#<- tag renaming. in preparation

[ferretrix]

oldass 2023 art from the vaults

[eyesontheskyline]

Editing this first part of this new thing, actively trying to regulate my inner lapsed Catholic. It's an interesting exercise.

Anyway I think the thing is working out but I'm writing without an outline so I'm keeping a lid on it until it's (at least almost) done, because I have finally learned my lesson.

[hal-boy]

I found my childhood Sims save files and this just reaffirms my commitment that I should never be trusted to name anything ever. Why the fuck is this guy's name "Conos (Chrono Trigger)", I never even played that. Fake fan :(

Other names from this specific set of saves includes 'Reco' (he's Conos's boyfriend :))))... full name Reco Lusiove :/ ) and 'Carp' (Reco's dad), but some other winners include Glivk (gl-ih-vehk, brown stardew valley chicken), Kinalek (kin-ah-leh-ck, Walrein, pokemon), and Kario (childhood OC. Pronounced car-ee-o, like "Mario", but was almost definitely supposed to be named Cairo, after the city.)

[ao3org]

Changes to Character Tags in Video Blogging RPF: Usernames Incoming!

Hello! In the near future, the Video Blogging RPF wrangling team will change the way we format character tags. We’re happy to announce that all canonical character tags will include content creators’ usernames by default, similar to what has been done for character tags in SMP fandoms for some time.

For example, the following tags will be updated:

Sean McLoughlin will be renamed to Sean McLoughlin | Jacksepticeye

Jeremy Harrington will be renamed to Jeremy | Jerma985

Rachell "Rae" Hofstetter will be renamed to Rachell "Rae" Hofstetter | Valkyrae

Apollo Willems will be renamed to Apollo Willems | DumbDog

These changes are already underway for smaller-use character tags, and we ask for your patience as we roll out changes across all relevant Video Blogging RPF character tags. We hope this change makes it easier for you to find and tag your works. We’ve included more granular details below for anyone curious about the specifics :)

Why are you making this change?

As we’re an RPF subfandom, we adhere to standard policy for RPF tag formatting, which means including a legal name where appropriate. We source legal names from web pages that are publicly accessible at the time of canonization, which creators would have endorsed themselves (such as their social media or interview articles). However, when character tags only contain a legal name, they’re often unrecognizable for both users and wranglers. 

If a content creator primarily promotes themselves under a username, many users likely won’t know who the canonical character tag is referring to. Similarly, tag wranglers have struggled with accidentally duplicating character tags: we have trouble finding the canonical tags too!

To improve things for everyone, we’re changing our canonical tags to include usernames alongside legal names where appropriate. This ensures we’re compatible with other RPF fandoms—which we often have overlap with—while keeping tags usable and recognizable. 

Will this affect anyone whose character tag is only a username? Will you add legal names to tags that don’t have them already? 

We don’t plan to edit any existing canonical character tags that only contain a username. For example, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) will remain canonical, even though the creator has since also made content under the legal name Tom Simons. 

In rare cases, a username may be ambiguous within Video Blogging RPF, and we will add another name or more information to a character tag to differentiate it. However, this is generally quite rare. When we conducted our audit of all character tags in Video Blogging RPF, the vast majority of username-only tags did not require additional disambiguation and will not be changed. 

In other cases, such as a content creator not wanting to be associated with a username anymore, we will remove the relevant information from the tag and replace it with a more appropriate name. This is similar to how we handle content creators who do not go by old legal names anymore. If a content creator changes their name—legal name or username—and does not want to be associated with their old name, we have and always will update the character tag as appropriate. 

What if a legal name on a character tag is incorrect? Will you be fixing those?

During our audit, we also ran into a few cases where a character tag’s legal name is incorrect, outdated, or there are conflicting sources. We will be updating such tags with more up-to-date information as we come across them or will remove names from a tag entirely if there are conflicting sources. For example, as mentioned above, Jeremy Harrington will be renamed to Jeremy | Jerma985 due to conflicting unofficial sources regarding the creator's legal last name. 

We want to thank our volunteers for their hard work, both for evaluating the 6000+ character tags in Video Blogging RPF and for preparing to rename all relevant tags as quickly and smoothly as possible. Given the large number of tags that will be changed, these changes will take some time to complete. We ask for your patience as we work to rename all relevant tags. If you have any follow-up questions, or concerns about specific tags, you can always contact AO3 Support.

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

[emmiesoverthemoon]

emergency kitty babysitter's club

pairing: platonic ot8 x reader

word count: 7.1k

summary: you have to head out of town and you can't leave your precious cat alone, so you decide to call in a favour from your favourite 8 friends.

tags: fluff. cat nonsense. established friendship. skz being skz

You don't anticipate chaos. Not at first at least.

In fact, you expect this to go quite smoothly. After all, the request is simple, the time commitment minimal, and your companions—though chaotic—are all capable adults. Mostly. You tell yourself that a cat-sitting arrangement with your friend group is no different from asking anyone else. Perhaps it will even be charming. Domestic. Bonding.

You should have known better.

The group chat has barely been appropriately renamed to “emergency kitty babysitter's club🐾” when panic begins to unfold.

channie: wait is something wrong why is it named that???

hyunjin: if this is a real emergency i’m going to cry

seungmin: i bet it’s something ridiculous like ‘her plant looked sad’

you: wow okay rude. it is NOT a plant this time thank you.

you: i need someone to watch my daughter, princess murder volcano for the weekend pls pls pls😼

A long pause follows. A virtual silence, if you will. Then—

han: i’m sorry her name is WHAT...

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Princess. Murder. Volcano,” you repeat aloud, as if saying it in your own voice might lend it dignity. As if verbal confirmation would translate through to the men when the conversation was indeed, online. The cat in question is peacefully purring in your lap, snoozing and occasionally huffing or twitching, as if she is in the peak of dreamland.

you: i didn't name her that

you: she chose it herself

jeongin: what kind of cat chooses her own name ???

minho: the dangerous kind. i remember her. she scratched my thigh and then stole my snack.

you: that was one time! she's just a baby

hyunjin: she stared straight into my damn soul. don’t get me started on MY SHIRT. i still have nightmares abt it. she knows things we don't

you: okay....dramatic... no daughter of mine has been raised to behave in such a way

you: anyway listen. i’ll be gone for three days for my cousin’s wedding. i just need you guys to check in, feed her, play with her a bit ! nothing wild. she mostly just sleeps and runs up and down the hallway.... pleaseeee !! i'll treat you when i come back

felix: i’ll do it!! 🥺 i love cats

binnie: me too! this’ll be fun 🤩🤩

minho: you are all fools. she is not a cat. she is a small, elegant war criminal.

seungmin: sounds like your type hyung

You close your eyes and count to ten.

They do, in the end, agree. Through passive-aggressive commentary, chaotic enthusiasm, and mild dread, they do accept the mission. You feel something close to warmth bloom in your chest. Relief, maybe. Gratitude.

Foolish, foolish you.

Because no amount of love or loyalty can prepare a group of overworked idols for one deceptively fluffy, emotionally manipulative, semi-feral feline with the spiteful intelligence of a Victorian widow plotting the downfall of every man who ever wronged her. You're sure that it will be okay—she is not one to misbehave for you!

On the day of your departure, you smile and you wave goodbye to the boys. You leave your precious, sweet, innocent daughter, Princess Murder Volcano in their hands.

And so it begins.

You have yet to even reach the airport security line before your phone begins vibrating incessantly in your bag.

The group chat has transformed into a war room.

channie: she’s glaring at me

felix: nooo she’s just curious 🥺🥺 she’s probably getting used to you

minho: she’s plotting his downfall.

seungmin: if we just don't leave the back door open it'll be fine

You resist the urge to laugh aloud. Instead, you open the chat and peek at the latest photo: Princess Murder Volcano perched on top of your fridge, fluffed out like a disapproving cloud, eyes narrowed at the mere concept of human interaction, let alone with a man. Her ears are slightly tilted outward and back, and her boofy tail curls and uncurls like a fuse.

you: she can be people shy at first! it's fine i promise☺️gtg, i’m at security!

You really should know better.

Day One's debacles begin with Chan, who has shown up with a clipboard.

There are bullet points, color-coded sticky tabs, and a hydration log. He has scheduled enrichment time, litter scooping, feeding windows with optional treat intervals. He has printed out an actual feeding plan and is now consulting it while crouching near her pink food bowl.

“She gets fourteen grams in the morning and ten in the evening, right? Split into two intervals to match her natural hunting cycle?”

“Sure,” Seungmin says, already bored. “Why not teach her to file taxes while you’re at it?”

Princess Murder Volcano sniffs the food and walks away, choosing instead to stare unblinking at Chan from several steps away, paws tucked neatly beneath her body like a loaf of bread with grievances.

He attempts to coax her closer with a laser pointer. She does not even blink.

“Enrichment prevents behaviour problems,” Chan mutters, turning the dot in desperate, swirling patterns across the hardwood flooring. “Keeps their brains active. Lowers stress hormones.”

After an embarrassingly long time, Princess does move, albeit not for the laser pointer; instead she leaps onto the kitchen counter and reaches one paw out. Slowly, with deep intent, she knocks his full water bottle off the island. The metal hits the floor with a loud thud.

Chan stares, stunned by her audacity. She blinks unapologetically and returns to her loafing position.

“Well. Okay.”

Minho, predictably, arrives with armour. Not literal armour—but there is a cautiousness to him that screams veteran of previous battles.

“She remembers me,” he mutters, standing stiffly just inside the door. “I know she does.”

“She’s a cat, hyung,” Jeongin says, watching from the safety of the hallway.

“Exactly. She remembers.”

Minho kneels slowly, cautiously. He extends a small stuffed mouse toy attached to a string. She sniffs it once, then lashes out with surgical precision. A single clawed swipe—nothing dramatic, just enough to leave a faint raised red line trailing down his knuckles.

Minho retracts his hand like he has touched a stovetop.

“She’s gentle,” Felix offers, concerned.

“She’s vengeful,” Minho replies, moving to the kitchen and muttering something about boundary-training and spiritual warfare. He proceeds to scatter cucumber slices across the floor in a perfect circle and perches behind the couch to observe.

“She won’t cross it,” he says grimly.

She immediately does, as if spite itself fuelled her small being.

Hyunjin arrives like he is walking onto a battlefield dressed for the Met Gala.

Hair messy but in the most perfect way, rings meticulously stacked on his fingers, scarf flowing behind him like a war banner. He steps inside and freezes, locking eyes with the cat perched atop your windowsill like a queen guarding her castle.

“Ah,” he says softly. “It’s you.”

The others barely glance up. This is normal for Hyunjin.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he continues, toeing off his shoes. “That day you stole my heart... and then shredded it.”

“She sat in your laundry basket,” Han deadpanned from the couch.

