#look out for that I'm posting that tomorrow

[onlyangel4]

guard dog. solo sikoa.

solo sikoa x calaway!reader

synopsis: you’ve always been able to handle yourself in the cutthroat world of wwe, especially as one of the top heels on smackdown.

being the daughter of a legend, the undertaker comes with its own set of expectations, and you’ve lived up to every single one. gorgeous, confident, and a total bombshell, you know the spotlight is yours.

but travelling alone? that’s never been your thing. unfortunately, one night on the road, you’re forced to fly solo and that’s when things go wrong. astranger’s unwanted attention turns aggressive, coffee thrown, hands grabbing, and suddenly, your tough-girl persona shatters as you call your dad in tears.

the deadman doesn’t waste time. one phone call later, solo sikoa is at your side, sworn to protect you. from then on, he’s your shadow, guarding you at airports, shielding you from fans who get too close, and watching your back everywhere you go. but somewhere between hotel lobbies and late-night drives, the lines blur. the guard dog starts to see you as more than his best friendand maybe you’ve been falling for him too.

authour's note: inspired by THAT video. i'm using solo's real name (joe) for this as it is all out of kayfabe.

faceclaim: daisy jelley

@fafomama @fairiebabey @kait16xo @eringobragh420@teamchasezwrites @mamis-girly2 @jordana1008 @jessk23@spooky-librarian-ghost@akimorbid @myxthix @jihyowrrld @brutal--nightmare @kai-ropractor @flemmardepro @bloxholden35 @eringobragh420 @crystal-clear-writing @brie-mode-activated @abschaffer2 @fandomwritingforyou @nyx---0 @terrortwinunicorn @ilovehotdads @muffinsbasket

y/ninsta posted a story

written: another night. another show.

the cameras had always loved you.

you could feel it in the way the arena hummed with anticipation, the way heads turned the moment you stepped through the curtain in your gear.

you had been in the wwe spotlight your whole life but tonight, like always, you owned it.

the smirk on your face wasn’t just part of the act; it was second nature now.

the crowd hated you. they should. you had built your heel persona to perfection, a sharp-tongued, high-heeled, big-match villainess who could talk circles around anyone and back it up in the ring. the daughter of the undertaker and step daughter of michelle mccool, wrestling royalty. born into this. bred for this. and everyone knew it.

you pushed through your segment without breaking a sweat, brushing past a chorus of boos as if they were a warm summer breeze. but the second you stepped behind the curtain, that persona slipped just a little, and you were you again, sweaty hair clinging to your temples, adrenaline still buzzing in your chest.

"still the golden girl" a familiar voice teased from the corner.

you didn’t even have to look. ashley (charlotte flair to everyone else) you grinned, and she pulled you into a hug like she had been waiting all night for it.

you had known ashley your whole life. she had been a rising star when you were still figuring out if you wanted to lace up boots or stay in the stands. she was the older sister you never had, the one who had seen you cry, scream, and laugh so hard you nearly passed out.

"you’re killing it out there" she said, pulling back to look you over like she was checking on her kid sister after a tough match.

you shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. "it’s what i do."

charlotte smirked knowingly. "yeah, but i know that look. you’ve got something on your mind."

you rolled your eyes and grabbed your water bottle. "it’s nothing. just travel headaches. they messed with the bookings, and now i’ve got to fly out alone tomorrow for that media thing."

ashley stilled, her expression sharpening instantly. "alone?"

you nodded. "yeah. i’ll survive. i mean, it’s not my favorite thing, but i can handle an airport."

she tilted her head, unconvinced. "i know you can handle yourself, but I don’t like it. you know how it is out there. people get weird. and you" she gestured at you with her water bottle, "are you. gorgeous, famous, and very recognisable."

you laughed softly, even though her concern hit home. "i’ll be fine, ash. promise."

ashley didn’t smile. she stepped closer, lowering her voice so only you could hear.

"if you run into anything, anything, you call me, you call your dad, you call someone. don’t try to handle it on your own. got it?"

you gave her a reassuring pat on the arm, but in the pit of your stomach, there was a faint unease you couldn’t quite shake.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the next morning came too early.

you weren’t a morning person on the best of days, and this wasn’t one of them. the travel coordinator’s voice was still echoing in your head from the night before, flight changes, weather delays, media obligations that couldn’t be moved.

normally, the chaos of the road didn’t bother you. you were used to early call times, rushed flights, and quick turnarounds. but you couldn’t shake ashley’s words from backstage. people get weird. and you… are you.

you threw your suitcase onto the bed and started packing with mechanical efficiency, ring gear in one compartment, street clothes in another. your phone buzzed. of course it was a text from ashley

ash: don’t forget. text me when you land. and keep your head on a swivel. you: relax, big queenie. i’ll be fine.

you told yourself it was true. airports were nothing new. you’d been recognised a million times before, smiled for selfies, signed napkins, even given a kid your hat once. most people were harmless.

but travelling alone that was different.

no tag partner to run interference. no friend to share the uber. no one to roll their eyes with you when an overzealous fan asked the same question for the tenth time.

by the time you reached the arena’s side exit where the shuttle waited to take talent to the airport, you had your game face on. sunglasses, hoodie up, hair tucked back, minimal "don’t talk to me" mode. a couple of stagehands wished you luck on the media run; you waved and climbed into the shuttle, dropping your bag beside you.

half an hour later, you were standing in the check-in line, phone in hand, scrolling without really reading. the line moved slowly, but you didn’t mind. the longer you kept your head down, the better.

still, you couldn’t ignore the sensation prickling at the back of your neck, that strange, uneasy feeling that someone was watching you.

you told yourself it was nothing.

you told yourself you were just tired.

you didn’t yet know that today was going to prove ashley right.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the line finally moved, and you handed over your id and boarding pass. the check-in agent gave a polite but distracted smile, and you moved on, heading toward security. you’d done this a thousand times. keep your head down, keep moving, don’t draw attention.

the terminal was busy, a constant shuffle of rolling luggage, muffled pa announcements, the occasional squeal of a child running away from an exhausted parent. you adjusted your hoodie, tucking your hair further inside, and kept your sunglasses on.

then you heard it.

your ring name. loud enough to cut through the crowd.

"hey! it’s you!"

you didn’t slow down, but your eyes flicked toward the voice. a man, maybe mid-thirties, was grinning at you like you’d just made his day. Baseball cap low over his forehead, phone in one hand, coffee in the other.

"i knew it" he said, stepping toward you. "can i get a picture real quick?"

you offered a polite smile without stopping. "sorry, i'm in a rush."

but he moved with you. "c’mon, just one" he said, falling into step at your side. "i’ve been a fan forever. i’ve watched all your matches."

you shifted your bag higher on your shoulder. "i appreciate it, but i really have to go."

that should’ve been it.

it wasn’t.

he reached out, catching your forearm just above the wrist.

the grip was firm, too firm. enough to make your pulse spike instantly.

"don’t be like that" he said, his grin stretched too wide now. "you think you’re too good for your fans?"

you yanked your arm back. "let go."

he did, but only so he could step directly in front of you, blocking your path.

"wow. guess you are just like the rest of them. all smiles for the cameras but cold in real life. bet your daddy taught you that."

the words hit harder than they should’ve. he’d done his homework or at least knew enough to bring your family into it.

you took a step to the left to go around him.

he matched you.

you stepped right.

he did it again, smirking like this was a game.

around you, people were starting to notice, but not one of them stepped in. phones came out. someone whispered your name. the heat of embarrassment burned under your skin, mixing with something sharper, anger, unease.

and then, in one smooth, deliberate motion, he tilted his coffee cup toward you.

the lid popped slightly, and the liquid, hot and sticky. splashed across the front of your hoodie and down your jeans. you flinched at the sudden heat, biting back a hiss.

"oops" he said, voice flat now. "guess i slipped."

your hoodie clung to your skin, the wet fabric heavy and uncomfortable. you stared at him, adrenaline buzzing so loud you could barely hear the terminal around you.

"move" you said, your voice low but firm.

he only smiled. "oh, don’t be mad. you’re a heel, right? i’m just playing along."

it was clear now, this wasn’t about a picture. this was about power. about seeing how far he could push you when there weren’t security guards or cameras rolling.

you pushed past him hard, shoulder-checking him in the process. He didn’t follow this time, but you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away. your hands were shaking, your heart still pounding.

you didn’t know yet, but the moment you pulled out your phone, that would be the call that changed everything.

wrestlinginsider

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 586,283 others

wrestlinginsider: once again wrestling fans have taken it too far. y/n calaway has been asaulted at an airport in atlanta. video footage is floating around online of the attack where a random man threw hot coffee on the wrestler. fans like this give others bad reputations. i just hope y/n is okay.

view all 12,383 comments

user1: holy shit i hope y/n is okay

user2: i met y/n a month ago and she is nothing like her character. she is the sweetest girl ever i can't believe this happened to her

user3: this is insane

user4: surely that guy can get arrested

user5: the fact no one helped her and just kept filming.

user6: thank you for not posting the video.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t stop walking until you found the women’s restroom tucked between a coffee kiosk and a newsstand. The moment you pushed through the door, the fluorescent lights felt too bright, the tile too clean and cold under your boots.

a woman was at the sink, fixing her lipstick. she glanced at you once, at the wet stain on your hoodie, at the way your sunglasses didn’t quite hide your face, then quickly looked away.

you ducked into the farthest stall and locked the door.

the second the latch clicked, the adrenaline that had kept you moving began to drain, leaving only the pounding of your heart and a knot so tight in your chest it hurt to breathe.

you peeled your soaked hoodie away from your skin. the coffee had cooled, but the dampness clung like a reminder of his smirk, his voice, his hand gripping your arm.

your hands were shaking again. bad.

you sat down on the closed toilet lid, elbows on your knees, and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, but that only made the tears come faster. hot, unstoppable. not the pretty kind. these were ugly, throat-tight, chest-heaving tears that made it hard to swallow.

you hated this. you hated that he got to you. you hated that you were here, alone, feeling small in a world where you were supposed to be untouchable.

you reached for your phone before you could talk yourself out of it. there was only one number you could call.

it rang once. twice. then

"hey, baby girl."

the moment you heard his voice, everything cracked open.

"dad" your voice broke, trembling like you hadn’t heard it do since you were a kid. "something happened."

the pause on the other end was short but heavy. you could almost hear the shift, from casual to alert, from father to protector.

"tell me" his voice was calm. too calm.

the words spilled out between uneven breaths, the man recognising you, grabbing you, blocking your way, the coffee soaking your clothes. how nobody stepped in. how he laughed.

by the end, you were crying so hard you had to press your hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing into the phone.

"i'm scared" you whispered. "i don't know if i can travel alone again"

there was no hesitation in his answer.

"you won’t" he said. the quiet promise in his voice made something deep inside you unclench.

"i’ll make sure of it."

you didn't know what that meant. but knowing your dad.

he had a plan.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

mark sat alone in his den, the phone pressed against his palm like it might crack from the force of his grip. the call with you still echoed in his ears, your voice breaking, your breath hitching, the trembling words that told him you’d been scared in a way he’d never heard before.

it took a lot to shake you.

but this had.

he set the phone down on the table for a moment, staring at the wall, jaw tight. it wasn’t just anger running through him, it was something deeper. older. a father’s fury that came from the bone.

no one touched his little girl. no one made you feel unsafe.

he reached for the phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he landed on the name he needed. the line rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered.

"yo."

"joe." mark’s tone was low, steady, the kind of steady that carried weight.

"mark" joe replied, already sensing the seriousness. "what’s going on?"

"it’s my daughter" mark said simply, but there was nothing simple about the way the words fell. "she was at the airport. some guy grabbed her. blocked her in. poured coffee all over her."

there was a pause, and then joe’s voice dropped a note lower. "is she alright?"

"she’s rattled. shaken bad." mark’s knuckles whitened around the phone. "she called me in tears. and joe—" his voice hardened. "you know she never cries."

another pause, longer this time. "what do you need me to do?"

mark leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "you’re on the road with her now. every flight, every town, every damn trip she takes. you don’t leave her side. i don’t care if it’s catering or baggage claim, you stick to her like glue."

"you got it." joe didn’t hesitate. "i’ll handle it."

mark’s tone softened, just slightly. "i’m trusting you with my little girl. you understand what that means?"

