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caramelcleopatraa · 1 month ago

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Birthday Updates :)

x: hey guysss!! so I have some things to say. first thing is, I will not be continuing kintober sadly, and I will save the rest of the props for 2025, as I do want to come back to them. there are some more projects that I'm working on that's grabbing my attention more, plus dance and college make my life hectic. so because of that and to make up for that... kinda... , I decided to give you guys ALOOOT of sneak peeks into things I have been working on and things I want to share with you guys soon <3 also its my birthdayyyy!! a bad bitch is turning up 🤪

A quick fic I made in an hour

x: heavily inspired by harmshake and msbigredmachine's collaboration because they have me on a leash waiting for the next installment

He was working out in his backyard again. The fourth time this week. Not that you were checking or keeping count or anything, the window that gave you a view of your backyard also gave you a view of his as well. Those black sweatpants fit loosely around his waist, showing a little too much skin that you were used to. He always wore hoodies or sleeveless shirts. Guess today was not one of those days. And out of all the things you catch him out there doing, you caught him doing hip thrusts. Lucky you. You swore his abs shined like glazed donuts while he huffed and grunted through his set. You felt like a creep for staring, but you couldn’t keep your damn eyes off of him. His hair was swept up into a half-assed bun, letting you see all of his beautiful features. You couldn’t believe that someone that fine had moved in next to you. But as much time as you could spend here oogling at him working out, your laptop was calling for you. To finish that damned assignment you had been working on for your class.

Three more hours had passed quicker that you realized. You worked like a machine, pumping out so many assignments and standard based quizzes, you were sick of seeing the same logo at the top left of your screen. The weather was nice outside. Chill breeze with a purple pink and orange sky. Perfect weather for you to work outside. You balance your laptop in one hand while opening the sliding glass door with another.

“Finally decided to come outside huh?”

You hear a deep voice on your left, surprised that he was even out here this late. His laptop was in his lap, reading glasses on the small glass table that sat next to his chair. He wore another pair of sweatpants, dark gray this time, and a blue shirt.

“Watching me, huh?”

He continues to type on his computer but takes a second to look at you while talking.

“So you weren’t watching me work out a couple of hours ago?”

You couldn't even deny that. You just replied with the quickest comeback you could think of.

“It was just weird to me that you were doing a full on workout outside. Equipment and everything. I’m not used to living next to a gym freak.”

All of your previous neighbors had been wealthy corporate men or women, so seeing them outside for any reason other than them getting in the car, picking up mail, or putting the trash at the end of the driveway, they were pretty much ghosts. You only knew them because their packages would get sent to your doorstep a couple of times because of how similar your addresses were.

“What brings you out here?”

“Just sick of bein’ in the house, The weather’s nice and plus you're done huffing and puffing, so i can come chill out here in peace.”

He laughs to himself, recalling the way that your eyes examined him from the comfort of your kitchen. How you were almost paralyzed by the sight you saw as soon as you lifted your head. It was cute how much you were lying and playing poker face to make yourself seem innocent.

“What do you do for a living sir? I doubt you look like that just because.”

“I’m a personal trainer. Mostly for athletes, but some celebrities too.” Well that explains why he’s so in shape.

“What about you, maam? What do you do for a living.”

“College professor. Chemistry”

He raises his eyebrows and takes his focus off of his laptop fully, looking at you sorting your students into groups for a project coming up.

“That’s impressive. How do you like it?”

You sigh hesitantly, not trying to sound like you hate your job. You really didn’t. There’s just so many things that you wish would change at the university you teach at. You’re sure your coworkers would say the same thing. You could quit, save yourself the trouble. But you had such good students. They needed a good, consistent, and dedicated teacher.

“Wonderful students, horrible administration. Makes working there draining.”

“Ever thought of going to the gym? Working out all that pent up stress?”

Now your attention was fully on him. “Not a gym girlie. It’s too intimidating.”

“I think it would be beneficial for you. Could help you more than you realize.”

“Since you’re giving me the idea, are you going to help me?”

He stands up and makes his way over to you with elongated strides. Staring you down without his eyes straying away for a second. He had built up so much tension in those few steps it took to get to you. Much more tension you expected to get from this conversation.

“I’ll be more than happy to train you," he says, picking up the notepad and pen to write something on it, and hands it back to you with a smile.

“Call when you’re ready for me~”

A piece of Day 8 because that's gonna become a full fledged piece of writing :)

“Y/N.” His voice struck like a thunderbolt, taking your attention away from the man standing in front of you. “Strip for us.” The dress you had on became restricting as soon as he told you to strip. You felt their eyes on you as you pulled the straps down ever so slowly. Exposing one breast, then the other, and seconds after, your entire body. Both men groan in satisfaction, eyeing every part of you that is now uncovered. The lacy matching panties you had on stretched perfectly along your hips and ass. Each man had a different view of you. Jey got to see your face completely, your tits, and hips from the front. Roman on the other hand, relished in the view of your back, and ass, relying purely on your body language mostly.

“Take them panties off too, baby,” Jey says, making eye contact with you as you pull them down teasingly.

“Lay her on the bed, Jey.” Roman says, fidgeting in the seat and adjusting his pants. Jey hoists you up and gently lays you in the middle of the silk red sheets. “Alright princess, pick who you want to continue on. Me, or Jey?” You look to your left seeing Roman staring over you as ajey stands at the foot of the bed.

‘He said he doesn't mind this.. So I can be honest.’

You want Roman. You want him to touch you. The tiniest tinge of guilt crept into your mind as you admitted it to yourself. God, it's so nerve racking. All this time you spent burying how you felt and avoiding him. And yet, you were about to say it out loud for the first time ever. You want him. You do.. ‘I want you-’ “Roman. I… I want you.” That was all it took for Roman to click his tongue at Jey this time, motioning him to sit where he did a few moments ago. And now Roman’s standing at the foot of the bed.

A snip from My Man, My Man, My Man

“I’m fixing to make me a drink with all these people we have to bartend,” Renni whines, sitting on her hip and cleaning her station with the temporary break they had. “Girl who you tellin? And it’s only 12. You know more people gon’ be on their way.” Yasmine observes the people beyond the bar. All types of celebrities that meet the eye. Actors, singers, producers, athletes, business men, you name it. Everybody was here. “All of these people here and not a fine man in sight,” Yasmine says.

The room was dark, but illuminated at the same time. The hidden dark pockets and nooks and crannies in the club that weren’t visible due to the overhead spotlights were the freakum’s greatest dream. The expansive wall of bottles behind Yasmine that lit like Christmas lights was a spectacle and art in itself. all those different bottles that could be used to make different drinks for so many people. Yasmine learned a lot about people, more than she’d hoped to working as a bartender. How to handle inebriated people, how to gain more patience, how to say no, and how to look for suspicious people. like the douchebags that ordered a drink for some random girl, but ended up getting mad at her because she served him nothing. An empty cup. And she was quick to tell Demetrius, because he too couldn’t stand people like that at all, especially in his own club.

All of a sudden, everyone’s eyes shift to the entrance, staring at the 5 men that walked in. She didn’t get to memorize all of their faces, but she surely memorized one.

The first man that stood in front of all of them. Tall and fine would be the words that she would use to describe him in those fastly paced seconds, but that doesn’t describe him well in her mind. He walked with confidence, not deterred by everyone’s gaze on him. completely unfazed by the murmuring and the cameras flashing as he wedged through the thick crowd. maybe a little too late for her to be wondering how she looked before she realized he was making his way to the bar. “OMG girll, he coming straight to the bar!” Renni says, eyeing him just the same, although laced with blind lust. she had to manually close her mouth with her hand and rip her eyes away from him.

The red sea of people continued to part as the five men make their way to the bar, scouting the 5 empty stools in the middle of the bar. Yasmine knew exactly who they were. The bloodline. The reigning WWE Superstars. Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso, Zilla Fatu, Solo Sikoa, and Roman Reigns. Their commanding aura was enough to put the entire place on pause. There were no words to be said.

As soon as they sat down, things seemed to fade back to normal, but the known fact that the bloodline was in the same place sat in the back of everyone’s mind. Roman and Solo sat on Renni’s side, and Jey, Jimmy, and Zilla sat on Yasmine’s side. A little disappointed, but Yasmine still had a job to do, and she did it damn well. Their orders are somewhat of what she expected.

Jey asks for a tequila manhattan: kinda expected for someone as energetic as him.

Jimmy requests a greyhound: not what i expected. maybe he wants to get tore up tonight. or celebrate something?

and zilla asks for a Gin and Tonic: a classic. maybe he doesn’t drink like that. Yasmine guesses that Solo would order another Gin and Tonic. ‘Maybe drinks a little more and settles on a classic.’ She wonders what Roman would order. ‘Maybe an Old Fashioned… he looks like that kind of person.’

🏷️ tags :) @hunnidmilly @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce

@theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen

@alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae

@fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove

@sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

@shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80

@msbigredmachine @sayyestoheav3nn @trippinsorrows @mzv11

@saintmagx @jstarr86 @pr3ttiesz @trentybenty @romansthrone

@scarlettnoir01 @tshepisho @rose-bliss @yana3sworld

@queeny23 @bebesobrielo @heauxvibez @amandairene88

#caramelcleopatraa #roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #the tribal chief #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x chubby reader

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astronicht · 4 days ago

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I love the very subtle but important presences of bez and pecco in tavullia radio!! and also everything else about it obviously. would love to know if you had any more thoughts about like what they're doing thinking seeing feeling! the image of pecco running into freshly fucked and sucked marc at the espresso machine he can't use and making him a tiny coffee enchants and delights me. in my mind he is suffering horrors. thank you for such a perfect fic!!

thank you Leah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 So in my head etc Pecco and Marc are already technically or already have been teammates. I was thinking as I wrote it "is this next month? or is this december after the 2025 season?" haha. Either way Pecco is like. In a phase of life where he has decided that he is professionally obligated to have some form of rapport with Marc. And if they've been working together for a bit, they awkwardly kind of already DO, just not. NOT in this setting. Always on neutral Ducati ground. THIS scenario (freshly fucked and sucked marc at vale's ranch, in pecco's friendly ranch kitchen, where he was NOT expecting visitors) is NOT part of this carefully polite professional rapport. Unlike the rest of the guys Pecco can't just grunt and shuffle past (he totally could have; Marc did not want to talk to anyone). He's forcing himself to try to be normal and thus extending everyone's suffering lol. They don't even dislike each other. This somehow makes it all worse.

