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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (7)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder case. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.

Part Summary: She finds herself in a compromising position.

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: this is my first time writing suspense and crime-mystery, so bear with me if you find any inaccuracy

IF THERE WAS ONE THING SPENCER WAS SURE OF, IT WAS BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. Fatigue, like an invisible shroud, draped itself around his shoulders, draining all of his energy while his mind stumbled through a labyrinth of exhaustion.

He stifled a yawn, his mind trying to focus on the situation at hand and not the lack amount of sleep he was having. When was the last time he actually slept on his bed? When was the last time he went through his days without constantly refilling his cup with too much caffeine? The muscles around his eyes were starting to twitch with restless energy, a sign of a restless mind faltered under the weight of weariness.

Yet amidst it all, a strange resilience emerged within him. He still managed to focus his blurred vision, scanning his eyes around the room as he pushed away any fatigue and the desire to be somewhere else.

His gaze finally ceased on Garcia, engrossed in her own digital world, a sleek laptop perched on the round table before her. She leaned in, her eyes fixed on the vibrant screen which illuminated her face with a soft, cool glow. "Alright, so, I did more digging onto our recent victim, and let me tell you this, Jamison Lynch wasn't exactly the boss of the year."

Jennifer Jareau—who most of them regarded as JJ—looked up from the document in her hand, sitting across from Garcia. "What do you mean?"

"Jamison Lynch was somebody you wouldn't want as a boss. There were a lot of complaints coming from his subordinates—which surprisingly, most came from female workers."

Spencer's eyes scanned the large board in front of him adorned with a labyrinth of interconnected information. Photographs of the two crime scenes were pinned up, highlighting key details, while strings of marks and drawings crossed the board. "He was very different from the first victim."

"Exactly. Kevin Marshall was the epitome of boss of the year, and everybody just loved the guy, which was why no one could guess how something terrible could happen to him."

"There's a chance what happened to him isn't related to his job," JJ offered.

"Maybe not," Garcia muttered, throwing Spencer a curious look. "But the question is still unanswered, how are the two victims linked to one another?"

"The Unsub's memo is clearly done to punish them," Spencer explained, his attention started to gather all the information gripped onto his brain. "The verse written on Jamison Lynch's body was Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in our Lord."

JJ leaned over the desk with a pointed stare. "One thing for sure, the Unsub has a strong religious background."

Spencer nodded. "All the verse they used highlights the notion that sin carries consequences, and death is described as the 'wage' or payment for those transgressions. In his mind, they may interpret these verses as a justification for his vigilante actions, believing that he's carrying out divine punishment on behalf of God."

"A religious upbringing," JJ suggested. "The Unsub could have grown up in a deeply religious environment, where strict interpretations of scripture might be emphasized."

"Most likely a distorted belief system." Spencer's hands were all over the place as he continued with his elucidation. "Over time, the Unsub's religious beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading him to believe that he possesses a unique calling to carry out punishment on behalf of a higher power."

He then studied the picture of the first crime scene, his eyes raking over the lifeless body covered in a pool of blood. "Kevin Marshall might seem like the golden citizen, but he must be involved in something that could be illegal..." He suddenly looked over to Garcia. "Did Jamison Lynch start his career as a journalist?"

Her fingers danced across the keyboard. "Yes, he published a lot of his work since 2004."

"Search any articles he wrote that might involve Kevin Marshall, or maybe the company he worked for. "

"Or legal cases that he was assigned with," JJ added.

"That could be a start, although it might take a while because sleuthing without much lead is difficult." Garcia peered at the two of them by the rim of her eccentric, colorful glasses. "But do not fret, I am known to be the best."

Footsteps suddenly emerged into the room as Aaron Hotchner glanced around the three of them. "Garcia," he mentioned, standing behind her. "Did you find any old cases that might be involved in the victims?"

"Ah, yes, the system was searching through the database based on your queries this morning and it took me a while before—" A sudden ping echoed from her device. “Well, that was perfect timing."

Her fingers clicked across the keyboard as her eyes scanned the dimly lit screen. Everyone in the room stood frozen in their tracks, their faces etched with a curious mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Garcia's eyes widened, revealing the turmoil that echoed the collective sentiment of the room. "Whoa."

JJ stood up and circled her way around the table, standing close to her. "What is it?"

"I started looking through the database for any similar crimes in surrounding areas this morning." Her attention shifted between the other three people in the room. "There have been enucleations in other cases, but none recently, and none close by. No similar murder case was shown, but suicide on the other hand..."

"Harvey Webb," JJ read, looking at the photo of the deceased man. "Suicidal death?"

"Thirty-nine-year-old landlord took a tumble off a sixth-floor balcony two years ago, exactly on the apartment complex he rented out."

"Why are we looking at a suicidal case?"

"That's the thing, the local authorities ruled out that he might've not jumped on his own accord, although his wife at that time determined that he had been having suicidal thoughts for a long time and decided to close the case." Garcia did more tapping on her keyboard and somehow pictures of the crime scene were plastered across the screen in front of the room. "Harvey went through depression and a lot of suicidal attempts, there were always cuts along his arm except—"

"There was a writing on his body?" Hotch guessed.

Garcia nodded as she clicked on a clearer picture of the victim's arm. "His autopsy came in that while there were definite signs of attempt self-hurt, this was written between the cuts."

"Galatians 6:7," Spencer read, his eyes fixated on the screen as he recited, "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Definitely a vigilante on the loose," JJ remarked.

Spencer hummed a positive response and walked over to the board, a marker in his hand as he wrote down the verse. "This verse underscores the concept of reaping the consequences of one's actions, which could further justify the Unsub's belief that his victims deserve punishment for his perceived sins or mistakes."

Hotch studied the pictures of the recent victims and the one shown on the screen. "The way the words are carved across the skin is definitely done by the same person," he noted.

JJ looked between the three pictures before nodding. "I agree." She then glanced up at her co-workers. "So why the different MO? Something connects these three victims, and yet this one"—she pointed to the photo of Harvey Webb—"died in a completely different manner. He either jumped or was pushed. We don't even know if it was a murder, just that he was branded the same as the other two victims."

"The timeline doesn't add up," Spencer claimed, his brows furrowed deeper. "There's too much of a gap between the first victim and the second victim, we're looking at two different stressors that triggered the Unsub."

Hotch stood beside him, crossing his arms as he studied the evidence they had collected these past few days. "If this was his first victim and the two men were his second and third, it's possible he's advancing, that his fantasy is developing."

Spencer looked back at the three pictures. What connected these three dead people, two murdered in violent, heinous ways, the third a potential suicide victim? What wrongdoings might they possibly sin? And now he couldn't help but feel the weight of Hotch's words and how revolting one could act in this series of crimes, proclaiming them as fantasies, his skill, and determination more distinguished than ever before.

"If that's the case..." he pointed out, a certain tension hanging in the air. "He's only getting started."

Y/n must be mad—utterly, completely out of her mind.

She always considered herself a very sensible person characterized by an ability to think critically, or make rational decisions on logical reasoning. But her thoughts, once orderly and coherent, twisted into bewildering shapes because here she was, perched right in front of an apartment door she once closed behind and never looked back.

Why did she think it was a good idea to come here uninvited at this time of hour? How did she end up being here when she was lying in her bed a few hours ago?

She recalled turning around in her sleep, or perhaps, her attempt to rest her eyes, because she found herself staring into the dark with an unsettling feeling in her gut. Maybe all the turmoil of emotions piled up in her chest had her going into a panic frenzy, relentlessly moving in her bed when she should've been fast asleep.

Somehow amidst dwelling on her anxiety, she was suddenly on her feet, putting on a jacket before calling a cab. Her mind was too tangled to be driving on her own, and when the driver asked her where she was heading, she recited the area she was familiar with. Did she remember the building she wanted to go to? Yes. Did she know the exact address? Apparently not.

Although it was easy to spot the building. The old but clean apartment was recognizable, the sturdy wooden door, adorned with vintage brass fixtures, welcomed her after she tipped the driver her fair. The cool air hit her face, her hair flying around her shoulders as she spotted a residence walking out of the building. She quickly slipped in, seeking a very much-needed warmth, yet now she was starting to question her common sense.

But it was too late to turn back because her hand was already curling into a fist as she knocked on the door. Once, twice, three times. When there was no answer, she wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed. She knocked once again, and when she was met with silence, she decided it was a sign that she was indeed making the wrong decision.

So she exhaled a breath she wasn't even aware of holding, turned around, and completely froze when she was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes. There he was, almost a week since the last time she saw him, standing on the last step of stairs.

Time seemed to stand still. Her heart skipped a beat, his presence exuded a captivating charm. His chiseled features were accentuated by a sculpted jawline, leading up to a pair of intense, deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a hefty amount of fatigue. Dark circles cast shadows beneath his eyes, hinting at nights spent wrestling with restless thoughts.

He was dressed in a rumpled shirt and loosely fitted trousers, his attire mirrored the fatigue he wore upon his face. The fabric seemed to hang upon his frame, lacking the crispness that usually accompanied his wardrobe. But despite his weariness, there was an undeniable pull emanating from his presence. It should be illegal how handsome he still looked even when he looked like he needed some rest.

Spencer took a tentative step closer, looking reminiscent of a puppy with his eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic either confusion or concentration. "Y/n?"

"Hi," she awkwardly greeted, suddenly feeling out of place.

"What brings you here?"

"I..." she trailed off, her brows furrowed as she tried to find a reasonable answer. But somehow she found herself telling him the truth. "I honestly don't know."

His eyes fixed upon her, silently studying her figure. A cascade of lustrous hair framed her face, falling gracefully upon her shoulders.

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't want to impose on you—" she stepped aside, letting him unlock his door. "Or disturb your much-needed rest."

A ghost of a smile curled on the corner of his lips as he fished out his keys. "I look terrible, don't I?"

"I wouldn't say terrible, just... you look very tired."

"I haven't had proper sleep in days." With a steady hand, he inserted the key into the lock before a satisfying click echoed in the air. With a gentle push, the door swung open, and he gestured to her with a nod.

She looked between him and his apartment. "Are you sure?"

