#this morning i had the intention to screenshot it

[asteracaea]

[bubbleggum444]

—❝AᗪORED Bㄚ HIᘻ❞

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc.

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 damian finally sent you the package (PLEASE NOTICE HIM), pt 3 of "unexpected crush?!" pt 4.

Beep beep beep be—

Damian’s fist collided with his clock. He was still exhausted from yesterday’s wrapping paper fiasco.

Stumbling out of bed, he made his way to the washroom, freshening up for the day ahead.

'Strange… I feel like I’m forgetting something,' he thought, brushing his teeth thoroughly before rinsing his mouth with cold water.

Which was indeed strange. Damian rarely—if ever—forgot anything.

As he mentally checked off the tasks from the previous day and planned for today, it suddenly hit him—the package.

In a blur, he bolted out of the bathroom, leaping over his bed to grab his clothes for the day.

He dashed out of the house so quickly that Alfred had to peek out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about so early in the morning.

The butler let out a light scoff as he watched his young master clumsily lock the front door, a package tucked under one arm.

'Post office. Got to get to the post office. Post office—' Damian chanted in his mind, swiftly (but very carefully) placing the package into the compartment of his scooter before hopping on and securing his helmet.

After the seemingly daunting task of mailing it (he had spent way too long choosing the cutest stamp for you— "Just pick one already, kid!" "In a minute!"), Damian made his way home.

Stupid, impatient worker. Tch.

The moment he stepped inside, he headed straight for the fridge, desperate to quench his thirst. He hadn’t even realized how parched he was from doing such a simple task. Well, seemingly simple.

Truthfully, Damian probably would’ve felt less nervous fighting a villain than sending that package to his newfound crush—his first ever actual crush.

“Where were you off to so early, son?”

His father greeted him as he joined the rest of the family for breakfast.

Great. Damian really didn’t want to answer that. Not because he was ashamed of going to the post office, but because he had no intention of revealing to whom he sent something—or what that something was.

“Out. Sending a package,” Damian answered curtly.

Before his father could press further, he pulled out his phone and earbuds, watching something as he began to eat.

That caught Bruce off guard. He wasn’t planning to interrogate his son, seeing how unwilling he was to talk about it. But the fact that Damian—who never bothered with distracting devices this early in the morning—was doing exactly that? Strange.

“Uh, demon brat? You know there’s a ‘no phones at the table’ rule, right?” Jason spoke up.

Damian didn’t respond. In fact, they weren’t even sure if he heard him.

And truthfully? He didn’t.

He was too focused on his food—and the video of yours he was watching.

Oh, right. That was the other thing he forgot. After yesterday’s wrapping paper disaster, he had been so drained that he missed your latest upload.

He’d probably be irritated about it for the next three days. Not being your first like? Unacceptable.

Oh well. At least he could admire your cute face while eating breakfast.

His eyes sparkled slightly, his irises expanding with quiet happiness as your sweet intro played through his earbuds.

It was calming. Simple. Just like you, really. Though you had many interests, you always kept them modest.

Damian’s heart skipped a beat. He liked that. A lot. Amidst the chaos of his life, a peaceful soul like yours was something he craved. Something he needed. Something he adored.

A small smirk tugged at his lips as he quickly set a screenshot from the video—a Robin-inspired makeup look—as his lock screen.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough.

Cassandra noticed.

She shot him a knowing smile.

Damian cringed, like a pianist hitting the wrong note, before hastily pushing back from the table and carrying his empty plate to the sink.

What. A. Nuisance.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

𝑏𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑢𝑚444©

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

╭────────────────────.★..─╮

🏷️;

@liabiamiakiawia

@jason-todd-fangirl-14

@shirp-collector-of-fixations

★

author's note 1: someone requested an adorable ff idea, and it's a jason x reader, RAHHH, so excited to make it <333

author's note 2: just to be clear reader's first interaction with damian in this fic is happening either in pt 4 or 5, so stay tuned for that :>

╰─..★.────────────────────╯

[yzzart]

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

[woncheolisms]

screenshot. (kita shinsuke x reader)

summary: your friend confesses on your behalf. for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions.

word count: 1161

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead d @priv-rose @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @sp1ng @kur0obaby @bleach-your-panties @pinkiipeachiikeen @whippedbel

event masterlist

Many of Kita’s friends and volleyball teammates think he is a stickler for routine. And they are right. But Kita isn’t rigid. He isn’t unchangeable. He accepts a break in routine, takes it in stride, learns from the turning tides and comes back with a smile on his face. Why else would he be the captain of the volleyball team if he didn’t know how to assimilate with rapidly developing circumstances?

Today, he is confronted with another such change. He is staring it right in the face. For a few moments, Kita cannot fathom the sight. How can it be? A red envelope in his locker? Surely, it must not be meant for him.

His next thought is how it got there in the first place. No one besides the volleyball team is allowed in the club room. He is the one who always opens it and he is also the one who locks up every night. Did someone sneak in during practice time?

Nothing else in his locker seems out of place. Just the letter placed delicately on top of the rest of his belongings. Kita finally reaches out for it, tugging on the flap to detach it and pulling out the crisp white paper inside. Kita is halted in his tracks when he realizes that there is no writing on the paper. It’s a print-out. Of a screenshot.

He eyes the text message chain, recognising the small icons on both the sender and receiver’s text bubbles. It’s Suna, his underclassman, and he also recognises you, the manager and his long time best friend.

‘I can’t stand it anymore suna!’

‘then just tell him’

‘u know i cant’

‘thats a u problem’

The next message is long, bordering on a whole paragraph, and Kita’s eyes skim over it. For the first time in a long while, his heart skips.

‘ive known him forever rin. hes such an amazing person and my best friend but he doesn like me that way. if i tell him im just gonna lose him as a friend and id rather we be friends than nothing at all’

The punctuation is atrocious, and the grammar is slightly questionable, but Kita smiles regardless. He carefully folds the paper again, placing it inside the envelope. He closes his locker and continues his evening routine of cleaning up and locking the club room.

Over the next hour as Kita cleans, his thoughts mull over the letter he had just received. The menial nature of the tasks relaxes him, gives him time to mull over this new information. Kita realizes that maybe he isn’t as perceptive as previously thought by his friends.

How can he have not seen that look in your eyes before? Softer than anything and directed only at him, now that he thinks about it. He ponders over your words, the insecurity and negativity behind them. He has never known you to be a negative person. You are endlessly optimistic and full of energy. You are so bright that Kita loves basking in it. He has known you for a very long time, and he is almost affronted that your budding romantic feelings were hidden from him for so long. Especially when Kita has made his courting intentions for you fairly clear.

He has not directly said anything. But he doesn’t think he was ever being discreet. But maybe he has been wrong in his approach. Maybe you hooking your arm with his when you walked to school in the morning, sharing lunches every day, permanently stealing a few of his choice hoodies were all friendly gestures on your part. While Kita has interpreted the gestures as romantic, it seems you have not felt the same heat behind those actions.

Kita has always walked the same route home, sometimes with Aran, sometimes with you, and sometimes on his own. Today he takes the walk alone, but he is not bothered. He has purpose in his mind, the red envelope in his hand, and his feet carry him all the way through the winding streets until he stops at your doorstep.

He smiles at the surprise in your eyes when you receive him at the door. He nearly coos at the fuzzy slippers on your feet, huge and with bunny ears on them, making your feet look twice their usual size. You are so cute. Kita scolds himself lightly, regretting that he had wasted so much time as your friend when maybe he could have spent it with you as his romantic partner. His girlfriend.

It has a nice ring to it, Kita decides.

“Shinsuke?” Your voice breaks his train of thought. The ‘what are you doing here’ is clear in your voice. Your eyes are wide and your face is questioning. There is a tinge of worry on your face, and Kita realizes that showing up unannounced may not have been the best idea. He isn’t sure what is going on in your head, but he quickly tries to quash your worries.

“Everything is fine.” Clear, direct, to the point. It’s Kita being Kita. “I’m here about something I found in my locker while closing up.”

He holds up the red envelope, and when you stare at it in confusion, he proceeds to open it and pull out the white paper. You take it when he offers it to you, unfolding it and reading the letter. If you can call it that.

Kita watches the color drain from your face, notices how the panic overtakes your features as you recognise the conversation printed in front of you. He feels his shoulders slump a little, lamenting the fact that you are truly scared about him finding out. What do you think he will do? Has Kita truly not made his intentions for you clear enough? He cannot help but self loathe in that moment, seeing the state you were in now.

“Shin-”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“If you will allow it, I would like to take you out for dinner this weekend. Will you be free on Saturday?”

You blink once, twice. Your mouth opens and closes. Kita is acutely reminded of a fish. He tries to tamp down his smile.

“R-really?”

He merely nods.

Slowly, life reinjects into your face. You seem to age in reverse before his very eyes. Your grip on the letter crinkles the paper slightly, and Kita reaches out to gently pry it from your hands and smooth it out. He stays quiet as you process his words. He thinks of hugging you, maybe even kissing you. But stops himself. Those are moments he will reserve for after your first date, after he has properly given you the best date of your dreams. So he keeps his eyes on the letter.

“Remind me to thank Suna for this letter.” He comments. “I must say, it’s the strangest confession letter I have ever received.”

There is a pause.

“You’ve received other confession letters?!”

[calder]

i am the primary author of the essay Themes of Gay Identity and Homophobia in Fallout: New Vegas and the original writer of the Disability representation page on Nukapedia, the Fandom Fallout Wiki.

The Fallout Wiki is a severe ongoing danger to the marginalized people and youth of our community.

The alt-right gang who have occupied Nukapedia for the past 12 months is trying to abolish voting. They have been talking about it for a month and this morning they announced their intentions to fast-track it. They want to do this so admins can efficiently silence all disobedient voices immediately without evidence or possibility of community assessment.

This morning, an authority used an unprecedented "admin decree" to excommunicate a teenage boy, admin of the Fallout Fanon/RP wiki. They are trying to demonize and excommunicate him because they were unable to privately pressure him into promoting an adult he was known to be uncomfortable with. They also explicitly condemn him because they discovered he had told adults what they did to him.

.https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/User_talk:UrbanAnge1#Clarification_about_comments_in_Discord

.https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/User_talk:Arcaneous#Notice_of_Affiliation_Termination

They are saying Fandom "dismissed" the Vote of No Confidence he cosigned, and call it a "campaign of misinformation." They argue this supposed "dismissal" proves they are all innocent of all charges and insinuating they must punish anyone who challenges them, including anyone who signed that document 6 months ago.

Edit: the document was deleted by a rogue community elder acting alone, during the writing of this post. the elder is technically a Fandom employee and used me to disseminate confidental Van Buren documents, deliberately withholding information about how that could affect myself and the community. learn more here

In reality, one of their ringleaders buried the document without Fandom permission, and was subsequently issued a global ban and stripped of rights. They are simply lying and trying to intimidate everyone into complying with their abusive false narrative.

Fandom also told Nukapedia "the situation on the server has become so detrimental to the mission and wellbeing of the community that we can not permit our platform to be used as any endorsement of joining and participating in that server." The In-Group have aggressively pretended the server is still a formal function of the site. Fandom absolutely did not "dismiss" any criticism against these people whatsoever in the past year, they are simply malicious liars.

.https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/User_talk:Jspoelstra#Clarification_on_'admin_decree'_terminating_MD_affiliation

O'saa is a misogynist and a psychological abuser. Mara is a far-right bully who celebrated the purge of everyone who made white people uncomfortable. Urban has abused multiple minors. This will be illuminated for the community over the course of the following weeks. They all frame themselves as victims and anyone affiliated with me as subhuman because I tell the truth about them.

As their next project, they plan to fashion special pages for an 18+ server where alt-right talking points are explicitly allowed, as well as discussion of beating and sexually degrading a banned woman. The admins of that server referred to the previous NP head as a "whore", an 'old crying bitch,' and a "street walker." They and their users "joked" about finding her in real life, siccing a dog on her, and stabbing her. They shared old screenshots with NP staff of her being bullied to her face for being a "whore." At least four prominent ambassadors from NP encouraged this. Again, this will be unpacked in every bit as much detail as necessary.

multiple open catholic christofascists have been given egregious special protection by admins after blatant acts of politically radical harassment and vandalism, such as "Catholic Crusader," unbanned by the head admin despite his only contribution being malicious vandalism of the LGBT page.

They run their "lovebombing-gaslighting-emotional blackmail" routine on anyone who displays potential in the space, including corporate employees tasked with handling them.

In all my past PSAs I have urged the community to stay away. But kids keep getting hurt at Nukapedia. We cannot keep ignoring it or hoping it fixes itself. They have their next targets in their crosshairs and they will always find more kids to torment. We have to do this.

The people orchestrating this number about 10, they can gather around 20 votes at most, and they survive on absolute and brutal narrative control. 3.4k people engaged with my first PSA about NP in a week.

For the safety of the youth and disabled of our community, I'm asking you to make a Fandom account with usernames different from your tumblr and Discord user names, and to simply speak up when you see anything concerning. Several community forums will occur soon, which will ping all editors, so make a contribution, poke around, and attend discussions. Ask questions. Do not let strangers pressure you into compliance without evidence of their narrative.

When you see the blatant consolidation of power in the hands of those who already hold it--AND YOU WILL--object openly and do not apologize.

They want you to think you are 'not a real member' and they are, but many of them do not edit the wiki at all. All you need to do is join, read the rules, and speak common sense in community discussions. I've written some advice here on how to effectively participate in improving the space.

Today I'm just hoping to attract a few adults willing to speak sense and call out bullying when they see it. The goal is harm reduction, and in such a small room, every voice makes a huge difference. I recommend you coordinate with the progressive people you meet there, out in the open.

This is a minor PSA i'm opting for because frankly i've been awake for a long ass time watching this implode and the coming weeks are going to shape the future of the community. They intend to allow this to escalate tremendously, hopefully that won't be necessary. A structured project of resistance and accountability will be launched in the coming days and will continue until progress is made.

This is necessary because children are going to keep coming to the site through google and these people are going to keep predating on them. They single out talented young people and pressure them to join in their alt-right bully mob, and those who refuse are inevitably targeted with harm, harassment, defamation, gaslighting. Month after month they keep fucking with kids, disabled people, queer people, and people of color. Talented young people keep pouring out of this place, abused, pursued by white men fixated on slandering their name and finding them offsite.

As far as I know, they have purged all queer people and people of color out of any position of power or respect, save some alienated elders they occasionally lovebomb. Their tokens have slowly been purged, leaving them a coalition of MAGAboys, cryptofascists, and gamergaters united under casual White Nationalism. The very few remaining marginalized staff and elders simply maintain silence out of fear they will be next. They need you to change the temperature in the room so it will be safe to speak.

The leaders and their enablers are reading this and laughing together, posting popcorn gifs and calling me insane, boasting that they are sorry for nothing. They are competing to signal loyalty, grandstanding about how nobody has ever done anything wrong at NP except for the banned crazy women they hatestalk. The inner circle will discuss ZERO of these incidents in detail. Zero. No matter how much proof. Zero. Ever. The truth being revealed means permanent immunity 100% of the time. The more proof, the more unfair they say it is. That is how dark and melted this place has become.

Some of the offenders have been there for over 10 years. They BRAG that they personally wrote "the policy" and have unique right to enforce it, and they stalk people offsite as a team to mock and provoke them. In October, an evidence document was posted, detailing many of their offenses. Today it was hidden from you. It cannot be allowed to continue.

[psformybss]

The Secret is Out II

part 1 | series masterlist

warnings: emotional intimacy, social media chaos, cast group chat energy, soft couple moments

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

They posted just after 10:00 p.m. Late enough to feel casual, private—intentional in its quiet. But not late enough for the internet to sleep through it.

Within ten minutes, screenshots had landed in group chats and fan accounts. By twenty, Twitter had caught fire. The puzzle pieces that the internet had been putting together just hours before—prom photos, birthday posts, the glint of a ring in the paparazzi pictures— was now complete.

Fan reactions poured in like rain after drought.

“HELLO YOU ARE TELLING ME DREW STARKEY IS MARRIED AND THEY KEPT IT A SECRET”

“she’s been right there the whole time. like actually THERE. in his life. in his photos. in his little smiles. IM NOT OKAY”

“she’s not tagged. she didn’t even drop a location. she’s so off-grid coded i’m obsessed.”

“what do you MEAN they’ve been married for a while? what does a while mean?? 3 months? a year?? five???”

“me, a hater at 10:21 p.m. me, in love with her by 10:54 p.m.”

Drew had tossed his phone onto the coffee table without ceremony—face down, screen dark. No buzzing notifications. No refreshing the app. No second-guessing. Just one quiet decision, released into the world with a simple tap.

