#twisted pride header

[hiloedits]

— remo + nevio falcone headers

like or reblog if you use/save.

© hiloedits on twitter.

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Header by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💕💕

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. ��A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[enluv]

in another life.

lee heeseung x f!reader x ??? (it'll make sense when you read I promise)

SYNOPSIS: in which losing you is the least of heeseung’s worries, until he’s forced to watch you slip through his fingers.

wc: 1.9k (almost 2k fr)!

genres: best friends to strangers, unrequited love (or is it), best friends to lovers

warning(s): heavy angst, toxic friendship/relationship, heeseung is mean, very very mean, manipulation (nothing too crazy), refusal to take blame, and heeseung needs to be humbled imo...ANYWAYS, small plot twist but not really! (a/n: header is ugly because I made it in like 2 minutes since it felt naked without one 🤣☝🏽)

Lee Heeseung knows about your feelings for him at  the mere age of eight, when you give him the other half of your popsicle stick that you’ve just bought with your very own allowance. His smile is so bright taking the food from your hand that it doesn't even matter if you've spent all five of your dollars on the popsicle because as long as your youthful heart can see Heeseung smile, that’s all that matters to you.

Heeseung also knows about your feelings for him when you're both sixteen and he proudly exclaims that he’s finally asked Jisun out after months of pining after her. A hurt look flashes across your face for one, two then three seconds, then as if it was never there, it’s gone. He thinks it might have been a bad idea to tell you but he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings you have for him and in his mind, he never will. 

“Come on Y/N, it’s one party, please come with me please, I don’t want to be alone all night,” he pouts tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. Heeseung knows it’s not right to do things like this, knows he shouldn’t force you to go with him everywhere but he likes that you can’t say no to him, it swells his heart with pride to have someone care for him as much as you do.

“I already told you I have to study for midterms, go alone or with Jay.” Your tone isn’t dead-set and Heeseung knows he’s cornered you. He smiles as an idea forms in his head, maybe he can persuade you with just enough charm, it’s worked in the past so why not now?

“I seriously can not believe Heeseung got you to come, I know he said he could do it but honestly Y/N, I thought you were stronger than that.” It’s always the same sentence or form of it. It tugs at your heart, just like in high school people in college are just as aware of how you feel for him, even he knows it himself. He plays a blind man to your feelings.

An ache begins to pump in your heart, whatever liquor Yeonjun had handed you when you stepped in seems to not be working and that night as you watch Heeseung dance with Mina, you vow to yourself silently that you'll start your process of healing from whatever feelings you have for Lee Heeseung.

A few days later Jay watches a frantic Heeseung search for his phone charger in amusement, “Missing an important call?” He quips playfully, the whole house knows why he’s so desperate to charge his dying phone. The past three days since he ditched you at TXT’s frat party you’ve been ignoring his texts, calls, and even him.

“Hyung, why are you so worried about Y/N calling? Didn't you ditch her? I wouldn’t call either if I was her,” the small comment earns Sunghoon a smack to the back of his head.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N would never ignore me like this. All I have to do is apologize with breakfast and she’ll accept it every time, we’ve done this before and never gone a day without talking.”

The boys can’t fully grasp why Heeseung is acting the way he is, to them he sounds like a desperate boyfriend after a fight that’s resulted in the silent treatment but Heeseung has continuously said he does not feel the same towards his best friend so they write it off as some form of separation anxiety and leave his room.

“I’m surprised you’ve held out this long Y/N,” jokes a sheepish Jeongin as he takes a glance at your phone screen that’s currently being lit up by multiple unread messages from Heeseung.

“I told you I’m ready to move on, I’ll talk to him when I see fit, I just need a few more days to myself.”

He hums in response as he lifts himself off his chair reaching a hand out for you to follow, “I’m proud of you ‘s all, he’s an asshole for using your feelings against you and making you feel the way he did, you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve someone who'd never ditch you." 

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since you've spoken to Heeseung, his room is a mess with clothes and books scattered on the floor, usually you come by and help him organize things. He's had enough of this. Your contact suddenly flashes across his screen while he's out on a date, he doesn't hesitate to answer, bidding the girl he's dropping off a quick goodbye.

“Hello? Y/N? I’m really glad you called me, I have so much to ask you but guess what, I just had the most amazing date-” he’s cut off by your loud sigh and for a moment his heart drops, you've never stopped him from ranting about dates.

“Heeseung,” his name sounds foreign coming from your mouth, “we really need to talk, I have a lot to say to you so could we please meet tomorrow?” He isn't sure why but his stomach twists at your request.

The meeting between you two is quick and to Heeseung's surprise, brief. You explain to him that leaving you at a party he begged you to come to had upset you since it wasn’t his first time doing so, you also tell him that you needed the two weeks of space from not only him but everyone else to care for yourself, and you’d hoped he understood that. Of course he did, he felt shitty just thinking about the situation and promised to never do it again, to be a better "friend."

Things after your initial break from Heeseung fall back into place quickly and it's as if you never left his side, but he could tell you were different now, you refused to go with him to parties if he asked and any charming tricks he had up his sleeve fell flat when you'd respond with a hard “No.” Heeseung also noticed the interest you'd taken in Jeongin, and that made him feel things he'd never felt before. 

It’s difficult to watch you flirt with one of his best friends, on one hand he should feel happy watching your attention sway to someone else after having caught it for so many years but on the other he isn’t happy at all, to be completely honest he feels bitter at the thought of you two together. 

“You're an asshole Heeseung, like a really big one, do you know how long Y/N has been in love with you? Since we were like eight playing cops and robbers in the streets, and she loved you throughout the time that came after and every time we asked, you denied any feelings for her, but now all of a sudden you think you might love her back? Just when she's finally healing from the shit you put her through? That’s such an asshole move dude, super low of you,” and as Beomgyu’s rant subsides Heeseung stares at him puzzled, what did he ever do that was so bad to you?

“Don't give me that look, you've done so much shit to her, hell I don't know how she’s still your best friend, if I was her I’d have left you already.”

Heeseung continues to give Beomgyu the most confused look ever and with a small eye roll Beomgyu answers his question, “You use her to get what you want but never have you done anything to show her gratitude or any reciprocated feelings. All you ever do is give her hope, you act like you like her back when you need her but as soon as you get what you want, you leave her behind. It’s fucking sad dude. You're a horrible friend to her honestly.”

