#and went on to become either an author or composer

[austin-friars]

another fun project I want to work on and put together, is just writing about queer historical figures, and historical figures that i actually suspect were gay, queer, etc. not just tudor era people but like...just queer people both confirmed, and speculated through history.

[pinkmoontaco]

It all started at a Set || KMG Pt.1

Pairing: Actor-Idol Mingyu x Actress-Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: This story is a heartwarming slow-burn romance between Mingyu and Y/N, a senior idol. It begins with them being cast as co-stars in a drama where their contrasting personalities—Mingyu’s vibrant, outgoing nature and Y/N’s reserved, composed demeanor—become the catalyst for an unexpected connection. Throughout their journey, they face professional challenges, emotional conflicts, and growing feelings for one another. Author's Note: This is the second story of my series, "It All Started..." As I was writing, the story evolved into something much bigger than I initially imagined, so I decided to divide it into three parts to give it the attention and depth it deserves. To everyone who has supported my series so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouragement and feedback have been a driving force behind my writing, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this part of the story. Stay tuned, because there’s so much more to come, and I promise the journey will only get more exciting from here. Thank you for being part of this adventure with me—I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed creating it!

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

M.list Part one _ Part two _ Part three

Mingyu wasn’t sure what prompted him to accept the role this time. At first, it seemed like any other offer—another chance to showcase a different side of himself. But something about the script resonated with him on a deeper level.

The character's struggle to balance vulnerability and strength mirrored his own challenges in navigating fame. He felt an unspoken connection to the story, as if it was calling him to confront parts of himself, he had kept hidden.

Perhaps that’s why, despite his initial doubts, he agreed to take the leap. Maybe it was the persistent urging of his members, maybe it was his own curiosity, or maybe, just maybe, it was the script that had managed to tug at something deep within him. Either way, he found himself on the set of "Between Us," his first lead role in a drama, both nervous and excited.

The buzz around the project had been immediate, not just because of Mingyu but because of his co-star. Y/N, a senior idol, had been cast as the female lead. She was a name that carried weight in the industry—the leader of her group, a revered idol with an aura of mystery. Known for her icy demeanor and guarded nature, she seemed to embody mystery and restraint, creating an intriguing contrast to Mingyu’s radiant, extroverted charm. While her reserved nature drew admiration, it also set the stage for a fascinating interplay with Mingyu’s infectious energy, sparking curiosity about how their opposite temperaments might evolve together. It was a pairing that intrigued fans and critics alike.

When they met for the first table read, Mingyu was struck by how composed she was. She greeted him with a polite nod, her expression unreadable. Mingyu, ever the extrovert, tried to break the ice with a joke.

“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he said, his signature grin in place. “I hope you’re ready for my bad jokes.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I’ll brace myself,” she replied coolly before turning her attention to the script.

From that moment on, their interactions were polite but distant. On set, Mingyu would try to engage her in conversation, but Y/N kept her responses short. It wasn’t that she was rude; she just seemed... guarded. Mingyu couldn’t help but be intrigued. What was she hiding behind that composed facade?

As the weeks went by, they began filming scenes that required emotional depth and vulnerability. The plot of "Between Us" revolved around two people who initially clashed but slowly fell in love as they unraveled each other’s secrets. The parallels between the characters and their real-life dynamics didn’t escape Mingyu.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Mingyu found Y/N sitting alone by the set, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the scene.

“Hey,” Mingyu said, approaching cautiously. “You okay?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

Mingyu sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “You were amazing in that scene,” he said sincerely. “I felt like I was watching your character come to life.”

She looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thank you. You did well too.”

It was the first time she’d offered him a genuine compliment, and Mingyu felt a small thrill of accomplishment. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sky change colors.

“Do you ever get tired?” Y/N asked suddenly. “Of being... this?”

Mingyu frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Of always being expected to be perfect. To smile, to perform, to never let your guard down,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu thought for a moment before replying. “Sometimes. But I think it’s okay to not be perfect. People connect with us because of our flaws, not despite them.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable once more. But something shifted that day. She began to open up, little by little. Mingyu learned that behind her icy exterior was someone who cared deeply about her members, someone who carried the weight of leadership with grace but also with a heavy heart.

The rest of the cast and crew began to notice the change in their dynamic. During breaks, they often saw Mingyu and Y/N sharing quiet conversations or laughing at inside jokes. One day, a crew member walked in on Mingyu patiently teaching Y/N a card game to pass the time, his enthusiasm contagious as Y/N, known for her reserved nature, playfully accused him of cheating.

“Cheating? Me?” Mingyu feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m wounded, Y/N. Truly.”

“Wounded or not, you’re still losing,” Y/N shot back with a rare grin.

Another time, during a particularly chilly outdoor shoot, a makeup artist caught Mingyu draping his jacket over Y/N’s shoulders without a word, brushing off her protests with a casual, “You’ll catch a cold.”

The director, amused by their growing rapport, once joked, “If you two don’t win Best Couple at the year-end awards, I’ll be writing to the network myself.”

Even the extras started to notice their synergy, with one commenting during lunch, “Their chemistry isn’t just acting—it’s real.” Mingyu’s consistent warmth and Y/N’s subtle but significant thawing became a favorite topic of conversation among the crew, adding a special layer of excitement to the production. The once distant co-stars were now sharing inside jokes, supporting each other through difficult scenes, and even eating meals together during breaks. Mingyu’s patience and warmth had managed to crack Y/N’s walls, and she, in turn, became a grounding presence for him.

The turning point came during a particularly grueling shoot. It was a night scene set in the rain, with both leads expected to deliver emotionally charged performances. As Y/N sprinted down the wet pavement for a pivotal chase sequence, her ankle twisted, sending her collapsing onto the ground mid-scene. The crew froze, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain hammering down. Mingyu, standing nearby, dropped his prop and sprinted to her side.

“Cut!” the director shouted, but Mingyu was already kneeling beside Y/N, his voice tinged with panic. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

Y/N tried to sit up, brushing off the mud on her hands. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though the pain was evident in her eyes.

“No, you’re not,” Mingyu said firmly, his worry overriding his usual easygoing demeanor. He gestured for the on-set medic, his brows furrowed in concern. “You need to rest. This isn’t something to push through.”

Despite her protests, Mingyu carefully helped her to a nearby chair, his hand steady on her arm. His genuine concern was clear, and the crew exchanged knowing glances, murmuring about how protective he had become of her. In that moment, something shifted—not just between their characters, but in their real relationship as well.

The injury had forced Y/N to take it slow, and Mingyu took it upon himself to help her. He’d show up to set early to make sure the path was clear for her crutches, brought her snacks during breaks, and even offered to rehearse lines with her to save her unnecessary movement.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Y/N said one day, watching as Mingyu carefully adjusted her chair.

“Maybe,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “But I don’t mind.”

As “Between us” progressed, the romantic tension between Mingyu and Y/N on-screen began to mirror their growing connection off-screen. Their characters, who started out as strangers, gradually developed a deep emotional bond, with Mingyu’s warmth gradually melting Y/N’s cool exterior.

One evening, during a late-night shoot, the scene called for a quiet, intimate moment at the café. Mingyu’s character, Jae-min, had just confessed his feelings to Y/N’s character, Seo-yeon. The air was thick with tension as their eyes met, both characters hesitant yet longing.

“Are you sure you want this?” Jae-min asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he reached out to gently touch Seo-yeon’s hand.

Y/N, as Seo-yeon, looked at him, her expression unreadable, before slowly nodding. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to try.”

In the next moment, Jae-min leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, a gentle but tender kiss filled with the promise of something new. The director yelled “Cut!” immediately after the kiss, but both actors were left momentarily frozen, caught in the vulnerability of the moment.

Mingyu quickly stepped back, awkwardly scratching his head. “Uh, sorry, was that too much?”

Y/N, for the first time in a while, let out a soft laugh, something that startled Mingyu. “No, it was good,” she said quietly, her cheeks flushed. “You just… surprised me, I guess.”

That night, as they wrapped up filming, Mingyu couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the kiss had felt—how it wasn’t just an act but something real that he had experienced with her. Y/N, despite her usually cool demeanor, had shown a glimmer of warmth, and it left Mingyu wondering if the lines between their characters were blurring.

The next scene that stood out was a pivotal moment in the drama, where Jae-min (Mingyu’s character) confesses his love for Seo-yeon (Y/N’s character) during a stormy night. They were supposed to be alone in the café, the rain tapping against the window as Jae-min, drenched from the downpour, walked in to find Seo-yeon sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain.

“Seo-yeon,” Jae-min said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You’re the only one who sees me for who I really am.”

Seo-yeon turned to him, her eyes softening but still guarded. “But you know I’m not the person you think I am, right?”

The tension in the room was palpable as Jae-min walked toward her, his every step determined. “I don’t care,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I love you.”

The kiss that followed was more passionate, a moment of release for both characters. The scene was so intense that even the crew stayed silent as they filmed. When the director yelled “Cut,” both Mingyu and Y/N stood frozen in their positions, the chemistry between them undeniable.

During a break, Y/N walked off to the side, away from the set, clearly trying to collect herself after the emotional intensity of the kiss. Mingyu, sensing her discomfort, followed her quietly.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asked softly, standing a few feet away.

Y/N paused, looking at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, just… it’s a lot sometimes, you know?” She shrugged. “This role is… difficult for me.”

Mingyu gave her a gentle smile. “You’re doing amazing. I can tell. I know acting can be hard, but you make it look effortless.”

Y/N looked at him, her walls slowly starting to crack. “Thanks, Mingyu,” she said quietly, her tone sincere.

As she turned back to the set, Mingyu watched her, his heart unexpectedly racing. They might have started out as strangers, but something was beginning to stir between them, something neither of them had anticipated.

One of the final scenes in the drama was another intimate moment between Jae-min and Seo-yeon. The two characters had gone through their fair share of struggles, and in this scene, they finally gave in to their feelings for one another. The script called for a tender, lingering kiss under the moonlight, where Jae-min pulls Seo-yeon into his arms as they both acknowledge their deep connection.

As the cameras rolled, the chemistry between Mingyu and Y/N was undeniable. The kiss was gentle at first, with both characters hesitant, but as the scene progressed, their passion deepened. Their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss that was both vulnerable and full of longing, capturing the emotional weight of everything their characters had been through.

When the director finally called “Cut,” the entire set seemed to hold its breath. Y/N, who had usually kept a distance from Mingyu, seemed to soften in his arms, the connection between them palpable even off-camera.

During the next break, Mingyu found himself sitting next to Y/N, who had become noticeably more relaxed around him since their first interactions. They were both exhausted from the intense filming, but the mood between them was no longer cold.

“I didn’t know acting could be like this,” Mingyu admitted, his voice low. “It’s… more than just saying lines. It feels real.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s like… you let yourself be vulnerable for a moment.” She paused, then added, “You’re a good actor, Mingyu.”

Her words caught him off guard. He smiled, not able to hide his feelings anymore. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

There was a comfortable silence between them, and for the first time, Mingyu felt a genuine sense of connection to Y/N—not just as his co-star, but as someone who understood the depth of their roles and the emotions they had shared through their characters.

One memorable day, they filmed a scene where their characters shared their first kiss under a canopy of stars. The setup was breathtaking—fairy lights hanging from the trees, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the soft strumming of a guitar playing in the background.

Between takes, Mingyu leaned over with a grin. “They really went all out for this, huh?”

Y/N glanced around, her lips twitching into a rare smile. “It’s beautiful. Almost makes you forget we’ve been here for hours.”

The scene required them to hold hands, exchange lingering gazes, and lean into a kiss that felt as natural as breathing. When the director finally called, “Cut!” he looked up from the monitor and clapped. “That was perfect! The chemistry was off the charts.”

Another day, they filmed a playful sequence where their characters spent an afternoon at a seaside carnival. From riding the Ferris wheel to playing ring toss, the scenes were filled with laughter and lighthearted moments. While filming a shot where Mingyu’s character won a giant stuffed bear for Y/N’s character, he jokingly handed it to her and said, “This is the closest you’ll get to me spoiling you in real life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’ll cherish it forever,” she quipped, hugging the bear dramatically.

The most challenging yet rewarding scene to film came toward the end of the drama, where their characters finally confessed their feelings after a heated argument. The emotions ran high, and even the crew found themselves holding their breath as Mingyu and Y/N brought the raw vulnerability of their characters to life. By the time the director called cut, there was a moment of stunned silence before the set erupted into applause.

“You really outdid yourselves,” the director said, visibly moved. “This is the kind of performance that stays with people.”

Through these scenes, their bond grew stronger. Whether it was the stolen glances that felt too real or the way they naturally gravitated toward each other during breaks, it was clear to everyone that something special was blooming between them.

[dat-town]

my first and last forever

Characters: Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: fluff, established relationship, college au

Summary: You celebrate your first anniversary with your fashion designer boyfriend, so you stress over what to wear. Not that it matters, he loves you either way and his present is proof enough.

Warnings: birth names are used, teeny tiny suggestiveness because i couldn’t miss out on the reference for this cover, also cheesiness??

Words: 2.3k

Author’s note: happy birthday to my fellow leo (baby)! this is inspired by the fact that Taesan likes to customize clothes and this video where Leehan and him went to a stained glass workshop with a fan. title from Taesan’s self-composed song So I can say you’re beautiful (eng trans.)

Having an indie fashion brand owner boyfriend means quite a few things for your closet.

Number one, your clothing style starts to resemble his because he looks way too cool, gives great advice on how to match your pieces and he keeps buying you stuff.

Number two, except for a few items that never fail to make Dongmin crunch his nose in silent judgment (come on, it’s a Christmas sweater, it’s supposed to be ugly!), most of your clothes match his. Woonhak always comments on your couple look which in turn makes your boyfriend roll his eyes but you know that secretly he likes it.

Number three, you have pretty much every collection in every color of his brand’s clothes and those become your favorites (right after stealing Dongmin’s clothes).

Number four, choosing a date outfit without his input is killing you. When you don’t know what to wear usually you just ask him or send him options and let him choose but not this time though. You know he wouldn’t care even if you put on the bright yellow sundress he once compared to a children's crayon because he thinks you’re pretty no matter what but you would like to impress him, it’s your anniversary after all.

You weigh your chances as if you were on Who wants to be a millionaire?: you can ask the friend group over chat excluding Dongmin of course or give a call to his yapper best friend in case he knows something.

“No,” Jaehyun says immediately when he takes the phone call that you decided to make.

“Hello to you too. I didn’t even say what I want,” you pout, surprised at his reaction.

“Right but Dongmin has been going on and on about you guys’ anniversary for months I swear, so of course, I know what’s today and no, I’m not telling you what he’s planning,” Jaehyun rambled but you could tell it was clearly a rehearsed speech. He had expected this. Also you couldn’t help but internally coo at the thought of your indifference-looking boyfriend speaking so much about your upcoming celebration.

“Not even a little hint? How should I dress?” You voice out your dilemma and you can clearly hear Jaehyun laugh at your pain on the other side of the line.

“Ask your fashion designer boyfriend.”

“But I want to surprise him! He told me that anything’s fine and that’s not helping. I know him, I know we aren’t going to a super fancy restaurant or for a hike but still, there are so many options!” You whine and Jaehyun huffs.

“Dress comfortably and don’t wear too much jewelry but that’s all I can say,” he says before making a weak excuse that he gotta go, so he hangs up.

