#i gotta switch up angles and stuff

[archerdepartures116]

saw cdrama winter clothes on pintrest and wanted to draw smth

[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), Part 4, (Part 5)

CM Punk/Phil Brooks x reader

Seth Rollins/Colby Lopez x reader

TW: The usual angst, lots of confrontation, fluff, Damian and Rhea being flirty, this is over 14k words, but it’s a cute and a very important chapter.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling , @scream4mami

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

“I’m walking in right now, Joe,” Y/N tells her best friend, phone smooshed against her face as she carries her duffle bag into the arena with her. It was an unusual night where she would be performing on Monday Night Raw at the request of Adam Pearce. Paul Levesque had informed her of a new rivalry angle between her and Nia Jax who is still currently signed under the red brand.

Y/N takes pride as an actively defending champion. No matter who it is, or whatever brand they perform on, she’s open to the challenge. It also gives her more opportunities to appear on both brands which is even better exposure. It’s always been her dream to be the face of WWE so she’s not afraid to put in the work to do it.

“You know he’s gon’ be there tonight, right?” Joe reminds her warily. “And after Friday night, I dunno how comfortable I am lettin’ you be near him.”

“Joe, it’s just a match near the end of the show,” Y/N tries to calm him down. “I can just stay with Colby the whole night and it’ll be fine.”

“I just don’t understand why you gotta have a match every week,” he huffs playfully, wishing she would spend more time relaxing. Her schedule would stress caffeine out. “You could be out on the lake with me, Galina, and the kids.”

“Okay, first of all,” Y/N laughs loudly, “Absolutley not. Galina doesn’t get to see you much as it is so I would never intrude on a family outing. Second of all, I don’t mind having frequent matches. It keeps me sharp, reminds me that I can always learn more.”

Joe sighs, “I know. Just bugs me that you never take time off.”

“I don’t have anyone to take time off for,” Y/N says nonchalantly as she walks inside the building. She smiles, sending waves to some of the people she knows as she heads to Pearce’s office. “My parents are always doin’ some cool vacation stuff with their retirement money and my siblings are off doing their own thing. I swear we meet up for Christmas and Easter and that’s about it. I’m pretty sure the last time I did thanksgiving at home was the year of my debut.”

“That’s what I’m saying though,” he says exasperatedly. “Even if it’s not for your biological family, you can always take time to hang out with us.”

“If it was a whole family affair and the entire Anoa’i, Fatu bloodline was there, I’d go,” she tells him. “But this is a small family thing for your wife and kids. Just enjoy it and stop worrying about me.”

“When you gonna get it through that thick head I’m always worried ‘bout you,” Joe’s voice softens, surprising her with how genuine he sounds. “You my ride or die, Y/N/N. No matter what. You my wing woman, my right hand. No matter how hard Colby tries to get you to switch sides,” he adds the last part smugly.

Y/N rolls her eyes, practically hearing the smirk on his face. “If there’s one thing I can say about myself is that I’m one loyal SOB,” she grins even though he can’t see her. “I love Colbs, but my brothers come first.”

Joe nods, his heart warming. “Thas my girl.”

Y/N rounds the corner, locating the door with Pearce’s name plate on it. “Ight, well I gotta go. I have a quick meeting with Pearce before the show starts. I’ll talk to you later, Chief.”

“Okay.” Joe responds, but as Y/N goes to hang up, his voice stops her. “But Y/N… just promise me one thing.”

“What’s up?”

There’s a brief pause, “Don’t let him talk on you like that. ‘Cause if he does, I’ll send Josh out there faster than he can say his own damn name.”

Y/N looks down at her Air Force ones, forcing herself to not relive what was said that Friday night. She shakes her head, jaw ticking, “Trust me, if he wants to talk shit, he’ll be saying it to my face this time.”

“Good,” Joe nods, satisfied with her answer. “Okay, well have a good show, alright? Go kick my cousin's ass.”

“Will do,” she adjusts her bag strap. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And with one click the call ends. Without wasting much more time she finally knocks on Adam’s door. She waits maybe two seconds before the man emerges with a warm smile on his face. “Y/N, please, come in, come in.” He opens the door wider for her, allowing her to take a step inside. Once she’s comfortably situated in the office, he closes the door behind them.

There are papers and multiple different documents places in an organized fashion on his desk. Y/N takes a seat, smiling softly when she notices the amount of pictures adorning Adam’s desk. He’s always been a very personable guy, not afraid to show his love for the people in his life. He’s also a fantastic general manager, one she’s missed working with since being on SmackDown.

Adam rounds his desk, taking a seat in his own chair. “First off, I just want to say thank you for doing this on such short notice,” he says gratefully. “We were planning on doing a segment with her and Becky tonight, but the writers thought this would be a nice little Easter egg to throw in for a future feud.”

“Yeah, no worries,” Y/N waves him off. “Lina and I got a chance to go over our bumps a few times over the weekend at the performance center so it should go as planned.”

“I’m not worried,” Adam smiles. “I trust ya. I’m sure you and Lina will have the match of the night.”

“I sure hope so,” Y/N agrees with a light laugh.

“All right, well, you are more than welcome to leave your things in the women’s locker room,” Adam tells her. “Or if there’s somewhere else you’d feel more comfortable, feel free to go wherever.” Y/N nods as he stands, reorganizing some papers. He smooths over his blazer, “So after we wrap here, production’s gonna get a live shot of you walking out of this office. Just a little beat to show your arrival for the night — nothing long, just enough to set the tone and let the crowd pop.”

Y/N nods, already mentally timing the beat between the office door opening and the moment she walks into frame. “Got it.”

“From there,” he continues, grabbing a clipboard from his desk, “you’ll take the usual route — head down the main hallway, wave to a few crew members, and we’ll plant some familiar faces along the way.”

He flips the clipboard around to show her a short list of names.

“Damian, Rhea, Dom — they’ll be hanging around catering. Seth’ll be near Gorilla later, so we’ll have him cross paths with you on the way. The idea is to stir the pot a bit. Nothing overt. Just enough interaction for people to start guessing.”

“Guessing what?” she grins, playing dumb.

“That you’re thinking about jumping ship. Getting friendly with Judgment Day. Cozying up with the Monday Night Messiah again. You know how it works,” Adam smirks. “We just want a bit of a reaction.”

She chuckles. “Can’t wait to see the Twitter meltdowns.”

He sets the clipboard down, his expression shifting slightly — not serious, but intentional. “And there’s one more thing I want to go over with you.”

Y/N watches him closely, sensing the shift.

“Phil’s officially signing with Raw tonight.”

There’s a pause. Just a breath. Y/N doesn’t move — not a twitch of the jaw or flick of the eyes. She’s been trained for moments like this.

Adam gives her a moment, then continues. “You don’t need to say anything. I just thought you deserved to know. I respect what you’ve built on SmackDown, and I know you and Phil have a… history. Didn’t want this to feel like it came out of nowhere.”

Y/N gives a small nod, keeping her tone even. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

He studies her face a second longer before softening again. “I just wanted you to hear it from me instead of being blindsided by it.”

Y/N could feel the meeting come to an end so she stands. She sends him a small smile and reaches forward to shake his hand. Adam holds it for an extra second longer, a genuine look in his eyes, “And Y/N, for what it’s worth… if there ever comes a point where you want to call Raw home again, there’s always a top spot for you. You’ve earned that ten times over.”

Her heart squeezes in her chest, but she doesn’t let it show. “I appreciate that, Adam. Really.”

He opens the door slightly, a cue that her live cue is coming. A stagehand just beyond the frame gives them a two-finger countdown.

Adam gestures with a smile. “Show’s yours.”

Y/N adjusts the strap of her duffle bag and steps through the door just as the red light above the camera switches on.

The door to Adam Pearce’s office cracked open with a low creak, and within seconds, the arena reacted like someone lit a fuse. The camera caught her first — just a glimpse — before the crowd fully processed what they were seeing.

Y/N, walking cockily, ready for her match with Nia later that night, the Women’s Undisputed Championship perched perfectly on her shoulder like it was born there. Her black and gold trimmed leather jacket covers her cropped black tank top, tight leggings accompanying the other parts of her outfit. Her duffle bag swings back into place as she rolls one shoulder, adjusting the strap without even looking.

She stepped into the hallway like she owned it. She kind of did.

What Pearce hadn't mentioned in the contract meeting — what he didn’t prep her for in that brief meeting— was the angle the Judgement day would be playing at with her.

The cameras followed her as she continued walking down the hallway. That’s when she sees them. They weren’t standing in formation. That wasn’t their style. They were draped across production crates and bathed in purple LED backlight like they’d been born out of the shadows. All three of them — Rhea Ripley, Dominik Mysterio, and Damian Priest — watching her like they already knew something she didn’t.

Rhea saw her first. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she pushed off the crate with lazy confidence, arms folded, chains glinting in the low light. “Well, would you look at that? Look who SmackDown decided to lend us for the night.”

Y/N’s pace didn’t slow, but her smirk did creep in. “Don’t tell me you missed me already.”

“Babe,” Rhea said, voice low and smooth, “I never stop.”

There it was — easy, sharp-edged banter. Her and Demi have been tight for years outside of kayfabe, but inside the walls of WWE, nothing was off-limits. Least of all the chemistry.

Y/N’s gaze flicked to Dom next. He straightened up from his slouch and tossed her a grin. “What’s up, champ?” he said, casually adjusting the chain around his neck. “Lookin’ like a million bucks.”

“Someone’s feeling bold,” she replied, eyebrow arched. “Or maybe something else caught your attention?” She nods down to her championship belt, subtly calling him a gold digger.

Dom didn’t blink. “Nah. I just call it like I see it.”

She chuckled under her breath — okay, cute. That was fair.

But then Damian stepped forward, and everything about the energy shifted. He didn’t grin. He didn’t nod. He looked at her — eyes dragging from her boots to the curve of the belt on her shoulder, then landing on her face like he was seeing something worth burning for.

And then he said, voice just rough enough to scrape under her skin: “Didn’t think Pearce had the balls to bring in someone with your bite… even if it’s just for the night.”

Y/N’s breath caught — just barely — and she masked it with a scoff. That wasn’t in the run sheet. “You know Pearce,” she said coolly. “He plays it safe… until he doesn’t.” She shrugs, shining off her belt with a smile, “Besides, I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

Damian took one more step — closer than needed, just enough to force the camera to tilt up slightly to catch them both in frame. She didn’t move back. “You always look this good after business meetings,” he said, eyes flicking to her mouth, “or is this just a special occasion?”

That stopped her. Just for a second. Long enough for her to wonder if Pearce had strategically kept that part of the script vague. Long enough for her to feel it — the pull, the electricity that wasn’t part of the job. She arched a brow. “You flirting with me, Priest? Or maybe this is some sort of recruitment tactic,” she looks him up and down, lifting an eyebrow.

Damian’s smile was slow, lethal. “Why not both?”

And okay — that got her. Bold move, she thought. Definitely not in the brief.

Rhea watched the exchange with open amusement, leaning in toward Dom like they were courtside at a basketball game. “She’d look good in our colors,” Rhea murmured, not to Y/N — just loud enough for her to hear.

“Think Roman would survive that?” Dom added, grinning as he looked between them. “The champ sliding in with us?”

Y/N clicked her tongue, sharp like a warning “Careful,” she said. “The Bloodline’s got long memories. And longer reach.”

Dom held his hands up. “Hey — no disrespect. I’ve seen what Solo does to people who get too close.”

Rhea smirked. “And I’ve seen what you do to people when you’re bored. That’s why I said to them that we should find you, have a little chat.”

Y/N turned her head, pretending to study a nearby monitor just to keep the grin from fully forming. God, she loved this job.

Damian stepped back — barely — giving her enough space to breathe again. But he kept his gaze on her like a challenge left hanging in the air. “If you ever get tired of standing behind Roman’s throne,” he said, softer now, lower, “we’ve got room for more than one crown.”

Y/N’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t stand behind anyone.”

She took a step past him, not rushed, but deliberate. The camera followed her shoulder as she passed Judgment Day in full — Rhea smirking behind her, Dom mouthing something like “Daaamn,” and Damian still watching like he wasn’t done yet.

Y/N tossed one final look over her shoulder. “Tell your boss,” she said, “next time he sets the trap, he should warn me about the bait.”

Damian just chuckled, voice like thunder low on the horizon. “Who said anything about bait, princesa?”

And that — that — was when she knew. This wasn’t the end of the moment. It was just the start.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The show is going extremely well. The crowd in Cleveland is one of the most reactive they’d seen in a while. Y/N had dropped her bag off with Josh, letting him take it to wherever he kept his things. She’d managed to get changed into her ring gear, earning a low whistle from Josh in the process.

It’s a newer set, black and gold to match the leather jacket from before. Normally, she’d wear red or black to demonstrate her loyalty to the Bloodline, but the stylists had insisted on a new look for the night. She’s on her own tonight, and she’s the champion, might as well look the part.

Josh couldn’t stay with her for long unfortunately. His match with Drew McIntyre was the first of the night so he had to head to Gorilla pretty much right after helping her get situated. He kissed her on the cheek softly right before taking off. Y/N had watched him with a small smile before continuing backstage. Eventually she found a relatively empty area with a monitor so she could watch his match in peace.

McIntyre has had problems with the Bloodline in Kayfabe. They had been interfering in his matches and making his life hell for the past few years. He’s been on the hunt to punish every member of the faction, having gone after Sami Zayn first. He perceived them all as an enemy.

The match has gone back and forth, favoring both men at certain points. Y/N watched carefully, picking up on certain moves she wouldn’t mind adding to her own combat set. Michael Cole and Wade Barrett’s commentary is nice comedic relief from the intensity of the match. Even though it’s all carefully choreographed, sometimes the sells look a little too real.

“You know, I’m not surprised you’re the one who managed to find the only quiet corner in the whole stadium.”

She turned just in time to see Rami Sebei walking up with that same scruffy charm and warm-eyed smile that had somehow survived a thousand promos and even more betrayals. He was already grinning like he’d caught her doing something secret.

“Rami!” she beamed, immediately scooting to one side on the production crate and patting the empty space beside her. “Come here, sit. I haven’t seen your face in forever.”

“Shocking, considering it’s my best feature,” he said dramatically, making a show of fluffing his beard as he plopped down beside her.

She snorted, nudging him with her knee. “Your best feature is your heart and we both know it.”

He raised a brow, touched a hand to his chest. “You flatter me.”

“I try. But really,” she leaned her head lightly on his shoulder for a second, “it’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t even know you were on the call sheet until like… an hour ago. Were you hiding from me?”

She smirked. “Obviously. You caught me. I changed my name, dyed my hair, and faked a new finisher just to avoid running into you again.”

“Wow. Hurtful,” he deadpanned. “After all the emotional labor I did carrying our Honorary status together.”

Y/N laughed, the sound full and easy. “Please. I was the one keeping you from throwing a mic at Roman half the time.”

“Exactly! Emotional labor.”

They both giggled, the kind of laughter that didn’t need context, the kind built on long nights, dark hallways, and sharing too many chips at catering while dodging Heyman’s wrath.

“You’re still you,” she said after a beat, smiling at him softly.

“And you’re still the younger sibling I never asked for but would absolutely throw hands over.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but her grin stayed in place. “You always say the nicest things.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you’re kind of the only person around here who never treated me like a side character. So, yeah. I’m allowed to be biased.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder again, this time letting it rest for a moment.

“God, I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

They stayed like that for a few beats, the quiet settling comfortably between them as Josh kicked out of a near fall on-screen. When Y/N straightened up again, she stretched her arms out in front of her with a small groan. “Can’t believe I’m actually working tonight,” she said, still watching the match. “Creative didn’t tell Lina or me until early Saturday morning. We basically lived at the PC all weekend getting everything ready.”

“Classic,” Rami said with an understanding scoff. “You’d think being a champion would earn you more notice ahead of time.”

She shrugged. “This is my eighth defense in like… a month and a half. At this point, I just show up where they tell me and pray my entrance jacket doesn’t rip mid-segment.”

“You ever just… get tired?” he asked, giving her a sideways glance. “Not just physically. I mean, all of it.”

She let out a breath, not quite a sigh. “Always. But I love it too much to stop. So the tired part doesn’t scare me.”

