#ripley under ground

[salmakia]

several chapters earlier he lit two flies on fire because they were having sex in front of him

[lairn]

I decided to read the second Ripley book, and a few pages in Tom is already warming up his subconscious identity crisis:

“If one painted more forgeries than one’s own paintings, wouldn’t the forgeries become more natural, more real, more genuine to oneself, even, than one’s own painting? Wouldn’t the effort finally go out of it and the work become second nature?”

You wish, buddy.

[denimbex1986]

'Following the events of the new Netflix limited series Ripley, the enigmatic con artist went on to continue his sinister career as a professional scammer. The psychological thriller is based on the renowned 1955 novel The Talented Mr. Ripley by celebrated novelist Patricia Highsmith, the first of her 5-part "Ripley" book series that also includes Ripley Under Ground and Ripley's Game. The Talented Mr. Ripley has been adapted several times for film and television, but none have been shot completely in monochrome until Steven Zallian's Ripley. Zallian, the Academy Award-winning screenwriter of Schindler's List, American Gangster, and The Irishman, wrote and directed the entire 8-episode miniseries.

Tom Ripley, who uses several different aliases and also acquires many places of residence throughout Ripley, is a master of disguise and deceit. He is drawn to murder once his true identity of being an elaborate con man faces the threat of being exposed. Tom has conned his way from a lowly life of scamming and thievery in New York City to becoming incredibly wealthy in Italy thanks to a supposed old friend, Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn). Ripley's cast is led by an exceptionally chilling Andrew Scott (Fleabag, Black Mirror, All of Us Strangers) as the titular treacherous protagonist. By the end of Zallian's Ripley, Tom has orchestrated a way to frame his murder of Dickie Greenleaf as a suicide by successfully convincing Dickie's concerned girlfriend Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning) and a determined Inspector Ravini (Maurizio Lombardi).

Ripley has received rave reviews from critics upon its April 4, 2024 release exclusively on Netflix. Ripley brings to light the lengths that monsters like Tom will go to in the name of self-preservation, using chilling methodology and calculation to be seen as significant by means of material wealth and social access. Even after Tom escapes to England in the final moments of Ripley, he does not seem satisfied, only aware of what it feels like to wear Dickie's clothes, flaunt Dickie's ring, and stare at Dickie's artwork while ultimately feeling nothing at all. Ripley is a chilling first entry of a magnificent book series by Highsmith, which continues with Tom living a new life in France six years after the events of The Talented Mr. Ripley.

10. Tom Lives A Lavish Life With His Heiress Wife In France

In Ripley Book 2: Ripley Under Ground

Ripley Book 2, titled Ripley Under Ground, which was published in 1970, some fifteen years after The Talented Mr. Ripley. The book takes place in the summer of 1968, which is about the time that it would have been written by Highsmith. Tom has settled down in France in Ripley Under Ground and is married to a prominent French heiress named Héloïse Plisson, who has suspicions about how Tom acquired his money but never pries too deeply. In some ways, Héloïse is a combination of Dickie and Marge from The Talented Mr. Ripley, with Dickie's casual attitude as well as Marge's underlying suspicions towards Tom.

9. Tom Establishes An Art Forgery Scheme After Painter's Death

In Ripley Book 2: Ripley Under Ground

Tom's big scam in Ripley Under Ground involves a massive art forgery operation. He became a silent partner of an organization known as Derwatt Ltd., which sells official works of the celebrated painter Philip Derwatt. Derwatt, however, is reported missing and has been presumed to be dead for years, although the general public is unaware of this. As a result, Tom enlists another painter named Bernard Tufts to impersonate Derwatt and paint original works on his behalf. Tom's corrupt operation is flawless until an American collector named Thomas Murchison claims one of the paintings to be fraudulent.

8. Tom Has An Accomplice To Murder In Book 2

In Ripley Book 2: Ripley Under Ground

Bernard Tufts, who feels incredibly guilty for his role in Tom's art forgery scheme, eventually becomes Tom's accomplice to the murder of the American art collector. After Tom kills Murchison, he enlists the help of Bernard to dispose of the body. This only worsens Barnard's guilty conscience, who is contemplating coming clean about the whole ordeal to the police. While Bernard is a terrible accomplice to Tom in the murder of Murchison in Ripley Under Ground, it's the first time in the book series where Tom enlists the help of another person after committing a murder.

7. Reeves Minot Asks Tom To Commit Murder

In Ripley Book 3: Ripley's Game

Ripley Book 3 titled Ripley's Game was published in 1974. It was adapted into a feature film that starred John Malkovich as Tom Ripley. Reeves Minot, who Malkovich plays in Netflix's Ripley, appears in both Ripley Under Water and Ripley’s Game, but has a very suspicious request for Tom in the third Ripley book. Reeves Minot, who is a known high collar criminal in the United States, asks Tom to be a hitman at the start of Ripley's Game. Tom, still living lavishly in France with his wife Héloïse, refuses and tries to find Minot a suitable replacement for that type of job.

6. Tom Assists In The Assassination of A Mafioso

In Ripley Book 3: Ripley's Game

After Tom finds the right man for the job, a poor man named Jonathan Trevanny who is dying from leukemia, he appears to be out of the operation altogether. Trevanny successfully completes one hit for Minot, which inspires Minot to get him to agree to another hit on a Mafia boss. The plan is tragic as the terminally ill Trevanny is meant to kill the mafioso and then take his own life immediately after, since there will be little chance of escape. Tom intervenes and kills the mafioso for Trevanny and makes him promise not to tell Minot that he assisted in the assassination.

5. Tom's Life Is Saved By An Accomplice Named Trevanny

In Ripley Book 3: Ripley's Game

Tom's life is later saved by Trevanny once news gets out about his involvement on the assassination of the aforementioned mafioso. As mafia hitmen are just about to kill Tom, Trevanny acts as a human shield and saves Tom's life. Overall, Ripley's Game is much different from The Talented Mr. Ripley in that Tom has much more of a heart and a moral compass than he does in Highsmith's first Ripley novel. Tom surprisingly also does not have a big new scam like he had in the previous two novels, which is an indication of the tonal shifts that are to come for his character later in the series.

4. Tom Helps A Young American Fugitive Named Frank

In Ripley Book 4: The Boy Who Followed Ripley

Ripley Book number four, The Boy Who Followed Ripley, is the most unlike the rest of the Ripley novels, especially The Talented Mr. Ripley. In The Boy Who Followed Ripley, which was published in 1980, Tom continues to live comfortably at his French estate and has not participated much in his old life of crime. A mysterious boy comes to visit him at his house, claiming he's from the United States and his name is Billy. Tom discovers that Billy is actually Frank Pierson, the son of an American business tycoon. Frank eventually confesses that he killed his father by pushing him off a cliff and came to Tom because he thought he would be able to help him based on his questionable reputation.

3. Tom Plays More Of A Hero Role In Ripley Book 4

In Ripley Book 4: The Boy Who Followed Ripley

The Boy Who Followed Ripley is so much unlike the original The Talented Mr. Ripley novel in the way that Tom is acting like a responsible, but still shady, father figure for the first time in the series. It's unclear why Highsmith decided to switch up the tone of her Ripley series so drastically with The Boy Who Followed Ripley, but it does align with the overall sense of growth that Tom was beginning to demonstrate in Ripley's Game. It appears that after all in The Boy Who Followed Ripley, Tom does have a decent heart, which is stunning to consider after watching Netflix's Ripley. At one point in the book, Tom even dresses in drag in order to rescue Frank after he's been kidnapped.

2. Tom Is Accused Of Murdering Dickie Greenleaf & Thomas Murchison

In Ripley Book 5: Ripley Under Water

Tom's ghosts come back to haunt him in the final Ripley book, Ripley Under Water. The title is a notable reference to Tom's fear of water that he demonstrated in The Talented Mr. Ripley. Ripley Under Water was published in 1991 and sees Tom living a completely normal, quaint life still in France where he tends to his garden daily. Tom is confronted by an American named David Pritchard who is convinced that Tom murdered the art collector Thomas Murchison, which took place in Ripley's Game. David also starts to ask Tom questions about Dickie, bringing back Tom's very first murder in the original book. Tom must find ways to deflect Pritchard's accusations but does not resort to killing him, proving that Tom's life of murder could in fact be over by the end of the book series.

1. Tom Never Gets Caught For Any Of His Crimes

In Ripley Book 5: Ripley Under Water

Despite the effects of David Pritchard in Ripley Under Water, Tom Ripley gets away with it once again by the end of the fifth and final Ripley book. Shockingly, Pritchard does somehow discover Murchison's body and goes so far as to leave his skeleton on Tom's doorstep. Tom hides the body once again and leaves it in the pond outside the Pritchard family's home, which leads to another tragedy and indirect murder on Tom's behalf. Tom's blood-soaked hands never come clean in any of Highsmith's five Ripley books, cementing his status as one of the best literary con artists ever created. While there's no current indication that Ripley season 2 will be made at Netflix, there is certainly plenty of source material to work with.'

[dijetemjeseca]

151/365

Smatram da bih radije umro za ono u što ne vjerujem, nego za ono što mi je kredo... Katkad pomislim da je život umjetnika dugo i divno samoubojstvo, i ne zažalim što je tako.

- Oscar Wilde

Patricia Highsmith, Ripley ispod zemlje: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

[haverwood]

Ripley Under Ground Roger Spottiswoode Germany/France/UK/Isle of Man, 2005 ★★ It's fine, I guess, maybe. Ridiculously convenient, as these stories go, but it's nothing too outrageous.

I do believe that moving the story into a more modern setting hurts its credibility a bit (autopsies were better at the time than in the 70s) but whatever, it's harmless entertainment (with some jarring editing to boot).

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

heloise plisson is brat

[ulrichgebert]

In der Leseliste wimmelt es einmal mehr von Mördern, Exzentrikern und Geistern. Wo soll das nur hinführen?

Ein Sachbuch. Ich informierte mich mal über das mysteriöse Leben unser aller Lieblingszeichner kleiner verschrobener Bücher Edward Gorey. Offensichtlich war er recht exzentrisch. Führte natürlich dazu, daß ich alle Amhygoreys anschaffte und seine ganzen kleinen verschrobenen Büchlein nochmal lesen musste, da kann man das eigentlich auch merken.

Füllte dann eine weitere Unverzichtbare-schwule-Klassiker-Bildungslücke. Hier (in den 50er-Jahren in Paris) ist es aber noch nicht so richtig ideal und und befreit. Ganz besonders nicht in Giovannis Raum.

Weil der Tobi gerade im John-Irving-Fieber ist, dachte ich lese auch mal einen wieder. Son of a Circus spielt in Indien (obwohl er sich da gar nicht auskennt), und benimmt sich ein fast wie ein Kriminalroman, es geschehen Morde im elitären Duckworth Club: Inspector Dhar ermittelt, nur ist der gar kein Polizist, sondern nebenberuflicher Bollywoodstar (hauptberuflich arbeitet er im Züricher Schauspielhaus) und es ist einmal mehr alles sehr sonderbar, Zwerge, Transvestiten, getrennte Zwillinge, Wunder, Sex, alles geboten, allerdings keine Bären. Deshalb mögen es wahrscheinlich manche eingefleischten Irving-Fans nicht so. Dafür gibt es Elefanten.

Eine weitere Geschichte aus Night Vale. Bevor es die gesichtslose alte Frau allerdings dorthin verbringt sie ein oder womöglich mehre abenteuerliche Leben unter Schmugglern, Orangenbauern, Piraten, geheimnisvollen kriminellen Organisationen und dergleichen. Selbstverständlich sind wieder alle Verschwörungstheorien wahr.

Bestsellerautor (m/w/d) einzlkind lässt eine KI aus dem jahr 2048 erzählen und macht auf dystopisch, um seine netten Leser zu vergrätzen. Aber irgendwie auch wieder mit messianischer Heilsgeschichte. Das ist nicht so lustig. Und sie bringt nicht mal Heil.

