#colors soulmate verse

[punkeropercyjackson]

Miles,Hobie and Gwen are SO Nico,Percy and Hazel i love them so bad and they make me insaneeeee

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Hey Roddy. Do you take Chrobin prompts during Nanorimo? My brain is feeling a little wingfic, so. "Everyone has wings, but they aren't always out. Chrom asks Robin to unfurl hers after Southtown, and she has six." ...It's fine if you don't want to. I just, y'know. *Waves hands* Them.

Honestly, my NaNo performance this year is absolutely atrocious and I'm using it mostly as trying to get myself to get up and write again - which is to say I would write literally anything and count it for NaNo right now. Anyway I was casually chewing on this thought for like two days before I suddenly figured out an angle to come at it from that made me really want to write it...which ironically produces a story where the single scene you have pictured cannot happen.

----

Chrom has never met someone who doesn’t have wings; that doesn’t mean he’s never met someone whose wings he’s never seen. It’s polite to keep them folded out of the way so as to not bump into people in the streets or take up too much space in the barracks; it’s a fashion in Ylisstol to wear cloaks with hoods or cowls that obscure all but the largest wings into shapeless fabric. Of the Shepherds, Ricken in particular wears mages��� robes to hide the fluffy fledgling down that marks his age, and Sumia says that fabric over her wings keeps her mindful of what she’s doing with them and stops her from absentmindedly knocking them into things - most of the time, anyway.

So the stranger unconscious in the fields with no memory might be a notable oddity for all of the aforementioned reasons, the baggy hooded coat does not stand out as a peculiarity.

Her name is Robin. Like the birds.

-

The masked swordsman, Marth - swordswoman - whatever - has dark, glossy blue-feathered wings. She fights with them spread, like a goose flapping and screeching to drive away a threat. Like an eagle swooping low, coming in for the kill.

But when the assassins are dead and Emmeryn is safe, Chrom runs after the masked prophet to thank her, offer her anything in thanks, and he finds her with her wings folded to her back, small, like a sparrow, alone in the dark.

-

Taguel don’t have wings. This makes sense to Chrom, and the fact that Panne prominently displays her winglessness by not wearing any draped clothing across her back - or even much clothing at all, really - is still only one of her second or third most eye-catching traits.

-

Absolutely mortified as he is about walking in on Robin in the bath, and trying for both their sakes to put any sights he may have seen out of his memory forever, it takes until the next day, looking at her across a map as they discuss strategy, to realize something.

He is pretty damn sure that she didn’t have wings.

-

Manakete, unlike taguel, have wings in their human form. Manakete, unlike humans, have not a feather on their body; Nowi’s wings are leathery, like a bat, like a wyvern, like her dragon form.

-

Flying is difficult enough simply carrying the weight of one’s own body. Adding armor and weapons, even moreso. Wyverns and pegasi remain invaluable companions off and on the battlefield for such reason (even if Ylisse doesn’t have any corps of wyvern riders). A careful rider with a strong bond with their steed should only have to use their own wings to slow their fall if they are extremely unlucky. 

Phila and her knights are unlucky, and the Risen archers keep firing even as they fall. 

And Gangrel laughs. Gangrel stands holding a pike, upon which are impaled a pair of severed wings. Even from a distance, Chrom knows those tan speckled feathers. He’d know them even if, next to him, Lissa’s wings weren’t patterned the same. 

Emm falls. And Chrom flies, forgetting the archers, forgetting everything except the need to save her, but she falls faster than he can fly and arrows fly faster than he does. He barely notices the first two tearing through his wings, but by the third, Basilio is in the air with him pulling him back to earth. Robin clings to Lissa, holding her to the ground, holding her face against her shoulder, stopping her from following and from seeing. 

But Chrom gets a last glimpse of his older sister before Basilio drags him away. 

-

In Ferox they plan; their rescue failed, but they will not fail to topple Gangrel from his throne. Chrom has the faith of his Shepherds, the might and support of the khans, and Robin’s tactical guidance. He has Emmeryn’s dream for peace.

But they do not march for Plegia yet. And when Chrom closes his eyes he has the memory of Emm’s body lying broken on the sand and stone and the bloody stumps of her dismembered wings protruding from her back.

Sleep is hard to come by.

He finds Robin still in the war room, pouring over maps and markers. “Didn’t Flavia and Basilio say that we would start determining the specifics of our strategy in the morning?” he asks, even though he suspects that in the dark and in the silence, Robin hears Lissa’s scream the way Chrom watches Emm fall. 

Robin starts at the sound of his voice and she reaches immediately for her coat, draped over one of the chairs instead of her shoulders. Then she looks back up at him and when their eyes meet, Chrom thinks of the promise that she made to him, that she would stand at his side and help him be worthy of Emmeryn’s legacy. Her fist slowly unclenches from the fabric and her hand moves back to the markers on the table, but her eyes linger on Chrom’s for a little longer. “I need to have at least some idea of strategies to suggest,” she says, turning her attention back to the map. 

Without her coat, when she leans across the table to grab a book from the other side, her lack of wings is obvious. Her shirt, cut low in the front and back, exposes her shoulders and some of her back; he can’t help but notice the lack of even the stubs of wings amputated, or even any scars that could indicate a complete removal.

“You can say something, if you like,” she says, paging through her book. Her words could indicate a challenge she intends to bite back on - he remembers that unfortunate conversation about whether or not she could be termed a “lady” - but now, lately, with all of this weight they carry, he doubts it. 

“You probably don’t even remember, do you?” he asks. 

“I don’t,” she affirms, and that is the end of their discussion of that matter.

-

The dust settles over the scent of sweat and sand and singed feathers. Chrom steps on a reddish-brown plume that might have fallen from Gangrel’s wings. Robin stands at the crest of a hill, looking up at the carrion birds circling over the battlefield, ready to alight upon the corpses and add their feathers to the mix. Her expression is one he’s not seen worn on her face before and it’s hard to place. Wistful?

Chrom has a lot that he wants to say to her, but the first words out of his mouth, with a flap of his still-bandaged left wing, is, “Once I’m healed, I can take you to see Ylisse from up there.”

“I think I’d like that,” she says.

-

Most children are born without even a bump of what will develop into their wings. They usually start to emerge at the same time as a baby’s first teeth.

Robin wonders if her daughter will inherit her condition. 

She wonders if she will know by the time she comes back from war.

-

Validar, the new king of Plegia, looks identical to the leader of the assassins who attacked Emmeryn in Ylisstol. 

The hierophant of the Grimleal looks almost identical to Robin but for her wings; three on each side, long and thin with feathers of such a rich black that they appear purple in the light. 

-

Little lady Marth has a sword identical to Chrom’s and a Brand in her eye identical to that of baby Lucina’s. Little lady Marth is Lucina, no longer a baby, from a time yet to be, and the story belies belief but is too outrageous to possibly be false. The beautiful warrior who stands before her is Robin and Chrom’s daughter, and how could she be anyone else, when she looks so much like her father, her hair, her eyes, her wings with blue feathers darker than Chrom’s, almost black in the moonlight. Robin smooths down a few of her rumpled feathers.  

“I’ve been wondering if you would have them,” Robin murmurs, “or if you would be like me. I’ve wondered if it might be hard for you.”

“You have?” Lucina asks. “I would have been okay, because you were okay, and you’re my mother.” She blinks fiercely and presses the back of her hand to her mouth. “Mother… you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

-

Without heavy weapons or armor, mages would, in theory, be better suited to flying under their own power during combat. Like a divine storm of lashing winds, raging flames, and crackling lightning from above - but archers are an even greater threat to unarmored mages than they are to armored pegasus and rider. And magic, Lucina has been informed by Laurent, takes a great deal of concentration and conscious thought; add to that the focus required to remain airborne and steady enough to properly aim a spell, and the exposed position it puts oneself in, and the disadvantages outweigh the advantages. Cynthia agreed, saying that she would only be carting a tome around in the air if her pegasus was carrying her; Morgan attempted to train himself as a “flying tactician-magician” for two days, during which he shot nearly all of their companions with lightning. He acquiesced that it was indeed incredibly hard to aim while flying.

Gods, Lucina misses them all so much. She thinks of them as she tries to comb dirt and ashes out of her wings. They took care of each other, the way she sees their parents do now; anyone who needs help preening their wings will find it. Even from Nowi or Panne. Even for Henry, who only so recently fell in with the Shepherds. Just as even Severa and Gerome relented quickly to assistance. They took care of each other.

The memory of their companionship hurts worse now that she is no longer alone.

“Do you need help, sweetheart?” Robin asks, and Lucina, contorted as she is trying to reach the base of her wings, nods. 

“I wasn’t sure when you learned how to care for wings,” Lucina admits once her mother has seated herself behind her. “If it was before or after mine came in.”

Robin hums. After a few minutes she asks, “Do you know if I ever knew the reason why I don’t have wings?”

Lucina shakes her head, then says, “Not that I knew. I asked you when I was young and you just said that people are all different; some have Brands and some have wings and some don’t, just like some people are dragons and some are rabbits.”

“That sounds like I didn’t know why,” Robin says.

“Or maybe I was too young for the real answer,” Lucina says. “I was still rather young when…”

She doesn’t want to finish the thought, but she knows her mother knows how that sentence ends, regardless.

-

Morgan has black-feathered wings. He runs to hug Robin when he sees her, but with his arms around her shoulders he freezes for a moment before he fully leans into the embrace. Like for an instant he was confused. Like something he expected wasn’t there.

-

When Validar orders Robin to seize the Fire Emblem from Chrom and give it to him, she does so; her body acts against her mind as a splitting pain fills her head and sears across her back. Even after regaining control of herself, the pain persists, through their flight from the castle back to the safety of their army.

And that pain is still nothing compared to the horror of what she has done, and the thought of what else she could be ordered to do.

-

The sunset bleeds orange over the Plegian fields. At the outskirts of their camp, Lucina watches Robin shake off her coat to find, sprouting from between her shoulder blades, six wings. 

“Mother?” Lucina asks. “Could I have a word?”

Robin turns. Her eyes are wet with pain but she pulls a smile onto her face for her daughter. “Of course.”

Her purple-black fathers are matted with blood, wet and scraggly the way a chick comes out of the egg. But even now, Lucina knows those wings. She saw them on a monster looming over her kingdom as it burned it to the ground.

It is easier to raise her sword when she sees such a plain sign of the Fell Dragon whose vessel Robin will become. She knows what she has to do. 

Her resolve is still not strong enough. 

-

The hierophant, Grima, does not set her feet upon the ground. She hangs in the air with the lazy flap of her wings; it seems as natural to her as breathing. 

Robin has never left the ground under her own power. 

“You refuse my gifts at every turn,” Grima says. “Grounded by your own will, when you could choose godhood. But if you won’t claim your birthright, I will take what has been laid out for you instead.”

They are the same, Robin and Grima, the tactician and the hierophant, and the wings on their backs cast the same shadows as the Fell Dragon’s do on the ground far below.

-

They are the same, and that is the key to the Fell Dragon’s undoing.

Robin dissolves into the air, and Grima’s bones sink into the ground.

-

Chrom finds her again, no longer a stranger, unconscious in the fields, with no brand on her hand and no wings on her back.

[reallyromealone]

Title: Oh Look a mate(s)

Chapter 3

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x male reader

Warnings: omega verse, nsfw, male reader, gay, smut, attempted assassination, drugging, biting, torture

Notes:

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

It was tomorrow.

The wedding was tomorrow.

(Name) Was quiet as he waited in the altar room, candles circling the room as marble carved murals surrounded him, the ceiling glass and the moon directly above him.

He sat in silence as the moon reached its peak before shadows flooded around him, a cold smoke that strangely didn't strike him with fear but instead filled him with warmth and safety. "Good Omega" one of the voices whispered as shadowy hands grabbed at him, gently touching and smoothing over the linen nightgown he wore before a long finger sliced it down the middle "Shhh" he could hear Satan's voice whisper in his ear as the seven men materialized and kissed various parts of his now exposed flesh "beautiful..." Mammon whispered breathlessly before biting into (name) 's flesh, the others doing the same.

Each scent gland was claimed as a tattoo manifested onto their soulmate tattoos, the demons licking and kissing their soulmate marks "You're bonded to us forever... Whenever you need us, call for us..." Beelzebub said as his blackened eyes gently kissed (name) 's lips as the fire of the candles burned brighter "Alphas...." (Name) Babbled as he leaned into someone's shoulders, Levi he believed... "So beautiful..." Asmodeus whispered as his hand crept down to the other's abdomen and began whispering enchantments, hand glowing as a tattoo formed on his stomach "Your first heat will be in less than 24 hours, this will help keep it from hurting so badly"

Never would he be denied a heat again.

The men scented and kissed (name), they could smell the slick flowing from him but knew better and to wait, wait till it was time.