Heeseung’s heart burns, he’s known his whole life that he’d done this to you but to hear it laid out in front of him now, he can see how terrible it all actually is. How had you continued being his friend? If he was in your position he’d have left ages ago, but you didn’t, and that single thought is what gives Heeseung hope for you and him. He knows it’s dumb, he knows he doesn’t deserve you at all, but he wants you terribly and if he has to beg he will, if he has to lie he will, hell Heeseung would drop everyone for you. All that matters is that you stay with him, not with anyone else, and especially not with Jeongin.

Heeseung can spot you from a mile away. His smile grows wide before dropping instantly as he watches Jeongin hand you what looks to be a flower. The look on your face mirrors Jeongin’s, it’s happy and full. You've never smiled at him that way. Heeseung realizes that the only smiles you give him now are filled with sadness. His stomach knots, why does he feel so unsure of you right now. He’s never felt this much uncertainty from you ever. 

He blames it on the fact that you two haven’t been talking as much lately. He blames the short break you had because there’s no way you’d actually stop wanting to be his friend, no way he’d ever lose you. You’ve always been by his side, and it will continue to be that way, because you love him and he has you wrapped around his finger. But, Heeseung knows deep down this security can’t be fed any longer as he watches you walk past him, hand in hand with Jeongin, not a single look his way, he's lost you.

It’s proven to him in the months to come as you slowly slip out of his pinned messages, as you take him off your private stories, and he has to watch you live your life through others. Heeseung knows he’s lost you especially when all together you stop coming to his rescue, won’t pick up the phone to hear his ramblings about dates and girls. He knows he’s lost you when you tell him you’re busy and can’t do what he wants. When you send him an awkward smile and gesture to your hand entwined with Jeongin's, as if to say, "sorry I'm with him now, you're too late."

If anyone ever asks Lee Heeseung about his one true love, he’ll say your name. He’s never been sure of what love is, never found it for himself, but he knows deep down that if he’s ever loved anyone, it’s you. You were the person he called at 3am when he crashed his car into a pole, you were the same person whose dorm had housed him a multitude of times when he was too drunk to crawl back to his own, the same person who loved him for years, until you couldn’t any longer and stopped waiting on him to give you the same love back, thinking he could never give it to you.

Heeseung likes to think that in another life he wasn't a complete asshole, realized your worth sooner, and maybe even had the balls to ask you out. He pictures himself in Jeongin's place, dating through college, moving in together after, getting married, having kids, living domestically. All he can do now is dream, maybe that's why he likes to sleep so much, because in his sleep-ridden mind, you're with him.

coco’s love note: mwahahahaha did you guys like the plot twist? are we happy 😁 are we mad? should we fight heeseung?! tbh writing this fic has been a wild ride, originally i had mc & heeseung end up with one another but then I decided that no, i didn’t want that, I wanted to show the results of a toxic “relationship” running it’s course through and through, that’s why heeseung never quite admits he’s wrong/he still feels entitled to mc even till the end! I wanted to show that he’d never change, even if he did “love” mc. anyways…thoughts?! comments?! concerns?! make sure to leave a comment or rb this with anything you’d like me to know or tell me how you felt about this fic :) muah ily! ty @odxrilove for reading it for me and not letting me change it again 😁🙏

ENHYPEN TAGLIST! - yeoforce @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie @tytrackfebreze @veryjeongintxtkid @w3bqrl @heefys @haechan-nahceah @telesvng @queen-klarissa @odxrilove @s00buwu @j-wyoung

[airbendertendou]

May I please get a scenario or hc (whatever is easier for you!) of Rindo’s s/o dying their hair to match his hair color? Like they do it while he’s at work and he has no idea until he comes home. Thank you! I hope you have a good day/night!

synopsis : reader changes their hair to match their boyfie <3 characters included : mikey, ran, draken, koko & bonten!rindou

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— MANJIRO! ♥︎ you copy his classic, half-up hairstyle ♥︎ doesn't even notice you've changed your hair ♥︎ draken says something snarky abt it like "oh, you're matching, cute." ♥︎ nd mikey goes ??? w his cheeks puffed out from a taiyaki ♥︎ but when he turns to see you ♥︎ it's like the sun shines down onto you carefully ; like angels are singing ; like he's falling in love all over again ♥︎ his head flops onto your shoulder, arms shakily bringing you closer to his hold ♥︎ mumbles something about turning you into a sano /:

— DRAKEN! ♥︎ you go for jus a simple braid, a little piece of hair tugged out ♥︎ he snorts when he sees you, rolling his eyes nd everything ♥︎ but his ears are so so red ♥︎ and hes thought abt how to tell you how pretty you look ; how you need a dragon tattoo now, too ♥︎ shoves you under his arm when you tease him abt his blush, digging his chin into the top of your head annoyingly ♥︎ tugs on that little strand a lot!! jus to get your attention, he swears ♥︎ but has this sort of pride in his eyes when you show your hair off at the toman meeting

— RAN! ♥︎ your hair is styled into two braided pigtails ♥︎ oh hes so smug ♥︎ but also keeps an eye narrowed and focused on anyone mking inappropriate comments ♥︎ we live in a society where pigtails are sexualized ♥︎ twirls your braids the way he twirls his!! ♥︎ will also purposely mess his hair up so you have to fix it for him ): ♥︎ grins at any and all matching hair accessories he see ♥︎ talk him out of getting the giant, obvious bows please

— KOKONOI! ♥︎ can b his bonten hair or his current one! ♥︎ either way, you twist or braid a few pieces of hair to mimic his style ♥︎ hates it at first ♥︎ bc how dare you make his signature style look better than he does ):< ♥︎ ends up liking it bc now he has easy access to kiss your ear nd neck ♥︎ he goes through all the other styles you'd look nice in ; all the colors you could pull off ♥︎ something about your hair matching his... ♥︎ makes you feel more official, somehow

— RINDOU! ♥︎ bonten era ; you get the jellyfish cut! or maybe copy his colors- ♥︎ he knew abt your hair appointment but didnt think it was anything out of the ordinary ♥︎ little did he know.... ♥︎ he just stares ♥︎ like wide-eyed, heartstopping, can barely breathe stares ♥︎ stands to his full height and cups your chin, turning your head gently to get a full view ♥︎ grins w pink cheeks ): kisses the tip of your nose and just continues to stare ♥︎ "all mine......" its whispered before he takes your breath in a kiss ♥︎ He's Obsessed.

