#No matter how much it feels like death it's never anything

[nicksolemnlyswears]

FORGED UNDER FIRE

BATTLEFRONT NEWS

blurb: he promised he would come back, but he didn't. now you're alone trying to navigate your grief while lilith tries to reason with you about the unexpected news

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hey guys! i'm back with another part of FORGED UNDER FIRE. i heard what you guys had to say on the poll so this is placed right before and right after brennan's death. as always there are no fourth wing spoilers much less onyx storm.

it's been really fun writing lilith sorrengail and i'm sure she's a little ooc, i love her character but i need to reread iron flame to gain the essence of her character. i've got a couple of ideas for the next part but i'll leave it in your hands again with another poll at the end!

thank you for all the nice comments in the other two parts of the mini series. i can relate to so many of you who come seeking more fourth wing content because the withdrawal is so real. my heart goes out to all the other fourth wing writers, i literally jumped from joy when someone posted a boyfriend!ridoc fic. he's my absolute favorite.

omg if any of you have any liam fics you'd like to share let me know!!

i'm rambling! enjoy!!

The world outside Brennan Sorrengail's room was falling apart. Navarre was not prepared for this war. Riders turning their backs on riders, dragons fighting dragons, a thing of nightmares. All because of the rebellion led by Fen Riorson.

But inside his small, basic room, the first rays of the sun filtered through the window, falling over him. It made his hair appear more red than brown, and it highlighted the growing amount of freckles on his face.

He had been awake for hours indulging in your body before setting off to fight in the rebellion because the war was not worth sacrificing one quiet morning with you where Brennan got to memorize every bit there was to you. The protests of his exhausted body were mere whispers, muffled by his love and desire.

Brennan accepted the importance of his signet and his position as a soldier in the military. He acknowledged his duty to Navarre, but it couldn't stop him from spending time with the person he loved most in the world.

"Don't go," you whispered as your fingers roamed over his naked chest. The pads of your fingers ghosted the spot where his heart beat, and an arrow would later be impaled-almost like a premonition.

He had to go, and you accepted it. It's how a rider's life went, always going and never stopping. You had a mission yourself and would be leaving the station later on in the day. Still, you hoped neither would be forced to part.

"To leave you is against my will," he responded, kissing your forehead as his living breath tickled your skin. His hand was tangled in your hair, pulling your face to his neck as he soothed himself of the gnawing feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "You know I'd prefer to stay like this."

Your evolving relationship was blessed by three years in Basgiath, where you saw each other nearly every day. Not long after graduation, the bubbling rebellion boiled over and tore you apart, only allowing you to see him days at a time in between missions.

But whenever you and Brennan parted ways, he always promised he'd come back. It meant everything to you that he returned because he alone had become your favorite person. He was the one you could depend on for anything. He was your family.

Straight out of Basgiath, without wasting another moment, he decided to marry you to make it a reality. It's you and Brennan against the world as it had always been.

"You will be safe," you stated, lifting your head to kiss his jaw.

"I'll come back for you," he agreed, pulling the bed sheets over your bodies to indulge in you one last time. Unbeknownst to either of you.

You trusted he would return; it didn't matter if he was injured or mentally exhausted. Brennan would return to your side in no time. He hadn't failed you up to that moment, but little did you know that Fen Riorison would target him or that his trusted partner Naolin wouldn't be able to save him and would lose his life as well.

The news reached General Sorrengail first. A nervous rider handed her the missive and gave his report before scurrying out of the office. His behavior alerted Lilith that something was amiss. As she unscrolled the missive, her eyes widened, and tears welled up in her eyes. Rain fell outside as more clouds stormed closer, unleashing lighting and torrential winds.

She held the missive close to her chest as she lowered herself to a leather chair, a lonely sob falling from her mouth. Her son was dead, gone from this world. Her firstborn had been claimed by Malek before she had the chance to greet him there.

When you returned from your mission, you were guided directly into Lilith Sorrengails's office, pity-filled eyes directed towards you. Knots tightened in your stomach, yet your brain refused to understand why. The fatigue of the mission rendered your thinking slow. Perhaps it was denial protecting you for a couple more moments.

Lilith waited for you in her office, her back to you as she stared at the storm she created outside. A war strategy you naively believed. You didn't know the woman well; the war had everyone distracted, and you barely had time to get to know your husband's own mother. She was far too important to spare that kind of time.

"General Sorrengail, you asked for me." Your voice was hoarse from trying to communicate with the other riders over the wind. Lilith was carefully still, her hands behind her back as a missive was clutched in her fist.

Lilith turned, and the first thing you noticed was her bloodshot eyes. You tilted your head in question, but she didn't speak. She grabbed your hand and placed the missive in it. She left you standing in the middle of the room alone to deal with her own grief.