"Come in," he offered. He walked inside his home and pulled the door ajar. "Please."

She studied him for a while before nodding. The floor creaked as she stepped into his household, and as the door swung shut behind her, she scanned the room that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. A sense of warmth enveloped her despite the predominantly dark colors that adorned the space. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from placed lamps, casting a gentle glow upon the room.

She walked past him and noticed the chessboard splayed across the coffee table. "I didn't know you play chess." She sat down on his couch. "Looks like you were in the middle of a game… was someone else here?"

He wasn't sure whether he heard a note of jealousy in her voice, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Actually, I was in a game with myself," he answered sheepishly, shrugging off his suit jacket before placing it over his couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, it's alright." She leaned forward, her gaze fixed upon the chessboard. Her eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the board with a keen interest before moving a chess piece, placed with precision and purpose.

Genuine surprise crossed his face as he settled beside her. "You know how to play chess?"

"A little. I used to play with my father growing up."

"You don't play with him anymore?"

She shook her head. "He passed away when I was young. Both of my parents did."

"I'm sorry," he gently spoke. He leaned back and turned his body toward her. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, just me."

"I'm an only child too." Then he assessed her carefully while her eyes wandered beyond her striking features, a subtle tension betrayed a deeper complexity lurking beneath the surface. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

He noticed the subtle language of her body where uncertainty weaved on her face. It was in the way she looked between him and her hands, a balance between wonder and reservation that hinted at the lingering doubt within. Then she took a deep breath, her brows furrowed as her voice filled in the silence.

"Does it make me a bad person that I didn't cry after everything that happened?"

He frowned, taken aback by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"There was a memorial service for Jamison a few days ago, and while everyone mourned, I just... stood there." She looked down at her hands. "What happened to him was very unfortunate, it just happened that, apparently, I have no emotions.”

His head fell back onto the couch as he watched her. "It doesn't make you a bad person. Grief is a deeply personal and individual experience, and people respond to loss in different ways. Crying is just one expression of grief, but it isn't the only definitive indicator of how much someone cared for or was impacted by the loss of a person, especially given how you saw what had happened."

"But it makes me feel kind of heartless." She glanced back at him. "I mean, he wasn't exactly the greatest boss, and I should've felt a certain kind of sadness, but I... I don't know how I feel, to be honest."

"Y/n," he gently called, his expression softening. "It's important to remember that everyone grieves in their own way. What matters most is that you find healthy ways to navigate and process your emotions surrounding the loss, whether it involves crying or not."

She hummed in response. "I guess you do have a point."

"I do, and I'm right most of the time." Spencer smiled when she rolled her eyes and a comfortable silence settled between them. "Now tell me the truth."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"You obviously have a lot on your mind right now and I'm trying to wrap my head around why you chose to be here."

"Do I need to have a reason?"

As his gaze lingered, he found himself drawn to her eyes—a delicate blend of curiosity and trepidation. They shimmered with a gentle vulnerability, revealing the depths of her longing to be seen and understood.

"I would like to know your reason."

She weighed her words carefully. "I couldn't sleep,” she decided to say. “My mind was constantly turning its gear, then it got too overwhelming?” She shook her head. “I-I guess I needed the comfort..."

As she tried to find her voice, her words become entangled in the turmoil of her emotions. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. The words spilled forth, unfiltered and vulnerable, resonating with a sincerity that echoed through the room.

"And somehow you were the first person that came to mind."

Spencer felt an unfamiliar intensity washing over him—a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that tugged at his heartstrings. And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, the desire to embrace her consumed him, both thrilling and terrifying. It was such a baffling thought because he found hugs to be overwhelmingly intimate for his liking, yet there was this urge to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his.

The weight of uncertainty pressed upon him, urging caution and restraint. But logic lost its battle with instinct, and caution lost its wrestle with impulsive longing as he found himself asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

Her body tensed, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. But as he kept staring at her, she realized that he was being serious. And she found herself nodding, yearning for the warmth radiating from his body.

He carefully drew closer and a magnetic force guided her movements, gently pushing her into his arms. Nervous excitement coursed through her veins, infusing a sense of vulnerability.

Bodies entwined, they breathe in unison, inhaling the essence of closeness as senses unfold—the warmth of skin against skin, the familiar scent that filled the air, the weight of the world momentarily faded away as they surrendered to the pure simplicity of human touch.

His head was spinning with longing and somehow he managed to pull her body gently onto his lap. She silently accepted his tug, placing her legs on either side of his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Amidst her relishing the gentle press of his body against hers, she couldn't help but find amusement in this new position.

He felt the subtle shake of her shoulder as a burst of soft laughter escaped her mouth. He suddenly tensed. "Is there something funny?"

The confusion etched in his voice had her pulling away, a small smile lingering on her face. "Yes," she answered. "It's amusing how you like having me on your lap so much.”

A slight warmth spread along his face as he became aware of her weight settling on top of him. "I didn’t notice."

She wasn't sure whether it was the glimmer in his eyes, the bashful smile on his lips, or the way he didn't pull his gaze away from her, but before it could register in her mind, she drew herself closer to him. The sudden shift of her movement caused a friction underneath her, and it was at that moment she realized how compromising of a position they were in.

Her fingers brushed against his skin, and an electric current surged through her veins, awakening a longing she had not anticipated. Her eyes flickered with a newfound intensity—a hunger that shimmered in the depths of her gaze as she could only focus on the pulse settling between her thighs.

As her longing deepened, she became acutely aware of his proximity. The scent of him enveloped her, intoxicating her senses, and her mind was consumed by allowing herself to surrender in this newfound need.

So she slowly rolled her hips, feeling his body beneath her, and suppressed a moan when she felt the outline of his bulge stroking against her core. Her breath hitched, betraying the innocent intentions that had initially brought them together.

She felt him tense from the friction and his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, her heart beating to the same rhythm. "Stop doing that," he suddenly said, eyes darkening as he stared at her, voice deep and raspy.

"Why?" She whispered.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. His heart ached to offer solace, yet primal longing tugged at his core, igniting an undeniable urge to keep her closer, to indulge in the sudden pull of desire.

"Because if you don't," he grunted, his hand sliding up her neck, burying it in her thick hair as he tilted her face. He pulled her closer, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. The heat of her presence lingered on his fingertips, tempting him to pull her into an embrace that transcends mere comfort. "I won't be able to stop myself."

His gaze then traced the contours of her form. The subtle curve of a hip, the graceful arch of a back, the gentle swell of a chest—all become objects of fascination. He watched as her tongue wiped along her bottom lip while she slid her hands across his shoulders, stopping right on his chest, hovering above his heart.

"Then don't," she softly pleaded, moving her hips once again, igniting a moan deep within his chest. “I don't want you to stop."

It was the only push he needed as he closed the distance between them, finally crushing his lips to hers.

>> NEXT PART

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pandorasfavorite · 2 months

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Maneater

The men were entranced by you, though when they see something they can’t have, it’s a given they will go chasing after it. Though, commonly, men can’t handle your personality, you're independent, demanding, and affirmative. That’s why they call you the “Maneater”.

A maneater is a woman who isn’t afraid to take leadership in any relationship, things will go your way or you’re not interested, no man could ever talk down to someone like you. You walk around like you own the place, it feels like you already own it anyway. Someone considers you rude, a bitch, selfish, mysterious, but what everyone agrees on is that you are like a magnet. Constantly pull people in as they try to figure you out and how to avoid falling into your trap.

“You did well out there, for a girl”, another follower said his horrible opinion.

“Thanks! You did horrible out there, you pretentious prick”, you called out to him with a straight face, not bothering to give him any more reaction. You had walked away without a care in the world, after all these men had nothing on you.

Your confidence didn’t lie, Damian Priest definitely noticed. To get you into the Judgement Day he had to find a way to work around your personality. He needed someone who could annoy you enough or break down your walls little by little.

And that led Dominik, Finn, and Damian to make an appearance during your match on Monday night raw. They each had a hard demeanor and were walking too slow for your liking, after all, they did just interrupt your match. You narrow your eyes at them, scoffing at the show they felt the need to put on. You scoffed and ran back to Becky Lynch, throwing her onto the ring with ease, ignoring the trio was easy. They each stood at a side of the ring, watching and examining, waiting for attention. You continued to ignore them and then you pinned Becky, your arm was raised in the air and you pulled no faces. You were 100% straight-faced, you knew the outcome of that match before it started.

Your expression twists into one of dislike when all 3 boys slide into the ring, the microphone being pushed into Dominik’s hand. The crowd was booing before he even had the chance to speak, and quite frankly you were losing interest just standing there. You rolled your eyes and brought your own microphone to your mouth, “Are we done here?”.

“No!” All 3 of them holler.

You shrugged and cupped your ear, you mouthed the words “Sorry I can’t hear you”, as you slipped under the ropes and out of the arena. The boys were more embarrassed than discouraged. While the 3 boys were racking their minds for a way to get you to join the group, Rhea cut in with her own idea. “Do you guys know her at all? She’s not just gonna fall to her knees…someone has to work their way in”, Rhea said and Dominik smirked thinking of dirty things. Rhea glared at the boys as they each smiled at each other, “Dom will have to do it” and quickly his smile dropped.

“What no! She hates me!”

“She hates everyone, you’ll be fine”

———————————————

He puffs out his cheeks and exhales deeply, Dominik spares everyone a nervous glance before walking up to you. Finn and Damian are hiding behind the wall, barely peeking their heads out to see what happens. Again you roll your eyes at them, and you can clearly see them slapping each other and hushing one another while Dominik walks up. Dominik walks up to you all nervous, he wipes his hands on his pants and is continuously glancing back at his friends for support. You stare at him with expectation, and he stands there in silence staring at you (admiring you). "Can I help you?", you quirk your eyebrow at him and put a hand on your hip, clearly impatient. Dominik has yet to say anything but his eyes are speaking for him. You watch the way he is studying you, eyeing you up and desiring you. You can't help but think that's how it should be.

You huff at his silence, slowly getting tired of waiting for him to stop drooling, "I don't have all day". He rushes out his sentence in an instant, "We want you to join the Judgement Day... will you?".

