#woo it's gordon's time for this!

[wysteriaisapenguin]

Ah, the great Gordon Gresley. Driver of the #4 Blue Engine. 

The Biggest, Fastest, Expressiest Steamie on Sodor. 

That is you, isn’t it? 

Was slightly inspired by this piece by @bruhstation

[marcelineuntitled]

WARREN BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[twofacedharveydent]

•  Sequel to We Were Born Sick  & Wasteland   •  

XXXI:   A Storm is Coming FFN | WP

"From everything I've heard, Falcone really respected your father, Jim. I don't think he had anything to do with what happened to him." Bird said.

"I have to speak with him." Jim's head tilted to the side, silently adding if anyone should understand that it's her after she worked so hard to find out the truth behind her own parents' murders.

Up to and including killing the person who'd actually carried out the hit against them.

"I heard he's back in Gotham," Jim said.

"Just taking care of some real estate business, to my understanding." Bird nodded, "But Jim, you cannot just storm the castle. You get that, right? He isn't going to help you with anything anymore, ever again. Not after Mario."

"Yeah, I figured that."

Bird's face twisted. He hadn't just brought her there to tell her what he had found out about his father's death. When he said he needed her help, he meant he needed her to try to talk to Carmine Falcone.

"Uh-uh." Bird shook her head and stepped back, "I didn't just burn that bridge, Jim. I decimated it!"

"I understand that, but-"

He tried to cut in, but Bird released a near-manic laugh that stopped him cold.

"You don't get it, Jim!" She did her best to maintain her composure but was doing poorly with it.

Everything tag list: @missecharlotte , @darknightfrombeyond , @arrthurpendragon , @raith-way , @ocappreciationtag

Message me if you’d like to added or removed from the list.

[autismswagsummit]

The Bracket has been set!

This year's competitor pool is hot, with 23 returning competitors and 41 new appearances. In Round 1, the matches will be broken up into 4 waves, divided by the quadrants displayed on the bracket. The matches will all be listed below the cut, for everyone's reference.

SIDE A, PART 1

Donatello Hamato (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) v.s L Lawliet (Death Note)

Mary Anta (Cemetery Mary) v.s Rui Kamishiro (Project Sekai)

Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia) v.s Branch (Dreamworks Trolls)

Snufkin (Moominvalley) v.s Futaba Sakura (Persona 5)

Gordon Freeman (Half Life) v.s Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes)

Blathers (Animal Crossing) v.s Princess Bubblegum (Adventure Time)

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) v.s Zane (Lego Ninjago)

Tomoko Kuroki (Watamote) v.s Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy 7)

SIDE A, PART 2

Frieren (Sousou no Frieren) v.s Papyrus (Undertale)

Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) v.s Ferb Fletcher (Phineas & Ferb)

Stanford Pines (Gravity Falls) v.s Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Berdly (Deltarune) v.s Gregory House (House M.D)

Data (Star Trek) v.s Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland)

Peridot (Steven Universe) v.s Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Sig (Puyo Puyo) v.s Marcy Wu (Amphibia)

Jotaro Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) v.s Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

SIDE B, PART 1

Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece) v.s Alhaitham (Genshin Impact)

Laios Touden (Dungeon Meshi) v.s Iggy Maxwell (Our Wonderland)

Dendy (OK KO: Let's Be Heroes) v.s Gin Ibushi (Your Turn To Die)

Norma Khan (Dead End: Paranormal Park) v.s Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Starfire (Teen Titans) v.s Luz Noceda (The Owl House)

Siffrin (In Stars And Time) v.s Huey Duck (Ducktales 2017)

Lilo Pelekai (Lilo & Stitch) v.s Saiki Kusuo (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Woo Young Woo (Extraordinary Attorney Woo) v.s Miles "Tails" Prower (Sonic the Hedgehog)

SIDE B, PART 2

Razputin Aquato (Psychonauts) v.s Linhardt von Hevring (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Ranpo Edogawa (Bungou Stray Dogs) v.s Entrapta (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries) v.s Kieran (Pokemon Scarlet & Violet)

Twyla Boogeyman (Monster High) v.s Marina Ida (Splatoon)

Hiccup Haddock (How To Train Your Dragon) v.s Batman (DC Comics)

Abed Nadir (Community) v.s Red Son (Lego Monkie Kid)

Uzi Doorman (Murder Drones) v.s Bingo Heeler (Bluey)

Gillion Tidestrider (Just Roll With It) v.s Spongebob Squarepants (Spongebob Squarepants)

[sbggarakungfood]

Why Jay Deserves the Villain Arc (why it suits him)

His name is Jay Walker

He has Cliff Gordon's DNA. Cliff Gordon. The one who has the book of "wooing women", who of course targeted the master of lightning, and oh right! He's an actor, I'm sure it's easy for him to pretend to be someone else, being perceived as "cute" by Libber, to be able to get her, though I'm still wondering why's she suddenly being chased when Jay was still a baby, making her run away alone with baby Jay, who potentially has the elemental power of lightning, and putting him in the junkyard so that her baby can be safe, so then the former master of lightning FINALLY can DISAPPEAR. Jay isn't like Cg. because Ed n Edna raised him. But let's make a big deal out of it anyway. (he still has his charm though).

Jay planned to destroy the top floor of a building TWICE. And SUCCEEDED. He wasn't even a villain that time. Can’t wait to see how many buildings he'll destroy when he unlocks his villain true potential.

There's a possibility where Jay would throw away the moral values for a mission. This has been proven in s5 when he suggested thievery when he took the lead.

This post. (Not just about the biting thing) I know it's a tease but listen at how easy for him to threaten somebody. He threatens to zap Kai, next season, he threatens to bite Cole. Even though he didn't do it, threatening the main characters is supposed to be a villain thing.

There's a chance he'll laugh after he electrocutes somebody. Then electrocutes them again.

Experienced in having a cult.

[abbysimsfun]

🎄🎁🎅🏾 Happy Holidays From the Nesbitt-Landgraab-Gordons ☃️🦌🤶

However you spend this time of year, may the season be full of family and friends you love as much as this crew loves each other.

It's not Winterfest in game, but I wanted holiday-themed photos of Lavender as a toddler so this was Heather and Conrad's attempt to give Hazel a nicer holiday memory than the one that just passed. No matter what Hazel did wrong, she's family and they have her back.

She'll need their support when she finds out her ex-wife is going on a reality TV show to woo another woman's heart and (maybe but we'll hope not?) air their dirty laundry...

Bonus pic of Gord going straight over to Lavender at the end of the photoshoot for a nuzzle because he adores her. 🤗

Thank you @starrysimsie for your Family Time posepack (this was a collab so I was unsure whether to delete it - if these collabs are no longer supported, someone please let me know the etiquette), and thank you @simmerika for your Dog Mom poses! I adore them all so much.

And thank you to acha-sims Lovers 2 poses yet again for giving me a beautiful shot of Gen 1 lovebirds Daisy and Neal modelling the last two CAS items from the Cozy Celebrations event. I had already done the holiday shoot for Gen 2 and wanted a nice photo of Heather's parents in their mid 50s looking ️‍🔥:

I got it together with the photo wall! Not the most gorgeous photo wall you'll ever see, but the nostalgia factor satisfies me, regardless. It's a work in progress and some of the dupes will switch out over time. I might go overboard and turn the entire upstairs hallway into a room full of photo walls!

This is the newest addition to the collection, because look at it, even with a Conrad crotch shot I didn't even notice until I'd framed it on the wall! Their Aunt Hazel calls it "Ashy and Super Lava Save Winterfest!"

(No one tell Nancy that Heather could've put him in red and green for the Landgraabs' Winterfest portrait after all.)

More Holiday Fun: Winterfest With Bella Goth and Her Family

Regular installments return tomorrow (and then back to every other day now that the holidays are over), when Heather and Conrad attempt to teach Ash some empathy while volunteering at a soup kitchen! ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

[bowelfly]

what are your favorite "wuxia-adjacent" kung fu movies?

hm okay so i started compiling a list but once it got to almost 50 films i realized that i was doing that thing again where i get too excited about recommending shit and go way overboard, plus i was starting to split hairs as to what counts as wuxia and i hate getting fussy about genre delimitations. so instead i'm going to just recommend three films that feel wuxia-adjacent to me and that i particularly love. in this case i'm thinking of movies that contain gravity-defying martial prowess and larger than life characters and stories, but aren't full-on Ti Lung in a big robe flying around on wires chopping up 500 dudes style wuxia--which obviously i also love but i'm sticking to the question's parameters here.

The 8 Diagram Pole Fighter - this and the next film were both directed and choreographed by Lau Kar-leung, who for my money is probably the greatest martial arts director of all time, or at least in very close competition with Yuen Woo-ping. the fights are great, every single character in this film is at an 11 on the intensity meter the whole time, and the final setpiece in this is one of the most insane things ever put to film.

Dirty Ho - most comedy in martial arts films is tolerable at best and excruciating more often than not. this has probably the best gag hit-rate of any kung fu comedy i've seen, and also has some of the all time greatest scenes of dudes having deadly martial arts duels while pretending to not fight, which is a favorite of mine. also like the last film this stars Gordon Liu who fucking rules.

Crippled Avengers - had to include a Venom Mob film in here. directed by Chang Cheh, the king of old school Shaw Bros gorefests, this one has a perfect mix of absurd bloody violence, superhuman stunts, and roiling homoerotic tension. i could just as easily recommend Five Element Ninjas which is also a classic Cheh/Venom Mob bloodbath but if i had to choose just one i'd have to go with this.

anyone who's into classic martial arts cinema is likely already very familiar with these films but while i considered going for some deeper cuts, these were the ones that really kickstarted my own journey into the glorious world of Shaw Bros martial arts films and are thus very close to my heart.

while i'm at it, i am going to include a bonus recommendation for what assuredly counts as just a straight up wuxia but it's an all-timer: Duel to the Death. at one point in this film there's a giant ninja that explodes into a bunch of regular sized ninjas. another time a guy's head gets cut off, delivers a monologue, and explodes. perfect film. i love movies.

[tracybirds]

Happy @thunder-pride to @knyee!! I'm your giftee and I hope you enjoyyyyyy <3 Aroace Scott and some background Pen and Ink :)

---

Gordon flopped down onto the lounger beside Scott, reaching into the cooler for a drink. Scott raised his own bottle in acknowledgement, his eyes not leaving the horizon.

“I’m sorry we had to drag you away from your date,” said Scott. “You call her yet?”

“Nah,” said Gordon. “It’ll be the middle of the night now. We’ll make it up some other time.”

He glanced sideways and grinned. “Beside, you know Penelope. She’ll be thrilled we owe her a favour. You know how she’s always trying to get everyone ‘out in society’ and all. Tell her you’ll do a double date to one of those charity galas and she’ll forgive you in an instant.”

Scott gave a wry grin. “I think you might want to ask someone else for that favour.”

“Oh come on,” said Gordon. “We both know Virgil’s hopeless at getting a date, and Alan’s far too young.”

“John?”

Gordon gave him an incredulous look. “We can barely get John to visit us.”

“At least he has a standing date already,” said Scott with a shrug.

“John does? Who?!” demanded Gordon. Amber liquid sloshed out of his bottle, spilling onto his lap as he sat upright. He shook his head and pointed at Scott. “Never mind, you’re trying to distract me so you can worm out of this.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“But why?” asked Gordon. “People love you and I hate to admit it, but you look pretty spectacular when you’re dressed to the nines and someone else has styled your hair.”

Scott glared at him.

“I don’t want to spend an evening charming someone into thinking I want something I’m not interested in giving,” he said shortly. “And I want to participate in uninspired conversation with diplomats and world leaders while you disappear to woo your Lady even less.”

“Alright, alright,” said Gordon, rolling his eyes. “Geez, what’s with the sour grapes, I’m the one who lost their evening. Although maybe if you spent a few more nights off this island, you’d be less snappy.”

