#my first bit of writing independently posted!

[e1i-neverrests]

Noisy

Features Lys and Asra early in their pre-main story relationship

It's quiet, but quiet never lasts long in their house. It's usually Lys that makes the most noise, whether humming to himself idly, talking to customers or friends, or just to himself as he thinks. Sometimes it's Asra, but his sounds are more organic. The creak of floorboards as he ambles, the sound of pouring tea, or the familiar hum of magic that you don't so much as hear, but sense.

Tonight, it's the latter. The absence of a body beside him in bed makes that much clear.

Lys counts the steps, listens to where they're coming from, straining his sleep-dazed brain to listen closer. Footsteps, starting by the stove, one, two, three strides to the dining table. The telltale scrape of a chair being pulled out. The clink of a mug set down on the table.

It's a routine Asra's had for as long as they've known each other. It's not about him, it's not that he's been abandoned, or will never see Asra again, or any of that. But at this moment, when he's tired and Asra had only just come home after so long away from home… Something in Lys’ heart aches knowing he didn't want to stay the whole night beside him.

But what would it matter, really? 

They’re master and apprentice. They’re friends? Do friends live together? Is an apprentice supposed to share a bed with their master? Can you really be friends if they’re the only person you know? Are friends supposed to leave you for days, weeks at a time, only to return as if nothing happened? Is a master supposed to see his apprentice at their worst, hold them close and tell them they’re going to be okay?

Too many questions, never a single answer. The thoughts fill his head, drowning out everything with the incessant noise ringing in his ears. Lys’ head aches with it all.

[punctuationbreakdown]

About that Scientology connection...

One of the details that came to light this week in the latest article detailing the horrific allegations against Neil Gaiman (which I believe are true, to be clear, but not the primary focus of what I'm writing about here) is the extent of his ties to the Church of Scientology. I was most engaged with Neil's work as a teenager and in my early 20s, and I didn't recall seeing mention of the connection at the time (granted, that was more than a few years ago!). I couldn't let it go after reading the Vulture article, so I started to dig a bit and found a lot of information being shared on Reddit and even further digging uncovered archived forum posts from over a decade ago by former CoS members.

There are a lot of details in this article by Mikey Crotty, who appears to be an independent comics journalist, which was published by Mike Rinder on his blog in 2023. Rinder was famously an executive in the "church" in Australia and ran SeaOrg (the elite force of CoS, essentially, and responsible for internal discipline within the broader org) before ultimately leaving the organization and speaking out as loudly as he could about the abuses he had been complicit in as a member (at great personal risk, as anyone who is familiar with the tactics used against former CoS members will know).

The piece was written as an exposé about Gaiman's novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which was semi-autobiographical. Crotty discusses details about Gaiman's family, Gaiman's participation in CoS, and the coverup his father orchestrated for an apparent suicide of a student of Scientology who had immigrated to the UK and was living with the Gaimans at the time. This suicide is written into The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

Neil's father, David Gaiman, was head of worldwide communications for the Church of Scientology in the 60s, and was leading the PR spin to protect the organization from increasing legal scrutiny in the UK at the time. Around the same time, a suicide occurred while a young man, Johannes Scheepers, was living with them (the Gaiman's took in CoS students as lodgers at their home on a regular basis, apparently). The Gaiman family launched a campaign to depict him as a broken down gambler to avoid further scandal for the organization. The logic doesn't quite add up, and it's more likely that Johannes was a new adherent who had been badly taken advantage of. You can read more details in the article I linked. Crotty makes the case that not only were the Gaimans lying about the death of the student, even going so far as to claim he wasn't actually lodging with them, but that Neil then went further to spread these lies in the form of fiction decades later (we now know this book was written as a result of the prompting of Amanda Palmer, who was encouraging him to confront his childhood experiences with CoS per the article in Vulture).

The article also points out evidence of Neil's continued involvement with Scientology:

Neil Gaiman’s history with Scientology is very murky; deliberately so. His family are practically Scientology royalty in the UK, he met his first wife Mary McGrath while she was studying Scientology and lodging at Harrow House and he himself worked as a Scientology Auditor for several years in the Eighties and was a Director of a Scientologist’s property company ‘Centrepoint’ until 1999.  He now won’t discuss his own Scientology connections and states, without any details, that he’s no longer a member of the Cult that supported Apartheid up until the mid eighties, believes homosexuals are deviants and mental illness is a manifestation of personal failure in the sufferer’s current or past life; beliefs which are anathema to most of Neil’s adoring audience. His connection to Scientology and apparent departure from the cult first went public as part of a court case in 2002 where when asked “Are you still involved with the Church of Scientology?” Neil said “I don’t understand the question”, subsequently asked “Are you still a member of the Church of Scientology?” he replied “I don’t consider myself as such”. Even then his admission that he worked for the Church for 3 years is somewhat confusing: “I worked for a 3 year period after getting out of school as a ‘Counsellor’ for the Church of Scientology”; in fact he actually worked as an ‘Auditor’ in a process made famous in the award winning 2015 Documentary ‘Going Clear’ which explains how officials in the Church of Scientology keep in-depth records on everything its members say during private ‘auditing’ sessions and then use their secrets against them. Renowned Journalist and author on Scientology Tony Ortega says that Gaiman “became a Class VIII auditor, and even ran the Birmingham “org” as its ED, executive director. “. While there is no contradiction in Neil’s actual admission of working for Scientology up till the late Nineties and subsequently leaving the cult and its beliefs sometime in the early Noughties, conflicting details arise in the period since, when Neil has insisted he’s not a Scientologist. According to public records he was a shareholder in the family firm G&G Foods, which produces the vitamins used in Scientology’s highly criticized Narconon and De-Tox practices, since 2011. He transferred approximately a quarter of a million shares to Scientologist shareholders in 2013. There’s the book ‘Ocean’ also from 2013 and then there’s also his production company ‘The Blank Corporation’. ‘The Blank Corporation’ is Neil’s production company which works on all his adaptations such as ‘Sandman’, ‘Anansi Boys’, ‘Good Omens’ and the upcoming ‘Ocean at the End of the Lane’ in partnership with Netflix, Amazon, Warner Bros, the BBC and others. According to the website and any interviews, Neil founded ‘The Blank Corporation’ in 2016 with his Vice President and former P.A. Cat Mihos. According to the official Companies registration however, the company was actually set up by Neil and then wife (and still devout Scientologist) Mary McGrath in 2000. The company is still registered to a Scientologist’s P.O Box in Wisconsin, where Mary McGrath still works for the Church of Scientology. One company; two very different stories, it’s just another mystery, like what really happened to cause Johannes Scheepers to take his own life in 1968.

I want to note that based on what I've read, being a Class VIII auditor is the highest level you can go as an auditor in CoS without becoming a member of SeaOrg. Auditors are individuals who are key to the brainwashing process members of CoS undergo; they utilize the org's "technology" to identify past sins by doing intensive interrogation sessions with members. This means Neil was well trained in how to psychologically interrogate org members and held a position of relative power over them as he documented their dearest secrets for the org (primarily to blackmail them with should they ever want to leave, based on CoS records and former members' experiences).

I found forum posts where others reviewed public records that confirmed the majority of these claims, although unable to confirm the PO Box in Wisconsin. His sister, Lizzy Calcioli, is the current company director of G&G, which supplies pseudoscientific vitamin treatments to drug rehabilitation seekers that are horribly abused by Narconon (CoS does not allow actual medical intervention or medical practices in its org). According to public filings, Neil still owns shares in G&G.

There is also this interview from 2010 with the New Yorker, in which Neil claims he is no longer a member of CoS, but expresses sympathy with them:

These days, Gaiman tends to avoid questions about his faith, but says he is not a Scientologist. Like Judaism, Scientology is the religion of his family, and he feels some solidarity with them. “I will stand with groups when I feel like they’re being properly persecuted,” he told me.

It is also well known that celebrity members of CoS are encouraged/allowed to lie about their connection to it in order to support their monetary success. Because of course they're going to contribute back to the organization through that success, which it appears Neil has done.

Additionally, we know from public accounts of CoS's practices and leaked documents that once someone leaves the organization, they are not allowed to continue to associate with anyone within the cult. Isolation of former victims is one of the many tools used against them. The fact that Neil maintained a marriage for decades to an active member who still works for CoS, as well as relationships with his family members who are leaders in CoS, indicates he is either still on the books as a member or is contributing to CoS in order to avoid alienation from his family. Any sympathy a desire to remain connected with his family might conjure is misguided in my opinion, because we know that he's likely profiting off of shares in a company that takes advantage of and contributes to the traumatization of vulnerable patients as a CoS affiliated business.

Had I known Neil Gaiman was so closely connected to the "church" sooner (one degree away from L. Ron Hubbard himself as a child!), I would not have supported his work in the way that I did in the past. And I think he knew that a significant portion of his audience would respond the same way, which is why he obfuscated and downplayed those connections.

His alleged ongoing involvement also changes the way I perceive his actions - Deception and manipulation is, by former member's accounts, standard procedure for leaders within Scientology. It should come as no surprise that he will continue to deny any evidence, attempt to blame his victims, and lie lie lie to avoid potential consequences. It is, after all, the example he was given and trained in as an active participant in a destructive cult that he has never publicly disavowed and that he appears to continue to support.

I think this information should be taken into account as former (hopefully) fans react to his responses to these accusations. I wish for peace for the victims who are now speaking out, and I hope they are able to reach the resolution they deserve.

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[gold-pavilion]

A list of things I can now infer properly about Ivan's Nowhere!!

Now that the song is officially out and a bit of context about it was posted on Alien Stage's official page, here's some collected thoughts and things:

+ We now know this was recorded at some point in Ivan's time in Anakt Garden, which makes it his earliest song. Stating the obvious but good to have confirmation that this expression of his feelings came way before what he wrote in Black Sorrow.

+ Ivan did compose and write for himself independently, which he previously wasn't shown to be inclined to, so it's nice to know too.

+ Being a private song that he did intend to keep that way (as he hid or discarded the CD), it makes sense that Nowhere is much more openly emotional, vulnerable and defeatist than the latter Black Sorrow, which was made with public performance in mind.

+ Ivan has always been cagey about his feelings, but knowing the context of Nowhere (personal, private, done without outside input), it turns out it IS the raw contrast between his feelings of love and the impression that he's unlovable/only knows how to love wrongly anyway/destined to be unwanted (what he started with at the intro vs what he went with for the rest).

+ My doubts about some of the self-deprecating parts are now cleared up!! 

I was wondering if the bits about his "disgusting teeth" and "cruel lips" were a general expression of guilt for selfishly kissing Till in Cure, but having a timeframe for when he wrote this song, it seems more likely that Ivan wrote that over the guilt of WANTING to kiss Till in the first place. Might be related to the disgust Till showed him when first learning what kissing was; it would make sense that it resulted in Ivan feeling twisted/guilty.

I think those are all my first realizations / impressions. Gonna write a proper, larger interpretation piece on this song and contrast between Ivan's emotional state here vs Black Sorrow later!!

