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corellianhounds · 1 month ago

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My Brother’s Keeper

TBB Body Swap AU

Chapter 4: Complications II

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: None

Summary: Things never go the way they’re planned.

“Wrecker for the last time, stop trying to dig it up, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Says you. Come give me a hand here, I need the muscle.”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose, joining Wrecker where he was straining to lift the outer ring on the ground by the one divot he’d been able to make in the stone with his knife. Hunter didn’t know how deep the rings ran but so far Wrecker was the only one who’d made any progress. There were no handholds or notches to tease the idea of a solution, and eventually Hunter had to stand back up and stretch his back.

Wandering around the temple and scanning the walls with his flashlight, Hunter again took stock of his team.

Echo was in control of himself, which (as much as Hunter felt guilty to think of it like this) was an improvement for Echo. He wasn’t having to adapt to anything he didn’t know, and he had more experience and could help the rest of the squad keep a level head.

That being said, he could see Echo’s irritated expression drifting back to where Wrecker was grating his knife against stone, so maybe Hunter’s senses would take some getting used to. Hunter had long since tempered his reflexive irritation at annoying or persistent background noises, of which Wrecker was rarely in short supply. So much of Hunter’s training had involved figuring out how to tone out extraneous information and by now it was second nature for him to be able to tell which sounds or scents or visuals weren’t pertinent to his assessment of a situation, but that had taken training. He made a mental note to adjust the audio settings on his helmet to help block some of the input for Echo.

Wrecker seemed relatively unbothered once the initial shock wore off. He was understandably frustrated at the change in physicality, but he of all of them rolled with the punches best. Tech was still largely built like a standard clone and could shoulder more weight than the average person, but he was more lean and compact compared to the rest of them. It made him fast and evasive in the field, but his fighting style was patently different from Wrecker’s battering ram approach. Hunter was more worried Wrecker’s tendency to bulldoze through multiple opponents and leap onto or into the fray was going to get Tech’s body trampled. Wrecker had always pushed himself to find what eventual limits and thresholds would restrict him, and his personality was one geared towards learning from experience and experimentation. He’d always operated on empirical knowledge, and if that meant charging headlong into danger, so be it.

On the plus side though, Hunter figured he’d only make that mistake once while he was stuck as Tech before realizing he was no longer nigh-invincible. Wrecker may be foolhardy, but he wasn’t stupid.

Tech, though familiar with Echo’s disabilities and prostheses, was still having to make constant micro-adjustments to how he worked. He couldn’t hold his datapad and type at the same time, and the pressure sensors in each of his limbs relayed the sensation differently than organic limbs, enough to the point Tech had had to make a focused effort to steady himself on his feet and work through the change in balance and mobility. He didn’t begrudge anybody for his luck of the draw; he could still move and shoot, and he had plenty of tools still at his disposal, and Hunter knew he’d also be able to keep track of what Echo’s body would need at any given time.

What did concern him though was Tech’s earlier revelation at not being able to recall information the same way as before. He’d gone very still and quiet in the middle of a thought, prompting a sense of unease to worm its way under Hunter’s skin; Tech’s hesitance as he voiced his theory was incredibly out of character and it worried him to even theorize that switching consciousness wasn’t a clean lateral move; what parts of their minds were they unable to take with them because they were tied to their actual bodies, and how would that affect each of them moving forward? How much, if any, would be lost or seep into them the longer they were in somebody else’s head?

And then when it came to Crosshair and Omega…

Hunter didn’t even know where to start with them. There were issues of both age and physiology at play, to say nothing of their respective personalities and skill sets. Any problems either of them had would have to be handled delicately, and thinking about it made him supremely uncomfortable.

If they could just solve whatever puzzle this was and reverse the effects of the switch, he wouldn’t have to deal with any further complications.

Hunter sighed, aimlessly scanning for anything he might have missed. Wrecker had moved on to another ring trying the same thing he had before in chiseling out a larger gap in the cut stone. Hunter jammed one of the pry bars into the first crevice Wrecker had asked him for help with, forcing it down into the ground, but when he leveraged his weight against it he heard a *k-chunk*.

Everybody froze at the mechanical reverberation, silence filling the cavern as they came to a standstill. Wrecker stared at Hunter. Hunter stared at the crevice.

“Uh, Sarge…?”

The ground shook. Hunter’s stomach dropped.

The earth shuddered again, fissures lancing through stone. Hunter stumbled back and Wrecker darted over the colliding floor plates to the outside rings. The floor cracked and began to shear against itself like waves. Stalactites trembled above them. Their eyes widened and the groaning, trembling cavern started to shake in earnest, the cacophonous sound of stone on stone forcing all of them into action.

Hunter barked orders over the din as they grabbed their gear and booked it for the exit. He saw Omega stumble and pulled her out of the way as a stalactite shattered on impact with the ground and sent rocks flying outward in a spray of dust. The rest of the squad was yelling and clamoring for the outer hall, and he scooped her up as he ran, one arm shielding her head from the falling rocks.

Five sets of boots pounded against sandstone as the outer temple walls collapsed behind them. Echo was in the lead, but when he turned right at the first junction he skidded to a halt, Tech and Wrecker colliding with his back as they all hit the dead end.

“What are you doin’—?!” Wrecker yelled.

“This was the turn to get out!” Echo hollered back, swiftly turning and looking wildly around before racing the opposite direction. The earthquake shuddered through the temple again, more fissures slivering between their footfalls and catching up to them. “Other parts of the temple must have changed while we were unconscious!”

The crew raced onward, hitting two more dead ends and an unfamiliar stairway. Echo and Tech argued as they ran, Wrecker yelling at every close call with falling rocks, and when they reached a blocked fork in the tunnels Wrecker reflexively tried with all his might to lift the boulders out of the way, but to no avail.

Hunter raced to keep up, ducking beneath another column that fell and bridged itself overhead. Despite the danger, something nagged at the back of his mind. The temple, the torches, the runes, the rings…

Hunter’s eyes widened. He shouted up to the rest of the men, getting their attention.

“Echo! About-face! One-eighty for each turn we made coming in!”

The squad hesitated but Hunter was already backtracking the way they came and they scrambled to catch up. The temple structure groaned again, crashing walls and columns raining down around them. Hunter wracked his brain for the path they took on the way in, muttering to himself as he took each turn opposite of what they should have been for the way out. He saw a leftward tunnel that split off into two more and he banked right, adjusting his grip on Omega as he rounded the corner and felt a wave of relief when he saw light up ahead.

All of the clones broke from the mouth of the cave system into warm daylight, a shuddering crash of dust and stone bringing up the back of their party. Hunter kept running a good forty paces through the scrub brush before turning back, relieved to see all of his team catching up to him.

“Let go of me,” Omega growled, shoving fruitlessly at him and wriggling out of his grip, falling to the ground and out of reach. She stumbled away spitting curses under her breath, wiping the debris from her clothes.

… Right, Hunter thought. Not Omega anymore.

Wrecker hooted in victory, entreating a high-five from anybody who’d indulge him, but turning to Omega-as-Crosshair sobered some of that good humor; Omega was bent with her hands on her knees, coughing and having a hard time catching her breath. Wrecker felt a pang of sympathy, striding over to slap her on the back and offer his canteen, which she took gratefully, still occasionally coughing.

Echo righted himself, taking deep breaths and trying to slow his heart rate out of habit before realizing he felt… okay. Better than okay, really. The dying adrenaline didn’t make him feel like he was crashing, just coming down from the high like a hang glider skimming down to level ground. He felt alert, focused, senses buzzing from the input of information every sight and smell gave him. With that came two more realizations of the day:

One: His own body had apparently not been keeping up as well as he thought it had this past year.

And two: This was not the same planet they landed on twelve hours ago.

< Previous chapter

Next chapter >

#the bad batch #Sergeant Hunter #Wrecker #The others are there but we don’t get their perspective as much so tagging it with their names feels misleading #I think separating out what I already have into manageable chunks and just getting them out of my mental periphery #will go a long way towards keeping the pacing up and keeping me from getting stuck on segues #Man I hate segues #hounds speaks #my writing #fic: My brother’s keeper #I think it needs a different title but idk what right now #c’est la vie #ao3 link in reblog #I also like the more streamlined chapter formatting I have here vs like the Toro Lives chapters #Those feel more episodic though and I wanted them to have a more visual quality #Here? You guys can fill in the blanks #The visuals and descriptions are not as important this time around #You know who these people are. you know what they’re doing in the background.#The plot is here as a vehicle for humor and the poignancy of character interactions and development

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keylovesstuff · 1 year ago

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Lost and Found

Mario fandom, may I humbly offer my first contribution lol. A Peach fanfic cause I can't get my mind off this gal. A little idea that's been crawling in my brain for a while, and I finally sat myself down in front of a word doc to just write it up. So, takes place in the movie-verse until the point in the flashback where baby peach encounters the toads and just a tad bit after that.

