What started as a normal crafting livestream, hot glue guns, clay, and the false promise of “this will be chill”—had very quickly derailed into a full-on competition for who could create the most cursed object known to man.

Amanda squinted at your clay sculpture, head tilted, mouth pressed into a line that screamed I’m trying not to roast you but I absolutely will.

“You cannot convince me that thing is structurally sound,” she said flatly, pointing at the lopsided, vaguely humanoid blob on the table.

You gasped, offended. “You’re just jealous of its artistic integrity.”

She blinked. Once. “Oh, absolutely,” Amanda deadpanned. “It’s overflowing with integrity. I can feel it judging me.”

Courtney laughed, Shayne nearly dropped his phone, and the chat started spamming skull emojis.

Before you could fire back, Shayne, who had been scrolling through chat like a menace suddenly perked up.

“Oh wait, here’s a good one,” he said, grinning. “‘What’s the nicest thing a partner has ever done for you?’”

There was a collective “ooooh” at the table. Courtney immediately started talking about thoughtful gifts. Shayne shared something equal parts sweet and unhinged. The vibes were light.

Amanda hummed, tapping her fingers against the table, eyes unfocused as she actually, shockingly thought about it.

Then she nodded to herself. “Okay, yeah. I’ve got one.”

She glanced at you for half a second before looking back toward the camera.

“There was a time when I was just… not okay,” she said, voice softer but still very Amanda. “Like, fully overwhelmed. Not eating, not sleeping, ignoring emails, convinced everything was on fire even if it wasn’t.”

You felt Courtney’s eyes flick toward you already.

“And my partner,” Amanda continued, completely unaware she was about to expose herself, “drove hours. Didn’t ask. Didn’t announce it. Just showed up at my door.”

She gestured vaguely in your direction with one hand, still talking.

“They ran me a bath because I apparently forget those exist when I’m stressed. Did my errands. Cleaned my kitchen. Stocked my fridge with food I actually like. And then told me, very firmly, that I was not allowed to apologize for needing help.”

She paused, swallowing a little, then added, “It sounds simple, but it felt like someone hitting pause on my brain.”

There was a beat.

Courtney slowly turned her head. “Amanda.”

Shayne’s eyebrows shot up. “Hold on.”

Amanda’s eyes widened just a fraction as realization finally caught up with her mouth.

“…Oh.”

The chat absolutely detonated.

“WAIT—” “AMANDA???” “HELLO?????” “IS THAT YOU???”

“That’s really sweet,” Shayne said carefully, already smiling way too hard.

“Yeah,” Amanda murmured, then winced. “Okay. I see the problem.”

Courtney leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, staring between the two of you. “Are you talking about them?”

Amanda dragged a hand down her face. “Okay, first of all—rude. Second of all—yes.”

Shayne nearly choked. “YOU’RE DATING?!”

Amanda groaned. “We are currently dating, yes. Present tense. Ongoing. Active subscription.”

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “She said it herself. On record.”

“Oh my god,” Courtney said. “How long has this been happening?”

Amanda shot you a look. “Long enough that you all should mind your business.”

The chat was unreadable now—pure chaos.

“AMANDA JUST HARD LAUNCHED ON A CRAFT STREAM” “THIS IS BETTER THAN THE CLAY” “THE BATH STORY??? I’M SOBBING”

Amanda sighed, resigned, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. She reached over and bumped your shoulder with hers.

“Okay,” she said to the camera, pointing at you. “Yes. This is my lover. They’re very annoying. And very kind. And that’s all you get.”

She glanced at you, quieter, fond. “Now please let me go back to pretending this sculpture isn’t haunted.”