“She clawed my silk shirt,” Hyunjin corrects, voice laced with betrayal. “She knew it was silk I swear.”

Princess Murder Volcano yawns.

He drops his bag with theatrical flair and strides forward slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“You and I,” he says, his voice low, “have unfinished business.”

The cat does not move.

Hyunjin crouches, level with her gaze. “Do you yield?”

Her tail twitches, as if challenging him.

A slow, intense silence descends upon the room. Felix stops mid-sentence. Jeongin holds his breath. Even Minho peeks over the back of the couch like a drama-hungry spectator.

And then—lightning fast—she leaps down from the sill and brushes against Hyunjin’s legs on her way to the food bowl. Not submissive. Not friendly. Just... dismissive.

Hyunjin stands there, stunned.

“She... walked past me.”

“She’s over it,” Seungmin says, “You should be too.”

“No,” Hyunjin breathes. “She won. She chose kibble over me.”

He drops onto the arm of the couch like a spurned lover, eyes dark with tragic reflection.

“She’s more powerful than I imagined.”

Changbin enters the space with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever at a birthday party.

“PRINCESS!” he bellows, holding out a treat with both hands. “WHO’S A LITTLE DANGER? WHO’S GOT TINY MURDER IN HER PAWS?”

Princess drawls out a long meow in reply.

The room stills.

“She—she talked to me,” Changbin whispers.

“No, she warned you,” Minho says without looking up from his cucumber circle.

Changbin sits cross-legged, letting her sniff his hand. She headbutts his palm once—then immediately darts to the other side of the room as fast as possible like nothing significant had ever happened.

“She’s playing mind games,” Seungmin notes.

“She’s mysterious,” Changbin defends, completely smitten.

Han, meanwhile, is documenting everything.

There’s a ring light set up in the hallway. He films in whispered tones like he’s in a nature documentary. From behind the bookshelf, you can hear him narrating.

“This is day one,” he says solemnly. “She’s taken the high ground. Morale is fracturing. Chan has retreated to the kitchen. We’ve lost Minho to paranoia and Hyunjin to drama school delusions.”

He zooms in on the cat as she licks her paw like she owns the place.

“She shows no sign of fear. No remorse. Only mild boredom. I think she’s toying with us.”

“She is,” Jeongin says flatly.

Felix brings a level of sincerity no one else can match.

He sits near the coffee table, legs criss-cross on the floor, hands cupped and eyes full of stars.

“Hi, baby,” he coos gently. “You don't have to come over if you don't want to. I'm just happy to share your space with you. I come in peace...”

Princess blinks and lets her eyes bore into Felix.

He gently places a treat in front of him and looks away, nonthreatening. She creeps forward, her tiny white paws creating dainty steps. She swiftly munches up the treat, making loud chewing noises as she looks up to him.

And then, like a miracle, she pads forward, climbs into his lap, and curls up into a small spherical ball of cream fur.

“She chose me,” Felix breathes.

She stretches one paw and knocks his phone off of his thigh to the floor with a soft thud.

He beams nonetheless.

Seungmin does not volunteer to help with the cat. He simply shows up—hood up, earbuds in, sipping a coffee—and looks around like he already regrets it.

“She’s not going to eat you, she’s actually really nice!” Felix assures him.

“That is not what I’m worried about,” Seungmin replies blandly, “I’m more concerned that I will become emotionally attached and she will ruin me.”

The cat blinks at him from atop your bookshelf.

He blinks back.

A beat passes.

Seungmin sighs and takes a seat on your sofa, pulling out his laptop like he is prepared to work from within enemy territory. He does not try to pet her. He does not speak in high-pitched tones. He simply exists near her, radiating mild disdain and infinite patience.

Oddly… she seems intrigued.

He catches her watching him, head tilted ever so slightly. When he slides his iced coffee onto the side table, she’s down in a flash, silently stalking over.

“Boundaries,” Seungmin warns, not even looking up.

She presses her nose to the condensation on his cup. He shifts the cup a small distance away. She shifts closer. They lock eyes.

“This is not a power struggle,” he mutters. “You will not win.”

She flops dramatically onto the table and begins licking her paw.

Seungmin exhales through his nose. “You’re ridiculous.”

But—he adjusts the cup. Just slightly. So she will not get brain freeze.

“Softie,” Han teases, watching from across the room.

“I will sue you,” Seungmin replies calmly.

When she curls up next to him twenty minutes later, back pressed against his leg like a smug little heater, he pretends not to notice.

He scrolls through his phone at low volume.

She purrs, sending vibrations of a healing frequency through his leg.

He glances down. “You’re manipulative.”

She yawns and stretches, her paw stretching out to push against his thigh.

“…Fine. You are a little cute.”

And finally, Jeongin, youngest, least experienced, attempts to contribute by making popcorn for everyone. But alas, the microwave begins to smoke.

“I can feel her staring at the microwave like she wants to set it on fire with her mind,” he reports, waving a dish towel near the smoke detector.

In attempt to clear some of the smoke from the popcorn bowl, he slides the glass door which leads to the backyard open for exactly twelve seconds.

A breeze slips in. A white blur streaks across the living room floor.

“Wait,” Jeongin says, eyes widening. “Where’s the cat?”

Everyone becomes quiet. Not peaceful quiet. Not earned. Just that too still sort of hush that lands like a dropped pin in a ticking bomb room.

Felix’s head whips around. His whole body jerks upright, like his soul has left his body and come crashing back all at once.

“She was just on the couch,” he says, eyes already scanning the room. “Right here. Right here—where is she?”

No answer.

Only the soft creak of the barely ajar screen door, further nudged open by a lazy gust of wind.

Minho reacts first.

No sound. No warning. Just pure instinct—he vaults over the arm of the couch and lunges for the door like a SWAT officer. He throws it wide, scanning the yard in one sweeping glance, already halfway onto the porch.

“She’s out,” he confirms darkly. “Backyard perimeter compromised.”

“What?!” Chan bolts upright from the kitchen island, eyes wide and already haunted. “How did she—”

“The door,” Seungmin mutters from under his breath, standing with stiff annoyance. “The one I said not to leave open?”

“Technically it was closed,” Han says, following behind with his arms full of cat toys and very little shame. “Just… lightly. Emotionally closed.”

“She’s a cat,” Hyunjin says, appearing in the doorway in a billowing cardigan. “Not a ghost.”

Jeongin is peering out the window, pupils blown like saucers. “She’s in the garden beds. I see her. She’s rolling in the dirt like she belongs there. She's gonna be all dirty!”

And she is.

Princess Murder Volcano—tail flicking, eyes glowing in the sun like two shards of vengeful turquoise—sits proudly among the petunias like a warlord surveying her domain.

“Do not spook her,” Minho warns, raising one hand. “Don't even think about calling her name.”

“She’s already seen us,” Felix whispers, pressing his forehead to the glass. “She’s watching. She knows. She knows everything.”

“She’s licking her paw,” Changbin says, breathless. “Is that... a threat?”

“It’s worse,” Hyunjin replies solemnly. “It’s mockery.”

The mission unfolds in chaotic fragments.

Chan is pacing the kitchen, pulling together what he calls an “extraction strategy.” Of course, no one listens.

Jeongin is already outside with a blanket, tiptoeing through the grass like a nervous cartoon thief. She turns her head slowly, tracking his every step.

“I'm just visiting,” he says softly. “Just a simple gardener. I mean no harm. I'm benevolent—”

She hisses, a sound like a kettle left to scream too long. Jeongin flinches so hard he nearly topples backward into the bush of roses.

“She’s not playing,” he yelps, scampering back toward the house. “She is not playing!”

Felix crouches at the back door, treats in one hand, heartbreak in the other. “Sweetheart,” he calls gently. “You remember me, right? I gave you a treat. You let me boop your nose. That meant something to me.”

She blinks, then turns away nonchalantly.

“Cold,” Hyunjin murmurs from inside. “She’s colder than an ex.”

“She knows we’re panicking,” Seungmin says, rubbing at his temples. “She’s feeding off it.”

“Okay,” Han says, now back with what appears to be a laser pointer strapped to a stick. “New tactic. Diversion and distraction. We blind her with red dot science, someone sneaks in from the east.”

Minho ignores him. He is moving again—silent, smooth, low to the ground.

You would almost think he had trained for this. He probably has, considering his own cats.

He rounds the edge of the deck, eyes locked, stance relaxed. The cat watches him, tail twitching like a fuse.

The moment stretches—

And explodes.

She bolts straight up the nearest tree.

Minho stops mid-step, closes his eyes briefly like he is experiencing a full system failure, then turns slowly on his heel and walks back into the house.

“She is in the oak tree,” he reports dully. “That's as far as I go.”

“She’s gone feral,” Han gasps.

“She's been feral,” Seungmin mutters.

“She’s majestic,” Felix whispers again.

Five of the boys pace aimlessly. One climbs a fence. One googles “do cats feel remorse.”

And Jeongin, still in his socks, saves the day.

He kneels near the garden path—no fanfare, no grand speeches—and opens a pouch of tuna, the stinky kind, the kind you only use in emergencies or emotional blackmail.

The snap of the foil seal is the only sound in the yard.

And slowly, like a queen descending from her throne, Princess Murder Volcano pads down the tree.

She does not run. She saunters. She stops three times to clean her paw. She makes eye contact with everyone.

Then she walks right into the kitchen, brushes the length of her body against Felix’s leg affectionately, and curls up on the floor like nothing ever happened.

Silence again. Except now, it is different. Heavier. Awestruck.

“She is chaos incarnate,” Hyunjin says finally.

“She is victory,” says Minho.

“She is unbothered,” says Jeongin, holding the empty tuna pouch like a relic from war.

“She is grounded,” says Chan, grabbing his clipboard. “Indefinitely.”

The cat yawns and knocks the treat jar off the counter.

Day Two begins with hope. Dangerous, foolish, hubristic hope.

The morning is bright. Birds are chirping. The cat is purring, curled at the foot of Chan’s bed like a cherub who has never committed a single crime.

“You know,” Chan says, sipping coffee and watching her fondly, “I think we’re getting the hang of this.”

Seungmin looks up from his phone. “Did you just say that out loud?”

“I’m just saying she seems… relaxed. Peaceful. Like she trusts us.”

Hyunjin pokes his head into the kitchen, blinking sleepily. “What are we talking about?”

“The cat,” says Felix, feeding her another treat with the reverence of a man giving communion. “She’s mellow today.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says, yawning. “So we’re jinxing it early. Cool.”

The idea comes from Minho.

Which is important, because it means no one can argue.

“She’s filthy,” he says bluntly, arms crossed. “She smells like mulch and attitude. She's got patches of green and brown all over her, her fur was white when we arrived.”

“She rolled in the flowerbed and played in the grass,” Jeongin adds from the couch, nose wrinkled. “Like, rolled. Fully. I watched.”

