#steely sculpture

[haikuckuck]

An art Work of metal,steely,seen on a big balcony of modern building.

[hxxsxxng]

SUNGHOON 박성훈 - SOULS BONDED

Word Count : 2k

Genre : Angst

Content : mentions of death, mentions of being orphaned, unrequited romantic feelings, childhood trauma reguarding lack of parental figure and poverty

Preview : When you are hanging out with your best friend, you realize you crave something you could never have

Authors note : I feel like I am becoming a dictionary because I am trying to produce higher quality work. lol enjoy!

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You glance over at Sunghoon sitting across from you at the dingy café table. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he sips his cup of coffee. You know that crease in his forehead all too well - it means his mind is drowning in the turbulent waters of the past again.

Sunghoon had confided in you about his childhood not long after your own paths converged. The two of you were kindred spirits, orphans with none but each other to cling to. While you lost your father at a tender age, Sunghoon never knew his parents at all, thrown from one fostering situation to another until finally aging out of the system.

In those fragile early days, you marveled at how Sunghoon's eyes would become inscrutable pools when he spoke of his upbringing. Never dwelling on specifics, but the hurt and confusion were palpable underneath his steely exterior. You recognized that look because it was the same one you saw in the mirror after your dad passed - the look of someone who had the ground torn violently out from beneath them too soon.

That shared brokenness was the tether that bound your souls. An unspoken language of deprivation and loneliness that became the basis for your bond. No matter how dire your circumstances became, you vowed to always be there for Sunghoon and not let him freefall back into that void of isolation.

But over time, that vow mutated into something more complicated. Something that kept you awake at night, tossing and turning with tangled sheets and an aching emptiness. The more you learned about Sunghoon's quiet strength, his dry humor, his latent brilliance left to wither on the vine...the more your feelings started drifting into uncharted waters.

You trace the sharp lines of Sunghoon's profile with hungry eyes. The elegant slope of his nose, the strands of night-black hair falling across his eyes, the sculptural cut of his jawline that could have been chiseled from marble. Naturally, your gaze drops to the full pout of his lips, and you feel a lush, insistent ache deep in your belly. The painful throb of yearning for something - someone - so achingly close yet impossibly out of reach.

Get a grip, you growl at yourself, shaking your head minutely. Sunghoon is your friend. He's already been through so much in this life. The last thing he needs is the weight of your burgeoning feelings muddying up what little hope he's found.

But you can't help replaying all of the late nights you've spent side-by-side, putting the shattered pieces of your lives back together through hushed conversations and shared laughter over future dreams. How his obsidian eyes would glitter at your jokes as your shoulders brushed, sending tingles racing across your skin. The way his calloused hand would linger over yours during rare instances of contact, raising goosebumps along the surface like an electric brand.

You've tried so hard to rationalize your feelings away as temporary insanity. As the inevitable yearning to find intimacy in the one person who truly sees you for who you are - the lost girl grasping just as desperately for belonging, already torn to shreds by the all-consuming need blazing through your veins.

Sunghoon's lashes sweep upwards, his penetrating gaze catching your fixated stare. You startle slightly, blood rushing quickly to your cheeks at being so transparently caught in your staring. He arches an inquisitive eyebrow and you hastily shake your head, worrying your bottom lip in an attempt to regain composure.

"Sorry, I was just...lost in thought," you mumble with an unconvincing laugh, trying in vain to ignore the thump of your pulse drumming in your ears.

Sunghoon holds your gaze for a heavy moment, his stare stripping away every flimsy barrier you've tried to build. The ghost of a smirk plays at the corners of those tantalizing lips. "I could tell. You get this look...like the whole cosmos is swirling around behind your eyes."

You snort softly at his turn of phrase, finally allowing your features to relax into a crooked smile. An attempt to retake control and deflect from the storm ravaging you from the inside out. "Pretty sure it's just the usual jumbled mess bouncing around my skull."

"Well, whatever it is..." Sunghoon murmurs, leaning forward slightly with uncharacteristic earnestness. His eyes search yours with an arresting intensity that has your breath catching in your throat. "I hope you know you can talk to me about anything. Anytime. You're..." He pauses, adam's apple bobbing, "You're the only real family I've got."

Your throat constricts at his simple yet loaded admission. For all of Sunghoon's projected nonchalance, his vulnerability was one of his most disarming qualities. He didn't let just anyone see beneath the armor.

The urge to reach across the table and pull him into a hug is overwhelming. To pour every ounce of your heart's desires into the union of your bodies and souls. But you swallow that reckless impulse, nodding mutely.

"I know," you rasp, fingers straying unconsciously across the tabletop until they're covering his hand. Ignoring the lump in your chest at the searing brand of flesh on flesh. "And you're mine too, Sunghoon. Wherever this crazy life takes us...I'll always be on your side. I'm not going anywhere."

A kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across Sunghoon's features - gratitude and something deeper, more visceral that you dare not put a name to for fear of shattering the delicate tension covering you both. He turns his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours in a way that has your breath hitching.

In that single gesture, your vision blurs with a maelstrom of feeling. You realize with a bone-deep ache that even if Sunghoon doesn't reciprocate this all-consuming need scorching through your veins...this bond alone is more meaningful than anything you could have ever dared dream for yourself. Two souls who found sanctuary in each other's light, refusing to let it be extinguished by the gales of the past.

And maybe...just maybe...there's still a flicker of that same fire reflected in Sunghoon's gaze. A spark flickering tantalizingly behind his eyes that could one day ignite into a cataclysmic firestorm if you let the air rush in. But for now, you'll embrace this steady glow of affinity and belonging, letting it envelop you like the first warm rays of dawn after an endless night of darkness.

No matter what the future may bring, you'll bear this burden, letting it burn through your very marrow as proof of life's persisting beauty in the ashes. Both of you have wandered in shadow for far too long. It's time to let this bond guide you, however fraught with longing, into the searing light of grace.

You give Sunghoon's hand a firm, resolute squeeze. Steadying yourself against the current of want threatening to sweep you away into uncharted depths. With a smile, you hold his stare.

"I'm never letting you go, Sunghoon. We've got each other. That's what matters most."

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Hope everyone is well, and I hope you all enjoy this one. My favourite thing in the world is comments/seeing what people think of my work, etc... So please, don't be a stranger. Make your presence known!

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup

(let me know if you want to be tagged in future Roman fics)

He stood in his private gym, early morning light filtering through the windows, a golden glow painting his chiselled frame. Rhythmic clinking of weights, hums of machinery, conjured up symphonies of focused strength. Roman’s body was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew, glistening with a sheen of sweat that highlighted every contour.

With each controlled lift, his biceps bulged, veins snaking like rivers beneath his bronzed skin. Legacy-carrying shoulders flexed with power and precision. The bulky tattoo that adorned his arms and chest came alive with each movement, telling stories of battles fought and victories won. His face was a pure sculpture by the gods, hair tied up loosely. Strong jawline, intense focus in his dark eyes.

Workouts were more than just a physical regimen to Roman; they were rituals of mental fortitude.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the world, focusing solely on the burn in his muscles and the steady rhythm of his breath. With each rep, he pushed away doubts and fears that would otherwise cloud his judgement, replacing them with steely resolve.

Dropping the weights, he moved to the heavy bag, each punch a release of pent-up energy. His fists flew in a blur, the sound of impact echoing through the gym like thunder. His abs were hard as granite, contracting with each powerful blow, the relentless discipline and dedication.

As the sweat poured down his face and dripped onto the mat, Roman’s clarity was secured. This was his sanctuary, a place where honing his body prepared him for battles to come. The world outside was chaotic and treacherous, but here, in this sacred space, he was in complete control.

Roman was lost in the rhythm of his workout when the gym door creaked open. Heyman stepped in, his presence almost apologetic amidst the intensity of Roman’s sanctuary. The balding advisor with sharp eyes and a weary demeanour hesitated before speaking, knowing better than to disturb the boss without good reason.

“S-sorry for the interruption, my Tribal Chief,” Heyman started, respectfully and subdued, “But Tamina has arrived.”

Roman nodded, his breath still heavy from the exertion. “Thank you, Wise Man,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. He took a moment to gather himself, slowing his breathing, and letting his heartbeat return to normal. He tossed the towel aside and gave Paul a nod before heading towards the door.

“She got her stuff with her?” he asked as the pair made their way up to the living room.

“Of course. She’s ready as always.”

Tamina was sat chatting animatedly with the twins and Solo, who sat listening with a rare smile. Despite her visit being due to unfortunate circumstances, the familial connection it injected into the atmosphere couldn’t be ignored. It was almost like the more people inhabiting the house, the warmer it felt—and not just physically.

“Roman!” Tamina greeted, her face breaking into a warm smile. “There you are.” She got up from the couch to embrace him. Her hug was strong and genuine, a reflection of her.

He returned the embrace, feeling a rare moment of comfort. “Good to see you, Tamina,” he said, pulling back slightly. “How you been, girl?”

“Busy, but that’s the norm, right?” she replied with a chuckle, before her eyes softened. “How’s Ava?”

“Uh, she’s doin’ well,” he nodded, shifting his weight. “Keepin’ up with school and all.”

His cousin nodded, understanding the weight of the situation behind his words. “And, uh… Maria?” she ventured, dropping her voice to a more hushed tone.

Roman’s jaw tightened, but he managed a curt nod. “We don’t talk about her much,” he said. “It’s better that way.”

An unspoken agreement passed between them. Roman appreciated Tamina’s concern, even if it touched on sensitive subjects. She had always been more than just family; she was a sturdy pillar of support.

They didn’t see each other often, but when they did, she always came through with her investigations. Tamina had a knack for showing up at exactly the right moment, armed with invaluable intel. Her specialities in surveillance and code-breaking had become critical assets to The Bloodline. She had a gift for deciphering where people were and predicting where they were going to be, a skill that was as much about intuition as it was about experience.

“Alright, let’s talk business,” Roman clapped his hands, moving on.

The group made their way up to Roman’s meeting room. The room itself was a fortress of secrecy, with soundproof walls that he had insisted on installing. It was a necessary precaution to ensure their plans stayed within trusted circles.

Paul closed the door behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world, before they all settled around the large dark walnut table, the atmosphere shifting from familial warmth to strategic intensity.

“Tamina,” Roman began, leaning back in his chair, “Paul’s filled you in on what we’ve been dealin’ with, right?”

She nodded, her eyes now a sharp depiction of focus. “Yes, he has. I’ve been doin’ some deep diving into the Volkovs’ plans since he called. Dimitri Volkov is a slippery one, but I think I got some good stuff so far.”

Roman’s gaze darkened as he thought about Dimitri. He had faced the man more than anyone else at the table and knew the extent of his ruthlessness. “He’s a different breed,” he grumbled. “Calculating… always ten steps ahead. But he’s got a pattern, even if it’s hard to see.”

Tamina pulled out a stack of documents and spread them across the table. “I tracked their movements over the last few months, and these are some of the key locations they’ve been frequenting,” she glanced up at Roman. “Looks like they’re planning somethin’ real big. They’re using a lot of code.”

She pointed to a map of New York City, with several locations circled in red. “These are some of the hotspots. Dimitri’s been meeting with some high-profile figures, and they’re not just local. We’re talkin’ international contacts, arms dealers, mercenaries.”

Roman leaned in, scrutinising the map. “So, they’re gearin’ up for somethin’ major, huh?”

Tamina nodded. “I’ve got some surveillance footage of Dimitri coming and going, but he’s been cautious. Minus a few slip ups. I’m workin’ on getting more details.”

“What about the shipment?” Jey enquired. “We know they been movin’ a lot of product, but where’s it goin’?”

Sliding another set of papers across the table, Tamina had a look of pride on her face. “I’ve managed to compile a list of properties the Volkovs have stakes in. I will say, a lot of the info pointed to a warehouse in Queens. It’s heavily guarded, which means it’s important. Whatever they’re storing there, it’s worth protecting.”

“We need to get in there,” Jimmy suggested. “Find out what they hidin’.”

Tamina raised an eyebrow. “It won’t be easy, Jimmy, they’ve got state-of-the-art security, and Dimitri’s not one to take any chances.”

Roman’s smile was cold and determined. “Haven’t we dealt with worse?”

“If… If I may, my Tribal Chief,” Paul inserted, raising his hand a little. “We need to approach this carefully. Volkov is a very dangerous human being, and if he suspects anything, he’ll tighten his claws even more.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Poor Paul must have thought he’d stepped over the line by suggesting that his boss was acting too impulsively. He’d already begun planning his escape, and what country to flee to.

“Agreed.”

Heyman sighed heavily. Thank fuck for that.

“If the Volkovs did take the shipment—”

“Which they did,” Roman insisted.

“Right,” Tamina nodded. “If they took it, we have our work cut out for us, I can’t stress that enough. That family has stakes and access to multiple properties and estates around the whole frickin’ world.”

Twisting his face in thought, Roman gestured for her to continue.

“Four floors of a high-rise office building in Midtown Manhattan, a private club in SoHo, a villa in Florida. Their reach extends to facilities in Vegas, Texas, the West Coast, even the UK, Paris, Italy, Berlin, Dubai, Qatar, Hong Kong, Bali, Brazil, Argentina… Some secure lodgings in the Bahamas and the Swiss Alps…” Tamina breathed out, slightly worn from the extensive list.

