes looking down her nose at everyone, she could easily fit right in among the Gotham Elite. Damian assumed that she would take the presenters position, but all she did was narrowly examine everyone with too knowing eyes and scoff, before sitting on the teachers desk and pulling out a nail file.

The second girl who entered the room, had all the appearance and attitude of a lacky. The first word that popped into Damian’s head was lapdog. But the demure girl with auburn hair and round glasses simply giggled at the first’s antics and took her position in front of the teachers with a confident yet shy smile.

That left the third girl. However, Damian did not get a good look at her before she glanced around the room, blushed, and promptly tripped over nothing sending all of her binders flying. The Gothamites snickered as the second girl rushed to help the third. Damian internally groaned at the blatant incompetence. But everyone was silenced by a sharp, “Hey!”

Everyone’s attention snapped to the first girl who was now glaring at them with the intensity of Poison Ivy when someone touched one of her plants. “If all you can do is laugh at someone when they fall, then you wont survive two minutes in Paris. Now apologize to my friend, and—”

“Chloe,” the third girl said and despite her flushed face and her nervously darting eyes her voice was clear and calm, and almost commanding despite the fact that it was also soft and melodic. “It’s ok. I’m not hurt, and it wasn’t their fault. It was an accident. Just take a breath, and help Sabrina pass out the binders. Please?”

The rich girl, Chloe, grumbled under her breath but obeyed (even if she slammed the binders in front of the students who had snickered). As this was happening, the clumsy girl brushed herself off and took her place in front and center. Now that Damian could examine her, he found that she was even more different than the other two, and he could not comprehend how she could have possibly commanded this Chloe. She was small, with black hair pulled back in pigtails like a five-year-old. Her bright bluebell eyes and blinding smile screamed innocence and naivety. Every single Gothamite thought the exact same thing,

“She would have died in Gotham.”

But despite her earlier clumsiness and the thoughts of the visitors, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Damian stared in fascination as a change came over the girl. Her posture straightened. Her shoulders squared. She lifted her head, and when she opened her eyes, there was nothing but confidence and clarity in them. Damian huffed in consideration and leaned back in his chair suddenly very interested in what this girl had to say as the other one, Sabrina placed his binder in front of him with a smile.

“Hello,” the girl up front said in near perfect English. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I am the class representative for Lycée Françoise Dupont Troisième Class. Or as you would say, sophomore year, same as all of you. This is my co-representative Sabrina Raincomprix.”

“Hello!” Sabrina waved as she took her place at the front of the class. “It’s nice to meat all of you. By the way this is our friend, Chloe Bourgeois. She’s a little overprotective.” Chloe just huffed and retook her seat on top of the desk, electing to ignore everyone else.

“Any way,” Marinette continued with that same blindingly bright smile. “Due to the current state of Paris, we felt it only fair to walk you through a ‘How to Survive Paris Crash Course’ before the conference gets into full swing.” The Gothamites stared at the small Parisian girl in astonishment. She wasn’t serious was she? Didn’t she know who they were? Where they were from?

Apparently she was because she ignored their incredulous stares and pulled up one of the extra binders and presented it to the class. “You were all handed a Paris Survival Guide made by the student council for the conference. In it you will find everything you need to know about our villain, our heroes, and the protocol for surviving their battles, including a map to the akuma shelters near the conference’s various locations, and a list of apps that you will be required to download in order to ensure you and your friends safety. Now if you all open your guides, I will briefly go over the most important information before turning you back over to your teachers.”

“You can’t be serious!” Damian saw Chad, one of the GA students, stand up and stare at the girl in amused disbelief. “All this for a villain? Singular? You know we’re from Gotham right? We can handle whatever cutesy little trouble maker you throw at us. We have the Joker.”

 While no one particularly liked Chad, Damian thought he was an idiotic prick, the students couldn’t help but mutter and nod in agreement. But Damian only raised his eyebrow as a change came over every single Parisian in the room. They all stood up straighter, their shoulders tense. They watched the Gothamites with a mixture of fear, frustration, and annoyance. But before any of them could speak, Chloe leapt from the desk and stomped up to Chad.

Everyone fell silent, before the fire in her eyes and the fury in her step. She slammed a hand on his desk forcing him to flinch back in his seat so that she was looming over him in a storm of black and yellow. “Oh, you think you’re so clever, huh? Oh we have the Joker! We can survive anything!” she said mockingly, “Well Monsieur ‘I’m from Gotham,’ I wish we had the Joker. Do you know why? Because—”

“Chloe!” Everyone snapped back to Marinette. Her voice was suddenly as sharp and as cold as her expression as she glared at her friend. Damian unconsciously flinched at how closely this small girl’s ferocity resembled his father’s patented expression. And everyone recognized the quiet command she held, as even those who had continued to snicker at Choe and Chad were silenced into rapt attention.

