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#fic tag ig
loungemermaid · 8 months
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I….I have written Filth ™.
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sheerakk · 7 months
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bathroomtrapped · 6 months
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my sister told me to caption this 'two lovely men' without any context so heres two lovely christian saw men 👍🏻
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ikeasharksss · 1 year
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hey im curious
feel free to rb & explain your answer in the tags!
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mysterycitrus · 4 months
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i LOVE thinking about the bats and their various kits and how each member has uses different tech as a part of their costumes + how that ties into their character and development
like jason and bruce are bruisers who go for intimidation first, but dick is more of a casual ability to be intimidating through misdirection and performance! he’s a drama queen!
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olillskio · 1 month
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Fanart for @the-apocrypha ! I read their Cottagecore series like seven times now- so I just HAD to draw fanart for Fae!Dream in the wolfheart fic.
CW! GORE UNDER CUT
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hailsatanacab · 3 months
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I'll ask after that secret number 8!
I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅
Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?
———
It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.
Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.
Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 
It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 
A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.
Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.
“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”
“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.
Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.
“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”
Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 
It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!
He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—
“I’m Batman.”
The smile freezes on Danny’s face.
His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—
“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 
Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.
“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”
It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 
Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 
Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…
A little over a year. 
Just under 16 months since he escaped.
“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks
Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.
Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 
“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.
Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?
"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"
"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.
"I don't understand, why..." 
"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"
"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"
It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.
But it was easier than this.
"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."
"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"
"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"
"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!
Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.
"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"
Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.
Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.
But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.
Before he... 
He really thought this would be different, you know?
He wanted to make it official.
"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."
"Danny, we are a—"
"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 
Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.
"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."
"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."
"Danny—"
"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"
"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."
Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.
He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!
The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?
Steph is chewing on her thumb. 
Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.
He likes them all.
"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."
"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."
"But you work with them and—"
"Who do I work with?"
"The Justice League."
"Yes, I do, but we—"
"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."
Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.
"Kill me."
"Danny? What do—"
"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."
"Danny..."
"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."
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Binge read Faith For The Second Run a few days ago and it really made me want to draw Sumire!! So here she is! If you're a Sumire fan, absolutely give fftsr a read, I loved it!
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running-with-kn1ves · 3 months
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PUNISHMENT: A Reward
A/N: Decided to name our ‘PUNISHMENT’ fic boy Malachi, lemme know if this is a win or a fat L my scrumptious pogchamps. ALSO happy valentines day! (Posting this early let me be)
CW: Toxic relationship, possessive/obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, mentioning future seggsual acts/fantasies
Synopsis: Out on a group date for Valentine's Day with your possessive, jealousy-ridden boyfriend is never a good idea, especially when he finds the special surprise you’re wearing for him.
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“Hrmm… seems like they have a lot of Valentine's themed stuff on the menu.” 
“Well it IS the season! No other reason for it being so packed in here...” One of your friends across the table perked up, slightly annoyed at the stuffy atmosphere.
She was right, every table was filled, every booth full of chattering couples or first blind dates, even double or thruple dates just like the one you were on. 
You were lucky your friend's boyfriend had managed to snag this place a week in advance, else you might be thigh to thigh with everyone else in a tinier booth. Ha, as if YOUR boyfriend would allow that; you'd probably be on the edge of the shared booth seat, nearly falling off just to save you from being ‘too close’ to anyone else, even your own friends. 
“Annoying… I don't get why going out on Valentine's Day is so important, what happened to dates in the privacy of your own home.” Said the devil you were thinking of, that comment nudging to how he was far more in favor of spending a “romantic” evening home alone with you instead of being here with your two friends and their spouses. 
“Awe, is puppy dog Malachi upset he has to share? We planned this weeks in advance, so suck it up, we have a right to see OUR friend tonight.” That same friend hissed. 
Your other friend nodded. He would’ve added on, if it weren’t for the death stare your boyfriend was currently drilling into everyone else across the table. You hadn’t been out in a group setting like this in… who knows how long.
“Oh, really? Don’t fucking--”
“C’mon you guys,” You grabbed onto Malachi’s thigh, a tight squeeze making him stop in his angry tracks to look down.”I’m here right now, shouldn’t we be catching up, not fighting? I missed you, missed this.” 