“She looks happy,” Han says, filming a slow zoom of her face. “This is the look of a woman who’s done crimes and will do more.”

“Right,” Minho continues, ignoring them all. “Which is why we’re bathing her.”

Silence.

Then seven people speak at once:

“You what—”

“No no no—”

“Do you want to die—”

“Minho, I care about you—”

“She’s going to eat us,” says Seungmin, entirely serious.

“She is literally purring right now,” Minho replies. “It’s the perfect time.”

“That’s a trap,” Chan says.

“She’s coiled,” adds Han. “Like a spring. Or a snake. Or a regret.”

Felix looks pale. “Do we have a will? Like… a shared one?”

Despite every sign from the universe, the decision is made.

The bathtub is filled—warm, shallow, with a drizzle of cat-safe soap.

Hyunjin lights a candle “for peace.”

Han plays gentle jazz “to soothe the mood.”

Jeongin Googles “feline CPR” just in case.

Felix brings in a towel he warmed in the dryer. “Because if we’re going to die,” he says quietly, “we should do it softly.”

Then: the lift.

Minho picks her up—gently, firmly, reverently—and she allows it.

Allows it.

The calm before the storm.

He lowers her into the water.

And hell opens its eyes.

She does not scream. She screeches.

A blood-curdling, feral wail that hits octaves human ears were not built for.

In one fluid motion, she launches from Minho’s arms, scrambles up his shoulder, over the curtain rod, and disappears between the ajar bathroom door and the wall.

“WE LOST VISUAL,” Han yells, diving for his camera like a war correspondent.

“HOW IS SHE WET AND DRY AT THE SAME TIME,” Seungmin shouts, slipping on a towel and crashing into the doorframe.

Felix is on his knees, arms out. “It’s okay, baby. We’re sorry. We respect your boundaries. Please—”

“I SAW MY LIFE FLASH BEFORE MY EYES,” Chan wheezes from the hallway floor, clutching his ribs.

Water is everywhere—on the ceiling, in the walls, soaked into the very foundation of the house. Someone is crying. It might be Jeongin.

Minho stands in the center, drenched and bleeding from a scratch across his cheekbone, eyes distant.

“…She drew blood,” he says faintly.

“You drew her wrath,” Hyunjin corrects, holding an ice pack to his forearm.

“She did this with her eyes open,” Han says, holding up footage that looks like a scene from a horror film.

Jeongin is curled in a towel cocoon, whispering, “She looked at me and I felt… judged.”

Thirty minutes later, the bathroom is destroyed, the cat is mysteriously pristine, and no one knows how the towel rack got bent like that.

She is lounging again. Dry. Groomed. Purring.

Minho walks past her like a man just out of war.

“She let you think you were in control,” Chan murmurs.

“She let me live,” Minho replies.

“Was the bath worth it?” Seungmin asks.

Minho does not answer. He just opens a can of tuna, places it before her like a tithe to an ancient god, and leaves the room in silence.

Later, evening sweeps through the house. A sweet, domestic dream. One full of good intentions and garlic bread.

“We’ll make dinner,” Chan had said, sleeves rolled up and optimism shining in his eyes. “Something simple. Cozy. Homemade.”

Jeongin had nodded eagerly, already pulling out mixing bowls. “Like a family.”

“We are a family,” Felix had smiled, clutching a whisk like it meant something.

In the background, Minho had narrowed his eyes. “What are you all plotting?”

“Love,” Han replied, unconvincingly.

The house fills with delicious smells. Onion sizzling in olive oil. Dough rising on the counter. Tomato sauce simmering in a pot that Felix insists on stirring with one hand while cuddling a dish towel with the other.

“You stir it so lovingly,” Jeongin observes.

Felix beams. “You have to respect the sauce.”

Hyunjin floats in from the hallway, sleeves rolled, lip gloss shimmering, “I've come to taste.”

“You've come to steal bites,” Minho corrects, slapping his hand away from the tray of garlic bread.

“She’s watching us,” Jeongin whispers suddenly.

All heads turn.

Princess Murder Volcano sits atop the fridge like a gargoyle in judgment, pupils blown wide. Tail twitching. Back hunched.

Chan narrows his eyes. “She’s got the zoomies.”

“No,” Hyunjin murmurs. “She’s got plans.”

It happens all at once.

One moment, Felix is piping filling into ziti shells, Han is singing into a ladle, and Jeongin is kneading dough with flour on his nose.

The next, there is a thud, a growl, and a blur of white fury tearing across the countertop like a tiny demonic tornado.

“NO—” Chan lunges for the sauce pot. Too late. The spoon flips. The tomato sauce arcs in the air like a slow-motion crime.

“THE SAUCE—!” Felix cries out, reaching with both hands.

It lands on Jeongin’s hoodie.

She leaps again—onto the drying rack, which collapses under her wrath. Metal clatters. A bowl crashes to the floor and shatters like a scream.

“She’s climbing the spice rack!” Minho shouts.

“She’s in the spice rack,” Han corrects. “She’s wearing the cinnamon like war paint!”

The cat zips past, yowling—a streak of fur and chaos. She skids across the freshly mopped tiles, slams into the pantry door, then bounces back with renewed energy.

“I feel the adrenaline,” Hyunjin gasps, flattened against the fridge. “She’s faster than light. She’s broken the sound barrier. She’s a myth.”

“She’s going to knock over the—”

CRASH.

Flour. Everywhere. A puff of white explodes like someone’s summoned a baking ghost.

Felix vanishes inside the cloud.

“Are you alive?!” Jeongin coughs, blinking through flour tears.

A flour-covered hand emerges, waving weakly. “Tell the sauce… I loved it.”

They try to corner her. They try.

Minho leads the charge, wielding a laundry basket like a net. “Block the exits. Coordinate. Outthink her.”

“She has no thoughts,” Han yells. “She’s pure instinct!”

“She’s in the cupboard!” Jeongin shouts, peeking inside and immediately slamming it shut. “She stared into me. She knows my sins.”

Meanwhile, Chan stands silently in the center of the room, hands on hips, face unreadable.

“She has chosen violence,” he says simply. “And seasoning.”

Eventually, the chaos fades. The sauce is salvaged. The ziti somehow managed to survive.

Princess Murder Volcano re-emerges covered in flour, a single noodle stuck to her side, and promptly curls up in the sink to nap like nothing happened.

Jeongin leans against the counter, breathing hard. “She broke three things.”

“She broke my sense of peace,” Hyunjin murmurs.

“She broke the laws of physics,” says Han.

Felix just stares into space. “The filling. It… it flew.”

Minho tosses a towel onto the counter and sighs. “Next time, we order pizza.”

“She’d still attack the box,” Seungmin says from the doorway, sipping water like he has seen this all before.

Chan places the last clean dish on the rack, closes his eyes, and whispers, “I miss when we were in charge.”

There is a night time rotation schedule taped to the fridge. A real one. On paper. Color-coded.

“For our sanity,” Chan had declared, waving a highlighter like a sword. “For survival,” Seungmin added, darkly.

Because she does not sleep alone.

Oh no.

She selects her human—a new one each night, like royalty distributing favour—and curls up precisely where they had hoped to stretch their legs.

She is warm. She is heavy. She is a little loaf of tyranny.

Tonight, the duty falls to Han.

He approaches the bedroom like a man entering war.

Blanket: comfortable. Pillow: fluffed. Water: on the nightstand. Notebook: ready, just in case inspiration strikes.

He is calm. Composed. Hopeful.

“She’s already in there,” Felix warns from the hallway, whispering like it is cursed knowledge. “Claimed the center of the bed.”

Han squares his shoulders. “This is fine. I’m flexible.”

“She sleeps diagonally,” Jeongin says, walking past with the empty cat food dish. “No remorse.”

“Love requires sacrifice,” Han mutters, and enters.

The light is soft. The sheets are warm. She is… watching.

Perched on his pillow. Eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Tail curled, neat and smug.

Han smiles with gentle dread. “Hey, queen. Mind if I…?”

He lifts the blanket. Slips in.

She does not move.

The seconds tick by.

He turns slightly. She adjusts her weight—to press directly against his ribs.

“…Cool,” he exhales. “This is fine.”

12:38 a.m.

He receives a text.

you: hey!! just checking in! is my daughter being good? 🐱apparently you have the night shift💤

Han types back with one thumb beneath the blanket, moving as little as possible.

han: define good

han: i’m not allowed to roll over and she has full custody of the blanket

you: lmaoo she does that 🫣 just don’t breathe too loud

you: i can't lie to you she's not amazing to sleep with when you're a new person... something about unfamiliarity or wtvr

han: great to know💀

2:17 a.m.

Han is awoken to a pressure on his ribs. He slowly opens his eyes to see Princess Murder Volcano sat upright, directly on his body, her tail slapping lightly against stomach.

“Can I help you,” he whispers.

She steps forward, kneels gently… and places one paw on his mouth. Astonished, he slowly reaches for his phone and texts the group chat.

han: her FOOT is on my MOUTH.

felix: do not resist. accept her.

binnie: you must be on the left side. she likes the left side of the bed. your mistake.

seungmin: sleep is a concept. not a right.

channie: stay strong😫😫

hyunjin: do you have any idea how many tiny teeth she has. do not make her use them.

3:03 a.m.

Another message from you causes Han's phone to chime.

you: also she sometimes sleepwalks. so like if she gets up and stares at the wall… do not engage

He reads it and gazes to where Princess Murder Volcano is situated.

She is already sitting at the corner of the bed, staring into the corner of the room, her tail occasionally twitching.

Han tosses the blanket over his own face.

3:49 a.m.

Han dares to shift by one inch. Which subsequently causes the white furball to let out a low growl. A warning, if you will.

He texts the group chat once again.

han: i made eye contact. she knows i thought about moving. i am not safe

felix: if she headbutts you, congrats. that means she’s claimed your soul

seungmin: stop being dramatic. she’s like 4kg

han: 4kg of fury and emotional manipulation. she blinked and i felt shame for existing

5:10 a.m.

You receive a photo from Han. A close-up of his arm, pinned beneath her white little loaf-shaped body. Her head rests between his elbow and ribs. One eye open. Watching.

han: my arm is asleep but she is not. i have not moved in hours

You find yourself cooing at your screen. Your cat is typically not one to cuddle up so comfortably with strangers.

you: omg she likes you 🥹 this is such a good sign!!

Han does not respond. Instead, he stares at the ceiling, a man transformed. Broken. Blessed. He is vibrating with exhaustion, fear, and the slightest sense of pride.

“She picked me,” he says aloud to the dark room. “I was chosen.”

She promptly moves to sneeze on his neck and falls back to sleep.

7:00 a.m.

The sun rises, leaking golden warmth through the once dark room. The serene morning silence is interrupted by the bedroom door creaking open. Chan peeks inside.