You sigh but manage to narrow down the options to two vastly different styles. One is a pale pink layered dress with ribbon strips which is very unlike anything in Dongmin’s wardrobe but he likes you in pink and he has a tiny bit of an obsession with you wearing ribbons or any strings tied. His mischievous ass likes to tug on them to see how much it takes for them to come undone or to get you annoyed. The other outfit is a fake leather, side slit skort with fishnet tights and one of his designs, a black crop top with colorful lettering. All three are also definitely things your boyfriend likes on you, so you’re stuck.

It’s time to ask the audience.

you guys!!! HELP [image_64735.jpg] [image_73628.jpg] which one should i wear? woon baby ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ you don’t laugh it’s a serious dilemma sanghyukie I would go with the first one you thank you, hyuk, you are a godsent princess wonnie ✨ OMG the pink?!?! is that a question? annabelle i vote the black one pls film the brainfreeze he gets when he sees you in that myungjae lol i second that sungho 💪 Please don’t cause him lasting damage 🙏 woon baby i love chaos so … the second donghyun-ah 🐠 👍 you [added a poll to group chat “daily dongmin gossip”]

The black outfit wins by one vote. You thank the guys for their input and start to get ready because you are already a bit too late compared to your estimate.

You dress up, do a smokey eye shadow makeup with cherry red lips, put on boots and pull your hair up in a high ponytail. Looking into the mirror, you know this look doesn’t seem anniversary-like at all with how dark it is but you are convinced Dongmin would like it and would even wear something similar. One last look in the mirror and one whiff of perfume applied, you are out of the door to catch the metro.

Your boyfriend is easy to spot even in the crowd at your destination station. He’s leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, looking as disinterested as one can be. He wears custom made sneakers, ripped jeans and a My Chemical Romance tee you bought him. You indeed match. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so you decide to sneak up on him. You’re two steps away from him when you see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to suppress a smile but his posture doesn’t change. You know that you got caught but because Dongmin tries so hard to let you have your fun, you pretend not to know. You crash into his side, rise on your tiptoes and press a quick kiss on his cheek with a giggle. It leaves a slight pink color behind on the skin, the same as the tips of the boy’s ears. It only makes you smile harder.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” he turns to you then, pushing the sunglasses up onto the crown of his head and somehow he manages to artfully mess up his black locks without looking silly while you are busy scrubbing his cheek clean. The next thing you know is his feline eyes zeroing in on your choice of clothes and he visibly swallows, you can see the bob of his Adam’s apple, which tells you that you made a right choice but he plays cool.

It reminds you of the first time you spoke, when he came up to you between university classes as you were grabbing a drink and asked if you would model for his fashion brand. Or well, he was rather offering you a part time job for a few thousand won. He was very serious about it but you were no model and your art university had a whole website for such scouting, so you were a bit suspicious.

“Why me?” You tilted your head, keeping eye contact because you literally couldn’t look away. Dongmin has always had the most beautiful eyes that sucked you in like a black hole.

“I think you would look good in my clothes,” he said and your eyebrows immediately shot up at the implications behind his words which he soon caught up on too. “I mean, my brand’s clothes,” he corrected himself and suddenly he looked shy. He wore all black and an intimidating bad boy aura and he was getting flustered by you.

“Show me?” You asked him with a sweet smile, stepping closer as he whipped out his phone to show you pictures on his brand’s Instagram (@giant_mountain_clothes). If you hadn’t been taken before by his charm, you were definitely impressed then by how cool his designs actually looked, so you followed each other on social media and agreed on a date for the photo session.

When the day came, Dongmin was all professionalism as he handed you the clothes (jeans with a pattern that looked like graffiti, black and white crop tops with pretty cool line art and typography) and he gave instructions both to you and the photographer about the poses and camera angles. By the end of it, you pretty much thought you had misunderstood his intentions last time. It would have been a bit disappointing if the modeling session turned out to be an awkward experience.

“Not gonna lie, at first I thought it’s just an excuse to ask me out but it’s very cool that you already have a brand like this during uni. And the clothes were super comfy, so I will make sure to stock up before you get famous,” you spoke up playfully after the photographer left and it was just the two of you alone. After changing back to your own clothes, you were allowed to roam around in the studio slash warehouse but you turned away from the sketches on the table when the silence became too loud, facing Dongmin who cleared his throat as soon as your eyes met.

“Well, would you have said yes?” He raised a brow, all nonchalant, but you smiled.

“Try asking,” you challenged him which made him laugh and the rest is history. One year has passed and you’re still going on strong.

Later you got to know that all of his previous models were either his friends or a friend of a friend, so him asking you was actually a big thing. Once you were added to the big friend group chat, Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him about it and telling you endearing details about how nervous Dongmin apparently was before that first modeling session of yours. Because of course, there were more following that.

Snapping back to reality, you tilt your head while looking at your boyfriend.

“Like it?” You ask as innocently as you can but your breath hitches when Dongmin slides a hand over your bare side protectively and leans closer to your ear.

“Very. Might ruin your lipstick later,” he promises in a low voice, his warm breath tickling your skin, then he pulls away but keeps his hand on you as he leads you out of the metro station. He walks slower deliberately, so you could keep up with his long legs.

“So… will you tell me now where we’re going?” You can’t help but inquire because curiosity has been bugging you so much. Dongmin asked you to make your day free in advance but he didn’t say anything about his plans and he gave no hints either. Unlike you who accidentally told him about the concert tickets you bought (which he first laughed about because of your overdramatic reaction but his face lit up nevertheless as if you brought him down the stars), he was too good at keeping secrets.

“You will see soon,” he grins at you with his boxy smile like a promise and doesn’t crumble even seeing your pout. He must really want to surprise you because that usually works.

And surprise he does when he takes you all over Insadong, to the second floor of a crammed, colorful building in the middle of an artsy district of the city to a jewelry studio.

“Wait… wait! Is this what I think it is?” You turn to your boyfriend with widened eyes when you see a poster about custom ring workshops beside the entrance. “Han Dongmin, you’re such a romantic!”

“Am not,” The boy denies immediately but he’s not looking into your eyes, apparently too busy searching up the confirmation email on his phone.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you mutter, smiling from ear to ear as you attach yourself to his side and crane your neck to look around in the studio. Now you understand why Jaehyun suggested wearing less jewelry for today’s activity.

You can’t stop smiling even as you are sitting down at a table after receiving protective gloves and an apron instructed to take measurements of the finger you want to make the ring for. You immediately reach out for Dongmin’s hand. There’s something intimate in the way your fingers slot together and you pay attention to every knuckle and even the needle scars on his fingertips from his hard work.

Dongmin is an artist and good at craft like that, so obviously the ring he makes for you is prettier than the one you make for him but he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. He doesn’t want perfection, he wants you with all your flaws and clumsy metalsmithing skills. It takes a few hours and a bunch of help from your instructors but you walk out of the studio with matching couple rings. Dongmin isn’t big on PDA but you can get away with holding his hand, the new rings still warm to touch grazing. You love holding his hand or just playing with his fingers; you love the casual intimacy of it, that you get to be close to him like this, connected in such a simple yet meaningful way.

At the metro, you nudge Dongmin’s side to make him look at you and there’s only fondness in his eyes which makes you feel spoiled. He always looks at you as if you were special.

“Thank you. I love it so much,” you tell him, wanting to commit this moment to your memories. Right next to the first time he told you he loves you. It was an accident, something he blurted out during play fighting while you acted pseudo sulky and you were so surprised you almost fell off the couch because he was an actions over words type of guy. You couldn’t make him say it again once realization hit both of you but you loved him in spite of it. Because of it. You just love him.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Dongmin smiles and you melt like every time he calls you that. You close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder, the ring bearing his initials feeling like a promise on your finger. He’s mine, mine, mine and I’m his, his, his, your heart chants all happy.

you [image_83464.jpg] woon baby i want to be the ringbearer at the wedding!! princess wonnie ✨ aww couple rings so cute! myungjae don’t flaunt your relationship in front of our single asses me when? TT

[devilishchaos]

Can you write a ruben smut where maybe it’s the middle of the night or maybe very early in the morning, and y/n and ruben are sound asleep in bed with ruben spooning her and at one point she probably having a dream and she unconsciously backs her behind towards ruben and starts moving slowly. And ruben wakes up and gently wakes her up. Upon letting her know what had just happened and becomes mortified but when he said he was into it, and making sure she consent, they do it from the back being impossibly close with the whole thing being intimate and passionate, and thank you for your writing - you're my favorite

Love on you | Rúben Dias imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, use of pet names "baby", "babe", "princesa"

AN: This is heaven! I LOVED this concept and I LOVED working on it, thank you so much. <3 enjoy x

Word Count: 1 975 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

When you woke up, it wasn’t to the sound of your alarm. You became aware of your consciousness when you felt a warm hand stroking up and down your arm. Then down your back, gliding over the oversized t-shirt you’d slept in, down to graze over your panties, finally landing on your hip. After a moment, it went in reverse, moving slowly, the touch so gentle and pleasant that it almost put you back to sleep. 

Still half out of it, your breathing stayed even, eyes remaining closed as you let Rúben trace over you. When he shuffled a bit closer, you could feel his chest pressed to your upper back, his hand changing its path to caress over the bare skin of your thigh up to your ass. Then there was a press of lips to your shoulder, so soft that you were almost sure you were dreaming. 

God, it felt good. You didn’t want him to ever stop. Barely able to compose a thought, you still registered how sweet it was, him just slowly kissing your skin and holding you close to him. Perhaps Rúben liked the feel of you as much as you did of him. 

When he moved to kiss your neck, your shoulder twitched up slightly and he paused for a moment before continuing. A quiet hum came out of you a moment later, unable to keep it in at the feeling of his lips pressing against you, your hair being gently combed out of the way. 

“Hi..” you said so quietly that it was barely audible at all. 

“You don’t have to wake up. I just wanted to touch you.” he grumbled low against your skin, arm tightening around your waist. 

“You can touch me.” you whispered back softly, about to doze off again with his permission. 

So he did, continuing to explore you with his lips as he caressed a finger over your midsection, almost tickling your ribs with how light his touch was. Somehow it was just making you more sensitive to him, faint chills erupting on your skin. 

“Is this okay?” Rúben asked directly in your ear while his fingers teased at the hem of your (his) t-shirt, pushing it up and slipping them under until his whole palm was pressed warm against you, starting at your hip and slowly moving up. 

“Mhmm..” you sounded in agreement, nodding a little as you adjusted your position a bit, pressing your ass back against him, happy to feel him against you. 

It would’ve been nice to roll over, pull him to you in a slow morning kiss. But you felt so at ease, body totally relaxed, plus you were a bit curious at what he might do next. The thought of it, paired with the feel of his erection hardening against your ass, were enough to have you excited, even in your dreamy state. 

“I’m going to kiss you. You can keep sleeping.” Rúben whispered, adjusting to sit up a bit more so he could trail his kisses over more of you, your t-shirt ending up bunched up so he could brush his lips over your hip and in the dip of your waist. 

Somehow your panties had been removed when your eyes fluttered a bit, you waking slightly once again to something warm grazing up and down the back of your thigh, teasing to the inner portion so that it was just brushing over your pussy. A faint whimper came out of you in your confusion, the light touch eliciting a feeling through your core so easily. Your nipples were hard, poking against your t-shirt uncomfortably. 

Another tantalizing brush over your pussy lips then the mattress was moving behind you again, weight causing your body to shift slightly. The movement up your thigh, against your cunt, up over your ass then back down became consistent, causing you to go back into your slumber. 

When you woke once more, the pleasure was much more intense, something hot and hard flicking back and forth over your clit and through the wetness at your entrance. You became aware of heavy breaths behind you, a quiet groan from Rúben coming out and causing your heart to race as your mind started to piece together the physical sensations with reality. 

A soft moan left you as your hips pushed back against the feeling, wanting more, suddenly hyper-aware of how needy your cunt was, how empty it felt, being teased over and over by his cockhead. 

“Fuck.” a low grunt came from the hot body pressed behind you. 

You whimpered at the sound, pussy clenching around the tip of him in invitation. When Rúben’s lips found your shoulder once again, you turned your head, blinking a few times to focus on him. Just as you locked gazes, he pushed in more, the sudden shock of the stretch causing you to gasp at him with wide eyes. 

“Oh, fuck. How do you feel so good, amor?” he groaned loudly before closing his eyes shut. 

Overwhelmed, your body took over, pulsing around his cock as your hips rolled back, trying to get him in deeper. He’d gotten you so wet and ready..now you just wanted to feel full. Once again, he was cursing, hand finding your hip and following your shallow movements. But it was too hard in your position to get as much as you wanted. 

“Please..baby.” you whined.

“Please what?” he asked, meeting your eyes before interrupting your ability to answer with his lips on yours. 

“More. I- I n- need more, need you to f- fuck me.” you moaned into his mouth, squirming against him in search of friction, before pulling back. 

He hummed into your neck, pulling you close with both arms wrapped around you until your torso was flush with him “Just wanted to feel you.”

A sad little whimper came out of you and you felt him twitching inside of you. 

“But you turned me on so much.” you whined quietly as you turned forward, grabbing the pillow and trying not to sound as bratty as you felt right then and there. 

“Mm, I know, baby. You got so wet for me. So cute and sexy, moaning and sighing in your sleep.” he whispered right in your ear. 

His words were making you clench more and more, causing you to soak his cock and the inside of your thighs. 

“Made me so fucking hard..fuck..I’m so hard for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” you whined once more “Please, meu amor, please fuck me. Wanna feel more of you.” 

“You have me, baby. I’m inside you.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Rúben chuckled quietly then just when you thought he was going to speak again, he thrust his hips forward sheathing the last few inches inside of you and making you cry out, gripping onto the arm that was wrapped around your middle and across your chest. 

“Oww, fuuuuck.” you moaned, your hips once again pushing forward and back, succeeding only in sliding him in and out an inch or so “Again, please.” 

“So whiny and needy this morning.” 

“For you. It’s your fault.” you told him, breathless already as your pussy ached. 

Thankfully, he listened, beginning to push his hips marginally, then a bit more, losing the lock on his lips when his cock started to slide in faster, breathing pretty little groans into the crook of your neck. 

Your back arched away from him, letting him press deeper. He felt so good, wrapped around you, pulsing inside of you. The wet sounds of him slipping into you over and over were audible, even from under the sheets. When he moved to prop himself back up, his hand switched to your hip to leverage his thrusts, allowing him to fuck into you harder. 

“Ahh, yes. Rúben, fuck- ” you choked out, everything getting more intense as he took advantage of his power. Already feeling like you could come too easily, you slipped your hand down between your legs, the addition of your fingertips swirling over your swollen clit, causing you to let out a throaty groan as you tensed around him. 

“You feel so good..” he moaned, practically whispering “Oh my, God.” It just made it better, how he sounded so soft, his voice breathy and needy. 

“You’re gonna make me come, Rúbes.” you mewled into your pillow, your hips pushing back to meet him, the pressure building inside of you as he pounded deep in your walls. 

“Ugh, yes- fuck, fuck, fuck..” the word fell from your mouth continuously, a bit louder, a bit tighter with the pleasure radiating from your core where your clit was throbbing under your fingertips. 

“Come for me, princesa. Wanna feel you coming around me- ”

Before he could finish the words, you were, letting out a low breathy moan that might have resembled ‘holy shit’ in some shape or form, the feeling washing over your whole body. 

“Oh my God, fuck! Oh, fuck.” he let out with a multitude of other ridiculously hot sounds as he came as well, still giving you shallow desperate thrusts as best as he could, even as he faltered through his release. 

“Oh, yes..yes, give it to me, baby.” you echoed his sentiment but in a shaky whisper as you began to come down, your orgasm ricocheting inside you with each additional movement. 

