#Boney Piles

[digitalive]

‘Boney Piles’ lo sguardo sincero del cinema dentro la realtà della guerra in Ucraina.

Al Rome Independent Film Festival il documentario di Taras Tomenko che racconta la vita fra le rovine dei bombardamenti in Donbass.

[stabby-pal]

Thought I should actually draw her feeling joy for once, she also loves looking at the bugs that gather around the flowers as well

[astrologylunadream]

Your Person's POV of You 👀🌸🎀 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hii it's Lunadream🩷 This will be a reading on the desired person's perspective of you, and what you are like in their eyes~ hope you find your message🌸☆♡

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🌸♡‧₊˚

Pile 1🖤

Pile 2🌸

Pile 3🍨

Pile 4🩰

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> ‧₊˚🌸♡🎀‧₊˚

Pile 1🖤

Sign energy: Escape, Number, November, Skill, Feel, 5th house, Scorpio, Juno, 3rd house, Taurus, Vertex,🐾🩻🖇🤯

🩷Your person's energy: Heyy pile 1 your person is really cool omg, they have a lot of interesting abilities💫 specific message is that november 3rd may be significant, scorpio is present here and that is during scorpio season so take what resonates.💕 This person's voice gives you a special feeling, I feel like their voice leaves a big impression on you, could be the way they think or speak.💬 Signs in their chart could be Leo, Scorpio, Gemini, and Taurus. They are very perceptive and observant, they have a sharp mind I'm hearing🔪🧠 Random but they may have a fear of getting older?😂 Nothing gets past this person omg it's like they are able to read mind oml!! Physical touch may be their love language, they are very material. For some this person has your phone number or tries to get it, they may be a little obsessive when they're in the dark about things.🔦😬 This may have been a short term relationship for some of my pile 1's, and maybe you so called "escaped" this connection but they refuse to let you go that easily.🖇🖤 This person could be keeping tabs on you, and they get jealous and spiteful very easily.👿 You guys may have a telepathic connection with them, it feels like a locked force in a way. This person is very analytical, appearance wise their bones are prominent, boney hands for someone? Their nails are significant.💅🧤 I'm seeing deep gaze too. They can see through anyone, some of my pile 1's want to marry this person and or attracted to them🩷

🎀Their POV of you: 12th house, Health, Guidance, Comfort zone, Read, Gemini, 4th house, Eros, Aquarius, 10th house,🤤🙈🙎‍♂️🔭 Okay so their perspective of you is kinda emotional ngl🥺 Like there is a lot going on with you to them, you may be absent from this person's life right now or at a distant, something about you is definitely distant from this person.💔 For those of you who this is an ex I can definitely see they feel so left out.😭 Like they feel as if they're just behind the scenes watching you drift away from them, also some of you may leave this person on read often.🔇✋️ They only feel at ease when they know what you're up to, for some of my pile 1's this person is viewing your social media and that is their only source of comfort right now😢📲🔭 They see you as someone very intelligent and fun, they're really into your mind🧠🤒 Some of my pile 1 are into health and self care and they blush over that, they just find your niches so inspiring and attractive😂 They are definitely sad about the thought of you moving on without them, they hyperfocus on you my pile 1's OML🤯🔍 They think of you often blushing over you like🥴💭 You seem like you really know what you're doing and they love that, you also turn them on too especially by helping them with things😳🩷 You come off succesful and divinely blessed and favored in their eyes, you make them feel like a ghost👻 You are a comforting and sweet person to them, they just want to hold on to you and never let go🥺🖤 For some this person stalks your social media or asks about you a lot, they are heavily involved spiritually with you.

💌Messages from your person: I wish I cared about you, I won't let you be with anyone else, I'm not okay, I wanna make you blush, Who cares what people think of us, You can't control yourself, all the time, I was wrong (Yeah they really don't want to see you with someone else, also they have regrets weighing on them about how they acted in the past🥺🩷💖) Extra cards: Remedy, Collarbone, Chains, Self love, Couple, 4th house, 11th house, Water, Chiron, Sagittarius (Pile 1 they really wanna mend this relationship with you omg😭 Also they're working on treating themselves better so they can treat you better, they want to take care of you💗)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the black heart emoji~🖤 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🩷‧₊♡˚‧

Pile 2🌸

Sign energy: Touch, Social media, Be yourself, Discover, Cardinal, 3rd house, Libra, 11th house, Aries, Jupiter,🚀🎧🤹‍♀️🔊

🩷Your person's energy: Haha okay your person is a lot like you I'm getting mirrored energy OMG and the image for pile 2 is staring into the little mirror that makes so much sense!!😆💫 So this person has cardinal placements, especially Aries ia significant and that is a cardinal sign. Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, and Sagittarius/Pisces lucky jupiter placements.🤞✨️ I feel like they just stumble through life and it turns out alright everytime time??😂😂🩷 They're a ray of sunshine omg, they could have many friends online and explore social media, I'm getting social butterfly vibes from your person~🦋🌸 So cute omg they enjoy listening to music and following their artists. They probably have some really good playlists tbh😉💖 They have a lot of different interests, into many things. Your person is probably has 163 tabs open on google LOL, they love exploring the internet that's what I'm getting. They're a phsyical kind of person too so they may enjoy working out or doing fun and/or crazy things, this person is energetic and bright🌟 I love their energy it's so sweet!! I'm getting Phineas and ferb vibes like they just wanna do everything like if it were up to them they would build an amusement park LMAO they're just so funloving and sporadic, it is never a dull moment with them.☺️💝 You may have met them through social media, they could be an influencer for some of my pile 2's. Their brain works like lightning and they can multi-task a lot. They may be loud sometimes when they're having fun, their touch is like a spark💫

🎀Their POV of you: Aura, Jewelry, Work, Warm, Attraction, Vertex, 12th house, 2nd house, Taurus, Mercury, 🟫🫠🩷😬 Ah so first of all, your voice is so appealing to this person omg they are REALLY attracted to the sound of your voice🗣 Also they are attracted by your neck area, if you wear any jewelry especially necklace they will be head over heels omg🥺❤️‍🔥 There is such a sweet energy to your relationship with them, they see you as a very venusian person.😊🌸💐 You may have prominent venus aspects in your chart, also your mindset is very sweet to them.💭 You radiate a warm delightful energy that they can't get enough of, you may look good in brown to them or if you have brown hair or eyes😳🤎 You just look expensive to this person, they just wish they could buy you if you were for sale LMAO😂 Your voice has a calming effect on them, it literally just melts them omg they sort of fantasize about your neck and tone of voice.🎼 For some of my pile 2's who are working, they see you as very charming in your work environment, also someone who is luxurious in nature.💸💼 They view you as someone very laid back, to them you appear sweet and calm. They would like seeing you wearing pearls, and warm colors look best to them on you.🩷 They see you as the type to spend a lot of money on yourself and nice things💅🛍👑 You come off as a queen/king energy to them, and you make them nervous a little. There is a lot of romantic feelings for my pile 2's it's so sweet, I can just picture you two not taking your hands off eachother if you ever get the chance to.🥺🩷

💌Messages from your person: I know I'm good, You act like you own me, Whatever makes you happy, It's hard to stay positive, Be careful, You look a little down, I've been waiting for you, I met you before (Ohh pile 2 they want you to be happy and satisfied with everything✨️🏆) Extra cards: Bedroom, Confirm, Deserve, 7th house, Present, Scorpio, Vertex, Leo, Pluto, Neptune (Some 🔞 coming through, let's just say they want to spoil you rotten like you deserve them😳♨️ head over to one of my darker pacs if you're interested in that)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the cherry blossom emoji~🌸 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🖤‧₊♡˚‧

Pile 3🍨

Sign energy: Rose, Danger, Dessert, Respect, Therapy, Mercury, 8th house, Cancer, Earth, Libra,♑️🌻🫱👀

🩷Your person's energy: Oh my pile 3's person is very soft, there is a lot going on here I'm getting family situations from your person. They could be very close to their mother figure/guardian, but they may not have the best relationship with their father/masculine figure.😟 Signs in their chart can be Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Cancer, Libra and Capricorn, also earth signs. Flowers may be significant, maybe spring.🌸💐 They could have issues with abandonment in their younger years, this person is very delicate by nature.💞 They have high respect for feminines and their mother figure, they dislike seeing those kinds of people being taken advantage of or threatened.🥺 Oh my god pile 3 your person is so sweet, they may like plants or can take care of them well. They have a lot of nurturing qualities, very caring and understanding😇🫂 They could have a problem with overconsuming sugar or sweets, maybe they have a bit of a sweet tooth.🍰🍨🍭 Omg it's funny because this pile is represented by the sundae emoji I almost forgot!! They are very loving and have a soft feminine aura about them (regardless of gender), they speak so pretty and nice, their words are so charming😭✨️ they can be very protective when threatened, also could have boney hands or delicate fingers.🤚 You could stare at their hands a lot. Some of my pile 3's are a little obsessed with this person, you want to touch them😂 maybe in places you shouldn't?😳 Anyways?? Your person is like a rose, delicate and sweet aura.🌹🥰 Their eyes are attractive, very sensitive vibe to your person!!

🎀Their POV of you: Masculine, Doctor, Jawbone, Number, Leader, 12th house, Air, Lilith, 1st house, Juno,😁🤑🌏💎 Lol so they see you as very ambitious and unstoppable🏆✨️💗 You give off aries vibes to this person, they think you are number one.🥇 You heal them in some way, most likely spiritually. You are like free therapy to them, and they have gone through a lot so they really need it🥺🩷 You appear very bold and capable to them, they see you as a natural leader.👑 Also marriage material!!💍 You make them smile, also you are very hot to this person so don't be surprised if they fantasize about you😂🫣💋 Your jawbone grabs their attention, they find it really hot. You may have a prominent jawline, or your bone structures catch their eye.👀 Your physical appearance is very much ideal to them, like they struck gold the second they lay eyes on you.😂✨️ You have a fearless energy in their eyes, they think you're really cool.🥰 You may get hurt often? They want to take care of you and treat your wounds.🩹💕 You come of very assertive and fiery to them, their perspective and how they see you is really really hot lmao.❤️‍🔥 You are a "catch" to them, they view you as something dangerously attractive, your presence makes them fall to their knees😂😂😂 They love your magnetic aura, you give off the hot villain vibes to your person oml they are so down for that too💋 Siren vibes, to them you're like a forbidden fruit pile 3!! Lol they can't resist.

💌Messages from your person: I don't know who I am, It's so hard to resist you, You've been hurt so much, No one makes me feel this way, I don't want anyone else, Put your hand on mine, Be honest, We both know the truth (Oooh pile 3 they even said it they CANT resist you just like mentioned before!!😍🩷) Extra cards: Release, Ordinary, Compliment, Amusement, Safe, Earth, Moon, Juno, Taurus, Fire (They want to release their excitement for you pile 3, also just wanna make you feel safe and cared for🥺)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🖤‧₊♡˚‧

Pile 4🩰

Sign energy: Balence, Earth, Confrontation, Moon, Follower, Mars, Neptune, South node, Taurus, Capricorn,🧋🩸😍🚫

🩷Your person's energy: So there is some tension going on within this pile, this person has had conflict in the past, I'm getting emotional hurt with this person.😢 They have a masculine energy to them (regardless of gender) and they could have very solid earthy features, Capricorn mars could be significant.✨️ Signs in their chart are Aries, Scorpio, Pisces, Taurus and Capricorn. I feel like they are less expressive and a little closed off, like they have a guard up for some reason✋️🌧 But deep down they are quite emotional, especially in the past. They may have shoved their emotions away to appear tough👿⚔️ They could drink tea often, I feel like they have had a lot on their shoulders at one point🥺💔 when provoked they can become very cold, not afraid to step on anyone who tries to hurt them.👞 I am getting very strong capricorn energy for this pile's person, they give off capricorn aura on the outside. They could be against love right now, they're in a no romance kind of energy.🩷❌️ I'm hearing balence like credit card balence so they could have a lot of money.💳💲😎 They may have many followers or collaborators, for some of you this person is an influencer/business person.💼✨️ Could have a lot of admirers/problems with gold diggers for some of my pile 4's. You may fantasize about them a lot, but also you may really feel like they aren't interested in you at all✋️🚫😒 Their demeanor is very stand offish, but they are really sweet on the inside they just keep that part of them locked away for their own safety.🥺 Prominent earth energy you know how it be sometimes they feel distant af😭

🎀Their POV of you: Girlie, Outfit, Practical, True feelings, Air, Juno, Mercury, Water, 9th house, Eros,🧡🦁🥱✌️ Ah I can't say I didn't see this one coming, my lovely pile 4's your person has feelings for you they just don't want to let it out😂 They see you as an ideal type for them, they're honestly attracted to you.💋 But they don't wanna admit this, you really turn them on tbh😏 You have a bright loving aura they can't seem to look away from, the spark in your eyes just makes them fall honestly. You give off funloving explorer vibes to this person, they see you as someone Intelligent and curious.💡💫 In their eyes, you have this cute little smile that looks like it'll stir up some crazy fun. •^• reminds me of that face!!🥰 They see you as something chaotic, yet irresistibly charming.✨️ You may talk boldly or self assertively, however it is you talk, it seems to draw attention to yourself. They may get frustrated by your charms, also the way you dress steals their attention completely.😍❤️‍🔥💓 For some of my pile 4's they may call you girlie or refer to you like that (regardless of gender). They try to be realistic and practical about their feelings for you, which is why they seem closed off and hesitant to show affection🥺🩷 They could be telling themselves not to fall for you, because they don't want to feed into their desires. You definitely shine in their eyes, and have a lot of attraction for you guys👏🙌 You give off a bubbly vibe to your person, they're honestly concerned by how madly in love they could fall for my pile 4's lmao🩷 I'm seeing true feelings coming to the surface from your person, it's like one of those novels where they pretend they're not falling for them but they actually are loll that's your person! From their perspective they are trying to resist love but you make it so hard lol😂

💌Messages from your person: Surprise me, You might get scared, I knew it, Say my name, I do, It's no surprise, I have fantasies about you, No one knows (Yep saw it coming my pile 4's they have a lot of feelings for you🥺💓 Also it sounds like they're telling you to say your marriage vows for them lmaooo like SAY IT😤💍🩷) Extra cards: Subconscious, Recognition, Accident, Back off, Cover, Cancer, 1st house, 2nd house, 4th house, 8th house (Every time this person realizes how they feel about you, they act all cold. Like the second they start thinking you're hot they freak out and deny it😂😭 Some intense attraction for my pile 4's they don't wanna admit it!!)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message! ‧₊˚🌸‧₊˚♡

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the ballet slipper emoji~🩰 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading! 🖤‧₊♡˚‧

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[021reid]

Pretty Boy | Spencer Reid

Summary: Reader notices Spencer wearing clothes that hide his body during the summer.

CW: eating disorders

word count: 320 words

“Spencer do you know where my pink shorts with the boys are?” you ask while tearing apart you and spencer’s shared bedroom. you guys were supposed to be going out with the rest of the team for lunch today but considering how things were currently going you guys were 100% going to be late.

“check the pile of laundry i just folded maybe it’s there” spencer says holding the shorts while giggling.

“i hate you.” you say snatching the shorts and giggling at him. that’s when you noticed his outfit. gray sweats and a long sleeved shirt with a sweater vest on top.

“spencer it’s 100 degrees outside. just looking at you is making me hot.” his smile drops and you notice him tugging on his shirt trying to make it cover his body more.

“is everything okay spence? if you don’t wanna go out i can just tell them we’re busy.” you rub his arm and you feel him flinch away from you.