“You alive?” he whispers.

Han stares at the ceiling with hollow eyes. “She took my soul and the entire blanket.”

“She does that,” Chan nods.

“I think she forgave me for existing,” Han mutters.

Princess Murder Volcano is curled on Han’s chest, peaceful as can be, one paw flopped over his heart like she owns it.

Maybe she does.

The rest of Day Three began with an unsettling silence. Not the cosy, purring kind that hinted at nap time, but a stretched, suspicious quiet that crept beneath doorways and settled behind bookshelves. No zoomies. No morning murder-screech. No judging loaf formation in the hallway. Just… stillness.

Felix, already on edge after surviving her 8 a.m. biscuit-serving ritual on his spine, narrowed his eyes as he passed the laundry room.

“Where is she?” he muttered, peering around the corner with all the suspicion of a nature documentary narrator about to witness a predator strike.

Then he saw her. Striding slowly across the hall, tail lowered, ears relaxed, but with a strange hesitance in her step—as though she was deep in feline contemplation. She paused just outside the laundry room door, glanced around as if checking for witnesses, and slinked inside. Felix followed at a careful distance, peeking around the doorframe with theatrical stealth.

She sat in the litter box. Still. Unmoving. For twenty long seconds.

And then—without scratching, burying, or doing anything at all—she stood, turned around, and walked away.

Felix's jaw dropped. “She did nothing.”

He pulled out his phone, thumb flying across the screen as he typed into the group chat.

felix: she entered the litter box room.

felix: stood there. did NOTHING.

felix: then LEFT.

felix: with PURPOSE.

The replies came quickly.

jeongin: maybe she just forgot what she was doing

minho: or maybe she's smarter than all of us and doing psychological warfare

But Felix had already descended into veterinary message boards. In the next ten minutes, he had read five conflicting articles, started a pros-and-cons list of emergency vet clinics within driving distance, and built himself a surveillance pillow fort near the hallway with granola bars and a water bottle, determined to document her every move.

She reappeared eventually, strolling past him like he was a coat rack. She leapt up onto the back of the couch, sneezed so hard her whiskers twitched, then dramatically flopped onto her side in a sunny patch like an overworked heiress.

Felix gasped audibly. “Oh my god, she fainted,” he breathed, frantically texting the group.

felix: SHE FELL

felix: I THINK SHE FAINTED

felix: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY

By the time Chan arrived in the room, Felix had both hands in his hair and a cold rag on his own forehead. “She’s sick. She didn’t go. She looked at the box and left.”

Chan blinked. “Felix, she’s literally sunbathing.”

“She sneezed, Chris. That is how it starts. I’ve been researching. She could be hiding a bladder infection. Or worse—emotional constipation.”

Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before unlocking his phone. “Alright. Time to bring in the expert.”

You were just finishing lunch when your phone rang—FaceTime from Chan. You accepted with a smile, instantly greeted by Felix’s frazzled face and the distant sound of your cat dramatically licking her paw.

“Is she dying?” he asked before even greeting you.

You blinked. “What? No? What’s going on?”

Felix spun the camera dramatically, showing your cat flopped halfway off the couch cushion, tail twitching like a lazy metronome. “She went into the litterbox. Did nothing. Came out. Sneezed. Collapsed. Collapsed.”

“She does that,” you laughed at their turmoil around a bite of your meal. “It’s her post-zoomie burnout pose. Very theatrical.”

Chan appeared on screen beside him, eyes squinting. “Would she… fake something like this?”

You nodded immediately. “Yes. Absolutely. One time she limped for a full afternoon because I didn’t give her a bite of my toasted sandwich. The limp vanished the second she saw me grabbing treats.”

Felix’s entire soul left his body in that moment. “She’s too powerful. I believed her.”

“I always do too, it's okay,” you said fondly, watching her slowly roll over and bite the couch cushion for no reason at all.

“She trusts you,” Chan offered Felix quietly after a moment, smiling as he looked down at her now curled into a lazy pretzel. “She doesn’t act like this around all of us.”

“She's showing Felix her weirdest sides,” you confirmed. “That’s like… soulmate trust. I think she's selected her favourite.”

Felix looked into the distance, visibly moved.

Later that afternoon, she returned to the litter box, did her business without fanfare, then strutted out like she had not just sent a grown man into an existential spiral. She leapt into Felix’s lap without warning, turned exactly one circle, and settled.

He did not move for the rest of the night.

“She forgave me,” he whispered, one hand resting on her back like she might disappear if he exhaled too quickly.

Seungmin glanced over, unimpressed. “She just stole your seat.”

“Same thing,” Felix sighed, blissful.

By the time the third and final day of the babysitting debacle had come to a close, all eight of your friends were waiting by the door before you even stepped inside.

The moment your car pulled up, the house shifted into high alert. Shoes half-on, limbs frozen mid-motion, the boys gathered like war survivors at the threshold of sanctuary, a desperate hush falling over the living room.

“She’s here,” Chan muttered, peering through the front blinds. “Everyone act normal.”

Hyunjin tossed the feather toy behind the couch like it was a weapon. Jeongin kicked a half-chewed slipper under the rug. Felix, wild-eyed and exhausted, stood silently clutching a lint roller in one hand and an empty treat bag in the other. Han wordlessly pointed at a scratch across his thigh, his expression haunted.

And then… the front door opened.

You stepped inside with a bright smile and a suitcase sat behind you, immediately greeted by a chorus of overlapping chaos.

“She is not normal,” Seungmin declared, pointing accusingly toward the armchair.

“She bullied Jeongin out of his beanbag,” Minho added flatly.

“She licked a power outlet,” Changbin said, somewhere between awe and concern.

“She gaslit me,” Felix whispered, eyes unfocused.

But before you could react, a blur of fur bolted across the hardwood floors—and suddenly she was there.

Your cat.

Your sweet, precious baby girl, appearing like a cherub descending from above. She meowed softly, nuzzling your shin with gentle affection before curling herself around your ankles like a silk ribbon.

You leaned down immediately, scooping her up into your arms, cooing with all the love in the world. “Hi, my love! Did you miss me? You were a good girl, weren’t you?”

Felix made a noise like he had just been stabbed. “GOOD GIRL?”

“She’s an agent of chaos,” Jeongin protested, watching as your cat blinked up at you with pure, wide-eyed innocence, a slow blink that screamed loyalty and purity and complete, unprovable deceit.

You looked between them all, frowning. “What are you talking about? She’s perfect.”

“She knocked over a plant on purpose,” Minho insisted. “Made eye contact and everything.”

“She scaled the bookshelf,” Chan added, crossing his arms. “Like, the entire thing. And sat on top like she owned it.”

“She stole my hoodie,” Han muttered. “Dragged it under the table. Growled when I tried to get it back.”

“She has mood swings,” Seungmin said, pointing again. “I saw her smack Hyunjin in the face. Twice. For breathing too loud.”

You blinked at them, brow creased in disbelief, while your cat snuggled into your chest in your embrace, already purring loud enough to be heard across the room.

“She’s literally purring,” you said gently. “You guys must’ve imagined it. She’s my baby.”

“She’s playing you,” Hyunjin whispered. “She’s been training for this moment for all three days.”

As if on cue, she looked toward the rest of the group from the safety of your arms, eyes glinting, tongue just slightly poking out in a silent mockery of their pain. Then she nestled her head into your shoulder, curling her fuzzy tail around your wrist with practiced sweetness.

You kissed her head. “Aw. She’s tired. You guys must’ve worn her out from playing so much.”

Eight boys stood in varying stages of psychological collapse. Felix actually sat down.

“She’s gaslighting you in real time,” Chan said quietly.

“I think I have to go lie down,” Jeongin whispered.

“Is this what defeat feels like?” Han asked no one.

You only smiled, oblivious, heading toward the hallway with her still in your arms. “C’mon, baby, let’s go to your room.”

Your cat peeked over your shoulder at the others as you left the room, her face calm, smug, and victorious.

Hyunjin pointed a trembling finger. “Did you see that? She winked. I SWEAR—”

The door shut gently behind you.

Silence hung heavy over those remaining in the room.

Then Felix collapsed backwards onto the couch. “She won.”

By the time night settled in, the house had mostly recovered. Mostly. Chan was nursing a scratch on his bicep with a glass of wine he insisted was “purely medicinal.” Seungmin was researching feline behavioural psychology. Felix had fallen asleep mid-rant while laying on your sofa, with his legs tossed carelessly over your lap.

You sat nestled on the couch beside beneath your shared blanket and a cup of tea, your troublemaking child curled in your lap—technically on Felix's shins—like she had never once wronged a soul. She blinked slowly, innocently, while you gently stroked her back.

The TV screen flashed on.

“Alright,” Han said as he stepped into the room like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. “Enough lies. Enough manipulation. The truth... needs to be witnessed.”

You turned toward him with a raised brow. “What is this?”

“A documentary,” Han said, remote in hand, pride in his stance. “Or rather... a document of war.”

The screen lit up with an opening title:

“Emergency Kitty Babysitter's Club: A House Held Hostage” Directed by Han Jisung. Edited by Han Jisung. Victims: All of Us.

It began with hidden cam footage—timestamped clips from every chaos moment of the week. Your cat skidding across the hardwood at 3 a.m. like a possessed banshee. Knocking over a cup of coffee with surgical precision while Minho gasped in the background. Standing on the kitchen counter, face inside the butter dish, as Felix whispered, “Not again…” from behind the camera.

Cue dramatic music. Zoom-ins. Slow-motion replays. Commentary snippets from the boys layered over the clips like it was some kind of crime series.

“She stared at me and shoved my AirPods off the table,” Chan’s voice narrated solemnly as the clip played. “She knew.”

“She stole a sausage right off my fork,” Jeongin said during a cutaway interview, looking dead inside.

It was ridiculous. It was over-the-top.

It was brilliant.

And yet, as the footage continued to play, you gently scratched behind her ears. “Princess... this isn’t you, is it?”

She yawned, long and slow, and nestled deeper into your lap—unbothered. Unmoved.

“She is literally in the footage,” Hyunjin said, exasperated. “She bit me in 4K.”

“She’s misunderstood,” you murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Han hit pause and turned to you, devastated. “You’re choosing her over us.”

“She’s soft,” you said, petting her side. “And pink. And perfect.”

"Pink doesn't even make sense!"

“She screamed at the mailman like he owed her money,” Changbin snapped.

But you just smiled down at her. “My little angel.”

The credits rolled. The final clip played without sound: your cat perched regally atop the fridge while Felix cried in the corner, holding a can of tuna she had rejected minutes earlier.

A masterpiece. A warning. A call for justice.

And completely ineffective.

Because by the time the lights came back on, you were already dozing off on the couch, her purring against your chest, the embodiment of peace and domestic bliss.