[laufeysvalentine]

full moon, remus lupin

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ remus x afab!reader -- in which remus misses the birth of your child because of the full moon. post hogwarts, kind of suggestive at the beginning. hurt/comfort, fluff, a tiny bit of angst?

word count ༄ 4k

nora’s notes ༄ sorry this took more than three weeks i swear my timing gets worse every time i write a new fic… anyways! i had to sit down with this one and really question my life choices. i don’t know anything about giving birth so pls bear w me

“y’know i love you so, so much, right? i couldn’t love anybody more.” remus, your boyfriend, your lovely, wonderful, perfect boyfriend, is lying with his head pressed against your stomach. his lips are on your waist, pressing those lazy open-mouthed kisses onto your bare body. his murmurs vibrate through your whole body, making a shiver run across the top of your skin. within a second remus is sat up, hand on your arm. “are you cold, dove?” 

you smile at him, a yawn stretching out your mouth. “no, rem, i’m fine. as well as someone seven months pregnant can be, anyway.” 

he hovers for a second but after a stern glance from you, accepts your response and lies back down, pulling the bedspread over you. “i don’t want you to catch a cold.” 

“i won’t, i swear.” he’d been a lot worse when you first told him you were pregnant; you could still remember how he cried and cried. you’re still not sure if they were happy tears or not. having a family, being this domestic was a reality he never ever saw for himself, not since he was bitten. he was terrified–but at the same time, overwhelmed with a love he never thought was possible. a child. with you, the love of his life. everyday, he thinks he could never love your small family anymore. everyday, he gets proven wrong. 

he was so overprotective at first, especially around the first few full moons. he would hardly let you out of his sight, never allowed you to strain yourself in any way that could hurt the baby. you got fed up, as anyone with a shred of desire for independence would, and the two of you had a long talk about boundaries. which he is trying his best to understand and respect. 

“let me get you a shirt at least,” he fusses, and you let him. 

you sit up and he helps you pull yourself into one of his favorite t-shirts and boxers. his hand floats to your belly as if pulled, rubbing light circles on the fabric. 

“do you feel them?” he whispers as he drops onto his side. his eyes are shining with a boyish earnestness as he gazes with all his love at you. “any kicks?” 

you can’t help but smile, reaching a hand out to smooth down his hair, which is all mussed up from how you tugged and tugged on it. “darling, you would feel them too if i did. our baby’s sleeping, and I’m going to too.” 

remus pouts, and you just have to reach down and kiss his soft pink lips. 

“g’night baby.” your fingers come to a rest, tangled in his hair, and his palm keeps resting on your belly, a bare leg slung over your own. the two of you are so incredibly intertwined. 

how did you end up with the most perfect man ever? 

—

“howdy, y’all,” a call comes up from your driveway. 

“morning, sirius,” you respond from the kitchen, sleep waterlogging your voice. 

there’s the sound of a lock clicking, the knob turning, and then a terrible imitation of a texan accent: “and how might you be on this fine morn? i brought the hash and eggs from the farm down on old country road.” 

“i don’t think they speak like that in the u.s., siri,” you say with a laugh, leaning over the counter to accept his hug. 

“um,” he leans back, as if terribly offended, incredulity lining his expression. “i believe they do.” 

you roll your eyes. “mhm.” 

“right, how’s little lupin? and yourself?” he settles onto a chair and passes you the breakfast foods you had requested him to bring. 

“good and good. i feel like i’ve swallowed a watermelon and the watermelon likes to kick, that’s certain. only a few weeks left though, thank merlin. how’ve you been?” you’ve just taken the containers from sirius’ hands when remus comes in. his hair is wet and tousled from his shower, and he smells like aftershave and an old book when he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a short kiss to your neck and cheek. 

“let me do that, dovey. you sit down with pads, hm?” he takes the eggs from you, not taking no for an answer. 

“thank you, rem. my feet are murdering me.” you give him a proper kiss before spinning towards the table. 

“no hello for me then, moony?” sirius pouts. when remus only shakes his head, the 

(self-proclaimed) dashing ravenette flops back into his chair. “i’m losing all of my friends to this whole marriage thing.” 

“tough luck,” he shoots back, cracking open the eggs. “are james and lily on their way, then?” 

“how would i know, i’m not their messenger.” sirius scoffs while propping his legs on the table. “but yes, they’re coming. they’re going to be a bit late cause harry’s acting up or something. just like his uncle padfoot. oh, if only he knew how much trouble his father and his good old godfather caused back in the day. man…” 

“please stop talking about yourself in the third person, sirius.” you pat his leg. “and get your feet off my nice table. it’s new.” 

“amen to that,” a voice yells from the hallway. it follows james and baby harry, who’s resting his head on his father’s shoulder. lily, in all of her deity-like beauty, even at nine on a saturday morning with a whiny toddler, enters the kitchen. “these boys like to ruin everything new, don’t they?” 

you nod, pushing sirius’ legs from the table and standing to give her a half-hug. 

“no, you sit down,” she fusses, lightly pushing you back into the seat and giving you a kiss on the head. “and how are you, beautiful? you look gorgeous as ever. pregnancy glow.” 

“if you’d please stop flirting with my girlfriend, lils,” remus says from the kitchen. 

“seconded.” james raises an eyebrow as he passes harry to sirius, who immediately begins fussing over his godson. 

“don’t worry, lily. they’ll never be able to interfere with our love,” you declare with a dramatic flair only acquired by spending too much time with sirius black. “i’m lovely, you?” 

“amazing now that i’ve seen you.” she winks and you blow a kiss back. “you’re much nicer than i was at almost forty weeks. i was crabbier than sirius when he doesn’t get his way.” 

“hey, i don’t–” sirius swats at lily, who sweeps just out of reach, into the waiting arms of james. 

“no, sometimes i just want to rattle remus by the shoulders until his wonderful, huge brains come out and scream at him for doing this to me. i just want to push this damn baby out,” you admit. you flash a smile at the blond in the kitchen, making breakfast for all of you. you got so lucky with this man. 

he grins at you, unabashed and loving. “you’re welcome to do that anytime, darling.” 

“okay, i don’t know what kind of kinky shit you two are into, but you can keep it behind doors, please,” sirius coughs, covering harry’s ears. “not in front of the child.” 

“you’ve done and said worse in front of him,” you scoff. “harry’s scarred for life anyways.” 

“i have not,” he huffs. “i don’t appreciate the baseless slander.” 

you just smile in response, accepting the cup of tea your boyfriend hands you with a kiss–he’s made it exactly how you like, as he always does. you’re so happy to be here, with your friends, your family. 

“you’re all ready for the baby, then? what’s your plan?” james asks, chin on his wife’s hair. 

“yes, rem’s been reading and reading about it for months. he has my birth plan down more than i do,” you chuckle. “we’ve had the bag ready since i was in my second trimester.” 

“i’m excited,” he admits, sliding a plate of breakfast to your guests. “i know i shouldn’t say anything cause i’m not the one giving birth and pushing a baby out of me, but i’m really excited. i’m glad i’ll get to be there. to meet our baby for the first time.” 

the look that he gives you fills your belly, like he’s lit a candle in your heart and you’re feeling the warm wax melt all inside of you. clearly your child likes it too, because you can feel them hurling ruthless kick after ruthless kick against your poor body. 

“oh, you’ve got to get out of here,” you groan, resting your head on the back of your chair. “i think my uterus is bruised.” 

“i’m excited to meet you too, lovie.” remus presses a kiss to your belly, then to your lips. your whole body ignites with pure love for him. you’re going to have a proper family soon. 

sirius gags in the background, but you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

—

remus has been growing more and more on edge for the past few days, ahead of the full moon. you can tell its presence has been slowly nibbling away at his well-being, if his mussed hair, four days without showering is any indication. he’s sitting on the couch, looking at absolutely nothing at all, fingers twining and breaking apart every five seconds. 

“you’re stretching yourself thin, rem.” you come up behind him, trying to parse out whether he’s okay with you touching him or not. he’s tense but not overstimulated, so you reach out your palms to massage his shoulders and back. 

“i just–” his voice catches, and you think your heart may be bruised by the way his eyes look up at you, slick with worry and a fear that delivers yet another punch to you. “i don’t want to leave you alone tonight.” 

you smile, leaning down the best you can and melting your lips to his. “the baby’s waited for forty weeks, they’ll be okay with another night.” 

he pulls the inside of his cheek in between his teeth, chewing and chewing. “i’ll never forgive myself if i miss this.” 

“you won’t,” you say firmly. “now, i’m pregnant, and you know you can’t stress a pregnant woman out. so take care of yourself tonight. please, rem. don’t think about me, yeah?” 

“i can’t ever not think about you, dove.” he pulls you down for another kiss, and you practically fall over the couch into his lap, lips all over each other. “you become more and more beautiful everyday.” 

“every time i see the two of you, i just want to shout for you to get a room,” a voice snarks from the doorway. you pull away from remus with a tactful reluctance, like the two of you slathered yourselves in glue and half-dried, and now pulling away from each other is impossible. a weird example, sure, but you just can’t bring yourself to let him go. 

james pops his head in after sirius, offering the two of you a nod. “ready to go, moony? sorry we were running late.” 

with a sigh heavy enough to move mountains, your boyfriend stands. next to you, he looks so solemn, tall. handsome. his hand finds its way to your shoulder, rubs. he drops a kiss to your head, then your forehead, your lips. 

“i love you so much,” he whispers, first to you then your belly. “i’ll be home as soon as possible. i’ll be there, dove. i promise. i wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

you smile up at him. “i know you wouldn’t, rem. now shoo, prongs is right. it’s getting late.” 

he presses his lips to yours once more before letting sirius drag him out the door by the wrist. you blow him a kiss as he leaves, a sort of heaviness settling over the apartment in his absence. a smile twists its way onto your face as you make your way up to the bed for an early night. it’s best for you to not stress as best you can. you still have a week until your due date. he’ll make it. you’ll be fine. 

–

well, you’d jinxed it. you wake up in a puddle, wetness still leaking from between your thighs. oh shit. after a few minutes of obligatory panic, you call upon lily by muggle phone, who answers with sleep crowding her voice. 

“mm?” she mumbles, and you feel bad ringing her at–what was it–twelve thirty seven on a saturday night, but you don’t have anyone else to call. “who’s there?” 

“i’ve either pissed myself or my water’s broke,” you say wetly into the receiver. “never thought i would say this in my adult life, but i’m praying it’s the first one.” 

“oh merlin. y/n? that’s you? i’ll be right there, just have to drop harry with our neighbor.” not even a minute later and it sounds like she’s downed a cup of coffee, instantly more alert. 

“thank you, lils. i love you,” you say before she agrees and hangs up. fuck. what are you going to do? to your bump, you murmur, “please stay in there. just for a few more hours. like, twelve. until remus gets here. please.” 

the next few minutes crawl by slow, too slow. you sit on the edge of your bed, a contraction tearing you open, too heavy and exhausted to move or stand or speak. not to mention the fear that clamps into you. 

how could you do this without remus? the one night you’re alone, and… no. you can’t. 

lily’s bursting through the door only seconds after your first tear lets itself loose, and you want to hate yourself for it. “y/n. how much pain are you in?’ 

you don’t say anything, just hold onto her image for a second–she looks like an angel with the moonlight tousling her bright hair, falling onto the back of her shoulders. when she approaches you, she does so with kindness, caution. 