"No", you turn on your heels and move to walk away. Dominik's shoulders drop and he turns to look at his friends, Damian ushers for Dominik to follow after you. And so he does. He practically slides in front of you, his hands out willing you to stop walking, "We need you", caught your attention. Being needed feels so good. You bite your lip, thinking and processing, "Who needs me?". Dominik stands up straighter, once again glancing at Damian and Finn, "The Judgement Day".

Yeah, whatever, the Judgment Day needs you, who cares. Everyone wants you in their faction, it would be a luxury to have the maneater in a group. Hence why your expression is one of disinterest, now Dominik is running out of ways to grab your attention. "I don't like groups", you say in that familiar bland voice. Dominik can feel the frustration bubble inside of him, what does he have to say to get you to join?!?! "I'm leaving-"

"I need you!"

Dominik rushed out, anxious to tell you, to convince you. He stood up straighter and made direct eye contact with you, trying to make himself seem better-looking or hotter. This was so noticeable to you though, in your eyes, Dominik was flexing his muscles and trying to impress you. You aren't easy to impress, but it was kinda cute how much he wanted this. Still, you had no definite answer, after all, you wanted him to chase after you for a while.

You put your hand on his tattooed arm squeezing it and giving him a flirtatious smile, "That's really cute". And with that you finally manage to slip away from Dominik, walking past his friends who are now pretending to be in deep conversation.

With that, Dominik came back over to Damian and Finn, his cheeks abnormally flushed. Damian raised an eyebrow and put a hand on his friend's shoulder for a moment, "What happened man?".

"She called me cute", his eyes were wide.

Finn cackles and Damian sighs, "No man did she say yes or no?". "Neither dude but she talked to me longer than 3 minutes, that's got to be a record", Dominik gushed. Damian couldn't help but smile at his friend's expense, he took Dominik by the shoulder with Finn on the other side of him, walking back to the rooms.

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

Dominik's POV

A day has passed and I can't get her out of my mind. I am no better than anyone else who has talked to her and then immediately had a stupid childish crush on her. If anything I should be the one that she gets with, that may have been the first time I've talked to her officially, but it wasn't the first time I noticed her. Her and that wild hair, crazy attitude, fiery personality. God the thought of her drives me fucking crazy.

Your Pov

Usually, I would forget situations such as the one with Dominik. But he was different somehow, maybe it was the way he "needed me". That was probably a lie for all I know, but God it felt nice hearing it come from his mouth. Dominik also had no problem chasing after me, asking me to rethink. But that was a short conversation, not something worth thinking about for hours on end.

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

Dominik is jumping up and down, shaking his hands trying to rid himself of his nerves before his match. With two minutes to go, he walked up, waiting for his music to blast. What he wasn't expecting was for you to be standing there 15 minutes before your match also waiting. You were in your complete gear and Dominik would be a idiot not to take in the sight. To him, he's admiring the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. To you... he's being a creep without knowing. But considering how sweet and hot Dominik was with his hair wet and wide admiring eyes, maybe you can let him off the hook. Just barely though..." Hey! My eyes are up here Mysterio", you break him out of the trance. Dominik was definitely in character, or maybe you calling him by his last name sparked a confident flame in him. "Yea those are next", his eyes flickered from your body to your eyes.

No man had the nerve to flirt with you of all people after you caught them getting an eye full. Continuously Dominik Mysterio proves to be different. But you can't let any man get the last word, especially not him. You walk up to him eyes full of intensity, you push Dominik back by the chest, his beautiful eyes staring down at you. Dominik is just barely taller than you, yet you could push him around and he wouldn't say a word in protest. His back hits the wall and he swears at impact, you speak without hesitation "Don't get confident". His eyes are misty, his chest large and he looks the fittest he ever has in his all-black gear, and then his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, "Or what?". Oh, that's how he wanted to play. You could play that game.

You slide your hands behind his neck, bringing your face inevitably closer to his, your lips could touch. But you wouldn't let them, you knew you wouldn't. Once again his cheeks have gone ablaze and he thinks he losing feeling in his legs- and then all of a sudden his music blasts through the arena. A chorus of boos follow but Dominik didn't seem to care, he was transfixed on your glossy lips. You whip around dramatically as you always do with a sway of your hips. Going back to your spot and pointing for Dominik to go out. He shakes his head, running his hands down his face, anything to conceal the look of desire he couldn't control.

Part Two

#dominik mysterio x reader #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio fluff #dom dom #wwe #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio x reader smut #dominik mysterio x badass!reader #Mysterio #monday night raw #monday night mami #friday night smackdown

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nervoussagittarius · 16 hours

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self control

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: two best friends who have been flirting for years finally confess their feelings for one another, request

warnings: fluffy, short little cute moment

chris has been trying to hide it for years. four years to be exact. he refuses to admit it but he’s completely infatuated with you. even though you have been in and out of multiple relationships, chris is holding on for the day he can call you his.

you’ve spent your day with the triplets and are currently getting ready to film a night vlog with them. this isn’t an unusual situation. you often filmed with the boys and appeared in different projects of theirs. you loved it. although you could never give up your job and do it on your own, you enjoyed being included.

chris was currently stood behind you resting his hands on your shoulders as you watched nick start up the camera. you reached your hands back to intertwine your fingers and leaned you head back to lean on chris.

you were both very touchy people so this was no rare occurrence for you two. nick began to intro the video not giving you two time to release eachother. “hey guys welcome to todays vlog. we’re just gonna film our night because we forgot to film the rest of our day so you’ll see what we do tomorrow as well.” you let out a laugh as nick panned to you and chris.

“what are your guys plans for the night?” nick asked. you moved to sit in the counter as you wrapped your arms around chris’s shoulders from behind. “we’ll y/n doesn’t know this but she’s spending the night with me and we’re watching all of the spider-man movies.” he looked over his shoulder at you. “is this your ploy to get me in your bed?” you asked raising your eyebrows. chris looked at the camera and signaled for nick to come in closer before whispering “she wasn’t supposed to figure that one out.”

you jokingly pushed chris away as you hopped off the counter. you felt his eyes on you as you left the room.

later in the evening as you all were sat in the living room watching old videos of the triplets together, nick pulled out the camera again to film you all.

as nick adjusted the settings you all were sitting in a brief scilence, which chris couldn’t handle. he turned to you as you were looking down at your phone. “who’s your celebrity crush?” he asked as he tilted your head up to look at him. “ya know i’m kinda a celebrity so it’s basically me right.”

“sorry to break it to you babe but it’s actually ross lynch.” you said with a shrug. “what are you talking about dude. it’s definitely me. but i could learn how to play the guitar if you really wanted.” he said giving you a wink.

“yeah but have you seen him? he’s like a quadruple threat. he sings, dances, acts, and plays multiple instruments.” you continued. chris rolled his eyes at you and nonchalantly moved away from you on the couch. the spot where he was laying in you becoming cold. “i could definitely do all of that.” chris mumbled.

the rest of the night chris was distant. he didn’t want to admit it but he was jealous that you spoke so highly of this guy you’ve never met. you noticed his change of attitude towards you and it eventually started to hurt your feelings. he was pulling away from your touch and not responding to your jokes and comments towards him.

you became tired of the way chris was treating you so that night when you made it to his room you spoke up about it. “did i do something to upset you? ‘cause if i did i’m sorry and i didn’t mean it.” you slowly climbed onto chris’s bed and watched as he turned his back to you. “i really don’t want to talk about it. it’s fine.” he is tried to act unbothered but you could read him like a book.

“i know something wrong can you please talk to me.” there was silence and a deep sigh from chris. almost five minutes went by before chris started talking. the way he shot up and almost exclaimed startled you. “i just don’t understand how you talk so highly of these people that you let treat you so horribly.” you were stunned by his statement. you didn’t know how to respond to that.

“wh-what?” “you talk so highly about your exes or random people that you don’t know when they treat you like shit. i would treat you so well if you gave me the chance but your so hung up on these people that mean nothing instead. i’m so obsessed with you it’s not funny. i love being around you and i love hearing about your day but you don’t see that. i just want you to see that.” chris’s tangent got quieter as he finished his thoughts. you were at a loss for words.

“i don’t know if it’s because im exhausted or because im just in shock at what you’re saying, but im so confused.” you were looking at chris like he had three heads. you didn’t know what was going on or how you got here, but you weren’t necessarily mad about it.

“y/n. i think im in love with you.” chris said taking your hand in his. “all jokes and flirting aside i really really like you. and i hate that you don’t see that. i understand and if you don’t feel the same way but i can’t keep flirting with you like i don’t mean every word im saying to you.”

“im in love with you two, chris.” you said as you rested his free hand on his cheek and leaned your forehead in his.

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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cabeswarenn · 1 month

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all of the scenes of the gangsey with ronan in church mean so much to me. first noah with the lynch brothers, joking and being themselves amongst declan being Himself. gansey and noah finding ronan in the pew with chainsaw, gansey begging and praying it isn’t the same as it was months prior. then ronan and adam fighting after the dream copy and adam comparing HIM to god like ough. it’s all too much for me it all feels so much like their relationships to ronan. ganseys guard dog, gansey ever worrying about ronan. adam and ronan fighting amongst literally flirting with each other conversations prior. noah and ronan joking with one another and being idiots. i feel faint save me

#adam parrish #ronan lynch #the raven cycle #gansey #noah czerny

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

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Round 4 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

Anti-propaganda (spoilers)

I love the Locked Tomb series but Harrowhark has daddy issues with God, had a childhood crush on God's cryogenic partner, and is in love with God's daughter, not to mention that she's essentially a bone-bender. The religion on her home planet exists in a way that is technically against the will of the canon in-universe God, even. All of this to say, Harrowhark is heretical at minimum if not an outright witch. Terrible Catholic. Burn her.

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

Our boy CHOOSES not to receive the Eucharist because he doesn’t believe he is worthy. The spiritual insight, the devotion, the fact that this teenager is worried he may have a mortal sin weighing on his soul…this boy isn’t just going through the motions, he’s putting work into this.