When morning came, (name) was kept from his alphas all morning as he was polished to perfection, traditional white robes and gold accessories set aside as they painted swirls on his body, apparently matching the marks that would be on his alphas.

He looked at himself in the mirror, the makeup, the paint, and the clothes... He hardly recognized himself.

But it was him.

All him.

Lucifer made sure the guards were on high alert as he and his brothers got dressed, in their traditional robes that were the color of their omegas eyes, as is tradition in the kingdom, they already had two people sneak in after all.

"Your Majesty?" A meek voice spoke out as the demon turned to see an Omega maid look nervous, his eyes sharp and calculating "What is it?" He said simply and the maid straightened her back a bit before speaking once more "His Highness... He's extremely stressed and I thought it would be best if one of his--" Lucifer was already darting out of the room for his mate, he didn't care if he wasn't supposed to see him till the wedding.

His mate needed him.

(Name) Was freaking out as his omega decided Kw was an excellent time to freak out over the lack of alphas.

To be fair he got scented every morning but today, was a very high-stress day.

"My, aren't you beautiful" (name) snapped his head up as the maids left the room with haste and (name) whined and ran towards him, shoving his face into the alpha's chest and whining "My, can't go a day without your alphas?" He teased and lifted (name) 's face to look at it "None of that, you will ruin your pretty makeup" he was only soft for his omega, gentle kisses "We have a wedding, right? We will dance and party and then when the moon is high we will take you back here" he promised and kissed (name), scenting him lovingly.

"Now be good for alpha" he commanded, a slight alpha tone that they found calms (name). He liked not being in control all the time, instinctually.

"Ok alpha" he whispered hazily as the maids came back in and Lucifer left to finish getting ready, confident that he calmed his mate.

(Name) Looked nervous as he was ushered into a beautiful fabric and mahogany palanquin, the finest silks used for it "To walk you to the temple, your Highness" a soldier said calmly and (name) nodded as the soldiers in celebratory costume lifted it and (name) tried not to yelp.

He walked through the city, a grand parade to show the people the next queen, and (name) shyly waved at them as the people cheered in joy and some looked in envy at him. He could hear screaming in the distance, too focused on the slight shake with each step the guards took and the loud sounds around him to figure out what direction it came from exactly but the bullet that flew past his nose as a man was pinned down by guards have his answer, the omegas palanquin lowering as the guards checked on him "oh thank goodness... Are you alright your Highness?" The general that was a bit ahead rushed to check on him and (name) though stunned and Shellshocked, nodded slowly the Alpha nodded with a sigh of relief "We will get there soon your Highness"

The parade continued and (name) tried to regulate his breathing as he lifted his sleeves and took in the smell of Lucifer that clung to him, too close to his heat to be able to properly handle this.

God, he was so tired...

"We're here your Highness" Had that much time passed?

(Name) Was helped out by his maids, dressed in floral traditional outfits, darker colors as to highlight (name) 's snow white robes that dragged behind him, gold accents matching his accessories "You got this, your Highness" (name) 's closest maid, the one in charge of his maids smiled and (name) nodded before walking up the steps of the temple as people cheered.

Traditional fan dancers danced in front of him, a beautiful display as the guests of the wedding sat and watched in awe as (name) locked eyes with his alphas and had to suppress a chirp. The dancers moved their fans away to make an entrance for (name) to walk closer to them, Asmodeus taking his hands and kissing them gently as the others looked fond at the sight of their beloved, even Belphegor awake and focused on (name).

(Name) Looked at the guests, from countless kingdoms the Royals down to the mayors from cities including the village he was from, and looked in awe at the realization of how large this temple was, it seemed so small in the darkness.

(Name) Barely focused on the priestess as he looked at his mates, shadowy magic binding them together as (name) agreed to the contract of marriage "bound by the fates and the demon king himself, his Highness (name) Morningstar is granted a gift from his majesty of immortality, may his heart beat so long as his alphas" the demon king sat in the distance, watching his younger sons fondly, leaving hell to witness such an event as a red-haired demon stood beside him while staring intently.

(Name) Felt warm as he was brought close by his alphas and danced with them, a grand party that was sure to go on for the next week as guests watched and the city partied and after brought around to be introduced to guests "This is our elder brother, the next king" Lucifer introduced the Omega to his elder brother, next king of hell and intimidating to say the least but the large grin that broke out on his face said otherwise "my, a pleasure to meet you! My apologies that it took me so long to be able to meet you! Let me know if they act up all right. It will be nice to not have a little brother that will get on my nerves!" He teased as he hugged (name) and seemed so warm and understanding to him.

"My mate couldn't make it sadly, they're too far along to make the trip but hopefully after you two can meet!" Lucifer felt warm that his elder brother and a mate got along so well as the other brothers were dragged to talk to guests and eventually Lucifer and (name) went to speak to others, the Omega passed from alpha to alpha to not hog.

"An hour and you don't greet your parents?" (Name) Froze under Asmodeus' gentle hold as he turned to see the mayor of his village and his parents... And sister.

How did they get here?

"Not even an invite, thankfully our dear mayor invited us as his plus ones as his wife and sons couldn't make it," she said casually as his sister altered between glaring at him and swooning over Asmodeus, the beta looking flirty and showing her bust at him but the demon didn't even acknowledge her as he tilted his head at his mate's parents with a cold smile (name) didn't recognize but the gentle thumb rubbing his hip told him he was safe "my~ isn't this a surprise, (name) darling... Why don't you go make sure Beelzie doesn't eat everything, yes?" He urged his hesitant Omega who looked so precious and watched him walk away.

"E-excuse me!" The dad tried barking out and Asmodeus smiled coldly, a beta demanding not just an alpha but a supernatural alpha. Laughable really "I will allow you to continue to enjoy this celebration but if I hear even a whisper of my mate's name from any of your lips that isn't shining adoration I will remind you of your place," Asmodeus said barely above a whisper as he towered over the stumpy beta and his family, he read the letter.

All seven brothers read the letter.

And despite not being wrath, Asmodeus was the most upset.

No flirting, no banter.

Just a thinly veiled threat.

"Now you best behave"

You would think this Would deter (sister), make her behave... But no no.

She was hell-bent on having them.

Breaking this farce is a marriage.

It was expensive getting rut enhancer drugs but it was worth it in her eyes she looked around and saw that (name) was moved to Belphegor who sat in a corner quietly and (name) said worthless words to him and saw that Beelzebub was enjoying his food.

Perfect.

The drug was a fine powder, easy to mask on the powdered cream puffs that the demon was gorging on, slipping past when he went for some ribs and sprinkling on.

She just had to be available when the drugs kicked in.

It was not too long before the demon returned his attention to the cream puffs... But other people took them as well.

Like servants bringing them to their kings.

Oh well, she thought as she focused on Beelzebub and deemed everyone else as a stepping stone to her happiness.

Beelzebub froze after ten minutes, eyes dilating as he stood and looked around "Are you alright?" She tried to seduce the Alpha, pressing against him but like her brother, she didn't quite understand how mating worked and believed he would go to the first willing hole.

But in reality, he sought out (name) who was talking to Diavolos butler, the two fondly chatting about something or another.

"Move," he said coldly as he locked onto (name) marched to him, and lifted him, the other brothers looked concerned as Diavolo decided to start a ring dance and nodded at Lucifer, they all seemed to understand what was happening. (Name) Was confused as he was held close by his alpha who left the temple gardens and spread his wings before taking off, (name) shoving his face in Beelzebub's neck and that's when he smelt the rut. He couldn't help but whine, he was trying so hard not to go into heat but fuck...

He closed his eyes and felt himself sink further, sounds distorting and he felt his clothes removed carefully as voices spoke around him "he will be upset if we ruin this" Asmodeus...? Or is that Satan? "Alpha?" He slurred as the alphas kissed his flesh, cold to the touch and he felt something hard press against his back before he was pushed into his back, he couldn't even formulate a feeling of shame or worry as Belphegor traced the body paint that was on (name)s flesh "pretty..." The sleep demon murmured as he touched the womb tattoo a wave of pleasure washed through (name) and a low moan broke through him "Any pain he feels will feel like absolute pleasure... We may be dealing with a very horny Omega" Asmodeus teased, they didn't have an incantation to make him feel no pain during heat or pregnancy so it was the best option.

Especially because he kept moaning and crying, without it he would be writhing in pain.

"Why don't you spread your legs for us? Hmm? Show us how an Omega presents?" Lucifer spoke low and deep to the Omega who spread his legs on the bed and yelped when Beelzebub shoved his face between his legs and gave a long lick, pushing his legs over his shoulders as half his body was pulled nearly off the bed, Beelzebub on his knees before the bed. "O-oh! Alpha!" He cried out as Beelzebub ate his ass, licking around the rim before pushing in ever so slightly as the smell of slick was heavy in the room "wanna make alpha feel good? Why don't you show Levi here how much you want his cock?" Asmodeus took the initiative with getting (name) to pleasure them as they pleasured him, the Omega opening his mouth so prettily as the shy alpha fed him his cock, (name) licking the underside as he sucked. "H-how did he get so good?!" Levi gasped as he felt (name) hollow his cheeks with a vice force "I have been teaching him how to be a good little cock whore~" Asmodeus teased as Belphegor sucked on one of (name)s nipples as Asmodeus and Lucifer got hand jobs, the two assisting (name) a bit as his body shook.

Satan kissed his navel before moving to the omegas cock and sucking on it, the pre-cum leaking like crazy as (name) struggled to comprehend all the pleasure he felt, hips being held down as Beelzebub inserted a finger, curving it upwards against his prostate as he ate his ass like a final meal and added another finger "you're gonna be-- fuck! Taking a lot tonight baby ~" Asmodeus stammered as Levi came down (name)s throat, the Omega choking slightly but managing "fuck..? Shit.." Levi was already babbling as (name) 's body shook and a climax rolled through, Satan drinking it all "You want more?" Lucifer asked the Omega who whined "Nest!" Beelzebub wasting no time, feral and horny As the other alphas slowly went into a rut from being around a heat-stricken Omega, their demon forms were on full display. (Name) Was settled into his nest as they let Beelzebub enter first his large and heavy cock pressing against (name)s ass as (name) made out with Lucifer, pretty little sounds as Beelzebub pushed in slowly.

Each inch made for louder and prettier sounds from (name) as his body glistened with sweat, another climax rolling through him as Beelzebub was halfway through bottoming out before his hips snapped forward and his pelvic bone was pressed against (name)s ass cheeks "oh! Big...!" He cried out and pushed against him as Belphegor went behind him and held him up, kissing his neck as the others watched hungrily.

Beelzebub wasted no time pistoning his hips as (name) clawed at his skin, body shaking and writhing in pleasure as he poured slick "puppy up!" He cried out as he begged to be bread, owned and full... Belphegor moved around to Sroke (name)s cock and kiss his neck before biting into its neck watching (name) unfold as Beelzebub rolled his hips at the tightness and his grip so tight it was going to leave dark bruises on his hips come morning.

"Please please! Pup!" (Name) Begged for cum, pulling Beelzebub for a kiss and tasting his slick as the alpha's hips slammed one last time and cum poured into him, hot and sticky.

Beelzebub felt some sanity return to him as he looked at a fucked out (name) who couldn't even form words but babbled nonsense as Belphegor kissed him and coddled him "Let's get water and food into him then the next round starts" Lucifer instructed as they already prepared the necessary things that morning, food tested by the demons along with the water before feeding it to (name).

(Name) May have immortality but they still didn't want anything to happen to him.

Though poison pains right now would probably give him six earth-shattering orgasms.

No! No! Bad!

They washed the sweat and paint off his body as (name) recovered slightly but soon grew whiny as he was placed on top of Asmodeus, cock pushing in with ease and crying as Asmodeus gave harsh and slow thrusts.

"Come now, you got more to take ~"

Mammon was furious, absolutely livid as he slammed his fist against the assassin's skull, not wanting this vermin alive as his mate struggled with his heat and six cocks currently "You are taking my precious time with my mate, who the fuck sent you?" He was bordering feral as the assassin finally gave in "The sister! She wanted him dead!"

Oh?

Interesting.

Mammon left swiftly, telling the guards to find her, she couldn't have gotten far after all.

For now, the greedy demon needed to sink his cock into (name)s cute little ass.

And maybe bite it.

Bite it.

When he walked into the heated room, already nude he was met with (name) being railed by Asmodeus and Satan, cocks moving in his hole at vigorous paces as (name) sucked Lucifer's cock like he would die "(name), look whose here" Lucifer pulled him off his cock to look at mammon and the whine and moan that left his lips as he cried for the silver-haired demon, hands reaching for him, and who was mammon to deny something like this?

Mammon shoved his tongue in (name) 's mouth and relished as the Omega tugged at his hair "Wanna make me feel good?" He didn't even have to show his erect cock as (name) moved and took it in his mouth, mammon sighing at the tightness of his throat "he's a natural" Satan slapped (name)s ass as he pounded as Asmodeus sucked on his chest, the omegas hands going back to work as everyone slowly found a spot for them, the Omega cumming again in the process.