Pecco made Marc a Turkish coffee instead of just getting out one of the 3-5 mokas kicking around because he has gotten into foodie youtube and Turkish coffee came up, and he carefully bought the correct little cup to boil it in and the correct finely ground coffee and he has like, watched videos on how to get the foam right. Very much your friend who gets really into foodie youtube and is suddenly making what you think of as simple staple dishes with all the right utensils and the correct dipping sauce that no one in ur family ever bothered with. He actually had come in to make a coffee for himself before practice (i think he's considering doing a little mentoring? which never interested him much. Marc appears in moments of Pecco identity or professional crisis, in this universe) so you have to picture Pecco out there somewhere with a little cup of Turkish coffee and haunted eyes, wondering if he can drink it.

Marc actually wanted tea, or to have the balls to wander around the ranch in boxer briefs and a t-shirt smelling violently like sex, but he saw the giant fuck-off luxury espresso machine and was like. the look of it annoyed him so he was definitely going to force it to work or just break it. a little bit his instinct to push at vale a little, to try to figure out where the lines are, or to know for sure that vale isn't going to snap over something normal again.

So that was the mood and then pecco came in and was like oh god. oh god he's going to touch the espresso machine and we'll have to have it repaired again. oh god we won't be able to tell vale that marc did it and we'll have to blame celestino again. Just polite Pecco voice being sooo normal like Hi Marc Would You Like A Coffee :) [intense suffering]. He is overcompensating and being as normal as possible bc marc looks fucked ouuuuut and also is doing the terrifying dead fish eyes and slight grin he does when in extreme physical pain and forced to converse, bc he's dissasociating and also does not care enough to make nice expressions for pecco. (Vale used to fuck himself to sleep despite insomnia -- like he just did -- all the time when Marc was 22 and the memory is a bit much.)

Bez meanwhile is having a total gay... crisis isn't the right word. ring of keys dot mp3. the particular egg-cracking feeling of seeing something you didn't know you desperately wanted until you want it violently and think you're gonna cry for no reason. seeing it is both horrifying (for the same reasons pecco is horrified; marc is fucking motorcycle dad) and makes him want so much it fills his mouth with spit, and that scale of desire is weird and confusing and almost a high. but also he LIKES having a grudge against Marc. It's comforting. It's so awful to be jealous of him, while also realizing he's not jealous that Marc is fucking Vale, because in the end Bez is also being forced to realize that he doesn't exactly want to fuck Vale (well, it's complex, but he doesn't want to fuck Vale like Marc wants to fuck Vale and thus Marc even managed to get a win over Bez by being gay in the way Bez would've liked to have been gay).

Anyway!! Bez got wronged in this fic, I don't want to assign him "italian son with sisters who never learned to make coffee". But i did do that. Also he feels twitchy and guilty about the falsely attributed coffee thing for days. Probably vents to Celestino, who is like "why are you talking about coffee bez i am at the club. did i break the espresso machine again bez?? i can't hear u maybe there's better signal on the roof [call dropped as cele's phone dies and isnt' charged for 3 days]"

#APPARENTLY I HAD THOUGHTS #this fic had more going on in the background then i feel like mine usually do??#which made this extra fun tyyyy #moto gp #my fic #ask replies #fic ask replies #pecco #bez #marc

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year ago

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Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day

I try to fit as many out-and-about chores as possible into a single day so I only have one set of post-exertional malaise consequences instead of consequences after each day of doing a thing. So any time I decide to drive, I try to find several tasks to accomplish all at once.

My first stop was the Family Services Division in the hopes of getting some help with grocery bills. I am making ends meet, but it seems to be getting harder each month. And maybe I could have skipped my trip to Florida and saved that money, but if I don't do something drastic for my mental health, I fear this first holiday season without a parent could send me into the darkness.

I needed to do an interview to finish applying for SNAP. I wanted to do a phone interview, but the next appointment was in January. So I went to social services where they allow walk-in appointments. I waited in a tiny plastic chair for several hours until they called my name. She yelled out "Benjamin" because when most people see "Grelle" they aren't really sure how to say it. (Rhymes with belly.)

She started my interview and it was going swimmingly at first. But then she started asking questions about the house and my inheritance and my trust. I had no idea what to tell her. It feels like a mistake now, but I have had pretty much no involvement in that process. I have no idea how it works. And I started to panic because she was acting like I was committing fraud or something by not mentioning the trust. But the entire point of the trust was to protect my benefits. Nothing is mine. I own nothing. I have no access. But I had no idea how to explain that.

Maybe my lawyer can help me apply, but I did not want them investigating everything and screwing things up before we even have the estate through probate. We specifically hired a lawyer and went through this convoluted process to make sure everything was on the up and up. But she really made me feel like I was doing something wrong. And that made me panic, which probably made me look even more guilty of something. So I just canceled everything and left.

After a few hours in a crowded government office, I decided to head to a different crowded government office.

I know I didn't need it until 2025, but I decided to go ahead and get my Real ID thingie before my first flight. I was kind of hoping they'd retake my picture because my current driver's license is... well...

And I'm so glad they took my big terrible picture and made it into a smaller, more terrible picture.

People complain about the DMV, but the one near me runs like a machine. It was filled with people and I still only had a 10 minute wait time.

I'm starting to wonder if all of those 80s comedians who were all, "What's the deal with the DMV?" were exaggerating.

Good stuff, Jerry.

I head up to the counter and ask for a Real ID. She asks for two pieces of mail and my birth certificate.

And this disappointed me a little bit.

I did my research. I went to the Real ID website and used their interactive guide to figure out exactly which documents I would need. They gave me this entire checklist and I printed it out and went through all my records and mail trying to find everything.

I had to wait a week for my internet bill to come because it's the only thing I forgot to change to paperless. This took a lot of effort and I was ready to be validated for being so prepared.

And she asks for two pieces of mail.

Any mail.

So I was off to get new tires.

Driving around on 8 year old bald tires was giving me anxiety. I didn't have the money for new tires, but I remember the guy saying they had financing. Recently several of my past debts went past the statute of limitations, and so my credit score lifted itself out of the pits of "poor" and into the realm of "fair." So I decided to take a chance and apply for a Discount Tire credit card. It's a 6 month payment plan with no interest, so that didn't feel as predatory as all the credit card offers I get in the mail with 8000% interest.

We started going through the approval process and I was answering all of the questions and then I saw the name of the bank offering the credit. It was the same bank that tried to sue me and also the bank that can longer collect due to the statute. I was worried they put me on some sort of list and would deny me. But, to my surprise, they approved me instantly. And wouldn't you know it, they gave me almost exactly the amount needed for a new set of tires.

I'm hoping we'll be doing another auction of the house stuff soon, so I plan to pay off the card and then cancel it, but this was the only solution I could come up with to drive safely until then.

I was having a weird day where photos of crusty rich wide dudes followed me everywhere I went. Here is my good ol' boy governor at the entrance to social services.

And at the tire place, I noticed this fella...

Why does every rich CEO think they are a font of wisdom capable of creating compelling quotes?

Does he think no one has ever said "work hard" and "have fun"? And after he said this was he like...

"That's gold, put that in *every* store."

"Oh, and use that picture of me where it looks like a handsome gal just grabbed my undercarriage."

He probably thinks, "Well, no one has put these specific generic platitudes together into a single mega-platitude. I am a genius."

"Be honest, work hard, have fun, be grateful, pay it forward" sounds like he had a bunch of motivational posters on his wall and started reading them all at once.

Like, every line could have a picture of an eagle above it.

In any case, the guy at the tire store, Dakota, was really nice. He made the experience very low anxiety. And he really liked my Thor's Hammer keychain with built in fidget spinner.

He went around showing it to all his coworkers. "Look, it even spins!" And they were like, "Dude, where did you get that??" And I was like, "Amazon." Now I'm just imagining 10 dudes at a tire store all fidgeting their hammers.

As nice as he was, Dakota was still a salesman and had a job to do. He gave me two tire options and tried to upsell me. The cheapest tires had a "1" rating for winter. He said they get "super hard" in the cold... I tried not to giggle. But I explained I drive about twice a month and mostly to the grocery store. If it is a bad winter day, I'll just wait or get delivery. He understood and set me up with the cheaper tires.

He then checked out my car and noticed my tire pressure sensors were dying. I keep getting a warning light on my dash. Apparently they all have tiny batteries in them that die after 7 years. And you can't just replace the batteries so you have to install brand new sensors.

And this is where my social anxiety got me into trouble.

I don't actually need these sensors. They are usually inaccurate. I prefer to test my tires with an actual gauge. But I got so caught up in his sales pitch that I agreed to replace them... at $60 each. For that I could have gotten the fancier tires. I really don't care if an orange light shows up on my dash. And I looked up the price online and a pack of 4 is $30. Though that is without installation.

But still... I wasn't thinking and he was so nice that I was just like, "I want to please Dakota. Saying no might make Dakota sad." Dakota's job is selling me but that doesn't mean I have to buy anything. He would live if I had said "no thanks."

To make my blunder more blunderous, when they finished the tires he asked for my key fob. And it decided that was the time for the battery to die. And in order to reset the system for the new tire pressure sensors, you have to press two buttons on the fob for 7 seconds. Thankfully I had a spare fob at home, but if I want my fancy new $240 sensors to work, I have to return to Dakota and have him initialize them.

I really hope these are the Cadillac of sensors.

Or, like, the ones they use on Cadillacs?

They better be accurate, is what I'm saying.

I do feel safer with new tires. So I am glad I did that. And I gave them a good obligatory kick and felt the tread. They seem nice enough even if they get boners in the winter. It's crazy how bald my other tires were in comparison. Like, I can fit half my finger down into the tread on the new ones—which did not get them super hard.

The way I drive, I probably won't wear them down. They'll probably start to rot before I do.

Before I do, meaning before I wear them down.

Not before I rot.

I am not in a rotting competition with my tires.

I was then off to Sam's. I decided all of my hard work accomplishing 2 out of 3 goals deserved some sushi. So I grabbed some California Rolls and headed home. On my way out, a Hummer and a Porsche nearly collided in the parking lot. And they sort of got stuck facing each other. One of them needed to back up and they both signaled at each other like "You back up, I'm not backing up." And it was just this weird standoff between the two douchiest looking cars you could imagine.