“are you okay?” she asks with a maternal tenderness you forgot she had. “when was your last contraction.” 

as you swallow, you realize the lump in your throat has grown. “mm, i’m not sure.” 

“okay, love.” she rests a hand on your hair, smooths it out. “we should start timing them. they’ll only let us into the hospital when they’re closer together.” 

and so she sits with you as worry begins to fester in the pit that is your stomach. you pray for your baby to just stay inside of you, just for a few more hours, just until remus can get there. fuck. what horrible timing. they’re certainly shaping up to take after their uncle sirius. 

“fuck, lily,” you cry out almost three hours later. you hate the helplessness that’s encased itself around you. you can do nothing but wait as your contractions grow in strength and volume, nothing but wait and hope for remus to come home earlier, nothing but lie on your bed and wait. 

“i’m sorry,” she whispers. she gets it, you’re sure. the two of you haven’t talked much. she fixed up your bed, gave you some water and food and made sure you were as comfortable as you could be. 

but her words signal a drop, letting the tears that have been building loose. you clutch onto her sleeve, sob after sob pounding out of you. 

“i can’t do it without h-him,” you hiccup, barely intelligible. “i can’t, i can’t.” 

“i know, i know,” she murmurs, kissing you on the head. but she doesn’t reassure you. she’s not sure she can. for a first time labor, he should have been able to make it. under any other circumstance. any other night, he would have. 

but she’s been measuring your contractions. you’ve been progressing much faster than what would be expecting. your baby wants out, and it wants out now. 

usually, that would be great. usually. she’s been thinking that word too much. nothing about this–remus being a werewolf, tonight being the full moon–is usual. she just has to hope that’s okay. she hates seeing you cry, or be in this much pain. 

what would remus do in this situation? he would be calm, maybe stroke your head, make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. she did all that. it’s just not enough. not compared to having your boyfriend there, with you. 

and she’s so, so sorry she can’t. 

the daylight has begun to slither through the white of your curtains, kissing your face with morning. your eyes are puffed pink from all the crying you’d done, and your hand has danced its way over to remus’ side of the bed, looking for him even in sleep. you’d been in and out of a restless nap as lily watched over you, woken every time a contraction hit. it mostly consisted of you closing your eyes every twenty or thirty minutes, just preparing for the labor ahead. 

eventually, they become too painful and frequent to ignore, and you’re forced to rise from your bed, stumbling to the hospital. the whole thing feels like a fever dream–maybe it is. a quiet hope seizes you. maybe you’ll wake up, your boyfriend beside you, and the two of you will be there together as your baby meets the world. 

and then you hear lily tell your name to the receptionist, and your bubble pops. he’s not here. you’re alone in the hospital, about to give birth without your child’s dad to help you. an exhale draws itself out of you, weak and shaking. 

you spend the next hour in a prayer, a red-hot fever that overtakes you. you spend your moments alternating between gritting your teeth through contractions and trying to force your baby back inside of you. please, just an hour longer, please. everything begins blurring together, penetrated by bursts of pain, haziness swarms your being. 

when you close your eyes, he emerges. he’s sitting right beside you, hand in your hand, palm on palm. he tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses your forehead, looks at you with that easy smile. he makes everything better. remus, oh remus. 

and then someone’s calling your name, nudging your shoulder. it’s lily. a furrow has wormed its way between her brows. she’s worried about you. why? 

“the doctor’s calling for you. she wants to know if you’re ready to push.” she puts her hand in yours, but it’s not right. her hand is clammy, cold where remus would be warm. you’re sure he would’ve been sweating, maybe crying too. are you crying? 

you put a finger under your eyes, pulling back when you feel a wetness. oh, you are. fuck. 

nothing is right, right now. 

“i can’t,” you whisper to her, sheep eyes wide and slick with tears. “i can’t do it without him.” 

“y/n, i know this fucking sucks. but he won’t be able to be here for another four hours, and your baby wants to come out now. you can do this.” she rubs her thumb on the back of your hand. her fingers are rough, hard on your skin. 

you want to hold on. you’re trying your best. remus is unreachable right now. he’s a wolf. he can’t come. and your body–your body’s telling you to push. 

“fuck.” you mutter, a wail threatening to drag itself through your throat. the tears are heavy now, your hospital gown is practically soaked. “fuck.” 

“ready?” the doctor comes in, gloves snapped on. 

you can barely bring yourself to nod, but you do so anyway, and push. remus is there with you. it’s a fever dream. your pain is through the roof. he’s there, your angel. what’s happening right now? remus holds your hand, whispers something in your ear. a fingernail rakes across your palm. you’re gripping a hand with all your might. it’s lily. her face blurs. remus. push. he kisses your hand. he’s whispering something. the doctor yells something. what’s happening. 

the doctor hands you your baby, and you sob. you sob because you had to do it all alone, because you had to fall in love with a man who was a werewolf, because your baby had to be born today, because it’s here with you, and he’s not. 

but when you look down at your child, the perfect mixture of you and remus, the sobs turn from terrified to hopeful. remus will come. your child is perfect. and you pass out. 

—

when you awaken, the first thing you notice is a feeling. your hand is wet. soaked. there’s some sort of sniffling on your right side. 

your eyes flutter open. 

and your heart stops. 

there he is. 

remus.

he looks like an absolute wreck. one of his scars on his face has reopened, and it’s pink with drained blood. his hair is matted, messy, all over the place, gone from a dirty blond to an almost brown. his lips are puffy, same with his eyes. he’s crying, eyes and nose rimmed red. 

he is beautiful. 

“remus,” you whisper. your voice is scratchy. you’re not sure what time it is. nothing makes sense and everything makes sense, all at the same time. he opens his eyes, and there you are. 

remus fell in love with you back at hogwarts. he knew you were the one when you got along with all of his friends, even sirius, who usually turned people–at least, the people remus was usually attracted to–off immediately. he knew you were the one when he told you about his lycanthropy and you didn’t run. no, you kissed him, placed a hand to his back, massaged him and made a joke about it. he knew you were the one the day he laid his eyes on you studying in the corner of the library. 

you had always been it for him. and knowing that he couldn’t be there for you, on one of the most important days in your relationship, fucking destroyed him. 

your name slips from his mouth, involuntary. a sob on its heels. 

“i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry,” he cries, his head on your blanket. his knees are aching, they’re on the ground, but he feels like he deserves it. “i fucking hate myself, dove. i can’t–” 

when your hand reaches out to his hair, carding your fingers through it, a tear slips through your eyes as well. seeing him so heartbroken, for something that he didn’t do–oh, merlin. 

“remus.” 

his name pulls him up from his stance. you pat the bed, in the little space you have left. 

“please. i need to be with you right now,” you admit, sobs in sync with each other. and there you lay, the two of you, holding each other. 

“i can’t apologize enough, i can’t imagine you being here, by yourself. you’re so strong, but i wish i could’ve… if only i weren’t–” he pauses, a hiccup echoing through his throat. 

“stop. you can’t help it. i chose to be with you, remus, do you understand me? i chose this life. i chose it because i love you. so much.” you cup his face with your palms, thumbs roaming over his cheeks. he is so smooth, so warm. everything you needed. “i knew this could happen. and yes, it sucked being here by myself. but you know what matters? you’re here now. and we could never forget that.”

you melt into a weeping mess, the two of you, always as one. 

“have you met her yet?” you ask, after your tears have mellowed. he has a death grip on you. now that he has you, he won’t ever let you go. 

he nods. “she’s sleeping. lily, prongs, and padsfoot are in the other room. they want to see you.” 

you shake your head, tighten your hold on remus’ body. “not yet.” 

with perfect timing, your baby begins to fuss from across the room. he springs up and practically sprints to the bassinet. and holy shit. 

watching him stand over your daughter, tears tracking down to his chin, with the most tender smile slipping onto his face, staring at her with so much love, more than you ever could have imagined existed, oh, god. you knew that he would be the best father there ever was. 

and that, no matter the time that passed or the trials the three of you faced, your love for them would only ever grow.

masterlist

tags: not tagging anyone out of shame because i hate this hahahahah okay love u bye!! ❤️

[chahnniesroom]

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: F.L.U.D.D. (Flash Liquidizer Ultra Dousing Device)

Debut: Super Mario Sunshine

F.L.U.D.D. was Mario's first ever Platforming Buddy! Unless you count the Lakitu Bros. from 64, but they just operate the camera and don't affect Mario's platforming moveset, so I do not. So really, F.L.U.D.D. is- hold on, I really don't want to write every individual period each time I write its name. I'm just going to leave all the periods at the end of the post and you can put them where they belong yourself, or anywhere else you think is funny. Or you can keep them, I don't mind. Put them on a bagel and tell a friend they're poppy seeds!

FLUDD is a big deal. A landmark for the series in terms of mechanics. Not that these specific mechanics returned, but the concept of a buddy granting Mario some new abilities has become a recurring thing. FLUDD even talks, and is fully voice acted! In a robot voice! Like mine! A cute and silly little robot buddy for Super Mario.

So then... why don't I absolutely LOVE it? I feel like I should! But I'm just not getting that urge to imagine it driving a kart or playing tennis like I do with far less important characters. Does it work so well as a Tool that I have a hard time viewing it as a Character? Let's See!

I think FLUDD's design is honestly kind of perfect. The two massive screws that evoke eyes are really clever, and especially great is that they give it + shaped "pupils"! Aside from that, the nozzle's funnel shape is an extremely funny shape for a mouth, and FLUDD does indeed speak out of there. Excellent head! Though I feel like the excitement fizzles out once you look past the head, because the rest is much more "equipment" than "character". That's fine, this IS a piece of equipment! It just makes it feel less like a character, when I'd like it to have a bit of a balance of both. Maybe if the handles also functioned as little feet that it could walk around on? I don't know. Maybe that would be stupid... but I do love when creature designs are stupid!

FLUDD was made by E. Gadd, but that's all the backstory we get. We never learn why it was just there on the Delfino Airstrip, and that's really weird! The perfect tool to combat the game's main conflict is just there immediately when Mario arrives. It could have been a cool little mystery, but I guess the reality is just that some Pianta ordered it when the Goop Incident happened and got express delivery. Or maybe someone already had it and was just waiting for a calamity like this to happen, to justify the purchase!

I don't need to go over everything FLUDD does, right? I'm not the Super Mario Wiki, it's not my job! I'm here for the Weird. And a weird thing is that FLUDD freaken dies.

During the final boss against Bowser's Hot Tub, FLUDD starts stuttering, as if breaking down. And then in the final cutscene... it Dies! Mario goes to it, it tells him it hopes it was of assistance, and it dies. And Mario is sad, because this was his friend. But then in the very next scene FLUDD is back! Some Toads fixed it and it's fine now. So this ends up having the emotional impact of Mario needing to change the battery on his TV remote.

Even though it's our and Mario's friend, FLUDD is still an object, a product. It's technically not just FLUDD, but A FLUDD, one of many, mass produced. I have to wonder if it actually formed any bond with Mario, or if it was a one-sided friendship. Is it even capable of friendship...?

