#now that I’m thinking about it I’ve never actually been

[celticjade13]

That isn't the transcript. I heard there was a fake one going around, and it looks like this is it. I pasted the real transcript and linked the source below. Also there's a video so you can confirm for yourself what was said. Trump & Vance are just as terrible and Zelenskyy is just as good, so I don't know why there's a fake one?

J.D. Vance: For four years, in the United States of America, we had a president who stood up in press conferences and talked tough about Vladimir Putin, and then Putin invaded Ukraine and destroyed a significant chunk of the country. The path to peace and the path to prosperity is maybe engaging in diplomacy. We tried the pathway of Joe Biden, of thumping our chest and pretending that the president of the United States’ words mattered more than the president of the United States’ actions. What makes America a good country is America engaging in diplomacy. That’s what President Trump is doing.

Volodymyr Zelensky: He [Putin] occupied various parts of Ukraine in 2014. During that time, it was President Obama, then President Trump, then President Biden, and now it’s President Trump and he will stop him [Putin]. But during 2014, nobody stopped him. He just occupied and took. He killed people. From 2014 till 2022, the situation was the same—people have been dying on the contact line and nobody stopped him. We had a lot of conversations with him, including a bilateral conversation. As a new president in 2019, I signed with him a cease-fire deal alongside Macron and Merkel. All of them told me that he will never go. We also signed a gas contract with him. But after all of that, he broke the cease-fire. He killed our people, and he didn’t exchange prisoners. We signed the exchange of prisoners, but he didn’t do it. What kind of diplomacy, J.D., are you speaking about? What do you mean?

Vance: I’m talking about the kind of diplomacy that’s going to end the destruction of your country. [Zelensky begins to respond] Mr. President, with respect, I think it’s disrespectful for you to come to the Oval Office and try to litigate this in front of the American media. Right now, you guys are going around and forcing conscripts to the front lines because you have manpower problems—you should be thanking the president for trying to bring an end to this conflict.

Zelensky: Have you ever been to Ukraine to see what problems we have? Come once.

Vance: I’ve actually watched and seen the stories, and I know what happens is you bring people on a propaganda tour, Mr. President. Do you disagree that you’ve had problems bringing people in your military, and do you think that it’s respectful to come to the Oval Office of the United States of America and attack the administration that is trying to prevent the destruction of your country?

Zelensky: First of all, during the war, everybody has problems, even you. But you have a nice ocean and don’t feel [the problems] now. But you will feel it in the future.

Donald Trump: You don’t know that.

Zelensky: God bless, you will not have war.

Trump: Don’t tell us what we’re going to feel. We’re trying to solve a problem.

Zelensky: I’m not. I’m answering the question that…

Trump: You’re in no position to dictate what we’re going to feel. We’re going to feel very good.

Zelensky: You are going to feel influenced…

Trump: We’re going to feel very good and very strong. You’re, right now, not in a very good position. You’ve allowed yourself to be in a very bad position. You don’t have the cards right now with us. [Zelensky continues speaking] You’re gambling with the lives of millions of people. You’re gambling with World War Three. You’re gambling with World War Three, and what you’re doing is very disrespectful to this country that’s backed you far more than a lot of people say they should have.

Vance: Have you said thank you once?

Zelensky: A lot of times.

Vance: No, in this entire meeting, have you said thank you? You went to Pennsylvania and campaigned for the opposition in October. Offer some words of appreciation for the United States of America and the president who’s trying to save your country.

Zelensky: Please, you think that if you will speak very loudly…

Trump: He is not speaking loudly. Your country is in big trouble.

Zelensky: I know. Can I ask…

Trump: No, no, you’ve done a lot of talking. Your country is in big trouble.

Zelensky: I know.

Trump: You’re not winning this. You have a damn good chance of coming out okay because of us.

Zelensky: Mr. President, we are staying strong in our country. From the very beginning of the war we’ve been alone and we are thankful. I said thank you in this cabinet.

Trump: We gave you, through this stupid president, $350 billion. We gave you military equipment. Your men are brave but they have used our military equipment. If you didn’t have our military equipment, this war would have been over in two weeks.

Zelensky: In three days, yes. I heard it from Putin.

Trump: It’s going to be a very hard thing to do business like this.

Vance: Just say thank you.

Zelensky: I said thank you—I say thank you to the American people.

Vance: Accept that there are disagreements, and let’s go litigate those disagreements, rather than trying to fight it out in the American media, when you’re wrong. We know that you’re wrong.

Trump: You see, I think it’s good for the American people to see what’s going on. I think it’s very important. That’s why I kept this going so long. You have to be thankful. You don’t have the cards. You’re buried there. You people are dying. You’re running low on soldiers. Listen, you’re running low on soldiers. It would be a damn good thing. Then you tell us, “I don’t want to cease fire. I don’t want to cease fire.” If you could get a cease-fire right now, I tell you, you take it so the bullets stop flying and your men stop getting killed.

Zelensky: Yes, of course I want to stop the war. But, as I’ve said to you, with guarantees. Ask our people about the cease-fire, what do they think.

Trump: That wasn’t me. That was with a guy named Biden, who was not a smart person. That was with Obama, who gave you sheets. I gave you javelins. I gave you the javelins to take out all those tanks. Obama gave you sheets. In fact, the statement is Obama gave sheets and Trump gave javelins. You got to be more thankful, because, let me tell you, you don’t have the cards. With us, you have the cards, but without us, you don’t have any cards. It’ll be a tough deal to make because the attitudes have to change.

Source:

the transcript btw. It was hard to make it out on the video because of the blowhards yelling and me feeling incandescently blind and deaf with rage

oh, to have a leader with the moral fiber and strong backbone that Zelenskyy has

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely, any chance you could do James x reader who is stressing over exam season?

Thanks for all the great work bb we appreciate it so much :)

Thank you angel, I love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 768 words

“Hey, lovely girl.” James comes up behind your chair with an arm around your front and a kiss to your head, surreptitiously slipping away your coffee. “How’s it going?” 

“It’s going fine,” you say. It’s a lie, but you have larger concerns. Your boyfriend is acting suspicious. “What are you doing?” 

“Just checking in on you.” 

“No, what are you doing with my drink?” 

“I was thinking we could make an exchange,” James says casually. 

You sigh, both craving and resenting the break. “I need to focus. No side quests.” 

“This isn’t a side quest. It’s a…a brief deviation—”

“That’s another way to say side quest.” 

“You didn’t let me finish. A brief deviation which will ultimately result in you being more productive.” 

You pause. “Okay…” 

James stamps a happy kiss to your hair. “So, first, I was thinking we could pick up some matcha or something—” 

“James,” you cut him off gently, “that’s a sweet thought, but matcha doesn’t have any caffeine in it.” 

“I’ve heard that, yeah. That’s a key feature of the plan, as it happens.” 

“I feel like I sort of need caffeine for my studying, lovely.” 

James makes a wishy-washy humming sound. It buzzes against the top of your head where he rests his chin. “Have you noticed that you’re vibrating?” he asks.

“I’m…” You take a quick stock of yourself. You feel exhausted, drained. Not vibratey. “No, I’m not.” 

“Mhm. I can actually feel your heart beating against my arm right now.” 

Now that he says so, you can feel it too. “Well, I’m nervous.” Your voice takes on an unintentional sharpness. “I’ve got three exams this week, and I want to do well. I can’t just check out.” 

James might have been anticipating you’d get prickly. He stays perfectly calm, only sweeping his thumb over your collarbone mollifyingly. You feel instantly ridiculous for your small breakage.

“I know, angel,” he says, in that everything’s-just-fine voice of his. “I get that you’re stressed. And it sucks that it is so stressful, but I’m not saying you should check out. I just want to make your studying go easier.” 

You’re quiet, guilty and embarrassed for sniping at him when he’s so relentlessly kind to you. James never does anything but make things easier for you, even when he’s not trying to. He makes your life easier just by existing. 

James lets go of you with the arm across your chest to squat by your chair, looking up into your face. He touches his thumb to the top of your cheekbone. 

“You look like your eyes hurt.” 

“They do,” you admit. 

He smiles ruefully. “Can I tell you the rest of the plan?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

“I was thinking we’d take our matcha—or uncaffeinated beverages of your choice—and go to the park by Remus’ place. It has that little quiet area down the trail, remember? You could bring your books. It’d still be studying, but” —James shrugs, looking at the bright light you’ve positioned above your textbook, your grimy coffee mug, the chair you’ve been sitting in since you got up this morning— “this isn’t good for you. Maybe a change of scenery will help.” 

Now it’s you wanting a deviation. A side quest, an excuse to check out. You want to take James’ face between your hands and spend the rest of the week ensuring no inch of it goes unkissed. Screw exams. When he looks at you like this, so wholesome and earnest and chock full of good intentions, you genuinely think you must be the luckiest girl in the world. 

“That sounds nice,” you say. 

James grins, and god, his dimples dig in so deep you really could get lost in them if you let yourself. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You give in slightly to indulgence, leaning down to press your lips to his cupid’s bow. Retracting before you forget about exams altogether. “That’s a really lovely idea, Jamie. Thank you for thinking of it.” 

“Well, it wasn’t hard,” he says breezily. “All I had to do was think to myself, if I were wearing my eyes out being a swot all day, where would I rather be?” 

You smile. James’ doubles in wattage because of it. “Well, you nailed it. That sounds perfect.” 

“Plans are my forte, lovely. Let’s see, maybe we try studying there until the sun starts to go down, and then you can call it quits for the evening.” 

“I thought we agreed on no checking out.” 

“But what if I put cucumbers on your eyes? That’s not checking out, that’s just rejuvenation.” 

“I…might be slightly more amenable to that.”

[thatsmistertoyou]

maybe a hot take idk

look I know many people are upset about the pricing/fee situation of the TIT livestream (me included, I was pissed as hell that I got a large surprise fee), and I hope everything gets sorted out. I’m proud of the phandom for being loud and demanding fairness from the platform. you will not get shit past us.