Now that you knew, she could tell the rest of the family. Lilith didn't know you well, but she knew how much Brennan adored you, and as his wife, you had every right to know of his death before the rest of the family.

He was dead. You knew. Reading the missive wouldn't change the fact he was gone and broke his promise. You only read the missive in case your gut was wrong, but you were met with cruel disappointment.

The edges of your vision darkened, and your ears ringed unbearably, and it would not stop until the war was finished. The following weeks were spent in a daze, mourning and fighting. You refused to take leave while others fought the war Brennan couldn't escape.

You don't remember much except for crying whenever you were in private and fighting the rebellion ferociously, through salty tears and bitter pain. Seeing the riders that betrayed Navarre made your blood boil, transforming your grief into wrath.

The moment Lilith took care of Fen Riorson, the ringing in your ears eased up. A cot waited for you at the healer's quadrant. Your body was spent and exhausted, wounded in many ways, but it could be healed, unlike the pain in your chest.

The only one who could heal it was long gone. The anger towards the rebellion turned to sadness, and then it morphed into resentment. Because how dare he leave you after everything you went through.

Finally, the resentment calmed into loneliness, leaving you with an emptiness that nothing could fill. The rebellion took a big part of you, and you debated whether you could go on. The old thought of making a name of yourself was a faint whisper in your head. It didn't seem like enough to keep you going without him.

The breeze teasingly swayed your body, reminding you of all its capabilities. It almost threw you off once, and it can do it again. This time around, it could succeed. You'd willingly let the wind sweep you away, cradling your body in a tight, cold hold if it meant reuniting with Brennan.

The war was over. Fen Riorson was taken care of by Lilith Sorrengail, but only after he took your Brennan's life. The first man to love you. The first person to reach deep and take you out of the protective shell you created when younger.

Brennan showed you what it was like to make friends and laugh with them and that bonding with people not related by blood was worth it. Those ties are worth more than anything. He taught you that loving was a good thing, and then he left you.

Just like that.

Calliss was nearby, her golden eyes set in your swaying form. She won't let you fall to your doom; she'll catch you because your pain was gut-wrenching but human. And like all human emotion, it will pass. Heartbreak will not be the downfall of the rider she chose oh so carefully.

If you turned your head, you could see Brennan, five years younger, softly smiling at your younger self, who was frozen on her spot fighting vertigo, encouraging you to breathe and keep walking.

It was clearly the past, seeing as the abyss under the parapet no longer bothered you; your footing was firm despite the wind. You're also older, and Brennan is no longer with you. It's only a sight you've conjured up.

"I hope you're not planning on jumping," Lilith spoke, breaking the illusion. She strode down the parapet like a grassy path in a forest, and the air stilled.

"It is tempting, but Calliss would not appreciate it." You responded truthfully, avoiding her gaze.

Calliss' chuffs from a distance. "That's right, human. I did not pick you just for you to be your own demise."

Lilith had been trying to speak with you, not as General Sorrengail but as Brennan's mother. It's the reason you've been avoiding her. You don't want to speak about him. All you want is to forget and feel some form of relief.

"What are you doing here then?" Lilith questioned, standing next to you.

"Remembering. This is where we met," you said simply, tilting your head towards her.

Lilith hummed, assessing your stance. "I remember when he first told me about you in his second year. He had yet to realize he was smitten with you, but the way he spoke told me and Asher all we had to know."

Screwing your eyes shut, you hung your head. Nothing will change the fact that he's dead.

"I know you're heartbroken, but there is still much to live for," Lilith told you. You had to listen to her because you might not jump today, but that reckless behavior will follow you far into your career.

"I'm sure." Sarcasm dripped from your voice as you began to walk off the parapet.

Lilith followed you. She must speak with you about an important matter she was made aware of. "There's something you must know. The healers, they said-"

You stopped and turned on your feet, the air continuing to rush around you, "I know what they said. I've known for weeks, Lilith. It's why I stand here wanting to fall, but my feet are stuck to the ground."

There was anger in your eyes, hot tears threatening to fall from your eyes. This was not supposed to happen. Not now, and maybe not ever. One thing is for certain, it shouldn't have happened if he wasn't supposed to be alive.

"Did Brennan know?"

You sighed and trekked the last piece of parapet before falling on solid ground, "We did not know. And yet, a part of me continues to wonder if knowing would've changed anything. Would he have stayed behind? Would have he been more cautious knowing he had a pregnant wife? Or would it all have played the same?"

"He had a role to play in the war."

You scoffed at Lilith's remark, the older woman's jaw tightening. She's General Sorrengail; of course, she would think nothing would've changed, but Brennan was not like her. He wouldn't have sacrificed everything for a war.

Upon your silence, she continued, "Due to your performance in the war, General Melgren has given the orders for you to join my team."

"Has he? Or do you want to keep an eye on me?"