(Name) Was unconscious with Belphegor, needing a heavy rest before the next wave and thoroughly fucked out, the other alphas getting their turns after as Mammon reported findings and what the assassin admitted "She most definitely drugged Bee, our ruts not till winter" Asmodeus said thoughtfully, he should have just let Satan do what he originally wanted to do but that was (name)s choice, not theirs.

But now it was treason that they were talking about.

An attempted assassination against (name).

You see when Diavolo was the next king of hell, they were given rule of the overworld and essentially made (name) queen as they were to be overworld kings come coronation granted by their eldest brother.

And after this, (name) would be carrying their heir.

God, they were half erect at the thought of (name) pregnant.

"I have a manhunt for them, a bounty will be put up as well"

For now, they would care for (name).

When (name) woke, he couldn't feel his legs and his head felt foggy as he was placed into a warm bath "Good morning, lamb" Satan caressed his cheek "Alpha?" He said weakly, voice hoarse from their activities as Mammon gently massaged oils into him, the alphas already washing the cum and sweat off him "Hello pretty baby~ you took us so well, we are so proud of you" (name) chirped at the praise as he received loving kisses "after this was gonna feed you" Lucifer promised and (name) felt a slight sense of clarity "cuddle? Before heat comes back?" He asked as the others smiled, unable to resist the request.

(Name) Was naked and dried off as he cuddled the others who doted on him "You did so well, absolutely beautiful my love" Asmodeus cooed, and (name) let him kiss and love him "My garden?" He asked softly, why that was his worry beyond anyone but Lucifer eased his worries with the promise of the gardeners taking care of it.

For now, he was to relax.

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 9]

-Masterlist-

~~~|~~~

“Han, it’s been 30 minutes”

Changbin lets out an irritated sigh as Han checks his phone for the 5th time. You were late, embarrassingly late, and hadn’t even let Han know beforehand.

Chan was a little upset but chalked up your tardiness to preparing for your debut.

“She’s about to debut, Bin, we gotta give her some grace”

“It’s not that she’s late, Hyung, it’s that she didn’t check in first.”

Just as a back-and-forth was about to ensue, a wild knock on the door interrupted the boys.

Chan jumped up to open the door, letting you in. Han was immediately eased by your presence, missing the way his other two soulmates looked at you with a little hesitation.

“Hi guys, so sorry! I was with my members and we lost track of time“ You smile

Chan smiles back at you politely, but Changbin doesn’t. He was still a little bothered by how you failed to let Han know you’d be late, but he tried shaking that feeling off.

“No problem, it’s nice to meet you,” Chan says, “I’m Chris”

You bow politely while giving him a firm handshake

“I’m Changbin” Maybe it’s because you two are bonded by now, but you can feel how he’s already a little suspicious of you.

He’s very polite, shaking your hand and offering you his chair, but you suddenly don’t think the guys like you as much as Han said they did.

You four settle into some slight banter. You and Han joke around while Chan and Changbin watch, adding little comments here and there.

After a while, you realize you haven’t talked to your other soulmates, so you face Chan and put on your best smile.

“Chris, Hannie told me that you’re getting into fashion nowadays. Have you figured out your style yet?”

Chan gives you a grin, “I’m not so sure. I kinda like street clothing, tighter-fitting shirts, baggy pants, beanies, and stuff like that. I’m taking advice from Innie”

You nod, “I follow you on Instagram and honestly, your whole aesthetic is so cool”

You and Chan’s conversation flows naturally after that, with you complimenting him and him blushing while shaking his head.

After a few short minutes, you move on to Changbin.

“I know this is random but I always wanted to ask you, do you have a favorite verse of yours?”

He quickly shakes his head, “No, that’s like asking me to choose between the members. I can’t have a favorite”

Changbin had a certain aura about him. You knew he was one of the sweetest, gentlest souls ever, but you could tell he was the type to be polite, yet cold with new people.

He still took care of you, offering to get you drinks and snacks when you mentioned you hadn’t eaten yet and offered to give you his jacket when you shivered, but he couldn’t be bothered to send the smallest of smiles your way.

It scared you, and you wondered what you did to deserve the stoic expression.

“Y/n, tell us about you” Chan says, almost as if he can sense the tension

“Okay! Well, I joined JYP around a year ago now, I was a trainee for six months. My favorite color is gray, my favorite food is fried shrimp, I have three cats and two dogs back home, I’m an only child, and I’m the Maknae of my group”

Han smirks once he realizes he already learned all this information about you, the other two members nod at your words.

“I have a dog too, her name is-”

“Berry” You finish, smiling, “Did Han mention I’m a STAY?”

Chan laughs, a blush on the tip of his ears, “He said something about it, among other things”

“He said that you said you always felt connected to us” Changbin starts suddenly, “Can you explain that?”

You nod with a genuine smile, “Yep! I guess, as a fan, I always felt a little…closer to you guys. I chalked it up to me being delusional but after I auditioned for JYP, and moved here and everything, my palm started to itch like crazy”

“That’s interesting” Changbin mumbles, “Our palms kinda tingled I guess?”

“Silly enough, you know how our symbols are kinda shaped like an infinity symbol?” Han asked, pointing at your hand.

You neglected to wear symbol blurring ointment, only because your members demanded to see what it looked like. You just wore an oversized hoodie and hid your hands in the sleeves.

“Yeah” You affirm, “It’s so cute”

“It didn’t always look like that” Changbin confessed, “For the longest time, it was….incomplete?”

“Then you got your symbol, and BOOM” Han narrated with a loud clap of his hands. Chan and Changbin jumped in surprise while you let out a startled laugh

He grabbed your arm and lifted your sleeve just enough to show your hand, “now all of ours look like this” he cheeses

The food came after a few more minutes of conversation. Changbin warmed up to you after you asked him about his workout regimen, finally letting his goofy and flirty nature show.

Chan led most of the conversations, and that didn’t surprise you since you knew how extroverted he was.

Han was joking or laughing about something the entire time, while you sat there and thoroughly enjoyed your time with the group.

By the end of the dinner, Changbin decided to be the one to walk you to the cab he had ordered for you.

You two were in the back of the building to avoid any fans seeing you.

“Sorry for being so cold earlier,” He said as you two walked (rather slowly) to the car.

“Oh, um, that’s okay!”

He sighs, “I was just a little upset you didn’t check in with Han to tell him you were gonna be late. I have a thing about knowing where my members are and wanting them to be safe and whatnot so checking in with one another is a big deal to me”

You hum, understanding his point of view. Honestly, you like that he’s that way, your members are usually like that as well but you guys having each other’s location eliminates having to ask where you are.

You made a mental note to make it a habit to check in with your soulmates, especially Changbin.

“I understand that, and I’ll be more mindful in the future”

You make it to the car and he opens the back door for you to get in before reaching into his pocket and pulling out money.

“You’re not paying for the cab Bin,” You say, crossing your arms

“I called the cab, you’re my soulmate, I pay”

“Well you’re my soulmate and I don’t want you paying for me”

“Too bad, that’s something you’re gonna have to get used to.”

Before you could protest some more, he threw the bills in your lap before blowing you an exaggerated kiss and closing the door.

You rolled your eyes but smiled all the way home

~~~|~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

[janus-cadet]

This card is brighter than the one I usually do- might even be the most colorful of the whole deck, so far! Which- fitting. Today, let's welcome Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie, double figures for the Ten of Cups!

(Now usually, the card also have one or two more people on it; I thought about adding Pentious, but our snake should have his card soon enough. Therefore, it's just the girls.)

Explanations under the cut, as well as a poll for the next card to draw, and the rest of the Hazbin tarot cards!

Upright, the Ten of Cups embodies happiness, joy, and emotional contentment. You have created an abundance of love and happiness in your life, and you now share this love with others, expanding your heart even more. This fits Charlie and what she created with her hotel, supported by Vaggie- together, they are the start of it all. You are now surronded by your loved ones (it's a fucking happy day in hell!), with whom you share a powerful and deep connection. You support one another, and you help other to reach their highest potential- on the path to redemption! Most of all, you do it because seeing others happy is the greatest joy you could have. It's the "happy family" card by excellence, as well as a positive card for romantic relationships- you're in a blissful one, if that's what you're looking for, to the point you may believe that you ar soulmates destined to be with one another (I do love them, mh, mh). When the card appears in your reading, it's time for you to take a step back, and appreciate everything you accomplished. You went through hard time, but look at that! You can do this, now we know it, and you actually did. Follow your heart, says the card, and follow your inner sens of Good.

Reversed, the card brings more subtility. You can see the Upright reading as mostly Charlie's idealistic view on the hotel and on redemption; but with the reversed Ten of Cups come the struggles. You may feel disconnected and disengaged from your loved ones, like your estranged father and your missing mother. You try to connect, but each times, something goes wrong, and the distance between you grows. Why does he forgets everything you say? Can't he pay attention? Why is he not calling more often? Or maybe you're afraid to trust, and you're keeping some secrets close to your chest. You don't open up enough, and you create, without meaning to, a distance with others, with her. You're too rash and too impulsive, but you mean well- surely, they can see that? It may have an impact on your relationship; you need to realise that nothing is perfect, and every relationship has its ups and downs. The Ten of Cups invite you to seek out a common ground with your loved ones, and rebuild the relationship from there. Talk to your father about why, exactly, he's so reluctant to help; talk to your partner about who you are, and where you came from. Open the lines of communication and be ready to hold space for one another. Be compassionate, understanding, and respectful. The card can also mean that you're starting to doubt yourself, and what you are doing. Is it really worth it? Are you up to the task? Are you letting other people down? You have to rethink those questions. Think about what makes you happy, what you believe in, and bring back your focus to that.

And that's it for today! I'm planning to do at least three more Hazbin cards- if the fixation does not die by then. Not that it shows any sign of slowing down, oh boy- they are all so fun to draw, too!

Anyway.

And with that, Hazbin Hotel verse is the most represented fandom in my whole deck of cards, right before Doctor Who. Ah!

If you have read this far- well done. So proud of you. You win a peach cider, if you're even able to drink this abomination. And paf, the rest of the cards!

[littlebadger]

ㅤㅤ-` 👻 ´- 【  ❝  Ouch !  ❞   The young man ran a hand over his forehead, mussing up his black hair in the process as he tried to soothe the headache.  His clumsiness was going to get him in trouble one of these days.  Wide eyes of wonder turned to look up at the stranger as color bloomed across his vision, hues he never dreamed of seeing spreading out into the world before him.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ I-I'm okay... ❞ He reassured, staring in AWE of the woman's beauty. Her blonde, golden locks fell gracefully, framing her face, her intense BRIGHT eyes staring at him with concern.

ㅤㅤㅤHis SOULMATE.

@littlebadger asked: (Carol Danvers?) COLOR

SOULMATE MEME | Accepting Send ‘COLOR’ for a starter where soulmates see color for the first time when they first meet.

Black and white, were the only colors Carol had ever seen, she was jealous of those who found their soulmates and could see color. She wished to be one of those lucky few. She had no idea that the day was coming sooner than later.

She steps out of a coffee shop, holding a cup of coffee and a muffin. The muffin looked boring and really uneatable since all she saw was a black and white muffin. Before she could take a bite out of her muffin she was being bumped into. She almost dropped it as she turned to see who had bumped into her.

"Hey!" She huffs, glaring at the other for a moment before relaxing her face a bit. "You okay?" She asked, tilting her head a bit as the black and white colors started to fade and were replaced by colors.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Color of Blood

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, mentions of blood, cursing

Word Count: 2,608

Summary: In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

You shifted in the seat uncomfortably. Natasha, to your right, shot you an apologetic look, but it was hardly sincere considering the smirk she wore. You had drawn the short straw, so you were sitting bitch between her and Agent Sitwell. More like Agent Judas. You were still in shock that an organization you had dedicated most of your life to had actually been HYDRA infested this entire time. Of all the missions you ran, you wondered how many had been fueled by HYDRA’s goals and desires. It physically hurt your heart to linger on that thought.

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.” Sitwell snapped as he leaned towards where Sam was driving. His thigh pressed up against yours and you were not discreet in shoving him off you.

Sam shook his head, eyes on the road, “Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?”

“Insight’s launching in 16 hours.” Natasha chimed in and you glanced down at the watch on your wrist.

You bit back an aggravated groan, “As per usual, we’re cutting this save the world thing kind of close.”

“That does seem to be our style.” Natasha hummed from beside you.

Steve glanced back with a nod, “We’re gonna use Sitwell to bypass the DNA scanners and access the helicarriers directly.”

“What?!” Sitwell shoved forward and you had to physically resist throwing his limb off of you. “Are you crazy!? That is a terrible idea.”