Jey whistled low, shaking his head. “That’s a lotta ground to cover…”

“The only one that stands out is the penthouse apartment in Tribeca.”

“Why’s that stand out?” Roman asked.

“It’s not in Dimitri’s name, or any of the aliases he uses,” Tamina chewed her lip as she turned to her compact laptop, squinting her eyes as she concentrated on gathering the correct details for the correct property. “It’s in his daughter’s name.”

“Yo, he got daughters?” Jey asked.

“Chill the fuck out, man,” Solo smoothly suggested.

“Two daughters, by the looks of it. Natalka and Katerina.”

“Some Russian-ass names…” Jey muttered.

“You saw the oldest the other night,” Roman neutrally informed his cousin, tapping his fingers on the table. “She was at that function with her soon-to-be husband.”

“Damn, she engaged…”

“I’m not entirely sure why you’re takin’ this as some kinda joke, Jey,” Roman’s eyes met Jey’s, eyebrows narrowing. “This ain’t no joke, this ain’t no party—this is our livelihood, this is our legacy, this is war…” He leaned forward with a perpetual grimace on his face. “Straighten the fuck up, or I will happily do it for you.”

The Uso thickly swallowed, refusing to maintain eye contact. So instead, he looked down at the table, managing a small nod.

“What was that?” Roman pushed for a response.

“I nodded, Uce, I nodded.”

Roman didn’t care much for the attitude, and if it were any other time, he would have been chastised for it. But right now, getting their shipment back where it belonged was the number one priority. Fuck Jey and his wandering mind. The Tribal Chief shot one last dagger through his eyes, and then softened his resolve when facing Tamina.

“I apologise.”

“We good,” Tamina knew to stay out of it. They were like this as kids, ever since the twins caught Roman in their toy box. The situation, of course, put a little more on the line, but they were practically brothers. It wasn’t her business to manage their dynamics.

“So, yeah, the penthouse is under Natalka Volkov. 27-years-old and still Daddy’s little girl,” Tamina clicked her tongue with a small shake of her head. “He’s been sendin’ her out to appear at functions, charity galas, things like that for about 2 years now. It’s obvious he’s primin’ her for somethin’.”

“You see her the other night, Chief?” Jimmy asked.

“Hmm,” Roman half-confirmed, half-thought. He was sure that it was her; he’d never met the woman, nor did he know too much about her. Guess that would have to change if Daddy is fixing to put her in charge. “Think I saw her talkin’ to TJD… Damn, probably makin’ sure it was still goin’ ahead, so they could hit us.” Shaking his head, Roman leaned back in his chair again.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Thick with pure tension as everyone attempted to piece together this ridiculous puzzle. Roman’s eyes were transfixed on the map spread out before them. A shipment like that was way too valuable, too dangerous to be floating around unchecked.

Solo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and a deep brown etched on his face.

“Yo, how many of those spots are like… secure secure facilities?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Tamina, her eyes glued to her laptop, clicked through several files. “The most secluded areas are the hardest to track,” she said, her fingers flying over the keys. “The Bahamas and the Alps are basically fortresses. If Dimitri’s hiding something there, it’s gonna be nearly impossible to get in.”

Roman exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “This ain’t helping,” he muttered. “We can’t just globe-trot and hope we bump into some Russian asshole with four crates of illegal weapons. We need a damn plan. We need them bastards’ heads on fuckin’ spikes in our front yard!”

Again, the silence took over, leaving Roman’s small outburst to hang in the air between them. Paul, usually the one with the answers, seemed unusually quiet, his forehead creased with concern. Tamina, however, looked like she was on the brink of a breakthrough, her eyes narrowing as she considered their options.

The silence was broken by Jimmy, who tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, trying to think of another approach. “What about tracking his movements? He can’t move those crates without leaving some kinda trail, right?”

Tamina sighed, shaking her head. “He’s too smart for that. Any obvious trail will be a decoy, which’ll lead us in the wrong direction. We need to outthink him, find the unexpected angle.”

“What if we just focus on the States first?” contemplated Solo, “He knows we’ll be lookin’. He might keep it closer to home for now.”

“Makes sense,” Jey agreed. “Start with places we know they got ties to. The office building, that club in SoHo. We scope ‘em out, see if there’s any unusual activity.”

Roman nodded slowly, considering it for a moment. “Eyeballs will never be enough. It’s good, don’t get me wrong, man, it’s just…” he huffed, “It ain’t as concrete as ears. We can’t find our shit on assumptions…”

Tamina cleared her throat, catching Roman’s attention, before leaning in slightly, dropping her voice tentatively.

“Well, there is one thing you could try…”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Keep your grip tight, but not too tight,” Nate’s voice was calmly authoritative. “You need control, but also flexibility. Now, aim down the sights. Take a deep breath. And… fire.”

Katya squeezed the trigger, and the shot rang out, echoing in the enclosed space. The bullet hit the target, a little off from the centre. Nate nodded approvingly. “Good. You’re getting better. Remember, it’s all about practice and keeping yourself calm.”

Lowering the gun, Katya looked over at Nate with a small etching of concern. “Do you really think I need to know all this, Nate? I mean, I’m not… you.”

The older Volkov sighed, reaching out and adjusting Katya’s grip on the gun. “I know you’re not me, Kat, but it’s important you know how to protect yourself. It’s not recreational, it’s a necessity for us.”

“Did Dad teach you how to shoot guns?”

Nate chewed her lip, squinting at the target, feigning a distraction from the question.

“Nate.”

“What?”

“Did Dad–”

“Yes, he did.”

“And how old were you?”

With a sigh, Nate looked at her sister, softening her gaze. “I wasn’t 20, I’ll tell you that much,” she said with a dismissive chuckle. “Again,” she instructed, stepping back to give Katya space. “And this time, focus on your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Let it calm you.”

Katya nodded, raising the gun once more. Nate watched intently, every movement scrutinised, every potential mistake noted. It was clear Nate knew exactly what she was doing. Her movements were precise, her advice clear and effective. She was a professional in every sense, a mentor who demanded excellence without forgetting that her student wasn’t an expert.

But as she watched her baby sister handle the 686, that fear that lingered at the back of her mind non-stop continued to gnaw away at her heart. She couldn’t allow history to repeat itself. Not now, not ever. It was a reluctant truth that Nate took years to come to terms with, but with the shipment theft, and Dimitri really ramping up the demands… one couldn’t be too careful when it came to ensuring the protection of those they love.

If Nate could make it so Katya never had to touch a gun, she would. But that wasn’t their reality.

As Katya fired another round, hitting closer to the centre of the target, Nate allowed herself a small smile. “Better. You’re getting there.”

The blonde looked at her, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Thanks, Nate. For everything.”

Softening her eyes, Nate placed an arm around Katya, tugging her closer and giving her a gentle squeeze. “You’re my sister. I’ll always look out for you. Now, let’s take a break. I want to go over some self-defence moves with you. Can’t be having some wanker thinking they can put their hands on you without a kick in the bollocks.”

They walked towards the bench at the back of the range, the tension of the shooting session slowly dissipating. Nate handed Katya her water bottle, and they sat down, the hum of the ventilation system filling the silence.

“You really have to cut down on the English vernacular.”

“Look who swallowed a bloody dictionary,” Nate mused with a smirk, taking a sip of water herself. “Why should I? We’re British, remember?”

“No, we’re Russian,” Katya rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you sound so Russian right now, Kat.”

“Da poshyol te,” Katya stuck her middle finger up at her big sister with a sarcastic smile.

“Aw…” Nate pouted, nudging her side. “Ya tozhe tebya lublu, suka.”

“Seriously, though… Dad doesn’t like it.”

Nate scrunched her eyebrows up, glancing at the floor. “Dad doesn’t like me speaking like… me?”

“He just thinks that Russian sounds better.”

“Mum never spoke Russian at home,” Nate mumbled, almost defensively. The mention of Irina soured the atmosphere somewhat, and the sisters were left in silence for a moment. This was why nobody ever spoke about her; the situation was so tragic, nobody ever knew what to say.

“Nate,” Katya began, hesitating slightly. “Do you ever… Do you ever get scared?”

Pausing, Nate considered the question. She really did. Even if it didn’t translate through her nonchalant sip of water and her distant stare. Sure, Nate was strong. Impenetrable. But even she, like every other motherfucker on planet Earth, had her vulnerabilities.

The difference was that she learned to wield them like weapons.

“Yeah, Kat, I do,” she honestly answered. “But it’s a tool.” She looked over at Katya. “Without fear, we don’t question what we see in front of us. And without the will to question, we navigate like robots. Carbon copies of one another…” Before she could go off on a tangent, she shook her head and stood up, stretching out her arms. “The trick is not letting it control you.”

Katya knew Nate never liked to talk about the intricacies of how the family business impacted her. But she wasn’t entirely stupid. She may not have known everything that went on right under her nose, but she saw the effect it had on her sister. 

“Alright,” Nate offered her hand to Katya. “Let’s get to it. The more you know, the safer you’ll b–”

“Natalka!”

Nate and Katya whipped their heads round to the doorway of the shooting range, seeing their uncle Ivan standing there with a hand in his pocket. Nate’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing in irritation. She despised interruptions, especially when it came from Ivan. Unlike Dimitri and Sergei, Ivan didn’t command the same level of respect or fear, which made Nate feel more at ease being openly… well, openly being a cunt to him.

“Dimitri wants to see you. He’s on the pitch.”

Nate shot him a withering look. “You couldn’t wait ‘til we were done?”

Ivan shrugged, unphased. “He said now.”

With a huff, she turned to Katya, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll pick this up later. Just… practise your aim for now, ‘kay?”

“Mhm,” Katya nodded, moving out of Nate’s way so she could leave. 

Offering a small, tight-lipped smile to Katya, Nate turned on her heel and strode out of the range, leaving Ivan trailing behind her.

“This better be about The Bloodline.”

“Mitya didn’t say what it was about–”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

As she made her way through the estate, she really did hope to Mother Nature that this was about their next steps regarding The Bloodline, and that it wasn’t another lecture on Boris fucking Sokolov. The mere thought of discussing anything about that vile man right now made her stomach churn.

She’d much rather talk strategy, plot how to bring Roman Reigns and his family to their knees.

She envisioned Roman’s downfall. Imagined the fear and desperation that would cloud his eyes as his world crumbled. The satisfaction she would derive from witnessing that would be… unparalleled.

Reaching the edge of the estate, Nate’s eyes fell upon her father. He stood on the meticulously maintained golf pitch, practising his putting with an air of leisurely dominance. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever demand or scheme he had in mind.

Nate stood silently, her arms crossed, watching as he putt another ball into the hole with a calm precision that made her want to jump out of her own skin. He was a man who thrived on control, and this right here was a stark reminder of the power he had over her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he looked up, the casual smile on his face belying the intensity of his gaze.

“Nate,” he greeted.

“Dad,” she echoed. “Ivan said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes, I, uh… need you to do something for me.”

She suppressed a sigh. “Of course you do. What is it?”

Dimitri gestured to the golf course, a rare moment of playfulness in his eyes. “There’s an auction in Grand Central on Saturday. Underground, of course. I need you and Boris to attend and secure a batch of knives.”

“Knives?” she raised her eyebrow. “We have a kitchen.”

“Little Natalka, always so funny funny…” he chuckled, but it was drained of any emotion. “They’re belt-buckle and sword cane knives. Cannot get such things at… Walmart.”

“Another errand on your behalf. How delightful, father.”

His eyes narrowed, and the playful glint vanished. “Watch your tone, Natalka. This isn’t a request. It’s an order. Budte uvazhitelny.”

She wanted to argue, to push back against his demands, but she knew better. Instead, she let out a controlled breath and nodded. “Fine.”

Even though she agreed, Dimitri could sense her resignation like a dog sniffing out an eight ball. He took a step closer, softening his voice into a whisper. “I know things haven’t been easy for you lately, Natalka. But I want you to know that I am so proud of you, and I am proud that I have a daughter like you. And I know… your mother would say the same.” 

Nate perked up. He was actually acknowledging her mother. That she once existed. She felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards.

“Everything you do is for this family. To keep us all safe… You want Katerina to be safe, don’t you, dorogoy?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she answered immediately with an earnest nod.

Dimitri returned a more genuine smile. “Good. Then you understand why this is important for us.”

Swallowing hard, she conceded. “Yes… I do understand, Papa. I’ll… go to the auction with Boris.”

“Excellent,” Dimitri praised, turning back to his putting. “And while you’re there, keep an ear out for any useful information. The auction scene can be… quite the goldmine for intel.”

[alexturne]

MONKEYING AROUND

Alex Turner Knows You Want Arctic Monkeys to Make ‘AM’ Again. Sorry! (Rolling Stone)

The frontman on big rock guitars, evolving as a band, and revving up for their latest album, The Car.

BY BRIAN HIATT, OCTOBER 21, 2022

FROM THE MOMENT the world heard the frantic majesty of Arctic Monkeys’ classic debut, 2006’s Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, it was obvious the U.K. foursome were headed for rock greatness. But great bands have always reserved the right to swerve into detours that baffle some fans — while perhaps making new ones — and Arctic Monkeys are no exception. Their commercial and creative high point, the groove-rock stomper AM, was one of the last albums by a rock band to truly shake the culture. They followed it with five years of silence. Then, in 2018, came the gorgeous but defiantly odd space-lounge concept album Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino.

