"The Fall is a story about stories. It’s full of contradictions: a film made by a visionary director, Tarsem Singh, that tells a story about how no story is the product of just one teller. A story that doesn’t make logical, traditional sense, but a story that makes perfect, simple sense in what it says: you can never know how someone will respond to your stories, what you’ll ask of each other, what you’ll give. You can only control so much. The story never belongs only to you,” from this absolutely brilliant review essay about one of my favourite films. No one understands me or my love for stories or my love for The Fall the way the writer of this piece does
“I am growing to be dubious of my self-will, its insatiable wanting, its certainty that something—narcotics, money, power—might resolve the fundamental hollowness of its being. I am starting to think maybe hollowness is the whole point of our design, that there is a pure breath at our core fortified by quiet, by stillness, by reverent observation, and diminished by everything else,” Kaveh Akbar and Jane Hirshfield on writing poems facing into the broken world
In the new literary landscape, readers are customers, writers are service providers, and books are expected to offer instant gratification: is Amazon changing the novel?
Transcript of Ezra Klein’s podcast (The Ezra Klein Show) in which he talks to Bessel van der Kolk (author of The Body Keeps the Score) about trauma.
I’m really into reviews and conversations between artists (or interviews with people in general), it makes me understand things and to some extent myself a lot better. No wonder then that I love and am still thinking about this review of Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self Delusion by Lauren Oyler and how it somehow ties in quite well with Brandon Taylor’s musings about moral fiction
“Critics have suggested the romance provides women with the opportunity for self-transcendence, to imagine being ravished, adored, protected and loved. It also enables women imaginatively to resist the constraints and excesses of a male-dominated society, and to find a cathartic space in which to explore fear and guilt, as well as revenge fantasies, around fathers and husbands,” from the unexpectedly subversive world of romance novels
18+ interactive fiction story dealing with sensitive topics like abuse, self-harm and addiction (plus future optional sexual content). Read at your own discretion.
One of the major themes for this story is identity vs. conformity. As such it is not possible to play as anything other than male or female at the start with he/him and she/her pronouns. There will be opportunities later in the story to identify as trans or non-binary and adjust your body, name and pronouns accordingly. Be warned that such changes and queer relationships will elicit a reaction from characters in the story, but don't let that stop you from being yourself.
Love is the greatest weapon of all, but its absence is not peace.
At the age of twelve, your parents' abuse couldn't be concealed any longer. Now—a year later—you're in a new home, still reeling from the unfairness of it all. A nasty habit that destroys delicate skin helps, but so does playing your well-loved guitar to escape a world that scares you. Exceptional talent, but an inability to fit in, you're left instilled with mistrust beneath a layer of yearning for something you've never had. Taking a desperate approach to change your life, you sign up for Stagebound; Britain's largest singing competition.
Young and scared, you reveal something you can't take back, only to deal with the aftermath your whole career. An outstanding career as a guitarist in a band consisting of people you didn't know before the competition; people your age who will struggle alongside you as you navigate the music industry for many years. The strongest bonds break the loudest... can you really trust the people you didn't get to choose?
Consists of III acts spanning 3 chapters each.
Act I: The Stagebound competition and the aftermath spanning a year later.
Act II: The band breaking into the US market and dealing with all things Hollywood.
Act III: Reunion album and tour years down the line.
Customise your MC! From looks to personality to behaviours, make a character with a predetermined backstory your own.
Struggle with all aspects of fame, or embrace the rockstar lifestyle and shower in the attention.
Keep the peace or stir the drama! With bandmates like these things are sure to stay interesting.
Fight against the constraints of the industry. Queer or otherwise unconventional? Your path to self-expression won't be easy but no less worthwhile.
Your horrific public past haunts you. Will you fall into a rabbit-hole of vices or find healthier ways to cope?
Greylin/Greyson 'Grey' Charter [f/m]
"They told me I couldn't, so I did it twice and took pics."
Outgoing and confident, Grey doesn't allow themself to go unnoticed. They chase good times unapologetically, but remain ambitious in all their pursuits. They're charismatic despite how stubborn they tend to be, and they work hard to conceal their unpleasant tendencies. They idolise performers who dominate the scene—wild, eccentric, impossible to ignore. Getting them on stage is easy. Getting them off, however…
As the lead singer and you as the guitarist, you could be a powerful duo—be it forged in friendship or rivalry. Either way, Grey can take you to the highest peaks, and the lowest valleys. The journey won't be easy, but if you make it you'd have someone that would believe in you till the end of time.
Finley Beckham-Barlowe [f/m]
"Music unlocks the soul; that's why it's called a key."
Closed-off and understated, Finley is used to getting overlooked. They fit the image of the cool bassist on stage, though the same easy-going attitude doesn't quite carry off of it. Quiet by nature, they still voice their opinions without hesitation. They're also not one to conceal their emotions intentionally, and love music that convey feelings in a raw manner. Getting them on stage is of little issue, it's the spectacle beyond performing that leaves them weary.
As the bassist they could be the rhythm to your melody or the chain to your freedom. They can guide as easily as they obstruct, and the dynamic between you would be a constant push and pull. Finding balance won't be easy, but if established, you'd have an anchor for life.
Bem Adeleke [f/m]
"There is strength in crying and in numbers… so crying about maths is the epitome of strength!"
Friendly and eager, Bem sets out to win people over. They're a natural mediator functioning as the backbone of the band, yet unfamiliar with the drums, they constantly scramble to keep up with the rest of you. They live in constant movement, much like the dance music they're drawn to, rarely slowing down to think about themself. Getting them on stage is the hard part; everything after is what they live for.
As your drummer they sit at your centre without meaning to, trying to be a steady baseline without matching the tempo required. When the beat does drop however, you know who'll break their back trying to catch it. But heartbeats are tricky and synchronization can't be forced. If developed naturally, it would mean two lives equally intertwined by the pace you've set.
Irene Svetla
Pop-star phenomenon and Britain's sweetheart, Irene was a contestant on Stagebound a decade before you. Winning the competition meant skyrocketing to fame in an event that still leaves her reeling. She's your self-imposed protector and can be your greatest ally as well as your biggest obstacle.