“i’m sorry i just..i don’t know..” you notice the sweat running down his forehead and the tears swelling in his eyes.

you grab his hand and guide him to your shared bed and start to play with his hair while tears start to stream down his face.

“i’m sorry..i’m just so skinny and boney now. the team will look at me like a freak if i wear any stupid shorts or a tank top.” he says while sobbing in your arms. you had no idea spencer had been feeling like that and the fact you didn’t notice makes your heartbreak.

“spence your not too skinny. i know my words may not change your mind or make you feel any better but your perfect to me.“

spencer looks at your face searching to see if your lying. he then grins at you and kisses your face not missing a spot.

“i love you so much y/n” he kisses you again and again, giggling between each kiss.

lets just say you guys were about 30 minutes late to lunch.

tysm for reading !! check out my masterlist for more .

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere!Sea Monster x nymph!reader

warning: mention of kidnapping, deceiving, very obsessive

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

Y!Monster that's unsightly, something grotesque and large, inhuman and daunting with long slender claws growing out from boney fingers, with a massive upper body, that's surprisingly lean, with long tendrils, odd shapes, fins and a thick, girthy tail adorning his lower half. That aimlessly swats around in the water until one day his eye catches you–the prettiest nymph he’s ever seen, with your big doe eyes, bright smile and doughy thighs.

Y!Monster that gawks at you from beneath the waters, shamelessly, slithering in the deep almost restlessly as he tries to figure out how to approach such a delicate little thing, without frightening her.

Y!Monster who one day, peeks up from beneath the waters, catching you alone without your sisters, ever so slowly approaches you, in order to not scare you away, who speaks surprisingly with a dark and somber tone. “Pretty nymph–stay, please, don't be intimidated by the foreign, for I simply find myself intrigued by the lives of the land dwellers.” His chest vibrates wich each word so enticing and tantalizing, that you almost forgot to fear.

Y!Monster who from then on regularly has small chats with you–oddly enough only when you're alone. You're a docile little thing, the youngest out of your sisters, bearing no evil within you, nothing to find suspicious of the ancient creature, who only ever shows you his face and slender fingers, who barely talks about himself, and listens to the mundane stories of your life. Truly what was weird about that?

So you don't question it when Y!Monster one day swims just a tad bit closer to you, fingers grasping your knees, claws ghosting over your skin as he pries your legs open, as his face comes dangerously close to you. You don't even know how it happens before he lifts his shoulders, and chest out of the water, causing your face to gradually fall, as you catch sight of the seemingly endlessly long tail behind him, weird tendrils, as well as fins growing out of it, one small appendage latching onto your thigh. So you scream, finally realizing your little friend, wasn't at all how he portrayed himself to be.

Y!Monster who instantly drags you down beneath the water, tail coiling around you, as tendrils latch onto you, screams drowned out by the water. Since you're a nymph, you possess the ability to stay far longer beneath the surface level than the average human, yet it doesn't make the experience any more pleasant. He drags you so far down until you reach an underwater cave, slipping you into an air pocket which allows you to finally breathe, lungs filling with the sweet air you craved.

You stare at your friend in terror, scrambling away the moment he releases you from his grasp. However he seems calm, not bothered by your pleads or cries, as you cower in a corner of the cave, pitifully sobbing. All he does is watch and wait–wait till you have exhausted your capability to cry any more, and then he will latch onto you, like a good mate should, attach you to his hip, finally ease the ache of his lonely existence through you.

And even if one day you will die, even if you have to part from him, don't worry your pretty little head about it, he will make sure to keep each limb and fracture of your cold body to himself refusing to let even the decaying pile of meat rot away, as he stuffs you in his mouth, swearing to keep his pretty nymph with him forever. ♡

[ghcstpyre]

tom ludlow x f!reader x jack traven

cw: jealous!tom, rookie!reader, cis female reader, implied age gap, alcohol consumption, one sided pining (or is it? oooo), nicknames for reader (rookie, kid), slight horniness, SFW.

word count: 3.6k

anon: Do you take requests? If yes, may I request a jealous Tom Ludlow drabble?

a/n: thank you so much for the request! I hope you don't mind that I made this a crossover, I couldn't resist including the other LAPD dreamboat 🤤 I know next to nothing about the way american police systems work so sorry for any mistakes or inaccuracies!

Tom's eyes were glued to you as you chatted away with a young man at the bar, perched daintily atop one of the rickety looking barstools. He was vaguely aware that Captain Briggs to his right was talking to him, something about a lethal cocktail he tried in a seedy bar during his holiday to Europe, but only half of his attention was paid to his colleague.

The bar was fairly crowded with groups of friends engulfing the tables, playing pool and sitting at the bar. The dim lights washed the room in a warm glow, the sound of blues music and laughter filled the space between the bodies and the faint smell of cigarettes could be smelled lightly wafting in from the entrance whenever anyone left or entered.

A few of the officers were out to celebrate the birthday of one of the guys from the bomb squad - Jake or Jace or something like that. Tom never really went out of his way to get friendly with the adrenaline junkies. Since his already weary heart was torn in two by Wander, he hadn't gone out of his way to get friendly with anyone.

Briggs being one of the exceptions of course. The scrawny, smug asshole was the only thing that stood between him and a lifetime of hell behind bars after his blood-soaked hunt for the monster behind Washington’s murder. Turns out that glueing your life back together after it crumbled around you in rapid succession really puts a spin on how you feel about a guy.

The only other exception was you. You, with your sparkling eyes, perfect smile, sunny disposition and pure, uncorrupted sense of justice. 

When the Captain introduced you as Tom's new partner, he wasn't so sure. You were young, fresh from the academy with the same childlike wonder shining in your eyes that he had when he was a rookie himself. He was old and tired and quite frankly he didn't have the patience for training the newbie. But you'd very quickly exceeded his insultingly low expectations, and if Tom was completely honest with himself, the two of you actually made a good team.

You were competent in the field, able to hold your own but also smart enough to know when to seek assistance. You listened to him, but also questioned him when you thought it necessary. Easily the biggest bonus was the fact you didn't mind the piles of paperwork that came after a bust; more than once Tom had been more than happy to slip away to get some real work done while you buried your pretty face into those dreaded stacks of dead tree. You threw yourself into it, much like you did with everything else that came with the job. 

And yet, even after witnessing some of the horrors that came with being a detective, still you shone brightly like a beacon of innocence and hope amongst the jaded and corrupt.

That is why Tom Ludlow began to fall for you. And god he hoped that light didn't burn out like his had done all those years ago.

“...om? Tom? Oi, Ludlow!”

One of Briggs’ boney hands waved in front of Tom's face, drawing the detective's attention away from you. Tom took a sip of his drink - whiskey, neat since he didn't have to try and cover up the stench of booze for once - and turned his head to look at Briggs who looked less than impressed.

“You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?” Briggs deadpanned.

Tom scoffed. “Sure I did. Something about cocktails and your titillating discovery of European prostitutes?”

The captain rolled his beady eyes. “Ha ha. Y'know, I think I prefer Vodka-Tom. He might be a sad sack, but at least he doesn't think himself a comedian.”

Tom barked out a short laugh. “Unfortunately for me there ain't a single version of you I like, James.”

Briggs grinned and the two men clinked their glasses together, enjoying their little bubble of solitude tucked away on a table in the corner while the younger officers joined in with the joyous din of the bar. A small reprieve from his longing for your attention, albeit brief. The Captain eventually excused himself to use the restroom and although Tom had tried to force his gaze to wander over the groups of people scattered around the bar, it always eventually ended up landing on you again. 

The little black dress you wore flattered you in all the right places and the black heels on your feet sent a thrill through his body. Your hair fell over your shoulders, washed and blow-dried to perfection and when he caught the rouge on your lips he swore his heart skipped a beat. He'd only ever seen you during work hours with your hair nearly pulled back, bare faced and donning your uniform. Always professional, always put together.

Tonight he was seeing you in a whole new light. While he was only watching you from afar, Tom could tell that you were a little tipsy and all smiles for the man sat on the barstool next to you. He watched, his jaw clenched as you laughed at something the man said, twirling your straw around in your glass before bringing the thin tube of plastic to your plush red lips to take a sip of your drink.

Tom couldn't get a good look at the man, but he could see that he was tall, broad and sporting a buzzcut and a badge hooked to his belt. Part of the bomb squad, Tom deduced, if his stature was anything to go by. A puff of air left Tom in a quiet huff and he shifted in his seat, sipping from his drink again while he tried to get a better look at you and the man he’d already decided he didn't like.

The detective had only decided to show his face tonight because you'd mentioned you were going. He didn't know how you knew the birthday boy, but he'd be damned if he missed an opportunity to see you and spend time with you outside the precinct. Obviously he'd dragged Briggs along as his plus one; there was no way in hell he was suffering through any sort of bomb squad party without a friend there to kill time with.

Besides, it was an open invitation party which was as good an excuse as any to bump into you.

Mr Buzzcut eventually left to meander his way through the crowd over to the retro jukebox off to the side of the bar, leaving you sitting pretty on that shit barstool by yourself. Tom threw back the rest of his drink, wiped his mouth and decided to talk to you while Buzzcut wasn't hanging around.

As Tom weaved his way through the groups of drunken partygoers, he kept reminding himself that there was nothing wrong with an officer making conversation with his subordinate off duty. He might've been older than you - by quite the margin - but there was nothing out of the ordinary about two coworkers having a casual chat and a drink.

“Rookie.” Tom greeted you gruffly as he stepped up to the bar next to where you were perched.

You turned your head and looked up at him, still having to tilt your head up to meet his gaze despite being sat on a tall barstool. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you immediately sat up straighter upon realising who it was.

“Detective Ludlow! I didn't know you were here.” You half yelled, doing your best to be heard over the din of the bar and not slur your words at the same time. “If I had I would've found you sooner to say hello, Sir.”

Tom huffed in amusement and waved one of his large hands dismissively, his other arm resting atop the bar from his elbow. “Don't worry about it. And we're off duty, no need to be so formal, kid.”

You smiled and he noticed the way the tension in your shoulders began to unwind, no longer sitting straight as an arrow. “Alright then, Tom, what are you doing here?” You asked, angling your body to fully face him and cross one long leg over the other. It took all of Tom's strength to not follow the movement of your leg with his eyes. Hearing you call him by his name did things to him that certainly weren't appropriate for the relationship he had with you. “Didn't think you were that fond of the bomb squad.”

“Oh yeah? What gave it away?” He grinned, a curious eyebrow raised.

You tapped your index finger against your chin in mock thought and cocked your head to the side. “Hmm I don't know, maybe the constant grumbling whenever any of them enter our office? The sarcastic comments? The general hostility?” Your pretty face scrunched into a comical scowl and you puffed out your chest in an attempt to impersonate him. If it was anyone else Tom would tell them to fuck off, but coming from you it was just downright adorable.

The corners of Tom's brown eyes crinkled into crow’s feet  as he smiled and laughed, a deep baritone sound rumbling from his chest. He shifted his stance, inching a little closer to you and leaning his weight onto one hip. You could smell the notes of his cologne drifting towards you and maybe it was because you were a little drunk, but you couldn't help but notice how good he smelled – and how good he looked.

He wasn't wearing anything fancy, just a black t-shirt, dark blue jeans and a pair of brown ankle boots. But his t-shirt was tight enough that it stretched across his broad chest and strained around his thick biceps. The heavy silver buckle on his belt did things to your insides (you'd already seen the way Tom could handle a belt once before and the fire it lit beneath your skin had you wanting to see him do it again) and his denim jeans hugged his long legs in all the right places. The Cuban-esque heels on his boots were the cherry on the cake; he looked absolutely delicious.

You were definitely drunk, you told yourself, because you found yourself wanting to get closer to Tom so you could get a whiff of that cologne at least once more. After sucking up the last of your drink through the straw in your glass you hopped down off the rickety barstool to stand next to Tom.

As your heels touched the wooden floorboards you wobbled drunkenly and stumbled forward, right into Tom. He seemed to anticipate it however, and reacted quick enough to catch you before you face planted right into his chest – not that he would've minded it if you had done. The arm that wasn't resting on the bar wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against his body while you regained your footing.

“Easy there, rookie.” Tom murmured, his voice a deep, pleasant rumble.

It was the first time you'd been this physically close to eachother in a situation that didn't involve any sort of danger. You felt secure in his strong hold and as you looked up to meet his gaze from beneath your lashes, you couldn't quite place the look on his face. 

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. Before you could say anything, Tom exhaled and let his arm loosen around you. His hand, however, stayed resting protectively - almost possessively - on your lower back as you took a small step back, still staying close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body.

“S-sorry,” Though you were apologising your lips still curved up into a smile. “I turn into a clutz when I've had a few.”

Tom returned your smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling once more. “It would seem so. Better be careful or you'll end up clinging to your superior officer all night.”

You could've sworn there was a suggestive tinge to his voice, but you chalked it up to the booze swimming throughout your system. Tom's smile only widened when you didn't blanche or recoil away and instead inched closer to him, close enough that you were practically tucked against his side.

“Oh no,” You faked a swoon, dramatically pressing the back of your hand against your forehead and leaning your full weight against him. “I’d get a big strong man looking after me and you'd get a hot young woman on your arm all night – what a predicament!”

Tom barked out another laugh, the rare sound flooding your chest with warmth.

Big strong man, huh? He thought.

“Jesus kid, you are drunk. Think you've got room for another?” The hand that rested on your lower back slid upwards to curl around your bare shoulder and give it an affectionate squeeze.

It was difficult for him to ignore just how soft your skin felt beneath his rough, calloused hand, and how perfectly you slotted against his side. Tom was already committing the curves of your body to memory.

“Hell yeah I do.” You grinned up at him and he signalled to the bartender with his free hand to order drinks for the two of you.

Once Tom had paid for your drinks you perched yourself on the barstool again with him relinquishing his hold on you and following suit. You scooted your seat closer to him under the guise of wanting to hear him better over the noisy patrons as you chatted and sipped on your booze. If he saw through the lie he said nothing, though you didn't miss the way his pupils dilated, swallowing the warm brown hue of his irises when your ankle rubbed against his leg as you crossed one over the other.

The rest of the bar seemed to fade away, all of your attention on the man in front of you. It was as if all of the voices, laughter and music around you had been turned down to volume 0 and the visuals shifted out of focus until they blurred. You didn't even realise the music change from a bluesy number to ABBA. How had you never noticed how handsome, how charming Tom was before? 

You weren't even sure you could blame it on the beer goggles anymore.

It was someone else's hand on the small of your back that pulled you back to reality. You watched as Tom's eyes narrowed at whoever had interrupted the two of you and for a moment you thought it was some creep trying to cop a feel. But when you turned your head to look at the owner of said hand, you immediately relaxed.

“Jack!” The upbeat notes of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’ finally reached your ears. “Welcome back birthday boy. Did you put this one on?”

Jack flashed you a dazzling grin of pride, seemingly completely unaware of Tom's existence on the stool next to you despite the glare being shot his way. “Hell yeah I did. Do I get the star detective’s seal of approval?”

The sleeves of his loose-fitting faded flannel shirt were rolled up to the elbow, showing off his toned, bronzed forearms and he'd neglected to button up the first two buttons at the top, exposing just enough of his chest to make you want to rip open the rest. His light blue jeans and white sneakers had him sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the blacks and browns of the other patrons.

Your ankle retracted from Tom's leg and you laughed. That sweet sound would've been music to Tom's ears had it been directed at anyone other than that cocky prick. The grip he had on his drink tightened, enough that his knuckles began to turn white.