Whatever the case, the others absolutely consider FLUDD a friend, and well, that's just so sweet. During the credits we get to see some extremely compressed pictures of Mario and friends enjoying their real vacation, and FLUDD is there with them! It's not even on Mario's back anymore, or always WITH Mario, for that matter. Sometimes it's hanging out with Peach and some Toads, sitting there independently. I think it is safe to say FLUDD is a real true friend, and likes to just Hang Out sometimes! Even better, maybe it wasn't originally sentient, but learned how to love over the course of the adventure. Such a wonderful robot thing to do!

As expected, thinking in depth about FLUDD has absolutely endeared me to it. Hooray! It's about time. Well, it's too late for FLUDD to be relevant again, probably. I'm not saying it should be a driver in Mario Kart, but I AM saying there should be a kart based on it, and I'm also saying that this kart should canonically be the FLUDD, now upgraded. This feels like something that should have happened long ago!

This has been a long post, but it is far from all FLUDD has had to discuss! So next time, I will post about FLUDD once more, and its various appearances during the GameCube days and beyond! There is milk involved at some point. Get excited to learn what milk has to do with any of this!

Here are all those periods you were promised! I hope you like them.

....................................................................................................

[kwimii999]

Tutorial : How to make roads with car parking space

When I first started using the create a world tool, I immediatly wanted to make roads with car parking space. The only world where I had seen these types of roads were in Boroughsburg by potato-ballad-sims. So, I searched up the internet as one would do when you don't know how to do something and nothing until I found this post by krrank on their forum. I already knew how to make roads at that time. In fact, it was only when I saw her showcase of dirt roads, that I saw how there was a way to make roads larger to then add cars parked on the side. Now, because I haven't found a proper tutorial on how to actually do that, I decided to make my own tutorial and share how I managed to do it. It's not as perfect as Boroughsburg in term of sidewalk intersections (because I'm not the best at texture editing) but enough to have the look of parked cars, which can make a town look so much more lively.

What I'm assuming before this tutorial :

You're familiar with the CAW tool

you know how to place roads

you know how to create roads using textures provided by EA or CC road textures

You know how to add custom content for CAW (only applicable if you don't own the university EP)

The downside

The only downside with these roads is that sims will walk/run through the cars when going somewhere because we're basically using the sidewalk as parking space. To balance that out, I suggest using hybrid roads in your world : normal roads with normal sidewalks and roads with parking space.

On the left we have a road with car parking space

On the right a normal road with sidewalks

Step 1 : Choosing your road textures

Example of what it should look like :

Possible question #1

" Okay but there's no sidewalk now, what do I do ? " : Simple ! Place independent sidewalks on the side. A bit like this (ignore the fact that this is not completly aligned to the grid) :

Step 2 : Placing cars on the road

I highly suggest using cars that are meant for decoration and aren't high poly. If you're using super CAW do not use the drivable cars that can be bought in game. In my case, I used the debug cars from the university EP meant for decoration and lowered them until it hid the parking curb. If you don't have the university EP, the world CC from Boroughsburg includes deco cars used for the purpose of parked deco cars !

Do not put too many cars on the roads (I only do it because I do not care since I'm making my own personal world, but if you intend to share the world you're making, limit the cars that you put on the streets)

How to hide the parking curb (for university cars) :

Lower your car's position (Y axis, green line) to : 15,4 - (Good enough height to hide the concrete curb and only hides a tiny bit of the car's wheels)

Don't forget to rotate (Y axis) the cars to the right direction. In fact, to be 100% accurate in the rotation placement of your cars, you can write the exact degree in the board that appears when you select an object. So, basically : 90 / -90 OR 180 / -180

Possible question #2

"In what direction should I rotate the cars ?" : Here's a reminder of traffic directions in game :

And that's about it. Hope this will be useful to anyone who was wondering how to make larger roads and add cars parked directly on the street :)

[sunny-knight]

What Kind Of Monster Was He?

A @forgettable-au fan (colored) animatic

MINOR BLOOD WARNING!

*Was he the kind to do too much, or not enough?

…OK, SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS-

I had planned to finish this into a full fledged animation, but a lot of the parts I did end up finishing just didnt live up to what I imagined…I waited for more motivation to happen, but it just didnt so HERES THE COLORED ANIMATIC CAUSE IM REALLLY HAPPY WITH WHAT I HAVE and ive sat on posting this for like a 2 weeks 😭 which is an eternity in my time

Im gonna post the unfinished “finished” part on my side account @o-sunny-day though! and probably have people yell at me cause it actually isnt that bad AND IT TOTALLY ISNT I just… art. You get it. ENOUGH YAPPING! ITS TIME TO YAP!

except not yet, MORE BACKGROUND INFO HUCDHUC- but its background info on explaining the lore…

The explaining is much less expansive than in Dear My Dear just because I didnt work on it long enough to think every bit of it through. This is just a clean, nicer looking, and colored version of the very first storyboard.

I usually think about and put more effort into the little stuff while making the FINISHED bits since ive had so much more time to think about that in all the preppin n sketching.

BUT I liked the explaining format I did for Dear My Dear so im sticking with it!

The main idea for this was to do a study of Wingdings’ character from what we’ve been given, mainly focusing in on the expectations he puts on himself because holy shit the lyrics for this works so stupidly well it makes me mad LOOK AT THIS???

its ridiculous. i love it. I didnt know Jack Stauber helped write Forgettable AU???? woww!!! ANYWHO thats the gist of it, not much context is needed past that. Onto the sillies!!!! (per usual excuse the shitty quality of the pngs idk why Tumblr does that-)

Did you know love? Will you rest in peace?

Wingdings and Sans holding hands as kids, before turning to a casket like appearance for adult WD. The flowers hes holding are pretty important too, Marigolds to represent grief, Lilys, new life, and Forget Me Nots for this lovely little line I found when looking up good flowers to use-

“a promise to always remember” ….stop that.

That actually also has a double meaning in this case too. 1, ofc the forgetting of Wingdings. But ALSO Wingdings forgetting something himself. Forgetting who he is. Almost like a Zuko ATLA situation.

Did you have a family?

Who knows where theyre parents are, but this is HAPPY TIME and we’re gonna assume they were so awesome and very kind but had to leave or went to a farm in the sky for whatever reason.

The colors here I had a lot of fun with. Their parents had warm colors but the boys have cold, still with warm accents. Its said they more or less raised each other being very independent as shown in the second part with them running out the door by themselves.

How was the view from the shelf? Did you ever believe in yourself?

Before, we started with the beginnings. The good things, the only thing Wingdings cares to even recall. Now we’re seeing his life really start to turn upside down- making first contact with The Player :D

He’s hesitant to reach out, but is intrigued, before getting a rushing revelation of his reality and how it isnt “real”

Rather than feeling crushing existential dread, he more feels pressured to be BETTER, to figure a solution, to do something. Thats what white represents here

WHAT KIND OF MILK WERE YOU?

We then switch to more examples of how Wingdings is taking this pressure (not well) The soft tones of yellow that were shown before, turn to way brighter, intensifying that feeling that he should be fine, he should be happy, drowning in success of being the Royal Scientist.

But he just desperately wants to just go back to a time of nice coldness.

The warm vs cold tones in this I had so much fun with, coldness is supposed to represent hostility usually, while warm is nice and happy. (same with Black and white. Scary, relieving,) But these points often contradict each other, its hard to tell what you’re feeling vs what you’re supposed to be feeling. Just like Wingdings!

WHAT KIND OF LIFE DID YOU LIVE THROUGH?

The white lab coats, the expectations, theyre on all of them. But Wingdings has essentially become his expectations.

He questions what life he wants to live, one being himself and alone (speaking in wingdings) or not himself and with company (speaking in a “normal” font) Still, he frames it in past tense as he believes theres no going back now, based on what he knows.

“One of the last happy moments they had together” stop that. (i cant find a link to when that was said but I know it was once, about them taking a photo together….)

DID YOUR LIFE RUN RICH WITH CALCIUM?

Calcium….bonesss :3 Hehehehdhehfhehehheheheh still dont know why he has holes in his hands so we’re movin on

DID THEY LAUGH AT YOU OR DID YOU LAUGH AT THEM?

Compared to the childhood Wingdings remembered, heres the sadder, bleaker, more realistic version. He always thought they were laughing at him but… maybe they werent.

DAIRY BELOVED. YOUR DAYS ARE GONE,

It doesnt matter now though. Because in the NOW, Wingdings has become consumed by his expectations of himself, seeing this has the “only option” to do the only thing that he feels will give his life meaning and purpose, establishing connection with THE PLAYER

But the grocery list goes on…

And yet life continues on without him, and his room is transformed into a more livable space now that someone is…living in it. Always hurts so much making the differences between Wingdings and Papyrus’ room. It feels like making something out of the man Wingdings COULD HAVE been. Because honestly thats just what Papyrus is,

Thank you to my bestie @fruitytrip for helping me with all of my art in general but especially the storyboarding on this :3 <3

[mqrrstarr]

Gladiator Headcanons! (1/?)

How the Characters would act if you: Had A Cold!

Character x GN! Reader

Warnings: s3x implied

Characters Featured: Maximus, Lucilla, Commodus, Acacius, Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Macrinus (edited: I never actually wrote anything for him but I did now)

A/N: First Tumblr post in a while, and I'm actually writing things too! This is the first time I've written elaborate headcanons, so please forgive if they seem a little off. I apologize for any historical/character innacuracies, and I hope to get better!! xoxo -mqrrstarr

Summary: headcanons!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ｡ ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Maximus would immediately notice something is off. You kept complaining about a headache that didn’t seem to stop, and your temperature was high. 

“Darling, I don’t think you should fight today…”

You could only cough in response, and the guards wouldn’t let you rest. As the day’s challenge was fighting in pairs, he rapidly volunteered to fight with you. Maximus protected you from the other gladiators, and killed them as fast as you could sneeze. By the end of the day, Maximus gave you his blanket and other amenities, ushering you to a more comfier cell. (He had placed a bet with another gladiator.)

“There darling, rest up nice and easy.”

I can also see Maximus getting the other gladiators to create a soup/stew sort of mixture. Not good. But he’s very fatherly, if you can get that?

- - - - - - - -

Lucilla knows everything. After taking care of Lucius as a child, she can rapidly tell when you’re not feeling well.

“Sweetie? Do you feel alright?”

She’d do the mom thing, put her hand on your forehead and try to figure out what was wrong with you. Your head was practically boiling, so she’d get her servants to make tea, lay you in her triclinium and keep you company.

“The servants will prove useful sweetie. You’re a strong warrior, so keep hanging on.”

She’d hum a lullaby, read poetry (the same she’d read to Lucius) and tell stories until you fell asleep. 

- - - - - - - -

Commodus was rarely comforted growing up, so he knew how to handle sickness easily. Growing up semi-independent, he knew homemade tricks and tips to feel better.

“Y/N, are you not feeling well? Just get some herbs and drink an elixir. You’ll be fine.”