The small blonde walked through the now abandoned town in search of just anyone at this point. Stores that were once filled with shoppers looking to purchase a variety of different things while workers assisted were now empty. The playground where she'd play and laugh with girls and boys of all ages was now filled with silence. Home, where she had awoken from a nap alone for the first time ever, was missing her mom and dad. The door was left wide open as she scrambled off the couch making a grab for her purple blanket and tying around her neck. With pink shoes now on the best way her parents showed her how to and pacifier in hand she was out the house. What started out as a fun game of hide and seek in the young child's mind, began to grow into worry as the sky went from a beautiful light blue to a bright orange.

"Mommy? Daddy? Hello" The child once again called out, peering around yet another aisle inside yet another building. The three-year old made sure that no area was left unsearched even if that meant stacking items on top of each other to reach door handles. For the tenth time in her mind, she was met with no response.

Small blue eyes began to fill up with tears as she felt her heart break in two. Sniffling, she Reached up to her cheeks to wipe away the wetness and reached inside her skirt pocket for her pacifier. It wasn't much but it did bring her some comfort as it always would. Vaguely she could hear her father telling her mother how she was getting too old for it and should have been weaned off of it ages ago. A small smile would appear on her mother's face while she cooked up a meal in the kitchen laughing as she would always promise to start the process next week only to not follow through. With another failed search in locating anyone, the girl left the store feeling exhausted mentally and physically. Little legs aching for a break after walking for what seemed like forever she finally gave in, sitting on the ground and leaning against the brick wall of the store.

Taking the blanket from around her neck she covered her body and closed her eyes. The child's mind finally embraced the negative thoughts that started to itch at her brain after the fifth place she looked.

No, there will be no one at the next place you go.

No matter how loud you call out, no one will answer back.

Yes you are alone and will never see anyone again.

With the last of her hope dissolving, she succumbed to sleep and let the last of her tears fall.

The cold breeze awoke her from her slumber this time, having shifted from her original sitting to lying on her side sometime in her sleep causing the blanket to slide off. Shivering slightly she wrapped the blanket as tightly around her as she could to feel warm. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she realized that the sky was now a dark blue and the only light came from the moon and the many of the stars in the sky. A memory of sitting in her dads lap with her mom on his side pointing out the stars on a grassy field to them flashed before her eyes. They began to fill up with salty water after removing her sight from the sky to look across the street when something strange caught her eye. Floating and staring was a pink pudgy starry figure that she only ever saw in the picture books her parents read to her during bedtime. Sitting up she stared right back into the creature's black eyes as she tried to recall the name the stories gave it.

"A Duma?" She took her pacifier out and voiced aloud as its name finally came to mind. It made a sound in a language that probably no one would understand. The Luma beckoned with its entire body to follow and started off down the street. Puzzled for a moment to process things she shook her head standing up and frantically cried out "Wait, please don't go" she grabbed her blanket once again placed it around her neck and pocketed her pacifier before taking off in the direction it went.

The Luma led her to the forest that every adult, be it their families or not in the town warned every child that could walk not to enter. As it went ahead, the little girl came to a complete stop where the town ended and the forest started hesitating to cross. Sensing that she was no longer following, the Luma also came to a stop and turned to face her, repeating the beckoning gesture from before.

"Duma, I'm not supposed to go in there." She explained with a soft voice pointing a finger at the forest that is full of unknown secrets. "I'll get in trouble if someone sees me-" that last word barely escaped her mouth before she promptly closed it, bringing her previous hand to cover her mouth.

The thoughts from earlier crept back into her mind, repeating the phrases she tried hard to ignore throughout the day. This time though a new thought came to her mind. What if everyone went into the forest and was just waiting for her to join them? A new hope filled up in her chest and she looked at the Luma with a newfound determination and courage.

"Ok I'll follow you, but you gotta promise that there's anyone there" She told the creature and it responded with the same unknown sound.

"Alright let's go then" she let out a small giggle before looking at her feet one by one as they crossed into the beginning of the forest. The girl turned to take in one final look at the empty and stared for a moment before following the Luma further in.

The two figures ventured in silence for a little while longer. The blonde child only stopped every few feet to glance around and up ahead for any sign of a familiar figure. The Luma came to a stop first and the girl bumped into its body several seconds after being distracted.

"Hey why did we-" she started to ask but could not continue the rest of her question as she took in her new surroundings. The luma had led them to an area with a stony ground surrounded by huge pillars. What had caught her eye the most was the green object built in between the two pillars as it glowed a white light in the middle. "Wow" was the only word she could bring herself to voice.

The girl suddenly had a feeling that whatever was inside the pipe was calling to her as she started to walk forward only to be stopped by the Luma placing its body against her to keep her in place. The Luma floated lower to the ground and it took the child a few moments to figure that it must have wanted her to sit down. Sitting on the ground she crossed her legs and placed her hands in between them facing the green object. With more than decent patience for a child her age, she started squirming in place the longer they sat there the more she wanted to just get up and go into the mysterious object. From fiddling with the blanket around her body to messing with the object in her pocket to tapping her fingers against her legs, all of that could only distract her but so much from not focusing on the light. What if everyone was waiting for her on the other side and she was holding them up by waiting here? As soon as that thought entered her mind she got up and tried to make a dash as quick as her little legs could go.

All she could process was the sound of the Luma making a noise behind her and bumping into something the next moment before landing on her bottom. Rubbing her head she looked up to what had caused her to fall and what she saw took her by complete surprise left her speechless.A light blonde haired women with a bang covering one eye wearing a crown in a beautiful blue dress was levitating slightly above the ground and holding a star wand appeared in front of her with a smile. While she never knew everyone in the town, she was certain she would remember a person that could float. The question 'who are you' was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't bring herself to voice it aloud, It didn’t take much longer for the women above her to speak.

“Hello there little one, It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She kindly greeted the child who still stared at with a confused expression in her eyes and mouth agape in question.

“You have gone through so much in such a short amount of time. Allow me to heal your mind.” With that said, she lowered the wand to the child's head. It began to glow as all the negative thoughts and memories left.

On one hand it felt as though nothing could hold the child back from embracing any and everything that would come her way. On the other hand it felt as though two important people disappeared and she couldn’t recall who they were or if they ever existed in the first place. The woman removed her wand when she was satisfied with her magic. The girl continued to look on with wide eyes.

“You are going to do so many amazing things and inspire so many in your future.” The woman started to say to the child who looked on with wonder filled eyes.

“You will meet allies and foes alike. There will be many challenges you’ll have to face but you will get through them with your bravery. I have already seen it.” She assured and moved to the side to reveal the glowing green object once more.

“Go on in, They are waiting for you on the other side. Guide and Protect them. Show them what a respectable and kind leader you can be. Our paths will cross again one day” With that final promise the woman started to vanish before the girl's eyes.

When the figure faded away completely she was once again alone and had so many questions. What did all of it mean? Was everything the women said was true? Who will she meet on the other side? That last question would be answered sooner rather than later as she could finally enter the thing that was pulling her in. While she was mostly ready to take that step, there was a small part of her that was fearful of the unknown. Reaching in her pocket once more she grabbed her pacifier and put it in her mouth to feel that comfort, before taking in a small breath and stepping in. Finding herself flowing aimlessly through this portal, she took in the colors some of which she had never seen before. Despite floating in midair she felt calm and just let the current take her to its predetermined destination. Up ahead she saw another round green object similar to the one in the stoned area, The current around her started to slow down in preparation to enter the pipe again.

The girl was finally able to stand up and walk on her own two feet the rest of the way. Clutching her hands she took in the environment around her as the exit came closer she placed her hand on the green object to hold her balance as she took a step down. Taking this time to look in front of her she noticed that these rainbowed people dressed in identical clothing and were slightly taller than herself but they had this warm and inviting presence about them that made approaching them much easier so she did. The creatures also approached her but with slightly more caution in their step following the green person who was leading the other two bent down in front of her with a smile. The woman's words of being ‘a kind person’ ringed in the back of her mind. So she did what she thought was the nicest thing and took out her cherished pacifier and stuck it in the creature's mouth who looked on in confusion. Giggling she jumped up wrapping her arms around its shoulders immediately feeling safe and secure as this person also embraced her holding her up.

