#or at least one of the more known ones anyway

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for ZepysGirl behind the cut; “the wet nurse omegaverse”. ( FYI this last scenebit was supposed to be the end of the first chapter of the first installment in this series. totally unrelatedly, I have now realized this chapter is over thirty thousand words long. so, uhhhhh, we'll see how that edits up later, I guess, hahaha. ) (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Arguably correct, but our candidate isn’t especially concerned with pack manners,” Bruce replies in the largest understatement he’s made since the last time he and Alfred attempted to express some semblance of actual sincere emotion at each other. “He also barely even acknowledged either of their existences while downright doting on Chris and Jon.” 

“Alright, that’s a better sign,” Dick allows. “But we’re still gonna keep looking for Aunt Diana at least until this omega is confirmed as a definitely workable candidate.” 

“Understood,” Bruce says, since there is still a chance Lor might not digest Carl’s milk well or just won’t get enough nutrients from it to thrive long-term without an actually established pack bond in place, as opposed to just the instinctive feral version. 

“We’ll report in again in eighteen hours if we don’t find her sooner,” Dick says. “Going off-grid now. According to Constantine, anyway.” 

“Understood,” Bruce repeats. That is the least reassuring thing Dick could’ve possibly said, especially after the “favor” mention, but he’s not optimistic enough to think he can convince Dick not to do whatever he’s already in the middle of doing in the four seconds he has before Dick inevitably cuts the line. 

“Great!” Dick says brightly. “Call Jason, goddammit, you know damn well it has to be you.” And then he cuts the line, unsurprisingly. 

Bruce . . . exhales. Puts his phone back to sleep and tucks it away. 

“Well, you could,” Lois says, also unsurprisingly. 

“Hn,” Bruce says. It would have to be him to call for a request like this, yes. Technically Alfred could too, as the pack’s head beta, but . . . 

Well, in these circumstances, he doesn’t actually know when it would’ve hit the point of Alfred going over his head to contact Jason. For one thing, it’d be very obvious to Jason that Alfred had gone over his head, which Bruce can’t imagine making him any more inclined to come back. 

And either way, Jason would still need to reestablish an actual active pack bond with him again to count as close enough to “pack” for his milk to really benefit Lor any more than Carl’s should already be capable of doing, which . . . well, given the fact that Clark won’t even forgive himself for perceived failures, Bruce can’t see how to justify forgiving himself for actual ones, much less to that degree. 

And wouldn’t let himself, even if he could. 

Though even if Jason didn’t agree to reestablishing their pack bond, Clark would still mind him nursing Lor less, Bruce knows. Jason would count as close enough just for being the pup of a packmate, bonded or not; even a grown pup that Clark's never known particularly well. That would be infinitely easier for Clark’s omega to accept, compared to hiring a total stranger. 

But only asking Jason to come back to the pack for something like this . . . only asking Jason to come home for something like this . . . 

That isn’t something Bruce could expect Jason’s omega to accept. 

Of course it’s not. 

“Thank you for this,” Clark says, which has come up a few dozen times already. Bruce doesn’t bother pointing that out this time, given that he’s already done it a few dozen times and Clark obviously still has the eidetic memory either way. “We just–it didn’t feel safe, handling this problem in Metropolis.” 

“That would be because it wasn’t,” Bruce says. If nothing else, Clark’s anxiety while they brought unfamiliar omegas into his territory would really not be helpful for anyone, mostly because no one wants Superman that anxious in the event an apocalypse happens. 

Maybe if they want a sixty/forty chance of that apocalypse being dealt with very quickly and very brutally, but those aren’t ideal odds or the kind of thing Clark actually wants to do outside of absolute necessity. 

“Well, let’s be fair, how much safer is Gotham?” Lois asks wryly, the corner of her mouth ticking up in amusement as she sets a hand on her hip. “Percentage-wise and all, you know.” 

“That depends on the scale of destruction you’re trying to avoid,” Bruce replies, since Gotham is very frequently a place of smaller, more personal tragedies and Metropolis is very frequently the center of massive alien invasions, and those are obviously very different things. Not that no one ever wants to burn down Gotham and not that Metropolis never has innocent people get caught up in petty little acts of meaningless violence, but just statistically-speaking. Although–“But we’re in Bristol right now, so that’s not really relevant anyway.” 

“Oh, the man thinks he’s funny,” Lois snorts, her amused smirk widening. 

“Can’t imagine why you’d get that impression, Mrs. Lane-Kent,” Bruce lies mildly. Lois laughs, and Clark looks a little amused despite himself, so good. Hopefully that broke a little bit of tension there, or at least took the edge off. 

That’s something he’s going to have to be worrying about, he knows. Obviously Clark isn’t going to be deliberately starting anything with a kid in Carl’s situation, but it’s not unlikely Carl’s total lack of pack manners might ruffle some feathers or lead to some miscommunication or unnecessary feelings of being challenged or–well, there’s plenty of ways that could go wrong. 

Everything he knows about human–and human-socialized–psychology aside, Bruce is just . . . very much not prepared for this, he already knows. Which is its own problem, frankly, but one he’s just going to have to deal with once he’s gotten some decent sleep under his utility belt. 

“I think I actually am going to go review that contract before dinner, given we’ve got the time,” Bruce says, mostly to get away and give them both a few moments together. It’s a natural enough escape, and Dick’s call already broke up the conversation a bit anyway. Besides, better to be thorough; make sure they didn’t miss anything in there while they were distracted by sleep deprivation and stress and unfamiliar omegas nursing their pups when they could. 

Not all of those things are applicable to both of them, obviously, but the point stands. 

Anyway, he wants to start running a background check on Carl as soon as possible, and maybe also run his fingerprints and DNA just in case. Which–alright, DNA is admittedly a little much even for him, when again, they specifically went and found this kid, but, well, if the prints don’t turn anything up or there are any red flags in his paperwork . . . 

Possibly Clark would not appreciate that, but that’s only if he finds out about it. 

Honestly, if anything he should take a nap before dinner, but he at least wants to get the background checks going–on Carl, yes, but especially on the Waterton Agency and every single person working for it from top and bottom. He clearly didn’t go in-depth enough the first time, and clearly needed to be approaching said checks more proactively. And aggressively. 

He’s not going to pretend that he wouldn’t have had them come for the consultation either way once the agency had told him that it had a potentially suitable candidate for Lor’s needs, because given the situation he absolutely would have, but he’d at least have preferred to be forewarned before he was standing in his own damn parlor with a beta who was offering to get an oblivious omega who only might be a legal adult mated to a convenient stranger in case either he or Lois decided to take advantage of an employee who was at best half their ages, dammit. 

He definitely would’ve preferred to be forewarned about that, actually. Just–very definitely. His cortisol levels were already high enough as it was. 

Bruce very badly needs to sleep tonight. At least six hours uninterrupted, barring acts of either God, gods, or Gotham. 

“Need another pair of eyes on that?” Clark asks. Bruce wonders how the most emotionally healthy person in this conversation is missing the fact that he's trying to leave him alone with his husband so she can help him with said emotional health like he clearly needs. 

Then again, Clark might just be trying to avoid that particular conversation for as long as possible. 

“Maybe one or two,” Bruce says, since he does understand why Clark might not be ready to have that conversation yet, but also isn’t letting the self-loathing idiot escape Lois’s sphere of influence that easily. Not that Lois really needs his permission to insert herself in a situation no matter whose den they’re currently in, but he might as well give her the clear in. 

“Er–” Clark starts, and Lois gives them both a speculative, assessing look and then says, “Yeah, we can do that, can’t we, honey.” 

“We left the paperwork in my office. Plenty of room for three,” Bruce says, then gestures politely towards the hall. “Though I’m going to need to make a quick stop on the way, so why don’t you two just meet me there?” 

“No problem,” Lois says. Clark . . . sighs, then smiles a little wryly. A little sadly, too, but that’s likely unavoidable right now. 

“You’re both merciless,” he says. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, honey,” Lois says, offering him her arm with her usual sly smile. There’s a bit more compassion behind the expression than she’d need for a different conversation, but that’s just as unavoidable as Clark’s smile being a little sad is right now. Bruce doesn’t actually know if they’re even going to talk–that’s up to Clark, more than anyone else–but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to do his damnedest to give them at least a moment before Clark feels like he has to go back to pretending nothing’s wrong. 

“Won’t be a moment,” Bruce lies easily, and then heads off to do just that. 

They’re in his territory, after all, and on top of that they’re both pack to him. He’s going to give them every damn thing he can provide, whether it’s something as simple as a moment alone to breathe or as necessary as the room to have a difficult conversation or as painful as a stranger to do something they just can’t. 

Whether that stranger is actually someone who should even be here at all, or is someone who might need just as much help himself. Might be a victim, or unsafe, or just alone and unprotected. 

Carl is an employee, obviously, and not one who means anything like the Lane-Kent pack does to the Wayne pack, but as long as he’s in Bruce’s territory too . . . well, Bruce can multitask a little, if it comes to it. Especially if potentially helping a stray omega who might be in a questionable situation will definitely help keep Clark’s new pup from starving to death right in front of them. 

Multitasking, again. 

So whoever Carl Krummett is and whatever happened to him and wherever he came from, they’re not getting him back anytime soon. 

Not as long as Bruce has anything to say about it, anyway. 

[purplebutwarhammer]

I’m still convinced Trazyn and Orikan were friends/close in some way during the flesh times but neither really remember, and I will explain why I think this is the case.

Orikan remembers that Trazyn was one of the people that dragged him to the furnace after being found hiding in the library, this leads me to assume that Trazyn knew he would be hidden there and snitched.

The reason I believe this is that it seems odd that Trazyn of all people was there to take him in, if they hate each other so much and Trazyn was on board with biotransference then one would assume he’d be happy to let Orikan live and die a mortal life, unless they didn’t hate each other at all. Furthermore Orikan says that he ‘lived among the stacks’ this implies that’s he managed to remain hidden for a decent amount of time, and I doubt that the dynasties would be happy to loose their best astromancer (catty as he may be) so if he’s seemingly disappeared who would be best to find him?

Someone close to him who knows where he’d flee to in a crisis, someone who he wouldn’t hide or run from if he saw them coming, a dear colleague perhaps? Trazyn was an archaeovist not a warrior, hardly someone who you’d send to arrest someone. Unless you needed someone to draw a target out.