"Your signet has proved to be of more use than anyone thought," Lilith sighs, "Plus, if you allow me, I want to be part of the baby's life."

"Who is to say I'll keep it?" You say bluntly. Raising a child on your own was never part of your plans, and you may birth the baby, but keeping it seems unlikely.

"Pardon?" Lilith was shocked. She never imagined you'd consider otherwise, seeing as you're carrying the last piece of Brennan.

"I have no family. I was abandoned as a child, left to fend for myself. Starting a family was never in the forefront of my mind," you say harshly, knowing Lilith was judging you.

"You and Brennan married. We became your family from that moment on," she says, holding your arm when you turn to leave.

Calliss voiced her displeasure at a distance. She's been more protective since the news of your pregnancy broke. Or rather, when you found out because bonding with a dragon means having no privacy.

"No offense, but it's not like we've spoken much in the last two years."

General Sorrengail scoffed, "So you're going to do what your parents did to you and abandon the child?"

That was a low blow. Lilith wanted to get a rise out of you, and she got it as you tore your arm from her grip and stalked forward to be face to face.

"You cannot speak of things you know nothing about, General. My parents abandoned me with a senile great-grandmother who loved to use a wooden stick to 'train' me and beat me just because she was in a bad mood. She used to say I owed it to her because she allowed me to live with her. Fifteen years I had to endure until I realized being homeless was a better way to live." Your breaths came out in heavy pants as you spilled your guts to Lilith, "So no, I will not be like my parents because although I am not fit to be a parent, I would never leave my child in an abusive home."

Lilith remained quiet, taking in the weight of your words. "Fine, but please let Asher or me know if you need anything. You don't have to go through the pregnancy alone. It's up to you."

With that, Lilith walked past you but not before saying, "No matter what, you are to report to my office in the morning, but you can also join us for dinner tonight."

Lilith was relentless, and she was going to try her best to get through to you because you were young and scared, and your husband just died. She should've reached out to you sooner and formed a bond, but she didn't, and now she's paying the price of her daughter-in-law feeling more alone than ever and wanting to give up a part of her family.

It was Lilith's mistake that you don't consider them family. She wanted to fix it to make you realize that you have her and Asher and Mira and Violet, and if you allow them, they will love you as one of their own.

thanks for reading!! this one is a wee bit longer than the previous one but it seemed fitting to capture all reader went through after his death.

we'll eventually get to brennan finding out about his child and reader finding out he's alive but for now we need more backstory <3

tag list (if you'd like to added to future parts let me know!) : @berry-marys @cherubinn7 @ladynyx91 @kylaisra @detectivehailey @liahaslosthermind @thebreadisthetruevillian @bbkissme99 @honethatty12 @sunny1616 @akshstudios @yadirrez @xoxomoonlightbabe @jaynawayna @littlepippilongstocking @itsmytimetoodream @honethatty12

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror............Part XV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: The chaos surrounding the death of Macrinus keeps Letha and Geta apart much longer than either of them expected. Geta has an urgent question for Letha.

Warnings: make-up sex, and a shitty understanding of ancient Roman procedures around rule, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 15 of 15!

[ Part XIV ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: I would like to preface this by saying thank you for reading this self-indulgent slop. I hope you got some small amount of enjoyment out of it. Your comments along the way kept me engaged enough to actually finish this. It's the first thing I've ever started writing that I actually feel like I finished. There's so much I could've added to this post-reunion that this would've never been done. I could always embellish at a later date if anyone wanted it. I'm also a bit sad to finish this because I don't have anything to look forward to now. Thank you for your time and attention. It means a lot.

Also, mea lux is 'my light' I believe.

Almost two weeks passed before Letha laid eyes on Geta again.

It was prevented by a combination of things. There had been so much to deal with after the incident in the gardens. Geta had been embroiled in meetings, debating things Letha wasn’t privy to. There was a ceremony for Ancus, to honor him for his efforts to protect his Emperors. And at every party, everyone was so desperate to show face to their Emperors, to remind them of their loyalty in wake of the exposure of Macrinus’s plot. 

Though she wasn’t invited to any official meetings or ceremonies, there were situations where she could’ve sought Geta out at these fetes and events. But she didn’t. She was scared to have that conversation that needed to happen. 

She knew she was still treated as a guest in the palace. More like a fixture, really, available to distract Caracalla whenever the burden of rule grew too tiresome with more poetry, read under the shade of a tree in the gardens, Ancus always nearby. But aside from that, she felt quite restless. 

It’s not as if she expected things to go back to how they were, but she didn’t think it would be this hard to put her thoughts together. Leaving the gardens that evening, neck still sore, she was imagining how she’d look over at Geta the next morning and fervently apologize, for all of it. She’d tell him she would understand if he sent her away, and he would assure her that he wouldn’t dream of it.