“Told you that you had a way with kids” came a teasing voice from behind. “Ow what I say?” the yellow person rubbed its arm and stared offendedly at the other person that whacked him moments prior.

“Now’s not the time for jokes, you dummy this is serious.” the red one scolded the other. “Some strange person just came out of the pipe after it's been glowing all day. It could be here to kill us.” It tried to get the other to understand their point of view. “You better take that thing out of your mouth TG, it could be poisonous” he suggested to the green guy. The yellow one scoffed out a ‘really dude c’mon’ under its breath.

“Mmm” TG mouthed before shifting the child's body weight onto one side of its body removing the pacifier and sticking it back into her mouth. “Well it does just seem like an innocent baby, but better safe than sorry. Let’s head to Toadsworth. He could probably tell us what you are. Yes he can” he gave the blonde's belly a tickle drawing out that giggle from earlier.

“No, don't make friends with it, we aren't sure of its motives yet” The red one tried again with no avail as it began to lead the way back to the others with the other two trailing behind.

“I like the moon, it's pretty” was the first sentence the child said out loud as she pointed at the object in the sky as they all hiked back.

“Wow you do?” TG engaged with her as she nodded eagerly. “I do too, it's very pretty on nights like these” he agreed with her. Several minutes of this went on where she pointed out things she likes and he would talk with her. At one point even the yellow guy hopped into the conversation much to the annoyance of the red person.

“Hey, what are you?” she asked tapping TG’s shoulder to get his attention.

“What am I? Oh well I’m what's called a Toad. Can you say that? Toad” he mouthed it out loud to her slowly and they both repeated it several times.

“I like Toad, they're nice,” she said, nuzzling her face closer into TGs neck and wrapping her arms around him tighter. Before he could return the compliment the red toad spoke up.

“We’re here guys, let's go.” He knocked on the door three times before a brown spotted Toad with a brown mustache and red bowtie appeared in the doorway. “Something finally came out the pipe that we’ve been keeping an eye on all day. It appears to be a baby of some kind” he added as the three of them were ushered inside.

Toadsworth offered them tea as they all began to gather around the small table. The child continued clutching onto the green toad and only glanced every now and again at the mustached gentleman. The four of them conversed over tea gathering new information from the elder Toad. They first found out its gender which was revealed to them as a female and that she belonged to one of the species called humans, though with there being many galaxies and regions they could reside in, the probability in pinpointing the exact place of origin she was from would be a challenge even a guy as smart as him couldn’t figure out. They also came to the conclusion that based on how she interacted with the environment that she was on par with the toad children starting school. The red toad finally stopped giving the child a look of suspicion and after the third round of tea the host directed the conversation towards the blonde girl reaching for the kettle in the middle of the table.

“Oh how rude of me. Please accept my sincerest apologies my dear.” Toadsworth quickly got out of his seat heading over to the cabinet to grab another cup. “A gentleman must always offer a lady a drink.” He started to pour her a cup of tea before the green toad interrupted

“I think she might be a little too young for tea or anything with caffeine for that matter, Toadsworth sir.” he said, motioning his head to the child who now had her own seat.

“You are quite right, The youth these days mustn't get used to relying on stuff like this.” Toadsworth chuckled and went over to the fridge to see what refreshments he had in there. “Oh yes I just received a carton of milk from the meadows this morning. Would you like that m’lady?” In response he got an excited round of applause from the child.

Toadsworth offered to take care of the child for the remainder of the night and start some research in the morning for which planet she could be from and if needed within the next couple of days or weeks put together a group of toads to get this kid back home to her parents. He prepared her for bed first and then went through his nighttime routine which included grabbing a snack for bed, tonight being a fresh bowl of sliced peaches. The girl sat on the bed flipping through a picture book he gave her.

“Well my dear I’m terribly sorry for just now realizing this” He apologized, placing the bowl on the nightstand next to the bed she looked up from the book first to the food and then to him. “My fellow comrades or I failed to ask you your name. So what are you called?” he asked and she stared at him for a few moments before she opened her mouth.

“I want the Peach” she pointed to the bowl that was on the nightstand behind him causing him to reach for the bowl and present it in front of her, smiling when she reached out and grabbed a couple slices.

“Ok now back to important matters.” he cleared his throat into his fist. “What would you like us to call you for the time that you reside with us?” He tried again to get her to focus on what he was asking.

“I like Peach” She said with a smile after finishing the last bite flashing him a toothy smile and he stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

“Alright I shall call you Lady Peach when you’re in my presence and make sure everyone calls you that as well” He told her and assumed she’d probably have a different answer to the question by tomorrow or the next couple of days.

#Super mario bros. movie #Super Mario #Princess Peach #First fic in forever I'm posting without having it beta read #Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or tags #Also I'm so ok if you want to leave any form on constructive criticism if you'd so choose. I know there's still things I need to work on lo #I will try to get this posted on both my ao3 and fanfic net for people who like to read there by tomorrow and reblog it with those links #Oh gosh I'm just stalling in the tags now hyping myself up to hit post lmao #Thanks for taking time to read I hope you all enjoy it I had a very nice time writing this

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artemisdesari-blog · 4 months ago

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A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #writing is hard #fanfic writing #writer stuff #archive of our own #ao3 #this isn’t about me #my stuff still has great interaction from readers #although I would never say no to more #but please please please don't hide your enjoyment from us #they feed the gremlins in our heads which give us the stories

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iri-desky · 1 year ago

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GET KOSA TRENDING.

STOP SCROLLING NOW!

AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.

(IMPORTANT UPDATE: Kosa will not necessarily pass on the 26th. It only has the support to pass in Senate, and we STILL HAVE TIME. That being said, time is of the essence.)

WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.

I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.

Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.

Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.

Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.

Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.

Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.

Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.

Reblog if you think KOSA is unfair and shouldn't be anyone's problem -- including the adults ALL OVER THE DAMN EARTH forced to face the mass censorship it causes because "think of the American Children!".

Reblog if you support internet activism and Palestine.

Reblog if you hate fascism or censorship, and don't want actually serious and helpful conversations censored on the internet.

Reblog if you value the internet in any way at all whatsoever.

CHECK THIS PETITION, TOO! https://www.change.org/p/stop-the-kosa?recruiter=1331807538&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=sms&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf&recruited_by_id=57368c40-d0fd-11ee-98f7-2175430f819f&share_bandit_exp=initial-36809664-en-US

(Also, please reblog with at least "stop kosa" as a tag and not "kosa". I made the mistake of not adding just "kosa" as a tag...)

We won't let this stand any longer. Let's start a riot and get this trending.

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jupiter-and-teardrops · 2 years ago

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the hardest lines ALWAYS come from ao3 fanfics and I stand by this

Mostly thanks to @emilyelizabethfowl (their reblog contains many of the fic links!! thank u sm) and a few deep dives into my ao3 history, the sources of the quotes have mostly all been recovered! I apologise for not posting them all with proper credit originally, I truly didn't think the post would blow up so much, but the lesson is very much learned :) enjoy!

- number 1 is from merthur fic called Destiny Ordered You To Die, But I Willed You To Live by ironfamjam

-number 2 is from a klance fic called reach out for you (break these walls) by Paladin-Pile (UserFromPluto)

- number 3 is a batman fic called Home (jason centered) by Daisybirb

- number 4 is a zukka fic by I'm Not Angry Anymore by team_avatars_eyebags

- numbers 5 and 9 are from The Art Of Burning by hella1975, an amazing ongoing atla following zuko

- number 6 is a hualian fic called No paths are bound by cataclysmic_calamity (originally a thread fic but also fully uploaded on ao3)

- number 7 is a merthur fic called tell me every terrible thing you ever did (and let me love you anyway) by Stardustwrites17 (the quote is also originally from a poem apparently)

- number 8 is from a batman fic called Nature and Nurture by lurkinglurkerwholurks

- number 10 is from a steddie fic called let me know (everythings alright) by bexiguess

ALSO there is now a part 2 !! (which I swear is better organized)

#merthur #merlin #voltron #klance #the walking dead #rickyl #batman #jason todd #red hood #batfam #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #zukka #stranger things #i have a whole collection in my gallery

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lilolilyr · 15 days ago

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Posted and slightly expanded this idea on Ao3!