 Scott flinched. Warring emotions swirled in his head, instinctive anger slowly beaten back by a dawning realisation.

“Are you just saying that to be a jerk? Or do you not know?”

Gordon looked at him strangely. “You’re a jerk, jerkface. I was being serious.”

“Real mature,” muttered Scott. He stood and stretched, looking down at Gordon with an unreadable expression.

“What?” demanded Gordon. “Come off it Scott, I was just messing around. Sorry if it struck a nerve.”

“I’m aroace,” said Scott.

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Oh! Oh shit, I didn’t know… wait, how did I not know?”

“I guess I’m just too charming and good-looking,” said Scott dryly, and Gordon barked a laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s not a secret,” said Scott. “I thought you knew, we had a whole party about it when I was in high school.”

“Oh, right, so you mean when I was like five,” said Gordon, unable to hold back his laughter. “Yeah, that was a real formative memory for me, one of my boring older brothers hanging out with his boring friends and not wanting to play in the sprinkler.” He grinned. “I was probably just there for the cake.”

“I certainly was,” said Scott. He picked up his empty bottle. “Right, I’m turning in. Don’t stay up too late talking with Penelope.”

“I will,” said Gordon grinning. “By the way, do you want me to get her to back off on the whole society scene?”

Scott laughed. “I’d like to see you try. It’ll take a miracle to convince Penelope that the Tracy bachelors aren’t cut out for her kind of party.”

Well,” said Gordon. “I feel like I worked some sort of miracle to start going out with her. I might have another one in me still.”

“Save it,” advised Scott. “You’ll be needing it at some point I’m sure.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Lawrence Gordon - In a relationship

Warning : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, implied smut, chance of mind, loss of a foot

Info : So back at it again with another Saw fic and this time our favorite doctor Lawrence Gordon Ladies and Gentleman. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

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

°Loving and Obsessive

°You would meet in medical school, he on his way to becoming a doctor and you a nurse. You would study together in the big library and meet from time to time outside the university. What were initially coffee dates soon became restaurant visits and more romantic gestures from Lawrence. He loved to give you the flirt and tease you until you could finally see each other again.

°The late night learning led to you waking up together in a bed with books and papers spread out and you felt his arm around you as he murmured ,,Good morning" to you. The time between you was full of love and you even thought for a while that you would move in together and get married so lovingly he treated you. So often he had given you gifts, adored you and loved you.

°But when you both finished your studies, it was he who showed up with another woman by his side. A doctor not a nurse like you, it was she he took with him and left you behind. An incident that saw and even took you some time to start working in a hospital always with the fear that you would meet him.

°But with time the pain passed and you seemed to be over it, much to your delight. Until you took a new job in a new hospital and ran into a certain doctor on your ward. ,,Lawrence?" she said in confusion, seeing the man she had once loved as older, handsomer and prettier. But she saw the gold ring on his finger and how he looked at her in surprise and didn't seem to believe that she was here with him.

°But she walked past him, left him standing there and felt him looking after her. But she quickly had to admit to herself that her heart had never stopped beating for him, that she still loved him and that his advances to woo her were becoming more and more obvious. At first it was apologies and gestures, but when he reached for her in the medicine room and she let the door fall shut, it was silent between them.

°His bright eyes went to hers and she saw him watching her again with that loving expression before they kissed and found each other again in the darkness of the room. Knowing that he was married, the relationship between them was stronger than ever. But she noticed that he was becoming more cunning, perhaps even a little arrogant in his work and loved it when she praised him.

°She still loved it when he could give her presents and she was his pretty jewel. Until the incident when he suddenly disappeared and was gone for months he had disappeared during which time you searched for him not giving him up and found out through a couple of relationships how his wife had not been seen either. Had he disappeared?

°No, after months of pain and crying because you thought he had left you after all, someone rang your doorbell at night. Standing at the door in the rain was a frail, aged Lawrence Gordon. There was pain and apology in his gaze before tears came to your eyes and you fell into his arms before calling him in.

°But the biggest shock was when you watched him as his eyes fled from the light that seemed too bright, his different gait and you saw the prosthetic on his foot. How you made him soup and gave him blankets and towels and held him while he stifled his tears and reached for the painkiller instead.

°Since then he had changed and didn't want to tell you what had happened, you helped him to get better as best you could and had long since become so devoted to him that he was your everything and vice versa. But in his new way he had a goal, a goal which he took more seriously than anything else. But at some point you found out yourself what had happened when you met Lawrence with John in your house at night.

°You knew the older man, you had seen him in the hospital and the fact that he was the Jigsaw killer would have almost pulled the rug out from under you if Lawrence hadn't supported you. But since then you've been another piece of the puzzle in the game, you've been the eyes and ears in the hospital, and like Lawrence, you've become more and more absorbed in his new role, his new purpose.

He still loved you and took you, but the ropes with which he tied you up, looked at you and let you hang from the ceiling seemed to get tighter and tighter. His gestures more demanding and more demanding but his voice every time made you lose your mind while you took your role and he gave you everything you wanted. You were his darling.

°You came with him to the meeting of the victims, standing by his side with your hand on his shoulder. How he saw there his walking stick in the hand that you had chosen with him. It only made him more handsome for you and you both pulled the strings like spiders in the background during the games.

°It was you who stood at the end, carrying on the legacy and yet giving yourselves to each other. You took the heart he had and he gave you the love you needed. You were the king and queen in the game.

---------

@a-writer-on-elm-street

[neutron-stars-collision]

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 19 - You'll be the promise, I'll be the scream

Masterlist; Chapter 18 Summary: The aftermath of Riddler's words. You're forced to face the fears and talk to Bruce. Neither of those is an easy feat... Warnings: 18+; tones of angst, R's internal crisis and... them smuts ✨ Author's Notes: Woo, she made it! Incredible! Outstanding achievement. Seriously, though, I know it's been a while. To compensate - this one is long. Like 10.7k long. And it's also explicit bc them idiots needed tension release of the traditional kind :))))) It's probably only one chapter and epilogue left now so... getting emotional. A little bit. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now... buckle up, 'kay? You're gonna needed. (I know they're idiots). Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5 (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

(gif credit: @makoto-shinkai)

Returning to the Wayne Tower from Arkham felt like a fevered dream. You could barely remember how you got there from the street by your house where you had directed Gordon to drop you off. Only that no matter the distance from the prison, your heart did not get any lighter.

Riddler’s words still rang out loud and clear in your head, slowly driving you crazy. The tower was blessedly quiet and empty when you reached the study and collapsed into the armchair. One look at the phone screen and a quick read of the only text that awaited you confirmed the expected – Bruce was already out and would be back later. Probably much later. Which was good. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted by someone you could not lie to. All hopes shattered when Dory walked into the room not a quarter of an hour later.

It was easy to pretend then, quickly falling back into the role you knew well. You smiled when appropriate, forced down a meal that could not be contested and produced a lie that worked in your favour. Dory had no clue. It did not matter that your heart was breaking beneath the performance. You were stellar, as always.

It was a relief to have her retire to her room not long after you finished eating. You were finally alone. It was a no-brainer to turn down all the unnecessary lights and carry your stuff to your bedroom, closing the door behind your back. You got as far as sitting down at the foot of the bed when your brain caught up. The memories came rushing in, Riddler’s voice as clear as in that cell, taunting you just like he did. What if he was right? What if your father was a monster, and you were following in his footsteps? There were no answers. Frantic brain kept running through all the pieces you had ever written, quickly finding those Nashton could have meant. The times when you were relentless, pushed too far. The times when you should have stopped. The solution was simple – he was right.

The steady stream of tears rushed down your cheeks, smudging the mascara you had recklessly put on in the morning as you lied down on the covers and curled up. The weight on your chest was not going anywhere, making it hard to breathe. Near impossible to leave the spiral once you got absorbed in it. An endless onslaught of self-hatred poured out along with the quiet sobs that wrecked your frame. Each thought felt like your heart being ripped out, piece by piece. The smithereens bled onto the duvet as your mind circled back, time and time again, to that one idea.

The worst one of them all. The fear that you would hurt Bruce. That it was all you were capable of doing, destroying what you held dear. Perhaps it had already happened; the guillotine was let loose. About to slash your neck, once and for all. Maybe it would’ve been for the best.

After a while, the tears had dried out, the parched throat begging for a glass of water. But you did not want to move. Did not seem to have the strength to do so. Slowly, you raised your head enough to see the inky skies outside, for once free from rain clouds. The moon peered shyly into the room, painting the floor silver. The thoughts were still there. The pain had not left.

You were almost close to dozing off from exhaustion when faint creaks of the floorboards in the corridor outside made you open your eyes. Someone stopped right by your door, hesitating. Somehow, you knew who it was before they decided and pressed the handle. For a split second, you mourned that you had left the door unlocked. Then Bruce stepped inside, and all you could do was close your eyes against the sudden pinprick of pain in your chest. The silence was deafening. Almost enough to make you speak and answer the thousands of questions he seemed to have. You never got quite that far.

As if reading your mind, Bruce closed the door behind his back and slowly approached the bed. His body was tense, uncertainty visible in every move. You could only imagine what he saw when he came closer. You did not dare to move, passively staring at his approaching form until Bruce stopped two feet away from the bed and raised his head. Enough so you could see his expression. The haunting blue eyes were now flooded with concern and fear. Before you could dwell on what you saw, Bruce spoke:

“What happened?” his husky tone dripped with worry, making you wince from the sound alone.

But you did not feel like giving in to him just yet.

“You could’ve knocked, you know” aware of the tear tracks tainted with ink from the mascara on your cheeks, you did your best to glower at him.

Judging by the defeated look you got back, it was a futile attempt. Bruce took another step closer, visibly pondering whether he should sit next to your slumped form.

“Come on, don’t give me that. What happened?” his tone softened a notch, enough to make your heart pick up its pace.

And to make you sit up, silently offering space should he want it. Training your mind on the floor, you whispered:

“I met him” you could hear the unspoken question in the heavy silence, forcing you to add, quieter still, “Riddler,”

Bruce gasped as if he had been hit in the stomach.

“What? Why?” the disbelief in his voice made you look up.

Seeing the horror on his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing. It was enough to make shame bloom in the pit of your stomach, yet again making you wish you could disappear. But there was no divine intervention. No opening pit in the ground or a merciful hand to end it for you. As if subconsciously wanting to make the pain worse, you forced yourself to look him in the eye as you spoke:

“Because I wanted to. I was curious, so I asked Gordon to take me to him after the witness statement” as soon as the words were out, you could feel the tears welling up.

Because hearing it said like that spoke volumes about your idiocy. How it all could have been avoided if not for your lack of logic. It was not surprising to hear Bruce groan in response,

“Jesus Christ,” a muttered curse dropped from his lips as he covered his face with his hands for a beat, then raised it to fix you with a glare, “Why did you-”

Somehow you knew what was coming. And that you would not survive it if Bruce scolded you, pointing out all the ways you had fucked up and the reasons why you could never be enough. For him or anybody else. So, you interjected his incoming rant with the wavering voice:

“Please, don’t. I know it was stupid, and it definitely taught me a lesson” it was impossible to hide the pain from your tone, keen on getting the message, “So if you’re going to berate me, I’d rather you left” what was supposed to be a stern warning, never got that far.

Instead, the condition sounded weak, like a thinly veiled plea for mercy. And it was not wrong. To your immense surprise, it worked. Bruce visibly winced as his words seemed to catch up with him.

“God, no. I’m sorry” seeing immediate contrition felt good enough for you to nod your head in agreement to his silent question, allowing Bruce to sit down and finish the thought, “I just… What did he say to you?” he kept his distance yet the softness in his voice felt like a reassuring hand-squeeze.

You glanced at him, hoping to convey the gratitude. But even that was not enough to make you eager to tell the tale.

“Many, many things” a choice for the moment was a tentative opening.