“Look, Sitwell--” You snapped in anger, but the low thud of something hitting the roof of the car made you pause as everyone’s eyes shot up. Seconds later an arm smashed through the backseat window, grabbed Sitwell, and ripped him out of the car. You turned just in time to watch a large truck smash into the man. The arm disappeared from view and you heard the familiar sound of a gun. “Nat!”

Your old friend was already ahead of you. She leapt forward, into Steve’s lap, as a bullet fired down into the backseat to your right. Natasha called out your name, but just like her you were already moving. You reached up front grabbing Sam’s shoulder. A bullet fired toward Steve, Natasha yanking him forward and out of the way, and another was fired at Sam, but you were able yank him to the side so it hit the headrest.

Steve reached out and slammed the emergency break bringing the car to a screeching halt. Natasha rolled off Steve onto the floorboard and your own head slammed forward into the edge of the seat. It caused you to bite down on your lip hard, and when you brought your finger to your mouth a warm liquid coated your fingers.

People told you blood was red, and you weren’t entirely sure what that meant, it wasn’t something you could picture, but the shade of gray on your fingers was immensely familiar to you. Over the years, you had become well-versed in that particular shade of gray.

All eyes looked forward as the man on the roof, who had flown off, managed to flip over and land with ease. His metal fingers digging into the asphalt bringing up bright sparks. He slowly stood up, and you only hesitated for a second before pulling your gun out of your holster and aiming it forward. Before you, or Natasha, could get a single round out, something slammed into the back of the car forcing you forward again as glass exploded behind you.

“Fuck!” You barked in both jarring surprise and pain. You managed to keep your hand on your weapon as the car slid forward, but the Winter Soldier leapt from the road and landed back on top of the car. Sam slammed on the brakes, but it only filled the air with the sound of squealing tires since the men behind you were still ramming into your car. You turned and fired a round of shots, but not a single one pierced the bullet proof glass.

When you turned to reload, you watched as a metal hand crashed through the windshield, grabbed the steering wheel, and ripped it out. Sam leaned back in surprise and barked, “Shit!”

Natasha, who got a hand on her weapon again, fired rounds into the roof while you struggled to get a new clip into your gun. The Winter Soldier jumped off the roof and onto the front of the car behind you. Finally reloaded, you began to turn so you could fire, but the truck slammed into the car again and suddenly the car spun sharply to the side.

It was going to flip.

Steve realized this the same second you did, and he caught you off guard when he reached into the backseat, his fist tightly bunched into your shirt, and ripped you into the front seat.

“Hang on!” He yelled and the next moments were a blur. The kind of blur you assumed only a super solider would be able to follow. One moment you were in the car, and the next you were lying on Steve’s chest, beside Natasha, with Sam pressed on top of you. Sparks flew around the group of you as the car continued to roll, while the car door slid along the road. It all happened in seconds, and it couldn’t last. Sam slipped off first, rolling off to the side, and you were the next to fall off while Steve and Natasha continued to careen down the road.

Your body slammed into asphalt hard and the world around you spun a few times as you rolled along the hard surface. When you finally stopped it took a second to catch your breath and gather your bearings. Despite the pain, you pushed yourself to stand. Sam was off to the side, in good enough condition, and hiding behind a car. Up ahead were Steve and Natasha.

The truck stopped and you watched in shock as the Winter Soldier was handed a grenade launcher. A curse was half out of your mouth as you realized you had lost your gun in the fray and the Soldier fired his own weapon. Steve threw his shield up in time, but it hit him dead on and sent him flying back. Steve clipped the hood of a car, flipped over, and then disappeared off the side of the bridge.

Natasha’s eyes caught yours and you nodded once. Years of working together meant words often weren’t needed. She’d be on the bridge with Sam, you needed to cover Steve. Gunfire filled the air as you sprinted to the side of the bridge and jumped. When your feet left the concrete, you fired a zipline from the gauntlet on your wrist that dug into the concrete and rappelled you down just slow enough that you didn’t end up a smudge on the ground.

Steve had been thrown into a bus that now sat on its side. You unclipped the used cord and sprinted to the front of the bus. Screaming and gunfire still filled the air and you helped a few people near the front of the bus out of the vehicle while telling them to run to safety.

“Steve!” You yelled and ducked under the broken glass to get into the bus. You spotted the blond lying on his back slowly shifting up and made your way toward him. Each person you passed you dragged up and told them to run. “Steve!”

You grabbed his shoulder and helped him sit up. He grunted in pain, “Nat and Sam?”

“On the bridge, last I saw.” You replied. “Shield?”

“Lost it on the road.” Steve motioned to the front of the bus, “Get out. Get everyone on the street to safety. Now.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned and climbed out of the bus back onto the street. A familiar face ran past you on the other side of the street ducking behind cars. Natasha. That meant Sam was up there alone? You didn’t have time to linger on the thought. You ran forward and began to herd civilians out of crashed cars and down the street. The slamming of another car made you glance back to see the Winter Soldier land harshly on the roof of a car under the bridge.

Bad sign. Very bad sign.

Heavy artillery fire echoed behind you and you moved even quicker. As you sprinted down the street looking for Natasha with the Winter Soldier slowly stalking down the road towards the two of you, you spotted a small group of people huddled behind a car off to the side. You veered off the road to them.

“You can’t stay here, it isn’t safe.” You barked and began to drag them down the sidewalk. A car exploded into a ball of fire behind you. Shit, he was close. You ripped your jacket off, wrapping it around your arm quickly, and then slammed your elbow into the glass on a storefront door so it shattered. You reached in to unlock it, then herded the people inside, “Get all the way to the back and stay hidden!”

You dropped your jacket and didn’t bother picking it back up. Instead, you took off again knowing Natasha would be facing the Soldier alone if you didn’t get there in time. As you sprinted around the corner you spotted Natasha jump onto the Winter Soldier’s shoulders. She used a cord to try and choke him out, but his arm stopped the move entirely. You ran in, without hesitation, and slammed into the Soldier’s back with a grunt in hopes it would jar him enough that Natasha could get a grip. She managed to tighten the hold just a bit, but a thick leg kicked out, backwards, and the asset’s boot slammed into your chest sending you sprawling back and into the side of a car.

With a cry of pain, you fell forward onto your chest. You desperately sucked in a sharp breath, trying to regain the air you lost, and as you shifted to try and get up you felt your entire body ache. The ribs on your right side were broken, you recognized that pain. Natasha must have gotten thrown off too, she was across the road, and she gave you the signal to retreat before throwing a widow bite onto the Soldier’s arm.

Despite the pain, you sprinted toward her and as the Winter Soldier slumped over to try and regain control of his arm, you and her ran down the side road. This one was still crowded with people who were too panicked to listen when you told them to get the hell out of the way. Luckily for them, unlucky for you, it seemed the asset’s main focus was on the two of you.

A shot rang through the air and Natasha cried out in pain while stumbling forward. You cursed and grabbed her, pulling her behind a car, while she tried to refocus through the pain. A through and through bullet wound. Right shoulder. “Shit.” You mumbled again and pressed down on top of her hand that was already on her wound. That same familiar shade of gray leaked over both of your hands. “It’s bleeding too much.”

“Get the hell out of here.” Natasha hissed.

“No.” You snapped. “Not without you.”

She whipped around to look over her shoulder in panic, and when you followed her gaze you watched as Steve sprinted out of nowhere to attack the Winter Soldier. The metal arm punched out against the shield, like the ringing of a gong, and you breathed a quick sigh of relief.

“We gotta go. While Steve has him distracted.” You looped her arm around your shoulders and began to drag her away. Natasha began to complain through grunts of pain, but you didn’t slow down or argue with her. In a matter-of-fact tone, you spoke, “I’m getting you to a safe spot and then I’ll help Steve.”

You got her to cover behind a van, and ignoring her yelling after you, ran back out to where you had left Steve. When you got back, Steve was just standing there. The Winter Soldier stood between the two of you, facing Steve, but all you could see was the look of disbelief on your friend’s face.

What the hell was going on?

Why had the fight stopped?

The Soldier raised his gun again, Steve was still frozen, but you only got another step forward when Sam dropped from the air from your right and kicked both his feet into the asset. The Winter Solider went careening to the side as Sam landed. Now you had him surrounded, Steve to his right, Sam in front of him, and you to his left. You stepped forward with arms ready for a fight. Did you think you could come out of a tussle with the Winter Soldier alive? Absolutely not. But, you could keep him from escaping past you while the others closed in.

Sirens could be heard in the distance, the asset stood back up from where he had fallen and you realized now you could see his face. He no longer had the mask on, and he was… vaguely familiar? Where had you seen that face before? Before you could ponder a second longer on that, his glaring eyes dragged from Steve to Sam and then from Sam to you. The moment your eyes met his though, it felt like your world had fallen out from under you.

Shades of gray and black turned brighter and with every blink something new flooded your senses. It was too much all at once. Your once bleak world exploded with color and you sucked in a sharp breath as your arms fell to your side. In fact, you were so distracted by the vivid scenery around you that it took you a few moments to realize the cause of this had been the Winter Soldier. HYDRA’s number one asset. The man who had been trying to violently murder all of you less than thirty seconds ago.

If the Soldier was surprised, you didn’t see it. He suddenly lunged to the left just as something hit the car behind him sending it up in flames. A grenade. You had been just a bit too close and the force of it sent you sprawling back. The back of your skull bounced off the asphalt and suddenly the oh so colorful world seemed to be spinning. Dazed, you stared up at the sky.

The blue sky.

Your hand reached back to touch the warmth dripping from your head and when you shakily brought you hand back into view, blood coated the fingers. Red blood. Oh.

So, that’s what red looked like.

Still stunned from the blow, you struggled to sit up, but you were only a few inches up off the ground when someone grabbed you and threw you over their shoulder. The movement made your world spin again and you groaned out in pain as you hung limply over the broad shoulder that was now carrying you. You heard your name being called out, but sounds were beginning to grow dim. Replaced with ringing.

“Steve?” You mumbled in hopes. He had broad shoulders. Maybe he was the one carrying you away. You blinked your blurry eyes a few times as they briefly came into focus as you stared at the back of the person carrying you. Black leather. Steve hadn’t been wearing black leather. The ringing grew louder as your eyes fluttered close. Your entire world went black before you could connect the dots on what was happening.

[next chapter]

[ginxyy]

The beat of our hearts

My soulmate Vernon

It’s funny how love can creep up on you, like a quiet melody playing softly in the background Our story doesn’t begin in the usual places no cozy coffee shops or sun-kissed picnics. Instead, it starts late one evening in a studio filled with the scent of old records and the glimmer of fairy lights. I was there sitting on the edge of a plush couch, absorbed in the warm glow of creativity, the sounds of Vernon and his friends swirling around me like a sweet serenade. I never imagined that night would change everything, but a chance encounter with the boy whose laughter became my favorite sound was about to become something extraordinary.

Vernon had just finished recording a new song when he caught me in his gaze, a playful grin stretching across his face. “Hey, do you want to hear the first draft of my rap?” he asked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Little did he know that I had secretly been hoping for this moment. “Of course!” I replied, barely able to contain my excitement. My heart raced not just because of the music, but because it was Vernon asking me to share in something so personal.

The moment he began to rap, I could hardly suppress my laughter. His lyrics were funny, borderline cringy, and so adorably awkward. He wove ridiculous puns about how I was “the cream to his coffee” and declared dramatically how “rapping was harder than washing a pet cat.” His voice was melodic yet playful, and I could see him getting more animated as he performed. Each line was laced with a touch of his unique charm, and my heart swelled at the sight of him lost in his element. I found myself captivated, hypnotized by the rhythm of his words and the twinkle of his eyes as he poured every ounce of his playful energy into making me smile.

After his impromptu performance, he plopped down beside me, breathless and beaming, the soft glow of the studio lights framing his features. “Did you like it?” he asked, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. I couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding enthusiastically. “It was perfect, you’re an absolute goof!” I replied, and he laughed, the sound echoing in my heart.

From that night, an extraordinary journey began. Our connection evolved with every stolen glance and shared inside joke. I would often find him in the studio, rapping personally written verses to me, each one more ridiculous than the last. Each performance drew me closer to him as he incorporated silly references to our clumsy moments and our inside jokes. It felt like we were composing our love song, each simple word pulsating with affection and teasing banter.

In the evenings, we would often sneak away from the bustling world around us, seeking the soft glow of the city lights. We found ourselves exploring hidden corners of the city that only locals knew, places with art-covered walls and street food that ignited our senses. One night, as we wandered down a narrow alley, we stumbled upon an abandoned little garden filled with wildflowers, their bright colors almost glowing in the moonlight. With a sparkle in his eyes, Vernon pulled me into a little dance, holding my hands in his and twirling me around as if we were the only two people in the world. With every step, I felt the world around us fade; it was just us, tangled in laughter and an unspoken promise.

