#its not the mourner’s fault that she knows before you do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashmenofmarvel · 3 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 45

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky will do whatever it takes to get her back.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Anger, grief, thoughts of violence, angst

AO3

Bucky paced like a wild animal, back and forth, tail lashing with each circuit he made. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t functioned much at all in the past few days, and he was always a heartbeat away from snapping like a wire pulled too taut.

He couldn’t go through the door he was pacing in front of, the demonic wards holding him at bay. It was just as well. Without them, he would have marched straight inside and ripped Helmut Zemo’s spine out his throat.

It wouldn’t have solved any of Bucky’s currents problems, but it would have improved his mood. And it might have distracted him for a few moments from the black hole currently residing within him. A negative space where the bond had been. Every moment that void was there, he wanted to tear out his own heart.

Maybe he’d still get the opportunity if they couldn’t find a way to bring her back. He’d end his own life for a fast one-way ticket to the demon realm if he had to, and there Bucky would stay until he found her.

And then… what? They’d be trapped there forever? Why didn’t that scare Bucky as much as the thought of being separated, with her being all alone in that place? He knew she was resourceful. She’d proven it by the fact they’d captured Zemo at all.

When the gun had gone off, Bucky had felt like he’d been the one shot, only it hurt so much worse because he actually knew what a bullet to the gut felt like. He’d barely made it in time to catch her as she fell, and he’d been in no state of mind to deal with Zemo after that. Steve had barely been conscious by the time Strange and the others had found them, so it wasn’t him who had caught the bastard.

No, it had been the Alp itself that had stopped Zemo. Before the man had even gotten a chance to order his demon to teleport him away, it had used its paralysis aerosol on Zemo and knocked him into a peaceful sleep. And then it had vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving its master there to be collected by the sorcerers.

The thought made Bucky shake his head. Somehow, Bucky’s girl had managed to make a demon turn on its own master. Not once, but twice, if Bucky was including himself.

Leave it to her to befriend a demon and turn it to her side.

Leave it to her to give everything for Bucky, including her own life. And what had he done in the time since then except vacillate between rage and grief? Between shouting at Strange and standing by Steve’s healing bed like a mourner at a funeral, waiting for them to come up with a rescue mission.

The sorcerers had made little progress, and Bucky feared their only hope lie in the man that had murdered her.

Bucky would have gotten the answers out of Zemo himself, if only for the fact he couldn’t get his hands on him. The demons wards weren’t to keep Bucky out, they were to keep Zemo from calling his demon slave to teleport him away. No matter how had they’d tried, the sorcerers couldn’t break the demon bond. And no matter how much the Alp might not want to, it wouldn’t be able to resist the call of its master, no matter how far away it was. Bucky had learned that lesson the hard way with his own escape attempts from HYDRA.

So now they were at an impasse. Zemo imprisoned but refusing to cooperate, and the sorcerers unable to get anything useful out of him but having no choice but to keep him locked up. Bucky hadn’t be surprised the sorcerers had failed to take away Zemo’s last Hail Mary. If they were capable of breaking demons bonds, they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

The door opened, and Strange had to wave him off before Bucky accosted him with questions.

“Well?” Bucky asked, impatient. “What did he say?”

“Still nothing helpful.” Strange glanced at Wong as he too strode toward the door. It shut with a heavy thud behind them, no doubt locked by all sorts of arcane spells. “It’s clear that Zemo doesn’t know how to work the demon gate with any expert knowledge and relied solely on the red book to achieve his goals.”

The circular stone archway they’d found in the basement of the Siberian compound, which Strange had named the “demon gate,” had remained inert no matter how the sorcerers tried to manipulate and power it. How Zemo had managed to summon the Alp through it, but it wouldn’t respond to the sorcerers, left Bucky short-tempered and frustrated.

It was nothing compared to the guilt. The shame at being controlled, manipulated into almost killing Steve. He was still being tended to by the healers, and the only reason he wasn’t in a hospital was because Strange had insisted they take him to the Sanctum.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, then Bucky’d nearly killed her. His worst nightmare being played out before his eyes, or it almost had. Through their tenuous bond she’d somehow broken through to him, and Bucky had managed to stay his hand when he’d never been able to do so before.

It had been… freeing. Liberating to disobey a direct command. To be ordered to hurt someone he loved and having the strength to resist.

And then Bucky had failed to save her anyway. She’d died, right there in his arms, her heart going silent the loudest thing he’d ever heard. As if that hadn’t shattered his world enough, she’d turned to ashes in his hands, the stink of sulfur and brimstone stinging his eyes as she slipped through his fingers.

In that moment, Bucky’s bond to Zemo had been severed. One of the apparent benefits of a demon having a human slave. She’d gone to Hell so Bucky could be free.

And all he’d managed to do with that freedom was absolutely fuck-all.

Bucky’s fist flew, the jagged knuckles of his armored hand knocking a sizable chunk out of the stone wall.

Strange merely lifted his eyebrows. Wong frowned in disapproval. Bucky didn’t give a shit. They should have woken him as soon as she’d gone missing, but instead, he’d woken on his own, bursting through the cryo-chamber and shattering its door to pieces. He’d been so confused and enraged that the sorcerers had had to bind him with glowing ropes and wards until Bucky calmed down enough to explain she was being tortured, and he could lead them to exactly where.

So, yes. As far as Bucky was concerned, this was as much Strange’s fault as it was his, and the only reason he was even still tolerating the sorcerers is because they were her only chance of rescue.

If they could get the fucking gate to work, anyway. A big fucking if. Apparently, sorcerers could make portals on Earth without a problem, but crossing into other dimensions was even beyond Strange’s capability.

And yet, she had been able to do it as a ten year old child. Bucky had hoped, maybe, somehow, she would be able to summon that power within her once again and come back to him, but there had been no sign of any mysterious blue portals popping up on Earth.

So as pissed as he was, Bucky had to remain patient, and right now, he had to pay attention.

“I have an idea on how to power the gate,” Strange said, wearily eyeing the damaged wall before turning to Bucky. “We have more of HYDRA’s research that Zemo ever did, and I have no doubt we will be able to create a stable connection soon.”

“Soon isn’t good enough,” Bucky snapped, struggling not to snarl at the sorcerer. “Every minute here is hours over there. Each day wasted is weeks she has to endure, alone, in a place humans were never meant to survive. We can’t—“

The lump in his throat forced him to silence. Bucky couldn’t say what he’d been thinking, and from Strange’s sympathetic expression, it didn’t need to be said.

They might already be too late.

Bucky still wanted to punch Strange in the face. If he cared so damned much, why hadn’t he kept a closer eye on her? Zemo may have been smart, hell, he was probably a genius to figure out how demon magic worked, but how had he managed to outsmart a whole sect of sorcerers?

“We will move as quickly as we can,” Strange said, indicating Bucky should follow him. “I don’t wish to waste any more time than you do.”

Bucky somehow doubted that, but he still followed after the head sorcerer. His tail twitched as they made their way deeper into the Sanctum, to the place Bucky had spent every waking moment when he hadn’t been by Steve’s side.

“I am aware of the time dilation in the demon realm,” Strange said as they walked down a spiraling set of stone steps, “but it might not be uniform or even linear. Your experience may differ from hers.”

If Strange thought that would be comforting news, he was wrong. Bucky didn’t need an overactive imagination to come up with whatever horrors she might be facing now. He certainly didn’t want to dwell on the possibility of… of finally making it to the demon realm and realizing hundreds of years had passed.

Bucky couldn’t… he couldn’t think about it. He would lose his mind. Bucky would only let despair swallow him after he was a hundred percent sure that… that there was nothing left to hope for. That she was truly gone and wouldn’t be coming back.

That he would never get to see her again. To watch as her eyes brightened and that familiar mischievous grin tugged at her lips. To hold her in his arms while he buried his nose in her hair, filling his nostrils with her scent and—

Bucky shook his head and grit his teeth. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not when they were closer to their goal, so he forced himself to focus on Strange’s words. Something about a power source needed to fuel the thing, and that Zemo must have hidden it away from the base because the sorcerers couldn’t sense it. Bucky honestly didn’t understand most of it, only that it would take an unnatural power source to get the gate running.

The underground lair, as he called it, left Bucky as awed as the first time he’d stepped food inside. The room was essentially a giant dome constructed of very large stones, but the most interesting aspect of the room was the glowing glyphs carved into the stones. The power thrummed under his skin and set his arm plates rigid as his tail flickered.

And there, in the middle of the room, lay the instrument that had been the focus of his frustration and anger over the past few days. A stone gateway, teleported here by great effort from the sorcerers. It was ancient, possibly constructed during the days of the Holy Roman Empire, or so Strange had rambled. Bucky was too fucking stressed to appreciate the mythical history lesson.

When the sorcerers working on the gateway turned to Strange and confirmed it couldn’t be powered by anything in their vaults, Bucky turned away, fists tightening, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. But before he could take even a single step, Strange laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Just a moment, Sergeant.” Strange’s voice was gentle, and it was the only reason Bucky didn’t grab the hand on his shoulder and break it. “There’s one thing left to try. It’s not without danger and risk, but—“

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said immediately. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“I suspected you might say that.”

Strange’s smile was sad but accepting as he patted Bucky, and then let his hand drop. Bucky’s desire to strangle the man went down a few notches, and if this worked and he got her back, Bucky might even forgive him.

Might.

Strange straightened his posture and faced the stone archway, held his hands in front of his chest in a manner that meant he was about to cast a spell, and he said, “Though I must warn you, tapping into the power of the Infinity Stones can be quite dangerous.”

With an intricate pull of his fingers, glowing patterns in the air emerged, and that’s when Bucky finally noticed the green light shining from Strange’s amulet. He’d vaguely wondered around the thing always around the sorcerer’s neck, and now Bucky had an answer as to what it was. Something otherworldly, deadly, and strong enough to compare with the power of the blue cube HYDRA had once wielded.

A deep thrumming filled the room, vibrating through the air and up the stones, the potential of something building made Bucky’s wings flair behind his back.

Then the glyphs along the demon gate began to glow, first green like the stone and then to a bright blue that made Bucky’s heart clench with fear. Strange blue lights often accompanied the demonic rituals HYDRA had conducted on him, but he swallowed down the panic and didn’t blink.

The charge in the air built higher and higher, until with a crackle of electricity, the empty space between the archway suddenly filled with light. It pulled outward to the edges, a border of blue around a watery image that sharpened into something Bucky recognized.

The demon realm.

“I can’t hold it forever!” Strange yelled, his hands still in the same position as he somehow, impossibly, held the gateway open using the green stone around his neck. “Get moving, Sergeant!”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice.

With none of the hesitancy he’d shown the first time being confronted by a blue portal, Bucky flared his wings as he raced forward and gave one hard flap, lifting off and darting through the gateway like a missile launched from its tube.

The dry wind buffeted him from the other side and Bucky nearly nosedived into the red sand, but he managed to right himself and soar up into the air. The human side of him balked at the alien surroundings, but it was the demon part of him that Bucky needed now.

Orienting himself to the familiar magnetic fields of the planet, because in a sick way he’d been alive longer here than on Earth, and he knew this place as intimately as his home.

Turning in the direction of his territory, Bucky pushed his body as far as it would take him and flew faster than he ever had before.

Hold on, sweetheart, he prayed to her, hoping he was heard. I’m coming.

Next Chapter

#branded #demon!bucky barnes #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

148 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 years

Note

Heyheyhey two things; Seer!Cloud Strife, who wakes Vincent up like, when he's six/five because of what he /saw./ or sky!Cloud that happens to awaken Vincent from his sleep 'cuz sky attraction. (Sephs mum was a sky?? Vincent was 'flame courting' her??) (I JUST WANT PROTECTIVE VINCENT, OKAY? I LOVE HIM.)

Oooooo hmmm tricky. Gonna focus on Seer!Cloud because that’s real interesting-.

Real quick on Sky!Cloud tho: that would be such a chaotic combo. Sky!Cloud in all his feral glory and wild instincts (because Flames are forgotten, secret things in most “civilized” places but Nibelheim is not what one would really call “civilized” in that way so Flames are still a thing) senses a powerful Flame in the mansion and is curious. And he doesn’t want to court the kids his age who have flickers of fire, because they are too weak still and he will smother them on accident (like he nearly did with Tifa, but it’s not her fault, her Flame is young and not Blessed like Cloud’s with Destiny, so it does not roar like a bonfire yet even though it will in time). So he gathers himself and marches to the mansion to find this big Flame, and Vincent is yanked out of sleep when his own Cloud Flames howl at the feel of a young, powerful Sky fighting and fearing the mansion’s monsters above his head. Vincent is moving before he is aware of it, rushing up the stairs on pure, feral instinct that he has tried to hard to bury since losing Lucrecia at the cusp of finalizing their bond, and he-

Arrives. Snatches up the child in one arm while the other fires his gun and obliterates any monster nearby. The child latches on, scared and desperate and longing-

There is a click and a jolt and Vincent keens in a heady mix of guilt-relief-shock-pain at the sudden snap bond. Because he promised he would only love one Sky and she turned her back on him, yet now there is another, younger Sky would understands his soul and bonds with it instantly, before they even know each other’s names, and it HURTS but it is also a RELIEF.

And that is how bby Sky Cloud got the most monstrously protective Turk Cloud Vincent ever. XD

Canon goes yeet. There’s no way Vincent is letting Cloud anywhere near Shinra unprepared, and no WAY he’s letting Cloud get pumped full of drugs in this “Soldier” program led by Hojo. Vincent’s just: welp time to kill the mad scientist that hurt me. And then he finds Sephiroth and he’s like !!!!!!! because he can feel Lucrecia’s Flame signature in Sephiroth’s and Cloud blinks a few times and then is like: oh. Friend? Son of Friend? Okay. My Mist now.

Everything gets more chaotic from there with Cloud casually picking up Soldier and Turk Flames left and right without anyone able to stop him because his Cloud is Vincent and his Mist is SEPHIROTH.

...

Cloud is a not a strong baby when he is born. He is not a healthy one. He is small and fragile and Nibelheim is not kind.

But Cloud’s mother remembers the Old Things and she is desperate and stubborn. So when other mothers would have just accepted the doctor’s grim declaration that Cloud would likely not last to his third month of life, Claudia wrapped him up in every warm layer she could and sets off up the mountain.

She finds the mako spring up there and kneels before it and begs. Begs any who would listen to please, save her child, lend him strength.

The Lifestream hears the cries of a mother, the thready life of a soul that could-be-has-been-one-was their champion in a hundred-thousand other timelines and takes pity. Light reaches up and curls around the whimpering child and a hundred-thousand voices sing softly of healing and Blessing. But such things are not free, and since Claudia is not the one to receive the healing, she is not the one who pays the price (and it is not fair, to make a child pay for the plea of the parent, but the Lifestream is not fair, it just Is, and this is how it has always claimed its dues). Cloud takes a breath and wails, strong and loud in a way he has never been before and Claudia weeps with relief.

She weeps again, later, when she realizes her son’s eyes do not track her movement. When she realizes that he is blind.

(He is not really blind, they learn later, he just sees too much. His gaze is always locked on the future, and every time he opens his eyes he sees a thousand pathways to what-might-be-what-could-be-what-needs-be. He sees people and places, tragedies and joys, laughter and tears and fates not yet woven into place. With all that to look at, is it any wonder he cannot process the present that is right in front of him? It is already a wonder he does not go mad in his first years of life).

Claudia learns to hide Cloud’s eyes and help with his blindness, and Cloud learns to not open his eyes even while awake if he does not want to lose himself. But even with his eyes shut, things whisper behind his eyelids. Not the far future and all its possibilities, but just the near future, the split second decisions that his mind can see minutes ahead of time and choose between. It makes him light on his feet and strange in his words and deeds. The townspeople think he’s Off and they do not like their children playing with him (though some, like Tifa, play with him anyway).