He realizes that he sounds a bit harsh, and reminds himself that he never wants to treat you how he was treated; with solitude and no gratitude. Commodus gets you all the snacks and food you want, and even hugs you for as long as you want. 

When you question him after it’s been a whole afternoon of him on your chest, he simply says,

“Y/N, do not question the Emperor. I wish to lay with you, and I do not fear sickness. The Gods can protect one of their own.”

He keeps hugging you and falls asleep, and the next day you’re both coughing and sneezing. 

- - - - - - - -

Acacius has been through so many battles and massacres, yet he’s never truly encountered a cold. The soldiers that cough, are usually dead. Coughing up their own blood, that is. He really doesn’t know how to help you properly, but he’ll try his best.

“Angel, can you tell me what’s wrong? I’m not really sure what to do. Should I get a doctor? Are you feeling a certain way?”

and as he says this, Acacius would use his hands to caress yours, and treat you even more like a princess/prince. He’d lay you in his own bed, and give you massages until you’d feel better. He’d also do a little more if you’d want. Iykyk. You’d fall asleep quickly, and you’d wake up to Acacius either next to you, or on a chair by the bedside and he’d be all sprawled out. His soldier senses would wake him up though.

“Angel? Angel? You’re all right now, that’s wonderful. My lovely Venus, you’re all healed.”

And his words, he would seal with a forehead kiss. GOD HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART I NEED PEDRO PASCAL

- - - - - - - -

Caracalla had his own sickness, the one of syphilis. His wild mentality usually was what kept him going, and the love of ruling over Rome. Yet the Emperor cared for his significant other, and refused to let anyone else; even his closest servants touch you.

“My Wife/Husband, the most holiest of them all, I shall take care of you. Please tell me what your most vivid desires are? Allow me to assist you.”

He’s such a sweetheart, and he’d definitely tell you so many stories of him and Geta in their childhood, Roman mythology, and anything to keep you entertained. As he also has mommy and daddy issues, he also do a Commodus-esque move and lay on your chest and probably fall asleep first haha. When the both of you awake, he'd hear your stomach rumble.

“You’re hungry? Well then I shall feed you. Anything for you my love.”

He’d keep you filled with food and him to help your weak state. (CARACALLA COME HOME THE KIDS AND I MISS YOU)

- - - - - - - -

Geta was always stressed.  Getting much more to do as Emperor, as Caracalla had his own “duties” to fulfill. When you started coughing and sneezing as you strolled in the palace garden, he’d send the servants away to prepare a room where you could quarantine. As much as he loved you, he’d refuse to get sick. (Rome needs a healthy representation.) So you’d be alone the first few days with the occasional knock on the door. When you seemed less sick than before, he’d spend all the time with you.

“My love? I’m here for you. The Gods have finally allotted time for our get together. It will be only the finest in Rome for the night; us.”

He’d definitely turn the situation into a fun (fucking) night and then the days after that would be a cycle of laying together, fine dining meals, and caressing. (your bodies, of course.) When he has to return to his Emperor duties, he’ll leave with a long romantic and passionate kiss, one that made your entire body warm.

“Won’t be long. I’ll be back in the night.”

(if you couldn't tell i love the idea of geta as needy all the time)

- - - - - - - -

Lucius knew what it was like to feel sick and tired constantly, so he took care of you. Like a shepherd tending to his favorite sheep. Both of you grand warriors and gladiators, so there was no time to feel bad. He reassured you he could fight without you, and vowed to come back every time.

“Dearest, I promise to return safely. I couldn’t leave my soul with you, it has to be me truly here always. I vow on our love to fight for freedom and the peace of Rome. I will also fight for you.”

You trusted Lucius, (WHO WOULDN’T WITH THOSE BLUE EYES) and he is a man of his word. Day after day, you slowly healed and was able to rejoin Lucius and the others again.

“See? I knew you’d heal. The Gods give power to those who are great. And you are great.”

You fought as usual, but he’d still protect you a little more to ensure you were actually okay. 

- - - - - - - -

Macrinus would see you and get together some gladiators in your presence, hoping they would entertain you and help you ignore the pain.

“Sickness is nothing but temporary Y/N. You can and have the power to move on.”

You’d take his advice and eventually keep doing your work as his assistant, and he’d make sure you were well taken care of.

“Y/N? A true warrior does not dawdle. Good job keeping up with your tasks.”

Surprisingly, you were able to keep up with work and healed faster than expected. (THERE I WROTE FOR MACRINUS)

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

hii i love your writing so much! this is my first ever request so sorry if it sounds weird!

can i please request some general dating headcanons for (older) rise donnie? for example, what hes like as a boyfriend, the types of dates he likes, his quirks etc in a relationship!

thank you 🫶💜🐢

Dating Headcanons (Fluff/Angst)

Future!Donatello x reader

A/N: You’re request doesn’t sound weird at all, so no worries💜 Now, I would usually post this with a picture of one of the turtles, with a somewhat matching tone. But since there’s no official illustrations of Future!Donatello (as far as I’m aware), and I don’t feel safe using someone’s art without permission, I’m just going to use this shot of Donnie. Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy💜

Warnings: The Krang future is quite a bit more angst than the good future, so if you’re only looking for the sweet stuff, just head straight for that💜

Krang future:

Dating in a Krang infested world, living in a bunker deep under earth, was not easy for anybody. It is a stressful and depressing way of living, where everyday is about survival, with little no time left for love. Yet, emotional beings always seem to find a way for such things, even in the hardest of times. And so did you and Donnie.

With Donnie being the main reason that the bunker was functioning - having been the one that built the whole thing - your boyfriend was often stuck in his lap, working not just for his own joy, but for the survival of all that called the bunker home. It was not easy for Donnie, as one small mistake could mean the death of all. And so, your job quickly became helping Donnie destress, keeping him above and sane from all that was going on around him. It was your job to make sure that Donnie was able to move forward, even if it sometimes felt useless. And that wasn’t easy for either of you.

Dating in a world overrun by Krangs, isn’t really like dating in a normal world. You don’t go on dates, and rarely have time to actually spend any form of intimate time together. No, dating in a world of Krangs meant finding a person, who you wished to survive with. It meant looking out for each other before anybody else, and at times even giving up rescurses for the one you loved. Which you and Donnie had done plenty of times, giving up food, water and time for each other.

Though Donnie may be tired most of the time, it didn’t make him any less caring. He had his own way of showing it though. He had thousands of ways to check up on your wellbeing, going to somewhat drastic lengths in order to make sure that you were safe in your small home in the bunker. He was absolutely against the idea of you going to the surface with any of his brothers for supply runs, almost getting to the point of panic attacks.

On the rare occasions that you and Donnie actually had time to act like an actual couple, you didn’t do much. You would usually cuddle and enjoy the company of one another, before eventually falling asleep in each other's arms. It wasn’t often that the two of you got to feel safe like that, and it was increasingly rare that you would feel as well rested, as you did after a cuddle session with Donnie.

Good future:

In a world in which you and Donnie didn’t have to worry about much more than whether you should be drinking Coca Cola or Pepsi with your pizza in the evening, the two of you had the time along with the mental and emotional excuse to build your relationship in a healthy manner. Both you and Donnie had your own interests, in which you respected and engaged each other. You would let Donnie talk hours on end about what he had been working on in his lab, and in turn he would do the same for you, often listening while tinkering with what he had just been talking about. It just made it easier for him to listen.

Donnie was for the most part a very relaxed boyfriend. He knew you were a grown adult, capable of taking care of yourself, allowing you large amounts of independence without getting bothered or insecure. However, Donnie could have his random moments of overprotection. The weather had been particularly bad, and it took you a little longer than usual to get? Donnie would start calculating the chances of you having gotten hurt, driving himself to a point of wild worry. That was usually right before you would make it through the door, where your now overly analytical and worried boyfriend would check you over five times, just to be sure that you were in fact okay.

It’s rare that you and Donnie would actually go out for dates. Donnie is generally most comfortable in his own home, and the thought of going out, being around a bunch of people, when your dates were supposed to be about just you and him, just didn’t sit right with Donnie. It was no secret that his social batteries had a tendency to run out fast when out and about, so he would much rather spend the night home alone with you, watching a movie, eating comfort food, or geeking out over something together. And it also tended to be much cheaper, which was a win for the both of you.

Donnie has never been much for PDA. He’s very affectionate when the two of you are alone, but when other people are around and he starts masking, he tends to get physically distant, and will often have a hard time with things touching him. However, he’s always up for a good banter. A small argument between the two of you, with well thought out points, that never went beyond smiles, actually taking joy in whatever back and furth you had, was a kind of affection Donnie often engaged in, no matter who was around. Other’s quickly learned to just let the two of you at it, and that those smiles were actually real. You guys enjoyed it. It was fun, and both of you understood what was going on. No need to spoil a good and functioning thing.

[elodieunderglass]

It's not really my business, but honestly it feels like it would be advisable to hire a copyright lawyer. Like I don't feel like you're in it for the money, but it might be gratifying to have the guy milking your idea at least have to formally acknowledge you. I think I'd do it just for the peace of mind to know if I've been "legally" wronged or not. Either way, hope you continue to inspire, and live out a peaceful life.

(In reference to this post about the guy who pretends to have invented “Elder Teletubbies,” specifically how he is now kickstarting DnD minis of them.)

Ha, well, it’s all a little tricky I think. I might, hilariously, post on the r/legaladvice Reddit (even though they’re all cops lol) because the only thing I want here is for him to stop selling my “transformative work,” and ideally to stop pretending he invented it (which might be difficult as he appears to fully believe his work is creatively independent.)

I think if anything, my post counts as protected commentary or a transformative work of BBC’s Teletubbies, and I think it’s stinky to profit on that stuff in general (like I’m 190% okay with buying LotR fanart on stickers ! but I wouldn’t dream of trying to publish a fic with the serial numbers filed off. Why?)

I think ultimately I’m not a grifter, I’m a grownup, and I think it’s several levels of eye roll to sell fanart of a tv show on this level. I would be embarrassed to touch money made on that. I’m too fucking scrupulous and artisanal. I have toyed with a silly original novel for funsies since 2019 but keep saying things like, “oh, people will think this is too similar to something else that already exists” as if a silly original novel I write for fun has to somehow pass a Bar of Originality higher than anything salary-writers aim for.

I’m also pretty anti-intellectual-property myself in that leftist sense where I don’t believe people should be acting as if creative works are, like, oil. Like the resource extraction angle of intellectual property freaks me out, I don’t think getting super high-horse and snotty about Magical Brain Property is entirely compatible with the artisanal temperament I personally got going on here. I am like snufkin about this, simply smoking a pipe and making a flower crown saying “poor fools! Producing works for market, and serving as the guard dogs of the market, lest their work lose value if it becomes more common!” I do not have a high horse. I am not going to post 6900 words about the importance of defending fucking… Mickey Mouse. I buy those lotr stickers on Etsy! I do have a horse, but it’s a pretty low horse.

If it was his own work I would not care about this guy doing this in the least (apart from loftily calling it stinky - but hey, nerds are common and nerds are stinky, it’s not rare) IF he wasn’t STEALING FROM MY ANTI-COMMERCIALISATION DREAM TO DO IT.