He nodded, thoughtful again, one arm braced on his knee as he leaned forward, watching the screen with her. McIntyre landed a punishing neckbreaker on Josh, and Y/N winced in solidarity, but didn’t look away. “I used to think that,” Rami said, tone quieter now, “about the tired part. Told myself I’d rather be exhausted doing something I love than bored out of my mind anywhere else.”

Y/N glanced at him, reading more than just nostalgia in his voice. She nudged him gently with her knee. “You miss it?”

“The Bloodline?” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Not the chaos. Definitely not the paranoia. But…” He shrugged. “The purpose. The feeling like you’re part of something. Yeah. That I miss.”

A pause stretched between them, comfortable. “Being ‘honorary’ was a hell of a weird gig, huh?” Y/N asked, a soft laugh in her voice.

Rami smirked. “No kidding. All the responsibility, none of the family dinners.”

Y/N laughed fully at that. “Or the family drama. Although I think I got stuck with more of that than you ever did.”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” he said, grinning. “You got Roman on a leash and Solo breathing down your neck half the time. I just had to survive Jimmy’s nicknames and Jey’s side-eyes.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“I keep telling people,” he said with mock gravity. “Nobody listens.”

She elbowed him again lightly and leaned back on her hands, her boot tapping rhythmically against the side of the crate as Josh kicked out of another pin on-screen. For a moment, it felt like old times — her and Rami, hiding in plain sight backstage, stealing moments of peace in between chaos and storylines. But then his tone shifted again, a little quieter.

“You know,” he started, not looking at her, “I’ve been watching the way they’re setting you up lately.”

Y/N raised a brow. “And?”

“And… it doesn’t look like they’re keeping you Bloodline forever.”

She turned her head sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean…” He finally looked over, something gentle but serious behind his eyes. “You’re on Raw tonight. No backup. New gear. New color scheme. You just did a whole segment with Judgment Day that looked suspiciously like foreshadowing. You really think that’s just coincidence?”

Y/N’s lips parted, ready to refute him, but the words didn’t come. She frowned instead. “It’s just creative trying to stir the pot, get reactions out of the audience. Maybe even trying to start some conspiracy theories to keep WWE trending. It’s not that deep.”

Rami gave her a knowing look. “You think Pearce didn’t hand-pick that segment? I heard him on the phone last week — said he wants ‘stronger female anchors’ on Raw. Plural. Not just one-off appearances. He wants people who draw eyes, Y/N.”

She looked away, jaw tightening.

“And I know you’re smarter than to pretend you didn’t notice that your name’s on a new merch board,” he added, softer now. “Without red.”

Y/N sighed through her nose, the kind of breath that held back the truth. “I’m not leaving the Bloodline,” she said flatly. “Paul wouldn’t do that.”

Rami hesitated. “You mean Levesque?” he asked, voice more careful now. Y/N didn’t answer — not directly. But the slight tension in her jaw spoke volumes. He nodded slowly. “Paul’s not the only one calling the shots anymore, Y/N. And if the higher-ups think a certain kind of drama sells…” He trailed off, but she heard it loud and clear. If the boardroom thought her past — her history with Phil — was worth cashing in on, they wouldn’t hesitate.

“They wouldn’t,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“Wouldn’t they?” Rami replied, softer. “You know how this works.”

She did. The only way they’d move her brands entirely was if she lost the championship — and she wasn’t planning to let that happen anytime soon. That was her safety net. Her line in the sand. But even as the thought formed, a stagehand appeared around the corner.

“Y/N?” they called, politely but urgently. “Your segment with Seth is going live in five. Just a quick hallway run in before his promo with Punk”.

Y/N stood, reluctantly, brushing her palms over her thighs and adjusting the strap of her title on her shoulder. Rami stood with her, “You sure you’re good?” he asked, eyes scanning her face.

She nodded, lips tight. “Always.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Hey — whatever happens next, you’ll be fine. Bloodline or not. You’re more than that.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “You always say the right thing.”

“I’ve got a gift,” he said with a wink, stepping back.

Y/N turned to follow the friendly stagehand, every step deliberate, the sound of the crowd growing louder with each footfall. She wasn’t sure what tonight was really setting up. But for the first time… she wasn’t convinced she was the one steering the wheel anymore.

The camera glides behind her as she walks down the hall as she was instructed— slow, deliberate, almost reverent. Y/N strides through the backstage area like the queen she is. Her boots echo off the concrete, her posture unbothered and unbent. The Raw crowd roars through the walls, but in this corridor, it’s just her — black and gold gear hugging every curve, leather jacket half-shrugged off her shoulder like she couldn’t be bothered to wear it properly.

She has to fight off the smirk threatening to stretch across her face. It’s always an ego boost whenever she hears the crowd get loud for her, even if it’s just a backstage appearance. The women’s championship glistens beneath the overhead lights. Centered, heavy, confident — just like the woman wearing it.

And then — the crowd erupts.

Because ahead of her — leaning casually against a production crate like he was summoned by pure chemistry — stands Seth Rollins. Black suit. Black shirt. Gold accents. Gold aviators. And that glinting World Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder like a weapon made just for him.

The moment their eyes lock, it’s over. Seth’s breath catches — just for a second — because damn.

Matching.

Not planned. Not discussed. But matching perfectly. Black. Gold. Leather. Power. It hits him square in the chest. She looks like trouble wrapped in gold-plated glory. And she looks like she knows it. He pushes his glasses down his nose just far enough to see her better. And damn, she’s even more lethal up close. The sharp look in her eyes. The smirk tugging at her lips. The swagger in her walk like she’s walking toward her prey — or her next mistake.

Seth steps forward, slow and calculated, grinning like he’s already halfway in over his head. “Well, well, well…” he says, voice smooth but loaded. “Didn’t expect you to bring all that gold to my show.”

Y/N stops just short of him — toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye, not an ounce of hesitation. “It’s not your show if I’m here,” she fires back, lips twitching into something playful. “You’re just keeping it warm for me.”

The crowd — even backstage through the screens — reacts immediately. Loud. Screaming. Someone yells “OOHHHHH” off camera. Seth doesn’t blink.

He grins wider. “Careful,” he murmurs. “Say things like that, and people might start thinking you’re after my spot.”

“I can’t want something that’s already mine, Rollins,” she says, slowly tilting her head. “Just go ahead and ask your General Manager.”

He feels his jaw flex. That wasn’t in the script. Neither was the way she steps in even closer — just a whisper of space between them now. Titles practically brushing. The lights above them flicker, like even the building feels the heat building in the space between their bodies. Seth was supposed to say something else next. Something safe. Something scripted.

But he doesn’t.

Because instead, he tips his head and lets his gaze drag down — her title, her outfit, the precision of how everything matches his — and then back up. Slowly. Almost disrespectfully. “Was this little matching incident an accident?” he asks, voice softer now. “Or are you looking this good just for me?”

Y/N’s brow lifts. She’s not supposed to touch him — but the script's already in shambles. So she reaches out — slow and smooth — and straightens the lapel of his jacket. Fingers linger. Press. Brush against the gold chain at his collarbone. “I match energy,” she says, voice like velvet. “Looks like you finally brought the right one.”

The crowd explodes.

Even backstage crew watching nearby are clutching their faces like they’re watching a scandal unfold in real-time. Seth leans forward, his grin tugging at the corners like he’s holding back something way too bold for live TV. “That right?” he murmurs. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re burning the whole place down just by walking through it.”

Y/N chuckles — low, dangerous — and drags her thumb across the edge of his title this time. “Guess we’ll see who survives the fire.” Their eyes lock again — and this time, it’s longer. Hotter. The kind of moment that teeters right on the edge of something explosive. “And between you and I… I’m hoping it’s you.”

His breath catches and neither of them move. Neither of them want to. They're both fully off-script now, and they know it — but no one’s stopping them. It’s too good. It’s too real.

Seth finally pulls back just a hair — like if he doesn’t, he’s going to do something that’ll break PG. “Enjoy your little visit, sweetheart,” he says, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek. “But remember — you’re not the only one who knows how to steal a show.”

Y/N smirks, eyes glinting. “Good,” she says, stepping past him with one last brush of her hand along the edge of his suit jacket. “Then maybe I won’t get bored.” She walks off without a second glance.

And Seth stands there — for just a second — completely wrecked. Because he knows something just happened. Something no one planned. Something the entire arena — and probably the entire internet — is already screaming about. He laughs under his breath, shaking his head and adjusting his sunglasses again. “Damn…”

Even back at commentary, no one knows what to say about what just happened. The buzz of the crowd fills the dead silence until Michael Cole snaps out of whatever haze he and Wade were stuck in.

Cole’s voice cracks. “Uh—did it just get very warm in here?”

Wade Barrett whistles low, still watching the monitor. “I’ve seen staredowns. I’ve seen mind games. But that? That wasn’t mind games. That was—”

“Foreplay?” Cole blurts before immediately clearing his throat. “I mean uh, that was—intense. Very intense.”

Barrett leans back in his chair. “Roman Reigns has made it very clear where his loyalties lie. And his golden girl? Just got very friendly with someone Roman still considers enemy number one.”

Cole nods slowly, visibly rattled. “If this is how Y/N shows up when she’s just visiting Raw… I’m scared to see what happens if she ever decides to stay.”

Barrett chuckles darkly. “Rollins might not survive it. And honestly? We might not either.”

Y/N could feel every part of her body burning after that. She knew it wasn’t smart to go off script, but she couldn’t help it. He looked too damn good not to add a little steam to their interaction. Y/S/N and Seth have always had that banter, but they may have let Y/N and Colby slip through a bit too much. It was a lot easier than either of them would have imagined. Probably because they could easily hide behind their characters.

She could feel people’s eyes on her as she continued walking backstage. She kept her eyes forward unless someone blatantly walked up to her. She noticed a lot of people heading towards catering. It was early on enough in the night to get a quick bite without worrying about missing a cue.

Once she reached another monitor, she caught the tail end of Punk’s speech on SmackDown last Friday. She exhales, nostrils flaring as she stares at his face. That must mean he’s on next. He’s announcing where he’s officially signing.

As if on cue, the monitor comes back to life, showing Adam Pearce standing in the ring with a folder in one hand and a microphone in the other. Y/N crosses her arms over her chest, watching with a stoic look on her face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the time for a sales pitch is over.” There’s a dramatic pause, the crowd roaring before he continues on. “After going to SmackDown and talking to Nick Aldis, and going to NXT to talk to HBK, the man I’m about to bring out here may not need an introduction, but he needs to make a decision.” A buzz of anticipation and excitement fills the room as Pearce expertly creates the build up for Phil to announce his decision to the public. “And after twenty-five years of knowing him, I’m sure he’s gonna make the right one. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the man that calls himself the ‘best in the world,’ C…M… Punk!”

That tv static pulses through the entire building, the crowd screaming loudly for him as he walks out from backstage. He’s wearing the same shirt he wore at SmackDown, just a different pair of jeans and shoes. He struts down the ramp, making sure to high five every person who sticks their hand out towards him. His smile is wide and bright as he continues to soak in every ounce of praise thrown his way. He slowly makes his way to the ring, stopping to acknowledge the audience one more time before climbing into the ring.

He shakes Pearce’s hand respectfully, the two men sharing a brief embrace before Adam hands him his microphone to allow him to make the announcement. His music fades out as the crowd begins to loudly chant his name. It’s like Friday night all over again. She didn’t blame the crowd though. It’s an exciting time. People have been chanting his name for years since he left. There was a point in time where she wanted this day to come more than anything. It’s just funny how much things change.

“I thought I was in a bit of a sullen mood, and then I come out here, and I see all these signs, and I hear all these people…” the crowd increases in volume in response to his words. He allows them to cheer, smiling at the support being thrown his way. “Truth is, I have a huge decision to make. We, if I may, have a huge decision to make.” Y/N rolls her eyes. He’s already made his decision. But he’s always been good at making people feel important, valued, even if he never planned on taking their words into consideration.

“And I’ve been thinking about it all week. And the reason I’ve been so consumed and worried about it is because I love you guys,” Punk gestures out to the crowd. “But the truth is, this town, and this building specifically, hasn’t always been kind to CM Punk.”

The people boo in response, some of them knowing the lore behind Cleveland, others being too new to wrestling to understand. But the one person in the building who knows his quarrels with this building more than anyone is Y/N L/N. In fact, she was present for most of his issues that happened here. She was the shoulder he rested his head on when the most frustrating events of his life happened.

Until the night he walked out. The night he left this building and decided he didn’t need her anymore.

“I walked back here through the hallways, there’s a lot of ghosts, ladies and gentlemen, and I’m doing my best to face ‘em head on.” Y/N wants to laugh at that. Or maybe she’s just angry at the fact the one ghost he hasn’t faced was her. That the only way he would acknowledge her presence was if he could embarrass her in front of an entire sold out arena.

“A lot of people might not know this, but I debuted in this building.” The crowd cheers. “Yeah! Was anybody there? I had Mickie James on my arm.” Once again people scream in support. “We walked down that ramp, we got into this ring, and it was so good, I went back and they said, we’re sending you to Louisville Kentucky. Have fun in OVW.”

Y/N might not have been there in person, hell, she hadn’t even had her own debut yet, but she remembered seeing it on her tv back home. She was watching it with her dad after spending an entire week at her own hometown wrestling academy that she had been performing at since she was six years old.

Little did she know that at that point she would end up right by his side only a few years later.

“And, gosh, I didn’t wanna go, but while I was there, I embraced being uncomfortable, and I learned how to love it. Exactly like when I came to the WWE for the first time, and I didn’t know what I was in for. But I embraced being uncomfortable and I learned to love it.”

His eyes never leave the camera and for a moment it feels as if he’s staring straight at her. Y/N knows he’s not, he probably doesn’t even know she’s watching, but the way his eyes bore into the lens, it feels like he knows. She curses under breath at the way her heart skips a beat at the passion in his voice. Even after all this time, hearing him talk about what he loves to do still affects her that way. It’s like a conditioned response. Even though her mind says she never wants to speak to him again, her body still remembers how it felt hearing him all those years ago.

“I triumphantly return to this town, this same building, World Heavyweight Champion! I was ready to put on a show for everybody here!” He starts pacing the ring back and forth, finally looking away from the camera and towards the cheering fans. “And, then, Randy Orton kicks me in the head backstage… and I wake up and they tell me, ‘By the way, we stripped you of the title. You couldn’t compete. You’re no longer the champion.’ And I was like ‘Cleveland!’” He raises his fist in the air, jokingly cursing the town. “Again!”

He sighs, spinning on his heels. “Was anybody here ten years ago for the story I’m about to tell?” There are scattered voices in the audience as he goes on, “I’m not gonna bore you with details ‘cause a lot of it is in my rear view mirror. I’m focused on the future. I’m focused on the now. I’m focused on everybody here in this building today.” He all was the crowd to have their reaction time. “But ten years ago, I had to take myself off the hamster wheel. I had to, for better or for worse, make the hardest decision of my life. And I don’t regret it. I don’t look back.”

Y/N tilts her head, wondering to herself what exactly was the hardest part of that decision. He says he’s moved on, that he doesn’t look back on that fateful day, but part of her doesn’t believe that. There’s no way he’s managed to move on like nothing happened when that day ten years ago still manages to haunt her in the present. But perhaps that’s her own weight she needs to carry, not his.

“But there was always that part of me that wondered if anybody paid to see CM Punk that day I walked out of Cleveland, if they were disappointed. Backstage, I saw a young lady by the name of Indy, and she told me that she felt betrayed as that little kid. And I told her a story of when I saw ‘Rowdy’ Roddy Piper appear on WCW television. And as a young wrestling fan, I felt the exact same way, so I understood. So, if you’re here now, if you’re watching at home, and you’re disappointed that CM Punk walked out, I understand. And hell, ladies and gentlemen, I apologize.”

The applause for that is thunderous. Y/N watches, her eyes widening at that last sentence. Punk? Apologizing? She never thought she’d live to see the day. But that’s his whole new brand now. Older, wiser, just here to have a good time and make money.