Y/N had curled into the corner of the couch beside him, her legs tucked close, one hand resting lightly on the blanket draped over both their knees. The other held her phone, the soft glow of the screen painting her features in quiet blue. But she wasn’t scrolling. Wasn’t reading comments. Wasn’t in the app at all. She just stared at the home screen, like maybe, if she looked at it long enough, the world might pause. Or rewind. Or slow down.

“You’re sure?” she asked after a long, careful beat. Her voice was barely a whisper, like asking it too loudly might undo everything they’d just done.

Drew didn’t hesitate. He reached out, brushing his thumb over her knee, the touch gentle but grounding. “I’ve never been more sure,” he murmured.

It wasn’t fear that sat in her chest. Not exactly. It was more like that first step into wide open air—the hush after the leap, before you hit the water. The moment when everything feels too big and too still at the same time. Like walking out into a clearing after months of moving in shadow. Vulnerable. Exposed. Real.

Not hiding anymore.

By morning, her phone was a blur of numbers and notifications. Her follower count had tripled. Strangers combed through every quiet, forgotten post she’d ever made. The photo of Drew half-asleep on a plane, hoodie pulled over his face. Teddy bounding through fresh snow. A blurry snapshot of the two of them sitting on a cabin porch, backs to the camera, heads tilted toward each other like they were mid-laugh.

They said it hadn’t been a soft launch after all. It had always been loud. Just not in the way they expected.

That night, long after the initial wave had crested and people had stopped tagging her in edits every two minutes, Drew came back from the kitchen with a second blanket and a fresh cup of tea she hadn’t asked for but gladly accepted. He handed it to her wordlessly and sat down, lifting the blanket and tucking it around her as if it were muscle memory.

She set the mug on the coffee table, untouched for now, and leaned into his side, her head finding the curve of his shoulder. He kissed her temple, then rested his cheek against her hair.

“I think your sister texted me eight separate crying emojis,” she mumbled.

“She also sent me a wedding meme,” Drew replied. “But like, a really bad one. Glitter font and everything.”

Y/N snorted, the sound soft and real against his chest. “How is it that the worst part of going public is the group chat?”

“Because they have material now,” he said, smiling. “They’ve waited years for this.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. “Are we crazy for doing it?”

Drew didn’t answer right away. He just studied her for a moment, the way her eyes searched his, the way the shadows from the lamp curved softly across her skin. Then he leaned in and kissed her. Slow. Intentional. Like it wasn’t just reassurance—it was a promise. When he pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed together, breath mingling in the space between.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re not crazy. We’re just done hiding.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “It’s gonna feel strange, not covering, not ducking out early or standing five feet apart in photos.”

“It will” he agreed. “But it will also feel good. Like breathing.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in quiet and fleece and the kind of warmth that doesn’t need explaining. His thumb brushed slow circles against the inside of her wrist. Her leg slid over his, anchoring them together under the blanket.

“Still ours,” he said at last, voice low and steady.

She nodded against his shoulder. “Even if they all know now.”

“They don’t know,” he said gently. “They just saw. And what they saw? That was real. But the rest?” He kissed her hair. “That’s still just for us.”

And she believed him.

The world could keep spinning, keep wondering, keep piecing together their story from photos and guesses and grainy screenshots.

They had already built the quiet.

And the quiet wasn’t going anywhere.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

an: and the secret is outtttt. im running out of ideas y’all so plssss send requests also it doesn’t have to be just for this one it could be any drew or rafe requests :)

also ignore any mistakes there might be in the smau's i did them last night while half sleep

[bonus-links]

Director's commentary maybe?

HELLO!! lots to say abt this one

i have this diagram with the entire plot of bonus links on it where every plot point is a digital sticky note. anyway the note for this update was just called "loft and wolf talk about being assholes". The original intent was for them to talk a bit more about how they both left their families behind (re: the party update) but the scene ended up taking itself in a different direction, as they so often do. I've saved that dialogue for later tho >:-)

this panel? bane of my existence to color. you would think after 3 years of making these comics I would have learned how to color night time lighting. ANYWAY. i think it's really funny that Wake is the only one managing to get a good night of sleep 😂 good for him

this whole scene was originally also going to be at night but a) i am so tired of night lighting and b) i thought this kind of morning twilight was appropriate for this conversation :-) it turned out a little brighter than intended maybe but I did my best lol

one more thing to keep loft up at night forever

this is directly referenced from this TP screenshot, I think from the mortal draw training. one of the overall themes for this update is, loosely, the ghosts haunting everyone, so. hello hero's shade :D and hi mask

speaking of ghosts haunting everyone, Loft's BG is the pattern I use on Fi's text boxes, and Wolf's is the shattered mirror of twilight

i also set up these shots to kind of parallel each other; wolf and loft coming to an understanding, while slate and champion can't. another parallel being how Fi is silent the way Champion is silent.

I'm not gonna comment too much on Champion and Slate's conversation (or lack thereof lol), but I will say that Champion's role in the story is like. one part literal and one part metaphorical. Champion is not fully the person he was when he was alive. It's the ghost of him in all senses of the word. something to keep in mind

in regards to the fairies, that's actually a total happy accident 😭 i was just sort of coloring them at random, but it really does look like it could be Ciela, Leaf, and Neri 🥺 i'll leave that interpretation up to you guys

omg also if you saw the WIP for the last page on Patreon, I had originally drawn Slate without his tunic. Literally the only reason i changed it was bc I felt like the page needed the pop of green from his tunic lol the dark color of his turtleneck kept getting lost in the bg. so yes I did have to go back and redraw/recolor every panel 😭

that's all for now, thanks for reading!

[namism]

take me back | hange zoë

➳ categories: modern au, ex hange, female reader, angst

➳ word count: 11.7k

➳ summary: Hange Zoë realized that they didn't account for a lot of things before ending your relationship.

➳ notes: for everyone's reference, nifa, abel, and keiji are members of the fourth squad (hange's squad) and this fic was lowkey inspired by the lyrics of "kiss me better" by rihanna (don't ask lmfao it's so random). also, if you'd like, please read this on ao3 instead as i worked my butt off coding (yes, i coded instead of using screenshots) your DM's with hange. the version on tumblr is just a bunch of words, so the ao3 version is worth the read! you can find the link below :)

➳ cross-posted on ao3

ONE.

Five seconds before Hange ended your relationship, they noticed their hand clench tightly into a fist.

Three seconds later, they relaxed their hand before sucking in a deep breath and saying the three words you had always dreaded.

"Let's break up."

After three minutes of constant denial, you finally sucked up to your lover's—ex-lover's—decision and promptly stormed out of your apartment. It wasn't until the next morning did you come back to the shared space to pack your things and leave, not even daring to look at Hange's direction as you stowed away items into numerous moving boxes.

Hange remembers telling themselves to behave before you visited the apartment one last time. Knowing themselves, they would have said something stupid with the intention of taking back their words to get you back. Just before you strutted into the living room, Hange talked themselves through their crazy ideas in the mirror, eventually deciding to withdraw to the confines of their study in fear of interfering with your purposeful packing and making matters worse.

Hange got the signal from your tabby cat that you were out the door when it started making noise at the entryway. Its nonstop meowing was the go-signal for Hange to emerge from their study to find the apartment completely dulled down as it lacked the color that once filled the room.

It wasn't until near midnight that they decided to get something to eat after more than 24 hours of not having had a proper meal. With the intention of snacking a bit before hopping back on call with Levi and Erwin (their current emotional support duo who were surprisingly amazing at providing comfort), Hange walked over to the fridge to grab something to eat. When they opened the refrigerator, however, a green sticky note posted on the door caught their attention.

Adjusting their crooked glasses, Hange read the writing aloud.

"Cat food in drawer. Ask Nanaba for feeding schedule. Molecular kits to be sent this week. Nori hidden in pantry. Check all sockets. Check stove. Prepped food in fridge..."

It was at that moment Hange knew how badly they messed up. Written telegraphically, you had fit as many words as you could in the little sticky note to list all the essentials that only you would know how to do around the flat and the ones that Hange easily forgot to do. As another wave of sadness washed over them, Hange bitterly ransacked the fridge for an apple and a bottle of beer with decent alcohol content, then retreated to their study where Levi and Erwin chastised them over the screen for doing dumb and dumber things.

That essentially sums Hange's first 72 hours after breaking your heart into a million pieces. As a research scientist who's been confined at the lab for the past 15 years, those were by far the most uneventful 72 hours of their life. Hange found themselves weeping, drinking beer, ranting to Erwin and a less interested Levi, and sleeping for a maximum of two hours before doing it all over again in a never-ending cycle. It momentarily stopped when they had to work first thing the following Monday, but they relapsed quickly once they arrived home.

Hange couldn't remember the last time they drank that much beer. Their diet got worse as time passed, and thankfully Levi seemed to notice as he had come to their rescue the following evening by giving—drugging?—Hange with a sufficient dosage of melatonin in the black tea he offered. Much to Levi's surprise, Hange was down in 20 minutes without noticing a damn thing. They woke up the next morning, feeling lighter and well-rested.

Unbeknownst to them, Levi continued the routine with an appropriate concentration of melatonin until Hange was stable enough to be told the truth. They weren't bothered by the idea and were frankly more grateful than surprised. Over time, Erwin would swing by to share a cup (minus the dosage) only to leave the apartment with Levi after tucking Hange neatly in bed. Hange would wake up, feel energetically amazing despite the inevitable emptiness in their heart, and go to work.

TWO.

If you told Hange Zoë four years ago that there would come a time in which they would do something as dumb as breaking up with the only woman they were ever attracted to, you would have been called insane.

To be clear, Hange was never big on physical attraction. They were attracted to the weirdest, nerdiest, most mystifying things in the world, but attraction to humans? Certainly not. Hange Zoë, PhD (aged 27 and a certified organic chemist who had made at least a hundred drug-dealing jokes in the past eight years of studying), couldn't concern themselves with romance when it never crossed their mind to begin with. The only types of attraction they ever concerned themselves with were intermolecular forces (which they very much enjoyed learning in sixth grade chemistry) until they met you.

You were the perfect woman. Of that, they were certain. You began as friends in Hange's final year in university for their Bachelor's degree, but your friendship continued until Hange was halfway through their Master's. At that point, Hange felt as though your relationship was pretty solid given how often you spoke and saw each other outside campus. Before they knew it, they found themselves falling for you, their thoughts being muddled by images of your sweet face during the most random times of the day. Hange was wrapped around your finger and they couldn't get themselves to stop.

A month after that realization, Hange decided to ask you out in their own fashion—casually, but enthusiastic. You began dating some time after that and your relationship had been going strong ever since.

Now, after calling off the relationship with four years of dating and no rocky bumps on the road, Hange does, indeed, feel like an idiot. An imbecile. A dumbass, even. Blockhead. Nitwit. Stupid twit. A cretin. Hange could open the Cambridge Thesaurus and list out the synonyms for "idiot" because that's exactly what they are and there is no way of redeeming them from it.

"I just wished you would make the effort to spend time with me!" you exclaimed, eyebrows knitting in sorrow rather than anger, like Hange expected. "You can't even help me clean because you're so busy at your job, like— like I don't even exist sometimes to you."

Hange understands that it's their fault, but they cringe every time they recall the argument that led to the ultimatum. It started on the wrong foot. Looking back at it now, they suppose it was a chain of misunderstandings, one piling onto the other, until the tension finally snapped and dragged both of you into a full-blown argument.

"When the hell did I ever make you feel that way?!" they barked back, eyes wide and irises firm. They looked at you, waiting for an answer. "See?! You can't even answer me! Ridiculous!"

"I'm just— I'm just disappointed, okay?! Fuck, I don't know..." Head falling to your palms, you wiped your face in a stressed motion. "You never, and I mean this, you never—not once in our relationship—ever misunderstood me, so what's gotten into you? Aren't you're so clever, huh?! High IQ, high EQ?"

"Oh, please, in what world would I forget that my girlfriend exists?!" they yelled. You flinched at their tone. "I don't ghost you, I don't ignore you— I come home late, but damn, you don't know the guilt that eats me up every night because the only times I see you are when I go to bed and leave for work—"

"And who's at fault for your guilt but you?!" you retorted. "Hange, you"—you shoved a finger to their chest—"you're the one who can't take care of yourself because you're so invested in everything but your life at home! We haven't gone out in three months, like— like don't you think that's strange? Everyone is getting married, having kids, fuck, even my juniors are on their third night out of the week, yet you can't even take care of yourself unless I do it for you!"

The truth is, being obsessed with your job and anything that has to do with it is also detrimental to everyone who loves you. It never crossed Hange's mind because they haven't had this much on their plate since you started dating. There was always some time allotted for you at the end of the day, but things started to change lately.

On top of their regular job at the lab, Hange has four other things to do: tutor high schoolers for their admissions tests, teach as a part-time lab instructor at a private university, be a loving partner to their girlfriend, and be an equally loving parent to their adopted cat. Life hadn't always been like this, but they found themselves taking up more responsibilities over time until it was physically impossible to rest on most days. They couldn't even enjoy their weekends, for goodness' sake (because the high schoolers would always come knocking in their emails with more questions)—but if they were to take a break, they would return a day later to even more work.

Hange is simply not the type of person to live a peaceful life. Their peace is chaos; it doesn't help their mood when they aren't working on anything that stresses them out. Perhaps that's just the person they are. It should be okay to be this way, to always be in constant motion as long as the heart is followed and their happiness is fulfilled, but it isn't because they're risking so much of your relationship the more they work, work, and work.

You've always been supportive, but even your unconditional support can't realistically understand their position. Or that's what Hange thinks. They assume as such because your lifestyle is much freer than theirs. You have more time to yourself despite your regular 9-to-5 job. You don't have responsibilities outside of it and your personal life at home. Because of it, you decided to handle the work at the flat; Hange never had time for it anyway, much to their dismay. They had always wanted to help, but their schedule just never allowed it.

After a while, the chores automatically became your responsibility and never theirs. You had no problem with this. Hell, you even enjoyed it—you bonded with Hange's friend Levi over being clean freaks together as you always hated seeing mess. Although the duty of cleaning and keeping everything in check (including Hange and their health) soon became an irksome chore rather than something you enjoyed for the fun of it. The less Hange spent time with you, the more it annoyed you. You felt used, like some sort of maid. It was not a problem when you volunteered in a compassionate understanding of Hange's circumstances, but the least they could do was to make up for it by arriving home early or spending even a moment of intimacy.

But no, they had been so busy about other things that they couldn't provide the time. You hadn't gone out in almost three months to grab something to eat or go somewhere fun like you used to. You would take each other out to places you've never been to before regardless of how low-budget it was. You would have been happy with a simple late night trip to a fast food chain if it meant having your partner to yourself after months of no quality time, but such a trip just never came to be.

Witnessing Hange have a destructive breakdown whenever they came home exhausted was an even bigger problem. They never cried, but they were always so close to it. You would hear their frustration at one o'clock in the morning or through your heavy eyelids after being awoken by their wailing. When it got mentally tough, you would offer to stay up with them for comfort, but you were always sent back to bed or, worse, shut out from their study, where they isolated themselves.

They were awfully good at taking care of anything and anyone but themselves, so you felt the need to do it for them. And overall, the cause of your separation was a problem built on top of another. It was why you were so agitated when Hange could barely spend time with you, but your intentions came out wrong. You had explained all of this to them as you argued, yet they misunderstood your concerns as an insult to their work and commitment to your relationship.

Hange rolled their eyes as you cried. They were tired and had no time for this. They were running late for class and figured it would be cancelled at the last second because of your argument.

"Okay, let's get this over with—"

"You're mean. You're so mean, Hange." You slapped their hand away when they tried to touch you. Hange's face turned sour at your reaction. You were still crying.

"Please, can we just stop this?" they asked, voice sounding impatient. You glared at them with all your anger, but your gaze softened when Hange returned a look, weariness written across their face.

"I would never, ever, do this to you if I lived your life," you said softly. Hange remained silent. "I can do it all for you, so why can't you do it for me?"

You were right. Even with your freer schedule, you kept yourself busy with maintaining things at home that it technically felt like a second job. It didn't help your feelings when Hange was oblivious to the work and effort you did. When they cried to Erwin and Levi about this, the pair had opened their eyes to your side of the conflict and made Hange understand. Truly, they didn't account for a lot of things before ending your relationship: from the responsibility of feeding your cat and cleaning the house to understanding your partner's feelings.