Trazyn specifically having Orikans memories of the event is odd to say the least unless that is it’s a reflection of a guilty conscience, forgetting your close friendship and taking the memories of the event as your own is a good way to alleviate yourself of an eternity of guilt whilst still holding on to at least a little part of it. I also think Orikan did something similar at least to a degree. It’s well known that biotransference messed with a lot of necrons minds and I personally think how it messes with specific individuals was a subconscious way to protect themselves from the horrors of what they’ve become, sort of like a computer identifying something that may cause a system failure and flagging it up. Orikan was betrayed by his closest friend, an academic rival yes but still a friend, and as his soul is burned away and he’s turned into a necron his new mind identifies a possible cause of long term distress that would cause difficulties in performing his duties and gets rid of it like any good operating system would.

Orikan wakes up and has a great feeling of anger and memories of a rivalry but not memories of a friendship and assumes that’s the way it always was, likewise Trazyn has memories of a rivalry and some sort of regret that he can’t quite identify (note that he never once implied that Orikan was one of the people to drag him to the furnace) both of them know they know each other but only as rivals. I also think this is the reason Orikan seems so much more directly angry with Trazyn, Trazyn mostly has a much more fond approach to the situation often using affectionate terms even if sarcastically, he only ever reacts harshly when Orikan directly does something (ie breaking his pottery) or he’s being manipulated by a god. Orikan on the other hand seems to have anger be his default feeling towards Trazyn he always assumes the worst of Trazyn no matter what, which leads me to believe Trazyn was the inciting factor in all of this. I also think it’s rather telling that there doesn’t seem to be a reason for them to despise each other so, if there was a definite reason we would have seen one of them throw it in the others face by now but we don’t. I think this is because neither of them actually remember, all they know is that they’re rivals and a big part of eachothers life.

Anyway this is why I think Trazyn and Orikan used to be besties, thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[bvidzsoo]

Took me some time to answer this, but I hope you know I'm kicking my feet, hehe. Love u, Mina! <3

I certainly wasn't expecting Wikipedia to be involved, but nonetheless, amazing.

lmaoo, let me have my moment of weakness...at least it wasn't CHATGPT ikyk;)

The "you can't see color until you meet your soulmate" has since like middle school been one of my favourite plots ever, so to read yeosang fanfic created by none other than ari had me kicking my feet in the air. I was so excited to read this when we first started planning the event and im still vibrating with excitement 🤭

maaan, stop, why haven't you told me when we were planning the event, WOMAN??? This is so sweet tho, thank you very much! You're jinja the sweetest, ack!

I really like this MC. She can both feel envy for those who have found their soulmate but also be happy for them. and, oh my god, how she wonders if the warmth of seeing her customers happy is the same as the one she'll get seeing her soulmate 😭

she wants to hate them couples, but deep down, she can't because she's just a hopeless romantic lol (like me?? idk)

The further into the fic I get, the more I fall in love with your writing again Ari. There's something so special about how you describe the MC finally being able to see the colors. Like it doesn't hit her all at once, but gradually, as if she's always known that blue is the shade of the sky and green is the rich color of grass outside. And it's amazing how everything clicks in place when she sees Yeosang's reaction. I also love that she takes the time to drink in everything after Yeosang leaves. She admires the flowers in their true form for the first time ever and I think that's really sweet 🥹

ahh, I had this scene envisioned even before writing it...like, i got this idea when we were randomly searching for the tropes and I was like OMG i want this trop because i could do this really cool scene with it-and to know it came off well...THANK UUU

She doesn't get it by looking at the different ribbons or flowers, when a wave of rainbow washes over her, no. She realises that she has met her soulmate by seeing him. And, in some way, I find that to be more romantic than if she'd put two and two together by seeing the true color of the ribbon for the first time.

it iiis so much mooore romantic, AAACK!!

I freaking love their date 😭😭 They are so cute and soft with each other, and just taking it slow until they gradually warm up and are more relaxed. AND MC GIVING HIM A FREAKING HUG, THAT WAS SO CUTE- UGh....🤧 I love how they are always somehow touching whether its hugging, holding hands or literally knees nudging together 🥹 They've been apart for too long that they can't help it oh my heart~~

im glad you liked their cute little dates because i was kicking my feet HARD lol. And yes, they've been apart for too long now and don't want to miss any more seconds. I'm glad they are endearing hehe

THIS IS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT EARLIER!!! They're just so comfortable with each other now, as if they've known each other for years 😭 A thing that's sorta important to me is the idea that you can sit in a silence with someone and not feel awkward about it. Like you can just bask in each other's presence and think, "this is nice" despite not exchanging words.

if the love that finds me isn't gentle, I DON'T WANT IT OKAY?? I love moments like this one so much UGH, i was unwell writing it LOL. I knew you'd be a sucker for them as well, hehe ^^

IM JUMPING IN A DITCH THEY ARE SO CUTE 😭😭😭😭 PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASEEEEEE, MAY A LOVE LIKE THIS ATTACK ME. LITERALLY TAKE ME BY THE NECK AND BODY SLAM ME 🤧

lmaoo, you always make me crack up when you say this...im pinning it, btw!

Ahem, anyways! This story is so sweet and cute and soft and- *inhales* I'm now in need of more Yeosang fanfics 😭 As I always say, you never cease to amaze me Ari and this fic, at least I feel like, made you explore the more softer side of your creativity. Considering we've read a plethora of different genres, but now we get to see more of your fluffy-side and I can say I'm in love with it. Matter of fact, I might even send you a request of more fluffy!Yeosang 👀🩷

AAA now stop it Mina, that infinitely too sweet, I cannot do this. You saying I'm exploring my softer side of creativity has my heart soaring through my chest for some reason, thank uuu so much. I've been really enjoying writing these stories, thank you for taking part in it and giving me a chance to do something fun on this site hehe. That being said, I'll be catching up with your Hwa story!

A world in your colours

𐀔 Cherry Blossom, March Event 𐀔

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Daycare teacher!Kang Yeosang x Florist!reader

𐀔 Warning: none 𐀔 Word count: 6.2k 𐀔 Rating: sfw 𐀔 Genre: fluff, soulmates: you see all the colours for the first time when you meet your soulmate, strangers to lovers, fated together 𐀔 Summary: A world through the faint hues of your soulmate's eye colour isn't the most colourful life to live. Approaching twenty-five and still being unable to see all the colours the world has to offer has you worried that you'll never meet your soulmate. Doubts and questions riddle your mind day and night, but at least you have the one thing that makes you happy no matter what, your little flowers. You can't actually see their colours, but you can imagine their vibrancy. And then, one day when you're making a bouquet for a lovely man, your whole world gets covered in an overwhelming amount of colour, rendering you stunned.

A/N: Here it is, our lovely Yeosang's drabble. I love this guy and I love this little fluffy story, man, I was smiling so widely while writing these two, they are so endearing. Despite writing a florist!au...I cannot take care of my plants for the life of me, even though I really love them...especially pretty little flowers, but oh, well, I'll have to get better at taking care of them once I move out...I hope you enjoy this drabble and let me know what you thought of it, your feedback is much appreciated! Enjoy! ^^ divider @cromernet

𐀔 Join the taglist here! 𐀔

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            Colour, as defined by everyone’s best friend, Wikipedia, is the visual perception based on the electromagnetic spectrum. Although colour is not a fundamental attribute of matter itself, the way we perceive it is intricately tied to how an object absorbs, reflects, and emits light, as well as the subtle play of interference within those light waves. That was another sentence you had long ago read on the internet, and it stuck with you. Your peers have always considered you a bit strange for your obsession with colours, but then again, in a world that was painted mostly grey with hues of brown, amber, and copper, you couldn’t help but obsess over it. It wasn’t by choice that you couldn’t see all colours…if it were up to you, you’d coat your whole life in nothing but a mess of bright and light pastels. You sighed at the reoccurring thought as you walked over to another plastic vase to grab a purple Lily to add to the bouquet. You double-checked the label before grabbing it, though; you didn’t need another embarrassing incident today.

The sole reason as to why you couldn’t see colours yet was because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. In a way, it was something you were glad for because you’d know for sure who your soulmate was. You’ve read stories written by famous novelists who fantasized about a world where your soulmate's first words directed at you would be inked into your skin, and you wondered whether that felt as magical as the author made it seem. What if five different people said the same exact words to you that were on your wrist? What then? How would you decide which was your soulmate? You didn’t like thinking about that, though, content with the reality of your world. Sure, it was a bit depressing and quite literally grey, but it also brought a sense of excitement and anticipation with it. Whenever you allowed yourself to fantasize about the moment when you’d meet your soulmate, your cheeks would burn hot, and your heart would race. You’d close your eyes and try to imagine all the vibrant colours that suddenly coloured your surroundings.

You figured it would feel overwhelming at first, making you sentimental or sending you into a panicked sobbing. You thought it would blind you and make you feel nauseous as all the colours would be suddenly as vivid as an explosion in the distance that was now right under your nose. You thought you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, that you’d need a second to piece your thoughts back together, to make sense of the situation, to tell yourself that everything was okay. That’s how you imagined you’d react, but you were always a person full of surprises, even to yourself. Besides, diving too deep into this topic always leaves you with a sour aftertaste. You were twenty-five, and your world was still gloomy, devoid of the warmth and brightness everyone around you gushed about. It wasn’t unusual to be still single by twenty-five, but most people have found their soulmates back in high school. Your parents, for example, were even luckier than that and met in middle school; their worlds suddenly filled with all colours. You were jealous of them, but you also admired them profoundly.

Their love was deep and unlike anything you’d seen before. Their respect for each other went even deeper than their love, kindness and devotion, just a few sentiments that could be added to their plate when cherishing one another. You wished for a gentle love like theirs, for quiet moments where no words had to be uttered to be understood, for genuine kindness and laughter that filled the longing in your chest. You smiled at your customer as you tied her bouquet together, getting an excited grin back in return.

“Oh, this is gorgeous!” She exclaimed as you grabbed a little butterfly sticker, searching for the perfect leaf to press onto, “My little one will love this!”

You were happy that the mother was excited; seeing your clients excited and happy over the flowers you loved so much always filled your chest with warmth. You imagined being with your soulmate felt like that, too. You handed the bouquet over to the woman once you were done with it, accepting her card when she said she had no cash.

“I’ve never seen anyone combine these colours so beautifully before,” The woman mused to herself as her eyes took in the plethora of flowers, a mixture of white, yellow, pink and even a little bit of purple in there, “You’ve got an artistic eye for it.”