He adjusted his hand, holding once again around your chest so you were close to him as he rolled into you a few more times, slower and without much consciousness. His forehead pressed gently to your shoulder while your hand went back to hold his hip, simply wanting to be touching him more. 

Eventually you both stopped the languid waves of your bodies against one another, stilling completely to catch your breaths. Blinking away the remains of sleep, your awareness caming back. 

If you could wake up like this every morning, how could any day be a bad day?

Rúben’s head laid against the pillow now but he was still right up against you, his breath hitting the back of your neck. To fully wrap you up, his hand had moved to cup your breast, just holding it in his warm grasp. 

You found yourself smiling.

“Hmm. Time to go back to sleep.” he mumbled cutely, burying his face into you. 

“If I wasn’t hungry, I might actually agree to that.” your hand traced over his hip to the side of his ass where a perfect divot sat thanks to all his muscles. 

“But if you go back to sleep, it means I get to wake you up again.” Rúben said as he lifted, leaning onto his hand to look over at you, finally letting you get a good look at him: beautiful, flushed, his messy morning hair everywhere. And, of course, smiling. 

“Don’t tempt me, Dias..” 

He chuckled, sitting up more. His hand moved to your thigh to push it up slightly as he withdrew before he was turning to his side of the bed and getting up. 

“Rúben!” you said suddenly before allowing yourself to move an inch “Did you-? Did we-?” 

“Huh?” he asked as he walked away from the bed. 

Then you watched as he dropped a tied-off condom in the little trash can. 

“Oh, okay. Whew.” you rushed out with a gust of air, a relieved smile pushing up on your cheeks “For a second, I thought you weren’t wearing a condom.” 

“Oh. No, I wouldn’t do that.” he replied quickly, brows squishing together. 

“No, I know. I just..in the moment..I worried you forgot.” you said with a little shrug, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“Baby, you were practically asleep.” he said with a little chuckle, coming over to where you were still lounging under the covers, leaning and giving you a kiss on the forehead “Don't be anxious. I got you.”

[bebop-station]

Shostakovich and Aziraphale

I was thinking (and talking to @balance-of-probability endlessly) about the choice to have Shostakovich's fifth symphony feature so heavily in S2 ep 1, and how it struck me as a little odd as there are a bunch of composers Aziraphale loves mentioned in the book and Shostakovich isn't amongst them.

Backstory: In 1934, Shostakovich’s opera Lady Macbeth of Mtensk premiered to huge popular acclaim, which was very briskly walked back in 1936 after the Stalinist newspaper Pravda published an article denouncing it.

Actually more than denouncing it, condemning it. It wasn’t credited but was authored by a guy called David Zaslavsky who was almost definitely scribing for Stalin himself. Lady Macbeth was banned in the USSR until 1961.

Anyway by 1936 Shostakovich had written his fourth symphony, which he withdrew from public performance until 1961 because it was more of the same thing that had made the Soviet leadership cancel Lady Macbeth – it was unconventional, anti-patriotic, and indicated that Shostakovich was a “bourgeois formalist”.

So he shelved it and started working on Symphony No. 5 which is, on the surface at least, Soviet as fuck. And that’s what we hear Aziraphale listening to in S2E1.

(Sidebar this story is told in Julian Barnes’ The Noise of Time which is either a literary wank soup or a masterpiece depending on how cranky you are when you first read it)

So basically what Dmitri Shostakovich did in those years between the fourth and fifth symphonies was something that might be familiar to S2E6 enjoyers/agonisers: he decided to toe the party line.

Kind of.

Listening to the finale of the fifth symphony (and if you want to listen along it’s the recording of Leonard Bernstein conducting the New York Philharmonic, it’ll be called something like Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Op. 47; iv. Allegro non troppo) without the context of the rest of the symphony or in fact Shostakovich’s life is like ah yes that’s a bit of a Soviet battle anthem let’s march into Leningrad or whatever.

But it is, as critics have increasingly understood in the years since Shostakovich demurely described it as “a Soviet artist's no-nonsense response to fair criticism”, dripping with irony. This man reviled the Stalinist line on art and life – he takes the Soviet anthem and turns it into a sort of fucked up evil clown march. The whole thing gives me this vibe:

(gif from @goodomensedit)

There’s a lot of stuff about that time in Shostakovich’s life that is extremely hard to verify. There’s a “memoir” which is for sure at least partially fabricated called Testimony in which there’s an alleged quote from our man saying that final movement is a parody, that “it's as if someone were beating you with a stick and saying, "Your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing", and you rise, shaky, and go marching off, muttering, "Our business is rejoicing, our business is rejoicing"."

Whether or not Shostakovich said that (some of his friends who outlived him support that reading, including Rostropovich who conducted a bunch of his work) you can definitely hear it in the piece and you can definitely see how it gives us a clue into the decision Aziraphale makes at the end of the season.

What Shostakovich had to decide back in the 1930s was whether he would a) flee to somewhere like the US, where many other artists targeted by Stalin went; b) stay and become a public nuisance, leading almost definitely to an off-the-books execution; or c) become a party-approved Soviet Artist and hope for change. Even nudge it along in a subtle way. Even get on the inside and work to bring it down. We don’t know how true that was for old mate Dmitri and we don’t yet know exactly what Aziraphale has planned. But yeah:

tl;dr: Shostakovich 🤝 Aziraphale

          Staying inside a rancid and destructive militarised culture in the hope that it can change

[unfriendlywriter]

Chapter 1: The Star’s Arrival

Fandom: My Hero Academia x The Boys Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x OC Main plot: In a world where heroes are idolized, the truth is far darker. Powerful corporations manipulate the hero industry, and the greatest heroes are not born but made. Seiya Matsui, Project Orion’s ultimate creation, was sent to U.A. High School’s Class 2-A under the guise of training—but in reality, she’s a test for Orion’s next generation of engineered heroes. When top pro heroes begin to vanish without explanation, Seiya uncovers a chilling truth, they aren’t missing—they’re being replaced. Author's note: i couldn't wait to write this NEXT CHAPTER

U.A. High School had seen plenty of transfer students, but none quite like Seiya Matsui.

She stood at the front of Class 2-A, her posture straight but not rigid, her golden eyes scanning the room. Long white hair cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight from the windows. Even though she tried to appear composed, the way she gripped the hem of her uniform betrayed her nerves. This wasn’t just a normal school transfer—not for her, not for Project Orion. She swallowed hard before speaking.

"I’m Seiya Matsui. I was transferred here for specialized training."

Her voice was even, but not as steady as she wanted it to be. A few students exchanged glances. A transfer student this late in the year? That was strange enough, but Seiya could feel their scrutiny—their curiosity, their skepticism.

"Training for what?" Kirishima asked, leaning forward with interest.

Seiya hesitated. She had an answer prepared, but the weight of the words felt heavier now. "To become a pro hero, like the rest of you."

A scoff broke the moment. "Tch. Great. Another extra."

The voice was unmistakable—gravelly, full of irritation. Seiya turned toward the source: Bakugou Katsuki. He was slouched in his chair, arms crossed, looking at her like she was a waste of his time.

Something about his glare made her stomach twist.

"I'm not an extra," she found herself saying before she could stop. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I’m here to do my best. That’s all."

The class quieted at the slight edge in her voice. Bakugou’s red eyes narrowed, studying her like a puzzle he couldn’t immediately solve. Then, his lips curled into a smirk—challenging, daring.

"Then prove it. After class."

Seiya’s throat went dry. She wasn’t stupid. She had seen Bakugou fight. His raw strength, his explosions, his sheer force of will—she wasn’t sure if she could win. But backing down? That wasn’t an option either.

She nodded. "Fine."

The moment the last bell rang, it was inevitable.

"Let’s go, newbie," Bakugou barked, cracking his knuckles as he stormed toward Training Ground Beta.

Seiya followed, ignoring the eyes of their classmates trailing after them. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Was she really ready for this? She wasn’t sure. But if she hesitated now, she’d never be able to face them again.

Aizawa arrived just in time to oversee the match, arms crossed and expression already exhausted. "First to land a decisive blow wins. No lethal force. Don’t make me regret allowing this."

Seiya took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders. Her hero costume shimmered under the training ground lights—metallic silver with white stars scattered across it. She felt stiff, too aware of how new it still felt on her skin.

Across from her, Bakugou grinned. "Hope you can keep up."

Seiya barely had time to react before he lunged.

An explosion erupted in his palm, launching him toward her at a terrifying speed. Seiya barely dodged in time, skidding backward as the heat from his blast brushed against her side. Her pulse spiked. He was fast. Faster than she expected.

Think, think, think—

She steadied herself, forcing down her nerves. Raising her hands, she focused, and suddenly, light crackled at her fingertips—a shimmering, star-like energy forming between her palms.

Bakugou didn’t hesitate. He pivoted mid-air, another explosion propelling him straight toward her. Seiya barely managed to block with an energy pulse, but the force sent her staggering.

The crowd of students watching let out a collective gasp.

"She’s strong," Kaminari whispered. "But..."

"She’s hesitating," Todoroki finished, watching her closely.

Seiya’s mind raced. Bakugou wasn’t just strong—he was relentless. There was no opening, no moment to breathe. Her body tensed, instincts screaming at her to fight back, but something held her back. The memory of all the training sessions, the strict control drilled into her—Project Orion had spent years perfecting her power. But in an actual fight, against someone like him—

"The hell’s wrong with you?!" Bakugou growled, charging again. "Fight me!"

His palm nearly connected with her shoulder before she finally reacted. Seiya released a burst of energy, the golden light colliding with his explosion. The impact sent them both skidding back. Dust and smoke filled the air.

When it cleared, Seiya was panting, hands trembling slightly at her sides. Bakugou was crouched low, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not bad," he admitted. "For a coward."

Seiya’s breath caught. Her grip tightened. "I’m not—"

"Then stop holdin’ back!" Bakugou snapped. "You think you can be the best like that? Tch. You’ll never beat me, you’re too scared to hit back."

Her chest tightened. He was right.

But it wasn’t that simple.

She exhaled sharply, pushing down the weight pressing against her ribs. "Let’s go again."

Aizawa stepped forward. "Enough. It’s a draw."

Seiya blinked, startled. "What? But—"

"A fight isn’t just about power," Aizawa said, eyes heavy with something unreadable. "You both have more to learn. And I don’t feel like watching you idiots blow each other up on school grounds."

Bakugou clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. He glanced at Seiya again, eyes sharp with something she couldn’t quite place. "Tch. You better get your act together, newbie. Next time, I’m not holdin’ back."

Seiya let out a shaky breath. "Next time, neither will I."

Their eyes met, and for the first time, she didn’t just see a rival—she saw a storm waiting to be challenged.

The tension between them was undeniable. And this was just the beginning.

As the students filed out, Midoriya stayed behind for a moment, his green eyes analyzing Seiya with quiet curiosity. "Matsui… you hesitated, didn’t you?"

Seiya flinched slightly but didn’t deny it.

Midoriya offered a small smile. "You’re strong, but power alone won’t make you a hero. You have to trust yourself, too."

Seiya exhaled, watching him walk away. Trust herself? Easier said than done.

She looked up at the sky, her golden eyes reflecting the light. This was only the beginning of her fight. And she had a long way to go.

[pasttalept]

About PastTale...

At first, I had a hard time coming up with story ideas for PastTale. However, as the days went by, some possibilities started to emerge, and I realized that they could fit into both the Wattpad version and the main story.

It's important to understand that there are two distinct approaches that I decided to implement to avoid confusion. Wattpad's story follows a different direction from Undertale's main line, which, at certain times, can end up deviating from the original essence.

WattPad's story addresses a theme that connects UNDERTALE and DELTARUNE, however when it comes to Deltarune, only one character is present in the story, that being JEVIL.

Past!Jevil belong me

The Wattpad story explores a connection between Undertale and Deltarune, but when it comes to the latter, only one character is part of the narrative: Jevil.

In PastTale, Past!Jevil takes on the role of the main villain, being the catalyst for the second war between humans and monsters. However, simply pouring out words and information would not help to understand the timeline of this story. Therefore, from now on, I will present the PROLOGUE

The first War between Humans and Monsters…

The first war between humans and monsters followed the same premise as Undertale: humans feared that monsters could absorb their souls to become powerful. Therefore, they decided to imprison them underground.

However, a human child became the key to the monsters' release.

After this event, humans realized that the monsters did not have evil intentions. Thus, they decided to let them free and live in harmony, although maintaining a clear division between the King of Monsters and the King of Humans.

However, a mysterious cult emerged. This group did not support either side, rejecting their ideologies, laws and any form of authority. Composed of both humans and monsters, the cult performed several sacrifices to free a chaotic entity: Jevil.

Jevil's first action was brutal - he murdered the King of Humans in cold blood. This act generated immediate chaos: humans, overcome by fear and distrust, began to believe that the monsters had rebelled. Peace, liberation, everything seemed to have been an illusion. With that, humans decided to attack, starting the second war between humans and monsters.

The result of this war…

After about six years, the Chaos being was finally imprisoned by wizards, and all those who had allied with him suffered severe punishments. In the end, the war came to an end.

However, although it seemed like a happy ending, the scars left by the conflict were deep. The impact of war stained hearts and souls, leaving a trail of pain and suffering.

The King of Monsters, Past!Asgore, was surrounded by humans and killed. Past!Toriel was imprisoned in the Underground Ruins. Past!Sans managed to rescue several defenseless monsters, but his brother, Past!Papyrus, was not so lucky - he was killed while trying to protect a small monster.

With Asgore's fall, Past!Undyne took the throne and remained queen. Past!Alphys dedicated herself to keeping the innocent safe, while Past!Mettaton fought alongside Undyne in the war. Past!Muffet, in turn, tended to the wounded fighting for peace.

Many perished. Others managed to survive. But there were those who were not so lucky - those who were left behind, forever scarred by the horrors of war.

PastTale (WattPad) | Portuguese

As the history of WattPad is long and is in Brazilian Portuguese, as the days go by I will explain each chapter in translated ENGLISH.

PastTale | CANON

The canonical version of PastTale has a co-relationship with the WattPad story, but you'll get the idea.

About each character:

- Past!Frisk – The player.

- Past!Chara – The player's "shadow" and the first human child killed.

- Past!Asriel – Prince of the kingdom, died trying to save Chara.

---

- Past!Flowey – A purple flower with golden details, also being Asriel.

- Past!Toriel – Ancient One of the Ruins. They still carry the weight of the children they lost and see Frisk as someone familiar, especially in their appearance.

- Past!Napstablook – The melancholic ghost of the Ruins.

---

- Past!Sans – Known as *Past*, he was part of the Royal Guard after the war, but today he leads a lazier life full of jokes.

- Past!Papyrus – Charismatic and kind, he was recently integrated as an apprentice in the Royal Guard. His brother, Sans, is slowly teaching him.

- Past!Monster – Also called Monster Kid, he is a teenage monster determined to become a Royal Guard to follow in Undyne's footsteps. Interestingly, Sans and Alphys helped him by providing him with metallic arms.

- Past!Undyne – Leader of the Royal Guard. She holds a great grudge towards humans and shows no mercy, regardless of their age. Furthermore, he disagrees with some of King Asgore's decisions.

---

- Past!Alphys – The last remaining royal scientist, closely observing everything and everyone within the kingdom.

- Past!Mettaton – A creation of Alphys that became an icon of the Underground.

- Past!Asgore – King of the Monsters. Stay firm in your goal of breaking the barrier. He has already taken the lives of six human children, each with distinct traits, and only one is left to gain the necessary power.