Levi called Hange a moron for making you upset and a four-eyed loser for prioritizing "that nerd shit" over you. He had known Hange since high school and was aware of their insatiable obsession with science, even going as far as to believing that they would earn a Nobel Prize in Chemistry one day. Hence, when you started going out, Levi knew that they had fallen for you deeply, and anything that would break your bond could only be explained by supernatural phenomena or Hange's bewildering stupidity.

That said, Levi did the best he could to make Hange understand your viewpoint while Erwin patched their empty heart with anything but beer, apples, and Levi's special melatonin-infused black tea. Hange felt better having understood your feelings, so the next logical step was to talk it out with you for proper closure.

Except they couldn't.

You had already blocked Hange's number just days after the breakup, and your friends—unsurprisingly—weren't about to offer them any help.

THREE.

"Thanks for all of this, Nanaba."

It turns out that even with Hange's attempts at achieving the perfect work-life balance, they still can't master the duty of being a proper owner for the cat. Hange called Nanaba the day they saw your sticky note on the fridge, and since then, they have been keeping in touch with her for the cat's essentials. Hange has also been trying to manage their time better as a way of retribution that they can do better for your relationship, even though they no longer have any means of telling you (which is the harsh reality that they don't want to accept).

"Pfft, don't question it!" Nanaba pats Hange's shoulder as the cat rubs itself on her legs. "I would do anything for this little one! I've grown to like Ion so much, I want to keep him forever!"

"If only Miche wasn't allergic, I'm sure Ion would love to be your new owner," Hange jokes, mentioning Miche, one of Nanaba's roommates.

"Oh, you're just saying that. I'm sure you're a great owner. Sometimes you simply don't have the time to be perfect, and that's okay!"

Nanaba leaves a few moments later after giving Ion a much-needed head pat. Afterward, Hange and the cat decide it would be best to lounge at the living room couch and stare at the ceiling to absorb the quiet.

Ion struts over to the empty space by Hange's feet and lays his body flat. A few seconds later, he conforms his body into the oh-so-famous "catloaf" position, hiding his limbs and tail under his chunky body. Closing his eyes, Ion drifts off to sleep while a laying Hange watches the feline.

Ion, a male orange tabby Persian cat, is the devil reincarnate who happens to be your and Hange's practice child. Hange remembers you describing Ion to be the real-life twin of Garfield, the fictional cat who happens to be of the same breed. They recall questioning your choice at the adoption center upon hearing your many complaints of the feline's behavior, but you shook your head and snuggled the animal in your neck.

"This one's okay," you told them. The cat purred. "I need a little shit for a cat to entertain myself with whenever you aren't around. Also, it should be good training for a kid in the future."

Hange recalls bringing the cat home after a long day and trying their best to make friends with it. You chose the cat yourself, so it liked you more than it did Hange, but it didn't take long for it to start liking them.

"Hey, it likes me!" Hange cheered to themselves as the cat rested on their chest. You smiled. "I can't wait for it to like me better than you."

"You wish!" you retorted, seething with jealousy.

The cat was nameless for a few days as the both of you tried to come up with the perfect name, opting to call it "The Cat" for the meantime. You were against the common ones in favor of unique names, but you were also against certain names that could fool people into mistaking your cat for a human.

Hange kept suggesting the strangest names that were more often than not derived from scientific terms—you liked most of them, but they sounded too scientific for an orange cat who spends most days lazing around the flat. For lack of a better word, they sounded out of character.

That was only until Hange came home from a productive day at the lab, where they toured a bunch of interns and introduced them to their stations.

"Knock, knock," they began. You didn't reply. "You're supposed to say, 'Who's there?'"

"Is this another orange joke?" you asked. Hange shook their head.

"No! It's even better than that. Knock, knock."

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

"Who's there?"

"Cation."

"Cation who?"

"Can't ion-ly knock once? I'm positive you'll open up!"

You snickered.

"You and your silly jokes. Please don't tell me you were telling the interns knock-knock jokes at the lab all day."

"Ha-ha." Hange laughed slowly. "Wow, you totally figured it out!"

Suddenly, The Cat leaped onto Hange's shoulder, frightening them momentarily before being seized. The Cat struggled in Hange's arms as your partner hadn't learned the proper ways of holding a cat yet, but The Cat eventually nestled on their chest. A bright idea came to mind.

"Hange," you called out to them in excitement. They looked at you, intrigued. "What do you call a meowing ion?"

They thought about it silently.

Once they realized, they held up The Cat in the air, effectively surprising the feline.

"A cation!" they answered. They swayed The Cat around swiftly, confusing the poor animal who had no clue of what was to come. "You're a genius, (Y/N)! We should call this one Ion!"

It was a simple but nice name, one that you liked enough to give your partner the go-signal to name the cat as such. Ion seemed to like his name as he picked up on it quickly. It took him a week to get used to the one-syllable three-lettered name before it occurred to him that his two owners identified him with it.

At present, Hange watches Ion open his eyes and hop on the coffee table, sniffing the black tea they had prepared for themselves (this time, melatonin-free). Suddenly, he spots a particular item on the open shelf by the television and jumps over to inspect it, prompting Hange to move.

"No, Ion, get away from there."

Hange stands up from the couch and walks toward the cat. They heave it from the shelf with skilled hands, but it refuses to be picked up as it clings to a picture frame, its claws digging into the glass. Ion hugs the frame for dear life, but its grasp isn't enough to support the weight. One wrong move and it will fall.

"Ugh, put that down, you little cat! If that breaks, I swear to god!"

They manage to get the item out of its grasp when Ion is distracted. Hange decides to put the frame on their work desk in the study room, the one space in the entire apartment that the mischievous cat rarely enters, and believes it to be a fool-proof plan.

Despite all efforts, however, Ion leaps from Hange's hold and onto their work desk.

"Ion!" They grumble in frustration, seeing the cat sniff the picture frame and sit beside it. The photograph is special; it was a photo of you and Hange on your first anniversary that they never bothered to put down after the breakup because they've been clinging on to the little shimmer of hope that you would come back. It's one of the few traces they have left of you at home (and they're eternally grateful that you decided to leave it), so if the cat breaks it, it's over.

Another wave of sadness washes over them when Ion caresses the glass with his paw. Hange notices how he paws your face in the photograph, clearly missing your presence. They frown.

"I know, Ion. I miss her, too." They rub the cat's fur comfortingly. "I'm sorry for being stupid. If I could let you see her again, I would."

And they mean that. The cat misses you dearly and it breaks Hange's heart to imagine that it probably thinks you're dead. Hange isn't too deep into zoology to know if animals can understand human conflict, but they most likely don't. They suppose cat and human break ups are different.

Ion meows as his owner picks him up with a tight grip. He tries to reach out to the frame once more with his stubby limbs as Hange pulls him away from the desk, but he unleashes his claws in protest and grips Hange's shoulder in a devious attack.

"Ow— what the fuck!" Hange hisses as Ion's claws dig deep into their shoulder. They let go of Ion as he leaps back on top of the table, sitting beside the picture frame once more.

They palm their scratched shoulder, glaring at the cat.

"Alright, you want to stay in here like a sulking loser?! Fine by me!"

Hange leaves the study with the door open and the light fixture turned on just so they wouldn't forget to retrieve Ion later. As they walk to the bathroom to wash the wound and rub it with an ointment, they put on some music with the iPad Mini they rarely use.

When the device connects to their home network, a notification instantly appears on screen.

(Y/N) (L/N) recently added to their story.

Hange stands in front of the mirror, dumbfounded.

Not knowing what to do, they simply stare at the notification with raised eyebrows, feeling their chest get heavier by the second. They have an internal argument with their imaginary shoulder devil, who tempts them into clicking the notification. Nothing can go wrong, right? Well, it's just social media—yet their angelic side knocks into their conscience in hopes of waking them up from the temptation, serving as some sort of warning for any consequence that is to come the moment they snoop around your social media. Hange doesn't do anything long enough for the notification banner to disappear, effectively sealing their decision to ignore it—

Hange clicks on the notification at the last second.

The Instagram app opens, then it loads the first photo you added to your story an hour ago.

Great job, Hange. You're responsible for your actions and for your broken heart! They think.

Once your Instagram story loads, Hange recognizes you in a group photo with your friends from university. Dressed in comfortable clothing and makeup done so beautifully, Hange thinks you look stunning as usual. You look no different from the last time they saw you, but they're not quite sure how you're doing behind the sweet smile you have on your face.

Or perhaps they're just projecting their own sadness and can't fathom the idea of you moving on from them. It's a selfish thought coming from the person who initiated the break up, but they yearn so hard for you to still be in love with them against all odds.

Who's a sulking loser now? They think again.

They tap through your story, thoughts continuing to barrage their mind until the last one catches them off guard.

It seems pretty normal: a photo of the sunset with a song from an artist you like playing in the background, not until they notice the little green icon at the topmost part of the screen. They're still in your Close Friends.

They squint their eyes and read the small text at the bottom of the image.

let me see ion one more time pls. i miss everything

"What the hell?"

Breathing in deeply, Hange steps away from the iPad in shock. Dramatic, they know—and there is absolutely no way that this is real since they have been blocked from your contacts just a few days after the breakup, but knowing you, this is something that you would totally do. And it's not like you voiced out to see them—you wanted to see Ion, the cat. Hange should be jealous that the cat gets your attention in this scenario, but knowing you (yet again), you would never be the one to articulate that kind of desire. Regardless, Hange knows that you still want them. Or they pray that you do.

You must. You have to.

Hange is just surprised that they chanced upon your story since they haven't opened their Instagram account in months, and truth be told, they only had one for the sake of having a social media presence that isn't Facebook. Suddenly, the pain in their shoulder fades away, and their only goal is to find some way to respond without sounding like a selfish asshole.

They should post a story with just you in their Close Friends, something that would totally shock you like how you shocked them. Hange believes it's an amazing plan until they try to execute it. Well, they had never posted anything on their story before. Everything that they ever posted on the platform went directly to their feed which over time became a messy jumbled dump of random photos. They don't have many followers, either. You had once called them a "shitposter" with a "garbage dump of a feed", which tells Hange enough that they probably shouldn't proceed with the plan.

So, they settle for your private messages with a direct reply to your story.

Upon opening your direct messages, however, Hange's heart sinks. You didn't block them on Instagram, much less take down the customized settings in your private chat, so everything stayed the same as before as if nothing ever happened: your nickname is still "My Darling Dearest", while theirs is a matching "my beloved". Your chat theme is still the "Love" theme on Instagram with your back-and-forth messages colored pink.

Hange thinks of what to say, what to type. This will be your first conversation since the breakup, after all. They shouldn't mess it up by saying something stupid.

An idea comes to mind. Hange hurriedly exits the bathroom, iPad Mini in hand, and enters their study. They find Ion in the same position as before, laying beside your picture frame as he paws on your photograph. Hange tucks the iPad in between their armpit and seizes Ion from behind.

"A-ha! Gotcha!" Rejoicing, Hange carries the cat out of the study as he instantly goes feral in their hold. They restrain his paws as much as they can while they talk Ion into doing them a favor. "Please, Ion, don't you want to see your mother again? (Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name, the cat calms down and Hange sighs.

Man, this cat has issues.

With the behaved cat, Hange sits on the couch and places Ion on their lap, belly facing them. The cat looks at them in confusion, watching his owner pull out the iPad and excitedly open the Camera app to take a photo of his vulnerable form.

"Mrao?" the cat asks.

"Just stay still," they order.

Ion makes a face of disapproval and shuts his eyes tightly, stretching his limbs out as he tries to contain his annoyance. He wants to see you again, even if it means just staring at your photograph and burning your image in his head, as opposed to being captured and taken photos of like a show animal. He loves Hange for feeding him and taking care of him, but why would they separate him from you? He misses you so much.

"Looks good enough." Ion hears Hange mumble to themselves. He meows another time in a questioning tone to ask if the job is finally done so that he can go back to admiring your photograph. When Hange puts him down on the ground, he bolts for the study.

Meanwhile, Hange stares at the messages they had sent you on Instagram.

my beloved: Heyy... Ion misses you too... my beloved: Attached Image my beloved: hahahahhaaafh :') Seen

They sound like a nervous wreck, akin to a middle schooler who's confessing to someone for the very first time in fear of rejection. Hange doesn't expect you to reply right away, so they stow away the iPad on the coffee table while they scream into one of the couch pillows to relieve their stress. Suddenly, the device vibrates.

Hange is looking at the notification in no time.

My Darling Dearest: thank you

Their heart leaps out of their chest. You replied. You actually replied. It's a simple thank you that probably doesn't mean much to anyone else, but it means the entire world to them given the current circumstances. Hange breaks into a grin as they stand up from the couch and pace around the living room, rereading your two-word reply over and over again.

my beloved: Of course of course, don't mention it!!! my beloved: Sorry for the exclamation points, I'm not shouting :( Seen

Their celebration ends quickly, however, as Hange curses to themselves upon typing a stupid response with the apology at the end. They take a deep breath. Okay, Hange. Don't mess this up now!

They watch as the read receipt appears at the bottom of their message. A small bubble with three dots appears then disappears every so often. You continue to type for the next 30 seconds and Hange grows anxious.

When you don't reply, their shoulders fall.

"Just my luck," they mutter. Hange is left at read even after six minutes of waiting. At this point, they can't identify the best course of action after getting ignored. They guess that it's better than being left at delivered, and that they should be grateful that you replied in the first place, so they exit the app and admit defeat.

But they come back running a minute later after having realized that they should initiate. Of course you wouldn't want to talk to Hange after they broke your heart—even if you still love them dearly, it's only appropriate if you refrain from any kind of interaction... yet you had replied to their message when you could have just totally ghosted them, removed your cute chat decorations, and blocked them on every social media platform there is to exist.

Hange isn't giving up on your relationship. They can't give up on you.

my beloved: To tell you the truth, I saw your story earlier and I figured that you might want to see Ion again my beloved: I understand if you don't want to see me, but I can drop him off my beloved: He misses mom a lot! D: Seen

Hange observes just how fast you read their message and smiles to themselves when they see you typing. They're glad they pulled the "our-son-misses-you" card as it seemed to be enough to get your attention. Hange looks at their study, remembering the cat who's snuggled up with your photo. Ion would be more than delightful to hear about this.

My Darling Dearest: tomorrow 2 PM. my beloved: Oh okay!! my beloved: May I ask where? 😅 My Darling Dearest: i'm staying at nifa's my beloved: We will be there! Seen

Hange giggles, kicking their feet. They throw the iPad on the couch and run to the study. Picking up Ion from the work desk, they hoist the cat in the air as they celebrate. "We did it! We're seeing (Y/N) tomorrow!"

"Miaow!"

"I know! Okay, I'm giving you a bath tonight." Hange puts him down and lets the cat roam free. Suddenly, they remember that they have work tomorrow. It's currently Sunday afternoon and their workload is calling their name. "Fuck."

Running their fingers through their hair, they shake their head. It shouldn't matter. They have more important things to attend to.

FOUR.

"Look, I'm sorry for being an asshole. I reflected on everything I said the past month and I understand that I was wrong. Please, from the bottom of my heart, can you give me a second chance?"

"Wrrrao!"

"Ugh, get up. We're both bad at this."

Ion meows angrily a second time when Hange picks him up. It's his call of hunger. He demands food and water because he's Hange's (and your) precious cat who can do no wrong, like the king of the flat, the king of everything. Hange situates Ion on their shoulder and lets him balance there as they prepare the cat food that Nanaba had sent yesterday. He smugly watches Hange plate his meal and promptly hops off their shoulder once they put his pet bowl on the ground. While Ion digs into his breakfast, Hange disappears into the bedroom and locks themselves inside to be left alone with their thoughts.

Ever since you consented to seeing Ion—and Hange—yesterday afternoon, they decided to call in sick at work. Once that problem was out of the way (which, to their surprise, was a fairly easy process), they decided to craft an apology to rehearse if they ever find the time to insert a small discussion in your "casual" meeting.

"That's great to hear, Hange!" Erwin told them last night over FaceTime. Hange had to break the news to someone other than the cat, and since Erwin (and Levi) had been there for them since day one, they decided to tell him immediately. They were hoping to get his opinion on the matter, maybe some word of advice and a 101 on "how-to-approach-your-ex-girlfriend". But Erwin was empty-handed, equally clueless as he hadn't been in their shoes before; he never tried to get back together with an ex. He was hopeful, though. "Sorry about that. In any case, I believe you can handle it on your own. No one knows her better than you."

But Hange isn't handling this as well as they'd hoped. Usually quick with words, they thought finding the right ones for their apology would come naturally, but it hasn't. Every attempt feels clumsy, every phrase falls short. The weight of the moment presses on them, and the uncertainty of how this meeting will unfold only makes it worse. It could go right, or it could go wrong—but Hange can't shake the sinking feeling that the odds of success have never felt slimmer.