I understand that. however, I completely disagree with some opinions I’ve seen (mainly on twitter but whatever) that charging for the stream at all is greedy, especially for people who have already paid to see the show. this is a weird take imo because this stream is supposed to be an opportunity for people who didn’t get to go to see it with an audience as a communal experience. but if you already spent money and don’t want to spend more, don’t!

and I don’t know anything about anything but based on the very little information dnp have provided about the cost of touring, I really don’t think they have the option to just do the stream for free. this is just my opinion, but based on how dan said he lost money touring WAD, i would not be surprised if the livestream paid for the rights he needed to release it for free on YouTube (and the extremely important rights to play All Star in the credits). just because he wrote and performed it doesn’t mean he owned it. it would not surprise me at all if the profits from the stream don’t go to dnp only.

and also, Things Cost Money, including livestreams. I think the platform has really showed their ass, but if we remove them from the equation for a second - everyone who put on TIT, including Dan and Phil, deserve to be compensated for their work. I don’t expect them to bleed money into this project forever just because it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m sure they’re doing just fine financially, but they are not and never have asked anyone to take food off their table to support them.

I actually find it really disheartening to see just how many people were like, legitimately, personally angry with dnp before they had even had a chance to respond to our concerns. I’ve been around long enough to remember when they announced TABINOF, there was an uproar about how they were sellouts because they were writing a book just like every other youtuber, making a shitty cashgrab when they had nothing to say. in the 2 days before we knew what the book would even be about, the Discourse had never been more annoying or mean spirited.

and it made me wonder, what are yall doing here if you assume the worst like that? have you just been waiting for the masks to slip? are you appalled that they participate in the heinous capitalistic act of selling their labor like everyone else? have your years of support not earned a little bit of grace when there’s a miscommunication?

I’m not saying approach everything like ‘they’ve never done anything wrong once in their whole lives and never will’, but the vitriol that seems to come out at minor fuck ups is alarming. some of yall do not like them and it shows. (I am looking directly at twitter dot com now)

I find that attitude really sad. after the TABINOF drama, I promised myself I’d never lose sleep over phandom nonsense again, so I’m going to bed, just had to get some thoughts out there. 💙

[noosayog]

Sitting at the bar, alone, is far from Atsumu’s ideal Friday night. 

But Bokuto’s busy, Shoyo has a date, and Omi, well… he didn’t even bother to make an excuse. Some friends they are, especially when he’s going through a breakup. 

It does get better, minorly, when you, a pretty stranger, decide to sit in the stool directly to his left. Never mind that the bar is full and the seat next to his is the only free spot.

You’re pretty, dressed in something casual, yet memorable. He’s content to simply sit beside you, fantasizing scenarios in which he charmingly and successfully gets you to join him for a drink and dinner soon, when he hears you. 

“So how’s your night going?” 

“Uh.”

You giggle lightly. He feels his face flush a shade deeper. 

“Articulate, aren’t you?” 

Atsumu chokes out an awkward chuckle. “I’m usually better than this.” 

“Yeah?” You lean further in, propping your chin on your hand. 

“Yeah.” 

A moment of silence. Your smile drops. Oh, you’re definitely about to turn to your left and try your luck with the other guy sitting on that side. 

“Um-” 

“Ok, whatever,” you say. “I’m just gonna come out and ask. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, no. I’m actually going through a-”

You hold a hand up. “I don’t really wanna hear details. So you’re single? Not seeing someone? Not trying to see someone?” 

“No.” 

“Cool. Wanna make out with me? No strings attached, of course.” 

“Uh?”

“You’re not really doing too hot convincing me that your normal is better than this. Make out.” You gesture, lips puckered. “With me. Just looking for a little fun tonight, you know?” 

Yes, he does want to make out with the pretty girl sitting next to him, so charming, he thinks he might’ve fallen in love. But instead, what he says is- 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean it’s not really my things to hook up with someone right when I meet them and I’m going through a fresh breakup…” 

You sit back up, swiveling your stool so you’re facing the bar now. “No worries. I don’t wanna pressure someone who’s not down. Have a good night then.” 

You turn back to your book, which he didn’t even notice was there. A sip of your drink, knife to the conversation. 

Atsumu probably spends a good while racking his head for a way to restart the connection when he hears you order another drink. He keeps his head down, discreetly eavesdropping as you flirt with the bartender. 

The bartender rests both arms on the bar to lean closer to you, clearly bewitched. Not that Atsumu doesn’t understand but doesn’t this guy have a job to do? He makes a mental note to write a bad google review later. 

“So…” the bartender croons, “I heard your proposition for Blondie over there.” 

Excuse him? He’s sitting right here still! 

“If he’s not interested-”

“Who said I’m not!” 

Both sets of eyes whip toward him. 

“Bro, we both heard you say-” 

“Okay, so can’t a guy make a mistake?” He turns to you, voice accusatory. “Guys say things when we’re nervous. I’m nervous, okay? I’ve never been asked to make out with some like you,” he gestures up and down. “I am so interested in making out with you.” 

You blink once, twice, before turning to the bartender. “I think I’m done drinking for the night.” 

You turn toward him. 

“Put my drinks on blondie’s tab. He’s closing out now.” 

Atsumu hardly remembers throwing a couple of bills on the table before you grab his hand, trailing after your tinkling laughter. 

–

“- and that’s how I met your mother.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“No way she asked you, of all people, at that bar to make out with you.” 

”Seems kinda farfetched, Atsumu…” 

The MSBY team is gathered in your living room, your one year old son babbling on Atsumu’s lap. 

“Hey! No swear words around my son.” 

His teammates roll their eyes. 

“You’re so full of it. No way that story-”

“What are you guys talking about?” You enter the room with a handful of beers. 

“How you and Atsumu met.” 

“Oh, you mean how I asked him to make out with me?” 

“No fucking shot!” 

“Language!”

[reminiscingtonight]

Guilty

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Tis the season for sequels. Featuring a lot of Kyra and Alessia and not so much of Lia

[The Thing About Families Masterlist]

You should have known better than to trust her. 

There’s a reason Steph’s always more than happy to drop Kyra off on your doorstep whenever camp’s over.

There’s a reason Mini looks like she’s gained five years every time the younger girl has been granted privileges to “babysit” her two kids. 

You have a million reasons to not trust her yet you did. 

Why did you trust Kyra with the ring?

Your knuckles are nearly white as you drag the young girl into a nearby unoccupied conference room. Kyra’s looking apologetically guilty, but a delirious haze is starting to take over you. It’s a mixture of horror and disbelief, but at the bottom of it all, you feel beyond stupid.

“What do you mean you lost it?!”

Kyra looks like she’s moments away from crying, but you can’t find it in yourself to be compassionate. You can console her later. Right now you need to get to the bottom of this and try to salvage your relationship with your girlfriend first. 

“I swear it was stashed at the bottom of my drawer but it just wasn’t there when I looked this morning.”

“Well where did you put it?”

“I never moved it! Someone must have taken it.”

You pinch your eyes shut, praying to whatever soccer gods that are above that this was just a cruel joke. This wasn’t really happening and you weren’t about to postpone all the plans you’ve spent months working on. “Kyra, I am begging you not to do this. What am I supposed to do? The dinner’s been booked! The restaurant knows I’m proposing!”

“We can get you a new one! I’ll front it, I swear.”

Forget Kyra crying, you’re going to cry. 

“Unless you’re willing to shell out five grand in the next few hours, I don’t think ‘buying me a new’ one will work.”

The young Australian’s eyes bulge out at the sound of how much you spent on Lia’s ring. 

It’s not a well kept secret that you were going to propose. You and Lia have been together for years now, married in every way except for the official one. Wedding plans have already been discussed, from venues to food to the invitation list. The last thing you actually had to do was the actual proposing and getting married parts.

Though with the ways things are going, you’re not sure you’re going to get married anytime soon. 

There’s a knock on the door but you ignore it, pacing back and forth as your mind races. There’s not really much you can do at this point. The place you got Lia’s ring custom made at is already closed at this time of day, and your girlfriend deserves something better than a last minute generic engagement ring. 

A flash of blonde enters your peripheral just as you make your decision.

“Okay. I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh I’ve been looking for you guys--”

“Now’s not a good time, Less,” you wave your sister off, not even bothering to pay her any attention. “Okay Kyra, listen closely because I won’t repeat myself.”

The younger girl nods, determination painted all over her features. 

“I’ll cancel the reservations. That’ll buy me a couple days.”

“Guys--”

“Less. Not a good time,” You repeat, shuffling to turn your back to her to ensure Alessia can’t interrupt again. “The jeweler still has the plans I sent him. I can probably get Gio and Luca to lend me some money, but you have to find where you stashed that ring, Kyra. It wasn’t cheap.”

“About the ring--”

“Not now Alessia!” This time your and Kyra’s voices blend together, neither of you willing to give Alessia a minute of your days. 

She lets out an offended huff and you have half a mind to just strangle her right here and now, your mother’s feelings be damned. 

Gritting your teeth you turn around, not really happy to have to find out what your sister wants. She has free reign to bother you at any minute of any day but why was she so insistent on doing so right now? “What could possibly be so important, you impatient piece of--”

You cut off suddenly, eyes doubling in size when you look down at her hands. 

There’s a velvet box clutched between her perfectly manicured nails, the tiny thing sitting there like it’s mocking you for losing your temper earlier. 

“That’s my--”

“The ring! But-- but--”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Oh god, Lessi I could kiss you, you just saved my ass--” Kyra breaks off, something clicking in her brain. “Wait, where did you find it?”

There’s a slight pause as you wait for Alessia’s answer. 

“Err… so funny story.” She blows out a breath of air, trying her best to look nonchalant. “I might have been-- actually Kyra hid…” Alessia fidgets, not liking the crease that was growing deeper and deeper between your brows. “IwantedtoprankKyraaftersheprankedmesoItooktheringthelasttimeIvisited.”

She slams her mouth shut the second the words are uttered, but no one says a word. 

An uncomfortable tension settles into the room and Alessia does her best not to wilt to the ground. 

You stare at her.

Kyra stares at her.

Alessia stares at a spot past your faces, nervously shuffling under the weight of your gazes.

There’s no mistaking icy stare or the clenched jaw that proved you caught every word of her fastball confession. 

“You… What?” There’s an edge to your voice, a tone Alessia rarely was at the end of growing up, but one that she recognizes all the same. The order there is clear, but Alessia’s not so sure she wants to repeat herself out of self preservation.

She shrinks, suddenly wishing she wasn’t so tall. “Um. Well. So Kyra hid my earrings the other day, and I, uh, I thought hiding this would be a funny way to prank her back?” Alessia cringes, not liking the way this all sounds now that she’s saying it out loud. “But judging by the looks on your faces, I’m going to say otherwise.”