---

And regarding the locations that PastTale has, there are several differences:

Undertale | PastTale

- The Ruins | The Ruins of the Past The ruins of PastTale have a darker, more illuminating tone. The place is entirely lit with lilac torches, which never go out. The location's traps are difficult to see, as these areas have few torches, making it difficult for the player to advance. Toriel, elder of the ruins, left the place more symbolic, but mainly, she left some strange things that seemed to refer to something more emotional, like small tombstones that we found along the way through the ruins, to the mother goat's house.

- SnowDin | GoldDin GoldDin may seem strange, but the area is very open, but closed because it is inside a giant cave, which expands extensively. The place is incredibly surrealistic, with golden lighting around you. No one ever knew exactly what type of ore caused that glow, but the golden hue it contained, one would imagine it to be gold. In GoldDin's forest, the trees are a reasonable size, while their leaves are white, mixed with a purple tone. In the city of GoldDin, residents wear purple, white and yellow clothes. The tree, which symbolized a Christmas atmosphere, had some stars hanging on it.

- WaterFall | CrystalFall The biggest difference between the two is their setting, which focuses on crystals that, if touched, begin to glow, in addition to keeping images of an unknown past in their reflection, which can be seen by anyone.

- HotLand | AshenLan A land covered in volcanic ash. The floor is cracked, with cracks that glow purple and gold, as if something is burning beneath the surface.

- Core | Inf!Core A more distorted and chaotic version of Hotland, where everything seems to be melting and rebuilding at the same time. Some areas appear to be made of burnt metal, with leaning mechanical towers and broken platforms. The air vibrates with a purple energy, as if something is distorting the reality around it. The Core is the center of all this instability.

Some rooms within the Core randomly change shape or appear to "reset" when you leave and return. Echoes of distant voices appear in some corridors, saying disjointed phrases. Some machines have old inscriptions that no one knows how to decipher.

- New Home | Oblivion Fields The place looks like a ghost town, with erased buildings and structures, as if they were dissolving in time. The floor is made of cracked glass, reflecting lost moments in history. In some parts, the reflection does not show what is above him, but rather scenes from the past. The golden pillar of light in the center appears unstable, pulsing as if trying to keep the place in existence. Distant sounds of footsteps and echoes of voices can be heard, but no one is there. The former king's throne is empty, surrounded by fragmented memories of what once was.

- Judgment Room | Accumulated dust and footprints that disappear into nothingness. At the back of the room, there are faded inscriptions that, when read, make the player hear something familiar, as if someone was trying to talk to him.

- King's Room | Cobwebs and cracks in some corners. Asgore's throne is there, but it looks strangely out of place, as if it had been moved. The Delta Rune symbol on the wall looks worn, as if it is disappearing from history.

- The barrier | Rather than a simple magical wall, the barrier appears to be a rift in reality, as if the world is being held together by invisible threads. Its shape is not fixed: sometimes it looks like an ocean of golden light, other times it looks like a black void with symbols shining within. As the player approaches, they may hear disjointed whispers—voices of dead children, distant memories, or even fragments of corrupted code. If you touch the barrier, the character feels a sense of déjà vu, as if he had been there before. Small visual "errors" happen near her: the ground may appear to shift for a second, or shadows appear where they shouldn't.

How does the story of PastTale (WattPad) have to do with the story of PastTale (Canonical)?

(SPOILER ALERT | CHAPTER 5)

PastTale's original timeline always followed a pacifist cycle, a sequence where peace was won, where monsters had a chance. But in an instant - in a single blink of an eye - everything changed.

The human, who had previously hesitated, now followed a single route: genocide. Countless resets. Countless deaths. Always coming back, always advancing, always eliminating.

Only three beings were able to remember each reset:

Past!Sans and Past!Flowey. (And the Human too)

But something happened, something that not even Flowey predicted. A variant, a detail that has always existed but was never really understood.

A gray door.

In PastTale, this door wasn't just a mystery - it was a rift in reality, a tear in the fabric of time. Unlike other places, which reflected the past, this door revealed the future. Probable futures. Alternative destinations.

Past!Sans found this door. And when he crossed it, he found a narrow, finite corridor, covered in reflections. Each reflection showed a glimpse of reality… But one of them, the one in the center, was different.

This reflection did not terrify him. On the contrary, it felt… right. A vision of something better. Something he didn't understand, but felt a deep connection to. He extended his hand. He touched the glass.

In an instant, everything changed.

Sans was thrown back into CrystalFall, and, together with Past!Alphys, began developing a bold idea - a reset of his own. But to do that, you would need the most important piece of the equation: the human.

And so, in the Hall of Judgment, the final confrontation took place. But this time, before the human could deliver the final blow, Past!Sans stole his soul and absorbed it.

With this power, he wouldn't just reset the timeline - he would rewrite it. You would create the happy story you always wanted.

However, what happened next was a mistake.

A deafening noise. An infinite fall. And then, a familiar figure in the darkness. A silhouette that Sans recognized but couldn't identify.

When he woke up, he was lying on the floor. Snow fell slowly around him.

He stood up and looked around. At first he thought he was in Snowdin. But it wasn't. Not completely.

As he continued forward, he saw a distant city. And in the sky, a black sun - or rather, a black hole, sucking in the light around it.

His plan had worked, or at least, that's what he believed.

But he soon realized that nothing made sense.

Your brother? Disappeared. Toriel? Vanished. Asgore? Non-existent.

The only thing he found was Undyne, but something was wrong - she was now the queen of not only monsters, but humans as well.

Events unfolded as in the Wattpad story, but the outcome was always the same.

Negative.

The liberation of Chaos happened again. The world was always destroyed. And Sans? It was forced to reset, over and over again.

But these resets were destroying something more than reality. His soul was shattering. He knew that sooner or later he would die forever.

Desperate to escape the cycle, Sans tried everything. He tried to change the course of history, alter destiny. But nothing worked. Something was always missing. I always lost.

So he made a decision: observe.

Without directly interfering, just watching. That's how he found himself.

He saw his own body, captured by the cultists. He was on the verge of death.

There was no other choice.

Sans reset one last time. But this time, he saved himself.

To avoid confusion, he needed a new name. Something that represented the endless cycle, the phenomenon that condemned its existence.

So he chose:

Eclipse!Sans.

A name that symbolized the Eclipse, the event that always preceded Jevil's release.

And this time, he wouldn't let history repeat itself.

Finalization.

PastTale is still in development, you will be able to enjoy many stories that will be created over time, as well as stories that will directly involve characters from other Alternative Universes.

I hope everyone has read this far, and I sincerely hope everyone's collaboration for a better future!

Thank you very much :)

Credits:

PastTale | Belong Me I used the Translator to leave the text in English. I used DeepSeek to keep the words in the best possible way to understand.

[neartheeasternfence]

I Will Do Anything, Not Deny Anything

Impressions; Chapter 5 and 6

In chapter 5 (vol.2), despite exceeding Ryuuzaki in information-gathering ability as well, Yashiro adopted peculiar, or Yashiro-esque means of reconciliation. At the same time, he used Ryuuzaki to indulge in his own fantasy. Seeing the scene inside the room, Doumeki moved his expression for a moment, Nanahara, who had just been stabbed by Ryuuzaki’s man, made his eyes bulge, Ryuuzaki panicked, and Misumi was the only one who remained calm. Misumi must have looked up at the window of the executive office when he got out of the car. Yashiro was also unmoved and if anything, intoxicated.

At the beginning of chapter 6 (vol.2), Yashiro reappeared with a neat and elegant aspect that made it hard to believe he had just acted disgracefully. He then ordered Nanahara to see Ryuuzaki off, adding to do it politely. Even Nanahara seemed to have been about to argue. However, it was a part of Yashiro's consideration for settling the trouble with the Matsubara group.

Against Doumeki, Yashiro was taking an attitude as if making Doumeki’s disapproval or complaint repressed. Doumeki replied that he did not have any complaints, and looked a bit composed. He checked his expression in the windowpane. He must have been asking himself why he had a certain change inside him since the morning. He saw Yashiro's affair with Ryuuzaki and was not as so calm as he had been. He intuitively observed that the only reason Yashiro was keeping him on the side and acting fairly defenseless was that he was impotent. “I do not want to be thrown away like an unwanted toy. I want to be by Boss’s side all the time.” To do so, Doumeki decided to accept Yashiro unconditionally.

Misumi pointed out that Yashiro had never slept with anyone he was truly in love with, but only with people he could not care less. Yashiro unconsciously was at a loss for words, and Doumeki’s hand also stopped. That could have denoted that no one was ever truly able to get Yashiro. Misumi himself felt not, either, though he owned Yashiro. That meant Yashiro basically gave them just his body without ‘love,’ and even in case of his having affection, he hold it and did not step into physical relationships.

“He sleeps with people he does not care about” is almost synonymous with “he does not sleep with people he does care about.” Those whom Yashiro does not sleep with are he cares about. First, Kageyama. It can be said that Misumi might be one of them. Of course, given his status as the big boss, he disliked being treated as a person whom Yashiro did not care about. Or, if Misumi had kept Yashiro as one of his fixed lovers, at the very least, they could have gotten onto a deeper relationship (otherwise breaking) beyond a temporary ‘romance.’ I imagine Misumi also went slow not to drown in Yashiro’s allure. He knew well what Yashiro had done to old Aniki who had become enamored with him (ch.10, vol.2).  I think Misumi detected the cognition system of Yashiro’s world, or his persona system, and intends not to violate it. 

Misumi was trying to warn Doumeki that there was no point in becoming seriously carried away with Yashiro. Yet if they were not sleeping together, then...? It could have meant that Doumeki was not someone whom Yashiro did not care about.

Doumeki had something else on his mind. If it was exact as Misumi said, there was nothing between Yashiro and Kageyama. Yashiro had been passing over years and years without telling Kageyama anything, and Kageyama did not know anything. In volume 2, Author restructured the next page to only two panels. The redrawn Yashiro on the back seat of the car in chapter 4, on the way back from Kageyama Clinic, and Doumeki thinking back on Yashiro’s sentiment. At the time, we as well would notice that Yashiro affected an air of resignation in his melancholy beauty. It was his emotional feeling for Kageyama.

[potatoobsessed999]

#first of all you're COMPLETELY correct#second of all since i will apparently never make a post of my OWN on this#i want to talk about the animated silm adaptation that lives rentfree in my head okay?? okay#and yes - animated SERIES so that the pacing can be as exact as it needs to be#but i WANT to like. i WANT to do something visually with the idea of the world being composed of *song* okay?#like. hear me out.#i want the animation to look painted. like. maybe a little impressionistic. van gogh style.#let me see the brushstrokes#because this is a *story* and the world is made of *art*#ALSO i just think blood and gore would look really cool animated in that sort of impressionistic style okay. sue me.#ALSO i have this idea for the opening right?#like. i'm obsessed with the idea of maglor as fundamentally being a narrator#like yes the silm has a canon author and no it's not him but like. thinks of maglor and how he's THE singer in a world made of song#and that post about how maglor couldn't escape the narrative so his fate is ultimately is to become it?#what if the opening sequence thingy each episode is maglor playing the rest of the artwork into existence??? HEAR ME OUT#also i get ONE (1) needle drop this whole time and it's EITHER i am my own muse by fob during the fingolfin v. morgoth 1v1#OR so much for stardust - also by fob - and i don't know WHERE but listen to the instrumental on that and TRY to tell me it wouldn't work#other than that i *need* original soundtrack that someone went really hard on#i think the reason fall out boy comes to mind - those two songs in particular - is because like#there's a REASON there's so many silm rock operas#and those have that feel to them?#rock opera style original soundtrack. THAT'S the way to do it.#to be clear i WANT instrumentals i think lyrics can be distracting for something like this. but that's the stylistic influence.#i have. too many thoughts about this. i should be given the rights to the silmarillion for free <3#silm (tags via @nelyoslegalteam)

The only way to adapt The Silmarillion and make it good is through an animated series. No live adaptation would ever be able to live up to it, or manage to put on screen both the grandiose locations and otherworldly characters.

But no one is ready for this conversation yet.

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT COLUMBANUS (Columban) The Patron Saint of Motorcyclists Feast Day: November 23

"Be friendly with men of honor, stiff with rascals. Be gentle to the weak, firm to the stubborn, steadfast to the proud, humble to the lowly. Be ever sober, ever chaste, ever modest. Be patient as far as is compatible with zeal."

The greatest missionary in all of Ireland, Columbanus or Columban, was born in the year 543 at Leinster, Kingdom of Meath (now part of Ireland). After his conception, his mother was said to have had a vision of her child's 'remarkable genius'.

When he was young, several girls made advances to him; and a holy woman from whom he asked advice, said: 'You think that you can freely avoid women. Do you remember Adam who yielded to Eve? Samson made weak by Delilah? David lured from his former righteousness by the beauty of Bathsheba? The wise Solomon deceived by love of women? Go away, turn from the river into which so many have fallen.'

He was first educated under Abbot Sinell of Cluaninis, whose monastery was on an island of the River Erne, in modern County Fermanagh. Under his instruction, Columbanus composed a commentary on the Psalms. Later, he left his family and entered the monastic life to Bangor Abbey, where he studied to become a teacher of the Bible. Columbanus set sail with twelve companions, and they crossed the channel via Cornwall and landed in Saint-Malo, Brittany. This is where he preached to the people and founded many monasteries of strict discipline. Women and visitors were not allowed to enter, and monks could eat in proportion to the amount of their labor.

As fearless as he was righteous, Columban once stormed onto a scene of debauchery and smashed the cask of alcohol. His objections were not confined to revelers either: He would tell bishops, kings, even popes, where he felt they went wrong. And he made enemies due to his criticism of local clergy whom he viewed as debased.

Columbanus and his companions were welcomed by King Guntram of Burgundy (Guntramnus), who granted them land at Anegray, where they converted a ruined Roman fortress into a school. Despite its remote location in the Vosges Mountains, the school rapidly attracted so many students that they moved to a new site at Luxeuil and then established a second school at Fontaines. These schools remained under Columbanus' authority, and their rules of life reflected the Celtic tradition in which he had been educated.

They had to keep silence most of the time, in order to be recollected with God and to avoid the sins of the tongue. As he said: 'Men like nothing better than discussing and minding the business of others, passing superfluous comments and random and criticizing people behind their back. So those who do not have a discerning tongue should keep silent, of if they do say anything, it should promote peace.'

During the last year of his life, Columbanus received messengers from King Chlothar II, inviting him to return to Burgundy, now that his enemies were dead. Columbanus did not return, but requested that the king should always protect his monks at Luxeuil Abbey. He prepared for death by retiring to his cave on the mountainside overlooking the Trebbia river, where, according to a tradition, he had dedicated an oratory to Our Lady. Columban died at Bobium, Kingdom of the Lombards on November 21, 615.

The Rule of Saint Columbanus embodied the customs of Bangor Abbey and other Irish monasteries. Much shorter than the Rule of Saint Benedict, the Rule of Saint Columbanus consists of ten chapters, on the subjects of obedience, silence, food, poverty, humility, chastity, choir offices, discretion, mortification, and perfection.

There are ten miracles attributed to Columban's intercession: from procuring food from a sick monk and curing the benefactor's wife, destroying with his breath a cauldron of beer prepared for a pagan festival, to taming a bear and yoking it to a plough.

The Missionary Society of Saint Columban, founded in 1916, and the Missionary Sisters of St. Columban, founded in 1924, are both dedicated to Columbanus.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 3,438

[S] Equius: Seek the highb100d.