Hange wonders what's running through your mind. Did you sleep well last night after your conversation? Are your friends warning you it's a bad idea to meet up with your ex? Or maybe you're considering canceling altogether? They figure that's unlikely, though—after all, you've missed Ion like crazy. Your bond with Ion (Hange chuckles softly at their own chemistry joke) is far too strong for you to say no to seeing him. Still, they wouldn't blame you if you canceled. After all, who'd want to face the person who shattered their heart?

Regardless, Hange has been rehearsing countless scenarios, crafting a plan for every possible outcome if things don't go their way. They've already revised their apology at least four times, hoping one version will hit the right note when they see you this afternoon. In one scenario, they picture knocking on your old friend and roommate Nifa's door, leaving Ion on the doorstep, and waiting out of sight until you step outside to find him sitting there, alone on the mat. Then, they'd emerge—calm, composed—and launch into their carefully prepared speech. In another, they imagine standing at the doorway, holding Ion and a bouquet of flowers, their nerves barely hidden. They'd offer you both—flowers and cat alike—with a heartfelt apology for their foolish mistakes, hoping it's enough to bridge the gap they created.

As they sit in silence, though, Hange thinks they're going overboard. You would probably appreciate it if they brought you something other than the cat, but spoiling you with flowers and some other romantic shit when you aren't together anymore just sounds... pathetic. Pitiful. It feels like they're begging for your love through material possessions when they shouldn't. They hurt you with their words, their gestures, so they might as well patch it up by promising to do better and showing it all through their actions.

So Hange arrives with just the cat. No flowers, no chocolates, none of that romantic stuff. Just them, Ion, their keys, and wallet.

Breathing in, Hange rings the doorbell. They arrived pretty early—it's still 1:46 PM, but your and Nifa's old apartment used to be on the other side of town so they had to leave the flat early. As they wait to be let in, they stroke Ion's orange fur and pray to a transcendent being that everything will be okay.

FIVE.

A month away from Hange feels longer than it should have been. A month is a year in your book, and on some days, it feels even longer.

It's the aftermath of a breakup—an unwelcome shadow that lingers over your life. Even with a regular job to keep you busy, Hange's words haunt you, often pushing you to the brink of a breakdown. You can't seem to escape it. The moment you're alone with nothing to distract you, the discomfort creeps in, settling like a heavy knot in your stomach. Whether it lasts three minutes or five, it always ends the same, your tears threatening to spill as the weight becomes too much to bear.

To your luck, your old roommate Nifa had provided you amazing company while you tried to mend your broken heart. You met her in university when you moved out from your hometown and lived within the residence halls for the duration of your undergraduate program. When your friend group expanded, the both of you moved out of the dorms with Abel and Keiji into a four-bedroom apartment near campus, which became your home until you decided to move in with Hange three years ago. Hence, when you stormed out of your apartment after the breakup with nothing but your phone and wallet, Nifa was the first person you called.

She welcomed you to your old home with open arms, followed by Abel and Keiji who came running back home to tackle you into a group hug. You had been away for so long that they almost didn't recognize you—you had grown since you had last seen them five months ago, but you ought to think that it was the stress taking a toll on your body.

The merriment of your return drifted away as you explained to the boys why you visited. They comforted you for the rest of the evening and offered every kind of help. To say they were disappointed about the news was an understatement. Abel and Keiji were upset to learn the details, while Nifa exploded into flames—they found it absurd that Hange broke up with you and not the other way around.

"Seriously, why would someone do that to the sweetest girl out there?!" Nifa exclaimed, eyebrows knitted and face evidently furious.

You agreed with them. It was quite strange that Hange ended your relationship for that reason when it was something you could have made amends with. You had never fought in your relationship as any issue encountered was almost immediately solved with proper communication. It had always been that way since you started noticing Hange's workaholic attitude, which merely turned out for the worst.

You were lonely. On some days, you felt unloved. Hange couldn't spare you a glance as you made breakfast in the morning because they would be working away at the study the moment they woke up. The longest stretch without any real acknowledgment from them lasted four days, and it drove you mad. It was a cycle of waking up, going to work, and going to bed without them, and you had never felt more distant. You tried to invite them out to dinner in hopes of rebuilding your relationship, but you were always politely turned down.

That was arguably the worst part: they weren't mean about it. In fact, Hange seemed genuinely apologetic every time they declined. Yet as the days dragged on, the apologies began to sting. It didn't feel like them to refuse you so often. They had always loved going out with you, and even when work consumed their time in the past, they had always found a way to make room for you. This wasn't the Hange you knew.

What changed? You had wondered. Hange was always running around doing things and you were aware of that. They could never sit still because there was always something that they wanted to work on. You loved that about them; it was what you found interesting about Hange that made you fall for them harder. There is great honor in working so scholarly at a lab day and night and you couldn't be any prouder, but to do so in excess transformed it into a vice that hurt the both of you deeply.

Hange didn't know how to take care of themselves until you came into the picture. Their obsession with constantly working on things hindered them from eating regularly or looking after themselves. When their schedule got tighter the past few months and you witnessed their health deteriorating like a decreasing health bar in a video game, you got mad. Call it motherly girlfriend instincts and whatnot, but you were bothered by it.

"You didn't eat your food." You frowned upon seeing the small container with the food you cooked that morning. "What the— Hange! Why is your water bottle still full?!"

It was excessive. They weren't eating the food you packed them yet they would have the audacity to come up to you a few days later with a growling, aching stomach. "I swear, if you develop an ulcer, what are we going to do?!" You would cook for Hange whenever that happened, whether it be at 10 in the evening or two in the morning. Whenever they needed something, you were up and standing, ready to help them with whatever—and it was exactly why it hurt so much when they couldn't even hang out with you like you used to.

"I can do it all for you, so why can't you do it for me?"

Nonetheless, you didn't want to break up. No, that wasn't the best decision. It never was and it never will be. Hange is a scientist with a passion for learning, so surely they can learn to be better, yet they ended your relationship like they weren't willing to.

And even after weeks of not having Hange by your side, it still pissed you off so much that they couldn't just listen to you or make the commitment to do so. You couldn't suppress your anxiety either. Everyday, you would think about how they're doing without you being there to maintain things at home. You doubt the note you left by the fridge was enough to keep them going. While they eventually had to learn how to do things without you, there's a discomfort at the pit of your stomach that they wouldn't be able to live like normal without you around. Their regular job requires lots of time and attention on top of the many other commitments they have—hell, they probably will struggle with taking care of the cat!

Although the wound in your heart faded as time passed. While you still worried for Hange, your hurt became anger and anger became misery. You were upset—so upset, and you miss Hange (and Ion) so badly. Moving out of your apartment with not even a single word of closure stung so badly as if a part of your soul left and never returned. You would do anything in your power to get back together with them again, but was it a good decision to initiate?

"Especially when they ended it first?" Nifa spoke, rubbing her knees with cold hands as she sat across you on the living room floor. You had asked her if it was a good idea to ever come running back to an ex, to give them a second chance to make things better. "Usually not, but this kind of scenario often plays out for cheaters. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to get back together."

"I second that," Keiji said, seated on the armchair. "If they still don't change, make sure to end it once and for all."

"I wouldn’t initiate it myself," Abel added. Nifa shot him a pointed look, but he continued. "They broke up with you. No offense, but do yourself a favor—don’t go making a fool of yourself chasing after someone when you’re not even sure they want you back. If Hange wants to reconcile, let them do the begging."

You took their advice and followed your heart. You wanted to get back together because you weren't letting a single argument be the end of your relationship, and if Hange didn't want to restore your connection, you at least wanted some form of closure. On top of that, you wanted to see your cat.

So you distracted yourself.

You waited for them to reach out. Right after the breakup, you had blocked Hange's number partly to avoid the inevitable messages, knowing full well they'd try to reach out after a couple of days of silence. But you weren't ready to talk at the time, so their contact remained blocked for an entire week while you sorted through your emotions and sought advice from your friends. Eventually wanting to hear from them, you unblocked their number and left the door open for them to message you, but to your dismay, the days passed in silence and Hange hadn't reached out at all.

You looked through your private messages on different platforms yet you didn't receive any word from them. Your heart sunk at the revelation. Maybe Hange didn't want to talk to you. After all, they hid themselves inside their study when you came back to the apartment the morning after the breakup to pack your things into boxes. Maybe Hange truly didn't want to talk.

Grief consumed you in the days that followed, yet you couldn't bring yourself to reach out, afraid it would only deepen your pain. If nearly three weeks had passed without a word from Hange, it had to mean they were done with you, didn't it? Still, you clung stubbornly to the faint hope that they'd reach out one day. As the silence stretched on, however, the weight of waiting became too much to bear, and you knew you had to do something about it.

You couldn't stand it anymore. Waiting around for nothing just made you more anxious than you already were, so off to Instagram you went, removing everyone in your Close Friends except Hange. You knew they rarely spent time online except for networking sites like LinkedIn and ResearchGate, but you wanted to send some kind of signal without being too obvious.

You had gone out with your roommates the day you posted the story, so if Hange ever decided to open their Instagram after months of inactivity, it wouldn't be too obvious that you posted. When the post went through, you held your breath and ditched your phone to calm your raging nerves.

Will it work? Will they even see it? You thought to yourself, hopeful about the outcomes.

After an hour of waiting, however, you didn't hear anything from them. No view receipt, no new message, nothing. It didn't hurt that much since Hange rarely opened Instagram in the first place, but you were hoping that they would at least have the idea of coming online to check your account. Yet their account showed no activity, the green dot at the side of their profile picture missing every time you checked.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated. A notification went through.

my beloved Heyy... Ion misses you too...

The rest was history. You managed to arrange a meeting with Hange the following day under the guise of meeting Ion, but you hadn't done so without prancing around your room like a panicking idiot. You hadn't told anybody about posting your story in fear of jinxing things, so you replied to Hange with no one's help but yourself.

Now, you sit at the dining table with your roommates, who bicker over Keiji's homemade lunch about a manga series they've been following. You eat your food in silence as you think of a way to tell your friends that you had invited Hange over for a casual meeting in two hours, but you're left dry with ideas.

Eventually, it comes out of your mouth.

"What?" Abel mumbles to himself, freezing midair with the serving spoon and a bowl of chicken in his hands. Keiji drops his fork.

"You did what?!" Nifa screeches, followed by an apology from Abel for her indecency. "Girl, I— sorry, you invited them here? Like, you aren't joking?"

"Listen, I"—you gulp—"I invited them because I wanted to see the cat."

"Never mind the cat. Your ex is still coming," Nifa points out.

"Of course, I know that—"

"Are you sure about this?" Abel asks. Your eyes fall down to your plate. "Just so we're clear, we're not mad at you for having them over."

"I understand," you reply.

"We're worried for you."

"I understand that, too," you say. Abel is silent. "Look, I know it sounds dumb, but I promise I didn't invite them over just like that. I truly did want to see Ion and I wasn't expecting a reply."

"What did you do?" Keiji asks. You tell him about your elaborate plan and he nods his head in approval. "Wow. You have insane luck."

"I do, and I just— I meant it when I said that I didn't expect it, okay? You all know Hange, they're... chronically offline. Not that good with social media."

Nifa snorts. "Yeah, you could say that again. I'm surprised they even knew how to reply to an Insta story." Mashing her chicken with her fork, she clears her throat. "Well, I guess we should get going ASAP."

"You aren't mad?" you ask, surprised.

"I don't see the point. You should live your life the way you want to," she says. "Also, it makes us feel better that you're here because of a misunderstanding and not any of that cheating bullshit."

"I would have ripped their throat out if you had come here for that." Keiji seethes. You giggle.

"Don't worry. You'll never have to."

"Ugh, why am I tearing up?" Nifa dramatically pauses. She lets go of her utensils and leans over to your side. "God, come here for a hug!"

"Group hug!" Keiji rejoices, his hands automatically locating your head and giving you a couple of pats. Abel follows suit, leaning next to you.

"Just don't hurt yourself," he says as he embraces you back. Keiji and Nifa nod.

"I won't. I promise."

SIX.

Your roommates left the apartment after they finished cleaning up. They promised to hang out for a few hours at a nearby café and that they would be one call away in case you needed anything. They trusted that you and Hange won't go batshit crazy at the apartment, but if it ever came down to that, Keiji and Abel promised to arrive in three minutes tops.

The clock ticks by as the silence envelopes the apt. You're sitting on the arm of the couch as you bounce your knee impatiently. It's 1:45 PM, exactly 15 minutes before your scheduled meeting, yet you're already stationed by the door.

You inhale sharply when the doorbell rings.

Standing from the couch, you approach the entrance. You look through the peephole to check the new arrival, and your heart swells upon seeing a patch of orange fur in Hange's arms.

It's now or never.

You open the door.

"Hi. I'm here, like you asked... ha-ha." Hange laughs slowly, the awkwardness sinking in. When silence falls in the air, they look at the cat and offer him to you. "Um, anyway, here's Ion, the cat. Our cat... that we, um, co-parent together— sorry, was that term triggering? Whatever. Anyway, here he is— oh, uhuh, yep— Ion, relax!"

Ion leaps into your arms the moment he realizes that you're in front of him. You look the same as the last time he saw you, your features still recognizable by his little cat brain. Ion is also delighted to see that you aren't crying anymore. When you dashed in and out of the apartment a month ago with tears falling on your face, he couldn't handle the fear and confusion that consumed him.

The moment you catch the cat, you hold him close to your chest and snuggle his head into your shoulder. Ion does so obediently, sniffing you in the process to refresh his memory with your scent. Hange watches the scene unfold in front of them, their heart warming up and a big smile appearing on their face as Ion happily purrs in your hold. Leaning on the door, they allow themselves to get lost at the warm sight in front of them, nostalgic of the domestic life with you and your feline child.

When Ion calms down, you thank Hange sheepishly.

"Well," you start after a few seconds of quiet, "are you just going to stand there?"

"Oh." Hange's eyes shoot up. "You want me to...?"

You sigh. "Just come in."

Hange follows your request and slowly walks in the apartment. As you close the door, they look around to observe. So much has changed since the last time they visited. It's a much bigger space compared to your shared one on the other side of town to house four people, and although your creative touch is initially unrecognizable as opposed to the old days, Hange figures out that if they look hard enough, they can see your touches here and there—the flower vase at the foot of the TV and the little figurines inside the glass shelf by the dining room corner are household articles that only they can recognize in familiarity.

"Are your roommates home?" they ask. You shake your head. "So that leaves the both of us here... alone?"

You sit yourself on the couch and release Ion to let him explore the apartment. Hange cautiously occupies the space beside you, leaving some space in between to make things less awkward.

You bat your eyelashes. Nodding your head, you purse your lips and decide to let your actions do the talking. You still aren't sure if you want to initiate the conversation, so you leave the opportunity for Hange to grab.

And they notice. Taking a deep breath in, Hange decides it's the perfect time to address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry," they say softly. Rubbing their hands together, they decide at the last second to ditch their script and just go for it. You listen intently. "I thought about it after you moved out. I've done wrong in the past, but this has to be the pinnacle of my mistakes. I was mad, and I didn't realize the weight of my words until you left... I'm sorry."

"Is that all?"

"No." They shake their head. "Of course not. I would say more, but it gets overwhelming." Hange turns their head to the side and meets your eyes for the first time in a month. You allow them to look. "What do you want to know?"

You shift in your seat.

"Why you broke up with me." Hange looks away when they hear the sadness in your voice. "Why you thought breaking up was the best decision at that time."

"I didn't," they say. "I eventually regretted it. I still do."

"But you just let me be." You frowned. "You didn't... you didn't chase after me, you didn't run after me when I left the next day. I didn't even receive a single message after two weeks—"

"You know I wanted to," Hange cuts you off, looking back at you with a pained expression. "But I had to stop myself. I couldn't start begging you to come back without considering your feelings. What kind of person would that make me, if not even more selfish?"

They lean forward, elbows on their knees as they stare into nothingness. "I was angry. Stubborn, but angry. When you nagged at me, I just— I just wanted you away. I didn't want to be disturbed and it annoyed me when you did because I was working. I did it to push you away even though it wasn't the best decision."

"That was a mistake, Hange," you remark. Hange mutters a quick, "I know," in response. "Did you think that I could do better?"

"You could say that. For the longest time, I never thought of one to be less sufficient than the other. We were great, but I couldn't meet your needs as well as before when things were becoming busy." Hange rests their forehead on the heels of their palms and shuts their eyes. "I wanted focus. I didn't want distractions, and more importantly, I was tired."

Expression turning sour, you say, "Distraction? Our relationship was a distraction, was that it?"