But the next morning she couldn’t leave her bed, paralyzed by this new fear. She’d gotten a chance to see what her relationship with Geta could be, she didn’t know what she would do if it was not that. And the possibilities he’d promised her most certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t happen anymore. She stewed in the hesitance, the uncertainty, until she became convinced that it absolutely would be different. No matter what different meant, she was sure it wouldn’t be good.

And so it continued, Letha skipping mealtimes that used to be routine, bumping into servants gossiping on her way into the kitchens to eat. Occasionally she heard her name on their tongues, her appearance causing them to freeze as if Letha were Medusa herself. Not wanting to make a scene, she’d just duck right back out, resolving to return later.

Caracalla assured her his brother was just being kept very, very busy in the wake of the subterfuge and death of Macrinus, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was a little intentional. 

What did you expect, honestly?

She didn’t know why she was still allowed to wander the palace, as if she were back to being a guest. There were no guards posted outside her room, and for the last week she spent her evenings in the gardens, observing the moon, asking no one in particular what happens next.

She wasn’t naive, she knew Tegula didn’t trust her. And nothing spread faster than a salacious rumor. They weren’t so foolish as to speak poorly of their Emperor, so they resorted to tarnishing her reputation instead. She was a witch, had steered Macrinus to his end, was desperate to attach herself to the divinity the Emperors were entitled to.

It was ridiculous. If she had such powers, she sure wouldn’t have suffered all this. 

It was all just more fuel for her suppositions, perpetuating her unhappy cycle until she felt like it would be better if she just snuck out one night. She could become a ghost story. But against all odds, she still carried hope that the next day would be different. 

As for Geta, well, Geta was trying to prevent an economic collapse. Some part of him thought Letha might think poorly of him if he let the empire fall around them because he would rather be locked up in his rooms, curled up in her. Because that was what he wanted. But he had a duty, a responsibility to steer this monstrous empire in a direction he could have heirs in. Perhaps the danger had put things into perspective.

Listening to the senators describe just how involved Macrinus had been in arming their voracious armies became more and more painful as they dove into the minutiae of complex accounts and processes he never bothered to pay attention to before. It was overwhelming. But he knew their efforts were working. Still, there were moments where he’d trade it all for those eyes on him again. 

What little free time he had was spent trying to avoid Letha, because he needed hours, days, uninterrupted, for him to spill his heart to her. A few minutes here and there wouldn’t be enough to relay any of the complex emotions he felt. He couldn’t avoid her forever, though, because there was a certain conversation that had to happen. He needed to know where he stood with her before he picked a particular path to tread down.

So that was why he stalked the gardens that evening, waiting for her to appear for her nightly stargazing. And as he watched her spread out the emerald-dyed linen on the grass, he felt calm. Almost peaceful. He let himself forget the weight of all that had happened, the guilt, too. Everything they’d all been through. 

Well, not everything.

“You should have run far away from here,” Geta spoke, disturbing her peace. 

Letha looked over her shoulder, her breath held in her lungs as she appraised him. It almost felt like the first time. The first time she saw him and admitted against her better judgment that he was beautiful.

The moonlight glinted off the laurels and the golden chestplate he still wore, though the ceremony had long been over. His hair was shiny, neat, framing his fair face. His deep, dark eyes, still lined in crimson, were locked on her.

He looked close to divine standing there in the golden armor, easily one of the most opulent things she’d ever seen. He somehow looked taller, broader, in the armor. Untouchable, too. 

It was so late in the evening, he should’ve changed. He should be in bed. Anywhere but here.

No more hiding. 

“I was locked in a cell, I wasn’t running anywhere.”

He surprised her by sitting beside her on the blanket, the ceremonial armor quite uncomfortable to lay down in. He kept his arms slung around his knees, the bindings of the tall sandals flexing over his shins as he joined her in staring up at the large moon.

“What about after?” After Macrinus. “You’ve had no chaperone for well over a week now.”

Letha felt her stomach twist. “I’ve thought about it.”

“But?” Geta supplied, turning his head away from the splendor of the night sky to peer down at her where she laid out beside him. A challenger to the celestial might hanging above.

“You know there would be no point.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I do?”

She rolled her eyes, a treasonous activity if done by any other, but it filled Geta with warmth, bringing the beginnings of a smile to his lips. It all felt so familiar.

“There’s something that is keeping me here. Besides the fact I wouldn’t last a day out there with nowhere to go.”

“I dared to hope,” he admitted, taking her own admission and shoving it into the cracks that were slowly mending, a makeshift mortar.

She looked over at him, a line forming between her brows as she studied him, thinking very hard about what to say next. He reached down with a finger, gently pressing at the center of her brows, pushing away the line.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, the pressure of his closeness becoming overwhelming. 

“No,” he shook his head, moving his finger lower to press to her lips, silencing any further unnecessary apologies. “It is forgiven.”