——♥︎—— im so sorry for the lack of content lately ); hope this was okay / the format was alright. if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♥︎

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy @night-shadowblood-writes2 @muichirouswifeandhusband @chrofeisnightmaregf

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[venusphoriia]

header image by Yunii from Amino !!

୨୧ ; ❛ percy jackson ❜

⤷ Clarisse La Rue

— The Second Act , loving you is her greatest weakness, but also her greatest desire.

— Drunken Tears and Soft Confessions , you drink away the pain, hoping it will eventually fill the void. It never does.

— Lovesick Denial , jealousy and denial, not really a good combo, is it?

— Maybe in Another Life , she honestly would’ve loved you.

୨୧ ; ❛ obey me ❜

⤷ Lucifer, Sin of Pride

— His Morning Star , obey me! yandere scenarios.

⤷ Mammon, Sin of Greed

— 0:53 am , in which you are finally reunited with your long lost lover.

୨୧ ; ❛ twisted wonderland ❜

⤷ Leona Kingscholar

— 2:43 am , in which, leona grows infatuated with you after a one night stand.

part ii

୨୧ ; ❛ dc comics ❜

⤷ Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

— The Pain of Loving You , in the grief of losing one, she also lost you.

[blueberry-pride]

Let Your Curious Mind Wander~

Creating all kinds of wonder and content for Twisted Wonderland

Hello there! My name is Blueberry or Berry for short. Welcome to my page of aesthetic, writing, and ramblings. Hope you enjoy your stay here!

Ayyo, new design and format? hell yeaa! All the requests from the previous follower events will still push through, life just manages to keep me really busy and tired ;=; TWST scenarios and X Readers will now solely be for follower events or specials, so my inbox for that is closed for now so I could focus on my edits as well as original fanart JP TWST: BerryEli UJ9Cu4rX Discord: MeMesElise#7609 (Last Updated: April 25, 2023)

Let Me Tell You A Tale~

(Stories/Scenarios/Headcanons)

Let Me Show You My Magic~ (Original works/Fanarts/TWST OCs)

Let Me Twist The Tapestry~ (Fan Edits/Wallpapers/Desktop & Phones)

Dorm Leaders set-Desktop (Very first post!)

Dorm Leaders Valentines Playlist-Phone

Endless Halloween-Desktop

Shared Harveston Kelkkarotu/New Years-Desktop

Masterchef-Deuce & Jamil duo-Ruggie & Malleus duo-Desktop

Fairy Gala: What If-Desktop

NRC Headers

Dorm Minimalist- Ipad

Subtle TWST Minimalist- Ipad

Subtle TWST Minimalist-Desktop

Tsumsted Wonderland-Desktop

Portfest-Desktop

Shared Vargas Camp Part 2 & Masterchef Cater and Rook duo- Desktop

Glorious Masquerade Part 1-Desktop

Glorious Masquerade Part 2-Desktop

Glorious Masquerade Event-Desktop

Glorious Masquerade Event- Phone

Dorm Playlist- Phone

Birthday Set-Desktop

Dorm Pattern-Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist-Phone

Union Bday-Desktop

Headers

Dorm Playlist

Riddle Rosehearts

Dorm Pride-Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Trey Clover

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Cater Diamond

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Deuce Spade

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Ace Trappola

Ace Appreciation-Desktop

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Birthday set-Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist-Desktop

Union Bday-Desktop

Headers

Dorm Playlist

Leona Kingscholar

Leona appreciation-Desktop

Dorm Pride-Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Ruggie Bucchi

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Jack Howl

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Birthday set-Desktop

Dorm Pattern-Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist-Desktop

Union Bday-Desktop

Headers

Dorm Playlist

Azul Ashengrotto

Dorm Pride-Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Jade Leech

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Floyd Leech

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Dorm Pattern-Desktop

Shared Scarabia/Pomefiore Birthday set- Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist

Union Bday-Desktop

Header

Dorm Playlist

Kalim Al Asim

Dorm Pride- Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Jamil Viper

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Dorm Pattern-Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist

Union Bday-Desktop

Headers

Dorm Playlist

Vil Schoenheit

Dorm Pride-Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Rook Hunt

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Epel Felmier

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Dorm Pattern-Desktop

Shared Ignihyde/Diasomnia Birthday set-Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist

Union Bday-Desktop

Headers

Dorm Playlist

Idia Shroud

Dorm Pride-Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Ortho Shroud

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Dorm Pattern -Desktop

Dorm Pride-Desktop

Valentines Special Playlist

Union Bday-Desktop

Headers

Dorm Playlist

Malleus Draconia

Dorm Pride-Phone

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Lilia Vanrouge

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Silver

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

Sebek Zigvolt

SR/SSR Card set as of 2021-Desktop

[editingwonderland]

. the basics

this is a general editing blog ! I always accept requests for things listed on my sources , but will also sometimes be opening my ask box to non-listed sources ! if these types of requests are currently being accepted, they will be noted somewhere in my description, so keep an eye out !

if you would like to denote your request as for a kin, fictive, d/a, etc, feel free to include in your ask for me to denote the dis-allowance of certain tags from anyone but the requester.

you can send as many requests as you like at once, but please send them one request per ask ! it makes it easier on me to stay organized and also for me to not have to finish multiple edits all at once, since i usually pick away at the ask box during my spare time !

you do not have to request something media related ! i will also always accept any types of edits themed around something like an aesthetic, a mood, a song, etc. with the only exception of icons.

credit is not necessary , but i DO necessitate reblogging any set you save/use please, and you are not allowed to claim any of my edits as your own !

I run a zero tolerance policy here in terms of bigotry. I do not have a specific DNI, but I'll block you if i see you engaging in that sort of behavior. be nice to each other. i would also rather discourse blogs not interact with me.

i retain the right to delete any request i am not comfortable completing for any reason. i do not have a formal blacklist, but please just use common decency in terms of what you request.