Cloud warns Tifa not to go up the mountain after her mother dies, but she does not listen. He follows her up and tears slide past his closed eyelids as he runs. He is just in time to banish the paths that end in Tifa sprawled out at the base of the high mountainside with a shattered neck. He grabs her hand and brings her back home, but the townsfolk do not like him. They blame him. They tell him to stay away. And Cloud opens his eyes for just a moment when the voices get too close and sees a rush of near-far-unlikely-likely and he cannot tell which it is when he sees paths that lead to the townsfolk hurting him and so he runs away. He slams his eyes shut because he cannot flee if he is too far in the future to remember how to run, but even so the Lifestream curls and twists around him and for a moment, one unlikely path rises to the surface and Cloud SEES.

A friend.

A father.

He turns and instead of running home, he runs for the old Shinra mansion.

He almost dies to the monsters, but his instincts are sharp even with his eyes shut, and though he has never SEEN the world like regular people do, he knows where he is going as he runs down the stairs and flings himself down into the room of coffins with half a dozen monsters on his heels. He crashes against the side of one and screams, “Vincent, help!” and in his voice the Lifestream echoes and yanks and demands just like it does those rare times he opens his mouth and frightens his mother with the disjointed prophecies of Future that spill out.

Chaos roars in Vincent’s head, driving him up and out of his coffin to protect the Little Seer and when Vincent next blinks, he’s standing for the first time in years, there are monsters dead at his feet, and a child sobbing in terror against his leg.

Vincent is confused.

He looks down at the child sobbing past closed eyes and ... doesn’t know what to do. If it were an adult he wouldn’t care, but this is a little KID. Who somehow knew his name. Vincent crouches and forces his rusty voice to ask, “Who are you? What are you doing down here?”

“I came to f-find you,” sobs the child.

“How did you know I was here?”

The child sniffles, clinging to the fabric of Vincent’s cloak and opens his mouth.

The Lifestream’s prophecy spills out “Mourner in Red with no son of his own. Sleeper in Guilt while the world falls to ruin will always awaken and follow when the Cloud calls covers his coffin.” The boy’s mouth snaps shut a moment later with a strangled sound, like he’s choking on more words, and Vincent is an Alarm.

No child says things like that normally. No child SOUNDS like that. Like he is both normal yet not, like when he speaks the world is whispering alongside and giving it an echo of thunder. Chaos stirs in his head, but instead of trying to take over, it just laughs, dark and old and bloody, “So a new seer has been chosen,” it sneers, “I thought Minerva would cease that practice after the death of the last ones.”

Last ones? Vincent thinks uneasily at the more talkative of the monsters in his head.

“People are fickle creatures. Every seer that has lived is either scorned and disbelieved, or revered and isolated. They are either shams or gods in the eyes of other mortals, and their wisdom is both rejected and clung to. With a connection as strong as his that it takes his normal sight, he will either be forced to speak of the futures people desire and then be killed when a different future comes to pass, or he will be shunned and locked away by ‘wiser’ minds who deem him mad.”

Vincent can feel his insides turn cold. And it shouldn’t matter. He is too broken to help in such things and yet-.

The child knew him.

The child knew his name, trusted whatever he saw in the futures unwritten that he came to Vincent for help.

Just long enough to get him home, Vincent promises himself as he awkwardly picks up the child and carries him out of the mansion and into the town. Then I will return.

Except the boy’s mother finds him and she cries in relief and somehow her tears of thanks lead to dragging him home because the boy refuses to let go of him and the woman (Claudia) is very kind and the boy is clingy and the food is warm and-.

And somehow. Despite all his intentions. Vincent stays.

#SE asks #oliverslewty asks #FFVII #Seer!Cloud #Sky!Cloud

83 notes · View notes

softsillytwsted · 4 years

Text

The Sleep of Blue Roses

I had this thought in my head of a what if story about an Ace betrayal and couldn’t stop myself from writing this until it was done. This is honestly not what I usually write because it’s kinda dark, but hey - it fits October doesn’t it?

Warnings: implied character death, implied domestic abuse, angst, the slow crawl of helplessness

Somewhere between now and back when you were still here, Deuce never understood limits. How can he? You were magicless, but you selflessly faced those impossibly stronger than you and succeeded. Deuce felt that nothing was out of reach when he was with you, with Ace, with Grim, Jack, Epel, Sebek...

When did things go wrong?

After weeks of strategizing a way to rescue Grim, who’s habit of eating everyone’s negative energy finally caused him to overblot, the gray monster was finally back to normal. Looking back, Deuce could only see how reckless and impossible the task was. They were up against a monster that had the combined magic and unique magic of the 7 strongest students from an academy of elites. The situation that promised death loomed over everyone, yet with you there, no one had any doubts they would fail. Not Riddle, not Leona, not Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, nor Malleus. And the impossible was made possible.

And you left this world thinking the impossible can be made possible.

“I arrived in Twisted Wonderland right after my mom contacted me,” you admitted shyly. “I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid because my dad always told me to stay away from her but... I really want to see her again.”

You were in front of the mirror, bags packed and your friends surrounding you. You can finally return back home and with a piece of the Dark Mirror in your hands you can communicate with them whenever you desired.

Deuce beamed at you, “It’ll go great, I know it will! My mother is always kind to me and she wanted what was best for me. I’m sure yours will be the same too!”

Ace hugged you before you left. “It’s seriously going to get so boring without you around. You better contact us or I’ll go over there and kick your ass.” Jokes aside, you and Deuce could tell by the glint in Ace’s eyes that he meant every word. You smiled at him then, because despite knowing each other for a year, the three of you shared an inseparable bond.

“I promise.”

You left them.

Days passed, then weeks, with no word from you. After one month, Ace angrily stormed into the Mirror Chamber and demanded to go see you.

“They do not exist.”

“Of course they don’t fucking exist, they’re in another world- now lead me to them!”

“They do not exist in this world or in any other world.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that!? They were here just a month ago!” Ace lunged at the mirror. His fists futilely pounded on its glassy surface before he tried to shake the mirror out of its placeholder. Deuce had to restrain the wildly thrashing Ace before the ginger stilled in his arms- lifeless. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He took a deep breath and walked away, ignoring Deuce’s and Grim’s cries after him.

If Deuce took better notice of the chill that followed Ace’s steps, maybe things would’ve been different. Instead, he visited the Mirror Chamber until a year passed and he too gave up- only visiting again on occasion, whereas Grim still stops by everyday.

Ace’s friendship with Deuce and Grim were strained at best. The ginger acted the same, but something was different. Like a cherished photo misplaced. Deuce didn’t question when Ace started hanging out with Kalim and Jamil more and Deuce and the other first years less. Nor did he stop to think about why Ace volunteered to do errands for Azul and Crowley. He even looked away when he saw Ace chatting it up with the two princes of the school.

They graduated like this without mentioning the name Y/n.

***

“AAH! Oh no are you alright?” Deuce yelled after you when you somersaulted from a heavy onslaught of his color-changing magic. “I’m so sorry!”

You could only giggle at your current state. Ace warned you not to get close to Deuce while he was changing the colors of the roses, but you assumed being behind Deuce would be safe. You were now paying for your mistakes. “Don’t worry about it Deuce,” you paused. The smile you flashed him revealed a weariness he couldn’t comprehend. “It was my fault too.”

***

Two years later, Deuce finally passed his test to become part of Rose Kingdom’s Elite Division. Right after orientation, he was pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ace who threw an arm over the bluenette’s shoulders and cheekily grinned at him like the two never grew apart. For a long moment, Deuce believed they never did as the two went to a bar to celebrate and catch up. Deuce breezed through all the sleepless nights he spent studying and training; Ace regaled his continuation of his internship.

“They loved me so much they made a new position to get me to stay!” he said. “And guess what? He said that if he becomes prime minister he’ll make me one of his advisors. Not too bad huh?”

Deuce couldn’t be happier for Ace. He always wondered what Ace, who blanched at the idea of the future, would do with his life. He admits, however, that politics was the furthest thing he would ever imagine his friend doing. “Being in the political scene can be dangerous I hear. Luckily I can assign my own bodyguards, including a certain elite policeman.”

This was news to Deuce. He was unaware of any political strife that would need the Elite Division, which specialized in magic-related crimes, to act as bodyguards... Maybe he needs to follow the news more closely. Regardless, Deuce grinned with all teeth and slammed his fist in his palm. “Just leave it to me, no way in hell I’ll let my buddy get hurt.”

“...Glad I can count on you... buddy.”

***

Deuce helped you up and tried to wipe off the paint on your uniform. You didn’t bother telling him that he was only smearing the paint into your clothes because of the look of concentration on his face telling you how hard he wanted to make this right. “Oh Deuce, you ended up painting the finished roses blue too.”

“What? Oh no...” he groaned at the extra work he’ll have to do. Will he be in time for the Unbirthday Party?

“Hey relax, I’ll help you out! We should be finished within an hour if we hurry,” you reassured him. He flashed you a grateful smile which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

***

The time between then and the election passed with a blink of an eye. Once his candidate won, Ace swaggered over to Deuce’s department with the confidence and authority that didn’t fit a 21 year-old advisor. It didn’t take long for Deuce to find himself a part of Ace’s security detail. It took an even shorter amount of time for Deuce to feel like he was slowly crawling into a waking nightmare.

Deuce tried to ignore it, tried to give Ace the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t excuse the things Ace did right in front of him. Dismissals of important emergency committees, deregulation of organizations with authority, increased spending on militarized weapons. The public blamed all these new policies on their new prime minister, but Deuce knew who the real mastermind was.

It didn’t take long for him to confront Ace - especially after he realized that the recent strings of overblot cases popping up across the country were a direct result of Ace’s policies.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Ace sneered. Deuce looked away; the gun in his hand hung lifelessly by his side. “You couldn’t even stop Y/n from leaving to die. You definitely won’t stop me from having my way with this country.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that... You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ace looked at Deuce like he was a bug beneath his shoe, but the quake in his eyes said otherwise. “You’re hereby dismissed from your post. If the next time I see you and you try to stop me, I’ll crush you.”

Ace walked away from Deuce- just like he did years ago.

“I’ve done too much to have you get in my way.”

***

Deuce felt so lucky to have met you, despite the rocky beginning. You never hesitated to help and encourage him. Sometimes, when his vague idea of an honor student wasn’t enough to guide him, he would look to you.

He wondered if you knew how much he wanted to repay you for being you.

He wondered if he can one day be someone you would be proud to know.

He wondered... what you thought of him.

***

The familiar halls of Night Raven College felt comforting - a temporary balm to the turmoil Deuce felt lately. He had hoped to see some of his old teachers and Crowley, but the school’s headmaster was tasked to find the Magic Mirror, the legendary mirror that the Beautiful Queen used once upon a time. No doubt, this was Ace’s doing.

When Deuce reached the Mirror Chamber, he was surprised to find Grim was nowhere to be found. Deuce ignored the churning in his stomach and thought to himself that maybe he was just early. After all these years, Grim never stopped believing that you would return to them. Crowley always spoke with pity in his voice about how the little monster would visit the Dark Mirror everyday- waiting, staring.

Deuce respectfully crouched in front of the mirror - like a mourner in front of a grave.

“Hello Y/n I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit,” Deuce began, he softly smiled while thinking of all the memories he had of you. “I was able to pass the qualifications to be part of the Elite Division. One of my first assignments was actually to guard Ace, can you believe that?”

He paused and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Um… about Ace he… he’s made it big as a politician. He’s my friend and I was happy for him but… a part of me is scared. He’s not the same anymore after you left Y/n. Looking back, I can’t help but think how reckless and dumb we were to risk our lives against people we had no chance against. But we always made it through thanks to you.” Every single sentence, every single word came out in a rush. It was a confession to all the sins he committed letting Ace go. A realization that he could never be the man he wanted you to be proud of.

“You somehow make the impossible possible… I… I really need that right now...” He begged, “Please… I need...”

Deuce didn’t realize he was crying until the tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his clenched fists. He looked up at the Dark Mirror and activated it. “Oh Dark Mirror, show me Y/n.”

“...”

“They do not exist.”

***

“Hey Deuce,” you began as you picked up a blue rose. The two of you were almost done cleaning up the mess Deuce made and you decided now was the time to take a breather. Deuce slouched in the shade of the hedge, too tired to do anything but hum to show he was listening. “In my world, blue roses were never found naturally, so they symbolized the impossible. But after years of research, my world was able to grow one.”

You handed Deuce the rose, its petals shone brilliantly despite its withering edges. Deuce took it curiously and the two of you shared a sweet smile.

“They now symbolize miracles.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade x reader #Ace Trappola x reader #twst fic #angst #character death #implied abuse #set in the future

69 notes · View notes

nastyburger · 4 years

Note

. . . OH NO SPECTRA. What has Spectra done to our favourite ectoplasmic heroes across the Dannyverse? You already said that Jazzy didn't find out abt Danny B at that point. (Also, sidenote, did Mourner Jazz find out about Sam Mourner during the Ember episode?)

ah that certainly is a thought huh, thinking about what weaknesses she would poke and pick at the kids for yeah lets think about that. i suppose this is more just a general fear/insecurity analysis i guess but nonetheless!

canon danny: we know danny has issues fitting in and his personal self image (”Not a Ghost, not a boy, but a freak. You don’t fit in anywhere!”) i really wished the show leaned in on that sort of identity crisis thing but i do think/interpret this is why danny is always so set on fitting in with the a-listers despite his history with dash (literally running up to the jocks and hearing what they have to say just because he was invited to a popular party with them).

he also seems to crave interacting with other people who dont know about his ghost half like sam and tucker do (hanging out/dating valerie despite the literal danger, ditching sam and tuck for aforementioned a-lister reasons). like he’s willing to do these things while instantly pretending the bullying and hunting his ghost half stuff didnt even happened just to hang out with these people like a normal teenager. he worries about fitting in, so this is what spectra picks at.

danny b: somewhat similar to canon danny, but much more focused on themes of being accepted and understood. he spent 6 whole months in rehab on a misunderstanding and now everyone else has this wrong perception of him and he cant even correct them, its frustrating. sure sam and tucker knows hes a ghost, but do they really understand the stress his human half went through? its not like they were with him in rehab. can any other human peers EVER see what he’s going through? sure his parents love him and only want the best but if this distance is how they react him over “smoking” will he really be accepted as a ghost?

spectra would throw a lot of stabs at how no one will ever fully understand danny b’s experiences, he can never tell people the whole story and even if he does he’ll be hated for it. in their fights, if db says any quips she would even play dumb and pretends what he said didnt make any sense. she tells him his words bounce off people, what he says is meaningless, he’ll never be understood. people will always make up their own narrative for who he is instead.

mourner: oh boy dude just guilt guilt GUILT with this girl. “danny’s death was your fault, it should’ve been you to die in that portal, jazz has every right to DESPISE you” the taunts go on and on and on. pretty self explanatory where this goes from here. spectra definitely has a FIELD DAY with this one.

