#identifying marks

[monkesupreme]

Big Boy.

[roseburning]

I've been thinking about those soulmate AUs where whatever happens to your skin translate's to your soulmates, so when you get hurt, they get hurt as well. Those can be really cute with other ships when one doddles on their skin, or if one works as vet and has weird scratches.

But Cherik. Fuck, Cherik.

Kurt beating Charles up and Erik thinking that the bruises he doesn't remember is just Shaw experimenting on him while unconscious. That's just the tip of the iceberg.

One random morning when Charles is a kid, he feels this excruciating pain and numbers appear on forearm. From that point beyond it's just downhill, everyday he screams like it's torture, because, well, it is.

It gets to a point where even his negligent mother can't ignore and takes him to a hospital, he gets tested for every single type of chronic pain possible, but it all turns negative, so they think he's faking it/ it's psychological. But his shitty family still doesn't want to deal with that, so they lock him up in the hospital, so the doctors can "treat him" and "ease the pain", however nothing works — because the it's not Charles', it's Erik's.

At this point some might suspect it's soulmate induced, but what kind of person would be torture this much for so long?

Raven is the only one who keeps visiting, disguised as a nurse or a doctor, she's the only one who believes him. Until the late 1940s, when the pain stops. Erik is free from the camps. Charles is discharged from the hospital.

It's not until some years later, the world learns the the horrors the Nazis were doing, and my god the tattoo — that's when Charles understands what kind of person his soulmate is. He never cried so hard as that night. Raven hugs him, saying that his soulmate has to have survived, or else he'd be dead too, right? Right?

They want to search for his soulmate, but all they have is the numbers (and they'd assume it's a girl because of period typical homophobia). Besides, if they're soulmates, the universe is going to put them together, right?

And then Charles saves a random man who was going to drown trying to throw a submarine at a Nazi yacht. Their minds touch, and it's like they've known each other their wholes lives, it's beautiful.

Charles shows him his numbers and Erik shows his, and they match — because of they do — and my god, IT'S YOU!!

Erik didn't even thought he had a soulmate, thought he was doomed to be alone, but Charles is cheering and hugging him because IT'S YOU WHO I'VE BEEN IN HELL FOR! oh my god you've been through hell OH MY GOD WE'VE BEEN THROUGH HELL!

Raven is crying in the background because she has a new brother-in-law. Erik is a bit confused in the beginning, but as soon as he realizes Charles has suffered in Shaw's hands as much as he did, he hugs him to never let go. He cries variations of ‘I'm sorry’, but Charles reassures him it was never his fault.

And they go hunt Shaw together, holding hands. And Charles doesn't protest when Erik wants to kill him with the coin. He endures holding Shaw still while Erik gets his closure, he endured so much for Erik, it's just one more thing, once and for all. It's revenge for us both.

There's no beach divorce.

They live happily ever after.

[blackbatofel]

I just finished my reread of JLA: Tower of Babel and frankly, I'm surprised by the lack of Superbat fics about this plotline. I mean, it's the perfect setting for all the Superbat angst you could dream of.

How everyone keeps pointing out that Supes is the one closest to Batman, Clark emphatically referring to what happened as "your betrayal", how Bruce's files are cold and professional about everyone EXCEPT Clark (his fear of seeing him in pain), his guilt, how everyone else is loud and angry but Clark is silent and hurt, the fact Clark gave him the kryptonite in the first place. Clark having the final say and voting Bruce out of the League. Bruce KNOWING that he would do that and leaving because he didn't want to hear it.

The confrontation on Divided We Fall with all the accusations and the obvious hurt on both sides... then the agreement to reveal their identities together.

Tell me this wouldn't be an excellent break up/getting back together fic? The hurt/comfort of all times. If someone doesn't write this soon, I might have to.

[serpentface]

A witch of the Naig-Troibadnnas (Yellowtail river valley) people, resting and enjoying a smoke of the mild stimulant brolge leaf on a hot summer day.

Witches are a small part of the everyday cultural framework among the Hill Tribes. They are individuals considered born possessed by a virgranul, a type of disembodied wild spirit that seeks to inhabit human flesh, either entering the body at the moment of conception, or entering the body at the moment of death. The latter is a dire circumstance that requires significant intercession to fix (the dead body may wander off without rites, leaving the person's soul trapped and liable to warp into the dangerous fuldaigh spirit), while the former circumstance is what causes a person to be born a witch.