Zombie apocalypse in the Warehouse world... Maybe an artefact that as a side effect makes your worst fear reality and the user just watched World War Z or similar... Instead of being cleaned up by Warehouse agents neutralizing the artefact, the zombie virus spreads too quickly, and they can't easily get to the artefact anymore by the time they learn that's what caused it because it's in the middle of zombie ground zero. And the Zombies function pretty much just as regular (well... fictional) Zombies do, if you shred them into enough parts they're killed or at least useless, but when hit with artefact neutralizer they're cured, except any bites and missing limbs are suddenly freshly bleeding injuries and most don't live long if they don't get medical attention, and 'it's easier to just shoot them dead instead of trying to douse them with neutralizer and then having to heal people we barely have the resources to feed anyway, isn't it, Myka??' but while some like Steve and to most everyone's surprise Artie are inclined to agree with Helena, Myka can't so easily start killing people when there's an alternative, and after she gets bitten by a surviving zombie which the neutralizer bucket missed while she's trying to extract a now human survivor that must've been bitten not long ago as that and some scratches are the only injuries (and Myka quickly cures herself as well by sticking the bite wound in neutralizing goo, but the others still see the injury for what it is), Helena throws up her hands in frustration and goes to her workshop to build better goo guns for precise aiming and bomb-like distributor situations that cover enough ground so no zombie should be left in the area. Most of the saved still die afterwards, but they manage to actually gain space in the cities instead of being herded back more and more, and finally the precision gun fires the goo at the artefact in the midst of a zombie horde nothing else can reach.

#fanfic idea #my fanfic idea #w13 fanfic idea #my w13 #going through my blog & side blog and checking which posts have not been tagged/reblogged to be found on both #zombies #... i bet this isn't on my ao3 either is it #added it to the draft pile now #ao3 link #lilo writes #jan'25 #19.01.25 #mine

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whumpcember · 3 months ago

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Welcome to the 3rd annual Whumpcember!

Once again, it is just me running the event, so please be aware of any human error. I am grateful for all the participation with choosing the blog theme as well as picking this year's prompts! I hope everyone has a good Whumpcember, and now, here are the rules:

Prompts should be answered with whump as the main focus

Fanfic! Gif! Text post! Fanart! Fan video! Any piece of media that you can possibly make that has whump counts!

You can use the prompts any time! Don't feel the need to rush

Though, prompts answered during December will most likely be reblogged

Post anywhere! AO3, Wattapad, Tumblr, or even Fanfic.Net! So as long as you make a Tumblr post with a link to the answered prompt it may be reblogged.

When posting onto Tumblr you can either @ the blog or tag with #whumpcember24 and the day's tag, such as #whumpcember24 day1

Don't forget to add any warnings necessary, such as NSFW or sexual content

An AO3 Collection will go out on December 1 and close January 1, it's not mandatory, but if you want your works saved in a collection, make sure you get it in on time!

At the end of the month a masterpost will go out to all participants and a badge you can save stating that you are either a participant or completionist. In order to be on the masterpost though, you will have to fill out a google form at the end of month; don't worry it'll take two minutes!

If you have any more questions, send me an ask, but please read the FAQ first!

Written Prompt list below:

Day 1: Broken Bones

Day 2: "This Is Your Fault"

Day 3: Begging

Day 4: "This Isn't My Blood"

Day 5: Concussion

Day 6: "Please Stop"

Day 7: Kidnapped

Day 8: "No. Not Like This"

Day 9: Shaking

Day 10: "Let Me Help You"

Day 11: Manipulation

Day 12: "I Have Nowhere Else To Go"

Day 13: Trauma

Day 14: "I Never Wanted This"

Day 15: Broken Glass

Day 16: Amnesia

Day 17: Greatest Fear

Day 18: Poisoned

Day 19: Panic Attack

Day 20: "Please Leave"

Day 21: Bruises

Day 22: Hallucinations

Day 23: Overwhelmed

Day 24: Walking On Injuries

Day 25: Healed Wrong

Day 26: Falling

Day 27: Hypothermia

Day 28: Whipped

Day 29: Choked

Day 30: Saying Goodbye

Day 31: Hearing Voices

Alt. 1: Sore Throat

Alt. 2: Memory

Alt. 3: Fire

Alt. 4: Lies

Alt. 5: "You're Allowed To Fall Apart"

Alt. 6: "Could You Stay A Little Longer?"

Alt. 7: Motion Sickness

Alt. 8: Running Away

Alt. 9: Alternative Bandages

Alt. 10: "Tell Me I'm Wrong"

#whumpcember24 #prompts #whump #whump prompts #whumpcember #writing prompts

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months ago

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Tormented Spirit | 11

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: very brief daemon cameo here. but he'll be back next chapter. please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Upon Daemon's abrupt leave, the king named Rhaenyra his heir and she has since then set out to look for a suitable match. Though the crown princess was loathe to leave, you envy the fact that she is permitted to leave King's Landing at all.

There is a knock on your door. "Princess?"

You open the door and smile at the knight, "Erryk."

Erryk nods and tries to smile back at you. It is hard, considering you look like you have been crying. He tries to lift your spirits by saying, "I am flattered to know I am now set apart."

You take his arm after closing your door, "you have always been set apart, good ser."

The two of you walk off and break fast together. It is silent, as it has been for two moons now. You have not told him any stories since your husband's leave. You barely speak at all, in fact. Most of the time you lock yourself in your room and he pretends he does not hear your sobs. To say he is concerned is an understatement.

And, of course, there was another matter.

Once more, in silence, you walk down the halls, this time with him trailing behind you. You are headed for your father's office. Once there, you knock on his door, and he answers.

Erryk hotly eyes Otto before nodding in regard, "Lord Hand."

"Has my daughter eaten?" is all Lord Hand ever says, to him or his brother.

"Yes," your ward replies each time.

Erryk watches as your father takes your hand and links it in his arms. He leans towards you and gentle speaks, as he has ever since you threw yourself into the sea. He even rubs your knuckles as you walk off to the maester's ward. Yet, through it all, Erryk finds no comfort in this new found gentleness your father offers. He is deeply suspicious, but for your sake, he tries to convince himself your father has changed.

Each day, without fail, you and your father visit your maester together, and each day, without fail, he worries for you more and more.

Erryk straightens up when the door to the maester's opens. He is quick to come to your side and offer his arm as you wave your father good bye. Otto does not regard you before walking off. He never does.

You smile at Erryk once it's just the two of you. The latter asks, "how are you feeling?"

You notice the lines on his forehead, and it makes your lips flatten. You tilt your head, "same as I felt yesterday," you place a hand on his cheek, "and the day before... so do not worry for me."

"Forgive me, princess," Erryk lowers his gaze and pulls your hand away, "but such a thought cannot comfort me for you have been nothing but sad since Daemon left."

You clasp your hands together, "that's hardly his fault."

"Is it not?" Erryk questions rather harshly.

"Not really..." you offer a soft smile, "none but my brother remembers the days prior to my sadness." You chuckle under your breath, "and even then, I am aware he feeds me honeyed words"

Erryk gulps when you take his arm. He wants so badly to caress your cheeks as you bring a beaming smile to your face.

"Do not torture yourself trying to make me happy," you raise your brows at him as you lead him off, "you did not meet me happy, Erryk, and it is not your job to make the impossible happen."

You examine his expression as you make your way back to your chambers. You had hoped he could find some sort of comfort in this truth, but he looks only more worried. You sigh, "would you like to know why it is I visit the maester everyday?"

Erryk knits his brows, "I only like what you want."

"..."

"And if my lady wanted it, she would have already told me why her father brings her to the maesters daily."

You carefully mutter his name.

He stares at you for a moment, hand itching to clutch your cheeks. He holds himself back but mutters your name with such a softness, it makes your skin prick with goosebumps.

Your breath hitches and you have to look away. You huff and lick your lips, "I am with child."

He stops in his tracks.

You pull away to stand before him. You feel incredibly self-conscious as his face contorts.

"My-" he starts by then bows his head, "Seven bless you for the fortunate news," he slowly looks up at you, "congratulations."

You slowly raise your brows, "you congratulate me yet appear so frightened."

"No," he shakes his head, "I am not frightened... merely... shocked."

You aimlessly look off.

"... and perhaps... worried."

You chuckle, soft and dry, "worry will do none of us any good."

"Does the prince know?"

You look back at him. You shake your head, "no one knows."

He clenches his jaw.

"I plan to tell Arryk next," you rub your belly, "soon, I will be showing... and I do not want you to be frightened."

There is much Erryk wishes to say, much he wishes to promise you. I promise to sever any hand that rises harm you or your child. I promise, so long as I breathe, to do all I am able to assure your safety. But he says nothing because he knows you will cry. He says nothing because he can sense that you are frightened.

You begin to walk off again and Erryk wordlessly follows. You look back at him, finding him in deep thought with his gaze lowered. You turn to your fingers and fidget with them, "I did not want to announce it in case it does not last."

You can feel him looking at you.

"Even now, we do not know what the future holds."