“Take a breath, Chloe,” Marinette said a bit more gently. And Damian watched in amusement as the other girl visibly relaxed as she made her way back to her friends. Once her view was unobstructed, Marinette studied the Gothamites and sighed. She set down her binder and fell into a more relaxed posture as she leaned against the desk. She then turned her gaze on Chad. From his position behind the other boy, Damian saw yet another thing in the girl that threw him into confusion. Exhaustion. “What would you do,” Marinette asked Chad calmly, “If the Joker was robbing a bank and you told a tourist to avoid that street, but they just laughed and continued walking?”

“Um,” Chad said, his eyes searching desperately for support, “I would wish them a speedy death, cause that’s all they deserve for being so stupid.”

The Gothamites chuckled, and Marinette nodded with a soft, understanding smile. “Exactly,” she said. “In your city, you respect you villains and the danger they pose, and you ask everyone to do the same. All we ask is for the same curtesy. Is that too much to ask?”

Damian found himself impressed as he watched his peers silently straighten in their seats, and begin fingering their binders. With one question, she had gained the attention and the consideration of an entire group intent on mocking her. Now she was in complete control, as she nodded and straightened. She turned, opened her binder, and said, “Now, Paris only has one villain and his partner, however, he is probably the worst villain you will ever encounter outside of Gotham. The reason is simple, he enslaves people.”

Everyone jerked up, confusion filling the classroom as Sabrina picked up the thread, “If you will all turn to page one under the section marked ‘Heroes and Villains,’ you will see the latest picture of our villain, Hawkmoth, as well as a list of his powers. On page two you will see a picture of his partner, Mayura. The rest of the chapter is a list of the heroes currently fighting them.”

“Right now Paris is at war,” Marinette said, her calm seriousness perfectly contrasting with Sabrina’s light lecturing. “But the soldiers are not willing henchmen and crooks like in Gotham. They are people, normal people just going about their lives, until Hawkmoth strikes.”

“The magic item he wields allows him to create akumas,” Sabrina said over the sound of pages turning. “Akumas are magic purple butterflies that possess Hawkmoth’s victims transforming them into villains that will do his bidding. But do not be alarmed, in order for Hawkmoth to possess you, certain qualifications must be met.”

“Negative emotion,” Marinette said, her exhaustion seemed to seep into her words as she said it. “Anger, sadness, fear, pain. These are the thoughts and emotions that Hawkmoth uses to possess his victims. Should you at any moment feel any of these emotions then you are at risk of being akumatized. And once that happens you will only care about two things. The first, will be the thing that caused the negative emotions. Be they a person, or an action, you will become obsessed with fulfilling the need the negative emotions created. The second is obeying Hawkmoth’s will without question or choice.”

“Section two in your Paris Survival Guide,” Sabrina said with unwavering cheerful professionalism. “Has a list of the most common akuma, their negative emotion, and the actions that created them. Section three has a list of self-calming techniques, as well as meditation apps, and the number for the Self Care Hotline in case you need immediate assistance. If you do not have a phone, one will be provided for you curtesy of Wayne Enterprises.”

Damian felt all eyes glance at him, but he ignored them as Marinette continued. “Akumas vary from person to person. The only thing they really have in common is bad fashion sense. But you never know how dangerous they are going to be. Some will only cause a traffic jam. Some…some will make you think the world is ending.”

“A complete list of every akuma to ever appear,” Sabrina declared, “Is listed on the website miraculousparis.gov, as well as on the only hero approved blog, SpotsOn.com. On both sites, the akumas are organized by their danger level. The weakest being a level one, the strongest being a level ten. On both sites there is also a list of protocols to survive each akuma, which can also be found in section four of your guides.”

“Your going to want to download the Akuma Alert App,” Marinette said with an almost bored air, “It is the most efficient way to avoid and survive akumas since it will alert you of their location, threat level, and which protocols to follow. Teachers, you are required to have the app, and to report on it whenever one of your students are akumatized.”

“Due to the number of visitors here for the conference, and Hawkmoth’s patterns,” Sabrina said her cheerfulness giving way to something akin to sternness. “It is very likely that we will be experiencing at least one akuma a day. Our calculations have predicted, that at least one of you will be akumatized before the end of the week. All of you will be caught in at least three akuma attacks, and since you’re from Gotham, should any of them be higher than a level six, then at least half, if not all, of you will die.”