Wie schon angedeute, wollte ich dann auch mal rausfinden, wie es mit Tom Ripley eigentlich weitergeht, nachdem er diese Dickie-Greenleaf-Affaire hinter sich gebracht hat. Er kommt natürlich davon, und verlegt sich auf ein lukratives Kunstfälschergeschäft, was ihm aber (Achtung Spielverderber-Alarm!) allerdings auch nicht gelingt, ohne den einen oder anderen Mord zu begehen.

Mich beunruhigt zusehends, daß mir die Kim Newman-Romane ausgehen. Die englische Geistergeschichte ist jedenfalls noch mal fesselnd, klaustrophobisch und total wundervoll. Zur Not fange ich wieder vorne mit den Anna Draculas an

[tomewardbound]

"'A lot can happen to a poor man, if he suddenly becomes rich.'"

— Patricia Highsmith, "Ripley Under Ground"

[buwuk]

went on one hell of a book haul at my country's biggest book sale of the year! looking forward to reading all of this in the coming weeks 👻

[superectojazzmage]

Just back from Alien Romulus and hoooo boy oh boy. Review/analysis.

Easily the best Alien movie since the first two, which isn't saying much, yeah, but it is legit a really cool and well-made movie, competing with Late Night With The Devil, Longlegs, and Cuckoo for title of my favorite horror movie this year.

In a lot of ways it's about harvesting the few good ideas from the post-2 movies that were squandered and doing them right, plus getting the series back to it's healthier roots, kinda the movie equivalent of someone doing physical therapy to get back in the saddle after an injury. This means it's not quite brand new ground like some may hope for and I've heard some people feel it gets a little derivative at points because of it. I can kinda agree and certainly understand that criticism, but I feel it does what it's aiming for really well and sets things up for future works to go in even crazier directions. Furthermore, it takes a lot of time to try and weld together the disparate post-2 movies in a way that brings the series back to a little coherency.

The atmosphere is really intense and cool, swinging between lovecraftian dread and build-up and high-energy chaos. The aesthetics and special effects are gorgeous, taking full advantage of the progress that technology has made since 2 plus really digging in to the used cassette future vibe of the older films. The characters are likable and actually intelligent (or at least understandable) in behavior like in the first two movies, so you care about what's happening to them instead of just waiting for them to get munched. The action and kills were really cool and creative, the cinematography in general was off-kilter in an awesome way - there's a definite attempt to make the movie feel claustrophobic and intimate. Fede Alvarez did a fantastic job in general, I'd love to see him do more with the series.

It REALLY cranks up the series' psychosexual, freudian, and sexual assault subtext, arguably to a point where it's just plain text. So if you're sensitive to stuff like that or if this is your first go at Alien, be warned for that.

More specific notes go under the header for spoilers. Highly recommend you go in as blind as you can.

Andy and Rain were wonderful leads, their dynamic was fantastic and Calie Spaeny and David Jonsson both turned in great performances. I direly hope they join the first two films' casts as "major" characters for the series going forward.

The effects to make Daniel Betts look like Ian Holms were quite possibly the one and only time the special effects failed. It looks very wonky, which is sad because Betts does a really good job copying Holms' mannerisms for Ash while still making Rook feel like a distinct character.

In addition to the usual themes of sexual unease, genetics, and parenthood, this movie adds in some really interesting themes of familial legacy, the rise of new generations, foundations, etc.. Andy and Rain are like Romulus and Remus of myth, orphaned and left to fend for themselves but growing into founders of a new age - both in-story with their carrying the XX121 substance and evidence of Weyland-Yutani's misdeeds to Yvaga and out-of-story with them being the protagonists of a new era for Alien. Likewise, the Offspring is the first example of an entirely new species, neither human nor alien but taking from the lineages of both through Kay and Big Chap, a Romulus-like founder of it's breed that will later bear fruit in Resurrection with the Ripley clone and Newborn.

I'm really not kidding when I say above that the psychosexual undercurrents are taken to the extreme here. This movie basically sees the ways the original film subtly pin-pricked at those themes, says "fuck that", and deliberately rubs it in your face in a way designed to make sure you can't ignore it. It wants you to be grossed out and to squirm in your chair and it knows exactly how to make it happen.

Alvarez noted in the lead-up to release that he took a lot of influence from Isolation and you can definitely see that in how he depicts the Xenomorphs and the general aura of the film. He further described it as a kind of halfway point between the first and second movies and you can also see that; it has the Lovecraft-style tension and horror of the first, balanced with the energy and action of the second, and it does a really good job finding a middle ground between Ridley Scott and James Cameron's styles while also doing it's own dance.

I mentioned way back at the start how the movie basically harvests the good ideas from 3, Resurrection, Prometheus, and Covenant and gives them the room they deserve while dumping the bad. It does that in both terms of themes/style and continuity/lore. Concepts that those movies bungled like xeno-human hybridism, the black goo, genetic engineering as a focus, and so on are done here more creatively and competently. Themes that those films tried and failed to tackle are handled with significantly more grace. It has the atmosphere and characterization of 3 but none of it's baggage and needlessly depressive tone. It has the body horror and weirdness of Resurrection without taking it to the zany, embarrassing areas that movie went. The effects and creativity of Prometheus and Covenant without any of their awful writing and clumsy messages. Alvarez takes on kind of an Al Ewing-esque "repairman" writing style here.

The Xenomorphs are absolutely deranged in behavior compared to most portrayals, attacking like either cruel sadists or raging chimps and rarely bothering to take hosts. I'm not sure if such a reading was intended, but I got the vibe that the idea is Xenos raised without a queen or hive grow to be basically sociopathic like how real world predatory animals grown without parental figures become feral and dysfunctional. Which would also explain a lot about how the Xeno in the original movie, Big Chap, acts there.

The Offspring's design is fucking wicked and I love it.

One of my few major criticisms is that Big Chap died off-screen instead of getting more to do. What was the point of having him be alive at the start if he wasn't gonna be used beyond a backstory point to set up the main story?

All in all, a very impressive effort and a great return to form for the series that I recommend highly.

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 5. Survivor for the Nostromo.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. smute: unprotected sex; vaginal sex; tongue fucking (cunnilingus); sperm inside; tongue in mouth; size difference; a large amount of sperm; bloating; sex with a monster.

The familiar crackle of the fire filled the space, but for the first time, you bet you could feel its phantom warmth. Perhaps you were warmed by the thought that you would still be able to meet the xenomorph. But asking yourself the question “why do I need this?”, you did not dare to give a clear answer. Because this could be the beginning of the end for you and for you to accept those brewing feelings for a humanoid creature.

Is it possible to joke that his courtship has borne fruit? Or is it the time spent together? The answer to this question could only be given by you yourself, and since you decided to go into the forest to search for an offering that could lead you to the xenomorph, the answer was more than obvious.

The moon was your only companion on this thorny path . Decorated with millions of stars in the dark sky, she looked blankly at your futile attempts and searches in the forest. During all this time, you happened to find several abandoned lanterns of good quality, collect herbs for good luck, a first aid kit, even a high-quality key to the hatch was in your pocket. On any other day, you would have been happy about such a large number of valuable and rare items, as well as improvements to them, but the situation was different and you were looking for offerings for certain territories.

One got the feeling that they exchanged rarity with the items or that the Entity, in mockery, took them away altogether. What did you do with the xenomorph? This couldn’t help but anger you, but gritting your teeth and wrapping yourself in a jacket so that the biting branches of bushes and low trees wouldn’t hit your hands so hard, you continued your search.

He who seeks will find, as your grandmother said, and therefore you did not stop at the achieved result.

The first location found for your offerings was the Loray Memorial Institute, followed by Springwood, Gideon Meat Processing Plant. Apparently the Entity decided to take pity on you, but not too much, and give out offerings in the reverse order of your stay in its world and during the trials. If everything goes on like this, then you won’t be able to get the offering you need in a century.

Exhausted, you sit down on the grass, damp due to fog and dew, and then lie down. In silence, far from the fire and the hubbub of people, you feel calmer than ever. So what if you are a black crow among black crows? You should be proud of yourself, no less; survive the hunt, aka courtship, of a xenomorph , and then be under the protection of the same creature from David, on top of everything else, a successful conversation with GhostFace... it’s time for you to become a living legend of this small world, so as not to go completely crazy. But the idea is not so bad. It will be possible to tell other survivors about this while you are all... while you are imprisoned here for all eternity.

Deep in thought, you don't notice Ellen's silent approach. The woman, concerned about your disappearance, even though she believed in your strength, and the forest shrouded in white fog itself was safe for survivors, but she still decided to check on you. What if you had a nervous breakdown and need the support of a loved one? Ripley , in any case, tried to think that you were close people to each other.

There may be a family not related by blood.

“Are you okay?” a calm and quiet voice pulls you out of your slumber. Louise sits down on the ground next to you, you can feel her familiar warmth and smell, this time mixed with swamp mud. Apparently she was lucky enough to be tested in a rotten swamp, although it also took place at the AutoHaven landfill. “You look inspired, albeit tired.”

“Um, I was looking for an offering,” you answer vaguely before turning from your back to your side towards the woman. So you looked even more like a family, strange, but a family: a mother and daughter, wise in life, in love with a monster. The plot is suitable for a film adaptation of one of the versions of “Beauty and the Beast,” except that the rating will be much higher than that of a regular cartoon, filled with blood and corpses. “So far the search has been unsuccessful.”

The brunette was silent for about a minute. Either she couldn’t find anything to say, or she knew, but had no idea how to do it. Finally, with a sigh, she continued the conversation:

“Do you want to meet him?” and you both didn’t need to clarify with whom exactly. Your nightmare, at the same time an object of interest, haunted you in your sleep and in reality, and with the departure of the xenomorph from the usual tests, this need only became stronger. And thoughts, dark and vicious, visited your dreams much more often than they should have.

And it was time to give answers to my own questions. Is it possible to joke that his courtship has borne fruit? Or is it the time spent together?

“Yes. Really want to.”

The ex-officer does not grin amusedly, but does not express any negativity or disgust towards your choice . You may still regret your choice, but the choice is entirely yours. Everyone must develop their own skills in order to make new decisions based on their experience. Ellen, as a caring person, can only support your aspirations and give advice, but not insist.

“As you said, “after courtship, you must prove your strength by resisting the xenomorph’s attacks , and then you yourself will find your way to him. If you want,” Ripley laughs with you and nibbles grass from the clearing. She pulls out one particularly long spikelet and presses it between her lips, thereby reminding you of a cowboy from the wild west. “It seems your words were prophetic.”

“Yes, I can see it myself,” the woman grumbles demonstratively and waves her hands in the air, and then rummages in her pockets. “Take it. Found it on the way.”

What was in your hands made you sit up abruptly and look in disbelief at the hand holding the offering. The "sluice doors" leading to the xenomorph's territory are in your hands.

“You can take all the things I found while scouring the forest if you give me this offering.”

“I was going to give it to you anyway, I still don’t understand how they work.”

“Thank you thank you thank you…”

You stood up from your seat and, as if under hypnosis, headed towards the general fire, before the voice of the former Nostromo officer brought you out of a kind of trance.

“To the edge of the fog,” was all the woman said before disappearing behind the trees.

You nodded gratefully.

As you moved towards the edge of the safe zone reserved for the survivors and separating those from the killers, the white fog began to rapidly thicken. Was this another test from the Entity? Maybe a test of your determination to see things through? Will you retreat at risk or will you still meet with the one you have been afraid of for so long? Shaking your head, dismissing the thoughts imposed on you that nothing would work out, you moved on.

Soon, a white fog enveloped every part of the space, making it impossible to go further. Somehow subconsciously you realized that this place is the line, the transition between the recreation area and the test, and it is here that you need to use the offering, otherwise the insidious entity will return you back to the fire.

You picked up a green polygon with doors drawn there and threw it into the fog. It, inexplicably fluttering and gurgling, began to become denser, and you were drawn to sleep.

Before you fall into oblivion, you think. How could you talk to Ripley if she was on trial and how did she know where to go?

A brutal industrial interstellar cargo ship where human life takes a back seat to brutal efficiency. Death lurks around every corner of its labyrinthine decks. From Ripley's well of memories, a dark and hopeless realm turns into a terrifying nightmare.