“Absolutely you do, I love this song!” 

You were all smiles and rosy cheeks for this guy and it was taking all of Tom's willpower not to butt in and put this boy in his place. He'd had a few run-ins with Jack Traven in the past when their cases crossed over and needless to say, the two of them did not get along. Tom respected Jack for his heroics on that bus with the bomb; it was rare to find someone else with the balls and grit to say fuck it to the endless red tape and just get shit done, but that was where his like for Traven began and ended.

“Really?” Tom piped up, casually sipping on his drink, reclaiming your attention and gaining Traven’s. “You like this kinda stuff?”

Tom's gaze dropped to your lips as you playfully rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. He knew for a fact he'd be thinking about the cute shade of pink of your tongue while he laid in bed later in the night, trying not to think of you at all.

“Tom, this is Jack from the SWAT team. Jack, this is Tom, my partner in crime. Or law? I guess?” You said, not clocking the obvious tension between the two men either side of you.

The attractive, charming SWAT member who flirted with you whenever he needed to stop by your office, and your hot, older superior officer who smelled amazing and made you think extremely inappropriate thoughts. You just knew you were going to have some very interesting dreams about this later.

“Yeah, we've met.” Jack's voice didn't hold as much charm now that it was directed at Tom and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. The detective simply nodded in acknowledgement. “How's Briggs doing? You still keeping his desk piled high with paperwork thanks to your…heroics?”

You raised a freshly plucked brow at Jack, then turned to Tom. The older man’s poker face didn't crack, completely unphased by Jack's obvious passive aggression. “How's Annie?”

You could feel Jack's hand on your lower back stiffen.

“You guys were pretty loved up after that train popped up from the ground. Must be an intense kinda girl.” Tom continued, bringing his glass to his lips once again, nonchalant to the core.

Jack removed his hand from you and stood up to his full height. He couldn't have been much shorter than Tom, maybe by a couple of inches. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and while the two men were busy doing their best to be subtle about their peacocking in front of you, you were slurping your drink through your straw and trying to process the possibility of Jack already having a girlfriend.

“We broke up. Thanks for opening up that wound, old man.” 

Old man. Tom grinned and huffed in amusement, knowing he'd hit a nerve. “Ah c'mon champ, the wound can't be that bad. I could've sworn I saw you in here with a different girl not too long ago. Y'know, curly hair? Hoop earrings?”

Jack's thick eyebrows pulled down in a frown and he puffed out his chest beneath his folded arms. “Are you jealous? What's your problem?”

“I just don't want a womaniser like you sniffing around my rookie. So why don't you be a good SWAT hound and sniff somewhere else?” 

Tom spoke in a possessive growl. If you weren't several drinks deep you'd be embarrassed by the heat pooling between your thighs at the detective calling you his. You were about to pipe up and attempt some drunken damage control, but Jack was stepping around you and up to Tom before you could say anything.

The detective slid off his chair to stand to his full height the moment Jack was close enough for the toes of their shoes to touch. He leered over the younger man, eyes narrowed in fury, daring him to try it.

“You wanna say that again old man?” Jack spat, his words dripping from his tongue like venom. “Why’re you acting like some jealous boyfriend over a girl half your age anyway?”

Tom's fists were balled up so tight his knuckles had turned white. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene right in front of you – he was older and knew better – but goddamn if he wasn't tempted to clock this insufferable prick right in his jaw to teach him a lesson and shut him the hell up.

“She's your subordinate too, right? Maybe I should pay Briggs a visit, I'm sure he'd love to hear about this little abuse of power.”

“Okay!” You put your now-empty glass down on the bar with a forceful clunk and hopped down from your perch to grab the sleeve of Jack's flannel shirt and pull him back so you could stand between the two peacocking men. Luckily for you, Jack allowed you to move him, the tension building up within his muscles immediately easing off at your touch.

The fact that you'd gone for Jack and not him only riled Tom up further. But, for your sake, he inhaled deeply and let out a long, slow exhale through his nose, forcing himself to simmer down as he watched you turn to the younger man and place those dainty little hands of yours on his chest.

“You, birthday boy, are missing out on Dancing Queen and still owe me a dance, and you–” You removed a hand from Jack to jab a finger into Tom's chest. “--Sir, need to rescue Captain Briggs from that very drunk woman over there.”

Tom's intense gaze flicked down to where your finger lingered on him a little too long, then to your pretty eyes before finally turning around to see that, yup, his friend had been cornered by an extremely inebriated woman on his way out of the bathroom. She was practically hanging off him with her arms around his neck whilst the much skinnier man desperately tried to point out the wedding ring on his boney finger.

Both you and Jack had to do your best not to laugh, stifling your giggles behind your hands as Tom deflated like a balloon in front of your eyes. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He groaned, his altercation with Traven immediately forgotten as he stomped over to rescue Briggs. Your gaze lingered on the older man as his long legs ate up the space between him and the Captain, leaving you with Jack who was already taking your hand in his and tugging you towards the dancefloor.

With a roll of your eyes you allowed yourself to be dragged away by the handsome young man, despite the urge to follow after Tom like a little lost lamb. Jack held both of your hands as the two of you began to move and sway enthusiastically along to the upbeat tune of ABBA.

When Tom had finally managed to untangle the drunken woman from Briggs without flashing his badge, he couldn't help the way his heart sank in his chest at the sight of you cosied up to Traven on the dancefloor. If he thought about it hard enough he could still feel the curves of your body pressed against his side, all soft and supple and goddamn delicious to the point where he almost ached with the desire to map out those dips and swells with his hands, lips and tongue.

“Let's get outta here.” He grunted, forcing himself to look away from you before the urge to start drinking vodka crept up on him.

“Already? You still owe me a drink.” Briggs complained.

Tom didn't bother replying, already making a beeline for the exit, his eyes focused straight ahead on the squeaky double doors to avoid seeing the way Jack's hands moved to your hips to pull you against him.

What he didn't see was your pretty head turning to watch him leave.

[da-rulah]

hi💆

I fucking love your content and I have a little request...

Here me out, Sexting with Mary Goore🏋‍♀️

Aww thank you so much, lovely!! I love that I'm getting Mary requests now, ever since writing my first Mary fic (which I just updated today, by the way 👀)

You want sexting with Mary Goore? Well, this is how I think that would go... fair warning, it's filthy. just as you'd expect with Mary.

GN!Reader, NSFW MDNI 18+

TW/ Fingering, masturbation, nude taking, filming self

(ps. if any artists see this and fancy recreating some of Mary's pics...... y'know, i wouldn't mind that... 👀)

You'd wanted a reaction, but this? This was beyond even what you could have thought.

14 text messages, 6 missed calls, and 2 failed video calls.

All Mary.

It was just a harmless little booty pic, something to tide him over until the next time you got to see your boyfriend. but to Mary it had been the final straw, the last of the sticks to be pulled from his game of kerplunk... And his marbles had been teetering all day, thinking about you, missing you...

The last text really caught your attention, after purposefully ignoring him just to wind him up.

If i wasn't on the road right now ur front door woulda lost its hinges. answer ur fuckin phone.

It sounded vaguely threatening; you liked that.

Sorry, my neighbour's cat needed a bath. A stupid lie to piss him off further. What's up?

What's up? u rlly gonna ask me that? You laughed at your phone, taking a seat on your couch as you waited for the three dots that were ominously typing still. My dick, that's what's up.

Sounds like a you problem. There was a brief pause, and you liked to imagine Mary was staring at his phone with an eye twitching in annoyance.

gonna make it ur fuckin problem, u started this.

A few moments later, you received a picture message; a close up of Mary's hand, donning his signature signet and skull rings, boney and veiny and large, gripping his bulge in his tatty jeans just below his leather belt. Immediately, your stomach flipped at the picture. He knew exactly what he was doing. Game on.

You alone?

Very.

Good.

With confirmation of his situation, you decided to turn up the heat. Resting your phone against a pile of books on your coffee table, you sat on the edge of your couch and removed your shirt. You set the self-timer to 10 seconds, and got into position.

Spreading your legs, you placed both hands between them to 'hide' your core. To show off the curve of your waist and hips, you leaned your shoulders forward, the figure he adored and desperately wanted to touch protruding and accentuated in the position you sat. The mix of skin, but not too much, and suggestion would drive him insane.

Satisfied after a couple of takes, you sent the best one and waited.

On his end, Mary stared at his phone with a twisted smirk, palming the bulge in his jeans. He fucking loved your nudes, always way more tasteful, artistic than previously less imaginative partners. They were always so much sexier than a standard dick pic or titty pic, of which he'd received many of the years.

u look gd enough to eat. u know what ur doing to me?

You giggled at your phone screen, typing out your reply.

no... will you show me?

Oh, he'd love to.

Mary set up his phone similarly to yours, resting it against a pile of laundry at the end of the motel bed he was lounging on. He removed his own shirt, undid his belt and pulled his erection from his confines, allowing himself a few quick tugs to keep the desperation at bay.

Then he set the self timer and leaned back, one hand behind his head and the other holding his erection in plain sight.

When he sent you his picture, all you could think of was crawling up between those skinny legs of his and riding him into the early hours. You fucking missed him. You ached for him.

u see, baby? all u.

This smug bastard knew the effect he'd have on you. He was smirking in the fucking picture. Time to one-up him...

You stripped from your clothes completely, once again setting your phone up on your coffee table. This time, you knelt on the couch with your knees apart, your ass to the camera, and leaned over the back of it, arching your back to show off the roundness of your ass for him.

When you sent it, Mary audibly cursed to himself. God, you looked delectable... he could clearly see your sex between your legs, so clearly aroused and presented to him. If only he were there...

aw baby, u wanna b fucked from behind? u know i'd take you in a heartbeat...

His text had you squirming where you sat, biting your lip as your hand travelled between your legs. With one hand, you typed back a reply.

Love when you fuck me like that... you get so deep, miss that

Mary groaned as he fucked into his fist, uncontrollably at the visions of previous exploits where he'd done exactly as you'd described. This was torture, his hand would never compared to being wrapped up and squeezed by your tightness.

just u wait til i come home...

can't wait... my fingers don't do the job anywhere near as well. you teased, slowly stretching out your hole as you leaned back into your couch, whining at the feeling.

ur touching urself now?

You smiled, picturing Mary's reaction. You could be so cruel, just reply with a yes and leave it to his imagination. But you were feeling particularly spicy today after too long without him.

So instead, you set up your phone again and took up the same position as your last picture, this time hitting the record button. To the camera, you coated your fingers in your spit, sucking them into your mouth before using them to push two inside you, teasing as your digits disappeared.

You whined his name wantonly, your intention to sound like the whore Mary turned you into. He always loved the noises you'd make for him.

The video lasted less than a minute when you cut it off with a giggle, ending on a close up of your smirking face as you'd turned the video off.

Does that answer your question?

Mary lost his mind. How dare you stop the recording. How dare you moan his name like that.

He'd had enough, the teasing too much for him to handle.

Instead of texting back, he instead his the little video camera icon by your contact name, the line ringing a few times as he was met with his own face putting the camera back at his feet, pants now completely discarded in favour of total nudity much like you.

You let it ring a few times, setting it back down against the books and hitting the answer button as you sat back into the couch, legs crossed and hiding yourself from him.

"You get back in that fucking position right now," he told you, voice gravelly and dark.

"Aw, you not gonna say please?"

"No. Get back up on your knees and show yourself to me. Let me see the mess you're making."

You bit your lip and did as he asked, spinning and kneeling back on the couch.

"You know what to do, baby..." he told you, the slick sounds from his end of the call sending shivers down your back as he stroked himself.

You did as you were told, re-enacting the short video you sent him as he watched. Mary guided you through it, telling you what to do, how to fuck yourself for him to his exact specifications. He edged you for almost an hour, and himself along with you.

It always blew your mind how Mary was able to give you the most mind-shattering orgasms, even from hundreds of miles away...

[echantedtoon]

Upper Moon Househusbands: Gyutaro

(This is inspired by @rottencoreflesh101's Househusband Upper Moon posts. (Warnings: Their blog does contain NSFW elements and themes that not everyone may like or be comfortable with AND is only for 18+ folks. Just a heads up. But this WILL STAY Sfw.) I did link to the post in question down below. This is probably not gonna be very long and it's from the perspective of a female reader.

Househusband Upper Moons Concept- @rottencoreflesh101

Demon Slayer- Koyoharu Gotouge

Original Post:

Gyutaro's route is more modern au type.)

@six-eyed-samurai

Chop. Chop. Chop.

Went the sounds of a knife. Clever lifted high over his head only to be repeatedly slammed down onto the chopping block. Meat slicing and blood running from the flesh. A clatter of the knife sounded throughout the kitchen as boney hands clamped onto the cut portion-

"This beef needs more basil."

A voice grumbled out annoyed and pouting he'd forgotten about such an important ingredient for meatloaf. He knew he should've just made katsu curry tonight but noooo. He wanted to try this new recipe he found online instead. He was already starting to regret it from all the mess around him. ..and on him. Crap. This apron was a gift too. With a hiss of annoyance and a grip that threatened to squish the beef in his hands, the man ultimately dropped the uncooked food back into the pan and turned to wipe off his hands.

"Fuck this. I'm making meatballs instead."

But first he might as well clean up some of this mess first. It annoyed him more than the failed attempts of 'meatloaf' both left on the countertops and in the trash. A sink full of dishes was in his line of sight as he turned to wash off his hands only making him give pause before hissing even more annoyed. This day couldn't be any worse could it? His annoyance distracted him from noticing the click of the doorknob but not the creaking of the door opening which he snapped around to wide eyed. Oh no-

"Honey, I'm home!" A woman's voice called out before footsteps approached followed by the closing sounds of a door. "Honey!...Gyutaro?"

More footfalls were hand-

"DON'T COME IN THE KITCHEN!!"

They stopped and there was a pause until they approached again moving towards him, his shouting only sealing his fate.

"Are you ok in there?"

"IM FINE!! I-I'M JUST-..MAKING DINNER!! GO RELAX!!"

Closer and closer footsteps. "Are you alright? You sound mad."

"IM PERFECTLY FINE!"

"Are you sure? Because you-"

He froze as your figure stepped into the doorway leading into the kitchen. Your smile dropping into a stare at what stood before you. The kitchen...WAS A MESS. The table and nearby countertops were piled up with what looked like mini burnt bricks, random dishes, and black crumbs from the black bricks except for the middle of the table where freshly cut raw beef was sat on top of a giant wooden cutting board. The sink was piled up with even more random dishes and next to it the oven was left wide open. The air held a mix of different spices, cooked beef, and burnt food. An iPad was propped up on a clean part of the country and it played some kind of cooking show episode. And in the middle of it all was your tall husband. He looked like he'd seen a ghost with how he was staring at you wide eyed and the apron over his body covered in stains and....were those scorch marks?? He stood frozen with his hands half way under the running water of the sink, lavender soap bar in one hand. You both just stood there staring at each other for a long moment.

"So..I see you've been making dinner," you settled on carefully stepping into the kitchen.

"Uuuuuhhh.." Was all he managed to get out as he watched you step into the kitchen and looking around stopping on the nearest burnt loaf of.. meat?

You rose a brow. "So what are you making?" 

...He finally frowned turning back around to finish washing off his hands. "I TRIED to make meatloaf."

"Meatloaf?" 

"A western recipe I found online. Tried making it but apparently none of it wanted to work!" You waited patiently for him to finish washing his hands before drying them on his long apron scowling. "Last time I try anything like this!"

"You must've been pretty busy today." You mumbled taking a look at the leftover uncooked meat. "We're you going to try again?"