He clenches his fists tightly, "princess-"

You turn.

"-I know it means nothing, but I believe you are stronger than you think. I have seen it, your strength... and your happiness, however small and fleeting you may think it."

Your eyes water. You reach out for him and squeeze his hand, "do not hold yourself in such low regard. Your words mean everything to me, Erryk."

You walk back to your chambers and invite Erryk inside. He remains stood by the door as you get quill and parchment. You have been writing daily two letters— one, which comes easy:

𝔐𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔶𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔫𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯, 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔚𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯.

... and another which takes far greater effort and attempts to complete:

𝔗𝔬 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔯 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩-𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔱. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔵𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩. 𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔪𝔢? 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔣 ℑ 𝔲𝔭𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔬𝔣𝔣. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡. ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔩𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪, 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰

In the end, this is what you sent:

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲, ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔵𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔶, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢.

—of course, after reading it aloud to Erryk, just to be sure it was appropriate.

Erryk has only ever assured you that whatever it is you mean to tell your husband is more than appropraite, but for once, he offers that you add something. "Perhaps you should tell him that you're... you know."

You spare him a glance as you seal your letters with wax and shake your head, "why? Do you think he would return if I did?"

No. Erryk does not hold him in such a high regard.

"If he wanted to respond, he would. No matter what I have to say, I cannot change his mind if he's already set it," you stand, "and again... we don't know what the future holds."

You were right.

Woe is you who understood the inner workings of your husband. Daemon was in the middle of chewing tough, flavorless meat when he received your latest letter. You were right about not being able to change his mind about writing to you, but you were wrong in thinking your words wouldn't bring him to write back.

It would have, that is, if he ever read them.

The prince goes to Caraxes and feeds him what remained of his food. He then goes to his tent and chucks your letter along with the rest of it. He lies down in his cot and wonders what you write to him about. He wonders if you miss his touch, then touches himself to the thought of you.

A moon passes. Though you knew neither your maester nor your father would ever trick you into believing you were with child when you were not, the truth of it all only set in upon catching a glimpse of your bare body in the mirror. You had taken a warm bath in the evening because you felt sore, and upon seeing how big your breasts had become and how your belly protruded in a way it has not, you realize why you were so sore and just how real it was that you were carrying a child.

It was terrible that upon your awareness of the changes in your body, so much started to change. You found it harder to fit into your clothes as your breasts and arms required much more space than normal. Your face began to change as well, and you could scarcely recognize your own reflection with how swollen you looked. What's worse, is that your skin began to break out with painfully deep pimples.

You knew that you shouldn't be picking at them, but you couldn't help yourself, so you did, and soon your face, your neck, and even your back was littered with red blotches. You were so horrified with the way you looked, you barely left your room.

It was then Alicent began to worry.

"Just place it there," Viserys points haphazardly from where he sat.

"Here?" Alicent places the figure near some tiny stone trees.

The king looks, "no-" then comes behind her, guiding her hand from behind. Alicent tenses when his other hand comes to her waist. Viserys moves her hand and Alicent finally places the figure. The former smiles, "there."

Alicent catches her breath as the king pulls away.

Viserys sits and continues carving out the piece he had at hand. After a few moments, he notices Alicent staring at him. He quirks a brow, "something wrong, my dear?"

"Have you heard from your brother?"

He releases his block and leans back on his chair, "no."

Alicent nods, lowering her gaze.

"Why?"

She shakes her head.

"Come now," Viserys stands, "you can tell me."

Alicent looks at him when he takes her hand. She presses her lips as she feels her heart race. Her voice trembles, "m-my sister."

He hums, "has something happened to her?"

She rapidly shakes her head, "I barely see her anymore. She stays in her room days on end."

"I see," he nods, "did she and Daemon argue before he left?"

"I-" she shrugs as the king pulls away, going back to his chair, "I don't know."

Viserys spares her a look before picking up his block.

"I do know that she feels abandoned. First, Gwayne, now the prince," Alicent sighs, "she has no one."

"She has you."

She shakes her head, "she and my brother have always been close, close in a way twins are, close in a way I can never understand. She does not regard me as dearly, I don't think."

This makes his brows furrow. He tilts his head, "that is not true. Many a man would regard you dearly, Alicent."

Her throat tightens.

"And your sister is not a man," Viserys raises a hand, "does she not like to pray?"

Alicent nods slowly.

"You might want to invite her to the temple. It might cheer her up."

The girl rubs her hands together and nods. She then curtsies and heads for the door, that is, until Viserys stops her.

The king rises and takes her hand, "eager to leave, are you?"

"N- I-"

"I don't bore you, do I?"

Alicent shakes her head, "n-no! Not at all, I simply--"

"I jest," Viserys chuckles, pressing a kiss at the back of her hand, "go to her." He rubs her knuckles, "she is most fortunate to have your affections."

Alicent curtsies again and leaves.

As she makes her way to your chambers, she sees one of your servants and calls for her. The servant girl is quick to greet the lady and Alicent notices the letters in her hands.

"Have you gone to my sister?" she asks.

The servant girl nods, "yes."

"How is she?" the red haired girl sighs.

"She... is her normal self," she nods slowly.

Alicent shakes her head, "... sad?"

"Yes," she agrees.

"Who are those for?" Alicent motions to the letters she was holding.

"These?" the girl raises, "ah... your brother and good-brother, milady."

"Oh," she tilts her head slightly, "does she write to them often?"

She nods, "everyday, milady."

"Oh," she blinks. There is something about this comforts her and... hurts her. She thinks about what she confessed to the king, how she was aware you did not regard her so dearly, and yet, there was an ache in her heart to know her sister would not seek solace in her during this time.

Alicent dismisses the servant then comes to your chambers.

The Cargyll stood outside your door greets her, "my lady."

"Ser..." she nods, "Erryk?"

"Arryk, my lady."

"Ah, yes," she lowers her head, "forgive me."

"An honest mistake," he smiles, "you are here for your sister, yes?"

Alicent nods.

He turns and knocks on your door, "princess. Your sister, Lady Alicent, is here."

"I-" she steps forward and raises her voice, "wish to invite you to pray at the temple."

Arryk turns to her and smiles. Alicent smiles back and they both wait for you to respond. Only, it seems you are really taking your time.

She begins to pick at her nails and the minutes pass. She sighs, turning to ser Arryk, "maybe she is asleep."

He shakes his head, "she does not sleep at this time. She is probably changing."

"How do you now? Do you go inside to check on her?"

"I only come inside when she needs help with something," he nods curtly, "or, if perhaps, I feel sense danger in the air."

Alicent tilts her head, "but how do you know?"

"The princess is a creature of habit. Though she is good at concealing her emotions, you can only hide so much from someone who watches you closely."

"How close do you watch her, ser?"

Arryk is taken aback by the question. It was in all accounts innocent; Alicent meant nothing more that what she said, but it did not feel such to the knight. It feels as though he was caught staring longingly at you right this moment. "W-What?"

He is thankful Alicent does not get to clarify herself because you finally emerge.

Alicent perks and deflates all at once upon seeing you. You smile at her through the lacy, black veil you have covering your face. She returns your embrace as you hug her, but she cannot help but knit her brows at you, or rather, that veil on you.

"You look well, sister," you smile, taking her hands.

She takes a moment before replying, "and you...'re wearing a veil."

Your smile flattens.

Alicent is quick to shake her head, "it looks good. Very stylish."

You contain your frown and take her arm, "I am most pleased to have you here."

The both of you begin to walk off and Arryk follows after. Alicent asks, "you are?"

"Of course!" you give her a look, "why, you are normally with the princess-" you raise a finger, "-which I do not have any qualms with. Most people dream to have a friendship that you both have. But I am glad you have a moment to spare for me."

Alicent's brows raise.

"Rhaenyra is doing better now, I hope?"

"Yes," she nods slowly, "she can now talk about the queen without weeping."

"Better than I ever was," you squeeze her arm.

Alicent offers you a soft smile.

The sight of her face brings you comfort, "I have missed your company, and your pretty face, my pretty girl."

She chuckles.

"You inherited our mother's beauty and left none for me—"

"That's not-"

"—especially none for Gwayne."

Alicent chortles and you giggle in response.

Arryk smiles, feels his heart clench at the tender display before him. Thank the Seven for Alicent Hightower.

"You should join us, sister," Alicent squeeze your hand, "Rhaenyra enjoys your company as much as I do."

You shake your head, offering her a kind smile, "I would not want to infect you with my bitterness."

For a moment, Alicent wants to ask if that was why you were wearing a veil, but she decides against it.