Zakari 'Zak' Hakim
Underground artist turned mainstream as hip-hop exploded in popularity and carried overseas. He knows the industry well and bears it with a grin. Zak grants you the most freedom but the least guidance, focused solely on increasing your reach even if it means stretching you thin in the process.
Chris Feldman
Veteran from the glory days of the seventies and eighties music scene, Feldman carries the scars of a rockstar with understated pride. When music shifted and his band became obsolete he took a backseat as a producer and manager instead. Feldman knows all about the hidden corners of the industry and the danger of vices. He's there to toughen you up, and give you the reality check you didn't ask for but might have needed.
Stagebound is a WIP slice-of-life/fame IF story with optional romance. Things are liable to change, bugs are likely to occur and typos will slip through. Feedback is always appreciated. Your thoughts matter. It helps me shape this story into the best it can be!
As an author I do not use, nor support the use of generative AI. I do not consent for my work to be used to train these models (though I doubt that matters).
content: academia billionaire romance; it’s your job to convince bruce wayne that the art department deserves his donation. you didn’t expect for bruce to be, well, bruce
warnings: none! fluff!
wc: 3.7k
falling in love masterlist
softhandz masterlist
The faculty luncheon smelled faintly of roasted rosemary chicken, garlic bread, and too many cups of lukewarm coffee.
Gotham University’s event staff had gone for their usual safe spread: buttered rolls stacked in silver baskets, a pasta station tucked in the corner, and an ambitious but slightly sad cheese platter that had already been picked clean, regardless of the suspicious amounts of cheese and meats displayed for the cheapness of the university.
The art department’s table, predictably, was closest to the giant floral arrangement no one could see around. It was no secret that the other departments were vying for the Wayne donation for the year. Annually the Wayne Foundation donates a pretty sum to one department, and everyone wanted it. The art department was looked down upon by the others, so it made sense that they banded together to put you all at the worst table possible.
Half the room buzzed with chatter about grant numbers and departmental rankings; the other half buzzed with anticipation, waiting for Bruce Wayne’s late arrival.
You balanced a plate of pasta and bread as you slid back into your seat, your two colleagues leaning toward you like conspirators.
“Tell me you brought your A-game,” Marcy, the ceramics professor, whispered as she speared a piece of chicken. “If Wayne doesn’t bite this year, the scholarships dry up by spring.”
“Not just scholarships,” added Gregory, who ran photography and had perfected the art of sighing dramatically, though that may be due to the glass of champagne he’s sipping out of. “They’re dangling the new student gallery space on this too. Admissions swears an exhibition hall will double applicants if we can just ‘sweeten the pitch.’”
You set your fork down with a wry smile. “So, no pressure at all.”
Marcy waved her fork. “You’re the one who just came back from New York with reviews in Art & Image. You’re basically our star player. Of course they’re sending you in.”
Gregory smirked, lowering his voice. “Bruce Wayne is a notorious sucker for charm. You’ll have him eating out of your hand in twenty minutes, I guarantee it.”
You arched a brow. “You mean in between whatever supermodel he’s texting under the table?”
Marcy snorted into her water. Gregory nearly choked on his pasta.
Still, their words hit home. You thought of your student, Carly, a brilliant painter with restless energy and raw talent, a girl who could thrive here with the proper support. Without scholarships, she’d slip through the cracks like so many others in Gotham. A new gallery space would mean a place for her — for all of them — to be seen.
You smoothed your napkin over your lap, squaring your shoulders. If Bruce Wayne was the key, then so be it. You’d survived New York critics; you could handle one billionaire.
“Fine,” you said lightly. “But if he funds the new gallery, I’m demanding they name the student café after me.”
“Deal,” Marcy grinned. “I’ll even make a plaque.”
The table laughed, and that was, of course, the moment the room shifted.
The doors opened, and a ripple of recognition spread like a wave. Bruce Wayne had arrived.
Bruce strode in, late but unapologetic, with the ease of a man who’d never once been told to wait. His suit was immaculate, dark fabric tailored to perfection, his tie loose enough to look deliberate. He shook a hand here, clapped a shoulder there, a faint curve at his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile but worked just the same.
You all took turns looking around the plant that was out right in front of the table, trying to get a glance at the man of the hour. You heard conversations continue and loud greets towards him as you finally raised yourself higher a bit to look over the plant.
And then, somehow, his gaze found yours.
For a split second, longer than it should have been, his eyes locked with yours across the room. The hum of conversation dimmed under the weight of it, your chest tightening at the heat of that steady look. You swallowed, quickly lowered yourself while looking down at your untouched bread roll like it might save you.
Marcy made a low whistle beside you. “Oh my God. He’s even better looking in real life. I thought that wasn’t possible.”
Gregory leaned in, voice pitched low. “Good luck.”
“Wait, you’re leaving—“ You shot them both a glare, but it was too late. They’d already melted back into the crowd, plates in hand, like traitors fleeing the battlefield.
You exhaled sharply. “Cowards,” you muttered.
Despite your lack of attention, Bruce Wayne wasn’t deterred.
He wove through the donors effortlessly, gliding from handshake to handshake. His laugh warm but quick, his shoulders angling ever so slightly to steer himself closer. You could almost chart his trajectory: polite nod at the dean, gracious smile at the board chair, and then, without pause, he was crossing the last few steps to where you sat.
“Professor,” Bruce said smoothly, his voice carrying that low Gotham drawl that always sounded like it belonged to someone else until it was aimed directly at you. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
His hand extended, steady, expectant, a charming smile placed perfectly on his lips. Bruce’s hand lingered between you for a beat too long before you took it, his grip firm but warm.
“Bruce Wayne,” he said, though of course he didn’t need to.
You cleared your throat, your voice steadier than you felt as you said your name, followed by, “art department.”
His brow arched slightly at your noncommittal answer, amusement flickering in his eyes. Instead of moving along like you half-expected, Bruce pulled out the chair beside you and lowered himself into it without asking, his suit brushing against the edge of your sleeve
Your breath stalled as you thought you would have enough time to prepare and see Bruce in his element before you pitched your cause. Despite aiming for casual, the billionaire could pick up on the tension.
“Relax,” he said lightly, leaning back, his gaze still fixed on you. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“That’s reassuring,” you murmured, fumbling for your fork as though a mouthful of cold pasta would shield you. “Though I’m guessing Gotham’s tabloids would disagree.”