"It," Hange hesitates, "it was what I thought."

Leaning back on the couch, you look away from Hange as their words sink in. Your eyes well up with tears, an irksome occurrence amid the exchange. You promised yourself earlier that you wouldn't cry as you had already done enough in the past few weeks, but they just come, and you make no effort to stop them.

"Even after everything I did?"

Hange heeds the hurt in your voice, prompting them to come closer in response for comfort.

"I-I'm sorry. I promise you, I thought things out when you were gone and I regret it. I really do!"

"A distraction," you choke out. "Ugh, god. I've never heard that one before."

"I'm sorry..." Hange says for the nth time that day. They try to come closer to see your face, but you avoid them. "I didn't have my priorities straight. I always made time for you in the past, but I just got so obsessed and I— I'm so sorry."

No response. You let your tears run while you cry in silence. Hange doesn't know what to do and the panic settles in.

"Hey… I realized how hard it was to live without you, so I'm here to talk it out." You sniff. Hange is starting to crumble. "Baby, I'm a difficult person who had an easier life because of you. In hindsight, you were no distraction. I thought that way because I was an obsessive freak, and I hate myself for hurting you! I've gotten even crankier to the point of drinking Levi's melatonin black tea, and— and—"

Ion suddenly hops on you, finding his normal spot on your lap before you decided to one day disappear from his life. Surprised, you let the cat sit on your lap as he meows anxiously at the tension in the air. Hange breathes in.

"The cat!" They cry. "The cat misses you! He scratches me like I'm a walking cat scratcher every time he demands to see you. He's been wondering where his mother went because she hasn't been home in a month!"

Hange watches Ion purr against your touch, enjoying your company as he realizes that you aren't dead after all, just gone for a very long time. He turns around from his seated position on your lap to lay on his back, his tummy showing and vulnerable to you, a sign of trust toward his owner.

Hange's heart sinks another time when you pull Ion close after wiping your tears away, a bittersweet pang reminding them of the days when they could simply glance at you and the cat, content in the quiet comfort of your shared space as they worked in their study. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, regret wells up, filling the hollow ache in their chest. If it weren't for your presence keeping them anchored, they might have broken down completely right then and there.

"I'm sorry," they choke out as they gently reach for your hand and hold it in theirs, possibly for the final time. They know there isn't a single word, phrase, or sentence out there that can articulate the graveness of their apology, but they hope to get it across as much as they can. "I'm an asshole for coming here in the first place, but if it means getting proper closure and allowing our cat to see you again, I don't regret it. I hope you can forgive me for invading your space."

You sigh. "That's enough, Hange."

"Huh?" They drop your hand in response, afraid of what's to come.

"I get it. You're sorry for what you did." Ion rolls around in your lap, soon standing on his hind legs with his forelegs reaching out to you for a hug. You hug him back. "I'm just, um, I'm just worried now, and I've been worried. How were you? Were you doing okay?"

Hange exhales in relief. "Dear, you didn't have to worry about me."

You frown.

"No, love. I want to worry about you. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't?" Hange's heart skips a beat when you call them with the term of endearment. "So? How was life then?"

"I reached the conclusion that being single isn't good for me." They pout. They hold your hand again. "I struggled so much alone. I survived, but surviving isn't living. Life felt empty when I didn't have the sweetest girl making me happy."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it! I love living with you, I love loving you. I know I can do that even when we're not together, but it makes my life so much fuller when you're in the picture."

They look down at Ion, who looks at them from his peripheral vision like he's judging them dramatically.

"You and Ion, of course."

"Mrrao!"

Snuggling with Ion, you kiss his nose. He purrs back in contentment.

"I just... I didn't feel as loved as I used to," you say. "I love living my life knowing that it's you who I end up with, but I must have loved you too hard. Maybe I love you too much because I want to spend more time with you, to always be around you."

"And you aren't selfish for that," Hange declares. "You deserve to be loved for the woman you are and for the love you give. You did so much for me, yet I didn't pay you back. You had every right to complain. Now that you have, I hope to make things right and compensate you for all the times I acted so dumbly. I'll make time for you again and I'll take care of myself better—I promise."

"But how do I know that you're telling the truth?" you whisper. Second chances are hard to come by. To give an ex this special chance to make things right doesn't happen to just anyone, and it rarely even works out the second time around. What is Hange willing to do for you when you've already done so much for them? "Tell me what you're willing to do. How do I know, Hange?"

"Because I called off everything I had to do today just to come here." Hange smiles a bit. That's your cue to realize that they did, indeed, skip work today just to visit you and iron things out. It's a Monday afternoon, and Hange could have simply taken a half-day shift, but they decided against it entirely. "And, as a matter of fact, I would do it again, and again, and again."

"Oh, Hange, don't waste your—"

"No, no! You got the wrong idea!" they exclaim. "I'm not going to take the entire week off just to prove a point briefly and go back to being a douchebag the following week. I figured that, out of everything, temperance is a virtue that I should work on. I want to be there for you when you need me and I will be there."

Your tears have dried at this point, having left a puffy texture on your eyes. Hange carefully massages your hand in theirs as you find the right words to say.

"Promise me this, Hange."

"I promise."

"Then kiss me if you want to seal it."

With a big grin on their face, Hange leans forward and wraps their hands around your body, laughing softly as Ion looks up in between the both of you with curious eyes. Hange pats his head, mumbles a quick apology to the cat, and kisses you gently with that silly grin still on their face. You kiss them back slowly, heart warming up to the sweet moment of having your partner back into your life to complete your little family of three.

Hange pulls away, but they stay close to you, their hands cupping your face. "I missed you so badly."

"I missed you, too. Being away from you killed me more than being with you all the time. Believe it or not, it felt more toxic." You sigh. "I want to move back in, but you need to give me a few days to… well, process things."

"Of course, take your time as needed. I can't just steal you a second time from your roommates, you know?" Hange jokes as they stroke your cheek.

"I stole you from Erwin and Levi," you deadpan, "but yes, it should be fine. Just give me time to say goodbye and pack my things."

Hange looks over to the side. A part of them feels guilty for taking you away from your roommates so easily. "You don't have to move in right away if you still want to stay here for a bit, you know? I respect your decision if you think it's too fast."

You shake your head cutely. "Cut that out! We need to pay our bills soon and I have to cuddle Ion in bed!"

"Huh? But what about me?" They frown out of jealousy. Ion yawns, like he's telling them to get over it. "Cheeky cat."

"You'll get even better cuddles." You giggle. Hange laughs along, completely missing the innuendo. They're just happy to hear you giggling again. "To start, would you like a complete family hug? Maybe you'd even want to stay for a bit. The guys won't be going home unless I tell them to—"

"Are you joking? I would love to!"

If you found Hange clingy before you broke up, then you certainly find their behavior ten times more excessive now. Upon your request, they rest their body on yours, placing their head on your chest and feeling the rise and fall of your calm breaths. They pet the cat next to them, whom Hange believes to have smiled as well when he notices your physical contact. They're right—Ion is happy. He's satisfied seeing that his two owners are back together, and that neither of you are crying anymore.

As they lay on your chest, Hange lets their mind go numb. They lay in silence, keeping their delighted reactions to themselves when you would fiddle with their hair or play with their fingers. The moment is spent in quietude, but it's perfect—the ideal time for Hange to solemnly swear to the gods, the transcendent beings, to themselves, most especially, that they will never let you go.

There are only so many people in the world that they get along with, let alone be so open to the idea of loving. Hange vows to stay true to their words, to treat you better—kiss you better—as you have always deserved.

-

ctto for the cat photo (via pinterest)

also i saw this tweet while writing and i just NFDHBFHD THIS IS SO ACCURATELY HANGE IN THIS FIC LMAO

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine-Her Father Comes to Visit

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~ Author's Note: I adore this series with all my heart Summary: Her father visits Luke unexpectedly Warnings: None? Word Count: 1,692

It has been far too long since he has gotten his haircut, as he has been traveling tirelessly. He’s been everywhere but Jersey since April. It wasn’t his intention, it was pretty much how his summer plans ended up being.

But here he was standing in the bathroom staring at the nearly shaven sides of his hair. He was constantly battling with what haircut he preferred but he liked the way it looked right now. He was flying to Las Vegas tomorrow for the NHL Awards. He was mainly going to support Quinn, already holding the knowledge that he wasn’t going to win the Calder. Especially since Connor was going to win no matter who else was named a finalist. It was still could to feel recognized. 

He ran his hand across his chin, feeling small stray pieces of hair that he needed to trim off of his face. He sighed as he began to pull out the razor and his shaving cream. The doorbell rang as he furrowed his eyebrows harshly. 

He wasn’t expecting any company, neither was Y/N. She wasn’t even home. She was at work for another hour. He cautiously placed his razor back onto the bathroom counter before he cautiously walked through the pristine apartment. He had spent all morning cleaning before he went and got his hair chopped off.

He walked towards the door, hesitantly gazing through the peep hole to see Y/N’s father standing outside the door. He quickly pulled his head back, his eyes widening. Suddenly, he could hear his heartbeating rapidly as a wave of nausea flowed through his body. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath as he carefully pulled the door open.

Luke smiled a tight lip smile as he swallowed hard, “Y/N’s not here, she’s at work for another hour,” Luke choked out as he stepped to the side, opening the door a bit wider.

“Good, I came to see you,” he mumbled as he walked inside, without asking. Luke delicately shut the door behind her father as he nervously fiddled with the handle as he watched him look at every inch of the apartment he could see. “You didn’t add many decorations,” he observed.

Luke dropped his head as he took a small step towards the center of the apartment where he was standing. “I just had some photos that I framed,” Luke let out shyly, “And like clothes and stuff,” he continued, but he wasn’t sure why the words were leaving his lips. Her father nodded slowly as he continued looking around the apartment.

He took a few steps towards the new collection of photos of Luke and Y/N. He walked up to it, getting a good look of every single one.

The first one her father looked at was a mirror selfie. She held the phone, a wide genuine smile on her lips. He had a hold of her face, his hand held her chin and jaw in place as he passionately kissed her cheek.

The second one was a photo of Luke laying on her chest, his eyes looking up towards her, puppy dog like. She was smiling sleepily as she met his gaze. It was a FaceTime screenshot that her sister took while they were FaceTiming several months ago. The live photo of that moment is Luke’s lockscreen. Every time he misses her he looks down towards his phone and holds his thumb down against the screen and watches the short four second moment.

The third photo was a photo of Y/N and Luke standing beside one another holding the overflowing vases of roses. Luke was smiling a genuine wide toothy grin as she was crying tears of joy. She’s spent their whole time together admiring those roses, but seeing them bunch together had her sobbing.

The fourth and final photo was a photo of them together after Luke’s final game as a rookie. They didn’t win the game but Luke still had a wide smile on his lips as he looked down towards her. His hand was low on her waist as she was pulled tightly towards him.

“She smiles a lot around you,” her father let out finally after what felt like many unbearably long seconds. “It’s been years since I’ve seen her smile like that.” He soon spun around to meet Luke’s gaze, unsure of what to say next he points towards the couch. Luke nods as the pair awkwardly sits on the opposite ends of the couch.

“I’m stubborn,” her father continued, he took a deep breath as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You two living together is like I’m losing my daughter. I mean clearly I’ve already lost her long time ago if I can’t remember the last time she’s smiled like that,” He said as he pointed towards the photos on the wall besides the TV. 

Luke chewed his lip for a moment before he sat up straighter as he rested his hands onto his knees. “Y/N’s my first girlfriend. I was always so focused on hockey and trying to beat the best that I never wanted a relationship. But then I met Y/N and I will swear by this until forever that the world literally got brighter when she smiled at me,” he expressed, a soft chuckle leaving his throat. 

Her father laughed as a smile formed to his lips, “I said that in my vows,” his father let out shocked at his own words.

“Actually?” Luke forced out. Her father nodded as he took in a sharp breath. Luke tilted his head back as he clenched his jaw nervously. “I’m terrified that us living together has ruined your relationship with Y/N. I know how important it is to her that you like her boyfriends.”

“You’re the first one that’s made her happy. I knew that the second I saw you two walk into my house. I liked you from that moment. I don’t like that you’re a professional athlete, but I see that for eighty-two games you kept your promise that you told my daughter at the beginning of the season,” her father said as he pointed towards the vases of flowers. 

“She told you about that?” Luke asked. Her father nodded.

“I needed time to mourn that my daughter isn’t a little girl anymore. She’s happy and in love and I can’t stop that. I can’t stop her from growing up. So I got mad, I do that sometimes, I got mad at you guys. But you make her happy so I can’t be mad anymore. Which is why I needed to talk to you first,” her father expressed. He slowly stood up from the couch, holding out his hand. Luke quickly followed in pursuit as he shook her father’s hand. 

The apartment door was pushed open as an excited Y/N walked inside, “Lukey Love, I got done with work early, so I brought you some-” she stopped short as she rested the two pizza boxes on the counter, “Dad?” she asked softly. 

“Hey sweetheart, why doesn’t Luke have more decorations, it’s his apartment too,” her father said as he walked towards her. He stared towards her dad suspiciously as she shifted her gaze towards Luke. Luke simply shrugged as he excitedly jogged past her father and Y/N towards the pizza. 

“He didn’t bring anything, not my fault,” she mumbled with a grin as she excitedly wrapped her arms around her fathers neck as he hugged her. “So-so you’re okay with this?” she asked as she glanced towards Luke who was already half way done with the slice he had grabbed. 

“I want you happy, he makes you happy right?” he asked, eyeing Luke. 

“So happy, Dad,” she mumbled as she glanced towards him, nudging him slightly. 

“Sorry, starving. There’s enough for you too, Mr. Y/L/N,” he expressed as he lifted the cardboard of the pizza box again. Her father chuckled.