Arryk stood a few paces away from you as you prayed in the temple. Both you and your sister were on your knees with your hands clasped and eyes closed as you recited your prayers.

"Lastly," Alicent mutters, "we pray for Daemon's safety-"

You open your eyes and turn to your sister.

"-that he, as well as the Velaryons and their fleet, may find swift victory so that they may all return to their families."

You unveil yourself, "seven hear us."

"Seven hear us," Alicent ends, bowing her head for the final time.

You try not to think of the acne staring back at Alicent when she turns to you, but her initial reaction to seeing your face makes it quite hard. She does you a favor of not saying anything regarding it however.

You squeeze her hand and whisper, "there is something I must tell you."

She gives you a solemn expression.

"I am with child."

Her eyes widen and her lips part.

"Of course, father knows, but I have not told anyone, save my wards," you shake your head, "it is why my skin is littered with blemishes, and why I do not wish to come out of my room."

She frowns, calling out your name softly.

"Not even my husband knows, Alicent," you shake your head, "and I did not tell him because-" you eyes begin to water, "because the chances of a miscarriage is still high."

Alicent can feel your fear, your worry.

"But gods, I feel like I will go mad if I keep this in any longer," you break down into a sob.

She immediately seals you into an embrace. Arryk is immediately alerted by the sound of your cries. He observes for a moment but does not act, knowing you need this moment with your sister.

Alicent feels her chest tighten, not because of how tightly you embrace her, but because of how evidently you needed this hug.

"I want to go home," you mumble.

She nods, "I'll take you back to you-"

"To Oldtown," you sniffle, taking in her scent. She smelled like your mother and it made you wonder if your presence ever felt comforting for anyone, or if you just inspired distress, "this is not my home."

"Sister," she tries to look at you, "you are married to the prin-"

"And where is he?" you blurt, pulling away.

Alicent frowns at the redness of your eyes and the wobbling of your lips.

"I feel nothing but emptiness here," you place your hand on your belly, "I do not want that emptiness to manifest within me-" you shake your head, "I do not want my bitterness to kill my unborn child."

Alicent's cheeks instantly become wet.

You wipe her tears away and frown, "will you try and help me convince father to send me home?"

She stares at you, "sister..."

It is an impossible ask, and you both know it.

"Please," you brush her red locks, "he has always favored you."

Alicent does not know if that was true. She lowers her gaze and shakes her head, "I... I will try."

Your lips wobble as you watch worry manifest on her features. Guilt begins to choke you, "forgive me for asking much of you, my baby sister."

Alicent shakes her head quicker then steels herself away, "no. I-" she nods, "I want to help."

You squeeze her hands, "do not force it if it is too hard."

Later that evening, Alicent builds her nerve and visits the Lord Hand's office. The moment she enters the room, she knows she's made a mistake, for he was in a sour mood.

"What?" he snaps, head in his hand.

It was too late, however. He will be cross if she says she's changed her mind, he will be cross if she lies and presents him with something unimportant, and he will be cross if she tells him what she actually came here for. She takes a breath, might as do it, "it's regarding my sister."

Otto immediately perks, eyes squinting, "what of her?"

"She... asked me to ask you if she could... continue the rest of her term in Oldtown."

The man tilts his head, eyes widening in disbelief, "I beg your pardon?"

"She sai-"

"She told you she's carrying?" he points a finger.

Alicent tenses. She gulps, "yes."

"When?" he snaps, coming to a stand.

"J-" she watches her father walk over, "just today."

Otto's face is hard as he recalls how you begged him not to make a spectacle of your childbearing, lest your body fails you. He thinks there is something to be said about how you were now willing to divulge this information with Alicent. He raises his brows, "who else knows?"

Alicent feels cornered. It does not feel right to divulge this information.

"Did she tell Daemon?" he places his hands on her shoulder.

She stammers, "I-... I do not know."

Otto examines her daughter. He thinks she knows more than she lets on but does not pursue it further. He sighs, caressing her cheek before pulling away, "you know, you both know, I will not allow such a thing."

He walks back to his desk and Alicent takes in a deep breath.

"If she is here, then I can see to her needs."

"She needs the warmth of home," she says.

Otto sighs as he sits down. He motions vaguely to his child, "this is her home. She's married to Daemon Targaryen."

"But the prince is not here," she steps forward, "she can return when he does."

He tilts his head. He knows her boldness comes stems from her love from you. That is why he says, "and do you really think she can return if she leaves?"

Alicent's face falls. It is incredibly subtle, but Otto catches it nonetheless.

"If your sister were to go to your brother in Oldtown, what do you think the Rogue Prince will say?" her father leans on the desk, "you bore witness to how he acted when your sister came to Gwayne when he was knocked off his horse at the tourney. Do you think he will enjoy the fact she retreated to him in this time? Do you think he will care enough to retrieve her once he returns from the Stepstones? Or will he squander in brothels and sire a thousand bastards?"

She begins to pick at her nails.

"And what of your sister's child?" Otto raises a brow, "what if she loses the babe during the journey to Oldtown? What if she loses the babe once she's there? Who then is to be blamed?"

"I-"

"And what if the baby does not inherit a single Valyrian trait?" he leans back on his chair, "what if the babe looks like a Hightower and Daemon decided to accuse her of infidelity?"

"But she would never-"

"I know that," Otto raises a finger, "you know that. Does her husband share in this knowledge?"

"..."

"It would look like she left to hide her sins."

Alicent's heart begins to pound.

"Do you understand the risk, child?"

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

Otto sighs and stands again, "I understand you mean well."

Alicent is at the brink of tears as her father approaches her again.

"But there is no way for your sister to go to Oldtown," he ushers her to the door, "without risking much." Lord Hand opens the door and gives his daughter one last, "not unless the king allows such a thing."

Alicent takes in her father's features. He smiles softly at her. Her stomach feels uneasy.

"Go to bed, Alicent," he strokes her hair, "your sister is mine to worry about, not yours."

The door closes.

It was a shock that Alicent came to you the next day, telling you that you were set to leave for Oldtown at noon. You were overjoyed and sealed your sister into the tightest hugs, "I can't believe you convinced father!"

Alicent rubs your back, softly muttering, "...I really didn't."

"Oh but you did," you chuckled in between sobs, "I owe you my first born's life."

She pulls away and shakes her head, "d-don't- don't say that."

You frown at the worry that over her face. You shake your head, "very well. Forgive me for burdening you with such a thought."

So it was that you left that day for Oldtown. You were grateful the king graciously allowed you to bring both your wards along with you. You would have been less so, had you known Alicent requested it specifically, even less had known it was not actually your father that she had convinced but the king himself, and less than that to know she was able to do so because she had been visiting him oft since the queen's passing. You would outright abhor it had you known Alicent's relationship with Viserys was borne from your father's encouragement.

Your unawareness of this made you deeply cherish the moment you saw your twin brother's face. You were exhausted from the travel, much more than usual, and yet an energy burned within you when you saw Oldtown's heir.

Gwayne outright laughed and pointed at you as you sobbed on your way over to him, "what in god's name is on your face, twin?"

You felt nothing but affection from his blatant mockery.

He coos as he pulls you into a hug once you are close enough, "now, now. I cannot have a princess weeping in my arms." He is relieved by the warmth of your being. He has not been embraced so tenderly since you've been separated. "Not an ugly one at least."

"I am with child, you miscreant," you mutter against his chest.

Gwayne's rubs your back as his face hardens with worry, "I know. Father wrote to me."

You sniffle and pull away. You glare at him, "yet you still dare to be mean to your beloved sister?"

"Spare me your tears," he says rather genuinely as takes in your wet face, "your cry-baby attitude will get nowhere with me."

Your lips wobble at the sentiment.

Gwayne actually starts feeling bad, but then you release a soft laugh.

"You fucking rat," you scratch your eyes as you break into a giggle.

Your twin gasps, turning to your wards who were approaching. Lord Hightower raises a brow at them, "are you aware your lady has a vulgar mouth on her?"

"Please, Gwayne," you shake your head, "I'm a fucking princess."

The laugh that leaves your brother is ugly, loud, and real.

Yes, your unawareness made you cherish every moment you spend in Oldtown. It was still hard to be with child; there were the food aversions and cravings, soreness, sickness, and mood swings that haunted you, but the spirit of emptiness remained in King's Landing. Now that you were free from the scrutiny of court, from the politicking of your father, there was a lightness within you that you had not felt in a long time.

You recounted the things you and Gwayne used to do when you were younger, then caught yourself imagining your child doing the same. Suddenly, you didn't feel so terrified by the thought of bringing a child into this world. The Cargyll twins can attest to the shift in your demeanor.