That’s the bit that PISSES ME OFF too much to ignore: that and accepting compliments for being original like 😌 yes my twisted mind did this idk lol.

Like if you asked him point blank about the artistic choices he’d be like idk my twisted mind just sees the Teletubbies this way teehee! but if you ask ME why, for example, the adult Teletubbies live in the forest I’ll explain that in 2017 I was at a major life crossroads and this dream was ABOUT that. It was goodbye to my identity as a foreigner from the pine forests, and full steam ahead to settling permanently in the fucking shire (where the baby teletubbies on the bbc show live). It was about going back to work having had my first child, and saying goodbye to my various career dreams for myself (famous scientist! Published author!) as I chose instead, finally, the responsibility of working humbly as a public servant for the actual good of society. It is about witnessing the wild and saying “I am not of it, but it is my job to be its witness and voice.” That’s why the adult Teletubbies are dancing in my native forests while I’m watching them from the English hills. This guy doesn’t know that he just vaguely heard “spooky forest cryptid” and didn’t develop it at all, I do more work than that with FANFICTION in my time off!!!

So it’s really about nebulous stuff and ethics and not something worth paying a lawyer for I think!

But thank you so much for this, I think the thing that gets most perennial about it is the TOTAL GASLIGHTING of the “outside world” of the rest of the internet like, fully believing they invented this, and they DIDNT. They’re so wrong on the internet and they don’t know

[fruvittea]

late night jams

💌﹒→﹒roommate!vernon x reader ﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: slice of life, romance, fluff

— word count: 2.3k

— warnings? none

— synopsis: Vernon becomes your roommate after responding to an ad you posted. You quickly bond over your shared love of music, and late-night jam sessions turn into something more.

1:00 PM – Move-In Day

The apartment smells faintly of fresh paint and pine-scented cleaner when you unlock the door. Two suitcases rest by your side, and a backpack hangs off your shoulder, weighing you down as you step inside. The place is small but cozy—a combination of warm wooden floors and beige walls that will look less generic once you’ve hung up some posters. Your stomach flips with a mix of excitement and nerves. This is your first time living away from home, and though you’re ready for independence, the idea of sharing the space with a complete stranger makes your palms sweat.

You’ve only exchanged a few texts with Vernon, your new roommate. His messages were polite but sparse, like he wasn’t too keen on chatting beyond the basics. He mentioned he’d arrive a bit later, so you’ve got the apartment to yourself for now. You drag your suitcases into the room on the right, claiming it as your own. The window overlooks the street below, where cars hum by and people walk briskly, the late afternoon sun glinting off storefront windows.

By the time you’ve unpacked a few essentials and stacked your books on the desk, a knock sounds at the door. Heart thudding, you head to the living room and open it. There stands Vernon, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a guitar case in his other hand. His dark brown hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he gives you a small, lopsided smile.

“Hey, you must be…” he starts, trailing off as he glances down at the paper taped to the doorframe with your names on it. “Yeah, you. I’m Vernon.”

“And you must be Vernon,” you reply with a grin, stepping aside to let him in.

“Nice place,” he says, setting his things down and looking around. “Smells like a pine forest, though.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. “Yeah, I think they overdid it with the cleaning spray. It’ll wear off.”

He nods and gives you another small smile before heading to the room on the left. You’re not sure what to expect from him, but his quiet demeanor makes you think he’ll be easy to live with.

-

9:00 PM – The First Jam

Later that night, the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of your laptop. You’ve spent the evening settling in and scrolling through social media, and you’re just about to call it a night when a soft melody drifts through the walls. At first, you think it’s coming from outside, but then you realize it’s Vernon.

You press your ear to the door, curiosity getting the better of you. He’s playing the guitar, the notes soft and smooth, accompanied by a low voice humming a melody. It’s unpolished but soothing, like he’s just idly strumming to unwind.

Unable to resist, you knock on his door. The music stops abruptly. “Yeah?” comes his muffled voice.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” you say, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “But that sounded… really nice. Are you working on something?”

The door opens slightly, and Vernon’s face appears. He looks a bit sheepish, his guitar still in his hands. “Oh, uh, thanks. Just messing around.”

“Do you… mind if I listen?” you ask, surprising yourself.

He hesitates for a moment but then steps back, letting you in. His room is sparse, with only a few belongings scattered around—a stack of notebooks on the desk, a small speaker by the window, and a record player in the corner. He sits back on the edge of his bed, cradling the guitar.

“It’s nothing special,” he says, but when he starts playing again, the soft chords fill the room with warmth. You sit cross-legged on the floor, watching as his fingers move effortlessly over the strings.

“Do you write your own stuff?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah, sometimes. It’s more of a hobby, though. Helps me clear my head.”

You find yourself mesmerized, not just by the music but by the way he seems completely at ease when he plays. It’s like the quiet, reserved Vernon you met earlier fades away, replaced by someone more open and free.

-

12:00 AM – Late-Night Confessions

What starts as one song turns into an impromptu jam session. Vernon hands you a notebook filled with lyrics, asking for your opinion. You’re surprised by how raw and honest his words are, a glimpse into a side of him you didn’t expect.

“These are really good,” you tell him, looking up from the page. “Why don’t you share them with anyone?”

He shrugs, fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar. “I don’t know. It’s personal, I guess. And, I mean, who’d want to hear this stuff anyway?”

“Are you kidding?” you say, incredulous. “People would love this. You’re really talented.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he gives a small, embarrassed laugh. “Thanks. That… means a lot.”

The two of you end up talking well into the night, sharing stories and bits of your lives that you wouldn’t normally share with someone you’d just met. There’s something about the quiet intimacy of the moment that makes it easy to open up. By the time you finally head to bed, you’re struck by how comfortable you feel around him already.

-

Two Weeks Later

Living with Vernon quickly becomes easier than you’d imagined. He’s tidy, respects your space, and, most importantly, he’s just… good company. You find yourself looking forward to the evenings when the two of you sit in the living room, him with his guitar and you with whatever book or project you’re working on.

One night, you’re in the middle of cooking dinner when you hear Vernon humming in the kitchen. He’s scrolling through his phone, absently tapping a rhythm against the counter.

“That’s catchy,” you say, stirring the pot on the stove. “What is it?”

He looks up, startled. “Oh, just something I’ve been working on. It’s not done yet.”

“Can I hear it?”

He hesitates but then nods. Grabbing his guitar from the corner of the room, he plays the melody he’d been humming, adding a few lyrics. It’s rough, but you can hear the potential in it.

“You’ve got to do something with this,” you say. “Seriously, Vernon, this is too good to keep to yourself.”

He laughs softly. “Maybe someday.”

-

Late Night Breakthrough

Weeks turn into months, and your late-night jam sessions become a ritual. One night, Vernon asks you to help him come up with a chorus for a song he’s stuck on. You’re hesitant at first, but he insists, handing you the notebook and encouraging you to try.

“Just write whatever comes to mind,” he says, strumming a few chords. “There’s no wrong answer.”

You take a deep breath and scribble down a few lines, then hand it back to him. He reads them over, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “This is great,” he says, his tone sincere. “Really. Let’s try it.”

As he sings the lyrics you wrote, you can’t help but feel a swell of pride. It’s a small thing, but the fact that he values your input means more than you expected.

-

8:00 PM – The Apartment’s Atmosphere

The apartment feels alive tonight. Vernon’s guitar case leans against the couch, and the coffee table is strewn with lyric-filled notebooks and empty cups of tea. The faint scent of vanilla candles mingles with the cool breeze slipping through the slightly ajar window. It’s a typical scene for you and Vernon, but tonight, there’s a new energy.

After weeks of brainstorming, tweaking melodies, and scribbling down lyric ideas at odd hours, one of Vernon’s songs finally feels complete. It’s a quiet victory, marked by his satisfied grin as he strums the last chord. You’re sitting cross-legged on the rug, your fingers resting on a notebook, feeling like you’ve been part of something bigger than yourself.

“It’s done,” Vernon announces, his voice light with relief. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’ve been working on it for so long,” you say, your grin mirroring his. “It’s amazing, Vernon. Seriously.”

He leans back, running a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All those late nights and random ideas you threw out? They made a difference.”

Your heart swells at the compliment. “I just threw out words. You’re the one who turned them into something magical.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a team effort.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the final chord lingers in the air. You both sit there for a moment, basking in the shared accomplishment.

-

9:30 PM – The Idea

“You should share it,” you blurt out, breaking the silence.

Vernon’s eyebrows lift slightly, and he sets his guitar down. “Share it? Like, online?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning forward. “Or perform it. You’ve got talent, Vernon. People need to hear this.”

He hesitates, a shadow of doubt flickering across his face. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s personal. What if people don’t get it? Or worse, what if they hate it?”

“They won’t hate it,” you insist, your voice firm. “And even if some people don’t get it, so what? You wrote this for yourself, right? That’s what matters.”

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze searching. Then he nods slowly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Maybe you’re right.”

-

10:15 PM – Planning the Debut

You and Vernon brainstorm how to share his music with the world. He’s not one for grand gestures, so you settle on something intimate: a live stream. It’s low-pressure, just him and his guitar in the cozy apartment, playing for whoever stumbles upon the video.

“We could set up here,” you suggest, gesturing to the corner of the living room by the window. “The lighting’s nice, and it’ll feel authentic.”

Vernon nods, his confidence growing as the plan takes shape. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

You spend the next hour setting up. The coffee table gets cleared, fairy lights are strung along the windowsill, and Vernon’s guitar is tuned to perfection. You even dig out an old tripod for his phone, ensuring the angle captures him and the warm glow of the room.

As the clock ticks closer to showtime, Vernon’s nervous energy becomes palpable. He paces the room, muttering lyrics under his breath and shaking out his hands.

“You’re going to be great,” you reassure him, placing a hand on his arm. “Just play like it’s one of our late-night jams. No pressure.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

-

11:30 PM - The Performance

The live stream starts, and for the first few moments, it’s just Vernon sitting in front of the camera, his guitar resting on his lap. The viewer count is low at first, just a handful of usernames popping up in the corner of the screen. But as he begins to play, his voice steady and rich, more people join.

You watch from behind the camera, your heart swelling with pride. He’s in his element, completely absorbed in the music. The chat fills with comments, all variations of “Wow,” “This is amazing,” and “I needed this tonight.”

When he finishes the song, he looks up at the screen, his lips curving into a shy smile. “Thanks for listening, everyone,” he says, his voice soft. “This one’s been a long time coming.”

He plays a few more songs, the energy in the room shifting from nerves to something more celebratory. By the time he wraps up, the viewer count has climbed into the hundreds, and the chat is overflowing with messages of encouragement.

-

11:55 PM – Post-Show Glow

After the stream ends, Vernon leans back on the couch, letting out a long exhale. “That was… intense,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“You killed it,” you reply, plopping down beside him. “Seriously, Vernon, you were amazing. Did you see how many people tuned in?”

He grins, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Yeah, that was wild. I didn’t expect so many people to care.”

“Well, they do,” you say, nudging his shoulder. “And now they’re all going to be waiting for your next song.”