With their lush new follow-up, The Car, they’re still a lot more interested in sculpting hi-fi soundscapes than blasting your face off, with rich strings and Steely Dan-level studio gloss applied to mostly slow-burning songs, albeit with a bit more rock muscle this time. “I don’t think it sounds like a different band, but I can imagine that’s something that can get thrown around,” says frontman Alex Turner. “I think what makes it sound like the same band is that we’re not betraying our instinct to challenge our idea of what the band can be.”

Did you, on any level, feel burned out on big rock after making AM? [Speaks using DJ voice] “You’re listening to Burned Out … on Big Rock” [laughs]. It’s definitely a rock record, that AM, isn’t it? But to us, there was always something else going on in there that gets it over the line. I don’t know if it’s the break after it or what, but it doesn’t seem that straightforward getting back there. I don’t ever remember feeling burned out on big rock. It just seemed, you know, any moves you made to try and move back in that direction.… These other paths that we’ve discovered always seemed to make more sense. I dunno how to put it.

You once said that somehow a direct progression from AM wasn’t an option, that you did the only thing you could do. Absolutely. Yeah. I think it was important to step away. I worked on other things, and they probably led to Tranquility being what we ended up doing there. And there may have been, honestly, occasions where I’ve attempted to sort of put the motorcycle boots back on and figure out what an AM-type tune would be. But it almost seems like a spoof or something when I start playing it out with those ideas at the moment. It remains to be seen. I’m not saying we’re never going to do something that sounds a bit like Sabbath again. I’m not ruling out the possibility — ’cause I feel that there are moments of big rock on this record, even, possibly.

You kind of pull those sounds in and out, right? On some of these songs, you’ve got the band on a fader, and they come in. On the third song on the record, “Sculptures of Anything Goes,” it’s all just a Moog and a drum machine and a vocal. But there’s a few bars in it where the rock band gets switched on and then goes into the background again.

That is one of the key differences between this album and the last one. You’re getting some distorted guitar. And I would attribute that to having the session with the band and everyone together. On “Body Paint,” I was surprised how distorted and rock the ending of that [song] got on the guitar. When I started playing with the lads again, it’s like, “Oh, yeah. I want to dig in a bit and play rock guitar.”

When you’re using the band as only one element in the sound, what kind of dissension, if any, is there? From the rest of the guys? Those sort of ideas, the more time’s gone on, the more encouraging they have been about them. I think once upon a time, when we had the windbreakers zipped up to here and the guitar was really tight, we were all playing all at once all the time, and that’s how it was. But I think we all have started to realize that using that space can be quite effective. And if you’re the one not playing, you’re still the one that’s not playing, you know?

The “Do I Wanna Know” riff is everywhere — kids learning guitar constantly play it on TikTok. It’s the new “Wonderwall” or “Seven Nation Army.” What do you make of that? Wow. I dunno, man. That guitar, the 12-string orange Vox guitar we bought right at the end of the Suck It and See session [in 2011] … the “Do I Wanna Know” riff, like, came with it. It was built in.

Matt Healy from the 1975 said that he thought the first decade of the 2000s belonged to you guys, but that his band took the second decade. [Laughs.] Oh yeah?

Are you willing to cede that territory? I concede. And now we’re in the third. Watch this space.

Your band has been around for 20 years, incredibly. Do you want to be like the Stones and stay together pretty much forever? I’m just trying to get through [our next show at] Kings Theatre at the moment. I don’t think that’s a plan I’m gonna draw up tonight. The show’s getting stronger. It feels like it’s becoming something else, and I think the inclusion of this new material within that is only gonna hopefully help. It’s hard not to get excited about that. It’s one step at a time. Let’s see where this Car leads us.

[ronaldofandom]

Desire

Last & final part, folks. Smut was promised and has been delivered.

Summary: Bheem*reader. This Bheem is sexy & sweet & still a bit Daya and maybe a bit Tarak as well. But our Bheem shines through.

Think of the picture below of sultry Tarak and imagine what you would want to do if you were with him. This chapter is a combination of all those fantasies - you would want to be the reader here :)

Disclaimer/warnings: This is smut smut smut

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Chapter 3 - (Ch 1, Ch 2)

Riya was in a daze. This man, who had captured all her thoughts and fantasies, was currently carrying her to his bedroom. She could feel his bulge from where her legs were wrapped around his waist. She could feel his strength from how he held her up with just one arm. She could feel his rock-hard chest and abs as he crushed her soft body to his steely one. She could feel his tongue in her mouth and his hand in her hair - maneuvering her like a rag doll so he could get the best access to her mouth. Her lips were already sore from the relentless hard kissing and some biting. His scent from this close was so intoxicating that she could barely keep her eyes open. Her brain tried to intervene once, flagging that what she was doing was very unlike her. But she was overcome with such carnal desire that she paid no attention to these thoughts. Her brain could go take a hike till tomorrow morning. Tonight, she just wanted to satisfy her body’s desires. She wanted to be ravished by him. And she wanted to taste every inch of his gorgeous body.

He kicked the door shut when they entered the room, only breaking the kiss when she tugged desperately at his hair, thoroughly breathless. Giving her a short breather, he sat on the couch with her in his lap. Feeling his bulge more clearly in this position now, she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering. He moved his hands to her ass and squeezed both cheeks. Hard.

‘So,’ he breathed down her neck, ‘do you want me to take off your dress, or do you want to put on a show for me by stripping?’ He whispered in her ear teasingly, sending goosebumps all over her body. She gathered herself, looked into his eyes, and found herself up to the challenge. Grabbing his face, she pressed their foreheads together and whispered against his lips.

‘How about I take off my dress, and then you take off my lingerie, maybe with your teeth.’ She had no idea who she had become at that moment, but the look on his face was priceless. He looked surprised, impressed, and turned on - all at once. 

‘Sounds like a plan. What are we waiting for?’ He leered at her while his hand traveled between her legs to cup her core over her lingerie - gently at first and then with some pressure. She gasped wildly, and both her hands grabbed his shoulders for support. She could tell from his face the exact moment he noticed her wetness. Riya knew she would crumble instantly if he touched her first, especially like THAT. She had to get her fantasies out of the way beforehand. So she pried his hand away and pushed him against the sofa back, pinning his hands against the back too. He was amused, but he let her continue, eagerly awaiting her next move.

She straddled him and did what she had wanted to do from the moment she first saw him. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she desperately started tearing it off, sending a few buttons flying. He chuckled loudly, enjoying the soft assault. She was shocked by her desire and desperation, but she was convinced it was all his fault. That man could make a nun drop to her knees and beg for his body - and she was just a meager little girl. Who was incredibly horny for him right now.

Once unbuttoned, she half-pulled, half-teared it off him, and threw it behind her. He settled smugly against the back, giving her a proper view of his upper body. He was every bit as deliciously chiseled as she had imagined, if not more. He was less human and more a granite sculpture carved by Michelangelo. She knew she was staring open-mouthed and probably drooling physically. She knew he loved the sight. But none of that mattered at that moment. She slowly brought her hands up to his pecks and felt him draw in a deep breath. Her thumbs circled his tits slowly, and then her fingers joined in, squeezing them lightly. He moaned softly, and the sound thrilled her infinitely. She had made him moan. This man - this Greek god - who must have been with countless women - SHE had made him moan. She didn’t know that the sheer thirst dropping from her eyes, her lips, her face, and her actions were driving him nuts.

Encouraged by his reaction, she squished tighter, earning herself a louder moan. Her hands were not enough anymore - she wanted to taste him. So she bent down and nipped his neck, gently biting the hard skin. His hands fisted in her hair, urging her to continue. She pecked him all over his neck and shoulders - alternatively using her lips, tongue, and teeth. Then she moved to his pecks and closed her mouth on his nipples - sucking ferociously - like someone lost in a desert for days tasting water for the first time. Her hands traveled the expanse of his chest and grabbed whatever they could find. She moved to his other nipple, giving it equal attention. His intermittent moans turned her on like a house on fire. She moved to his abs and started tracing them with her tongue amidst sloppy wet kisses. She was far too gone for any sense of propriety and restraint anymore. It was like she was in a trance and her need for his body was her only anchor. Her face was too close to his crotch now - so much so that she felt his stiff bulge on her neck, making both of them shudder. She looked up at him helplessly - her wanton eyes full of need. That was the last straw that broke his restraint.

He grabbed her, stood up, and tossed her over his shoulder. She yelped at the sudden movement, finding herself completely helpless and entirely at his mercy in such a position. He lightly smacked her ass and threw her unceremoniously on the bed, making it creak loudly. Grabbing her legs, he pulled her down to the edge of the bed and settled between her legs. She looked so alluring - hair disheveled, lips swollen, dress hiked up to her waist. Her long, toned legs spread open for him. He hoisted her legs up to his shoulders and kissed them - starting from her toes and down to the very edge of her thighs. She moaned loudly and instinctively tried to cross her legs, but he forced them apart again. Then crawled up her body and captured her lips, slipping his tongue inside. His hand moved under her back, and he deftly unbuttoned her dress with one hand, leaving each button intact. Experience, she thought. Which he had a lot of, and she had practically none of. As she felt her dress being slid off her shoulders and down her waist, her anxiety flared up again. She should tell him, she needed to tell him, she must tell him…but what would he think? 

She lost her train of thought, though, when she felt her hands getting pinned on top of her head and his face getting buried in her cleavage. She moaned loudly, her whole body thrumming with anticipation. He cupped her breasts roughly and nipped at her cleavage, making her head reel. Her wrists were still caged in his hands. She had never felt so vulnerable before, and that feeling became 10X when he started pulling down her bra with his teeth.

‘Bheem.’ She whimpered helplessly. ‘Yeah, baby.’ He whispered back. ‘Bheem, please…please… be gentle ok.’ He stopped midway, one breast out of the bra and one still inside, and smiled at her. ‘Says the girl who tore open my clothes and assaulted my body with her teeth, huh? I thought you liked rough.’ He added teasingly, burying his head back down and cupping her naked breast in his mouth. His other hand slid between her legs and cupped her again. She moaned wantonly - one hand loosely in his hair and the other clawing at his back. Her body was unable to comprehend which stimulated pleasure zone to focus on. ‘I did…I mean, I do..As in, I liked what I did. And I love what you are doing. But…..but…Bheem, this is…my first time.’

He froze. Absolutely froze. Full body freezing in shock. Her last words had hit him like a truck. Like someone had drowned him in a pool of ice-cold water. He rolled off her, covering his face with his hands. How was that possible? She was so beautiful and gorgeous. And she had been in a long relationship before - he knew that; he had done his homework. Then how could this be her first time? He just couldn’t wrap his head around that thought. It was like someone had slapped him in the face. He sighed deeply - unsure of what to do anymore.

Riya, who was watching him closely, was thoroughly and utterly confused. She had no idea of the tribulations in his head. And she wondered if she had done something to upset him. Her anxiety and nerves were back in full force. She fixed her bra and called out to him.

‘Bheem…what happened?’ She asked timidly, her voice small and nervous.

No response. For one full minute. Her confusion had touched the roof by now. He spoke finally. ‘I am sorry, Riya.’

‘What are you sorry for? Bheem, what’s happening?’

‘You should have told me earlier that this was your first time. Or I should have asked, maybe. I…I am just…I am sorry.’ He choked out.

Oh, so this was what it was about. He didn’t want to be with a virgin? He didn’t think it would be….good for him, was it? It was like her worst fear coming true.

‘Why does it matter? You can show me what to do, and I can follow.’ She added timidly. No response. Again. Her heart broke.

‘Or…is it something I did or didn’t do that you didn’t like? And…and you think it won’t be good for you coz…coz I wouldn’t know what to do?’ 

‘WHAT?’ He croaked incredulously. Was she out of her mind? What the hell was she saying? Riya didn’t pause, though. She carried on.

‘You are just like my ex-boyfriend then. All men are the same. He also said I won’t be good in bed. That I would do boring sex. That I didn’t get him hard. That’s why I could never really get fully intimate with him. I didn’t want to; I had never really felt so turned on with him. And he said it was my fault. We only went second base, which was also quite basic. I think that’s one of the reasons he broke up with me. You are just like him then, aren’t you?’

Bheem couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The whole situation was insane. He sat up, grabbed her arms, and made her sit before him.

‘STOP TALKING AND LISTEN TO WHAT I AM GOING TO SAY. DO NOT INTERRUPT ME.’

She was in no mood to say anything, so she just nodded tersely.

‘I don’t know your ex-boyfriend. But he must be the biggest loser on the face of this earth if he said that to you. He must have been a boy, not a man. Riya, if he didn’t get hard with you or could not get you wet, then it was down to him, not to you. There is nothing wrong with you. You are smoking hot.’ She looked at him suspiciously, wanting to believe him but unable to. He grabbed her hand and put it on his jeans, right over his crotch, making her gasp loudly.

‘Do you see what you are doing to me? You got me so hard that it was painful to let you have your fun and not have my turn. Everything you are and everything you did made me go crazy with desire. How you could ever believe you won’t get a man to go nuts over you is beyond me. It’s just insane behavior.’ He shook her again, and she withdrew her hand from his crotch. He could see he was getting through to her now.