“I’ve gone to SmackDown, and I’ve listened to what Nick Aldis has to say. He put together a very substantial offer. You understand. I went down to NXT, I hung out with Shawn Michaels, and there’s a fifteen year old CM Punk somewhere in the universe who’s tickled to death that he got an offer from Shawn Michaels to go help mold the next generation of Superstars. It’s a great deal.” He glances down to his right, “Adam Pearce has put together a deal that, honestly, is head and shoulders above both those other deals.”

That’s when it finally clicks for everyone in the crowd as they realize the Second City Saint is about to sign a contract right in front of their very eyes. “But can I be very real and very honest with you folks right now? My mind was probably already made up when I looked at the calendar and I saw Cleveland. I’m here to bury those ghosts. I’m here to right a few wrongs. My future starts now.” He smiles cockily, shrugging his shoulders. “You couldn’t write a better television show, ladies and gentlemen. Ten years, almost to the day, CM Punk walked out. And regardless of how you feel about it, CM Punk walks right back in!”

That’s when he stops pacing, making direct eye contact with the camera again. “And if you’re happy about it… if you’re mad about it,” his voice lowers then, almost in a deliberate fashion. “You better learn to love it, ‘cause congratulations, Adam Pearce…” Adam sticks out his hand to seal the deal. “The newest Raw Superstar is named CM Punk…” the crowd goes bananas, “and CM Punk is home!”

With that, he shakes Pearce’s hand, taking the folder from him and signing it with that same unshakable confidence he’s always had. Everyone backstage claps at the segment, some of the other stars cheering as one of their all time favorites has just returned to the company “officially.”

Y/N continues watching blankly, ignoring commentary and the chants of his name. Punk runs to the corner of the ring, celebrating with the crowd as her hearing seems to go out. He’s actually back. Avoiding him is going to be much harder now. The only reprove she might have is that he won’t show up much on Friday’s. The only thing that seems to snap her out of her haze of thoughts is the familiar scream.

BURN IT DOWN!

Y/N looks back to the monitor and suddenly Colby’s form appears on screen. Punk doesn’t bother to hide his irritation as Seth dances down the ramp, living for the way the audience sings his song. He doesn’t linger for much longer, tossing his sunglasses haphazardly into the audience, championship belt snug around his waist as he beelines it for the ring. Y/N knew this confrontation was on the call sheet, but after what Phil said in the ring on Friday, she doubts this is going to surmount to anything professional.

The look on Seth’s face says everything Colby is thinking. It makes Y/N’s heart spike with nerves and without doing much thinking, she darts towards Gorilla. When she enters the small space, people shoot her off looks, telling her it’s nowhere near time for her match.

“I know, I know,” her eyes dart back to the monitor. “I just… got a bad feeling about this,” she mumbles. “I promise I’ll go if nothing happens. I’m just here as a precaution.”

Albeit reluctantly, they allow her to stay, on the condition that she remains quiet since they are so close to the entrance. Any loud noise could interrupt the show.

Punk watches Seth with narrowed eyes, quick to meet the Visionary in the center of the ring. The two of them puff their chests out, lifting their heads as a show of dominance. Pearce tries to deescalate the situation, but the two men can’t seem to take their eyes off of each other. The audience chants “Holy Shit” as a newfound tension seems to infect the ring. There’s no avoiding this bout. It’s a head on collision waiting to take out everything and anything in its path.

The crowd fights to support their favorites, some singing Seth’s song, others chanting for Punk. It only stops when Seth brushes past Punk to get his own microphone. Phil crosses his arms, attitude on full display as he gestures for Seth to go ahead on his tangent, as if he already knew this was coming.

“CLEVELAND, OHIO!” Seth screams, his voice coming out in that growl that never fails to send shivers down Y/N’s spine. Her eyes never leave the monitor as Seth turns to face Phil again, “C…M… Punk.”

Both men are not afraid to show their disdain for each other. Punk’s nose scrunches up, his arms crossed, subconsciously showing just how closed off he is. How he doesn’t welcome Seth out there in the slightest. Seth stalks forward, eyes narrowed, “Welcome to Monday Night Rollins!” The crowd says it along with him, only boosting his ego further.

Punk simply allows Seth to get in his face, nothing but that same cocky grin on his face. Anyone could read exactly what that smirk means. He plans on making sure that Raw is his show, no one else’s.

“I hope you know how incredibly fortunate you are to be standing in this ring right now. But could you just do me, just one, one little favor, just one thing, please?” Seth gestures wildly with his hand, almost in a flimsy manner before his face falls and his limbs go rigid. He looks Punk dead in the eyes, “Don’t you dare call this place your home.”

The crowd boos in response, an elongated silence stretching between the men as everyone starts chanting CM Punk again. Seth gives him a moment to respond, but when he doesn’t he raises the microphone back up to his own lips. “You abandoned this place ten years ago. Not only did you abandon it, you actively tried to tear it down. You spent ten years slandering me, slandering every person back in that locker room,” he points towards backstage. “And then, you wanna walk back in here and call this place your home. This is NOT your home! This is my home!”

Y/N’s heart clenches at Colby’s words. Sure, this was all planned, but that dialogue, that came straight from him. Not Seth. Colby. He poured exactly how he’s felt for the past decade into that monologue and she couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s been the workhorse of the company since she could remember and he deserves his flowers more than anyone.

“I’ve been here. Everybody in the back, those are my brothers and sisters,” Seth continues on passionately. “Everybody here, everybody watching at home, that is my family, and this is our home!” He circles around the ring like the true showman he is. “And I will do everything within my power to protect it from people like you!”

Punk simply smirks in response, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief. Seth can see his expression shifting so he doesn’t give him a chance to respond. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I don’t want there to be any confusion. I know I’m a bit worked up. I want everybody to understand. I’m going to say it plainly, with every fiber in my being, I hate you.”

The roof damn near explodes off the arena as the crowd screams at his declaration. Y/N feels her eyes widen at how simply he said it. Like it’s just another fact of life. Phil looks down at the floor, grin only growing, almost as if he’s willing himself not to laugh. Everyone can feel the other shoe about to drop and it makes Y/N nervous. There’s way too much animosity out there for it to end like that.

“But… if you’re going to be a part of WWE again, then I want you on Monday Night Raw,” Seth laughs evilly. “Because the truth always comes out, pal. The truth always comes out. I know, you know, everybody else knows… this is your last chance. And, so, one of two things is gonna happen. Either you’re gonna expose yourself, you’re gonna self-destruct like you always do. And I’ll be the first person in the back to slam the door shut on your legacy!” He pauses, “Or, if by some miracle, you have changed… and you’ve got any gas left in this old tank… maybe one day, you’ll be lucky enough to stand across the ring from me in a World Heavyweight Championship match. And, then I will expose you for the fraud that you are.” His glare intensifies with his voice. “I will show you that there are levels to this, I will wrestle circles around you, and I will let you understand in real time… what it means to be the ‘best in the world.’”

For the first time in Seth’s whole rant, Punk finally raises his mic up. His eyes are cold despite that constant shit-eating grin on his face. He bravely steps up to Seth, voice tight. “Are you done?” He doesn’t even give him a chance to reply. “That’s your one pass to stand here and speak to me disrespectfully without me coming after you.”

He takes a step forward, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “But I see what this really is. You’re not out here defending the ‘future’ or waving some flag of morality. Nah, this ain’t about the locker room. You’re just trying to rewrite history — polish up your little redemption arc with smoke and mirrors. But behind all that screaming, all that passion, there’s just one thing you’re really afraid of.” His eyes narrow, laser-focused. “Her.”

The crowd makes a collective sound — part gasp, part groan. Seth’s expression doesn’t budge, but his shoulders do. Just slightly. Enough.

“Oh, now I’ve got your attention,” Punk sneers, licking his lips like he tastes blood. “Don’t act like you weren’t waiting for me to bring her up. You always knew it’d come to this. You can drag out every camera-friendly version of the truth you want, but everybody backstage knows exactly what went down when I left.” He gestures behind him, then jabs a thumb in Seth’s direction. “You didn't earn her trust — it was handed to you by management. You were the golden boy, the chosen one. So when I walked out, they slid her next to you like some prop to keep the Shield from falling apart.”

Seth flinches.

“But you? You ran with it. You got close. Real close. And suddenly the world forgot what came before. You got to play the hero in the fairytale while I got turned into the villain — again.” He steps closer to Seth now, voice lowering. “But she wasn’t yours to win. You didn’t earn her loyalty, Seth. You inherited it. And deep down, she knew it too.”

Seth mutters something under his breath, but Punk talks over him, venom dripping from every word. “You paraded her around like she chose you. Like she picked the guy who stayed. But let’s be real for once — she never made a choice. She was never given one.”

Punk stops pacing, turning his full body toward the hard camera, voice rising again. “So how ‘bout this? Let’s stop pretending this is about brands and belts and legacies. Let’s talk about betrayal.” He turns his head slightly, back toward Seth. “Not mine. Hers.”

Seth’s entire face shifts — his eyes flash like he’s about to leap across the ring. The crowd explodes in reaction. “Because if anyone stabbed anyone in the back, it was Y/S/N.” Punk’s voice drops to a snarl. “She stood beside me for years. Knew what I fought for, what I bled for. And when things got hard, when I needed her most? She let me walk away alone. Worse — she stayed. She became everything we used to fight against.”

A second of silence.

Then—

“Enough.”

The voice cuts through the arena like thunder. The crowd erupts as Y/S/N storms onto the ramp — mic already in hand, expression unreadable but blazing. She doesn’t look to the crowd. Doesn’t smile. She’s a bullet, aimed straight at the ring.

“You really wanna do this here? Fine. Let’s hash it out since apparently it’s become damn near impossible for you to keep my name out of your mouth!”

Y/N couldn’t believe she was doing this. After doing her best to avoid him like the plague, she was throwing all of that away. It was time to confront her demons. If he wanted to come at Seth sideways, she’d make sure he knew that she had something to say about it.

She slides under the ropes without hesitation, rising to her full height, nose-to-nose with Punk like gravity doesn’t apply to her. “You wanna talk about betrayal?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm. “Let’s talk.”

Punk’s smirk twitches. “Look who decided to show up.”

She doesn’t blink. “You left. You walked away. From this place. From me. From everything. And you want to call me a traitor?”

“I needed you,” he bites, quieter now, but sharper. “You didn’t come.”

“I waited!” she fires back. “I waited for months. I defended you when nobody else would. I almost lost my job trying to justify your choices. I begged them not to turn their backs on you. But you didn’t call. You didn’t write. You disappeared. And when they came to me with Shield gear and a script I had no say in, what was I supposed to do? Say no? Get fired? Go down with a ship you set on fire?”

Her voice is shaking now, fury and grief tangled like a noose. “So don’t you dare stand there and act like I owed you anything more than that when you didn’t even tell me goodbye.”

He scoffs bitterly, like the sound hurts him. “You think I had a choice?”

She shoves him — full force. “YES!”

The arena gasps, then breaks into a frenzy of noise. “You had every choice. You chose to run. And now you come back and try to punish me for continuing on without you?” Her voice breaks, just for a second. “I didn’t betray you, Punk. I mourned you. You didn’t just leave the company. You left me. You left the version of yourself I believed in. And when I finally stopped looking over my shoulder hoping you’d come back — you did. But not as the man I knew. Not the man I fought side by side with. Just another bitter stranger picking a fight with the past.”

That lands harder than any slap could’ve.

Punk stares at her, jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might crack. His mic raises again, but now his voice is raw. “You don’t get to stand there and call me a stranger when every part of you changed the moment they handed you a title and a spotlight.”

Y/S/N lets out a sharp laugh. “You think this is about titles? I earned everything I have. You think you’re the only one who bled for this place? I’ve bled. I’ve broken bones. I’ve gone through tables, cages, and hell just to prove that I belonged here. Not as your shadow. Not as Seth’s trophy. Hell, not even as Roman’s right hand. But as me.”

Punk steps forward, his words now a whisper between them. “Then say it.” He never breaks eye contact with her, daring her to confirm what he’s thought over these past ten years. “Say you never cared about me.”

Silence stretches. The crowd holds its breath. Both of them knew what he really meant by that. The late nights they spent together, the endless hours of training, the emotional nights spent tangled up in the same hotel bed, trying to figure out who they were and what they meant to each other. Cared is not the word he wanted to use. It’s what came out of his mouth, but they knew he meant more.

Love.

Y/N could read between the lines. “Say you never loved me,” was the underlying message that died on his tongue. Her eyes shimmer, but her spine stays straight. She breathes in — just once — and says: “I did. More than you’ll ever know. And I still let you go.”

That’s it. She turns her head, locking eyes with Seth, who’s still frozen at the edge of the ring. Y/S/N raises her mic one last time, voice clear as glass. “But I’m done being someone else’s ghost story.” She drops the mic, and the arena erupts. She walks to Seth, grabs his hand, and together they leave, backs straight, heads high. Punk doesn’t chase her. He just watches — with bloodshot eyes and a silence that says everything.

The second they pass through the curtain, the roar of the crowd fades into a dull roar — like thunder muffled through concrete. The crew around gorilla doesn’t say a word. Nobody tries to high-five them or offer praise. They all saw what just happened. They know it wasn’t all scripted.

Y/N’s chest is rising and falling fast, her knuckles white at her sides as her mic gets stripped from her hand by a passing tech. Her face is unreadable — not a blank mask, but a storm barely contained. The heat still clings to her skin, and her jaw clenches so tightly it looks painful.

Colby was right there beside her, breathing just as hard. But his face was tight with something else — not just exhaustion. Not just relief. He was furious. Not at her. Never at her. But his jaw was clenched so tight he could barely speak, and the vein in his neck was pulsing with restraint. She could feel it radiating off him — that Seth Rollins fire threatening to explode. But he pushed it down, shoved it back, because his only priority was her.

They turned the corner into the hallway behind gorilla, and the second they were alone, Colby finally spoke. “You okay?”

Y/N stopped walking. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she was physically trying to hold herself together. “I’m fine,” she lied automatically, eyes fixed on the floor.

He raised a brow, gently reaching for her arm. “Y/N—”

“No,” she said quickly, stepping back. Her eyes flicked up to his. “There was no reason for it to go that far. That wasn’t part of the plan. You were supposed to keep it professional.”

Colby didn’t flinch, even though her voice had sharpened. His anger toward Punk flared again, just under the surface — but he swallowed it, because she was what mattered right now. “I know,” he said quietly. “You’re right.”

She blinked, not expecting the easy agreement. Her lips parted slightly, but he kept going. “I let it get personal. I lost control. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to step in. That shouldn’t have been your burden. I shouldn’t have crossed that line.”

Her walls cracked then — not all the way, but enough. Enough for her to let out a small breath and lean back against the cool wall behind her. “He said some seriously messed up shit, Colby. Not just about me, but about you too,” Y/N runs a hand through her hair. “And God, I didn’t even care what he said about me, but as soon as he went after you, it was like–” she sighs. “I couldn’t even think before I walked out there.”

“I know,” he murmured. His hand came up, brushing a piece of hair gently behind her ear. “And if I hadn’t already promised you I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him backstage, I’d be halfway down the hall right now.”

That drew a weak laugh from her, one that died almost immediately — but Colby caught it, savored it, and offered her a half-smile in return. “God,” she groaned softly, dropping her face into her hands. “What a mess. I don’t even know why I got involved like that—”

“You got involved because you’re you,” Colby interrupted gently. “Because you care. And because he knows exactly how to get under your skin.”

She looked up at him then. Really looked. And for a second, they just stood there in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by silence and low flickering lights, everything unspoken passing between them in a glance. Then, without warning, she stepped into him. Her body collided with his chest, and his arms wrapped around her without hesitation. She buried her face into his shirt, breathing him in like he was the only real thing left in the world.

Colby kissed the top of her head and held her tighter, his fingers curling around the back of her neck protectively. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve always got you.”

Y/N didn’t answer at first, just sank into his hold like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Like if he let go, she might fall apart completely. Then, barely audible against his chest: “God, I love you.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I love you more.”

She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes — those deep, honey-brown eyes that saw every part of her. “You don’t have to take care of me right now, you know,” she whispered. “You’re allowed to be angry too.”

“I am angry,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I want to rip his head off. But that won’t fix anything. You will always come first. That’s not a choice. That’s just… what it is.”

Her lip quivered at that, and she didn’t even try to stop herself from kissing his cheek. It was soft — nothing like the firestorm they’d just walked through — but real. Grounding. He closed his eyes, pulling her even closer than she already was, like she was something fragile and precious that he’d die to protect.