His spontaneity extended to our quiet moments as well. On lazy weekends, he would surprise me with a new song he had written, his face lighting up with pride as I listened. Each melody was like a love letter, pouring his heart into every lyric. My favorite, though, was the goofy songs he would create on the spot. One time, he spontaneously started rapping about “our adventures of finding socks that match.” As ridiculous as it was, it was in those moments that I realized just how deeply I had fallen for him the way he let his guard down and embraced his quirks only made me adore him more.

Vernon’s sense of humor became one of the many layers of our love. We could spend hours just teasing each other, trading silly impressions and debating whether pineapple belonged on pizza. He was nothing short of charming, and even when he tried to show off his serious rap skills, I couldn't help but pull my phone out to capture the moment, knowing I would want to remember his playful attempts forever.

Through every moment spent together, I discovered the depths of his heart a balance of lightheartedness and genuine consideration for those around him. He was kind, thoughtful, and always made time to listen to my dreams and fears. During quiet nights, we would lay under the stars, our fingers intertwined, sharing our thoughts about the future. With every conversation, I realized that this wasn’t just a fleeting romance; it was a connection unlike any I had ever known.

In this beautifully imperfect tapestry we were weaving together, I came to get lost not only in the sparkle of Vernon’s laughter but also in the glow of his heart. Every day felt like an adventure, each memory crafted from laughter and love. As I look back, I realize how this romance became more than just about silly moments; it transformed into a love story bursting with laughter, small surprises, and an unspoken bond that spoke louder than any words could ever convey.

Our love isn’t defined by grand gestures but by the beautiful chaos that comes with sharing our lives together a tapestry of laughter, rap battles in the dark, and little moments of pure magic that ignite the soul. The simplistic and joyous connection we found to love and to be loved, wrapped snugly in our own universe will forever remain the sweetest melody in my heart, the one I dance to with my Vernon, my heart's rhythm, forever and always.

[lurkingshan]

Every You, Every Me

Story 1

I need distractions today, so we are live blogging this soulmate fanfic show I have been told is very fun. Let's go!

RAIN SOULMATES!!! Did they watch La Pluie

La Pluie and Color Rush, apparently

Soulmate blind is an interesting term but what does it mean 👀

I like this guy working at the store, he gives big aro energy. They are definitely all fools to be running around in the rain just to find their soulmate, that can kill you in a Thai bl.

Not so soulmate blind anymore!!

I find the use of color vs black and white for these scenes a bit confusing, it doesn't seem to be following any consistent rules

Oh THAT is what soulmate blind means. Fuck this lying ex tbh!!

(He's kinda hot though)

I have heard these gentleman are Mick and Top, and because of ship naming conventions I am forced to assume the tall tsundere one is Mick. Anyway they pretty

A soulmate non believer, I like it

"Rain-Color Verse" implies the existence of other universes that they are aware of...

This little guy is very cute and I like his yellow kicks

I don't always like the short story/vignette thing, but this romance speed run is perfect for my mood today

This is quality flirting and they have good chemistry

I no longer think the ex is hot 🔪🔪🔪

They're talking about choice vs destiny and the soulmate thing mucking things up they DEFINITELY watched La Pluie my beloved

I've decided the color grading is just them being artsy and I cannot try to find consistent rules in it that way lies madness

Oh noooooooooooo not childhood trauma

My aro rep has arrived I knew it was you my guy! He's even wearing my favorite color while he says he's not interested in love 😌

He stole his mom's necklace?? What is up with this guy 😤

Mmm the actors struggled a bit in that confrontation scene but moving right along

I definitely associate the motorbike embrace primarily with Thai bl

Not the most exciting kiss but it's only ep 1, perhaps they are just warming up

I like that aro guy is happy for them and not disdainful of their romance. It's not for him but he doesn't look down on it.

I liked the first ep well enough! And I've heard it gets better as it goes, so onto the next.

[persephoneaangel444]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ EARTH MOONS AS AESTHETIC OUTFITS °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

EARTH MOON: Capricorn --- Taurus --- Virgo

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

CAPRICORN MOON

CAPRICORN MOON AS OUTFITS: Capricorn moons have a balance of wearing tight tops with loose bottoms as well as vice verse. They wear dainty yet regal jewelry especially watches. Their nails are always in neutral colors and they have finger tattoos. The heels they wear is usually not that high, keeps their outfits neutral, clean and regal. Always ups their games with jewelry to brighten up their outfits.

CAPRICORN MOON'S PERSONALITY: Capricorn moons personality is quite moody yet productive. They can't sit still, always have to do something somewhere. Has a hard time opening up to others due to trust issues. Connection with their mom is fragile but closer to their mother than they are to their father.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

TAURUS MOON

TAURUS MOON AS OUTFITS: Taurus moons usually wear feminine clothes accentuating their curves and facial features. Long or short dresses in white, black neutrals. Prefers quality over quantity so might be more into branded clothing. (Prada, Chanel etc.) Long blonde or brunette highlights. Has a clean expensive elegant look to their outfits. Heels are either pointed or stilettos.

TAURUS MOON'S PERSONALITY: Taurus moons are very consistent with their aesthetic/likes/dislikes. Usually found their soulmate earlier in life (probably during senior high or in college). Has a lot of acquaintances. Close with their parents but always keeps a certain distance from the both of them probably due to the fear or pressure of expectations not being met.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

VIRGO MOON

VIRGO MOON AS OUTFITS: Virgo Moons have such versatility in terms of outfits. They wear denim and also love wearing lace of loose dresses and tight fitted tops. Hair is always styles but usually styled in more simple manners, like buns, braids and high ponytail. Nails are neutral and clean. outfits are either light or neutral colors. Loves wearing hoop earrings big or small. Gold jewelry matches their sun-kissed skin.

VIRGO MOON'S PERSONALITY: Virgo Moon's personality prefer things organized or thought out plans before anything else is taken in to action. Minds their own business and HATES gossip. Probably has a lot of side hoes or commits to only one person. (neither in between. Probably has a lot of either male friends or female friends (neither in between). Quiet, introverted and more observant.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

[blushcove]

an art gallery could never be as unique as you [ ghostflower ]

rating: teen and up audiences

tags: Post-Canon, Post-Movie: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023),  Post-BTSV, Earth-65 (Spider-Man: Spider-Verse),  POV Miles Morales,  Miles Morales Has Anxiety,  Miles Morales Has PTSD,  Miles Morales Loves Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen,  Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen Loves Miles Morales,  Mentioned Hobie Brown,  Good Friend Hobie Brown,  Mentioned Pavitr Prabhakar,  he means no harm he's just excited,  Relationship Study,  Retrospective,  time jumps,  color symbolism,  Parallels,  Forgiveness,  Healing,  past angst trauma dissociation panic attacks etc. etc.,  but in the present it's happy times,  Teen Romance,  Sexual Tension,  Implied Sexual Content,  Fluff and Humor,  Getting Together, Best Friends to Lovers,  Soulmates,  Kissing,  Touchy-Feely,  the canonical implication that gwen most comfortably expresses herself through physicality,  ps. please know im a firm trans autistic gwen truther

summary:

" Since then, Miles has become obsessed. Each time he visits he's subconsciously seeking out that shift, mesmerized no matter how many times it happens. It serves as constant reassurance to him, as visual proof of Gwen's ongoing and seemingly unconditional affection for him. Really, all he needs to do is take the leap. "

[ OR ]

Quite some time has passed since Miles and Gwen's relationship was tested by the multiverse. They continue to work hard on themselves long after mending their friendship, and so much has changed since their first bittersweet reunion.

Except for how much they want each other.

Gwen has long since made her feelings known, and the ball is in Miles' court. He struggles to seize the happiness he's always craved, but there's one thing that reassures and encourages him forward little by little.

Pink; healing, tranquility, young love

ao3 | twitter | instagram

[lucyandthepen]

last eden - i . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, possibly some mild language, like... one very tame mention of making love ig word count: 4.3k

A/N: yeah i have a lot of these fics that i'm repurposing that i desperately want to post so i can continue them so please look the other way at my random over enthusiasm i beg !! my only long-standing mark fic is actually gorgeous, and while we do love a good raunchy piece, i love mark way too much to keep it to just that. this was my first ever fic on my old blog, and i'm quite attached to the idea despite the fact that it's actually very difficult for me to write. i changed the name because i actually love this song by maktub (anything he puts out is gold to me), which i think generally fits the vibe of the story, so give it a listen if you're interested! so i hope you all enjoy this idol!verse soulmates fic! (help a gal out by reblogging, liking, and leaving a few kind words if you're so inclined!)

“This isn’t really your best idea.” 

You know this. You’re fully aware of the possible and endless risks as well as the minimal benefits. But you have to go. The thing that Heehyeon, your roommate, doesn’t fully understand is that this could be your one and only shot, and it could mean life or death. And you know that sounds pretty dramatic, but it really is. you don’t really have all the details (when, where, how, the important stuff) but that doesn’t matter to you right now. 

What really matters is that today is NCT’s comeback stage at M! Countdown, and you have to be there. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t one of those things you have to go to because your a die-hard fan and you just have to support the group and do all those fan chants and lie to your mom about going to the library when you’re really staying over outside a company building for hours just to wave those silly, expensive light sticks that look like they came out of the factory a bit funny. Sure, NCT’s music was nice (enough), but that isn’t really the reason why you told your mom not to come over this weekend because you would be out on a company team building retreat (as if they actually do that). More than anything, you knew you had to take this chance to see him. 

When you don’t respond, Heehyeon presses on with a firmer tone, as if she’s determined to convince you even though you both know nothing is really going to stop you at this point.

“Listen to me, _____________. You are going to a tightly-packed music show with at least a hundred other fans, and you are going to stand in the middle of that dense crowd and — and what? Stare up at him. That’s it. He’s not going to see you; that stage is so high up he’ll probably only catch a look at your forehead, and that’s if you make it up front. And since we both know you’re neither the tallest nor the luckiest person in the world, you know the odds are against you. You’re probably going to get pushed to the back, or stampeded, and it’s going to be messy, and you’re going to push, and they’re going to push you back, and your make-up is going to fall apart, or whatever. Is this really worth it?”

“I told you,” you try to sound patient, but the idea of being buffeted away from the stage by a large wave of sweaty bodies causes more discomfort than you had originally anticipated thanks to her colorful and supremely unhelpful description. “If being near the stage doesn’t work out, I’ll wait out back, near the exit, and —“

“Oh yeah, and ambush him. Because you’ll be the only one there, and because that’s totally safe.” She drops the slightly (well, pretty) judgmental tone when she sees your bottom lip quiver. “I’m not… I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to reach out to him. But this doesn’t sound like the best way, _____________. Security is so tight there, and NCT’s security is even more wary. Even if you do manage to get close, what in the world are you going to say?” 

“I— I’ll figure it out once I’m there.” You purse your lips; surely I love you; we’re meant to be together wouldn’t be that hard on your end, but the more important question is: did it sound sane? You didn’t express this doubt, though. Doing so would give your roommate more ammunition to turn back at you; you’d play it by ear when you actually got around to making eye contact with him (if that ever happened at all). And — well, maybe you wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe, just maybe, this time, he’d remember you.

At that thought, you feel an initial wave of laughter, closely followed by a second, much more painful wave of nausea. Of all the absurd things you could think of, that was probably the most ridiculous. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” she recapitulates, shaking her head. “You know what they do to people who stalk idols and say they’re really going to get married to them, or whatever. You know what they’d call you.”

“But I’m not crazy like that,” you argue.

“I know that, but they don’t know anything about you! You’d be labeled a sasaeng. They’ll probably think you’re one of those girls that sneak into their dorms and sniff their underwear before selling them on the dark side of Taobao through a weird Chinese proxy or something.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You ball your fists at your side, feeling a little betrayed. Heehyeon, of all people, should be able to understand why you had to do this, even if it was ludicrous. She had remembered you, reached out to you before you could even place her. She’d heard your story, understood that you had been waiting years for this moment, even stopped you on other occasions when you were about to do the same thing you were planning now, saying it wasn’t the right time. “I don’t have any other way of contacting him. I don’t even know if this is going to work, but you know I have to try, and I feel like this is the right time. I have to see him. I have to — I have to be with him. I don’t need your blessing to go, you know.”

There’s a palpable tension hanging over you now, and Heehyeon’s expression has gone mostly unreadable, save for that twinge of worry still present in her gaze. The soft sound of regular, heavy exhales punctuate every few seconds that pass, and you realize a little later that it’s your breathing, which has turned a bit heavy from the energy spent sort-of yelling at your roommate. 

“I know that,” she finally sighs. “I know that, _____________. I just wish you used a different way. Like, a safer, less crazy one.”

“I would use one if there were one.” You frown. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, like attack him. I would never do that.”