I mean, you have to be a douche to drive a Hummer.

I still remember the mystery Hummer dialysis patient from when my dad was going 3 time per week. We could never figure out who owned the Hummer, but we knew it was not the underpaid nurses and techs. So it had to be one of the patients. And none of them seemed the type. We never solved that mystery.

That hummer started off a delightful safety yellow. (Elon would cry.)

They decided this wasn't extra enough... so they did this...

Katrina and I could never decide... are these cow spots or the world's least effective camoflauge?

There was another patient who drove this old beater...

And I loved seeing this car because we had the same one when I was a little kid. I'm afraid the aesthetics of the 1980s Caprice Classic did not stand the test of time, but it had great sentimental appeal for me.

But this maroon beast that squeaked and sputtered its way from here to there belonged to a very sweet older gentleman. Sometimes he and my dad would be dialysis buddies—sitting next to each other in the recliners. And the worst thing about dialysis was the boredom. All you have to do is watch broadcast TV with 4 channels.

All of the TVs require headphones. They give you your own set of super cheap headphones in the dialysis welcome bag. They were very uncomfortable so I ordered my dad better ones with cushioned ear cups.

His dialysis buddy noticed them and thought they looked nice. And then he revealed that his free headphones broke and he didn't know how to get new ones. He had been watching TV with no sound for weeks. So, I bought another pair with the soft ear cups and my dad gave them to his friend. And it just made me happy imagining the two of them watching The Price is Right in matching headphones.

I do have to make fun of this sweet old man a little bit. When I walked passed his car I noticed he implemented the world's most effective anti-theft device ever created.

That's right... The Club™.

If someone decides they have to have a 40 year old car with an engine that sounds like a dying hyena and a hubcap missing... they are out of luck.

But hey, you gotta protect what is important to you. And if I needed a getaway car and my choices were between his beater and the Cow Hummer, I'd take his ride for sure.

Well, I'd try... and then get arrested because The Club™ is undefeatable.

Do NOT look that up on YouTube. It's 100% true. (And the Lock Picking Lawyer doesn't count due to him being able to break into Fort Knox with a paperclip and then doing it again to make sure it isn't a fluke.)

The dialysis center is in the same complex as my local Tolerable Schnucks and I still see that maroon boat of a car every once in a while. I always smile whenever it is there because it lets me know he is hanging in there and hopefully still has sound for his TV.

Wow, I went off on a mega-tangent.

I didn't even finish talking about my day. Where was I? Oh, the douche standoff finally ended. The Porsche Douche capitulated and backed up. Probably due to the fact the Hummer Douche has 0 visibility behind him.

When I got home I started devouring my sushi. I finally heard back from my lawyer. He submitted the last of the evidence for my appeal. And I was finally able to confirm he got the records of my ECT treatments from 20 years ago. I worked so hard to get those. At first, they forgot to send all records before 2011. I had to call back and figure that out. They shipped them and they didn't arrive until a week before we had to file. Everything was so last minute and my anxiety has been... palpable. It felt like when I did my science fair project on Sunday night.

He's hoping to get a decision at the beginning of next year. He warned me that these appeals are usually rejected. And that the most effective method of approval was a hearing in front of an administrative law judge. But that could be delayed by up to a year. So I might need to figure out how to survive until 2025. As long as my brother does what he is legally required to do, I should be okay. But counting on that also gives me palpable anxiety.

And that was my day.

Every time I go out is always an adventure.

But remember...

BE NICE. EAT YOUR VEGGIES. PET CUTE DOGS. DREAM BIG. KEEP YOUR TIRES WARM... FOR REASONS. 5 LIFE LESSONS -Froggie, Mildly Famous Internet Person

#long post

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 24 days ago

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Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 5: ten minutes..

Flashback January 14th, 2025 4:51 PM

Jey paced in front of the bedroom door, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time. It was almost 5 o’clock, and Rhea still hadn’t let him in since they’d gotten home from therapy. Every time he knocked or tried to talk her through the door, she stayed silent, her hurt and anger radiating from the other side like an unbreakable wall.

Finally, Jey had had enough. “Fine,” he muttered to himself, “if she wants to act like a kid, I’ll act like one too.”

An idea sparked, and he made his way down the hallway to his son Jeyce’s room. He dug through the toys until he found exactly what he was looking for: a mini karaoke machine. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he picked it up and made his way back to the bedroom, setting up camp right in front of the closed door.

Turning on the karaoke machine, Jey cleared his throat and scrolled through his phone for a song with a karaoke instrumental track. He pressed play, bringing the microphone up to his mouth, and started singing in a horribly off-key voice that could probably be heard throughout the house.

“Rheaaaa… your body is like a Pangeaaaa… I can’t get you out of… whatever rhymes with Rheaaa…”

Inside the room, Rhea pressed a pillow over her head, trying to block out the sound of Jey’s absurd singing. “He’s really doing this,” she mumbled to herself, her frustration mingling with a hint of reluctant amusement.

Outside, Jey continued, his voice getting louder and more dramatic. “RHEAAA… why can’t we talk like adults… why do we have to close doooors?”

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes through the door, but he kept going, determined to break through her silence, even if it was with his ridiculous off-key serenade.

“RHEAAAAAA, I won’t stop singing until you open the doorrr…ahhh…”

Rhea rolled her eyes, pressing the pillow down harder over her ears. “I swear if he doesn’t stop singing…” she muttered, still clinging to her frustration. But despite herself, she could feel the corners of her mouth tugging upward in a reluctant smile. Jey was impossible, and somehow, that made him even harder to stay mad at.

Jey continued his off-key serenade, now moving into a full performance mode. “RHEAAA… HOW COME WE CAN’T JUST RIPTIDE THIS IDEAAAA…”

Inside the room, Rhea glanced at the door, her brow furrowing. She couldn’t believe he was still at it.

“RHEA… YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A CHIAAAA PET-AH,” he sang, drawing out the “-ah” in a way that made no sense whatsoever. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY BUT IT SOUNDED BETTER IN MY HEAD-AH…”

Rhea rolled her eyes again. He was clearly just throwing in words that vaguely rhymed with her name, and she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to stay mad. She clutched her pillow tighter, trying to block out the sound, but he was relentless.

“And now-ah… GUITAR SOLO!” Jey shouted through the microphone, launching into a dramatic “guitar” riff, complete with exaggerated mouth noises. “Bow-bow, BOWWWW, chika-chika-BOW-BOWWWW…”

Rhea couldn’t hold it in anymore. She let out a laugh, muffling it with her pillow as she shook her head. It was impossible to stay angry when he was out there making a complete fool of himself just to get her to crack a smile.

“RHEAAA, I KNOW YOU HEARD THAT SICK RIFF,” he called out, tapping on the door with a playful beat. “OPEN UP, BABE! I’LL GIVE YOU ANOTHER SOLOOO!”

Rhea bit her lip, trying to compose herself. She stood up and took a few slow steps toward the door, rolling her eyes again but unable to hide her grin.

Finally, she called out, “If I open this door, will you stop with your ‘concert’?”

Jey’s voice immediately perked up. “Only if you promise to let me finish my encore, babe!”

Rhea sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. But a small, reluctant smile crept across her face.

Jey grinned as he got up, brushing himself off before stepping inside as Rhea opened the door. Before she could say a word, he pulled her into a gentle kiss, letting his lips linger for a moment, as if trying to dissolve any lingering tension between them.

“Look,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity, “I get it… it’s a tough thing to talk about. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? Whenever you’re ready to share, I’ll be here to listen.”

Rhea nodded, a small, vulnerable smile breaking through her tough exterior. His words seemed to ease the weight she’d been carrying, even if only a little. He leaned in, kissing her forehead this time, his thumb gently tracing the back of her hand.

Then, with a sudden change of tone, Jey smirked. “How about we ditch the heavy stuff for a while? I’m thinking we order some Chinese food, get enough fried rice to feed an army, and find the crappiest old movies we can. The worse the plot, the better.”

Rhea let out a genuine laugh, the kind she hadn’t felt in days. “Crappy old movies and Chinese? You really know how to spoil a girl.”

Jey chuckled, pulling her closer as he led her down the hallway toward the living room. “Only the finest for you, babe.” He winked, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close as they walked together.

As they settled on the couch, Jey pulled up DoorDash on his phone, listing out every ridiculous item he could find. “Egg rolls, dumplings, beef and broccoli…oh, and don’t forget the wontons.”

Rhea nodded, making her own suggestions as they put together their absurdly large order. And when the food finally arrived, they sprawled out on the couch, plates in hand, as Jey flipped through channels to find the perfect terrible movie.

Settling on an 80s action flick with absurd stunts and cheesy dialogue, Jey wrapped an arm around Rhea, pulling her close. “Nothing like some bad TV and good food, right?”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers laced with his. “Perfect night.”

— Later that night..

After the horrible movie marathon, Jey was determined to lift Rhea’s spirits and keep the night fun. “You see that? That’s your fiancé putting in work… look at that… you ain’t never had a man like me in your life, baby…” His playful teasing broke through the heaviness of the day, and Rhea erupted in laughter as he showcased his dance moves to the song “Candy” by Cameo.

“You don’t know what you are signing up for, babe… look at that… that’s Samoan genes, girl.” His antics were so ridiculous, so carefree, that Rhea found herself laughing harder than she had in weeks. In this moment, everything else faded away—the darkness that sometimes clouded her mind, the shadows of her past.

Once the song ended, Jey, high on Rhea’s laughter, jumped onto the bed beside her. He leaned in, kissing her softly, then pulled back, his eyes serious yet tender. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “This is our safe space together, Rhea. No one could ever come between us.”

His words struck a chord deep within her. Rhea felt the weight of his promise, the sincerity behind his eyes. He kissed her again, more passionately this time, and she melted into him, feeling the warmth of his affection wash over her. It was a beautiful difference compared to the pain of her past—a gentle reminder that love could be safe, that she could trust him completely.

As the next song played softly on the stereo, “I Like It” by DeBarge, Jey stood up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Come here,” he said, extending his hand.