She opened one eye, glared at Han, and flicked her tail once like a queen dismissing her critics.

The boys would never recover.

But you? You were exactly where you belonged.

inspired by my beautiful sweet innocent daughter dior

everyone say hello

taglist (ask to be added here): @petersasteria @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound @burlesquerade @floofeh-purpi @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii @sherxoo @m-325 @slut4junho

[youryurigoddess]

After a brief but necessary interlude, we’re back to clowning about the ongoing Good Omens production, this time in a slightly more analytic fashion. Appropriate level of discretion is even more advisable — due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

The Teal Bookshop (and yes, I’m trying to be clever here — the walls of Till’s Bookshop in Edinburgh are painted in a dangerously similar shade to Teal We Meet Again) is not a modernised or parallel-dimension iteration of the A. Z. Fell and Co. Building, but an entirely separate establishment located in a short distance from it.

How do we know it? The sheer fact that the crew decided to film it on location instead of redressing the Soho set is certainly a clue, but it’s not all. The street signs used for the filming on Monday were labelled as Nannette Street and Oldburgh Street, belonging to the City of Westminster Borough (W1) in London. Of course, neither actually exists on the map, but just like Whickber Street is an in-universe equivalent of real-life Berwick Street, these two must also have their respective identities.

Option one: Nannette Street is an in-universe equivalent of Winnett Street.

In this scenario, the Teal Bookshop’s suggested location in real-life London could become 77 Wardour Street (remember how God likes Her sevens!), which happens to be the address of the Duke of Wellington, a similarly painted, spacious, two-storey Soho gay bar.

Photos courtesy of @rhosmeinir (left) and Nadia M via Google Maps (right).

This would make some sense orientation-wise: across the street from the bookshop set we could spot an entrance to the local park and a small park booth marked as “Soho Coffee”, whereas a London passersby would face St Anne's Churchyard, also known as St Anne's Gardens, a public park on Wardour Street.

Everyone focused on Aziraphale and his hair, but the coffee stand behind him clearly shows where we are in this scene! Courtesy of alphaleym on Twitter.

The whole original church was left burned out on the night of 24 September 1940 during the Blitz, apart from the tower, which was left derelict. The remains of the eastern wall, the only significant parts left standing, were demolished thirteen years later, the site deconsecrated and prepared for sale, and the parish amalgamated with its neighbours. The religious complex standing in the same place nowadays was opened only in 1991.

Option two: Nannette Street is an in-universe equivalent of Manette Street in Soho, named after a character from Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. You know, the book that Aziraphale was actively selling in the 1859 scene cut from S1 and known nowadays as the “street urchin scene”.

Manette Street is a small thoroughfare that connects Charing Cross Road to Greek Street. Established in the 1690s, a bit after Aziraphale bought land in the area, it was originally called Rose Street before being renamed after Dr Manette, a character from Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities who is described in the novel as living on a quiet street corner “not far from Soho Square” and spent eighteen years in secret as a prisoner in the Bastille prior to the French Revolution.

The Hercules Pillars, bar mentioned by Dickens in his 1859 novel, and a façade of the temporarily closed Simmons bar at 7 Greek Street with a visible entrance to Manette Street as the covered walkway on the left. (Photos via MyLondon and Campaign for Real Ale.)

Now, this street has some historical significance concerning anarchist movements in the 19th century. The Rose Street Club, which once occupied premises here, was renowned as a gathering place for radicals from various nations. And these crumbs of context seemingly strengthening my old theories about Aziraphale eventually considering revolution instead of reform in Heaven are not even the most interesting here.

Remember that time when I hyperfixated on Aziraphale’s desk contents enough to decipher a random historical document and proceed to research it further on location in London? And then found an unexpected connection between said document and another one in the bookshop, discovering a possible Aziraphale’s secret investigation?

A historic plate on Greek Street marking the buildings owned by Josiah Wedgwood and his company.

Manette Street branches off Greek Street, Soho, exactly between houses numbered respectively 6 and 7, right next to the epicentre of these theories — Wedgwood’s showrooms located at 12-13 Greek Street with the adjacent area formerly known as Wedgwood Mews, currently James Court. Conveniently, there’s also a public park in the area, Soho Square.

The wind of change for this neighbourhood came with the arrival of Foyles bookstore in 1904. Its owners, brothers William and Gilbert Foyle, rebuilt the southside of Manette Street to expand the bookstore in 1916 and again in 1929. In the result, it was listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the world's largest bookshop in terms of shelf length, at 30 miles (48 km), and of the number of titles on display.

Foyles Bookshop, corner of Manette Street and Charing Cross Road as seen from the latter, London, 5 November 1955.

Foyles moved out the shop to its new home further down the road in June 2014, and the family company itself was soon sold to Waterstones. As part of a large redevelopment, the whole site was cleared, and a new and quite distinctive office block was created — and in doing so, also the new courtyard and alleyway, which design are somewhat reminiscent of the yet undiscovered parts of the S2 Soho set behind the Dirty Donkey.

Assuming that we know where we are at this point, let’s move on to the next question: what can Aziraphale and Crowley be doing here? Looking for a specific book, perhaps? Like the one Crowley appears to be transporting in some of the BTS shots? Let me know what you think, just remember to hide your spoilers!

[the-daydreaming-show]

(0.) Preface

SUMMARY: You make some last arrangements before leaving for the Night Court.

Or.

You make a stupid decision that will change everything.

CHARACTER(S): Poly!Feysand x Fem!Reader, Feyre Archeron x Fem!Reader, Rhysand x Fem!Reader.

WARNING(S): Short; The reader makes stupid decisions; No-beta reader, we die like the Suriel.

NOTE: Tag List is open.

You were once a mortal from the lands of Prythian, born to poor parents who had been the children of equally poor parents, whose ancestors were lost to history. You used to live at the edge of the forest, in the poorest streets of the town where you were born and thought you would die.

When you were twelve, in those woods, hunting to survive the onset of winter, you first encountered a hungry and frightened Feyre Archeron, trying to hunt for her family but being too loud for your liking. There, you both became friends, allies, and each other's only company in the labyrinth of forests where you sought your lives each week. It was as if the world was only you—just the two of you among those trees.

You realized this the very night after the birth. You had taken over the child's care while your mother recovered, and you found him at night staring into the fire. The way he looked at you when you walked past him to heat water left you frozen in place. You were used to walking past wild beasts in the woods that looked at you like you were their next meal, but the look from your father made your stomach sink.

However, when you were fifteen, your mother gave birth to a boy after years of your father waiting for a son for his family. I had always found your father’s obsession with the family name and legacy ridiculous. Your family was so poor that you had been out in the woods foraging for food ever since you had the strength in your fingers to create your first rabbit trap. Your mother had given him two healthy daughters, you and Rue. But she had miscarried twice and given birth to a stillborn child. It wasn’t until that child was born that he seemed satisfied with it and with your mother. He named the child after himself, as if it were some sort of honor or meant anything more than poverty.

But the child was sickly, and your mother was weak from childbirth. You and your sister became dead weight in your father's mind.

It took a week before you and Rue disappeared. He walked you to a coastal town, and you thought he would abandon you there. You were mentally prepared for that. You were stupid, looking back. Because he sold you—both of you—on a hill overlooking the sea. Your little brother should have gotten his medicine within twenty-four hours, and your mother too, for sure.

You didn’t doubt that no one in the village asked anything. After all, people disappearing from one day to the next wasn’t so abnormal in a place where hunger took more people than age. You hoped Feyre had asked, but you didn’t insist too much because you knew what she was like. She would go crazy searching if she asked too much, and you didn’t want that for her.

In the hands of the slavers, you and Rue were sold as one to a brothel in the pirate islands of the southeast. There, Madame Petra saw something in you and offered a deal that you took. You danced and charmed everyone on the island. You had been the highest-paid courtesan in the area—until you were condemned to work in the volcanoes until death for taking the life of a free man while being a slave.

he forests of Prythian. The brothel on the Pirate Islands. The work in the volcanoes. It was as if they were three different lives you had lived before you turned twenty. Now you lived another, in Slave Bay—renamed Trinity Bay—as queen of the freed slaves and mother of the beasts that spit fire into the sky.

At the beginning of the year, you had sent a clear and decisive message to the mortal lands, starting a new life before you turned twenty-five.

From this day, one will be, and only one, the queen of the mortal lands of the world. Those who bent the knee to you would keep their land and titles. Those who took arms against you and your dragons would be thrown down, humbled, and destroyed.

You had been answered with an offer from the Night Court, and a handwritten letter from Feyre Archeron, the High Lady of the Night Court, offering a helping hand in the form of a political alliance between your lands and hers. You had accepted in hopes of killing a petty promise that you stubbornly wanted to keep. Now you were heading to the Night Court with three of your dragons in the morning, as visits had been arranged that would define the process of the agreement. Whether it would be signed or not would be decided based on those visits.

Night was falling over your city, and the moon illuminated your figure hunched over the dresser in your private chambers, staring at what you had on the table in front of you.

“You know how that will end,” Armin’s voice, your chief advisor, broke the silence of the room in a hoarse tone. He was as sorry as you were, that was certain. “You will find nothing but disappointment and bitterness on the other side of the sea, child.”

You raised your hand, dipping it into the open trunk you had been staring at. The inside was filled with shiny rings of different shapes, colors, and materials. You lifted your hand, letting the rings fall between your fingers like grains of sand tinkling in the night.

“I know,” you admitted, staring as the rings slipped from your fingers without you trying to stop them. You needed to start thinking about which ones you would take and which ones you would throw into the fire once you returned, as a final step to removing any memories they might hold with their meaning. “But I think it’s what I need, Ar. I don’t think I can do what I need to do without seeing whatever awaits me there, no matter how much it embitters my heart and breaks it. I will heal it with the freedom of my people and the fire of my dragons.”

You whispered as if afraid to hear yourself speak, but Armin heard you anyway.

Armin didn’t say anything about that, and you knew he wasn’t sure of your decision. But you also knew that he had followed you into the volcanoes when you were both slaves, and you sought freedom by force. And then he had accompanied you across the sea from the volcanic islands, on the backs of your dragons, and on the conquest of Slaver’s Bay.

At this point, there was little trust to build between you, and if you didn’t do what you said you would do, he would remind you of the truth. One way or another, you both shared a goal, and he would follow you to the Night Court, to your Fey, to finish what you knew no one expected you to accomplish.

Before sunrise, you chose the rings and put them in a small cloth bag that you tied and closed with a knot. You fastened it to the belt of your riding habit and decided to leave the trunk with the rest of them by the fire, to never forget the truth.

(Behind your back, Armin ordered the trunk to be moved after you left that morning on Balerion's back, heading in the direction of the Night Court. It was done a few hours before the emissaries arrived, who would later deliver it to their guests at the House of Wind. The trunk did not return to that room.)