. sources i do

. Project Sekai , Vocaloid / Vocal Synths (General) , Twisted Wonderland , Sailor Moon , Ever After High , Worst Girl Games (We Know The Devil and Heaven Will Be Mine) , Undertale and Deltarune, Cookie Run (Ovenbreak & Kingdom)

I will do edits as normal for the follow sources below, however, additionally, I will allow characters from the following sources as THEMES for edits featuring characters from the above sources (Example; A Minori Hanasato wallpaper with Hello Kitty as a theme)

. Sanrio , Animal Crossing , Sonic The Hedgehog , My Little Pony (All Generations)

. what i do

Icons (Can be done in 100x100 or 300x300, please specify which. Additional details to include are colors, borders, and themes. I will also do pride icons.)

Reply Icons (Comes in one size. Can specify a theme, otherwise they will directly inspired by the character you request for them.)

Aesthetics / Moodboards (Aesthetics are done on a 4x2 grid, while moodboards are done on a 3x3 board. Details to include are colors and themes.)

Stimboards (Details to include are colors, themes, types of stims to include, and types of stims to avoid.)

Playlists (Includes a cover edit and 8 songs. Details to include are mood, genres to include, and genres to avoid.)

Layouts (Details to include are colors, themes, and styles. Please specify what site you would like them for.) > You may also request a set of headers individually, which follow the same detail outline.

Wallpapers (Details to include are colors, themes, and the dimensions for your device.)

Self Care Kit (Details to include are currency, price range, colors, themes, and any particular items you would like included.) > You may also request Stim Care Kits following these same detail outlines, but will be specifically centered on stim items.

Fashion Kit (Details to include are currency, price range, colors, style preferences, and any particular items you're looking for.)

Web Weavings (Please specify a character and any themes to center on.)

Blog Layout (Comes with 3 headers, 3 profile icons, 6 reply icons and a divider, as well as a few blog format ideas for inspiration. If you would like additional reply icons, you are free to send another request!)

Rentry Graphics (Please specify a character and/or a theme for me to base these on.)

If you'd like to read a little more about me, my about post can be found here !

[whinlatter]

19 & 29 for the writing ask!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

He doesn’t remember much of that first flat, though knows it was small: whenever the living room was full of people, as it so often was, he remembers it loud and fit to burst, the laughter of his aunties and uncles competing with the sound of the neighbours’ telly through the wall. Mostly he remembers lying on his tummy on that big swirly carpet with his felt-tip pens and some printer paper that his mum had nicked from work, tenderly drawing West Ham’s midfield. He'd glare at his Auntie Joanne when she'd try and distract him in the middle of serious business, trying to get the shape of the players' legs right as they nail a driving pass, the curve of a muscled neck lurching for a header, the fold of triumphant knees skidding across mudded grass in celebration. He’d show them to mum when she’d get in from her shift and paid the child-minder, and she’d spend ages admiring them, asking about them, while she held him around the middle, his head on her shoulder. ‘You’re so clever, Deano,’ she’d say, and give him a big kiss on the cheek. He’d always complain when she’d mix up the players’ names, forget who Frank McAvennie was for the hundredth time - real sacrilege, but he'd always forgive her, would forgive her anything, his mum. He'd bury his face in her neck, cling onto her, swing off her, cross his fingers she'd reward his efforts with a trip to Stratford Burger King. She’d plastered the flat with those pictures, stuck them up on the fridge and the cupboards and the wardrobe door in their bedroom. They’d shared a bed, him and mum, though he was already getting too tall for it, all long neck and limb. He'd never minded it: every morning he’d woken up to the sounds of the buses trudging down Green Street and a cuddle with his mum under the picture he’d drawn of the two of them, hand in hand at Upton Park, clad in blue and maroon, framed above the bed, pride of place.

29. What's the hardest thing about writing?

Definitely trying to set up plots, track and sustain them, thread them through a long piece of work, and properly land them, while still letting their twists and turns be interesting and surprising to a reader. I thought of myself as a vignette writer for a very long time because I thought I couldn't really do plot and would never be a proper plot writer. Lately I've been trying to challenge myself to develop that skill more, work it like a muscle, but it's been really hard work, ngl!

Thank you so much @merlins-sequined-hotpants (your username gets me everytime)

Yet another writing ask | ask me anything

[electrasev5nwrites]

Happy pride month! If you'd be interested, I'd love to see a soulmates!AU fic for either Cass/Steph or Tim/Jason.

I love this ask, happy Pride month! Here's chapter 1 of 3 for the Tim/Jason ask. It's angsty, so if you wanna wait for the happy ending, you'll want to read when chapter 3 is up. The chapter is also below the cut, for anyone who prefers to stay on Tumbly.

TIM 1

Tim woke up in a cold sweat, panting and disoriented. He stared at the shadows moving on his wall for a moment to acclimate.

There had been nothing that night. No dreams. Tim had just laid down at night and woke up in the morning with a blank space stretching in between.

That was, he figured, a pretty good metaphor for his life in general.

That was the weirdest Sunday of his life. He wandered around his house in a daze. It felt like the color had been ironed out of his life. But at that point, he thought that something was wrong with him.

He didn't actually worry about his soulmate until the second night it had happened. His dreams were often hard to get a handle on. When he'd been little it had been hunger and pain and a demented carnival of ugly adult faces, dirty alleys and a brown sofa that meant safety. For a golden year, the dreams had been of free fall and neon lights, bleeding knuckles and French food and a library.

Tim splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His stomach twisted with a fear that he wouldn't think about. Dreams, he thought, were not the most practical soulmate connection. He wondered what he gave his soulmate back. He didn't think he was enough of an open book asking to be loved to be a name on a wrist, but he probably wasn't emotionally rich enough to be passing on dreams.

"Not that this life isn't worth seeing at night," Tim scoffed wryly. He slung his backpack over a shoulder and drank juice out of the container. He shoved a poptart in his pocket and stumbled out the door to catch his bus.

He ate the poptart on the bus, hunched over so that the driver wouldn't yell at him for leaving crumbs. They landed on his pants.

With a sigh he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The rocking of the bus lulled him back to sleep. Tim welcomed it. Maybe this would fix whatever had gone wrong in the connection, like turning a computer off and on again.