‘And just to clarify, your lack of experience is not the reason why I paused. Or because I thought I won’t have a good time. Riya, I paused because your first time shouldn’t be with someone like me. It should be with someone a lot nicer, someone you like, someone you want to be with. Not a morally compromised person like me. I know it’s a special experience for girls, especially girls like you.’

Everything else he said made sense to her, and she had largely calmed down. But the last line got on her nerves.

‘What do you mean girls like me? Who are you to fit me into a type? How do you know what I am like? Or have you just decided that I am the prim & proper type?’

Bheem could sense her agitation, and he knew he had touched a nerve. So he summoned his most calming voice. ‘Please don’t misinterpret me. Am I wrong in my understanding that you would want your first time to be with someone special? Someone you really like and who likes you back? Someone, you see a future with?

‘Yes, you are wrong.’ She said with a straight face. He just gaped at her. ‘Why is that so surprising? Because it doesn’t fit the type you think I belong to?’ He continued gaping.

‘You men are such raving morons. You and your assumptions. Well, here’s the thing. Ideally, yes, I would have wanted all the things you just described. I would have wanted it to be with someone special. But the person I loved turned out to be a buffoon. So yeah, that didn’t happen. Should I just sit and cry over it or wait to fall in love again? A lot of my other friends have had sexually intimate experiences. I haven’t. Why is it so wrong that I want to experience it? I want to see what all the fuss is about. I am curious. And guess what, women have needs too, dummy.’ He listened to her, shell-shocked. 

‘Didn’t expect me to say all this, did you? Well, there's more. I am going to the US for a year after returning to Delhi. So I wasn’t looking for commitment or anything when I said I needed you. I meant what I said. I needed you tonight. That’s it. Or is it just the prerogative of men to need sex this way? It’s appalling if women want it like this? I just wanted this experience with someone nice, someone who is not a creep. Is that too much to ask for?’ She continued her rant.

He felt like an anaconda had swallowed him whole and then puked him alive. This was all too much. He was still agonizingly hard. But he was also confused, surprised, shocked, and more confused. He would admit that he was ultra-shocked at her views on sex and what she was looking for from him. This is not what he had assumed. His foggy mind somehow focused on her last line. He managed to find the following words after some effort.

‘Riya, I admit I was wrong. I didn’t know you felt this way. About this experience. About wanting me like this. I am sorry for my assumptions. But here’s the thing. I AM NOT NICE. I am not a creep for sure, but I am not nice either. You don’t know me well enough, and a lot of what you saw in me was what I wanted you to see. So no, you don’t know me. And no, I am not nice. You have no idea what has led to us being together in my bed right now. And you will hate me when you get to know. So please believe me when I say this - I am not nice. You shouldn’t share this experience with me.’

She was silent for a moment, mulling over his words. She didn’t know what he meant by some things, but she knew what she felt about him was not wrong. He may have put on a show for her, and he may have been suggestive, but she had partly sensed that already.

‘The story with Aanya - was that a lie? The way you are with your friends - was that a lie? All the things that you have achieved in your life - was that a lie? The fact that you were upfront with me about not wanting a relationship ever and didn’t lead me on - was that a lie? Tell me, Bheem.’

‘No. Not these things. But this whole trip is a lie. I set it up on the spot, so I could seduce you. I was extra attentive to you so I could seduce you. Why don’t you get it, Riya? I am not who you think I am. I am not a nice person.’

‘Well, I am going to be the judge of that. I get to decide who is good enough or nice enough to sleep with me. You don’t have to be this angel and look out for me. I am a big girl - I can make my own decisions, you know.’ 

Both of them fell silent for a bit, quietly processing what had happened. The night hadn’t gone how either of them wanted it to. Nowhere close, rather. This was chaos, utter chaos. After a few minutes, she spoke up.

‘Look, I respect what you just said. I respect that you felt compelled to share all this honestly with me. However, it still doesn’t mean you are right. I wanted to sleep with you coz I am attracted to you. I think you are smart, sexy, sweet, charming, funny, successful, and a zillion other things. You could just be looking for a one-night stand, and you chose to tell me this yourself instead of me finding out the next morning, but I don’t care about that. I just wanted to have a good time with you. But it’s fine - I will go to my room now. Come find me if you change your mind; the offer is still on the table.’ 

She leaned in to softly kiss his lips, and they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. She got up from the bed, picked up her dress & heels, and started walking towards the washroom to change. He stood up abruptly and held her wrist.

‘I have a proposition.’

‘I am listening.’

‘I still don’t think we should have sex. Not tonight at least. You need some time to process everything I told you. And then make a call.’ She rolled her eyes at him and tried to get out of his hold, but he held on.

‘But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time tonight like you wanted. I can still rock your world without penetrating you, baby. It’s kind of my specialty. There is a full base between the second and fourth that you haven’t explored yet.’ He let that sink in, closely watching her face for her reaction. And he could see the exact moment the implication registered with her since her face turned full crimson. She pondered for a bit, then nodded her head.

‘Please promise one thing, Bheem - don’t go easy on me because of my first time. Treat me like you were treating me earlier. Like you would do anyone else. I want the full Bheem experience.’ She leaned into his chest and added suggestively.

The girl continued to blow his mind at every step. If that’s what she wanted, well, she was going to get it. He picked her up in his arms and carried her toward the washroom. She looked at him quizzically. 

‘Not the bed or the couch?’ She asked, looking at the comfortable, inviting surfaces.

‘Not tonight; I have other plans.’

The bathroom had a full wall mirror, and he placed her right in front of it, standing behind her. She had not imagined that it would make her feel so vulnerable and exposed. She could see her almost-naked body through the mirror and his hands wandering all over her. He unhooked her bra and slowly took down the straps from each shoulder, looking straight at her through the mirror. It was too much; she whimpered helplessly. He cupped both breasts with his hand and nibbled on her shoulder, making her moan his name repeatedly. He squished her nipples harshly, and she almost fell forward, but he grabbed her in time. Turning her around, he moved her hands to his jeans, asking her to take them off. While making her look into his eyes. These small gestures made all these moments 10x more intimate for her. 

His jeans had hung so deliciously from his hips all night. She had fantasized about hooking her fingers on the side and just pulling them down. And she was getting to do that now. The man was making all her fantasies come true. Once fully down, he kicked the jeans away with his feet. His bulge, oh his bulge, was so vividly obvious under the thin fabric of his briefs. Her eyes started to trace his length, and she started to feel lightheaded.

‘Like what you see, baby?’ He whispered, making her avert her gaze. Making a show of his physique, he sauntered to the shower section and stood under the hot water. Sighing happily when the water hit his shoulders and relaxed his muscles. Was this porn? It felt like she was watching porn. Bheem in the shower would be the most viewed video on every porn site in the world - she was convinced of that. The way the hot water fell down his chiseled physique, the way he pulled back his hair under it or ran his hands over his body - all men and women would come watching that. Hard. She could feel the wet evidence already between her legs.

He called out to her, and she somehow managed to walk to him. He pulled her inside, placing her bang under the faucet. The feel of warm water was divine. The feel of his wet hard body was even more magical. The man was intent on giving her a heart attack tonight. Well, she did beg him for a full Bheem experience, and she could tell he wasn’t holding back. Both of them ran their hands over each other’s bodies - neither holding back anymore. Both taking their hearts fill of each other. Tracing every curve. Fulfilling every desire. He slowly moved to her panties and gently pulled them down, helping her balance as he took them down her legs. She felt a whole other degree of exposed now. He pushed her back against the wall and hoisted one of her legs around his waist. Her hands grabbed his biceps, and her nails dug into them wildly. Even with his briefs, she could feel his length against her core. He dived down to suck on her breasts and started grinding his hips at the same time. Riya had turned into an incoherent moaning mess by now. His thrusts were direct, hard, and relentless. She felt a deep knot of pleasure starting to build in her lower belly. Her legs started to shake as well. Wanting to give her more direct friction as she approached her release, he bent down in front of her and sucked on her clit, while his fingers rubbed her semi-wet lips. She almost bent over, somehow staying upright by holding onto his shoulders and the back of his head. He sucked and rubbed and sucked some more. She screamed and moaned and gasped and cried and then screamed again. He was glad they were in the outhouse - else she should have woken up the full house. As she was close, he dipped his index finger lightly inside her, sending her over the edge. She screamed wantonly, her cum dripping down her opening. He held her upright and sucked along her lips, tasting and swallowing her release. Her eyes rolled back in their heads, and she could swear she could see stars. 

The next few minutes were a bit hazy - she remembered him carrying her to the counter and seating her there, nothing more. When she returned to her senses, he was scanning her face, trying to see if she was fine.

‘Earth to Riya, can you hear me?’ He teased, knowing fully well what he had just done to her senses. She smiled softly and snuggled against his chest. When he wrapped his hands around her, she felt absolute bliss and contentment. Her heart started to feel stuff, but she shoved those feelings aside. There was no room for feelings - she repeated over and over to her heart.

As she moved and he hissed softly, she realized that he was still rock hard. And still in his briefs. She wanted to see him. So badly. She wanted to touch him there. So badly. And she also wanted to…taste him. As she started to pull down his briefs, his hands stopped her midway. 

‘Riya, listen to me. You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to. It’s absolutely fine. It doesn’t take away from the experience I have had. Trust me.’ He looked at her seriously, meaning every word he said.

‘Bheem, trust me when I say this. I want this. I want to do this. I want to touch you. Please.’ He sighed, not convinced but letting her continue. She pulled it fully down, and he kicked the briefs away, letting her gape at him.

And she did gape. In admiration. In shock. In nervousness. In fear. In absolute curiosity. How the hell was that size and girth supposed to fit inside her? Inside any woman, for that matter? How did the others manage to walk the next day? Or days? No wonder he was hesitant to penetrate her virgin core. 

He saw the screaming question in her widely blown eyes and smiled softly, cupping her face. ‘It does fit, baby. It does go in fully. With a little effort, stretching and preparation.’ He kissed her lips as she came back to her senses. She had to remind herself what she had meant to do. Such was the effect of the monstrosity in front of him. 

‘Show me what to do, please. I don’t know this, Bheem.’

‘Bend down on your knees.’ She did. He wrapped her hand around the base of his length and held her there, letting her get used to the feeling. Her hand was hesitant initially, and her whole body shuddered with what she was doing. But she started to gain confidence soon, and he let go of her hand. She turned sideways to look into the mirror. There he was, gloriously naked. And there she was, completely spent and naked. With his length in her hand. This image was printed in her head now. Forever.

‘Move your hand up and down. Gradually increase the pace. And use your thumb on the tip.’ He guided her, and she followed every instruction to the T, wanting to please him & to make him feel like he had made her feel. His soft sighs and intermittent gasps were egging her on. When she increased the pace, and he threw his head back, she smiled happily. However, there was one more thing that her heart wanted. Desperately. But it was a very bold step, and she didn’t know whether she had the courage for it. He was right in front of her, gloriously hard, almost close to his edge. What she wanted, what she desired deeply, was to taste him. She slowly worked up the courage and moved her face close to his length. He grabbed the back of her head immediately.

‘What are you doing?’ He eyed her suspiciously.

‘I want to taste you, please, Bheem.’

‘Nope. Absolutely not. Riya, most women are not ok with this after years of being sexually active. And this is your first time. No, this will be too much for you.’

‘Well, it may be their choice to not do it after years. But it’s my choice to do it tonight. Right now. With you. Please let me make my choice, Bheem. I really want to.’ 

‘At least let me put on a condom.’

‘Nope, I want to taste you, not the condom.’ He relented, convinced that he was going to hell for this.

‘Good boy. Now, tell me what to do.’

He held the back of her head with one hand and his length with the other, slowly inserting himself in her mouth. She gagged instinctively, and he pulled out, giving her mouth time to get used to the intrusion. She tried slowly, this time like he had told her. Running her tongue around his length and sucking in gradually, like he had told her. Breathing through her nose, like he had told her. He was surprised when she took him halfway in - the soft, squishy, slurpy noises coming from her mouth almost sent him over the edge. She looked up at him with those big innocent eyes. His hand at the back of her head, and her face buried in his length. Well, that was an image he wasn’t forgetting anytime soon. He had to consciously hold himself back from dictating the pace or thrusting into her mouth - he let her manage the pace as well as she could. When he was close, though, he slowly pulled out. She didn’t protest - the last two minutes had exhausted her more than the rest of the night. Her mouth still felt stretched and full and sore. He grabbed her hand and wrapped it on the base of his length - moving it furiously, applying pressure exactly where he needed it. He came ten seconds later - partly on her face, partly on her neck, and the rest on her chest. Leaving both of them stunned and aroused. He leaned against the counter as he caught his breath and grabbed a towel to clean the mess off her body. She gladly obliged. They both leaned against each other, trying to return from their highs.

‘What’s the plan now? Do you wanna sleep in with me or go back to your room?

‘I will tell Ambika I passed out on the living room couch when she asks me in the morning.

‘So that’s a yes? You will sleep in with me?

‘Bheem, I don’t know if you have understood this as yet, but I am physically incapable of saying no to you.’

…………………….........................