You felt proud at the praise as you handed the card back, grinning at the lady as you bowed your head in gratitude, “That’s a lovely compliment, thank you so much!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell the lady that you had no idea what the flowers looked like in colour, whether the pink bow you’d tied to keep the bouquet together matched with the flowers you had chosen. The lady left soon after as she was in a rush, and you sighed, looking around the flower shop. You could tell the walls were a lighter orange, the shades a dark brown and probably your soulmate’s exact eye colour since the colour was so rich in hue. You’ve always wondered if the other colours were just as beautiful as the ones you could lightly see from time to time—or more pronounced if they were the same colour as your soulmate’s eyes—and your conclusion had always been that, yes, no matter what nuance or hue, all of it was just as gorgeous.

You thought of colours as you thought of flowers, special and unique in their ways, distinguishable and rather easy to remember once you learned their properties. Flowers have been your escape since a young age when your preschool teacher tasked you with growing little beans, encouraging you to name them and speak to them daily. After that, you had asked your parents whether you could try and cultivate your little garden in your room, and once they’ve given you the go, you had never turned back. The flower shop that you were working at wasn’t yours just yet, but its owner—a lovely middle-aged woman—was considering passing it on to you once she had grown old and tired of her business. You’d gladly take over it as you had no big plans for your future. You were content living in the place you had been born, surrounded by friends and family. You realised you were luckier than most that you could live a comfortable and fulfilled life, and that’s why you always made sure to give back to your community, even if it was something little.

You were just about to walk over to the vase with sunflowers when the doorbell chimed, signalling a new customer. You plastered a small smile to your lips and straightened your back, welcoming the man who had decided to walk inside your store, “Hello, how may I help you?”

“Hi, uhm, it’s my mother’s birthday today.” The man spoke, surprising you with his deep voice. His features were soft and relaxed; it was an unexpected juxtaposition, “Her favourite flowers are Magnolias; do you have any of that?”

You nodded your head, walking over to the vase placed right by the entrance. They were fresh as they had come in just today, so they were gorgeous as they were in bloom, “Silk Magnolias are mostly used for bridal bouquets, but I can make you a simpler one if you want me to.”

“I’d love that, please.” The man said as you two looked at each other, and for some unexplainable reason, your heart skipped a beat. You averted your eyes shily and crouched down to grab three Magnolias, your long skirt brushing past your ankles.

“They go well with Gardenias; would you like me to add some of those too?” You stood back up, realising that since the bouquet would be all white, you could add a deep red coloured ribbon to it, or perhaps even a soft pink one. The challenge, however, would be to find the right nuances since your coworker messed up some of the colours after her shift. You’d be embarrassed to ask the man for a little guidance, and that would be also you assuming that he had found his soulmate already, which would be a bit rude as you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Due to you being unable to see all colours, everything inside the store was labelled with little post-it notes, bold letters stating the colour of the flowers. With that also came the shelf behind the front counter always being organised after a system that you had already memorised, no need to read the labels anymore. All ribbons and coloured foils were placed in their designated spot so that you’d know which one was which colour, but your coworker had mixed up the black and blue ones, resulting in you embarrassing yourself not even half an hour ago when a customer asked for blue ribbons and you had given them black ones. You quickly fixed your mistake, and the man wasn’t even upset, but your cheeks still burned with shame as now the man knew you still hadn’t met your destined partner.

“Uh, if you think it’ll be pretty, sure.” The man said, walking to the counter as you went behind it to organise the bouquet for him, “May I ask…what colour it’ll be?”

You froze for a second before you hummed, going over to the Gardenias to grab two of them, “White, if that’s alright.”

The man nodded eagerly, letting his green briefcase rest on the counter where it didn’t invade your space, “That’ll be perfect, my mother loves the colour white.”

You smiled as you glanced up at the man, and somehow it seemed as if the sunrays shining through the window were brighter, creating a white haze around him. He looked really pretty with his curly hair falling over his forehead, curling around his cheekbones, and you noted its copper hue with slight admiration. Afraid you were starting to stare, you lowered your eyes and started working on the man’s bouquet. You first made sure all the flowers were fresh and in perfect shape, undamaged by transport, and then cut into the ends a bit. Then you held the Magnolias together, arranging the Gardenias in between and adding a few dark green weeds for a better aesthetic. The handle of the tape was almost black, and you found yourself humming a melody as you taped the flowers together just until you’d tied the ribbon around it. You pulled the bouquet away from your face and felt the customer’s eyes on your face, almost insistent, but you kept working with a small smile on your face, catching a glance at your bright orange nails. You remembered your mother saying that colour might be a bit too bright, but since you couldn’t see it well as it was dulled to your eyes, you decided to still go for it. It was fun, after all.

You turned then and looked at the shelf behind you, tilting your head in wonder. There was the blue ribbon that had embarrassed you earlier, small white dots decorating the fabric, and you found it cute how the pastel colours blended nicely together. You glossed over the black and blue ribbons, they wouldn’t make the white pop right now. You needed something intense and eye-catching—like the burgundy fabric that would look gorgeous in contrast with the white flowers! You grinned triumphantly and grabbed it off the shelf, turning around to tie it tightly around the bouquet, making sure the flowers didn’t move while you worked on making the perfect bow, not too small nor too big. Your chest felt warm, and you were aware of your cheeks burning, but you couldn’t decide whether it had gotten warmer inside the shop or if it was the man’s eyes following your every move that made you feel shy. Nonetheless, you smiled brightly as you raised the bouquet and extended it towards the man. His eyes were slightly wide as they frantically searched your face, and you felt a little disheartened as you couldn’t decipher what his reaction meant. Was your bouquet really that gorgeous, or did he perhaps not like it and wasn’t sure how to voice his thoughts?

“Oh,” You muttered, eyebrows slightly raised as you glanced at the man’s burgundy red hair and then at the ribbon, “The ribbon matches your hair! What a coincidence…”

Your smile froze on your face, your heart stilling in your chest. The ribbon matches your hair, kept repeating in your head like a distant echo as your fingers slightly trembled, your eyes running all over the man in a panic. He was taller than you, a bit buff underneath his dark green suit, tailored to fit his body prettily. His necktie was a light orange, a lighter shade that still matched his beautifully dyed hair, his lips a cherry red much like the small heart-shaped discolouration on his left temple. Your breath stuttered in your chest as your hands fell to the counter, mindful of the bouquet in your hands still.

“You’re…”

“I am.” The man sounded just as winded as you did, a huff of disbelief leaving his mouth, “Your socks are so bright, they match your nail colour.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you laughed, looking down at your socks that peeked out from underneath your skirt. They were bright, really bright actually, a neon colour worse than your nails. You had no idea you even owned them, and you wondered why your mother had never said anything about them.

“The bouquet will be 15€.” You said as you typed the amount into the cash register, and the man nodded, opening his dark green briefcase.

“Right, thank you so much.” The man said, fumbling with his wallet as he opened it, pressing the crumpled-up money on the counter. He reached out for the bouquet but hesitated slightly, and you averted your eyes as your fingers brushed together. You had a feeling it wasn’t by accident, given that the man’s cheeks also flushed pink, eyes abashed, “My mother will love it.”

“Happy birthday to your mother.” You found yourself saying as the man pressed his wallet into the small pocket of his suit jacket, briefcase in his firm grip. You didn’t want him to leave, not yet, but you couldn’t keep him here all day…it was his mother’s birthday, after all.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, same time as today. When does your shift end?” Your heart skipped a beat as the man stumbled into the open front door as he was walking backwards, his eyes not leaving you for one second. You chuckled and bit your bottom lip, playing with the money in your hands.

“I have the morning shift; I’ll be ready to go by the time you make it here.” The man’s lips pulled into a wide smile, lighting his whole face up. He looked gorgeous, and you felt breathless as you watched him wave at you and almost get stuck on the door handle, his cheeks flushing pink again as he finally left the store with haste. He glanced back inside through the huge window, and you told yourself to hold it together until you couldn’t see him anymore, and then came the squeals you could barely contain in front of him, your heart racing a mile. You had to take a seat and press your forehead against the cool counter, and even that didn’t help the warmth from spreading throughout your body as if winter was finally over and the first spring sun was here to warm you up from the inside out. That man was your soulmate. Your fingers trembled as you raised your head, blinking hard.

The world was so…different. Everything had colour, absolutely everything, and you didn’t know how to react to it all. The counter, which you thought was a light green or blue, was actually a cute beige colour, the stickers stuck to it a whirlwind of bright colours. You traced them before looking back up, eyes taking in all the beautiful flowers. You couldn’t believe that you could see the yellowness of the Sunflowers, a little taken back that they looked mustard coloured…or was that right? You hadn’t seen mustard yet, so you couldn’t tell; you’d have to test your theory out once you got home. The Lilies, the purple ones, left you in awe of their beauty, and you couldn’t help but walk over to the blue Orchids and trace their petals with a fond smile. You wondered who the man was as you looked out the window dreamily, your heart racing in your chest uncontrollably. He was a gorgeous person, and he also seemed kind; you couldn’t wish for tomorrow to come faster. You giggled to yourself and hurried back behind the counter, hands shaking as you dialled your boss in your excitement, too eager to tell her that you could see all the colour around you now.

            Your hands trembled as you clocked out, locking eyes with your grinning co-worker. She was a bouncing ball of nerves, even more excited than you over the fact that your soulmate was supposed to show up any time now. You chewed on your bottom lip and smoothed down your kaki long skirt, your black blouse thin so you had to cover up due to the morning chill. Your warm and long coat was a bright orange, and on your way home yesterday, you had realised that orange was slowly becoming your favourite colour. Judging based on your wardrobe, littered in colours you had no idea even existed, you had concluded that even unknowingly, your world had always been infused with colours. Your mother cried, and your father jumped around in happiness when you told them about this new development, right while having dinner, accidentally slipping up by saying sunflowers were definitely not mustard coloured. You had wanted to tell them in a cosier setting, perhaps in a cuter way too, but what was done was done. Your mother then made you call your grandmother, who was groggy since she was getting ready for bed, but the soft smile on her lips told you that she was just as happy for you as your parents, co-worker, and boss.

“What was your first impression of him?” Your co-worker smiled brightly at you, fiddling with a ribbon she had difficulty tying around the thick bouquet.

“He’s just…he seems very sweet and caring.” You heard yourself saying, chewing on your bottom lip as your eyes were glued to the huge window. He was supposed to be here a few minutes ago, but then again, he hadn’t specified an exact time when he’d stop by, “His features are really delicate, but he looks manly still. I love his hair, though; it’s so rich in colour.”

“What colour is it?” Your co-worker followed up with her question quickly, too invested to pay any attention to the bouquet she was supposed to finish in five minutes.