Your sincerity seemed to ease them up, a flash of contrition on your female friend’s face. She hated your boyfriend, clearly, wearing a scowl when she turned back to Mr. moody himself. He rested his face on his palm, looking at the other couples every now and again, always keeping a short glance at you out of the corner of his eye to make sure you weren’t having too much fun. 
One of the spouses --you had forgotten the name of by now after the evening’s short introductions-- had begun talking, complaining about coworkers or customers, one or the other. 
Wow, has it been so long that your friends have completely different lives now, new people that they spend their time with that you weren’t even told about? Well, its not like you’ve exactly been open to receiving that kind of news, or able to be, with so little time to make phonecalls lately, your phone always seeming to disappear, phone numbers no longer existing in your contacts… it was truly a miracle you managed to have this outing, and Malachi thought so too. 
“I swear if she prods at me again,” Your jealous guard dog of a boyfriend started, hand clenching the red, heart-embroidered table cloth.
“Take it easy, okay? I know you don’t want to be here but-- just do it a little longer, for me. Thats what we agreed, right?”
You took his hand in yours, bringing up his clenched fist to your lips. You thanked the skies that physical affection always seemed to drown out his fiery temper. You wondered how much longer that’d last. 
“Fine. But I can’t stand looking at them anymore, come ‘ere.” Malachi patted his thigh, hands moving to your hips to help bring you to your new seat. 
“Seriously? We’re in a.. A nice restaurant, with my friends--”
He gave you a knowing look, one that said ‘if you don’t listen, i’ll drag your ass back to the car without the pleasure of friendly goodbyes.’ 
You didn’t know if you could handle the embarrassing shit he put you through anymore. It tested the strength of your will and the integrity of your soul at this point. 
You did as he demanded, slowly making your way to sit on the edge of his lap. Most of those around you didn’t seem to notice, an occasional glance looking to see what you were doing, but ultimately going back to the lively story of one of the nameless significant others. You tried to hover above him, afraid to fully commit to sitting down on top of him, but a small ‘what are you doing’ and forced downward push of your hips made your butt make soft contact with his lap. 
“That’s right… that’s better.” He cleared his throat, putting one arm around your waist and the other on your knee. You directly blocked his view, your boyfriend not moving to see the rest of the group, instead leaning against you like a perfectly shaped body pillow. 
“Can’t you atleast act normal? Don’t you have any shame around other people,” You whispered, knowing that one of your friends was reading the uncomfortable expression on your face and was in turn, giving a similar expression of discomfort. 
“Hey, you know how bad I can be, this isn’t even the worst of it. You want me to really embarrass you?” 
A waiter  broke the quiet spat you were having with him, asking if you’d like another drink. He didn’t acknowledge the man behind you, either out of not seeing him or to purposefully avoid the dark eyes digging into his soul behind your shoulder. 
You croaked out a polite “yes please,” looking for your friend’s fellow responses. They all answered in kind, the waiter scurrying away to another busy set of tables. 
Malachi scoffed, coiling around you tighter. 
“D’you see that? I knew we shouldn’t have come out here, in front of prying eyes… bet he’s hit on every other pretty thing he’s seen walk in here, so don’t get any ideas.” 
 You almost turned around to gawk at your boyfriend, such an insensitive and insecure string of words wounding you. 
“I would never..” 
You almost let him ruin the rest of your evening, the dreadful pit of wanting to go home entering your tired mind. But you promised yourself you’d try to make an effort in repairing your friendships, attempting to memorialize your friend’s smiles and laughs, trying to come up with the names of their spouses you had just heard a half hour ago. If you wouldn’t see them again for a while, atleast you could have this. 
And with the two-second memory your boyfriend often displayed,(except for when it came to your “betrayals”) he was enamored with something new. 
“Oh, what do we have here…” Malachi tip-toed down the elastic waistband of your pants, looking at the lacey red lingerie underneath. It wasn’t hard to spot, not when it was a drastic change from your usual tame undergarments. Well, tame for him, he had seen them all at this point. 
You wouldn’t have noticed his prodding peculiarity if it weren’t for that worrying heightened pitch in his voice, one that always started trouble. Fingers nipping your tummy and around your wrist weren’t unusual, you had become accustomed to it from how he pawed at you at home, never seeming satisfied, but this, wasn’t the usual lack of personal space.