In the case of those afflicted in the womb, possession by virgranul is lifelong, and is both a curse and blessing- it divides and isolates them from the human world and causes other wild spirits (both benevolent and malicious) to be perpetually drawn to them, but also allows for them to be attuned to the subtleties of spirits, and able to work magic and divination that the everyday person is incapable of.

Witches are usually recognized from a young age due to marked behavioral differences or atypical development, though are sometimes simply identified as such without obvious behavioral indications, by other witches having read signs of their coming. Their occurrence is not frequent, usually once in a generation for any given tribe. An identified witch child will be taken from their family (the timing varies by tradition, though is usually upon puberty) and into mentorship by an established witch, who will impart their accumulated knowledge and skill and teach the child how to best harness their condition.

One can be a witch regardless of their gender, with the only commonality being that they must remain unmarried, and are expected to never have children (deemed too dangerous, unavoidably placing a child in the path of potentially harmful wild spirits). With no spouses or children to support them in holding a household and herds, witches are instead supported by their communities as means of payment for their services. They typically live in semi-isolation in the boundaries between the village and wilderness (a reflection of their own division between the world of people and of wild spirits, and a protective measure for their communities), and will periodically be brought needed supplies. They do not commonly enter villages unless summoned, or for the sake of certain holidays and festivals, and live most of their lives in seclusion aside from any given mentee (who will in turn care for their mentor in old age).

The societal function of witches is as intermediaries between people and their ancestors, people and wild spirits, and as especially skilled performers of practical magic (most commonly weaving protective spells into worn items, such as clothing or the nose rings of cattle). Forms of practical magic and intercession with ancestors and spirits are performed by all members of society, but a witch has intimate, detailed knowledge of such things and tremendous natural skill that makes them an invaluable asset.

Witches personally discern the identities of the spirits living in any given area and will attempt to familiarize themselves with them, learning in depth about their ways, giving warnings of where the particularly dangerous (or mischievous) ones are, and giving recommendations on which will be receptive to offerings in return for boons. When a village needs to commune with a particularly powerful or dangerous spirit (such as a wildfolk witch), they will commonly send their own witch as an intermediary.

They are ascribed have the ability to directly summon ancestors (who otherwise come and go of their own volition, and rarely ever deign to come at the call of one who is not their descendant). This is of great use when a person finds themselves punished by their ancestors with no certainty as to why, or cases where an orphaned child's ancestry must be identified to gain them proper spiritual support.

They are also regarded as having innate qualities of divination, particularly in reading birdsign (itself generally acknowledged as communication from ancestors, and occasionally gods). The average person has basic knowledge in reading omens of birds and a learned repertoire of key signs, but a witch can divine the messages of birdsign in immense and specific detail, through a vast knowledge system of the meanings of the species, sex, flight direction, gaze, prey, number, and songs of birds. It is common for people to approach a witch for a reading of the skies before undertaking a significant venture or life change, in order to receive detailed and specific advice.

Witches are always literate (and will be taught to read and write by their mentor if they cannot already) and will record their repositories of knowledge in tomes. These are items of absolute secrecy and taboo for a non-witch to touch (the consequences can be severe, you really don't want a witch ancestor-spirit upset with you). Witches can often become competitive about the knowledge stored in these tomes and are known to organize heists amongst themselves in order to gain access to each other's secrets. Most people avoid getting themselves entangled into the complicated rivalries of witches, as these competitions can get ugly and result in many a petty curse if one gains a witch's ire.

---

The only visual cue distinguishing this man as a witch is the tattoos on his forearms, otherwise usually regarded as inappropriate to mark in the contemporary Hill Tribes cultural sphere (the face, upper arms, and sternum is reserved for important clan/tribe/ancestry identification, hands and forearms are reserved for witches, and the rest of the body is appropriate for decoration). These unique forearm tattoos indicate his ancestral connection with a lineage of witches, not blood ancestry but rather the generations of mentors that have produced him. The lines extending down to his fingers are the newest, indicating that he has fully mentored another witch and gained a place in this ancestral line.

The rest of the tattoos here are tribe and blood ancestry identifiers (on the face and upper arms respectively, worn by all members of society), and purely decorative imagery (visible here is a deer, horse, eagle, and a dragon). He also has a snake on his forearm, applied decades ago in an act of youthful rebellion, which has since gotten in the way of critical open skin space.

His clothing is otherwise typical wear for warm seasonal conditions- a man's wool shawl and woven belt, short trousers, decorative deer hide (distinct to the Naig-Troibadnnas), and sandals (these are imported Wardi style sandals, which have been modified with preferred elevated heels). The horn shaped torc on his forearm identifies him as an esteemed elder.