“Burgundy, and he has a matching—” You gasped, eyes widening as the man was here. He wore a tailored suit again, a beaver brown—you’d stayed up until a very late hour last night, researching colours and hues, shades and tones, trying to memorise them all in your rush of excitement—and his tie was a darker orange. Your heart was racing furiously as it felt impossible to look away; your eyes met when the man arrived by the door. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks slightly flushed a light pink colour, and you took a deep breath before you turned to wave at your co-worker. She looked stunned, eyes frozen on the man before her grin spread wider, ushering you out the shop with a squeal. It was embarrassing, but you were more preoccupied with walking straight without having your knees give out as you watched the man open the door for you.

“Thank you.” You lowered your eyes as he hummed, stepping aside to make space for you, “Hi…uhm, it’s lovely seeing you again?”

You wanted to facepalm yourself for making it sound like a question, but the man didn’t seem bothered as he chuckled, ducking his head. His suit jacket was nicely folded over his arm, his white shirt clinging to his body. It had gotten significantly warmer by noon, but you were someone who easily got cold, so you didn’t take your coat off.

“Hi, it’s really nice seeing you, yeah.” Then, the man cleared his throat and looked up with more confidence on his face, “I didn’t introduce myself yesterday. I was honestly too stunned to function properly. My name is Kang Yeosang.”

You extended your hand to shake Yeosang’s hand, your soulmate, and blushed when your skin made contact with his. His palm was bigger than yours, and his skin was really soft, but his grip was confident and strong without hurting you. You told him your name, and his eyes sparkled under the bright sunlight, and you felt yourself unable to look away. Yeosang was gorgeous; seldom did you see a man like him. It felt slightly surreal that he was your soulmate, and you felt extremely lucky all of a sudden. You didn’t know him yet, but something told you he was an amazing person.

“Where would you like us to go?” Yeosang’s question reminded you of the fact that you were still standing outside the flower shop, quite blocking the entrance actually, and you flushed darker when you realised your co-worker was most likely watching the two of you.

“Maybe for a stroll in the park just there?” You pointed across the street, the gates of the lovely park in the heart of the city visible. Yeosang nodded enthusiastically and motioned in front of himself as a way to tell you to lead the way. As you took off, you found yourself walking as close by Yeosang’s side as you could without making it weird, and your heart hadn’t stopped racing ever since you saw him. There was something magnetic about the man, about your soulmate, and you felt like you couldn’t last another day without being in his presence. Matter of fact, you didn’t want to be since you’ve waited twenty-five years for this moment.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?” Yeosang asked as you two noticed the small coffee stand at the same time and you hummed, looking at Yeosang a little sheepishly.

“I don’t like coffee, but I really like tea.” Yeosang chuckled, something like endearment appearing on his face as he grabbed your elbow gently and veered you away from the oncoming crowd of teenagers.

“That’s funny. I don’t like tea but basically live off of coffee.” You chuckled too, your eyes meeting as Yeosang walked you two over to the coffee stand. There weren’t a lot of tea options, so you settled for wild berries, glad that the vendor had some homemade honey for you to mix with your tea instead of sugar. Yeosang asked for a simple black coffee with ice, a bit of milk and one spoonful of sugar, and you found yourself reciting his order in your mind until you could recall it easily.

With your drinks in your hands, you headed for the crosswalk, having to wait since it was red for the pedestrians. The street was bustling with many people at this hour, and not everyone was as self-aware as you—and it seemed like Yeosang, too—so they either didn’t look where they walked or purposefully pushed people around to get further to the front. You had to make space for a guy on his phone, not paying even a little bit of attention to those around himself as you, too, could hear the music coming from his headphones. You tried to make space for everyone, but before you could step behind Yeosang, you felt fingers sneaking between yours, a warm palm pressed against yours as you were gently guided into Yeosang’s side. His eyes were still sparkling, his cheeks were red—not as red as the discolouration on his temple—and you thought for a second you could hear his rapidly beating heart.

“Is this okay?” He asked almost too quietly for you to hear with the honking cars and loudly conversing people, but you did catch it, and you nodded eagerly, making sure to squeeze Yeosang’s hand for extra confirmation.

“Yes! More than okay, actually.” You sounded more confident than you felt, and Yeosang was suddenly smiling widely, his cheeks pulled up and making him look the softest. Before you could do something as crazy as lean up and nuzzle your nose against his, the light turned green, and you followed the crowd, crossing the street. The walk to the park’s entrance was quiet, your hands fitting perfectly into each other’s, and you revelled in the comfort of it all as Yeosang occasionally glanced at you. The park wasn’t as packed as the sidewalks, and you could freely roam around without bumping into anyone, and yet, your hands stayed intertwined.

“So,” You spoke up, taking a sip of your tea before you faced Yeosang while walking, “What do you do for work? I’m a florist, but you know that much about me already.”

Yeosang hummed, facing you with that adorable small smile on his lips, “I’m a daycare teacher. The school isn’t far from here. You actually saved me yesterday. I was running late for my mother’s birthday dinner, and I thought there weren’t any flower shops close by.”

You chuckled, veering Yeosang away from the flock of birds that didn’t look too friendly, “Did your mother like the bouquet?”

“Yes, she loved it, thank you.” Yeosang then stopped, tilting his head with furrowed eyebrows, “I told them…my parents…that I found my soulmate, and they, well, uhm, they want to meet you. I know it’s too soon, and I asked them to wait a little bit until we’ve gotten to know each other, but they are just too impatient and excited to finally meet you.”

You felt your heart swell and almost burst out of your chest as your smile grew into a wide grin. You didn’t even realise it, but you had taken a step closer to Yeosang, smiling up at him so widely that your cheeks ached. Yeosang looked stunned for a second before he returned your smile, biting his lower lip as he averted his gaze down to the ground, “I’d love that, but I want to do what makes you feel comfortable. If you think we should wait, then we will; if not…just let me know when it’s good for you and your parents.”

Yeosang nodded, his eyes finding yours, “You are so kind.”

“You are too, Yeosang.” You chuckled, and it was your time to look down. Yeosang seemed to feel proud over that compliment before he took off, guiding the two of you through the park.

“I don’t feel like we are rushing, but I think it’s more responsible if we go on a few dates first.” You felt like a high school girl, wanting to squeal over the fact that you’d be going on dates with Yeosang, “My parents are nice people, but they are…well, they had gotten a bit desperate about me finding my soulmate. Honestly, they thought you were dead.”

Well, that thought had never crossed your mind before, but it definitely didn’t sit well with you as you looked at Yeosang with a frown. His expression looked neutral, but he squeezed your hand, “I’m twenty-seven, so they think I’m too old to be single. My parents’ families were close friends, so they’ve always known they are soulmates. They had it easy, so it was weird seeing their son struggle to find his soulmate.”

“Did it hurt you? That you sought me out without success for so long?” You found yourself asking, curious to know how Yeosang felt. He seemed to think for a second, humming as he looked down at his cup of coffee.

“It was frustrating at first, mostly because my parents were also pressuring me.” He looked at you from the corner of his eyes, then shrugged, “Then I realised I wouldn’t find you faster if I made myself mull over it, so I just let it go. Since we are fated to be together, I realised I couldn’t trick fate and quicken the process.”

You hummed in agreement, realising you’ve had a similar mindset to Yeosang’s for the past one or two years, “I’m twenty-five and had lost hope at some point. My parents, similar to yours, met very early on, in middle school. I thought I’d also find my soulmate around that time, and when it didn’t happen, I thought it would come in high school…but then that didn’t happen either, and I felt disheartened, like something was wrong with me. And then I realised I can’t push something that isn’t meant to happen just yet.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” Yeosang’s answer was quick, his hand squeezing yours as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t apologise, the wait was worth it in the end.” You giggled, averting your eyes shily.

“Yeah?” Yeosang sounded surprised, perhaps even a bit cocky, “You think so?”

“I think that you’re very handsome, Yeosang, and soft.” There was no reason to be embarrassed in front of your soulmate, certainly not when it came to complimenting him, “You have an aura of kindness and brightness around you; I think it’s everything I wanted in a partner.”

Yeosang was smiling widely again, nodding his head as he became shy once again, “You’re cute and vibrant; your smile makes my heart race. I’m thankful that you are my soulmate.”

You stopped walking, the sudden urge to hug Yeosang wasn’t something you could control, so you threw your arms around his torso and leaned into him, smiling to yourself as your head landed on his shoulder. Yeosang’s arms were quick to go around you, squeezing you into himself, and you realised he smelled like oranges and fresh grass, refreshing and calming. You loved the fresh smell of nature, and you loved Yeosang’s natural fragrance. You heard a chuckle, and suddenly something was plucked out of your hair, making your eyebrows furrow as you slightly pulled back, looking at Yeosang’s hand. A dry leaf was between his fingers, his expression amused.

“You’re like a garden fairy, do bees gravitate towards you during summer?” You laughed and shook your head, feeling a bit embarrassed as Yeosang pocketed the leaf instead of letting it fall to the ground. Your cheeks burned as you two let go of each other, fingers naturally intertwining as you headed for a bench, “Why did you choose to become a florist?”

You sat down on the bench, facing each other, and Yeosang’s knee brushed lightly against your thigh. You held your cup of tea in both hands, playing with it as you looked down in your lap, “Well, I just really love nature. I’ve always felt at ease around my little plants in my room, and then I realised I just really love flowers. They are so beautiful and tender, you have to nurture them and take care of them as if they were human. I feel like I have a connection to nature; it’s like I can be completely myself around all that beauty—and the colours! Oh, I love their colours, they are so gorgeous! I’m so glad you walked into the shop yesterday. I had no idea I was missing out on—so much!”

Yeosang watched with fascination on his face as you spoke, a little overexcited that he wanted to hear your hobbies and likes. It was only normal; you’d have to gradually get to know each other, yet it still felt surreal that the sky was an almost transparent blue, the clouds completely white, the barks of the trees various shades of brown, the grass so green, all the leaves, and all the colourful flowers. You loved seeing all the colour on people, too, how they expressed themselves by their outfits, all the colours inside buildings and outside. You’d have to buy some more colourful furniture for your room since it’s mostly beige and yellow. You wanted to cover your world in the colours of the rainbow, in every possible hue and shade.

“Yes, the world is so…intense now, vibrant. It’s impressive how I could live without it all.” Yeosang’s deep voice was soft and quiet as if he was speaking to himself, “I like being in nature, surrounded by wildlife, away from the noisy city. We could go on hikes and maybe even camping.”