“Hey! You weren’t supposed to see that.” You slapped his hand away, having which already gotten a full touch of the goods you were hiding. 
“What is that supposed to mean--” Malachi started, and you knew he was about to expect the worst. You shut him up as fast as you could. 
“It’s supposed to be for tonight, idiot!” You whispered with a harsh tone, starting to get fed up with his childish reactions, which always seemed to jump to conclusions. “...Did you forget that it’s Valentine’s day or what?”
You barely let the words escape from between your teeth, not wanting to admit the silent internet escapade you went on to find something that wouldn’t tear your ass in half or be so tight you’d be left with more marks from it than him. But even so, after the sneaking around in trying to catch the package before he could and clearing out your emails as soon as possible, he still managed to see it before you had planned. 
Now, you wondered if it was worth it, with the lace itching your chest and the other giving you a wedgie. 
“awe.. no way, for me? All for me?” Malachi was promptly sweet on you, much different than the heel-biting mood he was in a short few minutes ago. 
You leaned back to get close to his ear, shifting your eyes anxiously. You really didn’t want your friends to know about the violently ravenous side of your boyfriend that wouldn’t stop him from making a scene about it here and now, which you anxiously tried to prepare for in case of the worst. “It’s for when we get back home…so lets just enjoy our time here, just sit still with me for a little longer.” You tried your usual ‘gentle parenting’ method, holding the heavy knuckles around your waist, to soothe him into letting you spend just a little bit longer with your friends.
Malachi kicked his feet, exasperating at this newfound interest and the ways he could torture you with it, could make you beg him for its secrecy. Oh how he could envision having you at his mercy, so cute and sexy but ultimately deserving punishment for going behind his back about something so temptatious, something another man could see and take if he weren’t there.  
“But now, baby I don’t know if I can wait.” He grinned, raking his teeth over his bottom lip so much it looked like it hurt. You felt him shift underneath you, leaning up to grind against your backside. “Man, you really should’ve hid it better, ‘cause now its all I can think about..”
You rolled your eyes, feeling his heavy exhale against your cheek. Your friends were too immersed in their own conversations with their loved ones to notice anything else, legs strewn over one another and fingers interlocked as they felt the cheap haze of their Sweetheart Cocktail’s and Rosé’s of Love. You would’ve much preferred to be tipsy along with them by now, but the truth is you were too nervous with the possessive man beside you to truly let loose anywhere other than alone. On top of that, the scolding you’d get from him for being so relaxed was not worth the extra headache. 
And yet, the wanton expression he held for you, the hands that fiddled to get deep and play with his surprise, made you feel so wanted. More wanted than your friends had  made you feel this evening. They just looked at you with concerned frowns and confused cocks of their heads as they questioned to why you were still with this crazed maniac. 
“What I would do to bend you over in front of these idiots, make you do more than say my name while wearing these adorable lacey little--” 
“Don’t tell me you’re already thinking of heading out.” Your female friend piped up, looking at the credit card Malachi put on top of the split receipt that has been sitting lonesome for a good while. 
He almost broke, annoyed at the sudden interruption. 
“Afraid so,” Your anticipating boyfriend gleamed, not even her sour attitude dampening the rising excitement in his perverted mind and tightening pants. “We have some other plans to attend to.”
“What could be more important than friends?” She asked, looking at you to advocate against your controlling spouse. 
You felt a greedy palm reach up your shirt, falling back down to paw for the thin garment below your waistline. 
“If we don’t go now.. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Can’t promise that I won’t  rip these fucking shorts off you here to see what all is underneath.” He whispered against you through gritted teeth, barely able to stop from kissing you raw. 
“We’ll stay… just until the waiter comes back for his tip.” You choked out, not letting on about the roll of Malachi’s hips that pressed you up against the table. 
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a wild cmh leo, uh… doesn't appear! he leaves a sticky note on your contestant's forehead reading 'good luck in the competition!'
(propaganda-ish for @tmntaucompetition (aka cmh is not in the comp he just wanted to cause chaos)! i physically cannot send asks to every competitor so if you wanted one and didn't get one: here)
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loungemermaid · 11 months
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Snippet from my newest fic, The Loneliest Time!
This couldn’t exist without @waywardangel-wilds chatting with me
rest is posted here!