And for just a moment, everything else disappeared. No Punk. No crowd. No WWE. Just them.

“I know I just said it, but I really do love you,” she whispered again as they pulled apart, forehead to forehead.

He smiled, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N’s match with Nia was approaching rapidly. She knew it was going to go well, she trusted Lina with her life, but she still couldn’t go out there completely cold turkey. She had to at least get in a light warm up before heading out there.

She was mid-lunge when a shadow fell over her peripheral vision. She didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“I figured I’d find you back here pretending you're not fuming,” Demi said, leaning casually against the crates, arms crossed, signature smirk in place.

Y/N groaned. “Am I that obvious?”

Rhea chuckled. “Only to people who know what it looks like to hold in a scream.”

Y/N let out a sharp exhale, standing upright and wiping the sweat from her brow. “Don’t start. I already had the whole heart-to-heart with Colby. I’m emotionally tapped out.”

“Relax, I’m not here to dissect your trauma,” Demi teased, pushing off the crates and strolling up beside her. “I just wanted to make sure you’re good. And maybe tell you that if Nia gets in one cheap shot, I’ll jump the barricade and help you powerbomb her through commentary. No questions asked.”

Y/N cracked a smile. “Now that’s friendship.”

“Damn right,” She smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Also, full offense — that was wild out there. You really came for his soul, huh?”

Y/N winced. “Didn’t mean to go that far. I just… snapped.”

“Well, he deserved it. You don't spit fire like that unless you've been burned. He knows it. We all do.” She paused, a beat of real sincerity slipping in. “You okay though? Like, actually?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at the wrap on her wrist. “I don’t know. He looked at me like… like he still—” she stopped herself. “Never mind.”

Rhea didn’t push. She just shrugged with a knowing look. “Men are dumb. Especially the broody, wounded poet ones with vendettas and outdated merch.”

Y/N snorted. “Jesus.”

“Anyway,” Rhea clapped her hands together. “If you’re not emotionally obliterated by the time you’re done with Nia, Luis and I are hitting the gym after the show. Nothing says therapy like flipping tires and judging each other’s playlists.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Is that an actual invite or are you just giving me something to think about other than CM Misery?”

Rhea smirked, eyes glinting. “Bit of both.”

A cue came through Y/N’s headset — four minutes. She rolled her shoulders and took one last breath. “Thanks, Demi. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Rhea said as she started walking away. “If you don’t win, I’m telling everyone I offered and you said no. Gotta protect my rep.”

Y/N grinned after her, then turned back toward the curtain — fire in her veins, and a little less weight on her chest.

Her heart hadn’t quite stopped racing, even as Demi’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway. The encounter had been brief, but grounding — a spark of levity in a night that had, so far, been drenched in fire and emotional chaos. Demi’s offer lingered in her ears like a song stuck on loop. Flipping tires and judging each other’s playlists. Therapy, indeed.

Still stretching, Y/N exhaled a steady breath and stood tall, rolling her shoulders out as a production assistant’s voice crackled in her headset. “Two minutes to curtain.”

She gave a nod, then peeled the sweat-damp towel from around her neck, tossing it aside. The title belt gleamed from the corner of the room, resting atop a folded chair — her name engraved on the side plate like it belonged there. And it did. Because she earned it.

Focus. Be present.

She draped the championship over her shoulder, stepped toward the curtain, and waited for the storm to begin. And then it did.

A sonic boom of bass dropped as her entrance music blared through the arena’s speakers, vibrating through the floor and rattling through her chest like a war drum. The moment she stepped through the curtain, a wall of light and noise hit her all at once — pyro lighting up the sky behind her, the jumbotron splashed with her name, and thousands of fans rising to their feet in a unified scream of reverence.

“Y/S/N! Y/S/N! Y/S/N!”

The chants filled every inch of the stadium, growing louder with every step she took down the ramp. Her presence was magnetic, unstoppable. She moved like a storm in boots — chin high, eyes sharp, the title belt now raised above her head with pride and defiance. Cameras flashed as she slid into the ring and climbed the ropes, pointing to a sign in the front row that read: "CM WHO? OUR CHAMP STAYS WINNING." A half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She couldn’t afford to focus on that right now, but it still warmed something frozen inside her.

The lights shifted. And then the mood changed. Nia Jax’s music cut through the electricity like a serrated blade. The boos were instant. Loud. Justified. Nia stepped out with all the arrogance in the world, her eyes already locked on Y/S/N, a smirk playing across her face like she knew something the rest of them didn’t. She moved slowly, deliberately — her entrance less about showmanship and more about dominance.

Y/N didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She just waited. The moment Nia climbed through the ropes, they were on each other — eyes locked, breaths heavy with tension, the air between them practically crackling. “You sure you wanna be here tonight, sweetheart?” Nia asked with a saccharine sweetness that made Y/N’s lip curl. “After getting dragged by your ex in front of the world, you might wanna sit this one out.”

Y/S/N leaned in closer, running her tongue across her teeth, her voice low but lethal. She takes a defiant step forward, “He’s not my ex,” she snaps out. Y/N knows Lina is only doing it for the sake of their oncoming feud, but it still caught her off guard. But she has to remember, everything is in character. “And you know what? I was planning on going easy on you. Now I’m not.”

The bell rang before Nia could even snort a response. The match was a war from the opening second. It began with brute force — a lock-up that turned into a raw test of strength, Nia tossing Y/N across the ring like a sack of flour. But Y/N popped back up, hitting a clean kip-up and nailing a dropkick that landed square in Nia’s chest. The crowd erupted again, hungry for more.

The pace quickened. Y/N ducked a wild clothesline and rebounded off the ropes, throwing herself into a spinning back elbow that rocked Nia just enough to take her to a knee. Another dropkick. Then another. But every time Nia stumbled, she bounced back harder. Ten minutes in, Y/N was on the mat after taking a brutal Samoan drop that nearly knocked the air out of her lungs. She rolled away, clutching her ribs.

Fifteen minutes in, they were both running on fumes — sweat pouring, limbs heavy. The mat itself felt like it was shaking beneath them. Y/N drove a boot into Nia’s knee, followed by a snap DDT that planted her hard. She tried to go for a pin, but Nia powered out, roaring like a wounded animal.

Each time Y/N hit the ropes, it was with renewed fire. Each time she fell, it was with purpose — because she always got up. No wasted motion. No hesitation. Just pure, unfiltered resilience.

From backstage, Phil Brooks watched it all unfold on the monitor. He stood in the shadows, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched so hard it ached. The light from the screen cast flickering shadows over his face, his eyes never leaving her — not even once.

She was brilliant.

A warrior in motion. Every strike she threw had venom. Every counter, every transition, every dive — it was like watching a symphony composed entirely in punches and pain. He’d known how good she was. He just hadn’t wanted to admit how beautiful it was to watch her thrive without him.

That was the worst part.

Even now, after all the bitterness and venom and distance between them, some rusted part of his soul still ached when he saw her shine. Because it reminded him of what they had, and how he had been the one to dim her light — and she still burned anyway.

He didn’t want to feel anything. But he did. God help him, he did.

Back in the ring, the match thundered toward its climax. Y/N rebounded off the middle rope, twisting mid-air into a beautifully brutal springboard tornado DDT that dropped Nia square on her back. Without pausing, Y/N scrambled to the top rope, legs shaking from exhaustion, and flew with a precision moonsault that landed clean across Nia’s chest.

She hooked the leg.

“ONE! TWO!! THREE!!!”

The bell rang, and the crowd exploded. Y/N collapsed back onto the mat, lungs burning, chest heaving, fingers curling tightly around the championship belt as it was handed back to her. She rolled onto her knees, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as the weight of the match — and the night — settled on her shoulders.

She had survived. She had won.

The crowd was chanting her name again, and this time, it wasn’t just noise. It was affirmation. It was love. She stood slowly, holding the title high in the air as the camera zoomed in on her face. Sweat streaked her hairline. Her eyes shone with something unspoken. And somewhere backstage, behind that monitor, Phil exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Y/S/N was still the champion.

And he was still very, very confused on where the true line between hate and love was drawn.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The roar of the crowd was still echoing faintly through the hallway when Phil stepped back from the monitor. She had done it. Again.

There she was, championship hoisted high, sweat shining on her brow like a damn halo. And the worst part? The worst, most soul-wrenching part of it all? She hadn’t even looked at him.

No glance in his direction to celebrate her win. No asking if he was proud of what she had accomplished. She didn’t need him. Not anymore. The moment she stepped through the curtain, the hallway seemed to shift around her — an energy he hadn’t seen in a long time. People clapped her on the back as she passed, voices congratulating her left and right. She was magnetic, glowing. Untouchable.

She laughed — breathless and real — and that sound cut through Phil’s chest like shrapnel. Colby was the first to pull her in. Not in a subtle, casual way, either. His arms looped tightly around her waist, his face buried briefly in her hair before he leaned back and said something that made her tilt her head and laugh again — softer this time, private. Too private.

Phil’s gaze darkened.

Josh and Cody joined seconds later, all grins and praise. Even Sami wandered over from catering with a smug “told you so” smirk, but Phil didn’t process their words. He didn’t hear anything over the pounding in his ears as his eyes tracked that one damn detail like a target he couldn’t miss:

Colby’s hand. Still on her. Fingers spread low across her back, like he belonged there.

Like Phil hadn’t.

The heat rolled up his spine like a fuse being lit. He stepped forward before he could think better of it, legs moving on instinct — but a hand suddenly shot out, firm against his chest. Stopping him. “You need to slow the hell down.”

Phil turned, already bristling. “Becky—”

“I swear to God, if you take one more step looking like you’re about to reenact a scene from Fight Club in the hallway, I’m knocking you out myself.”Her tone was bright but dangerous—witty in that razor-sharp Irish way that left little room for argument. Her copper hair was braided tight, her eyes sharper.

“Let go,” he muttered, trying to pull his arm back.

She didn’t. “Nah. I’ve seen that murder-glare before. I was there when you punched John in catering. I was there when you almost caved in Hunter’s door. So believe me when I say—don’t be dumb.”

Phil scowled. “You think I’m gonna cause a scene because she won a match?”

“I think you’re seconds away from throwing a tantrum because she didn’t run into your arms after the bell.”

His jaw clenched, sharp and immediate. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please.” Becky rolled her eyes, releasing his arm but stepping in closer. “You’ve been standing back here for ten minutes looking like you want to burn a hole through Colby’s skull with your mind. And let’s not pretend you’re here to congratulate her.”

Phil’s glare could’ve leveled a building. “You done?”

“Not even remotely.” Becky’s grin sharpened. “Look, I get it. You’re used to people bending over backwards for you. You're used to women waiting around while you figure your shit out. But guess what? Y/N doesn’t have time for your brooding Shakespeare routine.”

He laughed bitterly. “You think this is about me being broody?”

“I think you’re spiraling because for once in your miserable, emotionally constipated life, someone you care about moved on—and you weren’t the one who called the shots.”

Phil’s temper snapped. “Don’t talk like you know what happened between us.”

Becky’s eyes blazed. “I don’t need to know the details, Phil. I’ve seen the reruns. She trusted you. You shut her out. You picked fights, she tried to fix it, and you made her feel like she was never enough—when really, you were just too much of a coward to admit how you felt.”

“That’s not what happened,” he bit out, voice low and dangerous.

“Then what did?” she fired back. “Because all I’ve seen is you treat her like she’s the villain in a story you wrote, while she’s out there earning every bit of this moment.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not when the words were crawling up his throat and making it impossible to breathe.

Becky shook her head, softer now. “Look at her, Phil. She just main-evented Raw, defended her title, carried that crowd on her back—and all you can think about is that Colby’s holding her too close?”

Phil glanced over his shoulder again, and sure enough, Y/N was still nestled against Colby, shoulder pressed to his chest, hand on his arm. Like home.

“You’re pissed because she looks happy without you,” Becky said. “But here’s the part that’ll really burn yer arse— no matter how angry you pretend to be, you still love her.”

His gaze snapped back to hers, a flash of something wild in his eyes. “I never said—”

“You don’t have to say it.” Her voice had dropped now. “It’s written all over your face.”

The hallway suddenly fell away and he was right back in that hotel room in Atlanta. It smelled like rain, cheap beer, and leftover Chinese food cooling in its styrofoam container on the coffee table. The low hum of the TV filled the silence—wrestling reruns from earlier that night, blurred and grainy, flickering over the walls in dull shades of blue.

April stood near the window, her arms crossed tight over her chest. Not in defiance. In desperation. Like if she let go, she’d unravel. Her lips trembled, but her voice didn’t.

“You’re always there when she is.”

Phil didn’t look up from where he was unlacing his boots. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she snapped. “Every event. Every promo. Every backstage interview. She so much as coughs and you’re halfway across the arena, checking on her like she’s your responsibility.”

“She’s my friend, April. Or am I not allowed to have those anymore?”

April’s laugh was dry, bitter. “You keep saying ‘friend’ like that makes your behavior okay.”

Phil straightened up, shoulders stiff. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I watch you,” she said, stepping forward. “I see you. The way your whole damn face changes when she walks into the room. The way your tone softens when you talk about her. Like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to wrestling—and to you.”

He scoffed. “Don’t start with this jealous girlfriend crap.”

She flinched like he’d slapped her. “Jealous? Jesus, Phil, do you even hear yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, turning away from her.

April’s voice sharpened. “You talk about her like she’s untouchable. Like you’re lucky just to be around her. I’ve never heard you speak about me the way you speak about her in interviews. Not once.”

Phil spun around, his eyes flashing. “You’re twisting everything. This isn’t about her—it’s about you. You’re insecure, and you’re dragging her into this because you don’t want to admit it.”

April’s breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t back down. “Insecure?” she echoed, stunned. “You think this is insecurity? No, Phil. It’s recognition.”

He froze.

“I see what you refuse to admit,” she went on, her voice rising. “You love her. You don’t have to say it—it’s written all over your damn face. And maybe you haven’t crossed any physical lines, but emotionally? You’ve been gone for a long time.”

Phil barked a harsh, humorless laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“You remember that angle she did with Cody?” she continued, ignoring him. Her tone almost patronizing, like she wants to get a reaction out of him. She saunters over, her need to hear him confess the only thing keeping her from completely snapping. “The one with the kiss? I remember exactly how you reacted. You didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the night. You trashed the locker room, told everyone it was about creative—but it wasn’t. It was about her.”

“That kiss wasn’t in the script,” Phil said through clenched teeth. “It was stupid. Cheap. Just for a pop—”

“No, it was a kiss, Phil. A basic wrestling spot. But you acted like she cheated on you.” April moved in closer, her hands shaking now. “Same thing when she posted that picture with John. The one backstage after that panel in New York? Where he treated her for coffee and she said she was the luckiest girl in the world? You threw your phone across the room.”

He pointed at her, his voice rising. “Don’t act like you know what’s in my head.”

“I don’t need to,” she spat. “I’ve seen enough. You pretend to be above all this shit—above drama, above feelings—but when she’s involved? You fall apart.”

Phil’s breathing was heavy now, erratic. He raked a hand through his hair and turned his back on her again.

“She started dating that random kid she met at a convention. What was his name? Something stupid with a T. Trevor– Tyler? And you didn’t talk to her for two weeks. You ignored her texts, ducked out early every night, acted like she stabbed you in the back.”

“I was busy,” he growled.

“You were pissed,” she corrected. “Because you didn’t like it. Because it wasn’t you.”

He whipped around, voice suddenly thunderous. “I TOLD YOU TO DROP IT!”

April didn’t flinch, in fact she got closer. She was never one to be afraid of Phil’s temper, especially about this. It was all just a wall for him to hide behind. “Why? Because I’m right?”

“Because you’re making shit up!”

She stepped into his space, eyes brimming with hurt and fire. “No. I’m just saying the quiet part out loud.”

Phil looked like a cornered animal. Pacing. Clenching and unclenching his fists like he needed something to hit. His jaw twitched violently. “You’re delusional,” he muttered.

“I’m done letting you lie to me. Stop insulting my intelligence by trying to make it seem like it’s all in my head.”