"i do" joe said, and there was something in his voice, quiet but ironclad. "nobody’s touching her while i'm around."

mark exhaled slowly, a fraction of the tension leaving his shoulders. "good. because if something happens to her, you answer to me. and you know damn well what that means."

a beat of silence.

then joe’s answer was calm, certain. "understood."

when the call ended, mark set the phone down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. he still hated that you’d been alone today. but with joe on your side, he knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be again.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

by the time your connecting flight landed, you’d pulled yourself together or at least enough to hide behind your sunglasses and keep moving. you still felt wrung out, the earlier confrontation replaying in flashes every time someone stepped too close in the terminal.

you dragged your carry-on behind you toward baggage claim, expecting to grab your suitcase, call a rideshare, and get to the hotel without attracting any more attention.

instead, you saw him.

joe.

he was impossible to miss, leaning against the wall near the carousel, hood pulled up, arms crossed over his chest. his expression was neutral, but the second his eyes found you, something in them sharpened.

you slowed. "joe? what are you"

"your dad called me" he said, his voice low but cutting through the noise of the terminal. "told me what happened."

you hesitated, your fingers tightening on your bag handle. "it’s fine. i can handle..."

"no" he cut in gently but firmly. "you’re not handling this alone. not anymore."

something in his tone made your chest tighten, not just the words, but the certainty behind them. he wasn’t asking. he wasn’t making a suggestion.

"your dad" joe stepped closer, keeping his voice low. "he made me promise. said i stick to you like glue. every city. every flight. until further notice."

a weak attempt at a smirk tugged at your lips. "so what, you’re my bodyguard now?"

he didn’t blink. "if that’s what you want to call it. i’m not letting this happen again."

for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. you weren’t used to people stepping in like this, not in your real life. in the ring, sure. but this? this was different.

joe reached past you without asking, his big hand closing around the handle of your suitcase. "let’s go" he said simply. "you’ve had enough airport trouble for one day."

walking beside him toward the exit, you noticed it immediately, the way people seemed to part for him, the space that naturally formed around you both. no one called your name. no one tried to step in your path.

and for the first time since the coffee had hit your skin, you felt safe.

charlottewwe posted a story tagging y/nwwe

written: if anyone tries to hurt my girl again i stg

y/nwwe posted a story

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

two days on the road with joe, and you were already starting to notice a pattern.

no matter where you went, baggage claim, catering, the hotel lobby, he was there. always a step behind or right beside you, scanning the room like he was expecting trouble to drop out of the ceiling.

at first, it was a lot.

like now.

you were in the terminal, rolling your carry-on toward your gate, when you realised he was still pulling your checked bag behind him. You reached for it. "you know, i am capable of carrying my own luggage."

joe didn’t even break stride. "and i promised your dad you wouldn’t have to."

you arched a brow. "what is this, wwe's version of a witness protection program?"

"something like that." he glanced sideways at you, deadpan. "you’re a high-value target."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. "please. i’m not the taylor swift"

"could’ve fooled me" he said, his tone still flat but his lips pulling just enough to give away the smirk.

at the gate, you ducked into the restroom and when you came back out, there he was. leaning against the wall right outside, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the crowd before landing back on you.

"you waited outside the bathroom?" you asked, half amused, half baffled.

"not gonna lose you between here and the gate" he replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"joe, i’m not a lost kid at disneyland."

his gaze flicked over you, calm but deliberate. "your dad would kill me if i let you out of my sight."

there was no point arguing. you knew he was right, not just about your dad, but about the truth you didn’t want to say out loud: that part of you felt safer this way. safer than you had in a long time.

still, you tried to keep it light. "alright, fine. but if you start following me to catering like a duckling, we’re going to have a problem."

his smirk deepened. "you say that like i’m not already planning on it."

you groaned, shaking your head, but the smile you were hiding was impossible to deny.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

wrestlersinthewild posted a story

written: y/n and charlotte spotted at a shopping centre in miami

shopping with ashley was always dangerous. not dangerous in the security sense, dangerous in the credit card bill sense. she had a talent for convincing you that yes, you did in fact need another pair of designer sunglasses and a new bag for the road.

"trust me" ashley said as the two of you wandered into a high-end makeup store. "that highlighter will change your life."

you laughed, following her toward one of the displays. "you’re such a bad influence.”

the two of you fell into easy conversation, swatching colors and comparing shades. you didn’t even notice the man until his voice cut in behind you.

"you’re, you’re her."

you turned, polite but cautious. "yeah, hi"

before you could finish, he stepped closer. too close. his phone was already in his hand, camera up, like he thought this was an open invitation.

"can i get a picture? just one. my buddies will freak."

you shifted back a little, offering your usual polite decline. "sorry, i'm not doing photos right now."

he didn’t take the hint. instead, he leaned in further, holding the phone higher. "c’mon, just real quick"

"hey."

the word was low, even, but it sliced through the air like a blade.

you froze because you knew that voice.

the man glanced over his shoulder, and your eyes followed right to joe. you hadn’t even realized he was in the store. hood up, hands in his pockets, standing a few feet behind. but now? now he was looking straight at the guy, gaze steady and unreadable.

"she said no" joe said, his tone calm but firm. "move along."

the man hesitated, eyes flicking between you and Joe. then, with a muttered "whatever, man" he backed off and wandered toward another aisle.

ashley raised a brow at you. "you didn’t tell me we had a shadow today."

you blinked at her, still processing. "i didn’t know we did."

joe stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "didn’t think you’d mind if i tagged along."

you tilted your head, half exasperated, half something else. "you’ve been here the whole time?"

he gave a small shrug. "close enough."

you wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you found yourself strangely grateful. you’d been in control, sure but it felt different knowing he’d been right there, quietly making sure nothing happened.

ashley smirked knowingly from behind you. "guess i’m not the only one who thinks you need a chaperone."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

smackdown nights always left you buzzing. the adrenaline never faded right away, not after the entrances, the promos, the crowd chanting your name (and booing, when you wanted them to).

tonight had been no different. but instead of heading down to the hotel bar with some of the others, you found yourself pacing your own room, replaying the moment at the makeup store earlier that day.

the way joe had stepped in. the way his voice had gone quiet and firm, like it was just a fact that no one got to push past your boundaries. the way you hadn’t even known he was there until you needed him.

before you could overthink it, you slipped on a hoodie over your lounge clothes and padded down the hallway. you knocked once.

the door opened a few seconds later, and there he was, hair loose, wearing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, looking more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

he leaned against the frame. "hey."

you gave a small, awkward smile. "can i come in?"

"yeah." he stepped aside, and you slipped inside. his room smelled faintly of cologne and whatever soap he’d used in the shower. the tv was on low in the background, but he muted it with the remote as you sat on the edge of the bed.

you hesitated before speaking. "i wanted to say thank you. for today. with that guy."

joe sat down in the armchair across from you, elbows resting on his knees. "you don’t need to thank me."

"yeah, i do." you picked at the cuff of your hoodie. "i didn’t even know you were there, and then suddenly you were. like you knew something was going to happen."

he shrugged, a small movement but deliberate. "i wasn’t gonna leave you on your own. not after the airport."

your eyes flicked to his. "because my dad asked you to?"

a pause. then he shook his head slightly. "because i wanted to."

that sat between you for a moment, heavier than you expected.

"i know you can handle yourself" he went on, voice low. "but that doesn’t mean you should have to. not all the time."

you didn’t know what to say. your throat felt tight, not from sadness, exactly, but from the strange warmth curling in your chest.

"you’ve had my back before" you murmured. "i guess i'm just not used to someone doing it like this. quiet. without making it about them."

he gave you a look that was unreadable, but soft. "that’s just how i am."

and somehow, you believed him completely.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you’d just come back from a long travel day, hair still damp from the shower, when your phone lit up on the nightstand.

dad.

you swiped to answer. "hey, you."

"hey, love" mark’s deep voice filled your ear, warm but edged with that constant protective undertone. "just checking in. how’s the road?"

you glanced toward the small table in the corner, where joe sat with his laptop open, headphones around his neck, clearly pretending not to listen.

"it’s fine" you said. "busy. same as always."

mark hummed, unconvinced. "and joe?"

you couldn’t help a little smile. "he’s here."

your dad chuckled under his breath. "good. that’s exactly what i wanted to hear." then, louder: "put him on the phone."

you raised your brows at joe, mouthing, it’s my dad.

he looked amused, shaking his head like he’d been expecting this. you tossed the phone to him.

"hey, mark" joe said, leaning back in his chair. his voice had that respectful weight to it, like he knew exactly who he was speaking to.

you could only hear your father’s side faintly, but his tone was approving. "she giving you any trouble?"

joe’s mouth ticked into the smallest smirk. "nothing i can’t handle."

a low rumble of laughter from mark. "good answer. keep her safe, joe. i mean it. she’s my whole world."

joe’s eyes flicked to you across the room. "i know" he said simply. "you have my word."

there was a beat of silence, then your dad spoke again, something softer this time. joe nodded once. "yes, sir. i will."

when joe finally handed the phone back to you, your dad’s voice was lighter. "i like him" your dad said. "i think i can trust him."

you glanced at joe, who had already gone back to his laptop but couldn’t quite hide the ghost of a grin.

"i guess he passed your test" you teased.

mark chuckled. "yeah. don’t tell him, though. gotta keep him on his toes."

you laughed, promising you wouldn’t but the truth was, Joe had passed more than just your dad’s test.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the hotel was quiet, that kind of eerie stillness that only happened well after midnight on the road. most of the roster was either asleep or out partying. you were somewhere in between, restless, too wired to sleep but too drained to go anywhere.

you slipped on a hoodie and padded down the hallway toward the vending machines. when you turned the corner, you nearly bumped into joe.

he was leaning against the wall near the elevators, a hoodie pulled over his head, phone in hand. he glanced up at you. "can’t sleep?"

you shook your head. "you?"

"same." he slipped his phone into his pocket. "come on. let’s get some air."

you didn’t think twice about following him. the two of you stepped outside into the cool night, the soft hum of distant traffic the only sound. you walked side by side down the quiet street, the glow of streetlamps spilling across the pavement.

for a while, you just talked about nothing, the show, the travel, a funny thing one of the guys had said earlier. but eventually, the conversation slowed, and the silence between you shifted.

joe glanced over. "you never told me what really happened at the airport."

you kept your eyes on the ground. "you already know the short version."

"i want the real one."

you swallowed, your fingers tugging at the edge of your sleeve. "it wasn’t just someone being rude. it was aggressive. i could feel people following me through the terminal. then this guy, he grabbed my arm. hard. i tried to shake him off and he just wouldn’t let go. and then the coffee thing happened. i think i froze."

your voice cracked on the last word, and you hated that it did.

joe stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "hey." his voice was low, steady. "that wasn’t your fault."

"i know" you said automatically, but your throat felt tight. "i just, well, i’ve been around this business my whole life. i’ve seen crazy fans. i thought i was tougher than that."

he shook his head. "you are. being tough doesn’t mean you have to handle everything alone."

something in his tone made your chest ache. you looked up at him then, and the streetlight caught his eyes, dark, unreadable, but softer than you’d ever seen them.

"people forget" he went on, "that we’re still just people. they think they can touch, push, take what they want. but i see it. i’ve dealt with it too. i’ve had people show up at my hotel. try to follow me. it’s not the same, but i get it."

you hadn’t expected that. somehow, it made the knot in your chest loosen just a little.

"i hate that you’ve dealt with that" you murmured.

he shrugged. "it’s part of it. but you?" he shook his head slightly. "i’m not letting that happen to you again. not while i’m around."

the words settled between you, heavy but warm. and for the first time since the airport, you believed them.

you smiled faintly. "guess i should get used to having a shadow, then."

joe’s mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smirk. "guess you should."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

y/nwwe posted a story tagging solosikoa

written: travel day vibes

airports were chaos. always. rhe crowd around baggage claim was a tangle of rolling suitcases, tired travelers, and impatient voices calling over each other. you were trying to squeeze between a family and a pile of oversized luggage when you felt it, a hand on the small of your back.

it was steady. firm. guiding.

"stay close" joe’s voice murmured just behind your ear.

you didn’t have to turn to know it was him. you could feel his presence at your back, tall, solid, an anchor in the noisy current of people.

the touch wasn’t lingering in a way that felt inappropriate. but it wasn’t impersonal, either. it was instinctive protective. and suddenly you were aware of everything, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your hoodie, the way his body shielded you as he steered you toward the carousel.

your heart did this strange little kick.

when you finally reached the spot where your bags would drop, he didn’t move away. instead, he stood slightly behind you, one hand still resting lightly against your back as he scanned the crowd.