I see him bleeding out in an empty field, mutts in lab coats licking his wounds, lobbing off bits of him to feed the pack. My feet are glued to the ground. He cries out, begs me to run. No matter how much I try I only make it a few steps in front of me. It’s magnetic, except instead of snapping together, we’re repelling each other. Every step I take drags him further away. It doesn’t stop till I see a giant blond mutt I know to be Cato pull his heart out and take a bite.
He’s still screaming my name. I hear it over and over and
I’m snapped out of it in the middle of my own scream. Peeta is here, shaking me awake. Before thinking, I all but collapse into his arms. “You’re okay.” I murmur into his chest.
He’s holding on, but stiffly. I may have melted into him but he’s not drawing me any closer into himself. “Uh huh. Nightmare?”
I sit back a little. “Yes” Guilt twists into my stomach like a dagger. Not too long ago I broke his heart. I saw it break in front of me. “Thanks for coming to check on me.” I smile wanly, rest on my heels to look at his face. There. He’s done rescuing me. I should just be grateful and move on.
But I see him get up, using a set of crutches instead of his prosthetic leg, and something else twists in me. It’s wrong to ask this. It’s selfish. Hell, it’s just plain mean. “Can… I know, with what was said earlier you probably don’t wanna, and you can totally tell me no, I’ll understand, but-“
He sighs. “What is it, Katniss?”
I take a deep breath. “Would it be completely awful to ask you to stay with me? I can’t… I’m not used to sleeping alone, and.” I’m panicking, not taking in any air, watching as he sits back down, wondering what he’s gonna say.
“Hey, it’s okay. Of course. Of course I’ll stay.” He smooths the hair over my head. A different gesture than I’d come to expect from him. It feels oddly clinical, vaguely reminiscent of something my mother did when I got sick as a little kid. He crawls on top of the blankets, giving me more than my share of the bed.
I bite my cheek. “I… I’m still. I don’t know what to say about everything”
“I don’t think now is the time anyway.” He says coolly.
Right. “No. I guess it ain’t. But I don’t want you uncomfortable. You can have more bed than that, is all I’m saying. You don’t need to be there all the way on the edge. I don’t want you falling off.” I huff. There is a small voice in the back of my head that tells me that maybe being this angry would make the situation worse, but it’s drowned out by an endless sea of other emotions.
Peeta rolls his eyes. There’s a look on his face that I can’t parse through, can’t decode. “Alright, Katniss.” He pulls the sheet over himself, wrestles with the pillows and turns his back to me. I can just barely hear him muttering something, just making out gentlemanly and the right thing .
I don’t think about it. I’m not even sure why I do it, or realize I’ve done it until after it’s happened. But I scoot closer to him and press my back to his. The feeling of his breathing lulls me back into a dreamless sleep.
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geekygumiho · 6 months
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Daniel Jackson
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@frostysfrenzy @stargaterevival @i-am-morrigans-apprentice
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heleizition · 1 day
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this is my naruto oc age 12 and age like 15 lmao she goes through it
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hey gorgeous! it's me! thank you so much for writing it! tbh, it's not what i expected but AGWHWHWG bc soft!daemon? i LOVE it!! such a cutie!! i still do need him to suffer more, though... what do you think about maybe a part 2? where he's the one who (finally) gets teased and gets the taste of his own medicine (reader flirting with HM ser stong?). so the demanded apology with tears on the knees (not nsfw) because this pretty prick deserves it :) again, thank u so much for writing it! sorry if it's too much, never wanted to make you uncomfortable! take care!
Since You Asked So Nicely
Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader
Summary: Your feud with your husband was about to meet a swift and strong end.
Word Count: 1k+
Warnings: mentions/descriptions of violence, daemon's still such a man, fem!reader, wife!reader, i love strong puns XD, married couple quarrels, harwin daddy, jealous!daemon, fluff, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: the title of this fic is my reaction to you nonnie. honestly i kinda felt both bad that my fic wasn't enough T_T LIKE PLEASE I TRIED then annoyed like HOW DARE YOU NOT LIKE IT THEN MAKE ME WRITE SMTH ELSE HADhASLHDA HAHAHAH nah but then you asked me so nicely so i thought ok fine i'll give it another wack i hope that i'll finally be enough for you T_T i guess our theme for today is petty 🥰 WIAT GURL THESE GIFS SIDE BY SIDE TOGETHER FUCK THAT SHIT IM DEAD BYE Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony Part 1 (which I think you should read) "It Takes Two"
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We had not spoken since our struggle last night. In the flames of my anger, I woke up before him and made no effort to alert him of my errands or duties for the day. That of course, also meant, he was certainly riveting in annoyance and betrayal having woken up alone after pleading mercy to me until he and I both fell asleep.
