-I don't know how well you can read that bottom part... if you can't read any of it let me know and I'll do my best to fix it...
At birth, a person will wear THEIR soulmark somewhere on their body. It is very rare and seen as special to be given a mark. Many cherish it, whether they find their partner or not.
Later on, in life, their partners soulmark may appear depending on the distance between one another.
Someone whose partner lives on a different continent may never get to see their partners soulmark unless they were to move closer.
While each mark is different in its own way, it is known that every mark has three large spots that appear alongside it. One represents emotions, another physical wellness, while the third shows if their partner has some kind of permanent deformity, trauma, or mental illness.
**These dots are known as, Yen, Yang, and Bip. Respectfully.
Yen (Emotions) is shown in Orange, and is always the dot on the very top of the soulmark, making it stand out the most. A Yen connected to a soulmark is very rare but is documented. It is unknown for
the cause of why this happens.
Yang (Physical Wellness) is shown in Yellow and is likely to show just above Bip, though it has been
documented to show up almost anywhere below Yen.
Bip (Permanence) is shown in Purple and is always connected to the soulmark, research has told us that it is because many may never use this dot. It is found to stay the colour of the soulmark unless a deformity, trauma, or mental illness is presented. Once Bip has changed colours it will never change back unless presented with death. Memory loss does not effect Bip.
The actually first chapter won't be out for a while, this is just so I can get all the tags and summary out of the way.
Ah, but don't worry too much about memorizing it, you just need the bottom part really, so I typed it out just in case. The colours we'll be talked about a lot. So it'll show up all throughout the work and when we mention a colour we will add it's meaning some way or another.
~I know what colour goes to which dot, that's what matters, lmao.
Chapter 2: Breathe, It's a nightmare.
The ground shook, and then everything had come crumbling down.
*RileyMoore_Thomas writes with parentheses around his words! Anything without was written by 1_begone_1 AKA 2bi. (-Only in the beginning and endnotes, mind you lmao...)
(Ah ha ha! I regret nothing! ;] )
Izuku woke coughing, dry and airy. He drew in a ragged breath, it was hard to breathe. A heavyweight suffocating his lungs and each inhale gave off a feeling of drowning. The darkness that greeted him was odd, not a single trace of light in sight. He distantly wondered if his eyes were closed. The air tasted stale, coated in a layer of sawdust and insulation. He could still smell a hint of freshly baked goods and apple cider. This was the shop... The distant groaning of metal and subtle shifting of rock and debris had him on edge. A building had collapsed, on top of him. Why? What had happened?
He went to sit up and was stopped by a jarring pain that ran throughout his whole body. His right arm especially. It felt like a thousand hot needles had been speared into his flesh.
A sudden flare of pain in his chest had him biting back an agonized scream, something was wrong, oh so very wrong. His breathing grew unsteady as he reached over with a free hand, feeling the air above his chest. He winced when his palm came into contact with a thin, smooth pole. It was about the width of his pinky finger, with small ridges appearing along its surface every few inches. The metal vibrated, and his sternum pulsing right along with it. Shit.
He followed it down and had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat. The pole was piercing straight through his chest, just below his left pectoral and right into the top abdominal muscle.
“Ah… T-that’s n… Not good…” A wet-strained laugh bubbled it’s way past his lips. It wasn’t funny, no. Not when no one was coming, who knows how much rubble was covering the spot he laid at. It could take days before it was cleared away. He grabbed at the ground digging his nails into the surface he laid upon, clawing around for anything useful. His hands only caught shards of glass, curved and some straight. Broken cups, some from a window. There were splinters all over, shattered bits of wood from chairs and once alive plants. It hurt, he couldn’t feel his other arm anymore, everything past his elbow was completely numb while the rest felt like it’d been doused in gasoline and lit ablaze.
He kept his breathing steady, chest barely moving and he breathed with his gut. It minimized the pain. He couldn’t taste copper, his lungs weren't filling with blood. So it was safe to assume it hadn’t pierced a lung, but it did certainly hurt to breath.
How long had he been down? Minutes? Hours? Don’t think about it, assess the wounds, check your surroundings, find help.
He lifted his hand bringing it back toward himself. With a pause he inhaled sharply, pressing gently around where the pole that pierced his flesh, the blood on his shirt and skin was thick and dry. Clotted. That was good. He wasn’t bleeding out from there at least. He had no clue about his arm but he could feel the warm wetness pooling around his torso. He couldn’t tell if it was from his back or from his arm, but whatever it was, it was bad. He’d felt lightheaded for a while now. He steadied himself, he knows he’d come in with a phone. It had to be near.
He patted around, carefully scraping his fingers along anything he could hold, before moving to check his left pocket. There was no way he’d be able to reach the other, and he couldn’t tell if there was anything in it anyways. Multiple objects dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, pens and small bits of neatly folded paper along with some coins that clicked against the ground as they fell from his pocket. He gasped, relieved at the familiar sleek feeling of metal in his fingers. A flip phone.
He dropped his head to the left, chunks of concrete and bits of glass digging into his cheek as he looked at the brightly lit screen of the phone. He Braced the back of his hand against the ground so he could both hold the phone with his palms while typing with his thumb. It was things like this that he wished he could afford a new version. The voice-activated feature would’ve come in handy right about now. He didn’t take the time to check who he was calling, picking the first number at the top of the list the moment he had his contacts open.
The dial tone played. “Hey… uh, leave a message at the beep, I guess.”
He probably had a concussion, because it was getting hard to think straight. The air was stuffy and hot and his body was going numb. He pressed a button, listening to the phone ring, hoping that someone would pick up.
He didn’t know how long he could stay awake.