Walkthrough: http://readmspa.org/transcripts/readmspa-transcript-6_005338_Triterniabound_transcript_and_walkthrough.html

Songs used: Horschestra STRONG Version by Alexander Rosetti, Nepeta's Theme by Toby Fox, Blackest Heart (With Honks) by Toby Fox, Midnight Calliope by Mark Hadley, and Miracles by ICP

Song commentaries:

Alexander Rosetti:

(Equius Walkabout)

Neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh. Neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh. Neigh neigh neigh. Neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh. Neigh. Neigh neigh. Neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh. Neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh.

Neigh neigh neigh neigh. Neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh neigh.

Toby Fox:

Neigh neigh neigh, neigh neigh.

Neigh neigh? Neigh.

Seriously though, despite its goofiness, this is one great track. Alexander Rosetti is easily one of the best composers on the team, and despite being often limited by his electronic instrumentation palette (he usually composes for real musicians to play), he's pulled this track off and several others fantastically.

Did I mention we're in love?

Also, the SNES funeral section interspersed with a small amount of Walls Covered in Blood at the end is just brilliant.

Toby Fox:

(Nepeta Walkabout)

Beep beep, meow... it's a remix of Walls Covered in Blood if you didn't notice~

The original Walls was actually pretty divisive - either people loved it or they thought the Mario Paint instruments were too much to bear. Here we get the best of both worlds - the catchy theme without the weird instrumentation! (And if you liked the original better... well... great! Because it still exists.)

I decided to hit on some of the more Latin aspects of her theme without a self-imposed limitation on what instruments I could choose. So I threw in some vibraslaps, some bongos, and a steel drum. To extend it for the album, I just decided to add EarthBound instruments and beatbox to the second part of the original song. Always a failproof plan!

:33

Toby Fox:

(Prelude to a Killer Clown)

This track went under most people's radars when it was first released because it really was a soundtrack for a situation that had not yet taken place.

Andrew asked me to add some 'brooding honks' to it... and some amazingly hilarious justaposition occurred that somehow made the piece even more frightening to all those that played it at 6am in the morning.

Now people love it. Step one to improvement - add clowns!

Yep, that's my voice, by the way.

Mark Hadley:

(Gamzee the Killer)

When trying to come up with something for the flipped-out Gamzee, I decided to stick with the basics and write a short calliope melody in a minor key. As it loops, however, a dark droning backdrop becomes gradually more apparent, a darkness beneath the playfulness implied by the first part. The calliope fades out until only the droning sound remains, showing in essence that playtime is over. Also, I figured nothing makes carnival music sound more twisted than for the tempo/pitch to change, so I had the whole thing start gradually slowing down over time, giving it an even more unnatural feel. I wanted one last build-up near the end to build tension, and as it fades out and the listener is just starting to relax... HONK. honk.

On a side note, I think I enjoy writing creepy music even more than any other kind of music.

Toby Fox:

Soundtrack-wise... I think this was one of the greatest moments of Homestuck. This track makes my hair stand on end.

Author commentary: Here's [S] Equius: Seek the highbl00d, another playable RPG game. This was a really good one. They all kind of are, in their own ways. Except for the Meenahbound ones, which are Arguably Bad, Actually, but I only agree to that assessment if it includes the ever important "bad in mostly good and funny ways" stipulation upon which the structural stability of my entire creative career rests. But Christ, why am I talking about that garbage when we are about to review some truly choice material focusing exclusively on your favorite meowrails. It is a great illustration of their tragic dynamic; deeply committed and caring partners in the diamonds quadrant, and yet compromised by Equius and his stubborn class-driven faults, his pathological reverence for his superiors, his forced and probably not genuinely felt sense of disdain for lower bloods like Nepeta, and ultimately his failure to rise above these flaws when presented with a real test of character and friendship. A test imposed, of course, by a boorish murderclown, who from this point onward just ruins fucking everything, constantly. Also there's great horror ambience in this game, with a real sense of tension. It's one of these unusual installments where I will bother to say: you just need to play this one to really feel it. If you haven't already, well..that kind of baffles me? But I guess I just don't know anything about anybody reading these books, especially as we trudge relentlessly into the future. Maybe you're reading this ancient tome printed 500 years ago, and the online content doesn't exist anymore. If that's the case, I'm so, so sorry, Robosteve8937501.

And, now that I just talked up this great game, here's where I check out for a while again, because obviously I'm not going to wisecrack my way through every single page of this thing, because, um…l have a LIFE??? Maybe you should look into that. Yeah, I'm looking at YOU, Robosteve8937501. Have you set foot outside your consumption pod even ONCE over the last couple centuries? This is getting pathetic, man.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Robosteve8937501 is going to turn into another one of my running joke characters down here in the author notes realm, which includes an entirely distinct continuum for casually idiotic worldbuilding, and against all odds and better judgment, you're actually becoming inexplicably invested in it. It's okay, you can admit it. You love the weird stories about my dead youth pastor, priest, and life coach from previous books, and now you're looking forward to future mentions of Robosteve8937501 as well, which is becoming additionally inevitable now that I've talked about him this much already. What do those numbers Is that his phone number? The answer is yes. Robosteve8937501 is actually very lonely, and he wants you to call him. Dude can't get a date to save his mean? Is that... life. Probably because he spends so much time holed up in his fucking consumption pod, reading and rereading all 200 volumes of the Homestuck books, 500 years after they were printed, and about 490 years after the apocalypse that wiped out the human race.

That's the end of all the dialogue between these two in this game. Every line was extremely good. Nothing I could say down here would improve upon it even a little, nor would any further analysis increase your pure enjoyment or appreciation of the content. Wow, I think I just found the perfect author note to paste at the bottom of every page from now on.

Then Nepeta embarks on her quest to "hide," i.e. find a place to watch Equius get killed, then jump out and get killed herself. We don't know that's what's going to happen yet, but I think this game lays it on pretty thick with the clues that something bad is going to happen. Their drawn-out goodbye, the emotional conversation they just had that spotlight them as characters, and which often precedes characters dying in media as a way of letting the viewers say their farewells too, and also the obvious fact that we're in the horror zone, so we might as well strap ourselves in and expect characters to start dropping like flies. Perhaps this game in serving all these purposes starts feeling additionally cruel, because if you didn't care much about these characters before reading all that stuff, you probably do now. Just in time to say goodbye. Let that be a lesson. Appreciate good characters while you still have the chance, and don't be late to hop on the bandwagon. Because by the time you hop on, the bandwagon may have been rigged to be just about to kill your newfound faves in a variation of the trolley experiment.

There are teapots all over the place. If nothing else, Nepeta's land has given her a lifelong passion for tea. Too bad her post-tea life didn't last very long. But it's also worth noting how it nicely pairs with Equius's milk habits. Maybe they could set up a nice tea shop in the afterlife. In fact, who's to say they didn't?

Nepeta's private space in the meteor involves—you guessed it—more shipping. All the depictions here and on following pages show pairings that seem to have a logical basis in the story. Except for the Dave x Tavros match-up. Accuse me of "ship hate" if you will, but that is an absolutely shameful pairing decision. Nepeta deserves to receive crushing volumes of anonymous internet harassment for this pitiful display of bad taste. Quick, everyone go submit your displeasure to user account "@arsenicCatnip" before she dies.

The "great" label is just a SBaHJ-ism. Jeff bumped up against the "great" to spy on Bro doing something stupid, if I recall correctly. We are just reprising that scenario, as Nepeta employs the same spying technique on Gamzee as he murders Equius. It's BASICALLY the exact same situation.

Nepeta's secret shame is exposed. There's nothing that shameful about her crush, because come on. We all love Karkat. I don't know who she was hiding it from though? Equius, at most? But what are moirails for if she can't share her secret flushed leanings with her partner? What have they even been talking about for hours on the smashed robot pile?? Also she didn't do a very good job covering up her HUGE mural with those crates. It's almost as if she wants her secret to be exposed. Nepeta...you're a fucking mess.

This is where the game gets especially creepy, mainly because of the music shift. My chief recollection of the music is that every now and then, an eerie distant honking sound can be heard. This is when you began to suspect Nepeta is completely screwed.

Touches like this help fill in the blanks of a story with subtext. Brown blood is everywhere. That means Tavros's body is being moved around, probably by Gamzee, given the text on the wall. What is he doing with that body??? (He is severing the head, so that he may passionately kiss it on the mouth at his leisure.)

More signs that Kanaya is on the move as well. She even sliced the transporter behind her so she couldn't be followed. She might be the only one who isn't being an idiot right now. But to be fair, that might also be a good description of her in relation to all twelve trolls over the general span of the entire story. What did she ever do that's dumb? I'm trying to think of something. Oh wait, I got it. She fell in love with Vriska. Wait. Wait…no. I lost it again. That was the smartest thing she ever did, because Vriska kicks ass and did nothing wrong.

Why is this fuckin wizard in this chest? I don't even… I mean, I do know the answer. It's because one of the supporting artists made a wizard sprite, completely unprompted, as they did with almost all the items in these games. But still. Kinda makes you think? (Nah.)

Nepeta sees something horrible through the vent. It's a great time to cut away to Equius so we can catch up with what she is seeing from his point of view. Which is great for him, since he has a front-row seat for what's currently happening here.

Back to Equius. He sends Nepeta off for her own "safety" and…immediately begins using his powerful hands to shatter his many glasses of milk that are scattered about on the floor for some reason. Good work, dude.

This chess monster can't catch a break. First, Vriska stole all its luck, sending it crashing down into this pit. Then Gamzee, with inexplicably incredible marksmanship, fires an arrow double-shot into both eyes, killing it. Come to think of it, the fact that Vriska drained all its luck shortly before probably had something to do with its unlikely arrow-based slaying as well.

So that's where Terezi's glasses went. Gamzee stealing a personal item of hers seems like a loaded action. As if he's signaling to her that he isn't quite done with her yet. I wonder what that means? I hope it's not creepy and awful. Equius, like a complete idiot, thinks that's Terezi up there on the big mad-science tank. Cue the murderclown's diabolical monologue. This Flash sequence was embedded in the RPG game as a strong finish to the interactive page. You kind of knew it would end up this way. Actually, many of the games are played with a sense of dark dramatic irony where you know something bad is going to happen, but you're forced to march right along to that outcome anyway, so you are somewhat complicit in the unfortunate result. The Rose RPG at the end of this book is probably the best example of this.

Gamzee's negligent goatfather was killed before he entered the game, and was prototyped, as were all the trolls' lusii. This means goat-like forms show up in the chess monsters. Gamzee is sitting atop the tank of one such mutant beast, which almost entirely bears the traits of his aquatic goatfather. Is it a coincidence he has gravitated toward this figure while being his truest, most evil, clowny self? In some ways, due to parental neglect, his goat dad embodies his darkest tendencies, and perhaps the root causes for them. Yes, maybe this isn't "true" and he's just a piece of total trash regardless, but it's arguably true from Gamzee's warped perspective. In some ways this makes Goat Dad a compelling figure. We know almost nothing about him, but he quite possibly was legitimately monstrous. I'm fascinated by this fictional goat creature suddenly. Whoops, wait. It stopped. I'm not fascinated anymore. But it was an interesting feeling to have for about three seconds.

All the dialogue leading up to this is pretty good. It lets us know that Gamzee didn't just generically "snap" and is now an arbitrary murderous threat. There are some real cunning and calculation to his evil. Despite previously coming across as a bit dumb, and tone-deaf to the needs and concerns of his friends, his remarks here reveal a guy who was paying close attention all along and knows all these people quite well. He knows the insecurities and weaknesses to play to. He's just tormenting Equius using the fact that he knows he's all twisted up about class hierarchy, demanding that he kneel before his superior. But not in a way that makes it clear he will appreciate Equius's subservience, or reward him for it. Gamzee just wants to disgrace and defile Equius before he kills him, to make him reveal the full extent of his weakness as his final living act. To show Equius couldn't overcome his limitations even to save his own life, let alone the lives of his friends.

But later, the kind of sadistic cunning Gamzee shows here sort of gives way to a different kind of villainy. After he "makes peace" with his role as a figure of "religious destiny," that is, the guy meant to serve Lord English and help seed his early existence as Caliborn, he mellows out a little. There's a kind of sick, off-putting serenity he broadcasts as he commits his unpleasant deeds, behaving as more of a general agent of chaos rather than an active antagonist. He seems to delight more in wreaking havoc on the story as a whimsical surrogate for his master than he does in specifically causing his former friends to suffer. In other words, he gradually becomes folded into the greater villainous ensemble, which becomes increasingly preposterous the deeper we get into Homestuck.

[god-whispers]

jun 16

a different way to pray (a repeat daily)

"but you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly." matt 6:6

so many out there do not have the prayer life they really want.  maybe they have good intentions, but just cannot ever feel really connected.  i well remember how i used to get antsy and view the clock often.  our flesh begins to burn the closer we draw to the holy.

the following story might give you an intro into an intimate and cherished connection with our Lord.

we all take baby steps to where ever we're going.  they may be small, but if we persist, they will get us there.  this is something we all need if we are to "endure" to the end.

-------

a man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father.  when the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed.  the priest assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit.

"i guess you were expecting me," he said.

"no, who are you?"

"i'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor replied.

"when i saw the empty chair, i figured you knew i was going to show up."

"oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "would you mind closing the door?"

puzzled, the pastor shut the door.

"i've never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man.

"but all of my life i have never known how to pray. at church i used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head.."

"i abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus.  here's what i suggest.  sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair.  it's not spooky because he promised, 'i'll be with you always.'  then just speak to him and listen in the same way you're doing with me right now."

"so, i tried it and i've liked it so much that i do it a couple of hours every day.  i'm careful, though.  if my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm."

the pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey.  then he prayed with him, and returned to the church.

two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her daddy had died that afternoon.

"did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.

"yes, when i left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek.  when i got back from the store an hour later, i found him dead.  but there was something strange, in fact, beyond strange-kinda weird.

apparently, just before daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed."

- author unknown

-------

you know, i like stories most that were composed by unknown authors.  they seek no glory or praise for themselves.  they want it all to go to God.  it seems to me, that's as it should be.  "for by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God,  not of works, lest anyone should boast."  eph 2:7-9

there is no boasting that we have earned our way to heaven.  we are all unworthy of the great gift He has given.  any good works we might have accomplished since we came to Christ was just His working in us and through us.  that is dependent on how much we yield ourselves to Him.  even then, it is His precious love that draws us.

"[for my determined purpose is] that i may know Him [that i may progressively become more deeply and intimately acquainted with Him, perceiving and recognizing and understanding the wonders of His Person more strongly and more clearly], and that i may in that same way come to know the power outflowing from His resurrection [which it exerts over believers], and that i may so share His sufferings as to be continually transformed [in spirit into His likeness even] to His death".  phil 3:10 ampc

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

"There's a good man," Edward says, seemingly amused by the length of time that James had held on to his hand. It was forgivable. The man had just made a major decision that would forever change his life. He'd either adapt and become as useful as Edward thought he'd be, or he'd end up a corpse unceremoniously given back to t he sea.

"Go up top. You'll see a little pissant of a man, about this tall," Edward gestures at roughly Izzy's height. "Going red in the face, shouting. Yeah, he's going to yell at you. Tell him you're going to sign, and he'll get you the papers. Put you to work."

Edward half turned, expecting that James would fall into place beside him. Even as he was giving the man orders that would make him Izzy's responsibility, he wasn't going to abandon him just yet. Generally, Edward couldn't give less of a fuck about a majority of the men that joined his crew. They were pirates, and they presumably knew the dangers of the profession. There'd always be more of them, utterly replaceable. There were a handful that made it past his apathy because of their usefulness and the fact that they'd managed to survive as long as they had. Izzy, Ivan, and Fang accompanied Edward wherever he went. If he was on land, so were they. If he set foot on another ship, so did they. Izzy, in particular, was the grasp of his hand in the world when he couldn't be fucked to actually be present himself.