[whoreiorcats]

im not here to like invalidate how other poc/asians specifically feel about gemma/ms casey and her storyline thus far but like, idk i really dont have notes. i love her. i find her to be one of the most relatable characters in fiction to me. there are a lot of arguments that she falls into certain stereotypes/tropes but the way i see it is that real life pushes asian women/fems into these boxes. like i am a (w)asian nonbinary lesbian, i've been loud and annoying and opinionated my whole life, and then i hit a place a few years ago where i found myself shrinking, trying to be quiet and small in order to get by. like, i felt like i was turning into someone else. kinda like.... ms casey/gemma. anyway the miscarriage stuff, idk i definitely get how that could bother people but it is also just in line with the themes of the show. i don't relate to wanting to have a child or miscarriages specifically, but i've wanted something terribly, worked really hard for it, and had it taken from me in a painful way and had that need to restore it used against me. is this way too much? idk. i just love gemma/casey/all of her innies so much and it hurts to see her reduced by certain readings, but i also want to respect people who don't feel comfortable with her portrayal. but. i love her forever until i die.

[thatsbelievable]

[xxbottlecapx]

Fic where soulmate identifying marks exist and Steve and Eddie realize they're soulmates during s4 but after Vecna, Eddie makes no move to be with Steve because he's scared.

Steve tries to at least befriend him, but Eddie is so scared of Steve being homophobic or something stupid like that that he does his best to cut all contact. Eddie doesnt want Steve to 'experiment' with him or something.

Eventually Steve stops trying, and they're just friendly enough to co parent the kids.

Flash forward a year or two and Eddie finds out Steve has known he was bi since Scoops and tries to start something with him only to find out that Steve was so heartbroken because he thought Eddie hated him that he got his soulmark removed. Eddie essentially has to build up Steve's self esteem and convince him he's worthy of love because Steve has spent the past few years believing that he's so unlovable that the person who's supposed to contain half of his soul can't stand him.

[jasper-unofficial]

neo trai and mark pakin reading their own (and each other's) characters for filth for 3 minutes gay

[sea-owl]

Me and bestie @thekatebridgerton were talking about a funny yet stupid idea for a polin soulmate au. I have to share it with you all.

In this au soulmates have matching marks on their skin that can appear anywhere. The more detailed mark, the deeper the bond. They generally appear around the time young adults are introduced into society. While some do try to find their matching marks others prioritize different aspects when selecting a marriage partner.

The Bridgertons, who are all known for their families' tales of soulmates, all have very detailed marks on some part of their bodies. Some have better responses to the marks than others. Violet herself very much wishes that each one of her children finds their soulmates like she did.

Across the street in the Featherington House, marrying ones soulmate is treated more like a fantasy. Lord and Lady Featherington were not soulmates. Portia had married for security and was determined to make sure her girls did the same as well.

The third born daughter, Penelope, never received a mark. Her skin remained unblemished from the day she was born. It's not as if she didn't look either. She looked almost every day the first season she debuted, but nothing ever appeared. Perhaps she wouldn't have been as disappointed as she had been if she wasn't in love with one Mr. Colin Bridgerton. But as fate would have it, he was born for someone else and Penelope was destined to be a spinster.

With her fate sealed in her mind, Penelope focused on her writings and built her empire as Lady Whistledown.

Years pass, events happen, and suddenly Penelope finds herself engaged to the man she fell in love all those years ago. It has been a whirlwind of a season and she's still unsure of how she got to this point. Why was Colin so insistent on marrying her? He has a soulmate out there, yet he keeps refusing to take any of the outs she gives him.

It was during one of these attempts that Colin appeared to finally have enough. He was in love with this woman damn it! And she loved him! Soulmate or not, and he was going to marry her.

Kisses were exchanged, clothes came off, and hands roamed. Colin's hand was currently on his favorite physical attribute of his wife. Slightly lifting it for a better grip, something caught his eye. Excitement began to fill him as pulled Penelope over to a mirror.

"Colin what-?" Penelope began to question as she stared at herself in the mirror.

Colin pressed a kiss to her temple. "Look," he said as he lifted her breast.

Hidden by her breast was a soul mark. One that matched perfectly on the man who was standing beside her, grinning at her through the mirror.