(and to answer your side note, sam comes clean and tells jazz about the secret herself, details about it are in mourner’s lore post)

dex: feelings of being helpless, incomplete, needing to be fixed. dex doesn’t let the fact that hes actually disabled get to him, choosing to ignore instead since his prosthetic mostly works like any other arm, but when glaringly obvious differences make themselves known he cant keep pretending. he cant stay in extreme cold or hot weather for very long or else the metal will literally hurt him or the circuits will become affected and needs regulation, he cant stay in water with his arm for too long, he needs to get maintenance done on it, he has to literally take it off and charge it every other night. hell, he even had to learn how to write with his left hand! these differences are not something he likes to think about.

its not just the disability thing either, dex loves his family, but they overbear on him a little too much. before fussing over his arm, it was fussing over his health. he was always sick or weak in some way as a child, even when most of this is alleviated from the mutation, suddenly its “make sure the ecto contamination isnt hurting him” or “i know we checked your arm last week but we would like to check it again“ it can get a bit suffocating. spectra would constantly pick at how weak and helpless dex is, how he cant do anything or fend for himself without fancy gimmicks and weapons. “Take away your arm and robot and what can you even do with whats left of you? Even a normal kid will pose a bigger threat because they would at least have 2 hands to fight me with!”

ghouly: stuff like having his confidence and self image crash down on him, something almost akin to impostor syndrome. tucker puffs himself up and has a very assured self image, but as he gains popularity as ghouly he may start to doubt himself. its easy to put yourself above the bar others have for you when its set so low, but when its higher? and rising??? people have expectations of you???? suddenly this is a little harder to deal with and reassure yourself about. feelings of inadequacy will start to pop up.

spectra would take these little rising bubbles of insecurities and blow them up to an unimaginable degree. she would call him a fraud, say hes somehow scamming people, hes not being trustworthy by keeping a secret identity and will get found out. he’s put himself on such a high pedestal and now he cant live up to it.

#randox-talore #i saved this ask as a draft and then it did the thing where the read more link is in the ask itself again #i cannot fix it #but yeah theres that #dannyverse au #seance

135 notes · View notes

elriell · 4 years

Text

Book Rec’s

Going to try and add a lot of less known books that are amazing and not enough people talk about, this would be too long if I talked about each one in depth, so I am going to leave my fav quotes as that tends to give me a feel for books and whether I will like them and I will link the GR page for more info! Happy reading:)

Fantasy Vibes

From Blood And Ash by Jennifer L Armentrout (CLICK THIS TOO)

“Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first nor the last time she’ll pay a visit, but that doesn’t make any death less harsh or unforgiving.”

“Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.”

“You're an absolutely stunning, murderous little creature.”

Storm And Fury by Jennifer L Armentrout

“What are you going to do if it does get worse?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll get myself a seeing-eye gargoyle.”

(HONESTLY BADASS GARGOYLES. SO UNIQUE AND AWESOME)

Demons At Deadnight by A&E Kirk

“I launched into a graceful ninja-like front roll, then stood my ground to face the monstrous heathen, fearless in my determination to vanquish the deadly foe.

Nah, just kidding. I bolted, discretion being the better part of not getting dead.”

“We are killers,” Matthias said. Bad news.

“Not girls. We don’t kill girls.” Good news.

“She’s no girl.” Insulting news?

“What? Of course she’s a girl.”

“Want me to check?”

“Shut up, Blake,” the rest of them chorused.”

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black

“If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse.”

“If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.”

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this is the least of what I can do.”

MM Romance

Him by Sabrina Bowen & Elle Kennedy

“Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I’d let you do it, though.” My hand freezes in his hair. “You would?” Wes nods. “I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.”

Misfits by Garrett Leigh (Poly romance, its just so perfect ala herongraystairs!)

“Learn something. Read a book. Explore someone. Anger is just a hole where your life could be.”

In The Absence Of Light by Adrienne Wilder

“The light is a funny thing, Grant. We think it shows us what we need to see, but in reality, it blinds us. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see me.”

“Morgan may be autistic, but he is a normal man with a mental condition, not a mental condition who is a man.”

HOneStly JUST READ IT

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

“It’s not the world that’s cruel. It’s the people in it.”

“I'm not a math problem." "But I'll still solve you."

“Is your learning curve a horizontal line?”

“Who said 'please' that made you hate the word so much?" Andrew gazed at him in silence for a minute. "I did.”

“I didn't think I was a personal problem. You hate me, remember?" "Every inch of you," Andrew said. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you."

EVERY QOUTE IS ICONIC TBH

Vampires, Angels & Greek Mythology

Bloodlines by Michelle Read

“The greatest changes in history have come when people were able to shake off what others told them to do.”

“Takes a lot of tries before you hit perfection." He paused to reconsider that. "Well, except for my parents. They got it on the first try."

“No, thank you," said Adrian. "These hands don't sully themselves with fighting.”

“Everything's about my personal entertainment. The world is my stage. Keep it up- you're becoming a star performer in the show.”

Angels Blood by Nalini Singh

“Some things were worth the dance with danger.”

“You do realize this makes your wings even more unique." "Are you saying you shot me as a cosmetic procedure?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a dead woman.” “What can I say? I prefer to die well-informed.”

“You don't fear me," he said now. She wasn't stupid enough to lie. "I'm petrified. But I figure you didn't make me come all this way just so you could push me off the roof.”

Dark Lover by J.R Ward (warning OTT vamps if thats not your jazz either skip)

“Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge”

“Vengeance was one hell of a roommate.”

Half-Blood by Jennifer L Armentrout

“Two people see each other across a room or their skin brushes. Their souls recognize the person as their own. It doesn’t need time to figure it. The soul always knows… whether it’s right or wrong.”

“It’s just words and words mean nothing. Only action does.”

“People do the damndest things when they’re in love.”

“There is a difference between love and need. Sometimes, what you feel is immediate and without rhyme or reason.”

Assasin-y Goodness

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers

“When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.”

“I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.”

“Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.”

“There is no shame in scars, Ismae.”

Daughter Of The Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller

“I am me because I choose to be me. I am what I want. Some people say you have to find yourself. Not I. I believe we create ourselves to be what we want.”

“Lass, you've the face of an angel but the tongue of a snake.”

“Everyone has something dark in their past. I suppose it's our job to overcome it. And if we can’t overcome it, then all we can do is make the most of it.”

“Waiting. Not waiting. One lover. A hundred lovers. There should be no judgement either way. A woman is not defined by what she does or doesn‘t do in the bedroom.”

“Even a man who’s spent his whole life at sea has reason to fear her when she’s angry. But not I. I sleep soundly. Listening to her music. The sea watches over me. She protects her own.”

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for 'good luck.”

“It's not natural for women to fight." "It's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand.”

“I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”

“Kaz leaned back. "What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?" "Knife to the throat?" asked Inej. "Gun to the back?" said Jesper. "Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina. "You're all horrible," said Matthias.”

The Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson

“It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.”

“Taking another life, she had whispered, even a guilty one, should never be easy. If it were, we'd be little more than animals.”

“Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky,”

“We all have our different skills. You’re patient to a fault, which sometimes doesn’t work to your advantage. I, on the other hand, have the patience of a wet cat. Only on rare occasions does that come in handy.”

“Maybe there were a hundred different ways to fall in love.”

Circus Vibes

Caraval by Stephanie Garber

“Every person has the power to change their fate if they are brave enough to fight for what they desire more than anything.”

“She imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.”

“Some things are worth pursuit regardless of the cost.”

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

“You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.”

“Secrets have power. And that power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well. Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them. Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it. So it's really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.”

Six of Hearts by L.H Cosway

“Note to self: Never try to out-trick a trickster.”

“So why not live with the magic? Be a kid again and believe in the fantastical. Life is more fun with a little smoke and mirrors.”

“We all have thoughts that we would never, ever vocalise. And people who say they don’t are liars.”

“I once read that people who have imaginary friends never reach out to touch them. There’s some part of their brain that subconsciously knows it will break the spell. That’s what it feels like with Jay.”

Amour Amour by Krista & Becca Richie

“We all traverse in and out of people’s worlds, leaving footprints. Some larger, some smaller, but there is always a mark. We can’t sweep it away.”

“Life is a rollercoaster with no volunteers. We’re all forced to take a seat and ride it out.

“I’m average. I’ve been average most of my life, but there are moments where I feel extraordinary. Invincible. Able to conquer any fear and step outside any box. There is no illusion, no fantasy. I can climb a forty-foot pole. I can fly eighty-feet in the air. I can be taller than tall. It’s a dream that I’m living. Every day. With him.”

More M/M Romance

The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”

“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”

Axel’s Pup by Kim Dare (Shifter Romance & BDSM FYI if thats not your jazz)

"I want to screw you, and tie you up, and make you writhe from-you know all that. But I want so much more. I want the whole thing, not just a quick scene. I want twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I want you to be mine. I won't take anything less."

Aristotle And Dante Discover The Secrets Of The Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

“In your dream. You were looking for me.""I'm always looking for you,"

“He was funny and focused and fierce. I mean the guy could be fierce. And there wasn’t anything mean about him. I didn’t understand how you could live in a mean world and not have any of that meanness rub off on you.”

“He looked like an angel. And all I wanted to do was put my fist through his jaw. I couldn't stand my own cruelty.”

“One of the secrets of the universe was that our instincts were sometimes stronger than our minds. Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere.”

Shattered Glass by Dani Alexander

"Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be.[...]"You." It was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.”

“Is he my competition?” I asked. “Everyone is your competition.” Peter lifted his hand to his eyes and began lowering it incrementally. “It goes normal human beings, crazies, republicans, my hand, imaginary characters, corpses and then, in a moment of lustful psychosis, you.” By the time he was done, his hand was below the table.

Romance

Kiss The Sky by Krista & Becca Richie

“You’re not a pit stop. You’re my finish line. There’s no one after you.”

“People hope to touch the sky. I dream of kissing it.”

“I love the way he’s staring at me. It makes me feel more than just beautiful. I feel like I’m his. Like no one else could possibly compare to me. He doesn’t even have to say the words. I see it in his eyes. I can practically read it in his mind.”

“I’ve wanted so many things in life,” he says softly, “but you’re the one that has meant the most to me.”

Translation: I love you.”

Wallbanger by Alice Clayton

“You know those moments when everything is exactly the way it was meant to be? When you find yourself and your entire universe aligning in perfect synchronization, and you know you couldn’t possibly be more content? I was inside that very moment, and fully conscious of it.”

“The right woman for you wouldn't want you to change anything about your life. She wouldn't rock your boat, she'd jump right in and sail it with you.”

“It breaks my heart the way young girls pick themselves over, never thinking they're good enough. You make sure you always remember, you're exactly the way you're supposed to be. Exactly. And anyone who says otherwise, well, poppycock.”

Ugly Love by Colleen Hoover

“Ugly love becomes you. Consumes you. Makes you hate it all. Makes you realize that all the beautiful parts aren't even worth it. Without the beautiful, you'll never risk feeling the ugly. So you give it all up. You give it all up. You never want love again, no matter what kind it is, because no type of love will ever be worth living through the ugly love again.”

“Some people they grow wiser as they grow older. Unfortunately, most people just grow older.”

“Sometimes the spirit of a man isn't strong enough to survive the ghosts of his past”

“My grandfather used to say the placement of a birthmark was the story of how a person lost the battle in their past life. I guess you got stabbed in the neck. Bet it was a quick death, though.”

On Dublin Street by Samantha Young

“Gentlemen are gentlemen in bed. They make sure you're having a good time." "I'll make sure you're having a good time, and that you're okay with everything. I just won't be well mannered about it.”

“In truth it’s difficult to describe a broken heart.”

“Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you.”

Romance Series

Paper Princess by Erin Watt

“My skill, if I have one, isn’t dancing. It’s my ability to believe that tomorrow can be a better day.”

“My life is mine. I live it. I control it.”

“but a clean knife still makes a painful wound.”

“Fate is for the weak--those people who don't have enough power or will to shape life into what they need it to be.”

Foreplay by Sophie Jordan

“I’m not going to lie to you and convince you that I’m someone good and shiny like your guy that’s going to be a doctor.”

“You can’t even see it. I’m the safest thing you’ll ever find”

“That's what I wanted. Something to enrich me, to make me feel better about the things in my life that I could never change."

Wait for You by J.Lynn. (AKA Jennifer L Armentrout)

“You are really…” “Amazing? Awesome?” He paused, brows raised. “Astonishing?” “I was going to go with bizarre.” “Well, hell, if I had feelings that might actually hurt.”

“As long as the sun’s shining, shit can’t be that bad.”

The Deal by Elle Kennedy

“Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them.”

“I want to murder him in his sleep, A. No, I want to murder him when he’s awake so he can see the joy on my face when I do it.”

“And the most important lesson I learned is that I’m not a victim—I’m a survivor.”

Romance w/ Epic Plots

The Unbecoming Of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin

“This was the boy I loved. A little bit messy. A little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster. Just like me.”

“You could start a fire with the heat between you two.""You're mistaking bitter animosity for heartfelt affection.”

“You're supposed to say, 'All I want is your happiness. I'll do whatever it takes, even if it means being without you.'""Sorry," Noah said. "I'm just not that big of a person.”

“I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.”

“We are far too screwed up for a goddamned love triangle.”

“You will love him to ruins.”

The Winners Curse by Marie Rutkoski

“He knew the law of such things: people in brightly lit places cannot see into the dark.”

“Isn’t that what stories do, make real things fake, and fake things real?”

“The Winner’s Curse is when you come out on top of the bid, but only by paying a steep price.”

“The god of lies must love you, you see things so clearly.”

Obsidian by Jennifer L Armentrout (are you getting the idea I love everything she writes? because I do!)

“I've always found that the most beautiful people, truly beautiful inside and out, are the ones who are quietly unaware of their effect."

“More books." His eyes went wide. "You have, like, them books you just said you haven't read." "Doesn't mean I won't get more books."

Angelfall by Susan Ee

“I never thought about it before, but I'm proud to be human. We're ever so flawed. We're frail, confused, violent, and we struggle with so many issues. But all in all, I'm proud to be a Daughter of Man.”

“Sometimes, as we're stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.”

“I knew from the start that your loyalty would get you killed. I just never thought it would be your loyalty to me that would do it.”

Unique Reads

Dont Look Back by Jennifer L Armentrout

“I was stuck in a life I didn't remember, squeezed into the shell of this girl - this Samantha Joe Franco - and the more I learned about her, the more I was starting to hate her.”

“Things aren’t perfect. They are far, far from it,but they are getting there, and I wasn’t looking back. Not when there were so many good things in the future.”

Verity by Colleen Hoover

“I wasn’t heroic. I wasn’t simple. I was difficult. An emotionally challenging puzzle he wasn’t up for solving.”

“A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they’re willing to separate every layer of protection between the author’s soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed.”

“No one is likable from the inside out.”

“Find what you love and let it kill you.”

Painted Faces by L.H Cosway

“We all paint on a face to show the world," Nicholas replies philosophically. "For some of us, that's quite literal.”

“I love him because he makes me laugh when I don't feel like laughing. I love him because he challenges my view of what a man is. I love him because I know I shouldn't love him and that he'll break my heart. I love him because he's a complete and total anomaly. I love him because I want to kill the sadness inside him more than I want anything else in the world.”

“You saw me, changed my life, made it better, and I’m completely fucking in love with you.”

Sorcery of Thorns by Margret Rogerson

“It was always wise to be polite to books, whether or not they could hear you.”

“Knowledge always has the potential to be dangerous. It is a more powerful weapon than any sword or spell.”

“When terrible things have happened to you, sometimes the promise of something good can be just as frightening.”

“You belonged in the library, as much as any book.”

“You unmanageable, contrary creature. You have made me believe in something at last. It feels as wretched as I imagined.”

Obviously not every book is going to suit everyone, everyone has pet peeves, and things that they won’t enjoy but hopefully this gives you some variety and I personally loved them all at some point! Pls feel free to come to my ask/chats to discuss any of them that would make me so happy <3 this took 4 hours damn

130 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (2/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

===

Rated: T

[One] [AO3]

===

Content warning for this chapter: Discussion of domestic abuse – parent on child; implied self-harm and discussion of self-harm.

===

Forged Through Fire

Two

The phone ringing startled Roy out of the doze he hadn’t realised he’d fallen into, and he jumped up out of his chair, massaging the crick in his neck as he went over to the phone on the wall.

“Mustang.”

“Hello Roy. It’s Riza. Riza Hawkeye.”