"you good?" he asked.

you nodded quickly. "yeah. just a lot of people."

he hummed in agreement, gaze still sweeping the area. "that’s why i'm here."

it was such a simple thing to say. but it landed harder than it should have.

your bag came around, and joe was the one to step forward and grab it for you, setting it down with ease before taking your smaller carry-on from your hand.

"i can carry it" you protested weakly.

"i know" he said, already walking toward the exit. "but you don’t have to."

you followed, trying to ignore the way your stomach kept flipping, not because of the crowd, but because of him.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

backstage at smackdown was its usual controlled chaos, crew members rushing by with cables, production assistants on headsets, wrestlers weaving in and out of hallways. you were leaning against a road case, scrolling on your phone, when ashley came up beside you.

"hey, stranger" she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "you’ve been hard to pin down lately."

you smiled. "busy schedule."

ashley gave you a look. "uh-huh. busy schedule or busy with your new shadow?"

you blinked at her. "what?"

she didn’t answer right away. instead, her eyes flicked down the hallway and you followed her gaze straight to joe, leaning casually against the wall not too far away, arms folded, eyes scanning the area.

he wasn’t even pretending not to be watching you.

ashley smirked knowingly. "that man has been glued to you for weeks. don’t think i haven’t noticed."

you rolled your eyes. "it’s not like that. he’s just..."

"protecting you" she finished for you, clearly enjoying herself. "yeah, i know. but you can’t tell me you don’t like it."

you tried to deflect. "ashley"

she tilted her head, grinning. "you blush every time he so much as looks at you. i've known you since we were kids, i know that face."

"i’m not blushing" you muttered, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

ashley laughed, the sound low and smug. "sure, honey. whatever you say. just don’t let him slip away before you figure it out."

before you could respond, a stagehand called your name, and you had to step away toward gorilla. but as you passed joe, he gave you the faintest nod, like he’d been keeping track of you the whole time.

and maybe, just maybe, ashley might be onto something.

y/nwwe

liked by solosikoa, charlottewwe, uceyjucey and 687,779 others

tagged: charlottewwe. solosikoa.

y/nwwe: life on da road

view all 19,823 comments

solosikoa: you need to send me that picture

y/nwwe: on it boss

charlottewwe: my girl

y/nwwe: the road was not the same without you

alexabliss: pretty girlll

user7: have you guys noticed how close y/n and solo are rn like every picture of them backstage they are together

user8: oh to have a friendship like y/n and charlotte

user9: i just know solo is giddy that he made it into this post

user10: every time i go to simp over y/n i have to remind myself who her dad is and that he would actually kill me

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

y/nwwe posted a story tagging solosikoa

written: i think solo is gonna scream if our plane is delayed any longer

you hated travel delays.

you and joe had made it through security, grabbed coffee, and settled in at your gate, only to hear the dreaded announcement over the loudspeaker:

"flight 287 to orlando has been canceled due to weather conditions. please see the service desk for rebooking."

the groan that escaped you was almost theatrical. "perfect. just perfect."

joe, standing beside you with his duffel slung over his shoulder, glanced at the long line already forming at the counter. "c’mon. we’ll figure it out."

the best they could do was rebook you for a morning flight. which meant you were stuck in a small, almost-empty regional airport overnight. most of the food stands had already closed. the fluorescent lighting buzzed softly overhead.

you found a cluster of chairs in the corner of the lounge and dropped your carry-on with a sigh. "well. this is glamorous."

joe smirked faintly and sat across from you. "could be worse."

two hours later, after snacks from the vending machine and a whole lot of scrolling, the exhaustion started catching up with you. the chairs were uncomfortable, the air conditioning too cold. you pulled your hoodie tighter but still shivered.

joe noticed. without a word, he got up, unzipped his bag, and pulled out a folded blanket, one of those thin but surprisingly warm travel ones. he walked over and draped it over your shoulders.

"better?" he asked.

you nodded, clutching it tighter. "thanks."

he sat beside you this time, long legs stretched out, leaning back in the chair. you tried to stay awake, but the combination of warmth and his quiet presence was pulling you under fast.

at some point, your head tipped sideways, right against his shoulder.

you startled slightly. "sorry"

"don’t" he said simply. "go ahead. get some sleep."

and so you did. the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the subtle weight of his shoulder against your cheek, made it impossible to stay tense.

when you finally blinked awake hours later, the lounge was quieter. You shifted slightly, only to find Joe’s gaze already on you.

not in a way that made you uneasy. in a way that made your chest ache, like he’d been content to sit there the entire night, making sure you were safe.

you swallowed. "what?"

he just shook his head with a faint, unreadable smile. "nothing. flight boards in an hour."

but the way he said it made you wonder if it had really been nothing at all.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

charlottewwe posted a story tagging y/nwwe

written: she made it

the morning after the delay, the locker room was buzzing. everyone had heard about the travel nightmare, and a few people were teasing you and joe for surviving it together.

ashley was perched on a bench, lacing her boots, when you walked in. joe was leaning against the wall nearby, chatting with one of the crew guys who’d just made a joke about him being your "full-time bodyguard."

joe chuckled, shaking his head. "just doing my job" he said simply.

you froze mid-step.

just doing my job.

you weren’t sure why it hit you the way it did. maybe because you knew it wasn’t just his job anymore. maybe because part of you wanted, no, needed him to admit that it was personal now. that you were personal to him.

you caught yourself staring.

he glanced over at you mid-conversation and caught the look. his words faltered just for a second. the room seemed to quiet around you, not in reality, but in that way where the edges of everything else fade and you’re just aware of him.

your gaze held for a beat too long.

something flickered across his expression, unreadable, but it made your stomach tighten.

ashley’s voice broke the moment. "you two good?"

you blinked, forcing yourself to look away. "yeah. just tired."

joe’s smirk was almost imperceptible as he turned back to the crew guy. "yeah. we’re good."

but the charged silence lingered, humming between you even after the conversation shifted.

and for the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was late, that strange, quiet hour when the arena parking lot was almost empty except for a few lingering staff and the last of the production trucks. you had your bag slung over your shoulder, walking toward the car on your own for once.

joe was somewhere nearby, but you’d seen him a few minutes ago talking to jon and a couple of crew guys near the loading dock. you didn’t want to interrupt, so you figured you could make it the short distance to the car by yourself.

that was your first mistake.

you didn’t even hear him coming at first, just the sharp click of hurried footsteps behind you. then a voice, far too close.

"hey! y/n!"

you turned and saw a man in his twenties, hoodie half-zipped, phone already in his hand. he was smiling in that way that wasn’t friendly at all.

"i just need a picture" he said, stepping closer. "one selfie, that’s all."

you shifted your bag higher on your shoulder. "sorry, it’s late, i'm heading off"

he moved in faster than you expected, lifting his phone like he was going to take the picture anyway.

something in your chest tightened. "joe!"

you didn’t shout it, but you didn’t have to.

the sound of your voice cut through the quiet, and within seconds, he was there. you hadn’t even seen him move, just the sudden presence of him, stepping between you and the stranger like a wall.

his voice was low, calm, but there was no mistaking the edge in it. "back up."

the guy froze, stammering, "i just wanted"

"i don’t care what you wanted." joe took a step forward, his size and quiet intensity doing all the talking. "back. up. now."

the man hesitated, muttered something under his breath, then turned and walked quickly back toward the shadows of the lot.

you exhaled shakily, realizing your hands were trembling. joe turned immediately, eyes scanning your face. "you okay?"

you nodded, even though your heart was still pounding. "yeah. i just, he came out of nowhere."

he didn’t say anything at first, just reached down and gently took your bag from your shoulder, keeping it in one hand while the other rested against the small of your back.

"next time" he said quietly, "you don’t walk out here without me. got it?"

it wasn’t a question.

you swallowed. "got it."

but the truth was, the thing that stayed with you wasn’t the scare. it was the way he had been there the second you needed him. like he’d been waiting for you to call his name all along.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the short walk from the arena to the hotel was quiet at first. joe carried your bag like it weighed nothing, his other hand shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. you could still feel the faint tremor of adrenaline in your own hands, though you tried to hide it.

"you sure you’re okay?" he asked finally, glancing down at you as you kept pace beside him.

you nodded, then hesitated. "yeah. just a little rattled, i guess."

he made a low sound in his chest, not quite agreement, not quite disagreement. "didn’t like the way he came up on you like that."

you glanced up at him. "you got there fast."

he didn’t look away from the sidewalk ahead of you. "wasn’t going to let anything happen to you."

it was the way he said it, quiet but certain, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. like protecting you wasn’t a job, it was instinct.

your lips curved into the smallest smile before you could stop yourself. "you know, you don’t have to do all this. not every second."

he looked at you then, his expression unreadable in the low light. "yeah, i do."

there was no teasing in his voice. no attempt to downplay it. just four words that settled deep in your chest.

you felt your throat tighten. "why?"

he didn’t answer right away. his gaze stayed on yours for a long moment, long enough for the air between you to feel heavier, charged. you could almost feel the truth pressing against his tongue, ready to spill out.

but then, he looked away. "just do."

the rest of the walk was quiet again, but different now. every step felt like it was leading you toward something inevitable, even if neither of you had said it yet.

when you reached the hotel doors, he handed you your bag back. His fingers brushed yours, just a fleeting touch but it was enough to send that now-familiar ache right through you.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

weeks later. catering was unusually quiet for a smackdown day. a few Superstars were scattered around the tables, most with earbuds in, killing time before call time. you were sitting with ashley in the corner, idly picking at a plate of fruit while she scrolled through her phone.

"you’re awfully quiet today" she said without looking up.

"i’m just tired" you muttered.

ashley hummed under her breath, clearly unconvinced. "tired or distracted?"

you shot her a look. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

finally, she set her phone down and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. "i mean joe."

your stomach gave a little lurch. "what about him?"

ashley’s mouth curved into the kind of smirk only an older sister figure could pull off, equal parts smug and knowing. "don’t play dumb with me. i’ve seen the way he looks at you."

you rolled your eyes and reached for your coffee. "he’s just looking out for me."

"no" ashley said flatly, "he’s protecting you. there’s a difference. and he’s not doing it because mark asked him to. he’s doing it because he’s in love with you."

you almost choked on your coffee. "what?"

she didn’t even blink. "you heard me. you’re just too stubborn or too scared, to admit you feel the same way."

your face warmed instantly. "ash, it’s not like that."

"sure it isn’t." her tone was dry enough to strip paint. "you think i haven’t noticed the way you gravitate toward him? the way you relax when he’s around? you’ve always been independent, but the second he walks in the room, it’s like you can breathe easier."

you looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

ashley’s voice softened. "look i’m not telling you to throw yourself at him. i’m telling you not to waste time pretending this is just about safety. people like him? they don’t let many in. but once they do" she shrugged. "that’s it. you’re in for life."

you tried to muster some sarcastic reply, but all that came out was a quiet, "you really think he"

"i know he does" ashley said firmly.

the words stuck with you long after the conversation ended. and no matter how much you tried to focus on your match later that night, you couldn’t stop replaying her voice in your head.

he’s in love with you.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

y/nwwe posted a story tagging charlottewwe

written: your two fav bad guys are signing and meet and greeting all day

solosikoa posted a story tagging jonathanfatu

written: meet n greet time

the fan event had been going for over an hour, but you were still buzzing with energy. you loved meeting the people who supported you, shaking hands, signing shirts, posing for selfies. ashley sat beside you at the long table, her easy laugh filling the air between autographs.

you were mid-conversation with a young girl and her mom when the next fan stepped up, a tall man, mid-30s, wearing an old wrestling tee and a smug little grin.

"big fan, your heel work is the best" he said, sliding an 8x10 toward you.

you smiled politely. "thanks for coming out."

as you reached for your pen, his hand brushed against yours, not by accident. before you could move, he leaned in far too close, close enough that his breath touched your ear. his hand gripping yours

his voice was low, for you alone. "bet you’re even prettier screaming."

your blood ran cold.

every muscle in your body locked up. you forced a tight smile, muttered "thanks" and signed his picture without looking at him. he grinned wider, lingering just long enough to make your skin crawl before moving down the table toward ashley.

you didn’t hear what she said to him, your heart was pounding too loudly. so grateful that he was the last in line as you pushed back from the table.

you didn’t stop moving until you found a quiet corner near the service hallway, hidden behind a stack of boxes. your hands were shaking as you fished your phone out of your pocket.

you didn’t even think, you just hit joe’s number.

he picked up on the second ring. "yeah?"