She doesn’t say much anymore, opting to watch you instead as you stuff a few more essential things in your bag. A hat. A fan. a bottle of water. Heehyeon had tried to coerce you to buy one of those cheering kits with those slogans, but you didn’t want to waste your money on it, and, truthfully, you didn’t want his name hanging on your walls like some sick reminder in case he rejected you.

“What did you tell your manager?” She asks in a clear attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I told her I was sick. You know she never really asks as long as I find someone to substitute for me,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, standing straighter. “How do I look?” 

“Pretty damn healthy,” she notes. “But also kind of crazy.” 

“I’ll see you tonight, Heehyeon,” you roll your eyes as you make your way out of the room. Before you close the door, she makes one last quick remark.

“Not if I see you on the evening news first!”

You have to take two buses to get to Sangamsan-ro. Even though the traffic is generally mild, the buses make too many stops and wait too long for old ladies with their fruit baskets and newspapers to get on. The wait is making you anxious, and you think about getting an orange to abate your growing hunger, but you’re also so nervous that you’re sure you’re going to spew it all out onto the bus floor anyway. So, you content yourself with listening to music and fiddling with your fingers in your lap. 

All you have in your phone is NCT’s music. The files were so large that you’d had to delete everything else you used to listen to and a handful of pictures too (mostly selfies that would have never seen the light of day, anyway) just to get them to fit. You used to only listen to the Korean versions, but you’d found all these little nuances in how Mark raps his lines depending on the language, so you’d started listening to the English and Japanese releases too, even though you can’t understand a lick of anything but ‘baby.’ Most of the time, you skip over to the relevant (see: Mark-filled) parts, already having memorized their timestamps to a kind of sick degree. 

It was kind of dumb, and sort of selfish, but you had never really identified yourself as an NCT fan anyway. If you had been an active part of the groups following, people would have probably called you an akgae. You were really only concerned with one member, and it was that member’s voice that filled your ears when you’d plugged your earbuds in and put the volume up.

The first time you’d seen him was in your last year of college. One of your college friends had asked you to accompany them to a Nature Republic outlet downtown. Despite your general lack of interest in make-up at that point in time, you’d gone because she’d promised to buy you a corndog. What you’d gotten instead was a large standee of a handsome guy smiling at you and holding out a pot of aloe vera gel. 

You knew his eyes. Even though his features changed a million times in your memory, you could never mistake his eyes for anyone else’s — soft, warm, brown eyes that you’d stared into for truly an eternity. His were eyes you could never forget, were never allowed to forget. You could remember the millions of times they’d smiled up at you in those past lives you were haunted with, twinkled with mischief and laughter in your presence, borne deep into yours on hot summer nights as you made love. Of all the uncertain things in all of the lives you remembered living, these eyes acted as your anchor. 

You’d almost forgotten you were there with a friend until she’d called out to you, telling you to step inside the shop. Trying to sound disinterested despite the fact that your heart was pounding, you asked who the guy in the standee was. Mark, she’d called him. Mark of NCT. He was an idol, a rapper in one of those up and coming groups that was starting to gain a lot of attention within the general public because of their ‘cool, chic concepts.’ At that information, your heart had fallen into a pool of acid in your stomach. 

Other times were hard, but not this hard. Most of the factors that had kept you or torn you apart were much larger in scale — war, famine, other natural disasters. This, out of all the other times, seemed to be the most difficult; he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore, but a god among men — a god you couldn’t be allowed to approach. You had ditched your friend the moment she’d gotten her change back at the counter, citing a sudden time of the month as the root cause, and dashed out and back to school, sparing only one last glance at the standee. 

You’d been waiting for him for years, carefully looking for any sign of him in the people around you, but you had grown tired and had come to believe that maybe, in this life, you had been set free — that he didn’t exist, and the curse would be over. However, as you pored over each and every teaser, music video, advertisement, and blurry, noise-heavy radio interview you could find even a sliver of his face in, you realized that the curse had come back, and in a much larger force than you could ever imagine. 

You’d stared at your desk for the longest time that day; the sun had dipped out of sight already when you’d sighed yourself out of your trance. It had never been this difficult. Having the Memory was mostly the worst thing ever, but its usual perk was that you could pick him out a little easier, and he was never too far away — nobody you ever knew in your first life ever was. They just kept coming up again and again, running around in little circles throughout time and space, and you recognized them in a way you’ve come to grow familiar with. It’s a tug, sort of like a tickle in your stomach, and you knew then that he was close by. The signal only stopped when you found him, and it usually wasn’t that hard. From there, you were responsible for weaving the same kind of story — one in which you would fall in love, be happy for a period of time, and then… well. 

Heehyeon has the Memory, too. She’d remembered you from a previous life, too, and picked you out of a packed line at a coffee shop, striking up one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever had the displeasure of being a part of because she hadn’t been sure if you remembered her. It was only when she mentioned that you seemed like someone she could be good friends with and that you also seemed like you just happened to like your coffee black with two sugars did you realize that her sudden onslaught of friendliness was a sign she might be like you: unable to forget. She’d actually once asked you if you’d tried just letting him go, and you’d responded with a resolute no. At this point, it was too hard to call him a lost cause, even if he really seemed it. How could you stop loving someone you know you’ve loved for millennia? 

He’s extremely handsome in this life, you’ve noted. Girls were falling all over him, which only made things ten times harder. A couple of years back, some rumors of him dating a labelmate had come up. Heehyeon had talked you through that long night of you clutching tissues in a fist and sobbing about how you didn’t want this anymore, how it was never fair, how every single time you had to find him was just growing more and more difficult until it seemed to reach an impossible arc. But, mostly, you’d cried because you hated the possibility — probably the confirmation — that he didn’t remember you at all. 

You didn’t really expect him to, but you always hoped. Every life, you would approach him, and he would be a clean slate. It was a tiring process, one you wished you weren’t constantly responsible for. Some days, you resented him; how could he live his life carefree, without even the notion that you two were meant to be together? Most days, though, you just longed for him. Him, and a happy ending. 

You let out a sigh as the track changes. His voice greets you again; over time, you’ve noticed it sounding even cooler, more impactful. He’s doing well for himself. And here you are, attempting to make yourself stand out in a pool of fans he probably can’t even see clearly. Nice.

You get to listen to about half of the newly released album before you realize you’re nearing your stop. Sidestepping a couple of baskets of oranges, you make it to the door and dash out. Heehyeon had drawn you a crude map to CJ E&M, and you’d been skeptical of it at first, but you realize now you would have gotten lost and missed the stage long before you got there if you had gone in blind. You’d make sure to thank her when you got back. If you did actually come back in one piece. 

Heehyeon also hadn’t been joking; the line outside looks like it would fill a whole section of Jamsil. You’d heard of the dedication of some of these fans, but you’d never seen it like this, nor had you ever actually been a part of it. Kids were really up at three in the morning in support of NCT. Many of them are probably here specifically in support of Mark, you think. Sure enough, the people you line up behind are holding holographic slogans with the print “Mark-yah!” You swallow hard, trying not to regret your decision not to partake in that. 

It feels like hours before you get even close to the door of the building. The chatter has died down a little, but not by much; even with less people ahead of you, the noise pollution increases in tandem with the excitement in the atmosphere. You’re not excited, though. You’re sick to your stomach, wishing you hadn’t come alone and wondering if you were going to regret this. Probably. Luckily, a couple of teenagers behind you strike up a casual conversation starting with “ah, it’s getting more humid now,” and you take turns complaining about what the weather would probably be like later on in the day before you start talking about NCT. They’re both Jaehyun fans, and you think about whether or not you remember meeting him in a past life. Nothing really rings a bell.

When you tell them you’re here for Mark, they giggle. 

“We know,” they chime. “You’re wearing blue.” 

“It’s his favorite color,” you say, a little defensively. 

“Everyone knows that. Everyone here wearing that ocean blue is a Mark fan. Didn’t he say so once?” They dissolve into laughter again, but you say nothing. Maybe he had said that recently. Then again, his favorite color has always been blue — the color of the sky and the sea he seems to love so much. 

The line grows shorter and shorter, and your ankles feel like they’re starting to swell. You’ve been standing for a good two hours now, and you regret not having bought one of those NCT membership cards that get you up to the front of the line. It’s really no surprise that you, the two Jaehyun fans, and the others in the line behind you are all squished in the back, just like Heehyeon had said you would be. It takes a good twenty minutes before the lights dim down and the stage lights start up, and you hear the buzz that increases in volume right before it becomes a collective deafening shriek from the crowd. The light sticks go up, and you’re momentarily blinded by the large stars that blink NCT in some weird logo form before you get your bearings again. By that time, the members have begun trooping onto the stage in a single file, and you forget your swollen ankles as you tiptoe and crane your head for a better view. 

He’s there, your mind screams. He’s right there. You’ve got a whole crowd in front of you, but he’s right there. 

The Jaehyun fans are losing their mind too; he’s talking, asking them how they found the album and encouraging them to keep supporting it. Typical idol stuff, you assume, but the fans go wild in an attempt to reassure him that they will. They all speak in a line, and you note Mark will be last. When the mic is handed over to him, the fans start screaming again. You feel like you want to yell as well, except you’re not sure if you’ll say something actually coherent that other people will hear. Instead, you tiptoe a little higher, fixing your pretty bad eyesight on his face and perking your ears up. 

“You’re all here so early,” he starts. “How long have you been waiting for us?” 

A flurry of numbers fly across the room. He smiles in this genuinely affectionate way even though his eyes can’t focus on a single person in the dark, and your heart stutters at the sight.

“Do your mothers know you’re here?” He’s teasing now. “You can’t tell them that NCT is the reason you’re not sleeping well, you know. Everyone, make sure that you eat breakfast and rest well before school today, okay?” 

While the crowd screams in response, you let out a little whimper. It’s a weak, pathetic sound, but it essentially sums up how you feel, seeing him like this from so far away. 

The pre-recording starts, but you barely catch anything. You’re too small for this kind of life, and you get so tired of tiptoeing that you actually do try to push your way through the crowd. Of course, this is fruitless, and you end up squatting by the back wall of the room, sipping on your water conservatively and listening to the Jaehyun fans do the chant religiously. 

NCT performs the song two more times before they’re saying their goodbyes. You muster up the energy to stand again and make a beeline for the exit before everyone else can smash their way through. The sun is almost up now; beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck as you round the building, trying to find the indicated spot that Heehyeon had marked as the back exit of CJ E&M. You worry about how you’re in the wrong place for about ten minutes until you see the two Jaehyun fans turning the corner quickly, obviously with the same goal as you: to catch NCT as they leave the building. 

In no time, the fans have gathered at the spot again, and it seems like they’ve multiplied tenfold; the chants are louder and there are girls with gigantic cameras trying to shove you away from the spot. Security from the company camps out in front of you, their gazes shifting from the door to the crowd and back again. 

People around you roar the moment the doorknob turns. Nine of them file out, now in regular clothing, surrounded by their own security. You feel a surge of force behind you, trying to push forward, and someone’s camera lens hits you hard in the side of the face. You barely have time to cry out in surprise, caught in what would have been a scream of pain, when you see him. 

In the growing light, Mark looks like a king. No — like a god, actually. Everything on his face shines even when minimal sunlight strikes it; his teeth help, too, brightening his face as his mouth hangs open in an easy laugh. He’s talking to Doyoung and has to face him, his sharp jawline being the first thing anyone can see from that perspective, and it’s that angle that creates all these alarms in your head. 

For some reason, you’ve blocked out the noise around you. Even the pain from the camera lens attack isn’t bothering you as much anymore; you feel like you’re in an aquarium, and all the screams are on the other side of the glass. Your vision tunnels; all you can see is him. 

You’d promised Heehyeon you wouldn’t do anything stupid. Again and again, she’d asked you and drilled you and reminded you that you weren’t supposed to do anything that would get you into trouble. Even with those promises you’d made, she’d still doubted you. Later, when you’d tell her this story, she’d roll her eyes and yell I told you so!, because, well, she did tell you. And, when you’d look at it in retrospect, you’d see that you should have listened. 

Right now, though, you’re walking. Somehow, the camera lens that had attacked you had turned its gaze onto much more important targets; the guard stationed in front of you grunted in pain and reflexively retracted his hand after the lens made contact with it. It wasn’t a long movement, but it was enough for you to be pushed forward by the crowd. Enough to get your feet moving. 

Other fans had stopped trying to break through; though many were still hysterical, most were trying to take pictures of the members as they climbed into the van. One by one, they were disappearing before your eyes. No, you thought to yourself. Your chest tightened. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that the noise behind you has gotten much louder. Not now. He hasn’t seen me yet. Not yet, please. 

You don’t realize that your feet have picked up the pace, and you’ve broken into a short sprint before the building security could catch you. It’s too late; he can’t leave his post, and he only has to hope that NCT’s staff are well-equipped to fend off a running girl. They are, but they’re too busy helping the members that they’re caught unaware — just long enough for you to be within an arm’s reach of them. 