“Riza.”

For a good long while, Roy had absolutely no idea what to say to her. He hadn’t seen her since the day that he’d finished his training under Berthold and passed his state licence exam, although they’d kept in touch with the occasional letter. It was the first time she’d ever called him since he’d moved out of barracks and got his own apartment with his own phone line, and the novelty of hearing her voice again after all the time that had passed was enough to render him speechless. Finally he regained his tongue.

“It’s good to hear your voice again,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s good to hear yours, too.” She sounded quiet, her voice low and measured as if she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“My father died.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “The funeral’s on Friday if you want to come. Please don’t feel obligated. There won’t be all that many people there. He wasn’t exactly a social man.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” The relief in her voice was almost palpable, even over the phone. “So… How have you been?”

“All right. Not doing much, we haven’t been shipped out anywhere yet so it’s mainly just paperwork and patrols.” God, this was the inanest conversation ever. He hadn’t spoken to Riza for a year and a half, and this was what he was finding to talk about? “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know how to feel right now if I’m honest. Everything’s so… weird. It’s not like when Mom died. Everything was easy then. I was sad because she wasn’t there anymore. This time…”

Roy knew exactly why she trailed off. Receiving letters from Riza in the time since he finished with Berthold had always been bittersweet. He knew the situation she was in, and he had no idea how to help her out of it. Now, she was out of it more by luck – if death could be considered luck – than judgement, and he still felt a stab of guilt that he had not been able to do anything for her.

“Yeah. I understand.” Did he really? “Do you need anything?” He didn’t want to think of her in that ramshackle old house all by herself. “Groceries, company, anything?”

“I’m ok. I’ve got everything sorted. I think I just need to know there’ll be a friendly face at the funeral. Thanks.”

“Any time.” He was reminded of the time he took her to the bar after her tattoo got infected. “How’s your back?”

“Sorry?”

“It was a long train of thought. How’s your back doing?”

“It’s fine.” For the first time, he thought that she might be smiling on the other end of the phone. “I’ve not had any problems at all since Trisha and Hohenheim fixed me up.” There was a pause. “Are they still there at Madam Christmas’s?”

“Yep. I don’t think they’ll ever leave.”

Riza laughed. “Well, send my regards next time you see them.”

“I will. I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Till Friday. Thank you, Roy.”

They said their goodbyes, and Roy stayed staring at the phone for a long time after he hung up. It was only now that he realised just how much he had missed Riza in the intervening time. Perhaps it was because they had never completely lost touch with each other that the separation had not seemed as absolute as it did now; she had always still been on the periphery of his world, even if she wasn’t regularly in it like Aunt Chris and his new friends and colleagues within the military. Now he realised just how long it had been.

She hadn’t changed at all, and when he saw her standing in the cemetery on the grey and miserable morning of the funeral, he was almost relieved to see that she was still just the same Riza. Although, that said, not exactly the same. There was something behind her eyes, a little bit haunted. Maybe it was just grief, maybe it was something far more complicated. She gave a wan smile when she saw him, making her excuses to the scant other mourners and coming over to him.

“Hey. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise. Are you ok?”

She nodded. “I’m getting there. It’s still all so surreal.” She glanced over towards the grave and the drab preacher getting ready to intone the service. “Shall we go? It shouldn’t take too long, I don’t think. I mean, what is there to say about him?”

Roy would have given her the usual platitudes about Berthold being a good man and a great alchemist, but whilst the latter may have been technically true, neither really rang true to Roy’s ears in regard to Riza. Berthold might have been the one to teach him flame alchemy, but he had also been the one to permanently ink that flame alchemy on Riza’s back and shape the course of her life forever. The words she had spoken to him on that fateful day when she’d shown him the array had always echoed in his mind. What’s done is done. Nothing could change the fact that the tattoo existed, and that Berthold had been the one to put it there. Nothing would ever erase that. Nothing Roy or anyone else could do would ever be able to make that better. Did that mean he didn’t ought to try?

The service was short, just the usual empty words over a plain casket, and Roy hung back as Riza received the well wishes of the few other attendees until she was alone with the headstone again.

Riza sighed. “Is it bad that when everyone says ‘I’m so sorry’, there’s a part of me – a large part – that thinks ‘I’m not’?”

Roy shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. I think given everything, that’s natural.”

“When I looked in on him that morning and found him… I thought I’d feel sad, or that I’d panic, or maybe that I’d just feel numb. But honestly the thing I felt the most was anger. Not because he was dead, that he’d been taken from me in that respect. I wasn’t angry at the world. I wasn’t even really angry at him. I was angry with myself, because I hadn’t done anything, and now he’s dead and I don’t have the chance to call him out for everything he did.”

“It’s not your fault. What could you have done?” He paused. “It’s everyone else who should have been doing something.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself either. He had just as much of a position of power over you as he did me. In a different way, but I’ve heard cynics say that apprenticing under an alchemist is equivalent to selling your soul to them until you pass your licence.”

“Yeah. But after I passed my licence. Anyway, enough about me. Do you want to come somewhere and talk about it somewhere that’s not a very windy cemetery with rain threatening any moment?”

Riza nodded. “Yeah. I could really use a drink right now.”

Roy smiled. “All right. Come with me.”

It was a quiet and contemplative walk through the city towards the bar, and Roy couldn’t help giving the odd glance sideways over at Riza as they made their way through the damp streets. It had rained earlier, and the clouds were still hanging dark and heavy in the sky. In a way, the weather reflected the entire city – dark, oppressive, unrelenting; constantly hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.

Amestris hadn’t always been like this, according to those who’d seen it in its heyday. Roy was still too young to remember a time before the Fuhrer had come to power and democracy had given way overnight to the grim dictatorship they’d now found themselves living in, but Aunt Chris and Hohenheim remembered it. They’d made the best of things in the best way they knew how – defying the law and doing what was needed anyway.

A part of him wished that they didn’t have to do it, that he could somehow come into a grand inheritance and set them up comfortably for the rest of their days, but he knew them both and he knew they’d still keep doing what they were doing even if money was no object. There were some things that were more important than staying on the right side of the law.

Still, just because they had carved out their own little niche in the new world they lived in didn’t mean that they couldn’t be nostalgic for better times. Aunt Chris wasn’t one for reminiscing, but he’d found her and Hohenheim sharing the good Drachman vodka more than once after last orders had been called.

His thoughts ended up coming full circle round to Berthold and the many arguments they’d got into over Roy’s decision to join the military. Berthold could remember the time before and held no love for the military regime he was now living under. Roy had never known different but knew enough to be well aware that he was becoming part of the problem. With a problem like this, though, with something so well-established and deeply ingrained, it was impossible to effect any sort of change except from within, and when he had first joined the academy, Roy had been naïve enough to think he could be the one to make that change.

Four years later, he was not quite as convinced, but his determination still held fast.

Vanessa was on duty in the bookshop today, and if she seemed surprised to see them coming in at four o’clock in the afternoon then she didn’t show it, simply waving him through without a word. She gave Riza a little more scrutiny, but since she was coming in with him, there wasn’t a lot of point in giving her the third degree. Of everyone who was involved with Madam Christmas’s bar, Roy was the one who was most aware of the need for secrecy. One of the advantages of joining the military and becoming part of the regular city patrols was getting inside knowledge on which premises were about to be raided as suspected liquor hideaways and being able to subtly clear the bookshop from the records. If it was an abuse of power, well, at least it wasn’t hurting anyone like most of the rest of the abuses of power that the military undertook on a regular basis.

Aunt Chris was behind the bar as usual when they got down into it, and she nodded over to a corner table, where Armstrong and Hughes were already sitting with Gracia. Roy turned back to Riza as Hughes waved him over.

“They’re friends and colleagues. We don’t have to join them if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Riza smiled. “I think some happy company sounds like a good idea right now.”

“Roy!” Hughes grabbed the coats that had been holding the other chairs at the table. “Is this the girl you were telling us about?”

“This is Riza Hawkeye, yes. She’s Berthold’s daughter. Riza, this is Alex Armstrong and Maes Hughes, and Hughes’ girlfriend Gracia.”

“Actually, Gracia is no longer my girlfriend.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. Considering how giddy Hughes sounded, he highly doubted that there had just been a break-up.

“She’s my fiancée!”

Gracia gave a long-suffering sigh, but the smile in her eyes showed that she still found Hughes’ antics endearing after being with him for a year.

“Congratulations.” Riza took a seat beside Gracia and the two were soon deep in conversation as Roy went over to the bar to get the next round in.

Chris gave him a look.

“I’m glad you’ve turned up. He’s starting to be insufferable. Why did I let you persuade me to allow your friends in?”

“Because you love me.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true.” Chris peered over his shoulder at Riza. “How did it go at the funeral?”

“Much of a muchness, really. What can you say about a man who was a complete recluse dedicated to his research above all else, including his daughter?”

“Roy, you can’t keep beating yourself up about that. And for God’s sake, not now. She’s got enough on her plate; she doesn’t need to prop up your guilt as well. Don’t make her carry more than she has to. If she wants to be mad at you for not rescuing her then that’s her decision and she can do it in her own time.”

She continued to pour the drinks, and Roy leaned back against the bar, watching his friends.

“You’re not subtle,” Chris said behind him. “Who knows? Maybe now that you’re back in touch, you’ll finally ask her out.”

“Madam!”

“I call them how I see them, Roy-Boy. Remember you’ve always got the perfect date location right here.”

“Yeah, with Vanessa and Fiona teasing me every time I go in and out and you watching like a hawk.”

“Freudian slip there?”

“Shut up.”

He grabbed the drinks and brought them back over to the table, where Hughes was now expounding the current barracks rumour mill theory that Tim Marcoh had faked his own death and was now serving as personal physician to the Emperor of Xing. At least Riza was smiling, and although that tired and haunted look behind her eyes had not gone away, he could tell that the smile was genuine.

It was only later, once Armstrong, Hughes and Gracia had left them, that he could recognise the sheer exhaustion and the willpower it was taking her to hold everything together.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Riza shook her head. “No. Not yet. I don’t think I can face that big empty house knowing that there’s no one else in it and there never will be again. And knowing that I’m going to have to sell it. It’s not the selling it that’s the problem really, I’m not so attached to it. It’s just all the paperwork involved.”

“Well, you don’t have to think about it right now. And I can always stay over if you want.” Riza gave him a sharp look. “I mean on the sofa!” He tried to backtrack. “So that it’s not so big and empty and lonely.”

She laughed. “No, I’ll be ok. I’m just not ready to face it quite yet.” There was a long pause. “Your friends are nice.”

“They can be a bit much, but they mean well.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic; they really are nice. Although I think Alex’s goodbye hug might have broken all my ribs.”

“Yeah, he’s not good with ‘subtle’.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Riza sat back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling. “The weirdest thing is not knowing what comes next. I’ve never really had any plans. Well, I had plans but they’re not going to work out. I always just thought I’d end up keeping house for my father until… well, until he died. I just hadn’t reckoned on it being so soon. I’ve got my entire life ahead of me and I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. It’s scary, in a way.”

“What were your plans originally?”

Riza shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“It can’t be that stupid.”

“Fine. I was going to follow in your footsteps. I wanted to join the military and help you do what you’re doing, trying to change the system from within. But then my back happened so that’s out now.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’m not really much good for anything else. What other careers require crack shot aiming skills?” Riza snorted. “Looking back I’m honestly surprised he let me near a gun. Maybe he was cocky enough to know I’d never turn it on him.”

Roy wanted to say something, the urge to apologise again bubbling up in the back of his mind, but he squashed it down. Like Chris had said, Riza was dealing with enough conflicted feelings of her own, she didn’t need his guilt as well.

They continued to drink in silence for a while, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Back when he’d first started learning under Berthold, they’d spent quite a lot of time together like this in the kitchen of the Hawkeye home, and it was surprising how easy it was to slip back into that familiarity despite the intervening years.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the drapes along the back wall twitching and Trisha coming out of the clinic. There was a flash of red lightning as Hohenheim transmuted the door into the wall, and then he came out too.

“We’re off,” Trisha said to Chris. “We’re not expecting anyone else tonight, but you know how to get hold of us if there’s an emergency.”

They left the bar hand in hand and Roy watched them go. When he looked back at Riza, her eyes were following them too, with a kind of longing. She had never given voice to anything, at least not in Roy’s earshot, but he’d often had the thought and he knew she must have had it too. Her back meant that she could never be intimate with anyone. Well, at least not without literally trusting them with her life.

“Roy… Would you do me a favour?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t agree yet, you don’t know what it is.”

“Ok. What is it?”

“Will you burn my back?”

“What?”

“I want to get rid of this thing.” Riza wasn’t looking him in the eye, just staring at the dregs in the bottom of her wine glass. “I want it gone so that I can have a normal life and do all the normal things I should be able to do. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of him having control over me even though I just buried him. It doesn’t matter that he’s dead, he’s always going to have this piece of me, and I don’t want it anymore. I just want it to be over.”

“Riza, maybe it would be better if you think on this without three glasses of wine in you.”

The thought of doing it made him feel sick. He was a state alchemist, and he was career military; he knew that he’d be called on to use flame alchemy on people in the future. He knew he would have to use it to kill people. He’d almost made his peace with that pre-emptively, knowing he would hopefully be able to atone for it once he’d worked to make everything better.

Burning Riza though, even at her own request… Hadn’t she already suffered enough at the hands of flame alchemists?

“It’s not a new idea, Roy. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

“I still think this isn’t the best time to be discussing it. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll come over and we’ll talk about it then. Honestly, Riza, it’s a large area of skin and the damage I’d have to do to destroy it completely, I think it would kill you.”

Riza nodded. “I understand.”

There was a long silence after that, and in the wake of Riza’s request it was an unusually tense one; the uneasiness remaining long after Riza had changed the subject and they were talking freely again. By the time he was walking her back to the Hawkeye house, though, things seemed to have lightened, and Riza seemed to be feeling a little better.

Roy had managed to put the conversation to the back of his mind for most of the following day. He’d taken a few days’ leave for the funeral to be there for Riza if she needed him; she had no other relatives to help her out and she’d lived an isolated enough life not to have any real friends either.

It was only when the phone in the bar rang and Chris passed it over to him that he remembered with a jolt what Riza had asked of him, and his heart was in his mouth as he heard her quiet and hitching voice on the other end of the line.

“Roy, I need your help. I’ve made a massive mistake.”

#FMA Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

4 notes · View notes

johaerys-writes · 4 years

Text

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 30: Heir of the Ruined Day

The nightmare’s hold on Tristan grows stronger. Cole seeks help from someone unexpected.

Read here or on AO3! [Read from the beginning]

*********************

Falling. He was falling. A stone sinking in dark waters.

Tristan kicked, pushing himself up with all his might. The more he fought, the faster he sank. The more he tried to escape the pull, the tighter it grew. Down, down. His screams were muffled by water, his limbs growing heavier with each second that passed. Time felt warped, unending and unmoving, while he struggled. Soon he would be out of breath. Soon, he’d grow so weary, he’d never wake up again. He had to get away. He had to reach the surface. He had to-

“Hush, hwegen. It’s alright.”

Tristan opened his eyes, panting. His nightshirt was clinging to his skin, slick with sweat. Nelly was sitting by the edge of the bed, her dark brown eyes warm when they met his.

“Nelly,” he whispered, his heart returning to its rightful place. A dream was all it was. A bad dream. Safe. He was safe now. “Nelly,” he said again, taking a breath as he sank back into the pillows. Nelly, Nelly, Nelly. Always there, alway close, always within reach. He’d learnt her name before he’d even learnt his own mother’s. Her presence, calm and comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night.

She leaned over him, the scent of lavender, rosemary and ginger clinging to her clothes. Her lips cool on his fevered brow.

“Close your eyes. Go to sleep.”

