The Sentinels legs and hands, thumbs together

I literally couldn’t be more pleased with your choice of models for him <3  ryan gosling

The starlet didn't tell him that she missed him [which she did]. She didn’t tell him that she was only grasping at straws for what came to him so easily [which she was].  She didn’t tell him anything because she didn’t want to know it herself, didn’t want to see the truth that lay in his consuming, heavy-handed gaze. So she pulled one of her long arms around his and pressed herself into him, cradled the man as if he was the child and she was the teacher. In many ways she was the teacher: he had taught her of wheeling, dealing and stratagem but she taught him of the arts and the sweetness of life. The perceptive woman felt as though the sweetness of life what he needed most right then. Donovan’s life had been hard; didn’t he deserve a little beauty from time to time?

So Indie’s lips yielded to her voice and a soft, gentle song spilled forth. It was a song she had sung many times to him, and from him to her. It was a beautiful ditty, sung to them in their youth by their nannies and  governesses and [when chanted in such a haunting manner] was sure to brew an exquisite sense of nostalgia within her forbidden love. The obsidian chanteuse hummed deeply and rocked her sculpted head against his; just two creatures of night swaying together like intertwined branches in a strong breeze.

“Now that it's June, we'll sleep in the garden
And if it rains, we'll just sink in the mud
Where it is quiet and much cooler than the house is
And there is nothing to wake us up

And I am content to walk a little slower
Because there is nowhere that I really need to be
I find that life’s easier when it’s just a blur
With no details to confuse where or what or what I see”

Indie’s gold-plated aria snaked from her lips to his ears — such a small sound, yet it loud and clear to the two of them. How could she ever let him leave? The chanteuse wanted him but the sight and touch of the dappled gangster stirred a cocktail of anxiety and guilty within her gut. It would have been so nice to blame him [and a small part of her always would], but reflected in his eyes was the image of a woman distracted. Their deep connection was their ultimate undoing; for they were so intimately connected that nothing else mattered. He made the rest of the world seem dull and unimportant. His shininess had distracted her — and mistake she would never make again.

“We were so good together,” the vixen no longer sang, but spoke her thoughts in a husky tone. She pulled away from their slow dance to look him. Look down. “but now we’re all broken.” Look up.

"You wish to speak to me. Speak, Donovan, and tell me everything."