That's what you once thought, but finding yourself at the crash site of the Nostromo, with no generators or grappling hooks, surrounded by control points without turrets, you felt safer than ever.

You hesitantly step forward, hoping to meet the xenomorph, but as you search and spend time walking around the entire map, you realize that it is not here. But this is not so. Otherwise, why would the Entity fulfill your whim and allow you to step into the territory of the fallen spaceship? One can, of course, assume that your the captor just likes to watch how your face is distorted in despair that the stranger has been excluded from the kingdom of essence, and maybe everything is not as simple as it seems at first glance.

You approach the nearest control point. The strange thought “can a person go down there?” takes on new colors when the underground tunnels of the alien remain the only place that you have not yet explored. Exhaling, you turn your back to the entrance and slowly crawl through the narrow hole in the ground. The familiar mucus covers your body from head to toe, and now it becomes clear to you why the alien himself is constantly shiny and so sticky.

The dungeon, made of a material unknown to you, flavored with mucus, greeted you with gloomy silence and rare rays of light penetrating through the tunnels from the control points. You could almost stand up completely, the passages themselves were so wide, but it is worth noting that you still had to bend your head a little so as not to crash into something incomprehensible. And then you had to get down on all fours, because otherwise walking on two legs on the sticky floor threatened you with collapsing on it, and then suffocating in the mucus. Shameful death. Following your plan, you decided to go around the tunnels first along the edge and only then inspect the center, believing that this way you will increase your chances of meeting a xenomorph.

But here you are inspecting every passage at the border, then slowly crawling towards the center because of all the mucus stuck to your body, and the one you are looking for is still not there. There were no tears when you leaned against one of the walls and sat down with your legs bent towards you. The heavy realization that the xenomorph has been removed from the realm of essence falls on your shoulders. A heavy lump rises in your throat when the first plaintive sob escapes your lips. This was, at least, unfair, but the natural outcome for violating the rules of the world of the Entity and the corresponding punishment - for the life of one survivor, the killer pays with his own.

“Apparently, it’s time to leave,” you thought and directed your gaze to the exit to the control center ahead of you. You had just managed to lift your butt off the floor when suddenly there was a sound of a passage opening and a xenomorph descended, gracefully and naturally . “Is he really...”

The stranger you were looking for underground was himself looking for a violator of his peace on earth, sensibly believing that none of the survivors would think of descending into his kingdom. To see you here - covered in the mucus of an underground tunnel, tearful, but seemingly happy - was beyond all his expectations. His precious couple, who reciprocated his advances in marriage, themselves came and descended on him, honoring him with great honor.

The creature from distant space froze in place before taking a step towards you, then another, and now he was already at your feet. Seeing a xenomorph so close, knowing that it would not harm you, was surprising and amazing. Adrenaline hit the blood, and the heart began to beat so fast, attracting the attention of the predator. The alien made a sound similar to a purr, at least you could interpret it that way, before burying his smooth head into your chest. The strangers' hearing was a little weaker than that of a human, but even so, leaning close to your body, practically pressing you into the soft surface of the walls, the creature could hear the beating of your heart.

You knew that once you came and descended here, the xenomorph would not let you go. Remember Ripley said that the humanoid wants to create a new colony with you and you, being a vicious child of the Internet who knows about rule thirty-four, hoped that creating a colony implied a method common among people. Just the thought of what a monster’s penis might be like and how it penetrates inside you already excites your nature: there is a pleasant tug in the lower abdomen, it becomes wet from the approaching vaginal lubrication, and you want to see with your own eyes, feel for yourself everything that can give you xenomorph.

The latter seemed to sense the excitement hanging in the air . He hissed, but not threateningly, as it had always been before, but low and gutturally, so that his knees began to tremble. The alien took two steps back, allowing you to take a more comfortable sitting position, and just when you thought that everything would happen right here, the xenomorph suddenly shook his head negatively and waved into one of the corridors. You had no choice but to follow him.

He led you to one of the far corridors of the tunnel, where you had already been, but you did not properly examine the seemingly identical walls at first glance. And apparently in vain, because they lost sight of one of the secret passages leading somewhere deep down, where the temperature only rose, but not so much that it became unbearable for you. Clothes soaked in mucus clung to your body, outlining the curves of your body, giving the xenomorph an excellent view not only of your juicy ass covered in the fabric of your pants , but also of your breasts with hard nipples, and your long neck, so thin and inviting to leave its mark there. The stranger does not need imagination at all, his instincts and the growing desire to possess your body, heart and soul - all of you - did their dark work. The humanoid creature paused before smoothly descending, standing on its hind legs and extending its large palms towards you, lowering your half-size body down.

Based on generally accepted human standards, you could describe this place as a bedroom, making allowances for the non-human appearance of your future or current lover. The floor under your feet, which was a kind of flesh, was warm, soft and slimy, making it impossible for you to walk on your feet with shoes on. Perhaps, if you had the same sharp claws as a xenomorph, allowing it to cling to any surface, it would be much easier for you, but for now, overcoming the fear of the unknown, you take off your shoes. Your feet touch the soft floor, slightly springy and sagging under your weight, but overall the feeling was not disgusting.

You, drenched from head to toe in the secretions of a strange cave, feel more relaxed than ever.

The xenomorph hisses, attracting your attention and pulls the sleeve of your sweater towards him, pushing you to sit in a small recess in the bedroom. Can this thing be described as a bed? Maybe yes.

Surprisingly neat and gentle movements contrast so much with the wild nature of the stranger that it becomes almost funny. A light half-smile adorns your lips when the creature, picking up the hem of your T-shirt under your jacket, tries to pull it off of you over your head. As soon as you do this, it seems as if it becomes easier to breathe, but inside everything is tugging and burning with impatience. The mucus, which no longer seems so disgusting to you, envelops and warms the body, allows you to relax as much as possible, and now you forget about any pain in the body that tormented you due to both the uncomfortable posture while moving and the for a long walk on the surface. All fear has receded, relaxing and preparing your mind.

The stranger’s attempt to take off your pants was unsuccessful, just like yours, because the fingers covered with a layer of mucus simply could not grab the slippery button. For the first time, the sharp tail of a xenomorph was so close to your body, not in an attempt to kill, piercing through your body, but to get rid of a wardrobe item.

“However,” you think, looking at the sharp tip of the alien’s tail, “I wouldn’t mind trying games with a knife.”

You decide this for later, when the degree of your mutual trust moves to a new level. The xenomorph , kneeling in front of you, hisses and purrs contentedly. You slowly, a little fearfully, spread your legs to the sides, giving him a view of your womb, the pink folds of which are covered with your own juices and mucus. The xenomorph is dripping with saliva from his mouth when your hand reaches down along his stomach, covers his pubis with your palm, and thin fingers spread the natural barrier to your entrance to the sides - another narrow hole shrinks around the void, calling on the alien to fill it with himself. You thought that this creature had no mouth, that it was replaced by that extending thing with fangs, and for a second you even doubted the correctness of your decision when the alien opened its mouth, but instead of seeing the usual second mouth moving forward, it touched your womb something cold, thin and just as slimy.

The xenomorph has a tongue. Long, with a green tip that turns black the closer it gets to the throat. The xenomorph's tongue became thicker somewhere in the middle, you could compare its thickness to your three fingers, and there were also ribbed protrusions along the entire body.

It was hard to believe that it would be inside you, and you were counting only on light caresses, but the alien was determined to prove you wrong. Even if he himself had no idea about the course of your thoughts.

The actions of this snake tongue can be described as “chaotic” rather than “planned” or “purposeful,” but it is worth giving credit for its efforts. The sharp contrast of the coldness of the tongue and the warmth of the room excited your nerves brought to the peak, causing his every movement to tremble in your body. Here the xenomorph caresses your clitoris, tense with excitement, and you are ready to burst into ecstasy at any second, and a second later it teases your entrance to the vagina, penetrating inside with just the tip, and a disappointed groan already escapes your lips. All you can do is rush around the floor in the hope that the absolute weapon will stop playing with you, or mocking you, to be honest, and will fill your needy body, if not with its penis, then at least with its tongue.

Perhaps your prayers have been answered.

As soon as you open your mouth to tell the creature exactly how to move in order to bring you the maximum amount of pleasure, it puts its tail across your stomach, and its paws with razor-sharp claws touch your thighs, spreading them even further to the side. It knocks the air out of your lungs, but as soon as his cold tongue slides inside, stars flash before your eyes. It’s so unusual, strange, but pleasant to feel inside, from this feeling of gradual fullness as the xenomorph slowly and carefully pushes its tongue inside your womb. His movements are rhythmic and slow, first a little forward, then almost completely withdrawing from you, touching the sensitive clitoris with his growths along the tongue. Oh, that wonderful feeling of friction and pressure, pulling moans from your lips. Your hands are rushing around, not knowing where to place yourself . Maybe grab a stranger’s tail, counting the vertebrae with your fingers, or play with nipples swollen from excitement? Well, you have two hands to do both.

As soon as you touch the tail, slightly touch a sensitive point of the alien body, the xenomorph begins to squeal, pushes its tongue into you a little sharper and deeper than originally planned, as you arch your back, but most importantly, your lover’s tongue arches after you, touching and pressing on the very point that brings you a lot of pleasure . Your loud moan, the echo of which reaches your ears, in which you can hear the frantic beating of your heart, marks the arrival of your first orgasm.

The alien had to do so little to get you to your peak that it's almost astounding. Will you then be able to normally perceive caresses from a person or will you become addicted to the feeling of buzz and euphoria from the alien language, and then the penis?

With one hand you cover your tightly closed eyelids. You try to catch your breath, but it’s all in vain, because the overexcited and full of energy xenomorph is ready to continue giving you affection and pleasure. After all, you are his couple, who reciprocated. The tongue inside you rubs and curves, getting thicker and thinner and always touching your swollen clitoris so that you don't have to worry about having a second orgasm. The movements become faster and more chaotic, as if the alien is trying different methods and approaches on you to find what gives you the most pleasure. And when you are ready to reach the peak of orgasm for the second time, the xenomorph allows you to do this too, smearing the wide part of his tongue along your scarlet bundle of nerves.

This time it just rings in horror, and black dots flash before your eyes in place of the stars.

The xenomorph steps back. His slippery tongue comes out of your womb. And such a sound is heard, vulgar as in porn, but damn exciting. It’s as if a plug was pulled out of you and all that mucus that came inside along with your tongue began to flow out of your body.

Having barely caught your breath and found the strength to open your eyes, you look down to where the xenomorph is located. But he soon reached forward, placing his huge paws on either side of your chest. You were wondering if someone else has a penis, right?

There, pushing the groin shields to the sides, it appeared. Something that will divide your world into before and after.

Big, long. The tip of the xenomorph's penis was slightly elongated and thin, becoming thicker just below, and tapered again at the creature's hips. Its color was identical to the tongue - green at first, gradually turning black - and had growths, two of which ran along the upper part of the penis and one below. You could assume that the maximum length of these protrusions does not exceed half a centimeter, but this will be enough to give you an unforgettable experience.

A clear viscous liquid dripped from the tip of the penis, not the same as the mucus that envelops your bodies and you remembered the word pre-cum . Apparently this is typical even for xenomorphs .

“I want to touch,” became your first thought, and you listened to your desire. The stranger, showing you the highest degree of trust, allowed you to touch his most sensitive part of the body without any obstacles. And he hissed in surprise as soon as your hot hand touched the alluring flesh. "Marvelous".

The penis in my hand felt pleasantly heavy. It was slightly warmer than the alien creature's tongue; either the humanoid was simply excited until the body overheated, or its organ itself should be warm. In addition, it itself was soft to the touch, but hard, no matter how paradoxical it may sound. Mucus began to accumulate between your fingers as you ran up and down the ribbed shaft. Soft, pleasant, slippery. And it will end up inside your body.