You nodded eagerly, having fond memories of the hikes you had gone on with your friends and family, “I’d really love that, Yeosang. I’ve always wanted to go camping, but my parents don’t like bugs, so we never stayed out after nightfall.”

Both you and Yeosang laughed at that, and then you were eager to learn too about Yeosang, “I imagine you love children since you are a daycare teacher; how did you realise that?”

“It’s nothing too revolutionary,” Yeosang chuckled, finishing his cup of coffee, “I would babysit for our neighbours when I was a teenager, and then my cousin had a baby brother, and I’d spend a lot of time with them. As I was growing up, I realised I was fond of those little ones, so…it just happened, I guess.”

You nodded, understanding him, “Would you want children?”

The answer was obvious to that, but you still wanted to ask, “Definitely, if you’d also like to have children, of course.”

Your whole face flushed, and you coughed, a little taken off-guard by Yeosang’s direct answer. His eyebrows raised and his ears flushed, and suddenly he was stumbling over his words, “I mean—like, whoever is my partner, I care about that! You know, like, whatever my partner wants—whether it’s you or someone else, not that I’m thinking of anyone else—but I’m just…yeah, I think that was too soon, wasn’t it?”

He was adorable, you had to shield your mouth with your hand as you laughed quietly, shaking your head at Yeosang, “I mean, since we are soulmates, I don’t think any topic is too soon, Yeosang.”

“Yeah?” Yeosang asked, not quite looking at you yet, “Right, I mean, sure, that makes sense.”

Comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you picked a stray string off Yeosang’s knee. He watched you quietly, taking in your serene expression, and your eyes met as you raised your head. You smiled at Yeosang without saying anything for a second, then chuckled, this whole situation feeling unreal. Just yesterday, your whole world was covered in grey and hues of brown, amber and copper—and now, your soulmate sat next to you on a bench, the world infused with so much colour you still weren’t used to it, and to top it off, your soulmate was kind and loving, good with children and soft-spoken despite his uncharacteristically deep voice. His face was gentle, his features almost as if they were sculpted by Greek Gods, his burgundy hair even curlier than yesterday as it was pinned back by a little pink bow, and it made you wonder if it was a child from the daycare that had placed it there. Yeosang’s expression looked a bit baffled as you continued to stare at him without saying a word, and not wanting to look weird, you spoke up, “I’m just admiring you because I cannot believe you are real.”

A surprised gasp left Yeosang’s lips at your words, and he didn’t shy away this time, leaning forward to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You grinned as he caressed your cheek, his palm warm and his skin soft, and for a second, you forgot there was anyone else in the world beside the two of you, “I’m as real as it can be, and I’m here to stay, by your side, for an eternity, Y/N.”

And your heart skipped another beat hearing his words, your body freezing when Yeosang suddenly started leaning towards you. You were ready, if he wanted to kiss you, then you wanted to feel his plush lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as it felt like your heart was in your throat, but instead of kissing your lips, you felt something warm press against your cheek, underneath your left eye, then your right eye, and it felt more intimate than any other kiss. You bit your bottom lip and opened your eyes, staring deeply into Yeosang’s rich brown ones, an almost red-like hue licking around his irises.

“Would you like to spend the rest of your day with me, Yeosang?”

“I don’t think I want to spend any time away from you from now on, Y/N.”

And you knew in your heart, in your whole being, that the future ahead of you two was bright, vibrant, gentle, and so, so colourful.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[sadcupcake]

Mikaelon's Gilbert

Part 2

Elijah’s POV

I had just met my mate, that much I’m sure of. I’m inclined to believe her but having mother back in our lives has been good for my siblings. If my mate is wrong about her sister’s intentions it could start an all out war between the Mikaelsons. When I turn around I can see my siblings standing by the stairs watching. I’m surprised our little mate didn’t see them on her way out. We’ve all known for a few centuries now that we shared a mate, also of us but Rebekah. Not that made her any less excited by the looks of her, happy to have a possible friend I’m sure.

“How long have you all been there?” I say. My siblings can be infuriating sometimes, but the look on their faces knowing we have finally found our mate is something that I’ll remember forever. We finally have something We’ve wanted for a thousand years, but the message she came to us with could tip my siblings over the edge. They are so caught up in mother being back they haven’t even considered her intentions. If they decide our mate is a threat to our mother and therefore our family I’m afraid of what could happen to her.

“Not long brother, thought you could keep our mate all to yourself?” Niklaus says, always 

with the paranoia. He hasn’t even met her yet and he thinks I’m trying to keep her from him.

Klaus POV

I should have known that Elijah would have kept her from me, from us. All I got was a glimpse of her leaving my home but I could tell it was her. My wolf tried to urge me forward, to follow her. I wish I could have talked to her, gotten closer to her. I will soon if my wolf has anything to say about it. Kol and Finn next to me both have the look of obsession I’ve come to know in Kol. Seeing that same look in Finn’s eyes however is new, I suppose after nine hundred years in a box I don’t know him as well as I thought.

“What did our lovely mate have to tell you anyway Elijah” Kol says next to me trying to get any information he can about her, the same as the rest of us.

“She is Elena Gilbert’s sister, and overheard her sister talking to Damon about mother trying to kill us all” Elijah says rather calmly for what he just said. I knew deep down that she wasn’t back to forgive me, to be a family again. I guess I just didn't want to admit it. But on the other hand I’ve never met this girl, never even heard of her in fact and now she shows up on our doorstep claiming to be the doppelganger's sister and knows information about my mother. How do I know this isn’t some sort of tep, mate or not? How do I trust her?

“LIES, Mother wouldn't do that, she forgave us, forgave me” I shout my anger coming out as it always does. I want to believe in our mate and let myself have this one thing but how can I when it’s the fate of my family at stake, our very survival?

“Niklaus, she is our mate. I too have my reservations about her identity and how she came about this information. But I believe we should at least investigate her claims. Mother is very much capable of what she is accused of” Elijah says, always the diplomat.

He brought up the topic of her identity and I couldn’t agree more. How is it that we’ve never heard of another Gilbert? It all seems too good to be true, our mate showing up just in time to save our lives, how could anyone trust that?

Kol POV

My mate was just in front of me and I let her walk out the door. Well I wouldn’t exactly say let, Finn and Klaus held me back from runner after her talking about how we couldn't scare her off. I had a feeling my Little Lamb liked a little fear. Our mate is perfect for us, all of us I just know it. When Elijah said that she was a Gilbert I was disappointed, because that means not killing the Gilbert boy. He had irritated me ever since I was un-daggered. All I want to do is rip his arm off and beat him to death with it, but at last, him being my beloved’s brother makes that a little difficult. I can see the wheels turning in Nik’s head already, I swear if his paranoia makes him believe she is conspiring against us I will find a way to kill him before I let him touch a hair on Little Lamb’s head.

“Whatever questions any of you have about her identity or her motive, you better not hurt her. I will find a way to kill all of you if so much as a hair on her head is touched” I say making it clear I won’t stand her being harmed in any way.

“Kol no one is going to touch her, she’s our mate and our questions will be answered in time” Elijah says trying to reassure me. I hope he’s right because I will end this family if it means her being safe.

“Are you sure about that ‘Lijah, ' cause Klaus is already thinking she’s betrayed us and he hasn’t even met her. And Finn over here hasn’t said a word about meeting our mate” I say trying to get my point across. Rebekah is a whole other story. She doesn’t share a mate with the rest of us, and I have no idea where her head is on the addition to our family. Bekka and female friends have never really gone great in the past.

Finn POV

If she knows that Mother wants us all dead, she may know about my part in it. I can’t even stand to think what my mate would think of me if she really did know. I can’t go through with it now anyway, If i did all her mates would die and that would mean her slow and agonising death. I couldn’t even stomach the thought. I need to figure out a way out of this. If I say no to my mother she will have a back up plan, she’s always got a back up. I can’t tell my siblings that our mate is telling the truth without telling them how I know and that would surely end up with me daggered again. For the first time in my eternal life I have a reason to be alive and I won’t let anyone take it from me. 

Without saying anything I walk away back to my room. Anything I say right now will only bring more suspicion on to me and right now I need a plan.

[bellysoupset]

Don't you guys just love when you start writing for funsies and then it turns into a mini therapy session? Anyway, this one is set in the future, as per usual will be in order in the masterlist.

----------------------------

For as long as Giuseppe had known his son, which was all twenty five years of his life, Vince had been stubborn. He wasn't arrogant, at least Beppe didn't think so, but goddammit if the kid wasn't stubborn.

Magda said it was because he had lived as an only child for seven years before being forced to share everything, which made sense, but Giuseppe thought was bullshit, because Ma was just as stubborn as Vince was. If anything, he was simply mimicking his mother.

Today, Vince's eyes were extra sparkly and his cheeks were flushed under the five o'clock shadow prickling his cheeks. Giuseppe didn't think he'd ever get used to the fact his son was just as tall as him and had a beard, urgh.

Whatever, his twenty five year old had a fever, that was a fact. Another fact was that he was vehemently denying it.

Sophia was putting all her stuff in boxes, which was a heartbreak on its own and Giuseppe was doing his damn best of not thinking about that, so his attention was focused on Vince, as he watched the man walk around his sister's room like an obedient puppy and gather all the items she solicited.

He'd be a good husband, Giuseppe snorted to himself, leaning against the doorway as he watched the scene.

"Babbo can I take it?" Sophia raised the leather jacket he had let her borrow four years before and had never seen again since. It was oversized on her, but the way her nails sank on the soft leather was a clear tell she was going to die before returning it.

"Of course, piccolina," he waved off her concerns. Hell, if she wanted to pack him and take him to college with her, Giuseppe was more than willing to go. Across the room, Vince muffled a string of hearty coughs in the crook of his elbow.

"Don't cough on my make up!" Sophia cried out, abandoning the leather jacket on top of her suitcase so she could rush to Vince's side and shove him away from her dresser, "you'll get your germs all over it!"

"I'm not sick," Vin grumbled, which would be a lot more convincing if it wasn't for his raspy voice and red cheeks. Giuseppe bit out a smile.

"You hear that, Soph? He's not sick."

"Yeah, right," Sophia rolled her eyes, "get my boots on the top shelf?"

Vince was stubborn and Sophia was bossy, Giuseppe rolled his eyes, thinking if they had made some big mistake raising them. He watched Vin walk inside of her cramped, not even a real walk-in, closet and start to remove all of the boots.

The repetitive movement of grabbing a pair and then crouching down to plant it carefully on the ground was clearly doing a number on him, as Giuseppe watched his son blink several times as if he was dizzy and gulp down.

"Vince, sit down before you topple over."