Letha felt relief, could feel a tear forming at the corner of her eye. But she didn’t want to cry, not now. She recalled her apology muttered into his hair that day. He’d told her ‘no’ then too. 

“Do you still care for me?” he asked, his voice low.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, feeling the tear slide down the side of her face. 

He noticed it, moving his fingertip to wipe away the trail before resting his hand on the ground beside her head. He licked his lips, staring at her, all his weight bearing down, as if daring himself to collapse onto her. 

As much as he might have enjoyed frolicking beneath the stars, removing this armor was not a graceful job, even for two. 

“I want to show you something.” He pushed off the ground and sat up, the haze of him dispersed. She made herself sit up, kept her eyes on him as he stood up. He could feel a swarm of bees in his stomach moving angrily as he held a hand out for her to help her to her feet.

There was a split second of indecision and he nearly faltered, but her tight grip on his hand was a balm, immediately settling his nerves. As she leaned down to gather up the blanket, he tugged her hand, urging her to leave it. 

Geta  lifted the small chest off his desk and carried it over to where Letha sat on the side of the chaise in his room. It sank into the plush seat and she looked up at him, surprised. 

“It’s quite heavy.”

“I can manage just fine,” he smiled, his teasing tone returning.

It was so easy to get caught up in his magnetism. She wondered if he knew he possessed such a thing.

“Go on,” he urged. “Open it.”

She obeyed, pushing up the lid, exposing a rich ruby interior, the box created to house this one ornate bauble. Laurels, golden and sparkling. There were small, dazzling red gems hidden among the leaves here and there.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, reaching in to run a finger along one of the gilded leaves. “Seems a bit small for you,” she admitted.

“It is,” he confirmed. 

“Well I think Caracalla will love it,” she smiled, lowering the lid. “It’s a thoughtful gift.”

Geta reached down, pulling it back open. There was a look in her eyes that gave him pause, all the smiles and teasing forgotten. As if she knew already what he was about to say. To ask.

“It’s not for my brother.”

His words sent an icy chill down the center of her back, forcing her to sit up a bit straighter. He was already moving away, pacing.

“I have been busy, Letha,” he admitted. “I’ve spent more time with the senators than I can possibly stand. And in exchange for those long hours, I got this.”

“Geta, I—”

“Don’t feel like you need to say yes right now. Just promise me you will think on it. I know these last couple of weeks have been difficult, we’ve had a hell of a time trying to navigate—”

Letha stood and walked over to him as he rambled. She reached up and curled her fingers around the collar of the chestplate, pulling him down by it, pressing her lips to his. 

Geta recognized the action immediately, bringing one of his hands up to cover hers where she held the armor, moaning against her lips. He pulled her in by the small of her back with his free hand. Her necklace clattered against the metal plate until it was muffled by the press of her against him. 

He could not get near enough air into his lungs. He felt dizzy, incoherent, his blood at once diluted but also thickened, leaving his limbs feeling heavy with a honeyed sludge passing through his veins. The pressure of her hauling him down to her eager mouth by the bronze plate persisted in his brain, in his gut, and he suspected he would relive it for the rest of time. 

“Letha,” he breathed, his palm pressing to her heated cheek. “You can take time,” he offered, though he would be lying if he said he was satisfied with this and nothing more.

“I’ve taken it,” she replied quickly, releasing the armor. 

Before the dissatisfaction crept in, he felt her fingers at his side, brushing the underside of his arm that he immediately lifted. She worked at the buckle, pulling the leather free before moving down to the woven golden string keeping both halves together. 

Once his brain caught up to hers, he pulled at the cords holding the pauldrons over his shoulders, the both of them picking up speed as an unspoken sense of urgency grew in the silence. It all hit the floor with a loud clattering, the pteruges joining it not long after. 

Free from the weight of the heavy armor, Geta reached for Letha’s neck, pulling her into him, groaning against her lips as he attempted to make up for lost time.

As he held her, he realized she was working herself out of her dress. It was bunched up on her shoulders by the time he looked down. The next chance she got, the two of them needing air, she threw it off over her head. 

“I would have gotten to that,” he breathed, allowing himself to look her over. 

“Like I said, I’ve taken it.” she spoke with intention. He felt it low in his belly.

She got to spend only a moment more on her feet before he collected her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She let out a laugh as she sank into the plush arrangement of silks and pillows. He stared down at her, feeling that blooming of warmth in his chest that only she gave him.

 “What are you waiting for?”

As the words left her lips, Geta threw off the white tunic and joined her, crawling up her body to seal his lips to hers, finally allowing the weight of him to press her down into the bed. He had missed this. Her skin, already hot beneath his hands, her movements only drawing him in further, seeking his touch, his lips.

It had been a long couple of weeks.