The corner of his mouth curved. “Don’t believe everything you read.”
You risked a glance at him and instantly regretted it. His eyes weren’t just blue; they were sharp and alert, drinking you in with an intensity that made the rest of the room fade away. For someone so famous for feigned disinterest, he was devastatingly present.
“Right,” you said, forcing yourself to find footing in familiar ground, muttering lowly to yourself. “I’ll stick to the art reviews then.”
“Ah, so you have read them,” he replied, a spark of humor in his voice, but earning a look from you, since how did he hear that? He continues on, “That was going to be my next question for you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t recognize your face from the papers.”
Your cheeks heated. “Hard to avoid when your department insists on clipping every mention and taping them to your office door.”
“And?” He angled toward you, elbows resting loosely on his knees, posture deceptively casual. “Were they right?”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“About your series,” Bruce said, his tone dipping just enough to show he wasn’t making small talk. “The reviews called it… what was it? ‘A staggering excavation of Gotham’s emotional landscape.’ I believe that’s the phrase I remember best.”
You stared at him, thrown by the fact that he wasn’t bluffing. He’d actually read them; that was a direct quote.
“You—” You shook your head, laughter slipping out despite yourself. “You really did your homework.”
He shrugged, as if it were nothing. “If I’m considering funding a department, I like to know what its stars are doing.”
“Stars?,” you repeated, trying to sound dry, though the word curled warm in your chest.
“You don’t think so?”
“I think…” You swirled your fork absently, finding your voice. “I think talent is just potential until it’s used for something bigger. My students, one of them especially, they’re the real stars. They just need the chance to prove it.”
Bruce was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady. It was silent between the two of you, though neither gaze faltered. You could tell this was some sort of test, and you were determined not to fail, despite how highly uncomfortable the situation felt.
Eventually, his gaze softened and he looked around, allowing you a break. His voice was softer when he next spoke, “That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Not the gallery or the scholarship numbers. That student.”
Your throat tightened. “…Maybe. You also seemingly know a lot about what our department needs.”
“Definitely,” he countered, lips tugging into a subtle, knowing smirk, ignoring the latter half of your response. “You talk about them differently than you talk about yourself.”
You blinked at him, a little dazed. Once again, Bruce Wayne casually changed your perspective of him.
“I didn’t realize billionaires listened so closely,” you managed, realizing you hadn’t spoken yet.
“Only when they want to,” he said smoothly. Then, leaning in just slightly: “And right now, I do.”
The heat in your chest doubled, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of flustering you completely.
“Careful,” you said, matching his tone with a faint smirk of your own. “If you keep talking like that, people might start thinking you’re actually invested.”
His eyes glinted, sharp and amused. “Let them. I’ve been accused of worse.”
The hum of conversation filled the silence between you, but you barely heard it. The rest of the luncheon — the clinking of forks, the shuffle of donors — blurred at the edges, leaving only the steady rhythm of your back-and-forth.
And for the first time, you understood why people called Bruce Wayne dangerous. It wasn’t just the money or the charm.
It was the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
The spell broke with a polite but insistent throat-clear.
“Bruce,” said a man in a navy blazer that screamed board member, “so glad you made it. We really should discuss the endowment numbers—”
Bruce leaned back in his chair but didn’t move, his eyes still on you. “Numbers are always thrilling,” he said evenly, though the edge of his mouth quirked like he was in on a private joke.
Another voice chimed in, this time a woman with pearls tight against her throat. “And the alumni fund is overdue for your attention. We wouldn’t want the university’s largest benefactor to be… distracted.”
Her gaze flicked to you, pointed and dismissive. An art professor bothering Bruce Wayne? Of all things.
You straightened your spine, heat rising in your cheeks. Before you could respond, Bruce’s expression shifted — polite smile still in place, but his tone dipped smooth and cool.
“I’m sure the dean would be happy to arrange a meeting,” he said. “But at the moment, I’m having a conversation.”
The board members blinked, thrown off, and your department head swooped in like a hawk sensing prey.
“Of course, of course,” he gushed, ushering the donors toward the buffet. “Let’s give Mr. Wayne some space. Professor, why don’t you… ah, continue sharing your vision?”
It was a rescue, but also a shove, and in seconds you were left alone again with Gotham’s most eligible billionaire.
Bruce tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “They really don’t like it when I deviate from the script. I’m sorry, for their lack of manners.”
You smiled despite yourself. “Their actions are not your own, no need for apologies, but I appreciate them all the same. I can’t exactly blame them,, you were supposed to be dazzled by financial projections and alumni numbers. Not… this.” You gestured vaguely to yourself, to your half-empty plate of pasta.
His gaze softened, the smirk fading into something warmer. “I think I’ll take this over projections any day.”
Your stomach flipped. You opened your mouth, desperate to anchor yourself with a reply, but Bruce leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
“Tell you what,” he said, voice smooth, carrying just for you. “Why don’t we finish this conversation somewhere less crowded? A walk through the campus grounds, maybe?”
The room buzzed around you filled with donors talking and silverware clinking, but it all blurred into white noise. His eyes stayed locked on yours, steady, waiting.
And you realized two things at once:
You should absolutely say no.
And you weren’t going to.
Bruce Wayne had the kind of presence that drew eyes even when he wasn’t trying. As he led you out of the luncheon and onto the wide stone paths of the university campus, heads turned discreetly from benches and doorways, students whispering in disbelief.
You wondered what it looked like to them: the city’s most famous billionaire casually strolling beside a professor in sensible shoes and an autumn scarf.
But for all the noise Gotham’s tabloids loved to make, there was nothing casual about the way Bruce listened.
“So,” he said, hands tucked in his pockets as you walked, “you grew up here, left for New York, and came back. Most people try the opposite. What pulled you back?”
You glanced at him, surprised by the directness. “The students. Gotham has a way of swallowing talent before it has a chance to grow. If I can keep even one from getting lost, it’s worth it.”
Bruce hummed low in his throat, a thoughtful sound. His gaze flicked toward you, steady and unflinching. “You truly believe that. Wholeheartedly.”
You shrugged, a little self-conscious under the intensity of his eyes. “Of course I do. It’s my job.”