A quick attempt at dodging the question if Bruce allowed you.

“I’ve got time,” he didn’t; leaning back a fraction to appear at ease.

To highlight that he wanted to hear it, that he had nothing else to do but listen to your sob story of naivety and stupid decisions. From the look in his eyes, you could tell you had no other choice. Letting out a sigh as a preamble, you shifted your gaze back onto the floor. You could already feel the familiar burn of tears.

“Um… in a nutshell, my father was a monster directly responsible for what happened to your mother. I’m exactly the same, devoted to the job so much that nothing else matters” you heard Bruce’s sharp breath intake but did not grant yourself the right to look at him, “He asked when am I going to destroy you and finish what my father started” the wobbling voice cracked as new tears streamed down your cheeks again, ever so eager to make an appearance; they forced out the most vulnerable of confessions you could give him then “The worst part is that I think he’s right” there it is, as always.

Without giving you time to dissolve into sobs that choked up your throat, Bruce moved, his careful fingers lifting your chin so he could lock his eyes with yours. There was no escape from his knowing stare as he delicately swept his thumb over your tear-streaked cheeks before dipping lower to trace your cupid’s bow. Unable to hold his tender gaze, you closed your eyes.

“He’s not,” the gentle whisper was filled with conviction.

But it was not enough to convince you. Not quite enough to stop the vicious thoughts.

“But-” your protest got silenced before you could get a word out.

As if knowing what you needed, Bruce leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before squeezing your hand with his unoccupied palm. Reluctantly you opened your eyes, realising the intended effect. He had your full attention.

“Listen to me. The point of that conversation was to rile you up. To make you believe those things and go insane because of them,” his firm tone captured your mind, as did the heat in his eyes, betraying the anger Bruce felt on your behalf, “He loved every second because this is what he does. He gets under your skin, feeds on guilt and insecurities and amplifies them” tangling his fingers with yours in what felt like second nature, Bruce allowed the passion give way to fondness, strengthening the message “But the main point is that it was all bullshit” on its own accord, your mouth twisted into a weak smile, triggered by something as unusual as hearing him curse “Nothing else” he finished the speech with another hand squeeze as he raised your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

The gesture, along with everything he said, made your head spin. The logical part of your brain knew Bruce was right. But it was a small fraction of an overall emotional consciousness, which would not be settled quite so easily. You hoped that perhaps the longer you stared into his eyes, the more convinced you would become.

Leaning into his palm that still cupped your cheek, you whispered a question:

“How can you be so sure?” one that you were scared to ask but still needed to know.

To understand what it was that Bruce saw, that you were blind to. Why he trusted you when he should not?

“Because I know you,” his confidence did not waver as he offered the response without hesitancy, “I know that you care about everyone around you, that you would do anything for those you hold dear. And that, above all, you’re a good person” Bruce concluded his speech with another kiss on your forehead, a rare sure smile hiding in the corners of his lips.

At once, the vicious voices in your head grew silent, emptying the space of all that was not affection and gratitude. Even if just for a moment. The prickling tears were not going anywhere as you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Bruce’s hand clasping yours. For the first time during that long day, you felt the stifling weight lift off your chest.

“Shit, you’re going to make me cry, sweetheart” cracking a weak joke, you risked a glance at his reaction following the nickname.

Bruce grinned, no longer pretending to mask the fondness with an eye roll. Even with the haze of tiredness quickly descending over your head, you greatly appreciated the change. Enough so to creep a little closer still and lean your head on his shoulder, covertly inhaling the familiar scent of laundry detergent, expensive cologne and dampness of the terminus. A strange concoction that already felt like home, although you would never admit it.

“I mean it, though” Bruce gently rested his head on top of yours, cementing the sentiment and leaving another rush of warmth burning in your chest.

It was hard to fill the silence with anything else. Save maybe for the things you couldn’t say. After a beat, you found the safest question and gave it a voice:

“How- Um… How was your day?” the pathetic quiver shook your vocal cords.

Before you could give yourself a moment to marinate in shame while listening to his answer, Bruce carefully extracted himself from your embrace and stood up. Upon your questioning look, he murmured:

“One sec” already moving towards the ensuite, he kept speaking, “Selina asked to meet up with me, so I went to see her… She’s left the city, actually” you stared as Bruce entered the room a few seconds later, clutching a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads.

It took another three seconds for his words to sink in and for you to understand them. What it meant and how it made you feel. Strange. Conflicted. Fucking confused, among others. The attempts at words got stuck in your throat when Bruce sat next to you on the duvet and wordlessly prepared the make-up remover, waiting for you to tip your chin forward. Your body moved before you told it to, closing the gap yet again. He did not hesitate before leaning in to begin wiping off the mess from your face with a look of pure concentration.

It felt strange to be under his scrutiny, mindful of all the different issues you could catalogue on your face. Of all the ways Bruce could find you lacking. Not enough compared with someone like her.

“Oh… okay,” remembering that it was your turn to speak, you blurted out the only question you desperately needed to be answered, “You didn’t want to go with her?”

There. Your heart lying in his open palm, ready to be crushed. Not for the first time since you had met.

Bruce took his time, meticulously wiping off the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes, his gaze never straying from your face. You did not dare think about what he must have seen there.

“No, of course not” cutting through the uncertainty, Bruce offered a reply that gave no room for interpretation, at once meeting your worried look with a ready explanation, “I spent too much time fighting for Gotham just to leave it on a whim” he swallowed hard as if finally caught by the doubts, clearly debating whether what he wanted to say next should be spoken; then, he made up his mind “Plus, it was never like that between us” the meaningful look was impossible to miss, as was the unspoken implication of what he meant; the combination was enough to fortify the blush on your cheeks  “She’s glad you’re fine after what happened. And that you’re staying too,”

The final comment was another surprise, spiking your heart rate to a faster beat. Because it suggested one thing you did not consider – Bruce talked with Selina about you. That you were important enough to be a conversation topic. Selina took her time to think about what she witnessed.

And that Bruce wasn’t going to leave. You still had time, for better or worse. Using the tidbit of information as your needed courage inspiration, you reached your hand to his, curling your fingers around his wrist. Just to keep him close.

“Are you? Happy I’m staying?” the thin band of skin-to-skin contact offered the push you needed to ask what you wanted.

The second most important matter after Bruce staying in Gotham.

Bruce used the final clean cotton wipe to erase the dried-up coats of foundation from the bridge of your nose and lowered his hands, freeing your face. His blue eyes stayed right where they were, sometimes meeting yours, at other times fixed on your mouth. Enough so to wreak havoc in your head and heart. At last, Bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, his other hand coming down to cover yours, still encircling his wrist. The light pressure of his touch was enough to ground you, making the wait for his answer seem bearable.

“More than I know how to express” even with the anticipation, his reply took you by surprise, making you gasp as you were suddenly too bashful to look him in the eye; and for a good reason, “The meeting with Selina made me think about some things and…” you glanced up, the breath caught in your throat as you watched Bruce ponder something again; it was impossible to tell where it was leading “Before you, I was never brave enough to want. The feeling was there, the desires and the needs, but I never gave in to them. Slowly, I learnt how to repress it and shove it so far down that I almost thought I’m resistant” oh; your head flew back up fast enough to make your spine crack, head unable to comprehend the meaning without getting overwhelmed, only to find Bruce staring right back; his blue eyes sure and firm in their unwavering belief “Then you happened” oh.

The confession felt important. Crucial in its significance, like nothing else before it. Tangible like the pressure of his hand over yours and the heat of his body across the narrow space. Terrifying like the depths of feelings in your heart and head. You did not know what made him say it. Caught speechless by the admission, you could only whisper:

“Sorry,” shyly biting into your lower lip until Bruce tugged it free.

Your tender skin was burning from his touch. Thousand more apologies for turning his life on its head died on your tongue as you felt the familiar tension rise. Suddenly it was hard to find reasons why you should not close that gap. Why you should not keep touching him, giving whatever he wanted from you. The resolution was waiting in the wings for you to take the plunge whenever you were ready.

“I never said it’s a bad thing” Bruce’s smile only brightened as he brushed away your foolish apology while his fingers drifted downwards to trail over the skin of your neck, “Just that sometimes it’s difficult to stop myself from reaching for what I want” there was an implication in his voice, a pointer towards what he was too scared to say.

Perhaps the heat of his touch sparking the fire in your veins made you decide. Reach for the opening he created and take what he was offering. It was not difficult to breach the gap and take hold of his hand to drag it down, pressing his palm to your chest, right over the heart. Taking pleasure in the hungry look in his eyes, you leaned in close to whisper:

“You don’t have to stop” keeping your gaze locked onto his mouth, you added, “Not with me” then, with the both of you suspended millimetres away from the kiss that you could already feel, you posed the question, “What do you want, Bruce?”

Hoping he would get the message that whatever was about to happen had to be his request. Only then could you let go of the uncertainty and fear ruling your head. The heart was kept hostage. Bruce let out a shuddered breath, fanning your parted lips with a wisp of air. His nose nudged yours as he struggled to look you in the eye before replying:

“You” his free hand wandered down to touch your hip as Bruce leaned against you, slowly pushing you down onto the mattress, “Everything. I-”

Too scared to let him speak, you closed his mouth with a kiss, finally closing the gap. Releasing your heart from the captivity of the mind. Sealing your fate with a careful caress of your lips over his. Taking Bruce’s broken gasp and pulling him further into the embrace so that he had no choice but to surrender. Cover your body with his, enveloping your shaking bones with the warmth you have craved. That kiss was meant to be slow and direct in its meaning. You knew he understood when you broke the contact with a quiet whimper, your eyes roaming over his stunned features. The blown-out pupils and reddened lips drew your attention like magnets and made it so much easier to find the necessary words:

“You can have everything,” swallowing past the unspeakable, you met his gaze with vulnerability, “Please,” now there was nothing to hide.

He had it all, waiting for his move. The troubled blue eyes searched yours for a beat as if looking for uncertainty he expected to follow your admission.

“Are- are you sure?” the hesitant question confirmed your suspicions but was contested by his seemingly unconscious touch.

Fingers running down the slope of your thigh, now hitched over his hip to keep him in place. Adding fuel to the fire and distracting your mind from anything else but Bruce. Even with the fog steadily rising, his question was ridiculous. Without wasting time speaking, you used the empty hand to grab his shirt and pull him down to meet your lips. Again.

Only, this time, you did not idle, instantly opening your mouth and prodding his open with your curious tongue. Swiping against his tongue in a well-practised dance, exploring the inside of his mouth. All the moves were familiar; all elicited a gasp, a tightening hand touching your hip. All increased the temperature till all you wanted to do was make sure Bruce took off his clothes soon. So you could touch him how you wanted to.

Motivated by the thought, you broke the kiss and leaned back far enough to huff out a question:

“Was that good enough for you?” making sure to throw a cheeky smile, you admired the blush blooming upon his cheeks.

The kiss did what you needed it to. Bruce smiled back, the last tint of uncertainty vanishing from his face as you cupped his cheek. Fingertips tracing the sharp cheekbones and the fading bruises. He was beautiful. A fact that still sometimes astonished you after years of hearing about Bruce Wayne and seeing grainy photographs in the paper and online. Along with the idea that one day you would be this close to him. Close enough to touch and tear your heart apart in the process.

Ignoring the melancholy that threatened to steal the moment from your hands, you swept your thumb over Bruce’s bottom lip. Drawing both of you back in. Shaking himself awake, Bruce’s hand ventured up from your hip to trace the hem of your shirt and then dove underneath. Warm fingers skating over your skin, helping the chills settle in and raise the goosebumps. His attentive eyes watched you, noticing every shiver you tried to fight off. Pondering the mystery of what was going to happen next. One thing was clear – this time Bruce had it all figured out. He knew exactly how to get you to the edge of insanity. And then beyond.