He laughs, the sound light and carefree. “No pressure, right?”

-

12:15 AM – Reflection

The apartment has settled into a comfortable quiet again, the adrenaline of the live stream fading into a warm afterglow. Vernon sits cross-legged on the floor, strumming his guitar idly, while you stretch out on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“Thanks for pushing me to do this,” he says after a while, his voice breaking the silence. “I don’t think I would’ve done it without you.”

You turn your head to look at him, a soft smile on your lips. “You would’ve done it eventually. I just sped up the process.”

He shakes his head. “No, really. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. That means more than you know.”

His words settle over you, warm and genuine, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The only sound is the soft strumming of his guitar and the distant hum of the city outside.

Vernon looks up from his guitar, his gaze meeting yours. His voice is soft but steady when he adds, “…And I don’t want to lose what we have.”

His words hang in the air, and you suddenly realize just how much these late-night moments have come to mean to both of you.

As the clock strikes midnight, you feel a quiet sense of contentment. This is what home feels like—a place where late-night jams turn into something magical, where shared dreams and quiet moments become the foundation of something bigger.

And as Vernon starts to hum a new melody, you can’t help but wonder what’s next for the two of you—as roommates, as friends, and maybe, just maybe, as something more.

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

[causenessus]

Hi! Congratulations on your 1K, you really deserve it! I've just seen your post about your event and was thinking of sending something. Could you write ⭐️ with Sakusa where the reader is his roommate and suffer from insomnia ? And could the reader be personality-wise like Sakusa, but the two are already close friends or whatever you want them to be ? This is maybe silly lol, anyway thank you for this event it’s really cool!

can't sleep? | sakusa k.

sakusa x f!reader

written in second person

one word prompt from 1k followers event: ⭐ -> insomnia

"maybe i'll just place my hands over you and close my eyes real tight. there's a light in your eyes and you know <3" from look on down from the bridge by mazzy star

word count: 2.8k words

anon. thank u for this. u have fed all the omi girlies well tonight <3 thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy this fic!!!

notes: lots of fluff <3 THEY ARE STRETCHING!!! JUST STRETCHING TOGETHER i stress this bc i couldn't take myself seriously and even y/n has a moment of "should i ask what we are after this?" but they're just stretching okay. also i frequented this list of stretches and literally followed its order so in case you want to know what stretch they're doing LMAO THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD I'M SORRY 😭 i attempted to proofread this!!! but i'm sorry for any typos </3

THANK YOU TO @nectardaddy FOR HELPING ME DECIDE ON A COLOR AND MAKING ME VERY EXCITED TO WRITE THIS!! I HOPE YOU ALSO ENJOY IT <3

kiyoomi likes his routines. he likes to be home by a certain time, eat dinner at a certain time, make sure the dishes are washed, and then he likes to retire to bed by a certain time. when he decided to find a roommate in order to split costs, he had been slightly worried that his routines would be ruined, but the universe had worked in his favor.

you had been his first option. he hadn’t even tried to send out messages to anyone else "just in case you declined his offer," he had just simply hoped you would say yes. you were quite frankly everything he could hope for as a roommate; he had known from the times you'd hung out throughout your years in high school that you liked things to be clean similar to him, and trying to find a time for you both to meet up throughout college meant he knew that your current schedules would line up nicely.

and luckily you had agreed enthusiastically, excited to move in with one of your closest friends. it eased your mind to know he would also be organized and keep to himself, which was not something you could say if you had moved in with someone like atsumu (would only become a reality if you had no other option) or osamu (you would consider it, after a lot of convincing and compromising).

and kiyoomi had been right. the decision to room had worked out perfectly in nearly every way. you always got home before him and would make your own dinner and take care of your dishes, leaving the place empty and spotless for him by the time he returned. sometimes, you even left notes for him, saying you had leftovers that he was free to eat if he wanted. 

and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. you were good friends, after all, and one of the few people he found he could always tolerate even when a day had stressed him out. but you both had agreed that you liked having time in the kitchen to yourself rather than two of you trying to be in there at the same time. it wasn’t anything personal; you were both independent people who valued their alone time. and when he saw you around the apartment, he never failed to talk to you, even if it was just a small nod of acknowledgment. you always had a calm and collected kind of demeanor, which he reasoned he liked because it was similar to him, in contrast to the men who had too much energy for their own good that he was surrounded by every day.

your similar attitudes had also led to a lot of shared nights together. sometimes on the nights when you stayed a little bit later at work or school, he would come home and you’d still be eating at the counter, zoned out on your phone, not even noticing him until he placed his bag on the table.

“oh, sorry, omi. welcome back, i can leave–”

“no, you’re fine. stay there,” he’d cut you off.

he’d navigate around the kitchen, gathering what he needed while you continued eating your own meal. sometimes things were peacefully silent between you both as you resumed scrolling on your phone; you were just two roommates in their kitchen, illuminated by the warm light of a hanging lamp overhead. other times you asked him how his day was, and you would both chat while he made his own dinner, and if his day was bad, sometimes you invited him to watch a movie with you.

that was something that had confused him. he always was preparing himself to say no, that he was tired, or that he just wanted to be in bed in an hour, but instead he often found himself agreeing to the proposal. he realized after a bit of thought that it was because he liked being around you. he was willing to amend his routines to include you in them.

a friend had once warned him that he could never really know someone until he lived with them. and he had found that with you, he only liked you more once he started rooming with you. he liked how responsible and respectful you were with everything you did, aware of your surroundings and the space you shared with him. he found that he looked forward to seeing you every day, and when your door was shut, sometimes he felt conflicted. like he wanted to see you, but he didn't have the right to invade your space so instead, he was stuck alone in his own room, with you across the hall.

the only problem between you both (although he hated to call it that) was how late you stayed up. but even then, you tried to be careful about how loud you were, stepping quietly over the aged floorboards and using minimal lighting to navigate your way through the apartment. 

he wasn’t going to call you out for it. it was only a mild inconvenience, and he knew you couldn’t really help it. you had warned him before you moved in that sometimes you got restless at night, unable to sleep no matter how badly you wanted to.

he didn’t mind, he told you, and you had signed the lease. and truthfully, he didn't. but recently, your sleepless nights had become more frequent. for him, he rarely struggled with the problem. he could easily pass out on his bed at any time of the day. but sometimes he would wake up to your footsteps through the thin walls.

part of him worried for you, thinking to himself that this was what, the eighth day in a row he had woken up to you wandering around? while another part of him (a very cranky one) really wanted you to go to bed (for your sake and his own).

he stepped out of his room, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust to the lighting of the living room lamp that was on. it wasn’t as bright as if you had turned on the overhead lights, but he’d just come from his pitch-black room.

you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest and biting the side of your thumb, still unable to get rid of how antsy you felt despite getting up from your bed. you looked up at him as he stepped into the room, the light of the screen reflecting against the side of your face, “oh god, omi. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

the moment he sees the bags under your own eyes, any hint of irritation he felt about being woken up immediately fades. “it’s fine,” he says, coming to sit with you on the edge of the couch, “can you not sleep?”

you exhale a long breath through your nose at the question, “no. it’s been bad lately. i can’t fall asleep or i wake up a few hours later just feeling even more tired.”

“so you’re watching tv?” he says, raising his brows and looking at you. you purse your lips, pouting under his gaze, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

you give him a small nod, “yeah. i mean, i’m really tired but i can’t sleep so i came out here to watch something.”

“well screens aren’t going to help you fall asleep,” he chides and you sigh.

“i knew you were going to say that. but what else am i supposed to do?” you complain.

“have you tried stretching?” he suggests.

you look at him, brows raised in confusion, “no, why would i do that?”

he rolls his eyes at your sass but it can’t be helped. he really only knows about the benefits of stretching because they’ve been ingrained into his mind from years of volleyball, “it helps relax your body, especially when you're stiff or sore so that you can go to bed. it’s what i do when i can’t sleep.”

“oh,” you reply, playing with a stray string coming out of the couch.

it’s silent for a moment. “are you not gonna do it? are we just gonna sit here in silence?”

you look up at him in embarrassment, “well, i don’t know what stretches to do! you don’t have to stay up with me, omi. you can go back to sleep. i don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.”

he sighs, laying back and sinking into the couch, “i’m not sleeping until you do.”

“well then tell me what i should do,” you say, extending your legs in front of you, placing them firmly onto the ground so you’re sitting up.

he stands and your eyes follow him curiously, unsure of where he’s going. eventually, he’s standing behind you at the back of the couch, and turns your head forward so that you’re looking directly at the wall in front of you. “what are you doing?” you ask, body going rigid.

“i’m just guiding you through some of these stretches, relax,” he answers and feels you calm down, letting him push your head gently towards one shoulder. his hand is on your opposite shoulder, keeping it straight while you feel a stretch in your neck.

“thanks,” you mumble as he repeats the movement for the other side of your neck. he gives you a small “mhm” in response, focused on making sure you’re feeling the stretch without hurting you.

he ends up leading you to the ground, modeling the stretches for you so that you can follow along. he guides you to lay on your side, with one arm extended out in front of you while the other is behind you, and you face each other as you both lay there, arms mimicking a T.

you giggle, unable to control yourself as you stare into his eyes. “what’s so funny?” he chuckles, smiling at the sound of your laughter.

“i just feel so stupid right now,” you answer, shifting slightly in your position. “but this is helping a bit, i think. i’m feeling a little better.”

he hums in acknowledgment of your words, his smile staying on his face before you switch to the other side.

“what’s next?” you ask, sitting up.

“do you know what the cat-cow is?” he asks, brushing off his arms from where they touched the ground. when you look at him, mouth agape, he gives you a defensive look back, unsure of what caused your reaction. “what?” he says, tilting his head slightly.

“omi, i’m not getting on my hands and knees,” you say, embarrassed that you even have to explain yourself, but you’d rather say it than humiliate yourself further on all fours.

“oh my god,” he rolls his eyes, putting a palm to his face, “you’re turning this into something it’s not. i’m not gonna look at you or anything. i’ll even turn away, okay? just do it, it’s good for you. i’m tired of hearing you complain about your back.”

you sigh dejectedly but comply, moving into the position. you can’t deny that you feel less stiff, but you also can’t help but overthink the entire situation. if anyone had told you a year ago that the man you had been crushing on for years was going to ask you to move in with him and months later he’d be on the floor stretching with you because he really wants you to be able to sleep, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but this was reality, and this felt like an intimate moment between you both. you were unsure of what to make of the situation; it had come as a big enough shock that he cared enough about your sleep. but you also shouldn’t have been that surprised. 'he’s just being a good friend,' you try to reason. he asked you to move in because no one in their right mind would want to live under the same roof as atsumu, and you both value a clean, organized house.

but where were you supposed to draw the line between friends and something more?

his careful attentiveness towards you had started to make you think that maybe he saw you as more of a friend as well. you never imagined that he would ever want you to stay in the kitchen with him while he was cooking when it had been a bad day, and you were even more surprised the first time he agreed to watch a movie with you. you considered yourselves good friends but you didn’t expect him to actually want to spend so much time with you on top of everything else he had going on. he never seemed to tire of seeing you around the house; instead, he always made sure to say hi or ask how your day had been.

you wanted to bring it up to him soon, you really did. the feeling was starting to eat away at you, and this night together wasn’t helping in the slightest.

after a few more stretches, you stood up, reaching your arms above you as you yawned. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he asks, following you up and dusting off his clothes.

the thought of going back to your stuffy room makes you drop your arms and the content look on your face fades away. you felt tired, but something about your room just felt so unwelcoming. you didn’t want to walk back in there, where the air would feel heavy, your mattress would be too stiff, your pillow too soft, and blanket too scratchy. there was always something that bothered you about your bed every night, and being alone with your thoughts again would prevent you from falling asleep. you’d be stuck tossing and turning in your bed on a bed that never felt clean or comfortable, you could already feel it. 