“Better grab a slice before this kid eats it all,” he joked as he took one. Y/N blinked away the happy tears forming in her eyes as she watched her father and Luke interact. 

~~~

She sat on the bed, the blanket covering her lower frame as she clicked through the collection of movies on Hulu. She sighed as she watched Luke walk into their bedroom, black sweatpants low on his frame as he ran his fingers through his damp curly hair. She shifted her gaze towards him, her cheeks heating up as she scanned his shirtless frame. 

His lips curled up in a small smirk as he stood beside her at the bed. “You okay?” he asked barely above a whisper as he ran his hand across her jawline. He forced her gaze towards him. She smiled as she met his gaze. 

“I’m happy,” she mumbled. He smiled as he leaned towards her, delicately kissing her lips. He pulled away for a moment before he pecked her lips once more. “I love you,” she whispered. 

He hummed happily as he climbed over her body as he plopped down beside her. “I love you more,” he whispered as he slowly climbed under the comforter. She clicked a random movie before she cuddled into Luke. Resting her head onto his bare chest, she could hear his heartbeat. Slow and content. “When your dad showed up earlier, I thought he was going to beat my ass,”

She chuckled softly as she ran her fingertip along his chest, drawing small circles. “He can’t hurt a fly,” she teased.

“Tell that to my head, still hurts from the panic attack I went through,” he said half joking. She lifted her head up, looking down towards him. She lifted her hand up as she caressed his cheek slowly. “God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled as he scanned her features. Lifting his hand up, he took a hold of her neck, her hair cascading over his hand. 

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” she muttered, a teasing grin on her lips. “My pretty boy,” she whispered before she leaned towards him, kissing him softly.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Birthday Boy

————————————————————————-

Summary: December 10th, Joe’s 27th birthday spent with you and your twin boys.

Warnings: Fluff, *he's not injured!!*

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

December 10th, 2023

Joe had awoken in bed by himself this morning to his surprise. He had expected you, his wife, to be waking him with smooches all over his face but your side of the bed was empty.

He rolled over to grab his phone off his nightstand when the setup sitting on it made him smile. Every year since you and Joe got together in high school when you guys were 16 and 17, on Joe’s birthday you'd get him white roses. The number of them would be the age he was turning that day. There they were, 27 white roses in a vase.

Realizing there was a card and a gift bag propped up next to it, Joe leaned up in bed and picked up the card first.

Happy Birthday, Joey!

Gosh, how are you 27?! You're getting old babe. JKJK. I just wanted to tell you that I’m so happy to share another birthday with you, this is the 11th one that we've celebrated together and I hope I've made every year better than the last. 26 was such a year for you, and I'm proud to say I was by your side for all of it. Cheers to another year of getting to show you how much I love you. You're my husband, my rock, my happiness, my high school sweetheart, and most importantly my best friend. I love you more than words can explain, Joey Shiesty.

To my nerdy, quirky, antisocial, video game, Kid Cudi-obsessed boy, Happy 27th birthday.

Love, your y/n.

Joe didn't realize tears were streaming down his cheeks till he put the card down and saw a wet spot on the blanket on his lap. He quickly composed himself and grabbed the gift bag.

Pulling the contents out of the bag, he felt his eyes well up again when he realized it was a photo album.

It was white leather and on the front in gold font, it simply read “Us.”

Joe flipped to the first page and it had a song lyric quoted.

“When they wanna see how true love should be, they'll just look at us.”

Flipping the page again, it was a collage of pictures of you and him as high school lovebirds. A picture of him picking you up after a win while you were in your cheer uniform, one of you two sitting next to each other at lunch just smiling from ear to ear, you and him sitting in the back of one of his friend's truck while at a drive-in movie, a pic of you two at senior prom, and finally one of you guys graduating.

Joe flipped the page and wasn't at all surprised to see it was the Ohio State era of his life. Since Joe was a year older than you, you were stuck in Athens still when Joe was a freshman at OSU. Long distance sucked, but you guys made it work, and multiple pictures were showcasing that. You took screenshots of you and Joe's face timing that he had never seen before. There was a lovesick look in his eye that made Joe giggle knowing he's still just as infatuated with you. His favorite picture was the one of him lying on top of you in his dorm bed, you were running your fingers through his mullet as you cuddled him.

The LSU page made Joe’s heart warm, so many pictures of you standing to the side and smiling at him just so proud of everything he had accomplished during his time there. There was one slightly spicy photo that made Joe do a double take. That was the first photo you had ever sent him with the intention of turning him on. While Joe was out doing something with the team after winning the national championship you put nothing on but his letterman jacket and the “Big Dick Joe” that he had.

The next few pages only made Joe smile get bigger.

In order it was him getting drafted, the 2022 AFC Championship win + engagement, the wedding, finding out I was pregnant, the gender reveal, the boy's arrival, and everything in between.

When the last few pages were empty for more memories Joe shut the book and put it off to the side. He again had to compose himself and wipe his eyes after the emotional walk through memory lane, you guys had been through so much together and Joe couldn't a picture his life without you.

Joe was about to text you but as soon as he went to grab his phone you were walking into the bedroom. Truthfully you had been downstairs listening to him secretly through the baby monitor you had put up in the bedroom. You had heard him wrestle around in the sheets before sniffles were heard. After it went quiet for a bit you went upstairs and watched him through the cracked bedroom door as he wiped his eyes.

You walked towards the bed with a stack of pumpkin-flavored pancakes topped with candles singing Happy Birthday as Joe wore a huge grin.

After you were finished singing, Joe blew out the candles and you placed the plate on his lap.

“G’morning, Joey. Happy Birthday, my love. - you

He pulled you into a hug and squeezed you so tight.

“I love you so much, y/n.” - Joe

You rubbed his back and kissed him after you pulled away, his arms still around your waist.

“What did you wish for when you blew out your candles?” - you

“Can't tell you, you know it wouldn't come true if I did.” - Joe

“You're no fun.” - you

“I'm just kidding, baby. I actually didn't make a wish.” - joe

“What why? Did I not give you enough time to? I'm sor-” - you

“No. You gave me plenty of time. I just don't have anything to wish for. I have everything I could ever want or need so there's no need for me to wish for something. I have a beautiful amazing wife, perfect twin boys, a good career…” - Joe

You stared at him dumbfounded, wondering how you were ever able to bag this sweet man.

“You’re gonna make me cry.” - you sniffled

“C’mere.” - Joe opened his arms to you

Immediately in his embrace, Joe held the back of your head and kissed your temple.

“I've already cried twice.” - Joe giggled

“Awe Joey. Okay enough sappy stuff, you eat your birthday breakfast while I go clean the kitchen up.” - you pulled away from him and headed for the door when he stopped you

“Wait don't go! I'll help you clean later, can you stay with me right now?” - Joe

You smiled sweetly at him before waking back over to the bed and getting under the covers with him.

Joe turned on Spongebob and ate his pancakes, a few minutes in you heard little feet in the hallway before knocks on the door could be heard.

“Mommy? Daddy?” - Tyson

“You can come in, Ty!” - Joe

The twins happily opened the door and toddled over to the bed. You lifted them onto the bed and they sat with their backs against the footboard.

Tyson giggled as he jokingly got his hand under the covers and tickled Joe’s foot. Joe played along with it for a little bit, loving the sound of his son’s laugh before he started fighting back.

“Do you boys remember what today is?” - you

“Uhm… no momma.” - Miles

“It's someone's birthday!” - you

Tyson and Miles looked at each other for a second before they gasped at the same time and yelled out the answer in unison.

“Daddy’s!” - The twins yelled

“Mhm! Remember what you guys made yesterday?” - you

The boys nodded and you instructed them to go retrieve what they made from their room.

Joe gave you a skeptical raised eyebrow look, but you just leaned in and kissed him while you still had the chance.

It wasn't long till you could hear those little feet again and Tyson and Miles were running back into the bedroom. They handed Joe a few pieces of paper after he put his empty plate on his nightstand.

Tyson drew a picture of him, his daddy, and his uncles passing football at the practice fields.

Miles drew a picture of him and Joe playing with Hot Wheels tracks.

The drawings had Joe feeling a different form of bliss, his heart warmed to an insane level as he looked at the little details in his boys’ drawings.

“I love them, boys. Thank you.” - Joe croaked

“You welcome!” - Tyson beamed

“Dada? You sad?” - Miles

“No, Daddy’s really happy.” - Joe

“But you cryin'…” - Miles

“He’s crying happy tears buddy, really happy tears.” - Joe

“Oh… okay!” - Miles

“You guys should go play. Mommy and Daddy are gonna clean up before Gramps and Grammy come.” - you

When the boys left the room you turned to Joe who was still crying. You softly kissed his cheek and wiped his tears off of his cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” - you

“Never been better. This is the best feeling.” - Joe

“Good. They worked hard on those. Come follow me downstairs. I have something cool to show you.” - you

“You gonna give me my 27 birthday spankings? Or is that later?” - joe

You laughed as you pulled him out of bed and shoved him into the closet, asking without words for him to put clothes on since he was only in boxers.

He returned in sweatpants and a T-shirt and followed you downstairs.

“Is the cool thing you have to show me a sink full of dishes? Or do I have to unload the dishwasher?” - Joe

“You’re exempt from those chores today since you are the birthday boy. But no, I’m giving you one of your gifts now.” - you

Joe smiled and I told him to close his eyes as we started walking into the kitchen. He did as you said and you took his hands in yours to guide him to where the setup on the counter was. You smiled at the secret camera you had recording and dropped Joe’s hands.

Telling him to open his eyes, Joe looked around rather confused but when he looked down at the counter his eyes went as wide as saucers.

There was a positive Clearblue test next to the same onesie you showed Joe when you found out you were pregnant with the twins.

You watched Joe’s eyes start to water as his chin started quivering, causing your own eyes to get misty as you smiled at him.

“You’re pregnant?” - Joe grinned

“Mhm.” - you smiled as tears dripped down your face

Immediately his arms were around you, lifting you and spinning you around as he cried into your neck.

“We’re having another baby!” - Joe cried

When he put you down, Joe picked up the pregnancy test with shaky hands and fell against the counter with his head buried in his arms. He was so overcome with emotion.

“Are you happy?” - you rubbed his back

Joe stood up abruptly and nodded vigorously.

“I've never been so happy. What if we have a girl, y/n? I could be a girl dad.” - Joe cried again

“Oh baby.” - you pulled him into your arms

Joe hugged you so tight but was now trying not to put pressure on your stomach now that he was aware his baby was in there.

“I love you so much, y/n. You and our family are the best things to have ever happened to me. I can't believe we're having another baby.” - Joe

“I love you and our babies so much. I can't believe it either, I'm so excited.” - you

“How long have you known? Well about the baby?” - Joe

“Not too long, found out a couple of days ago and thought I'd wait till today.” - you

Joe nodded and leaned down to be level with your stomach. It hasn't gotten bigger yet but Joe didn't care, his baby was still in there.

“Hey, baby. It's your daddy. Me and your momma already love you so much. We can't wait to meet you.” - Joe

“I have an ultrasound next week. Think you can go?” - you

“For sure. I'll make it happen.” - Joe

The rest of the day Joe couldn't keep his hands off of you, always making sure you weren't farther than arm's length away from him.

Robin asked what was up later at dinner when you rejected your usual favorite wine that she and Jimmy had brought.

You and Joe were ecstatic to tell his parents about Baby Burrow #3 coming next fall and they were just as happy finding out about their next grandkid.

That night after dinner, dessert (pumpkin pie of course), and putting the boys to sleep, Joe and I were lying in bed talking about everything baby.

“y/n, you know, I've only been 27 for a day but I feel like it's going to be the best year yet.” - Joe

“You think so?” - you

“I know so because I’m gonna spend it with you, our boys, and baby Burrow.” - Joe

You had a strange feeling that Joe was right, but also an overwhelming feeling of love washed over you. How'd you get so lucky with Joe?

————————————————————————-

Authors note: happy bday Joey B!

there was a birthday imagine request in my messages so here you go!

hope you enjoyed! 💕

[enkvyu]

"good morning."

"what."

your breath condenses as you exhale in soften shock, the presence of your boyfriend waiting by your bedroom door at a time when the moon still shone simply perplexing to you. gojo smiles, kindly, patiently, as you sniffle and force the gears in your head to turn.

finally, you shuffle up and sit upright in bed. "what are you doing here?" you croak, throat protesting from the lack of use.

"i came as fast as i could when you told me you were sick."

"it's almost three in the morning."

"that's why i said good morning."

your body takes a screenshot.

gojo laughs in a single breath and pushes himself off the doorframe, untucking his hands from behind his back.

he isn't in his usual jujutsu uniform you realise, as he steps into a spot where the moonlight shines through your window and spills onto the carpet. instead of his uniform, he's wearing a tight black shirt that's riddled with cuts and it's styled with an outrageous amount of scars on his face.

you can't help it, worry forces you up.

gojo catches you in his arms as you attempt to get out of bed, the rush of motion causing your head to spin but you don't care, you couldn't possibly. you trace a scar by his lips with your thumb.

"what happened to you?"

his lips quirk upward and you catch the movement with the tip of your finger. "do you think i look tougher with the scars?"

"what do i think? are you serious? you look like you’re on your deathbed, what happened?" your voice rises and he shushes you gently.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry. don't be mad, please?"

"why are you covered in scars?" you say instead.

"i got into a fight."

there's another scar across his cheek and you trace it. "with who?"

gojo tilts his head towards your hand so that your palm ends up caressing his cheek. "no one important especially because, you know, he's dead now."

"and you're definitely okay?"

he nods into your hand. "i think the one who isn't okay, is you."

you sniffle. "i took medicine already, i'll be fine. but you, god gojo, where do i even start?"

"you can start by getting over your fever."

your boyfriend tries to wiggle out of your hold but you only clench tighter, intent on keeping him close by. "are you sure you're okay?"

the smile he gives you is pure sweetness. he leans forward to kiss your cheek and you feel his grin even then. "of course. i’m more than okay, you’ll never guess who i just won against."

there's still doubt in your gaze when he pulls back and he laughs, breath hitting your face.

"i already went and got checked up by a doctor that i really trust." he adds.

it’s hard to not believe him when he looks at you like this, so you relent, sitting back. “shouldn't you be sleeping and resting up, then?”

gojo takes something out from the bag you didn't know he had been carrying, and places it on your bedside table. "shouldn't you? how could i sleep well knowing you were probably suffocating from all that snot in your nose?"

you scrunch up your face and glance quickly at the pile of used tissues on the table that he had to brush aside. "i was just about to blow my nose actually." your argue sounds weak even to your own ears.

he hums like he believes you. "right. and when was the last time you took any fever medication?"

"i think i went to bed at around eight?"

he tsks. "you're long overdue for something."

you recall his earlier words. “so, who was the guy you just beat?”

his eyes glint in the light. “guess.”

you groan. “i don’t know, was it the guy you were talking about a few weeks ago?”

“sukuna?”

“why are you asking me like i know?”

gojo makes a face at you. “but yeah, it was him. i beat him real good too.”

you’ve never really believed in gojo’s outlandish tales, of scary monsters and magic people, but sometimes your boyfriend will come home with injuries just as mindboggling, and you must admit you’d believe him a little then.

still, you can’t hide the taunting smile that passes through. “yeah babe, you really showed him.”

he sticks out his tongue and unpacks the bag he brought.

you watch as he walks in and out your room, holding nothing in his hands one second and appearing with a thermos later. he pours steaming water into a mug and places that down next to the bottle of medicine. it's the liquid type, and you wonder if it became a habit to buy it over tablets and pills, from raising megumi and tsukimi.

"babe, i don't want you to stay up just for me." your blocked nose causes the b's to come out as m's. “especially if you’re injured.”

"i'm your boyfriend, this is what i'm meant to do." he says. “and i’m fine, seriously.”

"i'm pretty sure this is a job for my parents, not you."

"i'm trying to be romantic." gojo sighs, measuring out the bright red liquid into a medicine cup. "but of course, you have to be incredibly snarky, even more so now that you're sick."

you rub your nose. "careful, i'm extremely emotional right now. you could easily make me cry."

he spares you a quick glance. "you'll live. here, take this."

gojo hands you the medicine cup and nudges forward the mug of warm water. looking up, he eyes you expectantly.

you meet his gaze hesitantly. "does this... taste gross?"

there's a silence until gojo starts laughing. "are you a child? i don't even think you could taste it even if you tried."

"i'm literally a patient, don't laugh at me."

"just drink the syrup."

"in shoujo mangas, isn't this when you're meant to be nicer to me?" you mumble underneath your breath, though he catches it anyway.

in the silence that ensues, you begin mentally prepping yourself for the unnaturally sweet taste of raspberry medicine, the kind that has always reminded you of childhood sickness. back then, you were lucky to have your family hovering over you with a wet towel and a warm hand.

just as you go in for a sip, gojo suddenly speaks.

"want me to make this more shoujo-esque, then?"

you blink at him. "huh?" you ask intelligently.

under the moon, you can barely make out the soft smirk on his face and the look in his eyes that you know all too well. it's a feature of his from when the two of you were still in highschool, and though this kind of cheekiness has faded away with time, you still recognise it.

it's the look he gives you when he's up to nothing good.

something in the air changes, and your fever can’t completely explain the sudden heat.

gojo leans over, carefully taking the cup from your hands. making eye contact, he tips the red liquid into his mouth, careful not to spill any. you gape at him, captured in his gaze, as he lifts your chin with a finger and presses his lips on yours.

he swallows the gasp that tumbles out from your mouth, flooding your senses with raspberry, though not the kind that reminds you of sickness. you can only think of his hand that creeps up to cup your cheek, the other tucking hair away from your face. he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and forces you to drink.

when you’ve gulped it all down, his hands leave your side. he tries to lean away but you follow after, deepening the kiss.

gojo's fingers curl into your bedsheets and you feel his weight dip into the mattress as as he uses his knee to lean forward. you feel yourself fall backwards but he catches the small of your back with a hand and a chuckle.

eventually, he pulls away for air and though you need it just as bad, your lips trail after his.

eyes meet and spark in the dim lit room.

"was that still gross?" he asks, and it takes you a while to realise he was talking about the taste of the medicine.