She was close now—so close he could smell her shampoo, see the rise and fall of her chest as her voice caught. “You think I didn’t see it before? That moment at WrestleMania two years ago—after her match with Charlotte? When she came through the curtain and hugged you first? Not her boyfriend at the time. Not her family. You. And you looked at her like she hung the damn moon.”

“Enough.”

“You stood by the monitors for her every match. You never did that for me.”

“Enough, April!”

“She was crying after her match with Becky last year, and you sat outside her locker room for forty-five minutes just trying to get her to come out. Didn't even tell me where you went. You think I didn’t know?”

“I said that’s ENOUGH!”

And then he snapped. He turned and punched the wall so hard the plaster cracked under his knuckles. A low, guttural sound tore from his throat as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool, ruined drywall. His whole body shook—rage, shame, confusion.

April didn’t move. After a long beat, her voice cut through the quiet like a blade. Quiet. Steady. Brutal.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything for her.”

He didn’t turn.

“Do it,” she said. “Look at me and say it. Say you don’t love her.”

His shoulders caved in like the weight was finally too much. Still, he didn’t turn around.

April’s voice broke, and still she stood her ground. “That’s what I thought.”

She didn’t slam the door when she left. She didn’t have to. The silence she left behind was louder than anything she'd ever screamed.

The memory snapped back like a rubber band to the face—sharp, stinging, and impossible to ignore. Phil blinked, the echo of April’s voice still ringing in his ears like a ghost he hadn’t laid to rest.

"That's what I thought."

Becky was still standing in front of him, arms crossed, chin tilted like she knew exactly what that silence meant—even if she didn’t know the story behind it. Her eyes flickered, searching his face. “You good now, tough guy?” she asked, her voice still laced with that Irish bite. “Or am I gonna need to get a straight jacket?”

Phil exhaled through his nose. It wasn't a laugh, not really, but it was all he could manage without splintering again. He wiped a hand over his mouth and forced himself to meet her eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Becky didn’t move. She just raised a brow. “No, you’re not,” she said softly. “But I’ll let you keep lying. Just… don’t mess with her. Not unless it’s to fix everything wrong between ya. She deserves better than that.”

Then she walked away, leaving him in the hallway with the hum of the exit sign and the ache of things he never said.

And still couldn’t.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The gym Demi dragged Y/N to buzzed with familiar energy—weights clinking, music humming low through the speakers, occasional grunts and laughter echoing off the walls. It smelled of chalk, sweat, and rubber—harsh, but oddly comforting. Y/N had grown used to it. Sometimes it was the only place that made sense.

She was flat on the mat, abs burning as she knocked out the final few sit-ups of her set. Her breathing was labored, controlled, and she counted each one silently until her body finally gave in and collapsed with a huff. A shadow crossed her peripheral vision.

“You good?” Luis asked, crouching down beside her, a water bottle extended like a peace offering. Sweat glistened on his biceps, the towel slung around his neck damp with effort.

Y/N didn’t answer at first. She just took the water with a grateful grunt, unscrewed the cap, and drank like her life depended on it. “Alive. Barely,” she managed between gulps. “Pretty sure Demi’s secretly a sadist.”

“Confirmed,” Luis replied easily, eyes flicking toward the bench press area.

Across the gym, Demi gave them both a look that was equal parts smug and amused. “I heard that!” she called, not even out of breath. “And you’re welcome.”

“You both suck,” Y/N muttered, lying back down dramatically.

Luis grinned. “And yet, here you are. Voluntarily.”

“Peer pressure.”

He shrugged. “Nah. You needed this. Better hangin’ with us than being stuck backstage.”

Y/N huffs as Luis sticks his hand out to help her up. She accepts it gratefully, allowing him to pull her onto her feet. He lazily slings his arm around her shoulder as Demi finally makes her way back over to the two of them.

“Alright,” she announced, “what’s next on the torture agenda?”

Luis gestured toward Y/N. “She wants to spar.”

Y/N sat up. “No, I don’t.”

“Too late,” Demi grinned. “Luis, you’re up. You two, in the ring. I’ll ref. Let’s settle this once and for all.”

“Settle what?” Y/N asked, brushing the towel off.

Luis stood and stretched, his smile cocky. “Who’s scrappier.”

Demi cracked her knuckles. “Spoiler: it’s me. But I’m feeling generous today.”

Y/N sighs loudly as Luis gets in position to actually wrestle her. Her body burns from the heavy lifting she did, but Y/N’s never been one to back down from a challenge, even if her opponent is a whole torso and head taller than her.

Luis stands across from her bouncing on the balls of his feet, shirtless now, tattoos flexing with every motion. “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, flashing her a grin that was somewhere between charming and challenging.

“I don’t need to be ready,” Y/N said, rolling her neck. “You should be worried.”

“Oooh,” Demi muttered from the sidelines, already smirking. “You gonna let her talk to you like that?”

Luis’s brows lifted. “Talk? Nah. But she can show me what she’s got.”

Y/N smirked. “Keep talking, Romeo. I’ll plant you faster than your last situationship ghosted you.”

“Damn,” Demi said, laughing as she dropped into a crouch beside the mat. “I’m just here to ref, but this is better than Raw Talk.”

Luis lunged first—light on his feet, playful—but Y/N dodged easily, sweeping behind him and tapping the back of his knee. He stumbled but caught himself, already spinning with a smirk.

“Okay, okay,” he said, circling. “You got reflexes. I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll take that and your ego in one go,” she said, darting in. They grappled briefly, a tangle of limbs and tension. Luis was stronger, no doubt, but she was quick and scrappy—half laughter, half precision.

He caught her by the waist mid-move, spinning her around before she could land a knee.

“Tryna take me down, princesa?” he murmured, breath brushing her ear. “You’re gonna have to buy me dinner first.”

She twisted in his grip, laughing. “I don’t date guys who lose to me.”

“Then let me win.”

“That’s even worse.”

They crashed down onto the mat, Luis letting her get the upper hand just long enough for her to think she had it, before flipping them both with a grin. Y/N squirmed beneath him, both of them breathless and sweaty, their faces close enough to feel the heat between them.

“Pinned,” Luis said smugly.

Y/N arched a brow. “That’s cute. You think this counts.”

Before he could respond, Demi blew an imaginary whistle. “Alright, break it up, horn dogs. I’m not about to explain to HR why y’all are dry-humping on the sparring mats.”

Luis let Y/N up with a groan as she rolled her eyes. “For the record,” she said, brushing off her leggings, “if this were a real match, I’d have won.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Luis said, winking. “But if you need another round to prove it, I’ve got time.”

Demi made a gagging noise, but the sound was cut off by the slam of a gym door and a low voice calling, “What did I miss?”

Y/N turned to find Joshua Fatu walking in, hoodie slung low on his frame, sunglasses still on indoors like the menace he was. He scanned the scene—Y/N still flushed from the fight, Luis shirtless and smirking, Demi looking way too entertained.

“Please tell me I’m not too late for the main event,” Josh said, tugging his hoodie off.

“You’re just in time for the post-match commentary,” Demi quipped.

Josh came to a slow stop in front of Y/N, giving her a once-over, then grinned. “You beat him?”

“I would’ve,” Y/N said with mock offense. “But your boy fights dirty.”

Luis held up his hands. “Hey, I was respectful.”

Josh laughed. “That’s your first mistake.”

“Y/N’s the one who started it,” Luis said. “I just responded to the energy.”

Josh leaned in, lowering his voice just enough. “Yeah, well… her energy’s dangerous.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a smirk, but before she could fire something back, Josh reached over and tugged at her ponytail. “You know, you should spar with me next. Bet you’d look cute talking all that shit from the mat.”

Luis rolled his eyes. “You wish, Fatu. She barely survived me.”

“Please,” Demi said, wiping her hands on a towel. “You two have been flirting harder than commentary during a mixed tag match. Get in line.”

Josh tilted his head. “So there is a line?”

“I didn’t say you were at the front of it,” Y/N teased.

He held a hand to his heart. “Ouch. Damn mama, don’t gotta bruise my ego.”

Luis draped an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “It’s okay. She likes ‘em with wit and a winning record.”

“Oh, that’s how we’re playing it?” Josh said. “Alright, alright. We’ll see what happens next time we’re booked together.”

Demi, ever the chaos agent, grabbed Y/N’s phone and waved it. “Okay, picture time. Before you two fight each other for real.”

Without warning, Luis jumped up on Y/N’s back causing the woman to grunt as she tries to hold him up.

“Wait, wait—what are you doing—Luis!” she shouted, laughing as he propped her up on his shoulders with a satisfied grunt.

“You’re gonna thank me when you see how good your arms look from this angle,” he said. “All this pressure’s gonna give you the pump of a lifetime.”

“You’re gonna thank me when I drop you flat on your ass,” Y/N muttered, still grinning as she balanced.

“Everybody shut up and smile,” Demi said, placing the phone at a good enough distance before setting the timer. “This is going viral.”

The camera clicked.

@Y/S/Nwwe

liked by trinity_fatu, wwerollins, rhearipley_wwe, and 626,356 others

tagged: rhearipley_wwe, archerofinfamy, uceyjucey

Y/S/Nwwe: Fought for my life and then got body-snatched for the selfie. Friends like these 🫠💪 #gymrats #chaosunit #sendhelp

View all 12,367 comments

@beckylynchwwe: Who needs enemies with a squad like this? 😂🔥

@trinity_fatu: Y’all are a mess. I love it.

@otiswwe: I volunteer as next lifting partner 🙋‍♂️

@uceyjucey: Don’t let this post distract you from the fact I’m prettier in person.

@rhearipley_wwe: I’m the real MVP for this shot. You’re welcome.

@archerofinfamy: I am not as heavy as she’s making me look 🙄.

@fansince2009: I knew she was strong, but DAYUM.

@justhereforcolby: This is cute but… where’s Colby? 👀

@idontlikeherfr: Not her flirting with every guy in the locker room 🙄

@sheeatsyouup: @idontlikeherfr Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, babe.

@mommyynation: I would kill to work out with her. 🔥

@burnitdowngirl97: Why is everyone flirting with my wife??? 😤

@CMpunk.fanpage01: Notice how Phil liked this five minutes after it went up? 👀 Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

@legendkilla_32: Seth’s not gonna like all that touching.

@AntiY/N_Burnbook: Okay but why is she everywhere lately? Mid in the ring, mid on the mic, and now a thirst trap in gym shorts. Yawn.

Y/N scrolled through the comments without really reading them, half-laughing at some, rolling her eyes at others. She was used to the internet—its praise and its poison. What she didn’t expect, though, was the subtle change in expression when she reached the top of the notifications.

@CMPunk liked your photo.

Her thumb hovered. Just for a second. No comment, no message—just a like. And somehow, that was louder than anything else.

[chaos-chloe]

Okay hear me out one of the clooless members “fighting” with chat going back and forth but then oc (?) comes in and chat does a complete 180 and starts love bombing them. But once they leave the switch back up and continues to fight

Navigating The Madness

Summary: Puffer raging at chat for some reason, then a switch flipped when you entered the chat..hmmmm

TW: Yelling. established relationship, flirting, love-bombing (?)

The rhythmic clatter of keys and the distinct, booming voice of Bigpuffer reverberated down the hallway into our apartment. I sighed, pulling my hair back into a messy bun. It was always the same on stream nights. A chaotic symphony of pixelated gunfire and increasingly agitated yelling that painted a vivid picture of digital carnage.

Tonight, the yelling was particularly… intense. It bubbled and hissed, fueled by, as far as I could tell, an argument with his chat about the optimal build order in some obscure strategy game.

“No, you DON'T rush the Citadel before securing the resource nodes, you absolute WEASELS!” Puffer roared, his voice cracking slightly from the strain. "Are you guys even trying to lose on purpose? You're all sabotaging my climb to Grandmaster! Are you happy now, are you HAPPY?"

I winced. This was escalating. He could get so worked up, and sometimes, I felt a pang of guilt. He did it all for the stream, for the content. He needed to be this… exaggerated version of himself. But still, it was grating.

I decided to intervene. Maybe my presence would at least dial him back a notch. I grabbed my laptop, slipped into the room, and quietly typed a message into the chat.

___user: Hey Puffer, you doing okay

The effect was instantaneous. It was like someone had flipped a switch. The furious ranting cut off mid-sentence, replaced by a suspiciously smooth voice.

“Oh! Hey babe!” He beamed, his eyes widening and crinkling at the corners. The camera, which had been angled to capture his rage-fueled facial expressions, suddenly shifted to a softer, more flattering angle.

"Guys, look who's in chat! It's my amazing, wonderful, incredibly supportive girlfriend! She's the best viewer I have,” he gushed, his voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “What’s up, honey? Everything okay?”

The chat, which moments before had been a battlefield of sarcastic emojis and indignant rebuttals, erupted in a chorus of heart emojis and "hi ___!"

I cringed internally. This was the game. He was so good at it, so quick to adapt. One second, he was tearing his hair out over stupid people, the next he was… love bombing me.

___user: Yeah, everything’s fine,

___user: Just checking in; Sounds like things are… lively

“Lively? Darling, it’s electric! But it’s even better now that YOU’RE here,” he declared, flashing a dazzling smile that probably sent half his female viewers into a swoon. He leaned closer to the camera, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I might even throw the game just for you, honey. Want to see me lose spectacularly? It’d be worth it just to get a little attention from you.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. He was ridiculous.

___user: I gotta go back to work soon

___user: Just wanted to say hi.

The sweetness vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, already?" He mumbled, trying to keep a tiny bit of it up for the camera. "Well alright babe, I love you. See you when you're done."

As soon as I closed my laptop, I heard Bigpuffer change his attitude again.

"Alright chat, now that the lovey dovey stuff is over... Where were we? Oh right, you're all still idiots! Lets get back to it you bunch of morons"

I shook my head, a mixture of exasperation and affection swirling within me. He was a mess, a chaotic, unpredictable mess. But he was my mess.

I went back to the hallway and closed the door behind me, the sound of Bigpuffer's booming voice washing over me. It was going to be a long night.

[cyberg4n]

✧ 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

paring: earth42!miles x fem!reader

warnings: nothing, fluff, lowkey short sorry😭

a/n: i saw a movement test clip of him earlier on tiktok and i was SCREAMING and it just fueled me to make this

summary: you stop by during miles’ training sesh.

you walk up the stairs, hearing music blasting from aaron’s apartment. you knock on his door, waiting for someone to answer. you stand there for a few minutes, awkwardly looking down at your phone. you knock again — but louder. you hear someone approaching, so you back up. aaron opens the door, his brows raising once he sees you. “oh, hey.” aaron says. you greet him back. “uh, is miles here?” you ask, he turns around, nodding. he opens the door wider for you to enter. once you step inside, you see miles swinging at the punching bag in front of him. you hear the door close behind you, aaron walks over to miles. he stops the bag with his hand, “your girlfriend’s here.” he says, nodding his head over to you. miles raises a brow, looking over aaron’s shoulder. once he spots you, he smiles widely.

miles takes off his boxing gloves, walking over to you. “how you doin’ ma?” he kisses you, pulling you into a hug. he looks down at your hand. “what’s that?” he asks. you smile, “takeout,” he grins, kissing you on the cheek. “you always treat me, don’t you, princesa?” you hear a cough, looking over behind miles. aaron turns down the music, standing there awkwardly. “you two have fun, i gotta go run some errands.” he says. whenever he says he has to got run some errands, what he really means is he has to go buy more items for explosives. miles laughs, saying bye to him. once aaron leaves, miles pulls you over to the couch. you open the plastic bag, grabbing a few boxes out. the food neatly arranged on the coffee table. as you tear open the containers, you can’t help but admire him.

you watch miles devour his dumplings. you stare at the veins running down his arms as he lifts each bite to his lips. he looks over at you, a smug look on his face. “what?” he asked through a mouthful of food. “you’ve gotten so big, i guess aaron’s really working you hard with all that prowler stuff.” you say. he grins, “what you don’t like it?” he asks while purposely flexing his arms. you laugh, shaking your head. he reaches over to the table, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv. “so, how’s your prowler business going?” you ask. miles’ eyes light up as soon as you ask, “fucking amazing,” he says. “you know, the other day, me and aaron completely messed up these guys. it was crazy, i mean i—” you quickly raise a finger, shushing him. you point at the screen.

the news flashes on, bright letters on the bottom of the screen reads “the prowler strikes again — with a new apprentice.” when miles realizes what he’s reading, he immediately stops eating. you gasp, snatching the remote out of his hand, turning up the volume. you listen to the reporter as she stands by a large building, a visible chuck of it missing. “holy shit,” you mutter, you laugh as you realize half of the building has been blown up. “you blew it up?” you ask. his eyes are glued to the screen, “yeah, i did.” he replies back. the two of you laugh as it switches over to another angle of the building being even more wrecked. “i hate that they’re calling me an apprentice though,” he says while continuing to eat his food. you lean back, tilting your head to the side. “is that not what you are?” he looks at you, shrugging. “i mean, yeah — but you know.” you roll your eyes sarcastically, giggling. “i’m so proud of you, my baby finally made it onto tv.” you say as you pinch his cheeks teasingly. miles grabs your wrist, laughing. “aight, chill.”

he finishes his dumplings, placing the box back on the table. he gets up, grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge before sitting back down next to you. he opens the bottle, gulping down his water. “i’m glad you’re having fun with all this, haven’t seen you genuinely happy in a while.” you say, he looks up at you, his gaze softening. “yeah,” he murmurs. “all of this prowler stuff really helps me ease my stress,” you smile at him, playing with one of his braids. “and your mom, she doing okay?” miles nods, “yeah, she still doesn’t know about it yet though.”

miles sighs loudly, laying his head down into your lap. he looks up at you, pulling you into a kiss. “and i hope she doesn’t find out any time soon.” he mutters. he turns in your lap, watching the news. you hear him hysterically laugh under you every time the reporter mentions the damage he’s done to the building.

please do not copy or repost my writings to any other sites !