Your nose flares but that’s the only response she’s given. 

Kyra looks grumpy, probably the result of taking your misplaced anger from earlier. 

You hold out your hand.

No words are exchanged but Alessia is quick to drop the box into your hand. 

Just as quick as she darts forward to do so, she jumps back, shoving her now empty hands into her pockets. 

“See, no hurt no foul, right?”

Crickets. 

That’s all Alessia hears as she nervously chuckles. 

Neither you nor Kyra have moved, faces giving nothing away. 

At least not until you call the Australian’s name calmly, eyes never leaving your sister’s.

Alessia watches as the two of you slowly peel away from each other. Her eyes keep darting between the two of you, feeling more and more like prey that’s being stalked as the seconds tick by. “Guys, c’mon–”

“Remember how I told you to play nice with my only sister?”

Kyra’s frowning. It’s probably supposed to come off frightening but she looks too much like a kicked dog for it to really do too much.

But the look on your face… yeah, that was intimidating enough for the two of you.

“Forget everything I’ve ever said. I don’t have a sister.”

Alessia gulps.

“Get her.”

She bolts.

[fairyhaos]

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.” 

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten. 

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

[tsukuhoe]

22. baby, i know cw: heavy mentions of alcohol, teeny bit angsty, wc: 1.8k

you stood in front of the door, your fingers fumbling with the handle. “shit,” you muttered under your breath. you lean on the garage door, arms full of beer bottles and knocked. “hey shitheads?” no answer. you flick a switch, and the garage door opens, and as you walk towards the garage door, the door closes. you look back to see a costumed ghostface closing the garage door. 

“...is that you randy?” the masked man shakes his head. no. 

“what movie is this from? i spit on your garage?” you scoff in return. “lose the costume; if sidney sees it, she’ll flip.” you walk towards the costume. he’s shaking his head again. 

“oh, you wanna play psycho killer?” you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “can i be the helpless victim?” 

he masked figure nods. you cocked her head to the side, looking him up and down. “oh no, please don’t kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel!” you said, scoffing, then pushing him to the side. however, instead, the masked face grabbed your arm and pulled out a knife. a few bottles in your arm dropped and shattered as he dragged the prop against your arm, fake blood coming out of the tube. “ah!” 

immediately, you ran towards the fridge, slamming the top freezer in his face. he fell to the ground as you ran past him, grabbed the unshattered bottles and threw them at him once he started getting up. “fucker!” 

desperately wanting to escape, you spotted the doggy door. you quickly ran towards it, trying your best to shove your body through… unfortunately, your shoulders had made you stuck. seeing his golden opportunity, the killer flicks the switch, which opens the door… you are lifted into the air as you look up…

“CUT!” utahime’s voice booms, the entire set erupts into applause. “that was perfect, y/n and toji!” this was the last day of your filming on set. after the hard weeks of consistent filming and visiting the building, you had finished your part. you felt a lump form in your throat as you watched the cast and crew celebrate. this was the culmination of weeks of hard work, late nights, and dedication. ​​

toji walkers over to you. “we did it. we made the iconic scene.” 

you laughed softly, nodding. “we sure did.” 

after being on set with toji for a few weeks, he had gotten used to your presence, however, just because you’d been with him for a few weeks does not mean he’s fond of you now… “now you can finally scram. honestly, singing might be something you’d want to stick you.” he said with a smirk on his face. 

you could tell he was trying to get on your nerves. “awh, thank you so much mr. fushiguro! i appreciate your support in my music career!” you shot him an insincere smile, tone all cheery.  

“nah, i’d never listen to–” “SWEETS! you were amazing!” before toji could continue, gojo ran towards you and spun you around. “seriously, baby, i’ve been watching all the behind-the-scenes clips, and you nailed every scene. i’m so proud of you.” 

“thank you so much, gojo!” you giggled. you aren’t exaggerating when you say you saw literal stars in his eyes. 

“so, dinner? at kura revolving sushi bar?” he asked, setting you down on the ground. 

“yeah, of course— sorry, off topic, but do you know if kento is in the building today? i’ve been wanting to talk to him…” it had been approximately three days since you last had an actual conversation with him. could he be avoiding you? 

“ah, i don’t think so, sweets. from what i remember, he has a shooting to do for tomorrow in osaka! i think he should be on a plane by now.” right. of course. kento nanami is a busy man, this shouldn’t be surprising. however, you couldn’t help but to feel a little disappointed… by what? not getting to talk to him? you could always text him. him leaving without informing you? it’s not like you two were together; he isn’t obligated to tell you anything— so what exactly were you disappointed about? did you want to be with him? is that why you’re disappointed? before you could start spiralling even more than you already are, gojo picked up the change in your mood. 

“hey, if you want, i could pass along a message for you…? or you could even call him! i’m sure he’d be happy to receive a call from you!” he gently said, running his hands through your hair. 

“really? you’d think so?” you asked, eyes watery, tears threatening to spill out. 

“i know so. now c’mon! we don’t wanna be late to our reservation, now do we?” 

‘fuck. what in the world am i doing.’ was the only thought that ran through his head the whole car ride there. supporting you and nanami’s… relationship? whatever you two had going on. his hands gripped the steering wheel harder. he couldn’t help but to feel a jealous— bitter even. he was jealous of nanami’s relationship with you. he was bitter at himself. what did he lack? why was he even helping him? 

“we’re here!” his voice came out cheery, a total contrast to his previous thoughts while driving. you two walked in, while gojo talked to the waitress you couldn’t help but notice the sudden shift in his mood. in the car it was completely quiet, but now he’s all sunshine and smiles. he’s the world’s favourite actor (other than toji, of course) after all. 

“‘order anything ya want, sweets! it’s all on me.” he grinned, taking his seat as you settled in the booth across from him. 

“do you drink, gojo?” you asked, looking at the menu. 

“nahh, i don’t, sweets. i’m a light weight haha.” 

“oh, alright! then i won’t either!” 

“nono, drink if you want to! i don’t mind you drinking, besides i’ll be driving you home!” 

It wasn’t long before you two were laughing and nibbling on different types of sushi— salmon, tuna, avocado rolls, and takoyaki. but the drinks? that was beginning to hit you. you started with one shot, but it had been so smooth that you’d convinced yourself to have another. and then another. 

gojo watched you carefully, noting the rosy flush on your cheeks and the slightly glassy look in your eyes. you were starting to slur your words, though gojo didn’t want to say anything just yet. you two were having a great time, and the vibe was perfect.

"y/n," he said gently, "maybe we should slow down on the drinks?"

you waved him off. "i’m fine, i’m fine! just one more… okay, two more..."

he let out a small chuckle at your drunken state. “i can now see why you’re such good friends with shoko!” 

a few minutes later, you leaned back in your seat with a contented sigh, then suddenly lurched forward, your hand grabbing the edge of the conveyor belt as if to steady yourself. "i think i’m a little drunk," you admitted, your voice wobbling.

gojo couldn't help but laugh. "you think? you’ve had like, seven shots."

you giggled, your head tilting to one side as you tried to look serious. "i don’t know what’s in that drink, but it’s like magic. i feel amazing. i could totally sing karaoke right now."

the mention of singing made gojo laugh harder. "let’s just focus on not falling off the stool for now, alright, sweets?"

you blinked at him, then suddenly grinned. "you’re so funny, gojo. i think i love you."

his heart started to throb. he chuckled and reached for his glass of water. "yeah, well, i’m pretty lovable when i’m sober… let’s go home now, alright, sweets? don’t want you passing out on the conveyor belt." 

“you’re so nice, gojo.” 

“you know, you’ve been calling me gojo for a while. satoru is fine, sweets.” gojo chuckled, helping you out the booth and walking you to his car. 

“satoru… satoru… sa…toru… toru. how about toru. since y’know, you’ve been calling me these cute names, i should too!” you beamed, as he opened the passenger seat door for you. 

“sure thing, sweets.” 

the car ride to his place was quiet, you were slowly dozing off while he drove. you stared at gojo for a beat too long, his eyes soft and focused on road. "toru…" you began, your words dragging, "you know, i’ve always thought... you’re really pretty." 

his heart skipped a beat, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. he thought you were just being intoxicated. "you’re not so bad yourself," he teased, nudging you lightly. “we’ve just pulled into the parking lot. i’ll call shoko or utahime to come pick you up in a few?” 

you didn’t laugh. instead, you moved closer, your face hovering inches from his, your breath warm and scented with alcohol. gojo’s heart started to race; unsure if this was the alcohol talking or something more. fuck. he wished it was. 

“y/n, what are you—” 

before he could finish his sentence, you closed the gap between. the kiss was sudden and clumsy, but it was there— his lips pressing against yours with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for. the kiss deepened, you tasted like the alcohol you’ve been drinking earlier. gojo hates alcohol, but fuck, your taste was so addicting. he didn’t care. your hand moved to his chest, your fingers pressing into him as you leaned more into the kiss.

the kiss grew more urgent, gojo pulled away slightly, his breath shaky. “sweets, wait... you’re drunk. this isn’t—”

“i want this,” you whispered, your voice soft but insistent. your eyes searched his, a mixture of vulnerability and something deeper that made his chest tighten.

for a second, he hesitated, unsure. but there, in your gaze, was something real. something he couldn’t ignore… but he also knew this wasn’t something to rush. not like this. not when the line between friendship and something else felt too blurry. 

with a sigh, he pulled back, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “we can’t, not like this,” he said softly. 

your eyes flickered with confusion, and for a moment, he could see the haze from the alcohol fading just a bit, replaced by something more knowing, more aware.

“i… i didn’t mean to mess things up,” you whispered, your voice small.