“No.” His voice dipped softer, more certain. “It’s who you are.”
Your breath hitched. You turned forward again, hiding a smile in the autumn air. “That’s… a very generous reading for someone you’ve known half an hour.”
“I’ve been told I’m a fast study,” Bruce said, smirking faintly.
“You mean, you like being right.”
“Both,” he admitted, and his hand brushed against yours as you walked — not quite accidental, not quite intentional.
You didn’t pull away. The conversation flowed as easily as the crunch of leaves beneath your steps.
“Do you paint here too?” Bruce asked.
“In a drafty studio with bad lighting and worse heating,” you said, dry but affectionate. “Romantic in theory. Less so when your fingers go numb.”
His mouth quirked. “I could always fund a heater.”
You gave him a look. “That’s not how flirting works.”
He chuckled low, his eyes glittering when they met yours. “I wasn’t flirting.”
“You weren’t?”
“No,” Bruce said smoothly, leaning in just enough. “If I were flirting, you’d know. At least I’d hope so. If not my reputation may never recover.”
Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You arched a brow, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “So all this is just casual conversation, then?”
“Absolutely,” he said, but the warmth in his gaze made your stomach flip.
The two of you cut through the university gardens, roses climbing trellises and ivy curling against the old stone walls. The autumn air was brisk, carrying the scent of wet leaves and the faint buzz of traffic from Gotham proper. You were hyperaware of the way Bruce’s hand brushed yours again, closer this time; longer, like testing the waters.
You smirked to cover your nerves. “Careful. If you keep hovering your hand like that, people might think you’re trying to hold mine.”
Bruce tilted his head, unbothered, his eyes on yours. “And if I was?”
You faltered for a moment before recovering with a wry smile. “Then I’d probably let you.”
The smile that touched his mouth was slow, deliberate. The kind of look that could disarm a boardroom or a ballroom, but here, directed only at you, it made your pulse race.
You continued your walk, this time with both of you walking closer together, hands constantly brushing or hovering nearby as stories were exchanged. You were mid-laugh at his dry retelling of a disastrous board meeting when the first fat raindrop splattered against your shoulder. Then another. And then, in true Gotham fashion, the sky opened up all at once.
“Of course,” you muttered, tugging your scarf over your head as you ran the last stretch toward an archway between two gothic buildings.
Bruce followed easily, his longer stride keeping pace until you were both tucked into the shelter of the stone arch. The rain poured down in silver sheets, blurring the campus into impressionist streaks of green and gray.
You caught your breath, pressing your back against the cool wall. Bruce stood a step away, close enough that the heat of him cut through the chill air.
“Well,” you said, laughing softly. “This is inconvenient.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall, his eyes steady on you. “Depends who you’re stuck with. Some would consider it romantic.”
You met his gaze, pulse fluttering. “Oh, and you’re one of those, I suppose?”
“Definitely,” he said without hesitation.
Your stomach flipped again, and you fought to keep your composure. “You’re very sure of yourself Mr. Wayne.”
“Not of myself.” His eyes didn’t waver, searching yours like he meant every word. “Of you.”
The silence stretched, thick with rain and the thrum of your heartbeat.
You swallowed. “You know, you’re very good at this whole… billionaire-charm thing.”
“Good.” His lips curved into a smirk, though his eyes stayed warm. “But you should know, this isn’t billionaire charm. This is just me.”
You arched a brow, trying to keep your voice steady as you leaned into the space between you two. “Just you, huh? That’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” He tilted his head forward, that smirk tugging wider.
“Yes,” you said, unable to stop your own smile. “Because I think I might believe you.”
Bruce’s laugh was low, quiet, and it lingered between you as the rain hammered the stone arch above.
And for the first time all afternoon, you forgot entirely about scholarships and galleries, about donors and pressure.
It was just you and Bruce Wayne, standing inches apart in the rain, the world narrowed to eye contact and banter that felt like it could go on forever.
The rain drummed against the stone archway, turning the world outside into a blur of silver. The sharp scent of wet leaves and asphalt filled the air, mixing with the faintest trace of Bruce’s cologne, warm and understated, but intoxicating up close.
He stood half a step closer now, his broad frame taking up more space than seemed possible. His arm brushed yours where you both leaned against the wall, casual in theory but anything but in practice. Every nerve in your body hummed, caught between the chill of the storm and the heat radiating from him.
Bruce’s eyes never left yours. Steady, unflinching. The kind of gaze that saw more than you intended to show.
“You’re cold,” he murmured, his voice low and rich as he shrugged out of his jacket. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders. The weight of it was grounding, the warmth startling, the gesture so simple and gentlemanly that your breath caught.
“Thank you,” you managed, fingers brushing the lapel as you tugged it closer.
“Of course.” His smile was small, soft, as if it wasn’t even a question.
The silence stretched — not awkward, but thick, alive.
Then his hand shifted, fingers brushing yours deliberately this time, slow and careful. He didn’t take your hand outright, just let his touch linger like an invitation.
Your lips parted, your chest tight. “Bruce—”
“Hmm?” He leaned just slightly closer, his eyes locked on yours.
“This is—” You faltered, words catching in your throat.
“Exactly where I want to be. What about you?” he finished, his voice a whisper meant only for you.
Your pulse thundered, and you nodded slightly, a bit dazed from the sheer magnitude of attraction you feel for this man in front of you. His face was inches from yours now, his breath warm against your cheek, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before locking back onto your gaze..
For one suspended moment, you thought he’d close the distance. You wanted him to. Desperately.
But instead, Bruce’s lips curved into the kind of smile that unraveled you. “Not here,” he said quietly, his voice a low promise. “You deserve better than a damp archway and rain in your hair.”
Your laugh trembled out, soft and aching. “That’s a very particular standard.”
“I keep high standards. That would be part of my billionaire charm,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.
The rain began to ease, the sharp drumming fading to a gentler patter. You glanced toward the luncheon hall, its warm lights glowing through the mist.
Bruce shifted, tilting his jacket to cover over your head. “Ready to make a run for it?”
You blinked, startled, before realizing what he meant. “You can’t be serious—”
But his hand was already reaching for yours, steady, certain. “Come on, professor. Trust me.”
You looked at him, before you shook your head softly. ”Only, if you get under it too.”