"I'm fine," he insisted, continuing at the task, "stop worrying."

"Not worried," Giuseppe shrugged, crossing his arms to his chest and leaning his head against the door. He looked around the room, searching for the trashcan just in case.

"Babbo," Sophia's tone was whiny and telling, "can we order in tonight?"

In other households Giuseppe knew kids didn't ask their parents these things and maybe it was for the best, self sufficient children and all that. However Vince had turned out fine, right?

"There's leftovers-"

"Babbo, per favore," she clasped her hands, pouting, and behind her Beppe saw Vince lean his back against her closet's door, planting his hands on his knees as he took measured breaths.

"What are you thinking? Sushi again?" Alright, maybe he was being a bit of a dick and if Ma was there she'd give him grief, but it was extremely amusing to see Vince's face drain of all color at the mention of food. Not sick, uh.

"Indian?" Sophia perked up, face flushing and a bright smile on, "chicken tikka masala sounds amazing, right?"

He pressed his lips together not to laugh as Vince gagged, silently, "it sounds delicious, piccolina. Vin, what do you want to order?"

Sophia turned to look at him, then let out a frustrated groan, "don't puke on my boots, oh my God!" she almost shrieked, jumping from her bed and rushing to him, grabbing his arm, "what's wrong with you, you're sick, go sit in the bathroom! It's like you're a little kid!"

Giuseppe tried really hard not to chuckle as he watched his 6'4 and wide as a refrigerator son be dragged away by his 5'5, cheerleader built daughter. What a sight.

"Babbo tell him to get out!"

"I am FINE-"

"Vicenzo," enough was enough, Giuseppe decided. Time to act like the responsible adult he was, "smettere," he reached in, so he could wrap his arm around Vin's back, pulling him closer, "c'mon, I'll help you to bed."

"He's like a big fucking baby," Sophia groaned, continuing to kick both of them out and Giuseppe glared at her over his shoulder.

"Be nice, he's sick."

"I'm not sick," Vince repeated, stumbling and almost falling and taking his father with him. Sophia rolled her eyes.

"See, he's not sick," she scoffed, just as Vin let out a groan, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

Fun over, Giuseppe thought, pulling him with all his force all the way to his suite at the end of the hallway. They barely made it inside, Vince falling with the grace of a drunk elephant, bringing the older man down with him as a big wave of vomit splattered inside the toilet, splashing on the seat.

"Fuck-" he gasped, spine curling as he retched again, "ugh..."

"Get it up, piccolino," Beppe sighed, moving so he could cup Vin's forehead, pushing back his curls. Vin was burning up and his father wasn't sure if the nausea was because it was a stomach flu or because of the high fever, "cazzo, Vince..."

"I'msorry," he slurred a burp bringing up more of his lunch. He sounded incredibly pathetic and Giuseppe's heart squeezed, causing him to plant a kiss on top of his son's curls.

"Nothing to be sorry," he promised, "get it out and I'll get you into bed."

"Sophia-"

"Will be able to pack just fine without your help," he rolled his eyes, but Vin shook his head, clumsily reaching for the toilet paper and wrinkling the whole roll as he grabbed a couple sheets and wiped his chin and the ropey saliva hanging from his bottom lip.

"Can't be sick," he groaned, throwing the tissues inside the toilet and pressing his forehead to the porcelain rim, "want to help-Uurp- her..."

Giuseppe was assaulted with a memory, Vince at the age of 10, sick with a sinus infection and crying because he had to stay home while his baby sister got to go to the daycare. Finding Sophia wrapped up in his arms like a teddy bear as soon as she got home.

"I know," he ran his fingers through Vince's curls, "I know it's hard to see her growing up, trust me, I know."

Vin let out another groan, breathing out slowly as a fresh wave of nausea rolled through him, "I'm pathetic," he decided, crumpling to the side so he was lying on the cold tiles of the bathroom and could press his heated face to his father's lap. Giuseppe let out a sigh at the position, not one bit happy that he hadn't managed to get him into bed before the collapse, but still he only shuffled around so they were more comfortable in the cramped space.

"Well, I think you might just get that from me," he teased, causing Vince to muffle a chuckle against his thigh, which morphed into a coughing fit. He rubbed his son's back, wondering if he should holler for Soph to get the first aid kit, since he clearly wasn't gonna move, "that's fine, growing up it's good, Vin," he pressed the back of his hand against Vin's heated cheeks, "one day you'll be trapped by your kid in the cold bathroom floor."

"I'm not trapping you," Vince grumbled, but instead of moving away, he only squirmed so they were pressed closer, "we're cuddling."

"Uh-hum," Giuseppe smiled, "cuddling, just like you're not sick."

[zipyolip]

Why Do We Consider the 4th Dimension Both Time and Imagination?

This is mainly for people who want to dive into the science behind reality shifting and manifesting. We can also refer to reality shifting as making a quantum jump or quantum leap.

Maybe it’s not exactly Imagination in the way we think, but rather, everything that can happen, already is. We’re not building new worlds from scratch; we’re simply picking a point in time—a reality—where certain conditions are already true.

This is just a thought experiment, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. Pick apart what sounds right and leave the rest. I do agree with those who believe that we are the creators, the ones who make things happen. But for the sake of this theory, let’s stretch what reality-shifters generally accept and think beyond the usual boundaries. I’ve always loved thinking about this kind of stuff because, as a kid, I would ask myself questions like:

Why Do I Have the Ability to Smell, Breathe, Walk, and Talk?

The answer I got was always something like, “It’s your physiology.”

But that never really satisfied me. I wanted something more—something deeper, a purpose, a reason for being. I wanted to understand why I was born into this world.

We often say that because we are always shifting, we don’t have an original reality, and I agree with that. But I also can’t help but wonder: What was there before this reality? Did I shift here and decide not to remember anything from my past life? Why did my soul choose this world, out of all the possibilities? Why wasn’t I born a Martian on Mars, for example? In the end, I have no clue if it’s fate, karma, or luck. Maybe I needed to learn something important before reaching my full potential. The point is, there’s a reality where all of these things are true, and they only impact me if I let them. Who knows unless they know?

It’s a bit strange though, isn’t it? You can’t prove you weren’t Superman in your past life, but you can decide you were—and just like that, you are.

The Real Subject: The 4th Dimension

But, anyway, let’s get back on track. The real topic here is the 4th Dimension. I’ve always known we live in the 4th dimension, even though I couldn’t explain it properly for the longest time. It’s not some abstract concept to me—it’s always been a part of how I see reality. I recently stumbled upon ultrasound images and it inspired me to make this post. I never really paid much attention to pregnancy, and at this stage in life, I’m more about partying than raising kids (which definitely doesn’t fit with today’s economy). So, I had never seen a 4D ultrasound before.

What really caught my attention was that with a 4D ultrasound, you can see the baby moving over time. I looked into 4D printing and found that it's becoming common to create models that show how things will evolve. At first, I was just surprised, but then I started to realize something even bigger.

What This Means: The 4th Dimension

These 4D models are kind of like any other simulation. The difference? You can see movement. Physicists agree that we live in and perceive at least 3 dimensions. Some even argue that we’ll never fully experience the 4th dimension because our brains can’t process it, and we wouldn’t know how to interpret it. But we call time the 4th Dimension, which is the dimension of experience (our temporal dimension)—while the first three are spatial dimensions (length, width, height). The spatial dimensions give us direction (up, down, left, right), and the time dimension helps us understand things like rust and mold, which build up over time.

Why Time and Imagination Are Connected to the 4th Dimension

So why do we refer to the 4th dimension as both Time and Imagination?

When it comes to reality shifting, we’re talking about a dimension that shapes both our experience of time (the sequence of events) and how we perceive possibilities, choices, and realities. This is often tied to Imagination.

In technical terms, Time is called the 4th Dimension because it’s how we experience the world as something that progresses. It’s a constant flow of change—events, growth, decay, and everything that happens in our 3D reality. Time is what gives meaning to the 3 dimensions of space and what makes our experiences happen. Without time, nothing would move forward—it’d just be one static moment.

Now, Imagination is our ability to picture things that aren’t immediately in front of us. The 4th Dimension can be seen as the space where all possible events or realities already exist—not as creations, but as pre-existing outcomes. When we shift realities, we’re not creating new worlds; we’re simply choosing from the potential possibilities that are already there. So, shifting feels connected to Imagination because we visualize the experiences we want, but they’re already rooted in the time-space continuum.

In short, the 4th Dimension as Time and Imagination shows that our experience of time also involves selecting among potential timelines. And our ability to imagine helps us move through all the endless possibilities in the 4D fabric of reality.

Why We All See Time Differently

One of the coolest things about the 4th Dimension is how each person experiences time in a unique way.

We don’t all experience time the same. Time isn’t just something that moves in a straight line. It’s also influenced by how we feel, think, and live. For some people, time flies by, while for others, it feels like it drags. Things like age, stress, happiness, and culture all play a role in how time feels. When we ask people how long a month feels, it’s not just about a number—it’s about their personal experience of time.

This shows that time is super flexible in our minds. If you're having fun or really focused on something, time might feel like it zooms by. But if you’re stuck waiting or feeling bored, an hour can feel like forever. We also relate to the past and future in different ways. Some people are always thinking about the past, while others are focused on the future. Some live in the present, feeling like time is irrelevant.

How People Map Time: Perception and Life Journey

The way people draw time can also be a reflection of how they see their life journey. How long does a month feel in the context of your entire life? Does it stretch on endlessly, or does it fly by because it’s packed with stuff?

The following image is a drawing of how someone could perceive a year (I recall these types of drawings gained virality on TikTok and thought it'd be fitting to add. Try making your own, how do you perceive a year?):

In reality shifting, this idea of time feeling different for everyone fits perfectly. If time is subjective, then shifting to new realities could feel different for each person. For example, someone might feel like a shift happens instantly, while another person might feel like it takes forever, all depending on how they experience time in that moment.

The Subjectivity of Time: A Personal Experience

Finally, the way we personally experience time shows how powerful our mind and consciousness are. What we focus on, our mood, and how we think all affect how we feel time passing. Time isn’t just an outside force—it’s something we experience inside ourselves.

Let me know what you think about this. Before writing this, I believed that we created reality, but now I’m led to believe that the only thing we’re really doing is choosing where we go. Rather than actively creating, I’ve shifted towards selecting.

Now, I feel like a navigator exploring the infinite space-time. It’s a more peaceful, freeing perspective, in my opinion.