Rhea took his hand, feeling the strength and security in his grip. He gently pulled her up, wrapping his arms around her waist, guiding her into a slow sway to the sounds of the ‘70s. The music wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and Jey began to sing softly to her, his voice smooth and soothing.

“I like it,” he crooned, his eyes locked onto hers, “You send chills up my spine every time I take one look at you…”

In that moment, Rhea rested her head against his shoulder, feeling a wave of comfort wash over her. The worries of the world outside faded, replaced by the warmth of their connection. Here, in his arms, she felt safe. Jey would never hurt her; he was nothing like the ghosts of her past.

As he continued to sing, his voice filling the air with love and reassurance, Rhea realized how far she had come. “See?” Jey teased, swaying a little more. “Ain’t nobody can dance like me. You’re just lucky to be with a star like this.” He twirled her around gently, and laughter spilled from both of them, the joy so pure it felt almost healing.

As they danced, Rhea couldn’t shake the feeling that this was exactly what she needed—a moment of laughter, love, and the undeniable truth that together, they could weather anything. In Jey, she had found her safe haven, a place where the past couldn’t touch her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt free.

When she asked him to sit down, he didn’t hesitate. He turned off the stereo, and they both settled onto the edge of the bed, an air of heaviness settling between them as the music faded away.

“Did you know… about Matt?” she asked quietly, her voice beaming through with hurt. The question lingered in the air, and Jey felt his heart twist at the pain he saw in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Cody and I… we overheard him outside Cody’s bus back at Survivor Series 2023. He was insisting you wear those chaps for the segment… kept going on and on about it.” Jey shook his head, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes at the memory. “I didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way he talked to you… or treated you. That’s why I told you at WrestleMania that you deserved better. I wasn’t just saying it, Rhea… I meant every word.”

Rhea stayed quiet, processing his words, her mind going back to all the times her friends had tried to warn her. “Damian and Finn… they were always trying to talk to me about it,” she murmured, a faint sadness in her voice. “I thought they were crazy for a bit. I guess I didn’t want to believe it.”

Jey’s hand found hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, silently reassuring her. “I wanted to approach you.. but it was not my place to speak of it to you. We did some promos together Rhea but we never really talked after those said promos’…”

She looked down at their hands, the weight of her own guilt pressing down on her shoulders. “If you’d come to me… I probably would’ve listened,” she admitted, her voice trembling with the vulnerability she rarely let show.

Jey’s thumb brushed over her knuckles as he looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “Rhea,” he whispered, his voice steady, “I would never manipulate you or pull stupid stuff just to control you. I’m not him. I’d never hurt you, not like that.”

Rhea took a shaky breath, feeling the relief of his words wash over her. But there was still something gnawing at her, a memory she couldn’t let go. “Do you remember… when you pushed me?” she asked, her gaze falling away from his, her voice barely above a whisper.

The question hung between them, and Jey froze, immediately understanding what she meant. The memory in Portland, back in September, flashed in his mind—a night filled with tension, frustration, and a moment he wished he could take back. He could still see the look on her face, the hurt in her eyes, and it haunted him more than he’d ever let on.

“Yeah,” he murmured, the regret evident in his voice. “I remember.”

Rhea’s hand tightened around his, grounding herself as she finally let herself speak the words she’d been holding in. “I think… that moment scared me because, for a split second, I thought you might be like him.” Her voice cracked, and she looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “But now I know you’re not him, Jey.”

Jey swallowed hard, his own eyes misting over as he held her gaze. “Rhea, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d give anything to take that moment back. I… I was so angry, I just… I lost control for a second, and I hate myself for it. You have no idea how much I hate myself for that.”

She reached up, her hand gently cupping his cheek, grounding him in her touch. “I know, Jey,” she said softly, her voice laced with understanding. “And that’s why I trust you… that’s why I’m here.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, letting her words wash over him like a balm to his guilt-ridden heart. For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared pain and healing filling the room. When he opened his eyes again, he saw nothing but love and forgiveness in her gaze, and he felt something within him begin to heal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For giving me a chance… for letting me in.”

She smiled faintly, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips—a kiss filled with all the promises and trust they had built together.

“Just… promise me one thing,” she murmured as they pulled away, her forehead resting against his.

“Anything,” he replied, his voice unwavering.

“Treat me right..”

And in that quiet, intimate moment, they both knew that, no matter what the future held, they’d face it side by side—healing, learning, and loving, one day at a time.

Jey pulled back from their embrace, a playful glint in his eye. “Alright, now that we got all the mushiness out of the way…” he teased, reaching over to turn the stereo back on. The soft, rhythmic beats of Ne-Yo’s “Sexy Love” filled the room, setting a sultry atmosphere. With a smirk, he leaned in to kiss her, his hands warm and steady on her waist.

Rhea couldn’t help but melt into him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. In one swift motion, Jey lifted her onto his lap, pulling her close as they swayed gently to the music. The lyrics wrapped around them, the chorus echoing in her ears, “Sexy love, girl, the things you do… keep me sprung, keep me running back to you.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, savoring the texture and warmth, the familiar scent of him filling her senses—a comforting blend of his natural musk and something uniquely him. She paused, pulling back slightly to look at him, her gaze softening as she took in the man in front of her, the man who had given her strength to trust and love again.

Jey looked up at her, his dark eyes full of affection and something deeper, something that made her heart pound. His hands traced soothing patterns on her back, grounding her, reminding her that she was safe here, with him.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice sultry, “you got me wrapped around your finger, right?”

Rhea let out a small laugh, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “Good,” she replied softly, her lips brushing against his, “someone’s got to keep you in line.”

Jey chuckled, his smile widening as he tightened his hold on her. They sat there, wrapped up in each other, with only the soft music and the sound of their steady breaths filling the space between them.

As the song continued to play, Jey’s gaze grew more intense, his voice lowering to a tender murmur. “You’re my everything, you know that?”

Rhea’s heart clenched, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. She leaned down, her forehead touching his, her voice quiet but full of conviction. “And you’re mine, Joshua. I don’t know how I got so lucky… but I’m not letting go.”

Jey smiled, a gentle, genuine smile that made her feel like she was the only person in the world. “Good,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “’cause I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Their lips met again, a soft, unhurried kiss, filled with all the words they couldn’t say out loud. The song continued to play in the background, the lyrics wrapping around them, reminding her that this was real, that this love they shared was something worth fighting for.

As they held each other, Rhea felt a profound sense of peace wash over her—a feeling of safety and belonging that she hadn’t felt in years. In Jey’s arms, she had finally found her home, a place where she could be vulnerable, where she was loved and cherished for exactly who she was.

—

January 15th, 2025, 9:13 AM

The silence in the home gym was punctuated only by Jey’s labored breaths and the clink of weights as he struggled through another shoulder workout. Every lift was a reminder of the shooting, a painful echo he couldn’t seem to escape. Each rep brought back flashes of that night, of blood and panic, of Rhea’s tear-streaked face as she held him, her desperate voice pleading for him to hold on. He clenched his teeth, forcing the dumbbell up, but the ache in his shoulder forced him to set it down with a frustrated grunt.

The door opened, and Jon walked in, already geared up for his own workout. He took one look at his brother, noticing the exhaustion etched into Jey’s face, the strain that wasn’t just physical. Jon stepped onto the treadmill, starting a steady jog, his eyes occasionally glancing at Jey with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jon asked gently, breaking the silence.

Jey hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. The weight of everything he’d been holding in was heavy, almost suffocating. He climbed onto the bike next to Jon, setting the resistance as he pedaled slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Man…” Jey began, his voice low and hesitant. “She’s having nightmares every night, Uce. Every damn night. She keeps saying my name, keeps begging him not to shoot me.” He swallowed hard, the memory of Rhea’s restless sleep gnawing at him. “She keeps saying, ‘Don’t shoot him, shoot me instead.’”

Jon’s face softened, understanding the depth of what his brother was carrying. “Have you asked her about it?”

Jey shook his head, running a hand over his face. “Nah, man… I don’t know if I should. I don’t want to make it worse for her. I told her I’d take her pain if I could, that I’d carry it for her… but, fuck, Uce. I’m stressed. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for both of us.”

Jon’s gaze turned serious, and he slowed the treadmill, eventually stepping off to sit on a nearby bench. He motioned for Jey to join him, and Jey followed, wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing.

“Jey,” Jon started, his voice firm but filled with empathy, “you’ve been carrying a lot, man. More than anyone should have to. But have you really… and I mean really, thought about everything you’ve been through?”

Jey’s brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to the floor as he considered his brother’s words. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Jon said, taking a deep breath, “you and Rhea lost the baby back in September. Have you two ever really talked about that? Have you told her how you felt, seeing her in the hospital after… after her attempt?” He paused, letting his words sink in. “And has she told you how she felt, seeing you in that hospital bed after you got shot?”

He’d shoved those memories down, telling himself he was strong enough to handle it. But had he really processed any of it?

“Everyone’s life has changed, Uce. The last three months… they’ve changed all of us,” Jon said, his voice heavy with the weight of his own realizations. “I mean, think about it. One minute, I’m calling Rhea a whore for… breaking up your family. The next minute, I’m donating blood to save her life.”

Jey’s eyes met his brother’s, and he could see the turmoil in Jon’s expression—the lingering guilt, the confusion, the acceptance that came only after everything had already fallen apart.

Jon continued, his voice softening. “I’m not trying to make this about me, but do you know how hard it was for Trinity, right? To go from talking to Takecia every day to… now talking to Rhea every day. It’s like everything shifted overnight, and we didn’t have a choice but to adapt.”

Jey hadn’t thought about it that way. He’d been so wrapped up in his own pain, his own guilt, that he hadn’t fully considered how much everyone else had been forced to change as well.

“We don’t regret Rhea, bro. We love her. But everything happened so fast,” Jon admitted, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. “I don’t think any of us really had time to process what it all meant, what it did to us. And maybe… maybe that’s why you’re feeling so overwhelmed.”

Jey’s shoulders slumped, the weight of Jon’s words settling over him. He hadn’t allowed himself to truly think about these traumatic events, especially the one where how close he’d come to death himself. It was like he’d been running on autopilot, surviving each day, without ever truly facing the enormity of what they’d been through.

“You’re right,” Jey whispered, his voice breaking. “I just… I didn’t want to think about it. Any of it. I thought if I just… kept moving, kept pushing through, it would go away.”