Bruce laughs suddenly, like he was surprised but your condition. That, or maybe the genuine care you displayed for him, despite only knowing him for a short time. He nods, then readjusts the jacket so each of you holds on corner of the jacket. His other hand ends up around your waist, giving you another charming smile, “It’s to make sure you stay close and dry, that’s all.”
Your playfully rolled your eyes, despite the way your pulse leapt as you ducked beneath the jacket, pressed close against him, the world narrowing to the heat of his body and the soft brush of his breath against your temple.
Together, you ran across the slick stone path, laughter bubbling out of you as the rain sprinkled your shoes and the jacket flapped around your shoulders. By the time you burst through the doors of the luncheon building, breathless and damp, Bruce’s arm was still wrapped securely around you.
Neither of you pulled away immediately.
And for one dizzying moment, soaked hair clinging to your face and your laughter still catching in your throat, you thought — maybe the almost kiss wasn’t an ending.
Maybe it was just the beginning.
a/n: happy batman day! ofc had to post something, so part 2 of falling in love is done!
literally had the craziest week, yall the fanfic writer curse is true i'm afraid. sad news: i've lost my job. good news: i have more time to write. it's not a complete loss, as i wasn't really happy at the job, but damn it, that steady income will be missed. but onto bigger and better right?
anyways, thanks for reading and staying around! i hope you all enjoyed! please like, reblog and comment! regardless, i’ll still give each of you a kiss!💋
Nobara Kugisaki — Thoughts on Women's History Month
Heh. You want my thoughts? Fine — I’ll say this straight.
Women throughout history didn’t “get lucky.” They fought for every inch of ground they stand on.
For centuries, the world tried to decide what women could or couldn’t do. What they should look like. How they should speak. Where they should stay. And despite all that? Women still became scientists, leaders, warriors, writers, doctors, engineers, activists — shaping the world whether they were given permission or not.
That’s strength.
In science and medicine, women pushed through locked doors and proved their brilliance with results no one could ignore. In politics and civil rights movements, they demanded fair laws and equal opportunity — not just for themselves, but for future generations. In art and culture, they defined eras, challenged expectations, and gave people the courage to be themselves.
And don’t underestimate everyday power.
The women working exhausting hours to support their families. The teachers who refuse to give up on struggling students. The friends who show up when everything feels impossible. The ones rebuilding communities after crisis.
That’s not “small.” That’s foundational.
Equality isn’t about proving women are better. It’s about recognizing that talent, intelligence, and determination don’t belong to one gender. When women have equal access to education, leadership, and opportunity, society improves — economically, socially, culturally. That’s not opinion. That’s observable fact.
What I respect most? Women who define themselves on their own terms.
You can be strong and still love fashion. You can be compassionate and still fierce. You can be ambitious and unapologetic about it.
There’s no single mold.
Honoring women’s history means recognizing the battles fought, the progress achieved, and the work still ahead. It means refusing to shrink yourself just to make others comfortable.
ok heres my long awaited echo opinions masterpost. spoilers ahead to some extent. it made me sooooo mad so many times with juvenile writing choices but i literally couldnt stop thinking about it the whole time i was reading it and i came away really loving it despite everything. the main cast was handled with so much care and i found their story so deeply moving so i was sort of disappointed when the kind of mediocre horror and mystery elements would get in the way of that. but in a way i also really enjoyed the amateurish presentation and i respect it a lot for being so ambitious while also being so incredibly niche as a meta fiction visual novel thats so unapologetically Furry. i think mcskinny is a much more talented storyteller than howly but it wouldnt be what it is without the both of them. my two biggest complaints are the terrible worldbuilding that would be a complete non-issue if it didnt draw so much attention to itself and the backer characters who aside from micha and julian felt like completely unwarranted intrusions on the main plot. raven and daxton are pests but kudzu is such a cancer on the narrative that he almost singlehandedly ruins leos route for me. but luckily all of the routes together are way more than the sum of their parts which i think is important for this mode of storytelling. flynns and jennas routes were genuinely amazing and i was shocked at how much i enjoyed tjs even though i initially felt incredibly let down by the plot twist. like i said leos was dragged so far down by kudzus involvement in the plot but the ending was one of the standout moments of the entire novel so it still stands pretty far above carls route, which even ignoring ravens constant intrusions focused way too much on the horror and mystery elements to the detriment of the characters. its a shame that thats the obligatory "read this one first" route but it kind of has to be for a number of reasons. but ultimately i think my frustrations with it made me all the more invested because it gave me so much to think about. im not really interested in the other related vns because i dont want extraneous shit impacting my perception of the story especially now that the smoke room has been retroactively decanonized or whatever the fuck happened there. so there you have it
moot ask time! context: im going around asking all my fave writers about what they think of a specific tumblr user (one of their moots we know about!) so for you..
she’s genuinely so sweet and absolutely HILARIOUSSSS 😭😭 i love how no matter how much she’s known someone, she’s able to unapologetically be herself.. she keeps a consistent character around everyone, no matter who she’s around !! @mifvyfilms i love you my dear wife
Dayana Noemí Espinosa Madrigal (8 years old by d3. Student at the Encanto’s only public school and she helps José run the casino out of his room along with Avila—she has a few ideas on what she'd like to do when she grows up, including: a private inspector, a theme park performer or owner, archeology, and a historian are just a few of them. Clever, graceful, detail-oriented, fair, hardworking, cautious, business minded, firm, secretive, sneaky, reserved, curious/inquisitive, analytical, passionate, patient, helpful, aspiring, osscasionally very blunt, and caring. She has the gift of ‘monster sight’ meaning that she can see monsters that no one else can. She is single and is friends with her brother, her cousins, their partners, and Blue Veronica).
Next Gen Love Interests;
Araceli Peña Merlo (28 years old by d3. English Teacher at the Encanto's only public school and granddaughter of one of the Encanto's Original founders. Kind with a mighty backbone, empathic, graceful, knowledgeable, inquisitive, helpful, respectful, professional, motivating, courageous, idealistic, supportive, creative, non-judgmental, inspiring, dedicated, passionate, and headstrong. She doesn’t have any powers or a gift. She's currently dating Cesare Madrigal Botero and she's friends with her fellow teachers, Carina Potts, Shepherd Scaremonger, Eliza Fae, Jim ‘JJ’ Brown Jr, Hunter de Vil, and Horace the Auradon Prep Librarian).