Mark is almost in the van; he’s caught off-guard, too, and he doesn’t realize that something’s not right until you’re already there. Security grabs his arm and tries to tug him out of your reach and into the van at the same time that a strong hand grapples at the back of your shirt. Doyoung, who had been by Mark’s side, tries to use his arms to shield you from his friend when he realizes who you are targeting, yelling out something you can’t really understand. 

It’s a ten-second long struggle of limbs in which you hear your own “Let go of me!” harmonize perfectly with Mark’s frantic “What the —?” Somehow, though, you’re able to fight through Doyoung’s arms and grip Mark’s wrist with a sweaty palm. The contact causes him to turn back reflexively, eyes wide in shock. 

His eyes. God, please, won’t he recognize me? Your fingers close around his wrist a little more tightly. Your mouth is dry, and your throat is on fire. You’re wasting precious time. You only manage out a weak, “Please, Mark, it’s me,” before he’s twisting his wrist away. The arm that gripped your shirt moves to lock around your waist, and you’re hauled, empty-handed, away from the van. Awareness you’d lost slowly trickles back into you. The crowd isn’t screaming at the members now; they’re screaming at you. They’re angry. As you’re dragged away, you vaguely note that the Jaehyun fans you were with are fuming behind the security guards still keeping them in place. 

The security guard that carried you off like a rag doll plants you in front of him, and he lets go of your waist but still keeps his grip tight around both your forearms, which have been twisted behind you. You have no choice but to watch from afar as the members drag Mark into the van, looks of concern etched across their faces. They ask him if he’s hurt, and he shakes his head. Right before the door closes, he quickly glances back at you. Your heart sinks for the second time today as you see something in his eyes you’d never seen before. 

Fear. Mark is afraid of you.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

I know the show is on going but I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on Phaya and Tharn from The Sign? I'm a huge sucker for soulmate stories so I'm willing to overlook certain things just to get my fill of queer soulmate stories

Hmmm you know I haven’t actually thought about my relationship to Phaya and Tharn as a ship. Ignoring the issues I am having with some of the story structure and editing of the show, I do genuinely really love Phaya and Tharn as a couple. I am always a sucker for the loud and proud simp who is comfortable with not only their sexuality but with actively acknowledging their feelings for their crush. I love that we can also tell from the beginning that Tharn reciprocates his feelings for Phaya, and I think those types of dynamics where both characters are aware of the other’s feelings can add an interesting layer of complexity to the hidden feelings, sexuality struggle that is more often present in BL. (Side note I think this is also why I was really interested in Jim and Wen’s relationship in Moonlight Chicken). I like when there are other external pressures or internal traumas outside of sexuality that prevent two people from being together, even as or after they have admitted their feelings. 

I have not read The Sign the book, but I did see a post floating around that described the backstory of the naga and garuda’s life and I am unfortunately much more interested in the dynamics that I heard about from that book description than what we got in the show. i wish they had fleshed their backstory out a little bit more, I don’t mind soulmate plots but I think that La Pluie did such a fantastic job with their soulmate subversions in 2023 that I have been a bit spoiled around other types of soulmate dynamics. 

I like the way The Sign is loudly proclaiming verse rights with Phaya and Tharn always paralleling the other’s actions. I love the way the show has decided to visibly demonstrate their desire through the colored lighting and the bokeh effect. I like that we have gotten to see them playful with each other and gotten little details like them bickering quietly while Tharn was on the phone with the abbot. Those types of moments in shows really sell the feasibility of a relationship for me. I believe Tharn and Phaya work well together as a couple and I think Billy and Babe have incredible chemistry. I loved Billy in Secret Crush on You but this is Babe’s first acting gig and he is going toe to toe with Billy and doing a lot of incredible subtle work in his portrayal of Tharn. 

Now I just need Phaya to get railed by Tharn like he so clearly needs and wants. Thanks for the ask!

Send Me a Ship And I’ll Share My Thoughts

[feralportalmaster]

Eurovision 2024 songs that remind me of the Life Series

“SAND” by SABA (Denmark): Desert Duo

Literally the name of the song is sand

“Guess we built a castle out of sand” metaphorical and literal reference to the Sand Fortress from Third Life

“Yesterday I had you by my side, now we’re just like strangers in the night” general reference to the splitting of friendships between seasons

“Doomsday Blue” by Bambi Thug (Ireland): Double Life PearlescentMoon

Witch themes, Scarlet Pearl

“I know you’re living a lie” Scott living with a soulmate who isn’t actually his

“I guess you’d rather have a star than the moon” solar/tarot themes, Scott=Star, Pearl=Moon, Scott choosing to value himself and his chosen partner over Pearl

“Your favourite color, compared to the others is doom, doomsday blue” Scott’s association with the colour blue

(also plz check out @aresonist they made art of pearl and Doomsday Blues which is awesome)

“Ulveham” by Gåte (Norway): Double Life PearlescentMoon (yes again)

“Ho gav meg ein ham som ulve grå” (Then she gave me skin like a grey wolf), wolf themes remind me of Tilly and her wolf army

“Ho svor meg einsam i skogjen gå” (She cursed me to walk the forest alone), Pearl being abandoned

The song talks about a young maiden who’s mother died (Scott’s relationship with Pearl) and was replaced by an evil stepmother who cast her out (Scott’s relationship with Cleo)

The song also talks about the maiden not being satisfied until she spilled the blood of both her stepmother and her brother (Cleo and by proxy Martyn)

“The Code” by Nemo (Switzerland): Eyes and Ears AU Martyn InTheLittlewood

“I, I went to Hell and back, To find myself on track”, something something Vtuber lore

“I broke the code” general language about hacking the computer system, aka breaking the code of the Watchers

“Somewhere between the O's and ones, That's where I found my kingdom come, My heart beats like a drum” this verse makes me think of Limited Life finale??

(tbh this song could also be Watcher Grian)

Should I add any more songs??

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Reflections are made on Tav and Astarion's intimate night together before entering the Goblin Camp.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 7: Beholden

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Blood, Violence, Language, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

We must follow nature’s course. Whether it be cruel or kind. We cannot interrupt its plan for the world. Their tadpoles connected them in more ways, than a simple acknowledgement of their shared affliction. But, boundaries are toilsome when broken. And creeping upon their coasts, will cost a sacrifice yet to be demanded.

��� Halsin, journal entry 1,200

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

There was a stir of a song being born. One from the buds of untilled soil thought dead. The words to accompany it were being haphazardly forged on parchment, like random notes written on coffee-stained napkins.

Tav hummed and wrote. Wrote and hummed. It was an all-consuming process that transfixed her until it was completed. And her lucky muse? A wreath of ghostly ringlets framing two eyes of garnet that haunted the pounding organ behind her cage of bones.

♫On your chariot of umbra, You rode up from the world below, And with a kiss of starlight you…um??? Youuuuuu….♫

“Hope I’m not pesterin’ you. Saw you over here by your lonesome,” Karlach interrupted as she approached the lounging minstrel with a lopsided smile and a ‘hair of the dog’ pint in her grasp.

“Mornin.’ Only struggling with this verse,” Tav beamed, tucking a wavy piece of hair behind her ear.

“Something’s different about you, eh?” the fiery tiefling observed, taking a sip from her drink.

Tav placed her quill back into its ink pot and straightened out her music sheets while readjusting her position on the tree stump. A cunning prickling of thorns flushed on her cheeks. “I—no. I don’t believe anything has changed about me.”

But, that wasn’t true. Within a man’s arms she came undone, finding empyrean respite. His fingers worked her like a charm spell until she lost herself in the casted shadows of candlelight. Yet, it wasn’t her moans for him in the night nor the donation of her ichor that she gave willingly that surprised her: it was a piece of her trust.

“Perhaps it is because she engaged in quite the exhaustive venture last evening! Blood loss does have quite the effect on people—or so I’m told,” Astarion cut in. “But, me? I feel wonderful!”

And he did look wonderful. His cheeks were less gaunt. The bags under his eyes were a calmer shade of powdery periwinkle. Eyes appeared sharper, a brighter red. Even the sky blue coloring veins in his arms was more prominently saturated.

All his beauty and dangerous splendor were the reasons sonnets are made along the roadways of mud and intoxicating jasmine blooms. There was thousands of intricately weaved words inserted into poems to describe his ilk, like morning mist drops settled upon the threads of arachnids.

Tav cannot contain the lightness she felt when she saw Astarion. Her wings spread out, each feather hiding fragility under their vanes. Will he catch her slim feet as she flies away?

“Hey-o, you dandy! Ready to go gut some gobs today?”

Tav hushed the acrobats in her stomach. “Good dawn to you, ‘Starion.”

“Karlach. Songbird,” he greeted them equally. “You know I wouldn’t miss out on such a gutting show, however, I did come to check on our leader before we head out.”

Before Tav was able to speak, he had already sailed over to her upon muted silver heeled footsteps. She sat up, suddenly aware that he was bent acutely at his waist—enough to reach out to kindly dust her fresh bite marks.

“How badly does it hurt?” his pale head tilted, curls slipping to the side.

The smell of his freshly applied perfumes addled Tav's mind. His eyes, a clever decadence, held the knowledge of her ecstasies that she snuck to him during an impulsive need.

“Sorer than the wrist. Like a dull muscle ache from a cramp,” the bard congenially answered.

“Nothing you cannot surely triumph over. And how about everything else?” he breathed out.

The vampire does not attempt to mask his meaning or shy from the euphoria he exorcized from her body. He was brazen to ask her in front of their acquaintance.

Heavily did she swallow to control the overflow of her marching chest. “Fine. Everything else is fine.”

“Hmm. You know…” Astarion whispered, a low distraction as she watched the tip of his tongue wet his lips. “I can still taste you on my fingers.”

This fancier of the bloodthirsty arts, has two sets of teeth. One with which to feed; the other with which to claim. For this elven bard, a bargain has been made.

Tav wanted to match him in his torturous tease. To pluck out his devil’s tongue and boil it in a spiritual cleanse.

But, there was fine print that sat on the curled edges of the pages from their pasts, smudged with fingerprints and laced with belladonna. Warnings of holes where their hearts lay; labyrinths of frozen gardens that have no end.

Tav had not forgotten the way their rousing decision ended the night prior—with his fingers covered in her fruit and her lips finding purchase upon his alabaster skin. The vague emptiness that enameled over his touch, apparent through the shadows of his eyes. She had left his tent, with her sex loosened and a continual masturbatory bomb of fears that she had crossed a broken boundary of his that he didn’t yet understand.

“Astarion, there’s something I wanted to ask you about last night.” She attempted to mouth in hushed tones.

“Oh my sweet, you’re not getting mawkish on me now, are you? The only serious thing we need to discuss is when you’ll invite me back for another snack,” Astarion winked suggestively.

The bard continued her well-nigh unresponsive discretion of her features, ignoring Karlach’s pacing behind the pale elf. She stood up, a few inches shy of his natural height, placing her hands on her hips. Her quietness showed her sincerity as she stared into his face.

Astarion looked surprised, as if she had just turned an entire ocean to desert. He avoided entertaining her with any further quips or illusions, instead, blinking several times before abruptly summoning his trained foxy slink back to his face.

“Did you hear that? I think it’s our ghastly duty calling upon us to finally help those Silvanus freaks before they start complaining about ‘the leaves of nature being preserved'," he dramatically retorted as he casually checked the cleanliness of his nails. "It may be wise to think of better songs to regale the goblins with then you did that foul ogre—lest we wind up on the skewer. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Astarion gave the women a mannerful bow before he strode away without paying another peek in Tav’s direction.

Tav remained calm as he left, breathing out a long sigh. They needed to prepare for the assault on the goblins. He was a distraction—not necessarily an unwelcome one—but one with knobby roots twisted along the cloister inside his dried innards. If she didn’t get her shit together, a lot of people would die and their blood would be on her hands.

“I’m sorry about the interruption Karlach, he—”

Karlach took a long gulp of her drink, the ale dripping down onto her chin. Her face lit up—almost literally—with an excited smile. Tav knew immediately that the barbarian was far too astute in situations of sexual vices to not read the interaction that just occurred.

“Oh. My. Gods. That’s why you look like you’re glowing today! You and Astarion?! You fucked him, didn’t you?!”

The songstress's vision widened and her face felt like it would burst into flames, much like the tiefling’s engine. “Hells, Kar. Could you keep your voice down? We just—we kissed. A lot. And he obviously bit my neck to feed afterwards.” She pulled down the collar of her doublet to show her the punctures.

A white lie. Tav wasn’t one to share the details of her romanticisms with others. It was a preference to keep the echoes of intimate reflections as special moments: treasures discovered along the shipwrecks of life.