As close and trusted as they were, they were all instrumental to the performance that was Blackbeard. He was the Devil, and they were the necessary fire and brimstone. A man didn't become a legend without a little bit of theater.

Edward hoped to make James one of the boys, add him to that small hand-picked group. He wasn't just some mangy pirate signing on because he had delusions of fame and infamy for being a part of Blackbeard's crew. He was a former Commodore and presumably a good sailor. A tactician and swordsman. A man with knowledge of the way the Navy was currently operating and where they were most likely to currently be. Of course, that knowledge would run out in time, as soon as they reached the end of whatever planning the man had been privy to. But a man didn't forget the the things he was trained to or the ways that he was made to think.

He could be one of the boys, if he could be made to heel.

James nodded respectfully at Blackbeard's instructions, his eyes fixed on the pirate captain. The weight of the decision he had made settled heavily upon him, but he was determined to prove himself worthy of this opportunity. "Yes, sir," he replied, his voice steady and determined.

As Edward mentioned a certain crew member, James followed the gesture, spotting a man who fit the description. He observed the man's animated demeanor and red face, realizing that this must be the infamous Izzy Hands. James braced himself for the encounter, knowing that he would have to earn his place among the crew.

Approaching Izzy, James kept his expression composed, despite the clear anger radiating from the man. He stood tall, meeting Izzy's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I'm here to sign," James said firmly, his voice carrying the authority that came with his former position.

Izzy's initial anger transformed into a mocking laugh as he handed James the papers. "Well, well, look at you, fancy Commodore turned pirate. I give ye a month," he taunted, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Undeterred by Izzy's mockery, James took the papers and swiftly signed his name, marking his official entry into Blackbeard's crew. He handed the papers back to Izzy, who raised an eyebrow

"From commanding men to swabbing the decks. Quite the career change, , Still too good for a kings dog like you"

"so sorry, I'm afraid I've already signed the papers. That makes me Blackbeards dog now.. or are you afraid I'll take that position away from you?"

"Cute, Commodore. We'll see how cute you think you are after several days of knees on hardwood, you english twat."

Glowering, From that moment on, James knew he had to prove himself. Izzy wasted no time in putting him to work, pushing him harder than anyone else. The seasoned crew member barked orders, demanding excellence from James at every turn. Despite the physical and mental challenges, James remained determined to prove his worth, refusing to back down.

Edward smiled faintly -- an expression easy to miss in the midst of his beard. He nodded his head and gestured for one of the men standing guard over Norrington's cell to get it open.

The metal creaked as the door opened. All James had to do now was step over that threshold, step into the new life that had been offered to him. Edward extended his hand to the man with the intention to shake on their deal.

It was as good as shaking hands with the devil.

"Welcome aboard, mate."

James couldn't ignore the flutter of anxiety in his chest as he stepped closer to the now-opened cell door. The threshold before him felt like a boundary between his old life and the unknown future that lay ahead. He hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clawing at him, but then he reminded himself that he was already at the mercy of this pirate captain. His past life was crumbling behind him, and it was time to embrace whatever lay on the other side.

Summoning all the courage he could muster, James reached out and shook Blackbeard's hand, sealing the deal that would alter the course of his destiny forever. It was a firm handshake, and for a brief moment, he felt a mix of relief and fear. With a deep breath, he nodded at Blackbeard and said, "Thank you... for this opportunity."

As he stepped out of the cell, he couldn't help but wonder if he was making a grave mistake or embarking on a path that would set him free from the chains of his past. Only time would tell, but for now, he had embraced a new identity as a member of Blackbeard's crew, leaving behind the title of Commodore James Norrington and stepping into a world where he was simply known as James.

It took a moment before he realized he was still holding that hand. Finally releasing the hand. " Then I suppose I should be asking... Orders.. captain?"

[elena-mayfair]

Curious people

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, themes of depression Summary: "Batman…what a ridiculous nickname," you smiled in disbelief, "he's either a complete idiot or a hopeless idealist," and yet you knew perfectly well that naivety and idealism went hand in hand all too often. Word count: 6.3k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors. Chapter one: Bright future, dark city

"How was your week?" Professor Crane pressed the record button and waited, waited for you to speak.

"Fine," you replied passively as you looked around his office. During your previous visit, you were too stressed to notice your surroundings. But now, the gray walls and black furniture seemed much more interesting than your thoughts and feelings. The office was simple and modest. On the wall hung a handful of diplomas, and in the corner of the room stood a coffee maker which was never offered to you. It looked like all the psychiatrists' offices you've seen in movies. A soft sofa provided comfort, and a box of tissues that stood on a small table informed you that it was okay to cry here. You were certain that in here people had probably cried more than once. You, however, never cried, not in public at least. Tears were something useless to you, something unwanted, you preferred to swallow them quickly and stifle them. Subconsciously you knew that if you allowed yourself to cry you would most likely never stop.

"We can sit like this in silence if you want," the professor's voice sounded in a low half-whisper pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Seriously! We can sit in silence for an hour and not talk about anything!" the cynical smile returned to its place but Professor Crane remained unfazed. His green eyes seemed to pierce right through you looking through any mask you tried to assume.

"If that's what you need," he replied calmly.

"Is that how it's going to work? I'll talk or not and you'll answer in half-words?" frustration crept into the tone of your voice.

"This hour we have is for you, of the two of us mainly you do the talking, I do the listening," he replied.

"Ridiculous," you sighed.

"How does it make you feel?"

"I'm pissed! If it's not obvious!"

"Why is that?" the professor remained composed and unmoved only your blood pressure spiked with each of his steady questions, "I would like us to start building a relationship together aimed at helping you with the problems you came to me with. Yet I get the feeling that you are looking at me as an enemy. Why?"

"Because…." you clenched your teeth trying to control your temper, "because the whole situation is terribly artificial and uncomfortable," you answered but seeing the professor's unaffected face you continued, "I understand that it is imposed by the rules of therapy and by the situation I entered into of my own free will but it doesn't change the fact that it is strange and unnatural! " you explained.

"And how should it look in your opinion," came another dry question.

"In a normal world, people meet and start some kind of conversation, about trivial things! About the weather, about Twitter gossip, about architecture, about politics, about the economy, that's how you start and then you can move on to developing some kind of relation. And if people feel comfortable in each other's company the relationship deepens, becomes meaningful, and then we start talking about more intimate things, that's when trust sets in," you replied, "in the normal world no one starts with Hey my name is Y/N, everyone I loved died, how you doing?"

"I understand but as you yourself pointed out we're not in a normal situation," he calmly pointed out, "so what are you afraid of? You came here to talk about what ails you and yet, now that you're here, you're scared to talk about it."

"Why do you assume that I'm afraid of something?" the gaze of Professor Crane did not leave you, he only smiled faintly and asked.

"Tell me how many friends you have?" the question surprised you, "How many deep, meaningful relationships do you have in your life?"

You didn't want to answer, you didn't want to say out loud how lonely you felt. It wasn't because you had chosen such a life, it just sort of happened. The professor's stare, however, was unwavering, waiting, calmly waiting, while his green eyes shined with curiosity.

"Not many," you replied quietly, "In fact, I don't know if I can call anyone a friend at the moment. I had one friend, she was like a sister to me. Harleen, she was a psychiatrist like you. A few years ago she moved here to Gotham and we lost contact. She doesn't even know that I moved here."

"Why won't you talk to her?" the Professor asked.

"And why should I?" you answered with a question to a question, "It's been years since we last saw each other, we lost contact, each of us moved on a different path, life happened. I'm sure we're both completely different people now."

"How many meaningful deep relationships do you have in your life?" professor repeated the question as if ignoring you.

You didn't answer immediately. That familiar feeling returned, the same one you felt in the company of Lex Luthor, the gnawing feeling which was telling you that you should not be here. The couch suddenly became somewhat uncomfortable, the air seemed to become thick and sticky, the cuticles around your fingernails begged for mercy while your eyes wandered toward the door over and over again. You wanted to run away.

"I suppose I should say it… basically, that's the whole purpose of therapy," you began, "but the whole time as we are talking I keep thinking about quitting, walking out, slamming the door, and never coming back."

"Don't you think it's caused by fear?" the green eyes shone.

"I think I found myself in an uncomfortable situation and a person's natural defensive mechanism is to try to escape," you didn't allow yourself to entertain the concept of fear, "but to answer your question, there are none. There are no meaningful relationships in my life," the professor drew breath but you did not allow him to speak, "hold on for a sec! It's not like I chose to be alone! It's just that, as I said earlier, life happened! I had to focus on more important things, my family was my priority! Family, work, I had no time to socialize! And it's quite normal that relationships fall apart if we don't dedicate them time and attention!"

"And you don't think you might have a problem building these kinds of relationships?"

"I don't have a problem with building relationships!" anger began to boil inside you, "I just approach them carefully! I don't trust people! I like people a lot but I don't trust them very much. And it's not like it came out of nowhere either! People, the closest to me, have let me down not once nor twice. Right, when I needed them the most they were nowhere to be found! It turned out that you can get more support and care from strangers! Trust comes with time, a deep relationship takes time, and people don't want to invest that time. Perhaps I also don't want to invest time in a relationship that could fucking disappear at any moment! I'd rather enjoy a random conversation with a stranger," the warmth of the memory softened your temper, "that fleeting magical moment that, even though I know it will never happen again, will stay in my memory forever."

The professor smiled and stopped the recording. The hour passed in a flash, leaving you with agitated nerves and a desperate need for a cigarette. You began to regret quitting smoking years ago.

"I'd like you to think about what we have talked about today," the professor said as you were getting ready to leave, "to think about the underlying reason for your hesitance towards people."

"I will," you smiled politely, shook his hand, and wished him a good day, promising to show up next week.

At that moment, you intended to keep your promise.

***

As for the days in Gotham, they passed mercilessly without allowing you a single moment to stop and think. After all, the weekend was over in the blink of an eye, and Monday came, marking the start of the work week and a possible meeting with the company CEO. "Just to sneak unnoticed to my office," you thought as you entered the building. Head lowered down, eyes fixed on the floor, you wanted so badly to become invisible. "Why can't I hold my tongue," you were angry with yourself, "I insulted him right to his face," you thought as you passed the security guard and forced yourself to smile. Your heart leaped to your throat every time you heard footsteps on the shiny marble floors, "it's a giant building, there's no way I'm going to meet him," you tried to calm down as you entered the elevator but your imagination was spinning a million possible scenarios. "Fuck, what if he gets in the elevator?" you thought, "Mr. Wayne? Bruce? How will I ever look him in the eye!" you panicked every time the elevator stopped at one of the floors. You were exchanging polite good mornings and have a nice day, but your thoughts were completely elsewhere. They couldn't stop pondering what if. "What if he comes here?" popped into your head as you finally waited in the comfort of your office space for the coffee maker to pour a drink, "why would he come here? He's the damn CEO!" you tried to rationalize as you sat down in front of your computer and tried to focus on your work, "the CEO who said himself that he often looks into TechDev," another thought raised your panic level. "Why the hell am I panicking like this! Not everyone in the world knows who he is! I had the right to make a mistake! How could I know!" you tried to justify yourself, "if he was going to fire me, he would have done it by now!" And yet with every beep of the electronic lock, with every opening of the door to your department, your heart froze for a split second. You wanted to focus on the new experience, you wanted to enjoy every new moment, every second of your first day at your new job but you couldn't. "Well, he invited me for a walk after I insulted him," you realized, "why?"

On the first day, nothing happened. You were relieved to leave the building, glad that it wasn't as bad as you had imagined.

*

On the second day, you tried to build up your confidence from the very morning. "Even if I meet him, I smile, say hello, wish him a good day! Full professionalism!" you planned as you observed the gray, gloomy weather outside the window. This confidence did not last too long because as soon as you approached the building you began to paranoidly look around in search of the black Rolls Royce. "Don't be an idiot!" you scolded yourself, "he's a freaking billionaire! Surely he has more than one car!"

On that day, however, you greeted the security guard with a polite smile and bright good morning. On that day, instead of staring at the floor, you decided to focus your eyes on the classic architecture and decor around you. That day your heart froze for a second only a few times in the elevator and then in the office. "If this keeps up, I'll finally have a heart attack!!!"

To concentrate on work, that was the key. "I'm here to work and not overthink my fuckups!" you decided just in time as like a blessing your first project from the head of the department appeared. Lucius Fox, the head of WayneTech and a member of the board of directors to your knowledge, turned out to be a man in his fifties with a kind apparition and a warm demeanor. And yet he spread around him a gentle dominance which, in your eyes, he must have built up through years of hard work and invaluable contributions to the company.

"How are you finding yourself in the new reality?" he asked, shaking your hand gently but firmly.

"I found a coffee maker so I feel at home!" you smiled brightly which prompted a short burst of laughter.

"Good, good! The most important thing is to know your priorities!"

"It's impossible to work without coffee!" you smiled innocently and he just pulled the other chair to your desk and sat down comfortably. He placed a thick folder of papers beside him.

"You've got everything?" he asked, inviting you with a gesture to sit down as well.

"The chair is comfortable, the ergonomics are like out of a health and safety manual, and the computer works like a dream," you listed, "the only thing I'm missing is work!"

"You're eager to start huh?" he smiled from under his graying mustache.

"I'm getting a little bored," you clarified, "I've done all the initial training, health and safety, fire awareness training, ethics, security. I know it's the inherent charm of any new job, but I joined Wayne Enterprises hoping for new challenges and opportunities for growth, and I can't wait for my first project!" as you spoke the company's name, your mischievous mind summoned those blue eyes and warm smile, but you kept a poker face.

"I'm not surprised, for people like you boredom is the worse thing that can happen," he smiled again and reached for the folder, "I've read your resume. I saw your concepts, your ideas and projects, and I personally chose you for this position."

"Thank you very much!" a blush spread over your face, you were not good at accepting compliments, "I really appreciate the opportunity and trust in my ability. I won't disappoint."

"I know," he replied briefly and handed you a folder, "these are several drafts and projects that existed some time in the past but for various reasons were never realized. Most of them are in the initial concept stage," he explained, "choose which one suits you best and treat it as your own."

"I can choose whichever one I want?" you asked surprised, flipping through the pages.

"Whichever one you want," he confirmed, "sooner or later you will come to work on most of them. As you've probably noticed this is not a large department," that was true, except for you and Fox you saw only a few people, "I'll expect weekly reports from you."

"Of course, Mr. Fox," you replied, not taking your eyes off the countless possibilities you held in your hands, "now only the question remains, how do I decide?"

"Unfortunately, with this, I cannot help you," he smiled warmly and said goodbye leaving you alone with your thoughts.

By the end of the second day, you stopped thinking about Bruce Wayne.

*

The third day began with fantastic humor and enthusiasm for work. The autumn sun greeted you with a cool pale golden glow reflected in the surface of the Gotham Bay water outside your living room window. It took barely more than a month of living in Gotham for you to appreciate rare sunny days like this one. With a smile on your face, you decided to make the most of it. "Maybe I should get in touch with Harleen as Professor Crane advised," you thought as you made your way strolling down Grand Avenue, "I got nothing to lose."