"joe" your voice cracked. "i need you. now."

there was a pause, just long enough for you to hear jon’s voice faintly in the background, before joe’s tone sharpened. "where are you?"

"back hallway near the green room." you tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered. "some guy he said something. touched me. i just feel sick"

"i’m coming." the words were hard, absolute. you could hear movement on the other end, footsteps, a door opening, jon asking what happened.

joe ignored him. "don’t move. stay where you are. i’ll find you."

the line went dead.

you leaned back against the wall, heart still racing. every second felt too long, but within moments, you heard the heavy, quick thud of boots on tile.

then he was there.

the look in his eyes when he saw you, pale, rattled, was enough to make your chest tighten. no words, just the heat of his presence as he stepped into your space, big hands bracketing your arms.

"you’re with me now" he said quietly, but there was nothing soft about it. "nobody touches you. nobody talks to you like that. ever."

the sound of his voice, low, unshakable was all it took to break you.

you’d been holding it together since you stepped away from the table, trying to breathe, trying to stay composed. but now, with joe standing in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, everything cracked wide open.

your eyes burned, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled over. you looked down, embarrassed, but joe was already moving.

"hey" his voice softened instantly, his hands sliding from your arms to your shoulders. then he pulled you in, no hesitation, wrapping those strong arms around you and pulling you against his chest.

it wasn’t a tentative hug. it was firm, grounding, the kind that told you: you are safe now.

you pressed your face into the front of his hoodie, breathing in the faint scent of laundry soap and his cologne. the tears kept coming, quiet but steady, your chest hitching against him.

joe didn’t rush you. didn’t tell you to stop crying or try to brush it off. one big hand stayed firm at your back, the other cradling the back of your head like he was afraid you might break if he let go.

"this your first time seeing me cry" you mumbled into his chest, your voice thick.

his chest rose under your cheek as he let out a slow breath. "yeah" he admitted quietly. "don’t like it."

you tried for a weak laugh, but it came out shaky. "sorry."

he shook his head immediately. "don’t be. just hate that you’re upset. hate that somebody made you feel like this." his voice dropped lower, his grip tightening protectively. "i swear to you, no one’s ever going to touch you like that again. not while i’m breathing."

the words settled deep in your chest, heavy and certain. He meant every single one.

for a long moment, neither of you moved. you stayed tucked against him, your tears slowing, his steady heartbeat under your ear calming you in a way nothing else could.

and maybe it was your imagination, but his arms seemed to tighten just a fraction, like he wasn’t holding you just to keep you safe. like maybe he was holding you because he didn’t want to let you go.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was nearly midnight by the time you got back to the hotel. the adrenaline from earlier had long faded, leaving you wrung out and heavy.

you’d showered, changed into an oversized shirt, and were sitting cross-legged on your bed staring at the muted glow of the tv when your phone buzzed.

joe: my room. 1406.

you didn’t hesitate.

the hallway was quiet as you padded down to his door, knocking softly. it opened almost instantly, like he’d been waiting right behind it.

joe stepped aside to let you in, closing the door with a quiet click. he was in a black t-shirt and sweats, hair pulled back, barefoot. there was a quiet heaviness in his expression, one that matched the weight still sitting in your chest.

"you eat?" he asked.

you shook your head. "not hungry."

he didn’t push, just motioned toward the couch in the corner. you sat, tucking your legs under you. he stayed standing for a moment, leaning against the desk like he was trying to gather his words.

finally, he crossed the room and sat down beside you. close, close enough that your knees brushed.

"you scared me today" he said quietly.

you blinked. "i scared you?"

"yeah." his eyes locked on yours. "when you called me i don’t think i’ve ever moved that fast in my life. and when i saw your face" he stopped, jaw tightening. "i’ve been in fights. i’ve been hit. but nothing’s ever hit me like seeing you look at me like that. like you weren’t safe."

you didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet.

he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, big hands clasped loosely. "i told your dad i’d look out for you. and i meant it. but somewhere along the line it stopped being about a promise."

your breath caught.

his gaze stayed steady on you, dark and certain. "it’s about you. it’s always been about you. i don’t just want to keep you safe because you’re mark’s daughter. i want to keep you safe because you’re, you. and i" he broke off, exhaling slowly, like saying it was harder than fighting someone twice his size.

"i care about you. more than i should. more than i probably have any right to."

your chest tightened painfully. "joe"

he gave a little shake of his head. "you don’t have to say anything right now. i just needed you to know. because every time you call my name, every time i’m there, it’s not an accident. it’s because i want to be. because i need to be."

the room was so still you could hear the faint hum of the mini-fridge. then, slowly, you reached over and laid your hand over his.

"i know" you said softly. "i think i’ve always known."

his eyes searched yours for a long moment, and then he turned his hand to lace his fingers with yours. the touch was warm, steady, and somehow, you knew this was only the beginning of something much bigger than a promise.

you stayed there on joe’s couch, your fingers laced with his, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. the air felt different now, charged, heavier, like there was something just on the edge of breaking.

you should’ve been nervous, but you weren’t. not with him.

"joe" you said softly, testing his name on your tongue in that way you only used when it was just the two of you.

he glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly. "yeah?"

"you said earlier you care about me more than you should."

"mm-hm." his thumb brushed absent-mindedly across your knuckles. "i did."

you shifted a little closer, your knees bumping his. "i don’t think there’s a ‘should’ when it comes to that. not with us."

his dark eyes searched your face, and you could see the exact moment his guarded expression faltered, the moment the last bit of restraint cracked.

"you’re making it real hard to be a gentleman right now" he murmured.

a faint smile curved your lips. "who says i want you to be?"

that was all it took.

joe’s hand slid up, cupping the side of your face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the size of his palm. he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t. your breath caught just before his lips found yours.

the kiss was warm and unhurried, but there was no mistaking the depth in it, the weeks of unspoken feelings, the unyielding protectiveness, the quiet moments where his eyes said more than his words ever did.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath fanning softly across your lips.

"you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that" he said quietly.

you smiled, your hand curling around the back of his neck. "i think i do."

for a long moment, you just stayed there, soaking in the closeness, the safety, the rightness of it all.

and maybe, somewhere deep down, you knew this was what ashley had been hinting at all along. this wasn’t just about him being your protector. this wasn’t just about a promise to your father.

this was about him loving you.

and you loving him right back.

solosikoa

liked by y/nwwe, charlottewwe, juceyucey and 593,384 others

tagged: y/nwwe

solosikoa: the strongest woman i have ever met

view all 12,384 comments

y/nwwe: i love you bby

solosikoa: love you more

charlottewwe: so glad you both finally pulled your heads out of your asses

y/nwwe: rudeeee

juceyucey: go on lil bro

undertaker: look after my girl

solosikoa: always sir

user11: the fact that taker approves of their relationship omg

user12: what a hot couple omg

user13: the best heels in wwe

[happilyjules]

Soul Mates | Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You're the soul-mate to the Saja Boys, destined for each other. Legend has it that if a demon is able to find their soul-mate, and solidify that bond, then they might gain their lost soul back. That’s if other demons don’t kill you first.

Warnings: Soul Bond with Saja Boys, Angst, Mild Language, more to be added later

A/N: Posted on A03 thought Tumblr might like to read it as well. I'll update as often as i'm able, but I do have a chronic illness that can take away my days. Goal is to have multiple parts posted in one week. Enjoy!

_______________________________________

Chapter 2 - Hearts all a flutter

“Wait, wait wait,” you hold back a laugh, raising your free hand. “Your names are Romance, Baby, Abby, Mystery, and Jinu?” 

“What’s wrong with them?” Romance asks. 

“Well they sound more like monikers than real names. Except for Jinu,” you say through a laugh. After a moment, you straighten, seeing their downturned faces. You open and close your mouth, flustered. “I mean…Sorry that was insensitive.”

“It’s okay,” Jinu says, although you can still feel the hurt behind the words. 

God I’m always sticking my foot in my mouth, you think. “No it’s not. That was rude of me. I am sorry,” you insist.

“All forgiven,” Abby says with a content smile, although you don’t feel content about it.

 “So how long have you been playing the violin?” he asks again, drawing you out of your discomfort. 

“Well,” you think for a moment. “Since middle school. I joined the orchestra, and from the moment I picked it up, I fell in love.” It doesn’t dawn on you how close that sounded to what Amelia and you were talking about earlier. 

“Love at first sight, huh?” Romance asks with a dreamy sigh, one hand pressed over his heart. 

“Something like that I guess,” you admit, unable to hold back a smile. At least they understand how you can fall in love with music. 

“What about you guys, do you play any instruments?” 

“I play the bipa,” Jinu says. 

“That’s so cool,” you smile, surprised anyone these days knows how to play such an older instrument. “I’ve heard it played over YouTube, but never live. You should play for me one day.”

Jinu smiles. “Anytime.” 

“Awesome.” You look deep into his eyes, his captivating gaze catching all your attention, as that tugging sensation pulls you closer to the raven haired boy. Only when you take a step forward do you catch yourself, rubbing that spot on your chest. Mentally shaking yourself, you continue walking. “How long have you played?”

“Since I was little,” Jinu answers as if nothing happened. “It belonged to my mother.”

“Family heirloom, take care of that,” you say wistfully, wishing you had something like that, besides a family history of drug use and abandonment. Without you even noticing, the tugging aching sensation lessens to a soft thrum the more time you spend with the boys.  

“Oh,how did your tv show go? ‘Play Games with Us,’ right?” You ask. 

“We had to drink hot sauce,” Romance made a face. “I lost.”

“I won,” Baby smirked. 

“Good for you?” You question whether that is really a win. “Sounds painful either way.”

“It was,” Mystery said, with a pout. 

Looking around you realize you’ve reached your apartment. 

“Well this is me,” you say, realizing you didn’t want to leave them just yet. When did that happen?

“That offer for dinner still stands,” Abby smiled, perhaps hopefully. 

“Well,” you stammer, looking at your phone. You don’t have work until noon tomorrow anyways and it is just one dinner. What harm could that do? “Okay.” 

“Great,” Romance smiles. “We know the perfect place.”

Turning to leave, you can’t help but wonder how you’ve ended up agreeing to go to dinner with people you’ve just met, let alone rising pop idols.What is it about these boys that draws you in so much? You’ve been called cold, unfeeling by former lovers and even friends. Only Amelia seems to be able to handle your mix of realism and sarcasm, and she still takes breaks now and then. You don’t mind it, at least you tell yourself that. It’s better to be alone than live alone then in false promises. So why does your heart flutter a little as your shoulder brushes Baby’s? Why are you looking forward to getting to know them more? Why is a part of you dreaming of them wanting something more? You are being ridiculous! You chastise yourself. One, they all do not want to date you at once. That is ludicrous. Two, they are just being nice. That’s all. You are going to stop looking at them like some tweenage girl. So why are you wondering how soft Mystery’s hair is, and what his eyes look like underneath his bangs?  

Half an hour later you find yourself seated at a round table, each giving you suggestions of what to eat. 

“You should try the bibimbap, it’s the best here,” Baby said, his deep voice catching you a little off guard. 

“Nah, the bulgogi has the most delicious sauce,” Abby cut in confidently. 

“I like the galbi.” Mystery’s soft voice felt like a balm to whatever pressure has been in your chest since this afternoon. 

“I think I’ll get the galbi,” you say, setting your menu down, decision made. “So tell me everything.”

They all look at each other confused. “What do you want to know?” Jinu asked.

“How’d you all meet?” you ask, noticing all boys turned to look at Jinu before anyone answered. 

“Well,” Jinu started, taking a drink of water. “We all sort of met in the army.”

“Sort of?” 

“We’ve crossed paths before, but the army was the place we all became friends,” Romance says, his head resting on his hands in the cutest way. “Tell us about you. We know you play the violin. What else?”

“I work at the restaurant Baek Ri Hyang full time,” you answer. “Which doesn't leave much time for anything else.”