In all his pride and morose wailing, still, he did not find it in himself to ask for pardon. He instead wasted his breath in trying to convince me he did it as a game, and that I should not have thought much of it, that he would happily get on his knees but for the exact opposite thing I truly want him to do.
And even now, the man is as insufferable as he can get. Since it seems it was nary clear that I did not enjoy the sight of him divulging his attentions to other ladies at court, he did, what? Yes of course, the very exact thing.
Each ear of his had a young lady giggling bashfully into it. I had gone a great many lengths to ignore it, but then it began to be unbearable when I finally noticed the lords and ladies turn from my husband to me, muttering and laughing under their breath.
Normally, I wouldn't even bat an eye over the opinions the pricks had of me or my husband. Here and now however, it was hard not to feel like a dunce, when I was the princess, yet I was standing alone, and my prince had ladies fawning over him left and right.
Enough.
I will not grant him the satisfaction of humiliating me any more than he has. I'm leaving.
Daemon watches, perking at the sight of the exit. He steps forward, away from the irritating voices, smirk falling, for it was never truly genuine in the first place.
His face hardens when there is an interception.
"My princess," a deep voice speaks, as a large man blocks me.
I lift my gaze and stop before we collide. Immediately, my spirits are lifted at the sight of the dark man's hair and beard, "Harwin."
His lips curve at the familiarity of my addressing.
"I thought you were off, doing gods-know-what again?"
Harwin chuckles, shaking his head, "the gods have allowed me to accomplish my tasks swiftly.
He raises a brow and places his hands behind him, "you're not leaving when the festivities have not even commenced yet, are you?"
I scoff, crossing my arms, "festivities are naught this eve, ser Strong."
"That is because," he steps forward, taking my hand slowly, "you and I have not yet shared a dance."
I roll my eyes at him, "you're a poor partner."
"And that is precisely why the festivities will commence."
I snort, smiling up at him, as he smiles back down. He takes my expression as wordless agreement. Harwin spins me once before leading me to the dancefloor. I chuckle at his theatrics. Poor he may be in dancing, he's always been good at making me smile.
I press slightly against him as his hand falls to my back, the other clutching my arm delicately.
"Tell me, Winne," I grip his firm shoulder as we glide with the music.
He snorts at my archaic pet name for him, rolling his eyes as he licks his teeth in amusement.
I am amused by his reaction, pleased to know that the name still held him tightly in annoyance, exactly like how it did when we were younger. I chuckle before deflating, "do men normally think it a game to toy with their wives' feelings?"
Harwin's amused expression fades. He grunts and spins me around, using the opportunity to eye Daemon, who was undoubtedly already looking at us.
When his eyes dart back to me, he purses his lips, "indeed this night is not at all festive to you, little doe."
I turn away from him, aimlessly looking at his collar to avert my glare elsewhere. He did not mean to trigger my anger, what he said was his pet name for me as children, but it had been since overshadowed by my husband's musing of the name; he called me his little doe in times he came to me as a predator and I appeared to him like prey.
My gut groans in annoyance.
Harwin notices my discomfort and does me the courtesy of changing the subject, "tis unfortunate for me to announce a tonne of men believe riling wives a thrilling sport."
I turn back to him; the darkness in my face melts when I catch the concern in his. I purse my lips tightly, pushing a stray curl away from his face, "and do you hold the same regard, Strong?"
"Hmm," he looks away to think, "my princess would be pleased to learn that as a child, I had a terrible playmate," Harwin turns back to me, raising his brows, "she was the most entitled little girl I ever met, was so viscous and strong."
I snort.
He mimics, "though perhaps not as strong as me. Still, I am aghast to ever think of crossing or treating a woman poorly, not even because I think it descent, but merely for I fear the rage of she."
I cannot help the fond smile that spreads on my lips. I tilt my head as we circle the room, continuing our movements, "I suppose it is the gods irony that the Strong boy fears a strong girl."