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch

Next Part: (1.) THREADS OF TIME.

[prismatoxic]

Rating: M Category: M/M Relationships: Wildlight (BOTW Link/TP Link), Revalink, Midlink Additional Tags: Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Trans Male Link (Legend of Zelda), both of those are for wild. twilight is a cis chatterbox, Past Revalink, Past Midlink, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Nothing could’ve prepared Link for how devastating regaining his lost memories would be. When grief threatens to break him, potentially dooming Hyrule to Calamity Ganon's wrath, he's sent to request aid from the long-forgotten Goddess of Courage. His plea is heard, and he is granted assistance in the form of a partner: a hero from the age of myth, brought back to life and eager to help. Maybe a little too eager. It's strange how willing he is to throw himself into this, to be renamed and repurposed for the sake of a world so unfamiliar to him. At least having a traveling companion helps distract Link from all that he’s lost. What he doesn't realize is that the sentiment goes both ways—Twilight is running from the past just as much as he is.

hi i started um. a chapterfic. for wildlight. it's gonna be Intense™

not tagging the revalink/midlink for this post but they're central story components. just... in the past

[allthecanadianpolitics]

British Columbia’s Opposition BC United is looking to put its previous Liberal name on the upcoming fall provincial election ballot after internal polling shows 30 per cent of people didn’t know the party was renamed, says a party director. The party is preparing to formally apply to Elections BC to have a phrase acknowledging that it was formally known as the B.C. Liberals included on the BC United ballot for the Oct. 19 election, Adam Wilson, the party’s communications director, said Wednesday in an interview. BC United changed its name in April 2023 in a membership vote after Leader Kevin Falcon said a change would fuel party renewal and end long-standing concerns about links to the federal Liberals by its Conservative supporters. The former B.C. Liberal Party was not affiliated with the federal Liberals or Conservatives.

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Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[dkniade]

“Ungraceful Devotion”

—to the cold that reduces you.

Reader could be the protagonist traveler but not necessarily! Coldness, some scavenging, scenery porn with Dragonspine :D

Generally speaking, Mondstadt is blessed by the Anemo Archon with warm gentle winds and soft grassy plains. As you look up from your feet, the clear stream babbles as it flows towards Starfell Lake, encircling the great oak tree, protecting it. Sweet sounds of chirping sound in your ears, as though Barbatos himself is singing a tune. No matter how weary you are from your travels, you can always rest in the shade of that tree.

But Barbatos’ voice cannot reach you here on this mountain.

-
Small 2024 Dragonspine ficlet about cold to practice description

—

It didn’t have a title when I first wrote it in 2024, so originally, my tentative title for the AO3 upload was “the cold reduces you”, based on the line in the fic, “No matter how prepared or graceful you thought you were in combat, the cold reduces you to a small creature that looks out into the horizon to admire its beauty while at the same time scan for warning signs.”

And I made a note to myself, “(Come up with better title later)”. But I forgot about it, so it existed as “the cold reduces you” for a period of time.

When I came around to rename it, I got kind of attached to the tentative name. It’s simple, and basically describes the fic’s sense of… feeling small when faced against the nature landscape of Dragonspine. “the cold reduces you”. Yeah, Dragonspine is more of a protagonist than the actual traveller mentioned at the end. (I’m not even sure if it’s meant to be the playable traveller or just a generic traveller.)

Eventually I renamed it to “Ungraceful Devotion”, vaguely based on a part in Sinclair Ross’s “The Painted Door” where the protagonist Ann talks about her husband John: “There was in his devotion a baffling, insurmountable humility that made him feel the need of sacrifice. To him it was not what he actually accomplished by means of the sacrifice that mattered, but the sacrifice itself, the gesture — something done for her sake.”

(The story also has a lot of wonderful and fun descriptions of snow but surprisingly, they didn’t fit my story. But it did have the part, “A blaze sprang up again when the droughts were opened, but as she went on clearing the table, her movements were furtive and constrained. It was the silence weighing upon her — the frozen silence of the bitter fields and sun-chilled sky — lurking outside as if alive, relentlessly in wait, mile-deep between her now and John.”)

But, hm, for my ficlet, “the cold reduces you” and “Ungraceful Devotion” sound like two different stories. The first one is simple and straightforward, more personal. The second one, more distant, slightly ugly, maybe even destructive despite it being devotion?

Barbatos is mentioned in the first paragraph, but immediately after, I wrote, “But Barbatos’ voice cannot reach you here on this mountain.”

I guess, the devotion is towards Dragonspine, or the cold itself.

Haha, I tagged the story as scenery porn but in reality, it’s more scenery masochism, right. At the same time, nah this is nowhere near scenery masochism lmao

Man, if I were to write a Dragonspine-centric ficlet called “Ungraceful Devotion” now, and it’s supposed to be “scenery masochism” or whatever—the reader-insert character better be conflicted about whatever they feel towards Dragonspine. It’s freakin’ pretty, but also deadly. I suppose it’ll change depending on if their devotion is towards Barbatos or Dragonspine itself.

…to the Frostbearing Tree?

(“Frostbearer” catalyst lore)

Here, for those who dwelt in my safe shadow, for the priests who eulogized me,
For that lovely maiden who oft painted upon my form,
For all the happiness they could not possess — I enjoin them all into this crimson, icy fruit.

To the one who can render recompense upon this poisonous world shall it go,
And may they carry my innocent, bitter fruit as they enact justice.

[chevvy-ryder]

WIP WEDNESDAY

got tagged by @aggravateddurian ! <3

again only writing:

Cyberpunk 2078 — Pandemonium:

Technically I can already start layouting the 2nd chapter as the written part is 100% done, but I am still missing some VP where I have to place Hizumi, Vijay and Ryder in the Afterlife and, ofc I am either too lazy to do that or I just forget about it bc I distract myself with other stuff (that also wants to be done). But as soon as I get to it you can expect the 2nd chapter! At least for those who are interested in it.

New pinned post coming soon:

I am about to make a new pinned post, yes it will be a brand new post but contain more or less the same my current one has. I just wanted to refresh my boys profiles, tweak the formatting a little and make them a bit better readable but they won't differ much from the current ones. I'll exchange the profile pics with given time tho as I'm not satisfied with most pics but have no time to throw each after another into the game just to get the perfect pic for it.

About Blorbos:

I am trying to sort out/clean up my boys' wardrobes. E.g. I noticed Thyjs has too much stuff and from every piece like up to 3 versions. I force myself to get it down to one piece, which doesn't work all the time, but I slowly get there. When he's done I'll have to do the same with the other boys thow Ryder is the most unproblematic of all as there's only one iteam in black for him in the first place of most mods.

I don't want them to wear all the same clothes unless it's basic stuff or shoes. I also try to get rid of most replacers unless it's stuff that hasn't been made as xl yet or need to be kept for color reasons and what not. It takes me so long because I also clean up my folders where I storage their original files as well sorting out those I have taken out. You know each of my boys has their own save file. I am also renaming some files to have a better overview as bru I tell you thjys is close to 300 mod files.

Chrome Chamber Rave concept:

Prepared some posts already but I am hesitating to push the post button bc my brain is stupid telling me shit I shall not listen to.

that's all for now. I promise next wip post will contain some pics or sth cooler than just text! I don't like it either.

tagging:

@astarionhistears, @nervouswizardcycle, @gloryride, @elvenbeard, @heywoodvirgin, @rosapexa, @streetkid-named-desire, @therealnightcity, @wanderingaldecaldo, @koda-shoulda-woulda-but-didnt, @breezypunk, @ouroboros-hideout and anyone who wants to or has to show something. No Pressure and if tblr mentions don't work, I'm not even trying to edit it as I am tired of it not working properly.

[winterhawk-ao3feed]

That time Clint Barton accidentally adopted a god

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/62577460

by Its_ya_boi_Nico

Loki had planned for his death. He thought Thanos would kill him after the invasion of New York, so he prepared by setting up a spell which allowed him to come back... unfortunately, the spell didn't work the way he wanted it to, and he ended up coming back as a human instead of himself. Loki realises he's unrecognisable and decides to take it in his stride. He renames himself Elias and tries to live his life as a normal teenager but nothing in Loki's life ever comes that easy.

Words: 3368, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Sigyn (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Wade Wilson

Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton & Loki, Loki & Tony Stark, Loki & Peter Parker, Loki & Natasha Romanov, Loki & Sigyn (Marvel), Loki/Sigyn (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Avengers Team Members & Loki (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame, Clint Barton is a Good Dad, loki is a teenager, Loki is a black cat, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Good Loki (Marvel), Clint Barton is engaged to James "Bucky" Barnes, Reoccurring Sanrio pyjamas, Bisexual Loki (Marvel), loki is human, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Sigyn (Marvel), Sigyn is Loki's personal guard, OOC Sigyn, Good Sibling Thor (Marvel), Good Sibling Loki (Marvel), BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Bucky Barnes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Wanda dies instead of Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers dies instead of Tony Stark, OOC due to fic circumstances, OOC due to Alternate Universe, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Beta Read by Deadpool, Wade Wilson was here, Shuri & Loki & Peter Parker Friendship, Past Torture, Past Child Abuse, Past Character Death, Mentioned Thanos (Marvel), mentions of past mind control, Human Loki (Marvel), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, this is the authors first fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62577460

[al9ayf]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 | trafalgar law x f!reader

✧ chapter 3 :: pride

｡˚ word count: 3.66k

｡˚ tags: @punem699, @toshirolovebot

after driving the rest of the marines off and restoring dressrosa, you left for zou after only spending a week there. you met with riku and his family and renamed them as lords and ladies. you promised them no harm would come to them again, and if any trouble happens, they should contact you first before handling it themselves. when you left, you made sure the kingdom was safe and sound before getting on drago and heading to zou with your fleet.

you arrived at zou in the mid-afternoon. your hand contacted the straw hats to let them know that you were almost there. the elephant was bigger than you remembered, and it caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it intimidate you. when drago landed alongside morgul and glaurung before the gates of the city, you were greeted by the pirates and the mink tribe. your eye twitched when you had forgotten that the mink tribe were animals. your dragons tend to be violent when hungry.

you muttered a small prayer under your breath before getting off of drago. he licked his teeth when he eyed the animals, and you turned to him. “respect the animals that walk alongside you,” you said in aegrean. “when your hunger strikes, you will call for me.” drago snarled and screeched before looking at his siblings and flying off with them. he could be dramatic at times.

you looked back to everybody, only to notice some of them looked injured. nekomamushi was at the head of the group, and when you gave your full attention to them, he bowed down along with everybody else. zou mostly roamed in your waters, so it was easy for you to spot them without needing a vivre card, which also made them loyal to you since they could be safe from enemies. but considering the state they were in, it wasn’t looking so well.