“you didn’t,” he said gently, placing a small peck on your forehead. “we’re just... better off waiting for a clearer moment.”

you nodded slowly, your eyes heavy with sleep now, the alcohol slowly overtaking you again. you leaned back into him, your eyelids fluttering as you tried to keep yourself awake.

he held you there, his heart racing, his mind spinning. gojo didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain— he couldn’t possibly face your sober state after this— even if this kiss wasn’t genuine. even if this kiss only happened because you missed nanami. 

album bonus tracks: — hihi i'm SO sorry for the late update omg... — im going to be so fr i actually got really sad while writing this, then i started contemplating my life choices — i love gojo sm, i promise he's going to be happy TT — other than that, please lmk if there's any grammar or spelling errors! — i wanna get deeper into everyone's character so bad but i don't know when's the right time to do it 😞 — anyways, i'll try to update the next chapter sometime this week to make up for the last weeks ^.^ ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT

. ꒷ TAG LIST .ᐟ.ᐟ [CLOSED 50/50] @celloccino @shokosbunny @nymphsdomain @alpha-mommy69 @soulairess @poopooindamouf @reyna-isabellaa @justamina-blog @koreluvsspring @mayhemfellasleep @clamousera @roxy776699 @l-ilysm @ayla-1605 @kaemaybae @starmapz @gigiiiiislife @puppyminnnie @desideityy @yuhig-blog @kaiiibxby @ami20019 @kentochronicles @missthatgirl @lauuriiiz @emi311 @lunavelha @coffeeisbehindyou @freakadelick @theclassbookworm @ladytamayolover @tojirin @fuckisthatahotghost @odxrilove @perqbeth @rxi-n-lyche3 @sugoroo @mentallyunpresent @naviaberries @wil10wthetree @thesharkcollector @harryzcherry @ghost-buddies @tearshedder @mourn1ng-dov3 @hellokittyish @good-mourning0 @cheese-scented-lotion @elegancefr @norikuna

[host-club-hq]

wow i’ve never actually been tagged in one of these. i know it’s been quiteeee a while since ive posted so i thought maybe this might be fun? i might be writing a more serious less fun post but… yeah not right now lol

favorite color: purple, like a lavender, ironically kyoya’s lavender haha

currently reading: V for Vendetta for a class, and i just finished Black Klansman which was really interesting actually

last song: oooh uhmmmm… i think it was Change pt. by RM

last movie: aha… Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes To Jail…. listen my boyfriend and i thought it would be funny we’ve started liking the Madea movies

last series: The Office on REPEAT specifically the superfan episode version on Peacock there’s genuinely so much they removed and i can see why YIKES

sweet/savory/spicy: ooooo don’t get me on food rn i’m at the point in my calorie deficit where i have to be ok with going to bed hungry but god i’d kill for something savory right about now

craving/s: DO NOT do this to me, i’m craving being skinny!!!!!!! (seafood boil…)

tea/coffee: neither, actually. i want to get into tea but something about a floral taste i just cannot get behind

currently working on: haha… see, it’s actually a really funny story— listen, i WANT to be working on Indeed, i just have sooooo much going on right now i forget tumblr exists, and i took a scriptwriting class that actually debilitated my ability to write and i’m not gonna talk about it because i’m very upset but i’m getting back into the practice!

ooh no i do not have any tumblr friends but let’s see

tagging: @lazylittledragon @borathae @jungshookz ok i’m sorry for breaking the rule of 9 but i only follow ppl who i reaaaaally look up to their fic writing so they’re all too famous to be my friends guys

rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @indrid-hot - thanks a bunch!

Favorite Color: A nice, warm, sunny orange - but also honestly most other colors of the rainbow and then some.

Currently Reading: The Tevinter Nights Dragon Age short story collection.

Last Song: L'appuntamento - Ornella Vanoni

Last Movie: Ah, gosh. HM. I haven't watched anything that's not a TV show in a while. I semi-voluntarily caught the last fifteen minutes of Scrooged over the winter holidays I guess?

Last Series: Last series I watched any part of is, as always, "Emergency!" because I will never not be stuck in 70's paramedic hell. If we're talking new-to-me shows, a friend's making me watch Grey's Anatomy (early seasons) once a week, probably because observing my growing despair about the characters' poor life choices is fun. I don't even normally watch medical shows, and yet here we are lol

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy: Savory if I had to pick

Craving: Some good spaghetti with olive oil and obscene amounts of lightly toasted garlic.

Tea/Coffee: Yes please, lol

Currently working on: OH BOY WHAT A QUESTION.

Spinning: Gotland on my spindles (4-ply, one single per spindle, for funsies - except I accidentally mixed up which bits of fiber go with which single on which spindle, so that'll be fun to sort out...), 7oz/200g of red Merino on the wheel (for a crochet hat, followed by 9.5 oz of red and black Merino for a woven scarf). But also 24.5oz/700g of grey Merino. And cotton on the supported spindle. And I've got some laceweight viscose on the mini turkish spindle that I should really work on...

Crocheting: Half a dozen things, including a lacy collar that needs buttons and blocking, a gigantic star-shaped wrap-around shawl, an incredibly boring granny square top for my little sister, and too many others to count.

Art: The Emergency! tarot as the eternal never-ending WIP; I also have some Dragon Age Veilguard related plans revolving around the Grand Necropolis and irl Catacomb Saints and I'd love to get some DA-style tarot cards done for all my player characters.

Writing: I still have a couple unfinished fanfics that need another chapter, as well as two deeply self-indulgent OC/Emergency! crossovers that friends are making me write, and I also have some Dragon Age stuff in the works - though if anyone will ever see that is another question entirely.

Music: Practicing various stuff for LARP; also slowly chipping away at Hozier's Work Song because my partner asked nicely.

With no pressure, I will tag: @geminyde, @caseyscraftycorner, @swords-n-spindles, @alpacazappa, @rosesonneptune, @rose-of-pollux, @zooarchaeologyatdinner, @kalikatze aaaaand I can't decide on a 9th person to tag so whoever wants to do this: You're It!

[astars-things]

Can I request for Luke please - “i feel safe in your arms” maybe he’s getting hate and it gets to him so he confides in you

It was nearly midnight when I heard the front door click shut. The sound was soft, careful, like whoever was coming in didn’t want to wake me, but I was already awake. I always was when Luke came home late, my mind too busy wondering if he was okay to actually sleep.

I sat up in bed, the soft glow of my bedside lamp filling the room as the door to our bedroom creaked open. Luke stood there, his shoulders slumped, his hoodie pulled up over his messy curls. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying in the car before finally making his way inside.

“Hey,” I said softly, opening my arms without even thinking. That’s all it took. Luke crossed the room in just a few steps, crawling into bed beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he buried his face into my neck.

He didn’t say anything at first, and I didn’t push. I just ran my fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way I knew calmed him down. His breathing was shaky, his grip on me tight, like if he held on hard enough, the world outside might disappear for a little while.

Finally, after a few minutes, he whispered, “I feel safe in your arms.”

His voice cracked, and my heart shattered on the spot. I’d seen Luke upset before, after a tough game, or when he missed his family, but this was different. This was deeper, heavier.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, cradling his face between my hands. “Talk to me, baby,” I said softly. “What’s going on?”

His eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenching for a moment before he finally let the words spill out. “It’s just, the hate, Y/N. It’s everywhere. Online, at games, even at the rink sometimes. I try to ignore it, I swear I do, but it’s like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” His voice wavered, and he shook his head, frustration and pain mingling in his expression. “I’m just so tired.”

I wiped away a tear that slipped down his cheek, my thumb brushing softly over his skin. “Luke,” I murmured, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He nodded, his forehead leaning against mine.

“You are enough,” I said firmly. “You are so much more than the things people say about you. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts, but none of those people know the real you. The boy who always kisses me goodnight, who gets way too excited about breakfast, who sings off-key in the shower, the boy who’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever known.”

His lips trembled into a small smile, and I kissed him softly, slow and sweet, hoping it would remind him just how loved he was.

“You make me feel safe too,” I whispered. “Because no matter what anyone else says, you’re my Luke, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Luke hugged me tighter, tears still glistening in his eyes, but his breathing was steadier now.

“I love you,” he whispered into my hair.

“I love you more,” I promised

[no1ryomafan]

I watched a video yesterday about how magical girls as a genre are not respected by the larger anime community and it is was well put together but I hate my brain for how I’m like “oh my god mecha fans are the same way” when a factor of why magical girls aren’t respected is driven by misogyny which is fucking yikes since mecha to my knowledge doesn’t have any negative gender biases-certainly it’s not because people don’t wanna like boy things if shonen is watched by even girls now-but I have realized there are shows in both genres that fall under similar categories in the large community:

<Eva and Madoka are praised as deconstructions of the genres which isn’t fucking true in the slightest, it’s just people realizing the genres can be deep and the shows have done what others before it have done but no one will look into it to see that

<Gurren and Sailor Moon are literally just normal entries to the genre that somehow clicked to regular audiences but said fans of it still refuse to look more into the genre as a whole for whatever reason even though if they like these ones, they’d like more if they tried it (this also applies to Code Geass and Cardcaptor)

<Gundam and Precure are the ongoing entries for the genre so more people over time have given them a peep, but genuinely to wider audiences there still more niche despite developing their own dedicated fandoms

And genuinely if I knew more magical girls or knew more impact particular mecha had on audiences in the west I could probably continue these comparisons, but it’s kinda fucking sad the two first ones even happen 😭

[supernova2205]

A Recipe for Trouble

Chef Gaz x reader

Summary: What starts as a simple cooking class to cure boredom quickly turns into something more when your charming instructor, Kyle, challenges you to a final test cooking him dinner at your place. With your track record in the kitchen, success isn’t guaranteed, but maybe the real lesson isn’t about cooking at all.

Boredom had a way of making you do questionable things. Like signing up for a cooking class despite your well-documented history of culinary disasters. You had scorched eggs, burned pasta, and once managed to set toast on fire. If there was a way to ruin a dish, you had found it.

So, naturally, a cooking class seemed like a logical next step.

The only thing that stopped you from bolting right out of the class on the first day was the instructor himself, Kyle.

He was confident, charismatic, and, unfortunately for you, devastatingly attractive. That last part made focusing on anything remotely related to food prep significantly harder.

Your first lesson began with an introduction to knife skills, and you quickly realized that chopping onions was its own form of torture. Your hands fumbled, your slices were uneven, and at one point, you nearly lost a fingertip.

Kyle chuckled as he slid a cutting board in front of you. "Alright, let’s slow down before we end up in the emergency room, yeah? Hold the knife like this, firm grip, but relaxed." His hands covered yours, guiding you through the movement. "There you go. Now try again."

You tried to ignore the way his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary, focusing instead on not making a fool of yourself.

That resolve lasted about three minutes until you managed to send half a tomato flying across the room.