Being under the influence of hypnosis due to the fascination with the xenomorph’s penis, you yourself, without knowing it, bring him to his first orgasm in his life. The alien life form does not know what it means to hold back, applying a similar concept to you for the first time, so as not to simply break the bones in your body, but otherwise gives its all. White streaks of sperm spread across your chest and stomach, slowly flowing down. You pick up one track with the tips of two fingers, spread them to the side, noting how thick and viscous the sperm of the creature from outer space is, that between the fingers spread in different directions, a string of sperm remains hanging between them.

It tastes... strange. It’s as if there is no taste at all.

The xenomorph groans . His nervous, twitching movements of his pelvis back and forth lead you to the idea that he himself wants to fill you with himself as soon as possible, and not only with his penis. You yourself have to raise your body to align yourself with the length of the penis and place the tip at the entrance to your body . My mouth was dry from anticipation. The creature's strong tail grabs you at the waist, sharply lifts you a little more, which is why you have to grab onto the powerful shoulders of your lover, in particular, reach for the tubes protruding from the back, in order to keep yourself in place. The legs can barely be locked behind the xenomorph's back, so you rest against the area above its tail.

Unusual pressure and stretching constrains your body . Despite the preliminary preparation, a copious amount of lubricant such as saliva, mucus and your own secretions, this is not enough to fully prepare yourself for the meeting with this monstrous penis . Only the head has penetrated, and it already seems to you that there is nowhere else to go . But at the same time, you want it to enter you completely, to divide you into two parts, to destroy your pussy, declaring its sole rights to your body and pleasure. Therefore, the xenomorph slowly moved further, penetrating you deeper and deeper with its monstrously large penis, exerting pleasant pressure with its size. The lumpy growths only complemented this wonderful sensation, pressing on the most sensitive points inside your body, and rubbing against your clitoris along with the thick penis. From pleasure, your mouth opened by itself, and pleasant moans, along with unintelligible babble, caressed the stranger’s ears. He was happy to feel that his partner was getting as much pleasure as he did from the feeling of how tightly the vaginal walls fit around his penis . How they tremble every time he plunges deeper into the supple body. He might think that he is intoxicated by this sensation and now he will certainly not let you go from his grip, he will fill you with his sperm, even if you cannot get pregnant in the realm of the Essence. He didn't care at all as long as it meant he could have you in every sense of the word.

The xenomorph stopped moving as his cock entered you fully, tearing through your sensitive walls, overloading your nervous system with the signals it sent. It was hot, cold, hot, everything throbbed and burned, but the vicious desire to become a victim of an alien creature, to be completely fucked and filled with his seed, overpowered any feeling of fear. But you were afraid to move, reasonably fearing that the feeling of pleasure would disappear. The alien decided to act first; slowly, his pelvis began to move away from you, creating many trails of mucus connecting your bodies. You wanted to tell him to stop, not to deprive you of this wonderful feeling of fullness, when he succumbed back forward, a jerk of the entrance turned around, crashing into your fragile human body with all his bestial power.

For long seconds you lost touch with reality, and when you returned, the feeling of lust, pleasant bliss and excitement that spread throughout your body, capturing every part of your body and soul, dispelled all doubts. You loved the xenomorph, his monstrous cock in particular adored you just like he did. The thrusts became smoother each time as your body and womb got used to the size of the alien creature, adjusting and stretching to suit its needs. And when there was no resistance left between you, when the xenomorph could freely penetrate you, desecrating your flesh with his nature, the angle of entry of his penis into you changed, as did the speed. The creature from another world had strength and endurance incomprehensible to the human mind, so it was not difficult for him to rise with your body on his hind legs and sharply lower him onto his penis, touching with the tip of his penis such places that you could not even think about.

It was nice. It's terribly pleasant. The vulgar sounds - your moans, his animal hands, as well as the slapping of your bodies against each other and the squelching sounds coming from the entry of his penis into your womb - only spurred the arousal of the two of you. The xenomorph opened his mouth, releasing his tongue, which immediately entered your mouth. The feeling of movement, both in your mouth and inside, completely severed your connection with reality and there was nothing left except the pleasure you received.

The pace of the thrusts gradually changed, becoming faster and sharper with each passing second. At the edge of your consciousness, you understood that the xenomorph was about to cum and his sperm would paint the walls of your vagina white. I wonder if there will be enough of it for your tummy to become bulging, if even now, by touching the designated part of the body, you could feel its ribbed penis under your fingers? Most likely, yes, but the excitement to check was as strong as your excitement.

After a few thrusts, the xenomorph released his cum into your body. You felt his cock throb as load after load of cum shot into your body. And there was really, really a lot of it. So much so that, despite still having his cock inside you, acting as a plug, white streaks of his seed were already running down the inside of your thighs and large white drops fell onto the slimy surface of the floor. The alien's long tongue licked the tip of your nose before being hidden in the creature's mouth. It, carefully supporting you in the air, sank back onto the warm floor and laid you under it.

It was clear as day that the xenomorph had no intention of leaving your body just yet. At least until he satisfies his hidden desire to impregnate you.

a little about this work.

Initially I planned to write only one part, the fifth, but I thought that without a pre-story it would not be so interesting.

It took me a day to write. in total there were 32 pages in Word, font Times New Roman, size 14.

I was thinking about attaching files with the Russian and English versions, but Tumler does not have this option. In any case, I don’t know about this.

At the moment, I finished making the last changes at 4:33 am on May 1st, whereas I started at 11 am on April 30th.

[lairn]

Regarding a scam where microfilm is planted on unsuspecting mules and then Tom steals it to forward to another party:

“Reeves couldn’t expect him to drop everything all the time— Tom had done so on two other occasions— to fly to Hamburg or Rome (much as Tom enjoyed little excursions), pretend to be in those cities by accident, and invite the ‘host,’ as Tom always thought of the carrier, to his Villeperce house.”

The “host,” how very parasitic of you, Tom.

[denimbex1986]

'Move over Matt Damon, Andrew Scott is stepping in as Tom Ripley in a new eight-episode TV adaptation of The Talented Mr Ripley. Now, we know reboots are everywhere but, come on, it's Andrew Scott! Anthony Minghella helmed the sublime 1999 adaptation to sun-dappled perfection, but who's to say another version on the small screen can't be just as seductive?

Here's everything we know about Ripley so far.

Is there a trailer for Ripley?

Ripley? Ripley.

Netflix's first official teaser for Ripley doesn't give a whole lot away, but then again, neither does its titular character. The moody and monochromatic series is fittingly ominous in its first look, as we see Scott's Tom Ripley seemingly evade justice for his many, many schemes. The trailer also gives us glimpses of some of the show's co-stars, including Dakota Fanning, Johnny Flynn and John Malkovich. Beyond knowing the story from the book and the 90s film starring Jude Law and Matt Damon, the trailer keeps much of Ripley's plot close to the chest. But, again, that seems quite fitting.

Ahead of the trailer release, Netflix also dropped some new images of Andrew Scott looking suitably pensive and mysterious as the enigmatic Ripley as he broods in black and white across Italy.

When is Ripley coming out?

It's been a long and winding road to get the story of Tom Ripley to the small screen. Having first been announced in 2021 and filming in Italy that same year, it's since bounced around from Showtime to Netflix. At a certain point, Andrew Scott didn't even know when it would come out.

But now, along with its first teaser trailer, Netflix has announced that Ripley will hit screens on 4 April. Springtime is for scamming, after all.

What’s Ripley about?

Based on Patricia Highsmith's novel, The Talented Mr Ripley, the series follows “Tom Ripley, a grifter scraping by in early 1960s New York” who “is hired by a wealthy man to travel to Italy to try to convince his vagabond son to return home.” That son is Dickie Greenleaf, and their odd friendship spirals into, among other things, incidents of deceit and murder. All set against the stunning backdrop of the Italian Riviera, of course. No wonder the book has been adapted so many times.

Scott has also hinted that the series will cover some of the subtextual queer themes of Highsmith's text. In a conversation with Ben Whishaw, he said:

“If Tom Ripley was in a gay bar, I’m not sure that he would fit in there. Nor do I think he’s a straight character. I think he’s a queer character, in the sense that he’s very ‘other.’ What’s his relationship with sex, or death, or with family or friends? It’s interesting that a character is the sum of the parts that you don’t have to play.”

Should this show get greenlit for more seasons though, we could potentially see adaptations of the other novels in the Ripley series. The second book, Ripley Under Ground had a film version with Willem Dafoe and Alan Cumming that, apparently, no one saw. And Dennis Hopper and John Malkovich played Tom Ripley in two film adaptations of the third novel, Ripley's Game.

Who stars in Ripley?

First, of course, we have Andrew Scott as Tom Ripley. Considering his past roles in Fleabag and the Oscar-buzzy All of Us Strangers, the actor certainly has the charisma for the part.

He’ll be joined by Johnny Flynn as Dickie Greenleaf (the playboy heir Ripley swindles) and Dakota Fanning as Dickie’s girlfriend, Marge Sherwood. And now, thanks to the trailer, we know that John Malkovich – a former Ripley, from 2002's Ripley's Game – will also be joining the monochrome world of the Netflix series.'

[mamiobesssionfics]

Let's Get Physical

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: In which her love language is physical touch.

Rhea was known far and wide for her boundless love and affection for those she held dear. 

Her love language was physical touch, and she expressed her feelings through hugs, kisses, and playful punches on the arm. 

To Rhea, there was no greater joy than showering her loved ones with physical displays of affection.

Her friends and family often joked that Rhea's love was so strong, it could knock you off your feet. 

Literally.

But everyone knew that under her tough exterior, was a heart made of gold.

She was always ready to lend a helping hand or give a comforting hug. Rhea's physical displays of affection were her way of showing just how much she cared and loved.

One day, you got home feeling under the weather due to work. Your boss was an asshole, and you just had it.

Emotionally drained, you dropped your keys into the bowl.

As soon as Rhea saw you, without hesitation, she swooped in with a bear hug that lifted you off the ground. 

"I love you, Darling," Rhea said with a smile. 

You couldn't help but laugh at her, feeling the warmth of Rhea's love wash over you.

"I love you too, Babe." you replied as you fully let yourself go in her embrace.

You instantly felt better.

Later that evening, you two cuddled on the couch, allowing Rhea to run her fingers through your hair as you two watched a new series.

The bad day you had was long forgotten every time you were in her arms.

It was your safe place.

Rhea's physical displays of affection were a testament to the depth of her love for those around her. 

Especially to you.

Whether it was a bear hug, a playful punch, or a comforting embrace, Rhea's love knew no bounds. 

And those lucky enough to receive her affection knew that they were truly cherished by someone who loved them very much, in her own unique way.

[madhatterbri]

Business Deals | D.P.

Summary: Damian Priest x reader request, please?? 😀. Instead of Rhea being out with an injury, it was Damian, but his relationship with the reader isn't toxic like Rhea and Dom's. Reader is in a relationship with Damian and a member of the judgment day. However, when Damian gets injured, Y/N gets sick of Rhea's controlling ways and decides to do business with Braun Strowman behind their backs. On the night that reader finally turns on TJD and attacks Rhea, Damian returns and confronts her. You can pick a happy or sad ending, and btw, the reader didn't cheat on Damian.

Author's Note: No part 2!

Damian Priest Masterlist

Requested by: anon

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy

Y/N could feel the tension in the room when she was alone with Rhea. There was no more hiding their true feelings. They absolutely couldn't stand one another. At least when Damian was around, he was the buffer. Now it was all discord in Judgment Day.

"Can I count on you tonight to help me with the Liv Morgan problem?" Rhea asked stiffly. Her arms crossed over her chest.

"We won't have to worry about her anymore," Y/N answered and looked in Rhea's eyes. Her words have a double meaning. One that Rhea will find out during the main event. Mami smiled and walked away. Y/N glared at the woman as she left.

Samantha Irvin introduced them to the arena. The crowd gave a huge pop for Rhea. They absolutely adored her. The woman could simply do no wrong in their eyes. How wrong the WWE Universe was.

Y/N followed her like an obedient follower. This would be the very last time of doing this, she told herself. Liv was in a corner cowering in fear. Her arm pressed closely to her chest. The coward started to plead for her life.