A hand turned off the annoying talk of the iPad. "Nah. Figured I'd just make meatballs or something since I already know how to do...But I can't do anything with this mess."

"I'll help you clean up." His eyes turned back to you as you grabbed the nearby trashcan and was already moving some of the burnt remains back into the bag. 

"You don't have to-"

"I want to. It'll be faster if we both just cleaned up. I'll cook too. That way you can have a break."

He stared at you before sighing. "M' sorry."

"It's perfectly fine. It's the thought that counts. Besides you always did look cute being so domestic."

He choked on air as you chuckled.

[pasterypaws]

*★DreamTale★*

•°Happy Birthday Dream and Nightmare: oneshot°•

It was an occasion unlike any other, making the villagers rustle and start preparing. Their gifts wrapped well with decorations up and ready for the arrival of someone special, every single one dressed their best whilst children sharing the flowers they have stored or found under the piles of snow. It was the apple twins' birthday, a day to celebrate Dream's birthday.

The village was bustling with life, their excitement evident in their faces and actions. And atop the hill they surrounded was a large tree that bore golden and black apples. Within the branches of this tree were two skeletons, Dream and Nightmare.

Their faces mixed with emotions, Dream's face showed curiosity and joy from the fact the villagers were decorating the entire town in the colour yellow, which was Dream's signature colour. Although Dream's curiosity stems from the fact it was all yellow. Nothing to represent his older brother, Nightmare, which made Dream a little concerned for the villager's favouritism towards him. With a soft voice, Dream turned to look at his brother, his face a mask of confusion, “Brother, why is it the village is decorated in yellow but not lavender?” his voice of pure innocence, confusion even. Nightmare was quiet for a moment, turning to Dream with a fake smile. “Because yellow matches you.”

“Then what about you, brother? Where's your colour?”

Nightmare was instantly silenced, he couldn't possibly tell Dream the villagers hated him, that they wanted him gone for his negativity and apples. So with a deep breath, he answered, “My colour is not pretty so they didn't put it up."

Dream shook with shock from Nightmare's words, his eyelights flickering to Nightmare's face and his apples, confusion written all over his face. “But brother, your apples look like they have small stars written all over them! And your eyeslights are way softer than mine! Their colours like the lavenders we used to pick.” Dream pouted, his boney cheeks rounder. Nightmare laughed at this, poking Dream's cheek with a smile appearing on his face. “You're a chipmunk.”

Nightmare laughed the entire time whilst Dream flailed his arms in fury from his brother's teasing. What a peaceful time indeed.

[crazylittlejester]

Scene: a baffled Warriors under a cuddle pile.

Warriors is like, I'm wearing metal armor. This can't be comfortable.

The response from the pile is a quick comment about how he's also bony and should do something about that, but he is warm and he has a soft scarf and he always smells ridiculously nice while everyone else is just sweaty and smelly.

Warriors is not freed from the cuddle pile.

Sorry this took me so long to do, it’s finals week and I’ve been real eepy 😔

Here you go!! (369):

Warriors held out his arms and Twilight gratefully sagged against him, knocking them both over onto the bed at the inn.

“Hey??” He squeaked when the rancher made no motion to get off of him. “Twi, move. Twi! I need to get my armor off!!”

Twilight didn’t move off of him at all, instead cuddling up closer to him, which could not have been very comfortable. Wild came in and flopped down as well, and Warriors groaned.

“No, no, we’re not doing this,” he laughed, trying not to panic when he realized he couldn’t move at all. “Guys! Oh come on, this can’t be comfortable.”

“Your boney ass elbow is poking into my ribs,” Wild huffed, and Warriors couldn’t help the offended squawk he made.

“Whose fault is it that you’re laying on top of me, Wild??” He demanded, going limp and giving up his fight to break free. Twilight was easily double his size, he wasn’t going to be pushing him off any time soon, not with the champion laying on top of him as well.

He hadn’t been expecting the rancher to roll off him with a pissed off sounding sigh. “You have three minutes to take your armor off and then you’re getting dragged back down into the pile.”

Warriors didn’t waste a second, he scrambled to pull off his armor and outer green tunic so he could take his chain mail off, and had a little less than a minute left over to change into his night shirt after putting all his things away before Twilight, true to his word, dragged him back down.

He was sandwiched between the rancher and Wild, who both quickly fell asleep, when Sky came in and wiggled his way into the ‘pile’ as well. It wasn’t long before the others all showed up, throwing themselves on top of him in some fashion.

Time stopped in the doorway, smiling down at him after Wind had climbed on the very top of the cuddle pile. “Stuck?”

“Couldn’t move if I tried,” Warriors sighed, rolling his eyes fondly. With all his brothers pressed against him, he found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and pretty soon he was asleep.

[divine-misfortune]

where it hurts kiss w/mountain and zephyr pls <3

High zeph getting loved on

Glass brought to their lips, Zephyr startled slightly. A muddled sound of confusion as they slipped from the clouds, jarring to be pulled back to earth so abruptly after floating for so long. Millions of miles away in some comfortable haze, they'd almost forgotten where their body resided - nearly forgot they were anything more than fog skimming the water in some secret place, that there was ever a physical body to begin with. Fighting to remember how to open their eyes, they blinked one at a time until they managed to focus on Mountain in front of them.

Him and that crooked little smile.

"Think your tolerance has gone down" Mountain tsked and cupped their jaw, lifting their chin from their chest.

Normally they'd have protested his assistance, loathing the oddly helpless feelings that crept up on them, but they were in no place to do something of the sort. Zephyr was helpless in the moment, too smoked out to even pick up their own head.

Their fang clinked against the rim of the glass as Mountain tipped it, a soft apologetic sound rumbling out of the earth ghoul as water spilled into their otherwise dry mouth. It brought a sort of relief they didn't know they needed, and they drank it down like the nectar of the gods. Chilled and sweetened with a sprig of mint - Mountain never seemed to forget the mint.

"Ah - ah, easy..." He gave their jaw a soft squeeze and pulled the glass away for a moment, earning a low whine of protest. "Gonna waterboard yourself if you don't slow down."

Mountain fixed them a look one might consider stern, but it was still Mountain after all. Always betrayed by his fondness. He was never one for scolding and the like, with Zephyr there was hardly ever a dominant bone to be found within him. The attempted shift in their established dynamic was strange, not necessarily bad but strange to them nonetheless. They'd be grateful for it when they sobered up. In such a state they needed the guidance and the correction that came with it.

Zephyr remembered to nod accordingly, at least tried to. Mountain wouldn't budge an inch until they did.

Seemingly satisfied with their compliance Mountain granted them the remaining reprieve to their cotton mouthed plight. They somehow sagged further into the soft nest of furs and blankets, tail swaying in a lazy but satisfied pattern. It would have been easy to just melt into the soft pile in that far off corner of the greenhouse. Mountain’s old creaky futon felt like the most logical place for them to melt into a boneless heap in their humble, clearly influenced opinion.

"Don't think s’me," Zephyr's words slurred despite themself as their head lolled onto their shoulder. Puffing a stray strip of silver hair from their face, "think your supply got stronger."

"Oh don't go blaming me, you lightweight." Mountain carefully tucked the offending lock behind their feathered ear. If he brushed his fingers over the tips of their feathers just to see them shudder, that was his business. "You look more relaxed chickadee, got that sour look off your face. How's it feel?"

He chuckled softly when their nose scrunched up in thought. The air ghoul pressed their lips into a thin line as they considered their vessel. It was never a simple question. An answer that changed daily, often one extreme or the other. Agony or numbness. Today was the former. A deep hollow ache housed in every bone and joint, joined by the odd cold zing in a randomly selected nerve.

"Mm...Mostly" Zephyr concluded.

"Still a bit achey?" They nodded and Mountain frowned sympathetically, "where does it hurt, love?"

"Hands."

He lifted one hand from where they'd fisted it into the brown fur beneath them and held them carefully in his own. Dainty, almost boney fingers trembled against his palm. Years of ivory keys had worn away at their already limited grace, damned by a vessel intent on wasting away at a pace none of them could have anticipated. He knew whatever relief he, or any of them, could offer them was merely a bandaid to a gunshot wound but he still tried despite it.

"Where?" Mountain asked, turning them palm up to gently knead his thumbs into the meat of their hand.

Groaning lowly, Zephyr mumbled something he didn't quite catch. Their pale eyelashes fluttered against their cheeks and he wanted to kiss the shadows they cast like butterfly wings. Delicate and beautiful as always.

Much like the tree roots knotting through the dirt, he could feel the electricity flickering through their nerves. Palm down, Mountain thumbed over their knuckles. If he focused he could trace their pain like a well worn path, and if he focused further, he could almost assist in conducting the sparks through the fraying wire. Earth magic was mostly situational, but the body's nervous system was close enough to that of a plant to do the trick. It wasn't perfect, but it was another bandaid he could apply.

Replacing the little pattern his thumb had stroked over the back of their hand, he brushed his lips over their knuckles instead. Zephyr blinked their eyes open again, a much more coordinated effort on their part, to watch the earth ghoul bow his head to meet their hand. He kissed the middle joint of their first finger followed by the next. Mountain kissed up each finger with a familiar sort of reverence, such a miniscule act of worship to send their heart stuttering in their chest.

Mountain had an innate ability to make them feel young again without even trying.

At the tip of their pinky finger, Mountain glanced up to their face. Expression gone soft, his copper eyes caught the afternoon light like pools of honey they could have very well fallen into. Zephyr swallowed thickly when his mouth quirked into a shy smile, caught in the act of loving them too blatantly. They swore the fog behind their eyes swirled in the shape of hearts.

Pulling away suddenly, Mountain's brow knit. He began a confused chirp that they didn't give him the chance to finish. Zephyr took his face and clumsily hauled him closer till they could perfectly mold their mouth to his. It was a miracle their teeth didn't crash together. Mountain had to grab the back of the futon to keep himself balanced, head already spinning like Zephyr had snatched the air straight from his lungs.

They cradled his cheek in their left hand and the right snaked back to thread their fingers into the auburn waves at the nape of his neck. Not pulling, simply holding onto him like another anchor point. Brain finally catching up, Mountain's amused exhale fanned warm against their cheeks. His tail coiled around their leg as he eased into the gentle movement of their lips like he had a thousand times before. Kissing the air ghoul was like second nature. Like returning home each time.

Zephyr licked over his bottom lip with no real heat behind it and he couldn't stop himself from letting them in. They drank the sweet sigh off his lips and chased the whine he tried to deny them, pulling it from him like they owned every single reedy sound.

Satisfied or exhausted, Zephyr sat back. Admiring his lips surely tinged as red as their eyes, they short of giggled.

"Fuck..I love you" Mountain breathed, winded. Wanting. The definition of adoration.

[blueraineshadows]

Guitars, and Heart Strings

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - angst, fluff, smut

🔞 NSFW 🌶 🔥 ❤️

This is a Request fic for the lovely @simpy-slytherin 💜🥰

Notes: The Legacy Gang have graduated, and they are getting ready to embark on their adult lives. One last night out together in Hogsmeade to kick off summer turns a little explosive for our favourite dueling partners...

The Three Broomsticks was packed out with patrons, Sirona rushed off her feet with the bustling bar filled with witches and wizards who had piled in for the evening's entertainment. Tonight, a local five piece band was playing, a group renowned for their foot stomping shanties and they were very popular.

The lead singer, in particular, was rather well known, a former Hogwarts graduate with a stunning voice and a gorgeous smile. Adam McNeil turned heads, there was no two ways about it.

"Oh, MC, what a beautiful man," Natty sighed. "I'd let him strum my strings any day of the week."

MC snorted a laugh and nudged her friend with her shoulder. "Natty! Just how many fire whiskey shots have you had already?"

Natty grinned. "Not nearly enough to pluck up the courage to go and introduce myself to Adam McNeil that's for sure."

The girls giggled, and MC looked over at Adam, her eyes widening a little as he met her gaze and gave her a smile. She immediately smiled back, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Natty noticed and nudged MC quite firmly with a boney elbow. "Did you see that? He smiled at you!" Natty looked at MC rolling her eyes. "How is this fair? Adam McNeil is giving you sexy smiles! Oh, to be you for one day, MC!"

"Honestly, Natty, you do not want to be in here," MC said, tapping her temple. "Way too much baggage lying around. Anyway, it was just a smile, he probably does that to everyone."

Natty didn't look convinced. "Come on, he was definitely looking at you," she said. She eyed MC a moment. "Or are you playing this down because you've got your eye on someone else?"

MC gave her a look. "We've been over this," she said. "Seb and I are best friends. He's a flirt, sure, but I don't think it goes any further than that."

"But, you want it to, right?"

MC shrugged. "Maybe. I don't want to mess up what we have though, he is too important to me. I would hate it if things got weird."

Natty nodded. "For what it's worth, I think you would make a great couple. But, I understand your worries." She glanced back towards Adam McNeil and smiled. "You could always try a little flirtation with someone else. Adam is looking at you again."

MC turned to see, and Natty was right. MC felt the beginnings of another blush as she smiled back. Again. She took Natty's arm. "Come on, let's get back to the others."

The whole gang had turned out for tonight. MC stared at the table of her friends as her and Natty approached, her heart full of love for them. They had become her family over the last three years. All of them. They were all crammed around one table, chatting and drinking, laughter spilling out freely now that all the exam stress was done.

They were free. It was almost scary.

MC smiled fondly at Poppy, who was practically sitting in Ominis' lap, her little hand clamped firmly around his. She doted on him, her eyes full of her adoration every time she looked at him.

Poppy gave her a sheepish smile. "I did try to save your seat, but then Garreth and Leander arrived."

Both red headed Gryffindors looked up, big smiles as they greeted her. Maybe she'd had a few too many shots of firewhiskey, because she threw her arms around the both of them and planted a kiss on their cheeks. "It's good to see you guys," she said. She meant it. The potential to not see any of them again hurt more than she wanted to admit.

As she pulled away from the Gryffindor lads she met a pair of brown eyes that always set her pulse fluttering. Sebastian's eyes blazed with something, glittering dangerously as his hand clasped her wrist possessively. He tugged her away from Garreth and Leander and patted his lap. "There's a seat right here for you, MC," he said.

MC eyed his lap. Oh, it was tempting. Her heart started pounding at the thought of it. She didn't trust herself to do it though, the proximity combined with the alcohol might lead her into dangerous territory. Her chat with Natty had brought all her torment over Sebastian to the forefront of her mind.

Turns out she didn't have a choice. Sebastian had her wrist in his grip, his smirk dangerous as he tugged her down onto his lap, his hand planting firmly just above her hip. She gasped as she tried not to spill her drink, adjusting herself so she was a bit more comfortable. Their gazes met and she bit her lip at the possessive satisfaction in his gaze.

"Someone is feeling rather hands on this evening," she quipped.

"Only thinking of your comfort, MC," he said. "It's not very gentlemanly to leave a lady standing now, is it."

"A real gentleman would have given up his chair, not manhandled said lady into his lap," she said, poking him in the chest.

"Ah, but this is much more fun," he said. "I'm at a better advantage for annoying you, and I know how much you love it when I do that."

"Bloody hell, would you two just fuck already?" Garreth said across the table.

MC gaped at him. "Garreth!"

Sebastian's fingers gripped her hip a little tighter as Garreth laughed and shrugged, he held his hands out. "What? We're all thinking it. I'm just saying it out loud."

MC glanced around the table and everyone was suddenly very interested in something else, their drink or the band, anything but her gaze. Poppy gave her an apologetic look. MC turned to Sebastian and was met with a rather smug smirk. She narrowed her eyes. "Hands where I can see them, Sallow," she quipped.