Once he leaned in, slowly making his path from the corner of your mouth to your neck with pecks, you knew it was over. With each carefully laid peck, your body trembled. Each ignited a fire in your veins only Bruce could smother. Your hand tightened its hold over his shoulder; legs immediately accommodated to fit his body in the cradle of your thighs. Heart hammering between your ribs, begging to be listened to. To keep him like this forever.

Nosing at your pulse point, Bruce licked the spot, making your hips buck to meet his as if on autopilot. Making you gasp and mutter a curse that never quite got its voice. Only for him to sink his teeth in a shallow bite. Enough for your body to jerk upright, a pathetic breathless moan slipping through the gritted teeth. Enough for you to dig your nails into his arm and bunch up the shirt to find his bare skin. Trace the scars and the outline of muscles. You already felt like you were losing your mind. As if summoned by your hazy thoughts, Bruce concluded his exploration with a final teasing kiss over your collarbone and raised his head to ask:

“Can I?” the enigmatic question was easily explained by his tentative hand tracing the hem of your shirt.

Asking to give him what was already his. You appreciated the thoughtfulness. But there was one condition you had to voice before you gave in.

“Only if you take this off too” tugging at his t-shirt, you whispered out the pitiful wish, “I really want to touch you” a wave of shame threatened to rise, but it never got anywhere.

Not with the way Bruce looked at you after the admission. His lips stretched into a soft smile. Eyes awed and sparkling like rarely before. As if what you said was something he had been aching to hear.

Without another word, Bruce kissed your forehead before getting up on his knees to pull off the shirt in one move. You never saw quite where he threw the clothing. It did not matter that you already saw him like this many times before. Nor that now, after the few harrowing days, his torso was littered with an array of bruises and cuts. Your hand darted out as if controlled with a mind of its own, only just managing to graze the skin of his abdomen. The dark hair trail disappearing into the waistline of his trousers drew your attention like it always did. A simple touch earned you a full-body shiver quickly masked with an outstretched hand, inviting you to join him.

You did not waste a second to get up on your knees and close that awful gap. To meet Bruce’s gaze with bravery you did not feel and take off your shirt. Feeling the drafty air over your naked skin, you moved to cover up, but he stopped you with a firm grip on the forearm. Blue eyes locked stares with yours, ceasing all the chatter running through your brain. Till it was just Bruce. His reassuring touch, running up your arms to trace the bra straps and a silent question you knew he was asking. With the staccato in your chest, you nodded. Just once. Already feeling the rush of blood to your head. It all felt different. More profound. As if every action mattered.

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Despite the ridiculous fears, you nodded and watched with bated breath as Bruce carefully lowered both straps and reached around your back to undo the clasp. Another rush of cold air could be only partially blamed for the shiver that wrecked your frame when the bra slipped down. Leaving your torso bare under Bruce’s watchful gaze. His fingertips skated over your tender skin, slowly circling the dark pink areolas and making you gasp. But it was not enough to shut up the brain. Your hand darted out to stop his meticulous study with a grasp around the wrist. His head snapped back up. An instant crease between the eyebrows brought a flush of softness to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce’s question made you wince.

You could not tell him. Couldn’t-

“Nothing,” the reply was automatic, your tongue falling into the familiar pattern to make up the word, hoping it would be enough to fool him. It wasn’t. You knew it as soon as you saw his brow twitch with disbelief, soothing circles traced into your upper arm acting as a further reason to let it all spill out, “I’m just… feeling weirdly shy, I guess” it was hard to meet his eyes.

Yet the crux of the issue had been laid out. It fell between you, disappearing into the weighted silence. You knew it made no sense. That Bruce had already seen you. Hell, he’s seen so much more. Still. The head did not want to listen to reason. The once hopeful dreams of getting lost in him tonight already seemed improbable. Because how does one get lost when the head and the heart are still in it?

“Why?” another question brought your back to the scene, his measured voice quickly becoming the lifeline you needed.

The string pulling you back from the spiral and forcing you to talk how you probably should have at the beginning. Your breath caught in your chest when you saw the depth of understanding in his gaze. And no judgement or ire. Almost as if, for Bruce, nothing would change no matter what you said next. Almost as if- No. He’d never. You ignored the idea before it could spread like a disease. Instead, you steeled your spine and gathered the courage to answer his question. To reveal a fraction of the truth, as he deserved.

“Because it matters how you see me” your eyes turned glossy as they focused on his face.

It was more than accurate. An admission long overdue. Somehow you could tell Bruce knew that. His hands cupped your face between his palms in a tender hold. Thumbs softly stroke your cheeks as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before speaking:

“Then there’s no need to worry” his nose brushed against yours in a gentle caress, letting the whisper carry his words through the narrow space between you, “You’re perfect” his gaze flickered from your eyes to your mouth, but it was easy to miss.

Christ. You wanted to say something else. To protest, ask him how he can tell when you are the only woman he has ever been with. But it would not do. Your heart would never let you. No, it already took the compliment and ran with it, thrashing in your chest like a caged bird. There was nothing you could do.

Nothing, but throw your arms around his neck and dive in for a kiss. Bruce was waiting for you, opening his mouth under yours as soon as you pressed your lips against his. Not willing to waste time already running out, you let your tongue dart out. Swirling it around his and then sucking, enough to make him gasp and pull you closer. His arms enveloped your body, somehow making everything seem fine. Complete, even. You kissed him till there was barely any oxygen left, and you had to separate, eagerly exchanging pecks as you both caught your breath. His taste had filled your mouth, getting rid of the salty tint of tears and the bitterness of coffee. Everything was just Bruce. Like always.

Without thinking, you lowered your head to press another kiss to his chin and then below, tracing the slope of his throat with careful pecks. Bruce’s grip tightened over your waist as a broken groan reverberated through his chest. You could almost feel the sound in your bones. The thought rushed through your body like a bolt of lightning, venturing down between your thighs to a spot you had tried your hardest to ignore. But no longer could. Your core throbbed with the persistent desire as wetness spilt onto the gusset of your panties. You did not have to search your heart to know what you wanted.

That need made you bold enough to swipe your tongue in a broad stroke over Bruce’s throat. Collecting the low moan, he let out with satisfaction. As you sunk your teeth into a shallow bite over his pulse point, the feeling grew tenfold inspired by the noises that Bruce could not to stop. As if you were driving him insane. Leaning back to study your work, you knew the mark on his skin would stay. That it would be something he could remember you by, no matter what came after.

Before you could dive back in to continue, Bruce hooked his fingers under your chin to gently make you raise your head and look at him. So you could see the flushed cheeks and swollen lips parted to let out strained breaths. Following a will of their own, your eyes flicked to his waist and then below, checking whether he was just as affected as you were. What you found only made the frenzy worse. As did his words, accompanied by deliberate touch running along the waistline of your trousers:

“I want to taste you,” Bruce leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

But you hardly registered it, brain caught up on what he said. Because that… that was quite something. Something you never expected to hear from him. The surprise must have painted across your face, your gaping mouth left open and eyes staring at him for too long. Until your brain thawed enough for you to speak (or stutter):

“Christ… Bruce, you can’t say things like- Okay, yeah” the string of words made only a little sense, but you compensated with a stupid grin and a hasty nod; the anticipatory shiver already coursing through your body as you met his gaze to add, “A sensible lady never says no that” your lips curled into a smirk, gleefully taking note of his mirroring smile, only then it was time for a check in “Do you really want to?” your hand run up his chest to curl around his shoulder.

Feeling the warmth of his skin and the promise of what he offered. But you could not just let him do it. That would have been too selfish. Even if Bruce seemed pretty convinced. The hunger in his eyes stole your breath as he took your verbal consent and hooked his fingers under the waistline of your trousers. Never straying from your gaze, he gave the reply:

“Yes,” his new confidence could easily be your outdoing.

But it could have also been the unceremonial way he pushed you down onto the bed, your body hitting the mattress with a quiet thud. A confirmation enough for the last of your worries.

“Okay,” a nervous giggle broke out from your chest as you watched him lean over you, those blue eyes darker than usual “Blow my mind, sweetheart” there were no doubts in your mind that he was capable.

It was proven as soon as Bruce finished undressing you, the quick work perfected with his lingering touch had you breathing shallowly. The feeling grew once you were lying naked before him, with nothing but the soaked panties to save you from his intense gaze. From the heat of his eyes, caressing what was already familiar. Tracing the paths his hands would soon follow. Unable to withstand the scrutiny much longer, you reached up to get him close, capturing his mouth with a kiss Bruce had long anticipated. He opened his lips underneath yours without a second wasted while letting his hands venture down your stomach, short fingernails emblazoning your tender skin. Before you knew it, he had tugged down your underwear, leaving you bare. The strange shyness had breached the surface again as you broke the kiss with a gasp and met his gaze with wide eyes. Silently asking for mercy.

One quick kiss and a nod had to be enough for you as Bruce gave your nose a playful nudge, his hand delving between your thighs without another warning. Your body shuddered upon his touch, cheeks turning scarlet once you realised how wet you were. Bruce’s surprise was evident in the slight hitch in his breathing, almost disguised by an inhale.

Your slick covered his fingers to the knuckles as he meticulously learnt to play you how you needed. At first, only stroking your clit with a feather-like touch, then circling your entrance, spreading your arousal, and making your thighs shake. It was already bad. And it could only get worse. For your dignity, that is. Sweat pearled on your forehead as you watched Bruce lower himself down your body, placing pecks along your abdomen. He settled between your thighs, the muscles on his back flexing under the skin in the faint light of the bedroom. As if unconsciously acting on his instincts, Bruce pressed a kiss to the inside of your left thigh, quickly following it with another one on the right thigh. Both kisses burned your skin like a hot poker. The sensation culminated in the apex of your thighs, in the frustrating throbbing you could hardly ignore anymore. But you did not have to.

Bruce met your gaze, seeking consent for the final time. With no words found, save for the ones you could never tell out loud, you nodded, impatiently brushing away the stray strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You wanted to see him. That first glimpse of Bruce diving between your legs with his head bowed was reason enough. As was the way his hands curled around your thighs, keeping them apart and spread. Leaving you exposed and shaking with want. All the faintest doubts disappeared when his tongue touched your clit in a kitten stroke. Your body jerked upright, kept in place only with Bruce’s steel grip. He repeated the move, drawing out a moan you could not hold in. Setting your blood on fire. Christ. A thousand curses and endearments rose in your throat but were desperately stifled by your waning self-control. You knew it would not last long.

The first blow came with Bruce’s skilful tongue circling your clit, learning all the different ways to make you tremble. He was a good listener, taking all the cues you were leaving and changing his technique to fit your needs. Searching for grounding, you sank your fingers in his hair and pulled. Bruce did not seem to mind, briefly stopping his feast to press a lingering kiss on your thigh. His fingers traced circles onto your skin, soothing the fevered flesh. The unbidden confessions showed up again, choking you with ferocity. Bruce was the one to save you, letting his tongue delve inside you in an exploratory move. One that made your hips buck into his face and tore a shout from your mouth.

Desire shot through your body like a bolt of lightning, bringing a delirious grin onto your face. It was quickly wiped clean as Bruce continued licking into you with passion you never expected from him. Utterly devoted to the task and focused on driving you crazy. A coil tightened in your lower belly, making it much harder to shut up. Making you squirm and trash under his hold. When he interrupted the relentless penetration with a flick of his tongue over your clit, you could not keep quiet.

“God, you- You’re so good” panting out the sentence that barely made sense, you highlighted the sentiment with a sharper tug on his hair.

Making Bruce groan into your core, the sound pushing you down the slippery slope with no way back. From then on, it was only a question of when you would break. Your body burned under his attention. Each point of contact felt like a flame scorching your flesh. Your heart hammered between your ribs, overwhelmed with the multitude of feelings. Pleasure rose and rose until all you could do was gasp his name between moans. Till your head was empty of everything but Bruce. Until the tension snapped, and an explosion filled your vision with white.