Rhea went up the stairs and into the ring to talk to Liv. Y/N reached under the ring to grab a chair. Within moments, Y/N stood right behind her. All her weeks of planning were about to come to light.

"Y/N, show Liv here what happens when you mess with Judgment Day," Rhea laughed into the microphone.

Y/N grabbed the chair and raised it. She smacked the chair to the back of Rhea. The air in the arena was sucked out. The beloved Rhea Ripley fell to her knees and on the ground. Boos from the arena sounded loudly, but Y/N didn't care. She was finally free.

"I'm done with your controlling ways, Rhea," Y/N yelled in the microphone. She continued her assault on Rhea. The chair came down a few more times. Before the last blow, Finn and JD jumped in the ring.

They were yelling at her to stop. A yelling match broke out in the ring. JD reached out for the chair, but she backed away. Both men were trying to talk some sense into her. The damage was done, though.

Braun Strowman's entrance music played. The two men looked at each other and then the ramp. Braun stormed down the ramp. Each long stride of his legs, carrying him closer to the ring.

"Meet my new friend," Y/N laughed. Braun walked up the stairs and went over the top rope. Finn and JD ran out of the ring. Braun ran after them.

Y/N went back to hit Rhea one more time. Boos sounded once more from the horrified audience. Referees and Adam Pierce ran around the ring to stop the assault. No one could stop her or so she thought.

Damian Priest pushed his way through to the ring. He grabbed the microphone and demanded to know what she was doing.

"I made my own business deal. Aren't you proud of me?" Y/N asked with a huge smile. Damian stared at her in shock. This wasn't the woman he was in a relationship with before his injury.

"Braun is one of our biggest threats. He has berm against us for weeks. Are you really working with him?" Damian asked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and seeing.

"I told him not to hurt you. I would never hurt you. Just join me," Y/N smiled and reached her hand out to him.

Damian shook his head. "I can't. We are done,"

Damian walked away as Y/N stood in the ring, suddenly feeling more alone than ever.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Between the Ropes.. a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 31: in a million years..

Rhea stared at herself in the reflection of the hospital's dim hallway window. Her eyes, wide and vacant, looked nothing like her own. Her body was bare beneath the blood-soaked robe that clung to her, every fiber stained with a red that no amount of scrubbing would ever remove. Her jewelry even stained as well.- Her hands— trembling, uncontrollable-were smeared with blood. His blood. Jey's.

The sounds replayed over and over in her mind. The deafening bang of the weapon, the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground. She blinked, but the images wouldn't fade. Her hands twitched, still feeling the warmth of his life slipping away through her fingers as she tried to stop the bleeding, but it had been too fast. Too much.

A nurse, concerned and gentle, approached with a set of clean scrubs. "Ma'am," she said softly, holding out the clothes. But Rhea didn't respond. She couldn't. The world was muffled, her mind drowning in the echoes of that gunshot. She stood frozen, trapped in the nightmare that had unfolded before her. The nurse set the scrubs next to her and walked back to the desk.

The double doors swung open, and Jon and Trinity hurried in, their faces lined with panic.

The moment Trinity saw Rhea, she ran to her, tugging Jon behind her. They skidded to a stop in front of her, the reality of what they were seeing crashing down on them. Rhea stood like a statue, drenched in Jey's blood, her skin as pale as the hospital's cold white walls.

"Rhea!" Trinity cried, dropping the bag she was carrying and kneeling at her side. She grabbed Rhea's hands, shaking them gently, trying to break through the shock. "Rhea, talk to me. Tell me what happened." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were full of fear.

Rhea's lips trembled, but all she could say was, "It was so loud..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the words hollow. Her mind was stuck in that moment, in the piercing sound that marked the end of everything.

Jon's breath hitched as he took in the scene.

He could tell Rhea wasn't fully there, lost in the shock. "Rhea, listen to me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You need to put on the clothes, okay? There are people here and we don’t want them to see you like this."

But Rhea didn't move. She couldn't. It was like her body no longer belonged to her, every muscle locked in place by the horror of what had just happened.

Trinity took charge, pulling Rhea to her feet and guiding her towards the bathroom.

"Come on, honey. We need to clean you up." Rhea stumbled along with her, her limbs moving only because Trinity moved them for her.

Jon stood back, his stomach churning. His eyes followed the bloodstains that had smeared onto the white plastic seat Rhea had been sitting on. It was everywhere.

Without thinking, he shouted down the hall,

"Can we get a damn janitor in here?!"

The hospital's sterile air smelled like disinfectant and fear, and it was closing in on him. He needed to see Jey. He needed to know if his brother was still alive.

Rhea stood as if paralyzed, staring at the floor, her body refusing to move. The weight of everything that had just happened pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. Trinity worked with quiet precision, her heart breaking with each step as she witnessed Rhea’s pain. She pulled out a paper towel from the dispenser and dampened it under the cold faucet. When she reached for Rhea’s trembling hands, Rhea jerked back, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

“No…” Rhea’s voice was raw, her throat tight, her tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “It could be all I have left of him…”

Trinity’s chest tightened at Rhea’s words, feeling a deep ache for her practically sister-in-law. In that moment, it felt as if the entire world was collapsing around them. Rhea’s anguish was just… heartbreaking, a heavy fog that filled the small bathroom, making it suffocating. Trinity wanted to cry for her, to grieve for everything that had been lost, everything that had gone wrong. But she knew she couldn’t. Not now. Right now, Rhea needed her to be strong.

“Don’t think like that, Rhea,” Trinity said softly, her voice steady despite the tempest of emotions raging within her. “He’s still here. Jey is still fighting.”

But Rhea could only see the blood, the chaos, the horror of that moment. She could feel the warmth of Jey’s blood seeping through her fingers, vivid and bright against her skin, an unknown image to the life they had built together. The sound of the gunshots echoed in her mind, relentless and haunting, drowning out Trinity’s words.

Rhea broke at that, her body collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut. Her legs gave out, and she crumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, a sound filled with despair and desperation. The tears streamed down her face, each droplet a reminder of the agony that enveloped her heart. Trinity moved with her, wrapping her arms around Rhea, rocking her gently, not caring about the stains that bled into her dark clothes. All that mattered now was Rhea.

“It’s okay,” Trinity whispered, her hand gently stroking Rhea’s hair, trying to ground her in the present. The comforting gesture was a lifeline, something to hold onto in the storm. Rhea pressed her face into Trinity’s shoulder, seeking refuge from the turmoil swirling inside her. But even in that embrace, Rhea felt so utterly lost, a shattered piece of glass that couldn’t seem to find its way back together.

Minutes passed, each one stretching into an eternity. As Rhea’s sobs began to quiet into soft whimpers, Trinity gently slipped off the blood-soaked robe, handling it like a fragile relic of a past that felt so far away. The sight of Rhea’s skin marked with remnants of chaos felt like a punch to the gut, an undeniable reminder of how close she had come to losing everything. Trinity folded the robe and stuffed it into her bag.

“Let’s get you dressed,” Trinity murmured, her voice soothing yet firm. She reached for the sports bra, her fingers trembling slightly as she slipped it over Rhea’s shoulders, moving with tenderness and care. Rhea remained passive, her gaze distant, lost in the memories of the night. Each article of clothing Trinity put on her felt like a shield against the world, yet it did little to protect her from the pain of what she had experienced.

As Trinity pulled on the oversized black t-shirt, Rhea could barely register the warmth of the fabric against her skin. It felt foreign, as if she was wearing someone else’s life. She felt stripped bare—not just of her clothes, but of her identity, her strength, everything that made her who she was. The enormity of her vulnerability wrapped around her like a thick fog, suffocating and disorienting.

When Trinity reached for the underwear and basketball shorts, Rhea felt a rush of emotions overwhelm her. Each touch from Trinity, each whisper of reassurance, was a reminder of the harsh and unfair reality: she had been thrust into a nightmare. She couldn’t shake the image of Jey’s blood, his body falling, the weight of his life hanging in the balance.

Finally, Trinity pulled out the black socks and the slides, gently placing them on Rhea’s feet. The act felt almost ritualistic, a way to bring her back to a semblance of normalcy, but it couldn’t erase the chaos that had consumed her life. Once Rhea was dressed, Trinity cupped her face, her hands warm and steady, grounding Rhea in the moment.

“We need to get you cleaned up before we go back out there, okay?” she said, her voice soft yet resolute. Rhea didn’t respond, her silence heavy with a mix of fear and shame. She felt like a ghost in her own body, detached from the reality of the situation.

Trinity took the damp paper towel and began to gently wipe away the blood from Rhea’s face. Each pass of the cloth was slow and careful, removing the crimson stains bit by bit. Rhea remained silent, her heart aching, the reality of her world crashing down around her. The blood felt like an indelible mark, something that would forever tie her to this moment, to this loss.

“It’s going to be okay..” Trinity whispered, though even she wasn’t sure of that anymore. Rhea’s breath hitched as she allowed Trinity to wipe away the remnants of the night, but the heaviness in her chest only grew. The blood was a reminder that everything had changed—nothing would ever be the same again.

When Trinity finished, Rhea felt a flicker of relief mixed with despair. There was no escaping what had happened, no denying the horror that had unfolded. Trinity let out a slow breath and gently kissed Rhea’s forehead, offering her silent strength, a promise that they would face whatever came next together.

“Are you ready?” Trinity asked, though her own heart raced at the thought of stepping back into that reality. Rhea nodded slowly, though the uncertainty in her eyes spoke volumes. Together, they prepared to face what lay beyond the bathroom door, knowing that the world outside was still waiting, still spinning, while their lives hung in the balance.

Rhea and Trinity stepped into the waiting room, the fluorescent lights buzzing above them, casting an eerie glow on the white walls. Rhea hesitated in the middle of the room, her heart pounding in her chest. The chaos of the past hours still felt surreal, and the sterile atmosphere only heightened her sense of disorientation.

“Rhea, come here..” Jon called softly, his voice steady but laced with concern. He stood with an air of quiet strength, but even he could feel the weight of the moment. The connection between Rhea and Jey, their shared history and deep bond, loomed large in the air, pressing down on them both.

Trinity gently nudged Rhea forward, and Rhea’s legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last. It was as if she were moving through a dream, the sounds of the waiting room fading away, leaving only the distant echo of Jey’s laughter and the warmth of his smile in her mind. She reached out to touch Jon’s hand, the gesture instinctual yet profound, as if by connecting with him, she could bridge the gap between the two brothers.

For a brief moment, Rhea could almost see Jey standing there beside Jon, a comforting presence that made her heart ache. It was a cruel trick of her mind, reminding her of what was at stake, what they were fighting to hold onto.

Jon’s eyes began to well with tears, reflecting Rhea’s pain as if they were two sides of the same coin. In that instant, it felt like they were sharing an unspoken understanding, an acknowledgment of the love they both had for Jey and the helplessness that clawed at their insides.

“Demi..” Jon said, his voice thick with emotion, and before she could respond, he pulled her into a fierce hug. The warmth of his embrace enveloped her, but it was tinged with an unsettling familiarity. Rhea felt the gritty remnants of Jey’s dried blood in her hair, a chilling reminder of the violence.

“I couldn’t protect him,” she whispered, the words escaping her lips like a confession, a haunting echo of guilt that would linger long after this moment.

Jon held her tighter, drawing strength from her fragility. “It was not your job to protect him,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing within him. “It was mine.”

His words hung in the air between them, a heavy promise laced with pain and responsibility. Rhea leaned into him, her breath hitching as the weight of grief pressed down on her. She felt Jon’s heart pounding against her, and in that heartbeat, she could sense his resolve.

“But I was there,” she choked out, her voice breaking as she fought against the tide of sorrow threatening to overwhelm her. “I was supposed to be there for him.”

“None of this was your fault,” Jon replied, his voice unwavering. He gently pulled back to look into her eyes, wanting her to see the truth in his gaze. “You did everything you could. You fought for him. You still are.”