“what’s wrong?” he steps into your line of sight. you look up at him as a thought crosses your mind, making you immediately look back down at the ground, face turning red.

“um–” you start, and then immediately close your mouth. it was a stupid thought.

but what’s the worst he could do? say no? give you a disgusted look? kick you out into the cold after spending half an hour stretching with you? that last one was a little extreme, but maybe you’d say it and he’d laugh in your face. or gag (being dramatic, again). either way, whatever he said, if it wasn’t a yes, your life would be forever ruined.

“y/n,” he says, and you look back up at him, feeling like you’re about to collapse under the weight of his gaze. but your mouth opens, unable to keep it in.

“i just–” you have to stop to take in a deep breath, the words getting caught in your throat. he keeps looking at you the entire time, waiting to listen to what you have to say. “i don’t want to go back to my own bed,” you blurt, finally spitting it out. “it just doesn’t feel right. i don’t know how to explain it, but i know i won’t be able to sleep alone in my own bed. i’m sorry,” you add an apology on at the end, feeling embarrassed by your own confession.

when he doesn’t respond, you feel even worse. “nevermind, forget i said anything, i’m so sorry. thank you for helping me stretch, i’m going to go to bed now–” you spin on your heel, moving to run away as calmly as you can manage when he catches your wrist. you let out a small exclaim of surprise at the touch as he turns you back around.

“don’t apologize. and don’t lie to me. i want you to sleep,” he says, looking away as he runs a hand through his hair, preparing to say his next few words. “would it–” he shuts his mouth, feeling the anxiety settle in his chest, “would it help to sleep with me?”

neither of you are looking at each other. he’s staring at the wall and you’re looking at the floor, face hot and burning. “if you don’t mind, i think it would,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear and look back at you, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

he’s still holding your wrist, too, he realizes, but he doesn’t let go. he runs a thumb along the side of your arm, grabbing your attention again. he’s looking you in the eyes, and he wants to tell you that he’s not uncomfortable with sleeping in the same bed as you. in fact, it’s quite the opposite, but he’s not sure what you’ll say back, so he settles for a neutral response, instead, “yeah. of course i’m fine with it.”

maybe in the morning, when he wakes up next to you, finds your limbs entangled with his under his sheets, and sees the sunlight peeking through the curtains and onto your skin, he’ll be able to choke out a three-word confession. but for now, he only leads you silently to his room, letting you slip under the covers first before he follows after, holding you close.

[adafruit]

🎄💾🗓️ Day 18: Retrocomputing Advent Calendar - Commodore 64🎄💾🗓️

The Commodore 64, released in 1982, is one of the ones we keep hearing got many people their start in their own computing history. Powered by a MOS Technology 6510 processor at 1.02 MHz and featuring 64 KB of RAM, it became the best-selling single computer model of all time, with an estimated 12.5–17 million units sold. Its graphics were driven by the VIC-II chip, capable of 16 colors, hardware sprites, and smooth scrolling, while the SID (Sound Interface Device) chip delivered advanced audio, supporting three voices with waveforms and filters, making it a lot of fun for gaming and music.

Featured a built-in BASIC interpreter, allowing users to write their own programs out-of-the-box. The C64’s affordability, large software library, lots of games, productivity, and educational applications made it a household name. It connected to TVs as monitors and supported peripherals like the 1541 floppy disk drive, datasette, and various joysticks. With over 10,000 commercial software titles and a thriving homebrew scene, the C64 helped define a generation of computer enthusiasts.

Its impact on gaming was gigantic, iconic titles like The Last Ninja, Maniac Mansion, and Impossible Mission. The C64 also inspired a demoscene, where programmers pushed its hardware for visual and audio effects. The Commodore 64 remains a symbol of computing for the masses and creative innovation, still loved by retrocomputing fans today.

Check out the National Museum of American History, and Wikipedia. https://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/object/nmah_334636 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commodore_64

And…! An excellent story from Jepler -

== While I started on the VIC 20, the Commodore 64 was my computer for a lot longer. Its SID sound chip was a headline feature, and many of my memories of it center around music. Starting with Ultima III, each game in the series had a different soundtrack for each environment (though each one was on a pretty short loop, it probably drove my folks nuts when I would play for hours). There were music editors floating around, so I tried my hand at arranging music for its 3 independent voices, though I can't say I was any good or that I have any of the music now. You could also download "SID tunes" on the local BBSes, where people with hopefully a bit more skill had arranged everything from classical to Beatles to 80s music.

Folks are still creating cool new music on the Commodore 64. One current creator that I like a great deal is Linus Åkesson. Two videos from 2024 using the Commodore 64 that really impressed me were were a "Making 8-bit Music From Scratch at the Commodore 64 BASIC Prompt", a live coding session (http://www.linusakesson.net/programming/music-from-scratch/index.php) and Bach Forever (http://www.linusakesson.net/scene/bach-forever/index.php) a piece played by Åkesson on two Commodore 64s.

Like so many things, you can also recreate the experience online. Here's the overworld music for Ultima III: https://deepsid.chordian.net/?file=/MUSICIANS/A/Arnold_Kenneth/Ultima_III-Exodus.sid&subtune=1 -- the site has hundreds or thousands of other SIDs available to play right in the browser.

Have first computer memories? Post’em up in the comments, or post yours on socialz’ and tag them #firstcomputer #retrocomputing – See you back here tomorrow!

[peachhcs]

Hiii!!

I was wondering if you could write something for samy and will based on this article: https://www.nhl.com/canadiens/news/my-man-mireille-boutin-on-michael-pezzetta?utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=post&utm_campaign=CHCcontent&utm_content=EN-0514-MyMan

Basically the nhl team’s media people asking the players’ significant other questions about them. Thanks so much :))

my girl: will smith on samy hughes

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

nhl elite prospects interviews will about samy & their relationship!

1k words

this was suppperr cute to write. i swear will’s a yapper when it comes to talking about samy. i switched it from the article so it was will talking about samy, hope u don’t mind, but i loved this request!!

au masterlist

"we've been best friends since we were kids. everything just makes more sense when i'm around her."

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN — samy hughes is known for her tough offense on the soccer field.

but off the field, she's the "best person i've ever known," according to her boyfriend, will smith, a boston college forward.

while in san jose for a development camp, the nhl elite prospects were able to catch up with smith to ask him how he's been doing, including how his new relationship's been treating him.

TELL US ABOUT YOUR DYNAMIC GROWING UP.

it's funny because we never hung out by ourselves a lot when we were kids. i was pretty attached to her older brothers [quinn, jack, and luke] and she was attached to my sister [grace smith], so we never really hung out that much until we were older. although, we always got along. when we did hang out we enjoyed talking to one another and poking fun as if we were siblings. we really didn't get closer until i moved up to plymouth for the usntdp.

WHAT CHANGED YOUR RELATIONSHIP FROM FAMILIAL TO ROMANTIC?

at least for me, as i got older, my feelings started changing towards her. i started seeing her as an annoying sister less and less and the more we hung out when i was in michigan, the more attached i grew i guess. we started just..doing stupid stuff together and i just really liked hanging out with her. all the times where i thought the things we did together was just a sibling dynamic, i slowly realized it was a lot more than that.

WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO ON YOUR FIRST DATE?

i took her out to dinner in ann arbor and then we walked around for a bit before sitting on a bench and just talking for hours. it was definitely weird at first, but we eased into one another and it was fun getting to know her on a different level than what i've always known her as.

WHAT ATTRACTED YOU MOST TO HER?

her personality for sure. she's super outgoing, always knows what she wants, very independent, super caring. we're very similar in many aspects, hence why we're best friends. she looks up to her brothers a lot which i admire because i also look up to them. i also enjoy her extensive knowledge of hockey because of her family, so it's easy talking about the game with her. she's just always been someone i go to when i need a shoulder to lean on and it's just so easy with her, you know? i love getting to call her so we can talk about our days together.

OF COURSE, HOCKEY'S IN SAMY'S ROOTS. DO YOU GET HER ON THE ICE WITH YOU EVER?

oh yeah, 100%. whenever we're back at michigan or in boston, we're on the ice. she's the one dragging me outside sometimes so we can play 1v1 or something. she's always had that love for hockey even if she doesn't play competitively anymore. i also love seeing her out there because it's what bonded us when we were kids, so it's nice still getting to go out and do it with her. somehow she still beats me too. she doesn't play for 4 months and then we're back on the ice together she scores 3 goals before i can even get the puck in my possession. the guys chirp at me whenever that happens if they're around.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU WATCH HER SOCCER GAMES?

every single one of them are on my computer. it doesn't matter what i'm doing. as soon as the live stream starts, i'm booting it up to watch. the guys love watching her play, so i always get to turn it on the tv and then we scream at the stream for two hours together.

SPEAKING OF THE GUYS, WE HEARD SHE HAS A GREAT RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR LINEMATES AS WELL.

leno and perreault absolutely adore her which i think is really sweet. i was a little worried when i first introduced all of them back when we moved to mich, but the three of them grew close really quickly. sometimes i think they're more excited to see her than i am and that's saying a lot.

WE HEARD HUGHES IS A GREAT COOK. HAS SHE COOKED ANYTHING FOR YOU?

when we're at the lake house she loves cooking all of us breakfast. she makes a great omelette and french toast, like, the best i've ever had. we all go crazy for her breakfast in the mornings.

DO YOU GUYS EVER TRAIN TOGETHER DURING THE SUMMER LIKE RUNNING OR WORKING OUT?

i'm not a huge runner, but sometimes i will run with her when she goes out, or i'd bike along side her. our training schedules are pretty different, but when we're in the offseason we'd occasionally hit the gym together or do some casual workouts that won't kill us. she knows what the hockey training is like so it's no stranger to her when she does follow my lead. soccer, on the other hand, is a lot more sprints and footwork which is sometimes helpful for me.

CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT SOME OF SAMY'S BEST QUALITIES?

shes a huge team player. she's always looking out for those girls on her soccer team, helping them run drills, being someone to talk to—i really admire her for that. she's got a real big heart too. her love is so contagious. she's dependable, trustworthy, kind, beautiful—the list could go on coming from me.

ANY LAST WORDS YOU WANT US TO ADD?

i love her, haha. our parents knew way before us that we would end up together before we even knew. we've been best friends since we were kids. everything just makes more sense when i'm around her. this is probably corny, but i wanna spend the rest of my life with her. she's my rock.