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Soulmates. He had always wanted one, wished for it when he sat alone in the dark, long forgotten and abandoned. He had heard of the person whose soul was connected to your own, the one person who could love him. Apparently they had soulmarks, marks one had that would show on the other.There were many kinds of soul marks though, sometimes it was names, symbols, even moving or changing marks.
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Sanji had never believed in soulmates, never believed he deserved one, never believed someone could love him. Judge had made sure he knew just how worthless he was.
If soulmates could feel each other's pain, then Sanji was only making them suffer.
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He found himself clutching helplessly at his chest as it heaved, begging for air. He hacked and gagged around a foreign object in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as his vision spotted from lack of oxygen. Finally, relief filled him as the object escaped his lips, air flooding his lungs. He collapsed heavily on his hands and knees as his body shook in the aftermath of his coughing fit. When he finally managed to catch his breath and wipe the hot tears from his eyes, he dared to look at the object of his suffering. His blood ran cold as he stared, red petals of a chrysanthemum and daffodils laid in front of his shaking fingers. No… You can’t.
Before he even blinked the petals were alight in flame and reduced to ash. His body trembled at the realization, memories of Tevinter flooding his mind in hot red flashes of fear. ‘You are no son of mine!’ ‘Faggot!’ ‘Ha! Love? You? Don’t be ridiculous, Pavus.’ Hot tears seared his cheeks as the beautiful face of the Inquisitor appeared, twisted into a grimace, disgust and disappointment; as he turned away. A choked sob ripped from Dorian’s throat as his chest constricted around his lungs. No! Not again! Never Again! Not him... please…
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Soul marks are a sign of your soulmate that will appear at anytime in your life. These marks are meant to lead you to your soulmate.
Trafalgar Law could care less about the scar under his left eye, all he wanted to do was kill Doflamingo. Or so he thought.
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‘The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the flower. It can also be cured if the other party returns the affections. The stages are first difficulty breathing, coughing fits, spewing up flower petals occasionally, then often, and finally spewing up whole flowers until they can no longer breath and inevitably die of asphyxiation.
Recent bookmarks
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The only cure for bloodlust is oblivion.
Bookmarked by theForsakenJedi69
16 Mar 2024
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Touch is… risky, with the Urges. Tav tries to hide how hard it can be. It doesn’t take long for the others to notice.
Series
Bookmarked by theForsakenJedi69
16 Mar 2024
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Lokeil stayed rooted where he stood, the uneasiness of the artifact feeling more like his own. If what he dreamt about was real, if what his butler told him was as true as it felt, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember. When he felt wrong in the morning, that otherness creeping in from the back of his head to the tips of his fingers and vestiges of memory flitting just out of his grasp, it took him hours to get reacquainted with the version of himself he was trying to be.
A cold hand wrapped around the base of his tail and pulled.
“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache,” Astarion said. “Stop it.”
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A minor detour to the githyanki creche, Karlach encourages a bit of pretend, and a quick romp outside camp.Series
Bookmarked by theForsakenJedi69
24 Feb 2024
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“Finally with me, I see.”
“I never left."
“That’s where you’re wrong. You left me behind today–for foolish reasons I might add–because you don’t seem to realize that I am only ever safe with you. You left, to gods knows where, the second we got a moment to ourselves. You. Keep. Leaving.” Sharp nails dug into the wound at his side, and Lokeil hissed. “This wouldn’t have happened had I been there.”
Astarion’s head dipped down, tongue licking a line up the cut and digging in to split the skin and make it weep. Lokeil shuddered underneath him, his hand tangling in those soft curls and tugging if only to have something to do with his hands. It hurt, hells it stung, but when Astarion’s hand cupped him through his trousers Lokeil was weak to do anything but moan.
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Lokeil loses himself at the Grymforge. Astarion has a bone to pick with him.Series
Bookmarked by theForsakenJedi69
24 Feb 2024
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no masters or kings when the rituals begin by HgBird
Fandoms: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
21 Nov 2023
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They were beautifully evil people, who fit together like shards of broken glass.
“You can come like this, can’t you?”
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AKA The Dark Urge sits on Astarion's throne, and the Ascendant Vampire doesn't take too kindly to it.Bookmarked by theForsakenJedi69
24 Feb 2024