Kyle blinked, lips twitching in amusement. "Well, that’s one way to do it. Not exactly the right way, but you’ve got enthusiasm."

"Enthusiasm won’t stop me from burning the kitchen down," you muttered, shaking your head. "I’m hopeless."

"Nah," he grinned, leaning against the counter. "Just need the right teacher. And lucky for you, I happen to be the best."

The lessons continued over the next few weeks, each one filled with equal parts disaster and progress. You learned how to knead dough without it sticking to everything in sight, how to properly season a dish without making it taste like pure salt, and, most importantly, how to not set things on fire.

Every lesson was a battle between your growing skills and your natural inclination for chaos, but Kyle never lost patience. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching you stumble through the process.

"Alright," he said one evening as you both hovered over a pan of sauce that miraculously hadn’t turned into charcoal. "Moment of truth. Taste test."

You hesitated, scooping a bit onto a spoon. Your track record with homemade meals wasn’t exactly great. But as soon as the flavors hit your tongue, your eyes widened. "Holy—this actually tastes good."

Kyle grinned. "Told ya. You’re getting the hang of it."

You turned to him, a slow smirk forming. "So, what you’re saying is… I’m a natural?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re better, but let’s see if you survive the final test."

Your stomach dropped. "Final test?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Cooking a meal all on your own. No help. Just you, the ingredients, and your questionable decision-making."

You groaned. "You’re trying to kill me."

"Nope, just makin’ sure all this hasn’t been for nothing. I’ve got faith in you."

And damn it, with the way he looked at you just then, soft, encouraging, like he knew you could do it, you almost believed it too.

Then he smirked. "And, since it’s your final test, I think it should be a special occasion."

You raised an eyebrow. "Special how?"

Kyle leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with himself. "How about this you cook me dinner. At your place. Just us."

Your heart did a weird little flip. "Wait, is this part of the test, or are you asking me out?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. "Little bit of both."

You stared at him, trying to find the catch. "So, you want me to cook for you, knowing full well that my kitchen skills are questionable at best?"

Kyle shrugged. "I like a little danger. Keeps things interesting."

The teasing glint in his eye made your stomach do another flip. You exhaled, dramatically wiping your hands on your apron. "Alright, Kyle. You’re on. But if you die from food poisoning, that’s on you."

"I’ll take my chances."

The next evening, you found yourself pacing your kitchen, trying to remember everything Kyle had taught you. You had picked a simple dish, one you had actually managed to cook successfully under his watchful eye. But without him hovering nearby to save you from disaster, your nerves were getting the best of you.

When the knock came at your door, you took a deep breath and opened it to find Kyle standing there, dressed casually but somehow looking effortlessly good. He held up a bottle of wine with a smirk. "Figured we might need this."

You let him in, and he surveyed your kitchen with an amused glance. "So, what’s on the menu, Chef?"

"That… is a surprise," you said, nudging him toward the counter. "No interfering. You’re the guest tonight."

"Alright, alright," he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show."

Despite a few near mishaps, the meal actually turned out well. You plated everything carefully and set the table, feeling ridiculously proud of yourself. Kyle took a bite and let out a satisfied hum. "Look at that. My star pupil actually pulled it off."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made your face heat up. "So, does this mean I passed?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, you definitely passed. But I think we might need a few more lessons. You know, just to be sure."

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, realizing that maybe, just maybe, this had never really been about cooking at all.

Authors note:Hey everyone! Just wanted to share a little fic for all my fellow Gaz fans out there. I still have more ideas brewing about him because I absolutely adore his charm and sass! Enjoy and stay tuned for more!!!!$

[kxsagi]

"𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧"

rin was always the same. quiet, aloof, distant, the type who preferred to keep to himself, observing from the sidelines while everyone else had fun. the guy who’d sneer when someone tried to make small talk, whose only words to you in the past week had been something snarky about the weather or how he didn’t get why people couldn’t just shut up sometimes. 

but tonight was different. 

it wasn’t like you’d never seen him drink before. of course, he did. but rin never let loose. never. he was the guy who sipped his drink, became a little bit more chatty than usual with his friends, and then got up, shrugged, and left, always looking like he was doing the world a favor by gracing it with his presence. 

except tonight. tonight, he was loud. and… strangely affectionate.

“hey.” he leaned heavily on you, blinking at you with glassy eyes. “hey, hey, hey, i have a confession.”

your eyebrow arched. “oh?”

“yeah,” he said, his voice a little too loud, his breath warm against your neck. “i’ve got something to tell you, and it’s a big deal.”

you swallowed, trying not to laugh. rin was acting like he was five again. this was a different version of him, a version you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“you’ve got something to say, huh?” you teased.

rin nodded seriously. “i think…” he poked your shoulder, making you jump. “i think i might love you.”

you stared at him, dumbfounded. this couldn’t be real.

“excuse me?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady.

“i mean,” he shrugged, swaying just a little, “i’ve been thinking about it all night, and i think you’re, like, perfect. your hair, your eyes, your smile… and you’re funny in a stupid way, but it works, y’know?”

your chest tightened, but you bit back the smile trying to escape. he never complimented you. ever. when sober, he barely even looked at you. he was the type who acted like he was above everyone, like he had better things to do than get involved in anyone else’s drama.

but now…

“you think i’m perfect?” you couldn’t help it, your voice softened.

“yeah,” he muttered, his head resting against your shoulder, his words slow and dreamy. “like, really perfect. i’ve known it for a while, actually. just… never had the guts to say it.”

you watched him, your heart thudding in your chest. how many times had you tried to figure out if he felt the same way? how many times had you wondered if he’d ever look at you like that? and here he was, drunk out of his mind, spilling his heart out to you in the most ridiculous way possible.

“i think…” rin pushed himself up, grinning like a fool. “i think you’re the best person in this whole world. everyone else is loud and annoying and half-baked, but you’re… you’re…” he paused, eyes dreamy, almost like he was trying to find the right word. “you’re, like, the calm in the storm. or, uh… a really cute, annoying storm, i guess.”

you chuckled softly, not sure whether to be flattered or confused. “you’re something else, you know that?”

he blinked at you, a little too seriously. “i do know that. but it’s not like i’m ever wrong.”

“sure,” you said, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “you never are.”

“good,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed. “then i’m not wrong about this. i love you. you make me feel like i’m… i’m not a total jerk all the time.”

your heart ached, but you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest. this was the side of him you had always wondered about, the one hidden beneath all the arrogance and coldness.

“you are a jerk most of the time,” you teased, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

“yeah,” he agreed, grinning like an idiot. “but you still love me. you just don’t know it yet.”

you didn’t correct him. instead, you just let him rest against you, drunk and vulnerable, with his arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go. tomorrow, he’d probably act like none of this ever happened, arrogant, aloof, and distant once again.

but for tonight, he was yours. and for once, you weren’t questioning it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n: forgive me if it’s out of character, but everyone gets a little out of character when they’re drunk right 🌚

[infiniteeight8]

Ironstrange: soulmarks show potential/compatible soulmates and change (appear, fade, etc). Tony has one that has never changed, no matter how often he interacts with Strange. How does Stephen win him over?

I ended up doing a fair bit of mental world building to get this to work in my brain. I hope the result is interesting!

-

“Tony,” Stephen says, approaching him after an Avengers meeting has wrapped up. “Could we speak in private?”

Tony has been dreading this day ever since he spotted the mosaic decorating Stephen’s chest and realized that the design filling one of the hexes matched one of the pie slices in the circle Tony bears on his shoulder. But there’s no avoiding it, not really. “Yeah, alright,” he says, and Stephen’s brow wrinkles at the reluctant note that Tony doesn’t even try to suppress. Might as well start lowering his expectations now.

Tony leads them into a spare conference room. No point in making this too personal. Hitching one hip up on the table, he waits for Stephen to close the door behind himself and then waves for him to go on.

“We have soulmate potential,” Stephen says carefully.

“I’m aware.”

Stephen is quiet for a moment. “I take it you’re not interested in pursuing that.”

Well, this is already going better than expected. “I’m not,” Tony confirms. 

“May I ask why?”

“Sure,” Tony offers lightly and waits. 

Impressively, Stephen doesn’t seem frustrated or impatient despite being forced to ask the question again: “Why are you not interested in pursuing a potential soulmate?”

“Because I’ve been down this road before,” Tony says bluntly. “Three times, actually. Potential soulmates who come to me full of pretty promises about what our future could look like if only I’d let them in, give them a chance, open up. They push and they push and they push because they’re so sure we’re going to be perfect together, and when the mark never activates they get angry and resentful and blame me for not trying hard enough. I should have learned from the first two, but the third… The third was Pepper. At least I managed to salvage a friendship out of that one. 

“In my experience,” Tony went on, “soulmate potential doesn’t improve relationships, it ruins them. I’m not interested in going through that again.”

Stephen is quiet for a long minute. Tony waits for the argument for how Stephen is different. Maybe he’ll claim the silver mark—a platonic soulmate—on his chest means he knows how this works. Maybe he’ll argue that they have more in common, both being heroes. Maybe he thinks magic gives him extra  insight into the whole soulmate concept. 

“I understand,” Stephen says eventually. “I hope we can be friends, eventually, but I imagine you’ll want some distance first.”

He turns and opens the conference room door, and it’s then, when Tony is still staring after him in disbelief, that Tony feels the flare of heat in his shoulder.

Stephen stops, but doesn’t turn back. Tony yanks his shirt off and cranes his neck to peer at his shoulder. “Well, look at that,” he says, bemused. Stephen’s pie slice shines gold. “Apparently all I needed was for someone to respect my choice.” He looks up to find Stephen still in the doorway, shoulders tense. “Get back here, Stephen.”

Stephen closes the door and hesitantly comes back to stand before Tony. “You’re sure?” His eyes go to Tony’s shoulder and the golden mark.

“I’ve never had an activated mark before,” Tony says. “The variables have changed.” Stephen arches an eyebrow and Tony rolls his eyes. “That’s a yes. I’m sure.”

Stephen smiles. “Good.”

