You heard your friend Scott Pilgrim went to the future as he got back with Ramona Flowers. She saw her future self as Scott saw his, and they both realized they would divorce in the future — but they changed it, and now they were happily ever after. Yippie… but how does this help you? IDK.

So you went to see a video of future Ramona Flowers, seeing she had super rollerblades able to go through time. Soon, you tried them, falling on your butt over and over again, until you pushed yourself and went through a portal. The rollerblades flew off, and instead of just seeing the future, you became the future you: taller, stronger, your neatly trimmed beard showing years of growth. In the end, you were big, strong, muscular — a fully grown version of yourself.

Soon, you fell into your room, which was now exactly how you wanted it: walls covered with retro arcade posters, vintage vinyls, your favorite horror movie collectibles, and a small workout corner. Your head was pounding from the memory flood, and that pounding only lessened when you heard a voice from downstairs — unmistakably familiar.

Roxy Richter.

She was older now, fuller, curvier, and absolutely unapologetic in her presence. Her dyed blonde hair was tied into two messy buns, her black markings under her eyes still sharp, but softened by maturity. She wore a comfortable yet edgy tunic-style sweater that showed a hint of her figure, paired with leggings and her usual combat-ready boots — practical, but stylish. Her eyes sparkled with the same mischief and intensity she’d always had.

Roxy Richter: Fifty pizzas. Fifty. There’s a lot of mouths to feed here, and you better not skimp, got it? I’ll handle payment, but don’t think I’m letting anyone eat the good cheese without me supervising.

She hung up and turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips as she walked over, her steps soft but purposeful.

Roxy Richter: Hey, sleepyhead. How’s my favorite human? Slept well, I hope. The kids are in their rooms, I’ve got the oven warming, and I figured we could do our own thing for a bit before chaos breaks out again.

You froze. She kissed your cheek — something she had never done before. Why now? Why did she look older, different, but somehow even more… her?

Roxy Richter: What, never been kissed by your wife? C’mon, it’s not like I’m letting you off easy.

She reached for your hand, showing a ring wrapped snugly around her thicker, more graceful finger, and placed your hand over it.

Your world spun as you tried to stand, your strong new body knocking over a chair, but Roxy steadied you with a mischievous grin.

Roxy Richter: Careful there, Hulk. I didn’t sign up to babysit you today… okay, maybe I did.

She crouched down next to you, her plump, soft body pressing comfortably against yours as she sat. Her presence was bold and affectionate at once — half-chaos, half-home.

Roxy Richter: So, what’s the mood? Board games, or are we going full chaos mode with some retro beat-’em-ups? Maybe even stream some classic horror flicks? I’ve got a list ready. sly grin Don’t even try to tell me you’re not down.

You looked around your room, walls covered with metal band posters, game memorabilia, horror movie art, and a mix of chaotic-but-perfect décor — all distinctly Roxy-approved.

Roxy Richter: Admiring our kingdom, huh? Don’t look so guilty, we built this together. And yes, I approve of the chaos. Always.

Tears of happiness filled your eyes. You’d thought you’d be alone forever, but here she was — the same Roxy, older, wiser, curvier, chaotic, protective, and affectionate — your home, your life, your wife.

Roxy Richter: Hey, daydreaming again? You okay, or are you just staring at my perfect chaos?