It was a shame that a moon's worth of happiness disappeared in an instant all because of a single letter.

Gwayne comes to a stand from his spot upon seeing you react so physically to whatever it was you were reading. The Cargyll twins, who were breaking fast with both of you, stand to attention as well.

You clutch your chest as your other hand crushes the letter you just read.

"What is it?" your brother asks, "what has happened?"

"It's Alicent," you feel your chest tighten.

Gwayne comes to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder. He is alarmed by your tension, "sister, sister. Breathe."

You clutch your belly. It's much pronounced now, and you know it adds to your struggle to breathe.

"Breathe," your twin repeats, "that's it."

You manage to calm yourself, but soon tears begin to fall from your eyes, "Gwayne."

"Yes, I'm Gwayne," he squeezes your shoulder, "what's happened to Alicent?"

You shake your head and look up at him, "she's getting married."

The man pulls his head back. His brows knit, "married? To whom?"

Your breath hitches as you push yourself up to a stand, "to the king."

Whatever confusion he had regarding your reaction instantly dissipates. This match reeked of politicking, politicking from the Hand of the King. Gwayne clenches his jaw as helps you up. He feels the same emotions he did upon learning of your own betrothal. History was repeating itself, yet now, your brother's chest is tighter. He had always believed your father wouldn't be so cruel to willingly give you to the Rogue Prince, but now... he realizes this was something he wanted to believe.

Gwayne calls your name out as you begin to walk off, "where are you going?"

"Where do you think?" you snap.

You despise every second spent on the way back to King's Landing. You are exhausted when you return and you are loathe to see your father waiting for you.

Otto calls your name and greets you with a smile. His glee is genuine. He is wholeheartedly pleased to see how much better you look from your visit to Oldtown, "I am glad to see time with your twin has livened you, my girl."

As true as that may be, it was your anger that livened you in this moment. You despise him as he takes your cheeks and kisses your forehead. You destest him as he grins.

"I have missed you."

You wish you hated him more as not to be so affected by this. Your nostrils flare, "where is my sister?"

His face falls slightly at your complete ignorance to his greeting. He pulls away, "getting ready for her nuptials."

You stare at him. The burst of affection he had for your wanes enough for him to recognize your look, your glare. It was written all over. Anger. Defiance. Hurt. It could not be contained.

"Am I not enough for you, father?" you quip under your breath as your eyes begin to water.

Otto looks around then takes your hand, "let us speak insi-"

"Is it not enough?!" you break free from his hold. You seethe, "—that I am about to deliver you a royal grandchild and you should require my baby sister to do the sa-"

"She is not a baby," he quips.

You clench your jaw, "she just turned ten and-"

"She is in ripe marrying age."

You turn away from him. You are about to walk away, and he knows it. He cannot stand it.

"She did this so you could go to Oldtown," he snaps, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You give the Hand one last look before going to your sister.

Alicent is equally overjoyed and worried by your appearance. Just as she assures you that you didn't have to come all this way, you silence her by telling her, "it is not too late."

Your sister is frozen in her spot as you explain the plans you have for her to escape her marriage with the king. She can tell that you have thought about it greatly, considering the speed and detail in which you speak it. The only thing that manages to quiet you is the way she says, "it is done."

"W-what?"

"I am decided," Alicent shakes her head as her eyes begin to water, "do you not notice how your plans to save me demand your suffering?"

Your brows knit, "I will suffer no more than I already do."

She sniffles as she speaks your name, "when mother died... I watched you writhe in pain. None but Gwayne ever offered you true comfort."

"And you!" you clutch her cheeks, "you foolish girl! Do you not understand, I wish to free you from-"

"We are all of us destined to be a prisoner," Alicent mutters as tears fall from her eyes, "us, more than most. If not the king, I will be married off to another man I do not want."

You clench your jaw, "Ali-"

"At least if I am queen, I can save you from Daemon."

Your heart stops. You rest your forehead on hers, "you stupid little girl."

Your words burn her. She watches as you pull away, finding the tears staining your cheeks.

"If you are doing this for me, and you marry him... I will never speak to you again."

Her face drops.

"Did I not tell you that I should be the one to do such things for you?"

"Sister," she takes your hand, "... I am stronger than you."

"... oh."

"I can help."

You lower your gaze and nod. You pull away from her and walk away.

Less than a fortnight later, your sister marries the king and is proclaimed the new Queen of the Seven Realms.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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s-lverwing · 2 months ago

Text

I’LL CHEW YOU, I’LL GO THROUGH YOU

pairing. emperor caracalla x wife!reader.

summary. What is the meaning of yet another scar upon your body and mind? When your husband’s illness twists his mind, turning him against you, and he accuses you of betrayal.

word count. 2.6k / ao3 link

warnings. angst, toxic relationships. heavy pinning. violence. blood. english isn’t my first language.

a/n. please if you enjoyed this leave a comment, reblog, whatever u want 🐛 I USED CARACALLA’s BORN NAME LUCIUS AT SOME POINT DONT BE JUMPSCARED.

The room was quiet tonight -- perhaps it was because the day had been full of entertainment for Emperor Caracalla, leaving him content and sated, pleased. Even Dundus, his ever-watchful companion, seemed subdued as he chewed absentmindedly on a piece of grapefruit, the soft sound barely breaking the silence. You caught the faint noise and felt the corner of your lips twitch upward—an involuntary, yet fleeting smile—as your fingers curled tightly into the delicate fabric of your dress.

Still, the knot of nerves in your stomach refused to break. It was no secret that Caracalla’s tolerance for absence was rather thin. His emotions were volatile, and the palace staff whispered of the storms that brewed when his wife strayed too long from his sight. Not even you were immune to the fear of those rages—not because you thought he would harm you, but because you knew too well the weight of his anguish when it overtook him. It wasn’t the anger itself that frightened you; it was the aftermath.

The soft sound of your sandals against the polished white marble echoed faintly through the chamber as you entered, the sound drawing Dundus’s small, curious eyes to you. His chewing ceased, his tiny body shifting toward you as though to signal your arrival. Inevitably, Caracalla’s gaze followed.

You hesitated under it, swallowing against the dryness in your throat. His eyes, so often shadowed with something too complicated to name, rested on you now, and though his expression remained stoic, there was a flicker of something—curiosity, might have been if he was another person, but Caracalla’s eyes were ready to blame you for something. It was the expression he usually gave to his twin brother, Geta. Your nerves prickled under his scrutiny, the tension coiling tighter in your chest and stomach.

Would he speak? Demand to know where you had been, his voice sharp with suspicion and laced with the undercurrent of his illness, or would he remain silent, his displeasure a force pushing you away? Tonight, it seemed he had chosen silence. He turned away, his focus shifting deliberately to Dundus. For a moment, you felt an unexpected pang of relief—until the realization hit you that his indifference might be worse than his fury.

You knew how quickly the calm could shatter, how easily the weight of whispers in the palace could drive him to the edge. They spoke of his instability, of his twin’s steadier hand, of how Caracalla’s mind was clouded by the slow and insidious progression of his illness. You had seen the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking.

And yet, for all his wild unpredictability and impulsiveness, you had learned to weather his storms. Others feared his wrath—his soldiers, his council, even his brother at times—but you knew the truth of it. Even when he turns away from clarity and starts asking for your head to the Praetorians guards, still, you knew better.

There had been a time when his moments of vulnerability after the storm had frightened you, when you hadn’t known how to respond to the sight of an emperor—the ruler of Rome—curled in on himself, tears soaking your tunic as he clung to you like a drowning man. But now, you know him better. You know how to reach him when no one else could. It was a power that even his twin did not possess, and it had become both your burden and your solace.

You stepped further into the room, your heartbeat steadying as you drew closer. Caracalla did not turn, his posture rigid as if he were willing himself not to acknowledge you. The silence stretched taut between you, but you had grown accustomed to its weight.

“Love—”

You didn’t even make it past his name before his voice cut through the stillness of the chamber.

“—Where were you?”

His question was soft, measured, but there was something brewing behind the words, a quiet tremor that betrayed the storm building inside him. His voice wavered, a thin thread barely holding his emotions in check. It was the calm before the inevitable storm.

You stood frozen, as though the marble beneath your sandals had turned molten, holding you in place. The space between you both seemed enormous—far greater than the few strides it would take to reach him. Not just physically, but mentally.

Your eyes flicked to his hands, trembling faintly at his sides. You’d seen this before. It was the prelude to something larger, a wave of emotion that would crash over you before you could even think to steady yourself against it.

“I was with Lucilla,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You chose your words carefully, as though you were addressing a wounded animal instead of your very human husband. Your tone was gentle.

