tictantalola
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Without expectation, she says unto His silence: “I will never wash this blood away."
“Then I must," comes the reply, and Lucrezia stares not up towards God but into Cesare.
Her brother is here now, and he will take care of her. His hands are on her skin, cupping her face, grazing her throat. He lifts a sodden rag to her cheek, pink through with the water-thin wine of her husband’s blood. Though the muslin scrapes against her skin, she is insensate.
"You will be naked," he murmurs, his words fluttering her lashes shut, "and clean and bloodless again."
If only, she thinks. If only.
Low and graveled against her ear: "And mine."
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or: lucrezia is made naked and clean and bloodless again—and his.
Bookmarked by tictantalola
05 Apr 2026
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Golden and resplendent, Lucrezia is spilled like sunlight across her bed. The radiance of high noon, all rosy cheek and supple curve. A made-mockery of the tasteless ostentation which ornaments her chambers.
Cesare has dreamt of this sight more times than can be considered decent. What comes after, too: his skin against her skin; his mouth pressed against the curve of her neck; his lecherous want, taken, sated.
But he has never let himself imagine it past lauds—never let his thoughts linger into prime, nor his mind drift. She is his greatest love, but she is his sister foremost. To be taken care of and protected.
Even if that is against himself.
He turns away, back towards the empty corridor. He cannot recall why he knocked upon her door to begin with.
"God—"
As in his dreams, she answers him: "Come closer, brother."
And unable to deny her anything, no matter that he ought, Cesare turns back.
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or: if cesare and lucrezia weren't interrupted after she called him in to see her wedding gown.
Bookmarked by tictantalola
05 Apr 2026
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After a marriage marked by violence and pain, Lucrezia returns home seeking comfort and inevitably finds herself drawn to the one person who has always made her feel safe.
Bookmarked by tictantalola
05 Apr 2026
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Standing in the Rain, Singing. by Anonymous
Fandoms: Dune - All Media Types, Dune Series - Frank Herbert, Dune (Movies - Villeneuve)
29 Mar 2026
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Irulan Corrino, signing in.
I came to Arrakis as a title and a treaty. A Corrino spoil of war wrapped in silk, placed beside a man who had already buried the future he once wanted. The palace is vast, the nights are long, and silence has its own gravity here that ironically, not even I can name. I learned early that kindness is not weakness, but it is rarely welcome in halls built on this forsaken prophecy. I travel south because someone must remember that people live beneath the legend. I sing because the children ask. I plant because sand is patient, and so am I. He watches—always from distance, always without speaking—and I let him. What else is there when two people are bound by law and nothing else?
What else indeed...
Irulan Corrino, signing out.
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Bookmarked by tictantalola
04 Apr 2026
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Billy didn't die. That means he has to do something even harder--grow as a person. It takes him down a road he never thought he'd go, and to two familiar faces who are just as surprised to see him again.
Bookmarked by tictantalola
05 Jan 2026