Tristan closed his eyes.

******

The memories unfurl around him, brush against his skin, frayed linen and rough cotton. The sharp edges of a straw hat, hay and worn leather, the rich susurrus of muslin. Thoughts coiling, unravelling. His? No. Yes? His.

The clop of horse hooves on the narrow dirt road. The roar of waves crashing far below, the sharpest cliff, the greenest grass. He’s riding a little way ahead, the wind in his dark hair, the sun in his eyes. Onyx and ivory, rough and soft, so soft, he smiles. Bright, fierce, fragile, that smile.

Don’t go, stay with me, don’t go- Hushed whispers in the night, carried by wind, muffled by skin. Stay for what? For you? Rage, sharp, hot, abrasive. Black eyes gleaming in the dark. What else is there to say? I’m leaving, you’re staying here, I hope she’s happy now, I hope you’re happy. Words cut deeper than knives. Deeper, far deeper. Down, down and around. A downward spiral. Your fault, your fault, you and yours-

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. If not like this, then how? Cole treads carefully, slowly through the dreams. Dreams only in name. A whirlwind, a storm. They pull him down, the shifting currents. He swims now, faster. He’s closer, so close he can almost feel it, touch it, taste the salt. The waves-

He dips his head under, gulping, breaks through, gasping, inhaling salt water and froth. Where? If not here, then where? Another wave rolls past him, curls over him. A ship, waves crashing hard against its wooden belly. Do ships feel pain? A figure peers over the railing, fingers gripping the carved wood. Sea storm and moonlight, water and fire and ice, etched in polished everite. Don’t look back- be steadfast- it will all be over soon-

Pulled under again, deeper. A white stone in the depths of a dark well- he swims towards it. Pebbles falling around him like snow. No- not pebbles. Apple blossoms whirling with the breeze, a midsummer day. A flash of yellow fabric before it disappears from view. Laughter ringing amongst the trees. The fireworks, they crackle and writhe, green and gold and red and, oh, is that one purple? Jewels on the sky's velvet canopy. Remember when we were little? Syrup sticking on his fingers, sugar and spices, corn on the cob. Never liked corn, you don’t like it either, why did you get it then? -It’s tradition, Tris, don’t frown. The sun has set long before, it's only shadows now. Shadows and bright lights in the sky. She turns to him and laughs. Swirling colours in her eyes. I always frown and you tell me not to and you laugh. Then I laugh, too. Who’ll tell me not to when you’re gone?

Figure it out. Figure it out for yourself. You’re not a child, you’re a man grown, learn to act like one. Trevelyans are made of sterner stuff, are you? By myself, never was much good, never learned, never had to, never thought I'd have to. The smooth band burns its shape onto your palm.

Hold on to this for me. Keep it safe. I will. Always.

Cole shakes his head softly. The voices cling to his skin, oil on the surface of the water; "Not mine," he reminds himself. He lets them wash over him, dissolve. His hands are full of lilies. He lets them fall, the delicate petals scattering on the ground like rain. Easy to fall, easier to slide, to slip through the cracks, disappear forever. Hard to get up. Much harder.

Sharp pain jolts through him. Pain and anger and fear. Get up, wake up, run. Run, for they’re coming. Who's they?

Cole quickens his step, the clearing but a fading image behind him. Hard to ignore the whispers, so he listens instead. Follows the winding pathways that shimmer before him, lights in the darkness, too bright, blinding. Where are you?

A fire is crackling in the distance, flames roaring. A pyre. Herbs and scented oils, the acrid stench of burning flesh and fabric, smoke clinging to my throat, eyes burning, stomach roiling, cannot throw up, must not. Smoke and ash, white on black on black. Look away, look away, must not look, how much longer am I supposed to stand here? Sleeping or dreaming, gone, slipping sideways. The Chant grating at his ears, a discordant song. Louder and louder as Cole moves closer, two laments forked and intertwined, a hollow buzz.

“The Light shall lead her safely, through the paths of this world, and into the next.” The light wraps you in its mortal flame. “ For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go toward light.” Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way against the old propellers of the twilight that revolves around you; “ The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death;” Speechless, my friend, alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead, and filled with the lives of fire; “ for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.” Pure heir of the ruined day.

It changes again, faster this time. Over and over, the path folds in on itself. Cole walks, slow, too slow; he runs. Have to get there before they do. The whispers whirl around him, tea leaves stirring in a pot of boiling water. Lavender and rosemary, ginger and elfroot to soothe an aching belly. It hurts, more, more each day- when will it stop? Can't turn back the river now, my boy, what's done is done. She's never coming back, never- Hush, hwegen. Hush. Close your eyes.

Silence.

Cole stops abruptly. The echo of his footsteps absorbed by the emptiness. Nothing. Nothing there.

"Where are you?" he says out loud, but the silence sucks up his words like a sponge. "Where?"

********

Dorian couldn't tell why he stirred from his sleep but when he did, a pair of pale blue eyes were staring down at him.

He squinted, blinking. "Cole?"

"He's gone," he whispered. "I can't find him."

Dorian sat up, rubbing gritty eyelashes with his knuckles. It was still dark, strands of moonlight slithering in through the tall windows of Trevelyan’s quarters. In their silver glow, the young man before him looked almost transparent. How on earth had he managed to get past Trevelyan’s guards? Dorian was certain Maighdin would have risked waking the Inquisitor in the middle of the night and receiving the sharp edge of his tongue for her trouble rather than letting someone walk in unannounced. Knowing the boy, though, he could move about entirely unseen if he chose to. If he’d sneaked in somehow, that made it all the more sinister.

He narrowed his eyes, shifting carefully closer to him on the bed. "Gone?” Dorian whispered, careful not to raise his voice a hair more than it needed to be audible. “Who's gone?"

Cole glanced past him at Trevelyan. "He was there, and then he wasn't. The paths twisted and turned, and then there was nothing." He straightened, worrying his lip. His eyes looked just as transparent as the rest of him, but they fixed themselves on him with unusual intensity. Try as he might, Dorian couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken like this, one on one. Or the last time he had seen him, for that matter.

He blinked again, shaking his head to wake himself up. “I don’t understand. Who are you trying to find?”

“Him ,” Cole said again, more poignantly this time. “He’s gone. You must help me find him.”

Dorian frowned at him, then turned to look at Trevelyan. He was sleeping soundly beside him, ruffled flaxen hair falling messily over his forehead, his chest rising and falling smoothly with his breaths. He was lying on his side, as he had when they'd lain together for the night, with Dorian pressed up against his back. Dorian reached out, brushing a stray lock away from his brow. He was a light sleeper, so that was usually enough to earn Dorian a sharp sniff or a sleepy hum, but he lay perfectly still. He never usually lay so still when he was sleeping. Curious.

Dorian gently caught his shoulder and gave it a small shake. “Amatus,” he whispered. “Wake up.” No response. He shook him again, but Trevelyan didn’t even bat an eyelid. Like he had suddenly forgotten how to. A ball of apprehension settled in Dorian’s stomach. “Why isn’t he waking up?” he demanded, turning to Cole.

“I told you,” the spirit said, shifting impatiently on his feet. “He is not there.”

“But-”

"No time. No time to explain. Go back to sleep." He adjusted his hat on his head. "I'll meet you there."

Dorian blinked at him. The boy- man- spirit- whatever he was, anyway- simply stood there, watching him, waiting. His features were calm, but there was an odd sort of determination in his stare, one that brooked no argument. Dorian glanced at Trevelyan again, who hadn’t shifted an inch. It was curiosity more than anything that made Dorian lie back down on the bed and close his eyes. He doubted sleep would come back easily this time, not when he had Cole staring at him like that and Trevelyan lying there like a limp fish. It could be that he was simply too tired from his travels, but what if what Cole was saying was true? Could it really be that he was gone? And gone where, exactly?

* He was still pondering those questions when he opened his eyes again and lifted his head from the armrest of the silk chaise lounge. He took a deep breath of warm, humid air, heavy with the scents of gladiolus and jasmine. The chess board was right where he had left it, the ivory and red marble pawns almost at the exact same place they were before he'd been woken up. Tower at E5, Horse at F6 and Knight not too far away at C6, circling his opponent’s Queen. The enemy Mage and Pawn threateningly courting his own King. But Dorian already had a plan in mind for how to wriggle away, should the vice tighten. Which it wouldn’t, because defeat at chess was a rare occurrence for him. Barring that one time when he was eighteen and his transgressions the night before had rendered complicated decisions difficult to make- oh, well. Who remembered those times now? Definitely not him.

He leaned back on the chaise lounge, letting his gaze sweep over the expansive garden and the manor behind it, its high walls glaringly white under the bright Tevinter sun. It belonged to the family of Dimeon Septimus, one of the lead researchers in the Minrathous library. Dorian had spent many a summer evening under that gazebo, sipping on chilled wine and watching the night lilies bob on the surface of the small, crystalline pool in its middle, while he talked with his friend about Entropy magic and the nature of the Fade, among other things. The term “friend” was used very loosely, naturally, considering the nature of their extracurricular activities. He idly wondered what Dimeon could be doing now. Married, possibly. Occupying a prestigious seat in the magisterium, definitely. Enjoying the high life. That was what happened to those who complied, wasn’t it?

Dorian let out a soft sigh, picking up his glass of wine. Rich, dark like blood and deliciously tart; just the way he liked it. He reached for one of the grapes in the crystal bowl next to it when he noticed the young man walking towards him with silent, yet decisive strides. His wide brim hat was obscuring his features, the slight breeze brushing pale blonde strands over his eyes. Eyes so light blue, they looked transparent. Cole.

He set his glass down hastily, cursing under his breath. He’d let his guard down and almost got sucked back into his own dream. The Fade had a tendency to do that. He needed to be vigilant. Extra vigilant.

… why was Cole there, again?

“You’re very hard to find,” Cole said matter-of-factly as he stood before him. “We need to go now.”

“Yes. Of course.” Trevelyan. Cole had come to him because they needed to find Trevelyan. He stood up, smoothing his robes.“Where are we going?”

“I was hoping you’d know. That’s why I came to you. Glittering, gleaming, the glow to light the path.”

“The path?” Dorian shook his head, squinting at him. “Speak plainly, if you please, I’ve no time for riddles.”

“There are many paths. Too many. I tried to follow, but it's difficult.” Cole stared at him for a moment, eyes wide and round like a bird’s, then let his gaze skitter downwards. He shifted on his feet, picking at the wrappings on his palms. “They’re… bright. He's bright, too. Too bright for comfort, like counting birds against the sun. The flare crackles at its brightest before it is snuffed out.” He worried the inside of his lip. “You’ve seen the paths, some of them, and they don’t blind you. You can help.”

Dorian gaped at him for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose as he took in a deep breath. The more Cole told him, the less sense it all made. If there was one thing he hated the most, it was being one step behind. “Cole,” he said very seriously, “I need you to tell me exactly what happened before you came to me if I am to understand what’s happening.”

“We were together. In his dream. He fell down a hole. Now I can’t find him.”

“... a hole.” Was this tale getting more absurd by the second? It certainly seemed like it. But if Cole was right, if Trevelyan was really gone… But how could it be? He’d been sleeping right there, next to him. It made no sense. It wasn’t unheard of for mages to get lost in the Fade, occasionally, if they strayed too far, but Trevelyan was no mage. Yet, it seemed highly unlikely that Cole would come to him in the middle of the night for no reason. He’d never done it before. From the little he knew of him, he usually did his best to stay out of people’s way. Most didn’t even remember him, sometimes mere minutes after they’d spoken to him. However outrageous his story sounded, Dorian would get to the root of it. He straightened, studying him carefully. “That hole you mentioned; where is it? Where were you last? Before he disappeared?”

“With you. Not you you; you of his head. His memories of you.”

Dorian scrunched his nose in perplexity, trying to ignore the slight flush that crept up his cheeks. “Why on earth would he be taking you along in his memories of- I do hope you two don’t do this very often. There’s-” he cleared his throat, “-quite a lot of them with him and me in rather… compromising positions. Not that I don’t appreciate an audience, but that would be entirely inappropriate under the circumstances.”

Cole blinked. “What is compromising about a position?”

Dorian blinked back. “Ah… perhaps forget I said anything about that. So.” He glanced around him. “Care to tell me what we’re looking for, exactly? I’d like to get this over with as soon as possible. Beauty sleep is sacred, you know.”

Cole stayed silent for a breath, glancing about him. “Down, past, forward,” he whispered under his breath. “Bend, turn, twist, coil. Find the thread, pick it up, weave it in a loom. Unravel again, then gather.” He took a tentative step forward, then another, as if mapping out the space, then stopped. “This way.” He leapt.

Images darted past him, fast, like a rushing river. Stacks of reports gathering around him. Leliana watching him carefully under the shadow of her cowl. Cullen saying something animatedly as he pointed at a large map. The scratch of Lady Josephine's pen as it glided along smooth parchment.

Sharp pain, a jolt of electricity running up his arm, bright green light flickering in the night. His fingers closing about the hilt of a sword, its sharpened edges glinting as he lifted it towards the sky.

The smell of hay and horses, the back of Almond’s head bobbing as she walked, the breeze combing through her buttery white mane. A fast gallop through a field of heather, the sun casting blinding rays into his eyes.

The hiss of a blade cutting through air, quick and precise. Golden wheat fields swaying in the wind like waves, the prick of a needle on skin caked with blood.

Sea water, the scent of fresh soil after warm summer rain. White lilies plaited in a wreath. The hum of the ocean when he brought a curved seashell to his ear.

More memories flickered before his eyes, too fast for him to make sense of them. So many. There were so many. Too many. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing or hearing half the time, but they were enough to make his head ache if he even attempted to hold on to them. He felt like he was speeding through time, swimming in an ocean that felt never ending. The memories bent and twisted, playing again and again in a loop. Maddening. It was maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath as a strong wind whirled around him. He opened them again, and then… there was him. Dorian.

Him smiling, laughing, tilting his head in thought. His brow creasing, his lips pursing. His fingers brushing over the back of a chair, following the letters on a page, tapping absently on an armrest. The shape of his lips. The colour of his eyes, in surprising detail. Him glaring, cheeks flushed, eyes glistening. The amber light of a fire glinting at their corners. The sound of his sighs, the curve of his neck as it arched, the light of an oil lamp catching on it just so. His smile-

The ground slowly, ever so slowly, solidified under his feet, until he was standing in the middle of what looked like a small clearing. Apple trees heavy with white blossoms, leaves fluttering in the cool breeze. White petals falling around him like snow. Dorian was certain he’d never seen that place before.

“You haven’t.” Cole turned his palm up, watched as a small flower landed on it. “It’s his memory. Not yours.”

Dorian leaned against a nearby tree, rubbing his temples. There was an insistent buzz in his ears, a vice that tightened around his temples. He felt like he'd been on a ship for days, the earth swaying underneath him. “This is… hard to believe,” he said slowly, taking a deep breath. “I have to admit, when you told me you’d been inside the Inquisitor’s mind, I wasn’t sure whether you were joking.”

“Joking?” Cole asked him in earnest confusion. “I thought jokes are meant to make people laugh.” He bit his lower lip thoughtfully. “No. It doesn’t make me laugh. Does it make you laugh?”

No, Dorian hadn’t the faintest desire to laugh. The idea of being inside Trevelyan’s head filled him with unease. Especially since… Maker, there was so much of him there. More than he’d expected. Trevelyan didn’t talk much, but the sheer amount of information he stored in that head of his was staggering. So many details that Dorian himself had never even noticed. Wondrous and terrifying, in equal amounts. It was a struggle to maintain his composure before Cole and not start laughing maniacally or, simply, flee. As far away as he could. He wondered how far he would get before turning right back. The thought chilled him to the bone.

Frightening. Fascinating.