you swipe your tongue against your bottom lip to relive the flavour, and his eyes follow the motion.

"no." you murmur. "actually, i don't remember. why don't we do it again so i can find out?"

gojo grins, using the hand on your back to press you against him, the other resting on the wall behind you. "only once more."

just like he promised, his lips fall back on yours and you sigh into the contact.

the night ends in raspberry sweetness, but not the kind that is unpleasant.

if you saw this somewhere else, no you didn't <3

[section-chief-prentiss]

girls

Summary: After an UnSub threatens to out you, you come out to Emily. 

Word Count: 2269

TWs: threats of being outed, coming out

Ao3

This whole case had you on edge.

It was a local case, and normally, that fact brought you comfort. Sleeping in your own bed after a long day was exactly what you needed. 

You got home late and beelined for your bed. If you were lucky, you could squeeze in a few hours before you needed to be back at the BAU in the morning. 

You started stripping as soon as your door was closed and locked behind you, shedding clothes on your way to your room. You threw on the first oversized t-shirt your hands touched and rolled into bed, your mattress welcoming you into its warm embrace. 

You plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand and set your alarm, cringing at how soon you would need to be awake. But before you could lock your phone, a text rolled in from an Unknown Number. 

Stop investigating or I’ll tell your team you’re gay. 

Your blood froze in your veins. The UnSub your team was chasing was technologically savvy and had proven he wasn’t afraid to use it. Through various social media accounts and other media leaks, he’d flaunted the victims he’d kidnapped and killed, and so far, Penelope had been unable to track him. 

You debated the odds of this being a random spam text when another appeared.

If you arrest me I have a failsafe that will alert them right away. 

You knew better than to respond, but you knew you couldn’t block him until Penelope took a look at the message.

The thought stopped you in your tracks—if you showed Penelope these messages, the team would find out anyway. 

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your sexuality; your family knew—you came out to them when you were 12. Your mom and your brother were your biggest cheerleaders, and while it took your dad a little longer to come around, he was firmly in your corner now as well. Your friends were no different. 

But work was another story. You loved your BAU family and trusted them with your life, but you’d only been with the team for a year. And you weren’t in a relationship at the moment, so your dating life just… hadn’t come up. You’d always known you’d tell them eventually, but you wanted it to be on your terms. 

Despite the threat, you had no intention of stopping investigating or encouraging your team to do the same. 

But the nagging voice at the back of your head that it could all come crashing down at any moment left you with a lingering feeling of dread that kept you awake, tossing and turning until your alarm went off just before sunrise.

You stumbled through your morning routine like a zombie, moving aimlessly from room to room. You made coffee on autopilot, dressed in a daze, and didn’t realize you had two different shoes on until you were one step out the door. You swapped one out for a matching set, grabbed your bag, and headed to the BAU.

You wished you could shake it off. Pretend it didn’t bother you. But as you took your seat at the round table, you knew the carefully crafted facade you’d put up was already chipping away, and it was only a matter of time before your team saw through it. 

“You look like hell,” Rossi said, taking the seat next to you. “Did you sleep at all?” 

“Not really,” you hedged, taking another swig of your coffee. 

Tara and Luke filed in next, and you absentmindedly exchanged morning pleasantries with them, glancing at your watch and wondering what was taking the rest of the team so long.

Emily, JJ, Reid, and Penelope buzzed into the room together, and the energy they brought with them made you sit up a little straighter.

“Our UnSub has made his next move,” Emily announced. She stood at the front of the room, pulling something up on the screen behind her, while the rest of the team took their seats. 

Screenshots of texts filled the TV, and a hush fell over the room as everyone took them in. 

Stop investigating or I’ll tell the press about your addiction, one read.

Stop investigating or I’ll tell the media about your pathetic sister, read another.

With a click of the remote, two more messages appeared, with familiar text that sent a shiver down your spine.

If you arrest me I have a failsafe that will alert them right away. 

You glanced at the timestamps of the messages, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You’d stared at the messages you received long enough to know they came at 2:41 AM. These messages had been sent just a few minutes before.

“JJ and Reid received these texts last night; we assume they’re from our UnSub,” Emily announced. “Before we start today, I need to ask if anyone else received a message last night. You don’t have to reveal what it said; JJ and Reid gave me permission to share theirs, but I need to know if he’s targeting anyone else.”

The team glanced around the table at each other, shaking their heads. When Emily’s eyes met yours, you found yourself shaking yours as well before you could think about it. 

“These threats say more about the UnSub than about us,” JJ said. “He thinks these are threats, but they just prove we’re human. It wouldn’t change how people perceive us, and even if it did, I wouldn’t care.” 

You’d turned to Reid, skeptical. “Is that how you feel?”

To your surprise, he only shrugged. “I’m proud of my sobriety. Last year alone, 17.82% of Americans had a substance use disorder. It’s more prevalent than anyone wants to believe.”

Your heart swelled at their bravery. But the text message you’d received still hung over your head.

“Penelope is working with JJ and Reid’s phones to see if she can trace the messages back. If anyone else receives anything, please let me know right away. In the meantime, Luke and Rossi are going to head down to Metro P.D. to interview more of the victims’ families,” Emily said. “Tara and Y/N, the M.E. is expecting you; she has the latest autopsy results. JJ and Reid are going to stay here with me, and we’re going to work on the profile.”

The team dispersed, but you felt glued to your chair. 

“Are you okay?” Tara whispered.

You nodded. “I just need a minute. I’ll meet you in the bullpen?” 

Tara put a hand on your shoulder before doing just that. 

When your legs stopped shaking, you stood and glanced through the windows at the rest of your team. Emily made eye contact with you through the glass, and you tilted your head toward her office. The raven-haired woman nodded, and you both wordlessly made your way over.

You beat her to it and started pacing across the carpeted floor. You kept your hands clasped so Emily wouldn’t see they were shaking. 

The Unit Chief closed her office door behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her desk. 

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You closed it again, mind reeling. 

Were you really about to do this? This hadn’t been your plan when you walked into work this morning, but you knew it was the right thing. 

Despite that, your heart raced in your chest. Stars danced across your vision, and your breathing became shallow. 

This wasn’t fair. You cracked your knuckles, a nervous habit, but your hands shook as you did so. 

Tears threatened to spill over, so you turned away from your friend, sitting on the small couch on the opposite side of the room. You pressed your palms against your eyes, willing the emotion to go away. 

“Not now,” you whispered. “Please not now.” 

The couch shifted as Emily took a seat next to you. She placed a gentle hand on your back.

“Take your time,” she murmured.

You pulled your hands away from your eyes and clasped them in your lap. 

“I got a text from the UnSub last night too,” you said, voice raspy. 

Emily moved her hand from your back to resting on your knee. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

You nodded. You knew you could trust Emily—trust your whole team. None of them would judge you or think lesser of you, of that you were sure. But your heart still felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. 

“He threatened to out me to all of you. And said that if we apprehended him, he had a failsafe in place to make sure everyone found out.” 

Emily’s face crumpled. “Y/N…”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of who I am,” you whispered. “I’m not. My family knows, my friends know… It’s just that it’s private. I wanted to tell you all on my terms, when I felt ready. And he took that choice away from me.” 

Emily took your trembling hands in hers, and tears welled in your eyes. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Emily said with a sincerity that stilled you. “We all do. You are our family, and I can say with full confidence that this doesn’t change how we feel about you.”

You took a deep breath. “I knew it wouldn’t. I just wanted to control how I told at least one person. How I told you.” 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Emily said. “I can’t tell you how honored I am.” 

“I know we have to tell Penelope,” you said. “So she can try to trace it.” 

Emily shook her head. “We can wait. See if she can get anything from JJ and Reid’s phones; we may not need yours.” 

You grimaced. You didn’t want to hinder the investigation or ask Emily to do the same by keeping this to yourselves. 

“That means a lot to me,” you said earnestly. “But I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking; I’m offering.” Emily’s dark eyes pierced yours. “Just tell me what you want to do.”

“Will you come with me to talk to Penelope? I’d feel better having you there.” 

“Whatever you need,” she assured you. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?” 

You nodded, and it wasn’t until Emily’s arms were around you that you realized how badly you needed some comfort. You sank into her embrace, resting your chin on her shoulder, letting your friend hold you.

She rubbed one hand in circles on your back, and you closed your eyes, the exhaustion of the case catching up with you. You could fall asleep right now. Now that you were safe. 

But there was still work to do, so you pulled away, your cheeks flushed. 

“Thank you,” you said.

You wiped your tears away, suddenly self-conscious when you remembered the rest of your team was just outside. 

As if anticipating your hesitation, Emily asked, “Would it be easier if I brought her in here?”

It was tempting, but you didn’t want to call more attention to yourself.

“No, that’s okay,” you said. “Let’s go to her office.”

Emily didn’t stand until you did, but once you did, she was ready to hold her office door open for you. 

As you walked through the bullpen, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your teammates. You heard them murmuring—working on the profile, you told yourself—but you held your breath until you were out of sight and knocking on Pen’s door.

“Enter!” She chirped from the other side.

You scanned your badge and the door clicked open, revealing Penelope in front of her wall of monitors—the text messages up on one, another busy tracking the source. 

“Do you have a minute, Pen?” Emily asked.

Penelope whirled around in her chair. “Anything for you, Peaches.” Her eyes widened when she saw you standing beside Emily. “And Y/N! To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I got a text from the UnSub,” you said, your phone in hand. 

“Have you gotten anything from JJ’s or Reid’s yet?” Emily asked.

Penelope frowned and shook her head. “Not yet; the UnSub is flexing his tech knowledge, but I am better, and I will find him.”

You smiled at your friend’s easy confidence. 

“Can I see?” she asked.

You nodded, wordlessly unlocking the device and handing it over.

You watched as Pen scanned the message. Watched as her mouth opened in shock. When her eyes reconnected with yours, there was fury behind them. 

“I will bury him,” she growled. “How dare he—”

Emily held up a hand. “Needless to say, discretion is important here.” 

Penelope’s eyes widened. “Oh, Y/N, I know I’m not known for secret-keeping, but I would never…” she shook her head. “I’ll never tell a soul.” 

Your heart swelled. “Thank you, Pen. I will tell the team, I’d just prefer to do it on my terms.” 

“Of course,” Penelope said.

“I can take your place with Tara,” Emily offered. “If you want to stay here and work on the profile with Reid and JJ.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not necessary. But thank you.” You looked between Emily and Pen. “Thank you both.” 

“Let’s go make this son of a bitch pay.”

Tag List:

@yena-reyna, @propertyofemilyprentiss, @chaekhan, @obsessedwjill, @mrs-prentiss, @i-lovefandom, @tireddeadgirl, @lez-talk1, @emilyprentiss-ily, @ssablackbird

Join my tag list!

[edenfenixblogs]

hey, gentile here. just came across this post of yours and, first of all- it's SUPERB. it showed me a perspective on being a jewish ally that i really wouldn't ever have considered by myself, made me more confident in my choice to put combating jew-hatred above the friendships I've recently lost, and gave me a really useful direction on where to go as an ally to jewish people onwards. that being said, there's a few details about it I'd like to press you about, if it's not too much trouble.

this point is probably worthy of an eyeroll as i'm a culturally christian atheist (making a concious effort to not be *that* kind of atheist), but: when you refer to G-d as the creator of all things, you stress that that includes evil- but that, in so doing, G-d is not evil themself. now, I'm asking this with the express purpose of you correcting me, so: why does this G-d- as a G-d fundamentally distinct from the Christian conception of God as a Super-Mega-Ultra-Perfect God Who Can Do No Wrong Ever- create evil? i, personally, have been led to believe by @/spacelazarwolf that it is simply because G-d, too, makes mistakes just like any human being, but the way you worded it in this paragraph (which I've included as a screenshot below) had me interpret G-d creating evil as a concious, intentional action. did i just not read it correctly? and, if i didn't, then is the reason G-d creates evil part of this central struggle you went in detail into in the same paragraph, and as such, a very individual part of Jewish belief that no two jews agree on? and if that is so, would you be comfortable with sharing your version of it?

a few paragraphs after that one, you dedicated many words to make it absolutely crystal clear that, in the process of unlearning and combating jew-hatred in the society around me, i should, in spite of the vitriol that they propagate, love the former friends i lost to antisemitism. how- and *why* should i love the people who, on an early october 8th morning, actively celebrated the news of a massacre of Israeli civilians? who mocked- and still mock- the survivors and the families of hostages? who wield the memory of the holocaust as a baton against Jewish people's right to self defense? who deify terror groups who are up to their necks in atrocities? who make an active effort to spit on the face of *reality?* How could i possibly look at the face of a friend who chose allegiance to a terrorist group she did not even know existed four months ago over me- who she had actively interacted with for much longer?

would you rather we called ourselves "gentiles" or "goyim?" I've been calling myself a gentile for the longest time because i see jamming a word from a language i don't speak at all in an otherwise english sentence to be disrespectful and constitute appropriation, but you and other jumblr blogs have given me the impression that that is not the case. furthermore- i believe it was @/bambahalva who pointed out the usage of the word "gentile" in antisemitic segregation policies.

that is all- i hope this message finds you well. oh, yeah one more thing- what do you think of The Forward news network? i came across them by chance and next thing i knew I'd gotten into their newsletter.

WARNING: I HAVE FINISHED WRITING THIS AND IT'S LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND ALSO MORE JEWISH THAN I EXPECTED LOL! I have done the most Jewish possible thing I could do and answered all of your questions with questions. I'm sorrryyyyyy! This is what happens when you grow up surrounded by rabbis and future rabbis! LMAOO

Oooh! What a good ask! I love this ask. OK, so! Let's go in order.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. And thanking you for backing your words with the action of prioritizing kindness over hatred. It matters. More than I can ever explain. Thank you.

You know, it's funny. People ask me a lot of questions about i/p that they think will have simple and straightforward answers that just don't. And I end up writing a lot of essays because of this. The questions you wrote me seem like they should be complex, but feel relatively straightforward to me.

Now, to your first bullet point: I don't know. I truly do not know. I think that G-d is fundamentally just...G-d, and in so being, G-d is truly unknowable to me. I think many Jews have many different interpretations on why G-d creates evil. I'm no rabbi, but one of my BFFs is and so is her mother and great grandfather. That doesn't give me any kind of authority. It just means I've spent a lot of time thinking about theological questions like this. As for my perspective, I'm a progressive/reform Jew, not a humanistic Jew. I do actually believe in G-d, but I vibe with the community philosophies of Humanistic Judaism a lot. So that's the perspective I'm coming from here:

I'm not a particular fan of the Book of Job, because I think it gets twisted and interpreted in Christian ways more than most Hebrew books and it can too easily be twisted into a "Don't question G-d, because G-d is perfect" narrative that I find to be fundamentally at odds with how I practice Judaism. Also, it's just a very sad story about how a good and kind man lost everything, and it makes me sad to think about. HOWEVER, that traditional "Don't question G-d" narrative is not how I learned to think about that book. The way I learned it, I believe the Book of Job describes this issue most explicitly. After Job loses everything he holds dear and talks to all his friends and begs again and again "Why? Why did G-d do this to me? Why would G-d do this to me when I'm a good person?" And basically G-d hears everyone answering for G-d with various reasons, "Maybe you were bad." "Maybe you should make an offering" Maybe this. Maybe that. And eventually G-d responds from within a storm (paraphrased of course) 'Why the fuck do you think it's your business to know? I made the whole universe! I made everything you see. I made the world that gave you your family in your first place. Why do you think you get to question my motives?'

The way I always interpreted that is: I don't fricking know! It's not really my business. What am I gonna do? Stop G-d? How does my knowing why G-d creates evil help anything? It doesn't mean we don't question G-d. It means we should instead focus on what we CAN control. I can't make 10/7/2023 not happen any more than I could stop The Holocaust or form an ocean. That's divine business, not human business. What I CAN do is make the world better now. What use is it challenging things that we cannot change? Things that are in the past? What's the point of asking why bad things happen when we can instead focus on stopping more bad things from happening. G-d named us his people when Abraham fought with G-d to stop the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham repeatedly asked, "But are you sure? But what if there are 100 good people? 50 good people? 10 good people?" And G-d kept responding, basically, 'I mean, there aren't. I know this cuz of how I'm G-d and know all the things. But knock yourself out looking.' My interpretation of this was that G-d doesn't get mad when we do our utmost to help our fellow human beings. G-d gets mad when we waste our energy that we could be using to help our fellow man to instead be angry and rage futilely against the past. I say this as someone with PTSD as someone who attempted to stop a tragedy from occuring and failed and can never understand why. What informs my trauma and what makes it so hard to get past isn't that G-d allowed it to happen. It's that people did. It's that I begged for help before it happened--over and over and over to dozens of adults in various positions of authority in order to prevent this terrible thing from happening (no, I will not now or ever disclose what that thing is). And all the people who could have helped failed me, and now two people are dead. Because someone did an evil, evil thing. And a bunch of other people let it happen. I'm not mad at G-d. I'm mad at people. And yet, I also know that hating people and finding reasons to dismiss them and despise them is what leads to more tragedies like that happening. So, despite my rage, truly the only thing to do is to love people. It's the only that helps. It's the only thing that repairs the world. It's the only thing that we can control. So, in short, my answer to "Why does G-d create evil?" is "Why should I spend my valuable time on earth trying to answer that question when, instead, I can spend that same exact amount of time asking millions of people, 'How can I help? What's wrong, and how can I help make any part of it better?'?" We don't need to understand G-d to make the world a better place. I'm fine leaving G-d stuff to G-d and spending my time on the human stuff.