“I’m- Fuck,” the curse substituted any words you could have intended to say, but it was enough.

Bruce knew, his hands gripped your legs harder as if to ground you moments before. You came with his name on your lips and your hand gripping his hair. Your core squeezed around his prodding tongue wave after wave as Bruce lapped at your arousal without hesitation. Your thighs trapped his head between them, but he did not seem to mind, helping you ride the aftershocks with patience. As you came to, feeling your body go limp with a sigh, Bruce took his time earnestly licking at your folds. Collecting every drop as if he was hooked already on the taste. You did not dare dwell on that thought too long.

Instead, you searched for his hand to squeeze his palm. He understood the signal, instantly raising his head to find your gaze. You knew the look in your eyes could only be described as wild, with the pupils blown out large. But staring into his darkened blue stare, the realization did not hurt quite so much. His lips and chin were shiny from your arousal; the discovery of the fact sent a shiver down your spine. Bruce took hold of your hand to return the squeeze while his lips stretched into a confident smile. An incredibly attractive look, you had to admit.

“So… I take it, I did good,” emphasizing the word, Bruce smirked, his eyes twinkling.

Despite the embarrassment at what you said, you could not stop the chuckle. The fondness in your heart made its way to your gaze as you attempted a one-sided shrug.

“You broke me” that was an understatement.

But it only made his grin brighter. Without breaking the eye contact Bruce swept his tongue over his lower lip. Collecting the droplets of your come and crawling up to meet you on the bed. There was no mercy for the wicked.

“I can tell” his eyes roamed over your face affectionately, making you want to hide from his attention.

But you chose to meet it straight on, raising your head just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. Only to instantly groan into his mouth when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Bruce’s embrace tightened around your arms as he gathered you into his chest, carefully laying down next to you. And never breaking the kiss that stretched and evolved to fit your needs. Going from hectic and eager to languid. From chaotic to deliberate, and lasting till you were both out of breath, panting against each other’s mouth, unwilling to separate. You made sure you were sufficiently curled against his warm body before you leaned back to put some space and find his gaze again.

The blue eyes were never disappointing, instantly setting your body on fire with the tenderness you found in them. It felt good to be like this with Bruce, able to let go of the fears and inhibitions. Able to give in to the love you could feel coursing in your bloodstream every second you had spent with Bruce. Because even if he did not reciprocate, the memories would still be there. After. Whatever that meant. After you fucked it and told him, probably. With the aching heart beating in your chest and the creeping dread threatening to tear the moment away from you, the hesitant question placed itself on the tip of your tongue:

“Was it how you imagined?” with your eyes trained on his face, you knew when Bruce caught the meaning.

His flushed cheeks turned redder as his arms tightened around your waist, nose nuzzling into your head to buy him some time. And hide from your curious gaze. Bruce Wayne was adorable, and you had no idea what to do with the fact.

“Better,” his reply came in the form of a rushed word and was followed by an admission you almost thought you had misheard, “Think I’m already addicted to you” he raised his head again to meet your eyes.

It was impossible to get rid of the lovesick look on your face as your body shivered with anticipation. That something was still in the air. The tension that assured you Bruce was eager to take another step. You did not have to search your heart and mind to know you wanted it too. Right here and now. No matter the consequences. You knew there was a high chance you would regret it later. But that did not matter now.

Carefully, you placed your hand over his heart, splaying the palm on his chest and replied:

“That’s my line” taking a deep breath to take the plunge, you added, “I- I want you,” your voice wavered, but the revelation could not have been surer.

The sudden shyness was still concerning, rendering you nearly useless with how it had tied your tongue into knots. But with Bruce, those three words were enough. His eyes darkened almost instantly, a hitch in the breath disguised by a kiss pressed to your temple. It was easy to tell what it meant, encouraging you to trail your hand down the broad planes of his chest and stomach. Eliciting another gasp, this time masked with a tentative question:

“Are you sure?” the irony of his asking did not escape you.

The last time it had been you that asked, a thousand times or more, just to ascertain he would not regret it. To be assured that Bruce wanted to give you that crucial part of himself. A gift no one had given you before. Not quite like that. But now, after everything, you appreciated that he checked. Even though you never needed him to.

“Perfectly” you found his eyes to show him the smile on your face while your hand skated lower still, brushing over his abdomen and the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband.

But you did not stop there, letting your fingertips touch his zipper in what you hoped was a smooth enough suggestion. It worked if the way Bruce grabbed your hand was anything to go by. You shot him a questioning glance, waiting for that telling nod to work his belt undone. Once you had it, his eyes dark and hungry, you did not waste time tugging his trousers and boxers down his legs and throwing them somewhere onto the floor. The longer you hesitated, the more likely it would be for your head or heart to catch up. Intervene in what was supposed to be just sex. No strings attached. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

Only when neither of you could hide behind fabric or pretence, the noises in your head grew quiet again. The room was silent as your eyes trailed over his naked body, consuming all the details you had almost forgotten. Though it had only been days. Like the constellation of moles on his hip or the exact markings of his multiple scars. Like the fading bruises, which were all new to your eyes. Like the feel of his hand running over your hip and thigh, drawing you in for a kiss.

You went willingly, melting into his touch and making sure every inch of your body touched his. With your leg in between his, arms thrown around his waist and mouth sealed in a kiss. A kiss that went on for minutes, which felt like hours. An eternity of your tongues sliding against each other’s and tracing the insides of your mouths. Imprinting the taste of him in your mind forever. Slowly, your hands continued exploration, reaching down to touch his length. Carefully yet firmly enough to elicit a groan from his lips and break the kiss. Encouraged by the reaction, you circled his shaft with your hand, putting pressure and making Bruce gasp. It felt powerful.

Bruce met your gaze with dark, hungry eyes, wasting no time to delve a hand between your thighs and spread your arousal over your folds. All for an act of retaliation that had you cursing under your breath. All to make sure you were ready for him. Without stopping your ministrations, you settled to lie on your back, silently extending an invitation. Bruce took it with your name on his lips and his hands on your waist. He shifted to hover over you, knees resting in the cradle of your thighs. The staccato of your heartbeat thumped between your ribs as you laced your hands on the nape of his neck and met his gaze. Nodding once more to assure the both of you. That it was alright. It was what you wanted. Even if it already felt like a mistake.

Bruce entered you with a gasp falling from his lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You exhaled sharply upon the stretch, body instantly accommodating the feel of him. Your legs opened wider, knees coming up to rest over his hips. It was simple, a primal instinct taking over as you looked him in the eyes and let him know it was okay to move. You could only hope that the pain in your heart would ease. That you could ignore it.

At first, it was easy. You did not let your eyes stray from Bruce, noting every expression that flitting across his face. The awe, the pleasure, and the need. Your fingers tangled into his hair while the other hand sought purchase on his shoulder. Feeling the heat radiating from him and warming every cell of your body. Bruce built up a rhythm, thrusting into you with ease and care. Now and then, he leaned in to kiss you, consuming your lips with his. You tried focusing on it, on the delicious friction and the feel of him inside you. On the closeness and the touch. On the familiarity of his kisses, the pressure of his mouth against yours. But it was not enough. Your heart still felt as if it was being torn apart.

With a moan, you hoisted your legs to cross them over his back, bucking your hips into his. Pleasure erupted underneath your eyelids as he hit the spot that made you cry out his name. Bruce’s only answer was a guttural groan reverberating through your joined bodies. Adding to the urgency building between you. To the need to have it faster and sooner and now. You repeated the move, following that instinct. Soon enough, you had Bruce where you wanted him – gasping and panting; his eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

The pressure in your abdomen rose, making your moans louder. Making you rake your fingernails over his back, breaking the skin and marking Bruce as yours. Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

Later you wondered what the reason was. What made you break and shatter like glass. Whether it was how Bruce suddenly opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze full of affection and admiration you did not deserve and never could live up to. Or his gentle touch, caressing the expanse of your thigh. Or the feel of his breath against your gasping mouth, offering kisses you could not claim without risking too much. Or how he whispered your name, the syllables filled with reverence and devotion. Or maybe it was the constant beating of your heart, spelling out the confessions you could never tell him. Blinding you to the pleasure building in your body.

Before you caught up and understood what was happening, it was done. Tears pooled in your eyes and spilt down your cheeks, tinting your swollen lips with salt. A whimper got caught in your throat, fracturing the moment in a second. You never had the time to hide.

As if in slow motion, you could see when Bruce noticed. His body stilled, eyes widening as his forehead scrunched up with concern. His palm returned to your cheek, rendering it impossible to escape his gaze. The heart thrashed in your chest as you scrapped your mind for words, excuses, anything at all. By the time Bruce asked the question, you came up empty:

“Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” the worry in his voice felt like a knife to your bleeding heart; you tried turning your head into the pillow, but he did not let you, “Hey, don’t-” you’ve had enough, pressing your palm to his mouth, shutting him up.

At last, your brain found what was needed.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine” the lie fell with practised ease as you slipped on the mask you had tried on many times before; it was just another role, another part to play, “I’m good, Bruce. I promise” forcing a saccharine smile, you moved your palm to caress his face “Don’t stop, please” to strengthen the act, you tightened the muscles in your thighs, caging him within your hold.

Praying to every god you had ever heard of that Bruce would listen. That the tears could dry on your face, and he would push you over the precipice. Help you lose yourself in him and the pleasure. Because you could never explain it. Did not dare to try.

“But you’re-” the conflicted look in his eyes was still there, staining every word with unease.

Ripping your heart into shreds. But there was no other way. There was no universe where you could tell him the truth. No world where you could come clean, whisper those three cursed words, and have this. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you. So, you turned to what you knew best. Desperate to have this night, even if it would be the last one. Impatiently, you wiped the tears off your face and hooked your fingers under his chin, bringing Bruce closer. His mouth an inch away from yours, hot breath fanning your lips:

“I need you like this,” your eyes revealed the despair you no longer tried to hide, “I need you to fuck me so I can forget everything else” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew why it felt wrong.

It was a dirty trick, an appeal to the side Bruce did not yet have under control. But it was the only one you knew would work. And it had to work.

His gasp and the way he twitched inside you confirmed you were right. But nothing eased the bitterness coating your tongue. Not the way Bruce squeezed you tighter, his swallowed curse buried in the heated kiss you did not deny him. When his tongue swept over yours, you wondered whether he could taste your anguish.

Bruce broke the contact too soon, searching your face for any signs of the truths you had been hiding. All for nothing. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered the final word of encouragement:

“Please” you met his gaze, aware of your glassy eyes and the pain in your tone.

Bruce only nodded and kissed your forehead, resuming the steady rocking of his hips into yours. Almost as if nothing happened at all. Almost. Your inner walls involuntarily clenched around him, drawing out another groan. Making the throbbing between your thighs prominent again. Just like before. Squeezing his waist with your legs, you latched onto his arms, thrusting up to meet his hips with increasing speed. The desire pooled in your veins, making you bite his shoulder. Resulting in a loud moan, which only spurred you on.

Trading bites like kisses along his neck and throat till Bruce was panting above you. His hips stuttered and twitched in what you knew were tell-tale signs he was close. You were not that far behind, freeing one of your hands to find your clit between your bodies. Desperate to follow him.

Your movement made Bruce look up, his eyes instantly finding yours. You should have always known that would be your downfall. How he looked at you, his gaze filled with a myriad of feelings, some indescribable and impossible to identify. That same unknowable emotion there, like many times before. That tenderness and affection that bruised your heart each time. This one was not any different.

The heart thumped in your chest, the pulse in your ears drowning out thoughts and fears till all you could hear were the moans and sighs neither of you held back. Till unbidden words slipped through your tight control.

“Make me yours. I want to be yours” only when they were out, whispered in between whimpers, you realised what you just said.

What it meant. And prayed Bruce did not hear it. Please.