“What were you doing exactly, while you were here?” he asked, only to distract himself from his own thoughts. “Why were you here in the first place?”

“His thoughts were too loud. I tried to help. I thought I had. But…” He picked at the wrappings on his palm, worrying his lip. “There were too many. I couldn’t hold him back.”

Dorian nodded thoughtfully, glancing at the clearing around him as unease built steadily inside him. He was in Trevelyan’s mind. Rummaging through his memories, while the man probably didn’t have the first clue that he was there to begin with. If anyone knew how possessively Trevelyan guarded the inner workings of his mind, that was Dorian. What if he stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to see, not supposed to know, or something that he himself would rather not know? Incurring Trevelyan’s wrath if he found out was the last thing he wanted. On the other hand…

He rubbed the back of his neck when he realised that his curiosity was far greater than his unease. He was in Trevelyan’s mind . There couldn’t be a rarer opportunity than this. He could learn things that he would probably never hear from Trevelyan’s own lips. He could search to his heart’s content, glean every secret he kept. Trevelyan was a book held firmly closed most of the time, his thoughts inaccessible to anyone other than himself, except for the rare occasions when he allowed a trickle of them to spill through. The temptation was too great. Far too great. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d be doing it only to satisfy his own curiosity. If he looked inside his mind, he would get to know him better. And knowing the person beside you, really knowing them, was half the game, wasn’t it? He would be a better companion, far better than he could have been without that knowledge. He could support him in a way no one else could, guide him, advise him. The perfect partner. Indispensable.

He bit his lip down hard. Gaining insight into Trevelyan’s thoughts to become essential to him was wrong. Definitely. That wasn’t very far from manipulating him, was it? If it wasn’t manipulating him outright. No. He wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t like that. Was he? What if he was? That was how he’d been brought up. There weren’t many aspects of life in Tevinter where gaining control, one way or the other, wasn’t the end goal. One could take the man out of the Imperium, he supposed, but could they take the Imperium out of the man?

More importantly; did he want to?

Dorian let out a sharp huff. This was no time for philosophising and self- reflection. Trevelyan was missing, clearly, and he could well be in danger. The Fade was vast and convoluted, and any path they took could lead them somewhere they would much rather not be. He had his work cut out for him, and dallying was not part of it.

He pushed his sleeves up, his jaw set in determination. If anyone could find Trevelyan, it was him. “If we are to find him, we need to be very particular about the paths we follow," he told Cole. "One wrong turn, and we could end up at a deadend, or worse. A person's mind is not something to be trifled with. I need you to tell me exactly where you were and exactly what you saw while you were here. If we retrace your steps, we might find some clue as to where he’s gone.”

“I’ve already done that.” Cole shook his head softly. “I followed the paths again and again, round and round. He’s not here.”

“He’s not right here, evidently,” Dorian said, irritation creeping into his voice. He idly twisted the edge of his moustache as he thought. Think, think, think. “Very well. So following the same pathways doesn’t work. We need to find other pathways. Ones he hasn’t shown you. Or carve new paths, if necessary.”

Cole stood still for a moment, his face dark under the shadow of his hat. He nodded, once, and tentatively reached out to grasp the fabric of Dorian’s sleeve. “Think of water.”

* The glow of the lyrium nodes painted the old stone walls a sickly red, diaphanous and pulsating like crystallized blood caught in a jar. The heat radiating from it was thin and sharp, pin pricks on his skin. Dorian looked around him, shivering from the cold and damp that seemed to cling to his bones, submerged as he was in brackish water up to his knees.

“Redcliffe?” he asked incredulously, feeling the familiar red lyrium- induced headache already taking hold. Dratted Redcliffe castle. If he never saw this place and its hideous mabari statues again, it would be too soon. He smoothed his hair back from his brow as a familiar scene unfurled before him.

Trevelyan was half submerged in the water, his armour soaked. Dorian watched himself approach to help him, only to be stopped short by a raised hand and a sharp “I’m fine”, uttered in clipped tones. He could feel the same waves of irritation he had felt that time as Trevelyan wobbled upright on his own, panting and shivering. An ill- mannered and insufferable grouch the Herald of Andraste had seemed to him back then, incapable of communicating with anything other than grunts and curt half-answers. Intriguing, though. He'd always found him intriguing.

"He’s not here," Cole said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Think again.”

* The smooth surface of the Waking Sea glittered in the sunset, the waves reflecting on the carved marble railing of the promenade.

“Val Royeaux,” Dorian whispered. It felt like he’d been there years before, although it was only a few months. He and Trevelyan had been so awkward around each other then, orbiting one another like stars, never touching. It was odd, seeing himself through both Trevelyan’s eyes and his own. The way the light caught the side of his face when he cocked his head in thought. The golden flecks in his eyes- had there always been so many? The way the fabric of his robes draped around his shoulders, smoothed over his chest, flowed down past his waist. The definition in his arms. The smooth, glossy waves in his hair.

“Fasta vass,” he breathed. Trevelyan was in love with him. Even then. And Dorian had never known, never seen- he'd known there was something, but this… never this. It shouldn’t have made him feel the way it did.

Cole tugged at his sleeve. “We need to move on. He’s not here.”

* The familiar sound of a waterfall soon came into Dorian’s awareness, the merry trill of songbirds, the brush of leaves and grass as mountain goats grazed nearby. Water trickling down Trevelyan’s chest as he stood under the polished rocks, dewed alabaster skin gleaming in the morning light. Strands of pale blonde hair clinging to the curve of his neck. The glint in his dark blue eyes. The teasing curl of his lip.

“Are you just going to stand there, watching me?”

Dorian’s pulse thumped treacherously as he watched the scene unfold. He could still remember the freezing cold stream running down his back, chilling him through, then Trevelyan’s arms around him warming him up again. The sound of his laugh, bright and clear like the babbling brook beside them. The way he looked at him. The way he held him. And, damn them, but they made a pretty pair. Trevelyan’s milk white skin against his own golden brown. Long, slender fingers tangling in his dark hair. His lips, pink and flushed, locking perfectly with his own.

It wasn’t long before he felt heat stirring in his chest, and he was suddenly all too aware of Cole’s hand hanging by the edge of his sleeve. “Nothing to see here,” he said hastily as he stepped away. “Let’s move along.” Water. He had to think of water. Cold water, preferably.

* The stone skimmed the surface of the calm sea, its edges glinting silver as it moved, quick and agile, like a bird taking flight. A young man was standing by the water’s edge where the waves broke, lapping at the sand like tongues. Jet black hair gathered at the nape of his neck, curls stiff from the salt water. Trousers turned up at the ankles, sun-kissed shoulders bare, the waning light casting shadows on his features when he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you just going to lie there, watching me?”

Trevelyan was lying on the sand, one arm curled under his head. Was that really him? Was that boy, no older than sixteen, seventeen at most, whose lips were now curling in a smirk, whose eyes shone with mischief really be him?

He pushed himself up on his elbows, blonde waves falling around his face like a halo. “I like watching you.”

“Aye.” The young man’s smile widened just a touch before he turned back to the sea. “I know you do.”

Trevelyan stood up, padding towards him. He wrapped his arms around the man’s middle, pressed his cheek against his back. “Can you blame me?”

“For what?”

“For watching you.” He looked up at him, grinning. “You’re pretty.”

The young man snorted, skimming another stone. “Right.”

“You are.” Trevelyan’s expression softened as he stood up on his tiptoes to nuzzle his ear. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

Dorian’s heart squeezed into something small and tight as he watched the man leaning down to kiss him. This memory wasn’t like the others. Mainly because he wasn’t in it, but more than that… it was intimate. Too intimate. It felt as if he was watching something he shouldn’t be, an uninvited spectator. Maker, the way Trevelyan looked at that young man, the way he kissed him. His first love, perhaps, or something very close. It stung to realise that he was jealous. Jealous of a memory, a fading echo. Jealous of the smiles Trevelyan gave this boy so freely, when he himself had had to earn each one.

“He smiles when he’s with you,” Cole whispered beside him.

Not like this, Dorian thought bitterly, and his heart tightened even more. Never like this. Trevelyan smiled so rarely, it was odd to see him so jovial now. Like watching someone else, who only shared a passing similarity with the Trevelyan he knew. A ghost, perhaps. A ghost, that he still wanted to grab and hold and keep close, despite it all.

Mine, he wanted to say. Mine, mine, mine.

A crack of thunder echoed along the empty beach. Rain clouds gathered, hovering over them. Fat drops of warm summer rain dropped from above, dampening the top of his head, soaking into the sand beneath his feet.

The young man looked up, squinting at the sky. “It’ll start pouring soon,” he said absently, then his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck.”

“What?”

“The horses. They’ll get soaked.” He bent down, picking up his shirt that was folded neatly upon a rock before taking off at a run.

“Pod!” Trevelyan started after him, then turned back to snatch his own shirt from the ground. “Wait for me! Ah, damn it,” he huffed, pulling the fabric over his head. The grey clouds were thickening. Trevelyan was muttering something under his breath as he rushed straight past Dorian and Cole. Their shoulders touched, and the beach disappeared in a mist.

Rain was falling hard, pattering on polished cobblestones and stone roofs. The thunder overhead was now deafening, lightning splitting the sky in two. Dorian caught sight of a blonde head dashing past him, the heels of his boots clicking on the hard pavement- Trevelyan. Soaked to the bone, running like his life depended on it. Dorian ran after him, as if by instinct, with Cole falling in beside him. Before he knew it, they were all running like mad through narrow, twisting alleyways. Dorian didn’t think he’d ever ran so fast before in his life. His lungs were burning with exertion, the sweat on his brow mingling with the rain that was steadily landing atop his head. He stopped when Trevelyan leaned against a wall to catch his breath. He pressed his palm to his side, winced when it came away bloody. Dorian’s breath caught. Who’d done that to him? Who was after him? What was happening-

“There he is! Get him!”

Panic surged through him in a wave. Trevelyan glanced back over his shoulder, eyes wide and dark in terror. He started running again, took an abrupt left at a corner, slipped, fell in a mud puddle, pushed himself up with a muffled groan, kept running. Dorian looked behind them, but couldn’t see anyone. What on earth was going on? Where were they?

“Don’t let him get away, damn you!”

The voices were closer now, footsteps echoing in the empty streets. Trevelyan’s face was twisted in agony as he stumbled along, as fast as his wound would allow him. Before Dorian knew it, they were all standing at the docks, the stormy sea glinting in the dark, waves crashing against the stone wharf. The rest of the street was wide and clear. Nowhere to hide.

Trevelyan took in a sharp breath and leapt over the edge.

“No!” Dorian ran to the precipice, looking for him amidst the frothing waves. “What are you doing, you fool-” Cole’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Let him,” he said quietly.

Dorian opened his mouth to speak, just as two men came running from the street above them, panting.

“Where the fuck did he go?” one of them said, leaning forward on his knees.

The other one took his cap off, patted his brow, put it back on. A deep scar ran down the side of his face, all the way down to his neck, twisting his features. “Probably bleeding in some alley,” he said gruffly.

The first man straightened, glaring at his companion. “You had to go pulling daggers,” he spat. “I told you he’s worth shit to us dead.” He adjusted his own cap on his head and took off again. “We’ll comb this place until we find him.”

Dorian simply watched as the men -bounty hunters, no doubt about it- walked away, their forms soon engulfed by the dark and the rain. His pulse was pumping in his ears. Those bastards- those- those leeches -

“Vishante kaffas,” he snarled under his breath. If he got his hands on them, they would pay. Dearly.

A muffled gasp from below drew his attention. Trevelyan was battling with the waves as he drew himself up slowly on the dock steps. He collapsed on the cold, wet stone, coughing and sputtering water, wheezing in between each fit.

Dorian knelt by his side, his eyes burning, his throat clenching. The memory was thick and oppressive, his own thoughts melding with his. Maker, he looked helpless. Utterly helpless, drenched to the bone, shivering where he lay. Was that what his life was like? Before the Inquisition- before they met? This… running for his life, fighting, gasping for air. On his own. Thinking there was no one there. No one in the world that cared for him.

“I care,” Dorian whispered, lying next to him on the ground. He cradled his head against his chest, pulled him close. “I care. I do.”

Cole stood over them both, watching in silence. “We need to leave,” he said quietly.

Dorian nodded, pressing his eyes shut as he held him closer still. “Just a moment longer.”

“We are running out of time.” The boy shook his head mournfully, voice thick with compassion. Damn him. “I’m sorry.”

The rain came down harder and harder, until it was like a solid blanket of water being poured over them. Dorian felt as if he would melt, dissolve, seep into the dense stone underneath him and get washed away into the sea. And he would welcome it.

Bright light blinded him. Dorian brought his hand over his brow as he sat up, shielding his eyes. Trevelyan was gone, the rain had stopped, the docks had disappeared. They were in the middle of a wide pasture. Rolling hills, tall grass swaying with the breeze. The sheep grazing in the distance were moving specks of white in a sea of green. The apple trees were in full bloom, the white petals falling around them like snow.

“We’re back here?” Dorian gasped, pushing himself upright. “After everything, we’re back to the start?” This was pointless. They were going in circles. They would never get out of there. They would never find him.

“It’s a start." The waning sun cast was a warm, golden glow on Cole’s pale skin. “The same image but twisted. A broken mirror. The reflection is split. Distorted. Wrong. It’s all wrong.” He took a step forward, traipsing through the waist tall grass. “He’s close.”

Dorian followed, although his head was heavy and his limbs heavier still. They walked and walked, for what felt like hours. Once or twice Cole had to stop, look around him, then change direction completely. He said he felt a pull, something drawing him, though Dorian felt very little. Several times he thought he caught a glimpse of something moving at the edges of his vision, only to turn around and see that no one was there. It was quiet and peaceful, yet Dorian couldn’t help but feel something bubbling just below the surface. The calm before the storm.

“Are we getting closer?” he asked Cole when he saw the sun hovering over the edges of the mountain range to their west. Of course, that was Fade, so there was no east or west, and time was irrelevant. A quick shuffling of feet behind him- he spun on his heels, hand already straying to the staff on his back. Once again, there was no one there. Was he seeing things?

He blinked and shook his head as he started after Cole again. Being inside someone else’s mind was not a simple affair. What looked like a person could be a gateway that would whisk the intruder away and down another string of memories, dreams, nightmares even. Dorian had heard of situations where someone had entered a person’s mind, only to come out missing part of their own.

Instead of a response, Cole strode towards a dense patch of trees. Dorian followed with a sigh, carefully running his fingers through his hair. The ball of tension in his stomach grew and grew the more they moved on. It seemed to him like Cole was just leading them around in circles, and he could do nothing but walk after him.

The trees thickened, their canopy of leaves obscuring the light and dousing the ground in shadow. The warm breeze disappeared, only to be replaced by strong, cold winds. They pushed onwards as the green grass turned to hard packed soil, as that turned into snow covered earth. Dorian gathered his cloak tighter around him. “Are you sure this is the right way? I don’t believe he would willingly go somewhere that’s as cold as this.”

“We’re close,” Cole replied. He was moving through the snow with ease, gracefully walking around the tree trunks in their way. The dense woodland soon gave way to a clearing, and the clearing to a narrow, snow covered road. Cole stopped, looking towards the north.

Dorian knew this road. He had traversed it countless times. He followed Cole’s gaze, and saw exactly what he’d feared he would see. “Skyhold?” But this didn’t make sense. Not one bit. “All this time, he’d been in Skyhold?”

“Not Skyhold.” Cole nodded towards the familiar fortress. “Look.”