He laughed and held both hands up in surrender. "My hands are at your command." His wink sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she had a few ideas of what he could do with those hands. MC looked down at her drink and the thought crossed her mind that she should watch herself, too many of those and her restraint might snap.

See? Dangerous territory.

The chatter round the table continued, the table becoming cluttered with their empty drinks. The band continued to play and the atmosphere in the pub became rather lively. MC tried not to think about the feel of Sebastian's hand at her hip, or the fact that he barely took it away from that spot. She felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest where her arm was against it. Every now and then his breath would tickle the loose strands of hair at her neck where it had slipped from her clip, she rubbed her hand there once as it tickled and he noticed. He smirked and blew gently onto her skin, making the loose strands of hair dance and goosebumps erupt down her arm. Her nudge and gentle scolding just made him smile wider.

Feeling fidgety, she squirmed a little in his lap and heard his breath hiss through his teeth, his hands stilling her hips. "Sorry, am I squishing you?" She asked.

He shook his head and shifted her ever so slightly himself, adjusting his seating. Her bottom brushed up against something hard and she wriggled to get comfortable, whatever was in his pocket was rather annoying. He made a small, low sound and she glanced at him to see colour flooding into his cheeks, his eyes dark pools of utter temptation. Realisation flooded through her, and desire pierced right through her core. Oh, fuck!

Her eyes flew to Natty. "Fancy a dance, Nats? I need to burn off some energy," she said. She risked another awkward glance at Sebastian before she slid from his lap, her legs a little wobbly as she clasped Natsai by the hand. "Come on, you can drool over Adam McNeil while we dance."

....*...

Adam fucking McNeil. Sebastian's hand curled into a fist on his thigh. MC, Poppy and Natty were dancing, laughing, and Adam McNeil's eyes were lingering for far too long on MC for his liking.

Sebastian's gaze travelled over MC as she danced, her hips swaying, her arse perfect in those tight little trousers she wore. He adjusted the crotch of his trousers, a little embarrassed that she had caused him to get a little too aroused when she sat on his lap. The look on her face had been priceless though!

Even her blouse was close fitting this evening, the throat open exposing her collar bones, the mini corset vest she wore accentuated the exquisite curve of her waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that made his mouth go dry.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had noticed. The singer, this Adam McNeil that the girls were all sighing over, was watching MC too closely, his gaze following her as she danced and offering up little smiles her way. What was worse, she was smiling back.

"That lead singer loves himself a bit doesn't he?" He grumbled.

Imelda huffed a laugh. "What's not to love? He's talented, devilishly handsome, and charming beyond belief," she said. She gave Sebastian a sly look. "And if my eyes don't deceive me, he seems to have taken an interest in our very own Hero of Hogwarts. I'd say that's what your pissed about, not how Adam views himself."

Sebastian glared at her. "Who says I'm pissed off?"

She laughed. "I'm just spitting facts, Sallow. If you want to get your dick wet, I'd quit whining and do something about it, before someone else does."

Ominis nearly choked on his butterbeer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "My sentiments exactly, although I might have chosen my words a little more eloquently."

"Oh, don't you start," Sebastian sighed. He stood and fished in his pockets for his coins. "I need another drink."

Waiting at the bar, Sebastian seethed. The song had ended and the band were taking a moment to have a drink and wipe their sweaty faces with towels. They chatted amongst themselves, but Adam only had eyes for MC. He beckoned her over and she went, her smile lighting up her face. Adam bent to say something into her ear and she nodded, then moved to say something back to him. Sebastian did not like the way Adam looked at her, he didn't like it at all.

He grit his teeth and reminded himself that he had given up the use of Unforgivables a long time ago. But his wand felt heavy and willing in his pocket as MC put her hand on Adam's arm and laughed.

....*....

MC was loving this evening. She paused in her dancing, a little out of breath, her blood pumping pleasantly, the alcohol giving her a brilliant buzz.

"I love this band!" She said to Natty. "I haven't danced like this in so long."

"They play around the Highlands regularly," Natty said. "Maybe we should go to other gigs?"

"Oh, yes, I would love to!" MC beamed. Not only at seeing the band play again, but at the thought of meeting up with her friend. She desperately didn't want to lose touch.

"I think Adam might be pleased to see you there too," Natty said. "Not that I am jealous or anything."

MC put her arm around Natty and gave her a squeeze. "I told you, its nothing, just a bit of harmless fun."

They went back to the table to quench their thirst, MC returning to Sebastian, but she hesitated at the sour look on his face. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright?"

He pulled out of her touch and nodded tightly. "Couldn't be better," he said.

MC frowned. She was having too much of a good time and she did not want to deal with one of his mood swings right now.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged.

She picked up her drink and moved towards Leander instead. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Can I sit here?" She asked.

"Oh, of course," he said. He immediately went to stand to offer her his chair. She giggled and pushed him back down. "No, no, silly. I meant here." She patted her hand on his thigh and he blushed a brilliant shade of red.

He froze, his hands held out awkwardly, as MC sat on his thigh and slung her arm around his shoulders. She turned to pointedly stare at Sebastian, one eyebrow raised. If he wanted to be a misery, she would give him something to sulk about. His mouth tightened subtly and she smirked. Serves him right.

"Is this alright?" She asked Leander quietly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Erm, yeah, it's alright," he said.

She smiled. "I don't mind sitting on your lap. You're a gentleman, Leander," she said. "I trust you completely."

The band finished their song and MC turned to clap enthusiastically along with everyone else. Sebastian sat there without moving a muscle.

Adam wiped his face with a towel and then picked up an acoustic guitar. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said, loudly. His voice carried across the room beautifully. "This next song is a bit slower, if that's alright, and I would like to dedicate it to a rather lovely young lady in the room. She knows who she is."

Adam's gaze met MC's and she felt her cheeks warm considerably, and then he winked. Adam McNeil fucking winked at her! She put her hand to her chest, flattered beyond belief. She stared back at Adam, stunned, as he began to play his guitar.

The song was considerably stripped back, and when Adam sang, she felt herself melting. She hadn't even noticed how her fingers were digging into Leander's shoulder until he shifted it under her. She released her grip, muttering an apology.

Adam kept his eyes on her, and people were starting to notice.

"Fucking hell," Imelda muttered behind her. "He is absolutely singing that to MC!"

MC swallowed, and she broke eye contact with Adam to glance at Sebastian. His face might as well have been carved from stone. His eyes were cold fury as he glared towards the band, towards Adam, and then he looked at her. MC almost flinched at the coldness she saw there in his eyes.

She had to look away. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, confused. How many times had she sent signals to Sebastian and got nowhere? Their playful flirting was apparently just that, playful. And now he was jealous? Of Adam?

Tonight was supposed to be about fun, and it had been. And as for Adam, how could she not be flattered? He was utterly charming, and he was looking at her in such a way that made her feel good. She was not owned by anyone, she did not need permission to have fun, and she was not going to let Sebastian Sallow get under her skin. Let him sit and stew in his jealous misery.

She stood up from Leander's lap, thanking him for allowing her to sit there, and she moved to the bar, ignoring Sebastian completely. She needed a drink.

....*...

"Must you insist on being an insufferable fool," Ominis snapped. He put a long fingered hand to his brow and squeezed. "Quit whining and moaning, you're rather spoiling the mood of the whole evening."

Sebastian eyed his best friend, his lips twisted into a sour grimace of envy. "Oh, and I suppose you would be quite content to sit there whilst some back street singer started fawning all over Poppy, would you?"

"That is entirely different," Ominis said, his brow creasing with annoyance.

"I don't see how," Sebastian muttered. He folded his arms, pouting miserably. He leant back against the barrels outside the Three Broomsticks, out here getting some much needed air away from the band inside the pub. He didn't think he could stand another minute of watching Adam McNeil flirting with MC, and seeing her enjoy it.

"It is completely different," Ominis huffed. He leant in towards Sebastian, stern faced. "I had the balls to ask Poppy to be my girl, and I'm rather glad that I did. I get to hold her hand whenever I like, I get to kiss her whenever I like. Unlike yourself, who makes a rather big show of being an insufferable flirt, but you haven't got the nerve to actually tell MC how you really feel!"

Sebastian stared at Ominis, a flush beginning to creep up his neck. A slither of envy coiled in his gut thinking of how Ominis had mentioned being able to kiss his girl whenever he wanted.

"If another man even dared to think about laying a finger on Poppy, then I would absolutely be furious. Only I get to do that. You, however, have no right to sit there sulking and spoiling MC's evening just because you're not getting your own way," Ominis continued. "And if she does end up leaving the bar with that singer, then you've only yourself to blame!"

Sebastian gaped. "What? She will not be leaving the bar with him! Not if I have anything to do with it!"

Ominis looked pained. Sebastian cared little, he was too busy imagining MC leaving in the arms of that bloody singer. His hand slid into his pocket and gripped his wand tight. Over his fucking dead body she would. MC was his! How could she not be?

They had shared more in the last few years than some did in a lifetime. There would be no life without her, not for him. He belonged to her, and she belonged to him. At least, that's how it was in his head.

What if it wasn't like that in her head? What if she went off with Adam and had this whole new life and forgot about him? Isn't that one of the fears that has kept his mouth sealed shut in the first place, her leaving him, forgetting about him?

Oh gods. He was going to have to tell her.

Sebastian's grip relaxed on his wand and he looked at Ominis. His shoulders slumped with the gutting realisation that once again, his friend was right. Why did he always have to be right?

"It must be rather smug to be you, Ominis," he groused. "Doesn't it get tiring being right all the time?"

"You have no idea, Sebastian," Ominis said, wearily. "When it comes to you, I feel I must be always one step ahead to prevent disaster."

Despite his sulk, Sebastian couldn't help but grin. He loved nothing more than keeping people on their toes, and he doubted he would ever stop.

Sebastian decided he needed another drink, a drop of courage. After all, he was about to go and tell the girl he loved how he felt before handsome Adam could whisk her away. He quite liked the idea of being able to kiss MC whenever he liked.

....*....

MC stood and clapped as the band finished their last song of this set. Adam said they would be taking a 30 minute break before returning to finish the evening off. Natty asked if she wanted another drink, and MC was about to say yes, but Natty's eyes had widened and she grabbed MC's hand. "Merlin, Adam is coming over here," she hissed.

"What?" MC turned and saw that Natty was right. His smile was devastating.

MC threw a quick glance back over towards their table, and her friends. Sebastian and Ominis were nowhere to be seen. Then she reminded herself that she didn't need to answer to anybody, she was her own person. It would be rude to ignore Adam, especially after he sang for her.

"Hello, ladies," Adam said.

"Hello," Natty replied. Her cheeks darkened in a deep blush. "You have been wonderful!"

"Oh, well thank you," he said. "It's always great to hear that people have enjoyed our music."

MC's lips curved into a smirk as she looked at Natty. She was fairly certain that it wasn't the music so much as the man delivering it that Natty was so enamoured by.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," Adam said, and he put a gentle hand to MC's elbow. "But, I was wondering if I might steal you from your friend for a few moments."

His Scottish accent was beautiful, soft and melodic, and MC was just staring. She felt the sharp pinch of Natty's fingers and mentally shook herself. "Oh, erm...sure?" She said, nervously.

She glanced at Natty who gave her a rigorous nod, practically shoving MC in Adam's direction. "Of course you can steal her," Natty said. "Can't he, MC? I don't mind."

Adam smiled. "MC? That's a bonnie name," he said. He met her gaze. "A bonnie name for a bonnie lass."

MC could have sworn she heard Natty utter a little whine. She threw her a look but Natty was waving her off, and Adam was taking her arm. MC felt a million butterflies erupt in her stomach. What in Merlin's name was happening here?

Adam led her over towards the corner near where there instruments were set up. MC eyed them curiously, some she recognised, others she wasn't so sure of. They certainly made for enjoyable music though when all played together.

"I was hoping to get a moment alone with you, MC," Adam said. "You've been a rather delightful distraction all evening, if you don't mind me saying."

She did not mind, she realised. "So, am I right in assuming that I was the girl you dedicated that song to? Or, do you say that to all girls?"

The twinkle in his eye had her flustered. "Only the really pretty ones," he said. He leant in a little closer, his intriguing scent surrounding her. "And you, MC, are beautiful. I couldn't resist stealing you away from your friends. Although, before I make a complete fool of myself, I thought I had better check something. Are you attached to any of the gentleman that are sitting with you this evening? I don't want to step on anyone's toes."

The way Sebastian had gone off in a sulk, you would think that someone had stomped on his toes with heavy boots. MC pushed the thought aside. She shook her head. "Nope, no gentleman or lady to tread on," she said. "I am a free spirit."

Was she? Her heart clenched a little, her confusing feelings for Sebastian churning away in there. However, Adam looked very pleased at this news, and his smile was so very lovely. "In that case, I would be honoured if you would like to share a drink with me while we're on our break. Would you like that?"

"I would," she agreed.

And that was how it started, how she found herself sipping whiskey with a gorgeous Scottish singer, and ended up perched on his lap while he tried to show her how to play his guitar. Never mind that she didn't have the first clue how to play, or that all the whiskey in her blood had released the flirt in her, MC was rather enjoying herself.

Adam brought his arm around to show her how to press her fingers onto the strings, arranging them into a chord on the fret board - a new term she had just learnt. His touch was firm but gentle, and she was surprised at how she didn't mind it all. It was more difficult than it looked, the strings hard under her soft finger tips. She held the strings down in the position he had arranged and then she strummed with her other hand.

She winced at the off sound it made. She giggled. "I think I should leave the music to the experts," she said. "You make it look so easy."

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "Ach, its only practise, MC," he said. "Everyone has to start somewhere. Have another wee go."

She looked down at the guitar and readied for another try. Adam's hand moved to her waist, the touch feather light, almost hesitant. Her breathing hitched a little, and while it certainly didn't feel terrible, a strange flush of guilt swept over her. It wasn't Sebastian's hand.

Trying to concentrate, she strummed the guitar, and this time it didn't sound so bad. She smiled, and Adam's hand pressed a little more firmly at her waist. "See? Much better this time," he murmured near her ear.

MC felt warmth spread through her at the same time a shiver slid down her spine. He was beginning to affect her, her thoughts growing hazy. It was so confusing. She wanted him to touch her, and yet all she could see was Sebastian's face. She swallowed, and cursed herself for drinking more blasted whiskey than she should have.

She should tell him. It wasn't fair to lead Adam on, she couldn't let him think she was available after all. She shifted on his lap, pushing the guitar forward so she could turn to him, her eyes locking on his very pretty ones. Oh, Merlin, he was even more lovely this close up.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she did have feelings for someone. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, he was leaning in, and her heart sped up in a mixture of excitement and panic. Oh, gods, he was going to kiss her!

And then a firm hand grabbed hold of her upper arm, she jumped, shocked, eyes flying up to meet with a pair of furious brown eyes.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Sebastian growled.

....*....

The band was no longer playing as Sebastian entered the bar, he made his way to order his drink, Ominis beside him. He glanced about looking for MC, nerves fluttering about what he might say to her. She wasn't at the table with the others and he frowned a little, his gaze swinging about the room.

He froze. There she was, sitting on Adam McNeil's lap, his hands on her as she tried to play his fucking guitar. He watched, livid, as Adam spoke into her ear and she smiled that beautiful smile of hers. No way. He wasn't having this.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snapped.

"What is it?" Ominis asked.

But Sebastian didn't answer. He was moving, pushing his way through the bar to get to MC, he wasn't going to stand for another moment of Adam's hands on her. As he neared them, his eyes blazed as she turned to Adam, and the bastard was leaning in for a kiss.