“Hey, I’m not judging! Astarion is gorgeous! Bit of a sassy grouch sometimes, but if I had my chance with him, I would not hesitate to get all over that.” The red woman made thrusting motions with her hips. “That being said, you don’t look entirely happy about it.”

Tav pursed her mouth, staring off to the right side of Karlach as she collected her thoughts. Her throat tightened as she spoke, delicately attempting to avoid providing any details she knew of the spawn’s past. “You mentioned recently that you sensed Astarion has been through a lot of pain, but I’m unsure where that begins and ends for him. And that concerns me. Karlach, I don’t want to potentially hurt him further. I barely know him and it’s… look, I’m telling you this because I think out of everyone, you will understand.”

Karlach crossed her arms, a caring frown accompanied the orangish calm of her irises. “I won’t pry, but Astarion seems to be fixated on his freedom from that fucker Cazador. Can’t blame him. I am too with my own from Zariel. Fangs can be a real piece of work, but even rotten scoundrels need a gentle hand sometimes. Maybe he hasn’t had that in a long time—if ever.”

The bard blew out the air she’d been holding in. “A gentle hand,” she repeated. “You’re right. Thank you for listening. I want what’s best for Astarion—everyone really—but I’m not sure he even knows what that is just yet.”

“I’ve got your back, Tav. Everyone in camp does too. And shit will work out, alright? We’re truly in this together, as sappy as that sounds.” The tiefling knocked back the rest of her drink, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Now, can you at least tell me how it was to kiss him? Please let me live vicariously through you.”

A merry laugh passed through Tav. She curled her index finger near her chin in thought. “Okay. Close your eyes and I’ll describe it to you. Imagine lips: plush, supple, but chilled. Not frozen, but a pleasant degree, like sweetened cool milk soothing your warmed lips. As you press them against his, you can feel your heart quicken and slow at the same time. Your breath’s intertwine with warm and cold temperatures that elicit thoughts you’ve never had. And when your lips start to move? It feels like you’ve both committed the crime of lassoing the sun closer to you as you melt into one another.”

Karlach visibly shuddered, opening her eyes to Tav smiling gently at her. “It’s no wonder you’re a bard. I could almost feel that myself! I suppose we’ve wasted enough time talking about boys for the day—should we get things rumblin’?”

Tav politely nodded and turned around to round up her belongings. Rummaging aimlessly through her satchel, her brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Something the matter?” the tiefling questioned.

“Just something odd. I could have sworn I put it in here before I came to write.”

“Maybe I can help find it. What is it that we’re looking for?”

Lost in confusion, Tav held the purse upside down a final time to see if any items stumbled to the ground. “My cuticle oil.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

When he woke from his trance in the early morning hours with dried blood cracking in the corners of his mouth, his vampiric nose involuntarily breathed in an alien scent that had seemed to fill his tent overnight. A pink tongue darted out to clean off his mouth, swallowing the red flakes down.

Astarion’s clothes stunk of Tav’s fragrance—she was ever so fond of—having made homes for itself in the islands of stitches on his sleeves and ruffled v-neck. Bodily fluids, now dried on his ornamental pillows, a sexual honeyed musk. He wrapped his tongue around his finger, still tasting the glacé of her sensual defeat and the sour memory of their night together.

He reached for the rags he had used to wipe off her bloodied essence from her upper body, scrunching them up to place under his nostrils. Cock half-hardening, he inhaled without reserve and groaned at the reminder of the effect drinking from thinking creatures had on his hunger.

Under the light of a candle, its single flame licking wicked pathways to Tav's want, he had concealed his guise of disgust behind her shoulder. All he could remember was the act itself—that it happened. That his fingers entered her and he poetically spoke naughty phrases into her ear to anchor her wetness for him.

Trust. Trust. Trust. She gave it to him with the arch of her back into his chest. Just as he predicted. Just as he planned.

However, virtually all of the details of their intimacy—the night—were lost on him. Her face was another among the blur of thousands he seduced over two centuries. Up petticoats and down breeches he searched bodies to steal their pleasures. His cock only thickening out of trained habit or a rare wishful fancy of ravaging apart a neck from any creature without hisses and tails. It meant nothing to him.

Yet, a singular detail did remain. A place he entered beyond the second circle of hell in lust, a circle where it seemed like his death could be undone. A river of lyrics carrying him along a raft of flower-crowned skulls towards the banks of her merciful arms.

During the twilit minutes before he released her, he made the blunder of examining her eyes before their ravenous kiss. What he had seen was acceptance. And it scared the fuck out of him.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you Gale?” Astarion teased while they walked through the inner sanctum of the temple overtaken by the goblins.

“Um yes, in silence.” Gale leaned in towards him, whiffing his scent, “By the way, I don’t mean to pry, but did you apply more of your aromatic oils than usual? ”

He searched for a quick remark to hand to the wizard. “Only because I knew I’d be in your presence today.”

Half of the vampire’s morning had been dedicated to scrubbing. Crouched over a bucket of soapy water, Astarion had soaked his clothing and rags, ridding them of scents unknown. Of the lingering remnants of her. His skin raw from how hard he attacked his flesh with suds and woven cloth. The final touch? Excessive dabs of his oils in unusual places to cloy any bits leftover of the bard's odor.

“The Priestess is up ahead; I’ll go speak with her. Wait here for a moment,” Tav’s melodious voice spoke reservedly to them.

No-nonsense. That was a part of her Astarion both equally appreciated and despised. Despite her penchant to offer her generosity to all of Faerûn, she pulled her punches. It was a waste of time to her otherwise and could be messy. Efficiency would deliver the most desired outcomes, but gods, he desperately wanted to create mischief at every turn.

Astarion, be nice. Astarion, we don’t need to lockpick EVERY chest. Astarion, leave that ogre and bugbear having intercourse in the barn to fulfill their needs alone. Astarion, don’t have fun. Astarion, let’s save all these idiots!

”Astarion? Please don’t hurt me." Tav's voice echoed in his head, throwing off his equilibrium.

He shook his thoughts away, reflecting back on their encounter with the dream visitor in the prism as they came upon the entrance of camp a short while ago. It wanted to protect them against The Chosen. The Absolute. All their enemies. To give them power. Yes. Power was the most important ability to hold in all aspects. With power, the possibilities were endless. With power, he would have protection. All it would take, would be to manipulate the pretty songbird into aligning with his goals. And judging by how he already managed to pleasure her so soon after they first met, it would be a piece of cake.

Thrum-dub…thrum-dub…thrum-dub.

Pulses? Astarion felt the constellation of his soul mark beating mildly. Tav’s back faced him, her features obscured. Her body was hunched over minimally at the waist, hand at the side of her temple. His eyes narrowed, jaw taunt. Something happened.

Thrum-dub.Thrum-DUB. THRUM-DUB. THRUM. THRUM. DUB.

Faster now. Harder pounds of a pumping bass through the bandwidth of their marks. She was nervous—frightened. The threshold betwixt them was closing in as an invisible rope pulled him closer.

He flinched. Really, he should stay out of her way; he shouldn’t get involved. It was perhaps wicked to not divulge to her the shared marks they possessed, but it would change everything. His plans would become a brittle cascade of a future he sought. He didn’t want to disrupt the plank he had been trying to balance upon since his unintentional escape from Cazador. But, Astarion was aware that he needed her and she needed him.

Besides, what better way to obtain one’s help to a cause—his cause—than a life owed?

“They’re connected. Quickly, we need to do something! If we start attacking, Tav could be in danger.” Gale stepped forward, sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

Light were Astarion’s steps as he snuck upon Tav and Priestess Gut. The creator of his misery appeared stifled, her mouth partly opened with persistent shallow breaths. The tadpoles of the goblin and elf had connected; Tav was fighting to push it out. A dull whimpering snuck out from her throat as if a deer was jerking around in pain.

Astarion seized her elbow, declining his head to press his lips to the opening of her ear canal, nose softly resting against its shell. He whispered in elvish, a language only the two of them would know, steadying his voice firmly. “She won’t see it. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’m here.”

The hex of the worms severed and she was free! Tav’s body slumped downwards, but faithful hands were catching her, grabbing at her arm to wrap around staunch shoulders—wrapping around the illusionary dripping silverlight he exuded.

“When did you…?” her voice broke up in a hoarse mutterings.

Giving her waist a confident squeeze, he smiled sweetly at her. “Hello beautiful. Think you can stand on your own?”

“Urgh...yes, I think so.”

“Splendid. As much as I detest putting you in that wizard’s care, do me a favor and go to him.”

The bard wobbled as she stood on her own, backing away towards Gale. “What do you plan on doing?”

Astarion removed one of his trusted blades from his back. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the side of it, much like when he smothered his saliva over bitten wounds. “I plan on slicing open the Priestess’s neck. Now stand back, the smell of blood will be in the air soon.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Filets of goblin meat were a stark contrast against the erected statues of the temple dedicated to Selûne. Her lifeless face watched the companions as they carved through the vile threats. Ripped sashes of ruby life essence unwound in the drafty camp, splashing the group.

A witness Tav played, as she paid honor to Astarion’s image under the sparks of the wagon wheel chandelier inside the chambers of Dror Ragzlin. He stood soaked in ichor, peering off to his side with a final swoosh of his dagger through the atmosphere, flicking off excess blood. The dance macabre had been sated.

Flags of pure white raised, red fangs and swords embroidered in the middle. The belief of their crusade, a righteous seat upon golden scales. Raise thy sword in the name of murder. Let us pray.

All three leaders: Priestess Gut, the drow Minthara, and Dror Ragzlin—deceased.

“As you can see, ceremorphosis has been halted—as a surprise to all of us. I am not one to tempt fate, but if you cannot heal us, then any guided direction towards someone that could offer assistance would be most appreciated,” Gale explained hastily to the arch druid Halsin they released from the goblin prison.

Halsin casted a yellow glow that coated Gale’s entire body, sensing the mechanisms of the mind flayers. “Illithid tadpoles. Oak Father preserve you all. I’ve studied these for a long time now, without much results. It was the reason I came here, to seek out research. I may not be able to heal you, but I can at least tell you where a mass amount of true souls are going to be infected.”

The druid was large, easily towering over Tav. Almost the size of the bear wild shape they had found him in. Scars upon his wise face, a set of misty tea irises surrounded by reddish brown hair that wafted of autumn leaves and sandalwood.

The bard was stunned. “You mean they aren’t all being captured upon a ship and given the worm as we have?”

“I’m afraid not. Moonrise Towers is a stronghold ruled by a man named Kethric Thorm in the Shadowlands. Innocents go in and true souls—infected—come out. The lands are dangerous. Anyone that steps foot there is at risk for turning into demonic shades,” Halsin spoke in caution. “You have two options to enter: through the Mountain Pass or the Underdark. Both come with their own sets of tribulations. The Underdark specifically is home to a Sharran temple.”

Gale faced Tav, speaking in a muffled shallow. “Shadowheart may be quite interested in hearing about that bit of information.”

Focusing on the fine lines of Gale’s crow’s feet lifting upwards, she nodded. Her eyes swooped down to the strange circular marking in the middle of his chest, the way it seemed like tendrils of smoke sneaking up past his clavicle, to the side of his neck. A part of him, he frequently hesitated to speak on. But, being so close to the human man, she wondered what secrets lay under the surface of his skin.

“I know you’re curious about it—the marking, I mean. But, now isn’t the time to explain. Soon, I promise.” Gale gave her a reassuring compress on her shoulder.

Tav, now quietly embarrassed, turned around, finding two familiar crimson eyes following her. Coveting and dark.

Thousands of flowers sprouted behind her as she went to him. With her tears, she would bathe his feet; with her hair, she would dry them. His armor drenched in blood, dripping onto the new growths left behind, urging petals open.

Thankful for his earlier care with the priestess, her inspirited hand graced the tips of Astarion’s fingers with delicate plumy touches as she briskly clenched hers around them before turning to leave the chambers.

“I owe you my life ‘Starion,” Tav whispered, peering away from him.

He deceitfully smiled. ”I’m sure there will come a time when I will need your help in return.”

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Out of curiosity, what's the general societal opinion on polyamorous people in the pieces verse? Both for those born with multiple soul marks or people who take partners in addition to their soulmate

people can have multiple soulmates, and the opinions run the gambit there. some people think it makes you Extra Blessed, and some people think it means your first soulmate (chronologically by mark coloring) is "defective" somehow, and needed to be replaced for whatever reason

Taking other lovers or spouses in addition to your one soulmate is pretty normal for nobility, especially if the soulmate isnt noble - the great great (etc etc) grandmother of the Fitzroys was King Alfred's merchant class mistress and soulmate.

non-nobility find this pretty abhorrent if the non-soulmate is the one with the legal marriage, but merely distasteful if ones married to a soulmate and has an additional "mistress"/partner. you can marry someone who isnt your soulmate (remember, some people never meet theirs at all) but its generally with the unspoken societal pressure that if you do find your soulmate, you'll divorce and be with them instead