“Do you enjoy your work there?” Jinu asks. 

“‘Enjoy’ is a strong word,” you answer honestly. “It’s necessary, and my bosses are pretty cool, so overall it’s a good job.”

How and why and I'm telling these boys about my life? You ask yourself, taking a drink of water. Usually closed off, for some reason you want them to know everything about you, and you want to know everything about them. 

“You must have some funny stories,” Baby asks, his deep voice soothing something deep in your chest. 

“I have a few,” You nod. They all look at you expectantly, and once again you ask yourself how you ended up here, at this moment, having dinner with a boy band. Why does it feel like the perfect place to be? “Well there was this one time a food fight broke out.”

“At Baek Ri Hyang?” Romance asks. 

“Yeah.” You laugh at the memory. “There was this one table, full of girls, that was being quite loud, but whatever, I didn’t care. Apparently it was one of their birthday’s. However, a nearby table did not like the noise at all. Instead of complaining to me, the host, they take matters into their own hands.” You smile .”One second table one was enjoying food and drinks, singing whatever song was on the radio, and the next table two threw their water on table one.”

“What did you do?” Abby asks with a chuckle. 

“Nothing,” You shake your head with a grin. “I let them throw their food at each other until both sides calmed down and an additional cleanup bill.” 

“So you stood there and let it happen?” Baby asks, with a smirk. 

“Basically.”

“I like this one,” Baby says decisively, squeezing your knee under the table. Your heart skips a beat at the contact. What is wrong with you? Get it together. 

“I like her too,” Abby says, making you flush, as they all agree. 

Okay, what is happening? You ask yourself, wondering why your heart is fluttering, and cheeks blushing under the attention. 

Violin in hand, you quietly unlock your door, careful not to wake Amelia. It wasn’t until you were way home you even thought about having invited her to dinner. Already a fan, she would have been over the moon to have dinner with her new idols. But something about the idea of her flirting and swooning over any of them made you nauseous and furious at the same time. Still, a part of you felt bad for not even thinking about it. 

Looking around the dark apartment, you let out a relieved sigh. Great, I won’t have to explain how I ended up having dinner with the Saja Boys, and didn’t invite her. 

The Saja Boys? What is even happening right now? Not only did they seemingly find you busking, (granted you were at the mall they played at, you mind tries to rationalize) but they took you out to dinner. Why did you go to dinner with them? Never in your life have you met a person one minute, and the next thought, “You know what, I want to go on a date with that person.” What few dates you’ve been on have always been with people you’ve known for a while. Today though, you meet these rising pop stars, and agree to go to dinner with them the same day. You didn’t even pay for dinner. When you tried to pay for yourself, all of them were adamant you would not. 

“We got this,” Baby said, voice firm. 

“Yes, we invited you out afterall,” Romance said with those gorgeous dark brown eyes leaving no room to argue. 

Setting down your violin in your room, you make your way to the bathroom, pausing to look at yourself in the mirror. So was that a date?  You ask yourself after a moment, clipping your hair back. Did I just go on a date with the Saja Boys? All five of them? You begin washing your face. No, you visibly shake your head. They were just being nice. What could they possibly see in you to warrant all this attention? It’s not like you’re Rumi from Huntrix. You’re normal, nothing special. (You are special and beautiful in every way I know it, Bestie). They were just being really nice, that's all. You tell yourself finishing your face routine and brushing your teeth before heading to bed. 

Crawling under the covers in nothing more than your usual underwear, you pull the comforter up to your chin and settle into your pillows. Determined to think of anything other than the Saja Boys, you mentally plan your day tomorrow, the appointments you need to keep, your schedule for the next week, and even begin counting sheep, but nothing works to settle your mind. Turning to your other side, you finally let your mind wander to the five boys. Romance, with his long pastel blush hair with jagged bangs. Abby, with his fiery pink hair matching his assertive bright personality and arms so thick they strained against his shirt. Baby, with his minty-turquoise hair and eyes that always seemed to find yours no matter the circumstance. Mystery, his ashy almost lavender long hair, covering his eyes, leaving so much to the imagination. And finally, Jinu, dark ebony hair matching his deep eyes, wringing out secrets you didn’t think you’d tell. Mind presenting details of each boy you didn’t realize you noticed, sleep finally washes over you. 

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

I'm so tired of people making this into a Gmmtv issue. Back last November at the Creator Talk in Berlin, producer Yuan (NOT a gmmtv producer. She produced, among other things, I Feel You Linger In The Air and My Stand-In) talked about social media engagement being the standard measurement for success in the industry, among other reasons because viewership isn't comparable between platforms (as they don't get exact numbers from most platforms for example). Now, personally, I also don't think social media engagement is a much better measurement, there are plenty of factors that make some shows/actors have bigger engagement than others which don't necessarily translate into viewership/merch sales/product sales/etc. (not to even mention the fact that some fandoms have clearly started botting Twitter trends and IG engagement). But this is NOT a Gmmtv issue, nor were they the ones that started it. As @maybe-boys-do-love said, this is in large parts due to the sponsors using these numbers as measurements. And TV, in this case especially, is an industry that is kind of dependent on sponsors. So unless the sponsors realise this isn't working/find a better measurement, what is Gmmtv supposed to do about it?

I don't like it either. Trending is stressful and joy-less and honestly makes the experience of having a series come out so much worse. It has started for many (me included) to feel like a job more than a hobby. If I could do away with trending tomorrow, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But can we just stop pretending like Gmmtv is somehow some unique evil in the Thai BL space? I have plenty of criticisms for them but seriously, most of the things they get hated for, other companies do it even more. In terms of trending, some companies are now artificially inflating their numbers by just adding different keyword trends together (which is not how it works). Gmmtv has actually historically given second chances to couples whose first show didn't hit so much. For the amount of actors they have, most of them are actually getting a lot of acting or variety work compared to other companies. As for brand events etc., I'm not an expert but I honestly don't think the company has that much of an influence over who the brands want or don't want. Is there probably a lot of nepotism and general bias at play? Sure. But that's also not Gmmtv-exclusive nor is it really their fault. This has never been an industry that functions on raw talent alone. Bad scripts? Look at that, that's not a Gmmtv exclusive either. And honestly, some companies manage to have worse scripts on average while having a way smaller output than them. Not that it should be a competition, anyway.

And I'm saying all of this as someone whose faves actually seem to be locked in the Gmmtv basement. That have had basically no events at all this year aside from the book fair fan signs everyone goes to. Not even while their show was airing. Whose Japan fanmeet for their show based on a Japanese IP co-produced by a Japanese TV channel, Gmmtv couldn't even be bothered to promote on their Japan exclusive website. Who, in the rare case that they get a magazine photoshoot, are photographed in their own clothes in the Gmmtv stairwell. Who have their official social media posts on the Gmmtv socials constantly misspelled or are just randomly left out when there are bigger groups. Who have had two of their songs misspelled on Spotify for weeks. And I could go on. So I really have absolutely no reason to simp for Gmmtv. But this constant "Gmmtv bad" sentiment is so pointless and trite and honestly counterproductive to actually discussing these problems.

Edit: Oh, and because I see people in the tags talking about merch. Because I am (mostly lurking) in some group-order groups, I'm regularly seeing what other companies put out in terms of merch BEFORE THE SHOW HAS EVEN AIRED. What Gmmtv does is nothing in comparison. And at least Gmmtv gives a cut of the merch sales to the people involved (tho it's probably not much, I don't know the details, but P'Aof talked about getting a cut from merch sales, probably for his shows, for example). Of course they're trying to make money. They're a capitalist company in a capitalist country on an atp mostly capitalist planet. And so are all of the other production companies. And I'm always in favour of getting rid of capitalism entirely, but why are we singling out Gmmtv for trying to make money?

this is ridiculous. but its gmmtv. so why am i not surprised:

my biggest gripe with this is now that fans are the ones completely responsible for "trending" and "social media engagement" in order for these actors to have work, basically, and for their shows to air. that ...... is not the responsibility of a fan. how about you lot working on your awful script writing and story telling?? better managing your artists?? so, what? if Actor X doesn't get roles or jobs, then its on their fans? what kind of culture is this???

[thelightreflects]

baby, babe, i'm jumping right in

@kingdonmicrofic — day one: pool, 497 words

a/n: didn't think i was going to do anything for this because i have trouble keeping my writing short but i was inspired by reading everyone's posts and wrote this in like 30 minutes when i should've been working. i probably won't put any of these on ao3 but if you want to read my full langdonmel fics, you can find them here

—

He tells Mel she can use his pool over the long weekend because it’s going to be hot and the AC in her apartment is always breaking down. He’s going out of town, so nobody will be using it anyway.

But he doesn’t think she’ll actually take him up on the offer. She’s a giver, not a taker.

So, when he sees her through the sliding glass door, he does a double take to make sure it’s not a mirage.

He opens the door slowly, not wanting her to know he’s here yet, and tiptoes barefoot on the patio down to the pool deck.

She’s mesmerizing, her movement through the water refracting the sunlight, and he gets caught in a stare.

He sits down at the edge of the pool, his back facing the house, and puts his legs in the water, watching her the entire time.

It feels like she swims forever, but the sun hasn’t even moved behind the trees, still beating down on them.

Finally, finally, she surfaces at the other end of the pool, and he feels his breath catch as he notices her barely-there bikini top clinging to her skin.

“I think you just set a record,” he says and smiles when she shrieks, grabbing onto the edge of the pool.

When she turns to face him, he knows the flush on her cheeks isn’t a sunburn.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house, Mel,” he says with a smirk.

Her mouth falls open and she says, “I mean —”

“I know, I’m teasing. I got called in for tomorrow, so I came back early.”

“Just you?”

“Just me.”

He knows what she’s really asking, but he won’t give it to her, wants her to take it. And she does just that, like she can read his mind.

She swims up between his legs and puts her hands on his bare thighs where his shorts have ridden up, water droplets cascading down his legs as she stands now that she's in the shallow end.

“Are you coming in?”

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“You don’t need one.”

She reaches up and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, the drips of water not enough to cool him down as her hands graze his chest.

Her gaze dips down to his mouth when his tongue wets his lips in anticipation.

It feels like a swarm of bees are buzzing under his skin.

When she gets his shirt open, her hands hover over the waistline of his shorts. She looks back up at him and says, “Take them off.”

He pushes himself up to stand and shucks off his shirt, then takes off his shorts, standing there in his briefs and never taking his eyes off her.

She gasps as he bends down and gets into the pool, his chest brushing against hers.

He smirks and says, “I would’ve come home earlier if —”

“Shut up,” she says and pulls him in for a kiss.

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Why am I detransitioning? People keep asking me, so I figure I should address it. You guys are so hot for me, it's really flattering but yeah, I'm not a girl. I go by he/him now. I've been on T for a month! My voice is already dropping! Soon I'll sound like a guy, well, even more like a guy. Being a girl takes way too much effort just to still not pass half the time, have dudes tell me they don't date 'boys', or men fuck me because they love that I'm actually male. So, I said screw it. I'm gonna go for it and try out detransitioning. I've been fantasizing about detransing since, like, forever ago. Plus, like half my trans friends already detransed so I feel a bit left out!

I know, I'm pretty hot for a boy, and my gynecomastia grew pretty huge. My doctor has been wanting to treat it and give me a reduction for a while but I refused like the spoiled perv I am. I love seeing guys stare at my oversized, swollen man-boobs. Like I can't believe I let myself grow these things, I look soooo ridiculous! It makes me hard as hell when guys ogle them. Most real girls hate having their boobs stared at, I get super hard and have to go jerk off in the ladies' room. Super loud so women in there can hear me. I'll walk out of the stall jiggling my tits as I walk, licking the cum off my fingers, joking about how I had a little 'guy problem' that needed some taking care of.

Some girls tell me I'm not supposed to be in there, others just think I'm hot. Either way I'm pretty much done with this whole being a fakegirl thing. All I do is go out and get fucked, men give me handjobs in public, when we're out dancing, at resuarants, while they're driving. I love how it's like a level of control over me, like they grab my cock and jerk it to remind me I'm a boy. Like normally they'd grope a girl's breasts or smack her ass, with me they always go right for my cock and jerk me off sooooo fucking hard, so everyone hears it and stares.