[enquire]

Happy birthday Nagito, you're a horse now

So I've had a couple designs hanging around unfinished. Since it's a certain lucky disaster's birthday today, I figured now as good a time to post these as any! You can consider these guest stars or background ponies in the AU, mostly just doing these for fun and not necessarily thinking about how they'd fit into the AU too much since it's DRA focused and all.

First up, Fleeting Fortune!

I'll keep this short, the main thing of note is his cutie mark; he's 'cursed' in a similar way to the other lucky pony I designed and has some wheel of fortune elements. I imagined something like his coat slowly bleaching more and more after getting his cutie mark. Also, he has a bit of an interesting cutie mark, as it changes depending on which part of the luck cycle he's in. The arrow will spin to the next section to indicate the flow of either bad or good fortune, over and over, as the cycle continues.

Next we have some mysterious guest background ponies... A griffon and an earth pony. you know what, let's play a game. If people can guess who they are without me naming them, I'll know I did a good job haha.

It was actually pretty tough coming up with color palettes for these two, especially our griffon friend here. I would also like everyone to know that this griffon is a blend of a tiger and a hoopoe bird. The hoopoe bird is mostly just because they look cool, fit the aesthetic, and helped me make a somewhat presentable mohawk. But the tiger bits were a must. Plus some diamonds for good measure. As for our earth pony, this is the first time I've ever drawn dreads on a pony, so that was fun haha. I did work a little off of Tree Hugger's hair a bit for that. Also, I imagine this earth pony as being a bit scruffy and I almost went for a goat hybrid but I ended up settling on just a little bit of bearding and fluff instead of the whole cloven hooves and horns thing haha.

Anyways, hope you're all doing good out there! The pony train continues.

[what-pony-is-this]

I used to ADORE a blind bag pony I had that had a name like "Banana Fuzz" or something very unappealing and her design was very ugly as well I loved her. Do you know who she is?

There are exactly 2 ponies with "Banana" in their names and funny enough they came from the same wave! (Wave 7, 2013)

I want to assume the pony we're looking for is "Banana Fluff", (yellow transparent coat and a purple/pink mane with pink/red eyes three crystals for a cutie mark rarity mould)

and what a name Banana Fluff is, makes me think of mold. and i love that for her.

our runner up could also be "Banana Bliss", (teal coat with purple/pink hair and purple eyes banana bunch for a cutie mark rainbow dash mould)

a little less immediately "ugly" looking, she gives me 'tropical scene kid' vibes though. and i love that for her as well.

i hoped this helped! if these are not the ponies you are looking for feel free to send another ask or even a DM including any other info you might remember about your pony.

💖

if you, too, are ever looking for a pony/want a pony identified please don't hesitate to send an ask, remember to include as many details as possible such as cutie mark, coat and mane colour if possible!

[kbirbpods]

Fandom: Batman x Danny Phantom (DPxDC)

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Length: 1,609 words

Ship: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd

Summary:

Jason has a romantic soulmate. The problem is… he doesn’t know their name. Until they quite literally tear their way into his life, that is.

Notes: Soulmate Identifying Marks, Jason is Red Hood, (very) background trans!Tim, (very) background Tim/Kon/Bernard as soulmates ~

[sorrydetka]

thinking about outie mark identifying gemma’s body, and innie mark recognizing her as ms. casey… but really, all innie mark did was recognize her body because whatever or whoever ms. casey is, it’s not gemma

[misgranadillas]

so. they need mark to complete cold harbor. and it kinda seems like they need mark specifically.... why? does it have something to do with his wife ? do the numbers feel scary bc it has something to do with what he feels about losing his wife ? or is it just bc he's a good leader and their team gets the job done (whatever it is)?

[sir-libearian]

When they are born, people are marked with the words they'll speak with the most emotion in their life. Many have their wedding vows or proposals on their skin or fur. Many more have eulogies, or the babytalk they unconsciously babble when first seeing their children. Still others have more mundane things said in their everyday lives. Joy, and grief, and every emotion between and connecting the two.

Galinda knows she’s marked for greatness. She’s herself, after all. What else could a life like hers lead to but the great and powerful. “No one mourns the wicked.” She’s destined to make some big change for good in Oz.

Glinda doesn’t connect those words with Elphaba, even as the propaganda about her spreads. Not until she's actually singing them, the requiem for the girl she loved, does it hit her what the words on her skin truly mean.

She mourns.

-

On ao3

[bepisbee]

Soulmate marker trope vidow for valentines owo

read on ao3

“Violet Smith.” Grandpa Smith scolded out of seemingly nowhere. He sure had the stern disappointed dad look down.