He woke up again without seeing anything.

By the time he got to school, he had worked himself into a panic. He chose to be late to first period in order to go to the library to find a reference about soulmate troubles. The teacher gave him a disapproving look when he slipped in, but let it pass without comment.

He was sneakily looking at the header "signs your unmet soulmate has died" when the morning loudspeaker announcement started.

"I have some sad news for you today," said the Principal.

Tim closed his book and looked up. The homeroom teacher was frowning slightly, looking around the classroom. He didn't seem to know where this was going.

"Over the weekend we've had a loss."

He felt his back tense.

"It is with the heaviest of regrets that I must inform you that 3rd year student Jason Todd-Wayne has passed away. The school counselors welcome anyone who would like to talk about this. I understand that…"

It became white noise to Tim. Students around him were reacting with gasps and whispers. He leaned forward and put his face into his hands, reeling.

This was a bad way to find out that Robin had been his soulmate. Too late to do anything about it, and with no way to prove it.

The next months were manic. Batman went off the rails. Tim did, too. He traveled to Bludhaven and begged the first Robin to come back. He stayed up for days on end and then he crashed and lost 20 hour stretches of time to the void of dreamless sleep. He was late to school and sleeping on the bus. He was confronting Batman and stealing a Robin costume and taking his soulmate's old role as the guiding light to Batman's self imposed darkness.

He didn't tell anyone about his connection to Jason. It felt like a lie even if it was true. It felt like something he would be saying to ingratiate himself and make them love the cuckoo in the nest.

Tim regretted that when the dreams came back 6 months later.

"Maybe they were in a coma?" Dick suggested, not without sympathy. He reached out to ruffle Tim's hair. Tim ducked unsuccessfully. "I would have thought they were dead, too, but the dead don't come back."

Tim fidgeted. There was a heaviness in Dick's voice that probably meant Jason.

That was awkward, since Tim had been sure that Jason had been his soulmate.

'I should have said that months ago.' Tim was kicking himself for that. 'It sounds so messed up now. I'll give Dick nightmares if I tell him I think Jason crawled out of his grave and then didn't even come here.'

Well. It was worth saying even if it wasn't about Jason.

"I hope this isn't too much information," Tim said, "but last week I dreamt about digging my way out of the ground. With a belt buckle."

Dick looked a little ill.

"That sounds like…" he trailed off, because it felt crazy to say. It sounded like his soulmate was a zombie? A zombie whose dreams had been of the suffocating dirt and bleeding fingers, and then beeping. Endless beeping and the harsh likes of fluorescent lights overhead.

It sounded like his soulmate was in the hospital, Tim had to admit. The grave thing was probably some kind of vivid nightmare.

"It sounds like a terrible dream," Dick sympathized. Tim let Dick pull him into a hug. "Have you tried reaching out? Maybe your mark on your soulmate is one of the more literal kinds."

"I can write on myself in marker and see what happens," Tim said. "But I don't think that's it."

Dick huffed against Tim's hair. "You're not that easily read, no," he agreed wryly. "And I guess it won't help you reach out if marks on you echo onto your soulmate."

Tim thought about it. "Not unless we can bruise me in a coherent message," he decided. "Technically it could work? Cutting a note would be easier but if it scarred that would be embarrassing. So, bruising. It would have to be something simple, though, and they might get mad about it-"

"We aren't bruising or cutting a message into you," Dick cut him off. He shook Tim lightly. "Precious baby bird. Delicate cargo."

"Bruises like banana," Tim offered practically. He was thirteen now, he was definitely old enough for the soulmate connection to go both ways.

Dick extended his arms to frown at Tim from a distance, tilted his head, and then picked Tim up to whole body toss him on the sofa and roll him into a protesting blanket burrito.

"Police brutality!" Tim hollered.

Someone opened a door. "Alfred, stop him!" Tim shouted. "Help." He wiggled and nearly fell off the couch. Dick caught him.

"Hey, Bruce," Dick said stiffly.

The door closed. Tim was a burrito until time for dinner.

Dick was gone on a doubtlessly tense patrol with Bruce and Tim was ready for bed by the time he realized he'd been deliberately distracted. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Maybe he's right. It's probably… It's not a dead boy that came back."

He tried to sleep. He really did. The sick thought that maybe he was hallucinating the dreams because he wanted Jason to be back wouldn't leave him alone.

"I wouldn't want that for him." Tim tossed and turned to mumble directly into his pillow. "That would be terrifying. Waking up in his grave, alone. I don't want that for him," he insisted.

He felt guilty and generally bad. He got up, left Drake manor, and went to the Batcave to wait.

He didn't end up sleeping, so he should have just gone on patrol anyway, Tim groused internally. Bruce and Dick didn't agree when they got back, but he thought they were secretly relieved he was there to yell at instead of working out their irritation with each other.

He moved like a zombie through his morning routine and dredged up the smallest amount of energy for his semester finals.

Life stretched out that way. Tim avoided sleep as much as he could. When he did sleep, he never liked the dreams. The hospital turned to a nightmarish litany of blood and death and crying in the dark.

He eventually gaslit himself into believing he'd imagined his soulmate dying. Tim felt vaguely ashamed when he thought about it. He was a creep. He'd fixated on Robin so hard that he'd convinced himself his soulmate was the dead Robin.

'I hope I never meet my soulmate,' Tim thought on his 14th birthday. 'They deserve someone better.'

The dreams turned to busy urban streets, ticking bombs, guns, and a green haze. Tim was optimistic that this was better than the crying, but he was still concerned. He'd do a welfare check if he knew who they were.

'Maybe that's why I'm Robin,' he thought wistfully. 'Maybe I need to save them.'

Eventually, there was a new criminal in town, and he had Bruce and Dick at odds. At first they fought viciously over whether or not Red Hood's methods were effective. Later they fought over the same thing they always did: who was in control.

"I'm not saying I'm fine with the murder!" Dick threw his hands up in disgust. "I'm just saying that crime rates are down, the city is safer right now."

"Crime rates are down, except for all the people who've been murdered." Bruce didn't even look at Dick. "Murder remains a crime."

Tim did his level best to become smaller. Maybe if he didn't move at all, they would forget he was there.