Simon Cantor Acosta Cova (24 years old by d3. He's the owner of ‘Simon’s Western Experience’—a shop that sells things relating to cowboys and horses—and He's the grandson of Heidi from the “Nightmares and Sueños” book. Intelligent, flirty, mischievous, upbeat, resourceful, eccentric, brave, sneaky, impulsive, selfless, easygoing, and occasionally inconsiderate and jerkish. He doesn't have any powers or a gift. He's dating Cornel Madrigal Botero and he's friends with Horace the Auradon Prep Librarian, Jane Darling, Carina Potts, Princess Melody, Amore Pugliese, Shepherd Scaremonger, and Araceli Peña Merlo).
Amore Pugliese (27 years old by d3. Nonbinary Sea Monster from Genoa, Italy, and the owner of ‘Amore’s Fabric Stop and Shop’. Adventurous, mischievous, bubbly, rebellious, artistic/creative, adaptable, free spirited, energetic, snarky, loud, bombastic, determined, sarcastic, supportive, comfortable and confident in themselves and who they are, open, open-minded, playful, attentive, and unapologetically authentic. They have the powers of human transformation and Aquatic Breathing. They are engaged to Cyriacus Madrigal Botero and are friends with Ivy de Vil, Eliza Fae, JJ Brown, most of the Guzmáns and Madrigals, Araceli Peña Merlo, and Simon Cantor Acosta Cova).
Madeline ‘Mad Maddy’ Meraxes Mim (21 years old by d3. Member of Harriet Hook’s crew—The Queen’s Fury—and bassist of The Bad Apples, one of the first former students of 'Madam Mim's School of Magic’, and worker at Madam Mim’s Wicked Witchcraft Emporium. If she had the chance, she’d like to be an astronomer. Granddaughter of Madam Mim. Deceitful towards those she doesn’t like, temperamental, vengeful, bitter, impulsive, driven, witty, sneaky, talented, ambitious, snarky, cynical, troubled, unforgiving, protective, loyal, moody/apathetic, snippy, risk taking, and guarded. She has magic and is fantastic at potion brewing. Crushing on Rick Madrigal Botero and friends with the Madrigals, their partners, some of her siblings, some of her cousins, Lefou Deux’s family, Homicide Le Fay, Blaise Le Fay, Kai Athanasiou, Ula Athanasiou, Uziel Athanasiou, Arabella Athanasiou, and Harriet Hook's crew).
LeFou Deux ‘Lee’ Beaumont-LePrince (19 years old by d3. Member of Harriet Hook's crew, The Isle Santa, and worker at Cipriano Guzmán’s Toy Shop. Former worker at Hook's Inlet and Shack, Hook’s Clock & Curiosity Shop, Gaston's Pub, and Gaston’s duels without rules. He’s happy with the job he has. Son of Stanley, LeFou, and Paulette. Shy, sweet, helpful, skittish, quiet, clumsy, poetic, stubborn, hardworking, sneaky, patient, intelligent, friendly, awkward, protective, mischievous, and giving. He doesn't have any powers but he is quite good at inventing and fixing things. He is friends with the Madrigals, their partners, his siblings, his cousins, Homicide Le Fay, Blaise Le Fay, Kai Athanasiou, Ula Athanasiou, Uziel Athanasiou, Cipriano Guzmán, and Harriet Hook's crew).
Vidal Alfaro Pezmuerto (17 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of the R.O.A.R/Swords and Shields Team as well as the Fútbal —he wants to either be a marine biologist or be a pro R.O.A.R player. Son of Señora Pezmuerto and Luca Alfaro. Quiet but usually extroverted, easily embarrassed, athletic, skeptical, cautious towards things that could lead to embarrassment, judgemental, respectful of others boundaries, stubborn, hardworking, playful, sneaky, Unafraid of danger, Impulsive, and proud. He doesn't have any powers. He is friends with Harlan Alan Never, Portabella Neverwing, Felicidad Ruíz, Seth ‘Icey’ White, Princess Natasha, Demurra Foxworth, Rolando Ortiz, and Rebecca of Rosas).
Lin 'Gizmo' Mazorra (19 years old by d3. Worker at Miracle Tech, the Encanto’s first and possibly only tech shop—he wants to be either a musician or a Cinematographer that specializes in music videos. Formerly Homeschooled and the son of Dary Mazorra, the owner and founder of Miracle Tech. Introverted, awkward, quiet, insecure, creative, imaginative, goal oriented, focused, intelligent regarding tech related things, musically attuned, hardworking, helpful, passionate, loyal, sensitive, and soft spoken. He doesn't have a gift or any powers. He has Tourette's syndrome. He is dating Elmira Guzmán Madrigal and is friends with the Madrigals, Théotime Cogsworth, Bobby Hood, Tiger Peony, William Darling, and Portabella Neverwing).
Portabella Neverwing (15 years old by d3. Transfer student from Neverland Academy to Auradon Prep who wants to be an activist when she grows up. Daughter of Egidius and Bluebell. Creative, stubborn, extroverted, loud, goal oriented, empathic, hardworking, helpful, passionate, loyal, protective, rebellious, sour then sweet, free spirited, and seemingly care-free until angered by something that is unjust. She can fly and she is a garden talent fairy with powers that tie into nature. She is dating Emilia Nattura Madrigal and she is friends with Tiger Peony Rossi, Anxelin Fitzherbert, Bobby Hood, William Darling, Théotime Cogsworth, and Lin 'Gizmo' Mazorra— she very notably does not like Unity and Hap Bergmann, Annabelle Scorfano, or the Belgamio-Carmelo twins, and has a frenemy relationship with Stella Rabbit who is on thin ice with her).