All of the Gothamites dropped their jaws on the floor before Marinette continued with a half-amused smile, “Try not to worry too much about dying though. If you look at our main hero, Ladybug, on page three you’ll see that one of her powers is the Miraculous cure. She reverses any damage done during an akuma attack, and yes that includes resurrecting the dead. But still, do try not to die. Dying sucks, and you will remember it. If not when you’re awake, then at least when you sleep, and nobody wants a nightmare akuma, anytime soon. They suck!”

All of the Parisians stared at nothing, as they nodded in unison, before Sabrina continued in her chipper tone, “At the back of your guide there is a list off all of the apps and websites we just mentioned. We recommend you study them thoroughly before you begin your tour of the city this afternoon!”

“But please,” Marinette said almost pleadingly, “Above all else remember this, the people who are akumatized, are not the enemy. They are the victims. They will do terrible things to anyone who get in their way. But they will remember none of it. No matter who they hurt, or what they destroy, they will never remember the things they did while akumatized. It does nothing to blame them except create an opportunity for another akuma. They are not at fault no matter what happens. The enemy is Hawkmoth and Mayura. They are the villains of this city. The only villains. Please keep that in mind, and do your best to be kind and respectful to others. You do not want to be the cause of an akuma.”

“Anything else you need to know is in your guides and on the sights mentioned,” Sabrina said closing her book with a snap.

Let me know if you want to be tagged, or check out this fic on Ao3!!

“Welcome to Paris!” Chloe said with a scoff, and with that, the girls left.

Next

[ghostlytales]

The Whaley House Ghost, San Diego

Since the mysterious deaths of the members of the Whaley family, this house has seen all kinds of mysteries. Visitors have reported seeing the ghost of a woman in the garden, while many people also claim to have seen Thomas Whaley’s spirit in the parlour. A young girl who matches the description of Marion Reynolds, the great grand-daughter of Thomas Whaley, who died from ingesting ant poison, is reported to grab the arms of visitors as they tour the house, while a spectral dog is occasionally seen by children. The photo above is believed to be the ghost of Thomas Whaley captured staring through the window of the Whaley house.

[denimbex1986]

'Cillian Murphy had just spent the day filming what felt like 30 scenes on “Oppenheimer” with the desert sand kicking up and blasting into his eyes when his co-star Robert Downey Jr. greeted him, trying to boost his spirits. And — this is how Downey remembers it, and when the legend becomes fact, print the legend — Murphy launched into a lament about how, when he had returned to his “18-dollar-a-night hotel room” the previous evening, he found his bags in the hallway and thought, “F—! I haven’t checked out yet. I have to sleep!”

“Every indignity that could befall someone who’s trying to do something .... It was like the tears of Job,” Downey related after a recent screening of the Christopher Nolan blockbuster. “Forget the call sheet and the job. It was everything else. It was the most Irish experience I’ve ever witnessed.”

Nearly two years later, Murphy and I are talking on a late-autumn day in L.A. He’s removing his coat and pulling his chair into the sun because, yes, he’s Irish, and part of the Irish experience is to soak up as much sun as possible when the opportunity presents itself. As to what Downey is ascribing to his native land, Murphy can do nothing but laugh.

“I don’t know if that means that Irish people are more predisposed to suffering,��� Murphy says, smiling. “I think he’s being very sweet and saying we were like a troupe, moving at quite a pace. We were just staying at motels by the freeway and moving around. It was not glamorous. The way Chris works is that everything is equitable. No one has trailers or personal makeup. Everyone gets in a bus. It feels like independent filmmaking, but on a f—ing grand scale. And that’s the way I enjoy working.”

Murphy, 47, also enjoys not working, and he’s had a successful enough career in the two decades since his film breakthrough in Danny Boyle’s 2002 classic zombie film “28 Days Later” that he can describe such periods as being “happily unemployed.” That was where he was at a couple of years ago. He’d finished shooting the sixth (and final) season of the entertaining BBC crime drama “Peaky Blinders” and was in the midst of a glorious six months enjoying the company of his wife, Irish visual artist Yvonne McGuinness, and their two teenage sons. Then Nolan called out of the blue.

Actually, it wasn’t Nolan, but his wife and producing partner, Emma Thomas. It couldn’t be Nolan, because Nolan doesn’t have a phone, an eccentricity that’s either endearing or infuriating depending on the context. Thomas handed the phone to her husband, who told Murphy — in what the actor calls an “unbelievably understated British way” — “I’m making a film about Oppenheimer.” Pause. “I’d like you to play Oppenheimer.”

And just like that, Murphy was no longer happily unemployed. He was playing the title character in Nolan’s sprawling drama about the physicist known as the “father of the atomic bomb.”

“A big moment,” Murphy calls it, no stranger to restraint himself. Pause. “A biggie.”