You reached for your hair to take one of the medicinal flowers she always carries around, as a proof.

But he wasn’t having any of it—he was far too lost within his mind to care about anything you had to say. Dundus was the first to sense the chaos, clutching tightly to Caracalla’s hair as though to anchor him to reality.

“You always lie!” he roared, his voice cracking with raw emotion as he stood abruptly from his opulent chair. The first glass shattered against the marble floor, fragments glittering like jagged stars under the candle light. “You’re just like Geta! You—you and him are against me! Like everyone! So don’t lie to me, don’t lie to me… I—I know you were with him. Yes, yes! Someone told me…”

His ringed finger jabbed toward you, trembling as his accusations poured forth, each word more unhinged than the last. His breath came in short, erratic bursts, his chest heaving as though he were fighting an invisible foe. His entire body shook as he tried, and failed, to hold onto the last frail threads of composure. And even as he accused you of treachery, of betrayal, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anger. There was no room for that—not when his anguish stood so naked before you, consuming him from within. Your love for him ran deeper than any wound his words could inflict, though you didn’t understand it.

You should leave. You knew it would be easier to walk away, to leave behind the chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow. Far away from the Emperor, you could have peace, a life unmarred by this relentless storm. And yet, you will stay. You couldn’t turn your back on him. Not now, not ever.

You exhaled deeply, your breath trembling as you steadied yourself. You knew his instincts—he would try to mimic you, to find solace in your calmness. “Who is someone, Lucius?” you asked softly, your voice a whisper, barely audible over the sound of your fingers nervously fidgeting with the lavender flower you held.

His hands flew to his temples, pressing hard against them as though he could force clarity through will. “I can’t remember!” He shouted, his frustration bleeding through every word. “It’s all cloudy… But it’s true! I believe it’s true, and if I believe it, then it is true!”

“They are lying to you,” You said gently, a quiet plea against the chaos consuming him. “Not me. I’m your wife.”

His body shuddered as his breathing grew uneven. “I could have you hung!” He roared, his voice rising to a near scream. “Both of you! You and my brother, strung up outside the city for conspiring against me! My brother and my traitor wife hanged together for all of Rome to see…”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you held firm, taking a small step closer. “Would you like me hanged, then?” You inquiere, your tone unwavering despite the weight of the accusation.

“Don’t—don’t play games with me!” His voice cracked as his hands flew to his head again, fingers tangling in his ginger curls, tugging with a desperation that bordered on pain. “You’re messing with my mind!”

His breathing grew ragged as he paced, his voice rising in anguish. “Everything has to be shared! I have nothing that is truly mine—not even my own wife! Everyone loves Geta, they respect him… they trust him. And I’m so tired! Tired of giving, tired of sharing, tired of being left with nothing!”

“Why, then?” Your voice trembled but was steady enough to cut through his mind. “Why would you believe the words of a stranger over the words of your own wife?”

“Because you’re a liar!” He shouted, spinning toward you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his entire frame shaking as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. “I have given everything to you, and it’s never enough! It won’t be enough now that my brother has laid his filthy hands on you!” His voice broke, and his face twisted in a mix of rage and sorrow.

“You love him. Admit it—you love Geta!” He spat.

Your breath hitched, and used all your willpower not to flinch. “I don’t love Geta,” You said, with a quiet but firm tone. “I can barely stand him.”

“But you weren’t here!” His voice cracked with desperation.

You remained silent for a moment, knowing the truth was both a weapon and a fragile thing. “That’s true, I was with Lucilla…” You started softly, your voice trembling as you spoke the name. “She gave me this—”

“You alway lie!” His words cut through the air like daggers, and this time Dundus, perched nervously on his shoulder, became restless, chittering as his small claws scrambled across Caracalla’s back. The anxiety in the room was suffocating.

Without warning, Caracalla’s hands shot out, trembling violently as he grabbed one of the small vases sitting on the nearby table. His eyes, wild and frantic, never left yours as he impulsively hurled it toward you. But then, in a split second, he stopped himself. His breath caught, his hand frozen mid-throw as he saw that sudden flicker of fear in your eyes. That was when it hit him—the raw realization that the fear he thrived on, the fear he wanted and desired, was not something he ever wanted to see in you. Not in the person he loved the most.

With a strangled sound, he let go of the vase, watching it shatter violently against the marble floor, the pieces scattering besides the broken glass. The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft, erratic sounds of his breath, and Dundus chittering.

Caracalla’s body trembled, not from anger, no, from something far more vulnerable. Something he couldn’t understand. His shoulders shook as soft sobs wracked his frame. His eyes were glossy, flickering with the first signs of tears, but he tried to hold them back, clenching his fists as if to stifle the emotion he feared would consume him.

“How—how can I fight against something I don’t remember?” His voice quivered, heavy with frustration, as his trembling hands pressed into his temples. His disheveled hair framed a face that was both tortured and childlike, caught in the haze of confusion. “I don’t—everything is cloudy,” He admitted, his words were fragile and raw.

Your heart ached at the sight of him unraveling. Slowly, you moved toward him, each step measured, as if approaching a wounded animal. You sank gracefully to your knees before him, the cold marble biting into your naked knees, avoiding the shards of glass. Your hands reached out hesitantly, settling gently atop his covered legs.

“I’m on your side, love,” You whispered, your voice soft as silk.

He stilled at your touch, his hands faltering in their frantic pressure against his temples. His wide, glassy eyes met yours, searching for something— whether it was truth, solace, or perhaps the faintest trace of reassurance you couldn’t decipher. He felt caught between the fragility of trust and the weight of doubt that lingered like a shadow over his mind.

In a second, Caracalla was subtly startled by Dundus’ quietly chewing, and before you could even catch your breath, your balance faltered. Your hand shot out instinctively, looking for anything to steady you, but the cold marble floor offered no comfort as your palm met it with a sharp glass, and a cry made home in your throat. You recoiled instantly, but not before you let the jagged shard of glass buried itself deep into your skin.

You gasped, a shudder running through your body as you stared at the blood that began to pool in your hand. The glass had left its mark, but it wasn’t the cut that stung the most. It would scar — in a similar fashion as the Emperor had made himself a place inside your heart, through blood and pain.

You drew in a shaky breath, steadying yourself as your fingers from the other hand, trembling with the sting of the wound, gently extracted the shard. The glass scraped against your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flinch any further. Instead, you handled it with a tenderness that even surprised you. As if your body, despite the pain, knew the way to treat the wound, knew that softness was the only thing you could offer now. Not for him, not for anyone else — but for the wound itself. It mirrored the wounds marring your heart.

All that time Caracalla’s eyes were never off you. His gaze was turbulent and wild, following your every move. He was watching you with a hunger in his eyes — but his hunger seemed torn between fascination and frustration. His element was blood; he enjoyed conflict and violence and the mark it left on the knife when it met the flesh. He thrived in those who were in pain. He loved to see the wound open and bleeding. But not on you — never on you. So he wondered, as much as his cloudy mind let him, if what he was feeling was anguish, guilt or pleasure.

As you turned your gaze back to him, his entire demeanor seemed to shift. His disheveled hair, his paller face, the pink scars beneath his makeup make him seem so fragile. In a fleeting moment, he appeared even smaller, but more human. His hands were shaking when he reached for yours, but the touch wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, uncertain, as if he couldn’t quite decide what to do with you

And still, you held his gaze, despite the blood staining your hand, despite the way his trembling fingers gripped yours—not with tenderness, but with need, a need that seemed to tear him apart even as it pulled him closer to you.

And without hesitation, as impulsive as he is — he kissed your bloodied hand.

The kiss was rough, hurried, as if he feared everything would slip away before he had the chance to claim it. His lips brushed over the wound with a strange tenderness that conflicted with the violence of the moment and his grip on your wrist. He didn’t pull back when he felt the blood smear across his pale skin. Instead, his eyes closed for just a heartbeat, as if he was drowning in your blood, in the sight of it. The red streaked across his lips, staining him as much as it stained you. It was the mark of your suffering, the scar of your devotion. And yet, you decided there was no cruelty in his touch now.

When he finally pulled away, he lowered your hand with an unsteady movement. Then, in a way that felt almost fragile, as if the very act of smiling could destroy him, he fought to offer you the semblance of a smile. His lips, stained with blood, parted in a tremulous grin—teeth bared while the gold in his mouth shone, chin red. The whole act as if to say this is me. This is us.

And you couldn’t look away.

a/n: this might be a prequel to a period sex fic ive been wanting to make… thank you for reading.

#emperor caracalla x reader #caracalla x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla

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