Well, I guess it's my time to enjoy being a dude. Finally. Getting my gynecomastia removed next week. Starting to hit the gym, gonna get my hair cut tomorrow, with any luck in a few months I'll have a full beard, a hairy chest, a twelve-inch cock, and a growing beer gut, so no one will ever know my naughty secret that I used to play dress up, forced my body to develop oversized man-tits, and actually tried to pass my masculine-looking body off as a girl. I'll be just another guy hitting on sexy college girls, going to the gym, bulking up, eating and drinking whatever I want! Won't I make a much better fat guy with a big hairy gut than I ever did a big-titted influencer girl trying to hide her constant erections? Hope you guys stick around and don't unfollow me..... I promise to post all about my detrans journey, and all the sorority girls I'll be knocking up!"

[alwerakoo]

'Eyes off of you''

TMNT 2012, post-canon Donatello x April first kiss/getting together, 5k words

art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast

[READ ON AO3]

---

“So, how do you feel about corn?”

April blinks.

It's such an absurd question it makes her pause, her thumb still frozen on the screen where she held it to pick up the call. Then she laughs, one hand raising to her face to cover her mouth.

“What?” She asks through a giggle, shifting to sit on her heels.

There's a rustle on the other side, like Donnie was doing something just now and didn't even really realize he called her. It's happened before, but not in a few years, and she wonders what got his mind so scattered now.

“It's really not that funny,” he says, in that voice that makes it easy to tell he's not really offended. “Answer the question.”

“I don't know,” April says, moving to stand. “Normal?”

She's been making a dent in the huge pile of textbooks next to her bed that she's been 'organizing' for the past week, but she puts it away for now, happy for the excuse.

April falls onto her bed, the springs in the mattress squeaking under her weight.

Donnie hums. She thinks he might be typing on his computer, or maybe disarming a bomb – it's a little hard to tell with him nowadays.

“What about corn mazes?”

“I do like puzzles.” He can't see her, but she raises her other hand anyway, tapping a finger on her temple. “Only when I can cheat, tho.”

She stares at her ceiling, tracing the long crack in it with her eyes.

Her new apartment has a lot of those. And a minor mold problem.

But it's hers, and she was allowed to pick out whatever awful looking thing she happened to find on Facebook Marketplace and paint the walls a bright yellow that her dad always said 'gave him headaches', or something like that, so either way – she's more than in love with it.

“There's a festival,” Donnie says finally, which sounds like the thing he's been meaning to tell her from the start. “A few towns away. It's like, uhm, I don't know. Kind of cringe. But it might be fun to go tomorrow, if you want to.”

It still feels weird that this is something her friends can do now. Not without any struggle or many unpleasant stares, but it's a start, and isn't that something.

The world they build up after The Shredder is a fragile and young one, wary of mutants but pushing forward despite it, kept upright by years of wild desperation. She knows her boys well enough to trust they won't let their chins fall now that they can finally look up at the sun.

“And what, it's corn-themed?”

Some more typing from the other side.

“Indeed.”

April laughs again.

She's been doing that a lot recently, definitely more than she ever did in her final year of college.

School was fine, and she liked all her new friends, and her college town was just big enough to keep her busy, and it all weighed down on her more and more every year. She missed home, and she missed her real friends, and it all feels a bit like finally taking a breath of fresh air after a long, long time.

She's been laughing a lot more around Donnie too, which is something she usually tries her best not to think about.

“Do you wanna go?” Donnie asks.

“Oh,” April says, voice full of something catty. “You'd make a space in your busy schedule for corn?”

“Sure,” he says, in that voice where it's hard to tell if he's joking or not. “I love corn.”

“Are your brothers coming?” She asks. What she really means is 'it's cool if they are, but please say no'.

“I'm not sure it's really their vibe, to be honest,” Donnie says. And what he really means is... Something. April doesn't dare assume.

She doesn't assume anything, and she wants nothing, and she's going to keep telling herself that until she finally believes it.

“Alright!” She says, voice light. “It's a date.”

She pulls the phone away so quickly she almost drops it right onto her face, ending the call. She lingers there for a moment, her apartment quiet.

Finally, she lowers her phone, holding the edge of it to her forehead.

Softly, she swears under her breath.

***

“You'd think the world's largest cob would be a lot bigger, huh?”

She stands leaning against his car, hands tucked away behind her to not stain her dress. It's one of her better ones – white and simple, and exactly the kind she wears to a date when she wants the guy to call her pretty, and then kiss her goodnight, and then never see her again.

Which is ridiculous, because this is not a date (probably), and she would definitely hate for at least one of these points to happen tonight.

(She's not sure about the other two, and that is a thought she tries her best to push deep, deep into the back of her mind.)

Donnie closes the door to his car, coming around to stand next to her. He tilts his head, like it could make the giant lump of yellow and green plastic grow any taller.

He's wearing sweatpants and at least three layers of shirts, including a plaid, and standing next to him, April feels quite overdressed. It's silly, and she pushes herself upright, smoothing down her dress just to keep her hands busy.

They've spent a good while trying to find a spot in the visibly improvised parking lot, and she's almost certain Donnie actually took up two of them, but whatever they used to paint the white lines on the grass washed out a long time ago. So really – not their fault.

She looks over her shoulder, watching Donnie fiddle with his car for a moment longer.

It's an awful thing, really. Old and beat up, with some value April's almost certain old men make up just to feel better about the piles of junk rusting away on their lawns for years.

She knows Donnie can fix it, but he won't, because he'd rather 'keep it authentic', which apparently means no AC in the middle of the summer, and at least two jammed windows.

He loves that thing to bits, and she can never bring herself to say any of this to his face.

“Okay,” he says, slowly pulling away, hands raised in the air like it's a spooked animal. “It's fine now. Let's go.”

The festival is just about what she expected, if she's being honest, and maybe that's the best part of it.

They're close enough to New York to only get a few side glances, and far enough away to feel as close to anonymous as they can be nowadays. There's a modestly noisy crowd of locals and a bigger, obnoxiously loud sea of tourists, and it's easy to get lost in.

She's glad they went in the evening. It's a full moon, and the dark sky and strung-up fairy lights make every cheesy sign, every dumb attraction, and every awful radio song feel just a little bit more purposeful.

It's nice to spend time with Donnie, too.

Obviously, it is, but there's something to how light it all feels, how their conversations flow and loop back around themselves, and how he looks her in the eyes and doesn't shy away.

It's fun, and it's normal, and it's like those long months where they weren’t speaking never happened. As if he was always like this – tall and confident, and quiet in that way people get when they grow older and realize half of the voices in their heads don't make that much sense after all.

She missed him.

She missed him when they were teenagers, in those moments where he seemed to forget she was his friend before she was a girl, and she missed him when she left and he texted her happy birthday, which made her realize it was the first private message she'd gotten from him in the last six months, and she missed him when she moved back and couldn't quite recognize him anymore.

She thinks that the last part might be mutual.

He's been looking at her a lot lately.

Donnie stops her next to the long line of cheap (and scammy) looking carnival games, his hand on her shoulder.

“Wanna win a plushie?” He says, in that weird way he always does when he both genuinely means something and thinks it's dumb.

He points to the closest cart, a simple balloon dart game, with his chin.

April thinks for a moment, taking a sip of her overpriced lemonade (eight dollars, what the hell?).

“It's not really fun if I play,” she says. They're close enough to the cart that the guy running it can probably hear them, but she stopped caring about those kinds of things a long time ago. “Too easy.”

She taps the side of her head with a finger.

“Too bad,” he says, “'cuz I want one.”

She knows Donnie has no actual interest in anything soft and cute, because he hates life and fun, but he'll probably give it to Mikey, which is really sweet when she thinks about it, so she follows him when he steps closer to the cart.

The guy behind it looks about her dad's age, with the same balding pattern, and he smiles in a way that quickly lets her know he's the only one winning anything tonight.

“'Evening, young man.” He nods at Donnie, giving April a full view of almost all of his teeth. “Winning something for your girl?”

April knows he doesn't mean anything by it, but the comment still almost makes her wince.

But this is so normal, and there's a part of her that still only feels amazed she and her friends can do things like this now, like go to a festival, or to a concert, or to the store, or to be mistaken for a couple, and she's content enough with letting it pass without acknowledgment.

Donnie doesn't say anything for a moment either, busy turning one of the darts around in his hands. He looks so focused it almost makes her laugh again.

“Not my girlfriend,” he says, which surprises her a little. He leans his elbow on the cart, head tilting to point to April with his chin. “She's my sister. The resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?”

April laughs – that loud and sudden thing that very few things can punch out of her. The man's eyes open a little wider, and then he chuckles, a little awkward, like he honestly can't tell if it's a joke or not and doesn't want to offend.

Donnie holds up one of the darts, finger pushing on the metal needle.

“Also, this is dull as hell,” he says. April squints, looking at it more closely, and can't help but agree. The old pocketknife she always keeps in her boots seems a deadly weapon in comparison. “How about I give you two bucks more, and you give me a real dart?”

A few minutes later, they're walking back to the car, giant blue dinosaur in tow.

Donnie looks ridiculous holding it and seems painfully aware of that, his hands stiff like he needs everyone to know this is not for him.

It's equally annoying and cute.

She opens the door for him, and he bends almost in half to push the plush into the backseat.

He's so tall now. They used to be almost the same height, especially when April hit her final growth spurt at the end of high school and gave up on heels for good.

But she has to tilt her head to look him in the face now, and she wonders when all of this happen.

There's so much to Donnie now, so many things she missed in the five years she was gone.

He didn't offer the plushie to her, which feels like something Old-Donnie would trip and fall over himself to do. Because he liked her, so it didn't matter that she wasn't all that interested either, and it didn't matter if she could do it on her own.

And Old-April would hate it, and it'd make her feel stupid and no better than all those prizes hung along the carts.

“You can get these things for like five bucks online,” says New-Donnie, pulling out of the car. “It's a real rip-off.”

“Yeah,” says New-April. “It really fucking is.”

**

April doesn't dance.

It's what she's been saying at every family function, at every prom, at every house party, at her graduation.

And it's mostly the truth, because she doesn't – not with her family and not with her school friends.

She's far away from the painfully insecure teenage girl she used to be, but she always thought there's something everyone ought to keep from those years, and this is hers.

But there are very few things she'd insist on keeping away from people she fought a war with, Donnie being one of them.

She's a city girl, really, unless someone else calls her that, in which case she was "born and raised in the countryside, fuck you". But there's a certain charm to barns and stacks of hay and miles and miles of nothing but corn that she can't quite resist.

“I want to dance,” she says, leaning against the wooden doorframe.

This barn is a lot bigger than anything they ever had at the Farmhouse; repainted and polished up for the tourists. There was a crowd here the whole evening, but it's now late enough for most of the families with kids to fade away, replaced by adults only now going out, or drunk enough to stay.

They're playing a song she vaguely knows, something from the 70's or 80's, and she's feeling warm and fuzzy from overpriced food and good humor.

“I'm not stopping you,” Donnie says.

That gives April a pause.

Because: A – he's being polite and giving her an out in case she wants it; or B – he's dismissing her.

She's not a gambling woman, and she doesn't like her odds here, and there's a part of her that wishes she could just ask him.

But it's one of the many things she doesn't allow herself to do, because she feels like she can't.

She can't talk about things like wanting something more with her ex-not-boyfriends, and she can't go back and forth on her own word now, and she can't have a crush on Donnie, because all of those things are what caused them to drift apart in the first place.

Even if she really, really wants to.

But she can have this evening, and she can have this dance, and if it makes everything awkward and awful again – then be it.

“Come with me,” she adds.

Donnie looks at her.

He told her once that he feels like his brain just works fster than most people's, and she's willing to believe him, judging by all the small expressions that pass over his face.

She knows this is something he would've killed for just a few years back, and this little hesitation makes her feel strangely secure.

Donnie's so different now, free from every awkward habit that clung to him as a teenager. There's so much of everything she used to (and still does) love about him on full display, dressed in a new layer of confidence.

He laughs the same, and there's still that familiar spark in his eyes when something interests him, and he still tends to ramble till he falls out of breath. She always liked that, those moments when they were just two friends, hunched over microscopes and computers together.

But she also likes this new way he makes her feel now – like there's no image she has to fit into, like she can be just April – not an A+ student, or a perfect daughter, or a pretty girl.

There's some bitter irony in that.

That the result of Donnie finally letting go is what made her fall for him like this.