[yogurtlid10000]

Recently I read Transformers: Skybound FINALLy!!! it was fantastic, cant wait for the next issue

Highly recommend reading it tho, its a greattt comic and has super awesome art

Spoilers incoming ofc

Everyone's already talked about this but wow Optimus is portrayed so well!!! I love the dialogue when he describes Cybertron. Also love the pink backgrounds i some panels!! Anyway the interaction with him and Spike feels good and authentic. nice

The fight scenes. SO good to me, I think the art is super dynamic and the way the sound effects are written give great impact. The artist knew what they were doing for sure. I love how they use the comic media to its fullest. With those different shaped slanted box panels, and the smear lines when somethings moving fast idk

I also looove the shading in these comics!! and the linework like on their faces really helps the atmosphere. once again i love the sound effects (especially that big TONG) when starscream gets hit lol it just looks like all the fonts were designed or drawn by the artists yk?? and the variety of camera angles throughout is cool too.

Also love the relationship between optimus and the humans. It feels... better than how other transformers media has handled it (imo). I think its sweet

again great comic art the lighting.. the EVERYTHING idk i just admire this artist a lot (i think his name is daniel warren johnson, although it switches to Jorge Corona later) one thing i love in particular is how the lines are like... a little messy and sometimes a little all over the place-to depict their wear and grime. cool!

Next. Cant talk about skybound without talkingabout THE DECEPTICONS. oh my god. starscream is a spawn of hell. what a bitch. like actually he might be at his worst here hes so diabolical. Anyway even though hes very evil hes still enjoyable to watch because its just idk pure villain. Soundwaves care for his cassettes is sweet as usual. PUNTING Ravage is crazy. cannibalizing Skywarp is crazy. FGELP IDEK WHAT TO SAY except i like the art a lot here as usual its great very comic-y again. SOundwave stays a favorite character.

THIS is an iconic and great moment of skybound, i love it, i lvoe that optimus is willing to use this cannon to further the battle yk also looks badass

Gotta say these are two of my favorite pages throughout the whole series. Love the color and camera angles.

I know starscreams the big bad villain or whatever (for now) but he still makes me laugh

These panels... THE YELLOW BACKGROUND. THE LOUD SOUND EFFECTS. THE POSE. THE "YOU KNOW THE SONG" perfect. 10/10 for me. the artist has got the touch. (theyre referencing The Touch right?)

These three phenomenal moments with devastator. the art.... its just too cool. very dynamic. i like starscream getting squished. Once again the fight scene art DELIVERS.

This too. I love how soundwaves punches feel really weighted. also YAY starscreams getting the beating he deserved

....remember that PUNT to ravage earlier? welp. bye starscream. Things only get worse for the autobots here tho.... because with soundwave as leader the decepticons can actually function and be more deadly....

...when i saw this i knew we were fucked. we are fucked. wave and wave partnership? optimus is screwed. AND MEGATRON HASNT EVEN BEEN ADDED TO THE MIX YET. oh god.

The newest chapter has some gorgeous panels. plus beachcomber!

Local deadly robot scientist discovers whales and the beauty of earth. Big fan of transformers discovering earth stuff.

GUYS. ultra magnus!! hes one of my favorite transformers im so glad hes in this series.....i wish he was in better shape because-WE ARE SUPER FUCKED RATCHETS DEAD. no medic-HOW IS ANYONE GONNA GET REPAIRED.

ok fr what are we gonna do

poor wheeljack.

anyway the issue ends with shockwaves insane evil plan to bring cybertron to earth working so idk whats gonna happen next but im excited to see more.

also jazz this whole comic has been really cool, hes always helpful btu then he like gets beat up or captured but HES ALWAYS POSITIVE and he only speaks in music puns too. ONLY.

ultra magnus save us... idk bro we need a miracle... maybe jetfire will be useful again soon, maybe beachcomber will come in clutch. maybe new autobots will join. if yes, i hope we see springer again hes cool

anyway yes ik i barely talked about any faults of the comic, im trying to be super open and see it with like no bias or comparing it to other comics and stuff. personally i like it a lot. the humans arent even dislikable imo. the characters are nice. one thing is that MAN a lot of characters are dying. kinda sad. no ratchet is crazy. also when will megatron awaken? and how?

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #381

I started out today by accompanying J to the little airport. He had to drop off his airplane keys to the mechanic so that they can look at his transponder and brake fluid line. He asked me along so he could have company for the car ride; it's 40 minutes to get there and 40 minutes back. I like spending time in the car with J, and so I was happy to get dressed in my pink fuzzy onesie and come along.

It was a windy day today. When J parked the car in front of the place where the mechanic does his work, there was some kind of dark-colored hawk with a white underside playing in the gusty winds. I was hoping that it would come closer, but it didn't; it disappeared behind the treeline for a while.

Not too terribly long later, though, my instincts told me I should look at the field again. And lo, the hawk was resting in the field:

...Words can't express how grateful I am for this new cellphone camera. It zooms in all the way to 30x. My previous one only zooms in to 8x. I wouldn't have been able to snag this photo if I hadn't accidentally destroyed my old one.

I wouldn't have been able to snag these, either:

I had tried to get a closer shot than these, but it saw me coming from a distance away (figures...) and took off. This was the best I could do. Sorry about that!

I got another one, too, on the way home. I was very lucky that J was willing to stop the car so I could get this one. This one was a different kind of hawk – it had brown feathers and a red tail. You can't see it very well in this image, though...

And finally, I got another. Though I think this one was a raven:

I cropped this one; I like the clouds in the one above, but I like this cropped one maybe a little better:

I saw one more raven chilling out on a grass strip on the side of the road, and it was REALLY close. But I didn't see it until it was too late to get my camera out. But... heck, it was a BIG ol' raven!! Holy cannoli!! I wish you could have seen it!!

…

...The sightings of so many birds-of-prey and ravens in a single morning is significant to me for reasons I dare not explain here. Nonetheless, I felt relieved for a variety of reasons.

Keep staying safe out there, okay...?

…

Well. I was pretty hungry by the time I got home. I had a slice of that tomato pie I was telling you about yesterday, and, as promised, I got you a picture this time:

Of course, I couldn't leave it well enough alone, no. Because you see, last time I was at work, my store had this in the cheese section while I was looking for burrata:

...It's just the filling!!!! I've never seen this in my store before! Here's what it looks like:

If you're thinking that it looks like cottage cheese... that's because you're absolutely correct!! It has approximately the same texture. The flavor is similar, but... only if you can imagine a cottage cheese that isn't salty and slightly sour. It's similar enough, though!!

...You know what!! I have a friend who makes cottage cheese cookies; he told me the recipe (I really gotta get on trying it...). I wonder how these cookies would taste if they were made with this stuff instead...! Hmmmm....!!!!

...Maybe I'll ask him to tell me about it if he tries it sometime!!!

Anyway, so I put it on the pizza, and it was good!!!

I put my braces back in after that. Except... I switched to the newest set of braces. I am on number 9 now!! I will show you how they compare to the first set!

Here's the lower jaw. The front teeth for the new set (higher up on the image) looks MUCH straighter than the original (slightly lower in the image).

The one confused, scraggly tooth on the right side is REALLY being moved with this new set (fwhoof...), and that's more than a little uncomfortable. But that's okay! Because it's not sticking out forward at weird angles nearly as much anymore! Isn't that so cool!!

Then, here are a couple pictures of the set for the upper jaw...

The snaggletooth on the right there is really being brought down! Like... it's not waaaay up near my nose anymore; it's only a little bit up near my nose!

And it's being pulled inward, too; check it out!

Do you see on the top one how much closer it is to the rest of my teeth? Wild, isn't it??? Hahaha!

...I wonder if the inside of my face will be fixed by the time the third part of your story comes out. Then, maybe I'll be able to smile at you properly when I see you on the screen...

I played a few runs of Hades after this; it's been a fair bit since last time I played. I didn't stream today, but I did record my gameplay, just in case I made it beyond Elysium. I... didn't make it beyond Elysium. But I did last for a lot longer in the fight with Theseus and Asterius!

O and his sister Mz came by shortly after that; they arrived at around 3:00pm. O forgot all about the beads, and so instead we played video games. O and Mz played Smash Brothers together. And then all three of us played Super Mario Wonder. Then I got them some snacks, and O had some kind of video call relating to Dungeons and Dragons (often shortened to D&D), so Mz played Astro Bot by herself for a while.

Mz is older than me by a few years. I was a little surprised at how fiercely competitive she was, even while playing a cooperative game. It wasn't a bad thing, necessarily – just interesting. There are some details that I know about them, regarding how and why they do as they do, and I guess it was fascinating to see it play out in real time.

I'll look forward to them popping by again; they're very delightful people. Hopefully they'll eventually realize that it's safe enough for them to just be themselves in my house. I'll wait patiently for it.

And... that brings me to the now. It's already almost time for me to get my butt to bed; I've got work in the morning, and I wanna make sure I'm well-rested and functional.

...I wonder what your days are like. What sorts of thoughts, feelings, and wishes are they filled with? What delights do you notice as you wander about? How do you find comfort, rest, and respite? I wish you could tell me.

Well. If you get bored over there, you can chill out over here with us. We've got all sorts of fun stuff to do, tasty snacks to eat, a hot shower with nice soaps, and soft, warm, safe spaces to sleep. Just like O and his sister, you are welcome here, and we will ensure that you're tended to.

I love you and I'll write again tomorrow, so please continue to keep yourself safe out there, wherever you are, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

[mike----wazowski]

i completely forgot i had something for sunday six last week lmao but i'll just post it today @four-white-trees @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22 @passthroughtime @woundedheartwithin i've also seen @jichanxo being tagged in others so i thought i might add- hope that's ok!! 🫡🫡

this has been sitting in my drafts for ages and is a really old snippet. rikiya content was the first writing i did for yakuza 😔✊️

***

"Riona, what are you doing out here? I asked you to get me your dirty laundry."

Kiryu's scolding seemed to go over Riona's head. She had her hands on her hips, and was striking a pose. "I'm practising my runway walk, Uncle Kaz. I'll need it for when I'm a supermodel!"

Kiryu sighed. "A supermodel."

"Yeah!"

"I thought you wanted to be a fashion designer?"

"Changed my mind!"

"Right. Well, maybe practice being a supermodel after you've given me your laundry," Kiryu said, with as much patience as a father-of-nine could muster. "You won't get on the runway with dirty clothes, will you?"

"What's this about bein' a supermodel?" A bright voice rang out. Haruka beamed as Rikiya approached the gates of Morning Glory, Mikio in tow. The moment they heard him (Rikiya could be heard from Downtown Ryukyu), the other kids emerged from the house, and Taichi came running to wrestle him, as was his signature greeting.

"Riona's practising her walk for the runway," Haruka chirped, as Rikiya was almost knocked off his feet. "She wants to be a catwalk model one day."

"Ohh, right, of course- Riona's our little fashionista!" Trying (and failing) to fend Taichi off, Rikiya called, "Let's see that walk, then, Riona!"

"Okay!"

Kiryu cleared his throat as Riona readied herself. "What about your laundry?"

Riona paid him no heed, starting up her attempt at a runway walk. She looked rather like a wobbly duckling taking its first steps, but Rikiya and Mikio cheered with the enthusiasm of a stadium crowd.

"Wow! You're gonna be at all the big shows!" Mikio said, and Rikiya yelped in agreement, unable to say more with Taichi trying to drag him down.

"Thanks! I keep asking Uncle Kaz to get me a pair of heels so I can practice properly, but he always says no," Riona said.

"Aniki- just doesn't- understand the lifestyle," Rikiya wheezed. Fortunately for him, Taichi had now switched targets to Mikio. "He's an unfashionable old man, y'know?"

"She's too young to wear heels," Kiryu intoned. "Plus, you're pretty far from the supermodel lifestyle yourself, Rikiya."

"Whaaa-" Rikiya let out a theatrical gasp, wheeling around to face Haruka. "Haruka-chan, did ya hear what he just said?"

"I did," Haruka giggled.

"Am I wrong?" Kiryu asked, voice dust-dry. "Anyway, we've had our fun- laundry now, Riona, and if you two are here you can help me with the-"

"Nope, nope, nope. I ain't lettin' this stand!" Rikiya interrupted, pushing his chest out. "I'm gonna show you how I strut my stuff, Aniki!"

"... what."

"I'm gonna do a runway walk that makes you go gaga!"

Taichi finally let up on his assault, dropping off of Mikio's back. "Isn't that for girls, Uncle Rikiya?"

"Don't say that like it's a bad thing!" Ayako scolded him.

"Both girls and guys both do modelling," Mikio told him. "I dunno if Rikiya fits the part, though. You gotta be good looking to be a model."

"Hey, go to hell!" Rikiya protested. "I'll show ya both what I can do!"

Though Kiryu looked like he wanted to protest, the prospect of seeing Rikiya make a fool of himself was enticing. And now Rikiya had his audience, he probably would go ignored anyway.

"Gotta have a good starting point..." Rikiya jogged over to the gates of Morning Glory. "You watch this!"

"Oh, I'm watching," Kiryu sighed.

Rikiya took long, flying strides, head angled so he was gazing dramatically into the distance. He wiggled his hips in a way that shouldn't have been anatomically possible. The kids shrieked with laughter, and Kiryu shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm gonna show you my passion... I'm gonna show you my fire..." He seemed to be going above and beyond a regular catwalk, adding off-key singing to the mix.

"Are you a model or an idol?" Kiryu asked.

"Both, aniki! I'm a triple threat! Singin', dancin', and killin' with good looks!" He turned to the kids. "Wanna join in?"

Izumi and Riona jumped at the chance, running to join him on his little stage. It took a moment of bravery, but Mitsuo followed. Never one to be upstaged, Taichi jumped in next, and soon all of them but Haruka were following Rikiya's makeshift choreography.

"I guess I'm never getting that laundry," Kiryu sighed, but he was smiling so openly Haruka couldn't take him seriously. "Not feeling like a supermodel, Haruka? Or dancer- whatever he thinks he's doing."

"Come on, Haruka-chan! Gotta show your oji-san what's what!" Rikiya called. "I'll have your heart inside of my hand-"

"'Cause I am the queen, oh queen of the passion!" Haruka jumped in, and Kiryu let out a genuine laugh, loud and strong.

It was just like Rikiya to turn a quiet night into one where everyone danced.

So of all the things wrong with his body- the bullet wounds, the blood, the empty eyes- the stillness was the worst part.

[alltingfinns]

TEH, part 3

I wasn’t sure how much there was left after the bonfire scene but apparently there’s about a half hour left, meaning these parts are in neat thirds.