There was no time to dwell on it, for as soon as the words left your mouth Bruce’s hips stuttered. His tempo waned, forcing you to act. To take over the rhythm and buck your hips till you could feel him tense up. Till it was enough. His lips opened with a breathless moan as he came inside you with a sharp gasp, his head hiding in the crook of your neck. Bruce’s body shook in your hold as he rode the high, never once stopping to chant your name into your skin.

With his arms around you still, it was easy to let go. Let yourself fall, knowing Bruce was there to catch you. For once, you weren’t alone. The sensation of his teeth biting into the sensitive skin underneath your ear pushed you over the precipice. Your vision darkened, a sharp cry piercing the silence as your steel grip bruised his bicep. Your tense muscles uncoiled at once as the orgasm coursed through your body, twitching in the aftershocks. You had been burnt to cinder. Ruined for anyone else. Forever.

Unable to move, you sagged into the mattress, eyes closed to stop yourself from doing something stupid. Or stupider than you’ve already done. Faintly, you could feel a reassuring touch running over your arms and waist, lulling the anxieties and fears. Fooling you into the promise of safety. But the mirage was better than the hard truth and the cruel reality. You took a deep breath to steady your heart and opened your eyes.

Only to find Bruce gazing back at you with concern. On its own accord, your hand rose to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Before you could drop it again, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He rolled off your body, putting inches of space between you as he settled on his side.

“Everything alright?” his question brought you back into the moment, anchoring your mind in the present.

The tinge of relief at the lack of mention of your slip-up was unmistakable. But so was the gratitude you felt upon check-in. A step Bruce could have ignored after everything you had put him through. Especially tonight. Your throat suddenly felt dry. You went too far, didn’t you?

“Yeah. Yes,” swallowing hard, you hoped the guilt could be wiped off your face, “You’ve just kinda blown my mind” a half-hearted shrug and a weak smile were all you could manage.

It was not surprising to see a flash of distrust in Bruce’s eyes as they scanned your face for any signs of lies. You were too good at pretending for him to find anything solid. But he knew you well enough to tell something was off. After a beat, he gave up, meeting your gaze with a smirk of his own:

“You asked me to” the confidence in his voice was still there, now, perhaps even stronger.

Because – yes. You asked, and he delivered, and now you knew, for a fact, that Bruce Wayne was an avid learner. Which somehow made everything harder. Like not falling for him further. If that was even possible.

You did not talk much after. With your refusal to delve into any part of what happened, and Bruce’s inability to persuade you to talk, it was easier to stay silent. As if on autopilot, you pressed a final kiss to his lips and got up, wordlessly heading to the ensuite. To hide and marinate in misery for as long as you could without it being even more suspicious. Avoiding the mirror, you got dressed in a set of sweats and cleaned your face.

The unknown of what you would find back in your room terrified you the most. Because there was no guarantee Bruce would still be there. You did not discuss it, easily letting the awkwardness consume you both. But the hope was still there. The hope that he would stay. Even if just this once.

When you had hand-combed your hair and checked at least twenty times whether there were no signs of the war you were waging in your head, you exited the bathroom. Your eyes darted across the room, drawn to the bed where you had last seen him. Bruce was still there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back turned to you. Your heart thumped in your chest, relieved and overwhelmed at once. Bruce waiting on you was just a part of the predicament. The other was that now you had to ask for what you needed.

The creaking floorboards gave away your presence as Bruce glanced at you over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, his back littered with moles, scars, and red lines from where you had scratched him. The discovery brought an instant blush to your cheeks as you silently stared back. The impasse was broken by Bruce’s timid smile, warming up your heart and stifling the fears. If he was still around, it meant that it would be okay. Right?

In a split second, you decided that the only way of finding out was to ask him. No matter how terrifying that seemed. Steeling your spine upon his searching look, you whispered the question:

“Can you stay with me?” fully aware of the tremble in your voice and the shaking in your hands, clasped together tightly.

Aware of the vulnerability you were showing, on top of the rollercoaster of emotions you had dragged him through the past hour. But there was no annoyance on Bruce’s face. An invisible weight lifted off your shoulders as you watched him nod, following the gesture with a reply:

“I was hoping you’d ask” it was that same soft tone which had captured your heart at the very beginning.

Almost as gentle as the look in his eyes, willingly offering the truth you did not expect to hear. Not after everything. Frozen with the dazed smile on your lips, you only moved when Bruce got up from the bed and crossed the space to you. His hand reached out to squeeze your palms as he leaned in to kiss your temple. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom. But there were no regrets or uncertainties this time. He would stay. It would be okay.

At least until the morning.

***

Later, when she was long asleep, quiet snores breaking the silence in the room, Bruce was still awake. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder as if it belonged there. There was only a slight twinge of guilt in his heart when he tightened the hold over her body, drawing her closer. Because god only knew how long that would last. Because if there was one thing the evening taught him, it was that she still was lost within the prison of her own making. Unwilling to believe it was real. That this was real. She was still looking for a reason to run. And he had no way of proving her wrong.

But Bruce wanted to try. Even if it would all be in vain.

He stared at her peaceful face, bathed in the faint moonlight peeking through the hastily drawn curtains, feeling the steady beat of her heart. There was only one thought circling in his head like a vulture. She was wrong. And she had to know. Bruce turned his head towards hers, instantly feeling her burrow her head into the crook of his neck. Still asleep. An uncertain smile bloomed on his face as he whispered:

“I told you there would never be anybody else,”

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 20-Scot Free

Day 20-Twins

Other Stories

Other Days

A Western Summer

Douglas rolled into the Arlesburg yard tiredly. The island had been hit hard by the storm, while the Ffarquhar branch had certainly been hit the hardest, it was not the only area of the island hit. He had been run across the island and back several times over the last few days, helping the relief and repair efforts. Lady Amanda Hatt, having placed herself in charge of the day to day running of the NWR to free Sir Topham Hatt to deal with the crisis, took one look at Douglas dragging in the latest train of rubble from Elsbridge and ordered him to Arlesburgh to rest. He had been too tired to argue.

He was running light-engine, so he went straight to the coaling and watering tower, where Donald was waiting, equally tired by all appearances.

They tiredly exchanged hellos as they took on coal and water.

‘Aye,” Donald said, “the line past here is a right mess. The storm had the tides higher than they had any right to be. Much of the track was fit for yon ships more than us. It's a wonder no more were hurt.”

“It's a no better elsewhere, Donal.” Douglas sighed, “I’m pure done in with all the trees and rubble on the line. Cassandra's wee line…I dinnae recognize it.”

He hesitated, “how is the lass?”

Donald snorted, “see for yourself.” He nodded towards the cleaning station. Douglas looked over to find Cassandra and Duck buffered up facing each other as they were cleaned. Cassandra listening contentedly as Duck told of a prank the pilots pulled on a Castle Class back when he worked at Paddington.

Douglas raised an eyebrow, “Well well well now, how he beena interested in her? I woulda nae thought he was interested in such things.”

Donald stretched, his motions creaking, “if Oliver is tae be believed, since he saw the bonnie lass in their colours.”

“Aye, that would do it. And the lass?”

Donald chuckled tiredly, “I’ll give the lad this, his ‘Great Western Way’ works well for him. She’s given him a chance, and the lad is smart enough to give it a proper go of it.”

“I should nae be surprised there was a Great Western Way for wooing a lass.”

“Lad as well, They presented as Thomas yesterday and the Western lad never broke stride.”

“Good on him,” Douglas said, “Lady knows they deserve someone to treat them proper.”

Cassandra laughed at something Duck said, the pannier appearing starstruck by the sound.

“Aye, the Lads gone and proper fell for them, asn’t he?” Douglas realized.

“The Western's are coaching him,” Donald confirmed, “they are of the opinion Caomhnóir deserves a proper Swindon courtship.”

Douglas smirked then hesitated, “Normally I would take that as challenge but…”

“We cannae do that to the poor lass. She deserves a fair run of it.”

“Aye…she deserves that at least.”

The twins looked at each other uncertainly for a long moment. Ill content to let the westerns get away Scot free with a win.

Donald suddenly smirked, “Say Douggie…what do ya think Ol’ Gordon thinks about all this.”

Douglas smirked back, “why Donal.” He purred, “I’m certain he will be delighted with the news.”

[foxes-that-run]

Haylor Gift Tabloids

There are several stories about gifts I will combine here:

HARRY'S ONE G OF PRESENTS - EXCLUSIVE £1,000 on Taylor's birthday (handbag, earrings, cupcakes & perfume)

23 Cupcakes for her birthday (the Mirror)

Harry gave Taylor a vintage bracelet for christmas (The Sun)

Harry sent Taylor a singing Telegram to perform WMYB in country style (The Sun - x)

Taylor buying Beatles Memorabilia (Daily Star)

Taylor had booked a Italy getaway for Harry's Birthday (The Sun)

1989 roses (I’ll post that video soon because Harry was asked)

I can't find the guitar though and wonder if it was from the image used in that Dolly layout above... unless maybe to be so expensive signed merch is a guitar. I also can't find an article about the opal ring

1 - HARRY'S ONE G OF PRESENTS - EXCLUSIVE £1,000 on Taylor's birthday

December 15, 2012 | Sun, The/Sun on Sunday, The (London, England) CAROLINE McGUIRE | Page: 3 | Section: News

LOVESTRUCK Harry Styles has splashed out more than £1,000 on birthday presents for new girlfriend Taylor Swift. The One Direction star celebrated the country singer turning 23 by buying her a £400 Jimmy Choo handbag, antique earrings, her favourite perfume — and 23 cup cakes. The cakes cost £38 and he picked them up in person from a husband-and-wife firm in Warrington, Cheshire. The treats included cookies & cream, candy floss and mint liqueur flavours. The 18-year-old also handed Taylor a black and white picture of them together in a vintage frame. A source said: "Harry put a lot of thought into her gifts and really wanted to show her just how special she is to him. "The boys teased him about how mushy he's become but he doesn't seem to care."

Caption:

Gifted couple ... Harry bought Taylor scent, cakes, a posh bag, earrings and a photo of them together

2 - 23 Cupcakes

Harry’s so sweet

Daily Mirror 15 Dec 2012

SOMEONE needs to offer Harry Styles a job on the UK tourist board as he continues wooing Taylor Swift with his “Best of British” theme.

The loved-up star, 18, celebrated girlfriend Taylor’s 23rd birthday on Thursday by giving her 23 cupcakes. PUKE. (not literally, we hope).

Hazza made the last-minute order to the Custom Cupcake Company in his home town of Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, on Wednesday night.

But it sounds like he got his mum to organise it all.

Bakery owner Matt Blakey revealed: “A lady called us asking if we could supply some cupcakes.

“I told her we were bursting at the seams.

“She said it was for Harry Styles and I said, “Oh, OK, cool. Send him along’.

“Later I got a phone call from my wife that Harry Styles was standing on the doorstep.

“I didn’t think he would come to pick them up!”

On Taylor’s special day the couple were also spotted out enjoying a romantic country walk and getting intimate during a pub lunch.

Enough now. Enough.

3 - Taylor's Stylish bracelet: VINTAGE GIFT FROM SAILOR HARRY

Smart, Gordon.  The Sun; London (UK). 04 Jan 2013: 18.

HARRY STYLES is showering TAYLOR SWIFT with gifts at the right time - just as ONE DIRECTION unveil camp snaps of him in a sailor outfit.

He's handed his missus a vintage emerald bracelet to celebrate them seeing in 2013 together in The Big Apple.

Which slightly makes up for the South Pacific look he's sporting here.

The singer found the gift for Taylor at a second-hand jewellery shop near his home in Cheshire while shopping over Christmas.

At least the trip out got him out of playing those endless games of Monopoly over the festive period.

A source said: "Harry handpicked the present for Taylor while he was back home.

"He found it in a secondhand shop and she was impressed when he handed it to her.