Rhea searched Jon’s face for some semblance of hope, some glimmer that everything would be okay. But as she looked into his eyes, all she saw was the same fear that resided in her heart. They were both trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up, unable to escape the reality that loomed ahead.

In that moment, they stood united in their grief, siblings bound by love and loss, the chaos of the outside world fading into a mere backdrop against the storm raging within them. Rhea closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath, letting the moment wash over her, grounding herself in Jon’s presence.

After two long hours, the waiting room felt like a time capsule, suspended in a haunting stillness. Jon, Trinity, Rhea, and their family sat in tense silence, each lost in their thoughts as they processed the chaos of the night. Solofa and Talisua, Jey and Jon’s parents, were huddled together, seeking solace in each other’s presence as they tried to navigate the incomprehensible reality unfolding around them.

Rhea could barely register their quiet murmurs of comfort; she felt as if she were trapped in her own world, cut off from the emotions swirling around her. Earlier, she had been approached by the police, who asked her for her blood-soaked robe as evidence. It felt like a cruel mockery that they cared more about her clothing than the life hanging in the balance just behind those hospital doors. Trinity and Jon had fought back fiercely, voices raised in a protective fury, refusing to let the officers treat Rhea like a mere piece of evidence when Jey was fighting for his life.

But Rhea had remained silent through it all, her mind numb to the world outside. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, each second stretching into eternity. She glanced at the time: 12:21 AM.

Her gaze drifted down to her hands. Though the blood was gone, the light red residue left behind was a haunting reminder of the horror she had experienced. Rhea felt as if the stains would never truly fade, like a part of her would always be marked by what had happened. She clenched her fists, trying to shake off the sense of despair that threatened to swallow her whole.

“Rhea,” Trinity said softly, her voice breaking through Rhea’s haze. “Jey is a fighter. He’s strong, just like you.”

Rhea didn’t respond, merely staring blankly at her hands, replaying the events of the night in her mind. Every flash of Jey’s face, the laughter they had shared, and the warmth of his embrace collided with the horrific moment she’d seen him fall. The juxtaposition left her feeling hollow, her heart aching with an unbearable heaviness.

Jon watched Rhea from across the room, worry etched across his features. He could see the pain in her eyes, the way she withdrew deeper into herself with each passing moment. “Rhea,” he ventured gently, hoping to reach her. “You need to believe he’s going to be okay.”

But she didn’t want to believe anymore. Believing had led her to this moment, and she couldn’t fathom facing that possibility again, especially when the reality felt so dark and heavy.

Trinity, sensing Rhea’s retreat, moved closer, sitting beside her and placing a hand on her knee. “We’re all here for you, okay? You’re not alone in this,” she said, her voice soothing yet firm. “You’ve got to hold onto hope.”

The words hung in the air, a fragile lifeline thrown in the midst of a raging storm. Rhea finally lifted her gaze to meet Trinity’s, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “What if hope isn’t enough?” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear.

“It has to be,” Jon interjected, his voice steady despite his own turmoil. “It has to be enough. Jey needs us to be strong for him. He needs you.”

Rhea felt the truth in Jon’s words, a flicker of warmth amidst the coldness that surrounded her. Yet the fear of losing Jey clung to her heart, making it hard to embrace any sense of optimism.

Suddenly, the double doors swung open, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room, his expression grave yet composed. The atmosphere shifted, and all eyes turned toward him, a collective breath held in anticipation.

Rhea’s heart raced, and she found herself grasping Trinity’s hand tightly. “Please,” she whispered, a silent plea to whatever fate lay ahead.

The doctor cleared his throat, and the silence in the room was deafening. Rhea braced herself, knowing that whatever came next would shape the course of their lives forever.

The doctor took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room filled with anxious faces. “I’m Dr. Patel,” he began, his voice steady but carrying a weight that felt unbearable in the silence. “I’ve just come from the operating room, and I need to update you on Mr. Fatu’s condition.”

Rhea’s heart raced as she clutched Trinity’s hand tighter, a lifeline she desperately needed. She could feel the tension in the room, a collective holding of breath as everyone leaned in, eager yet terrified to hear what he had to say.

“Joshua suffered two gunshot wounds, both located in his right upper shoulder area,” Dr. Patel explained. “The first bullet entered near the clavicle and caused significant damage to the surrounding soft tissue and blood vessels. The second wound penetrated deeper, grazing the humerus and causing some fracture to the bone.”

Rhea felt her breath hitch, a sickening wave of panic washing over her. The medical terminology blurred in her mind, but the reality was stark and unforgiving. Jey was hurt—hurt in a way that could change everything.

“During surgery, we had to repair the damaged blood vessels and clean the wounds to prevent infection. There was some internal bleeding we had to manage, and I want to be clear: Mr. Fatu is stable now, but he lost a significant amount of blood. He will need time to heal, and there are risks we need to discuss.”

Each word felt heavy as Rhea absorbed the gravity of the situation. The thought of Jey struggling to regain his strength, to fight back against the limitations this injury could impose on him, felt unbearable.

“The main concern right now is that the gunshot wounds could lead to complications such as nerve damage, reduced mobility in his arm, or even something manageable like chronic pain. We’ll need to monitor him closely for any signs of infection or other issues. His recovery will take time, and he’ll likely face physical therapy to regain full function of his arm.”

A heavy silence settled over the group, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Rhea’s breathing. She felt a mix of fear and determination coursing through her. The thought of Jey enduring the challenges ahead, of fighting to reclaim his life, sent a chill through her.

“And as for his chances of survival…” Dr. Patel paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. “Right now, I would say they’re good. We managed to stabilize him, and he’s responding well to treatment. But we are not out of the woods yet. His body has been through a lot, and he will be in and out of consciousness for the next few hours.”

Rhea swallowed hard, fighting against the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She could see Jon’s brow furrowed, the tension in his jaw as he processed the information. Talisua and Solofa sat together, their expressions a mixture of heartbreak and resolve, all of them grappling with the reality of the situation.

Before leaving, Dr. Patel glanced back at them, a serious expression crossing his face. “One more thing—while he was coming out of anesthesia, he kept saying ‘Demi.’ I don’t know who that is, but it might be someone significant to him.”

Rhea felt a sharp pang in her chest at the mention of her name. Demi. The word echoed in her mind, an unexpected reminder of the bond they shared. As much as it thrilled her to hear it, it also cut deep, a reminder of how vulnerable they were in this moment. Rhea stepped forward and said, “I’m Demi.”

Dr. Patel continued, “I think it might be best if you go in first by yourself. We want to minimize any stress on Joshua right now.”

Rhea nodded, understanding the reasoning behind his suggestion but feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily on her. She wanted to be there for Jey, to offer him comfort and support, but the thought of facing him alone, knowing he was vulnerable and possibly scared, sent a wave of trepidation through her.

As the doctor left, Rhea steeled herself for what was to come. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to be strong. Jey needed her, and she wouldn’t falter. She wouldn’t allow fear to overtake her. They were in this together, and she would fight for him just as fiercely as he would fight for his own recovery.

Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Rhea leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. “He’s going to fight this,” Jon said softly, his voice steady. “We’ll be right here with him.”

As Rhea prepared to see him, her mind was flooded with memories of Jey—his laughter, his strength, and his unwavering support for her. She was determined to be his strength now, to remind him that he wasn’t alone. She wasn’t just going to be a spectator in his recovery; she would be an active participant.

Rhea took a breath, focusing on the name he had whispered, on the love they shared that connected them even in this moment of chaos. She would be there for him, not just as Rhea but as Demi—the woman who loved him fiercely and would fight for their future together.

She would face whatever lay ahead, and when Jey opened his eyes, she would be there—ready to remind him that he was loved and that together, they would navigate the uncertainty of this moment.

Rhea stood frozen in front of Jey’s hospital room door, her hand hovering over the handle as if touching it would break her already fragile composure. Her body felt heavy, drained of all strength, her legs weak beneath her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing shallow and uneven. The faint beeping of the machines on the other side of the door made her stomach twist in knots.

Jey was in there—alive but wounded. Vulnerable.

Rhea closed her eyes, summoning the last bit of resolve she had left. Her hand trembled as she grasped the handle, slowly turning it until the door clicked open.

The sterile scent of antiseptic and the noises of the machinery hit her senses as she stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow from the monitors casting shadows over the bed. Jey lay there, his upper body partially elevated to ease his breathing. Bandages covered his right shoulder, the edges stained slightly red from the surgery. Tubes were connected to an IV line in his arm, and the heart monitor beeped steadily in the background. His face, though peaceful, bore the marks of pain and exhaustion. His lips were dry, and his chest rose and fell in a steady but labored rhythm.

Her breath caught in her throat. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and still, was a shock she wasn’t prepared for. Rhea felt the tears burn at the back of her eyes, but she forced herself to hold them back. Jey didn’t need her tears right now—he needed her strength.

Slowly, Rhea approached the bed, her feet barely making a sound on the cold hospital floor. She reached out, hesitating for a moment before her fingers finally touched his hand. It was warm but limp beneath her touch, and she had to fight the overwhelming urge to break down.

“Jey…” she whispered softly, her voice barely registering.

As if sensing her presence, Jey stirred slightly. His eyelids fluttered open, his brown eyes dull with pain and fatigue. He blinked several times, struggling to focus on her face.

“Jey,” Rhea said again, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’m right here.”

Jey’s eyes moved toward her, recognition flickering in them as he tried to lift his head. His lips parted, and he struggled to form words, his voice hoarse and broken. “B-baby…”

Rhea’s heart clenched at the sound of his voice, so weak and strained. She leaned in closer, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. “Yes, baby, I’m right here,” she said softly, her thumb gently caressing the back of his hand. “Don’t speak, okay? You don’t have to say anything.”

Jey shook his head weakly, as if disagreeing. He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “I… love… you…” he managed to whisper, his words slurred and filled with effort. Each breath seemed harder than the last, his body straining to keep up.

Before Rhea could respond, the heart monitor began beeping erratically, the rhythm changing from steady to frantic. Jey’s body suddenly tensed, his muscles seizing up as his eyes rolled back slightly. His breathing became shallow, gasping, as the alarms from the machines grew louder. His heart rate plummeted on the screen, the numbers dropping rapidly.

“Jey!” Rhea gasped, panic flooding her as she reached for him. “Jey, no!”

Before she could even yell for help, the door burst open, and several nurses and a doctor rushed inside, all of them moving with practiced urgency. One of them gently but firmly pulled Rhea back from the bed as others gathered around Jey, assessing the situation.

“Get her out of here,” someone said in a calm but authoritative voice.

Rhea resisted, her feet planted firmly on the ground, refusing to leave. “No! I need to stay! Please!”

But before she could fight further, she felt strong hands on her shoulders. It was Jon. He was pulling her back, his grip steady but not harsh. “Rhea, come on,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “You have to let them work.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t leave him, Jon! I can’t!”

Jon held her tighter, pulling her out of the room as the nurses and doctors worked frantically to stabilize Jey. “Rhea, please,” he whispered, his own voice breaking. “You have to trust them. They’ll save him.”

The last thing Rhea saw before the door closed was Jey’s still body surrounded by medical staff, the beeping of the machines growing more chaotic. The door clicked shut, separating her from him, and the weight of it crushed her chest. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed against Jon, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest as he held her.

It felt like hours before the door to the trauma unit finally opened. Dr. Patel stepped out, removing his gloves and adjusting his surgical cap, his face a mixture of exhaustion and concern. Jon, Trinity, and Jey’s parents immediately stood up, bracing themselves for the news.

Dr. Patel looked at the family, his expression serious but gentle. “We were able to stabilize Joshua. His heart went into shock due to the blood loss and trauma from the gunshot wounds. We administered medications to get his heart rhythm back to normal and performed an emergency intervention to control some internal bleeding that we hadn’t anticipated during the initial surgery. The good news is that we’ve stopped the bleeding and his vital signs have stabilized for now.”

Rhea, who had been staring at the floor, barely registered the words. All she could think about was that moment—Jey’s body seizing up, the heart monitor’s rapid beeping, and the nurses rushing in. She felt numb, empty.