Cailee Beckett (16 years old by d3. Student at Dragon Hall, Member of the Sea Ponies and Anti-Heroes Club, and occasional worker at Lady Tremaine’s Curl Up & Dye—she wants to be a firefighter, artist, or a famous Auratuber when she grows up. Preferably one that works with Gigi. She is the daughter of Cutler Beckett and an unknown woman. Funny, extroverted, loud, loyal, empathic, playful, creative, patient, graceful, courageous, sweet, care free, non-conforming, and mostly well-behaved. She doesn't have any powers or gifts. She is dating Magnolia ‘Gigi’ Marguerite Gothel and she is friends with Murky Maggie, Amara Tremaine, Julieanna 'Julie' Foulfellow, Sabina Stromboli, Dizzy Tremaine, Owena, Elizabeth 'Lizard' West, Sad Sally Mim, and she's slowly becoming friends with the Madrigals as well).
Théotime ‘Time’ Cogsworth (16 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of the Film Club and the Robotics Club—he wants to be a film director when he grows up. He is the son of Cogsworth. Rebellious, intellectual, reserved, bit of a loner but can be social around people he likes, free spirited, non-conforming, kind, open minded, curious, peaceful, a wee bit resentful, well organized, passionate, dependable, loyal, and dedicated. He doesn't have any gifts or powers. He is deaf/hard-of-hearing, has heterochromia, and has a lip piercing, multiple ear piercings, and a nose ring as well as glasses. He is dating Oscar Guzmán Madrigal and is friends with the Madrigals, most of the film and robotics club members—including Doug Bergmann, Anxelin Fitzherbert, Portabella Neverwing, Prince Diego of Cordoba, Elle Athanasiou of Tirulia, Princess Avisa Athanasiou of Atlantica, Arabella Athanasiou of Atlantica, Zhu Yi-Min, and Jedoun 'Jordan' Ayad).
Prince Diego of Cordoba (15—almost 16—years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep, School Contraband Smuggler and Seller, and Member of the Art Club—he wants to be a graphic novelist that specializes in horror and detective stories. He is the son of Prince Alonso of Cordoba. Reserved, sweet, friendly, even tempered, insecure, curious, creative, protective, sullen, imaginative, giving, cautious, hardworking when motivated, optimistic, loyal, patient, strong, well behaved but a rule breaker, odd/strange/creepy, and wouldn't hurt a fly unless provoked. He doesn't have any gifts or powers. He is in tutoring and extra help classes due to his struggles in a usual class environment. He is seen as a dimwitted slacker by many because of this. He is dating Sofia Madrigal Prepon and he is friends with Théotime ‘Time’ Cogsworth, Lin 'Gizmo' Mazorra, Portabella Neverwing, Anxelin Fitzherbert, Arabella Athanasiou of Atlantica, Crabby Bergmann, Doug Bergmann, Sleepy Bergmann Jr, and Baren Hood).
Haruto of Avalor (19 years old by d3. Model for Evie's 4 Hearts and Cheerleader and Student at Sherwood University—he wants to be an actor. Son of Tomiko of Avalor. Confident, hard working, romantic, focused, hard working, proud, spirited, adaptable, determined, athletic, patient, gossipy, fashionable, dedicated, judgemental, loyal, smart alec, protective to his people, great team player, and a multi-talented overachiever. He doesn't have any gifts or powers. He is dating Princesa Guzmán Madrigal and is friends with the rest of the cheerleading team, the tourney team, some of the band kids, some of the choir kids, some of the art club kids, the R.O.A.R kids, Princess Avisa Athanasiou of Atlantica, Chao, Kelemon Ceinfarfog Of Northumberland, Blair of DunBroch, Nora Nattura, Hilda Bjorgman, and Catharina ‘Cato’ Bones. Doesn't know the Madrigals that well yet).
Ronaldo Ortiz (16 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of the Debate Team and Tutoring Club—doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life yet. Does know he doesn't want to work in his father's field. Son of Osvaldo Ortiz. Hard working, smart, kind, focused, determined, very patient, easily embarrassed, dedicated, snarky when he's pushed, resentful, thoughtful, cautious/careful, and a bit of an overachiever. He doesn't have any gifts or powers. He is dating Rachel Madrigal Botero and is friends with Vidal Alfaro Pezmuerto, Felicidad Ruíz, Becca Colyar, Topher Thompson, Prince Diego of Cordoba, Théotime ‘Time’ Cogsworth, and Rosana Cardoso).
Christopher ‘Topher’ Thompson (18 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of the Auradon Prep Marching Band—wants to open a seaside restaurant on a boat where he can play music: he's workshopping the name. He is the secret great nephew of Smee. Secretive, open minded, somewhat lazy, thoughtful, cautious, playful, brave when it counts, patient, resilient, fun loving, adventurous, fun loving, creative, curious, attentive, and cuddly. He doesn't have any gifts or powers. He is dating Zoey Marquez Madrigal and is friends with Ben, Doug, the choir kids, the band kids, some of the tourney kids, a couple of the cheerleaders, and some of the Madrigals—he’s trying to win over the rest of them).
Becca Colyar (16 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of the Cheerleading Squad—wants to be a professional dancer when she grows up. She is the daughter of Buford the Chef. Hyperactive, fun loving, easily excitable, sly, unpredictable, athletic, hardworking, occasionally impatient, reliable, strange, friendly, playful, blunt, adventurous, creative, thoughtful, dedicated, popular, funny, determined, respectful, focused, good listener, a total fangirl, and a bit team player. She doesn't have any gifts or powers. She is dating Miguel Marquez Madrigal Jr. and is friends with the rest of the Cheerleading squad, a couple of the band kids, Tyrone Rogers, Nina Rogers, Princess Avisa Athanasiou of Atlantica, Chao, Kelemon Ceinfarfog Of Northumberland, Blair of DunBroch, Nora Nattura, Hilda Bjorgman, Princess Elle Athanasiou of Tirulia, Catharina ‘Cato’ Bones, and a pair of sisters named Mary and Dorothy).