Dorian squinted. “I don’t understand. What-”

He hadn’t finished his sentence when he saw it. The Eastern Tower, that had born a large hole in its middle since the moment they had all set foot in that place, was now standing tall and proud beside the main keep. Parts of the battlements that had collapsed eons before were now fully repaired, good as new. The space before Skyhold, that had been filled with tents and hastily built hovels was a bustling village, with smoking chimneys and children running about, wooden walls and manned watchtowers, the Inquisition flag flying alongside a banner that Dorian had never seen before. A grey draft horse, a sickle and a sword on a field of green and gold. A stronghold, and a prosperous one, at that.

“What in the Maker’s name,” he breathed. What was this place? It wasn’t another memory, surely- this place before him didn’t exist. A dream, then?

“Not his,” Cole said, worrying the inside of his lip. “It’s not his. It’s-”

“A construct.” The sudden realisation froze the blood in Dorian’s veins. “A demon?”

Cole nodded slowly. “I tried to hold him back, but the pull was too strong. His thoughts are too loud. If I could hear them, so could others.”

“A demon,” Dorian said again, more quietly this time. His mind was working at a feverish pace, his stomach gripped in a vice. How long could Trevelyan have been under its influence? Demons, especially powerful ones, often stalked their prey, followed them until they knew enough about them to bind them. Elaborate visions like these could keep for a long while, until the person’s defences deteriorated irrevocably. Besides, time got warped in the Fade, more the deeper one ventured. An hour in the waking world could feel like days, weeks. Months. The mind was a curious thing.

“You’re sure he’s in there?” he asked. Cole nodded again, his eyes fixed on the castle before them.

Dorian took a deep breath as his gaze drifted back to Skyhold. Proud and strong against anyone who dared to oppose it. They would see about that.

“Better get ready, then,” he said, taking a decisive step forward. “We’ve a fortress to storm.”

#dorian pavus #dorian pavus fic #dorian x trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/trevelyan #dorian/inquisitor #pavelyan #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

25 notes · View notes

xx-ingie-xx · 4 years

Text

Forgotten 14 Excerpt (oh, and hi)

Hi everyone,

I know, I know, it’s been f-o-r-e-v-e-r. And things have really changed since my last post. I hope everyone is safe and well and working to protect themselves and others through social distancing. I’m doing all right—I’m fortunate enough to have a comfortable home, and since I live alone I’m pretty used to solitude. The worst part is being unable to visit family and friends, or enjoy spring activities after a long winter. But it’s important that we all do our part to flatten the curve—reading the news reminds me of that every day.

In my last post I mentioned that I’ve struggled to find motivation to write, and that hasn’t gone away. I’m still not nearly as productive as I’d like to be, but I have started to push myself more. Social distancing has certainly given me more time to wrestle with this, so we’ll see how it goes.

Thank you so much to those of you who have reached out to see if I’m doing okay. I haven’t been answering messages, but please know I really do appreciate your concern for me and your interest in my work. I hope my lack of activity here hasn’t worried or offended anyone.

I have managed to complete the first scene of Forgotten’s next chapter, so I thought I would post it here. There are only two chapters left, including this one (plus an epilogue). Who knows, maybe I can find my groove and finish this thing before summer.

Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy it!

---

His eyes shone in the firelight, more indigo than blue, and his face bore an unspoken longing, one mirrored in her own gaze. Time slowed as a wordless invitation passed between them, an unspoken plea to abandon caution, to defy convention…

A spray of water soaked her back, and she whipped around to meet his playful grin. Feigning offense, she approached the bank and kicked up a splash of her own, shrieking when he caught her foot and pulled her in…

Fierce, icy winds whipped about her, veiling the dark pines in swirling gusts of white. Again and again she called to him, too focused, too terrified to heed her numbing toes and aching lungs…

He turned from the window, his bruised face shifting from annoyance to absolute shock at the sight of her. Raindrops streaked the glass behind him, obscuring his view of the mourners below…

She left the temple with heavy steps, her face a somber mask beneath the circlet which newly adorned her head. He waited at the base of the stairs, as close as the priests had allowed, beaming with pride as he moved to embrace her…

He lay on a black altar in a shadowy chamber, chained down by heavy, rusted manacles. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and blood, and his dirtied face twisted in pain as he labored for breath—

Zelda woke with a start.

The images retreated, scattering like dust on the wind. Only fragments remained, all of them dim and distorted. The emotion was gone, the significance lost.

Slowly she sat up, blinking as a tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away in a daze, taking slow, deep breaths as she waited for the sensation to pass. The fog soon began to clear, allowing her most recent memories to surface...

Link.

“Oh, thank the Sisters…"

Zelda looked up to see Impa rush to her bedside. Gently she felt Zelda’s forehead, her face drawn with motherly concern.

"How are you feeling?" she murmured. "Any pain?"

"No… I'm all right."

She did have a rather nasty headache, but she barely noticed it. It was nothing compared to the deep sense of loss she felt inside, as though some part of her had been pried loose and torn out.

“Where is Link?" she asked, meeting her guardian’s unwavering gaze.

Impa sighed. “He isn't here. He’ll be away for several days, I'm afraid."

“Away?" Zelda breathed. "To where?"

"He didn't say. He was… beside himself."

Zelda stared at her, slowly piecing together the gravity of the situation. Guilt churned in her stomach as she remembered her confrontation with Link.

"This is all my fault,” she whispered.

"Ne'lear, no," Impa soothed. "It was inevitable. This is something he must face alone, in his own way."

Zelda shook her head and threw the covers aside. “No, I can't leave it like this. I must go to him."

Impa caught her elbow to stop her. "You're not going anywhere until Maddox has examined you."

"I don't need an examination, Impa. He didn't hurt me. He would never…"

That, she realized, was the strongest revelation she had gained from her exposure to the bond: the truth of his love for her—or rather for his Zelda. It was tender and fierce and pure… Her recollection was vague and dreamlike, but she ached to feel it again—to receive such love and return it, without the burden of uncertainty or regret…

"You were out cold when Link brought you to me, and he was beyond shaken. You will not leave this bed until I understand what happened between you two."

Zelda glanced down at her hands, saddened by the thought of him in such a state. Gently Impa lifted her chin, her face reflecting Zelda’s sorrow.

“I want to help him too,” she murmured. “I want to help both of you. Watching you struggle through this… it hasn’t been easy for me either. Please... tell me what happened.”

Again Zelda hesitated, wondering how she could possibly find the words.

"We… connected. Our minds were… joined somehow…”

Impa’s expression did not change. "Can you describe it?”

Zelda closed her eyes and focused on the memory, trying to extract more detail.

She remembered feeling lighter, as though some unknown burden had fallen away. Another presence caressed her own, warm and hauntingly familiar. She had rushed toward its source, sighing with elation as their spirits joined together…

But the pleasure vanished as soon as it came, smothered in a flood of anguish and disjointed memories. It was a consequence she had failed to consider, and one he had dismissed. With the bond, there were no defenses, no separation.

Only truth.

"It was so brief,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “But… in those few moments, I knew him. I knew everything, felt everything, as though I were him—or a part of him. I can’t remember much of it, but I know it was incredible and painful and… just so much all at once…"

“Too much,” Impa murmured. “I did not expect him to go this far. He’s shown such control until now."

“No, Impa, I asked him to do it—I practically begged him. Don’t blame him for this, please."

And I kissed him, she recalled, her heart quickening. And he kissed me back…

It was something she had been waiting for, even yearned for, since her return from Zora’s Domain. Yet it seemed so small in retrospect, eclipsed by her experience with the bond, ruined by the pain she never meant to cause.

That kiss wasn’t for me, she realized with a pang of disappointment. I should have known better. He was tired… and vulnerable.

“You were not ready for that exchange, Zelda. Telepathy alone is still very new for you, but this…” Impa glanced toward the window, breathing a weary sigh. "He regrets it, that much is certain."

Zelda looked up, startled from her thoughts. "But I don’t want him to regret it… He’s miserable as it is, and I…"

Her heart sank as she remembered the more intense emotions she had felt in the bond. His emotions. Some had been directed at her—feelings like frustration and disappointment. But the darker feelings, like shame and loathing, he held entirely for himself.

He carries them every day, along with all his uncertainties, all his responsibilities…

“I’ve only made things worse," Zelda said bitterly. "I didn’t understand; I—I thought I could help him move on. At least, that’s what I told myself. But now…"

"How could you understand?" Impa soothed. "No one can truly understand another's grief, even with all their memories intact."

"But I've been pushing him… You asked me to consider his happiness when I made my choice, and I… I can’t say I’ve done that. I’ve had so many dreams, Impa. I’ve seen things, felt things I can’t explain, things I know I should ask him about. But those things scare me, and I… I wanted him to accept me, as I am now…"

Her face burned as she gave her confession, but Impa’s gentle gaze held no judgment.

"Even now," Zelda added, her voice thick with sorrow. "Nothing has changed for me. The thought of… yielding to her and vanishing into obscurity… it still frightens me. You said it's irrational, and maybe it is. Link thinks me selfish, and maybe I am. Maybe I have been blind and stupid in letting my ridiculous feelings guide me…"

She buried her face in her hands, unable to hold back her tears. Impa held her close, shushing her gently, comforting her like she had when Zelda was a child.

“You have the right to choose your own path,” she murmured. “We will love you just the same. Even Link will make peace with it… in time."

Zelda sniffled, too overcome to speak.

But why? A small voice spoke in her head. Why put your fears above the needs of those who love you?

With that thought, Zelda felt something deep within her click into place. Her tears slowed as her emotions calmed, giving way to a single, clarifying thought.

Why give into fear?

Slowly she lifted her head from Impa’s shoulder, blinking as she processed her newfound clarity.

"...You may be right," she murmured. "Maybe I could stay like this. Maybe it would turn out all right in the end.”

Zelda paused to wipe the tears from her face, her expression solemn when she met Impa’s gaze.

“But there would be damage. To you, to Link, to anyone who’s ever cared about me. You will all remember the person I was, and you would wonder what might have been, had I chosen differently. That sadness would never leave you. Even I might come to regret my decision, when it’s too late to change it…”

Determination swelled in her heart, and her voice grew stronger as she sat up straighter.

“All this time, since I woke without my memories, I've been ruled by fear. I did not feel seen, and I wanted control over my life. I can’t control my past, so I rejected it.”

Zelda sighed, feeling another stab of shame. "...But that was an illusion. And I didn’t understand how much pain it caused. Not truly. What I felt last night, in the bond… I’ve never known that kind of pain.”

“You have,” Impa said gently. "And your experiences are imprinted on your soul, whether you remember them or not. They will stay with you, one way or another."

Zelda fell silent, considering her words. “But, without my memories,” she said slowly, “none of that would matter, not to me. Those experiences might as well belong to someone else.”

Impa studied her with concern but offered no reply.

“I can’t be afraid anymore,” Zelda said. “I need to believe that embracing my past is the answer, even for me. I have to trust in you, in Link, and in the person I was… even if it scares me.”

A rare emotion crossed Impa’s face, and she drew Zelda into a tighter embrace.

“My brave girl,” she whispered.

“I used to be,” Zelda said, pulling away with a weak smile. “I’d like to think that much hasn't changed.”

Impa shook her head. “It’s ingrained too deep, ne'lear. But all of this can wait. You should rest and reflect on your decision, on all that's happened. Meditate on it."

"Meditation won’t help me. I was joined to the bond for only a moment, and I gained more clarity than I have from weeks of meditation."

Impa looked skeptical. "Those were Link’s memories, Zelda… Link’s feelings. You need to explore your own."

"But there has to be some way he can guide me. The bond is powerful magic… I can’t achieve that on my own.”

"Link has yet to master his telepathic abilities. Everything he knows, he learned from you. Using the bond might not be the best approach, for either of you."

Zelda gave a resigned shrug. "I won’t rest until I try.”

Impa sighed. “I don’t suppose you plan to wait until he returns.”

“Not if I can help it. I assume he took the Ocarina... Is there no way to reach him?”

“I’m sure we can track him down… but we’ll need a little help.”

#Zelda #Forgotten #Fortitude #excerpt

34 notes · View notes

readmeinthehallway · 4 years

Photo

Author Spotlight: Donna Tartt

Donna Tartt is an American writer, who grew up in Greenwood, Mississippi. Her work has been translated into over thirty languages, and she won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for her novel The Goldfinch. She’s known for being incredibly well-read, and her work surely shows this off. Her attention to detail in her setting, plot, and characters is so thorough that each book exists as its own little world, one that’s often impossible to draw away from. Her intense exploration of art, individuality, classics, religion, friendship, love and morality makes her one of our favourite authors, and someone we would love for Harry to discover, too.

The Secret History (1992)

New England scenery, a backwards mystery, and an eclectic mix of young individuals all jumbled together into one tiny Greek Classics classroom. The Secret History is autumn personified, carrying a darkness and grittiness that’s as enthralling, unique, and slightly insane as it’s characters. The book pushes the limits of morality, of human thinking, of relationships, and of the concept of beauty. It grips you from the very first line and has you on edge until it’s last.

Favourite quotes:

“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?”

“Some things are too terrible to grasp at once. Other things - naked, sputtering, indelible in their horror - are too terrible to really grasp ever at all. It is only later, in solitude, in memory that the realization dawns: when the ashes are cold; when the mourners have departed; when one looks around and finds oneself - quite to one's surprise - in an entirely different world.”

“We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?” “To live,” said Camilla. “To live forever,”

“I liked the idea of living in a city — any city, especially a strange one — liked the thought of traffic and crowds, of working in a bookstore, waiting tables in a coffee shop, who knew what kind of solitary life I might slip into? Meals alone, walking the dogs in the evenings; and nobody knowing who I was.”

The Little Friend (2002)

The setting is Alexandria, Mississippi, where one Mother’s Day a little boy named Robin Cleve Dufresnes was found hanging from a tree in his parents’ yard. Twelve years later Robin’s murder is still unsolved and his family remains devastated. So it is that Robin’s sister Harriet - unnervingly bright, insufferably determined, and unduly influenced by the fiction of Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson--sets out to unmask his killer. Aided only by her worshipful friend Hely, Harriet crosses her town’s rigid lines of race and caste and burrows deep into her family’s history of loss.

Favourite quotes:

“Running might take her forward, it could even take her home; but it couldn't take her back–not ten minutes, ten hours, not ten years or days. And that was tough, as Hely would say. Tough: since back was the way she wanted to go, since the past was the only place she wanted to be.”

“Even if it meant that she had failed, she was glad. And if what she'd wanted had been impossible from the start, still there was a certain lonely comfort in the fact that she'd known it was impossible and had gone ahead and done it anyway.”

“Restlessly, she stared at this. Like the woodcutter’s child at the beginning of a fairy tale, a mysterious longing had possessed her, a desire to travel far and do great things; and though she could not say exactly what it was she wanted to do, she knew that it was something grand and gloomy and extremely difficult.”

“All her grace was in her vagueness. Her voice was soft, her manner languid, her features blurred and dreamy.”

The Goldfinch (2013)

This is a sprawling tale of grief, devotion, memory; an ode to art and the lasting impressions objects leave on us when connected to the most significant moments of our lives. The Goldfinch spans years, and we’re taken on a turbulent journey through the eyes of the main character, Theo, as he attempts to navigate through his life and various relationships after his mother’s death in a gallery bombing, his displacement from his home out to Las Vegas and his eventual return to New York, all the while holding onto and obsessing over a piece of stolen art.

Favourite quotes:

“We looked at each other and just laughed; everything was hysterically funny, even the playground slide was smiling at us, and at some point, deep in the night, when we were swinging on the jungle gymand showers of sparks were flying out of our mouths, I had the epiphany that laughter was light, and light was laughter, and that this was the secret of the universe. For hours, we watched the clouds rearranging themselves into intelligent patterns; rolled in the dirt, believing it was seaweed; lay on our backs and sang "Dear Prudence" to the welcoming and appreciative stars. It was a fantastic night: one of the great nights of my life.”

“As long as I am acting out of love, I feel I am doing best I know how.”