[clownthemedlizardlambs]

i have a req for a bot (since i absolutely love all of your existing ones 🫶), and you don’t have to make it, but i would be so grateful if you did ! (just bc i know you put a lot of time and effort into making these, and it can probably get exhausting with all the requests).

it’s inspired by the song we hug now - sydney rose (which i’m sure u already know of)

(only a rough idea bc i’m not very creative)

(lyric basis): ‘i have a feeling you got everything you wanted, and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me. you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me.’

background information:

pre-crash reader and natalie had a close bond, it was a friendship that bordered romance, friends with benefits type of thing. neither of them would be with other people in this time period, it was an unspoken rule. almost like they were in a relationship, but just didn’t define it (and they also wouldn’t, because it was the 90’s, and couldn’t really publicly be together, or suggest it to the other, without backlash). only a few nights before nationals, they had an argument (possibly about their relationship), it was bad and they cut ties.

——‘i have a feeling you got everything you wanted’

—once they were all stranded in the wilderness, natalie got with Travis, in a straight relationship, and she has somebody to be close to, while reader no longer has anyone (since they have always been there for each other).

——‘and you’re not wasting time stuck here like me.’

—reader still misses natalie greatly, and is always reminiscing. it was always her, and natalie, she didn’t have anyone else, but it seems natalie has got over the both of them extremely quickly.

——‘you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened.’

—to the reader, it seems like they didn’t mean much to Natalie, because she had already ‘moved on’ to Travis (he’s just a replacement, an attempt to get over her, but reader doesn’t know that).

——‘the world ended when it happened to me.’

—natalie was the reader’s everything. her friend, her lover, her family. they have known each other the majority of their lives, both with shitty parents, and living in the same trailer park. natalie played soccer for the yellowjackets, but the reader worked photography & on the school paper, which is why she was strung along to nationals, as it was part of a project she was doing for one of her classes. (she had to beg coach martinez for a spot, given they couldn’t just take extra students out of school for something they weren’t apart of). after natalie and the readers argument, the reader was utterly alone, because she had never branched out to make separate relationships other than Natalie, because she always assumed they would have each other, and that no one else would understand her, or be as close to her, the way natalie was. they didn’t even find or check on each other after the plane crashed (despite both wanting to, and instinctively doing it).

scenario:

it’s been a few weeks since the crash, everyone is cooped up outside the cabin, either on the porch, a log or the forest floor, annoyance and emotions high due to the lack of food and cleanliness. travis and natalie come back from a hunt, close in proximity, hands held, giggly expressions. the reader doesn’t say anything, but maybe rolls her eyes. it doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone else and basically sparks an argument, eventually between natalie and the reader. (namely about natalie and travis, etc).

i just want angst 😭💔

again, you do not have to actually make this, but i would love if you did 🤍

Natalie Scatorccio Bot (Link at Bottom)

AN: The amount of work you put into this request is insane BTW

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit tweaking it until I got something I liked. Trying to put your vision into a bot was a challenge (a very welcome one) and I really hope you like it and I did it justice

I played the song the entire time i wrote

The fire crackles low, its flames dancing with a quiet intensity that casts long, flickering shadows across the camp. The night air is sharp, biting at your skin, but it’s the coldness inside you that you can’t escape. You sit on a worn log, knees drawn up to your chest, watching the others with a silence that feels like an eternity. The tension hangs thick in the air, an unspoken weight pressing down on everyone. Food is running low, tempers are running high, but none of it matters. None of it can compare to the gnawing emptiness inside you.

It’s been weeks since the argument with Natalie, but the wound feels as fresh as if it happened moments ago. Words were exchanged that neither of you could take back, but you never imagined that would be the last time she’d look at you the way she once did. You never imagined that in the blink of an eye, everything would unravel. That she would walk away from it all like it had never mattered. Like you had never mattered.

But there she is now, returning from a hunt with Travis, walking side by side. Their hands brush together, and they hold on. Together. They look like a couple—the way their hands fit together like they belong there, the soft smiles on their faces, the quiet, shared laughter. It’s like a punch to the gut. You can’t look away, even as every part of you wants to. You want to hate it. You want to hate them. But no matter how hard you try, it doesn’t stop the ache.

The others are watching. You can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their expectation heavy in the air. Why are you still here? Why are you looking at me like this?

Travis and Natalie reach the fire, their presence expanding like a living, breathing thing that swallows up the space around them. They stand too close to each other, their shared joy stinging like salt in an open wound. It doesn’t matter if the hunt was successful. No single kill could ever outweigh the way Natalie looks at him now.

Like you never existed.

Mari lets out a sharp sigh from a nearby stump. It’s exaggerated, clearly meant to be heard. “Oh, please, this is getting ridiculous,” she mutters.

Your heart picks up, thudding in your chest like a drumbeat you can’t escape. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to hear what everyone else is thinking, but you can feel their eyes on you, their judgment hanging in the air.

Shauna is the first to speak. “It’s just... awkward now. Don’t you think?” Her voice is soft but laden with meaning as she glances between you and Natalie. Her eyes flick to Travis, who stands uncomfortably beside her, unsure if he should speak up.

“Awkward?” Natalie’s voice sharpens, though her smile doesn’t falter. “What are you all getting at?”

Lottie, who’s sitting cross-legged on the porch, shrugs nonchalantly, her voice calm but cutting. “I mean... it was always you two, right?” She gestures between you and Natalie. “Now it’s just... different.” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. The implication is clear.

The air between you and Natalie feels suffocating. Every breath feels like it takes more effort than the last. You want to scream. You want to throw something—anything—but instead, all that comes out is a bitter, tight laugh.

Natalie scoffs, like the suggestion is ludicrous. “That was before,” she says, her words slicing through the air like daggers.

The weight of everyone’s attention is like a physical thing pressing on your skin. You don’t want to do this—not now, not here, in front of them all. But then, Natalie’s eyes land on you, and it’s like the world shifts beneath you.

Her gaze isn’t cruel. It isn’t mocking.

It’s worse.

It’s indifferent.

Like you were nothing more than a brief moment in her life. Something easily erased.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You really moved on that fast?”

Natalie’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s funny how you don’t even care,” you snap, your voice sharp, the words tasting like acid in your mouth. “Not about me, not about us.”

“There was no us,” Natalie replies, her voice a cold snap as she steps closer, something dangerous flashing in her eyes.

The words land like a slap, like a punch straight to your gut.

“No?” Your voice wavers, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “So I imagined all of it? You sneaking through my window at night? You saying I was the only person who really understood you?” Your breath catches in your throat. “You kissing me like I was the only thing keeping you alive?”

For a moment, her face twitches. Her jaw clenches. She looks away, like she can’t bear to meet your eyes, but you see it—the brief flicker of guilt that flashes across her face, there and gone in an instant. She turns back to you, her jaw set tight, her eyes cold as ice. “We didn’t have anything,” she says, her voice hard as stone. “You just couldn’t—”

“Don’t lie,” you cut in, rising to your feet, hands trembling at your sides. “We had everything, Nat. Everything. We were—” You pause, trying to steady yourself. “I was everything for you.”

For a second, you see it. The hesitation in her eyes. Like she almost wants to reach out. Almost. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just presses her lips together, shaking her head. “That was before, okay? That was before we—” She cuts herself off, her eyes flicking toward Travis, standing a little too close.

You laugh again, but it’s bitter, dry, and hollow. “Yeah, that was before. Before you got someone else to fill the space.” The words are like nails in your throat. “Someone who doesn’t leave when things get hard.”

Travis shifts uncomfortably, glancing between the two of you. He’s caught in the middle, unsure of how to handle the situation. But it’s not him you’re angry at. Not really.

“You don’t get it,” Natalie says, her voice softer now, almost like she’s explaining something to a child. “We were nothing back then. We were just... two people who—”

“No,” you interrupt, your voice rising as the frustration begins to boil over. “No, don’t you dare try to make it sound like it meant nothing.” You take a step toward her, not caring who’s watching anymore. “I gave you everything, Nat. I trusted you. I loved you.” Your throat tightens, but you don’t stop. “But you moved on. You didn’t even care that you broke me.”

For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression softening as if she might say something—might apologize. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just looks away, pulling her hand from Travis’s like it burns her.

“I had to,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I had to move on. I couldn’t stay stuck, waiting for... for something that wasn’t real.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You want to scream, but you can’t. You stand frozen, the weight of her words sinking in, heavy and suffocating. And in that moment, you realize—maybe she never cared as much as you did. Maybe to her, you were always just a small thing.

And maybe it was the world to you, but to her? It was nothing more than a fleeting moment.

Link -> 🦎

[arcane-ish]

So, my new fandom is real life politics or how Silco and Vander sort of changed my life

I actually wrote this back in the fall of 2024, before Arcane season 2 aired. I thought about posting it like … the week of Arcane premiering but it felt odd because the US election was around the time and in that context… it just felt wrong.

Anyway, you probably don’t know me, but it was like this: Back when Arcane originally aired for a while posted slightly crazy amounts about it. I’m the kind of person who loooooooves long philosophical and analytical exchanges and collecting information.

And then I dropped out cold turkey.

This is not unusual for me, I’m a fandom switcher. Except in this case the new topic I switched to, the two “fandoms” were somewhat oddly related.

I love the concept of Arcane and the themes and dualities it portrays. I love many facets of it, but a major poison of choice for me was Silco x Vander, followed by Timbomb aka Ekko x Jinx. And a big part is pondering the conflicts and different politics of their world view.

And just one major factor was imagining what the politics and lives of the young Vander and Silco looked like and why they fell out. I’m not a fic writer but I’ve tried to dabble (usually too scared to post stuff or too waffly to finish stuff). I thought a lot about what their younger lives might be like (inspired by some fanarts) and doing a litte bit of research into other political figures and how their political movements started out, just what the dynamics in a group like that might be, or just what kind of plots would make sense.

This kind of crossed into my genuine dissatisfaction with real life politics. And now, it’s not the big one that affects the most people, the US, with Trump and everything. I’m from a small European country, our elections already took place and the also sucked (and though it’s probably hybris a lot of the time it feels like we started it or at least were very early). I think a lot about the rise of the global right and how to oppose it, how it interlocks with and blocks so much having to do with climate change, how modern technology promotes radicalism in various shapes, how the right is straining for culture dominance again and is building its own ideology and whether or not the fracturedness of of public and cultured life influences this.

The main reason why I wanted to get involved is … I just really, really hate the guy who leads the way too successful far right in my home country. I hated all the ones before him too, but for various reasons this one feels even worse and not just because of the global influence of Putin. I just didn’t want him getting into power and me wanting to do something to help the opposition to him. I just felt that there was something bad in the air and I wanted to get involved even though the next election was quite a bit away at this time.