"You know what I meant," Dick shot back. "It's not that black and white, Bruce. He's trying to get the crime under control. I think we should seriously consider whether or not the situation is more stable with him in it or not."

"He's a mass murderer," Bruce said. "I want both of you to stay away from him." It was an order.

Dick made a sound of disgust and stomped up the stairs. "Why would I seek him out?" He shouted over his shoulder. "I don't live here. I'm going home."

Batman looked at Robin.

Tim put his hands up. "I'll leave him alone," he agreed. It was easy. He didn't want to get near the Red Hood. He thought both of them were right: the city was safer now, and the Red Hood was a mass murderer. That was out of Robin's league.

Bruce grunted and turned back to the computer, apparently satisfied that at least someone was listening to him.

JASON I

"Cover that shit up." Dad looked at him with disgust. "You're being dramatic."

"I'm not." Jason muttered it, but Dad still heard and gave him a dangerous look. He put his hands up.

"Don't show your mother." The door slammed.

Jason was left alone to poke at the bruise.

It looked bad. It spread all over his left knee and mottled down his shin. It should hurt. It didn't, because it wasn't his bruise.

He smoothed a hand over it.

"I wonder what kind of person you are."

It probably didn't mean anything healthy if you were the type who only left your hurts on your soulmate, Jason decided. Probably meant you couldn't communicate your needs. It seemed like a particularly plaintive soulmark. Like it was silently asking for help.

He stripped off his shorts and tossed them on the chair. He dragged out a pair of jeans and pulled them on even though it was hot as hell out. It was easier to pretend they were his bruises. He didn't want to share anything from his soulmate with his Dad.

Over the years, he didn't actually get that many secondhand bruises. The first time he saw the gaping impression of a cut without any blood around it he felt vaguely ill, but it was only a scrape.

"Maybe she's a skater," Jason thought aloud. "It's always knees and elbows."

He liked that thought. He liked the simple, innocent marks he got. He hoped that he didn't leave the same type of soulmark. If he did, he'd be passing on black eyes and hangnails and blisters that popped and got infected on his feet from shoes that didn't fit. It made him feel dirty, diseased, like he'd taint his soulmate.

When he looked at the needle marks on his Mom, he had to push down a thought that was much uglier than even the shame.

Years later, his soulmate may as well have been a ghost. Jason poked at his arm in class with a mechanical pencil as if that could prompt his soulmate to give a sign of life.

'Probably quit skating,' Jason thought. He flicked his pencil back and forth.

Of course he wanted to know who it was. But it would happen eventually, right? And now that he was Robin he had something else to live for. He stopped checking for bruises and scrapes.

One day after peeling off the costume, he was surprised that the dirt he tried to scrub away from his upper arm was actually a soulmate bruise.

He'd actually forgotten. Jason stopped for a moment. He'd forgotten about his soulmate. What kind of person did that make him? Something strange churned in his gut.

Bruce eyed him. "What happened there?" He pointed.

"Nothing." Jason said too quickly and covered the bruise with his hand. It was private.

Bruce looked massively unimpressed. "Show me, Jason," he sighed. He loomed closer like the great honking bat he was.

Jason scowled at him. "It's nothing," He complained.

"Then why are you trying to hide it?" Bruce grabbed his arm and lifted it, squinting at the bruise. He paused. His expression and tone went painfully neutral. "This looks like a hand."

Jason blinked. "Huh." He twisted to look at it. "It does," he agreed, honestly surprised. It took a moment for the penny to drop. "It looks like an adult's hand." He reeled at that. His soulmate couldn't be much older than him, right? Who was dragging them around hard enough to bruise?

They were silent for a moment. He knew Bruce was thinking back through recent patrols, trying to figure out when Jason could have been manhandled.

"It's not my bruise," Jason said suddenly. This was private, but- he wanted his adult to know this. He felt- he didn't know how he felt, but it was a lot.

Bruce paused. "Ah."

The air felt heavy.

"Do you get a lot of those?" He was still using that careful tone. Jason hated it. It was too cautious, it was like he thought Jason needed special handling.

"I haven't noticed bruises for years." Jason yanked his arm away and huffed. He straightened his back and reported like a Robin ought to. "I don't remember anything that raises red flags. Scrapes and bruises on elbows and knees. I assumed they skate or something."

Bruce made a sound of acknowledgement. He let Jason pull back. Slowly he raised a hand and ruffled Jason's sweaty hair.

"Gross." He complained without any heat in it.

He made a note of it. He harbored the quiet ambition that he wanted to save his soulmate. He was Robin for a brief shining moment, and then he was choking on hot blood while a clock ticked and a clown laughed and it hurt, it all hurt-

Fin.

He woke up in oppressive silence after the end. He screamed and banged until his fingers bruised to the bone. He begged with gods he didn't believe in. He tore his belt buckle off, broke through the coffin (oh god, he was in a coffin, oh god, why had they left him here?) and he used the buckle to dig through dirt and he was suffocating on it, it was in his lungs and it hurt so bad, he was sobbing and praying and he burst out into the rain slimy and newborn, filthy and alone. Alone.

He lost time. He lost a lot of time.

He woke up again. He was bigger now, and he fought for every inch of freedom under Talia's fist. His body was alien to him now. It was huge and muscular, powerfully framed in a way that a boy who grew up hungry shouldn't end up. He felt like a hulking monster. He'd died a boy of 15 and he woke up somehow 18. Frankenstein's monster was cheated out of childhood.

The shadow injuries did not help with the way he felt about his body. The paint job on his ribs and limbs changed daily with ugly bruises and scrapes and gashes that didn't hurt him at all.

He learned to ignore them. He didn't think about them. He was too feral to remember what they meant, and when he did remember, he was too wild to care. His soulmate was having a worse time than he remembered but it wasn't his concern now. He'd never find them. He'd died. Surely they'd given up. Surely they were meant for the boy who had died and not the thing that had crawled out of his grave. He didn't get a soulmate.

Jason didn't take that part too hard.

He didn't get a lot of things. He didn't get to graduate high school. He didn't get to grow up. He didn't get to be loved.

But Batman didn't get to replace him. He didn't get to put someone else in the costume Jason died in, like none of it really mattered, like he wasn't Bruce's son once.