Jon placed a comforting hand on Jey’s shoulder. “You’re not alone, man. We’re all here, dealing with it too. And maybe it’s time we stop pretending like we can just ignore it. Maybe it’s time we start facing it. Together.”

Jey nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek as he finally allowed himself to feel the weight of everything they’d lost—and everything they’d somehow managed to hold onto.

For the first time in three months, he felt a sense of some type of clarity. It wasn’t about being strong enough to carry Rhea’s pain. It was about sharing it, allowing each other to heal. And maybe, just maybe, that was the kind of strength they both needed.

“Thanks, Uce,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Jon pulled him into a brief, tight hug. “Anytime, bro. We’re family—that’s what we do.”

As they pulled apart, a sense of determination settled in Jey’s heart. He knew what he had to do now. For himself, for Rhea, and for the future they were building together—one step at a time, one healing moment after another.

—

11:58 AM

Jey wandered through the aisles of the baby section, scanning each shelf with intent. He wanted something perfect, something that would mean more than just an ordinary gift. His gaze finally landed on a sleek, grey and black car seat, and a smile tugged at his lips. It was practical, yet it held the promise of the future they were building. He reached for the box, hefting it into his cart with a sense of purpose. Nearby, he spotted a display of soft, colorful baby toys, and he grabbed a few of those as well, picturing Rhea’s face when she saw them.

After gathering everything, he made his way to the flower department, his eyes instantly drawn to a bouquet of lilies. The soft white petals reminded him of Rhea—strong, resilient, yet carrying a quiet beauty that most people didn’t get to see. He picked out the bouquet and headed to the cashier, his mind already racing with the words he wanted to say to her.

Once he loaded everything into his Mercedes, Jey drove home, the anticipation building with every mile. This wasn’t just a gift. This was his way of starting a conversation they’d both avoided for too long. It was time to stop running, to face everything they’d been through together.

Pulling into the driveway, Jey took a deep breath before grabbing the bouquet and stepping inside. He found Rhea curled up on the couch, her eyes on the TV but her mind seemingly elsewhere. She looked up when he walked in, her face lighting up with a smile as she took in the flowers in his hand.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, sitting up and taking the bouquet from him. She breathed in their scent, her smile soft and curious as she looked back up at him.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, letting it linger before pulling back. “I just… I wanted to talk to you, babe. About some things we’ve both been holding onto.”

Rhea’s expression shifted, a hint of hesitation in her eyes as she began to speak, but Jey gently placed a finger to her lips, silencing her with a soft shake of his head. “No, Rhea. Let me say this first.”

She nodded, settling back into the couch, her gaze never leaving his as he sat down beside her.

“I know you’ve been having nightmares,” he said softly, his voice filled with understanding rather than accusation. “I hear you every night… saying my name, telling them to shoot you instead.” He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Rhea’s eyes filled with tears, her lips parting as if to respond, but Jey continued, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek.

“When we go back to therapy, Rhea, we have to lay it all out. No more hiding. We’ve both got things buried deep, things we’re too scared to talk about, thinking maybe they can’t hurt us if we just keep them locked away.” He swallowed, his gaze searching hers. “But that pain… it’s still there, isn’t it? It doesn’t just disappear.”

Rhea nodded, her voice a soft, broken whisper. “I’ve tried so hard to be strong, Jey… to push it all down and pretend I’m okay. But… you’re right. It hasn’t gone away.”

He reached up, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down her cheek. “We’ll do this together, Rhea. All of it. But… there’s one thing I need you to talk to me about now.” He took a steadying breath, his eyes never wavering from hers. “Tell me about Demetri.”

Rhea’s breath caught, her body tensing as his words hung in the air between them, heavy and unyielding. The name alone seemed to open a door she’d kept locked for so long, and for the first time, Jey could see the fear, the pain, and the memories she’d buried so deep they had become part of her.

The room grew silent as Jey waited, his hand still on her cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of patience and understanding. And as Rhea looked back at him, she knew that this was the moment—one that could change everything.

And so, she took a deep breath, ready to finally confront the darkness she’d kept hidden for so long.

—

January 27th, 2025, 7:45 AM

Jey’s Mercedes rolled up to the Mead School, the morning light casting a soft glow over the campus. Inside the car, Jeyce sat quietly, gripping his customized Judgment Day lunchbox tightly as he stared at the looming building. He was dressed in a vintage black Usos shirt, blue jeans, and black Vans, his expression a mix of nerves and determination.

Jey glanced at him in the rearview mirror and offered an encouraging smile. “You got this, little man.”

Rhea reached over, giving Jeyce’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be here to pick you up right at four, okay?”

Jeyce nodded, his eyes betraying his anxiety despite his attempts to stay calm. “Okay.”

The trio made their way to the school’s main office, where Jey and Rhea filled out the final paperwork. The registrar handed Jeyce his schedule and a map of the school, pointing out that his first class was on the second floor. He glanced at his schedule—English, Math, History, Science, Art, and finally Gym. Six periods in a new place, surrounded by people he’d never met. His stomach twisted with nerves.

Rhea leaned down, brushing a kiss on his cheek. “You’re going to do great, Jeyce. Just remember, take it one class at a time.”

Jey added, “It’s okay to be scared, buddy. Starting somewhere new is tough, but before you know it, you’ll find your way—and you’ll make friends.” He ruffled Jeyce’s hair with a grin. “Who wouldn’t want to be friends with Main Event Jey Uso’s kid?”

Jeyce managed a small smile, his confidence bolstered by their words. He took a deep breath, nodding as he tucked the map and schedule into his backpack. With a wave to Jey and Rhea, he headed down the hallway towards his first class, trying to push the fear aside.

By the time he reached the second floor, the bell had already rung. He spotted his English classroom and sprinted toward it, arriving just in time to open the door. An older man at the front of the room looked up, his eyes kind behind his glasses.

“You must be Jeyce Fatu,” the teacher said, a warm smile on his face.

Jeyce nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m Mr. Wilkins, your English literature teacher for the rest of the year.” Mr. Wilkins extended his hand, and Jeyce shook it, feeling slightly more at ease. “Go ahead and take a seat in the back, Jeyce.”

Jeyce nodded and made his way to the back row, settling into his seat as he scanned the room. The other kids were busy chatting or on their phones, barely giving him a glance—until one kid looked over, eyeing Jeyce’s The Usos shirt with a sneer.

“Wrestling is for babies,” the kid muttered, just loud enough for Jeyce to hear.

Jeyce felt a spark of anger flare up, but he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the map he’d been given. Yet, the boy didn’t stop.

“My dad isn’t a baby,” Jeyce said quietly, his voice steady despite the heat in his chest. “He’s the best wrestler in the world. And so is my bonus mom.”

The kid snorted, rolling his eyes. “Your dad isn’t a wrestler. Wrestling’s fake anyway.”

Jeyce clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. “He is. He’s Main Event Jey Uso, and my bonus mom is Rhea Ripley. They’re both champions.”

“Bonus mom?” The kid laughed, the taunting edge in his voice growing sharper. “You mean your actual parents are divorced? Who cheated on who?”

The mocking tone hit Jeyce like a punch to the gut. A part of him wanted to ignore it, to be the bigger person like his dad always said, but the words cut deep. He could feel the other kids around them watching, waiting to see what he’d do. His fingers tightened around the handle of his lunchbox, his anger bubbling to the surface.

“Hey, settle down back there,” Mr. Wilkins called, casting a warning look in their direction.

But it was too late. In a flash of frustration and hurt, Jeyce swung his lunchbox, the weight of it making contact with the kid’s head with a solid thud. The room went silent, every eye turning toward the back of the classroom as the boy let out a startled yelp, clutching his head.

Mr. Wilkins’ face darkened as he hurried over, his voice firm. “Jeyce! That’s enough. Both of you, stay seated. I’ll be contacting the office.”

Jeyce’s heart raced, the reality of what he’d just done hitting him. He slumped back into his chair, his chest heaving as he looked down at his lunchbox, his mind a swirl of regret and anger.

His first day at his new school was definitely not off to the start he’d hoped for.

—

Jey and Rhea stood in line at Starbucks, both of them scanning the menu as they waited to place their order. Rhea’s eyes lit up with excitement as she nudged Jey. “I need three cake pops and a refresher, ASAP!”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. “I think I’ll try that caramel macchiato. Need a little something sweet today.”

Just as he was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he noticed an unfamiliar Connecticut number flashing on the display. Frowning, he answered, “Hello?”

A woman’s voice on the other end spoke up. “Hi, this is Vanessa Cameron from the Mead School’s Middle School Division. Is this Joshua Fatu?”

Jey’s face shifted into a look of concern, and Rhea immediately picked up on it, watching him closely. “Yeah, this is him. Is something wrong with my son? We just dropped him off like ten minutes ago.”

Vanessa sighed on the other end. “Mr. Fatu, there was an incident involving Jeyce. We’ve placed him under Individual Supervision Suspension for the rest of the day.”

Jey’s eyes widened, and Rhea’s brows knit together with worry as she strained to hear the conversation. “An incident? What happened?”

Vanessa explained, “It appears there was an altercation. Jeyce hit another student after an exchange of words. Unfortunately, he’s refusing to speak about it, so we’re still gathering details.”

Jey’s frustration was oozing out. “And what about the other kid? What’s being done about that?”

“We’re addressing each student involved individually,” Vanessa replied. “Since this is Jeyce’s first day, we’re willing to overlook it this time, but you’ll need to meet with the principal when you pick him up later today to discuss this further.”

Jey rubbed a hand over his face, taking a steadying breath before responding, “Alright. We’ll be there.”

He hung up and turned to Rhea, who looked at him expectantly. “What happened?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

Jey let out a sigh, trying to process the news. “That was the school. Apparently, Jeyce got into a fight. He hit another kid… They’re putting him in some sort of supervised suspension for the day.”

Rhea’s jaw dropped, and she blinked in disbelief. “Already? But he was so excited this morning… What happened?”

“Apparently, they were exchanging words, but he’s not talking about what was said,” Jey replied, his voice tinged with frustration and worry. “They’re going to overlook it since it’s his first day, but we have to meet with the principal when we pick him up.”

Rhea’s face softened, a mix of concern and determination flashing in her eyes. “He must have been provoked… It’s not like him to start something, especially not on the first day.”