In conversation, Murphy is pleasant and reflective when talking about his native country (he could and should write a book on the Ring of Kerry or at least narrate a self-guided tour) and the arts. I’d read that Nolan sent him photos of David Bowie wearing high-waisted, voluminous trousers from the singer’s Thin White Duke era as a visual reference for the gaunt silhouette he imagined for Oppenheimer, a man who possessed such a manic work ethic that he forgot to eat, subsisting on martinis and Chesterfield cigarettes. I pull up a photo of Bowie taken shortly before his death, wearing a sharp suit, black fedora and beaming smile.

“He looks a little alien, which is what we were going for with Oppenheimer, I think,” Murphy says. He holds onto my phone, looking at Bowie. “One of the greats. That last album [“Blackstar”] was f—ing extraordinary. What a gift to leave us with. Nobody else could have gone out like that.”

Murphy’s most striking feature — his piercing blue eyes — have been noted at length, for good reason. “Oppenheimer” co-star Matt Damon notes how he’d find himself distracted working with Murphy. “It’s a real problem when you’re doing scene work with Cillian [because] sometimes you find yourself just swimming in his eyes,” he told People.

Those eyes are what first attracted Nolan to him. The filmmaker was leafing through a newspaper while writing “Batman Begins” and came across a photo of Murphy from “28 Days Later.” He couldn’t shake the image of this actor with a shaved head and “crazy eyes” and made a note to meet with Murphy for Batman, a role that eventually went to Christian Bale.

They’ve now made six movies together, with Murphy playing the menacing Scarecrow in the “Dark Knight” trilogy, a petulant business heir in “Inception” and a character known simply — and quite accurately — as “Shivering Soldier” in “Dunkirk.” They share a mutual interest in conveying a character’s emotional conflict through close-ups that linger on an actor’s face and allow the audience to feel inner turmoil. In Oppenheimer’s case, it was the searing anguish of a man a bit late to realize and appreciate the consequences of what he’d created.

“To me, great screen acting is all about ‘show, don’t tell,’” Murphy says, “and being able to transmit emotion and energy just by force or presence or charisma.”

I ask him about influences in that regard, but Murphy demurs, saying that if he starts listing actors, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night, thinking, “F—, I left that person out.” He reiterates that his favorite movie moments aren’t big set pieces but watching actors in reflection, inactive, doing nothing, but revealing everything. “I find that compelling in the highest order,” he says.

Murphy had ample opportunity to do just that in “Oppenheimer,” portraying a character caught in a moral dilemma of his own making.

“I knew it would have to be a quiet, small performance, because the themes are f—ing huge,” Murphy says. “What’s happening inside his heart and his mind can’t be painted big, particularly when it’s captured on an Imax camera and it’s going to be shown on a f—ing 80-foot screen. I knew it would have to be delicate and tiny, most of it.”

Murphy doesn’t like to dwell on what he did once call the “monastic experience” of the film’s 57-day shoot or on the months it took to decompress afterward. Such talk would be a little too close to the “Irish experience” Downey had mentioned. But all of these efforts did make me think about something that Emily Blunt, who plays Oppenheimer’s wife, Kitty, in the film and worked with Murphy in “A Quiet Place Part II,” noted about him.

“She said that off set, you’re a hoot,” I tell him, fishing for an example or two. Murphy does not oblige, but he does express how his friendship with Blunt created a trust that informed their portrayal of lifelong partners.

“She’s also one of the funniest people, and I have a rule that I can’t work unless there’s a lightness around the set,” Murphy says. “There has to be some levity. A lot of the films I do are quite heavy and go to some dark, challenging places, and you have to be relaxed to do that. So I don’t walk around in a state of f—ing angst. I need to feel at ease. I can’t be in that dark place all the time. I don’t have the stamina for it.”

Murphy saw “Oppenheimer” at the film’s July world premiere in Paris. Two days later, he and the rest of the cast left the London premiere to show their support for the impending SAG-AFTRA strike. By the time he returned home to Dublin, his wife and sons had already seen “Barbie,” so Murphy went to the cinema by himself to complete the “Barbenheimer” experience.

How do you go incognito to the multiplex, I ask.

“I time going to movies very well now,” Murphy says. “With the ads and trailers, I always arrive a half hour late, slip in and then slip out.”

I grouse how that half hour feels like it’s getting longer by the year. Murphy agrees. And yet ...

“The greatest democratic collective art form is sitting in a darkened space with strangers,” he says. “To be part of a movie that people went to see multiple times and part of a great moment for cinema, that frenzy for those two films, was just lovely. I don’t know if we’ll ever see it again, but I’d like to hope so.”