I write as if anyone else knows what I’m talking about when these drop randomly once a year or so.

Sherlock remained more in focus from John’s perspective.

Still so cute how Sherlock immediately must hustle his parents out when his crush heterosexual former roommate shows up.

Mum putting her foot in the doorway in case there was any doubt who’s the “sherlock” of these two.

“Your parents? Your parents? Those were your parents?”

John who desperately wants to understand Sherlock. How much he would have wanted to interrogate them, I’m sure. But then he has to giggle at the absurdity of the Holmes brothers having such (seemingly) ordinary parents.

And then the hurt. “Did they know too?”

“So that’s why they weren’t at the funeral!” Because if they had been, John would have recognized them now of course. But also he probably thought they had died or something, making their existence as ordinary people even more shocking.

“Wasn’t working for me.” If Molly and John not mirrors then why this exact line. Why not “Well, everybody hated it” or “Didn’t fit me” or “Kept tickling my lips”.

Just saying. Plenty of options.

“Last night” “Too nebulous” goes on with the case.

There’s all the likelihood that, like with Sherlock’s survival, the writers just didn’t care who put John in the bonfire. They just wanted John in the bonfire. So that Sherlock could heroically rescue him.

And yes I was thinking about how this episode takes place “today” as in 5th November as in Guy Fawke’s Day. (Though the cool kids call it John Johnson’s day.)

Am I just that Johnlocked that I find it adorable that Sherlock angled the laptop so that John would see more/be more included?

Sumatra road is 28 minutes by car from Westminister. Definitely not below it. Gotta take some creative liberties for those sweet canon references.

Why hasn’t Moran just left town entirely? Oh well.

A bit of illegal breaking and entering as people walk by without giving them a second glance. That’s big cities for you.

I forgot how far they have to go through this.

Love that John got to comment on the demolition charges.

Ah, I get it! Moran still has to be in like radio range or something.

“Why do you think I know what to do?” Really, Sherlock? Really?

“And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all!” Sherlock why are you being so petty, you love him being a former soldier.

051113 is the bomb code.

I just love the line “Use your mind palace” because it makes me think of how intelligence is weirdly used as a superpower in media.

Also that you can vaguely hear Sherlock saying “off” as he’s panicking with his hands around the bomb.

John is so fucking smart but also maybe he also just has faith in Sherlock being clever enough. But anyway just cutting through the bullshit, this is a trick.

Maybe Sherlock is underhanded here. But John finds this sort of stuff difficult.

So here we get John Watson’s version of Dean Winchester’s purgatory prayer. “Of course I forgive you”

This explanation is definitely unreliable narrator. Sherlock wasn’t quite as in control as he likes to portray himself so of course he makes it out otherwise. But he’s convinced that Moriarty died but again: A. Singular. Body.

This explanation means that it was John that most importantly had to buy it. Possibly because close friend, with medical certification who Sherlock nonetheless felt he couldn’t trust the acting skills of.

I think this scene happened (more or less) and sometime after the proper end to the episode. But like even Anderson(Philip) noticed that the explanation is lacking.

Sherlock laughing like the utter little shit he is.

“There’s always an off switch.” Say that to the undefusable bomb. Although technically it did have an off switch, it was just too complicated to be tried without knowing the proper sequence.

Getting John to laugh even when he’s angry with him.

They really are the right kind of wrong for each other.

Mycroft being les miserable. XD

“Weddings. Not really my thing.”

You’re going to be planning and arranging the whole thing you miserable bastard!

A difference between Molly and John. She went for the suspiciously similar substitute, he went for (what he believed to be) the exact antithesis.

Oh my little lestrolly heart at Lestrade asking if Molly and Tom are serious. Although he is likely doing it because he is the one who would comment on the elephant.

“Real life is rarely so neat.” The goddamn bonfire.

They’re literally saying that the one true explanation for Sherlock surviving is that John asked him to.

“Time to be Sherlock Holmes.” *wears the damn hat*

Sherlock’s mind palace is certainly nicer than Magnussen’s.

[vroom-vroom1]

F1-75 live comments bc I’m feeling yappy now that we’re almost back to F1 again. (Very long sorryyyy but not really. also if it gets weird, I am slightly tipsy)

Wanted to have beef so bad with Jack Whitehall for that time that he called Seb boring and unfunny, but that intro roast was great my god. (Apparently he confused him with Kimi? Idk.)

Immediately poking fun at Max for not wanting to be there, then bringing up the George-Max beef. “Have you two kissed and made up yet?” Toxic Russtappen beef this season is a need, not a want.

“Pray for Toto, it’s the worst thing that could happen, your partner of ten years running off with an Italian stallion. Toto, I hope you switched your eyes to wets.” Incredible.

Omg Jenson Brawn clips

Omg “The Formidable” Sebastian Vettel clip

Why tf does Mattia Binotto get to walk out on stage to Vivaldi’s Summer, keep that gorgeous song away from him wtf. Idk the Stake car looks nice, very cool gradient with the green.

This is kinda hilarious ngl, obscenely corny.

Thank you Jack Whitehall for using the term “rawdog,” truly. Beautiful stuff happening tonight. I hope MBS hated that.

Poor Charles cannot catch a break from being flirted with by Whitehall (completely unrelated to the use of the word rawdog, I swear).

Williams looks more blue than usual perhaps. 👍 It’s nice though!

Gradients are in this season I guess. Maybe they were before. Who knows. The cars (ideally) go too fast for me to see.

A whole segment poking fun at VCARB’s name is amazing airtime. I feel like that sounds sarcastic, but it’s not, I swear. They better add green to the car.

The audience sounds a little dead. Very dead. Idk if it’s an audio issue or if the audience is being kind of lame.

OOOO I looooove VCARB’s livery holy shit??? Gorgeousssss beautiful amazing.

There’s not much green but idc it doesn’t need it, it’s gorgeous.

Got jumpscared by Helmut Marko lurking the background of the audience jeez.

Why are we singing about pickup trucks? Pee/alcohol refill break.

Haas Haas Haas yippeee (weird time to hit the ‘yeehaw American team shaking up the establishment 😎🤠’ angle, ngl 😓)

I’m realizing I don’t remember any of last year’s liveries. Something is new about the Haas that I like though. Insightful of me, I know!!

(From post-event me after checking: the silver looks really good, I like that it’s more silver this year!)

Esteban and Ollie look nice in the black overalls! Esteban immediately starting by thanking the crowd, I love him 🥹

I’m really excited to watch Haas hopefully continue to improve this season.

Esteban skipping off the stage, you are so dear to me.

Why is Fernando Alonso glaring at me behind Jack Whitehall?

Tax evasion mention lfggggg

Alpine DJ set is a thing that is happening I suppose. And the cut to Flavio Briatore watching the DJ with his mouth hanging open lol.

Nasty work to highlight Brazil 2024 after how they treated Esteban ngl.

Car looks nice idk I’m mad at Flavio Briatore again. Ok it looks really nice idk. That glossy blue wow. With the pink BWT text, looks good. Like it a lot! Don’t like Flavio Briatore at all!

OMG Chloe and Dorianne and Tina and Alba eeee!!!

SUSIE WOLFF MY WIFE

EVERYONE AUDIBLY BOOING WHEN THEY MENTIONED THE FIA whoaaaa. Based.

Aston’s James Bond theme is either entirely corny or a slay and I can’t figure out which, but I’m enjoying it.

Aston’s slaying their intro ngl, this is amazing. Tems and the violins are gorgeoussss. The car doesn’t look shockingly different, but that green is always 😍😍😍

Oh no, F1 movie promo time 🙄

Mercedes with the “Every dream needs a team” again, was that not Lewis’s farewell slogan? Weird.

Apparently they botched their mock pit stop, I was on my phone 😭 Gotta go back later and watch again lol.

Oh the glimmers of silver on the Mercedes air box and nose looks pretty. It looks really nice!

Kimi, my son (aka I found out a few hours ago that he was a Vettel fan growing up)

Omg asking Gordon Ramsey about the swearing ban with Stefano Domenicalli looking on suspiciously in the back. HE’S IN SUPPORT OF CURSING LFGGGG

OMG he said “if the shit hits the fan” into the mic before it got yanked away, what a king.

I hope MBS is sulking somewhere.

I’ve had too much alcohol for spelling Domenicalli to be easy.

Redbull time lfg. (they have to be purple I can’t do more blue, Tumblr needs to let us have more colors)

Is Christian Horner getting booed??? Deserved.

I too would drive unsafely to chase down the Redbull Racing truck.

The car looks the same wow! Shocking! Redbull can’t go wrong with the classic look though ngl I’d be horrified if they changed it.

I can’t help but wonder if the curse of Redbull four-time world champion immediately turned father will hit and end the era of Max dominance.

People booing Max is kinda…….. idk. :/

They flipped straight to Ferrari damn, no comments from Max or Liam. I wonder if that was planned or if they took too much time in the schedule? Or wanted to skip away from the booing?

FRATELLI D’ITALIA ITALIA SE DESTA

I hope it’s that dark red please be that dark red the dark red is soooo sexy

They’re really edging us with this lead up

Every day I fight to not become a tifosa, every day I feel the siren’s song calling stronger and stronger

I did just finish memorizing the snippet they play on the podium of the Italian anthem but like in a suuuuper casual way. Knee deep in the passenger’s seat and whatnot.

IT’S THE DARK SEXY RED LETS FUCKING GOOOOO I actually shrieked in excitement

Omg and the white accent stripe?! I think I kind of like it, but not fully decided. Regardless, the dark red makes me love it.

LEWIS IN RED LEWIS IN RED

I don’t even care that HP is an eyesore, Ferrari you are so beautiful to me

Charles saying he thinks he’ll fulfill his dream to become a WDC??? SAY LESS LFG

The red dream 🥹🥹

The audience is very audible now that they’re all cheering for Lewis.

Lewis sounds emotional 🥹

I think I’m losing the battle of not being a tifosa.

Mclaren time :/

Make it red and chrome again pls

Wait I forgot who Mclaren’s engine supplier is now, is it still Mercedes? Could easily go back to chrome if so, just call up Vodafone again and then boom bam done.

Ohhhhhh they have some of their old cars on stage. Very very cool.

I think I would like Mclaren a lot more if they let Andrea Stella actually act like a team principal and hid Zak Brown in some corner ngl. Sorry the alcohol is speaking through me like a demon.

“We wanted to stay consistent with last year’s livery” aww boooo

Okay so no change other than some blue under the Dell and “DP world” (whatever that is 👀 freaky ass sponsor) logo

Suits exactly the same, cars exactly the same, all while they have Fittipaldi, Senna, Hakkinen, and Hamilton’s old Mclaren cars on stage? 🥲 Aww

Why did Whitehall say dankeschön like that dancwushun uh ok

Overall livery winner for me: VCARB, 100%. Ferrari is a very close second with that new dark red color bc wowww, but VCARB looks so good. And they made a pretty dramatic change from last year’s livery and really pulled it off.

Also Jack Whitehall, you have almost redeemed yourself to me, that was great.

I forgot to make overnight oats before the event, but my roommate is asleep 😔 Devastating.

[starry-hughes]

“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.”

Kent and Caroline

star’s 1 year celly!

-

caroline had been waiting to see kent for a while now. she missed him a lot. she felt bad for dipping out on a chance to see quinn but he didn’t mind. “you can just come see me another time, go see your boyfriend,” quinn had texted her.

kent had also missed her. and since his game today didn’t end well, there was some frustration build up. he hovered about her, roughly slamming into her just to see her reactions

“fuck kent,” she cried out. so he kept doing it. he guessed he hit the perfect angle when her moans started getting caught in her throat and her eyes started rolling back.

“do that again- shit, just like that, right there. fuck kj please,” she begged. she became a babbling mess when he went slightly sped up and it was making caroline feel like she was on top of the world.

“baby fuck caroline, you’re close aren’t you?” he groaned lowly. she nodded and he wasn’t going to keep his girl from waiting. her moans got louder as he worked her closer and closer.

she was blabbering on, just saying his name over and over again. it would switch between kent and kj. “atta girl, you can do it, you’re so close,” kent’s words sent her over the edge. his hips stuttered and he had to hold onto his headboard to keep himself up as he his movements came to an end and the both were breathing heavily.

“i- shit caroline i needed that,” he said as he moved away from her after leaning down to kiss her. “glad it helped,” she shook slightly from the cold room and he quickly got her wrapped in a blanket. “warm up a little then i gotta make sure you go use the bathroom and stuff.”

“love you kent.” he smiled softly at her, “love you too.”

[coolbeanzeaglbones]

A Wacky Weird Tale chapter (the one where they get kidnapped)

After mandated band practice, it was required unless you were too sick to get out of bed, or Crash or Chad said they didn't have to do it that night.

They all went to sleep, all except for Christian that is. He was in his bunk, thinking.

It wasn't rare that he would have to be thinking. He did have to plan stuff, if he didn't, all of them would somehow get in trouble.

He knew he had to do it. He had to get the others and run. They would somehow find their parents and they would go home.

He quickly woke Jimmy up from sleep mode, “What?” He sounded weirdly groggy for a robot, “Go get Ricky, I'll get Ian, we gotta go. Now.” He sounded deadly serious, “Why?” Christian couldn't help but allow himself a little smile at the robot's confusion, “Because,” he dumped his backpack out quietly, “we're getting out of here.” He was already in a t- shirt and long underwear, so he pulled his jeans over and pulled on his hoodie. He took some clothes from his dresser, “Let's go.” They crossed the hall to where Ian and Ricky shared a room.

They were quiet as they tiptoed in. Jimmy slowly went over to Ricky's side of the room and Christian went and shook Ian by the shoulder.

He was not prepared to be met with a knife, but you never know, “Woah woah woah, calm down.” He whispered, grabbing Ian by the wrist, forcing him to drop the knife.

Christian just stared at him, “What the hell?” Ian just grabbed the knife from the floor, “See, if i-it was one of th-the two big g-guys that h-had come in, I w-would have the perfect st-stab angle and…” he stopped talking when he made out Christian's horrified face in the dark, “What? I can p-possibly get t-tried as a child, you g-guys would pr-probably get tried as a-adults.” Christian had never once thought of murdering them, “Okay, we're going.” He whispered, “Are y-you getting m-me arrested? Wh-what the hell?” Christian almost laughed, “No, we're all running away.” Ian sighed in relief, “Yes.” Was all he said.

Ian, apparently, was a paranoid little mother fricker. He slept in his clothes and apparently kept a knife under his pillow. And apparently had been ready for this, “If y-you weren't g-going to do s-something, I was g-going to.” Ricky was still kinda confused, “What?” He asked through a yawn, “We're going.” Jimmy whispered, “Oh, I'm almost glad you made me pack this, Ian.” He grabbed an extra backpack that he had under his bed, “We were gonna run tomorrow.” He clarified after seeing Christian's look.

After Ricky had dressed, they crept down the hall, “H-hang on.” Ian lifted up the edge of the living room rug, “What are you doing?” Jimmy's question was answered when Ian lifted up a loose floorboard, “Grabbing th-the knife and the b-book so that w-we can get b-back to our di-dimension.” Everyone groaned, “You can't seriously still think that we switched dimensions somehow.”

“How do y-you ex-explain no one c-coming for u-us?”

Because they gave up, Christian said internally. He would let his friend believe whatever brought him sanity.

They quietly disabled the sneaking out alarm by putting a knife in and cutting the wires. Then they quietly slipped out like fixtures of the night.

They made their way to town, a bit paranoid that they had been heard. All they needed to do was find someone and ask for directions back to Christian's old neighborhood. The only reason they had never asked before was because they were terrified of what Chad or Crash might do, also, they lived really close to the school and had no friends, so it wasn't like they could ask anyone. The only place they ever went was school and the house.

Finally, they reached a twenty-four hour convenience store.

It was cold out, so the heat of the store was welcome, “Good evening.” A girl with a southern accent said.

She looked to be about Ricky's age, “Hi, do you know where Jackson Road is from here?” She looked confused, “Uh, hang on, lemme get my granddaddy.” She left to the back of the store for a minute and came back with an old man, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Jackson Road? Do you know how to get there? It's in Orange county.”