Now, your second bullet point. Love their souls. You don't have to love what they've done. But they are human beings, as are we all. I think this can also easily be twisted into the Christian framework of "Hate the sin, love the sinner," but that's not what I mean at all. People's evil deeds are a part of them. They need to take responsibility. There is no divine absolution for crimes that people do unto each other in Judaism. If you harm a person, G-d cannot forgive you for that. Only the person or people you harmed can forgive you. And to a certain degree, we are all defined by our actions toward others. And so, no. I do not forgive the terrorists who woke up and decided to kill a bunch of Israelis and Israeli-adjacent humans. I do not forgive those who celebrate the deaths of Israelis because of some misguided sense of justice. I do not forgive the people who continue to send me hatred and death threats day after day after day after day. And I do not love the parts of them that did and do those horrible, unforgivable things. But my goodness. They were babies once. They either had parents who love(d) them, which is so sad, because they have this life of love and they chose instead to fill it with so much hate. Or they didn't have any parents or loved ones or anyone to guide them and, my goodness. That is so sad. How terrifying and alone that must feel. Maybe they have friends and family who love them and are instead wasting their precious time on this planet directing their energy at raging against me and 15 million other Jews they've never met. Or maybe they don't have anyone who loves them and they think that hating me and harming me will bring them some sense of purpose and joy. What a horrid way to live.

My Grandpa died last year. I have a wonderful family for whom I'm very grateful, and I even have good memories with my Grandpa. But he was not a good person. He came from an abusive home, and weaponized that abuse on his loved ones until he drove them all away. He was a narcissist. Not in the pop psychology sense. But in the actual clinical sense. He ruined every relationship that ever mattered to him--personal and professional. And in the end, because of his own actions, he died alone. He had pushed everyone so far (often with legal threats and action) that when he died, he laid on a slab for weeks because nobody could figure out who to call, because he had no one left. (For reference, Jewish burials are supposed to happen rather quickly and two weeks is...not good.) He was the only person in his generation who was not born in Israel--my family on his side has lived in Israel since looooong before even the British Mandate and he was the only person in his family born and raised in the US. As far as we can tell, the family on that side has been in Israel for as long as Jews have existed. He was religious. And while I've never been to Israel or met any of my family there, he did go. And he kept in touch with his relatives there before driving them away too. He was a wealthy man, but convinced himself that everyone only wanted him for his money and then decided to horde it instead. He left nothing to his children or to me. He left all his money in an endowment to his university--a place that uses that money to fund anti-Israel organizations now. He died alone, without his family that lived nearby, and with a legacy that will now cause active harm to the family that lived far away. He could have died surrounded by the loved ones from around the world who wanted nothing more than to be near him and loved by him. His story is a tragedy. The story of every person who chooses hatred over love is a tragedy. The story of someone who woke up and chose to murder others or to delight in the death of others is a tragedy. I love the soul in the center of these people. I loved my grandfather. I could not be around him. I cannot forgive some of the things he said and did. But I love the person he could have been. I love the part of him that gave me some good memories. I love the family he gave to me.

No, we do not all need to love or forgive those who have wronged us or terrorized us or murdered our loved ones. But that is different from mourning a human soul. From loving the potential of a human soul to do good in the world, and mourning the loss of that soul and its potential. Every human being--every single one no matter what they have done in their lives--has the potential to create goodness and make the world a better place. Every moment of every single day is a new chance to meet that challenge and do our best. Sure, not all of us have it in us to try our best every single moment. Sometimes life is hard and we're sad and tired and hungry and angry. And that's ok, because we have tomorrow, and an hour from now, and a minute from now. But the moment someone chooses to take action and decides that action should be to cause another harm or celebrate the harm that was caused? That's a tragedy. And when a life is extinguished, that is a life that loses its potential to try again and do better. We shouldn't love people because we deem them worthy of love. We should love people because they are people. And so are we. And how wonderful is that? I could choose to hate them. It would be so easy! But why should I do that? What do I gain? What do they gain? And isn't it so wonderful that I chose to love instead? And isn't it so wonderful that you can, too?

As for your final bullet point: I have no preference. I say goyim cuz it's easier for me. Goy/gentile/non-Jew are all fine to me. I have some icky feelings about the word gentile for a variety of linguistic reasons I won't bore you with. But some other people don't like when non-Jews appropriate Yiddish words. Others (including me) find it wonderful when non-Jews call themselves goyim. All my closest non-Jewish people call themselves goyim, including my sister! Non-jew is the most neutral in English and least likely to offend anyone. But it still separates Jews as an other whereas "goy" is a way to distinguishing yourself from Jews while also being an acknowledgment of our culture. As far as I'm concerned as long as a goy is being a goy (ally, positive) rather than a goy (derogatory) I don't mind that they call themselves goyim. LOL! Idk, friend. Do what makes you happy! What do you prefer?!

Regarding The Forward news network: They are a reliable Left-Center source with a high credibility and reporting rating and only one failed fact check in the past five years for which they issued a correction. I would consider them a reliable source. They cover legitimate issues of people who support Palestinan self-determination ostensibly being punished for their stances. They publish Op-eds critical of Netanyahu, who is terrible. And they address how antisemitism is harming diaspora Jews. They seem to consistently emphasize the humanity of everyone, which you can tell based on the rest of my post is very important to me, but they also avoid over-editorializing on news that is not in the Op-Ed section. I'll never endorse any source as perfect or guaranteed to be free of problems or harm or bad takes, but they do seem to make a genuine effort to be factual, clear, and wholly truthful. Note: I highly recommend that everyone installs the Media Bias/Fact Check extension on their web browsers. Get in the habit of checking and evaluating sources critically. It's a skill that will serve you your whole life.

@clawdia-houyhnhnm I hope this helps. And thank you for your thoughtful ask and commitment to intercultural understanding. <3

[milliondollarnooboo]

'This was not the plan. '

'This was not supposed to happen.'

'How could I let this happen?'

'It was supposed to be casual, quick. Get in and get out. I've done this so many times before, how could I screw up this time?'

'It's only my first couple of months here... I wasn't supposed to get pregnant.'

"What are we gonna do, Michael? I can't raise a child! I'm too young for this!" she wailed, looking tearfully at the sheepish father of her unborn child.

"Hey, hey-- everything's going to be okay. We'll figure it out when the baby comes." Michael placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

" Right now, you need to relax. Look, I'll clean your house for you before I leave, then you can get some rest. Sound good?"

He didn't wait for a confirmation before turning around and heading for the soiled toilet in Natasha's neglected bathroom.

She stared after him, fingers shaking as she guided a can of instant meal to her mouth. The sweet strawberry concoction tasted bitter and rough on her tongue.

She knew she needed to eat better for the baby. But she didn't want to think about all of that. She never wanted this.

In the bathroom, Michael struggled to suppress his nausea as he scrubbed the toilet. But it's not the stench that was making him feel ill.

Hadn't she said she was on birth control? How could this happen?

Would they have to get married now? He could hardly leave her and the baby by themselves. She would need support.

But right now, he honestly didn't know if he was willing to step up for that.

An hour later, the house was clean. Natasha lay asleep on the couch, dried tear stains and a slight frown on her sleeping face. She looked so tired.

A pang of guilt shot through Michael at the sight of her. Without a word he turned and walked out into the night.

--

The next couple of months flew by in a haze for Natasha. She couldn't tell whether it was Monday or Saturday. Noon or evening. All she knew was exhaustion.

Her bump grew bigger, and with it came a determination to eat better.

'I guess this kid knows better than I do.'

She saw less and less of Michael as she drew closer to her due date.

Natasha missed being outside. But the shame of her predicament and the perpetual state of exhaustion made it near-impossible to open the front door.

But on some nights, when the loneliness was unbearable, she would push through that invisible barrier and go out to hunt for bugs in her front lawn.

Fireflies always reminded her of the city lights. She found them comforting.

--

And then it was her due date.

Spending so much time alone, Natasha had made a little game of trying to predict when baby would come. As she sat at her dining table, she stared unseeingly at a scratch on the vinyl coating of the table.

'So, this is really happening. I am really about to be a mother.'

'What will my fans say... will they laugh at me?'

Distressed by the thought, Natasha spent the rest of the day on her bed, waiting.

At 9PM, baby Toby was born.

Thus began Natasha's new life.

--

And that's it for rotation 1 with the Moretti household. I'm ngl this story feels a bit choppy on some parts because I wasn't prepared to develop it. I was gonna be lazy and just slap the screenshots on the post and call it a day, but I'm trying to be as intentional as other simmers whose BACC content I have enjoyed because of their storytelling.

I apologise for the uncropped and unedited screenshots. I'm writing this at 3 in the morning because I forgot to sleep while putting together my BACC post. I was working on it all day yesterday.

More coming soon :)

| Intro | Rules | Next |

[oristian]

Hello there!

I have this screenshot and I want to know your thoughts on it.

Do you think that this could possibly happen or not? (Even though I know you're a elucien and gwynriel fan)

I wrote down my thoughts on it and it's chilling in my drafts until I post in the morning, ha.

I don't believe that Lucien would lie about such a rare occurrence in fae history, no way.

Lucien “I’m a mated male,” Vanserra is the last character to ever be seen as deceptive in this series—especially in a way that would paint him as a villain archetype. Lucien, who lost his eye by spitting back at Amarantha. Lucien, who bowed before Rhys in order to protect Feyre. Lucien, who accepted lashings and near death more than once to help Feyre UTM. Lucien, who gave up his home and friends to both help Feyre and to see his mate. Lucien, who shook at the sound of his name upon Elain’s lips. Lucien, who travelled across the world just because of Elain’s visions.

Lucien may have his faults, but purposefully faking a mating bond to deceive the Inner Circle? Sounds to me like some people lack a clear understanding of how he is as a character—and also the nuances of a mating bond, fated mates trope, and the romantasy subgenre.

I have exhausted this same argument time and time again, but the fact is that, once Feyre unleashed Helion’s Spellcleaving ability in Hybern, any spells/wards/charms would have been dismantled. In the case that Lucien had, somehow, created a fake mating bond in that moment, Feyre would have broken it. On top of that, Feyre has looked into his mind and the reader experienced the pull of the mating bond/mating instincts that Lucien felt in ACOWAR. On top of that, both Elain and Lucien have exhibited mate behavior towards one another/for one another throughout the series.

Azriel and Elain are not mates and that is simply debunked by Elain and Lucien being mates. There is not a single reason why a fake mating bond would need to have been created, especially because SJM changed Lucien’s mate from Nesta to Elain. Had she planned on any sort of fake bonds/rejected bonds, that would have taken place with Lucien and Nesta. Her simply speaking about them in interviews, online, and unprompted is telling enough of her intentions and plans—the same plans she claims has not changed.

I truly want to know what these people believe that Lucien would gain from spying on the Night Court. Who is he giving his intel to? Eris, who already has a front row seat to the Inner Circle? Beron, who has no interest in him? Tamlin, who is a shell of his former self? Koschei, who has more interest in Nesta and Vassa than the Inner Circle?

Allow us to humor them for a moment. Lucien faked a bond with Elain, yet spends the majority of his time in the mortal lands away from her—what intel is he gathering by being away? How did he manage to tug on the bond and have Elain feel the thread around her rib? How did he manage to trick Feyre into seeing his mating instincts when she looked into his mind? The list can go on and on.

tl;dr — The bond between Elain and Lucien is real, has always been real, and they are true mates. Any other argument against any of those canonical facts needs to be taken up with SJM herself.

[bjyx-spelunkers]

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So...you remember when I mentioned how a sane person would plan this trip itinerary given all the places XZ went to?

Here's a recap (I made a screenshot, Tumblr formatting was driving me crazy)

Given the new info provided by The Moon, i.e., XZ only arriving at Lake Lucerne on the evening of 18 June, here's what the trip is starting to look like:

What about the subsequent activities? (which to me all screamed outdoorsy, adventurous, WYB-friendly, probably DaBo-reluctant)

Well, the other line of inquiry that we were following in parallel was— XZ's clothes. Based on the rock solid logic that you tend to wear the same clothes on the same day.

He wore the same black jacket + black shorts + black beanie + black shoulder bag in Parts 1 & 2 for Paris:

Assortment of beige jackets + white top+ black shorts + black beanie for Bern (there are actually more cunning details to unpack here re: wyb's goose laugh but I'm gonna class that under a side-quest, link here)

Lake Lucerne:

Now, this combo is interesting. Still white top + black shorts, possibly the same khaki jacket as that tied around his waist above (hard to tell without seeing the collar). BUT a black cap instead of a beanie.

In other words, even though Lake Lucerne was a completely different day vs. citywalk in Bern (18 vs. 16 June), XZ still wore very similar clothes, albeit with a slight variation. I don't know if this was intentional, but it sure led to confusion on our part!!

Here comes the main point:

These are the clothes he wore for all of the wyb-friendly activities:

All the same khaki top + black shorts + black walking shoes combo, occasionally a black puffy vest. And he seems to be taking turns carrying this big black backpack with someone.

In other words, these activities appear to have ALL taken place within one day.

In fact, I'm gonna throw in the leisurely stroll in Part 5:

It's the same khaki top + black puffy vest. But with long trousers + white shoes. However, it appears to be very early in the morning (maybe even a pre-breakfast stroll) and was very near the hotel, so I'm guessing there was time to change his bottoms and shoes before setting off again (it's chilly in the morning!!).

For the sake of completeness, here're the outfits for Mt. Rigi, Zurich and Gordes (though these are less important)

He was wrapped up warm for Mt. Rigi, and it was extremely foggy, so our best guess was that they went there in the morning. Given that wyb would have to fly home on that same day, and XZ had a photoshoot in Marseilles the next day, we think Zurich happened on the same day as Mt. Rigi. Grey top + black shorts in Gordes, France.

With the info above, the itinerary now looks like this:

XZ was in Bern for a full 2.5 days. However, he only shows us a fraction of what he did there (Part 3, but half was about the cola incident and half of Part 4). This was followed by a crafty timeskip (GAR!! that sly bunny!! sent us on a wild goose chase)

He then squashes four activities that could have taken a leisurely 2-3 days into one day.

This point deserves a bit more elaboration.

Think about the hike up Mt. Pilatus: instead of planning a satisfying full-day/half-day hike up to the top, he takes the cable car to almost the summit and then does a short climb up.

Also, the bike trip: instead of doing a full-day/half-day bike trip around the area, he takes the ferry to the spot, does a quick lap around the area (plus a Mads Mikkelsen dance in the woods), then hurries off to catch the ferry back.

Why was he in such a rush? Why rush around like he's going through a to-do list all in one day? He could easily have spent one fewer day in Bern, and then had much more time to enjoy the other stuff.

But no, something, SOMETHING happnened in Bern on 17-18 June. Something very important, more important than the vacation itself. Something so important that his parents had to be there, his best friend had to be there, and WYB had to be there. And it happened on a non-Sunday*.

XZ made a ten-part vlog to mark this occasion. It is clearly sth immensely meaningful to him. Something he wants to share but cannot do so openly. (Please, any older turtles, if you know of any other vlog projects of similar scale, then let me know, I'd really appreciate it.)

There was also a Feb 2025 Portrait interview in which he described this trip. In it, he recalls the moment he hugged his mother and father at the end of the trip: "The movie-like scene was deeply imprinted in his mind. When talking about this scene, Xiao Zhan showed the most emotional expression that day. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was back at the beach, holding his hands in the air as if he was hugging his mother again. This was almost one of his moment of the year. This complete relaxation gave him some lasting strength."

This trip was clearly extremely emotionally significant to him and his parents (he even hugged his dad!). And we can certainly believe that it was because they had not travelled together in a long time, and so it was very emotional anyway.

But, what if it meant even more than that?

So much, so much more that he would close his eyes to recall the trip, and became emotional just thinking about it.

So, I'll just say it out loud here. Y13 and I both truly think that he and WYB got married in Bern on 18 June, and 19 June was their honeymoon on Mt. Pilatus.

A whirlwind but packed-to-the-brim honeymoon, with everything they enjoy doing together.

In the next (and hopefully last) post, I'll try to further reinforce this claim with the emotional tinting of the vlogs. It is far more subjective than the more concrete evidence we've dug up so far, but I think it can still serve as valid support, given what we know.

And I leave you with one last thought. This sketch.

The prevailing theory is that it's a snowy mountain, i.e. BJYXSZD (并肩于雪山之巅 which means “side by side atop the snowy summit”). Nods nods.

Our response to that was naturally: Which mountain?

And our answer: Mt. Pilatus

The mountain is, of course, gonna look different from different angles. However, after looking around the area at different mountains, we're pretty sure only Pilatus had sort of the right shape.

and also I spotted this

and that is Pilatus in the background based on his view (see the farmhouse on the left and the hotel on the right)

So, we can believe that this sketch is simply a random snowy mountain he found to be especially pretty.

Or, is this a specific place with a special meaning?

The place where he spent his honeymoon, on Mt. Pilatus. No matter how short or how nominal, it is still special. And he drew a sketch of it after wyb left to capture the memory on paper.

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