The cold tone of absolute trouble froze him to the core. Vio didn’t know what he’d done this time and that scared him. He always knew what he was in trouble for. His mind raced with the possibilities.

Blue was the one who offered to clean the stain! His arm was mid-air handing over the blackberry massacred tunic. It wasn’t his fault their Minish friends accidentally rube goldberg-d a comedic destruction of his clothing via flying smashed blackberries for jam. He was just glad he had caught the poor fellow, even at the cost of their craft and his clothes.

“W-what?” his purple eyes went wide as they whipped to Grandpa Smith, standing behind them. With his back now facing Blue, her mouth dropped.

“What is that??” Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in closer, getting smacked with his braid as he turned back to her.

“What is what!?” Smith’s anger deflated at his grandson’s honest bafflement growing into concern. Which only led him to confusion too. Blue held his shoulders firmly.

“Stop moving.” She stays him as she checks out a large black marking on the skin of his back. “Did you get a tattoo with Shadow Link? How long has this been here?” she hissed.

“Did I… what? That is ridiculous. You know I hate needles.” Vio crossed his arms stubbornly. It was one of the only things that scared him, a fact very few knew about. It embarrassed him deeply. He had stared death and darkness in the face, invited them in, and needles made him squeamish. “What the hell are you two going on about? This is not funny.”

“It isn’t a prank, Vio. There is a mark on your back.” Their Grandpa soothed.

“Several.” Blue huffs.

“What?” He racked his brain for any reasoning. “How…? What does it look like?” Vio frowns. Something in the back of his mind is hyping him up, but he doesn’t believe it. Vio can’t see anything over either shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t look in mirrors anymore.” It was still too painful. No matter what he’d gone through bringing him home. He couldn't look in a mirror without seeing the night he held a hammer to Shadow’s life source.

He tries to keep a neutral expression, thinking of Shadow laying in the dark recovery room right now. That had been the whole reason for making the jam in the first place. It was a comfort food he had shared with him.

“Vio??” Blue looks between them all and shakes her head. He jumps, apologizing for being so lost in his own head for a minute.

Finally convinced he really didn’t know, she starts to describe it. She presses at the nape of his neck, “There’s an earth symbol here under some flower or plant. Then vines that curl and run all across your shoulder blades that surround the element.” Vio immediately stiffens up.

“What does the flower look like?” At his insistence, Blue does her best to describe the spiderlily on his skin. Grandpa Smith watches in calm silence as Vio’s face contorts to a strange mix of pride and bewilderment.

“There’s no way.” He whispers and shakes his head.

“Do you want to see it? I have a full mirror in my room.”

Vio raises eyebrows at the offer. Blue rarely let anyone in her room, she had always been very particular about her OCD and it was her safe haven of everything in her control. He hesitates, but nods. Clothes forgotten, they pad up to the immaculate bedroom. Grandpa stayed by the open door frame respecting her space.

He looks around, admiring for a moment. Vio expected it to be color themed, like the others and his. It was to an extent, hues of blues and greens. There were many splashes of red, green, purple, and black and even some pinks. His own room was entirely black and purple down to the quil, aside from his books.

She nudges him towards the tall body length mirror next to the closet. Vio steps slowly towards it. Blue is mindful to stay within his view in the frame. Vio is touched by how thoughtful it is, and it really did help him. He swallows thickly. It had been literal years since he had seen his own reflection. Vio takes a deep breath and looks at his appearance.

Slightly shorter than Blue. A bit more weight to his bones, but plenty of strength in his arms. He analyzed his face next: shiny purple eyes that stuck after the last seperation, a little paler in color but he had been inside a lot lately. Gods, did he really look so exhausted? Was that normal? If he didn’t know better he would say he had been coldcocked in the face with how dark the bags were under his eyes. He turned to see his back, brushing the braid away to his front. His mind was reeling, could it actually be possible? Now he was desperate to see himself and the alleged tattoo-like mark on his back.

“....oh.” Vio felt all his air breathe out with the small noise. His whole world shattering and reconnecting. Everything he did and didn’t do suddenly shook his bones with new meaning. There on his back, clear as day, was the same design ingrained to his mind. That he now realizes is his and Shadow’s soulmate mark. A design unique to those that  pair them. Not one the slightest bit alike, outside of their destined paramores. They only appear when two destined souls intertwine, however that may be. It was rare. More rare than Blue leaving something in her room crooked. His knees started shaking. “Blue?”