Jey nodded, but there was still a storm of worry brewing inside him. “Yeah… I don’t know what it was, but if he’s shutting down already, something must’ve really gotten under his skin.”

Rhea looked at him, her voice quiet but firm. “We’ll figure it out, Jey. This is a big change for him. Maybe he just needs time to adjust.”

Jey took a deep breath, nodding as he reached for their order on the counter. “Yeah… Let’s hope that’s all it is.”

They shared a look, both silently agreeing to do whatever it took to make Jeyce feel secure in this new chapter of his life, even if it meant facing a few bumps along the way.

28 notes · View notes

joyswonderland1108 · 1 year ago

Text

JK deserves better.

I can't believe i keep on coming back to talk about shitty subjects because this damn fandom can't give the boys a rest.

Feel free to disagree, feel free to fucking block me if you do strongly disagree but a gentle reminder, i am here for the tannies and the tannies only. With that being said, FUCK , and i mean this with all disrespect, them JK solos. Fuck all solos but this post is about JK so imma focus on what is going on.

Honestly i have a lot of shit to say but so little organisation in my head that this post might end up becoming a whole ass mess but bear with me. Now if you really do love JK this post will make a lot of sense for you.

Do i start off again by talking about the "world tour" rumors? Yes, let's do that.

World Tour

I guess i've already mentioned this in previous posts but i also want to add a small detail that JK himself talked about. I feel like there's this obsession with JK doing a world tour that is turning into an entitlement uncaring about JK really.. Army want JK to do a world tour, JK himself talked about it, said many times before that if he was to do a world tour it wouldn't be now, not enough songs, not enough time, he also talked not ONCE not TWICE about wanting to reunite with the boys in 2025.

Now the other detail that i wanted to add was the pressure, whether you like it or not, JK WAS pressured, he was supposed to release an EP but somehow in the process he was pressured to take more and that boy had to fucking record 5 songs in the span of a week, he also had a very condensed time frame to get everything ready to release a full length album, well what turned out to be a full length album. We've all seen it, his schedules were hectic AF to the point where JK looked sick at times in the airport, that boy was so fucking tired, Jimin also expressed concern over his health, and who are we to know better than them? The boys see him and know about him more than we will ever do and even they saw how it was fucking tiring for him.

In Suchwita JK mentioned that while yes a world tour is great but FOR NOW he wants to wrap it up with music shows (You'll have to excuse me i'm a whole mess so i'm not sure where to look for ss of exact moments i'm talking about my files are all messy but you know what i'm talking about.. hopefully) Now.. If and i say IF somehow there is a world tour announcement just know that this is part of the whole pressure. I don't even know how to explain it but if JK was pressured into releasing a full length album when he himself said WAY BEFORE that it would be an EP, then don't be surprised that he'd be pressured to do that damn world tour cause some ARMY can't shut the fuck up for the life of them.

Y'all seem to not give two fucks about this man's health, a world tour means even more hectic schedules for JK, instead of wanting that man to fucking rest, get healthy again, and actually wait for him, give him time to be ready physically and mentally, y'all want to rush him into giving you everything all at once because of your own enjoyment forgetting that he is not a machine, that he is a human being that is bound to break at some point.

You would think that after seeing how Yoongi looked tired af during his tour these people would have mercy on JK but no. And whether we like it or not, JK will have to enlist too and at the very least he should be well rested before starting his MS, burning him out and making him overwork himself just for him to have to do his military service next is actually cruel but let me guess, Army don't give a fuck about this now do they? They're still keeping in mind that baseless theory about JK enlisting way later.

Which takes us to the second point, MS.

Military Service

Just how many fucking times does JK have to tell y'all that he WANTS to reunite with the boys in 2025 for y'all to fucking understand that this is not about YOU it's about JK and his willingness to be with the other members. People just don't seem to realize how freeing it is to put MS behind your back, it's not just for Queer people, even if you're straight MS is very restricting for you so why on earth would JK want to be bound by a restriction for even longer?

And let's just go by these solos logic, JK is still young and doesn't have to enlist now, okay. By the time all the members will be done with their MS, JK will be of an age where he won't be able to postpone his anymore, and the result? All 6 members will be out ready to resume their group activities BUT JK. And then everybody will complain "How dare they resume their activities without their golden maknae" or they'll have to yet again set a hiatus and i don't think a hiatus is the first thing a group is looking for after their MS, a hiatus is the very last thing they think about when planning for a come back after MS.

I don't know if people see any logic in their very selfish thinking or..? Like please, do y'all even listen to JK? Do his words to you mean nothing? Is he just talking in an empty barrel? He has been telling us, not anyone else but US, he wants US to understand but somehow some people just can't seem to grasp at the reality of things. Is it that hard to support him on what he wants?

Moving on to the third point, and again i believe i did talk about this in a previous post or posts too but, those very disgusting song interpretations that for some damn reason is always coming from the hets (with all due respect to the respectful hets out there)

Song Interpretations

When he told Zane that the songs didn't reflect his real life i was wondering.. Did he perhaps see all those disgusting and disturbing interpretations of his previous songs aka Seven and 3D by het Army on Tiktok? It really had me thinking whether he just wanted to mention that because.. or did he really see those damned interpretations and he felt the need to put that in there just in case.

I mean when JK decided to show a more mature side of him, i'm pretty sure his intentions weren't for us to see him as your typical het fuckboy and exactly how is someone singing about sex making him a fuckboy? Since when does having a sex life makes you a fuckboy? Can't people committed to one person not have a sex life or..? Why does this boys always have to come here to clarify things?

Like can't y'all just be normal and at the very least do cute and funny interpretations instead of making it absolutely horrifying and i'm not even going to talk again about the photocards during Music Bank that fucking Tiktok Army gave a vile interpretation to..

The thing is, it doesn't stop at just ARMY there are other people who are as disgusting as some Army really.. Which takes me to my last point and i'm not even gonna say much about it cause this is worthy of a whole ass post that honestly i don't feel too much dedication for to make..

The Acquaintances

Do i have to say again that i'm here for the tannies and the tannies only? Well not just me but many of us are actually, so can some of you PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!! Stop hyping up every single person that in a way or another has had a connection to the boys?

Seeing a damn journalist ditch professionalism and acting like a 12yo stan in the name of JK is just so.. WTF? You know things? Good for you but how about you shut the fuck up and let JK or the company do the announcement. I'm tired of seeing JK come to us everytime looking disappointed that we already know about what he might've been excited to announce to us HIMSELF. It's just so sad to see him go like "Oh i guess you already know.." Like.. No baby we do not please tell us, like PLEASE stop taking the excitement away from him, i would absolutely hate it to want to announce something related to ME just for a damn stranger to do it in my place.

You got the opportunity to work with JK, or as a professional to know things about JK? Amazing! Good for you, but please, it is not your place to be acting like those fake tea accounts on the tl.. Keep it to yourself or at the very least make one good post about it and shut the fucking fuck up until whatever is supposed to come out does then you can hype it up all you want.

Same for anyone who is working with JK, y'all need to stop giving them too much clout because the moment they end up being problematic, know that it is your own damn fault that haters end up coming for JK because y'all can't seem to put a difference between JK and the people who work with him, you always link them together and put them in the same box which ends up being a green light for haters to lump him into the same category as those problematic people.

Yes it is decent to have respect for the people working with the tannies as long as they do deserve that respect, once they show their true colors we do NOT have to keep that respect, now i'm not saying we should fight them but simply there is no need to hype them up. JK is not the people who are working with him and the people who are working with JK are not JK. Stop putting a label on what are those people to JK, Scooter is a whole ass dick but just because he is involved in JK's album it doesn't mean JK is the same as him, this and that are two different things and same for any single person who is working with any member.

We do not have to bootlick people just because they are working with BTS because i repeat the moment these people show their true colors it becomes a whole mess and our boys end up being dragged into a hell fest of hate, UNPROVOKED.

With that being said, please have some respect for JK, hype HIM up, show HIM support and please respect his own decisions, HIS DECISIONS, not someone else's but his.

AND STREAM GOLDEN!!!

#Nothing but love to JUNGKOOK #Golden boy JK

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preet-01 · 14 days ago

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A quick little dewis fic set in 2025 with helmet designer Daniel

Lewis didn’t usually do many special helmets. He did one or two, sometimes three depending on the situation. But Lewis liked to stick to his chosen helmet design for the season.

Or at least that was what he liked to do before he’d met the newest addition to the design studio that did most of his helmets.

Now forty years old – having celebrated his birthday just a few days ago – Lewis is sure that most of his season off-time will be spent at a design studio and if not that, then wondering what new excuse he could make to go back to the studio.

“Since it’s Ferrari…” Lewis has no idea how the sentence finishes as he’s too busy staring at the curly-haired man in front of him. “How does that sound?” Daniel questions, completely catching Lewis off guard.

But he is not one to admit he was caught lacking or too busy staring at the pretty helmet designer to know a single thing they’d discussed. So Lewis replies, “yeah.”

“Wonderful!” Daniel grins, “I know it’s a bit different from what you’ve done in previous years, but you’ve also never driven for Ferrari before.”

Lewis is unsure of what he’s agreed to, but it has Daniel grinning at him and Lewis likes that. “When should I come to pick up the helmet?” Lewis questions – never once has he been the one to pick up a helmet. More often than not, it was delivered to his doorstep or picked up by an assistant. However, there had also never been such temptation waiting within these walls for him to seek out.

_____

Daniel wasn’t there when Lewis picked up the helmet – he was out sick with the flu and had sent his apologies via email. In his place is a black helmet with the yellow of the Ferrari emblem used for the designs. It’s different from his helmets in recent years, just as Daniel had said during that first meeting.

_____

He’s in China when there’s an email from the design studio waiting in his inbox. The subject is simple: NIGHT RACE HELMET??????

Attached is a concept design of a rainbow glitter helmet and a note: was thinking back to the first saudi arabian gp and couldn’t get this helmet design outta my mind… whaddya think???? is it perfect or is it perfect??? meet at the studio when ur back in uk?? – Danny Ric

Lewis is quick to reply with a yes and set up a day for him to go to the studio. He hadn’t given much thought to a special helmet for Saudi Arabia, but with Daniel offering it, well he’d be crazy to say no.