[tozettastone]

This is cut from a fic concept roughly related to the "In Progress" setting. This segment is scrapped for being entirely too much exposition which should probably just be shown in amusing little scenes between characters instead of drily explained. Shrug!

--

Shiba Ichigo was a puzzle to his captain.

Generally speaking, he was a prickly and quick-tempered man. He was direct to the point of rudeness and sincere to the point of causing abject mortification among bystanders, both rare traits for aristocracy. Completely contrary to this character, he was also lying, relentlessly, to everyone. Shinji could not say about what he was lying, only that, through a series of evasions and meaningless interjections, he was getting out of sharing any amount of personal information, repeating only a handful of facts that required very little work for him to remember.

That, he supposed, was the point: someone in his life had at some point taught this earnest and direct man how to lie about himself, and had known him well enough to work around the fact that he was actually a shitty, shitty liar.

Shinji was great with liars and assholes — since like recognised like — but he had not yet caught him out.

He was gonna, though.

Eventually.

Shiba Ichigo's resting facial expression was a scowl so ferocious that he frequently scared his own squad mates, despite his apparently irresistible protective urges. He held everyone at arm's length, which helped with all the lying, and he seemed to consider authority of the Gotei-13 more or less secondary to his own feelings.

Shiba Ichigo's academy transcripts were full of unfortunate phrases like 'talented but obstinate,' and he was what one highly diplomatic teacher had termed 'slightly too free a thinker' and what another had called 'stubborn in his excessive self regard; disobedient, intractable.'

At time of his recruitment, Shinji had simply assumed that he'd be a spoiled little shit who would argue with him and Shinji'd just have to put him in his place a couple of times. You saw that kinda thing with noble brats all the time, and the Shiba clan didn't tend to meddle. He had thought it would be annoying, but ultimately fine. And Sōsuke had been so annoyingly set on him, after all.

And yet he had instead discovered that Shiba Ichigo had a baffling personal loyalty to exactly three people, as far as Shinji had noticed: Kyōraku Shunsui, a captain and veteran warrior of amusingly dissolute personal habits; Urahara Kisuke, a too-clever and suspiciously self-effacing assassin currently under consideration for promotion out of obscurity in the Second to the captaincy of the Twelfth; and, lastly, to Hirako Shinji himself.

Given that Shinji was ultimately the guy giving him orders, that last was as convenient as it was suspect. He had no idea what he'd done to land himself on that short list.

Poor Sōsuke hadn't made it onto it, anyway. Despite being the driving force behind his recruitment, and coming up on twenty months of having Ichigo as a direct subordinate, he still seemed wildly put off by his inability to charm him. In fact, when Sōsuke gave Shiba orders — at least when Shinji was there to see it — there tended to be a second's hesitation, like no matter how reasonable the order was, Ichigo was pausing just in case Shinji to countermanded them.

Since he was constitutionally incapable of leaving a mystery alone once he'd noticed it, Shinji tested that out a couple of times. Calling out, "Nah, don't do that yet," to Shiba made his shoulders relax, like he was deeply relieved Shinji had put a stop to Aizen's dastardly plan to, y'know, get their squad requisitions sorted on time.

Adorable.

Also, weird.

Sōsuke had a real good poker face, Shinji'd give him that. Unless you'd been, say, watching him like a hawk for years, it would have been pretty hard to tell how bad Shiba's unaccountable, irrational distrust incensed him.

Funny, though.

Shinji was this close to promoting him for the fun of it.

Maybe they'd kill each other.

... Although Sōsuke might win. That'd be disappointing. Shinji had decided he kinda liked Shiba Ichigo, suspect and bizarre as he was. He was a young, amusing mystery, and probably one much less dangerous than Shinji suspected Sōsuke might be.

"I like him," he declared while the was out with a few of the other captains, tipping his chair back onto two legs and staring at the ceiling of the izakaya.

"Who?" Love spun his mostly-empty bottle around, deft fingers flicking as it twirled.

The unfortunate truth about mostly making friends through work was that you ended up talking shop even after two bottles of sake.

"Ichigo-kun. I wasn't sure about it at first. But he annoys Sōsuke so much. Think I'll promote him."

This engendered a deep, hearty sigh from Love.

"Well." Rose eyed him over his dish. "...My deepest condolences to Shiba Ichigo, then."

[serensama]

OC Meme: Naera "Rook" Laidir

Thank you, @rookamell and @apothe-cary, for the tags, you absolute darlings. Your Rooks are wonderful! <3

GENERAL

Name: Naera Laidir

Alias(es): Rook

Gender: Female

Age: 32

Place of birth: Kirkwall

Spoken languages: Trade, Rivaini, and enough Tevene to get by... around slavers at least. Nothing good anyway.

Sexual orientation: She's probably pansexual but she doesn't think about it that much.

Occupation: Pre-Veilguard: Isabela's favourite little stowaway, she is a great Lord of Fortune. Naera knows what she does isn't just "salvage" like Taash wants to believe, there are times where their grey area is very much not open to interpretation- she's a good thief and she knows it. At least she knows if the Veilguard and stealing didn't pan out, she'd make a decent sailor. If only she knew how to swim...

FAVOURITE

Colour: Blue like the clearest oceans in Rivain, gold and emerald green

Entertainment: Gambling, Dancing, Duelling, Live music

Pastime: She likes to have long catch ups with friends, with lots of food and drink. If they're at a restuarant they could be there through lunch and dinner, ordering more food and telling stories. She also likes to read, considering she learned how to read so late, she feels like she has to catch up with the rest of the world.

Food: Spiced meat and hearty, seasonal vegetables with freshly baked bread and an assortment of dips- she is in heaven.

Drink: She actually prefers fresh juice, but if she has to have something warm it will be the choco chico thing.

Books: Honestly she will devour almost anything given to her, but she does love romance and intrigue... that's why she was so hurt she wasn't invited to book club!

HAVE THEY

Passed university: She has never had any real formal training. She learned to read from an older galley slave who took a shining to her. When she was under Isabela's wing and her magic finally surfaced, she was helped along by some mages in the Lords ('Sif Isabela would send her to any circle after Kirkwall!)

Had sex: Like today? heheh. Yeah, the girl has had sex and is very open to having it with whomever she wishes.

Had sex in public: Not recently. Which is a shame.

Gotten tattoos: No- much to the Lords' surprise. They remind her too much of other slave brands she had seen and don't want them on her.

Gotten piercings: Just her ears and Isabela pierced them herself as part payment for her first job with the Lords, she was gifted a pair of emerald earrings from the "salvaged" loot.

Gotten scarred: She would have had many scars if one of the mages on the ship didn't like the sight of her unmarred. They didn't like seeing the whip marks on her back and would heal them because "she wasn't nice to look at all bloodied up"- but it often made the slavers anger and whip her harder- it was a never ending cycle.

Had a broken heart: No, she never let people get too close to her heart. Sex was easy. Love was not.

Been in love: Not before Lucanis. She never had a longer relationship than a few months and she never cried when they ended. In another lifetime, if she had met Illario earlier she'd have fallen for him... and probably would have gotten her heart broken.

ARE THEY

A cuddler: As a former slave who wore the raggiest rags on a ship? Cuddling was how one survived! Physical proximity is not a thing around Naera. She will sit on you, hug you randomly and have no qualms about nudity. Besides, cuddling is her love language :)

Scared easily: Unless it involves someone suffering because of/for her, or someone she cares for being in danger- not really. She's been in hyper-survival mode almost all her life, scared is baseline normal for her.

Jealous easily: Not really. If she had known that Lucanis was actually into her rather than Neve during the early days- there would have been no jealousy whatsoever. It was just hard when Lucanis was being tightlipped about his affections was all. And Neve is really, really attractive.

Trustworthy: Absolutely. She sees no point in lying or betraying people, so it hurts her deeply when people do it to her.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): None.

Parents: She believes her parents said they were from Ferelden but were shipped off to become slaves in Tevinter- eventually they managed to escape and made a life for themselves in Kirkwall. Sadly, they were happened upon by a slaver ship docked in town for more supplies. They fought back as they didn't want them entering their home but it was no use, they found the young Rook in there and took them all aboard. It was not long until both parents succumbed to their injuries and left Rook alone. Thankfully the other slaves looked after her during her time on the galleys.

Children: Whilst she never dreamed of becoming a mother, she was never against the thought of it. When she does eventually get pregnant, she dreams of an entire Sunday being spent around the dining table with her family, the Veilguard and their extended family. Eating and laughing like it had been years since they last saw each other, and not just last week.

Pets: She's always wanted a dog of any kind but being on a boat isn't the kindest life for a dog. It was also unfair to leave it alone for months on end. She tried to make a pet out of a cactus once. It died from over watering. Naera thought it was probably best not to entrust her with a whole-ass life form if she managed to kill a damn cactus.

Tagging: @jenn2d2 @nyx-de-riva @hyperions-light @hightowerqueen @thedissonantverses and anyone else who wants to play! Please tag me as I'd love to see all your Rooks <3

[24-guy]

I love queer cinema.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

"Jason was the happy robin" this, "jason was the angry robin" that. Let's all be fully honest here Jason was the lonely robin

[himbopunk]

not sure when i'll get back to this one buuuut here's the first chunk from the thing i wrote with bellara meddling/wingmanning lucanis with rook/hakim after clocking his Yearning (kind of based off this sketch comic i did forever ago)

“AHH–!” 

Bellara yelps as her grip slips, nearly falling from the top of the lattice she was using to get onto the next Treviso rooftop. Fortunately, Hakim– more reliably known as Rook– had reflexes that were much quicker than hers, his hand quickly reaching out to catch her. The other elf was able to pull her up onto the roof where he and Lucanis stood without much effort. He was noticeably shorter than her, possibly the shortest in the Veilguard aside from Harding, but his physique was much broader than her own, at least on the top half.

 Bellara sighed in relief as she was able to climb up with his help.

“Thanks, Rook!” She said, somewhat breathlessly, taking a moment before getting up to her feet. She was no stranger to running around and climbing about, but she found herself somewhat out of her element whenever the group found themselves in cities like Treviso and Minrathous, especially compared to the pair of rogues with her. Lucanis was at home in Treviso, obviously, it was his home. Hakim seemed less familiar, but he always seemed in his element here. And in Minrathous, and even in the Necropolis… and in– well, no, actually he always seemed a bit nervous in Arlathan. Probably a healthy thing to be, though, even she sometimes–

“Bellara?” Rook called out, snapping her out of her head. She must have gotten lost in thought for a moment.

“Huh?”