In your mind, you were planning a busy, productive and creative day. You planned to brew a delicious-smelling cup of coffee and tackle one of the two projects that caught your interest the most. You planned a walk to the park on your lunch break, or perhaps take a slightly longer trip to the bay for a bit of autumn sun. With your independent position as an engineer, you didn't have to worry about breaks or strict working hours. You didn't have to punch in your clock at the same time every day and leave the office after nine hours. The monitoring systems recorded your every entry and exit anyway, you didn't even have to report it. You started at whatever time you wanted, in the morning, in the afternoon, you could work in the evening as well as even at night, and the latter suited you best. You always felt more productive at night, you preferred to sleep until noon. You have always been called a night owl. This week, however, you decided to work mornings, you wanted to get to know the company better, you hoped that the morning hours would allow you to get to know your co-workers better. But you quickly realized that for such a thriving branch of the company, WayneTech had very few employees. They were mostly middle-aged people who had probably worked at the company since their youth. Compared to the rest of the company, WayneTech seemed frozen in time. An asylum of great creative minds and, and as you assumed, the most trusted ones. Usually, they were hidden behind their computer screens, behind countless stacks of blueprints, behind bound folders of documents. On that day, however, upon entering the department, you were surprised to see two of them immersed in a hushed intense discussion. Luke Fox, the boss's son, and Claire Russell, the only WayTech employees who, in your estimation, had to be of a similar age to yours.

"Hey guys!" you greeted them in an attempt to get their attention.

"Hey Y/N!" they replied simultaneously and returned to the conversation.

You didn't want to insert yourself between them, you were new and well aware that participation in hushed conversations had to be earned. As usual, you made yourself a cup of coffee and sat down at your computer. You had planned to get to work right away, and yet, that strange feeling so familiar to you returned along with sudden chills on your skin. You opened a browser and typed in the Gotham Gazette website address. You've never done this before, you never read the news, preferring to keep your mind calm and undistracted unnecessarily by things over which you had no control anyway. And yet, a strange hunch, a quiet voice somewhere in the back of your head whispered to investigate, and it was right. On the front page in giant letters, the headline read: JOKER STRIKES AGAIN! BATMAN STOPS THE MANIACAL CLOWN ONCE MORE. You quickly clicked on the article and delved deeper into the content.

On the night of November 22/23, the Joker once again attacked the residents of Gotham. The attack occurred around 10 pm in the Port Adams area. According to witnesses' statements, the terrorist clown's target was supposed to be the shipment of unmarked chemicals delivered the previous night to the port. Police quickly arrived on the scene and, according to a statement from Commissioner James Gordon, no one was hurt in the shooting. The safety of residents and security services was once again ensured by the lone vigilante who restrained the clown after a brief fight. Reporter Jack Ryder, who was on the scene, captured the fight between Gotham's mysterious protector and the Joker's gang.

The photos in the article brought cold chills to your spine. Police cars, an intense shootout between police officers and people with faces painted in white as if they were clown masks, and between them a black figure descending from the sky like a giant bat, as if it wanted to stand between them.

At the moment, it is unclear whether the Joker planned to steal or destroy the unknown toxins. It's also unknown where the toxins were delivered from and whether Gotham residents should fear another wave of attacks from the hands of the Joker. As of now, all the chemicals have been secured and the Joker has been transported to Arkham Asylum.

You could not take your eyes off the dark, masked figure. Against the blackness of the night, even in the perfect photo, the reporter captured only an indistinct shadow. The headlines of the linked articles read: WHO IS BATMAN? VIGILANTE OUTLAW OR HERO? MASS MIGRATION OF CITIZENS TO CENTRAL CITY AND METROPOLIS. GOTHAM CRIMINALS, GANGS, SUPERVILLAINS - HOW TO PROTECT YOURSELF?

"Hey, guys!" you called out in the direction of Luke and Claire, "Is this kind of news normal in Gotham?" you asked without taking your eyes off the computer.

Before you had a chance to read the next article they both pulled their chairs over next to you and looked at your computer screen.

"Pretty normal day in Gotham," Luke commented and Claire just nodded, "it may not be every day, but at least once a month a similar headline appears in the press."

"Really, after some time you stop noticing them unless Batman appears in the headline or in the pictures," Claire continued, "it's always newsworthy."

"Ryder or Vale have a keen eye for photos," Luke interjected.

"And a good instinct for being in the right place at the right time," Claire finished for him.

"Sometimes they manage to catch a close-up on Batman but that's a rarity, to be honest…"

"Hold on, hold on," you swept your eyes over their faces trying to keep up, "Who the hell is Batman?"

They both smiled broadly as if your question was the funniest and most delightfully ignorant thing they had heard in a long time.

"Nobody knows," Luke replied, "he appeared presumably seven, maybe eight years ago. No one knows where he came from or who he is."

"People thought for a long time that he was made up," Claire continued as a blush of excitement appeared on her face, "they thought he was an urban legend made up to scare Gotham's criminal underworld."

"But then pictures started appearing in the press…."

"People whom Batman saved started giving interviews…"

"The police stopped denying his existence…."

"It is said that he even began to work with them. They installed a big spotlight on the roof of the GCPD, everyone calls it a Bat-signal. People say that he is the only one who can enter Arkham Asylum without special permissions…"

"Batman can enter anywhere!" Claire chuckled with excitement, "Nothing or no one can stop him! He protects us all!"

"Fangirl," Luke teased, "but the fact is, I don't think anything can stop him. I don't think he's human at all."

"And who would he be! An alien!?" on her face you could clearly see how fascinated she was by the mysterious vigilante, "Batman is a hero! He protects us! He protects the city!"

"You want to tell me," you finally interjected, "that I moved to a city where a guy dressed as a big bat, possibly an alien, fights psychopathic clowns and that's totally normal?" you asked rhetorically and they just smiled with amusement, "I really should read more news…."

"Don't worry…." Clair tried to sound comforting, "This is a big city. You have little chance of ever finding yourself in the middle of a fight between Batman and Gotham's psychos."

***

The night began to spread in the enveloping darkness over Gotham as you sipped warm coffee and pondered your life choices, staring at the sea of light like an endless constellation of stars. You couldn't help but think that Bruce was right, the view from the observation deck was truly unforgettable. The huge city stretched before your eyes with a million paths and roads, the glow of countless lights, the vastness of endless possibilities. A city that seemed to never sleep, a city that even under the cover of a cold autumn night seemed to pulsate with a quiet steady life. A city that housed crime greater than any other, violence more brutal than you could have imagined, the pain and suffering of tormented frightened people. But there was something else within it. In the shadows of darkness and despair, there was a beauty that no one could kill, a beauty that you saw every day. In the dark alleys, in the dark corners, quiet faith in a better tomorrow hid, an inextinguishable hope that was signified by a symbol lit up in the night sky time after time. At least, that's what the people of Gotham said. That's what you read from Luke and Claire's hushed voices, from the endless articles the rabbit hole of which you had fallen into for hours.

"Monsters in the sewers, maniacal clowns, deadly riddles," you kept recapping in your mind the descriptions you'd read, "the Italian mafia that rules the city, corruption, complete apathy, and a mysterious protector in whom people find hope," every single article you found contained a mention of the Dark Knight, Gotham's only hope. A man, presumably, who alone decided to stand between all that is vile and cruel and the people of this beautiful city. "Who is he," you wondered, "what determination and courage must he possess to stand alone against them all?"

You took a sip of coffee and gazed wistfully into the night as its warmth spread pleasantly inside you. "Batman…what a ridiculous nickname," you smiled in disbelief, "he's either a complete idiot or a hopeless idealist," and yet you knew perfectly well that naivety and idealism went hand in hand all too often. Listening to the quietly beating heart of the city, you could imagine how one man could be willing to do anything to protect it. Even though you had lived here for barely more than a month, you felt like you belonged here.

The wind blew harder and you only closed your eyes enjoying the quiet murmur of the night. The night you loved so much, the night in which you always felt more alive than during the day. You listened to the sound of the cars, the quiet whisper of the wheels and the hum of the engines that passed through the many streets of the city like blood quietly flowing through the veins. Somewhere in the distance, a ship signaled its arrival in the bay, somewhere farther away the cries of seagulls rose into the night sky and echoed through the silence of the night. You smiled and with your imagination's eyes, you saw the people of Gotham, in their homes, slowly ending their day. Cuddling their children to sleep, relaxing while watching an evening movie, walking their dogs for one last evening walk, falling asleep in the embrace of their loved ones. "I wonder what the Dark Knight is doing when he's not fighting maniacal clowns," you thought, completely ignoring the quiet sound of footsteps coming from the entrance. You didn't have to open your eyes or turn around to feel his presence. The familiar feeling you trusted more than anything returned. The aura in the air suddenly changed, as if the air around you was filled with an electrifying tickle as he silently approached and leaned against the railing beside you. You let this new feeling tickle your senses. You let the cold wind cool the warmth of the coffee inside you, let the hum of the city drown out the silence that lingered between you, let the chill of the autumn night be warmed by the woody scent of warm spices that floated around you. You breathed deeply enjoying the fusion of sensations, smiled, and opened your eyes.

"You were right," you broke the silence in a whisper, "it is breathtaking," there was no trace of nervousness in your voice. Suddenly, every worry you had, every scenario of your awkward meeting that you had created in your mind over the past few days, seemed distant and so utterly ridiculous. For when you looked at him you felt nothing but peace. You felt this quiet excitement that seemed to be growing inside you.

Bruce only smiled faintly while gazing at the ocean of lights against the blackness of the night. For a long moment, you stood like that in silence, and to your surprise, it didn't bother you at all. Both of you gazing at the city, both of you enjoying a moment of peace and quiet after a hard day.

"I like coming here," a soft, low voice snapped you out of your reverie, "I like to listen to the quiet pulse of the city," blue eyes glimpsed at you, "usually I'm here alone."

"I'm sorry," you smiled innocently, "did I ruin your me time?"

"No," he replied softly, "it's a nice change," he added and gazed into the distance again, "it's just usually no one is here at this hour. What are you still doing in the office?"

"I like the night," you replied and leaned against the railing next to him, "I like to work at night, my brain is usually more productive after the sun goes down."

"I can relate to that," he murmured quietly then added, "I do not suppose you want to tell me that you have been working…"

"I'd like to," you replied realizing yet again that you were talking to the most important person in the company, "I've fallen down the rabbit hole called the Internet and endlessly scrolling through articles about Gotham and its more colorful inhabitants," you glanced at him stealthily but his face remained calm and stoic, " today's morning article on Batman triggered my need for knowledge."

"She reads after all!" he teased.

"Hey, not cool! It's not that I don't read at all!" you defended yourself, "I just like to keep good mental hygiene and not clutter it with unnecessary information!" you looked angrily at the barely noticeable smirk, "I regret a bit that I haven't thought about reading more about the city before I moved here…"

"Why didn't you do that?" he asked while looking into the distance.

"I realize how this is going to sound," you began, "but I had nothing to lose, and nothing to risk. I needed a change of scenery, I needed something new, something exciting in my life. I saw an opportunity and took it!"

"Some might say that this was stupid and unreasonable…" he quipped without looking at you.

"Perhaps, but damn… life is like poker you know! Sometimes a hand is dealt poorly and you have to wait it out. And sometimes you just go all in!" you glanced at him again looking for some reaction, "We don't get to choose how we start in this life. Real greatness is what you do with the hand you're dealt. That's what I believe, that's how I roll!" blue eyes flicked at you and a warm smile once again dawned on Bruce's face.

"I like that, those are wise words," he said softly.

"A moment ago you said you thought it was stupid and unreasonable," this time you teased forgetting again who you were talking to.

"I didn't say that I think so," he denied, "I said that some people may think so. I find that…" he hesitated while his blue eyes scanned your face as if searching for the right word within you, "admirable," he decided finally.

You smiled proudly and returned to gazing at the city spreading before your eyes. You couldn't say why, but talking to him came so naturally, so casually, as if you had known each other for many years. He didn't exude the same ego that Lex Luthor did, even though now as you looked at him you saw an undeniable strength in him. Although you tried not to, your eyes kept wandering in his direction. Toward his powerful figure, towering even as he leaned nonchalantly against the railing. The perfectly tailored suit displayed the position and power he possessed, the expensive watch whose dial reflected the moonlight represented prosperity, and that luring scent attracted and seduced without even trying. Yet there was ease and authenticity in his demeanor, honesty and genuineness in the tone of his voice and smile, sincere interest in the glow of his eyes. Beneath the facade of an influential powerful billionaire was a real human, a young man with tousled black hair and sparkling fascinated eyes whom you were eager to learn more about.

"If you had read about Gotham earlier would you have turned down the job offer?" he asked breaking the silence.

"I don't think so," you replied honestly, "but at least I would have known what I was signing up for. Instead, in one day I had to catch up on information about the Joker, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Killer Crock…" you began to list, "like forgive my French, but what the actual fuck!? Killer Crock!" Bruce chuckled quietly, "Seriously has anyone actually seen him, or is it just an urban myth!"

"Well, isn't it the fact that there's a grain of truth in every myth?"

"Perhaps, but somehow I find it hard to believe in a monster with the build of an oversized man but the appearance of a crocodile! I find hard to believe in a lot of things I've read about today but one thing is for sure, reporters in this city are remarkably brave!"

"Or unreasonable," he chuckled with a smirk.

"Or that!" you laughed quietly, "Maybe this city attracts unreasonable people…" you wondered aloud, "after all, at night it is protected by Batman…" you emphasized the last word, "Like seriously, dude calls himself Bat-man."

"Apparently Gotham has a thing for weirdos with ridiculous aliases," he snarked.

"You've lived here all your life, what do you think of all this as a native Gothamite?"

"Well, guy who dresses up like a bat clearly has issues," he replied with a sneer.

"True," you chuckled, "I wonder what childhood trauma drove him to do that. Instead of going to therapy, he kicks criminals' asses! At least he doesn't have to listen to endless 'how do you feel about this,' 'how does this make you feel,' 'your anger lies at the root of unresolved issues you've bottled up and hidden inside,'" you chuckled.

"You sound like someone who knows," the blue eyes gazed at you curiously.

"A friend told me," you joked and yet Bruce didn't take his eyes off you, as if he wanted you to continue, as if he wanted to ask, and yet something was holding him back.

You didn't know why but you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him everything that troubled you, a million thoughts that ran through your mind as he stared at you as if trying to understand you without the need for words. You were usually cautious around new people, you usually hid behind a giant wall you had built for yourself, you usually didn't say anything about yourself, you usually assumed a mask of confidence, sarcasm, irony adorned with a devil may care attitude. And yet there was something about him that for a moment ignited within you a desire to be real for a change. A desire not to pretend this time. Maybe it was the casualness of your encounters, maybe it was the nature of your interactions, or maybe it was the simple sincerity and human kindness he expressed. You just wanted to be yourself…

You took a breath calming your excited heart wanting to continue the subject you had jokingly started when suddenly the sky lit up with a pale yellow glow illuminating the bat symbol against the blackness of the night sky. It shone intensely, making you suddenly feel uneasy as if all your senses suddenly turned into a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"I've never seen it before…" you whispered quietly. Bruce only turned around and looked at the symbol in the sky. For a split second something shifted in him, a change barely discernible under the cover of darkness, so subtle that you were sure a normal person wouldn't even notice it. But not you. You noticed the subtle change in posture, the tense muscles of his neck, and the blue in his eyes that seemed to have taken on the color of the deep ocean.

"We should get home," he said in his usual warm voice, and yet there was something different in it, "I know you're new here, but when that symbol shines in the sky, it's a sign that the city is not safe," you nodded observing him carefully, "do you have a car in the parking lot?"

"No, I haven't bought a new one yet," you replied and Bruce only reached for his phone and without asking you, called one of the cabs that drove for Wayne Enterprises, "no walking today huh?" you smirked.

"Raincheck?" he asked and you smiled in agreement.

"What about you?" you asked.