He went back to Gotham, the shithole that birthed him and spat him into the jaws of a monster, and he became honest in his own monstrosity. He put heads in a bag and bullets in faces and an ultimatum to Bruce and eventually, he put old pass codes into Titan Tower.

[catre33]

My favourite books in my personal library: (in completely random order)

The Little Prince by Antione de Saint Exupery. 111pg

'The little prince lived alone on a tiny planet no larger than a house. He owned three volcanoes, two active and one extinct. He also owned a flower, unlike any flower in all the galaxy, of great beauty and of inordinate pride. It was this pride that ruined the serenity of the little prince's world and started him on the interplanetary travels that brought him to earth, where he learned, finally, from a fox, the secret of what is really important in life.'

OH, my heart-. This absolute journey of a story is impossibly dear to me. I always pull it out when I need a reminder to grow old, but never grow up; and how stupid grown-ups can be. I've read this at least 7 times and watched the corresponding movie at least 5 times. It puts such a thrilling perspective on things I have had to fight with myself whether it should go in the fantasy or philosophy section. Sometimes we all need to remember how simple the world really is.

High Maintenance by Jennifer Belle 351pg

'Liv Kellerman has just left her cheating husband and--more tragically--their fabulous duplex with its Empire State Building views. Now Liv--alone for the first time in her life with few marketable skills, and crammed into a crumbling "fixer-upper" in Greenwich Village--is contemplating her next move...'

This book is HILARIOUS. I read it during my first and only trip to The Big Apple and finished it in the hotel room on the 2nd day (if I remember correctly). High Maintenance made the trip so much more thoughtful, and the people-watching much more interesting. People-watching in New York is already AMAZING, but I was able to better imagine the story behind the dude doing pull-ups on the street lamp (no joke). And it honestly made me think more than it made me laugh.S

tonewords, A Ghost Story by Pam Conrad 130pg

'The first time Zoe met Zoe Louise, Zoe was four years old. Zoe Louise was more than one hundred. From that day on--living in the same house, separated by a staircase and a century--Zoe and Zoe Louise have been an important and permanent part of each other's lives. Now Zoe is older. And although Zoe Louise never grows up, she is changing in dreadful, frightening ways. Time is running out for Zoe's best friend--and Zoe is the only one who can help her. To do so, she must travel back one hundred years in time and somehow alter the past. But in changing the past, must she also change the present? If she saves her friend's life, will she lose Zoe Louise forever?'

Stonewords is an annual fixture in my life. Though it doesn't in my book classify as a thriller it's still a ghost story and my favorite thing to read late on Halloween night. It's also one of the only books that use theoretical time travel that I will tolerate (mainly because it doesn't try to explain it away but rolls with the ideas). The character development is refreshing, as it is not in the ways you would originally expect.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown 489pg

'An ingenious code hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci. A desperate race through the cathedrals and castles of Europe. An astonishing truth concealed for centuries...unveiled at last.'

This book is an absolute constant stream of 'I should have seen that coming!!!' I mean, are you kidding me?! Twists and turns left and right, never quite knowing where you are for a couple of paragraphs, and riddles hidden in the page headers! And an absolute wonder as a mythology lover having grown up in a Mormon household. The recognition of pagan beliefs and traditions that have become such essential parts of Christian culture is incredible. The Da Vinci Code rivals Good Omens as my favourite book of all time.

Please Ignore Vera Dietz by A. S. King 323pg

'Is it okay to hate a dead kid? Even if I loved him once? Even if he was my best friend? Is it okay to hate him for being dead? Vera's spent her whole life secretly in love with her best friend, Charlie Kahn. And over the years she's kept a lot of his secrets. Even after he betrayed her. Even after he ruined everything. So when Charlie dies in dark circumstances, Vera knows a lot more than anyone--the kids at school, his family, even the police. But will she emerge to clear his name? Does she even want to?'

This was a surprisingly recent read; and though it took a little bit to get into it, I was entranced. It was really just an erratic puzzle coming together much slower than I would have liked it to, and it was terribly easy to relate to Vera's desire to please be ignored. I have to be honest; I grew as a person, reading this book. You get to know the dead kid more than you think you would. It is altogether nowhere near what I expected, and more than I thought I'd ever need.

Scarpetta by Patricia Cornwell 579pg

'Leaving behind her private forensic pathology practice in Charleston, South Carolina, Kay Scarpetta takes an assignment in New York City, where an injured patient in Bellevue Hospital's psychiatric prison ward has specifically asked for her. While Scarpetta examines him, she listens to one of the most bizarre stories she has ever heard. Oscar Bane says his injuries were sustained in the course of a murder...that he did not commit...' (the blurb is paraphrased as it is the longest blurb in history sorry)

Not only is this book written by one of my favourite milfs, but there is also a very homo romantic subplot that I could not get enough of!!! (pg354 AAAH!!!) Scarpetta and everyone around her had me hooked from the first words (which were 'Brain tissue'). There is nothing I could do while reading this but live the plot. The incredibly emotive writing dragged me along for a rough but worthwhile ride.

Frogkisser! by Garth Nix 372pg

'Poor Princess Anya. Forced to live with her evil stepmother's new husband, her evil stepstepfather. Plagued with an unfortunate ability to break curses with a magic-assisted kiss. And forced to go on the run when her stepstepfather decides to make the kingdom entirely his own. Aided by a loyal talking dog, a boy thief trapped in the body of a newt, and some extraordinarily mischievous wizards, Anya sets off on a Quest that, if she plays it right, will ultimately free her land--and teach her a thing or two about the use of power, the effectiveness of a well-placed pucker, and the finding of friends in places both high and low.'

I bought this book from an elementary school book fair when I was maybe 10 years old, and it must be one of my most 'loved' paperbacks with all it's been through. It has been in the hands of family and friends and calls me out in ways I will never admit. Frogkisser! is a beautiful story with the perfect doses of snarky and silly weaved throughout every character. I used to know the plot so well that I would open to a page at random and read it just to cheer myself up. Now it's a nostalgic symbol of my childhood; not just of the good parts, but a basis of the good parts.