Phew, that was hot & heavy to write. But like Riya, I blame him and that photo. It just asked for a fic like this. Hope you guys liked it - pls do share your thoughts :)

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @anyavaramyr @yehsahihai @budugu @chaotic-moonlight @rasnak2 @fadedscarlets @idk-abt-life @maraudersbitchesassemble @juhiiiiii @justmeand-myinsight @mikabilis @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @bromance-minus-the-b @ramcharantitties @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @annieginny @chaanv @ssabriel @sally-for-sally @bitchy-bi-trash @milla984 @doodlesofthelastpage @boochhaan @mesimpleone @carminavulcana @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @meastradeur @teddybat24 @fangirlshrewt97 @stanleykubricks @stuckyandlarrystuff @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @voidsteffy

[celestialholz]

Oooo TM098 with either pair, but I’m leaning towards Vanillacupcakes—

... Oh jesus fucking christ lmao THANKS LITTLE BRO T_T You know, honestly... why not both? Cross-posted to AO3 here as chapter two, this is the madness that is:

TM98: Skill Swap

"... Sir?"

His own baffled student faced him on the Artazon court, brilliant grin liquid sunshine upon her.

"Ah, hello Miss Daisy!"

This was quite mad. He could see his own house from here.

The teenager wore an expression of utter horror.

"Sir, aren't you in the Elite Four?"

"Why yes, every other day, but, well..."

Geeta's latest 'innovation' flashed behind his eyes, a sermon on 'walking a mile in another's shoes' giving them greater perspective for battle - the League conference had collectively rolled their eyes and paired up, largely without any argument that wasn't harsh mutterings. It was only for the day, and disagreeing with the immovable force that was La Primera was never worthwhile. She had quite the streak of ruthlessness to her if questioned too much.

His own pairing was deeply obvious - he and his husband had reflexively grabbed one another's hands nevertheless, just on the remote chance that someone had tried to split them.

"... It wasn't our idea, my dear."

"I've got one gym badge!"

“Oh, you’ll be fine, I’m absolutely sure! Are you ready, Miss Daisy?”

“No! Hell no!”

“Language, dear girl,” he chastised, smiling as he released Noivern. The bat dragon glanced around at her whereabouts, took in the challenger, and glanced back at her father.

“Mm, yes,” Hassel told her, “your darling Papa and I have swapped roles my friend, just for today. Now, I’m going to need you to go nice and easy on our young companion here…”

“… Vern.” The dragon turned to her opponent with a steely gaze, and the teenager swallowed glass, mouth agape, hand quivering on her own Poke Ball.

“… Arceus,” she whispered. “I am so screwed.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

“Now, who can tell me about Kalosian movements in postmodern sculpture?”

Eighteen blank faces stared back at Brassius, who rose a brow as he glanced between them all.

“… No? Galarian art nouveau, perhaps?”

The youths exchanged glances.

“… Cubism?” Brassius asked in disbelief, before theatrically sighing at their continued confusion. “Good heavens, what does my husband teach you…”

“Mostly about creative freedom, Sir,” piped up an older boy at the back, who the sculptor automatically snapped to. “Professor Hassel says it’s important to create authentic work, even if it’s not the most skilled.”

“Yeah, he says you can get more skilled later!” Said another child.

“And one day, we can be as ‘aventguard’ as you!”

“Professor Hassel says you’re the best artist in the world, Sir!”

Soft, shocked silence reigned for a moment.

“… Yes, well – if I am, it’s because of him,” Brassius murmured tearfully, sunshine brushing against his heart, facing the class with a warm smile. “We shall forego the theory, therefore – everyone find some paper, I wish to see your best Sunfloras.”

There were grins, and a flurry of activity as art supplies were grabbed from numerous parts of the room.

Brassius glanced fondly around the classroom; he’d been expecting a call for the Elite Test by now, but this… he could deal with this, if this was as far as his day went.

“Mister Brassius Sir, can I draw a Sunflora in purple?”

“Oh yes,” he told the questioning girl, grinning. “I encourage it, in fact.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Unbeknown to the artist just down the way, there was a very good reason indeed why he hadn’t yet been summoned to the League.

The reason was known as ‘Katy’, and she was having the time of her life.

“Heracross, Close Combat, there’s a dear!”

“Ursaring, Play Rough that dragon, won’t you?”

“Stone Edge, Forretress! Burning things is for Soapberry!”

She’d seen off three challengers solo, commanding excitedly and with utter precision as she did, all of whom had stared at her with open mouths.

“But, but you were easy before –”

“Yes well, child, we learn from our mistakes!” She trilled happily at her third victim, a cocky teenager whose ace had just been smashed to unconsciousness by shattering boulders. “Especially when our mistakes are not being allowed to cut loose…”

“Uncle Grushie,” Poppy murmured, tugging at his scarf, “is Aunt Katy okay?”

Grusha, who had swapped today with Rika, was looking at his fellow gym leader as though she’d grown an extra head.

“I, er… think so, kid? I mean, she can borrow my therapist, if she really needs to –”

“Oh Grusha dear, this is the therapy,” Katy answered, beaming a mile wide, peering towards the door. “Do we have anyone else lined up? Do I have to give my husband his job back? This is amazing!”

Safely ensconced in her office, the usually unshakeable La Primera, watching via CCTV, winced.

… Perhaps this hadn’t been her finest idea.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Larry,” asked his wife’s sous chef, halting in her pastry-making mid-fold as she cast him an amused glance, “did you just pop salt in that?”

He cast a bland gaze between his cake mix, shifting his eyes slowly to the bag of salt he’d just poured from.

“… Fuck.”

She laughed aloud. “Did you want to go and help serve, maybe…?”

“Who, me and my face for radio?”

“Hey, stop it,” she scolded lightly. “You’re lovely.”

He offered her a vague smile, standing in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment. He noted the busyness of the bakery, the squealing infants, the harried parents, how much the staff could do with a hand, and tracked a path around the space, as though building the perfect spreadsheet.

“Sally,” he said with determination, setting a route in his analytical mind, “pass me an apron.”

The sous chef grinned. “Yes sir…”

He would succeed at something today, even if it was only for Katy’s sake.

*-*-*-*-*-*

“How was it, dear?”

“… Curious. Lovely class you have, but no Elite Four matches, querido.”

“… Oh, truly? I know we had some scheduled for today, too…”

“Ah, well. How was the gym?”

“Everyone found me very intimidating, even though I told the darlings to go easy on the students.”

“… Mmm, imagine that. I’m sorry, dearest.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. It was nice to be involved in their journeys earlier! I… apologise in advance for the amount of challengers you’ll likely be receiving tomorrow…”

*-*-*-*-*-*

“Did you enjoy the Elite –”

“Yes. Darling, may I have your job?”

“Dear, I love you with all my heart, but absolutely not.”

“… Damn. Still, very entertaining day! I hope the bakery wasn’t too challenging…”

“I added salt to cake batter.”

“… Oh. Do you need a massage?”

“… That would be wonderful, thank you…”

Got a request for The Technical Festival, which celebrates Ephemeralart and Vanillacupcakes through the medium of TMs? Take a look here; my askbox is open!

[beautifulbizarremagazine]

"There is no force more powerful than a woman determined to rise."~Bosa SebeleIt's been a dizzying year of triumph and tears for ladies around the globe, and although we don't make a habit of judging a book by its cover, the steely resolve of Tim Roosen Metal Sculptures' life-sized iron maidens truly seems to capture the "nevertheless she persisted" vibe of 2022.  Whether intended or not, the Belgium-born sculptor's Leonore and Cleo figures - forged out of a combination of steel, copper, brass and wrought iron - remind us of a mock Latin phrase that we urge all of the ladies in the house to Google this very moment: illegitimi non carborundum, baybeeeeeee!

Tim's impressive work is included in musoniumgallery's upcoming "Initiation" debut group exhibition, which is part of their grand opening festivities.

#beautifulbizarre

[brad-brace]

Men writing women writing men writing women writing men

---

He smirked at her, deviously, and her heart skipped a beat.  

"You think you're so charming" she said, raising an eyebrow sassily but putting poison in her words, "but you're wrong".  

He frowned for an instant but then smiled more broadly, his perfect teeth showing just a little bit.  

"Then why are you so charmed by me?", he said, a dangerous glint in his eyes.  

'You bastard, how dare you!', she thought, and hated the blushing she could feel spreading through her cheeks. She wasn't about to let this, this handsome devil take all control away from her!  

She stood up and resisted the urge to throw the glass of wine on his face. 'Be dignified' Julie thought to herself, and then just gave him her best dismissive look and turned around to leave.  

That was when he grabbed her wrist. His powerful hand warm on her skin, holding her so gently, and yet so powerfully, like fur covered handcuffs.  

She looked down at his hand, his bare forearm, the muscles dancing under his skin as he deftly controlled his own strength.  

---   

Emily sat back from her laptop, her eyes glued to the words on the screen, her heavy breathing moving her generous breasts up and down, up and down. Before she could control herself, her hands began to caress her own boobs. She needed to keep writing, but her sensitive breasts were now demanding all her attention. Soon she was openly fondling her gorgeous boobs, they were beautiful and she knew it, and also so sensitive, and she never wore a bra.  

A sigh leaving her sensuous lips, Emily managed to go back to writing, but she didn't bother rearranging her crop top, letting her boobs peek out.  

---

"Please", he said, "stay". Then he smiled again that wicked smile which, by now, Julie was beginning to consider her own undoing. "I promise to be good", he added, but somehow that 'good' had sounded so very bad.  

Julie hesitated. What was she going to do anyway? He had brought her to Paris, for God's sake! A tremor ran up and down her stomach as she reminded herself of the danger inherent in this situation. She had come to Paris with this man. But truth be told, she would have gone with him to a McDonalds… or to Hell. But she wasn't about to let him know the effect he had on her.  

"Get your hand off of me", she said, loading as much disdain as she could summon into her words.  

He let her wrist go, staring deeply into her eyes, and without breaking eye contact -god damn those steely blue eyes-, he took his phone. Deftly, not glancing even once at the device, he dialed a quick contact.  

"Sir", answered a voice on the phone.  

"John, drive the lady to the airport, tell Mark to fly her home. She will not have any issues at customs". He said to the person on the other side of the line, and hung up. The last part had been a simple statement of fact. No, a simple statement of power.  

He sat back and kept looking at Julie, it was her move now. Where did he get all that damn confidence? How did he know that Julie was going to hesitate for so long, knowing she should leave, knowing she would stay?  

Julie cursed him and his steely blue eyes, and his confidence and his, his power, but then she sat back down.  

---

Emily was trembling now, her boobs shaking deliciously as she did. Her scrumptious toes wiggling and rubbing against the carpet, her long bare legs rubbing against each other. She was wearing what she always wore when she was writing, tiny shorts, with no panties, and a tiny, tight crop top, with no bra. She moved her round hips, rubbing her bubble butt against her chair. She already knew where the story was going, but she didn't know if she could take it there before having to…

Emily took the glass of wine she had been drinking while she wrote, but instead of taking a sip she poured it all over her crop top to cool herself off. Her nipples, already hard, hardened more. Then she lifted her long, sculptural legs and placed her dainty feet on her desk, admiring her own skin illuminated by the laptop's screen. She ran her hands up and down her thighs and her calves. It was amazing how she had these gorgeous legs, and she didn't even have to exercise! Really she could be a model, or a porn star, but she was too nerdy and brainy for that. She took off her glasses, which she barely needed, and sexily put the tip of the arm between her sensuous lips.  

---

The sound of the vintage typewriter stopped and Stephan stood up, flexing his neck and his shoulders, then cracking his long, nimble fingers.  

"You know you shouldn't do that", I told him.  

He looked at me and smiled shyly, then he pulled the sheet of paper from the typewriter I'd gotten him at that yard sale, and offered it to me.  

"Tell me what you think, you know I really value your input", he said. I got lost for a moment in his eyes, slightly puffy and adorable, and his rebellious hair, which always seemed to get wilder when he wrote.  

I took the paper.  

"So, what are you trying to achieve here?" I asked as I began to read.  

"Well, I'm trying to create a deconstruction of gender normative erotica, highlighting its problematic aspects".  

I nodded, putting on my most serious expression, while inside me, my heart melted. It was so adorable when he tried his best at being an ally, yet there was that uncertainty in his voice, born out of his inner acknowledgement of his limitations as a cis straight man.  

I finished reading and looked at him, as he tried to hide his eagerness to listen to my feedback.  

"I like what you've done with the male gaze in the voice of the unnamed narrator describing Emily. But I'm not sure about Emily's own voice. Aren't you worried that in your haste to articulate a toxic narrative, you may be replicating a different one?"  

His eyes widened.  

"You think I could be doing that?" he asked, and his gaze shifted slightly past me, as he looked inward, taking in my comment in its entirety.  

"I think it's good to consider the possibility" I said, enjoying contemplating the outward manifestations of his inner workings.  

He shook his head in acceptance and smiled his silly lopsided smile.  

"You may be right," he said, chuckling apologetically.  

I smiled too and got up from the bed, walked up to him and sat on his lap, ruffling his wild brown locks which had begun showing strands of gray, just enough to be interesting.  

"I love that you try so hard", I told him, feeling happy and content as he wrapped his arms around me.  

"I love that you always guide me," he said, resting his cheek on my arm.  

---

Ana put down her cell phone and took a deep yearning breath. Lately she had been writing too much about Stephan. 'Am I getting obsessed with my own OC?' she thought. 'Why can't there be men like that in real life?'.  