“I just asked if you were okay? We can slow down if you need.” Rook looked at her, the furrow in his brow shifting the shape of the snake tattooed on his forehead just slightly. He seemed concerned more than any kind of frustration with her wandering mind.

“I think I’m okay!”

“Are you sure?” Lucanis asked. “It’s no trouble, we’re not in any rush to get back to the Diamond.” Which they’d need to zipline from the roof to get to… that was a lot less room for error than climbing up the side of a building was, maybe she should take a break…

“I’m fine buuut… if we wanted to take a little break up here, I wouldn’t say no!” Rook and Lucanis glanced at each other, slightly amused, but not saying anything about it outright.

“You know,” Rook says as he stretches his arms out above him, feigning a yawn. “I am getting a bit tired, too, and we’ve been making pretty good time. I’m sure Viago won’t miss us too much if we take a minute. Lucanis?”

“Relax for a moment on a peaceful Treviso rooftop? I don’t know, Rook, it’s a difficult decision, but if we must...” The assassin smirks at the other rogue, who was rolling their eyes at him, grinning. 

“The two of you aren’t even Crows, anyways, I wouldn’t worry too much about being late with Viago.” Lucanis shrugs.

“Oh, I don’t!” Rook exclaims, laughing. Lucanis chuckled alongside him, but there was a glint of something in his eyes as he looked at Rook. She’d noticed it more than once when she was around the two, and more than once around Neve as well. It was fleeting, and hard to decipher exactly, but she’d been noticing it more often than not as of late, especially when he made Hakim smile or laugh. 

The three walk across the connected rooftops, slowly, leisurely. They passed through a door where there was a small bench on the other side, not too far away from the roof that housed the zipline back to the casino. Lucanis noticed the bench first, directing the others towards it with a nod. Bellara hesitated for a moment.

“Did you want to–” She begins to offer Lucanis the seat, but he puts his hand up, interrupting her before she could finish.

“I’m alright, Bellara, but thank you.” He smiles softly at her and she smiles back, taking the seat. Lucanis stood next to her, leaning against the wall, but the moment of relaxation didn't last long, as it seemed like Rook had managed to completely vanish in the time it took her to sit down. Bellara gets right back to her feet, the both of them wary of their leader’s disappearance. 

It’s not unlike Hakim to sneak off from time to time, but a little warning would be nice, given all that the gods have been doing to get back the dagger that hangs on his hip. After a moment of careful scanning, the collective anxiety begins to pass. Bellara doesn’t see him, but can tell that Lucanis clearly noticed something, as he starts walking away with purpose She follows him close behind, across the rooftop, wondering what he caught that she missed. Of course, as they draw closer, she too hears it: a soft mew, followed by barely-audible purring, and the distinct sound of their fearless leader cooing to a small kitten. The pair turns the corner, finding Rook squatted down, scratching the stray behind the ears.

“Rook, sometimes I think you have a sixth sense for finding strays to pet.” Bellara teased, but the other elf barely paid her any mind, preoccupied with the kitten. She turned to Lucanis, expecting him to make a similar comment or joke as well. Instead, she felt as though she was witnessing a moment out of her serials, as that hint of something she sometimes caught, twinkling in Lucanis’ eye? That longing, as it was clear to her now, was written all across his face. He was completely lost in it, as he watched Rook’s moment of tenderness with the cat. The softness in his big, brown eyes, the slight smile… Sure, she had thought there was something going on between them, but now it was clear, Lucanis had it bad.

This put her in a bit of an interesting place, though, as Bellara also knew that Rook had a thing for Lucanis, they had for a while now. He’d brought it up a week or so back, he’d been a couple drinks in, lamenting about his unrequited feelings to her, Harding, and Davrin in the hidden music room. Harding seemed unconvinced by the unrequited end of it. Davrin threatened to tell Lucanis himself, if Rook wouldn’t, which of course they objected to. Of course, that then devolved into the two half-drunkenly roughhousing when Hakim tried to stop Davrin from leaving the room. Harding and Bellara had just sort of watched and laughed at the display. (Davrin won.) (Of course.)

Bellara recalled saying that she wasn’t sure, when he’d said it then, having only ever seen that occasional twinkle from earlier. But now? She knew this went both ways, and it seemed she wasn’t the only one. Harding could tell, Davrin too, but neither of the men involved seemed to have any clue. Should she say something to Lucanis, to Hakim? Both? No, they were both so bad at talking about feelings… putting them on the spot would only make things worse, if they even believed her. She’d have to figure something else out. She thought again about her serials, about how the moment reminded her of the one she’d read last year, where the Orlesian bard was caught gazing at the Guard-Captain, refusing to acknowledge her feelings but thrown into them by circumstance, as they were paired together at the Marquis’ gala, finally unable to–

Wait. Maybe that was it. Maybe Bellara needed to find some way to help them talk on their own, where the feelings were impossible to ignore…

Bellara cleared her throat, not loud enough to startle the animal, but just enough to get Lucanis’ attention. He suddenly became aware of what he was doing, of Bellara watching him stare, slightly flustered to be caught in the act of yearning. The man avoided eye contact, staring directly at the floor. She had moved closer to tease him quietly, when they felt a sudden, but distant, dull ache strike them both, interrupting the moment.

The sensation was very distinct, Bellara felt the strange vibration of it in her bones and teeth, and yet simultaneously somewhere far, far outside of her, like a sound in the distance. It wasn’t something she’d experienced often, as far as magic sensations go. The only significant time recently was when she had investigated goings-on in Minrathous with Rook and Neve. Unfortunately, that sensation could only be one thing.

“Blood magic…” She whispers, under her breath. She turned to Lucanis, the longing from a moment ago had evaporated entirely, his face awash in disgust as he seemed to be sensing something similar to her. He matched her gaze, as he realized the same.

“Venatori.” Lucanis hisses, in reply to her statement. Bellara feels a second thrumming energy nearby, a sensation she’d come to associate with the presence of the demon, Spite, even if she couldn’t hear him like Professor Volkarin– Emmrich was able to.

Though both statements were spoken softly, Rook had heard them, and immediately turned towards the other two, ready for action.

“Where? Here?” He asked, in hushed tones, as he approached the other two. Bellara nods.

“They must be nearby. Keep an eye out.” Lucanis says, blades already in hand. 

Bellara and Rook both pull their bows from their backs, ready to cover the Crow. She sighed quietly to herself, as the beautiful moment was entirely ruined by the task at hand. But there’ll be another time, she thought, there had to be some way to make this happen without their enemies interrupting things…

WIP WEDNESDAY THURSDAY 3/20/25

Hello, it’s WIP Wednesday Thursday, again! The confusingly named game where you:

Reblog this post with a snippet of whatever you’re working on (art, writing, music, crafts, whatever!) and I encourage you and comment briefly !

It doesn’t need to be Dragon Age! You can do whatever !

Because it is weekly, I won’t really be reblogging after Thursday is over, but you can still add stuff, if you want!

If you are looking for comments on/promotion of work that is currently being published, I do that on Bio(ware)feedback days! The next one is 3/22/2025!

Thanks for sharing your work, and have a great day!

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[somegrumpynerd]

Horror's nightmare

Horror doesn't think much on his past anymore, but his nightmares often resurface the guilt he's buried about the idea that he could have prevented it all somehow, even if it came at the cost of his own life.

Thankfully, Nightmare is here to make him a hot drink to calm his nerves and promise him a visit to his brother when the sun is up, because Papyrus will always be very glad to see his brother alive and visiting (and as sleepy as ever).

[formerprincewille]

Something that really sets Wille and Simon apart from other queer ships is that when we say their love language is physical touch, IT REALLY IS PHYSICAL TOUCH. And I’m not speaking of just sex. Over the course of the show, the amount of touching between them is astronomical. And that’s really something rarely seen in queer media. There may be moments here or there, but often times there’s a lack of physical contact unless it’s for ���the plot”. Wille and Simon feel like a real couple in the way they’re always physically reaching out for each other.

[hyperpotamianarch]

Final results: two out of 52 are. One of them is me. Seven Goyim (because I doubt any Jew would ask who's Rashi), and 43 who are Jewish and want to know who Shaul Wohl is.

Conclusion: this was a mistake. I should've probably tried asking people about their interesting Jewish lines of descent instead of this very specific one, but well. It is done.

So, who is Shaul Wohl? Firstly, I'd like to note that the guy has some luck in life, because his last name originally was Katzenellenbogen. He was, supposedly, descended from Rashi, who in turn is saud to be descended from David HaMelech through Rabbi Yoḥanan HaSandlar (the shoemaker), a rabbi from the Tana’ic era who barely appears in the Mishna or Talmud. Fun.

Anyway, Shaul Wohl is most well known for supposedly being the King of Poland for one day. Basically, the story goes like this:

The king of Poland has died without an heir. It has fallen to the high nobles of the kingdom to find a replacement, only they can't seem to agree and the cooldown period is approaching its end. They have to get someone to sit on the throne temporarily while they finally decide who can be king. Lucky them, they know a trustworthy Jewish person. He can't be king king, but they trust him to hold the position for a day. This person, of course, is Shaul Wohl. So he gets appointed temporary king to give the nobles more time. In the meanwhile, he goes to where they store all the decrees, looks for any decree against Jews that might exist and tears it down. The next day, a new king is found and everyone is happy. From then on, Mr. Katzenellenbogen is called Wohl, meaning "chosen", in German. At least supposedly. Also, Wikipedia tells me it's spelled Wahl? Give me a break, I spell stuff in Hebrew.

For the sake of whatever, here's a "descended from Rashi in general" poll:

Well, during my relatively early days of tumblr I attempted a thing that went nowhere. I just randomly found this thing while looking at old posts of mine, so I've decided to do it again, perhaps a little better. So:

[multiversal-pudding]

I still wonder…

Like. Seb’s document said he broke out while he was being transported

where was he being transported *to?*

Were they just changing where he was contained in the Blacksite? Doubtful given he was still given free enough reign to work on equipment during that time- he probably could’ve just moved himself, maybe with guards

Was he going to another site entirely? It’s implied Urbanshade has multiple sites even if Hadal is one of the main ones-

Were they going to sell him off? I mean- Urbanshade has a history of putting anomalies up for auction, both the Limited Time Imaginary Friend document and the Abstract Art files mention them selling off anomalies they don’t have a use for that aren’t something worth Neutralizing (or the other way around, too useless to sell), we know there’s other companies out there who’d probably have Use for a giant mutant- likely things that wouldn’t be good for him either like some kind of military use/Rich Weirdo Collector type stuff also

Did he even know? He waited 10 years to enact his plan- was it just the first chance he got, or did something happen?