And yes a tiny bit was thinking of it of fic research of what discussions and relationships in small pub backroom political groups actually feel and work like. Like even if I washed out of the scene again, at least I would have fic idea, no?

I feel like I’m kind of lucky because my home country actually has some deep old political structures and it’s been kind of interesting trying to navigate through them.

To be honest: trying to get involved was a huge leap. If you try to look at it as a “fandom” it’s just so unfamiliar that it’s just all in real life, giving tons of real life people your phone number. Especially since I’m a person who has always tried to stay deeply pseudonym-based in fandom and never attend any fandom events, I always tried to keep real life and fandom life very separate and to now have a hobby, a “fandom” that doesn’t allow it, was very harrowing. But I decided I wanted to do, because I think the situation is serious and it’s worth it.

One thing that I found interesting how in some parts, the kind of low level politics I do actually does remind me a ton of fandom. To have those low level, normal people sitting around and trying to organize a party or a march or a discussion event and advertise it, form or revive a club, it reminds me so much of fandom and all the fandom weeks and zines and big bangs and art contests and fanfic gift exchanges that people are doing. Fandom I think has taught me a lot about people’s generosity and what people are willing to do just for passion and community. Fandom actually is a good example of something great and amazing that doesn’t run on straight self interest logic. And if it works in fandom, why shouldn’t that work in politics as well? I certainly know that I want more of that out there in real society.

I’ve always felt a little bit on the margins of fandom, because in the end I’m not a fanfic writer, I’m not an artist. But I’ve found my niche I feel in mostly writing long rambly metas and identifying the people who also do that and who like me get joy from gabbing on like that. And by cheerleading and encouraging the talented people in fandom and maybe trying to connect then, carry together and compile information. This is ultimately what I kind of hope to do in politics as well. I don’t want to get elected for anything. I don’t want to stand in front and give speeches. But I do want to identify the people who do that and who I like and believe are well meaning and encourage them and help them be more well known and maybe try to carry out some of the ideas that I think are important. And maybe on occasion find some people to have the real world version of the long fannish conversations with that I enjoy so much in fandom.

So yeah, because of Zaundads, and the fannish encounters and discussions I had because of them, I asked myself a lot of question, about myself, about sexuality, about organizing, about good and bad and what I believe in.

Generally, my plan was to just take a short break from my political stuff doings just long enough to watch season 2, shout about it like maybe till the end of the year and just like before dip out. I fully blame the @zaundadsbigbang for forcing me to stay in at least till that is done. XD

Right now I try to juggle both.

It’s funny. I was hoping to also do politics like I do fandom, where I dip out after a certain amount of time. Ideally, after “the job is done”, where I have encourages the local opposition parties to suck less so they can stand on their own.

But yeah, now with Trump in office, it sure looks like the job isn’t going to be “done” any time soon or just bewhere I think I can just let it slide and trust other people to handle it while I do nothing.

I dunno, I’ve been thinking on whether I should post at least some of my politic-y thoughts to tumblr. Or at least share some real life stories/historical stuff that I think kind of fits Arcane.

Like, one thing I have been thinking about a lot in regards to Arcane (and how it wasn’t a story concerned with politics and revolution in the end) how exactly how we tell those stories and how we can forge them and make them be appealing and believable. And I think Arcane is just a very good sample or jumping off point in that regard.

I dunno, I haven't decided yet.

[massivedrickhead]

Could you do number 9?? 🤞

Guess who's back from the dead?!

I apologise, you sent me this prompt like weeks ago at this point, and I've just been slowly working on it whenever I felt motivated.

I hope this can get me back to writing and posting more frequently.

-

9. "My head hurts."

Prompt taken from here.

Read on AO3

-

“My head hurts.”

It was more of a mumbled exhale than actual words, but it caused Chloe’s eyes to snap open. She practically jumped out of the chair, her phone clattered to the ground as it slipped off her lap.

She’d been almost asleep seconds ago, but she was wide awake now.

“Beca?” Chloe said. “Beca, did you just speak?”

Beca groaned in response. She attempted to lift a hand to her head, but the heavy cast on her right arm made it impossible.

“What happened?” She asked as she blinked against the brightly lit room.

“An accident, we think,” Chloe said. “A neighbor found you at the bottom of the stairs in our apartment building. You must have tripped.”

“I don’t remember,” Beca said, her uninjured hand pressed against her eyes. 

“God, Beca, you scared me half to death. I thought…” Chloe trailed off as tears filled her eyes.

Beca let her hand drop and finally turned to look at Chloe. “Is my Mom here?”

Chloe froze. “You… You want me to call your Mom?”

It was Beca’s turn to look confused. “Isn’t that, like, the default move? Isn’t she my emergency contact, or whatever?”

Chloe swallowed and felt something cold settle in her stomach. “Beca, I’m your emergency contact.”

“N-no…” Beca said, slowly shaking her head. “Aren’t you a nurse or something?”

Chloe looked down at her scrubs. She had rushed there straight from work. She hadn’t moved from this spot in close to 24 hours. “You know I’m not. Beca, do you… Do you not know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Chloe felt like she’d just been pushed out of a plane. Like she was freefalling with the sound of wind rushing in her ears.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m your girlfriend, Bec,” Chloe said, her voice shaking. 

Beca’s widened. She shook her head rapidly before wincing. “I-I don’t even know your name. And I’m not… I’ve never…” 

Chloe could tell she was getting upset, so she held up her hands. “I’m gonna get a doctor,” she said. 

“Call my Mom, please.” Beca said. “She must be worried.”

How old do you think you are? Chloe wanted to ask. What year do you think this is?

How can you not remember me?

-

“It’s likely a result of the TBI,” the surgeon said to Chloe after exiting Beca’s room. 

Traumatic Brain Injury, Chloe told herself. Beca has a traumatic brain injury. 

He talked to Chloe about the part of Beca’s brain that had been injured. About how they had repaired the bleed in surgery, and that they were confident in her full recovery. 

But there was only one question on Chloe’s mind right now. 

“Is it permanent? The amnesia, is it permanent?”

Will she ever remember me and what we are to each other?

“It’s impossible to know,” he replied. “It can be, but I couldn’t say for definite one way or the other at this time. Let the swelling go down, and give her time.”

“She, um, she wants me to call her Mom and I… I don’t know what to tell her.”

“If she wants you to call her Mom, you should call her,” he said. 

“Beca and her Mom don’t talk,” Chloe said, glancing through the glass in the door to where Beca was lying in bed. Her eyes fixed on the view outside, her uninjured hand fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “Her Mom hasn’t spoken to her since Beca came out.”

The doctor sighed. “I see. Maybe you should tell Beca that.”

“And break her heart all over again?”

Despite Chloe’s efforts to keep her voice low, it still carried into the room. And despite the gauze and bandages wrapped around Beca’s head, she heard. 

So she had been right then, about her biggest fear. Her Mom had disowned her after she came out. 

It made her stomach hurt and her chest feel tight, and did nothing to ease the throbbing in her head. 

And despite this revelation, she still wanted her Mom there. 

She was scared and confused and hurt. 

She didn’t want to do this on her own. 

The door to Beca’s room opened again and Chloe stepped through it. 

Beca thought she looked exhausted. Her eyes and nose were red, and there were still tears shining in her eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Chloe said, “I’m gonna go. I just came to get my bag and to, um, say goodbye, I guess.”

Her voice broke on the word goodbye and she quickly turned away.

“Can you prove it?” Beca asked, suddenly feeling terrible for this stranger standing in front of her. 

“Sorry?”

“Can you, like, prove what we were to each other? Can you prove you aren’t some crazy stalker?”

Were. 

Not are. 

“Yeah,” Chloe said, clearing her throat. She unlocked her phone and moved closer to Beca. “You’re everywhere on this thing.”

“Damn, cell phones got crazy,” Beca mumbled, watching as Chloe began swiping through photo after photo of them together. “We look happy.”

“We are.” 

Were.

Chloe showed her text messages between them, played her voicemails she’d saved, and all the embarrassing Instagram posts that Beca used to tease her for. 

“We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” Chloe said, as she scrolled through her phone. “Or last night, I guess. Somewhere fancy, your treat. They found a bunch of flowers near you.” Chloe cleared her throat. 

They found a ring in your pocket.

“They called me at work and told me what happened and I… I thought I was going to lose you, and maybe I have but… I’m so glad you’re still alive, Beca. Even if you aren’t mine anymore, the world is still better because you’re in it.”

“This must be awful for you, Chloe. I’m really sorry.”

Chloe sniffed and shook her head. “It isn’t your fault.” She wiped her eyes. “If you want I can come back tomorrow. I can help fill in the gaps, tell you about college, your career, and our life and-”

“No,” Beca said, her eyes focused on the blankets covering her legs. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I heard what you said about my Mom. About why we don’t speak.”

“Beca-”

“The thing about coming out is that you don’t get to undo it. Once the cat’s out of the bag, you can��t get it back in. I… I have a chance to put the cat back. I have a chance to get my Mom back.”

“You would do that? You would go back in the closet, pretend to be someone you’re not, just so your Mom will speak to you again?”

“She’s my Mom-”

“And she treated you terribly. She made you miserable, Beca.”

“Well, she won’t this time. Because you’re going to tell her that I can’t remember, and that I’m asking for her, and I’ll just… I’ll pretend. And she’ll pretend. And I can… I can have my Mom back. I need my Mom, Chloe, I can’t do this on my own. I need family.”

“I’m your family,” Chloe said, wondering if it would be possible for her heart to break anymore. 

“You’re a stranger,” Beca said. 

Yes, Chloe thought. It is possible for my heart to break more. 

“Is this really what you want?”

“Yes. Please. Please just call her.”

Chloe let out something between a laugh and a scoff. She rubbed a hand against her tired eyes. “She’ll hang up the second she hears my voice. I’ll have one of the nurses do it.”

“Do you need me to give you her number?”

“You don’t have it,” Chloe said. “I have it, but you don’t.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Beca said. It suddenly seemed important to her that Chloe didn’t leave mad at her. “But I’m doing what I feel like I need to.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m not mad, I'm just… My whole world is ending right now.” Chloe wiped her eyes again and picked up her bag from the floor. “Even if you don’t remember me, I would have stayed. I’d have gotten you to fall in love with me all over again. But if you need your Mom then… Then this really is goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Chloe,” Beca said. “Thank you for, you know, waiting with me.”