Not on his fucking watch! He reached out, desperate, panic seizing him as he clamped his hand hard around her arm. He felt her jolt with shock, but he didn't loosen his grip. Couldn't, even if he wanted to. She looked up at him, surprised and a little fearful.

"Don't even fucking think about it." He ground the words out past the frightened fury in his throat. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't.

"Sebastian!" She gasped his name, the sound of it breathless, pained almost.

Adam was looking between MC and him, confused. "Okay, easy now," he said slowly.

Sebastian glared at him. "Get your hands off her," he spat. He tugged at MC's arm. "Get up, now!"

MC struggled to put down the guitar whilst Sebastian was holding her so tightly, but he refused to let her go, his fingers clamped in a vice like grip. Adam took the guitar and then Sebastian hauled her up, dragging her out away from him.

"What are you doing?!" She cried. She tried to resist his pull, but he just tugged her harder. "Sebastian!"

She looked at Adam who was reaching out for her other hand. "I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

Sebastian's stomach churned with jealous rage and he clenched his teeth.

Adam frowned. "I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend," he said. His eyes hardened as he looked at Sebastian.

MC shook her head. "I don't, but..."

Sebastian seized on that word. But what?

"...I'm so sorry," she finished.

He threw Adam a warning look to back off and began to head for the nearest exit, dragging MC along beside him. She tried to pull her arm free, and kept glancing back towards Adam, but Sebastian just wanted to get her out of there, away from Adam, away from all the eyes in the room that were now watching the drama unfold.

Sebastian didn't even try to seek out Ominis and the others. He knew all he would see was them with their heads in their hands. Oh look, Sebastian had spat his dummy out again. Fuck it! Right now, all he could see was red. And all he wanted was her, with him, and him alone.

....*....

Anger. That was her first reaction. How dare Sebastian drag her bodily out of the pub like that, and in front of everyone too! She had struggled as much as she could against his iron grip on her arm, but she hadn't wanted to create even more of a scene than they already were, so she let him take her outside.

Embarrassment. Oh, there was plenty of that! For one, she was fairly certain that she had been about to let Adam McNeil kiss her, and guilty shame flooded through her. Sebastian would have seen! Everyone could see. Inwardly, she was cringing.

Outwardly, she was firing daggers with her eyes as Sebastian dragged her across the cobbled street and down a path. He was the most insufferable prick sometimes! She yanked against his grip again, his fingers biting viciously into her muscle. This was going to bruise.

"Let me go," she demanded.

He looked at her. "No."

They carried on walking, her feet stumbling a little to keep up with his pace. "You're so bloody rude," she snapped. "How could you do that?"

"He was touching you," he said. Simple, controlled, matter of fact. "I didn't like it."

"Oh, you didn't like it?" She scoffed. She fumbled for her wand. "Well, I don't like this, so let me go!"

She thrust her wand up under his chin, pressing it against his flesh. He halted but didn't let her go. His eyes slid to hers. "I'd think very carefully about your next move, MC," he said. His words, spoken so silky smooth and dark, it sent a shiver down her spine. Her lips parted, her eyes locked with his.

No. She was mad at him, she couldn't let him distract her. She pressed her wand in to his neck a little more. "Like you did back there? Did you even think about it? Yanking me from Adam's lap like that! How dare you! You ought to go back and apologise for such roguish behaviour."

He scoffed. "Not fucking likely," he said. He leant in close, pushing his own neck against her wand, his skin becoming white and taut under the pressure. Her hand trembled a little. His eyes burned into hers. "He put his hands on you, MC. It was unacceptable."

"Unacceptable to whom, Sebastian?" She frowned. "Isn't it up to me who puts their hands on me?"

He swallowed, her wand jolting under the movement. That had to be seriously uncomfortable, but he didn't move back nor push her hand away. "Is that what you really wanted then? You wanted him to touch you. Looked like I interrupted a kiss too, how romantic of him, snogging you over his guitar."

Jealous prick! Inside she was pissed off at him, but also, quivering with delicious want. The balance was swinging madly and it was making her dizzy. He had no bloody right looking so attractive whilst pissing her off!

She couldn't resist the urge to niggle at him, rile him up, push him...to what end she had no idea. "It was rather romantic, at least I thought so. He had such gentle hands."

Sebastian's nostrils flared and his eyes raged. He stared at her, a war going on behind his gaze. Then he finally shoved her wand away from his neck, his hand released her arm and he turned away. He raked his hands through his hair and began to pace. He let out a frustrated growl through his teeth.

"So, one minute you're wriggling around on my lap...and don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about," he said giving her a look. "And then the next, you are off in the corner trying to snog the lead singer of the band. What are you playing at?"

She gaped. "Just what are you suggesting, Sebastian?"

"Not suggesting, asking," he said. "Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"

"How is this suddenly all about you?" She cried. "I thought we were having a lovely evening, then you got all sulky and pissy, disappeared for a while, and then storm back to rip me so rudely away from Adam, and drag me bodily out of the pub! If anyone deserves to be cross here, it's me!"

"And if I hadn't pulled you off him? What then?" He demanded. "Would you have kissed him? Gone home with him?"

"I...I don't know!" She cried. "I didn't plan any of this, I was just enjoying my evening."

He looked crestfallen for a moment, before turning away, pushing his hand through his hair. "You really might have left with him?" He asked quietly. His voice dropped even lower and, if she had heard him correctly, his next words chilled her. "You would have left me."

"I wouldn't have gone home with him." She said. She had been about to tell Adam that she had feelings for someone else after all, she really hadn't planned on going anywhere with him.

He rubbed the back of his head with his hand and began to pace again. "You would have kissed him though, wouldn't you?"

She lowered her gaze to the path, suspecting he might be right on that front. Why should she feel so guilty? Why were they arguing about this? They weren't even a couple.

"Are you jealous?" She asked. Clearly, he was jealous, but would he admit it.

He stopped pacing and clenched his hands into fists. He gave her a sideways look. "Do you want me to be?"

She rolled her eyes. "For fuck sake, Sebastian, does everything have to be a game to you? Just answer the question. Are you jealous?"

His mouth tightened. She took a step towards him. "Yes or no? Shall I go back there, see if he fancies another try? I might let him."

"You will not," he hissed. He took hold of her upper arms. "You're not going anywhere."

"Going to stop me are you?" She taunted. Her pulse fluttered hotly, blood thrumming with whiskey and fire. "Now, why would you do that?"

"Because..." He stopped, lips clamping shut.

"Yes?" She leaned in towards him. He stared, wide eyed as she got closer and closer. His fingers were fisted in the sleeves of her blouse, but his arms bent as she invaded his space.

Her anger had shifted, twisting into fierce need. Adam didn't seem so important anymore. It was just Sebastian and her, alone on this little pathway in the dusky shadows of Hogsmeade.

He was so beautiful, she loved that face, had seen him go through all sorts of emotions with those eyes that she could drown in. She had pulled him through hurts, trauma, had fought beside him, cried in his arms. How could he ever think that she would leave him?

"I would never leave you, you know," she said, softly. His eyes flickered with a devastating flash of vulnerability. "Never."

"You should," he rasped. His breaths were coming quicker, more harried. "Why would you want someone as fucked up as me, when you could have someone like Adam?"

The broken sound of his voice crushed her.

"I don't want Adam," she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers. She put her wand away and took his face in her hands. "I want you."

His breathing faltered. "What?"

....*....

He had heard her right, hadn't he? He just stared at her, blankly, his mind empty of all thoughts and he scrambled to gather them.

Her hands, capable of such beauty and terror, were holding his face. The pads of her thumbs swept over his cheeks and his lungs screamed for him to draw a breath.

She wanted him.

Words were useless. They wouldn't come at his call, so he just pulled her closer, closing the gap, and claimed her lips with his own. At the first touch of her softness he knew he never wanted it to stop. He just held his lips there, unmoving, freeze framing this moment because he never wanted to forget it.

Her hands slid down his face, finger tips like searing torture as she smoothed them up behind his ears and into his hair. She broke contact with his lips to draw a breath and kissed him again, expelling the breath as a moan.

That's when he lost control of any restraint he may have been clinging on to. His mouth devoured her, stealing every gasp and moan she uttered as he swirled his tongue hungrily between her parted lips. His hands were swift, greedy, as they skimmed her hips, sliding around to grab her arse in those tight little trousers.

Oh, fuck, he throbbed with desperate need, his hips seeking hers as his hands pressed against peachy softness. Somewhere, in the back of his filthy mind, he was aware they were on a public path. He shuffled her backwards, unwilling to stop kissing her mouth, and pressed her up against a rough stone wall.

"Sebastian," she panted. Her fingers pulled at his hair, the tug sharp but highly arousing.

"Tell me again," he demanded. He nipped and licked along her jaw, burying his nose against her neck to breathe in her scent. He was dizzy with it, completely lost. His. And only his. "Tell me you want me."

His breaths guttered and a low moan slid from him as she rolled her hips seductively against him. "I want you," she sighed. "Please..."

He gripped her hips, forehead pressed to hers, staring down to where she was grinding against him. His cock was so hard, so fucking hot for her, that it was almost painful. "Let me fuck you," he begged. "Fuck..."

She was tugging at his vest, popping the buttons and then working on his shirt, as it opened she dragged her finger nails down his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, clinging on to a semblance of control. He did not want to shoot his load too soon.

He growled through gritted teeth and pulled at the buttons of her trousers, opening them enough to get his hand in. "Oh, my..."

She was soaked, her underwear clinging to her damp flesh. His finger tips slid luxuriously through heavenly slick folds and he thought he might die. Delicious little mewls came from her lips as he boldly pressed two fingers into her, groaning at the soft heat of her tight walls. Now his cock was positively dripping with need to get in there.

He had once imagined the first time he would take her. He had the whole scene played out in his head, how he would light those little floating candles that she loved. Have a fire roaring in the grate and slowly kiss every inch of her.

This, this was nothing like that. But fuck, was it good.

He shoved her trousers roughly downwards, yanking one of her legs free of them, he lifted that gloriously bare leg and resumed his finger play, seeking out that perfect little nub. Her hips flexed and her finger nails bit like tiny teeth as she rutted against his hand.

He bit her lower lip, sucking it gently and tasting blood. "Does it feel good?" He asked. She nodded, dragging in her breaths. He pumped two fingers into her, his thumb dragging lazily over her clit. "Then tell me, tell me how you like it, and I'll give you more."

Her moan was sinful and he bent to suck at her neck, tasting her.

"More...Seb...please," she whimpered. "So good..."

He rubbed tighter, faster circles and she whined, a string of little cries left her and then she was cumming, clenching and bucking. She was fucking perfect and he wanted it all.

Not even waiting for her to calm down, he hosted her legs up and around him, lined himself up and slid his aching cock into her clenching, soaked pussy.

He had to take a few seconds to clear the haze of lust that clouded his vision, her hot tightness sucking him deeper until he thought he might pass out. Her hands were clutching at his shirt and vest that were hanging loosely from his shoulders, her mouth gulping, overwhelmed and shocked at how quickly he had done it.

"You feel amazing," he groaned. He adjusted his grip, one arm taking the weight of her pelvis, the other braced against the wall and he began to thrust.

Oh gods! His eyes rolled and his teeth clenched. He couldn't hold back. He was going to have some apologies to make after this, but he couldn't help it. She had driven him so wild that he was spinning out of control, fucking her so tight and hard she had to throw out a hand against the wall to brace herself.

"I'm...sorry," he panted. "Am I...hurting you?"

She gripped the back of his head. "Don't you dare stop," she said, through gritted teeth. "I want it...give me all of it."

Fucking hell! It was hot, it was fast and stars exploded behind his eyelids as his cock finally let go, throbbing deliciously as he pumped her full of himself.

He was breathing hard, so happy, so overwhelmed. He took her face in his hands, could feel her trembling against him.

"I love you, MC," he said fiercely. "You're mine, all mine, and I am never letting you go."

"Promise?" She whispered. She put her hands over his, her eyes glittering with tears. "Promise me you'll never let me go."

"I Promise," he said. "And you know me, I never go back on my word."

She looked up at him and his heart swelled to almost bursting point. "I do know you," she said. "And I love you and I'm going to make you a promise too. I will never leave you, Seb. I physically couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to breathe."

He held her, tight, eyes closed, savouring everything about this moment. She was his, and he was hers, and it was no longer just in his head. It was real.

[biorust-art]

Laudna redesign!

- [Image Description. Two digital drawings of Laudna from Critical Role. The background is a muted purple, and one drawing is a full body of Laudna turned to the left. Her head is tilted down and she stands with her hands folded in front of her. Her dress was inspired by Edwardian evening gowns, giving her a white blouse with dark purple bodice that has poofy sleeves and parts down the middle to give way for the rest of the lace skirt. Her corset wraps around her waist with red ribbon tied and looped around her hips. The corset also has marigolds and poppies on them. The red matches her shoes and the ribbon and flowers that are piled in her gibson-girl-like hair style. The lace at the bottom of the skirt have repeating oval designs, and within them are trees with a hanging body on it. She still has her choker with the red jewel at her neck, and Pate's house on her back. The second drawing is a bust of Laudna's face, showcasing the flowers in her hair and her boney face. End ID]

I HOPE that does a good job at describing the redesign choices, I don't know technical fashion terms,,,

Also, I'm caught up with CR now, which brings me to Not So Lady Like Laudna (beloved)

Post Sky Sailing.... I love them so much

[Image Description: A drawing of Laudna and Chetney. Laudna is squatting down, with her skirt bunched up by her knees, her hair is out of its bun, looking wild. She cheers very loudly, with one hand raised for a high five. Chetney is on her side, also cheering loudly. He is also redesigned, wearing a high neck athletic shirt and vintage football gear and white pinstripe pants. Chet's hand is also raised for a high five. End ID]

[oldhalloweentape]

🧨 Vinny Santorini (Atlantis) x (gn) reader🌹

(Honeymoon Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request here! Hehehehe SWAG

WARNING: Contains NSFW content! 18+ only guys!)

SFW

- So… Honeymoon, knowing Vinny it’s somewhere romantic and exciting, the type of place where no one will disturb the alone time you guys are desperate to have after making sure your wedding was great and had no major setbacks.

- Which we all know was as a miraculous feat considering many of the people Vinny knows have the tendency to be… Explosive. Pun intended.

- As expected you guys take many photos of all you can during your trip, maybe even bring one of those old clunky ass cameras that can film…

- The idea of there being a black-white video of you two on the beach for you guys to look back on is very cute to me ngl.

- Just you two, doing beach things, taking turns handling the camera, ending with Vinny getting attacked by a seagull because he fell asleep in the middle of eating something.

- For some reason him in one of those striped bathing suits does something to my brain…

- Hehehe, ANYWAYSSSS, he’s the type to smuggle in fireworks among other things all for the sake of having a firework show that would only emphasize the beauty of the night…

- Gets in trouble for it indefinitely, but in his eyes it’s worth it, especially when he gets to see you starstruck by the way they light up the dark night as he sits down alongside you on a blanket on the ground you guys packed in; a sight he wouldn’t trade for anything.

- A foodie inherently… Especially after having to endure whatever the fuck Cookie concocted during those expeditions, so, you guys are getting the best food the place provides.

- As a whole, you get the royalty treatment, which doesn’t change when you guys get back home in all honesty. He has that BAG and is not afraid to spend it.

NSFW

- On the topic of royalty treatment, you can be rest assured that you’re being tenderly loved on in more ways than one, all that alone time is spent well.