On a Tuesday, Lewis walks into the studio to see Daniel already waiting for him near the front desk. “Hi,” Daniel says with a bright smile and iPad in hand. “I was thinking we could discuss this over coffee? The break room coffee machine broke and-”

“That would be lovely,” Lewis says eagerly.

There’s a coffee shop just a two minutes walk from the studio that Daniel sometimes goes to and supposedly has the best selections of vegan desserts.

Lewis didn’t usually get blowjobs from pretty boys in coffee shop bathrooms, but when they looked at him like he was the last slice of cake, then, well, he was only a man.

_____

For Imola, his first home race as a Ferrari driver, Lewis has a tribute helmet for Niki. And unfortunately, that doesn’t require him to go into the studio. However, he does now have Daniel’s number and frequently texts him.

_____

Lewis doesn’t return to Monaco after Spain, instead, he heads to London. “Does Ferrari not give its drivers rentals?” Daniel questions, leaning against a baby blue MINI Cooper.

“They do, but the Ferrari rentals don’t come with pretty helmet designers,” Lewis retorts, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Speaking of helmets-” Daniel’s cut off by another kiss.

“Home now, helmets later,” Lewis mumbles against Daniel’s lips. It had been much too long since they last saw one another and while the blowjobs and phone sex was great, he had other plans for the Australian.

They go to Daniel’s apartment, instead of the penthouse Lewis owns on the other side of London. It’s much cozier and warmer than the penthouse. Sketches are pinned onto a wall where a large desk with all sorts of drawing supplies is. Unlike Lewis’ own penthouse which had been curated by an interior designer, Daniel’s apartment is filled with stuff Daniel had seen and wanted to keep. It shouldn’t be cohesive, individually all of the pieces shouldn’t work together, but somehow it all seems to make sense.

He doesn’t get much time to appreciate the drawings and the decor before he’s being pushed towards the bedroom and pulled onto the bed. Not that Lewis minds one bit, everything will still be there once they’re done or the next morning.

Helmet discussions happen in the morning, The Canada helmet is all ready to go and waiting for Lewis to take with him when Daniel drops him off at Heathrow a few days before the race weekend begins. And there’s a Silverstone helmet in the works that they’d been texting about. But there are still a few more races that Daniel has ideas for and Lewis is a man who loves to see Daniel excitedly talk about his designs.

It’s a no-brainer that they end up finalizing designs for Monza, Singapore, Brazil, and Vegas.

_____

He wins in Silverstone and has no qualms about taking Daniel to his driver's room just before the post-race press conference. “Could you…ah… keep the suit on?” Daniel had asked shyly. By the end of it, Lewis is sure that Daniel had licked the champagne clean from his neck.

_____

Media day in Abu Dhabi goes as expected. It’s the same old questions repeated time and time again throughout the day. He cannot wait for the season to be over. He won’t get to see Daniel until New Year’s Day, but until then he does have time with his family planned.

So to his utter surprise, Daniel waiting for him in his driver’s room is completely unexpected but not at all unwelcomed.

“Baby?” Lewis questions.

“Turns out Abu Dhabi is on the way home,” Daniel replies. “Then I might’ve pulled some strings to get a paddock pass,” Daniel continues as he walks closer to Lewis. “You aren’t the only driver I design helmets for,” this time Lewis gets a kiss.

“Really? Which other drivers should I be worrying about?” Lewis asks.

“None of them are as handsome as you, darling,” Daniel retorts, “nor do I think any of them are capable of fucking me like you do.”

“So who else is the lucky driver?” Lewis asks.

“None on the grid right now, but I did get in touch with one Sebastian Vettel who was very curious as to why you’ve been making so many special helmets this season. His curiosity was satiated when he saw me apparently,” Daniel explains. Well that explains the mysterious texts he’d gotten from Sebastian earlier in the week. “Have a surprise for you,” Daniel says as his hands work on unbuckling the pants Lewis had worn to the paddock.

“I thought you were the surprise,” Lewis replies.

“Two surprises then, but first,” Daniel states, getting on his knees.

_____

The surprise is a special helmet with ‘I Love You’ in Italian inscribed on the bottom edge. The last for the season, but far from the last special helmet to be designed by Daniel for Lewis. But this one, Lewis thinks, will forever be one of his favorites.

#dewis #my fic #helmet designer daniel

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black-arcana · 4 months ago

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MACHINE HEAD, PAPA ROACH And GOJIRA Among First Confirmed Bands For 2025 Edition Of WACKEN OPEN AIR

The organizers of the annual Wacken Open Air festival have announced the first confirmed bands for the 2025 edition of the event, set to take place from July 30 to August 2 in Wacken, Germany.

A total of 34 artists have been announced for the 34th edition of Wacken Open Air, including MACHINE HEAD, PAPA ROACH, GOJIRA, APOCALYPTICA, SAXON and WITHIN TEMPTATION.

A total of 85,000 tickets were sold for Wacken Open Air 2024.

Confirmed bands so far for Wacken Open Air 2025:

MACHINE HEAD SALTATIO MORTIS PAPA ROACH GOJIRA APOCALYPTICA SAXON WITHIN TEMPTATION DIMMU BORGIR MINISTRY MICHAEL SCHENKER (My Years With UFO) PEYTON PARRISH BEYOND THE BLACK CLAWFINGER GRAVE DIGGER (45th-Anniversary Show) AUGUST BURNS RED OBITUARY WIND ROSE BROTHERS OF METAL TARJA & MARKO HIETALA HANABIE DECAPITATED DESTRUCTION CELESTE ORANGE GOBLIN ANGEL WITCH DOMINUM EXHORDER NIGHT DEMON MIMI BARKS SEVEN SPIRES CLOWNS DOOL CROWNSHIFT MIDNIGHT

The ticket presale begins on Sunday (August 4) at 8 p.m. German time from metaltix.com and wacken.com.

German hard rock legends SCORPIONS headlined this year's edition of Wacken Open Air, which takes place annually in Wacken, a village with a population of just about 2,000.

The first Wacken Open Air event in 1990 drew less than 800 people, but it has since grown to become the biggest open-air festival of its kind.

Around 30 percent travel from other countries to the festival, which over recent years has been growing in popularity.

Wacken Open Air was forced to take a break for two years due to coronavirus restrictions.

Wacken Open Air normally does not announce the names of its headliners before tickets go on sale. Still, the festival usually sells out within hours.

The festival also doesn't sell VIP access or upgrades and all purchases are for all the days without a single-day ticket option, something they did away with two decades ago.

#within temptation #beyond the black #tarja turunen #marko hietala #wacken open air 2025

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jmflowers · 8 months ago

Note

For hygge (sorry if I misspelled it). Maya and Carina having to go appliance shopping (washer, dryer, dishwasher, etc) broke while Maya was on shift. Her and Carina decide to go after Maya’s shift. Maya is checking out all the appliances and seeing which one has the better deal, better warranty, uses less electricity & or water. Carina is tired and pregnant and trying to keep a toddler entertained and just wants Maya to hurry up. Maya finally decides and tries to make it up to her wife by stopping by her favorite fast food restaurant to grab dinner and something sweet for Carina.

I am so not used to getting really detailed prompts, so I didn't follow this exactly. But I hope you like it just the same!

~~~

August 2025

“This one has a five-year warranty,” Maya calls out, reading the information tag hanging on the side of the washing machine. “But that only covers repairs, not replacement.”

“Mhm,” Carina hums from somewhere behind her.

“That three-year warranty might be a better deal,” Maya continues, looking between the two indecisively. “Except, that other one without the warranty is more efficient than both of these.”

“Bambina,” Carina huffs, finally drawing Maya’s attention away from the row of appliances she’s been perusing for the better part of an hour. She’s holding tight to the handle of the shopping cart, her body tipped just enough to relieve some of the pressure on her spine. Her free hand rubs at the tight muscles in her lower back, the weight of her 36-week belly clearly getting to her.

Maya pales, suddenly cluing back into reality.

“I do not care if it breathes fire,” Carina hisses, laying a hand atop Andrea’s beloved stuffed ostrich before he can launch it out of the shopping cart… again. “Please, please just pick one so we can go home.”

They’ve been in their new house for only a couple of weeks. Already, the laundry has piled up – new bedding and Andrea’s mud-covered clothes from afternoons spent in the new backyard and stacks of baby clothes that need to be folded and put away before their daughter arrives. And, of course, the ancient washing machine that had come with the house had decided it was perfect timing to officially fall apart.

Maya recognizes that realistically, she’s not being overly rational. She doesn’t need to study efficiency and water usage and warranty details to make the correct choice. The selection of machines before her are all acceptable, all financially-sound decisions.

But there’s a baby in Carina’s belly – her baby – and that fact alone seems endlessly capable of making her spiral.

It feels like they’re living the weeks before Andrea’s birth all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Maya swears, stepping towards Carina. She holds out her hands, an unspoken offering of the massage or belly-lifting Carina’s been gratefully accepting lately.

Carina shakes her head, though, her frustration and exhaustion evident. She catches the stuffed ostrich again, sighing heavily as Andrea wails loudly at the betrayal. “We will be in the car,” she says, maneuvering the shopping cart back towards the front of the store.

~~~

“I’m sorry,” Maya repeats as she climbs into the driver’s seat.

Carina has reclined the passenger seat as far as it will go, the pillow she takes everywhere now shoved beneath her lower back. Her eyes are closed, but she winces still as Andrea roars a little too loudly, one of his toy dinosaurs flying across the backseat and crashing roughly against the rear passenger window, mere inches from Carina’s head.

“Andrea,” she scolds without opening her eyes, “Non lanciamo giocattoli.” (We don’t throw toys.)

“’dactyl!” Andrea yells, as though the fact that the toy he’s thrown is a pterodactyl is explanation enough for its flight.

“Inside voice,” Maya reminds him, turning in her seat to catch his eye.

He nods, pressing a finger to his lips as he smiles. “’dactyl,” he whispers. “Mama sleep?” he asks a moment later, brows furrowed as he looks at Carina.

“Yeah,” Maya answers, smirking when Carina’s own brow furrows. “Mama needs something yummy to wake her up. What do you think?”

The suggestion splits Andrea’s face into a wide grin, one of his little fingers tapping against his chin in his learned rendition of thinking. “’Misu?” he suggests.