#polls #r4 #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #harrowhawk #harrowhark nonasigmus #tlt #the locked tomb #Ronan Lynch #the raven cycle #raven cycle

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mildew-dread-mold · 1 year

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REASONS TO VOTE RONAN AND NOT AANG FOR BALDSWAGSUMMIT

they may be both bald by choice, but ronan would have had dark luscious thick curls, can grow stubble overnight, and has to shave everyday (or enough that it is an explicit part of his daily schedule). not only is ronan bald by choice, he puts much more effort into being bald by choice than aang’s prepubescent, mostly hairless ass.

aang isn’t even bald all the time. at one point he is unconscious for a while and then goes undercover with hair, which spans at least half a season (i think?). ronan on the other hand was also in a coma for a good chunk of time but had not grown enough hair to be mentioned. ronan spends more time in his franchise bald than aang does.

in addition to this, when aang is in his dreams he has hair. ronan is bald in his dreams as well. who’s the ultimate bald now?

aang is bald because of what? his culture? which is cool and all but ronan is bald because when he has hair he reminds himself (and others) too much of his father whom he found dead in his family driveway when he was 15. ronan has a better bald-backstory. his baldness stems from a unique and heartbreaking place. aang is literally just a magic monk.

my friend tried to make the point that aang has a cool magic tattoo (which doesn’t have to do with baldness but does perhaps have to do with swag?) and i’d like us all to notice that ronan has not one but TWO tattoos, one of which was gotten to spite his older brother (swagful) and the other of which is a religious metaphor for dragging himself out of eden and rejecting paradise for mankind, and also is magical and keeps him from falling into a coma again (doubly swagful).

maggie stiefvater frequently uses the word “skull” instead of “head” when talking about ronan’s head because he is bald. which weirdly is a really nice synonym for “head” if you ask me. swagful AND bald. baldswagful. which is what the poll is for. aang may be from a cartoon and thus have no written description but you couldn’t call aang’s head a skull. that sounds wrong.

ronan gets bitches. like an overwhelming amount. adam gansey orla kavinsky. aang has gotten one singular bitch.

aang is 112 years old but ronan is a god so he’s been being since the start of time or whatever.

ronan is also an eldritch horror. nothing much more swagful than that. especially not some element bending pacifist kid.

if ronan loses his friends family enemies and everyone would bully him mercilessly. he would genuinely be devastated. adam would be like “sorry i don’t date bald men ranked below top 5” and blue would say “i could get an undercut and keep half of my hair and still beat your ass.” he would actually never recover mentally physically or financially. aang on the other hand would be perfectly fine. his friends would be like “it’s ok aang we still love your bald self” except for toph but aang wouldn’t care.

(if you don’t want to read all that i’ve bolded and italicized the key points.)

for all of the above reasons and more you should

Vote Ronan Lynch

for baldswagsummit2023. he is balder and more swagful than aang could ever dream to be.

#ronan lynch #trc #baldswagsummit2023 #ronansweep #and all that jazz #vote ronan lynch #slap his bald head #baldposting

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

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Request: comedian steve.... That is all comedian Steve making fun of his trauma (his non existent relationship with his parents, his loss of hearing and near blindness due to head trauma Drew Lynch-style) & Eddie his husband watching from the audience seeing his man be hilarious, joyful and playful with the crowd & at the end of the show he thanks the crowd & his sweet husband who is also in the crowd for being the best audience

MY LOVE!!! Honestly I REALLY loved this concept. I am not a comedian, so this was a challenge for sure. I hope this hits all the best parts of the request! - Mickala ❤️

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“Please welcome to the stage…Steeeeeeve Harringtoooooon!”

The audience of nearly 10,000 cheered as he took the stage, waving at the people he could barely see with the lights in his face.

One of his requirements for performing was orange lights instead of LED ones, but for his special, he had to make adjustments.

It was one of the things he was most nervous about.

That and the fact that this crowd was the largest audience he’d ever been in front of.

Most people did their comedy special recordings in smaller theaters, maxed out at 2500 people.

But he knew the demand was high, and he loved being on stage in front of people, so he insisted on an arena.

There were at least four cameras in his direct line of sight, stationary to record the entire set from every angle. Two circled the side stage and one was backstage as backup for any close ups that needed to be arranged.

It felt weird, but he was excited to finally get the chance to do this.

“Hello! Hi everyone! Okay, okay, we get it! My hearing aid has feedback, let’s take a second before I end up worse than I started,” he half-joked.

The crowd slowed in their clapping, their laughter echoing instead.

He continued with his usual welcome, but took a moment to explain the recording of the special, that it would be a longer show than usual and may end up having a couple of breaks throughout for the camera people to make sure they’ve got what they need.

“It’s a bit of a drag, but you know what else is a drag? Not even being able to see most of these people with the cameras.” He paused for a moment to squint out at the crowd. “As you can imagine, having a series of concussions in a short time period makes a person have some issues, least of which is trying to determine if it’s a person behind the camera or a cryptid. If it’s a cryptid, I assume you’d all tell me. I know my husband would. Everyone say ‘hi, Eddie!’”

The entire audience yelled it out, and Steve focused his sights on Eddie sitting with the kids on the closest suite balcony to him.

“I can’t even tell if that’s you, baby. But if it isn’t, I hope you don’t get mad that I just called someone else baby. You know if you’re more than eight feet from me there’s a good chance I’m going home with someone else on accident.” He heard everyone laughing, but the arena was large and he couldn’t pinpoint Eddie’s laugh over everyone. “Actually, let me talk about that for a second. Eddie plays in a metal band for fun, which is not kind to the ears, but thankfully, I can shut my hearing aids off.” He smirked. “And usually he plays at small bars and clubs. It’s super easy for me to be a groupie because no one in those bars has a sense of humor.”

The crowd laughs as he continues his story about the time he lost a contact at a show and started holding hands with someone who was very much not Eddie.

“...I hope Chris is doing well. He never returned my calls.” He can hear booing from where Eddie is sitting. “As you can tell, my husband isn’t a big fan of that one.”

He moves through his set easily, forgetting about the people, the cameras, even able to focus on a spot where the lights aren’t quite as blinding.

Someone signals him at the one hour mark to let him know they need to review a few shots before continuing, so he lets the audience know they have time to take a bathroom break.

He moves backstage and grabs some Tylenol from his bag. He knows what’s coming and if he can just try to wrap this all up with a nice bow, he can go back to the hotel with Eddie and sleep for the next 12-16 hours before they fly home.

He made the mistake of checking Twitter. He pretty much only went on there to announce things like his tours or pop-up shows, but he occasionally scrolled when he was trying to kill time.

He got tagged in posts often, usually pictures from shows or people meeting him on the street. He liked seeing people enjoying his comedy.

But he did get the rude people, too.

There were the usual homophobic people, the religious cult people who thought he should die because he had a husband. He ignored those easily.

There were the people who didn’t think he was funny and frequently said so as loudly as possible because it made them sleep better, maybe.

But then there were the people who didn’t think he should get to make a living making jokes about his own disabilities. Most of these people did not have any of the same disabilities he lived with, so he didn’t pay much attention.

Except when it was a series of brand new Tweets that were from someone in the audience.

Oh boy.

It wasn’t great.

He could ignore it. He should ignore it. But he wouldn’t.

He was told they were ready to go when he was, so he pocketed his phone and went back onstage.

The crowd cheered again.

He pulled out his phone and sat down on the stool they provided him.

“So! Normally during this part of the show, I tell a story about the time I was babysitting and I had a seizure and the kid called 911 and told them I shit myself. His words, not mine. I also hadn’t done that, I think he just wanted an excuse to say it. But it does seem like there’s someone here tonight who just isn’t very happy about the jokes I tell.”

The crowd booed, not at him, but with him and he knew Eddie was probably sitting on the edge of his seat at this change in his routine.

“Now, forgive me, because my parents weren’t great at being parents and I am self-taught when it comes to manners, but I do believe this is gonna be a bit of a call out and if the person here didn’t want attention they wouldn’t have put it on a very public form of social media and tagged me. Already sorry to this dude for what’s coming, but also not too sorry because you fucked up.”

He sighed as he opened up the app again and started reading the Tweets.

“Steve Harrington’s only material relies on how disabled he is, which is insulting to people who have disabilities. He stands up on a stage and makes fun of himself- okay wait. I have to stop here for a second because you do know that’s what comedy is, right? I mean, it’s more than that, too, but it’s about finding humor in your own life. That’s kinda the point.” He sighed. “Continuing on. Makes fun of himself as if he may not even be disabled. He doesn’t sound like someone struggling with anything. Also can’t imagine his husband is too happy hearing about how he doesn’t even recognize him.”

Steve looked out at the audience and sighed into the microphone.

“There’s a few more but you get it. And I do see this kind of stuff often, so it doesn’t bother me much anymore. But what gets me is that by trying to insinuate that I am insulting other disabled people, you’re insulting them and myself by suggesting that they can’t have a sense of humor about their disabilities. Humor is how I handle my disabilities. I’m hard of hearing, severely vision impaired, I have seizures and chronic migraines that sometimes leave me with stroke symptoms. On really bad days, I walk with a limp because of an injury to my side and leg when I was a teenager. I understand what you think you’re doing with this, but you missed the mark. Anyone can make fun of themselves in any way they want to. I don’t generalize, or bring up other people without their consent. I find it refreshing to be able to talk about the humor that exists when I don’t recognize someone I’ve known for ten years because my vision is so shitty. And trust me, he does too.”

Steve put his phone back in his pocket and stood up.

“Actually, everyone be quiet for a second. Eddie, stand up. I won’t know when he does so someone tell me.”

He looked in the direction of where he knew Eddie would be and saw just enough movement to know he was standing. Then he heard Dustin start cheering, and the crowd joined in.

“Alright. Now, Eddie here is disabled in other, equally fun ways. Wanna tell ‘em, baby?”

“First of all, I lost a nipple! I only have one nipple!” Eddie yelled.

“Eds, that’s not a disability. I’ve told you this.”

“I’ll never be able to breastfeed our children, Stevie.”

Steve facepalmed onstage, only allowing this to continue because the crowd was hysterical.

“Alright, tell them the rest.”