“greetings, your majesty,” said nekomamushi, standing back up. “it has been over a decade since you were last here! last we saw you, you were still a young girl and married!” he laughed, but you didn’t.

your eyes darted around to spot law again. he was by his subordinates. he didn’t catch your eyes, so you returned your focus to nekomamushi. you smiled gently at him. “yes, it’s been a while…” you said. “i don’t plan on staying for long, though. i have important matters with straw hat and trafalgar.”

“yes, of course! we prepared a meeting room for you already!” he smiled brightly. you already knew straw hat, and his crew told everybody you had joined them before you even made the decision. you didn’t care, though. as you were about to follow them, your hand and advisors suddenly appeared behind you, riding on morgul. at times you allowed your people to ride on your dragons, only in dire or difficult situations. and this was a difficult situation since the elephant was so damn tall.

you walked alongside nekomamushi at the front of the group. you were briefly informed as to what happened to them and how their city was in shambles. your heart ached for them. they were in your territories when it happened, so you partially took the blame for not protecting them well enough. but he assured you that it wasn’t and that since you’ll be helping take down kaidou, all of this didn’t matter. you arrived at the meeting area, and there entered straw hat and his crew mates, trafalgar and his crew mates, and your master of war, hand, and advisor. you all stood around a long, grand table that had territories all over it. you ran your hand along the side of it, planning out everything in your head as you looked at the map.

once you stood at the head of the table and looked up at everyone, you felt so powerful. they were all waiting on your move, your call. they all relied on you. you looked at law, who stood next to your advisor, who was next to you. you smiled. “i came to say i am in on this alliance.”

everybody in the room cheered at the news. “see, i knew it!” said luffy. you smiled at him and turned to look at everyone.

“for the longest time, my family has had a history with the different emperors of the sea. but i break that history tonight. i hate to admit it, but kaidou is a threat. not only to me but to all of us,” you said. you then looked down at the map and studied the different territories.

“i will give back what was stolen from them,” you said. “and rule in his stead.”

“i thought our plan was to take him down,” said luffy. you shot him a glance.

“do you want me to help you or not?” you asked. “the more territories i take, the fewer threats you have. i’m your ally now, right? let me help.” law’s hand slammed down on the table, which almost startled you. he pushed eddard aside and looked you right in the eye as he stood next to you. you felt his hand right beside yours. you were so close to each other that the anger coming from the both of you felt like one. everybody could feel the tension between you two. despite how much you wanted to hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“the main focus on this mission isn’t for you to take the country as one of your own,” he said. “it’s to take down kaidou and leave the country as is.”

“then who will rule? nobody? it’s a lawless island that needs help after we deal with kaidou. otherwise, the people will be left to deal with pirates and other scumbags. they will die without—“

“that is your plan! that has nothing to do with our mission. we have more important things at stake here.”

you shook your head and looked down at the table. “then enlighten me, trafalgar, on this plan you have,” you snapped. you moved to the left a little to give him some space at the head of the table. he started to explain his plan to you, and there you were informed that the straw hats would be splitting up again to get one of their members back from big mom. this was only becoming more complicated. whenever he moved pieces around the map, you felt his hips touch yours slightly. your bodies were up against each other, and it made you weird. weird in a good way, though, because you didn’t want him to move away from you.

after he finished explaining, you looked at your hand, who seemed to agree with law’s plan. it was good, yes, but now that you were here, it needed some tweaking. kaidou only knew about the news at dressrosa and how you burned the marine ships down. he didn’t know about the feast you attended or this meeting. it was still better to publicly be kaidou’s ally and secretly his enemy. it would give you the upper hand here if you were still on his side during all this. when you explained this to everybody, you all started to think of a plan in which this could be helpful. but you had already come up with one beforehand.

“there is a reverie coming up in a few weeks,” you said. “the emperors and i have meetings about it and speculate what they are planning, but none of them are on good terms this time around, it seems. i’ll meet up with kaidou again and stay with him for a while.”

“that way, it wouldn’t be suspicious to go there with a fleet and dragons,” robin chimed in. you looked at her and nodded.

“the seas and weather around wano are dangerous, so it’ll be better if i were to sneak you guys in on my ships instead since we know the best route there. kaidou will never see it coming.”

everybody agreed with you, and the meeting ended there. luffy wanted to throw a feast in celebration of the meeting, but nami smacked him across the head with her baton or whatever it was. a feast was too much for such a small thing, and they were supposed to be leaving for whole cake island later that day anyway. they all poured out of the meeting room to prepare for their travels, but you stayed behind, looking at the map. eddard stood by where wano was on the map and looked at the terrains surrounding it.

“they will call you y/n the conqueror one day,” he said.

you didn’t look at him. “i already am y/n the conqueror,” you walked a little to the right and brushed your hand over dragonskeep, the kingdom in which you resided. “i have conquered more than my ancestors have in the past thousand years. i am the first of my name to hold this title meaningfully.”

“that… you are correct, majesty,” he said, smirking to himself.

—

when the time came to leave zou, you told the remaining straw hats and law’s crew to meet you at your kingdom instead, where they should stay for a day or two to prepare for this conquest. your island was only a few hours away from zou at this point, so it should be no trouble for them. before you left, you had informed robin of the poneglyph your island had. you told her that she should take a look at it to see if it would help them on their journey, to which she happily agreed. you left that morning on drago.

the pirates arrived a few hours after you did. you had changed out of your clothes and prepared for the rest of the day. you wanted to look presentable to them on your island and in your castle. your ships arrived alongside them, but you had already told the pirates to hide their ships in a nearby cave, so nobody knew they were here. once that was dealt with, you formally welcomed them. as the others were getting shown to their quarters, you walked alone with robin to your private garden. trees cast shade and shadows onto the benches, and different types of flowers spread across the whole area. water ran through the ground from a nearby waterfall, and at the end of the walkway was the poneglpyh with dragon statues surrounding it. you stood still as robin continued to walk towards it in complete awe. you wanted her to have her moment without you over her shoulder.

she stayed reading it for a few minutes. there were a lot of ancient scripts, so you let her take her time with them. and once she was finally done, she turned around with a smile on her face. “dragon history…” she said. you smiled back and let out an “ah” sound.

“not surprised,” you said, sitting down on the nearby bench. robin sat down next to you with a look on her face that told you that she wasn’t done discussing.

“dragons originally came from an ancient island hundreds of thousands of years ago,” she continued. “that island is now known as laugh tale. it is also the island your family originated from but that information was—“

“lost to time,” you continued, cutting her off. “i never knew that…”

“well, now you know,” she laughed. you only nodded your head before standing up. you let her be to continue exploring as you headed back inside. you knew there was more that she read, but you couldn’t care. you didn’t want to be a pirate, so these poneglyphs didn’t matter to you. you would make your own history.

you walked down a few hallways and then out a big door that reached the ceiling. it led to a giant field that sat on a cliff. your dragons often rested here since it was right by you. you spotted drago picking at some dead bones that were left behind from his previous meal. you could tell he was hungry. when he saw you, he moved away from the bones and slowly moved towards you. you smiled brightly and placed your hand by one of his nostrils, scratching the spot. glaurung came flying down and landed a few yards away from you. he screeched at your appearance and ran towards you, also wanting your touch and comfort.

he was a bit smaller than drago, but still big. you started to pet his side as he nuzzled his face to your body as close as he could. he didn’t want to harm you, and he was too big to fit on your lap anymore. that’s when glaurung peeked up and started to growl, drago as well. you turned around only to see law standing there with his sword on his shoulder. drago moved his head close to him and snarled, showing his teeth. but law only reached his hand out hesitantly towards him and placed it on his nose. drago instantly calmed down and even seemed comforted by the touch.

“he remembers you,” you said, walking up to law.

he glanced at you with a gentle and subtle smile on his face. “it seems so.”

“he’s never been this way with anybody.”

“it’s because i saved you back in saboady.”

“yes, but…” you started. law moved his hand away from drago and looked at you. you hesitated for a second before finally smiling at him. “this is a trust that doesn’t come easily. so, if my dragon trusts you, then… i trust you.”

he turned his head to the other side as he felt a blush come across his cheeks. he grabbed the tip of his hat to let its shadows cover his face. “i’m honored then,” he said. you knew he was flustered, so you only decided to push it even further. you placed your hand on his shoulder and moved your head close to his.

“at least face me when you speak,” you said, moving him a little. you were too close to him now, but he didn’t push you away yet. you didn’t know if you were overstepping a boundary or not. but he only leaned into your touch and moved his hand away from his hat. you moved your hand down to his arm, the one that had all the bandages on it. you looked down at it again since he was wearing another short-sleeved shirt.

“what happened to it?” you asked. “broke it?”

law scoffed and moved your hand away. “it was cut off by doflamingo,” he said.

“cut off?!” you yelled, shocked. “but—“

“it got sewn back on by one of the members from the tontatta tribe back in dressrosa.”

you shook your head and cracked a nervous smile. “i’m guessing it was who leo sewed it back on, then, huh?”

“yeah…”

you smiled at the thought. you suddenly grabbed law’s hand and led him to your dragon. “let’s take a ride, shall we? they’re getting hungry,” he tried letting go of your hand, but you only held on tighter.

“i don’t think it’s a good idea—“

you cut him off by quickly grabbing his sword and throwing it down on the ground. you then grabbed both of his shoulders and brought him up to you. “ride,” you said. it sounded more like a command. he hated your tone but loved it at the same time. nobody could tell him what to do, but when it comes to you, he could bend that rule a little. you climbed up on drago with law right behind you, and once you sat down on the saddle and grabbed on, he only looked at you in confusion. “how do you hold on?” he asked.

“i have an extra reign,” you said, turning your head to look at him. you smirked. “unless you’d rather hold onto me.” he smirked as well and grabbed onto your waist.

“well, if you insist,” he said. you blushed as you felt goosebumps run up your back and arms. you smiled as you turned your head away once drago started to move. he flapped his wings and took off from the cliff, glaurung following close behind. off in the distance, you heard morgul shriek, and the two replied by screeching as well. you weren’t soaring fast at all. it was just a quick flight with them. law held onto your waist tighter the harder the wind became. you laughed.

“do you often ride dragons, trafalgar?” you asked, almost yelling it due to the sound of the wind.

“not once in my life!” he replied.