- To follow up with what I mean by that is that when things get hot and heavy it’s tender, passionate, leaves the two of you breathless yet yearning for more.

- He gives soft top vibes, maybe even a switch— He’s far from picky when it comes to you.

- Not the most vocal in the sack, a grunt or stifled gasp here and there, though I do see him slipping into Italian and murmuring it against your skin when he’s feeling particularly frisky.

- The pet names, oh the pet names, he’s saying them over and over again during the throes of passion.

- As sarcastic as he may be I feel like he has a praise kink— Just something about either you or him showering one another with compliments makes him into a pile of pliable mush.

- I think he likes it slow over fast, wanting to keep the moment alive as long as possible, holding you close and practically singing your praises as he brushes his face against your hair, kissing against your hair.

- Though, again he’s not picky, loving doing it with you however he can, in and out of your honeymoon.

- Aftercare with this guy is great, he knows how to treat you well at this point, just by looking at you he can tell— As goofy as he may be he’s very observant.

- All in all y’all have a great time which you guys look back on, those memories flashing through your heads from time to time as you enjoy one another happily.

(Sorry if the NSFW part was shit, again I’m not the most experienced in this way of writing. Hope you enjoyed this nonetheless.💖)

[2demondogs]

Am I Bad? | Javier/Arthur

Tags: minor injuries, drunken camp shenanigans, Javier has anger issues and Arthur is drunk as FUCK. believe it or not this is all fluff Word Count: 4.4k A/N: I don't speak Spanish so I Googled shit. Let me know if it's contextually wrong. Or just plain wrong...

Boredom has become a luxury. Arthur is glad that — too sore and tired to ride any further, too far from civilization to do much of anything meaningful — they have found themselves at a loss for busywork.

It is a heaven of its own after working his body into unraveling at the seams, it feels, for weeks on end.

Javier had taken the job of setting up camp, delivered well on his promise to make it quick. A single tent lay before the firepit he'd slapped together, piled with timber Arthur fetched meanwhile. They agreed some evenings ago, shitfaced and brazen, that one tent was more economical for many reasons, a few of which spurred Javier's hand on his thigh. Sober, neither have been ballsy enough to discuss it again.

Well, Arthur hasn't got the balls for it.

By the time noon has nestled into the clouds, he's brushed most of the grass and dirt from their New Hanover trail off of his horse. A sweet girl, who reminds him more of a cat than a horse the way she clings to him and eyes Boaz with distrust. A girl that he hasn't yet named since borrowing; certainly, she'll be lured away by another man, in the way karma reclaims all stolen goods, which renders it borrowing.

Naming her is one task he must — he is too soft to say he merely should — do, but neglecting things is a different experience when he isn't in danger of popping any of Dutch's blood vessels.

Javier is circling the firepit when he turns and stretches, lumbering over on sore legs. Watching him plunk his boney ass onto the dirt beside it, Arthur snickers at him hiking his pant legs up at the knees, the way a woman hikes her skirt when she sits.

He doesn't tease him for it anymore. The first and last time, he got asked, in the middle of camp: why, cariño, want me to be your woman? If he really meant the bite that laid behind his words or if it was a cover-up, one for whatever odd flower was growing in the dirt of their friendship — he really doesn't know.

Unable to help himself, he snickers.

"Watch yourself," Javier warns, appraising it as Arthur seats himself without grace. He scoffs. "At least I don't sit down like a withered old man."

The words are light. They've lost some of their usual rasp, as if he is speaking from a different part of his throat where the skin is not so scarred. Arthur likes this tone, has noticed him using it more often when they're alone.

Nevermind that it is the same way he speaks to Boaz, Dutch, and the occassional stray dog in town. Saved for God, wife, and animal companion, like a good man's softness should be.

The thought makes him bite down a laugh, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Afternoon comes sooner than Arthur would like.

The shit has been shot sufficiently, he supposes, if Javier's eyes unfocusing and his broken humming are anything to go by. Another effect of his scarred throat, he doesn't often hum a true hum: dah-dah, duhn, dah-dah-dah, the general beats of a song only he knows, mumbled low and quiet.

Maybe in another life, Javier is a musician. They'd both be artists, then. By chance, Arthur could do the artwork for his record slips, if the lack of guns made more time for pencils to fit in his hand.

Now there's a funny thought. Him, an artist, full-time. All professional-like. There he goes, making shit up.

In the pleasant pseudo-silence, Arthur pulls his pocket knife out to pick the grime from beneath his nails. Swiping the tip of the shortest blade beneath the discolored white of his nail, wiping the dirt off with two fingers, and then repeating. It is so second-nature, he hardly pays mind to whether they are cleaned or not and must do another pass to get them presentable.

He may or may not be wondering, as anyone would, what kind of songs Javier would do.

His fingernails need trimmed, anyways. Everything about Javier looks so purposeful, Arthur is too ashamed to chew his nails in front of him.

The man's nails bend and break, too, sure they do. First, though, they are straight-clipped; he has never felt the teeth-roughened edges of a nail-biter's hands scratching over his skin. In the company of Arthur, he only appears to chew on the hardened ridges of skin around the nailbeds.

Somehow, if his actions chafe with the pristineness Arthur sees in him, the rough things Javier does simply become pristine, too. At least as far as his body extends, the skin-deep qualities like voice and hair and cleanliness and godliness — except, of course, Javier could never fit so nicely in one little box, wiry but wily.

Arthur knows he is just making shit up once more. He hardly understands it himself, at this point, finds it difficult to admit that even when he doesn't respect what Javier does, he still— well, he supposes, likes the man. Digging himself into a tunnel system of respect, admiration, and morality is much easier than taking a crack at digging straight down into affection.

He scrapes wrong against the underneath of his nail and cringes, bringing himself from his head and into the present once more. Javier is singing softly, drumming on his thighs and watching Arthur, who had zoned out thoroughly. He glances at Javier, runs away from his eyes as quick as he ran to them.

They're too kind.

Javier stops singing. It was more of a babble, anyways, slurred and words half-skipped over. "I miss my guitar," he says, nearing solemnity. "No music out here."

Arthur raises his brows. "I got hands and feet, don't I?" He says, offers a small grin. "Just sing somethin' I know."

He chuckles, eyes unmoving as he thinks, like he'll hear music if he looks long enough at Arthur's tired old face. Sometimes, he wishes Javier would just shoot him in the head instead of staring at his damn forehead wrinkles like this.

It isn't as easy as a sing-a-long usually is.

Javier is mostly familiar with Uncle's instructions for playing various English songs: it's like this, then some godawful him-hawing that is somehow turned into notes, then it sound' happier than that, Javier, c'mon'ow. The rest of his catalogue is Spanish.

"If you listen close, I could teach you Corrido de Joaquín Murrieta," he says, and Arthur must look lost. Javier rubs his mouth, studying him. He speaks slower now, gesturing with his hand as if to lay out the letters: "Maybe La Llorona would be better. It's just a few lines."

He nods, but he can feel his eyes widen. "Sure thing. I can try."

"La Llorona," Javier repeats. It is slow, and his voice is absent of the teasing he'd surely turn on anyone else.

"La," — twisting the switchblade in his fingers in thought — "Um, juh—"

"What?" Javier cuts him off, and the taunting tone is risen. "Where did you get a juh from, vaquero?"

Arthur's face grows hot. They decide to leave the Spanish lessons for another day; he feels a little disappointed.

He likes hearing him sing in his mother tongue.

The songs of his own childhood were embedded in him later into it: bleary memories of Hosea, hair still blond and drunk as a fish, drumming to the beat on Dutch's back to irritate him as they all sang through prison song after prison song. It was most of what his father taught him, he had said once, because he spent all but three months of Hosea's youth in jail. The rest of them, Hosea learned firsthand.

By some stroke of luck, Javier knows one.

Well, the sheriff told his deputy; won't you go out and bring me Lazarus? A call to and back. Javier looks far happier than he should for such a song, stomping in time with Arthur.

Well, the sheriff tol—

"Shit!"

Blood drips from the juncture between his thumb and pointer finger, and Arthur tosses his pocket knife into the dirt as if it has teeth. Judging by the modest sized hole in his hand's webbing, it may as well.

"The Hell did you—? Dios, be more fuckin' careful," Javier hisses, raising to come to his side.

An odd type of pain blossoms from the puncture, and he cringes as he moves his thumb to allow Javier a decent look at it.

"I weren't payin' attention, blade was still out," Arthur explains. He peers at it, then shakes his head and turns away with a sneer. "There's a damn hole in me and it ain't hardly bleedin'. That ain't right."

Javier begins to say something, and then shuts his mouth around the first syllable. His fingers are careful where they splay Arthur's fingers open, touch the back of his hand. In another situation, it might even feel nice to have his skin stroked this way.

"I'll admit, it's... weird to look at."

The pad of a finger nears the opening and Arthur grimaces, partly from irritation and partly from an intrusive vision of Javier poking his finger right into the wound. It lights his nerves up, as if his body is as disgruntled by the thought as his brain is.

Oh, Jesus, that's a bad feeling.

"Why's it dark in there? Looks empty," he continues, and Javier laughs easily. "Where's the— I dunno, the muscles and shit?"

Javier retracts his touch, pats him on the head. "Shut up, chiquillo. I'll wrap it for you."

"That better not mean stupid," he gripes.

He huffs a laugh. "Nothing about your intelligence," he reassures. "Means you are a big baby." Arthur scoffs; still, he won't look at his hand. Javier approaches a snorting Boaz to rifle through his saddlebag, takes out a rag and tears a strip off. "I think it has a better ring to it."

On the larger portion of cloth, he tips water from the flask laying beside their tent. Javier works quick, but light; his hand is wrapped around the palm to let him flex it without opening the wound up for dirt and infection. It is a hard area to protect, they agree, but Arthur will survive.

He really doesn't know why it bothers him so much. His stomach ain't weak, not after the gore he's seen and caused — why's a tiny hole in his hand so freaky?

Javier settles by his side, after, and smooths a hand down the patch of forearm his rolled up sleeves exposes. It takes some of his mind off the dilemma of just what is inside his body, rubbing up on all of his bones — a horrible train of thought — to have his rough palm stroking his arm so tenderly.

"I can sing to you, instead," he offers, face relaxed again.

"I ain't on my deathbed," Arthur says.

The warmth in his face must speak for itself. Javier sings for a while, until his throat sparks up phantom pains.

It isn't the first time anyone has seen Strauss and Hosea dancing, but the pair bring Arthur to tears each time, tears of amusement. The alcohol in his system doesn't hurt, though a large dinner is absorbing his first beer, and fast.

They'd hit a gold mine — so to speak, if only — on the way home, a massive buck that Arthur's big girl could barely handle after a nasty field dressing. With its size and the money a best-cut hide could fetch, not to mention the antlers, it was worth the strain on his horse to bring it back home to Pearson and Hosea for skinning. Arthur made sure to find her a sugar cube for her hard work.

It happened to be found in Kieran's tent, but he will be too hungover in the morning to notice and Arthur, too hungover to remember his theft.

Their return didn't come without an nth retelling of Arthur's grand fish haul of yore, as Hosea called it, which made his face burn in something like shame, as it always does. Especially for Javier to hear it after teasing over his fishing skills so often; he had turned and asked if he still pays for his better catches at the market, considering...

Nor did the haul come without a party. None of the gang had seen so much meat in close to a year, let alone been able to eat any of it. Pearson said it ought to have weighed a hundred and ten pounds or more.

Javier clapped Arthur on his sore back with a toothy grin. We did good, and yes, they had, as far as Arthur was concerned. He shouldn't need to go hunting for a month.

Hallelujah.

And now Strauss is twirling Hosea around their campfire, struggling to reach over the taller man's head; Javier mindlessly strums new chords to an old song that Strauss half-remembered from Austria and taught the lot of them years ago, some leigst mir am Herzen, leigst mir im Sinn; Dutch is running his mouth to an unenthused Lenny, who seems to be trying in earnest to mumble the German words that Uncle is singing with his chest.

Arthur and Mary-Beth are vaguely following the other dancing couple, the woman quick to dodge his two boot-clad left feet to save her bare toes from crunching. What a sight those old coots make, stumbling around in a shoddy ländler and hollering every time Hosea is held like a lady would be.

A wasted Sean trades into Mary-Beth's spot followed by a shriek of laughter from the fire, and the lady joins Karen instead. Arthur is just tipsy enough to allow it.

Sean's skinny hand is clammy and dwarfed in his injured one, and both join in vaguely singing so, so, wie ich dich liebe! He can tell the Irishman is sloshed, not only by his breath and how often he accidentay kicks Arthur in the ankles, but because of how he presents his freckled cheek and batters his lashes at the end of the verse.

"You's the ugliest girl at the hoedown," Arthur grins, and can't name each man that finds the whole thing hilarious. He can name each one who finds him kissing his scruffy cheek funny, when Sean rolls his eyes and taps it: all of them laugh, a ruckus loud enough that they will be lucky to not have been ambushed by morning.

The joy hurts his face, though maybe the smile is more of a grimace after having his arms around the redhead, sniffing on that constant hay and liquor smell he carries.

He forgets it by trading for Karen's hand. She is much prettier; he gives her a kiss, too. She makes conversation on what happened to his hand, and offers a playful tut about his carelessness.

When, at last, the song changes twice over, he drops his ass to sit on a log beside a tuckering out Hosea. Rubbing the slight sheen of summer heat off of his face and accepting a beer from the old man, he swipes his gaze around the fire only to notice Javier is glaring daggers at him, fingers picking hard at the strings.

He raises his brows in a silent who, me? Dark eyes return to the neck of the acoustic, and he flubs a note as he begins the next song.

The look throws Arthur off, but he watches Javier playing, anyways. It's no safe bet: his heartrate drums a little faster whenever the man's eyes move from the frets or the body, anticipating a call-out and a what're you starin' at, queer? to save face.

Javier isn't hard to read nor please, as so many of the gang claim. If a man learns how to see his aggression and how to shut his trap appropriately, Javier tends to like him. He's knocking on the guitar body, now, introducing some percussion to the song between quick plucks of the strings.

It must be why the two of them have always gotten along so well. Hosea once told him his habit of wanting to placate others to an abnormal degree was because he was beat as a kid, but he was fifteen and...

He focuses his vision, blinks as it comes into relative sharpness again. "Hey, Hosea?"

Next to him, Hosea turns from speaking lowly to Dutch, who is crouching beside him with a cigar on his lip. He leans over to look at Arthur, too, as if he asked for both of them.

"Yes, son?"

"You remember when," — furrowing his brows, finding such a long sentence hard to string together as the last of his third beer settles into his bones — "I's a kid and you, uh... said I'm a people pleaser all 'cuz my daddy beat me?"

His brows shoot up. "Jesus," he whispers, mouth spreading in a smile that's all nerves and surprise before returning to its usual firm line. "I do. Why?"

"I want'a say 'm sorry for— uh, sayin' your daddy woulda beat you, too," Arthur apologizes, as sincerely as he can. Both of his fathers blanche. "Y'know, if he weren't locked up, he woulda..." He twirls his hand as if to demonstrate a longer explanation laying in the air before them, then scratches the back of his neck with it. "Sorry I said that t'ya. Them years ago."

Dutch grabs Hosea's arm as if to steady himself, mouth split in an amused grin. The blond sucks his lips in, and nods.

"Why, that had't've been a whole score ago," Hosea says. "Don' worry, son."

"I dunno," he says. "'S only time you ever slapped me."

Hosea's ears turn red, and he pats Arthur's bicep affectionately. "Well, I wasn't tryna be another type like your father."