“I have to walk with a cane because of injuries I’ve had to my side and leg. I have chronic pain because of those same injuries. And I lost my sense of smell, which isn’t so much a disability as an inconvenience, but it sure is a hell of an inconvenience.”

“So, I’m sure this person is just uncomfortable with people accepting their own disabilities. It’s not up to me to make you okay with it, it’s up to you. Also, you already bought your ticket to be here so I kind of win no matter what.”

The crowd was clapping and yelling, supporting him in the best way.

“Alright, enough about me, let’s talk more about me.”

The rest of his set was everything he’d been doing on his tour so far, and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

They had to reshoot one of the last jokes because the main camera stopped working halfway through, but luckily, the crowd found it just as funny the second time.

“Thank you all! You’ve been great! Not as great as my husband, but pretty damn close.”

The entire arena gave him a standing ovation, and he took a few extra seconds on stage to soak it in.

His first recorded special.

He looked up towards where he knew Eddie was.

He didn’t need good vision to know how much Eddie was smiling at him, how proud he was.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #hard of hearing steve harrington #visually impaired steve harrington #disabled steve harrington

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claymorexpunisher · 2 months

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Liberación (Ch.10/?) (Rewritten) (18+ Fic)

Disclaimer/Warning: If you've been keeping up with this fic, no you're not losing your minds. I decided to rewrite this chapter because I felt like I had previously sped things up a bit too much between Harper and Damian. Sooo, please don't fight me? lmao! Fight fictional!Damian for being stupid instead... This is purely a work of fiction. I try to do proper research whenever I write pieces that have to do with BDSM/Kink, but alas, I am not perfect. For fiction's sake, some aspects of BDSM and Kink will be a bit unrealistic and maybe even rushed, though I know that the foundation for these types of connections and dynamics to function properly, takes time... Feel free to leave me any feedback on areas of improvement. And if you wish to be untagged, please let me know. If this isn’t your kinda story, scroll on by. This is a long chapter so, happy reading! 🖤

Summary: Harper and Drew started Liberacion as a way to heal. And it slowly became bigger than they could've have ever imagined...

Main Pairings: Damian Priest/OFC, Drew McIntyre/OFC, Roman Reigns/OFC, Finn Bálor/OFC, Liv Morgan/Rhea Ripley

Side Characters: Mercedes Mone, Liv Morgan, Seth Rollins, Becky Lynch, and more.

Tags: 18+, praise kink, daddy kink, size kink, kink negotiation, consensual kink, consensual non-consent, BDSM, knife play, light blood play, bratting, hair-pulling, breeding kink, and more.

Chapter Word Count: 3,051

Prev. Chapter

~Harper's POV~

~PAST~

“ Fuck…” I whimpered as Liv’s relentless tongue worked my clit.

She swirled and swirled it around before she took my clit into her mouth and sucked with just the right amount of pressure.

Just as my hips flew off the bed, I heard the blow dryer cut off in the bathroom.

“Seriously?” Rhea called out; one brow cocked as she peeked into the suite.

“I leave you girls on your own for two fucking seconds…” Rhea chuckled, and she shook her head as my body writhed with every stroke of Liv’s mouth on those most sensitive parts between my legs.

“It was way more than two seconds, Ripl- oh my fucking god do that again please!” I moaned as Liv’s fingers stroked my sweet spot as her mouth continued its sweet assault on my clit.

“No. Don’t do that again. Liv, Harper has a meeting to go to.” Rhea scolded the lump underneath the sheets that was Liv, but I could hear her strict tone waning as she watched the sheets slowly slide off my bare breasts as my hands clenched the sheets.

I watched her leer hungrily at my chest and I smirked at her in a silent invitation.

Still, much to my dismay, Rhea stalked over to the side of the bed, and she pulled the sheets fully off of us.

I whimpered in protest and glared at her grumpily.

“It’ll just take two seconds, Mommy. I promise.” Liv purred as she smiled up at Rhea’s amused features before her mouth went back to work.

I nodded. “Yeah. Don’t be such a party pooper- mierda!” My words broke off an orgasm ripped through me exactly two seconds later and my back arched off the bed once again.

Liv looked mighty pleased with herself as she swiped a hand across her mouth, her tempting and plump lips now the color of crushed strawberries.

“See?” She giggled, smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah, okay, smartass… I’m next.” Rhea grumbled as she side-eyed Liv as the two of us cackled.

~PRESENT~

Distracted didn’t even begin to describe how I’d been the last few days.

Thoughts of Damian fucking Priest and what could be, consumed my every waking second and… well, I was beginning to get on my own nerves.

I found myself once again drowning myself in my work- even work I could have easily handed over to Tammie, Cat, or any other staff.

Anything to distract myself from the alarming emptiness I was starting to feel whenever Damian wasn’t around at the club.

Or anything to stop me from doing something really fucking stupid like- calling Damian or texting him and telling him I missed him.

As much as I didn’t want to, we just always seemed to gravitate toward one another.

Whenever he was here; and he was here more often than not these days, we were never too far apart and we’d either eat lunch at the club’s dining hall, my office, or we went out for dinner if it was a particularly long day of being cooped inside the club.

It was so fucking stupid.

We were just messing around.

Just jokes.

And yes, he made me feel at ease.

Safe, even.

Like my every thought mattered- fuck’s sake, if that doesn’t let me know what a number Jason did on me, I don’t know what does.

‘Like my every thought mattered’?... No jodas, Harper… the bar is so fucking low.

Which is reason #224256364 as to why I had no business pursuing anything with anyone.

At least not for the time being.

Yet still, anytime Damian so much as laid those playful and warm eyes on me and the more we got to know each other I…

I wanted to sink into him and see where things could go.

God, just the sound of his voice filled my chest with feelings that I was way too fucking afraid to put my finger on.

And it didn’t help that he never pushed farther than I was willing to let him.

But there was no way I’d let myself go there again.

As warm and kind and attentive and gentle as Damian was, I couldn’t bring myself to voice what I wanted from him.

What I needed.

Voicing those thoughts would be like betraying myself and the promise I made to keep myself safe whenever Jason and everything he put me through weaseled their way back into my head.

And yeah, maybe it made me a hypocrite, considering the advice that I would give day in and day out to the patrons at my club about how trusting someone wholeheartedly is one of the most important and most beautiful things on planet Earth and how sometimes you just have to let go.

But I just. couldn’t.

Besides, I could absolutely be misinterpreting his attention for more than what it was.

The Lord knows he could probably have his pick of anyone he wanted at any given time.

And after one of our many late-night talks, Damian made his thoughts on serious relationships crystal clear.

And while I told myself that I wasn’t looking for anything serious myself, the thought of being just one of many on Damian’s list just didn’t sit right with me.

And hell, for all I knew, all he felt for me was sympathy.

Sympathy for what Jason had done.

And for me not really having a single reliable male figure in my life…

I was a walking advertisement for daddy issues, and I knew that.

So much so that I almost didn’t blame Damian if he just felt sorry for me.

And yet my mind couldn’t help but wander back to those moments of close proximity between us.

Even just thinking about it all, I could already feel the delicious phantom pressure of his hand wrapped around my throat.

I could feel the warmth that would spread throughout my body every time he’d make it a point to come help out at the club.

He’d come bright and early, even though he wasn’t exactly a morning person.

A few times, his soft eyes would land on me swimming in one of his softest hoodies, not bothering to question the fact that I had very clearly begun to steal them from him at some point.

I always replaced them, though.

Ugh!

My mind was a fucking tangled web of conflicting thoughts and memories…

So, I decided to use my job in order to continue avoiding the problem- the problem of course being Damian- as the only solution I could come up with.

I was supposed to be getting ready for one of our monthly themed nights at Liberacion.

Tonight, it was Lace or Leather Night, which, you probably guessed it, means that everyone could arrive dressed in their best lace or leather outfits.

I chose a gorgeous sapphire blue and black number and despite my scattered brain, I was super excited to see what the rest of my girlfriends and coworkers would choose for tonight.

I forced thoughts of Damian away long enough to get dolled up before the patrons would start trickling out of their rented rooms and other patrons would start showing up for the night’s festivities.

Themed nights weren’t much different to the rest of the nights except for the dress code being mandatory.

The drinking limit if people were planning to play was still 2 drinks max and no sex was allowed, neither were scenes outside of the closed off/rented areas.

The soundproof dance floor was to the right of the dining hall so that the patrons could talk and just be at peace away from the loudness of the thumping music if they wanted to.

But of course, security was packed throughout the club in case anybody tried to skirt around the club’s rules.

“Well, holy shit. You look hot!” Tammie exclaimed and I smiled as I took my spot next to her up at the top, looking down at the patrons laughing and mingling as I nursed a glass of ginger ale.

Cat was dealing with check-ins and check-outs tonight.

“So do you!” I replied as we clinked our glasses together.

I just knew Tammie’s husband Johnny was salivating for her in her skintight leather outfit.

Underneath the dim lighting I couldn’t tell if it was blue or black, but it looked like a second skin on her curvy body.

This was what I loved most about nights and environments like these- we could literally be anything we wanted, go out of our comfort zone without fear of what others would think and we could just play and be whoever and whatever we wanted to be.

Not just with our clothes, but there were tons of people with their fangs, wings and claws out.

Some fully shifted werewolves and hybrids letting their hair down and just having a good time.

Zero judgements.

This was home to me.

(not my photo)

I watched in my peripheral as Tammie softly sniffed the air.

“Is that… chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, bewildered, as if we didn’t serve snacks to the patrons as per their request.

“Harper… are yo- “Tammie broke into a fit of laughter at my guilty expression.

“Could you be any more obvious? Smelling like his favorite snack?” She exclaimed, laughing harder the redder my face got.

“Okay, relax, pendeja. I love chocolate chip cookies with milk too. He ain’t special.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I took another sip of ginger ale to avoid her knowing smirk.

“Sure… anyway, he’s on the third floor. I know ya don’t care or whatever, but I just thought I’d let you know.” Tammie said, her tone lifting with amusement as my eyes flashed towards her.

“He didn’t come say hi?” I whispered, but of course she heard me.

She looked at me with such pity that I had to look back towards the dance floor, away from her sad eyes.