“Good idea,” Maya praises him, smiling even wider when the corner of Carina’s lips lift. “And maybe some eggplant parmigiano, to make up for how long Mommy took in the store?”

“Long,” Andrea echoes.

Carina’s hand drifts across the console, landing gently on Maya’s thigh.

“Hopefully,” Maya continues, “Mama will forgive Mommy when our brand new washing machine gets delivered tomorrow, and Mommy can get back to work washing everything for baby Pip?”

Andrea’s brow furrows again, that little finger drifting back up to his chin. “Maybe,” he repeats, clearly trying to gather the words for whatever else is on his mind.

Carina peeks an eye open, watching him, too.

“Maybe,” he says again, “Mama get rub, rub, rub.”

Maya laughs, reaching into the backseat to grab hold of Andrea’s shoe. Their little boy squeals, delighted but immediately pulling himself out of the grasp. “I think you’re right,” Maya agrees, enamoured with his intelligence. “I think Mama does need a massage, too.”

#shoutout to my nearly-the-same-age niece who asks for 'rub rub rub'#maya x carina fic #carina x maya fic #station 19 fic #minefic #hygge universe #janelle's asks #anonymous #prompt party #tumblr prompt party #writing baby fic while sitting outside the baby show? niche

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kiwiana-writes · 10 months ago

Note

for the AU fun facts game? Secret relationship taken to the next level: sercretly married AU

You have come to the RIGHT PLACE my friend because I once wrote fake divorce for another fandom lmfao

ONE: It's 2024, and nobody knows they're engaged.

Every milestone they've had as a couple has been splashed about for public consumption, dissected in thinkpieces and turned into quirky 'Times FirstPrince was just like every other early 20s relationship: a thread' social media posts. This is theirs, and they want to keep it that way for a while.

Just for a while.

TWO: The thing is. The thing is.

Technically, Henry is still in the process of giving up the title and removing himself from the line of succession. Everyone knows it's happening, and everyone and their dog has an opinion about it (David, Henry is fairly certain, feels quite positively about the whole thing); but the machinations of government are slow, and as it stands right now, Henry is still legally an HRH and fourth in line to the throne.

And as such, he can't marry without the sovereign's permission.

Ironically, the only punishment for doing so would be his (and his future children's) removal from the line of succession, the very thing he's in the process of doing anyway. It seems like it should be a win-win. But he's sure that once the media get wind of the engagement, the UK media narrative will focus even more strongly on how Henry's abandonment is That Evil (Brown) American's Fault, and he'll do everything in his power to protect Alex from as much of the blowback as they possibly can.

So they'll wait to tell everyone until Henry is no longer HRH Prince Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, but instead just Henry Fox, fiancé of Alex Claremont-Diaz.

THREE: They really don't mean to let it get as far as they do. They intend to tell Alex's family at Thanksgiving, but Oscar and Ellen start sniping at each other earlier than they usually do, and it kills the whole mood. Then Mary dies, and no family news can be announced during the mourning period unless absolutely unavoidable—and Henry doesn't want to burden his mum with news she can't share. Horrible old bigot or not, Mary was still her mother, and now Catherine is Queen Catherine I. She's got enough to deal with.

They'll try again in 2025.

FOUR: Bea announces she's pregnant at the end of January, and the rings go back in the drawer. She'd never ask them to delay announcing just because they know it will shift focus entirely, and that's exactly why Henry wants to.

"She took such a media beating for years," he tells Alex, his head resting on Alex's stomach, Alex's fingers running through his hair. "She deserves to enjoy all the positivity instead. But Christ, I want to be married to you."

Alex's hand stills for a moment. "I mean... we've kept secrets from the media before."

FIVE: Eleven weeks. They last eleven weeks before people start figuring it out, and Henry's fairly certain that's only because Nora is too busy with her job to piece it all together.

June nearly kills them when she finds out.

[Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story.]

#au five fun facts game #ask meme response #naiveandwise #stole a little from the bonus chapter but for obvious reasons it isn't actually compatible lol

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thewakingcloak · 5 months ago

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The State of Things Yet to Come

The Ghost of Spacefarer Things Yet to Come is a hard guy to get ahold of, but I have at last wrangled him and tied him down until he wrote the blog post he promised:

The blog post he promised

I have looked into the future… where I am from… and ok yeah let's start off with the big news first! In the future… ProtoDungeon: Episode III will be on Steam!

That means you can wishlist ProtoDungeon: Episode III on Steam!!!!

And here's a little mini announcement trailer for just this occasion :) (and turn up the sound! I made a lil tune for this!)

youtube

So please go give it a wishlist!

Steam's inner machinations are something of a secret to everybody, but wishlists absolutely help the folks who make games. It's one of the most important ways you can help me, even if you're not sure you'll ever buy it. Wishlists get games seen, so please wishlist!

I'm really excited about this. This one actually my original plan for ProtoDungeon, to put each individual episode up on Steam and use the experience to improve… but I was talked out of it by a guy who was mad that Episode I wasn't a full-length game, and by his predictions of my failure. I switched to only publishing for free on Itch and decided The Waking Cloak and ProtoDungeon DX would be the only games I put on Steam.

I wish I'd never listened to that guy. He clearly didn't care about me, and I let his words and attitude control me.

The future is ever-shifting

There's a lot of things I've been doing because I felt like (and have been told) I should be doing. So for the future, I had been intending to really hit the ground running on all fronts, posting to social medias everywhere, launching tiktok and insta reels and youtube shorts, and generally pouring my efforts into "marketing."

I don't think there's anything wrong with this, but it's also… not me? It's not really what I want for my future. I've thought long and hard about this hobby, and I want to enjoy the parts I enjoy, and not let pride prevent me from letting other people take over the parts that I'm not really good at and don't have the time for anyway. Let's face it: my plate is full with my job, my kids, my house, taking care of my wife, chronic illness/pain, etc.

On top of that, I've been off social media for a long time now, and it's been so restorative. I don't fault anyone for being on any of them, and I'll poke my head up every now and then, but… I'm letting go of "making it" on socials. I can't keep up with the sacrificial requirements of the Algorithms. I can't keep up with the comparison game with everyone else making stuff on there. I had spent a lot of time curating my feed(s) so that I saw only wonderful people making wonderful art, and I still felt like I was always "coming up short."

The new plan: just post here on the devlog… just things I want to post. Focus on making my games and having fun doing it. I'm not gonna spend time finding the opportune moment to generate traffic or to say just the right things to sell people on playing my games or learn all the metrics and stuff. I won't post in every conceivable space hoping I'll get enough momentum to go viral or even just noticed.

Will that mean fewer wishlists, fewer followers, fewer people playing my games? Yes. And I'm content with that. I just want to enjoy the act of making games. I don't need to "make it big" anymore. I look up to folks like ConcernedApe (solo dev of Stardew Valley) and Team Cherry (small team behind Hollow Knight) and their lovely games and experiences, but I don't need to BE them anymore. I'm me, and I like being me.

Okay but what am I actually doing…?

Practically speaking, the plan is now as follows:

Publish ProtoDungeon 3 on Steam/Itch for $8.99, with a two-week launch discount of 15% (so, $7.64). I'd like this to be in Q1 of 2025, but I'm keeping things loosey goosey here

Publish PD1 and PD2 on Steam for $4.99 each, with the same builds as on Itch now (so they won't have Steam achievements). These might come before 3 is released, we'll see!

Continue with episodes 4 and 5, also on Steam/Itch--these will be significantly quicker to develop than 3, as they will be smaller and also will not require fundamental changes as 3 did. Pricing will probably be lower than for episode 3 and likely higher than episodes 1 and 2.

All of the above will be self-published!

Once those are complete, I will be working on The Waking Cloak, and it's here that I'm seriously considering looking into a publisher. I do want my games to be played by more people, and having professionals handle all the marketing and socials and console porting and other fine details would be such a burden off my shoulders. I've got my eye on a few in particular, but I'm putting more thought into this before I say anything else.

What about…?

Why are you working on ProtoDungeon and not The Waking Cloak? Trick question! (You didn't know you were asking a trick question, did you?) I say this a lot but it bears repeating: ProtoDungeon is helping me build up the mechanics and assets for The Waking Cloak, and is helping me get lots of practice with game design, as well as with art and publishing and so forth.

Will ProtoDungeon have spoilers for The Waking Cloak? Nope! The only spoilers will be purely mechanical, but I'm holding back a lot of puzzle concepts and a few mechanics for TWC itself. ProtoDungeon is a separate prequel story and has unique dungeons that will not show up in TWC.

What is ProtoDungeon DX? This will be the combination of all the ProtoDungeon episodes, with the early episodes rebuilt, and with additional content (like an overworld). I'm planning on working on this after The Waking Cloak. There will be some kind of discount based on your collection of individual ProtoDungeon episodes. I don't know how that works yet, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Whatever happens, I want to make sure it benefits y'all.

Why isn't ProtoDungeon free anymore? Simply put, because I think they're worth it. I've put a lot of time and effort and love into them. Also, I have a family to support, and this hobby is not free either! The episodes are short, yes, and that's why they'll cost less than a movie ticket.

Patreon? Development will be open and free as always, but patrons will get a first look (like with this post!) There are other goodies at higher tiers, too. And I should mention: funds go towards stuff like key art, publishing fees, and other minor operating costs. I was able to commission some wonderful art for ProtoDungeon: Episode III with y'all's support, but I've also bought some music tools (such as Chipsynth SFC), and I have a Studio Spacefarer P.O. box as an official address for legal reasons when publishing newsletters. I also am able to keep the main site, https://studiospacefarer.com, up with these funds. So, thank you!

To the future!

ProtoDungeon: Episode III has been a difficult beast to tame, partly because of fundamental changes to all the systems, but also because of where it fell in my life, amidst the pandemic and grief and changes and moving. It's become more important to me because of that, because it's a way to process everything. I had always known ProtoDungeon was about grief, but now it's much more personal.

I'm excited to work on things again. I look forward to sitting down and working out the details and adding the new ideas. I can't wait for y'all to experience it. Thank you for following along, and here's to future days!

Oh and did I mention…? please wishlist ProtoDungeon: Episode III on Steam :)

#gamedev #indiedev #the waking cloak #devlog #devblog #zelda #game development #pixel art #protodungeon #gamemaker #steam #anouncement #Youtube

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