Skellig by David Almond 182pg

'Michael was looking forward to moving into a new house. It was all going to be wonderful. But now his baby sister's ill, his parents are frantic, and Dr. Death has come to call. Michael feels helpless. Then one day he steps into the crumbling garage. What is this thing beneath the spiderwebs and dead flies? A human being, or a strange kind of beast never seen before? The only person Michael can confide in is his new friend Mina. Together they carry the creature out into the light, and Michael's world changes forever.'

This was also a very recent read and oh my goodness gracious aGnES NUTTER, WITCH! I didn't know what to do with myself after it. I... I can't even explain it. It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience, to read this book for the first time. I was helpless in dreaming of angels and owls and clay and death and life and everything in between. I could never possibly do Skellig justice, so I'll leave it at this. Read it, and you'll know what I mean.

Notes: Good Omens is not listed here as it lives in my schoolbag, not my personal library. Coincidentally, all books listed were paperbacks LMAO

[hiloedits]

— remofina headers

like or reblog if you use/save.

© hiloedits on twitter.

[008-edits]

"that makes them doubtlessly, clearly, absolutely, unequivocally, beyond any doubt, categorically, emphatically, GUILTY"

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

✰ lina ✰ any pronouns ✰ 22 y/o ✰ virgo ✰ intp

✧ hello there, my name is lina and this is my edits blog!

☆彡 what i can edit:

━━☆⌒*. icons

━━☆⌒*. headers

━━☆⌒*. wallpapers (both mobile and desktop)

━━☆⌒*. layouts (both tumblr and twitter)

━━☆⌒*. moodboards

━━☆⌒*. stimboards

ミ★ media i can edit from:

━━☆⌒*. twisted wonderland

━━☆⌒*. project sekai

━━☆⌒*. milgram

━━☆⌒*. genshin impact, honkai impact 3rd, honkai star rail and hoyoverse games in general

━━☆⌒*. vocaloid

━━☆⌒*. idol (music) games/anime/manga (love live, bandori, enstars, etc)

━━☆⌒*. bungou stray dogs

━━☆⌒*. kakegurui

━━☆⌒*. chainsaw man

━━☆⌒*. danganronpa

━━☆⌒*. persona 4 and 5

━━☆⌒*. other anime and manga

━━☆⌒*. other anime-like games

✸ rules ✸

━━☆⌒* please write the full name of both source material and the character(s) that you want me to edit!

━━☆⌒* for wallpapers, please specify if you want desktop or phone wallpapers. telling me the exact size you need would also help me a lot!

━━☆⌒* if you have something more specific in mind, please tell me the color(s)/aesthetic/theme you want your wallpaper/moodboard/layout to have (example: kanade yoisaki blue icons, trey clover cottagecore wallpaper). otherwise i'll just go with whatever i think is most fitting.

━━☆⌒* please tell me if you want a twitter header/layout because tumblr and twitter headers' sizes are a bit different. otherwise i'll just assume you mean the tumblr header.

━━☆⌒* for icons, tell me if you want them to have a specific shape (like a circle, a heart, etc)

━━☆⌒* you can also ask for ship edits! (including poly ships)

━━☆⌒* i can do pride edits too, but please tell me if you want a specific flag. sending a picture of it would be very helpful too! (especially if the flag you're talking about has multiple versions, i know that some flags are now considered controversial, so i don't want to accidentally offend anyone!)

━━☆⌒* my limit is one character per request unless you're asking for a ship edit.

━━☆⌒* if you use my edits, credit is not needed, but appreciated.

━━☆⌒* i won't edit anything with real people.

━━☆⌒* this blog is kin-friendly! please tell me if you want me to add "don't tag as kin/me/id" to your request.

━━☆⌒* if you ask for a stimboard, being more specific with your request would help a lot! like what colors you would like it to have, what kind of gifs, etc. otherwise i'll just go with what colors and things i personally associate with that character.

━━☆⌒* if there's anything you'd rather not see in a stimboard or a moodboard (something you find triggering, for example), please tell me!

━━☆⌒* my main blog: @linabirb

[dracota]

I wrote 3 pages or story yesterday. Outline-ish that mostly covers a lot of bitter dialogue and a section of not plot but lots of plot leaning. I need something more than government fucks around with something they shouldn’t. Angry customer service also doesn’t work even when the two are combined.

It’s slice of life heavy but there is no point in it. It does expand on point from other stories but it has nothing of its own

It also has a terrible working name.

And today? I’m poking at another story that plays with Pride & Prejudice. I’m calling a modern bullshit twist, but it’s been interesting to play with so far today.

In a surprise, turn of events I’m having a lot of fun with Mr. Collins character. Which gave me a good idea for Charlotte‘s character.

Unfortunately, because of just how badly I hate Miss Catherine Debeau or whatever the fuck her name is, I really really wanted something horrible to her character, but I wanna keep it relatively on par. And hello idea.

No problem now is that I originally wanted this to be like a one day type of story but now some of it needs a good chunk of set up. Or else I’ll have to do a whole shit ton of hand waving magic. And while that stuff is good for Hallmark movies not so much written stories… Or at least not my written stories. Maybe I’ll have to be a week long story? Hmm a month would be better.

Maybe a play on how a day can feel a month long? That would be cheesy but… Maybe.

Oh well. Maybe once I get this little idea written down I can get this attention focused on my little cryptic newsletter story thing going. I have most of the stuff done. I just have some story template ideas that I want to write down. I called them templates because I’m doing sort of a basic formatting thing so it’s going to be pretty repetitive Ish But there will be continuing storylines?? I really don’t know how else to explain it.

I am going to have so much original art going with the blots for the articles. I’m trying not to let myself get burned out that way… Because it’s so much. I’m trying to minimize it as much as possible and have just the header art. So hopefully once I really get going, I can slowly add more artwork into it. However, I’m using Blogger so it’s a bit of a bitch. 

Right! So I’m going to finish Mr. Collins idea/plot area and then I’m going to poke around the other thing. 

In a strange twist of events, I wrote 3 pages of stuff for different parts of the same story? Who knew.

[astalisedits]

remo falcone headers

like or reblog if you save 🤍

credits on twitter @tillienate

[literaredits]

━ twisted pride headers

like/reblog if you save it. ©️ rosecalioway on twitter.

[4liuqingge]

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ [ idia bisexual icons ]