“What do you expect, muchacha?” Tammie said softly in her lilting Texan accent, leaning in slightly so that only I could hear her words of advice.

“Look, I don’t wanna pressure you. And neither does he, that much is obvious. And it’s okay that you’re unsure of what you want. But you can’t play this hot and cold game and then get upset when he backs off. Talk to him and tell him that you’re confused and unsure. Then take the time apart to actual figure yourself out and to figure out what it is that you’re really after. ‘I’m not sure,’ is a good enough answer sometimes, babe. At least it’s an answer.” Tammie shrugged.

“Tamara, it’s not like he hasn’t been giving off mixed signals too.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Maybe so. But it’s all the more reason for you to plant yourself in front of him and tell him that you’re done playing games. One of you’s gotta cut the crap, honey.” she said.

And goddamn her for being so persuasive…

I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

The voyeur floor consisted of about 12 rooms with a plexiglass separating voyeurs from the person giving them a show.

Each window was about 1 foot apart to give the group of 5 people max, enough room to sit and watch and a curtain was inside the room for whenever the person inside decided they didn’t want to be watched anymore.

As I walked through the hall of the voyeur floor, my heart rate spiked as the lustful vibe that this floor always carried hit me like a freight train.

Oftentimes I came to watch people play and sometimes I even gave them a show myself.

It helped that I couldn’t really see them behind the tinted plexiglass, but I knew they could see me.

It somehow heightened the excitement of being watched while calming the nerves of it simultaneously.

I sometimes thought of Damian joining the group, watching me as I played with mys-

“Oof!” I grunted as I walked right into a very large and very apologetic brick wall that quickly shot out to hold me up before I could sprawl to the ground.

“Cono, I’m sorry- I didn’t watch where I was going and-… Harper.”

I looked up… and up, and up as the familiar voice sunk into my brain and made my limbs almost melt into nothing.

“Damian… Hii.” I said softly, a giggle wanting to escape my lips as I held onto Damian’s very, very large biceps and his own lips curled into a sly smirk.

I was not prepared for how scrumptious he’d look decked out in leather.

I was used to seeing this on tv but in person… god damn.

The snug material hugged him in all the right places and my mouth started to water before my eyes slowly reached back up to his.

God, I was worse than a fucking 13-year-old schoolgirl.

Get a grip, cabrona.

“Hi. You here to watch?” Damian asked and we moved closer towards a more secluded part of the hallway to let other people pass through.

“Um… no, not tonight. I’m… I was looking for you, actually.” I replied, blushing bright red as Damian tilted his head.

He leaned against the wall and so did I, just to have something sturdy to hold me up as my brain began to get a bit fuzzy as he leaned in closer.

The action was so… almost intimate and I couldn’t help myself.

His broad body seemed to almost wrap around me, his massive build making my stomach flip-flop.

That was all I could blame for what I did next.

Not taking my hands away from his biceps, I used our physical contact to my advantage, and I began to show him.

I wanted to show him the things I thought of every time he was near.

Every time his hands were on me for one of those damn demos everyone enjoyed watching and we enjoyed doing.

Through my magic, I fed him visions of me on my knees at his feet, staring up at him in adoration.

I showed him vivid images of how hard I’d come if I just let go and let him squeeze my throat just a little harder as he fucked me into oblivion.

I showed him more PG visions of casual handholding and introductions to strangers that left no doubt what we were to one another.

That left no doubt that the other was completely off-limits.

I showed him all the things I wanted with him but that I couldn’t quite let myself have just yet.

And with those visions came the very real and very visceral feelings of want.

Desire.

Lust.

Complete and utter devotion…

All of those feelings transferred from me to Damian and next thing I knew, Damian had moved us and picked me up and pressed me up against the wall, away from any prying eyes and crowding me and urging my legs to wrap around his waist.

I moaned as Damian’s hand gripped my thigh underneath my skirt, pressing me closer to him, and I was brought back down as I felt him harden between my legs.

Our lips were inches apart as our breaths came out in shuddery puffs as the searing passion flowing from my magic flowed through our own bodies, causing us to not have control over ourselves, going on pure primal instinct.

The tip of my tongue snaked out and lapped at his bottom lip, daring him to devour me and I drank in the almost guttural groan Damian gave in response.

I felt the sound right down to my very core, soaking in the powerful feeling of pulling apart his usually calm and collected nature.

And then the rug of desire was pulled from underneath as I felt Damian lower me back to the ground, my heels hitting the floor with a soft click.

We panted hard, trying to catch our breath despite the fact that not much occurred.

“Sorry… I should’ve asked before I…” I said, my breath coming out in tiny, rapid puffs as I willed my heart rate to slow down.

Damian shook his head before his features melted into a guilty expression.

“Its… it’s okay, Harper.” He started, and I sensed a “but” coming…

“But…” he continued, confirming my sinking suspicion. “We can’t. Look, I know I… I’ve been sending mixed messages; I know I have and I’m sorry for that. But you’re just much too young for me. And I think you know how I feel about- “Damian said and suddenly I didn’t want to hear him speak.

“Yeah.” I interrupted a little more forcefully than I intended. “No, yeah. I know. That was… dumb of me. Um- it’s fine. We could totally just pretend this never happened. Shit, I could even wipe your memory of this. I just thought…” I trailed off, frowning as my mind once again played through damn near every moment together.

Not to mention the very noticeable sign of arousal I could still almost feel pressing against me.

“No hay problema, Dami.” I said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

The nickname slipped out easily, only this time it felt like poison on my tongue.

Damian shook his head again, silently waving off my offer.

I couldn’t stand the guilt pouring from his eyes.

The pity was even worse, and I turned my back on him, so I no longer had to see it.

I was thanking the high heavens that were in a much more secluded part of the club, because try as I might’ve, there was no way no one would be able to tell that my heart and ego were both crushed to oblivion- my heart more so.

“I’m sorry, muñe-… I’m sorry, H.” Damian amended, and that crushing feeling traveled from my heart and right into my gut.

“No! You’re fine.” I spoke.

The knot in my throat expanded as I forced a casual cheeriness into my voice that my heart couldn’t mirror.

Before Damian could say anything more, I forced my heavy limbs to move and I took myself to my office, away from the noise and away from any prying eyes.

But clearly fate had other plans...

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squash1 · 1 year

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pynch was literally my favorite couple of all time but I really think (not even on purpose) maggie destroyed their relationship post cdth...like it became unhealthy in a way that never got addressed

i disagree so much and here’s why:

trc adam & ronan are teenagers. and they act like teenagers. they have incredible emotional intimacy for their age but they are still just kids who are not completely honest about everything & don’t really have to face deep problems within their relationship (the problems are usually external). there’s a lot more ease to relationships that exist in one place at a time when both people are at the exact same stage in their life which is trc ronan & adam. i think dreamer trilogy ronan & adam show the complexities of a relationship that has existed over a long period of time as the people in the relationship change.

cdth is the beginning of a new portion of ronan & adams dynamic because it’s the first time they aren’t tied together by place (same school, same town, same friends). adam goes to harvard and ronan is left at the barns, partially by choice and partially because he can’t really leave bc of his dreaming (mental illness coded). the dreamer trilogy is ultimately about ronan lynch more than adam, although ronan isn’t ronan without adam, and so we really see ronan’s struggle to find who he is in a context that is removed from adam and the rest of his friends. the dreamer trilogy is a portrait of what it means to move from being a teenager to being an adult and that includes the changes a romantic relationship undergoes through that transition.

mister impossible ronan & adam are not functional even though they still love and care for each other. this is mainly because ronan is lost and has chosen a path to being “found” that isn’t real or productive. but he has to figure that out. what ronan goes through in mi — distancing himself from friends and family, searching for people “like him,” and feeling ultimately just lonely all the time — was a necessary journey for him. the whole time adam is trying. and ronan is trying too. but they just aren’t in the same place but that doesn’t make their relationship bad, it makes it real. and then in greywaren, ronan is able to have a literal break from the world and work through his issues and realize what’s important and who he is and what he needs. and adam does the same thing — reevaluating his priorities and his future. they both are learning how to be truthful with themselves first, and then with each other. greywaren is the ultimate reckoning. and i can never ever say that ronan & adams relationship was destroyed after cdth because in greywaren we get this:

and if that’s not the definition of love, of finding your way back to each other, of unconditionally holding another person up, i don’t know what is.

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thesupreme316 · 1 year

Note

Could I have some of your favourite wrestlers reacting to the fem!reader heel turn

I GOT U (sorry for how long it took me)

Pairing(s): Hook x Fem!Reader (Platonic?), Eddie Kingston x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Darius Martin x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Dante Martin x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Daniel Garcia x Fem!Reader (Platonic?), Samoa Joe x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: How would these men react to you turning heel?

Word Count: 849

Supreme Speaks: hiiiii, I might do these reaction scenarios more often cause this was fun to write (so please send in more). To @hookerforhook sorry that this took me so long but its here neow. Also I hope everyone is doing well and please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: slightly proofread, gifs are not mine, i repeat gifs ARE NOT MINE

Taglist (if you wanna be a part of it, lemme know): @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @wwenhlimagines @triscillal

To the locker room and the AEW fans, your character was a very talented wrestler but always saw the good in people. Which often leads you to be hurt physically and emotionally. So after one too many broken hearts, you decided to turn heel.

How you turn heel is completely up to you so choose your adventure (I also included examples). You either…

Attacked your teammate after losing another tag team match (Bayley on Sasha Banks)

Attacked your good friend due to you being jealous of them (anyone really)

Didn’t allow your tag team partner to tag you in the match, making your team lose (Tbh I could find an exact moment but Layla on AJ Lee)

Attacked the referee and your opponent after losing the title match (Michelle McCool on Maria/Becky Lynch on Charlotte)

You got offered a better deal by the rival team and decided to take it (Seth Rollins on the Shield)

Eddie Kingston

This man would be so calm about it

*after you attacked your friend* “Well, they had it coming”

Would not see you differently

In fact he would just be happy that you’re whooping ass and you’re not taking any shit from people

Still keeps it 100 with you about things

“If you attack them from behind, then you’re a coward. But if you hit them in the face, then you’re a real one”

In his eyes, you’re not a heel but you’re not a face

You’re just a person going through emotions and decided to let them out

Eddie understands you cause no one is truly/fully on one side or the other

I think Eddie would just say as long as you don’t hurt him physically or emotionally, then you’re good

Overall…Eddie is happy you chose violence as your answer

Hook

It’ll definitely surprise him

He didn’t take you one for being a heel

But isn’t mad at the idea

Silent with his opinions

But tbh I think he would believe the whole 180 change with you is hot

“You look very good…Almost too good.”