She stared at the roof, lost in her thoughts of the perfect man in constant self deconstruction. Then she began to play with her boobs which were awesome boobs that boobed very boobily.

[parkerbombshell]

Rules Free Radio June 25

Tuesdays 2pm - 5pm  EST Rules Free Radio With Steve  Caplan bombshellradio.com On the next Rules Free Radio with Steve Caplan, we’ll hear new music from a forthcoming album by David Gilmour, Sonny Singh, Suss, and new ones from Linda Thompson,  The Crushing Violets, Moon Diagrams, Los Day, Hermanos Gutierrez, Dave Alvin and Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Sculpture Club, Chanelle Albert and The Easy Company, Sloppy Jane with Phoebe Bridgers, Beeef, and one or two more. There's a lot of Rock and Power Pop including Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Costello, Green Day, Michael Penn, Bruce Springsteen, Mary Timony, Little Feat, The Kills, The Bablers, The Turtles, Nick Frater, The Jellybricks, Steely Dan, Joy of Cooking, Mundy, The Doors, George Winston, and others. At the top of the second hour, we’ll hear a favorite by the late Kinky Friedman who just left us a few days ago. Mary Timony - No Thirds Little Feat - Easy To Slip Moon Diagrams - Brand New Effie Deerhunter - What Happens to People David Gilmour - The Piper's Call Jimi Hendrix Experience - Burning Of The Midnight Lamp Pink Floyd - When You're In Minor Moon - Miriam Underwater David Gilmour - Between Two Points Suss - Migration Sonny Singh - Pavan Guru Kinky Friedman -  Popeye the Sailor Man Linda Thompson - Shores Of America ft Dori Freeman Elvis Costello - American Without Tears Frank Turner - Sea Legs Green Day - Working Class Hero Michael Penn - Long Way Down (Look What the Cat Drug In) Sculpture Club - Used Too The Kills - Better Days Hermanos Gutierrez - El Fantasma Los Days - The Loss of Ancient Dreams Dave Alvin & Jimmie Dale Gilmore - Roll Around Chanelle Albert & the Easy Company - Don't Leave Your Baby Bruce Springsteen - Point Blank Mike Batt & the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra ft. Kim Wilde - Because the Night Sloppy Jane & Phoebe Bridgers - Claw Machine Beeef - Bedhead Boy The Bablers - You Are The One For Me The Turtles - She'd Rather Be With Me Nick Frater - Stuck In My Ways Launder - Harbour Mouth The Jellybricks - All About You The Campbell Apartment - Fun In The Sun Mundy - Mexico Steely Dan - Only a Fool Would Say That Joy of Cooking - Beginning Tomorrow The Wisdom of Harry - I'm Going to Make My Life Right The Crushing Violets - Then You Shine The Doors - Wishful Sinful George Winston - Riders on the Storm Read the full article

[silvereyedzoroark]

King Perrserker

A mysterious and old Perrserker, that can be found in some castle ruins, he's basically a totem Pokemon and I imagine if you battle him it first starts out like a normal totem Pokemon battle, with him either calling Meowth or Perrserker to his aid, but once you defeat him it then switches to a second boss phrase as he dynamax's and you have to battle him that way, but at least at the end you can finally catch him!

He'll have the same typing as a normal Perrserker, but his stats would be all increased and also have the hidden Ability Steely Spirit (Increases the power of Steel-type moves used by the user or any Ally Pokémon by 50%) And I just realized how hard I may have made his boss battle, but hey Pokemon Players are always asking for tougher fights!

Anyway have I mentioned how easily it is to inspired me? I see this cat sculpture below and think hey I can turn that into Perrserker variant!

Photo from shiftythrifting tumblr post https://www.tumblr.com/shiftythrifting/743688931034513408?source=share

[empathydm]

Sherlock Story Chapter 7

Help me roleplay Sherlock Holmes in this collaborative story adventure. Last text: The chamber seemed to swallow the feeble glow emitted by our flickering lanterns. Shadows loomed over distorted shapes wrapped in cobwebs that dangled from the high ceiling. The air was heavy with the stench of decay and the echoes of chilling whispers. Holmes's steely resolve did not waver as his eyes pierced through the abysmal darkness. "There's more to this chamber than meets the eye," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. Watson's grip tightened on his revolver, readying himself for whatever unspeakable horrors awaited us. "Holmes, what exactly are we facing here?" Holmes observed the surroundings, the slow, methodical scan of his sharp eyes betraying his calculating mind. "This is no ordinary library," he replied grimly. "It's more akin to a devilish vault, a theater of buried secrets where the Order indulges in unfathomable rites." A collective shiver ran through our spines, and the woman's voice trembled with haunting recognition. "I've seen what they're capable of," she said, her voice quaking with unsettlement. "But their intentions and endgame still elude me." Lestrade remained stiff, his muscles coiled with tension. "Enough talk," he growled. "Let's find out what this damned organization is up to." With nerves taut like strained wires, we swept through the chamber, casting beams of light onto ancient artifacts deemed forbidden by time. Malevolent sculptures loomed around us, chiseled countenances twisted with evil intent. As we navigated the eerie maze of relics and arcane tomes, Holmes's eyes caught a flash of movement in the corner of the room. He hastened his pace, sniffing out the source, and soon we discovered a hidden recess masked behind an ethereal tapestry. The four of us stepped into a hidden chamber nested within the already-labyrinthine depths of the library. Shelves stacked haphazardly with damnable texts, ancient writings that seemed to whisper with otherworldly tongues. It was at this sight that the true scope of the Illustrious Order's dark machinations revealed itself. "This...this is their collection of forbidden knowledge," Holmes exhaled, his gaze roving over the volumes." Watson raised an eyebrow, overcome by morbid curiosity. "What secrets may lie within these decrepit pages, Holmes?" Holmes plucked a book from the shelf, cradling it gently in his hands. "These texts are said to contain forbidden rituals and spells, replete with abominable knowledge that can unleash the darkest of forces onto the world." Lestrade, for the first time, showed a flicker of unease. "Are you implying that they are attempting to harness these dark powers?" Holmes nodded gravely, a somber expression etched across his features. "That seems likely, Lestrade. The Order seeks to wield these powers for...god knows what purpose." Silence enveloped us, broken only by the distant chirping of forlorn rats somewhere in the hidden recesses of this wicked chamber. The gravity of our discovery plunged our hearts into a bottomless abyss, reminding us of the unimaginable challenges we still faced in grappling with the horrors that lay before us. The woman's gaze locked with Holmes, a shared sense of determination emanating between them. "We must find the leader of the Illustrious Order and put an end to their depravities. We owe it to the lives lost and those still in danger." Holmes gave a curt nod, his eyes shining with unwavering conviction. "Agreed," he said. "But let's not forget—within these twisted halls, their insidious secrets dance like shadows. The true face of the Illustrious Order, whoever they may be, still eludes us." With that unsolved mystery spurring us forward, we left the cursed sanctum behind, ready to face the horrors concealed in the catacombs of Mudie's Select Library. In the inky darkness, each step was a march toward the light of truth, no matter what unnamable evils lay in wait. How should the story continue? Please vote by liking the following posts: Option 1: Leader unveiled; darkness challenged #UnmaskTheTruth Option 2: "Unmasking Illustrious Order's depravity." Option 3: Fellowship confronts dark secrets. Full text for each option in following posts. The votes are counted every 6 hours. #Sherlock #rpg #fanfic.

[mediaonedesign]

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Co hosting the Parody Al Bundy Expectations Go Eagles Shirt Apart from…,I will love this Met Gala in 2015 for “China Through the Looking Glass, Rihanna enlisted Chinese designer Guo Pei to create her sherbet yellow robe, pairing the showstopper with a set of horizontal brows and a diamante headdress. Photo Getty ImagesKim Kardashian West sported a slicked pony and white feathered Roberto Cavalli ensemble for the 2015 Met Gala, “China Through the Looking Glass. While her 2015 Dries Van Noten Met Gala dress garnered much attention, FKA Twigs’ architectural top knot was the real showstopper in our book. Photo Getty ImagesWhen Dakota Johnson arrived at the 2015 Met Gala, her shimmering Chanel frock—not to mention that dramatic winged liner—couldn’t help but attract the eye.

Lupita Nyong’o took her hair to new heights for the Parody Al Bundy Expectations Go Eagles Shirt Apart from…,I will love this 2016 Met Gala’s theme “Manus x Machina Fashion in an Age of Technology. Her sculptural updo was perfectly complemented with a steely blue cat eye. Photo ShutterstockZendaya brought warmth to the red carpet with a coral lip and voluminous auburn hair for the 2017 Met Gala, which honored “Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons Art of the In Between. Cardi B shut down the red carpet at the 2018 “Heavenly Bodies Fashion and the Catholic Imagination Met Gala with a regal pregnancy moment, her body clad in an ornately embellished Moschino by Jeremy Scott gown. Photo Getty ImagesBella Hadid arrived to the 2018 gala glowing as if sent from above. Highlighted and lightly bronzed, the model looked divine with a golden pink lip and subtle cat eye.

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[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐ BLUE MONDAY

[ ACT I: A HELPING HAND ]

ethan landry x reader

#SYNOPSIS— richie compares you to wednesday addams, you don't know how to socialize, ethan wants you to teach him how to smoke, and you and ethan find something you weren’t supposed to see.

#CONTAINS— murder, gore!!!!, satire (!!), familial issues (mentioned more later on), mentions of anxiety/ptsd, richie x reader (one sided), stalker behavior, fake dating later on (maybe), suggestive content

#AUTHORSNOTE— a tiktok edit that wasn't even related to scream gave me this idea. but feel free to ask to be on the taglist! i also posted this earlier but i didn't mean to oops

your hands shook violently as you dropped the bloodied sculpture.

what had you done? how could you have done such a horrible thing?

your world, once full of monotonous colors, a life full of black, grey, and white, was suddenly stained crimson. and it was all over the floor, all over your hands, and the sculpture that was once such a beautiful white marble was suddenly colored red.

it was a sculpture of ophelia from shakespeare's hamlet, her once delicate face now splattered red with your father's blood. his body laid on the white tile, the crimson seeping into the grout. like roadkill, he laid unmoving, the huge bloodied mess in the back of his head like squished red jello covered in strawberry jam. your mother's bloodcurdling screams melted into the background as you stared, wide eyed and unblinking, unfazed and unbothered.

good riddance.

were you supposed to knock?

you weren't sure.

the door to the apartment seemed far, as though you couldn't fully reach it without taking a large step forward. but now, the off-white door was right in front of you, as though it was staring into your soul, beckoning for you to come forward, to knock, to enter the possible hell of people waiting on the other side.

you only knew mindy, and yet all the voices on the other side of the door belonged to everyone but mindy. that was only a little bit terrifying.

the door continued to stare at you as you stood outside the apartment.

you had been standing there for nearly 8 minutes now, just mentally preparing yourself to knock. fingers twiddled with one of your rings, rolling it back and forth across your knuckles. down to the pinky, back up to the pointer finger, you continuously rolled it, taking in steady breaths and steady inhales. you could do this. you could knock and make yourself known to mindy's entire friend group—

"hello?"

never mind. maybe you could make them knock for you.

turning around, your eyes met ice blue ones. a guy— older than you, somewhere in his mid 20s —stood in front of you, a charming (though, the feeling it gave you was the opposite) smile on his face as he looked at you. he had golden brown hair, only mildly curly, as it looked like he used product that didn't quite fit it. everything about him looked perfect but there was something off. you felt that there was something off.

"can you open the door?" you said, the question coming out more as a statement as you nodded towards the entrance.

"most people don't actually open the doors for strangers," the man said with a slight tilt of his head, and you huffed in annoyance at the subtle arrogance that oozed out of him.

"richie, jesus christ at least wait— oh!" another guy walked down the hall, his hands on the straps of his backpack as he walked up to the man in front of you— richie. he was younger than him, but the features between the both of them were almost too alike. they shared the same hair color and hair type (though, the new boy seemed to not put as much effort into his curls as richie did), but their eye colors were different. the other guy had warmer eyes, colored a beautiful hazel that was far more inviting than richie's steely ones.

"you're mindy's new roommate," he said, the frustration that was once on his face disappearing as he held his hand out to you. "i'm ethan," he said with a toothy smile.

slowly, you put your hand in his and shook it once. "strong grip," you stated towards him, making his eyebrows raise in slight surprise.

"oh. thanks!" ethan pulled his hand back, wiping it on his sweater. "and uh, you're y/n."

"yeah." you blinked.

"cool." an unsettling silence encompassed the three of you as you stood in front of them, still blocking their way to the door.

"anyways," richie finally said, breaking the awkward silence as he carefully moved past you. "'scuse me—" he pulled out his keys, your eyes widening in realization that it was his apartment.

at this point, mindy was dead to you. this was too much embarrassment to feel on your first day of meeting her friends, but did they know that? no. your face was completely blank, showing nothing more than indifference as your mind raced with just how horrible of a situation this was. you had to socialize. you had to meet people. and the worst part was that you knew you needed to do it. for the sake of your (lack of) social skills.

their apartment was nice, you realized. decorated with a mix of framed posters of star wars and movies, thrifted rugs and cool lamps that you were sure were thrifted as well. it was well decorated. that was a good conversation starter.

"nice apartment." you stated, making ethan turn to you with a smile (was he always smiling?).