He felt her bring a leg up around his hip and he reached for it, fingers digging into her thigh as he rutted against her. The ragged moan that left his throat said more about his desperation than anything else.

The tension in his arm trying to hold him up off of her was too much to ignore. He turned onto his side, clinging to her thigh, slowly bringing her with him until he was on his back. As she settled in this new position, she looked down where they met, a bashful smile on her face.

He couldn’t deny the wonder that overtook him at the sight of her above him, the way her mussed hair hung around her face, a few strands now loose. She was radiant, even in the night. Her nervous smile took hold in his chest, and he knew then that he would make it his goal to continue to find ways to draw that same smile from her. 

“I missed you,” she admitted, eyes cast down to the expanse of his torso beneath her hands. “I thought we might never…”

“Letha, you possess me.” Her eyes widened, her body frozen in his hands. “I think that was why it hurt so much to be separated from you.” He shifted his hips, forcing heat into her cheeks. “And I owe you an apology.”

“It is forgiven,” she insisted.

He shot her a look. “I could have lost you. It was cruel and impulsive.”

“We are fortunate your brother had the good sense to intervene, then.”

“Please, do not speak of my brother right now,” he pleaded, squeezing her thighs. 

She laughed at him, covering his hands with hers. “Let me distract you,” she offered, bringing his hands up higher, his fingers skimming her belly before she pressed his palms into her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his hands squeezing her soft skin. 

She ground herself down on him, using him, the sight filling him with desire for her. How he ever got pleasure from anyone else, he could never know. This was all he ever needed. He could only thank the gods, the fates, whoever brought her to him. 

She surprised him as she swung her leg over him, leaving him there in the bed, a pathetic whine leaving his throat as the air hit his slick-wet cock.

Letha felt a bit unsteady on her feet as she walked through his room. She was ready to show him that she would take on the mantle, the responsibility of keeping him sated and happy. 

Possessed him? She would never get over it. 

She found the chest and lifted the lid, reaching down for the delicate crown. Even in the dim light it sparkled. Her prize in hand, she set it on her head and nearly sprinted back to Geta.

He still laid in the middle of his bed, a vision of long limbs and pale flesh. At the sound of her feet padding on the floor he craned his neck, his large brown eyes passing over her, lingering on her head, where the crown sat precariously.

His full lips parted in a grin. “Eager to fulfill your duty, Empress?” he questioned, his voice low with desire. He held his hands out for her, helping her return to her place astride his hips. 

“Do you like it?” she asked a bit bashfully, her hands leaving his to steady the crown in her hair.

He let out a deep breath. “Mea lux,” he smiled, reaching up to pull her down to his chest, “you spoil me.” He stole a kiss from her lips before he reached up to adjust the crown so it would sit more securely on her head. She leaned into every touch, relishing the sensation of his large hands on her skin, skimming, gripping, squeezing.

She was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t notice him preparing to shove into her, her only warning a quick swipe of him through her slick. They let out matching sighs as he filled her, like this was all they needed. Letha sat up, a hand pressed against his abdomen for support as she reacclimated to him. 

“W-What exactly are the duties of an Empress, Geta?” she asked. His hips snapping up forcing a wanton moan to leave her lips. 

His flush extended from his face and ears down to his chest. “Besides the obvious?”

She nodded, shifting her hips, moving on instinct, eager for relief. 

He grunted, letting his head fall back. “Well,” he began, bucking his own hips up slightly to reward her. “You will sit with me in all the boring meetings. We will suffer together.” 

“Mhmm,” she moaned, nodding. “I can do that.”

“You will advise me, keep me in line,” he grunted. “Tell me when I’m being a fool.”

“I will relish every chance I get,” she grinned, chasing her pleasure.

“Don’t look so excited,” he chuckled, biting his lip. 

She felt her thighs burning, but she didn’t dare stop, the coil pulling ever tighter. “What else?”

“You will guard my heart, Letha,” he breathed, his eyes meeting hers.

Her hips stilled. 

Geta flipped them, bringing his face down to hers. She ran her hands up his sides, over his shoulders, tangling in his hair as he kissed her. She relaxed beneath him, her legs wrapping around his hips as he drove into her at a steady pace. 

“Can you do that?” he asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Haven’t I been already?” 

He blinked down at her, absorbing her words. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed, pulling his face down to hers.

In the kiss, he quickened his pace. She felt like she was falling apart in his hands, unable to form more words. He reached down between them, his fingers finding home in the apex of her thighs, his nose brushing against hers as he urged her to her release.

She clung to him desperately, choked gasps leaving her throat as he pressed his lips against it. She clenched around him, the coil finally snapping and giving way for her hard-earned release. He pushed her through it, her hands squeezing his hips in an effort to slow him down, too sensitive. 

He sat up, pulling her to him by her hips, grunting as he pounded into her.