Dodgy "He gave it to her at the plush hotel they stayed in while they were celebrating New Year in New York.

"Harry is head over heels for Taylor and even admitted he loves her while they were in the Big Apple."

Now he just needs to keep her away from YouTube over the next week.

The band have filmed a clip for new single Kiss You dressed up in the sailor clobber.

A trailer for the video was released yesterday.

One shot also shows Harry wearing a very dodgy Hawaiian shirt.

The full promo will be be out on Monday next week.

Harry's bandmate LOUIS TOMLINSON won't need to worry about any embarrassment with his better half.

He liked to stick on a blue and white striped top and boaters every day anyway ...

4 - HARRY Styles yesterday hired a cheesy singing telegram to serenade Taylor Swift — as he spent Christmas 3,500 miles away from her.

The Sun - 26 December 2012 x

The teenage One Direction star got the crooner to belt out his band’s hit What Makes You Beautiful.

He also ordered it sung in country and western style — the kind of music his American girlfriend performs.

Harry, 18, fixed up the soppy surprise in the US before he jetted back to his family in the UK on Christmas Eve.

A source said: “Even though they were apart on Christmas Day, he wanted to make sure she’d be thinking of him. The singagram was an ideal present.

“She has a great sense of humour. He knew she’d think it was hilarious.”

The lovestruck boyband singer DID get to see 23-year-old Taylor yesterday — via a Skype videocall as each opened Christmas presents in the afternoon.

The source said: “Harry and Taylor can’t get enough of each other. Any moment they can spend together, they do. But Harry is also very close to his family. He wanted to be back home with them for Christmas.”

Harry first started dating Taylor two months ago.

The pair have been snapped together in Manchester, New York, Los Angeles and the swanky US ski resort of Aspen.

5- The Daily Star: Taylor's Fab Four-tune! Picture: EROTEME

December 18, 2012 | Daily Star (England) with ED DYSON and ELLE GRIFFITHS

HARRY Styles - we've a message from Taylor Swift: She Loves You yeah, yeah, yeah...

Well, she must do, since the country queen is splashing the cash Crimbo prezzies.

We hear Taylor, 23, is on the hunt for some mega-expensive Beatles merchandise to treat hunky Hazza whom she has been dating since last month.

Our spies told us: "Harry spent GBP900 on Taylor for her recent birthday, and now she wants to repay the favour - and then some.

"She's been phoning Beatles stores in Liverpool hoping to find pieces of rare autographed memorabilia she knows Harry will love.

"A staff member at one store let slip she wanted to spend somewhere between GBP40,000 and GBP50,000."

Wow. The Fab Four may have said Can't Buy Me Love, but if you could, that sum would probably cover it. And it's no wonder the boyband heart-throb is such a fan, as the 1D craze sweeping the world drew comparisons to the Fab Four.

Harry, 18, even admitted he could see the similarities himself.

Icons He said: "We watched that film of The Beatles when they touched down in America and saw a likeness with our personalities. They loved having a laugh like us."

Luckily Mr Styles's ego isn't as big as his barnet.

He explained: "The comparisons seem ridiculous to us, because they were such icons."

Well, you might never have the influence of the Beatles, Harry, but you can at least get your mitts on plenty of their stuff.

6 - It's all gondola wrong, Harry - SPLIT AXES TAYLOR'S VENICE BIRTHDAY GIFT

January 15, 2013 | Sun, The/Sun on Sunday, The (London, England) GORDON SMART | Page: 18,19 | Section: Business

ONE of TAYLOR SWIFT's pals could be in for a free holiday in Venice. The US singer had plans for a romantic city break with ex HARRY STYLES as a treat for his 19th birthday next month. She was planning to surprise the ONE DIRECTION star with five nights at the posh Palazzina Grassi on the Grand Canal. Harry only found out about it last week - and is now feeling even worse about the whole relationship going pear-shaped. He has since organised a trip to Las Vegas with JUSTIN BIEBER - which could suggest that gondola action might not have floated his boat anyway. A source said: "Taylor organised an allexpenses-paid trip before the split. "She even arranged a private gondola for them for the entire time they would be there." Drinking limoncello in a posh hotel in Italy on your birthday would be nice. But Harry's only just become too old for Disneyland. Speaking of youthful antics, above are a few smaps from his schooldays. The lack of tattoos is the only giveaway that the pictures weren't taken yesterday. One picture that was taken recently is this shot of Taylor at the Golden Globes looking stunning in a purple fishtail gown. There was a lot being said about how busty she was looking compared to normal. Hollywood, eh? She and Harry, whose 65-day romance ended after New Year, exchanged expensive gifts at Christmas, but now they're redundant too. The source added: "Taylor isn't using the designer bag he bought her any more. She'd also sorted some exclusive birthday presents for him - new threads from Savile Row and BEATLES memorabilia. "Harry is pretty gutted about the whole thing, even though he's putting on a cool front. He's touched she went to so much trouble to arrange his birthday ahead of time." It's not total doom and gloom, though - 1D ticket sales have soared by 50 per cent since the split. Websites handling the band's 2013 tour, including Seatwave, say they noticed the sharp increase immediately after the romance ended. So Harry will rake in as much from the break-up as Taylor will from her upcoming song about the broken relationship. They need it as well.

[scotianostra]

July 7th 1548 saw Treaty of Haddington, between France and Scotland, confirming the betrothal of Mary Queen of Scots and the French Dauphin (heir to the throne) François.

You could probably fill a post out every day with stories about her short life, she wasn’t yet six years old and this was the second treaty arranging her marriage, the first being The Treaty of Greenwich which was ultimately rejected by the Parliament of Scotland on 11 December 1543 and led to The Rough Wooing during which the English King sent his armies north to force us into marrying off our Queen Mary, it was George Gordon, Earl of Huntly who famously called it ‘the rough wooing.’stating….

“We liked not the manner of the wooing, and we could not stoop to being bullied into love.“

Mary of Guise, the Queen’s mother, turned to the Auld Alliance for help, dangling the carrot of her daughter’s hand for the French Dauphin, Francis, as a reward. On 7 July 1548, the Scottish parliament and the French ambassadors met at the besieged town of Haddington, fifteen miles from Edinburgh, to sign the treaty. Here is a full transcript of the treaty:

In the parliament of a most excellent princess Mary, queen of Scots, held at the abbey of Haddington on 7 July 1548, by one noble and mighty prince James [Hamilton], earl of Arran, lord Hamilton etc., and governor of the realm, and the three estates of the realm being present.

On the which day Monsieur [André de Montalembert, seigneur] d'Essé, lieutenant general of the navy and the army sent by [Henry II], the Most Christian King of France at this present time, showed how his master the King of France, having regard to the ancient league and confederation and amity existing between the realm of France and this country, and of the mortal wars, cruelties, depredations and intolerable injuries done by our old enemies of England against our sovereign lady, being of so tender an age, her realm and her lieges thereof during these diverse years, whereby the said Most Christian King, being moved through fraternal amity and confederation foresaid, could do no less but to aid, support, maintain and defend at his power this tender princess, her realm and her lieges as a propitious and helpful brother against all others who would attempt injury against the same, not by words but by way of deed, and to that effect has presently sent him in this realm with his navy and army of noble men with such directions as to put this realm to the old liberty, privilege and freedom and to recover all strengths, castles and fortalices out of our old enemy’s hands, with the advice, counsel and assistance of my lord governor and nobles of this realm, to their utter power and to expend their lives to that effect, and not only has he sent this army presently but also promises in his said master’s name at all necessary times to come to send and to have in garrison men of war, munition and money in this realm in such quantity that shall repress our said old enemies during the time of war and keep and defend this realm from them and all others in liberty and freedom according to his commission, obligation and promise given to him under the said Most Christian King’s great seals shown and produced in the face of parliament.

Therefore, having consideration of the matters stated above and how that the said Most Christian King has set his whole heart and mind for the defence of this realm, he desires in his said master’s name, for the more perfect union and indissolvable bond of perpetual amity, league and confederation, the marriage of our sovereign lady to the effect that the said Most Christian King’s eldest son [Francis Valois], dauphin of France may be joined in matrimony with her grace to the perpetual honour, pleasure and profit of both realms, observing and keeping this realm and the lieges thereof in the same freedom, liberties and laws as they have been in all the Kings of Scotland’s times past, and shall maintain and defend this realm and the lieges thereof as the same as he does for the realm of France and the lieges thereof according to his commission, promise and direction foresaid, produced as said is, and, therefore, desires my lord governor and the three estates of parliament to advise herewith and give their determination in this matter if the desire foresaid is reasonable and acceptable or not. [Mary of Guise], the queen’s grace, our sovereign lady’s most dear mother, being present, my lord governor and the three estates of parliament foresaid, all in one voice, have found and decreed and, by the judgement of parliament, concluded the desire of the said Monsieur D'Essé, lieutenant in the name of the said Most Christian King, his master, (Monsieur [Henri Cleutin, seigneur] D'Oisel, his ambassador, being present in the said parliament confirming the same) very reasonable and have granted that our said sovereign lady be married with the said Dauphin at her perfect age, and presently give their consent thereto, so that the said King of France keep, maintain and defend this realm, the lieges of the same, the liberties and the laws thereof as he does in his own realm of France and for the lieges of the same, and as this realm has been kept, maintained and defended by the noble kings of Scotland in times past according to the promise of the said lieutenant, special commissioner in the said cause, and that our sovereign lady be married to no other person but to the said Dauphin only.

My lord governor, in our sovereign lady’s name, ratifies and approves in this present parliament the determination and consent of the three estates of the same being present, concerning the marriage of our sovereign lady with the Dauphin of France according to the act of parliament made thereupon, providing always that the King of France, the said Dauphin’s dearest father, keep and defend this realm, the laws and the liberties thereof as his own realm, lieges and laws of the same, and has been kept in the times of all the kings of Scotland past, and to marry her to no other person but to the said Dauphin only.

And so it was, with her marriage agreement in place, five-year-old Mary was sent to France to spend the next thirteen years at the French court. The young Queen sailed with Mary from Dumbarton on 7 August 1548 and arrived a week or so later at Roscoff or Saint-Pol-de-Léon in Brittany.

If you ever get the chance go visit the John Gray Centre in Haddington, it houses all of the Council’s historical records and goes back centuries, it includes documents relating to King Robertthe Bruce from the year 1318, and numerous dating to Mary Queen of Scots reign. I was thrilled to inspect one such document signed by Queen Mary and Lord Darnley, reall hands on history, it's free todo this, you do get charged a fee if you want totake photos though.

[weirdowithaquill]

I think it's time you consider sharing your Duke and Rheneas ship concept (and the pufflings' sabotage efforts!) with the world 🙏

My memory is that they were too cute to languish forever only in DMs

Your memory is correct! And also really good! This conversation was months ago!

But here goes nothing - how I ended up shipping Rheneas and Duke:

It all begins with a certain @jobey-wan-kenobi and shipping Skarloey and Neil. These two are very important for Dukeas (Rhenuke?) - so let's cover them first.

These two are terrible at flirting. Like, legitimately bad. Neil gets a repaint when he's bought by the Crovan's Gate Mining Company (into SKR red!!) and Skarloey attempts to flirt and be suave to capture Neil's heart. Here's how he does:

"I like seeing you in my colour--" So far so good - but the engines don't really have good metaphors for clothes so it sort of falls apart: "--it would look better on... uh... oh..." Human pickup lines don't really work for engines, do they? Neil is so confused, and Skarloey is dying of embarrassment (the fireman said that it would totally work!)

Rheneas laughs himself sick.

Skarloey - after grumbling about Rheneas laughing at him - swallows his pride and asks his brother for help. (Side note - this is where our conversation started. We were talking about how the SKR is more interesting for family-values in the RWS.)