“i’m glad they’re your first time! they’re a joy to be with!”

drago flew down towards the water and touched his feet in it, grabbing a big fish for himself to eat. he threw it up in the air and breathed fire onto it as it came down towards his mouth. you flew over your castle and through caves. you flew over the greenery and the beaches. you flew over towns and people, yet you were too high for them to see you and law on drago. you flew everywhere your kingdom had to offer. when you crept close to your castle, you felt law’s grip loosen up a little. you hadn’t noticed that he was holding so tightly onto you before. you were having too much fun with drago. you turned your head to see his face, only to realize your heads were way too close. you could only see his lips (which you didn’t mind) and smell his cologne. fuck, he smelled good. you moved your head back a little to look up at him better.

your eyes met, and you finally felt it; this feeling. you occasionally held his gaze, and it meant nothing, but this time it was something else. did it finally take to be alone, on your dragon, close to each other to know it was real? you never felt this way when you were married. this feeling of love. of course, there was love in your marriage, and you truly did love your husband a while after you got married, but it wasn’t to this extent. it wasn’t to the extent where you would flush up and smile when you thought of him. whenever law was by you, you would only want to be closer to him. it was a new feeling. a feeling you wish would never go away. you hoped he felt the same way too.

once drago landed, law got off first before you came down after him. you could tell by the way he kept looking at you too that he felt that connection. it only made you happier. despite knowing each other for a short time, you could not deny your feelings for this man. it was pure; it was honest. law went to pick his sword up, and your eyes followed his body. did you want to make the first move? or did it already happen? your heart spoke, and you did what it told you. as law came back up to you, you stood up sharp and strong. you wanted to look good for him.

“did it exceed your expectations?” you asked, smiling.

he smiled. “yes, of course. thanks for the ride.” he awkwardly said as he turned around to walk away. you furrowed your eyebrows at his response and started to mess with your wedding ring again.

“wait a minute, trafalgar!” you exclaimed. he didn’t bother to face you, but at least he had the decency to stop moving. you ignored the fast beating of your heart and your anxiety. “… would you like to discuss plans later on tonight? i feel there are a few things that still need to be fixed before we leave for wano.” it was so obviously a chance to be alone together again. he wouldn’t fall for it unless he was a dumbass who didn’t know what flirting was. but look at him; he is a flirt.

“sure,” and he walked away. it was so simple and so fast. you screamed eternally but kept a stoic face externally. you wanted him so bad, and you knew he wanted you too. he was just so cold that he didn’t want to show it. he wouldn’t let you in so easily.

—

the next night was the final night before heading off to wano. you decided to throw a feast for everybody right before leaving. it was a way to celebrate one last time just in case anything happened. songs and dances, drinking and eating—it was perfect. you sat at the head table with your people next to you, but you soon got up to join the pirates. you didn’t dance their dances and sing their songs, but you socialized with them. you mainly left your table to be with law, though. you had small talks with the different straw hats and heart pirates, but your main focus was law, who sat drinking in the middle of the table, conversing with the others.

as you passed by him, you gave each other a sly look, and you walked over to a more secluded area of the dining room to wait for him. you watched as he excused himself from the table and came to join you. you might have been a little tipsy, or it was from your self-confidence, but you found yourself wanting to be up close to him as possible. you both were flirting with each other without a care in the world. everybody noticed it. from the tension you both had in dressrosa to now, it was obvious you two had something going on that was hidden, so for it to finally make its appearance pleased everyone.

you liked him, really liked him, and you were willing to push your pride away to be with him… and he did the same.

ch. 4 !

[sabrinahawthorne]

JUMP! Devlog February 5, 2024,

Structure of the Playbook

This week, I want to go over the current format for Playbooks in JUMP!. This outline is a sort of stencil; a "standard" that gives me a starting point, but that I can deviate from as needed, or as I please.

Stats

These work nearly identically to their prototype counterparts, with a couple small changes, including Willpower being renamed to Force. I maintain the option to rename all three stats, should cooler-sounding names make themselves known.

There are also some larger changes being made from the prototype. For one, I'm no longer keeping each Playbook to a limit of 4 total points split between the stats.

With the removal of Power Tags (and their replacement with something more interesting, to be discussed in another post) also comes a lack of built-in customization for a Fighter's stats. This is fine; each Playbook now gives the player between 1-3 points to allocate how they wish, on top of whatever they get standard. There's no need to innovate here - it's easy, simple, and gets out of the way.

2. Central Toy

I may not keep the idea of a central "Toy" around. I want to, but my gut tells me that it may lead me down paths I've already tried and not liked. For now, the idea is pretty simple - a central twist for each playbook - some way that they are allowed to break the rules and do things that no-one else can. Again, this isn't a revolutionary concept, but it opens up the possibility of a lot of fun playstyles.

3. Beats

In the JUMP! prototype, Fighters could spend a round of combat "resting," which would recharge their stat Pools by their respective values. This is no longer the case, as I don't want combat to be measured in rounds at all anymore. Instead, I want fights to be largely narrative affairs, driven by the table's desire to make their characters do cool things. Then, when something big and climactic happens, the Bidding begins, and we get to bring out the dice for a moment of heightened excitement.

This means that between Contests, Fighters need a way to Charge their Pools. Thus, Beats. When a Fighter meets the conditions of a Beat, they either gain or lose some Points from a single Pool, and something interesting happens in the story. It's as simple as that, for the most part. They're just a way to encourage players to lean into the tropes & conventions of their Fighter, as well as making sure they don't all end up with empty Pools by the end of the fight.

4. Bursts

When you win in anime, you win big. Bursts are hefty, tasty chunks of the power fantasy that get triggered when a Fighter wins a Contest. Like Beats, they carry some simple tie-in to the game state, but bigger and more exciting. And like Beats, their goal is to further play in to the central archetype of each Playbook.

The GM will also be getting their own list of generic Bursts - whether they can be activated by Fighters as well is still up in the air.

5. Final Form

Final Forms are so fun to write. There's something so satisfying about getting to put down a solid block of colorful, delicious text and treat it as very important.

They also give me a wonderful cornerstone to design the rest of the Playbook around; what is the thesis of this archetype? What is the entire thing building towards? What moments of drama are these characters built around?

Really, final forms are a chance for me to cut loose as a writer, and a chance for players to cut loose too. I'm having a lot of fun with them.

At the end of the month, I'm planning another playtest where I can hopefully stress-test a lot of this new design. Then, through March, it'll be time to prepare for the crowdfunding campaign and the open beta. It's exciting and nerve wracking, and I can't wait to show off the results of that work.

[reportfocusnews]

Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi: Biography, Relationship & Controversy

Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi is a South African pastor, preacher, realtor, impact Investor and the founder of New Life church. Born March 16, 1994, Mzwakhe Tancredi has influenced the way the gospel of Christ is being propagated.

His mission is to take the divine presence of God to the nations of the world and to harness the talents that God has given everyone.

Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi is a very controversial personality, most especially with his miracles which many critics have termed unnecessary stunts and fake.

Biography Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi, real name Frank Mzwakhe Ndlayana was born on March 16, 1994 in Mpumalanga. The 30 years old Tsonga apostolic pastor grew up in Mpumalanga where he finished his primary and secondary education.

Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi attended Vaal University of Technology (VUT). After his time at the university, he stayed around campus, where he launched cells and Christian fellowship that later metamorphosed into a full congregation Christ’s worshiper.

Relationship Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi is married to Lehlogonolo Charisma Tancredi and they are blessed with 3 children boys.

School of Ministry Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi operates a school of Ministry where he introduces an unparalleled curriculum to students who wishes tap the divine gifts and talents bestowed on them by God. His method focuses on exploring the depths of one’s spiritual knowledge and purpose while preparing the young minds for the remarkable tasks ahead. His teaching is diverse and blends divine wisdom with contemporary teachings.

Philanthropy Miz Mzwakhe Tancredi operates the Tancredi Foundation, a nonprofit Christian Foundation which focuses on helping those in need with food parcels, clothes, blankets and other essentials. In 2020, he distributed free fuel to motorists in Vanderbijlpark.

Controversy In 2020, some women accused Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi of assualt, an allegation he never responded to. That same year, SABC did a mind-blowing investigation on his operations via their News Cutting Edge series. A team of journalists interviewed several of New Life church’s ex-member where they revealed several appalling secrets of Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi and his miracles they tagged fraudulent.

That same year, an ex-member by the name Solomon accused Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi of depriving sick patients of taking their drugs, giving them some false hope which eventually led to the death of many.

Report Focus News accused Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi of being a fraudster and a liar who never graduated from VUT.

“The young charismatic preacher was allegedly expelled from (VUT) after he hired someone to go and sit an exam on his behalf. Ndlayana is said to have forged a student ID and sent in someone else in his place to sit an exam for him. However, things did not go as planned for him as his plan failed which resulted in him being expelled. Being ever the scammer he did not leave the campus of the University entirely he continued to interact and further his scamming shenanigans, manipulating and stealing from the students albeit through a church that he set up on campus. His network grew and he soon teamed up with other well known charlatans and he rebranded and renamed his church ‘New Life’ His life of scamming had taken a new twist.” – Report Focus News

Income & Net Worth “While New Life Church is Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi’s main lifeline, he generates a significant portion of his income through other ventures, including real estate and a thriving business empire. Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi presently manages clothing fashion lines and a Billionaire’s Club that educates young minds on wealth creation, with assets valued in the millions of Rands. Rough estimates suggest that Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi is currently worth R10 million.”

Miz Mzwakhe Trancedi lives a very lavish lifestyle that many of his age would only dream of.

[thistle-spores]

Solas Surana

Thiral was born in the Denerim alienage. They came into their magic quite late, around 13 to 14 years old, and was taken to the Kinloch Hold Circle. Already quite old when they arrived and an elf, Thiral was a bit ostracized. They came to be quite close friends with another lonely mage, Jowan, who was mostly isolated for being bad at magic. Unlike Jowan, Thiral took up their studies quite quickly and was growing into a talented and powerful mage. They aligned themself with the Aequitarians.

A few years prior to Thiral's Harrowing, the Ferelden crown began working towards the re-establishment of Ferelden court mages, something not seen since before the Orlesian occupation. Thiral's skill, political leanings, and desire to better Ferelden caused them to be chosen from a small group of apprentices to begin training for court. If all went to plan, they would begin serving as court mage and war mage to the crown as necessary after their Harrowing.

Unfortunately, their Harrowing did not go to plan. Too wary to accept any help in the Fade, even from friendly spirits, Thiral ended up wandering beyond the confines of the test in the Fade in search of an exit. With time rapidly running out, they met a Spirit of Pride that was bound to an object in the Circle's possession. With no other option, Thiral allowed the Spirit of Pride to possess them, and the two became entwined into a complex being.

With new insights and memories, the newly renamed Solas decided that their life was their own. They helped Jowan find and destroy his phylactery, destroying their own at the same time. They were prepared to help Jowan and Lily escape, but Jowan's betrayal at a crucial moment caused Solas to get caught. From there they were conscripted into the Grey Wardens and bound for Ostagar, where a very confused King Cailan and Loghain despaired at the loss of their would-be court mage.

Tag: #solas surana da

Class: Arcane warrior, Blood mage Pronouns: They/them Race: Elf Background: Circle mage/Court mage Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Romance: Zevran