“Alright,” Donnie says, finally. “But I'm an awful dancer.”

***

He really is.

He's stiff and tense, but he doesn't step on her feet, and that's good enough for April.

“Can I tell you something?” He asks over the music, maybe just for the sake of saying anything.

“No,” April answers, because she has a feeling this isn't all that serious, at least not in a worrying way.

He's been keeping a respectful distance, but April steps closer (mostly) to hear him better. She wraps her hands around his arms, and that finally gives him enough courage to rest his palms on her shoulder blades.

“I think Raph is going to propose soon.”

She expected a lot of things but not this, and it makes her blink – taken aback.

And then she grins, squeezing Donnie's shoulder with sudden excitement.

“Fucking hell!” The older couple next to them gives her a look, and she lowers her voice again. “How come?”

“He's been acting weird lately. Asking about good spots for a 'nice date' and all that,” Donnie says, leaning down a little. Maybe just to hear her better. Maybe. “Oh, and I saw the ring.”

April raises her eyebrows.

“Why do you always do that?”

“What?”

“Say the most important thing last. You think Mona will like it?” She questions.

“You think she'd say no?” There's a sudden drop in song and Donnie pulls his arm out to spin her in, her dress twirling around her in a circle.

“What? No,” she says, a little breathless from smiling and laughing now. “Obviously she'll say yes. But I don't know if aliens do proposals like that.”

She steps forward, hand wrapped around Donnie's back, until he's leaning in something resembling a dip. It must look ridiculous on the outside, but the closeness makes her heart beat a little faster.

“I mean, you're the only other alien we're close with.” He straightens again but doesn't pull away this time. “So, what do you think?”

April hums, like she's thinking long and hard.

“If Raphael wants to propose to me, I'm all in.”

“Stop that,” he says, voice a little rough with amusement and something else she can't quite put her finger on.

“I think he should just ask her about it.”

“But then it wouldn't be a surprise.”

The song changes into something a little more upbeat, and she spins again, a little ungraceful in her heavy boots.

“I don't think proposals should be a total surprise,” she says honestly.

Donnie looks at her, maybe a little surprised.

“Really?” It seems like he doesn't really share the same view, and she never expected him to. The helpless romanticism is the part he kept from his teenage years.

“Well, yeah. Like, you should talk about getting married in general before it.”

Donnie seems to think about that for a moment. April knows she has the point here, and that he might never admit it, and she's fine with that.

“What if you dated a really great guy for, like, ten years, and then he suddenly proposes? Does it matter then whether you talk about it before or after?”

In April's mind, ten years and no talk of marriage is an answer enough.

“I don't know,” she jokes. “Ask me in ten years.”

“That's a long time.”

“You said that's how long it'd take for someone to marry me.”

“I'll marry you now.”

And just like that – the world stops.

April freezes mid-step, her smile falling. Her face feels numb and hot, every part of her body twisting with a sudden rush.

Suddenly she's six, and a boy in her class gave her a flower on the playground, because it was orange like her hair.

She's ten, and her crush just asked her to the school dance when she thought he didn't know she existed.

She's sixteen, and there are two boys fighting over her, and she hates the twisted sort of pride it makes her feel.

She's twenty, and the guy she's been 'casually dating' just told her he loved her.

She's twenty-three, and she's dancing in a barn with her best friend, who she just might be in love with, and she's every April she ever was and ever will be – all at the same time.

The silence stretches forever, but it can't really be more than a few seconds. The chorus isn't over yet when Donnie says:

“Oh my God.”

He pulls away, hands raised in the air like he's suddenly scared to touch her, even though she didn't mind it just a few seconds ago and really, this is not the issue here.

“I-”

“I'm so sorry,” he interrupts, voice fast and panicked. “That was a joke. I promise, I was just kidding, I just didn't think- Shit. I'm sorry-”

“Okay.”

She says it louder than maybe necessary, but she feared that if she didn't – she wouldn't say anything at all.

Donnie brings his hand close to his chest in a nervous gesture, breathing fast. It's so rare to see him so off-balance and upset nowadays, and it makes April feel even more awful.

“I believe you,” she says, because she does.

She wouldn't five years ago, but she does now.

She can see Donnie force his breath to even, but he's not looking at her anymore, and maybe that's the worst part of it all.

They stand there until the song ends, and then April says:

“I need fresh air.”

***

There are picnic tables set up outside the barn, close enough to hear the music but far enough away to keep some privacy in case anyone wanted to have a discreet smoke, or make out, or recover from a possible near cardiac arrest.

April sits on one of them, boots on the bench.

Donnie leans against the other side, the distance painfully noticeable. He didn't even follow her outside until she looked over her shoulder and waved him over, and she supposes she really can't blame him for any of that, as painful as it feels.

She leans her elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hands. There's not much of a view – mostly green fields and dark sky, but there are more stars here than she ever saw in New York.

“Shame you don't see them much in the city,” she says.

Donnie blinks. He's been chewing on his thumb, visibly distracted, and it takes him a moment to realize what she's talking about.

“Oh. Yeah.” he says. Then: “April, listen, I'm really-”

“Donnie, it's fine,” she interrupts with a sigh. “Sorry I made it weird.”

His mouth draws into a thin line, like he doesn't really believe her but won't argue about it.

But it really is fine.

She knows it was a joke, and that he didn't mean anything by it, and it's her fault because she thought about it a little too hard.

And she got scared.

She got scared that there would be another night like this, where she's warm and safe, and so, so in love, and he will say the same thing, and this time, she'll say yes.

And then nothing will be the same ever again.

She's terrified of it – of losing him again, of making the same mistakes they made when they were kids.

“You're right, by the way,” Donnie says after another quiet moment. “It is a real shame.”

“Yeah.” April reaches down, wrapping one of her shoelaces around her finger, just to keep her hands busy. “Makes you wanna move to a farm.”

“If Leo doesn't have to almost die this time, I'm all in.”

It's the sort of joke that doesn't really make anyone laugh, even after all this time, but it makes it all just a little easier.

April shifts on the table, moving a little closer to Donnie. He doesn't pull away, and she takes that as a good sign.

“I wouldn't, tho,” she confesses. “Move to a farm, I mean. I'd miss it here. Maybe that's why I keep coming back.”

Donnie hums.

“Yeah, I mean,” he shrugs, “I'm glad you're back now. I missed you.”

It's a simple statement, all honest and innocent, and it makes all the blood inside of her veins boil.

Because fucking hell did she miss him.

There was a wall between them after she left, something she started to lay down herself, but it hurt her either way when he put down his own part.

It was for the better, and she believes that even now, no matter how hard it is sometimes. They couldn't be friends, and they couldn't be anything more, and there was a part of her that resented him for it.

She hated feeling like that, like there was nothing she could do other than hurt his feelings or lie to him. There must've been a moment when he realized it, too, because it was never the same after she moved out.

She missed New York and her family, and she came back every month, called every week, texted every day.

They were a group, that little family she carved out for herself – April and her boys. But she only really saw Donnie when they were all together, learned about his life through second-hand remarks.

It was Leo who told her Donnie started to take online classes, that he found a part-time job in some local car repair shop that could never afford him if he actually cared about the money, that there are now people who'd kill for every piece of scrap metal and motherboard his hands ever touched.

If they talked directly, it was brief but never tense, and he'd ask her about that one class she aced, or that professor who insisted she intern for him, or that local newspaper that published her article, and she knew he heard that from Leo, or Casey, or whoever else.

He was hers, and she was his. They all were, in that way only people who lived through and saw the things they did could be.

But she thinks that somewhere along those five years – they stopped being friends.

Leaving opened up a part of her she didn't notice before. They occupied so much of her life – Donnie and Casey, that she never even thought of taking that space for herself, under her own rules.

She dated guys in college; nice boys with pretty smiles and curly hair, who dressed in oversized sweaters and always modified something in their coffee order.

They never stuck, and she never minded.

She finished college like she said she would, and then she came back – like she said she would.

And then Donnie was suddenly there, and everything between them clicked into place, like those rough edges they managed to sand down in the last five years never existed. Like they were always this comfortable next to each other, like they always talked every day and went to dumb festivals, like it was always this easy.

She's not even sure it's really easy now. It doesn't feel like it.

She must be quiet for just a moment too long, because Donnie looks at her. April doesn't know what her face looks like, but it can't be good, because he frowns with worry.

“Sorry?” He says, unsure.

And she's so, so tired of this.

Of all the things she can't say or do, of every day they wasted on not being friends, and every day they're wasting now pretending it's enough.

“I missed you, too,” she says.

She doesn't remember moving closer, but here she is now. The table is tall, and they're almost at the same height. When he looks her in the eyes, it feels like every unsaid word.

“This-” He starts but doesn't finish.

He stands still, like he's scared any wrong move could make her turn and run, and she supposes he's not entirely wrong.

“I hated it,” she confesses. “When we weren't talking.”

It's selfish to say that, because it was exactly what she wanted. What they both needed, maybe.

But Donnie says:

“Me too.”

And it's easy to imagine a world where it was all different.

Where she stayed in New York, and they grew up together, and there wasn't a single moment where she doubted if she even knew him anymore.

“But I needed time,” Donnie says.

And she knows it's true.

Because in the world where she didn't leave – where she never felt that painful blow of understanding she's not the smartest kid in the room, where she never went to house parties and never lost her shoe stumbling her way back to her dorm, where she never cut her bangs in the middle of the night and regretted it by morning – she wouldn't be sitting here right now.

Donnie would be different too, for better or for worse, and he wouldn't be standing in front of her, carefully raising his arm to take her wrist in his hand, squeezing lightly.

His eyes are careful, face drawn, and then he shifts his fingers a little further up.

He's testing the waters, and in a different world – April would pull away.

But she doesn't.

Donnie slides his hand up until he's cradling his elbow, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on her forearm.

“I know,” April says. “Me too.”

“I wanted to...” He starts and then stops again, calculating every word. “I wanted to move on.”

“And did you?”

He watches her for a long, careful moment. Then:

“No.” His voice is rough, like it's been a while since he admitted this even to himself. “But it got easier.”

Her dad used to say that 'old love doesn't rust', and she thinks she might finally believe him.

April moves to sit at the edge of the table, letting Donnie rest his hand next to her, their knees touching.

“Yeah,” April says, so quiet it's almost a whisper. “Me neither.”

One moment they're like this, still and quiet, with soft music and laughter coming from far away.

And then the next – she's cradling his face, fingers smoothing over his jawbone, and he has his hands on her hips, firm and grounding, and her head is a buzz of every hidden feeling, every second of doubt, every wasted moment.

When Donnie kisses her, it feels like every orange flower, like every school dance, like every prideful bone in her body, like every 'I love you'.

When April kisses Donnie, it's every corner she carved out for herself, every space she filled up on her own rules, every dance they ever shared, every 'I'll marry you now'.

She thinks she might be dead, or dying, and the only things keeping her alive are Donnie's hands on her hips and his warm breath on her lips, and she pulls away, tilting her head back to laugh, every bone in her body humming.

Donnie laughs too, a quiet and dazed thing, like he's still not really sure what's happening, which is fine, because April doesn't either.

“If I knew, I would've driven you out here a long time ago,” he says, which sounds like a joke but probably isn't.

She leans forward to kiss the side of his neck, his cheek.

“It's not the barn that did it,” she says.

It feels so nice; to finally let herself ignore all the things she can't do, or shouldn't, or any other thing her careful mind has been telling her.

To let herself be selfish, just this once.

To forget everything that happened between them at fifteen, sixteen, nineteen, and remember that this is her friend, one of the bravest people she's ever met, that his eyes light up every time he looks at her, and how much she missed seeing him laugh like this.

She kisses him, short and sweet, before finally saying what's been gathering in the back of her mind for months now.

“I want to give this a shot.” She rubs her thumbs over his cheeks, smoothing over the lines on his face. “It's- I can't help it anymore.”

It's raw and honest, vulnerable in a way she doesn't usually allow herself to be.

Donnie watches her for a moment, eyes wide and red in the dim light.

“Yes,” he says, voice light with something hopeful. “Fuck, yes.”

It all feels a bit unreal, and like she might wake at any moment, or make a wrong move, and it'll all fall apart again.

But she knows it' different this time, because they're different, and she won't let Donnie go, even if it doesn't work out.

She kisses him again, in the middle of a field, with yellow lights and country music all around.