The old man made a face, “Son, there's no Jackson Road in Orange County that I know of, are you boys okay?” Christian looked like a deer in headlights, as did everyone except for Ian, “S-story, we've been w-walking a long time, h-he meant Jamboree Ro-road.” The old man launched into full education mode, grabbing a road stop map and drawing out instructions with a marker.

Christian couldn't really do anything more than nod and say “uh-huh”. He was at a loss. No Jackson Road? Was he remembering wrong? No, right? He lived there for his entire life before the incident.

The old man gave them the map and they left, “C-can we do m-my plan now?”

[anissapierce]

Walmart and Meijer are the only places ive been that have off brand non alcoholic mouthwash with fluoride. Walmart and walgreens have off brand dry mouth mouthwash. Don't rinse off ur toothpaste if ur using like paradontax or sth w stannous fluoride. Spit it out obviously but you've gotta let that stuff sink in. Dont brush your teeth until about half an hour after youve eaten bc otherwise the acids in ur mouth tht help break down food affect how well u can clean ur teeth. Learn how to floss correctly do it at least once a day and ur gums will stop bleeding. (It might take two months of doing so though?) When ur brushing your teeth angle ur brush so the bottom of the brush is facing your gums.that angle helps best when it comes to having healthy gums.

If you have acid reflux you need to be careful about ur teeth. If u have dry mouth u have to be careful abt ur teeth. I have both n have gone back to a dentist after they found a cavitee and it wasnt there anymore. Bc if you keep up with ur dental hygiene u can reverse stuff from times u werent keeping up

Also most whitening stuff ruins ur teeth in the long run n the thing tht helps ur teeth n gums most stannous fluoride has a possibility of staining a little. Embrace yr yellow teeth .

Brushing too hard can kill a nerve in ur tooth turning it gray so u should probably get an electric toothbrush if uve already got one gray tooth

Its important to brush b4 u eat and b4 u sleep bc they protect yr teeth before both activities.

If ur using sensodyn bc ur gums are sensitive, consider switching to parodontax

We should hype up dental care routines more instead of skincare routines

[thatzombiecat]

12, 18, and 27 :)

Ask the Artist🎨 game!

[original post link]

[12] Is it okay for people to ask you about your process?

For my dear clients: sure thing! I share my wips for peeps who commission me when I need to consult or showcase the progress milestone. And I also sometimes share some process stuff on my patreon including steps vids with commentary alongside.

I'm not really a timelapse person (tbh I'm just too lazy on managing OBS and shit to clean the vid reel), but if I'll switch to another drawing program that allows to record the process naturally then I'd be using this feature for sure! Always lovely to share some insights and have more content for people to see.

[18] What are you currently trying to improve on?

Ohhhh you already know an answer firsthand Fran. It's definitely a human body anatomy drawing ;'D

First things to do when i'm finally out and free from this round of commissions? I'm gonna chug up on that body anatomy theory juice and practice it like a madman. Gotta study it all ( ◉ω◉)🤌

And after that? Probably landscapes / scenery rendering and using dynamic perspective and angles for illustrations. Might also get some extensive courses on it alongside. Nghhh... there's really so much to learn in that field it's practically endless

Art is a constant struggle learning after all 🙃

[27] For digital artists: how many layers does a typical piece require?

About 12 to 15, 5 of which is just some floating ref pieces or separate sketch/lines and 5 others are different overlay effects. I tend to merge my main chunk of the layers on the go to free up the space and don't mind to do the actual render on a single layer.

____________________

All previous answers: [2, 4, 6, 7] [5, 15] [9, 25]

[deadspace2411]

Strategic Dismemberment in Dead Space

In 2508, Dead Space is all about this tiny crew on the USG Kellion, swooping in to save the USG Ishimura mining ship after it sends out a distress signal. The tension mounts as they navigate through the derelict ship, facing unimaginable horrors at every turn—a gripping narrative that translates seamlessly into the immersive experiences gamers seek when they buy Xbox games for heart-pounding excitement. You play as Isaac Clarke, this space mechanic dude who’s all about fixing comms. Problem is, they’ve lost all contact with the Ishimura, and it’s obvious something seriously messed up is going down. Not only are there barely any survivors, but most of the crew you do find are now these freaky undead creatures called Necromorphs, who are all about munching faces. These creepy things have creepy limbs and claws that you gotta chop off just right to take ’em out, especially when you’re stuck in a tiny room with a bunch of ’em. Forget aiming for the head—now it’s all about strategic dismemberment. It’s super cool because it makes every fight different from your typical horror game like Resident Evil. Plus, it totally changes how you think about taking down enemies, and those Necromorphs? Still nightmare fuel, no doubt.

Intense Horror-Action Gameplay

Let's dive into the weapons first—Motive Studio really switched things up when it comes to exploring where to buy PS5 games. The Flamethrower, once dissed by the Dead Space community for being weak, got a major overhaul in this remake and now it’s a total powerhouse. The Force Gun’s no slouch either; it’s so strong it peels Necromorphs’ skin right off, which is seriously gruesome. And of course, the trusty Plasma Cutter still rocks, slicing limbs off these beasts with its horizontal or vertical laser bolts. Good times! Making combat even deeper is the upgrade system. It’s not just about boosting damage; each gun gets unique upgrades in this remake. Like, you can add an Angled Launcher to your Ripper for extra blade ricochets, or slap on a Kinetic Reloader to your Pulse Rifle to crank up its fire rate. And beefing up your suit’s HP, armor, and oxygen is crucial as the game starts throwing tougher enemies your way in the second half of the 15-hour campaign. Aside from Isaac Clarke’s usual gear, there’s also the Kinesis module for moving stuff around with Jedi vibes—pulling or pushing objects. Plus, you snag a Stasis module early on that lets you slow time down, handy for both puzzles and combat. When you mix all this with the strategic limb chopping, Kinesis tricks, and Stasis moves, it makes for some seriously intense horror-action moments—probably the craziest you’ve seen.

Sci-Fi Horror Excellence

Let's break it down: Dead Space 2 is basically a carbon copy of the first one, but this time around, you get a richer, deeper story, a bit more oomph in combat, some tweaked puzzles, and scarier jump scares. Plus, now you can backtrack easier using the tram system to zip back to places you've been before, which you couldn't do in the original. Oh, and shoutout to the John Carpenter-style creepy music—it’s spot-on, and the sound effects? They’ll legit send shivers down your spine. All this goodness comes in a silky smooth 60fps and crisp 4K resolution that’ll have your eyes popping. Now, comparing it head-to-head with The Callisto Protocol, I’d say Striking Distance Studios’ sci-fi horror might have a slight edge in looks alone. But overall, Dead Space nails it in pretty much every other way—no contest there.

Return of Terror

Overall, Motive Studio’s Dead Space remake was mostly glitch-free, though there were a couple of tiny bugs that popped up. Like, at one point, Isaac got stuck in a door and took random damage, and I had to reload my game because the camera froze out of the blue. They were minor blips, but felt worth mentioning. But all in all, the remake is a total win. It builds on the original story in cool ways, looks and sounds amazing, and those Necromorphs? Still some of the scariest enemies around. It’s been a long wait, but Dead Space is finally back to give us that full-on horror thrill.

[b-blushes]

actually thought about this and had some ideas 👍

Remember that just because there are things in my behaviour that I can think about in my head to change to perhaps help things, that doesn’t mean it’s all just because I’m awful and bad at things in general, it just means that the thing that makes things difficult exists in my head/body (aka my me) also 

Mindfulness - focus on the present and the task at hand (helps with overwhelm if you are not thinking about the past and future of every task ever). This can be practised by going ‘now I am doing (whatever I’m doing)' when I notice my thoughts running off into one million things. To be able to feel like I can trust myself do that without everything falling into disarray depends on:

Prioritising better - gotta think of more objective question(s) to establish urgency rather than focusing on what *feels* big. Probably something simple like 'what is the actual real date that this needs to be completed by' in combination with: - Figuring out how to represent tasks in planner for monthly spread. - Assigning length of time the task will likely take while prioritising to get a better idea of how each thing will slot together and into future day plans When I add those together that should give me a flowchart to prioritise things better  

Figure out what part of the tasks is hard. e.g potatoes, it's - The total amount of time (standing hard anyway let alone hungry) -> reduce time by splitting up. - Number of steps in sequence makes it feel never ending, especially with time limit -> boiling ahead of time reduces time at lunch time and also makes task easy bc no time limit 

Rewards? Nice stuff or breaks don’t feel fun or restful because I’m so tired and stressed pretty much constantly so it’s hard to switch off. The reward of ‘doing the thing’, which is usually good motivation for me, isn’t feeling satisfying because I still feel overwhelmed by everything else I have to do also - that one completed thing is paling into insignificance under the weight of what would be a totally reasonable but is currently an overwhelming list of unprioritised things, both fun and necessary. Reducing tiredness and stress will help from one angle, can I think of better rewards also? 

Practice accepting - that you have ‘energy problems syndrome’ - ‘your brain uses quite a lot of energy actually. Truly. Really.’ and - ‘even if you think it’s so so silly that using your brain makes you ill, surprise! that still exists and happens, so it would pay to pace mentally-involved tasks the way you do physically involved ones. Even if it pains you soooooooo much and you hate breaking things up and feeling like you have one million things happening all the time. Perhaps those one million progress things would feel less overwhelming if you had energy and not a constant headache 👍’ 

Go outsiiiiiiiiiiiiiide! Go outside go outside go outside go outside!!!!!!!!!!!

Also prescribing myself ‘watch a little more tv and spend a little less time on tumblr’ because I need to spend more time feeling relaxed and reduce stress with my brain turned off or it (or my heart) is gonna explode 👍 (also would be good to find some more nice activities that don't use my brain or my body too much but that's a really big ask for me due to the various symptoms syndromes, so a constant work in progress) COOL!

how to get around the old ‘the only part of the day that feels purely nice atm is the time between showering and going to bed because there’s no demands and no way I could do anything that isn’t Chilling but that time’s so short and also everything before then takes one million years on account of I’m so tired that I Don’t Want to, thus shortening that time even more’? :P

[misc-obeyme]

I when to the mall another day with all my friend,and I tried on all the skirts in the store and none of them fix me

(my hips where too big :( ) I felt so sad and I told one of my friends

Could you do the brothers when mc tell them that they feel sad for not having any of the skirts fit them

Hello there, anon!

I went ahead and just did "clothes" in general, I hope that's okay. I wanted to keep things as neutral as possible.

I personally have a lot of OPINIONS about body image stuff, so I tried to keep that out of it lol. There's more focus on finding clothes that do fit and how the brothers might try to cheer you up.

Thank you for the request!

GN!MC tells the bros they're sad about not finding clothes that fit.

Warnings: some body image discussion, but not much, it's mostly fluff as usual

Lucifer

MC, you needn’t fret about such things. Don’t you realize there are several demons here that would make excellent clothes for you that will fit perfectly?

Will direct you to Barbatos first, but he has several suggestions. Lucifer isn’t exactly a fashionista, but he does care about his appearance. He’s picky about clothes and wants things that are high quality. As such, he knows where to get the kind of clothing you want and who to contact should it need tailoring.

He’s solution oriented so he’s going to start out with all of this sort of thing. But if you’re more interested in comfort than practicality, you’ll have to hint at it. He’ll pick it up immediately and switch tactics.

While he appreciates when you dress nicely, he tells you clearly that it doesn’t matter what you wear. You captivate him with your shining soul and your sweet smile. If you’re really feeling down about it, he’ll wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head, too. Not one for tender moments most of the time, but he makes exceptions for you.

Mammon

Immediately takes you shopping. You just need him with you, of course! He’ll find you multiple amazing outfits that will fit you perfectly. He knows all the shops and all the latest trends. Gotta keep up on this stuff when you’re a model, right?

Lets you pick out a few things for him, too. But mostly he’s ready to spend all his Grimm making you look and feel good. (Best not to ask where that Grimm came from, though. Ignorance is bliss in this case.)

You don’t really have to get him to comfort you because he’s telling you how amazing you look the entire time you’re shopping. But later, after you’ve brought all your purchases back to the House of Lamentation, let him know how much this meant to you. Tell him that you were feeling sad and insecure.

He’s blushing of course. And he’s going to bluster a little at first. C’mon, MC, he knows you’re appreciative of the Great Mammon treatin' ya! But he’s also gonna give you a hug because you obviously need one. Might get a little soft and genuine on you, too. He wants you to know that you’re perfect in every outfit you choose to wear.

Leviathan

Oh? You tried on some clothes that didn’t fit? Well, MC, who cares about normie clothes! He’s got a whole closet of cosplay that he made specifically for you and you can be sure that everything fits just right.

After overcoming the embarrassment he feels confessing this, he has a cosplay photo shoot with you in his room. Hypes you up like crazy while snapping pictures of you from every angle. You look so cute in all these different outfits! He’s so happy to see you in them!

Doesn’t like it when you’re sad, so he’s doing his best to cheer you up. If you’re still struggling, he’ll probably try to distract you with video games or anime.

Levi is not completely oblivious to your feelings and he cares about you, so he works up the courage to ask you if you want a hug. Say yes and he’ll wrap himself around you. He’ll tell you how much you mean to him - it’s a little easier when he’s not making eye contact but he still stutters a little when he says it.

Satan

Perplexed. Why would you be sad about clothes not fitting? Just buy some that do? Listen, this guy has zero fashion sense and he can be overly practical. He doesn’t quite understand so you might have to explain it to him.

He does realize that even if it makes no sense to him, you are sad about it and that is something he takes issue with. He wants you to let it all out. Don’t hold back, MC. Frustrated? Go ahead and yell about it, he’ll listen to every word. Sad? You can cry on his shoulder as long as you need to.

Satan probably knows an unfortunate amount about the history of making clothes and textiles. So if you’re in the mood to listen to him for a while, go ahead and ask him about it.

Otherwise you know he’s going to want to bring you to a cat café. It always makes him feel better and the cats don’t care about what you’re wearing. Trust him on this. Some kitty cuddles and a snack will take your mind off things.

Asmodeus

MC. You must know by now that this is his area of expertise. Why would you ever worry about some human world clothes that don’t fit right? He is here to make sure you always look fabulous.

Doesn’t even need to take you shopping because he already has a closet full of clothes that he bought for you. Of course he knows your size, so everything fits. Tell him what you were looking for and he’ll have it already, possibly in multiple colors.

Asmo also understands that there is likely a body image issue causing some of your sad feelings. That’s not something you’ll be able to work through in one night, but he’s going to talk it over with you while he does your hair or nails (or both).

Why not let him take you out to a party? You both look amazing and he would love to turn heads with you on his arm. He has many fans, but he’s a fan of you and he wants to show you off. Won’t hesitate to hold you close for the rest of the night - his soft touch brings you comfort.

Beelzebub

He gets it. He’s a big demon, they don’t always make clothes his size. But don’t worry, you’ll just have to look elsewhere for stuff that does fit. He’s happy to take you shopping if you’d like to try again.

He’s going to let you know that it doesn’t matter. Says it pretty bluntly, too. You’re just right the way you are, MC. You don’t need to be sad about this. He’s going to give you a bear hug and won’t let go until you say you’re feeling better.

Now of course he’s going to suggest going out to eat. Having some of your favorite foods is a great way to cheer up. Plus you know watching him eat is always fun. Somehow this outing really does make you feel better.

If you’re still feeling down, he will enlist the assistance of brothers that are a little more clothes savvy than he is. But if you just want him to comfort you, Beel will be more than happy to hold you as long as you like.

Belphegor

What? You’re sad that some clothes didn’t fit? You know that if clothes don’t fit, it’s because there’s something wrong with the clothes and not you, right? You just need to shop at a better store, MC.

Realizes that the human world has weird ideas about body image and clothes manufacturing, but doesn’t know enough about it. Just tells you to shop in the Devildom from now on. Anything that doesn’t fit can be altered. He knows at least three demons who can do that for you.

Anyway, he’s pretty sure Asmo already has a bunch of clothes for you. Nothing you could get in the human world could possibly compare to that selection. So don’t worry about it, okay?

More than happy to cuddle with you if that will make you feel better. Just know that he’s probably going to fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you. You might find yourself drifting off, too. If you do, you’ll have a pleasant dream that will leave you in a good mood when you wake up.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!