Dr. Patel continued, addressing the family, “Joshua will be closely monitored for the next 24 to 72 hours. We’ve inserted a central line to administer fluids and medications more effectively, and he’s on a ventilator to help with his breathing until his body can recover from the shock. There’s still a risk of infection, and we’ll be watching for any signs of complications.”

Jon’s voice was steady, but tight with emotion. “What are his chances, Doc?”

Dr. Patel hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his words carefully. “At this point, it’s hard to say with certainty. His body is weak, and he’s been through a lot of trauma. The next few days are critical, but I can say he’s a fighter. He made it through the hardest part, and that’s a good sign.”

A collective breath of relief passed through the room, though the tension was far from gone.

The doctor glanced around the family. “I want to stress that he’s still very weak..”

The fatigue, the weight of everything, was overwhelming. She felt the hollowness deepening in her chest.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes met Solofa and Talisua’s, and in that moment, she nodded quietly, a small, barely perceptible gesture. “You go,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “You should be with him.”

Solofa nodded back, his face worn with worry but grateful. Talisua, tears in her eyes, reached out to touch Rhea’s arm gently before she and Solofa made their way toward Jey’s room.

Rhea watched them go, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt disconnected from everything, like her body wasn’t her own anymore. She couldn’t even process the pain or the fear—it was all too much. She just wanted to disappear, to escape it all.

Without a word, she stood up from her chair, her movements mechanical. Jon and Trinity noticed immediately, both rising to their feet.

“Rhea?” Jon’s voice was concerned, searching her face. “Where are you going?”

Trinity stepped forward, her eyes full of sympathy. “Do you want us to come with you?”

Rhea didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She just shook her head slightly, her gaze unfocused, and before they could say anything else, she turned and walked out of the waiting room.

Her feet carried her through the sterile white hallways, past people she didn’t recognize, past nurses and doctors who didn’t even notice her. She had no idea where she was going—she just kept walking, as if the movement itself would make the weight in her chest disappear.

Before she knew it, she had stopped in front of a vending machine in an unfamiliar hallway. The soft hum of the machine filled the silence around her, the bright neon glow casting a harsh light on her pale face. She stared at the rows of snacks, but her mind was far away, detached from the world around her.

Rhea’s hands were trembling again, but this time she didn’t try to stop them. She just let herself feel the shaking, the emptiness, the overwhelming grief. The enormity of everything was too much to process—Jey’s injuries, the trauma of the attack, the guilt that sat heavy on her chest. The worst part was how powerless she felt. She couldn’t protect him. She couldn’t save him. All she could do was watch as his life hung in the balance.

As Rhea stood in front of the vending machine, her eyes landed on the row of Snickers bars. Something about them pulled her out of the fog of her own grief, yanking her back to a memory—a simple, almost ridiculous moment, yet one that now felt like a lifeline.

Her mind drifted back to that day, back when things were normal, and Jey had walked through the door to his hotel suite with a Walgreens bag in hand, his grin wide as he dumped a massive fun-sized bag of Snickers onto the coffee table. She’d raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk.

“I asked for KitKats,” Rhea had reminded him, slightly annoyed but amused by how unapologetic he looked.

Without missing a beat, Jey reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a single KitKat, holding it up like a peace offering.

“There you go, babe. One KitKat. Special delivery.”

Rhea had rolled her eyes at him, playfully snatching the KitKat from his hand. “You bring home a million Snickers and only one KitKat? I see how it is.”

Jey had shrugged, popping a Snickers into his mouth with a mischievous grin. “Snickers were on sale. You know how it is. Gotta stock up.”

She’d huffed in mock frustration, but deep down, it was those little quirks of his that she loved. That moment, so small and ordinary, had become something she cherished—something she never knew would come to mean so much now, when she stood on the edge of losing him forever.

In the cold light of the hospital, staring at the Snickers bars behind the glass, Rhea felt her chest tighten. She would give anything to hear his voice again, to tease him about buying too many Snickers, to just be with him in that ridiculous, comforting normalcy.

Her hand reached up, brushing at the tears that slid down her cheeks. That memory was so vivid, it hurt. It was the kind of hurt that wrapped itself around her heart, suffocating her, but at the same time, it reminded her of what she was fighting for—why she couldn’t give up, not yet.

Jey had to pull through. He just had to.

“He brought the KitKat bar in the hotel lobby because he forgot to buy it for you at the store,” a soft, familiar voice said from behind her.

Rhea’s breath hitched, and her body froze. Slowly, she turned around, eyes wide with disbelief. Standing before her was Julie—her miscarried daughter. Julie looked ethereal, almost translucent, her presence so gentle yet so powerful that it filled the space around them with an otherworldly calm. She seemed to glow, a soft light surrounding her, making it clear that she wasn’t entirely of this world.

She couldn’t speak. Words felt too heavy, too impossible. Her throat closed up, and all she could do was stare.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited since your coma,” Julie said, her voice like a whisper on the wind, tender and kind.

Rhea swallowed hard, still unable to respond. Her hands shook slightly as she clenched them at her sides. She had so many things to say, so many questions to ask, but nothing came out. She just stood there, overwhelmed by the sight of her daughter, who should have been alive, here, with her.

Julie, noticing her silence, looked up at the ceiling, as though she were listening to something far away, something beyond their realm. Her expression softened, and she fixed her gaze back on Rhea.

“The big man said it was not his intention to bring more pain,” Julie explained gently, her eyes filled with a deep understanding, a kind of wisdom that no child could possess in life.

Rhea’s heart ached, her mind whirling. Was Julie talking about God? Fate? The universe? Everything about the moment felt surreal, like a dream she wasn’t quite sure how to wake from.

Still, Rhea remained silent, her emotions too raw, too jagged to untangle. She wanted to reach out, to hold Julie, but she knew she couldn’t. Not really. It was like touching air—her daughter wasn’t truly there, and yet, her presence was undeniable.

Julie’s expression softened further, and she tilted her head slightly, watching her mother with a kind of sorrowful compassion. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Mom,” she whispered. “It’s okay to let go of the guilt. It wasn’t your fault.”

Rhea’s knees felt weak, her hands trembling as she clenched her fists harder. Guilt. It had been her constant companion since that day—since she lost Julie, since everything spiraled into chaos.

“Why couldn’t God just take me instead?” Rhea’s voice trembled, each word heavy with grief and despair. Her heart ached with the weight of her losses, and she felt as if the ground beneath her was crumbling away.

Julie looked at her, sorrow etched across her young features. “Dad said the same thing,” she replied softly, her voice gentle yet full of understanding. Rhea furrowed her brow, confusion swirling in her mind.

Before she could ask for clarity, Julie reached out and touched Rhea’s heart, the warmth of herl hand sending a jolt through Rhea’s body. In an instant, Rhea felt herself being lifted, transported somewhere new. The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway faded away, replaced by the soft glow of candlelight.

Rhea found herself in a chapel. The air was thick with a sense of reverence, each flicker of the candles casting dancing shadows on the walls. It was quiet, yet a heavy tension hung in the atmosphere, as if the very space was holding its breath.

Rhea’s gaze swept across the room until it landed on Jey, kneeling before the statue of God at the altar. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, so vulnerable, so lost in his grief.

“Is this my punishment for loving Rhea?” Jey’s voice was strained, filled with anguish. He was speaking to the heavens, his hands shooting up in frustration, palms open as if surrendering to the weight of his pain.

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat. “Why didn’t I see this?” she asked Julie, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because you were in your coma,” Julie replied, her voice heavy with sorrow.

Jey’s frustration turned to desperation as he cried out, “What did I do to deserve this? You already took Julie away! Now you’re going to take Rhea?” The torment of his daughter’s loss twisted like a knife in his heart, the grief feeling fresh, as if the memories of that devastating day were replaying in real-time.

With each anguished word, Jey’s voice grew louder, a storm of anger and sorrow. “What do you want from me? Why put her in my path if you don’t want me with her? Why give me a glimpse of happiness only to snatch it away? Why?” The raw emotion in his voice echoed through the chapel, each word laced with a mixture of defiance and hopelessness.

Suddenly, he crumbled, collapsing onto the cold stone floor, the weight of his pain pulling him down. Rhea felt her heart shatter as she watched him, his body shaking as he let the tears flow freely, the sobs erupting from him like a dam bursting under pressure. The sound reverberated in the stillness of the chapel, a raw and heart-wrenching symphony of heartbreak and defeat.

“Take me instead!” he pleaded, his voice hoarse and cracked, eyes glistening with tears as he looked up at the statue, hands still raised in supplication. “Don’t take her! Take me! I can’t bear this pain anymore!” Each word spilled from him, a desperate cry into the void, challenging the very forces that had shaped his life.

Rhea’s heart ached for him, tears streaming down her face as she absorbed the weight of his despair. She longed to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, to share the burden of grief that had threatened to consume them both. But she remained frozen, helpless to reach him.

Suddenly, Julie touched Rhea’s heart once more, and in an instant, they were back in the hallway again, standing before the vending machine. The stark contrast of the mundane moment compared to the spiritual weight of what they had just witnessed left Rhea reeling.

“Is he going to be okay?” Rhea asked.

“I have to go…” Julie said softly, her voice filled with love and reassurance. “I love you, Mom.”

With that, Julie vanished, leaving Rhea standing alone in the hallway, her heart aching with the weight of everything that had transpired. She clutched at her chest, feeling the emptiness of her daughter’s absence while holding onto the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still time for both her and Jey.

The vending machine hummed quietly, a reminder of the reality she had returned to. But Rhea knew now that they weren’t alone in this fight. They were still connected, bound by love and shared pain, and somehow, they would find their way back to each other.

As Rhea stood in the hallway, grappling with the overwhelming emotions swirling within her, the world outside continued to spin with urgency and fear. The frantic calls from Jon had set off a chain reaction, each connection woven into a tapestry of worry, love, and hope.

In San Francisco, Takecia paced her living room, the phone pressed to her ear as she listened to Jon’s shaky voice. “He got out of surgery, but he went into shock, Takecia. They said he’s stable now, but you need to get to Pensacola as fast as you can.”

“I’m on it,” she replied, her heart racing. She turned to her sons, Jeyce and Jaciyah, who were sitting on the couch, confusion etched on their faces. “Boys, we need to get to your dad. He’s hurt, but he’s going to be okay. We’re catching the next flight.”

“Is he gonna be alright, Mom?” Jeyce asked, his young voice tinged with fear.

Takecia knelt beside them, forcing a reassuring smile. “He’s strong, just like you. He needs us right now.”

As she pulled up the American Airlines website, she felt a pang in her heart. She hated that her children had to go through this. They deserved better. In that moment, she resolved to be the strong anchor they needed.

Meanwhile, across the country in Las Vegas, Joseph and his wife Almia rushed to pack their bags, urgency fueling their movements. The news had hit Joseph like a freight train, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “We have to get there, Almia. Jey needs us.”

“I know,” Almia replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She grabbed a few essentials and stuffed them into their suitcase. “I’ll check for the next available flight.”

As Joseph paced the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. “What if something happens while we’re on the way? What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be,” Almia insisted, her voice firm. “We’ll get there. He’s going to pull through. Just focus on getting us on that flight.”

On the other side of Pensacola, Joe and Galina were already on the road, the tires of their car screeching against the pavement as they made their way to the hospital. “What did Jon say?” Galina asked, her voice tinged with anxiety.

“He said Jey got out of surgery but then went into shock,” Joe replied, trying to keep his tone calm. “I can’t believe this is happening. He’s practically my brother; I should’ve been there.”

Galina reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters. We’ll get through this together.”

As they approached the hospital, Joe couldn’t shake the dread settling in his stomach. He knew the wrestling community would be there, and he couldn’t help but feel the weight of their collective worry.

Outside the hospital, the media had descended like vultures, eager for any detail they could get. Cameras flashed, and reporters stood poised, ready to relay the latest updates on the wrestling star’s condition. The news reporter for the local station began her broadcast, her tone serious as she spoke directly to the camera.