She's twenty-three, there's a moldy apartment and minimum wage internship waiting for her back home, and there's everything she didn't know she needed this bad – right between her hands.

And maybe, for once in her life, she thinks that's enough.

[kleptocatsims]

first night alone in the new home⭑𓂃

risky woohoo 😏

-as per usual cat rant below .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

i making relight my bitch 💪 or trying at least.

these look a lot better then my first tries! i also am using a new g-shade preset and it's really improved my game :D it's a lot less heavy then my other !

i'm sorry it took me so long to finish their home, ans even now it's not completely done. I need to do the garage and two other bedrooms but those will wait till more babies appear! Hopefully another one soon!

anyways :D i need to work on how i want my blog to look and flow for a while. it's a mess so maybe i'll take time to do that tomorrow!

ALSO LOOK OUT FOR A WEDDING POST

[vii0so]

[ BSD 124 Spoilers ]

Thoughts, Theories and Analysis

This was typed and meant to be posted the same week the update came out but instead it's been collecting dust in my drafts because I've been busy and haven't had time to continue it. I remember wanting to go more in depth on topics.

Anyway, since the update will be out tomorrow, I'm posting it. Be aware, I haven't checked what I wrote, so if it looks like a point was abruptly stopped or something doesn't make sense it's because of that.

-

Firstly and most importantly, it's not over, nothing ever is with this story. The only thing over is Ueda's suffering and guilt.

This part, Ame-no-Gozen, may be over (or maybe not) but just because a pawn has been captured doesn't mean it's checkmate. Fyodor is still out there, the battle isn't over.

Secondly, Akutagawa did die...I'll explain.

Akutagawa's head was crushed and so he died. In the last chapter I assumed he wouldn't stay dead, just like all the others killed by Ame-No-Gozen who turned into bubbles. Surprisingly, this wasn't exactly the case. Akutagawa never even got to become bubbles.

In one part, Atsushi says the following:

Basically, once the space breaks, all the people trapped inside (the people killed by ame-no-gozen who turned into bubbles, as well as Atsushi and Ueda) will be free and therefore alive.

This is great and I expected it...but something I didn't expect was that on top of breaking the space itself, he also travels back in time to before Akutagawa's death to save him.

The time travel wasn't the unexpected part, the director literally explained that Atsushi could move between past and present in that space, so it was bound to happen.

But if Akutagawa was going to bubble anyway, then once the space was broken he'd be fine again...so why travel to before his "death"?

Also, side note, this may just be me, but I find it interesting that the time travel was shown to us in the form of a static screen...actually, the more I stare at it, the more it looks like scribbling out a scene in pen, which makes more sense too:

Anyway, before I try to answer the "why travel to before his "death"?" let's think about the "what does this mean?".

Time travel is finicky and all authors, stories, and plot conditions make time travel have different outcomes and effects.

There are many ways time travel may work, here are a few:

Creates an alternate timeline, erasing the previous one. -1 +1

Creates an alternate timeline and the time traveler ceases to exist in the previous one but the timeline continues to exist. -0 +1

Rare case that only works under specific narrative conditions: The time traveler was always meant to go back in time and change stuff, therefore the timeline remains the same. -0

The amount of time traveled also makes a difference to the timeline; luckily, in Atsushi's case, it was only minutes.

One common factor about time travel (except in a few rare cases) is the fact that:

Time travel creates alternate / branching timelines.

Let's backtrack a bit:

In an old post of mine, back when we found out Atsushi was the "bookmark" and I tried explaining what that meant, I said this:

Well let's start simple: "What's a bookmark?" It's an indication of where you left off in a story. In a game, you could think of it as a [save] point.

The bookmark would be the only way to progress in a story. The only thing telling you where the 'present' is. Time is divided in three: Past -> Present -> Future Q. Where is Atsushi? A. The present No matter wether he could time travel, or we read chapter 1 again, he will always be experiencing it 'currently'/in 'present time'.

At the time, I myself wasn't sure how to explain it properly and tried to explain my thoughts as best as possible. Surprisingly, I was technically right!

To paraphrase and add a bit:

Atsushi, as the bookmark, represents the present. Time travel is possible because no matter where in time Atsushi is it'll count as present time, just like a bookmark in a book, he marks what page we're on.

Now...I don't know how many of you reading this have ever read any Gamebooks like 'choose your own adventure' or played any Visual Novels with choices and different routes and endings, but I'll be using them as a way to further explain, so I'll try to explain a bit about them.

In a Gamebook, while reading, you are given choices, for example:

In an attempt to find out where the sound came from, you run towards the hall. Just as you enter, you see a lady running down the left corridor, screaming about a ghost. As you're about to follow her, you see a ghost floating down the corridor on your right, towards the garden. Who do you want to follow?

If you want to follow the ghost, flip to page 56

If you want to follow the screaming lady, flip to page 82

You then go to the page, read until another choice appears and eventually reach one of the endings of the book.

A Visual Novel (VN) has the same concept as a Gamebook but is a video game with pictures and music, along with words. Some are more like plays (more dialogue and inner thoughts) while others are more like novels (more descriptions, paragraphs and only necessary dialogue).

One thing in common with both VNs and Gamebooks is the way the reader/player always has to make choices that lead to different situations and/or endings. They're interactive, with branching routes, bad and good endings.

Another thing they have in common is a bookmark.

A Gamebook is an actual book and therefore a bookmark can work with it easily; just put it between the pages to save your place. You choose to follow the ghost and flip to page 56? Ok, the bookmark is now on page 56. You want to go back and follow the screaming lady instead? Sure, the bookmark is now on page 82 as if you never followed the ghost. We control the bookmark to mark where we're up to, what the 'present time' in the story is to us.

In VNs it's slightly different. A choice appears that may branch the timeline? You have to save that instance to a save slot. A few dialogue boxes later you realise you should have picked the other option? You load your save from its save slot and travel back to the option again, like nothing in the other timeline happened, erased.

Both of these examples are great. Visual Novels loading and overwriting save files, therefore erasing that timeline (even if the possibility of it still existed in the branches) and Gamebooks that use a bookmark to mark the present timeline, choice after choice, and jump between them.

Now, when it comes to Atsushi as the bookmark, the similarities can help us understand how time travel was used in this context, and so, we can figure out what happened to the previous timeline.

Placing the bookmark back (loading a save) makes it so anything that happened after that, never happened. Therefore the new timeline becomes the only timeline and the old timeline is erased, overwritten, and ceases to exist.

Even without the bookmark deep dive, just considering the scribbled out effect to show the time travel, it lets us imagine the previous timeline being scribbled out, erased and rewritten.

So yes, in the old (now erased) timeline, Akutagawa died. But that him has now ceased to exist and this him is the only existence.

Also, while the previous timeline was erased, it doesn't change the fact that this is now a different timeline, where Akutagawa never saw the Dazai hallucination as he was never in a near death state by Ame-no-Gozen before being killed. I'm actually a little upset by this...like, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's alive, but his near death hallucination experience felt like a needed moment of weakness (in a positive he-finally-shed-a-tear way) and weird form of acceptance, and now, the current him never got that.

I guess it makes sense though...if you're only reason to live is to seek acknowledgement by proving yourself through fighting and basically wanting to be told you've fought enough, that your effort wasn't for nothing, that your life had meaning, then why live past it and not accept your death when it's right there? If he lived past that, do you think he'd have the same resolve to live and fight? The reset meant never getting what he wanted, and that was the only way to keep him going.

Also, I think I saw someone mention how Atsushi saw Akutagawa's Dazai hallucination and that's why he Thanos-snapped the timeline. I get that it was probably just a headcanon, but I'm just going to mention it here in case anyone was genuinely confused: Atsushi did not see anything.

Even if Atsushi could magically see other people's hallucinations, there just wasn't enough time. Atsushi looked out onto reality, saw Akutagawa for a second, witnessed his death, and then shouted his name, no indication or enough time for him to see anything.

Anyway, let's quickly talk about where the new timeline starts:

On the left we have the erased timeline (Chapter 123.5) and on the right we have the new timeline (Chapter 124). Both panels are of the same moment.

Akutagawa's left arm still bubbled, it's just that at that moment in the new timeline, Atsushi suddenly appeared from the dead and took Akutagawa's full attention instead.

That's the first difference in the timeline.

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

So why travel to before his "death"? idk (maybe I knew while writing this all in the start but I didn't write any note for myself)

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

I was initially briefly confused by this. Was the Ame-no-Gozen we knew actually Tsuki-no-Gozen or was the sword used to remove Ame-no-Gozen's life force Tsuki-no-Gozen?

The answer: The sword used to remove Ame-no-Gozen's life fore: Tsuki-no-Gozen.

It pulled out Fukuchi, who was Ame-no-Gozen's life force, essentially killing it. We can even see Ueda holding the sword and the difference being clearly shown.

[krussyarts]

He demanded to be drawn as cunty as possible waist down. Grabbed me by the collar and yelled at me (fucken bitch istg)

I've been sitting on this for weeks now lol

More notes and whatnot below cut

Weirdmageddon version largely inspired by RGBill, hence why he's there

He still has four fingers bc I read somewhere how Ford has the two extra fingers of his and I think that's cool. Also Bill would totally do that just to manipulate Ford into thinking they're similar.

There's a difference between the two versions not just design wise but also on the level that the "regular" one is more like a puppet than anything, whereas the weirdmageddon one is a physical form. That's what the arms snaking around his "arms" are for!! They're for puppeteering! He doesn't care enough about legs to bother linking them up as properly.

Bitch puts on as much jewelry as possible I just got lazy after a while lol

[screwpinecaprice]

Valentines strawberry biscuit🌹💕

[emo-batboy]

A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)

Part 43 (Masterlist)

(Part 44)

Me, to myself: I just think the series was better when I posted several times a week because the pacing felt more natural, and it translates better when people binge it.

Also Me, holding two jobs and a bat: If you try to post once a day again, I will disconnect your head from your shoulders—

@bruciemilf guess who’s back

Anyways, folks! :D So I'm thinking of a new upload schedule where I spend a bit preparing the next ten or so parts then post it all in two weeks? I think that would be fun (and much better for my creative process.)

I’ll be posting the next part very soon :) But it's going to be drastically different from what I've done before. Let’s see if anyone can guess why.

Yada yada don’t die LOVE Y’ALL

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

[thanatos-zagreus-shagreus]

had the idea of adding the glyphs from the owl house onto my denim jacket so I taught myself embroidery and did this as a first project!

here's hoping I'm not gonna randomly glow/freeze/burn alive/have a plant grow out of my shoulder I guess?

Close-ups, pic in sunlight (showing the proper colours), and fire glyph progress pics under the cut I swear I also took progress pics of the other glyphs but I can't find them rn

they're all about 5 cm in diameter and I personally think the ice glyph came out a little wobbly but it was my first embroidery ever and the fabric on that part of the jacket is also a little wobbly so I'm happy with the result

the lovely yellow lighting in my room is biting me in the ass rn bc the yellow and green are a lot lighter irl and the blue and red are a bit more vibrant

here's a photo I took in the sun that captures the colours better!

the fire glyph was the last one! I believe there were like two and a half months between finishing the third glyph and starting this one oops (but also yay bc the weather was amazing this weekend so I did a large chunk of the fire glyph while sitting in the sun!)

and a picture of the shoulder while I'm wearing the jacket! though normally the position of the fire glyph falls a little less front-facing (which is great irl bc that way it looks more interesting from the side and back instead of just from the front)

[superfandomlife]

Memoir Of Rati (��าฤกรติชา) - Episode 05 (2025)

Bonus:

[ziyechs]

@cementcornfield i read your tags on this post and was like.............. wait i remember this. so i went on a 3h youtube deepdive and lo and behold:

final thing for you two guys and i appreciate your time. i think bengals fans want to know: should we feel confident that joe and ja’marr are going to be nfl teammates for a long, long time?

— “well, i definitely want them to be together and i think ja’marr does too, you know, because i was talking to him one time and i was telling him: ‘you know, this is the nfl and this is a business also. so, you know, you might have to go find another quarterback’. and he was like: ‘no, dad, i’m staying with joe. i’m not going nowhere else.’”

[ratcandy]

hi every. MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ACT 6 / 2HATS

this is my first time drawing Any of these guys and I do not draw human characters well but i had to get this out of my system or i'd explode. ok bye. this game has done things to me

youtube version