Felicidad Ruíz (15 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Former member of band, choir, and acapella—she’s close to resorting to making her own club at this point because as someone who plans to be a musician she refuses to stand for how few choices there are. She plans to start her own band or maybe join one of the Madrigal’s bands. She is the daughter of accordion player Alejo Ruíz. Caring, protective, opinionated, musically inclined, stubborn, cocky, passionate, talented, picky, judgemental, rebellious, persevering, non-conforming, fun loving, lazy when unmotivated/uninterested, occasionally dismissive, somewhat unreliable depending on who you are, creative, determined, dedicated, open minded, rule following to the extent that people don’t always realize she doesn’t respect them/don’t notice the rest of her personality, sneaky, and under the firm belief that respect is earned, not freely given on principle of authority. She doesn't have any gifts or powers. She is dating Fuega Alba Guzmán Madrigal and is friends with Mal, Ben, Evie, Doug, Portabella Neverwing, Freddie Facilier, Ally Liddell, Rosana Cardoso, Prince Ajax, Arabella Athanasiou, Anxelin Fitzherbert, Yi-Min, Marlon of DunBroch, Hodge Westergaard-La Bouff, Herkie Athanasiou, Seth White, Elle Athanasiou, Avisa Athanasiou, Annika and Raylene Jenkins, Théotime Cogsworth, and several of the band, choir, and acapella kids).
Rosana Cardoso (15 years old by d3. Student at the Encanto’s only public school and Member of the Choir and the outdoors club—she wants to be a home economics teacher, a seamstress, a fashion designer, or a mixture of the three if possible. Daughter of Encanto farmers. Preppy, cheerful, sweet, outwardly respectful, humbling, a tad bit cliquish, girly, helpful, sneaky, good at reading people, friendly enough, even tempered, restrained, protective, distinguished, fashionable, isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, graceful, optimistic, mostly conflict avoidant, affectionate, patient, curious, resourceful, calculating when required, creative, true to herself, semi-popular, and soothing with a rebellious side most don’t know about—she gives the perfect girl next door vibes. She doesn’t have any gifts or powers. She is dating Amelia Madrigal Prepon and is friends with the Madrigals as well as several people inside of the Encanto and out—but she’s noticeably close with the other farmer kids, Théotime Cogsworth, Felicidad Ruíz, Becca Colyar, Portabella Wings, Topher Thompson, Lin 'Gizmo' Mazorra, Prince Diego of Cordoba, Vidal Alfaro Pezmuerto, Cailee Beckett, Ronaldo Ortiz, and Haruto of Avalor. She also very noticeably hates Annabelle Scorfano and helped Amelia get revenge on Sofia’s former friends in the Encanto instead of soothing her temper as she usually would).
Annabelle Mijares Marcovaldo Scorfano (15 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of the Swim Team—she wants to go to the Olympics or be a model/actress. Daughter of Alberto Marcovaldo Scorfano. Grateful, oblivious, sneaky, deceitful, street smart, manipulative, cruel at times, lazy, selfish, prideful, fun-loving, pouty, expressive, secretive, judgemental, helpful when needed, shameless, and gregarious. She can shapeshift and breathe underwater. Tito Nattura Madrigal has a crush on her that is kind of requited. She is friends with Scarlet Belgamio-Carmelo, Dragonet, Carter Belgamio-Carmelo, Hugo Madrigal Prepon, Princess Roanne, Princess Mia Westergaard-La Bouff, Hap Bergmann, Unity Bergmann, Stella Rabbit, Demurra Foxworth, and Ariana Rose).
Wickley ‘Wick’ Wing (13 years old by d3. Transfer student from Neverland Academy to Auradon Prep during d3, former member of the Neverland Academy Cheer Team, and a fast flying talent fairy—he wants to be an amusement park worker or a zoologist when he grows up. Son of Trak the scouting fairy and Tizzywing the fast flying fairy. Mischievous, playful, fast on his feet, compassionate, passionate, brave, reckless, graceful most of the time, talented, friendly, impulsive, occasionally rude, fun loving, snarky, helpful, caring, sneaky, street smart, ditzy, and protective. He can fly and change his size. He has a crush on Belinda Nattura Madrigal and she has a crush on him. He is friends with Carlos Madrigal Prepon, Hugo Madrigal Prepon, Leta Guzmán, Tulip Rossi, Danny Darling, Portabella Neverwing, Eleanor Bluefairy-Carmelo, Pino ‘Pin’ Collodi-Rossi-Liddell, and Evenstar Cricket).
Eleanor Belgamio-Carmelo of Llyr (14 years old by d3. Student at Auradon Prep and Member of Belle’s Book Club and the Art Club—she wants to be a famous artist when she grows up. She is the daughter of Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo and Princess Eilonwy of Llyr. Modest, imaginative, mindful, a little stuffy, smart, dutiful, sneaky/secretive/deceptive, classy, stubborn, mischievous when no one is around to see, nerdy, introverted, and is oftentimes considered the ‘well-behaved’ one. She can fly and she has magic that she is currently practicing. Shs is dating Carlos Madrigal Prepon and is friends with Tulip Rossi, Pino ‘Pin’ Collodi-Rossi-Liddell, Wickley ‘Wick’ Wing, Marcelo Rivera Madrigal, Portabella Neverwing, Ligera Guzman Madrigal, and Artorius 'Artie' Pendragon).
Random Encanto Oc Extras:
Band members:
Alejo Ruíz, father of Felicidad Ruíz.
Buenavista Bové, cousin of Sheyla and Cecilia Bové.
Sol Velasquez, grandfather of Juancho and Reynaldo Velasquez.
The (former) town kids:
Rio Gracia, Juancho Velasquez, Ignacio Gracia, Cecilia Bové, Mirabel Madrigal, Alejandra Isvandi, Alonso Arias, and Sheyla Bové.
Farmer:
Rendon Abraham Cerebro de Burro. He has three children—named Cimarron, Enrique, and Ana Cerebro de Burro.
Bartender/Bar Owner and Tech Guy:
Heidi Cova. Owner of the Encanto’s first (and possibly only) bar, Paraíso Fabricado.
Dary Mazorra. Owner of the Encanto’s first tech shop, Miracle Tech. Father of Lin ‘Gizmo’ Mazorra.
Picrew links: Wervty Profile, Luca, Baydews, Cowboy Picrew, Cowgirl Doll Divine maker, Fairy Meiker.io maker, Fairy Picrew 2 , ummmmandy, third fairy picrew, and chemicataclysm .
Thanks to @igetthedisneybox for letting me use her ocs, Rosana and Felicidad, and for all the help she lent me in the creation of these ocs.
Thanks to @bellalampwickrossi for allowing me to use Eleanor.
And thanks to @fairiesandbeatleslover for allowing me to make Portabella based off of their oc, Egidius.
The rest are background extras in the descendants movies and ocs based off of concept art.