“Breaking news from HCA Florida West Hospital, where WWE Superstar Jey Uso, also known as Joshua Fatu, is currently recovering after being shot earlier tonight. We have confirmed that there was a home invasion at the home where Mr. Fatu shared with his current fiancé Demi Bennett, also known as WWE Superstar Rhea Ripley. The police have not named the assailant but we can confirm here that assailant was taken to another nearby hospital where he is being treated. Sources confirm Fatu is stable but has experienced shock. Family members are gathering as we speak.”

In that hospital hallway, the lives of so many were about to converge, bringing with them the strength and support that Jey needed to fight for his life. As Rhea’s heart ached for Jey, the universe was quietly aligning to remind her that she was never truly alone.

—

November 6th, 2024 1:45 PM

It had been two days since Jon, Trinity, and Rhea left the hospital to make arrangements. Rhea and Jey’s house had become a crime scene, leaving Rhea to stay at Jon and Trinity’s home. Solofa, Talisua, Joseph, and Almia all decided to stay there too, while Joe and Galina took Takecia, Jeyce and Jaciyah to stay with them. Each family member had spent time with Jey throughout the day, but Rhea had chosen the night shift, opting to sit with him when the room grew quiet and still. Damian, Kayden, Finn, Liv and Dominik had reached out to Rhea but she asked for privacy at the time being, she didn’t have the social battery to say ‘thank you’ and ‘he will pull through’ comments to them. Nevertheless, the group sent flowers to Jey’s room, often Rhea looking at them and watering them.

Rhea remained seated under the awning, her eyes lost in the heavy rainfall that drenched the world around her. The rhythmic drumming on the patio roof was the only sound, offering her a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos swirling in her mind. Each day Jey didn’t wake up, was another day Rhea stayed in the patio. Not to mention, the rain hadn’t stopped.

Inside, Trinity silently prepared the ultrasonic jewelry cleaner machine. She filled it with the cleaning solution, the liquid bubbling softly as it settled. After making sure everything was ready, she pulled on her gloves, her heart heavy with the weight of the task ahead. The small machine sat on the kitchen counter, humming faintly, waiting for the jewelry that held so much history and pain.

Trinity stepped outside, the cool air mixing with the warmth of her own nervous breath as she approached Rhea on the patio.

“It’s time,” she said softly, crouching beside Rhea’s chair, her voice full of compassion.

Rhea turned to her, eyes dull, weighed down by exhaustion. “Can you undo it?” Rhea whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t have the strength.”

Trinity nodded, her movements steady yet gentle. She reached for Jey’s Cuban chain first, unclasping it from around Rhea’s neck. Next came the chain Jey had gifted Rhea and the necklace that seemed so intertwined with their relationship. Rhea clenched her hand for a moment, reluctant to let go of the last two pieces of him, but with a shaky breath, she allowed Trinity to slip off the matching permanent bracelet that bore Jey’s full name engraved on the bar. Rhea looked at her engagement ring, the last and hardest piece to remove.

“It’ll take no more than 10 minutes,” Trinity said gently, though her voice wavered.

Rhea just nodded, her gaze fixed on the ring, the sound drowning out the emotions she was too exhausted to express. She felt Trinity’s hand and felt the ring be removed from Rhea.

Trinity stood, clutching the jewelry in her gloved hands, and returned inside. She carefully placed each piece into the ultrasonic cleaner, watching them sink into the clear solution. As the machine hummed to life, she stared at the liquid, hoping this ritual would somehow cleanse the horrors of the past days.

But then, slowly, the solution began to turn red.

The sight of the clear liquid darkening made Trinity’s throat tighten. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t realized how symbolic it would feel, like seeing Jey’s blood all over again. It wasn’t about getting rid of Jey; it was about trying to cleanse the pain, the trauma, and the violence that had led to this point. And yet, the red hue in the solution seemed to remind her that the damage was already done.

Meanwhile, Takecia pulled up to Jon and Trinity’s house, her heart heavy as she realized she had to face Rhea. The woman who had been there when Jey was shot. The woman who had been with him during what should have been their marriage. The thought sent a sharp pain through her, but she knew she had to push through it for her sons. She couldn’t keep putting this off, today was the day.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of the rental car, her feet dragging as if they were made of lead. She hesitated for a moment, her hand trembling as she knocked on the door. Trinity answered, and despite the bad blood between them, the tension of their last interaction melted away as Trinity stepped forward and pulled Takecia into a hug. Neither of them spoke, but they both understood the weight of the situation. Words weren’t necessary.

Takecia glanced toward the patio and saw Rhea sitting alone under the awning. She could feel her throat tighten, her stomach twisting as she set her keys and wallet on the hallway table. Slowly, she made her way to the door and stepped outside.

Rhea looked up, her eyes locking with Takecia’s. The woman who had shattered her marriage, the woman who had caused her so much pain. And yet, here they were, face to face, united by the same man they both loved.

Takecia took a seat across from Rhea. Neither woman spoke, the rain continuing to fall, filling the silence between them.

Rhea and Takecia sat under the awning, their gaze lost in the downpour. They didn’t even flinch when she heard the thunder. Both women didn’t say anything for what felt like forever. The rain beat a steady rhythm, filling the silence with its own soft melody.

Finally, it was Takecia who broke the quiet, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “You know… I never blamed you.”

Rhea blinked, frowning as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

“I never blamed you,” Takecia repeated, this time with more certainty. Her eyes remained fixed on the falling rain. “Not for the affair. Not for Jey leaving. Not even for what happened with Matt.” She shook her head slightly, her voice carrying a weight of someone who had long come to terms with the past. “I spent a long time trying to figure out where things went wrong between Jey and me. And… I realized it wasn’t about you.”

Rhea’s brow furrowed deeper, confusion spreading across her face. “I don’t understand.” Her voice was rough, raw.

Takecia sighed, leaning back in the chair, her body heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. “Jey and I… we were broken long before you. Maybe I saw it, maybe I didn’t. But you weren’t the reason for our end, Rhea. You just happened to come into his life when he was already ready to leave. I did try… but something deep in me told me it was done. Sure, I acted like it caught me off guard.. but I knew.”

Rhea’s lips parted, her eyes softening in disbelief. “But I… I thought I ruined everything.”

Takecia met her gaze for the first time, her expression surprisingly calm. “It was more complicated than that. If it wasn’t you, it would have been something else. Jey was looking for something I couldn’t give him anymore.” There was no venom in her voice, only quiet acceptance.

Rhea lowered her head, her fingers gripping the fabric of her jeans. “I never thought you’d say that. I didn’t think you’d ever…”

“Hate you?” Takecia gave a small, sad smile. “I did. For a long time. But it wasn’t fair to blame you for everything. People drift apart, and Jey and I did. It took me a while to accept it.”

Rhea’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, a weight lifting from her chest that she didn’t even know she had been carrying. “I’m sorry for everything that happened,” she whispered. “I never meant to come between you.”

“I know.” Takecia’s voice was quiet but firm. “And, in a strange way, I’m glad Jey had someone who could make him feel alive again. Even if it wasn’t me.”

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat, tears spilling over. “You’re stronger than I could ever be,” she whispered, overwhelmed by Takecia’s unexpected grace.

Takecia shook her head gently, her own eyes shimmering with emotion. “No. I’m just tired. Tired of hating. Tired of being angry. I just want him to wake up and be okay, whether it’s with me or… you.”

The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t heavy with resentment or guilt. It was filled with an understanding neither of them had expected to find. The rain continued to fall, steady and relentless, but somehow, in that moment, the storm felt a little less fierce.

After a long silence, Takecia stood up, her movements deliberate. Rhea watched, unsure of what to expect next. Then, in an act that shocked Rhea to her core, Takecia stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. The embrace was unexpected, warm, and genuine. Rhea stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing as she registered the significance of this gesture. They didn’t say anything; words felt insufficient in that moment. They simply stood there, wrapped in the weight of their shared grief and newfound understanding, as the rain continued to pour softly around them, the rhythmic sound echoing their silent exchange.

When they finally pulled apart, Rhea saw a mix of sadness and determination in Takecia’s eyes. “When all this mess is over,” she said, her voice steady despite the downpour, “I’ll be selling our house in San Francisco. I want to move to Pensacola to be closer.” The admission hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the future they were both navigating, albeit from different paths.

Rhea nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over her. “That sounds good,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a promise of sorts—a promise that they could coexist in this new reality.

Takecia continued, “Jaciyah wants to speak with you when he gets back from seeing Jey. I think it’s important for him.” Rhea felt a lump form in her throat at the mention of Jey’s son, knowing how hard this must be for him too. “I’d like that,” Rhea managed to say, grateful for the chance to connect.

With a final nod of understanding, Takecia turned to leave the patio, pausing at the door to look back at Rhea one last time. “We’ll get through this,” she said quietly, her voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain before disappearing into the house.

Rhea watched her go, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within her. The weight of the moment lingered, but there was a flicker of hope too—a sign that perhaps they could navigate this journey together, no matter how rocky it might still be.

Taking a deep breath, Rhea returned her gaze to the rain-soaked garden, the familiar ache in her heart still present but somehow less suffocating. The steady rainfall mirrored her thoughts, yet it also felt cleansing, washing away some of the tension that had built up inside her. She felt more grounded now, ready to face whatever came next for her, Jey, and even Takecia.

As the clouds hung heavy above, she knew that the road ahead would be challenging, but maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to heal together.

Rhea stayed out on the patio, watching the rain as it poured steadily, lost in her thoughts. Memories of Jey flashed through her mind—his laughter, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, the warmth of his embrace. The steady rhythm of the rain seemed to echo the turmoil inside her, a backdrop to the whirlwind of emotions she couldn’t quite sort through.

The patio door opened once more, breaking her reverie. Jon stepped outside, holding a plate of food that caught Rhea’s eye. It was her favorite—ham and pineapple pizza, two steaming hot brownies, and a bottle of cherry coke. The aroma wafted toward her, stirring her stomach, reminding her just how long it had been since she had eaten.

“Hey,” Jon said softly, placing the plate in front of her before sitting down opposite her. He turned his gaze toward the rain, the weight of the moment settling between them.

“Jaciyah and Jeyce are with Jey right now,” Jon added, his voice steady but tinged with concern. Rhea nodded, grateful that the boys could be with their father, even if it was under such dire circumstances.

She stared down at the food, her appetite conflicting with the heaviness in her heart. Finally, she pushed the plate aside, her guilt washing over her like the relentless rain. “I should’ve had Jey check the peephole,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Maybe if I had—”

“Rhea, don’t do this to yourself,” Jon interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could.”

“But if I had just been more careful—” Rhea’s voice broke, the guilt threatening to drown her. “I should’ve known he would come after me. I put Jey in danger!”

“Stop,” Jon said, leaning forward. “You can’t think like that. Jey chose to protect you. That’s on him, not you.” He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “I know it’s hard, but Jey wouldn’t want you to carry this weight.”

Rhea drew in a shaky breath, looking out at the rain once more. “What happened to Jey when I went into my coma?” she asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. Jon’s expression shifted, the hurt evident in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate, the memories clearly painful for him to recount.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

“Please, Jon,” Rhea pressed, desperation creeping into her voice. “I need to know. Was he… did he…?”

Jon clenched his jaw, clearly torn. “He was in shock, Rhea. It wasn’t just the physical injuries; it was everything that led up to it. You should have seen him. He was a wreck,” he finally admitted, his voice strained. “He stayed by your side, even when it looked like you might not wake up. He refused to leave the hospital.”

Rhea felt her heart constrict at Jon’s words. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know he was hurting so much.”

Jon looked at her, his eyes softening. “He was, Rhea. He still is. But right now, he needs you to be strong. He needs you to fight for him like he fought for you.”

A moment of silence passed between them, filled only by the sound of rain drumming against the roof. Rhea finally picked up her plate and took a small bite of the pizza, the flavors flooding her senses. It was comforting, a small reminder of home in the midst of chaos.

“Thank you for this, Jon,” she said, swallowing hard. “For everything.”

“Just be hopeful..” Jon replied, giving her a reassuring smile. “That’s all that matters right now.”