"You's always like my real dad. Sorta."

He pauses, mouth opening and then closing as if he isn't sure how to respond to that drunken confession.

Dutch has sunk to his knees on the grass beside the log, leans over with an elbow on Hosea's thigh. "Say, son," he begins, tossing a thumb to Javier and speaking low. "Why don't you go back to gawkin' at your man in silence?"

It's his turn to blush. "I weren't... the fuck'chu mean," — raising his voice to match Dutch's strained tenor, cracking the words in half to piss him off — "My man, you sack of—?"

"Well," Hosea interjects, then, straightening his pants legs at the knees. He raises with a click of his joints. "Sounds like time for me to get outta here."

Hours pass, maybe two. Arthur's pissed twice counting this toilet run, downed two more beers, threw back two shots of something strong-tasting, and danced twice more. He is coming to like the number two.

Whoever gave Uncle a harmonica, however, Arthur does not like.

Sure, the man has clearly played one before, but every wandering cowboy has handled a harmonica. Someone must be able to make it sound better than this, so shrieking it's driven Arthur doubly as far away as he'd normally go to take a leak. The man who wrote this song, the one that the few remaining around the fire begin to stomp and clap to — Arthur's hand throbs, fingers fumbling at his fly — the feller who wrote my girl, my girl, in the pounds, in the pounds, so on and so forth... he must be rolling in his grave.

Javier could make the shrill cry of the harmonica sound good, he thinks idly. Teetering on wasted, fishing himself from his drawers in the darkness outside of camp's edge, he notices that the guitar stopped.

What kind of music would he play, if he were a musician? 

It's a lovely thought, now. Arthur is warm with alcohol and loose enough at the shoulders to entertain the fancy without self-flagellating. He'll have to chew on what Dutch teased him for when he's sober, if he remembers it at all, but for now he thinks of Javier as his man and feels a smile gnawing at him.

Does he want him like that?

Arthur isn't sure, but he thinks it is one of those rare scenarios where neutrality speaks more volumes than both disgust and adoration. A man who was merely lonely, in the sexual sense, wouldn't be so fond of another feller's voice, or the way he struts with his gun belt clanking and yelling out how big and bad he thinks he is, or—

"There you are, Arthur."

Javier's voice makes him jump, hands flinching. How does this guy always find him?

"Just about zipped my damn pecker off," he hisses, turning over his shoulder to glare at him.

Well, he hopes it's a glare. He has a hard time expressing the right things when he's shitfaced.

And Javier is getting close, placing a hand on the back of his neck and stroking the sweat-soaked skin there, clipped nails scratching the shortest hairs at his nape. He swallows a groan.

"Enjoying the party?" He asks, as if Arthur ain't pissing right there and as if he isn't tenderly caressing him all the while.

He shakes himself, stuffs his dick back in his pants and does them up. "I'm enjoyin' the drinks," he says. "Missin' the music."

Javier chuckles. He turns Arthur easily, slots his body to his with his arms around his waist; Arthur smells vodka on his breath, remembers him taking shots alongside the handful of them who had before the bottle ran out.

That's probably why I'm hammered.

"What'chu up to, mister?" He asks lightly. Javier's face, already unclear in the night, has turned to his chest. If Arthur isn't entirely lost, he thinks the man's stomach contracts short and quick where it presses to his own. "Javier. Are you sniffin' me?"

Alright, so he's hammered, too.

He leans back. The whites of his eyes near glow, the collar of his white shirt as stark; his dark hair fades into the background, but his dark eyes don't.

They're hot. At least, their fixation makes Arthur's face feel hotter, and he doesn't care if anyone sees them embracing like this.

"You smell good, vaquero," he says simply. He runs a hand up his right side, over the underside of the arm to splay it outwards before he wraps his fingers around those of his uninjured hand in an awkward, but tight hold. "I wanna dance with you. You didn't let me, earlier."

"Never asked, did you?" Arthur asks, confused.

"No. You had that Irish hog on your hip."

He balks. "For a minute, maybe." Despite himself, he puts his arm around Javier's shoulders, big enough to encircle them. "Is that why you kept lookin' at me like I called your momma a tart?"

Javier blinks, as if he is scanning his memory for what the word means. Then, he frowns. "Sean's an asshole," he repeats, and the softer syllables slur together. "He said my dick's small."

Where a sobered Arthur would laugh at the childish hint of hurt in his voice, he merely raises his brows.

"Were he lookin' at it?" He asks, unsure where the twinge of— whatever emotion that's chafing on him comes from.

Jealousy? Something like anger?

The cackle from the other man tells him the question came out wrong. "Aye, you know how to comfort a man, vaquero," he teases, and Arthur realizes where his words went wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, and then pauses. "Not that, uh, your prick's small." Javier goes quiet, lets him flounder with a smile pulling at his lips. "I mean, it's... it's real..." — flushing, wanting to stop talking immediately, but knowing Javier will press him until he finishes his sentence — "Nice. I just didn't mean to say it, at first."

"Oh, it's only nice?" Javier rubs a hand at the small of Arthur's back, where sweat pools beneath his button-down. "I'd figure—"

"I don't wanna know what you figure," he sputters, trying to save his own dignity. "God, c'mon, didn't you wanna dance?" Arthur squeezes his hand. "Let's dance, vacay-row."

Javier snorts. "If you stop butchering my language, we'll dance all night."

"How'd you say it, then?" Arthur asks, brows knitting in genuine dismay.

Inhibitions so forgotten, he feels wholeheartedly a need to impress Javier, as if a redneck speaking Spanish with a thick accent but moderate fluency would be able to. He ought to just shut his gob after one or two beers, seal right over it with tape maybe; Arthur never seems to think of that option until he's already knee-deep in an avoidable, embarrassing situation.

To his surprise, Javier replies gently: "Vaquero."

He tries his best, with his eyes peering into his soul like this. "Va... Va-kee-row."

"Close," Javier says. He glances around, then leans up and presses his lips to the lobe of Arthur's ear. His breath reeks of vodka, and he wanders how many shots he took to lose his apprehension about camp. Normally, he wouldn't spare Arthur a handshake two miles from this place. "Vaquero."

He swallows, throat clicking. "Vaquero."

A kiss is tucked behind the corner of his jaw. "There you go," he says. "Beun chico."

"Is that an insult?" Arthur asks, but lets himself relax anyways. "Sounds like what you said yesterday.

"Sí. It is a different insult, though."

He sighs. Javier grins, wide, looks so handsome. The urge to kiss him is difficult to resist. They haven't moved at all, a realization met in tandem.

Javier moves easier than he does, already poor at these close-quarters dances and stomach flipped by how his partner is much nearer than he needs to be. It does not sync to the music from camp, whatever that might be; his ears are ringing a little, Javier's nose pressed firmly into his neck and his breath steady and slow at it. Sleep might have taken him, if he weren't moving his feet alongside Arthur's, and he wanders if he's smelling him again. He can't smell like much besides perspiration and whatever men usually stink of when they've been rotting out in the woods.

His gentleness is nice.

If Arthur shuts his mind off, he only knows of Javier's heat against him and their legs stumbling together and how his fingers clumsily work over his hand and wrist until they finally lace with his. If he comes back into his mind to tune out the sounds of camp— he can focus on the bugs and birds chirping in the evening outside, a hot summer wind rustling the leaves, the sound of their clothes rustling together. Their palms are growing clammy where they meet.

It's nice, until Javier yanks himself away. If he were a dog, his ears would be pricked; instead, he snaps his face back toward camp. He storms off with a seething: "Some rat is playing my fucking guitar."

[gffa]

Okay, not to defend Gotham War or anything, but I think I'm talking myself into liking what I see it's trying to do. Starting with some great tags on this post:

#i get why people are hating on it i really really do. trust me#but TO BE FAIR... zdarsky has been making it overwhelmingly clear that bruce is SERIOUSLY unwell right now#like it's been nonstop Horrors for him for like. over a dozen issues straight. with no rest or time to process. and he doesn't have alfred#who was a HUGE part of his support system not to mention the finances etc etc#iirc there's even a panel that pretty much outright states that this is more of an issue of control than morality#and that includes the choosing sides thing like the batkids seem more concerned w how bruce is going off the fucking rails than#just the moral aspects#anyway (via @clownprince)

#Batman#Bruce Wayne#REAL#REAL REAL REAL#LIKE. Zur En Arrh is a LITERAL Defense Mechanism going Malignant at this point#Not only that but throughout Zdarsky's run there's been allusions to illnesses and Bruce Not Having A Good Time#Not Having a Good Time and Not Having Time At All to take stock of the sheer What The Fuck-ery that's been going on recently#Because it's been a CONSTANT steam of What The Fuck-ery nonstop#And the Worse is yet to come if one considers the future issues synopsis and the ''I am a Gun'' story by Zdarsky#(At most I'm a little bit concerned over how Zdarsky will try to wrap this up‚ but that's a normal concern especially about Comics)#(Especially Batman Comics considering how often Editorial likes to... do things) (via @kaosvrow)

I agree with so much of the criticism of Gotham War, especially that the arguments for or against Selina's plans are absolute garbage by characters who should be making better arguments and that the other characters are being used as bobbleheads instead of actually giving them their canon personalities--and, okay, I will also point out that in the VERY FIRST ISSUE, Selina's plan gets someone killed and so I'm willing to extend some grace that the story isn't trying to push forward that either way is actually right, I honestly don't think it's about that. I think it's a story about Bruce Wayne's mental state, because Zdarsky's been building this up for awhile now, like the issue immediately prior to Knight Terrors? Shows us Bruce's mental state is ALREADY absolute TRASH right then:

Zur-En-Arrh was already leaking through the seams of his mind, he was already feeling the impending doom of everything he cared about being burned away, that his mind literally couldn't watch his kids being happy and together and getting along without feeling like it was all burning to ash.

And then Knight Terrors happened, which was one more thing digging hard, boney fingers into his trauma, and he handled it pretty well in the moment, but it's such a giant, non-stop pile of stress on a mind that is already damaged to hell and back because of his trauma.

Further, the very first issue of the Gotham War storyline? The very first panel, the one that sets up the stage of what's going to happen, makes a very clear point about how this is about Bruce fracturing:

And then on the very next page, Zur-En-Arrh is literally stalking at the bars of the cage around Bruce's mind.

And then Bruce wakes up and it's immediately more establishing just how worried everyone is about him because so much has been piled on lately:

Bruce hides his missing hand from his family, just like he's trying to hide how scraped thin he is right now, and goes out on patrol.

Where his internal monologue is all about how defensive he feels lately, how he feels like the years are catching up to him, how nothing feels right but this, making it clear that Bruce is hanging onto Batman with a death grip because it's the only thing that feels stable to him right now.

And all of this is in the first TEN PAGES of the first issue, this is our set-up, this is our foundation, this is what we're being given to understand what this story is about. Then Batman #137 happens and it's literally ALL ABOUT BRUCE'S MENTAL SPACE, that Selina's plan is the catalyst, not the driving point behind all of it. Again, I'm in 100% agreement that the Batkids are acting like cardboard cutouts because you will never get me to believe that they didn't notice crime going down or that they wouldn't be pointing out that Gotham's wealthy are just going to start making their security lethal in response or that the Court of Owls won't step in, that this is not a long term solution to giving these people lives beyond crime, or even that a lot of them should be agreeing with Bruce, that they don't get to decide who is an acceptable victim. But the story isn't really about changing up the way comics deal with crime, it's about even the Batkids are framing it in terms of how it's about Bruce. Jason is really the only one who seems onboard with trying out Selina's plan, but even his confrontation with Bruce isn't really about that, it's about all their baggage, their fight immediately becomes about how angry Jason is at the way Bruce has treated him. This fight isn't happening because Jason's a true believer in Selina's plan, it's happening because he's angry at Bruce and Bruce is in a shitty mental place, after all the non-stop horrors AND feeling like he's been betrayed by the kids who he thought understood that people being victims wasn't acceptable, and so he lashes out at Jason.

When they fight, it's not because they're siding against Bruce, it's because he's become unstable and dangerous. The why of it doesn't matter, it's not about that.

(And I'm actually okay with the way that fight happened because I can buy that, for example, Cass might be holding back against him, she's a stronger fighter than he is, but he's being ruthless because of the state he's in, while she might be feeling more cautious.) When they fight, it's not because they're siding against Bruce, it's because he's become unstable and dangerous. The why of it doesn't matter, it's not about that. Even further, when Bruce fights against his kids, he's wrong and biased, especially in the fight with Dick, who he thinks has a sloppy offensive and doesn't know darkness like he does--to which Dick just immediately cracks him in the face because, yeah, Dick Grayson does know darkness and Bruce isn't as untouchable as he's trying to make himself seem (because being Batman is all he has right now).

I think it's important that it's Dick who defies his expectations here, because this story is building off context of what happened between Selina and Bruce, that they were truly together for awhile, they were about to get married--Selina mentions that it the first issue, it's a major thorn in that conversation when she throws out how she doesn't believe that Gotham needs Batman anymore, it needs her.

She's giving him what he said he always wanted, she's giving him the thing that kept them apart, he should be happy, should they head to the church now? Saying that he won't because he wants to be Batman more than he wants to solve the city's problems.

The failed wedding between them is important in part because of what Selina's saying here, illustrating that both of them are bringing a lot of baggage to the table but also because of what else happened during that storyline, why the context is so important. Because that storyline dovetailed into one about Bane wanting to take over Gotham and he needed Batman unstable and distracted, which was working after Selina left him at the altar, he was a mess. But you know what was saving him at the time, bringing him back from the ledge? THIS KID:

Dick was the one poking and prodding at Bruce with jokes and warmth and care and it was working. He actually got Bruce to cry in front of him, to release some actual genuine emotion!

Dick makes Bruce more emotionally stable, to the point that Bane had to hire KGBeast to shoot Dick in the head just because he was so good at stabilizing Bruce--this is also why Dick's the one who says he'll go talk Bruce down off his moral ledge in Batman #137.

So, it's Dick that has to be the one to defy his expectations in the fight, has to be the one who breaks through Bruce's offense and knocks him down in what feels like a betrayal even when it isn't, because this isn't a story about who's right and who's wrong, it's a story about Bruce isolating himself because he's mentally fractured to hell and back, because he's not trusting his kids, he's still hurt by Selina leaving him, he's still grieving Alfred's death, he's run ragged physically and emotionally and mentally by a series of exhausting horrors piled on him, he's lost his family's fortune, he's not even living in his own family home anymore. (I focus on Dick here as an illustration of tying this back to previous examples of Bruce crumbling and important context that the storyline is drawing on, but Gotham War isn't really specifically about Bruce and Dick's relationship, but more about Bruce's relationship with all his kids, like Tim and Jason and Damian all have equally important moments. But it's a very direct example of how his children are a huge part of his support system and draw him back from the ledge of being just Batman and back into being Bruce.) That's why the issue ends with Bruce getting the papers telling him that the bank sold Wayne Manor to Vandal Savage, because it's one more thing that's stripping Bruce Wayne away from the character, and leaving him with nothing but Batman and Zur-En-Arrh. Gotham War isn't actually a story about a war for Gotham. It's a story about Bruce Wayne going out of control and everything is written to serve that. The characters' fights are catalyzed by Selina's plans, but they quickly become about Bruce's relationship with the characters. The narrative makes heavy-handed points about Bruce feeling like he's losing his grip, that he's hallucinating and talking to himself, that he is extremely mentally unwell right now. Everything Zdarsky's been writing (like especially the "I Am a Gun" storyline right before Knight Terrors) has been building up to fracturing Bruce Wayne.