Harwin laughs, twirling me around once more. I break into a chuckle as he does so, a bit dizzy when he pulls me back close to him. I am heaving slightly when he pulls me close.
"I suppose it is, princess," he tilts his head.
In that moment, the song ends and each dance partner parts, clapping as they did, us included.
"Care for another dance, Winnie?" I ask, extending my hand to him.
"Actually," he leads me to the side, "I was wondering if you wanted a change of pace," Harwin brings us by a column, "I feel that, in all his pettiness, the prince has not yet told you that the flowers he requested for you have recently just been planted in the gardens."
"What?"
Harwin huffs, "I had the same reaction when I heard of it. Your husband is a fu-"
Instantaneously, I am pulled aside and a string of, what I knew to be High Valyrian curses, were muttered tightly. Daemon seethes, gripping me with his iron hand, "and what of her husband, Strong?"
Harwin is unfazed by the glare Daemon throws.
I wince at how rough his grip is on me, "unhand me!" I bark, shoving Daemon off me. He does not budge and tightens his grip further. It is clear to me Daemon is too blinded by his rage to realize he is hurting me.
It is because of this, Harwin finally steps in. He barks, yanking Daemon off me, stepping between us, "you're hurting your wife, prince!"
Of course the action only caused further injury to me, Daemon's nails grazed my skin, and yet I am thankful for Harwin's interception.
The vein on Daemon's neck flares as he presses forward, closer to his opponent, "you have no right to tell me what I do with my wife!"
The area of my arm that Daemon grabbed throbs in pain. Tears fog my eyes as I watch the two of them squabble.
"I have every right to protect the princess," Harwin flares, "especially from the likes of you."
"From the likes of me?!" Daemon narrows his eyes.
The crowd breaks into a shocked gasp when the prince lunges and grabs Harwin by the collar, muttering something in High Valyrian, then threatening, "I best kill you. Who the fuck do think you are to tell me anything, vermin?!"
"Daemon!" I quip, prying him off Harwin, "unhand him!"
"YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE!" Daemon seethes, hands digging deeper into Harwin's clothing.
"KEEP YOUR ATTENTIONS ON HER THEN!" Harwin barks back, overpowering him, twisting Daemon's hands off him and shoving him away.
The next instant, the attentions of the entire room is upon us. I feel my blood pump as my head spins, unsure of what to do next. I still manage to act swiftly before anything else can happen.
I walk over to Harwin, calling out to him. "that's enough, please just-"
"Why are you going to hi-" Daemon starts, grabbing me again. He cuts himself back and recoils when I whine and draw back at the contact he makes at my sore arm, the arm he most definitely bruised.
I snap at him, throwing him a hot glare. He looks bewildered. He looks guilty. He doesn't even meet my eyes and instead is staring at my arm. I point a finger at him, "I'll deal with you later."
I turn back to Harwin, placing my hands on his chest, pushing him away, "go home, Winnie."
Daemon's head cocks, his lips twitches in an unpleasant manner, "Winnie?"
Harwin gently takes my arm, leaning in, "he hurt you."
I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes. I fight them off as I whimper, "please, just go."
Harwin brushes his calloused hand on my injured arm before walking back and storming off.
When I turn back to Daemon, he is looking at me with a stoic expression. I grit my teeth and grab him, dragging him away with me as we leave this damned hall.
I take him all the way to our shared chambers, but I stop just outside the door. I finally release him and begin to berate him, "are you satisfied?"
Daemon stiffens at the sound of my shrill voice.
I heave, "not only did you ruin my night, you ruined everyone else's!"
His eyes evade me. His lips part when he sees my arm. He reaches out to me and I recoil, "don't you dare fucking touch me."
"I didn't mean-"
"YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO DO ANYTHING BUT YOU STILL DID THEM!" I scream. I poke his chest in anger, "you claim it's all a game to you, and yet you're the only one that ever enjoys it!"
"It's all that cunt, St-"
"IT'S YOU, DAEMON!" I flare, "It's always you!"
Daemon's face contorts. His breath hitches. He walks closer, "my love, please-"
"You hurt me, Daemon!" I word carefully, wanting it to finally get through his thick skull, "not just tonight, but for the past weeks!"
He calls out my name but I raise a hand to silence him.