Rheneas has never had a crush before, and so his best idea is: "Why not ask him to double head a train with you?" Now, those of you who've instantly spotted the problem with narrow gauge Skarloey and standard gauge Neil double heading a train are doing better than these two hopeless idiots.

But Skarloey is not to be deterred! So he builds 'the truck' to pull trains on the standard gauge railway! Ah... but there's not enough traffic for double heading, so none of the managers will allow it.

It's not like Neil is any better though - this is the same boxy engine who saw Skarloey and went "he's so cute, but I'm too ugly for him..." at which point his crew face-palmed. So his crew convinced Neil to invite Skarloey to hang out at the works while he's being repainted into NWR colours (circa 1915). So Skarloey's there when he's sanded down and repainted.

Skarloey gets a nosebleed and passes out.

And Neil thinks that Skarloey just fell asleep! Even as the mechanics at Crovan's Gate are gathering around him to study him because no engine has ever had a nosebleed before, oh my goodness look at our discovery!

These two are disasters.

Peter Sam is no help either. Peter Sam is about as innocent as a three-year-old (Duke was not going to let no dock workers sully His Puffling, thank you very much) so his best advice is to: "Sing to him!" "What song?" "Uh..." Peter Sam doesn't do proper songs, he makes up ditties! What do you mean, wooing the boxy engine involves actually knowing music?

Skarloey just skips over asking Sir Handel for advice. Which is probably for the best, considering Sir Handel's attempt at flirting was to basically stun Gordon by talking his ear off and insulting his own coaches.

Yeah... none of these engines are very good at this.

But yeah, it probably takes until Rusty and Duncan figure themselves out for Skarloey to get some good advice. Cause of all the engines on the SKR, these two are the first to get into an actual relationship (with each other, but it's not Duncan's first, let's be honest). So, here's this centennarian-and-then-some engine that is Skarloey needing his romance to be chaperoned by these two youngsters... AND IT WORKS!

Finally he has the wingengines he needs: a foul-mouthed factory worker and something called a 'diesel'.

And Rheneas is still laughing in the background.

But it works! Skarloey buys some flowers with his driver's money and asks Neil out - and Neil says yes! (Let's all just headcanon that he was the Crovan's Gate Works engine at this point, okay? Okay.) Rheneas's first words upon hearing this are lost to time, but were either "Oh thank God" or "FINALLY!"

He is very lucky that he is at the works and hears about it there, or else he'd have gotten into a massive argument. But at the same time, he's rather sad, cause he's been using this romantic trainwreck as his entertainment for the last 100 odd years, throwing out slightly bogus suggestions to stir up the drama.

These two are going steady enough in 1965 for Skarloey to tease Neil by calling him "ugly but kind" in front of the Reverend - who accidentally takes it to heart.

We are all very lucky that said Anglican Reverend was out of earshot when Neil shot back a quip about nosebleeds.

But this is Rheneas' life up until 1970 - it's spent doing his job and laughing at his brother's absolutely hilarious and terrible love life. But romance? No, it's not in his cards...

And then Duke arrives.

And Rheneas goes “oh no, he’s hot.”

Rheneas immediately goes to his brother - because they're brothers, and they're supposed to help one another - completely forgetting the past 100 years.

Skarloey bursts into laughter. And then tells Neil, who also laughs. Rheneas is humbled with his own crush on Duke - much to his consternation.

But it’s worse cause Rheneas has to deal with two very overprotective children. See, Sir Handel and Peter Sam don't want to share their Granpuff. Cause they see Rheneas as a friend, not a weird step-grandpa, so stop butting in on our family. These boys have Granpuff-related trauma, and they are not handing over their Granpuff to just any old puffball. Duke for his part thinks Rheneas is cute - but his pufflings just keep calling him "a bad influence" - which is hilariously ironic considering Sir Handel.

Of course, being Peter Sam and Sir Handel, they also do their 'sunshine and thunder thing': "I think it's nice!" "You WOULD." Which naturally evolves into good-cop-bad-cop as Peter Sam is swayed by Sir Handel (and a sniggering Skarloey, but Skarloey's always had the best of intentions, right?)

Rheneas takes his own advice and asks to double head a train (cause at least he's the same gauge!) and Sir Handel slots himself in. Duke thinks it's sweet that Sir Handel is trying to spend more time with him. Rheneas is pulling his metaphorical hair out (oh, he knows - but he's also messing with Rheneas. He also talks to Skarloey).

Can you imagine how ridiculous it would be for everyone? Rheneas is just being interrogated in the background while Duke does a deadpan to some documentary crew like he’s in the Office: “This has been going on for 25 years. I have been dating Rheneas for 20 of those years.”

He has conveniently forgotten to mention this fact to Sir Handel and Peter Sam...

And that should have been that.

Right?

No. Cause then we talked about humanisations - and the story picked back up, only now we have to jump back to the year Duke got together with Rheneas. Now, for some reason or another (I blame the boulder), the entire SKR crew (Neil included) are suddenly turned human. After a few days of figuring out how being human works (cause we take most of three decades before we settle into 'humaning' - these engines are gonna need some help), they begin to act as normally as a bunch of engines-turned-humans can. There was one occasion where Peter Sam bear-walked across the yard because he couldn't figure out how walking worked, and humans have four legs! "Those are hands." "Good enough for walking!"

See, the engines pop into being human with bodies and clothes (this is important) - and for the most part, it's pretty stock standard. Rusty has overalls, Duncan has a few piercings, Sir Handel gets wheelie shoes (for his steamroller wheels!) and Duke has a massive overcoat that makes him look - for lack of a better term - rather chubby.

And he does nothing to dissuade the other engines from this line of thinking. On the surface, it makes sense after all! Duke has his large saddle tank, which translated over.

So it comes as a great surprise to everyone when Duke takes off his overcoat after the engine Duncan (who was pulling them in one of the passenger coaches) derails. Duke is not fat - no, he's been hiding tools in his overcoat... like a crowbar. In fact, Duke randomly takes off his shirt too so he can use said crowbar to lever Duncan back onto the rails all by himself (the shirt was... uh... too constricting?).

Rheneas gets a nosebleed - only none of the engines know how human nosebleeds work and panic. This of course tips Duke off that yes, Rheneas does have a thing for him.

So, Duke basically tortures Rheneas for weeks by volunteering to join the track-workers gang, and wearing a singlet and he has arms, why does he have arm muscles he is a steam engine! (I told someone about this, and they said - and I quote: "It's cause they're always pumping iron!")

Duke also keeps Werther's Originals in his overcoat to distribute to both his Pufflings and the local schoolchildren. Rheneas' heart cannot handle the adorableness.

This of course led to Rheneas confessing to Duke in the rain after the stationmaster's cat got lost. Rheneas had thought Duke would think he was cool if he found said cat first and rushed off... and fell into a ditch and sprained his ankle cause he's a human now, and people don't walk normal, why don't they have wheels - (oh wait, that's what trains are for). Rheneas had saved the cat, and then Duke helped him, asked why Rheneas ran off and didn't stick with the search party - and so Rheneas confessed in the moment. Very cliche romantic, but so am I a bit.

So that's how Duke and Rheneas ended up as a couple. A bit of magic, a whole lot of Duke's family torturing Rheneas and a missing cat.

[copaline]

Quirks and Observations #2

I don't believe Ford has ever had a relationship with a human woman in his entire life. His interaction with girls his age peaked at trying to hold Cathy Crenshaw's hand in fourth grade and took a dive from there.

I don't think Ford really considers girls or women as real people. Ok. Hear me out.

While some people would cry "misogynist" to me this speaks more on his stunted relationship with other humans as a whole. Ford is just bad at social interactions, but interactions with women are so incredibly skewed. His entire life girls have been this pretty OTHER that he's supposed to woo, date, and marry. Whether or not he liked them as a person never came into the equation.

That isn't to say Ford is incapable of having a friendship with a woman. He seems to do just fine when he's traveling through dimensions. I'd even wager that he did more than good with the local population. The man partied on Time Sand with the Oracle and shared a genuine connection!

He took to the multiverse with all the aplomb of a D&D bard let loose on a new campaign. Yeah I'm a Ford had sex truther. That man got with everything that moved and got damn good at rolling for seduction. Outlaw, renegade, portal jumper Ford was out there living out every Flash Gordon fantasy while on a mission to kill his ex.

He is very competent, and very successful, but put that man in the room with one (1) vaguely attractive human woman she might as well be a rattle snake.

Pick up random girls at a bar? He would rather die.

[thatcheeseycandle]

(Current me here right before posting this, I yeah- I was a bit burnt out from a lot and I found this sitting in my drafts while looking through them. Might as well post it while I can)

//ITS ACTUALLY A GOOD MONDAY CAUSE ITS A HOISNY READING WOOOOOOOOO

TW FOR SPOILERS ON THE ENTIRETY OF HOISNY CHP. 4 BTW

wOO OKAY I'll be wishing that the notes aren't gonna jinx me LMAO

"He didn’t want to think about what had happened at the Great Race, though it was the only thing he could think about." Felt that feeling before hOLY GOSH

Diving head on with a fresh recap of the chapters before this with it's angst I suppose BEHHSWHDH but hey I'm not complaining SO YEAH CONTINUING ON

(insert me reading silently with some "oUGHS"s in the mix, I can't remember how I exactly felt about this bit but I remember that I was just sad for Thomas. Like my guy found out all his family was wiped out IN SECONDS right there and it was infront of A LOT of people.)

"What would Gordon say if he saw his friends divided?" Well considering a lot, it's not a thought to dwell on with the joyous of emotions unfortunately BEHSHDHDHSHS

(Okay yeah insert another silence with the only noises from me being "oh"s and "oUGH"s cause I don't know how to word how I felt but I just felt like my heart was melting but like in a way I felt sad for them)

"'Wait a minute-' Samuel started, suddenly coming to a realisation. 'The story of you falling into a mine, that’s true?!'"

'It was written about?!' Thomas screeched, his face going as red as James’s paint from embarrassment and both crews spontaneously started laughing." I LOVE THIS BIT OHMYGHAHAGAHSJXH

(Yet again, I couldn't find the words to describe my reaction for the rest of this considering my lungs kept deflating when I regained a bit of oxygen every sentence LMAO)

AAYYYY READING RWS LETS GOO

This whole bit, I love it so much like YEAHAHDJDHDH LETS GO THEYRE GONNA READ RWS and AND THEYRE GONNA HANG OUT WITH EACHOTHER (aka cope with their situations together LMAOCHDHSJ)

Okay people WE'RE AT THE STEAMWORKS NOW LETS GOOO

(Yet again, lost my words at this bit and my feelings were basically a combination of curiosity and sadness sneaking from the back of my mind aka I started slipping into that unbreakable trans whenever you read)

Ah crap okay Scot you better not slip your words on this (but hey I cant exactly blame him if he does considering that was HIS BROTHER)

(Okay seriously WHAT IS WITH ME PAUSING WITH MY WORDS IN THIS- Insert another silence with the only emotions in this being relatability and sadness)

Scot you aren't the only one to have a hard time sleeping now BHAAHSHXBJAJXH SO YEAH

(Seems like I was so shocked in this scene that I fORGOT TO WRITE MY REACTION TO IT But basically it was me being super shocked, my heart dropped, then needed minutes to process it before continuing on)

“No, it’s not silly. You’re going through a hard time right now and what you’re experiencing is valid.” SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK AND SIDE HENRY‼‼

(Okay sorry for interrupting this reaction with my current notes but GOD I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN A LOT OF REACTIONS. But from what I remember of this, I think I was just happy at the fluff that started to slither in. Thank God I'm finishing up this review the same day Chp. 5 comes out so I dont have to wait after this LMAO)

And RIGHT THERE FOLKS we end it off with a cliffhanger, except it's a nice cliffhanger! Very excited for the next chapter now that's built up to that

Yet again credits to Loraine ( @lorainedoesthings ) for releasing such a great chapter! Very excited to see what's to come in these coming weeks