“Is giving you an heir part of my duties as well?”

He laughed. “Not a requirement, but–” He cut himself off, burying himself in her as he fell on top of her, pulsing into her. “–a perk.”

He settled on top of her, his lips pressing to hers before he buried his face in the side of her neck. She held him close, running fingers up and down his back, enjoying the warmth of him despite all the sweat. 

“I would stay like this forever,” she sighed, trying to fight off the exhaustion she felt. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep now that she had him back.

“I have no pressing business for two days, mea lux. You’re not leaving this room,” he spoke into her skin. “And when we do, we will be wed.”

She felt nervous, but optimistic. “Should we not have waited until after for this then?”

He lifted his head, his warm eyes settling on hers. Full of love and mirth. “Oh, no, dear Letha. I believe you said you have already taken your time to think,” he winked, “and I would not deprive my Empress of anything.”

[ fin ]

Thank you for reading!

[persepinas]

I first joined the IWTV fandom 3 years after my father has passed away from a cancer that stole him away in 6 months, close to 7 months of fighting. He fought to stay with us. He fought because he didn't want to leave. He fought because he loved us more than he wanted to let go despite suffering so much.

After he passed away, I found myself reading and watching everything having to do with death. I had rewatched the entire series of Six Feet Under, Dead like Me and a few more shows about death. I had rewatched Buffy. I needed to connect to death. I needed to see grief and loss.

Then IWTV magically appeared before my eyes one day when I logged into my barely used Tumblr account. I was intrigued and excited. I had forgotten a new adaption was being made and I managed to get into the show by the time episode 3 of season 1 had aired. I watched and devoured every second and fell (fatally hehe) in love with this adaption and the characters and the way they showed death and grief. I was able to connect. It helped me along with my healing journey.

Once I began to write one of my fanfictions, Suckerpunch, I wrote out grief and loss and what it was like to live life while losing someone you loved. What it was like to miss them but continue to live every single day. How some days were normal and then others the grief would hit so hard you could barely breathe. How grief isn't linear. How the loss of those you love never truly leaves. You simply learn to live without them.

Writing was a large part of my healing. Writing Suckerpunch specifically helped me so much and I have talked about it before but it makes me feel like I did something good when others will read it and tell me they were moved or it helped them or anything similar to that. At least, for one moment in time, I did something, wrote something that could matter even if it was an alternate universe all human fic about the vampires Lestat and Louis.

But being in the IWTV fandom helped more. Meeting people I connected with helped. I was able to really find some beautiful souls and I was even able to meet them in person and go on vacation with some of them. So many beautiful memories. So much laughter. So many minutes lived.

And even on that trip, I took my father with me. I felt him in every step I took. I wished I could show him all the things I saw. I was there in father's day and I wished he were there for me to simply embrace and say I love you.

And it's why right now, six years after losing him, I sit here and I wonder what it would have been like had I not found this fandom and community. I do believe I'd have been so much lonlier. I do know for sure id have never returned to writing after such a long hiatus. I believe I wouldn't be this deep into my journey of understanding death and what it is like to grieve if it wasn't for IWTV and for The Vampire Chronicles as well.

Do you know what it means to be loved by death is a question asked and yes, I do know, and as painful as it is, it is the most beautiful sort of love as well because it goes on forever and never leaves. It is endless. It is eternal.

I love you, Papa.

[skarabrae-stone]

Yeah, that context makes sense! I think your interpretation is spot-on-- it seems like there's a bit of a threshold at which LMM would consider someone to have experienced true tragedy, and I can definitely see how she differentiates between Anne losing her baby vs her previous difficult experiences. This makes me wonder whether Anne's prior experiences would truly not be considered tragic by the standards of the time, or whether LMM's view is due to her specific experiences.

I also think that LMM is betraying a bit too much of her own perspective in the conversation between Anne and Gilbert-- maybe from HER perspective, Anne hasn't experienced any tragedies yet, but from the perspective of a 19- or 20-year-old (I don't remember how old Anne is in this scene, but she's still pretty young), I think the scale of what counts as a "great sorrow" would be different.

While I think there's a fair argument that Anne's later experiences constitute greater tragedies than her early ones (it makes sense that losing a child would hit her harder, and change her more, than losing a parental figure, no matter how beloved), I think that at this point in her life, Anne would absolutely consider Matthew's death to be a "great sorrow". Maybe once she's older and has experienced more loss, it would make sense that she would sort of re-categorize what counts as a "great sorrow", but in the moment in which she's talking about the cup of bitterness etc., it seems odd to me that she would act as though Matthew's death doesn't count-- that it doesn't add any "bitterness" to her "cup", or that she has no idea what her reaction would be to a "great sorrow", as though she has never faced anything like that before. LMM might view Matthew's death as only a grief, not a tragedy, but I don't think it feels realistic that Anne, at that stage of her life, would view it that way.