"You're either sleeping on the floor or sleeping elsewhere."
He gulps, ready to plead his case again. I cut him off before he can even open his mouth.
"Speak a word in protest over my generosity and I will chose a far crueler fate for you," I coldly spit, walking toward the door, pushing it open. I look over my shoulder as I walk in the room, "what's it going to be, prince?"
Daemon cringes at the call, brows tightening along with his fists. He deflates and mutters under his breath, "floor."
I turn to him, eyes narrowing, "you were so loud a while ago, where did your fire go, dragon?"
"Floor," he utters walking in the room, stopping once he is in front of me. Daemon's expression is grave as he mutters again, "I'd much rather sleep on the floor, wife."
I pull away from him before he can even attempt to touch me. I walk towards our bed, grabbing a pillow, haphazardly throwing over to him. I glare darkly, "if you are cold, sleep by the fire, dragon."
Daemon calls out my name, wanting to begin his pleas again, but then he stiffens when he watches me walk toward the door, "where are you going?"
I scoff, "how cruel of you to think I'd sleep with a throbbing arm."
"I'll come-"
I turn to him, tears finally running down my cheeks. Daemon freezes in his spot. I huff, looking away from him, "do not show your face to me until I've calmed."
Daemon frowns.
"I mean it."
At last, he finally has the brain to no longer push the matter further.
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mysterycitrus · 2 months
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so the body is a haunted house, right? ur haunted by past pain, ur experiences and regrets, the people you’ve known and lost. ur a living structure inhabited by countless others, and that kind of grief never stops. on a biological scale, we know that trauma rewrites dna and brain matter. we see how monumental loss affects the human mind through generations, how it shapes the way we think. u can track that down family lines to the present. even unseen, u r carrying the ghosts of everyone who came before.
the central thesis of persephone is how grief can be the proponent of so much change, both good and bad. part of that is bruce’s visible, living state of mourning in the manor, in the mantle of batman, in the pearls and the portrait. he is literally haunted by the alley, by the gunshot, by the darkness. but robin is haunted by mary grayson, by dick as a child and as a teenager and an adult, by jason in the dirt, by tim and steph and damian, and on and on it goes. how do u conceptualise that kind of loss?
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both jason and dick’s grief is faceless. dick’s parents are remembered in colour and name, through dick’s embodiment of joy. they are transient. they are worn by children who do not know their names. they are honoured in that way, something that jason, despite not knowing robin’s origin, is conscious of —
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in persephone, i knew jason would have an altar of some kind. his grief is action, but it’s also his heavy anchor to gotham. he could leave, but he doesn’t. he despises bruce for the same reason they’re similar. originally, it was a memorial to the people at his funeral, but that changed to commemorating the life he had before his death, and the people he left behind. he lies to himself and says the elephant represents robin as a whole, but it doesn’t. it obviously doesn’t.
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it is a literal symbol of jason’s inability to fully abandon his life before. the body is being haunted, after all. we get to see his perspective in wolf-king, his anger at his disconnection, his isolation from others, his paranoid, neurotic interactions with dick. he has changed so completely that he cannot trust anyones intentions. he’s hurt people, and he doesn’t regret it. he thinks people see him as something he was, versus something he is. it’s dehumanising and hard. like he is memorialising something lost at the altar, so to is everyone else when they look at him. his presence in their lives is a haunting.
when a seventeen year old dick grayson sees the elephant there, he assumes he’s died and that jason is honouring him. how can jason explain that it’s to represent a past that jason himself can’t return to? after all, the only way out is through.
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and then, at the end, he is given a gift — dick leaves behind a bird on the altar. not a robin, but something meant for jason the person, not the body in the box. he is remembered for what he was. and that connection to what he was is horrifying. the idea that someone recognises that grief and honours him hurts. after all, a heart is a heavy burden.
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owlf45 · 3 months
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i try not to waste my breath complaining about fic bc its all wish fulfillment and it's none of my business to be judgy. Still, if I have to read one more summary— "blorbo's friends in canon SUCK (bc of a disagreement/mistake/flaw), so blorbo finds the people who REALLY care about them (antagonists that believe in eugenics/slurs/feudalism/terrorism with 0 growth)" and I'm gonna eat nails. like. ok. you drew the line at the Friends Bickering but the bigotry's okay. It adds flavor, even
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