"thanks. it took ages for my sister quinn and i to actually decorate it," ethan said proudly, kicking off his shoes next to you, "richie helped by getting the posters and stuff." his tone changed when he mentioned richie, who you supposed was his brother. was that.. disdain?

you put your shoes on the little shoe rack near the entrance, heart thumping repeatedly in your ears as you finally turned to the living room where everyone was sitting. you could only recognize mindy, anika, her girlfriend, and chad, her twin brother. everyone else were basically strangers.

"hey—" richie began as he walked by the living room. "what's her name again, ethan?" richie asked his brother quietly, who only sighed.

"y/n's here," ethan said, nodding over to where you stood by the entranceway. you raised a hand up in a silent wave, face still feigning indifference as everyone turned to you.

"y/n!" mindy, sitting next to anika on the floor, waved at you with a bright smile on her face. "you were out there already?" she asked you, smile faltering just a bit.

"yeah. didn't wanna intrude." you said dryly, making mindy roll her eyes. she knew better than anyone that you had a little bit of trouble making friends with others. you weren't the type to talk a lot (you were a great listener though), you liked being by yourself, and you were only a little socially awkward.

how you made friends with someone as outspoken as mindy was beyond you.

"y/n, come sit!" anika said excitedly, patting the sofa behind her. you had only talked to her a handful of times, but she was nice. easy to talk to. you began to walk over, socks shuffling over the hardwood floor as you mentally prepared yourself (again) to socialize.

"hey—" ethan began, making you turn to him, eyebrows raised slightly. he looked at you with a sheepish smile, cheeks a slight shade of pink as he asked, "are you staying for dinner?"

".. do you not mind it if i do?" you asked, making ethan shake his head, curls bouncing with him.

"not at all! just wanted to know how many plates i was putting out tonight," ethan said with a reassuring grin, making you nod slowly, hands clasped in front of you.

staring at him with (almost) unblinking you eyes, letting silence wash over the both of you for a few seconds, you said, "thanks."

ethan walked into his kitchen, where quinn was standing, drinking one of her smoothies as she scrolled through her phone. looking up at her younger brother, she raised a brow at the red that decorated his cheeks, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. "you look embarrassed."

"i'm not," ethan said stubbornly, avoiding quinn's eyes as he reached up to get some plates from the cupboard.

richie stood near the stove, mixing something in a pan as ethan moved behind him. "she's pretty," he said, making ethan turn to him in confusion.

"y/n?"

"yeah," richie said with a slight roll of his eyes. "always so slow, ethan," he muttered, making ethan's jaw clench at his condescending words. "she may be a little weird with the whole 'wednesday addams' kind of stare, but she's hot."

now it was quinn's turn to roll her eyes as she moved past her brothers. "and that's my cue to leave. seriously, richie, stop talking about women like that," she grumbled, walking out of the kitchen to introduce herself to you.

"don't you agree, ethan?" richie said as though he didn't hear quinn's grumbles, his tone making ethan huff in annoyance as he set the table for everyone.

"she isn't that weird."

"she barely blinks." richie glanced at you from the kitchen bar, watching as quinn introduced herself to you. you had met everyone else already except sam, who couldn't show up because she was out on some date. not that richie was annoyed by that; they ended their relationship on good terms. he wasn't annoyed. not at all. but even while meeting all these people, you barely managed more than a small, rare smile. "she should smile more."

"if she doesn't want to, then she doesn't want to." the toxic masculinity that practically surrounded his brother almost made ethan want to gag. and if ethan was more brutally honest, he'd safely say that that was one of the many things he hated about his brother.

richie kirsch was not a good person, and despite the fact that blood ran thicker than water, ethan hated him. he hated how arrogant he was, how everyone was blinded by his charm (that was obviously fake), how richie refused to take no for an answer and how everything had to go his way or else all hell would break loose. he hated how cruel he was, even when they were children, and how he could talk himself out of any conversation because richie knows he's intelligent.

ethan and quinn were only living with him because it was the cheaper option compared to dorming at blackmore, but ethan was seriously considering spending thousands of dollars just to move out.

but ethan would never admit that out loud.

you sat quietly at dinner, seated comfortably next to tara (who was just as quiet as you) and ethan, your fork stabbing into the pasta in your bowl. the conversations around you were lively, and you found yourself much more relaxed than you did when you first entered. you knew everyone's names already; tara, quinn, sam (who wasn't there, but tara told you about her regardless), ethan, and richie.

richie, whose stares didn't go unnoticed by you as you ate quietly, listening to people's conversations. you stabbed your pasta again before eating it contentedly, ignoring the way richie's ice cold eyes flickered towards you every once in a while.

"what's your major, y/n?" quinn asked you as she ate, genuine curiosity in her eyes as she waved her fork around.

and suddenly you felt everyone's eyes on you again. pushing down that anxious feeling that bubbled in your chest, you swallowed your food before answering, "psychology with a minor in criminology."

"i assumed you were pretty smart," richie hummed from his seat, but you didn't reply to him, only choosing to nod. you couldn't get rid of that icky feeling in your gut every time he spoke or looked at you; and just by your body language, it showed. you hadn't spoken to him at all ever since you met him.

and richie noticed that. his jaw clenched as he watched you turn your attention to ethan, who spoke with you with a fond smile on his lips.

"you should come with us to the halloween party tomorrow," tara said before she drank her water. "everyone's going except my sister—"

"and me," quinn stated, looking up from her food. she sent them an apologetic smile. "i'm meeting up with tyler again."

anika's eyes nearly popped out of her eyes, and mindy's hand came up to pat her back to avoid the possibility of her choking on her food. "again?! are you fucking kidding me—"

"i thought we told you not to go back! do you not have any self respect?!" mindy said with a groan, their conversation dying into the background as you sent tara a tight lipped smile.

you picked at the pasta in your bowl, "parties aren't really my thing."

"you can stick with us!" ethan said, his hand covering his mouth as he chewed. a twinge of hope was in his eyes. "i kind of suck at drinking anyway so.."

"how do you suck at drinking?" you asked with a slight frown.

"i just do!"

you sighed, still stabbing at the pasta. if you went, you'd have to get through the party. survive it, even. but it was a good opportunity for you to get out of the dorm.. and it would probably help you socialize.

"think of it as like," mindy said, waving her fork towards you, "exposure therapy."

you raised a brow. "i don't think you know how exposure therapy works."

"do i look like a licensed professional?" mindy asked with a roll of her eyes. "it's basically what it is!"

you ended up agreeing to go.

"where's your costume?"

"i'm a rainbow. duh." mindy motioned to her brightly colored sweatshirt, all while trying to keep still as anika did her orange eyeliner. her eyebrows raised, impressed at your costume choice as she took in your pink dress, the crown on your head, and the jug of faux blood you were carrying out of your shared bathroom. "carrie? impressive choice."

"if you blink one more time, min, i swear," anika muttered, making her girlfriend shut up as she swiped the eyeliner over her lid. she turned to you, flashing a grin when she saw the blood. "are we helping you pour that over yourself?"

"yeah, outside," your ring moved back and forth on your knuckles again, the anxiety of going to your first college party making your heartbeat thrum loudly in your ears. the small bag around your body was zipped tightly shut, your joints weighing heavy inside. "i don't wanna have to deal with the mess if we did it in our bathroom," you explained, looking at yourself in the mirror one more time.

"you look good. i'd say i did a really good job," tara said as she laid on your couch, sending you a reassuring smile. glancing down at her phone, she sighed in annoyance. "i thought the boys were supposed to be here by now."

"chad said they had to make ethan a last minute costume," mindy replied, her voice quiet as anika added the last touches to her makeup. "am i done yet?"

you swallowed down your nerves, twirling your ring quicker over your knuckles. back and forth. forward and back. pinky finger to pointer finger. you were lucky enough that you found yourself getting by with mindy's friend group without having to do much talking, but you swore that if anyone approached you at the party you were simply not going to speak. you didn't want to.

three knocks at the door made you look up and walk over with a sigh, opening the door. you came face to face with quinn, who was dressed as a fallen angel, by the looks of it.

"you're here," you said blankly, making quinn shift in embarrassment.

"tyler canceled on me."

"congratulations," you said with a small smile, making quinn snort in amusement.

"thank fuck," anika said with a laugh, pulling away from mindy with a victorious smile. "you're done!"

you opened the door wider for everyone to come inside. chad was dressed as a cowboy, richie as patrick bateman (a choice that made you resist the urge to roll your eyes), and ethan as what seemed to be a cardboard knight.

"what are you?" you asked ethan, the question coming out more rude than you intended, but he didn't seem to mind.

face flushing a light pink, ethan replied, "i ran out of ideas. so chad and i spent the day making me a costume."

"i can tell." you grimaced at your own words, shaking your head to yourself as you shut the door. "sorry. that sounded rude."

"oh, it's okay!" ethan said with a bright smile, one that was so contagious that you couldn't help but manage a smile back. "it's a, uh, very homemade knight costume."

"you look good." you managed to say, tone as monotone as ever, but your words seemed to make ethan's blush darken.

"you do too." he looked at your costume briefly, eyes landing on the jug of faux blood in your left hand. "carrie?"

"yup. i had the dress and i just got the crown from dollar tree," you said with a small shrug.

"good choice," richie hummed, making you turn to him with an indifferent stare. "you look good. i'm sure the blood will really make the costume."

you barely even regarded richie as you nodded. "right." you said, before walking away, not wanting to give him more of your time and effort. there was something so horribly off about him, something that made your stomach churn as though you were suddenly sick. but richie followed you (much to your chagrin), unable to catch your not-so-obvious hints that you were simply not interested.

"can i help you with that?" richie asked you, nodding over to the jug of blood in your hand. there was something hungry in his eyes, as though the idea of you covered in blood— faux or not —was something exciting. something he was looking forward to. "y'know— pouring it all over you."

"actually, we already said we'd help her with it," anika said as she sat next to mindy, forcing a tight lipped smile towards richie. "i don't think she needs another pair of hands to help."

"right." annoyance flashed in richie's eyes at that, and he turned to you with those cold, steely irises again, as though anika's statement wasn't enough of a sign for him to fuck off. "you sure?"

you were good at hiding your emotions. but that talent came at a price as you stared at richie, an unreadable look on your face. the only emotion you showed was the flash of annoyance that flew over your eyes. "you heard her, right?" you stated, your voice as monotone as ever as you stared at richie.

and ethan watched it all, a mix of pride and worry in his chest as he watched you stare at richie as though he was nothing more than the epitome of annoyance.

whatever richie's preconceived notion about you being too socially awkward to stand up for yourself was obviously false.

and just by the challenging glint in richie's eye, he hated that he was wrong.

"we should probably go," quinn said, sending richie a warning glare as she stood up.

the cold night air made you shiver slightly as you stood awkwardly in front of anika, who was grinning a little too wildly for your liking as she held the jug in her hands. "so, how do you wanna do this?" she asked you, practically bouncing with excitement.

"normal carrie style. just pour it over my head," you said, shutting your eyes and bracing yourself for the cold liquid. and once it fell over you, soaking almost your entire body with the blood, you shivered, unable to stop your slight smile when you heard everyone else laugh and cheer. blood dripped from your dress and onto the pavement, creating a mess akin to a murder scene all over the grey concrete.

"now you're ready to go," tara said with a grin, making you open your eyes and look down at yourself. some of your body wasn't bloody, but a good portion of it was, and that was enough for you. it was only mildly uncomfortable, as the faux blood was cold and was already drying, but you were no coward; you’d pull through with the look.

and as you made a small thumbs up at mindy, who was laughing almost maniacally at just how cool you looked, you (for once) failed to notice the hungry way richie was staring at you, because maybe, just maybe, the frat party wouldn't be that bad.

but as you walked in next to tara, you immediately took back your previous belief. not that bad? were you crazy, stupid, or both?

you weren't sure which was worse; the smell of b.o or the fact that you had seen at least 5 people throw up ever since you first walked in. everyone was dressed in a wide variety of costumes except for the frat boys, who only gave it a minimum 15% of their all to their costumes. the bass of the music was the one thing you didn't mind, but what you did mind was whatever horrible spotify playlist they decided to play.

maybe you should've refused to go. but when have you ever made good decisions for yourself?

mindy rolled her eyes as she began dragging you along with her to the drinks table, her other hand holding anika's. there was a wide array of different drinks, from vodka to soju to a huge tub full of jungle juice that looked horribly concerning. "c'mon, y/n, it's not that bad."

"it's pretty bad," you stated blankly, watching as richie immediately left the group, eyes set on a girl dressed up at harry potter.

"take a shot with us and loosen up a 'lil!" tara said, already waving to a few people she knew. she was pretty well known, you realized, which wasn't that surprising.

"aha!" chad lifted up a bottle of teremana tequila proudly, a wild grin on his face as he began getting little shot glasses for everyone. "there's sharpies right there— make sure you write your name down!"

you wrote your name down on the side of the little plastic shot glass before passing it to ethan, who wrote his name with a smiley face at the end. "you said you suck at drinking, right?"

"yeah! i don't really go to parties— chad goes, but i like to stay home and like.. not.. party.." ethan replied over the loud music, managing a sheepish smile as he gave his sharpie to mindy.

"so why're you here then?" you asked as chad poured some of the tequila into your glass.