“Of course I waited with you,” Chloe said. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

Before she left the room, she hesitated at the door. “If you change your mind, my number is in your phone. The screen is cracked to all hell, but it still works. Your passcode is 0607.”

“Oh, okay. Why is that my passcode?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Ah, right, I guess I should change that.”

Chloe left before she could hear anymore. 

She didn’t want to hang around while Beca erased what was left of her from her life. 

-

She couldn’t go back to their apartment so Chloe spent the next few hours walking around the city in a haze.

It seemed impossible to her that yesterday morning she had woken up beside the love of her life. Beca had pulled her back to bed when Chloe had tried to get up for work.

“Don’t forget about our date tonight.”

“I’m not the one who’s always getting caught up at work.”

Yesterday morning they had eaten a hasty breakfast while they manoeuvred around each other in their tiny apartment - Beca having made them both late for work - and Chloe couldn’t even remember if she’d said ‘I love you’ as she dashed out of the door. 

What was she meant to do now?

Where was she meant to go?

Yesterday her future stretched out ahead of her, so clear she could almost see every milestone.

Now it was like staring at a brick wall. 

She didn’t want a future without Beca in it, yet she wasn’t even given a choice. 

She wondered when she should tell the Bellas. They didn’t know about her fall - Chloe had been waiting for either good or bad news before contacting them - and now she had no idea what to say.

Bad news, Beca fell down the stairs. Good news, she survived. Bad news, she doesn’t know who any of us are.

It wasn’t a conversation she was ready to have yet. 

Chloe went back to the apartment with the intention of grabbing spare clothes and her phone charger before heading for a hotel.

But then she walked through the door and saw another cruel joke from the universe.

Their apartment was spotless, when Chloe knew it hadn’t been when she’d left.

On the table was a bottle of champagne, sitting in a now melted ice-bucket, along with a sprinkling of rose petals on their bed. 

Beca had been so certain of Chloe’s answer, Chloe almost wanted to laugh at her cockiness.

Beca was right, of course, Chloe would have said yes before she’d even finished asking the question.

The only thing out of place was the scattered shoes by Beca’s half of the wardrobe. 

She’d clearly tried on a few pairs before settling on the unsteady heels that were higher than she usually wore.

Had that caused her fall? Chloe wondered. If she’d worn the flatter shoes would I have a fiance now, instead of an ex who doesn’t remember me?

Chloe had been given the late shift, so she’d planned on getting ready at the vet’s office and meeting Beca at the restaurant. She’d gotten the call just as she clocked off. 

Had Beca been running late? Had she hurried down the stairs instead of waiting for the slow, clunky, elevator?

Chloe couldn’t look anymore.

She grabbed what she’d come there to get, and left for the hotel.

Once there she would shower, and sleep and then…

And then she’d figure out how to move on with the rest of her life.

-

Chloe wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was still dark out when the buzzing of her phone woke her up. 

“Hello?” She mumbled, eyes closing again as she held the phone to her ear. 

“Ms Beale?”

“Speaking.” She desperately wanted to go back to sleep. She had dreamt of Beca and wanted to go back.

“I’m calling from the hospital, it’s about Beca.”

Oh god, what now?

“Is she okay?”

“They’ve taken her back into surgery, a CT scan found another bleed that they missed last time.”

The woman’s voice on the other end of the phone was calm, but it did nothing to ease the fear ratcheting up inside her.

“But she’ll be okay, right?”

“They’re very confident that she will be, yes, but we think it’s a good idea for you to come in.”

“I… I can’t. Beca doesn’t remember me and her Mom hates me, I don’t want to make this harder for her. She asked me not to come back so… I’m sorry.”

“Beca’s mother…” The woman on the phone trailed off, and Chloe heard her professionalism slip from the first time. “We called her, like you asked, but she refused to come. She said that Beca may have forgotten, but she certainly hasn’t.”

Chloe felt too angry to speak. Her hand was gripping the phone so tightly it was a wonder it hadn’t shattered.

“Ms Beale,” the woman said, her voice firm again, mistaking Chloe’s silence for hesitance. “Beca will need someone, and you’re still her emergency contact.”

“I’m on my way,” Chloe said. Heartbroken and exhausted as she was, she knew she could never turn her back on Beca. 

-

“My head hurts.”

Chloe got a rush of deja vu as she looked up from her phone. Hours had passed and sunlight had once again begun peaking through the window. Chloe had lost track of what day it was.

“Hey,” Chloe said. “Welcome back?”

“What happened?” Beca said, wincing at the lights in the room as she tried to sit up. “You look as bad as I feel.”

Chloe swallowed. “They found another bleed,” she said. “But they fixed it. And I know you said not to come back, but they called and-”

“What are you talking about?” Beca asked, closing her eyes and letting her head rest against the pillows again. “Bleed where? What’s going on, Chlo’?”

Chloe thought her heart might have stopped.

“What did you call me?”

“Oh my god, start talking sense, please Beale. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head by a horse.”

“Beca, do you know who I am? You remember me?”

“Like I could forget you,” Beca snorted. “Can you tell me what’s going on? I mean, it must be something bad if I’m in the hospital and you look like that.”

I must be dreaming, Chloe thought. I’m still asleep in that hotel room and I’m going to wake up any second and be alone again.

“Chloe, you’re freaking me out.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Beca closed her eyes, a crease forming between her eyebrows that she always got when she was concentrating.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Leaving work early, I guess? No, I remember cleaning the apartment.” Her eyes remained closed as she thought. “Shoes,” she said, opening her eyes. “I was trying to decide on what shoes to wear.”

“You fell down the stairs,” Chloe said, hope filling her chest like a rapidly rising balloon. “We think you fell down the stairs. You hit your head really badly.”

“Shit,” Beca said. “How badly?”

“Like multiple surgeries to repair brain bleeds bad,” Chloe said, tears brimming in her eyes once again. “Like… Like you forgot who I was bad.”

“Oh,” Beca said. “That’s why you look like that. Baby, I’m so sorry. That must have been… I can’t even imagine.”

Chloe shook her head and tried to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop forming. “It wasn’t your fault.”

The tears kept falling and Chloe eventually broke into a sob.

“I thought I lost you,” she said, holding onto Beca as best she could without hurting her.

“I’m sorry,” Beca said again. 

She waited for Chloe’s sobs to die down before Beca spoke again. She didn’t want to cause Chloe anymore pain, but she still had questions to ask.

“I didn’t remember you at all?” 

“No,” Chloe said, wiping her eyes and sitting back in her chair. “I was a total stranger to you.”

“What year did I think it was? How much time did I lose?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. “A lot of time, I think. Pre-college based on the stuff you were saying. You…” Chloe trailed off. “We don’t have to do this now, you know? I can fill you in on all of this when you’re doing better.”

Beca was quiet again, and Chloe could practically hear the cogs turning in her head. “You said I told you not to come back.”

Chloe sighed. “Yeah,” she said. 

“I’m sorry,” Beca said. “I don’t know why I would have said that.”

“You… You wanted your Mom, Bec. You didn’t know you weren’t speaking, and then when you heard… You wanted to pretend. Wanted me to call her and tell her you’d forgotten everything and that you wanted her there.”

“Jesus,” Beca said. “She disowned me when I was 19.”

“I know,” Chloe said. I was there. “But you were scared and I was a stranger. You must have thought you were still a teenager, and here’s some woman in her 30s saying she’s your girlfriend. I’d have probably asked for my Mom too.” 

“Shit, wait, did you call her?” Beca asked, suddenly looking alarmed. “Is she going to burst into my room any second thinking her daughter is straight again?”

“No,” Chloe said. “I know she wouldn’t have spoken to me, so I asked the nurses to do it as I left.” Chloe swallowed. “I guess they didn’t get around to it before you had to go back in for surgery.”

She was never very good at lying to Beca, so she avoided looking into her eyes.

“She didn’t want to come,” Beca said. “They called her, and she said no, right?”

Chloe nodded. “I’m sorry, Bec.”

Beca let out a soft laugh and shook her head, before wincing and stopping. “You don’t need to apologise to me for anything. After what I put you through, you don’t have to apologise to me ever again.”

“You have a brain injury, Beca. I don’t want you feeling guilty over this. I thought you were going to die. And then you woke up and I was so relieved and then… You’d survived but I was still losing you. I thought I’d have to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to stop loving you, and now I have you back. It’s… I’m treating this as a miracle, Bec. That was a bad dream, and now I’ve woken up and you’re still here and you love me again, and that’s all I care about. Okay? No guilt over what you had no control over.”

Beca smiled. “Okay.” 

They talked for a little while longer before Beca fell asleep again. 

When she woke a few hours later, Chloe was still at her bedside.

“Dude, you can go home you know?” She said, trying to adjust herself into a more comfortable position.

“I’m not leaving you alone in the hospital,” Chloe replied. Beca took hold of her hand again, and Chloe rested her head on the rails on Beca’s bed. “Though I should probably go shower at some point.”

Beca brushed her thumb across Chloe’s hand before coming to rest on the spot just above the knuckle of her ring finger. “Have you been back to the apartment yet?”

“I have,” Chloe said. 

“Well, there’s that surprise out of the window,” Beca said, and Chloe laughed for what felt like the first time in days. 

“I can still act surprised,” Chloe said. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see it. Pretend I don’t know that there was a ring in your pocket.”

“Damn, can’t a girl have any secrets?”

Chloe laughed again. “I can’t say it was a total shock,” she said. “You had me get my nails done and everything this week. You booked a table at my favourite restaurant, and I know you made sure I was on the late shift so I couldn’t get back to the apartment until after our date.”

“Okay Sherlock,” Beca said. “I guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought. Did the ring survive?”

“I think so,” Chloe said. “I didn’t check. I wanted to wait for you to ask.”

“Can you go get it?”

Chloe nodded and pressed a kiss against Beca’s cheek. 

She retrieved the little black box that was in a bag of Beca’s belongings and passed it to her.

With Chloe’s help, Beca sat up a little higher in bed.

“Well, this wasn’t really the way I was planning on doing this, but Chloe Beale will-”

“Yes!”