Will tell you that he likes the aggressive yet playful mood you display in the ring now

Loves the change in ring gear and theme song

Will wear your new merch in instagram pictures

Honestly, might inspire him to turn heel himself

Overall…Hook loves to see this new attitude within you

Samoa Joe

OH THIS MAN IS A MENACE

NOW THIS MAN IS AN ACTUAL HEEL

He would automatically smirk and congrats you

“Welcome to the dark side”

I genuinely believe he would become a fan of you

Constantly reference you or just show his support on twitter (cause that man is a menace)

Gives you tips on how to appear more of a threat to your opponents

I believe that this Joe would become a mentor

100% would teach you the Coquina Clutch

Will laugh when you embarrass your opponent

“I taught them that! I did that!”

Overall…Samoa Joe would be that supportive father who’s just happy you joined him

Top Flight (Darius and Dante Martin)

OKAY HERE ME OUT….they are all for it IM JUST SAYIN-

At first, Darius and Dante would be sad about it

Would be more saddened at the fact you have to stand across the ring from them instead of next to them

But will recognize that you are happier and are getting a lot more credit and camera time because of the turn

Will put your overall happiness over how they feel

Will still hang out with you behind the cameras (obvi)

Helps you decide on new moves or highflying moves you can do

Will hype you up backstage as you kick ass

“Kick her in the face Y/N!”

Will post pictures of you with the caption “We stan with Y/N”

Overall…Top Flight will be so supportive of you no matter what

Daniel Garcia

MENACE PT.2

“I CALLED IT”

Would immediately offer you a spot in JAS (please decline…)

Like Joe, Daniel would also reference you in tweets

I would like to believe that he would also start flirting with you

Just full on rizz game on 100

“I may not be a photographer, but I can picture us together.”

Like Hook, would also believe this new attitude of yours is hot

Makes fun of your opponents and taunt them backstage (in effort to get you to join JAS, again say no)

Will also make fun of you (lightheartedly) and compare you to him

Will retweet you and start a banter with you just for shits and giggles

“So you think you can take my place as AEW’s favorite child?” “You were never anyone’s favorite.” “Take that back!”

Overall…Daniel would become infatuated with you and is happy for you

#aew #all elite wrestling #all elite wrestling imagines #daniel garcia #daniel garcia x reader #daniel garcia imagine #eddie kingston #eddie kingston x reader #eddie kingston imagine #aew hook #aew hook x reader #aew hook imagine #samoa joe #samoa joe imagine #top flight #top flight aew #darius martin imagine #dante martin imagine

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stroobae · 2 months

Text

Okay so basically I got to do a presentation about chapter 30 from The Dream Thieves in my Creative Writing class and I got way to carried away writing a full analysis so I thought I'd post it here

I think this passage is so great because it's packed with symbols that completely encapsulate the character of Ronan Lynch. Firstly, we have Ronan’s tattoo, which holds a lot of significance in terms of its literal purpose and what it figuratively represents. We learn here that the literal purpose of the tattoo is to instill fear and intimidation among others. Ronan is a very damaged person, and uses his physical appearance as a warning sign for others to steer clear of him after his father dies. He has a shaved head, a permanent scowl, and most intimidating of all: a tattoo which stretches from the back of his neck all the way down to his waist. His tattoo has a lot of grotesque, frightening imagery in it, which is interesting considering its design is made up of “things from his head.” The fact that the dark imagery portrayed in his tattoo is from his head reveals the struggles and dark things that come out of his own mind. His tattoo is a literal manifestation of Ronan’s inner self portrayed in a scene on his back. He’s quite literally wearing his heart on his sleeve (or on his back rather). It’s also mentioned that Ronan has never been able to see the tattoo fully, because it’s on his back. It can only be seen by others standing behind him, and also, when he’s naked (which is something I’ll come back to later). I think that the placement of his tattoo specifically is a really important metaphor alongside the idea that Ronan’s tattoo represents his whole character and inner self. The fact that Ronan cannot see the whole picture of himself and only “bits and pieces” seems like a large indicator that Ronan doesn’t know fully who he is. In the prologue of The Dream Thieves, it’s stated that Ronan has three secrets, all of different natures; the nature of the second secret being one you keep even from yourself. So essentially, Ronan has a part of himself which he doesn't even truly understand, and I think that this is really accentuated by the fact that he can't see his whole tattoo (his inner self) because it's always behind him. However, others also can’t see the whole tattoo unless he takes his shirt off to show them. (BIG THING FOR LATER!)

In the epilogue of TDT you find out (along with Ronan himself) that he’s in love with one of his best friends, Adam. During this chapter, the reader hasn’t been told yet that Ronan is in love with Adam; mostly because the book follows his point of view, and he doesn’t actually know this about himself yet either. It’s made into a plot twist of sorts in the epilogue, and many readers said that they weren’t aware that it was coming at all. A lot of people felt that Ronan’s crush on Adam came out of nowhere. But if you’re me and love to look WAY too deep into every single line of a book, you’ll know that this isn’t the case at all. This dream is a dead giveaway of Ronan’s feelings. First of all, dreams–especially the way that they’re portrayed in this book–are a look into one’s inner conscience. Your dreams are able to display your deepest feelings and desires, even if you’re not consciously aware of them in real life. Ronan especially is a character who has walls built up, and doesn't verbally communicate how he feels to any other character. He doesn’t even allow himself to examine his own feelings/desires, and has a lack of self-vulnerability and personal emotional intelligence. So in his dreams, his most inner part of himself comes to the forefront of his mind and shows him things he didn’t even know he wanted. To validate this idea, we have the fact that Ronan can fully see his whole tattoo in this dream. His tattoo represents his inner self, and he is finally able to see this part of himself within his dream. The dream begins with Dream Adam tracing his tattoo, and in Latin (which I’ll unpack later) he says,“Scio quid hoc est” which roughly translates to “I know what this is.” Once again, returning to the idea that Ronan’s tattoo is a manifestation of himself, we have Adam physically touching it and telling Ronan he knows what the tattoo means. He understands its whole purpose; why Ronan got it, what it’s really depicting. Dream Adam isn’t intimidated by the tattoo like most people because of its gruesome imagery, but instead he knows that it’s really made up of things from Ronan’s conscience, that it’s a representation of who he is inside. What’s really being portrayed in this scene is Ronan’s desire to be truly known by someone, which is a common theme in the series. The fact that the person shown “knowing” Ronan in his dream is Adam specifically is really important as well. Up until this point, we know that Adam and Ronan are friends, their relationship is shown to be tense and is characterized by squabbles which are resolved by the end of the day. We don’t really know exactly how they feel about each other yet based on their surface level interactions. Therefore, this chapter is extremely important in developing their relationship. We now know partly about how Ronan truly feels about Adam. Not necessarily what their relationship currently is, but what he subconsciously wants it to be. Ronan wants to be known by Adam and believes that he has this capability, since it’s Adam who fills this role in his dream.

In the dream, Dream Adam then transforms into Kavinsky, who’s the antagonist in this installment. Kavinsky is an adrenaline junky who’s presented to have an infatuation with Ronan. He gets him to do crazy things: dangerously drag race in the streets, take questionable dreamt-pills, and throw molotov cocktails at white Mitsubishis. He’s infatuated with Ronan mainly because of Ronan’s outward reputation and appearance, his mutual love for perilous activities, and the fact that they share the supernatural ability to take things out of their dreams. Kavinsky wants someone to enable him; who he can be an enabler to. Kavinsky thinks that they’re one in the same, and that Ronan is an exemplary candidate for a self-destructive partner. In Ronan’s dream, when Adam turns into Kavinsky, Ronan disappears entirely. He becomes only his tattoo, which gets smaller and smaller until it's simply a tiny Celtic knot. The notion that Ronan disappears and that his tattoo (all that’s left of him, a manifestation of his conscience) gets smaller when Kavinsky appears, shows that he literally feels small when he’s with him. Kavinsky belittles Ronan. He misunderstands who he is, and boils him down to his wildness and rash spontaneousness. He quite literally swallows Ronan whole in the dream; he destroys all that he is. Dream Kavinsky tells Ronan in Latin, “Scio quid estis vos'', which roughly translates to “I know what you are.” WOOOOOF. OH, IT'S SO GOOD. I GOT CHILLS. This could have SO many meanings. “I know what you are” could mean that Kavinsky knows that Ronan is a dreamer, just like himself, or it could also mean that he knows Ronan is gay (if we’re revisiting that idea of this dream bringing to the forefront parts of Ronan that he doesn’t know about himself yet). Adam and Kavinsky are complete opposites in Ronan’s dream, and furthermore, his life. The dream versions of the two represent what he wants, versus what he’s settled with. Currently, Ronan doesn’t think that he’s worthy of someone who truly knows and loves him. Instead, he’s resigned himself to a homoerotic unlabeled relationship with Kavinsky—who doesn't actually care about who he is, and only wants someone who he can destroy his life with. The exact phrasing of the things Dream Adam and Kavinsky separately say to Ronan are SO significant. Essentially they’re telling him the same thing: what they think they know about him. It's the words which they use to say this which makes these statements wildly different. Dream Adam says “I know what this is” about Ronan’s tattoo, meaning that he knows Ronan’s inner self. He knows this thing which he can’t normally see all of himself display of terrible things from his own mind. Dream Kavinsky says “I know what you are” which displays his assumption of Ronan’s outer character. It’s a bold assumption and an incorrect one. The difference between Adam and Kavinsky to Ronan, is that Ronan wants Adam because he’s different from himself, and doesn’t want Kavinsky because he’s too similar to him. To an extent, I think Ronan fears Kavinsky because he’s who Ronan would be if he didn’t have Gansey or Adam in his life to keep him sane. Initially, Ronan does like to have someone to let off steam with, but he eventually realizes doesn't want an enabler to ruin his life with. He wants someone like Adam–his polar opposite–to know him, to ground him. He wants to feel alive, and awake.