"The end of the month is approaching, I'll probably be working until morning," he replied, "I'd drive you home but I really don't know how long it will take, I'd rather you be home as soon as possible. On a night like this, your curiosity could put you in danger."

"You sound like you think you know me, Mr. Wayne! " you sassed.

"I don't," he leaned closer and for a moment the depths of the ocean took on the color of blue sky again, "but I'd like to. Consider me curious."

The shadow of the night in its blessing hid your flushed cheeks as you left the observation deck heading in a hurry home. As you left Wayne Tower, thanking Bruce for arranging the cab and for the delightful conversation, exchanging last glances and polite smiles, you knew that this night would be a restless one for the people of Gotham as well as for you.

That night you didn't sleep. That night you pondered about what to do with the hand you're dealt.

***

Chapter three: Madness and old friends

***

Author note: Thank you for the warm response to first chapter. Hope you enjoyed this one as well. I want lie, I was kind of regretting my decision to set everything on a work background, because it challenged me to write mundane stuff and not make them boring! Hope I managed to do so! I am so eager to write all the craziness that Gotham has to offer but story needs to have a flow. Cause and effect. So I really need to hold myself back for now. I have an idea which I want to realize. Hope that at the end it will be worth it ;) But for now, my Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

[rphelperblog]

Phantom of the Opera Book Quote RP Meme

part one-book by Gaston Leroux- feel free to edit quotes or change pronouns for rp purposes- inspired by @composer-of-the-night @seraphicsoprano

“All I wanted was to be loved for myself."

you have no right to control them, and I will beg you to desist henceforth.” 

she was very beautiful and he was shy and he dared not confess his love, even to himself.” 

“My lies were as hideous as the monster that had inspired them” 

“No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that I had only one object in life: to give my name to an opera wench!”

“A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous!” 

“Come for a walk, dear. The air will do you good."

“Everything that concerns you interests me greatly, as you will perhaps one day come to appreciate.” 

“How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you!” 

“An author really ought to have nothing but flowers in the room where he works.” 

“He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar.” 

“I am dying of love. That is how it is...I loved her so! And I love her still....and am dying of love for her. - I kissed her alive...and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead.” 

“There is also something of the arrogant vain youth in him; [...] he loves nothing more than to reveal the truly prodigious ingenuity of his mind.”

“You clearly love him! Your fears, your terror, all of that is still born of love, and love of that most exquisite kind, the kind that one does not admit even to oneself. The kind that gives you a thrill when you think of it.” 

“There is a terrible mystery around us...a mystery much more to be feared than any number of ghosts or genii!” 

“Yes—it must be the ghost!”

“As long as you thought me handsome, you could have come back, I know you would have come back.” 

“I'm sick and tired of having a forest and a torture chamber in my house... I want to have a nice quiet flat with ordinary doors and windows and a wife inside it, like anybody else!” 

“He asked only to be ‘someone,’ like everybody else.” 

“His manner, his words - everything about him told me to trust him.” 

“He asked only to be ‘someone,’ like everybody else.” 

“one after the other, there came a series of incidents so curious and so inexplicable that the very shrewdest people began to feel uneasy.

You must work at it as seldom as you can,’

"The man must be either a villain, or the girl a fool: is that it?” 

“Our lives are one masked ball.” 

I saved your life! Remember? You were sentenced to death! But for me you would be dead by now. ” 

“Tonight she's still wearing the gold ring, and you're not the one who gave it to her. Tonight she gave her soul again, but not to you.” 

"she is lost. But I shall save her."

“May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning?… For what hell are you leaving, mysterious lady…or for what paradise?” 

“Music has the power to make one forget everything save those sounds that touch your heart.” 

“There are times where excessive innocence seems so monstrous that it becomes hateful.” 

“I am the little boy who went into the sea to rescue your scarf” 

“It’s the ghost!” 

I don't lock myself up in my dressing-room with men's voices.” 

“There is some music that is so terrible that it consumes all those who approach it.” 

“Until then, in the depth of those eyes, all I had seen was the promise of death; it was the first time I saw the promise of life” 

“If I don't save her from the hands of that humbug,"

“If I am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so. If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me.” 

He is not truly dead. He lives on within the souls of those who choose to listen to the music of the night.” 

“Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves.” 

the wall is a looking-glass!” 

“No, he is not a ghost; he is a man of Heaven and earth, that is all.”

“He loved her so much that it almost took his breath away.” 

The grasshopper, be careful of the grass hopper! A grasshopper does not only turn: it hops! It hops! And it hops jolly high!

“Everyone dies. I just choose the time and place for some of them!” 

“I am not really wicked. Love me, and you will see!”

“when a man adopts such romantic methods to entice a young girl's affections. .." 

“You must know that I am made of death, from head to foot, and it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!”

“They played at hearts as other children might play at ball; only, as it was really their two hearts that they flung to and fro, they had to be very, very handy to catch them, each time, without hurting them.” 

“Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead."

“I give you five minutes to spare your blushes.”

“But do you love me? If hewere good-looking, would you love me?” 

“She's singing to-night to bring the chandelier down!” 

we will go from here together or die together. “

Your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept to-night.” 

“Destiny has chained you to me forever!” 

“He laid at my feet his immense, tragic love.” 

Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves. The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it.... Picture it: a man who lives in a palace underground!"

“Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, My spirit longs with thee to rest” 

He had loved an angel and now he despised a woman.” 

That night, we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep.” 

“Blood!...Blood!... That's a good thing! A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous!” 

“He looked up in despair at the starry sky, he struck his burning chest with his fist; he loved and he was not loved!” 

"He would commit murder for me.” 

“why do you condemn a man whom you have never met, whom no one knows and about whom even you yourself know nothing?” 

Yes, alive... I kissed her alive.... And she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead!” 

“You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. “

You want to see? See! Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! “

I kissed her alive...and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead. “

“None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom, or indifference over his inward joy.” 

We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer.” 

“Know that it is a corpse who loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!”

“When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever.” 

“We recognize the touch of the Opera ghost.” 

“Oh, my betrothed of a day, if I did not love you, I would not give you my lips! Take them, for the first time and the last.” 

Surely we must pity the Opera ghost!” 

What had become of that wonderful, mysterious artist of whom the world was never, never to hear again?...” 

Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him?”

“Nobody could see the ghost in his box, but everybody could hear him.”

“He had a heart that could have held the entire empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar.” 

“Are people so unhappy when they love?"

“Love me and you'll see! To be good, all I ever needed was to be loved. If you loved me, I'd be gentle as a lamb and you could do whatever you pleased with me.” 

“I moved closer to him, attracted, fascinated: in the midst of such passion, death itself became appealing...” 

Sometimes, the Angel comes much later, because the children are naughty and won't learn their lessons or practice their scales. And sometimes, he does not come at all, because the children have a wicked heart or a bad conscience.”

“You are crying! You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself.” 

“Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as golden as the sun's rays, and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her red shoes and her fiddle, but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music.” 

“And, despite the care which she took to look behind her at every moment, she failed to see a shadow which followed her like her own shadow, which stopped when she stopped, which started again when she did and which made no more noise than a well-conducted shadow should.” 

“Why do you condemn a man who you have never seen, whom no one knows about and whom you yourself know nothing?” 

“But you would have lots of fun with me. For instance, I am the the greatest ventriloquist that ever lived, I am the first ventriloquist in the world!” 

"forget THE MAN'S VOICE and do not even remember its name... You must never try to fathom the mystery of THE MAN'S VOICE.” 

[goingmorry]

Hellooo I love your writing soooo much >>•<<

Could you please write headcanons of ASL sister introducing Smoker as her fiancé ? Thank you so much !

[One Piece Headcanons] ASL Brothers -> when you introduce Smoker as your fiancé

Characters: Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Smoker

Tags: female reader, overprotective brothers

Author's Note: Thank you for the cute request! I got carried away and added short scenarios for each brother's reaction and a little extra at the end. I hope you like it! 💖

PORTGAS D. ACE

Goes from 😯 to 😡 to 🤬

Ace.exe has stopped working.

He's the 2nd Division Commander of the esteemed Whitebeard Pirates; who in their right mind would think it would be a good idea for him — the son of the late Pirate King — to meet a Marine Vice-Admiral?

Cue war flashbacks of when Garp showered him, Luffy, and Sabo with his "fists of love" for sharing their childhood dreams of becoming pirates.

Goes through all seven stages of grief and complains to Sabo every single time.

Threatens Smoker every chance he gets. The Marine Vice-Admiral repays in kind when you're not around.

Doesn't warm up to the idea of you and Smoker as a couple except on your wedding day.

"Behave yourself," you whisper to your fiancé, soft hands tightly gripping his muscular bicep in warning.

"I'm on my best behavior. It's your brother who needs to behave," Smoker says bluntly, brown eyes observing the freckled pirate's reaction to you and your beau's interlocked arms.

Ace stares, and stares, and stares — at his little sister and the familiar white-haired man he encountered early on during his journey to Alabasta — dumbfounded at the scene before him.

"Fire Fist," the Marine Vice-Admiral calls out, breaking him from his reverie.

"You—" Ace yells, flames erupting from the tips of his fingers to rapidly engulf his entire first.

Before your fiancé can return your fiery brother's sudden display of aggression, you step in between their bodies, eyes alight with fury.

"Stop it!" you scold Ace, extending your pointer finger and thumb to pinch his ear in retaliation.

He frowns at you, but obliges, flames extinguishing from his curled fist. "We need to talk. Now."

Not waiting for your response, Ace saunters off toward his bedroom at the other end of the hallway, posture stiff and robotic. To anyone, outsider or not, it was evident from Ace's appearance and demeanor that the usually friendly pirate was clearly not in a good mood.

"Just wait here. I won't be long," you say to Smoker before dashing off in pursuit of your freckled brother.

When you close the door to his bedroom, Ace begins his tirade, arms crossed against his bare chest as he faces your more petite frame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You look at him in bewilderment but don't say a word, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Him! That—that big oaf! There are millions of men in this world! And it has to be him? I don't approve!" Ace doesn't stop himself from frantically gesturing at the closed door — the only piece of barrier, aside from him, of course — separating you from your fiancé.

You frown at Ace's insult, adopting a defensive stance. "Don't call him that! And I don't need your permission, you know. Why are you acting like this?"

"You're my little sister! Of course, I'm concerned!" Ace adjusts himself from the desk he was leaning on. "Do you know what he's done to Luffy?"

You shakily exhale at his accusatory tone. "I know! We've talked about this. He's promised to look the other way when it comes to our family."

"And you believe him?"

"Of course, I do! He hasn't given me any reason to doubt him."

"He's not exactly husband material," Ace interjects, to which you roll your eyes. At this point, it was apparent to you that your big brother was grasping at straws, finding reasons — however shallow they may be — to make you reconsider this marriage.

"He dresses better than you, that's for sure," you say childishly.

Ace's eyebrows furrow, taking great offense to your statement. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"Have you seen yourself? You're always strutting around like you own the place. Shirtless and all," you comment, scrunching up your nose in disgust. "Have some common decency at least."

"He's not wearing a shirt either!" Ace says indignantly.

"No, but he has a jacket—"

"That he leaves open all the time, which basically makes it useless," Ace argues, "Why bother if you're not even gonna wear it properly?"

"Argh, forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore," you say, burying your face in your hands.

Ace takes the hint, feeling guilty as he walks over to your defeated form to rub circles on your back slowly.

A truce, for now.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sometime later, when you return from Ace's bedroom, you find your fiancé calmly sitting on the corner of the couch. Without a word, you plop down beside him and rest your head on the crook of his shoulder.

Smoker takes a deep drag of his cigars, observing your distraught appearance and the lack of a certain cowboy-hat-wearing pirate. "Well, that went well."

SABO

Goes from 😟 to 😩 to 😭

Dies a little bit on the inside.

His precious little sister finally finds love, and who's her betrothed? The infamous White Hunter himself.

He expected this behavior from Ace, but you?

Discreetly pulls you aside to express his disapproval.

Learns to cope and eventually warms up to your relationship with the Marine. How can he not when you look so happy?

De-escalates arguments between Ace and your lover every single time.

"Sabo!" You pull your big brother into an embrace which he reciprocates.

When the blond Revolutionary notices the white-haired man standing behind you, he stiffens, gloved hand reaching behind his back to clasp his metal pipe.

Noticing your older brother's sudden alertness, you nudge his side in reassurance. "This is the fiancé I've been telling you about."

Sabo quickly puts two and two together. All those conversations you've had with him, and not once did you mention that you were engaged to an officer of the Marines. And not just any Marine officer, you were engaged to the Commander of the notorious G-5 base.

In an effort to remain composed, Sabo forces a half-hearted smile — appearing more like a grimace really, but an action you appreciated nonetheless - and extends his right arm to your fiancé for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you."

Ignoring the daggers you were glaring at the side of his face, Smoker hesitantly grips the blond Revolutionary's hand. "Pleasure," he grunts out, letting out a puff of white smoke from his cigars.

For a moment, the two men clasp at each other's hand in a show of fake camaraderie.

Choosing to ignore the growing tension thick in the air, you clap your hands together in mock enthusiasm.

"Great! Let's meet the rest of the family, shall we?"

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Goes from 😁 to 😊 to 🥳

The only one who's okay with your relationship with Smoker.

He's survived having Garp, the Hero of the Marines, as his grandfather; he can certainly handle an additional Marine in the family.

Gets along with your fiancé the best, though Smoker himself denies this.

"Woah, what's Smokey doing here?" Luffy says in awe, looking back and forth between you and the Marine.

You tap your feet in nervousness, gesturing between Smoker and your youngest brother.

"Luffy, this is my fiancé. Smoker, this is my little brother."

"I know who Straw Hat Luffy is," Smoker says impatiently, barely glancing at the pirate standing a few feet in front of him.

"You haven't been formally introduced to each other, have you?" you say indignantly, hips cocked to one side as you stare at your fiancé's tepid behavior.

"In a normal setting, I mean," you clarify, "You chasing him and his crew does NOT count."

Smoker shrugs at your accusation, and you sigh.

Luffy laughs at your scolding, looking up at the Marine. "It's okay. I meant what I said in Alabasta. I don't hate you, y'know?"

You smile at your little brother's statement. You could always count on Luffy to be accepting of your partner, whoever they may be. Also, he wasn't the type to dwell on the past, preferring instead to live in the moment. And that moment was your engagement to the Marine Vice-Admiral, the same man who used to hunt Luffy and his crew throughout the Grand Line for being wanted criminals.

'Tsk' is all Smoker says to the straw hat pirate's proclamation, earning a disapproving pinch to his side from you.

"Be nice," you whisper harshly to your fiancé's ear.

The sound of your little brother's joyous laughter is enough for the normally serious Marine to let out a small smile.

BONUS BELOW LMAO

MONKEY D. GARP

Goes from 😌 to 🥰 to 🤗

T H R I L L E D that his grandson-in-law is a respectable Marine.

The epitome of Proud Father Figure™

Compares the ASL brothers to Smoker every chance he gets during family reunions.

"Y'hear that Luffy? Smoker just caught a band of no-good pirates terrorizing the local townsfolk." Luffy picks his nose in acknowledgment.

Garp points an accusatory finger at Ace. "You damn brat, why couldn't you listen to me and become a Marine like I told you to?"

Garp gives a disapproving glare to Sabo. "And you! Why'd you have to join the shady Revolutionaries and become a wanted criminal like my son?"

Garp proceeds to give the ASL brothers multiple rounds of his fists of love. Meanwhile, he smooches your forehead in happiness for finding a suitable husband.

You and Smoker live happily ever after. The end.