“What’s happening? Are you okay? You went so pale and then red-”

Vio reached a hand back towards her, “I think m’gonnapassou-” He didn't finish the sentence, but thankfully Blue understood it anyways and caught him. Grandpa reached out on instinct despite being too far away, Blue passed him a a small smile. She sighed and picked him up easily. Forge work made him seem as light as a hammer. She carried him to his room and set him down on the bed.

Blue had to kick a few things out of the way on the floor. Smith chuckled as she began to organize while they waited for Vio to come to.

“Whas- ah?” He sat up, rubbing his face. “Where did-? Oh.” Vio relaxes. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Smith sat next to him, giving his best concerned dad vibes. Vio shrunk a little, sheepish.

“That is,” He begins, “The mark it is… it’s on Shadow. I thought he just had a tattoo, or- a mark from Vaati or the mirror,” His tone is so quiet he has to lean in to hear. “It is the same. The exact same.”

“I think,” He pats his shoulder, “You should have a glass of water. Then go find your Shadow and tell him.” Vio turns flush at the possessive term of ‘Your Shadow���. He nods and returns the small smile. Blue throws a notebook at him.

“I will clean this mess up so your room is presentable. Absolute heathen.” She huffs at him good naturedly. As he opens his mouth she waves him off, “I won’t touch your bookshelves, calm down.” She goes back to picking up bits. “Go on,” She shoos him away.

Vio gathers himself, and a new shirt, and does as he’s told for once. He would take any chance to be near Shadow anyways.

He was right in thinking he would be awake by the time he arrived. Shadow was sitting up, still a little dizzy but overall okay. He was in the dark with a few candles around. It was the start of their plan to slowly introduce more light and see how he handled it. The door clacked shut behind him and He looked up. Shadow blew purple fluff out of his face and absolutely beamed.

“Vio!” He smiled so big it crinkled his eyes, little fangs bearing at him. “Good morning.” His feet started swinging back and forth.

“Hey,” Vio melted. His pretty red eyes shining in the dim space. He stepped over and sat next to him, bringing up one leg bent onto the bed and touching Shadow’s thigh. “How are you feeling?” He softly maneuvered his face, cupping his cheek, then placing his wrist on his forehead. “Mm usual colder temperature, that's good.” he nods. Shadow touches his hand, bringing it down and then holding it.

“I missed you.” Shadow kissed his cheek, making them turn pink. Vio giggles stupidly and Shadow beams again, he loved when Vio did that.

“Me too.” He rested their foreheads together. “I… need to show you something.” he pulled back and stood up. Shadow just gave a slight head tilt and watched. Vio pulled off the spare tunic and Shadow whistled at him.

“Damn sweetheart, I thought I wasn’t allowed that much physical activity yet.” He’s got a shit eating grin and Vio throws the shirt at him. He laughs.

“Shut up.” He pouts. “I am being serious. Look.” He turns to show him.

“Oh wow. Wait is that-?” He blinks at Vio and then understanding hits. “Oh.” He puts a clawed hand very gently against his back. He traces the lines. “Vio…” The touch rose goosebumps across his flesh.

“I found out earlier today, actually.” He doesn’t want Shadow to stop, delightful electric buzzing under his skin, but he wants to look at him. Vio sits back down with him on the bed. “Shadow, I-” he doesn’t get to finish, finding his mouth messily moving against Shadow’s. Shadow tangled his hand in his hair and pulled him in. Vio gasps into his lips and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against Vio’s. All thoughts slide away and he relaxes into him. Shadow brings him down to the bed, laying under him snugly. He encourages affection through breaks for air across Vio’s face. 

Vio is beautifully flush, and Shadow is close behind. He once again slips his tongue, taking his time to acquaint himself and enjoy it. An occasional pleased noise breaking the silence of the room. Vio pulled back, lips swollen and warmth in his eyes and expression.

“You,” his voice cracks and he has to clear his throat. “You are right about not pushing your physical limits, unfortunately. I am afraid if we continue like this, I will end up breaking my own rule.” He tucks a hair strand behind Shadow’s ear. Shadow catches his hand and kisses the palm.

“Please, my love. You and I both know we were made to break the rules.” Mischief sparkled in those dangerous eyes.

“I am sure that is not how the saying goes,” He relents, leaning back into him.

“Hm. Oh well,” With a smirk he brings them back together. “Just go easy on me, alright?"

Vio responds with vigor, hell he was already topless. It was sort of his fault anyway. “Alright,”