Another interesting element to this chapter is that Ronan’s dream seems to be erotic in nature; it’s a wet-dream. This is a little jarring for a YA novel, but I personally think eroticsm and sex used in literature as metaphors for conveying relationships and character vulnerability is really beautiful and clever. The significance of it being a sex dream is the fact that Ronan, as previously stated, isn’t someone who verbalizes his love for people. He shows it through physical intimacy and acts of service. Intercourse is literally as close as one can be with another person, and Ronan is completely vulnerable and laid bare in this moment. In it Ronan is naked, which we know because the dream begins with Adam tracing the tattoo all the way down his bare back. Remember, Ronan’s tattoo can only be seen fully when he’s naked, which adds another layer to this. Here it’s assumed that he had allowed Dream Adam to see his tattoo, because he had to have taken off his shirt to see it. Circling back Ronan’s tattoo placement, it’s something that not only can’t be fully seen by himself, but also can’t be fully seen by others unless he decides to strip naked for them. Here he allows Adam to see it and even trace the lines of it down his back. He felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with Adam like that, and to inspect his whole being. The fact that Kavinsky then appears and the tattoo becomes smaller represents Ronan's uncomfortability with Kavinsky. He didn’t mean for him to see that part of himself and shrinks away in shame until Kavinsky devours the tattoo without permission. It really enforces the idea that Ronan wants and chooses Adam, but Kavinsky forces himself into his life and takes from Ronan without asking. Finally, Ronan awakes from his wet dream “euphoric and ashamed.” This could either be about the fact that it was a sex dream with not one, but other boys, or the confrontation of his true desires. He’s ashamed to admit what he really wants, and doesn’t allow himself to fully comprehend what this dream means. Ronan even thinks that he never wants to sleep again, which really means that he doesn't want his dreams to confront him with his true feelings again. This can tie into the metaphor about Ronan’s sexuality in terms of the fact that he got off to Adam and then Kavinsky, or that he doesn’t want to let his guard down and admit what he truly wants.

It’s now finally time to unpack the use of Latin! Hooray! Throughout the series, we’re shown that Ronan is really flippant about school. He’s constantly on the brink of expulsion from Aglionby because he doesn’t go to any of his classes or do any of the work. However, the one class he has consistent attendance in as well as the highest overall grade is Latin—second to his proficiency in the language is Adam. They’re both in the same class, and are said to be able to almost fully understand and speak perfect Latin. The use of this dead language is a common theme in the series, and almost all of Ronan’s dreams are in latin. There’s an underlying meaning in that alone. A fun tidbit if we’re looking into the meaning of latin phrases we have the imagery of “claws and beak” described about the imagery of Ronan’s tattoo. The latin phrase “Unguibus et rostro” translates to “claws and beak” and is an expression about fighting with everything you have for something you want. It’s idiomatically comparable to phrases like “heart and soul” and “with all one’s strength” (thanks to ravenclawsandbeak on tumblr for sharing this finding with the fans). In the final book in the series, there’s a short chapter which is essentially a call-back to this chapter, and follows the format in which it’s written pretty clearly. However, Ronan is awake this time rather than dreaming.

This chapter is more or less a sex scene between Ronan and Adam, and is essentially the exact opposite to Ronan’s wet dream in TDT. Here, Ronan’s desires are no longer a fantasy that came to him in a dream, he finally has exactly what he’s wanted all along. in which they admit their feelings for each other, which is done indirectly and not through words. The fact that it's through a sex scene is significant because it's showing their intimacy. Intercourse between people is literally as close as two people can get. As a couple, Adam and Ronan rarely verbalize their feelings about each other, and so this intimate act is really them letting down their walls and allowing themselves to be completely vulnerable to each other. Here, we have Adam studying Ronan's tattoo in real life this time, just like in his dream (Something he’s only able to do because Ronan allowed him). He sees all the fine details in its design, and interestingly enough, speaks aloud this latin phrase “Unguibus et rostro” (This also begins a common theme of Ronan and Adam speaking in cryptic latin phrases rather than just actually telling the other of how they feel about each other, but that's a story for another time). This, as everything else does, has multiple meanings; it shows that not only Adam correctly interprets the imagery on tattoo, showing that now he does truly know and understand Ronan’s inner self. But also it reiterates the meaning of this phrase: that Ronan has appropriately fought with all he had for what he wants. He was able to reject Kavinsky and stay true to himself and his principles, and he realized his feelings for Adam, and was able to let his guard down enough to reach out to Adam and let him know how he actually felt about him. And similarly, he allowed Adam to love him back.

So why did Maggie Stiefvater include the chapter in TDT? It completely breaks the flow of the main story, interrupts two other character’s POVs, and comes seemingly out of nowhere. It's not described where Ronan is, who he came to sleep, when it’s happening. It feels as if the placement of this chapter didn’t matter; it could appear anywhere and still have the same effect. My theory? I think that Stiefvater specifically placed this chapter here because she thought it was an appropriate time to learn more about Ronan, and she wanted the chapter to stick out due to shock value. Because it’s at such a seemingly random moment, and its content is brief and strange, it’s a stark outlier from the rest of the chapters. For me, this strategy totally worked. When I think back to this book, this chapter is by far the most memorable one. I remember it almost immediately when I think about any specific line/chapter from this book. Even though the dream seems random and complex, it has so much meaning packed into it about Ronan’s inner conscience and character. Stiefvater wants to reveal all of these things about Ronan previously analyzed without directly telling us.

#trc #the raven cycle #the dream thieves #the raven king #ronan lynch #adam parrish #joseph kavinsky #ronan's dreams are weird and i love them #literary analysis #lit analysis is my passion and so is this book

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naazaif327 · 1 month

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It’s so strange to me seeing people bend over backwards to try claiming that there’s absolutely no connection between TLOU2’s setting and the Israel-Palestine conflict. Like, I absolutely love The Last Of Us from the bottom of my heart, those games and characters will stay with me for the rest of my life, but also it’s just like so clear from any angle that Seattle’s war between the Seraphites and the WLF is just Druckmann’s “progressive liberal” zionist view of the irl occupation.

Like, on the one hand you’ve got the WLF (IDF/Israel), who are clearly criticized as being overly militarized and doing a bit too much torture and dehumanization, but they’re also super diverse and queer-friendly, and they’re very accepting of various different faiths and religions while still being overall pretty secular (this isn’t just me speculating btw, as you pass by you’ll listen to various WLF npcs openly talking about their faith and sexuality). They’ve got a fucked up leadership/governance under their angry ruler Isaac, but they’re good people as individuals, they’re just caught up in a cycle of revenge/violence. They’re mostly made up of people who were oppressed (by FEDRA) before staging an uprising and revolting to take back their land, which they lovingly cultivate and make use of innovative modern technology to make their world better. It’s a perfect metaphor for Israel to a Zionist who truly thinks that he has a nuanced view of a country he loves.

And then you’ve got the Seraphites (Palestinians/Arabs/Muslims), an angry backwards religious cult that hates progress and queerness and religious freedom, it’s members all brainwashed and worshipping a powerful prophet who proved her worth by performing miracles to win military victories for the cause. All of their children either become child soldiers or child brides for the elders. They hate using technology or anything from the modern world, their backwards culture holds them back and makes them socially/militarily weak. They enact violent lynchings against any poor WLF soldier that crosses their path. Besides Lev and Yara, they are a monolith, a people who exist as violent enemies to slaughter or as brainwashed masses to be pitied as they are massacred. Again, a perfect metaphor for both Islam and Palestinians to a man who has only ever seen both groups through the eyes of Israeli propaganda.

Notably, there is of course no apartheid, no checkpoints, no forced migration by one group or another in the history of the conflict (which we slowly learn through notes and diaries and letters scattered throughout the game). The WLF did not slaughter Seraphites in order to steal their homes, did not take their land and murder their families, nor did they force the Seraphites into concentration camps. The WLF has not been policing the Seraphites’ crops, has not been seizing their funds or resources, or poisoning their wells. The Seraphites aren’t trying to reclaim their stolen land or get the boot of the WLF off their neck. There is no actual ongoing reason for the war, the only reason the Seraphites are still fighting is to “get vengeance” and “kill the degenerate Wolves” rather than to live freely, because Druckmann sees this as the root of the Palestinian cause. To him, Palestinians are not fighting because they’re oppressed by Israel but because they hate Israeli culture and Judaism, and because they can’t just let bygones be bygones (the “bygones” in this case being ethnic cleansing). To him, Israel isn’t oppressing Palestinians and profiting off their suffering, Israel is just fighting back against antisemitism and maybe going too far to protect itself.

In the game, both sides were hurt by FEDRA, and then after the WLF defeated FEDRA, the Seraphites randomly pushed into the suburbs to terrorize the citizens there, causing them to rush to join the WLF. From then on both sides in tandem kept attacking and thus escalating conflicts into more and more violence. There is no oppression, no power differential, one side is not living in the forcibly abandoned houses of the other. There is no reason for conflict, only the meaningless violence that would immediately end if we could all just get along and stop trading completely equal blows.

The conflict ends on an uncertain note that nauseatingly mirrors the current reality. After escalating conflicts, the WLF launches a violent all-out attack on the largest Seraphite base, their island, wiping out most of the Seraphites, razing their fields and crops, slaughtering their children, and burning down almost everything the Seraphites spent decades building. The WLF in turn have lost much of their military force, but their homes and their children seem blissfully unharmed at the end of this. The future is uncertain, but it seems that the WLF/IOF is the “winner”. And it’s all very tragic to Druckmann of course, the dead Scars/Arabs are a very sad thing that could have been avoided if everyone just listened and relaxed. Material oppression doesn’t matter, and this could all just be solved by having integrated schools or whatever.

#the last of us #tlou #neil druckmann

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