I did a word search in the text of AOTI, and the word "Matthew" doesn't appear at all in the book. So was that because LMM forgot that Anne would still remember and think about him? Or was LMM deliberately portraying Anne as having already forgotten her grief and just living in the moment? I don't really think it's the latter, as Anne is generally shown to be someone who doesn't forget important people from her past. In AOGG, one of Anne's main motivations for doing well in school (beyond her own ambition) is to make Matthew proud. I would have loved to see that carry over into AOTI.

(More rambling below the cut)

I'm also curious whether LMM's own point of view on this changed, as I feel like Anne's youthful experiences with unhappiness/grief are given more weight in AOGG.

After Anne tells her "history" to Marilla, Marilla's reflections are:

"Pity was suddenly stirring in her heart for the child. What a starved, unloved life she had had—a life of drudgery and poverty and neglect; for Marilla was shrewd enough to read between the lines of Anne’s history and divine the truth. No wonder she had been so delighted at the prospect of a real home."

Matthew's death is also portrayed as life-changing for Anne:

"It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it."

To me, the passage below feels fairly similar to "Anne found that she could go on living; the day came when she even smiled again":

"Even at Green Gables affairs slipped into their old groove and work was done and duties fulfilled with regularity as before, although always with the aching sense of 'loss in all familiar things.' Anne, new to grief, thought it almost sad that it could be so—that they could go on in the old way without Matthew."

After checking publication dates, it looks like the first two "Anne" books were written before LMM's marriage. I have to wonder if her thoughts on death and what counts as a "great sorrow" changed after having a stillborn child. I think sometimes when one experiences a great personal tragedy, former/other types of sorrows feel less significant, and I wonder if LMM is projecting that a bit onto Anne.

Whether or not Matthew's death should be considered a "great sorrow", now that I've noticed it, I wish that he didn't seem so entirely forgotten in this book.

I'm on Chapter 6 of Anne of the Island, and Anne and Gilbert's conversation about sorrows and happiness struck me as kind of odd.

“I think, if ever any great sorrow came to me, I would come to the pines for comfort,” said Anne dreamily. “I hope no great sorrow ever will come to you, Anne,” said Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him [...] “But there must—sometime,” mused Anne. “Life seems like a cup of glory held to my lips just now. But there must be some bitterness in it—there is in every cup. I shall taste mine some day. Well, I hope I shall be strong and brave to meet it.”

Reading this, I thought, Did LLM forget about Matthew?? In AOGG, Matthew's death is treated as a major event, which changes Anne forever. It's strange to me that Anne and Gilbert both talk of a "great sorrow" as a hypothetical future event, when Anne has already experienced it with Matthew.

Anne's first sentence seems to be speaking about the future, so that makes sense to me. But the rest of their conversation seems to imply that Anne has not yet faced any significant sorrow or trial. Especially "there must be some bitterness in it... I shall taste mine someday" as if Anne isn't already an orphan who spent the first eleven years of her life neglected and friendless, who lost someone very dear to her only a couple of years ago. Idk, it just feels out of place to me.

[inseparabiles]

This isn't an urgen concern or something that's coming out of a present situation of feeling the worst ever,

but like, with chronic illness, how are you supposed to know when something's an actual emergency? There's a new "this is the worst I've ever felt" with frightening symptoms of impending doom at least three times a year, and it's never anything. It's never anything and going to the urgent care for it just wastes everyone's time.

How the fuck are you supposed to know which "feeling the worst you've ever felt" is the one?

[sunlit-mess]

consumed by the inevitable

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 6] Based on this line of dialogue:

[starredforlife]

If you fucking morons cared one ounce as much for palestine as you do for this horrid little show.

[beware-of-you-98]

Is there a single witch in this little corner of the MCU whose life isn’t completely fucking depressing

[spacedlexi]

i Need to draw more clemviminnie shit but how am i supposed to do that when minnie only exists alongside them for 2 episodes then dies

[donnatroyyyy]

Batman has/had some kind of miscommunication going on with every single one of his kids. The bat family is just one big miscommunication trope after the other.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[pantoranqira]

"Anakin/Obi Wan/Yoda/Padmé/Shmi is the most tragic character in Star Wars" you are WRONG actually. L3-37 HOWEVER.....

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Me: [hates talking to people over the phone because it’s awkward and makes me anxious]

Also me: [has witnessed multiple people experiencing extremely painful, gory, and/or life-threatening events and only felt a mild sense of curiosity and ”Wow! If I don’t (help them)/(feign empathy) right now I’ll look like a bad person.”

[ceramicbeetle]

the only thing i don't like about 'Alex should have asked for help' AUs/theories is that they all seem to have the base assumption that we actually Know Anything about The Operator, and the fact of the matter is that we simply Don't.