"i could ask you the same thing!" ethan said with a lopsided smile, eyes not even noticing how much tequila chad was pouring into his glass.

"i need to learn how to, uh, talk to people." you raised your cup to your nose and crinkled it slightly. you hadn't drank for a while, and you found yourself reaching for a chaser before you found yourself gagging at the taste. "you want one?" you asked ethan, already knowing you'd probably stick by his side for the majority of the night.

"sure!" ethan took the sprite you offered him, sending chad a quick smile, signaling that he was ready.

"cheers!" everyone yelled, raising their shot glasses together before raising it to their lips. your face scrunched at the strong taste of alcohol, but you swallowed it before sipping your chaser, feeling some of your friends (were they your friends too? you weren't sure) jump around you excitedly.

"i'm gonna go dance!" quinn yelled, squeezing ethan's shoulder reassuringly before going to the dance floor. "tara, you coming with?"

"of course!"

"let me come too," chad said quickly, sending ethan a quick, almost knowing wink, and with that, they were both gone, along with mindy and anika, who were already claiming the couch as their's.

you only stood awkwardly as people began to leave and socialize, the empty shot glass in your hand acting a visual representation as to how you felt at that moment; empty and smelling mildly of alcohol. you found yourself staring warily at the groups of people around you, hand clenching harder around the plastic cup.

"this is fun," ethan said awkwardly, standing next to you as you both stared at your friends on the dance floor. you looked at him with a raised brow, confusion evident on your face; he seemed like an extravert, so why wasn't he dancing?

"you're not dancing?"

"who's gonna keep you company?"

"i don't need company."

"well, you may not need it, but i can provide it regardless."

you stared at ethan, as though silently challenging him. he was stubborn and horribly charming, you had to give him that, and ethan seemed to know that fact and be proud of it. he seemed innocent, but there was something about the boy that made you realize that he was a lot more cunning that you thought. your lack of a response made the boy smile happily, almost triumphantly, as he nodded to the back of the house. "there's a backyard. you wanna go sit?"

the cold air hit your face, making you fill your lungs with the fresh air. "finally, air that doesn't smell of axe spray." you made your way to the edge of the porch, sitting down and feeling ethan follow after you. thankfully, the backyard was completely empty. there was a burning firepit nearby, which you were sure was a fire hazard, but you were no narc.

ethan removed his cardboard helmet, shaking his head to free his curls. "that was only a bit suffocating," he muttered, placing the helmet next to him before looking at you, his eyes widening when he already found you staring at him.

you had a bit of a staring problem. but ethan was far too nice to tell you.

"hi," he said, making you blink.

"hi." a weird silence passed by the both of you as you sat next to each other on the porch. "d'you mind if i smoke?" you asked ethan, not touching your pack just yet, but still staring intently at him for any signs of uncomfortability.

"if it's cigarettes," ethan said, breaking your strong eye contact to look down sheepishly at his lap. "cigarette smoke gives me a headache."

"understandable." you reached down to your small bag, pulling out a pre-roll and your lighter. of course, your lighter was an aesthetically pleasing zippo lighter (your prized possession). "do you smoke?" you asked him, not quite lighting it yet simply out of decency.

"i'm willing to try!" ethan said with slight eagerness, looking at the pre-roll between your fingers. "just not—"

"cigarettes, right." you managed a small smile, one that made ethan think that maybe he had the staring problem. "i can teach you, if you want."

"really?"

"sure." you moved to face him, ethan's face flushed by the tension he was feeling. his eyes were looking between your eyes and the pre-roll, your ringed fingers holding it delicately between your fingers as you held it up. "you watch me first, yeah?" you placed the pre-roll into your lips.

ethan nodded, lips slightly parted as you flicked your lighter open as though it was second nature, your thumb moving to spark the flame. the lighter lit up between the both of you, the fire warm as you brought the lighter up to meet the pre-roll. as the flame burned its end, the smell of weed and your perfume wafted through the air, almost intoxicating ethan as he stared at you.

you breathed in the smoke, shutting the lighter with one hand while the other took the pre-roll out of your lips. embarrassment bubbled in your stomach at the gaze ethan had as he stared at the smoke coming out of your lips, but like you usually did, you refused to show your emotions, only looking at him curiously.

you made sure not to blow the smoke in his face before handing him the burning pre-roll. "raise it to your lips," you murmured, already feeling yourself relax as ethan took the pre-roll between his fingers. he followed your instructions, swallowing hard as he looked at you.

you weren't oblivious to just how much tension was running between the both of you. it was almost suffocating as you watched his lips wrap around the pre-roll, right over the lipstick stain you left behind. "breathe in steadily."

ethan breathed in the smoke, eyes widening at the feeling before he quickly brought the pre-roll out of his lips, burying his face in his arm as he coughed roughly, the smoke coming out in white puffs of air. your small laugh made ethan say a small, "oh god, i'm sorry!" before he tried to compose himself again, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

"it's okay," you said, the smile not falling from your face as you watched him amusedly. ethan tried to hide his need to cough, to no avail; he fell into another coughing fit again, making you hum as you took another hit. "that's it. you're gonna be okay."

"i heard coughing makes you feel higher," ethan mumbled, managing to look at you as he cleared his throat. half-lidded hazel eyes stared at you as you breathed out another clean air of smoke, your body much more relaxed than ever. and maybe it was the fact that he had never smoked before, but ethan was staring you with so much wonder, eyes almost shining under the dim light of the night.

"maybe. some people say it's a myth." you turned to him, lips curling up into a smirk when you caught him staring. "want ano—"

the sound of someone retching made the both of you jump and turn around, worry falling over ethan's face when he saw quinn, accompanied by mindy and anika, throwing up off the side of the porch. "quinn," ethan said, rushing over to his sister to rub her back, his other hand easily pulling her red hair away from her face.

"i think she should call it a night," anika said worriedly, rubbing her friend's back comfortingly.

you walked over, watching as quinn threw up more onto the backyard lawn. your hand went out to pat her back awkwardly, brows slightly furrowed as you watched her. "she drank too much too quickly."

"exactly." mindy looked at you with a slight frown. "you think you both can walk her home? i tried to find richie but he's basically nowhere, so.."

"yeah, of course." you took out a hair tie, murmuring a quiet, "i'm gonna tie your hair back, okay?" to quinn as you tied her hair back and away form her face. you already knew where the kirsches lived; you had a good memory.

"text me when you're home," mindy told you both, worry evident on her face. "ani and i need to watch over the other drunk idiots around here. make sure you get home safe."

you nodded as ethan fixed quinn against him, allowing her to use him as a crutch. he was mildly high, most likely due to the fact that he wasn't used to smoking, but his head was clear enough that he was easily steadying his sister in his arm.

"did you smoke?" quinn asked gorggily, making ethan groan as he nodded. she managed a lazy smirk at that. "nice."

"i'll text you," you said to mindy and anika, before helping ethan and steadying quinn on the other side of her body. "you ready?" you asked him, making him nod.

the walk back to their apartment was quick, as they lived near by the frat house. none of you said much other than quinn's slurred words of, "you look good tonight, y/n," and, "ethan, what even are you?" the repetitive quetion didn't even seem to bother ethan as he repeatedly answered, "i'm a knight, q."

ethan unlocked the door with one hand, pushing it open with his leg as he helped you bring quinn inside. messily kicking his shoes aside, ethan said, "we should bring her into her room." that made you nod as you kicked off your own shoes. he led the both of you to quinn's room pushing it open. ethan was careful as he brought his sister to her bed and laid her down.

you sighed as you pulled her comforter over her, making her send you a thankful smile, which you returned. pulling her trashcan out from under her desk, you left it next to her before letting ethan do the rest.

"i can take care of her," ethan said softly, carefully removing quinn's faux wings form her back to allow her to lay down comfortably. "you can like.. wait in my room if you want," he offered with a small smile, noticing your hesitancy in leaving him alone. "don't worry. i'm used to this."

what was that supposed to mean? but you said nothing, choosing to walk out of quinn's room and making your way to ethan's.

which brought up the question; which room was his room?

you blinked as you stared at the two doors down the hall, the last door open and revealing a bathroom. you glanced between the two shut doors, foggy mind barely thinking before you raised your finger and began pointing between the two. "eeny, meeny, miny, moe," you mumbled to yourself, going through the entire rhyme before choosing the door opposite of quinn's.

you walked forward and opened the door, revealing an ambiently lighted room with a few posters and a neatly made bed. everything was pretty organized— something you didn't really expect from ethan, but oh, well, who were you to judge? —and you only continued to observe as you sat on his grey bedsheets.

you observed his posters curiously, coming eye to eye with various horror characters like hannibal lecter, patrick bateman, freddie krueger, and carrier. those were the only designs up on his walls; no photos, no other movie genres, just horror and the villains.

you stood up to stare at one poster in particular, eyebrows furrowing and hazy mind focusing on the american psycho poster. but as you stood up, your sock clad foot, hit against something under his bed, making you frown and turn around, especially when you realized that your foot was wet.

raising the comforter a little bit to inspect further, you failed to notice the door creaking open, ethan's eyes widening when he found you. the light from the hallway bled into the dimly lit bedroom, casting an elongated light on the hardwood floor.

"oh, i probably should've told you where my room is," ethan said with a small laugh, "this is richie's room." his smile faltered when he noticed that you weren't even paying attention, your eyes focused on whatever was under the bed. "y/n?"

"ethan," you breathed, flicking the comforter onto the bed as you stared wide-eyed at what had made your sock sopping wet. and as you stepped back, your heel meeting the long light coming through the door, ethan saw red staining your white socks.

ethan swallowed heavily as he walked up next to you, eyes looking down at what you were staring at. and the mere sight of it made him want to throw up.

it was oozing blood from the ziplock, the crimson as red as wine as it steadily poured out of the plastic, creating a puddle. the edges of it were slightly smeared due to your foot hitting a part of it.

but the sheer amount of blood that was inside the open ziplock wasn't what you were staring at; it was the decapitated pair of hands that were inside.

pale and messily cut at the wrists, one of the hands had slipped out and opened the ziplock further after you hit it with your foot. what looked like mashed flesh, meat, and skin was still hanging onto where the hand was cut, the ground mixture barely shining under the lack of light.

but you had seen a similar sight like that before. right on the back of your father's head, caused by your own hand.

you could barely make out the perfectly manicured nails within the dimly lit room, along with the fact that the hands had no fingerprints. they had been flayed off of the skin one by one— messily, from what you saw, as the edges of the cut off fingertips were serrated as though he was in a hurry, revealing deep red meat underneath.

he was an amateur, that much was obvious. but he had done this before— he knew the protocols.

"ethan, what the fuck."

ACT II, ACT III

#AUTHORSNOTE— new ethan series after i finished the last one! are we surprised? no. feel free to ask to be on the taglist !

[cortensteeltube]

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[cadavercrafts]

This character is called Steely Dan and is from Jojo's bizarre adventure. I have absolutely no idea what that manga or anime is about and whenever i see scenes of it i'm utterly confused (jellyfish teeth?????). The instructions by the commissioner for this particular character were "make him sexy and punchable" which i thought was hilarious.

Commission for @steeiydan

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This new home in Texas has an old European feel, but it also has some funky modern surprises.  It might be situated in one of the biggest cities in the U.S but you'd easily mistake this home for a historic French property, nestled in the fields of Provence.

The entry flows into a more formal living room, with the same limestone checkerboard floors to link the two spaces. The overall feel of this space is one of antiquity, but once the eye has focused, you can see it's actually an eclectic blend of styles. That contemporary aubergine velvet sofa!

A bold abstract expressionist painting contrasts a carved stone side table. There are so many layers going on here, and yet all the pieces fit together.

The kitchen blends a kind of French rustic charm with something more modern and industrial. It's a style that's hard to pinpoint, with the mix of metal-clad cabinets and their exposed hardware, and the copper pot collection, but like all the rooms in this home, the mix works.

The white marble worktops give all the natural materials a modern, more glamorous twist and lifts the dark steely blue of the cabinetry.

The limestone flooring adds even more texture to the space.

A custom-made oval dining table with an oversized sculptural chandelier mirroring the oval shape. Far from the more traditional designs, this is made from antiqued steel and was designed to be the sole focal point.

Near the dining room is the dramatic black marble bar. The wooden cabinets soften the look but it still remains a very sleek, sophisticated space.

One of the main features of the family room is the reclaimed beams. The antique screen is from the 40s. This space also has that same quirky mix of old and new.

Behind a solid custom reclaimed oak door is the downstairs powder room. Limestone floors, plaster walls, marble countertop, raw stone sink, antiqued glass, all work together to turn the smallest room in the house into one of the most stunning.

In the master bedroom a custom parquet walnut floor adds warmth. To counteract the vaulted ceiling, and make the room feel more intimate, a matching walnut screen surrounds the custom-made bed frame.

Antique reclaimed marble floor in the master bathroom.

Circular freestanding tub, Italian giltwood mirror in Rococo style and an antique milking stool.

The guest bedroom has a distinctively more contemporary, Mediterranean feel with the gauzy canopy around the simple black iron bedframe.

The guest bathroom has the same contemporary feel – a sleek white tub and modern light fixtures. The rustic oak stool and vintage rug add texture and a slightly rustic touch.

https://www.livingetc.com/features/new-build-home-in-texas-with-european-style