“Isn’t the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty? Those first images that crack your heart wide open and you spend the rest of your life chasing, or trying to recapture, in one way or another?”

“We looked at each other. And it occurred to me that despite his faults, which were numerous and spectacular, the reason I’d liked Boris and felt happy around him from almost the moment I’d met him was that he was never afraid. You didn’t meet many people who moved freely through the world with such a vigorous contempt for it and at the same time such oddball and unthwartable faith in what, in childhood, he had liked to call “the Planet of Earth.”

Our top pick:

We’d love for Harry to read any of the books above, but if we could give him one, our pick is The Secret History. Nothing comes close to beating the dark academia genre, the gritty feelings, the lyrical wording of Donna’s prose, and the rag-tag group of impeccably and not so impeccably dressed students that inhabit the elite Vermont university. We think Harry would be drawn to Donna’s style, the story, the setting, and the deep character studies in The Secret History. We’d also love for him to play Henry in the movie adaptation that we hope never happens – let’s face it, the book is just too good to translate to the screen. They’ve already tried that once!

Discussion time!

What do you think of Donna Tartt and her writing? Have you read any of her books? If so, what are some of the stand out moments/quotes from the books that you loved? What would you like to see on the bookshelf next? We’d love to hear all of your thoughts!

#author spotlight #donna tartt #the secret history #the little friend #the goldfinch #this is the first of our author spotlights!!#let us know if there are any other authors you'd like us to talk about

41 notes · View notes

msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

We Belong

Part 8

Evangeline Bruley returns to Cordonia to take over her families Duchy. She was betrothed to the now King, however he is engaged to Duchess Riley but still has lingering feelings towards his first love. What will happen during her time back in Cordonia?

Just using combined tag list- if you want to be removed just let me know 😊

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @jared2612 @desiree---1986 @gardeningourmet @twinkle-320 @queenjilian @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @princessleac1 @scarletreesex

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol abuse, mention of murder, potential murder. Long chapter- sorry! There’s lots of skipping time...

*****

“Oh really Bast. Care to explain why I was the reasoning behind my husbands death?” Denial had set in, as it had done all these years- providing a confident smirk she couldn’t wait for the guard to elaborate on his assumption.

“Your problem with alcohol, Bi. He was too worried about you and your children’s welfare that he wasn’t concentrating that day... he failed the royal family...” Letting out a sinister laugh, Bastien looked at her frustratedly- he knew the real Bianca and this wasn’t her. When he had first met her, she welcomed everyone into her family home- she mothered everyone, she put her family as number one priority.

“Fuck the royal family. They wouldn’t give him time off, that’s why he died...he was tired... I don’t see how it was my fault. Then the Bruleys stole my kids off me...” Knowing whatever he said, she was going to respond with denial- but he needed to defend the people that were there when she wasn’t even if it took him the rest of his life for it to sink in.

“They did no such thing! They were good people who looked after your children along with the King and Queen. All because you cared more about the booze. Now I will escort you to a spare room. Then you will go home to Texas.”

“I’m here for the wedding, and to see my children and my grandson.”

“You have never cared about them. So what is the real reason as to why you are here?” To bring down the crown, and Evangeline. I’m not the only one- let’s hope your tired and not concentrating during this important event, head guard.

*****

Evie began to stir, dreaming about her passionate night with Drake- she didn’t want to wake up. Feeling content with her life at the moment, in her dreams and thoughts she regretted wasting all these years without Drake as they are now. Wondering what their future held, could they be happy like all their friends are? Was Toby cheating on her fate? Was him and Kiara not working through their relationship fate? Was all of Olivia’s meddling fate? The answer to all those questions were, yes- and now she couldn’t wait to finally settle down. The strong scent of whiskey surrounded her waking her up from her slumber, blinking as she checked her phone she realised that it was only 7am. Too early for drinking, seriously Drake?Turning around there was no sign of Drake- suddenly she was alert and awake, wondering where he was and where the sudden smell of whiskey had vanished to. Putting the satin babydoll dress on, she took some painkillers before searching for Drake.

“Hey, what are you doing out of bed?” Facing away from her, he could sense her presence as soon as she entered the kitchen- pouring her a coffee, he eventually turned around giving her the newly brewed drink and a kiss on the cheek.

“I wondered where you was. I smelt whiskey...” But it’s not you. Am I dreaming about whiskey now?

“Must be your imagination. I know Olivia thinks that I’m an alcoholic but I know it’s too early to have a drink. Although I feel drunk around you when you are wearing that...” Damn these painkillers must be strong, imagining whiskey. She was snapped out of her thoughts as Drake lifted her up on to the table.

“Can your imagination predict what I’m about to do to you Duchess?”

*****

Liam woke up debating what to do about Bianca, internal thoughts battled against each other- not knowing which was the right path to follow. There was a slight bit of jealously that his friend was with his childhood sweetheart, but he cared for Drake- and didn’t want to ruin his happiness or friendship. Besides he had a beautiful fiancée and child on its way.

“Li?”

“Sorry, did I disturb you?”

“No... okay - yes you did. You’ve been fidgety all night. Is it because of Tariq’s and Neville’s funerals next week or because of Drakes mom?”

“Both. Especially Bianca. I can’t tell Drake and Savannah that she’s here. But I can’t send her away whilst she’s like this.” Liam wrapped his arm around Riley, hoping that she could help him decide on what to do. Drake had briefly informed her about his relationship with his family- how she ran away when life got tough, then how Savannah did the same. But he failed to mention to her that his mother was an alcoholic- Riley now realised that it was probably to do with embarrassment, or to protect himself and Savannah.

“How long has she been like this? Did it start when Jackson died?”

“No. I think we was about ten when she became dependent on the alcohol. Her sister was on the verge of losing their ranch, she couldn’t cope with Jackson working long hours. Two days before he passed away, she showed herself up in front of Evie’s parents- they took Drake and Savannah in for the night. I don’t know what to do Ri. Do I tell them or not?” In the back of her mind she believed that he should inform them of their mothers impromptu visit- especially to warn them. But on the other hand would that warning cause trouble, she didn’t want her to become a burden on everyone especially Drake. She was thinking about why people had left her to continue struggling with the addiction and why no one had convinced her to attempt counselling and rehab.

“When’s Savannah and Bertrand back?”

“They are coming back for the wedding. I’m not sure the exact date, as far as I’m aware they are returning the night before. She seems to only show up back here when it’s a special occasion.” Hearing a knock on the door, Liam immediately shot out of bed. Ready to berate whoever it was.

“Sir? Sorry to disturb you so early. I have some bad news.”

“Is it Bianca? What has she done now?”

“No, she’s sleeping. It’s your father. He passed away in the night. I’m so sorry, Liam.”

*****

The King father’s funeral took place a few days after his death- the whole country were in silence, mourning their “beloved” ex monarch. Shock was also a common expression throughout the country- the only people that was aware of his illness was his family, but they believed he had a longer lifespan- so were all also shocked at the news. Liam and Leo supported their step mother throughout the ceremony, she explained how Constantine wasn’t thrilled about Riley being his choice- but he would have loved to be at the wedding and support them.

Tariq’s and Neville’s funerals were quick and short. Many people providing crocodile tears- the two men were despised within court, but the majority of people just attended out of curiosity. Hoping that the truth regarding their deaths would come alight. Liam provided a speech, not wanting to criticise the deceased instead turning negative factors about their lives into positive ones. Many ‘mourners’ now expressed the same expression- grimace but deep down were relieved.

*****

Liam and Riley had decided to postpone their wedding due to all the deaths that had unexpectedly occurred- it was now taking place two months later than its original date. It was a hard decision to make, especially as Riley was beginning to grow a slight baby bump. They were due to go for her first scan today, if everything was adequate with the baby’s health- they had decided to announce it at their wedding rehearsal dinner that was taking place later that night.

“Your majesty, Duchess Riley. Are you both ready to see your baby?” They both nodded, both excited but also nervous at the same time. Liam had believed that when he was younger that this would have been him and Evie. Now it was reality with Riley, his fiancée- he understood that fate had a way of changing destiny, in a positive way. He was finally getting the family that he had always dreamt of- with everything that had happened the last few weeks, this was now something positive to look forward to, not only for himself and Riley but also for Cordonia. Holding her hand, he slowly began to lose his usual stoic expression- worrying about this, as most new parents would do.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked cupping his cheek, knowing that he wasn’t as his whole body was tense.

“Yes love. I love you both. I’m just nervous.”

“We love you too daddy.” Hearing her say this made it finally sink in- he was going to be a father.

Placing the gel onto her stomach, Riley flinched at the sudden coldness even though she had a pre warning. After a while, they heard noises escape the machine- both their eyes formed tears as they looked at their child for the first time.

“The baby is fine, all measuring correctly. Is there anything you’d like to ask?”

“No.” They said in unison, both jaws nearly hitting the ground- disbelief still surrounding their minds that they had created this little miracle.

“I love you my Queen, are you ready to go back. We can then announce to everyone our news.” Looking at the photo, she traced her fingers along it.

“Yes, lets hope our closest friends can act surprised.”

*****

Everyone arrived at the rehearsal dinner, they had decided to add an American tradition for the Queen to be. The guests all congratulated the happy couple, all looking forward for the nuptials that were taking place the next day.

“Drakey!” Bianca ran up to her son, he wasn’t sure how to react. The anger towards her that lingered every day since his childhood. The confusion as to why she was here. The frustration that she was drunk as always. Placing his arm around Evie he whispered in her ear, I’ll see you in a bit- I need to sort her out. Evie was hesitant about leaving him, knowing how she ruined his childhood as well as Savannah’s- but eventually agreed. Kissing her on the cheek, he had hoped that his mother’s visit was just a flying visit and that she would become non existent again.

“What are you doing here?” For the first time in a couple months- his infamous scowl had returned.

“No kiss for me, but a kiss for the little bitch who’s parents tried ruin your life- her parents who tried to take you and your sister away from me.”

“They did no such thing.”

“Oh please tell me you and Evangeline aren’t....”

“What if we were? It’s none of your business. I love her, Mom. Now answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I’m here for Liam’s wedding obviously. You can’t love her. Would you love her if your father didn’t stop the arrangement?”

“Im actually surprised you’ve turned up, oh silly me- you only come back for special occasions that provide a free bar. I loved her when she was in that arrangement. I am going to spend time with the woman that I love, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t follow me.”

“Oh Drake, let me in to a little secret.... I killed Michaela and Alexander. Alcohol and driving doesn’t mix. I paid someone to cover my tracks. Why do you think I insisted that you came to Texas when the was funeral taking place? Who do you think started those rumours off about the Bruleys- the rumours that turned everyone against them. I’m not leaving Cordonia- it would be a shame for anything to happen to poor little Evie. Goodnight son, I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Evie had been watching the interaction between Drake and Bianca from a distance- noticing how his expressions were originally anger but confident, then how it turned into shock.

“Hey handsome.” Fuck, I need to protect her.

“Evie I can’t be with you... I’m so sorry.” Evie’s eyes widened, immediately searching for Maxwell- assuming that he would be stood in the corner laughing at this practical joke. Trying to convince herself that this was something Maxwell would do for entertainment. There was no other explanation as to why their relationship should abruptly end.

“Excuse me?” Were the only words she managed to express, as Drake looked at her with sorrow in his eyes.

“My mom has some vendetta against you. I can’t ....”

“Yeah I heard you Drake. You can’t be with me...” Not realising how loud she was, everyone turned their heads towards the two of them. “How could you humiliate me like this? What was I Drake? Just a fuck? To get back at Liam for stealing the girl you love?”

“No. I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late.” Fighting the tears back was proving a difficult task, hoping that this conversation wasn’t ruining the night for her friends. Remaining in silence, she couldn’t comprehend what was happening- Drake tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

“Is everything okay?” Bianca asked as she smirked at Evie, before standing next to Drake placing her hand on his shoulder. Grimacing at his Mom, he brushed her away from him- not wanting to be anywhere near her.

“The best mother and actress award goes to Bianca Walker. See ya around Drake.” Regretting what he had done, he was undecided whether to follow her or not. Deciding how to grovel for forgiveness. Bianca watched Evie storm out of the room, with Olivia following her- she knew Nevrakis wouldn’t be an issue. Her focus was to brainwash her son against them all. Maybe get him on her side to accomplish her vengeance.

“Don’t worry about her. All these nobles care about are themselves. Come back to Texas with me darling. Where you belong.”

“You got what you wanted Mom. Why couldn’t you die instead of dad? I hate you. You are not my mom anymore, goodbye Bianca- enjoy the flight back to Texas on your own.”

*****

The day after the disastrous rehearsal dinner was the wedding of the century, all of Cordonia was relieved that this day had finally arrived.

Leo and Drake went up to Liam’s study, both already suited and booted.

“Don’t you both look dashing. Are you both trying to upstage me?”

“Well I did that a long time ago little brother, but I’ll let you have the spotlight today. Just this once though- I’m the more handsome brother.” Leo knew Liam was nervous, so decided to keep the upbeat attitude rather than provide a heart to heart conversation.

“Drake? Are you okay?” Liam hadn’t heard from neither Drake nor Evie after the commotion that Bianca had caused- he even had doubts that the two of them would even turn up.

“Yeah Li. It’s your wedding day, it should be me asking you that.”

“You need to fix things with Evie, I don’t know what you was thinking. All I wanted my whole life was for her to love me back, you had that and you let her go.” Drake felt guilty, knowing that he had a diamond - a diamond who the king, his friend had pined for all those years- and he let her go in an instant.

“Li, my mom hates her.. I don’t want my mom’s vendetta to cause trouble between us. You don’t know what she’s capable of. Could you imagine if we got married or had children... my mom would destroy us. So I’m saving her and myself from the heartache now.”

“No offence Walker but is your mother in this relationship too? No she isn’t.”

“Leo’s right. She will going back to Texas, and who knows when you’ll see her again. I still don’t understand why she’s here- we didn’t invite her to the wedding.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. Listen, I’m sure Evie will have calmed down- at the reception, try and talk to her. Ask her for a dance. Myself and Riley won’t be offended if you both sneak off.....” Straightening his tie, he closed his eyes. It’s time. “I think I’m ready. Leo are you ready to marry me?” Leo nodded, the three men had a scotch before making their way to the cathedral.

****

Arriving at the cathedral with Olivia, Evie was in a trance- not really wanting to attend, not wanting to see Bianca again.

“Are you okay? Fuck Bianca, Drake is a jerk- but he does love you and you love him. Just talk to him now you’ve calmed down.” I’m not wasting anymore time watching you cry, I sacrificed my love life last night to comfort you.

“I feel really sick. I don’t want to be here. I’ll listen to their vows and then I’ll leave. I’m sure they won’t mind.... Liv pass me your bag quick!” Olivia passed her best friend the bag, not really understanding why- until she heard Evie use it as a sick bag.

“For fuck sake Evie, it’s Prada!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous. I don’t want to see him.”

“Are you sure it’s nerves? It could be a stomach bug, or alcohol poisoning after the amount you consumed yesterday. I better give the bag to Riley in case she wants to use it too...”

“It’s nerves. Trust me.”

Walking down the aisle the two duchesses took a seat, Olivia smiled at Liam and Drake whilst Evie stared off into space.

“Look at you two, don’t you both look lovely.”

“Fuck off!”

“That’s no way to talk to people Duchess Evangeline.”

“I can talk to you however I want Mrs Walker. Excuse me I’m going to be sick.”

“What is her issue?” Bianca asked Olivia, in an innocent tone of voice.

“You are. You are everyone’s issue. I’m surprised you’re not stumbling around yet. Or is it because you don’t want to make a scene in front of the press?”

“Duchess Olivia, I can behave when I need to. Besides my daughter and grandson are on their way- I don’t want Bartie to inhale my alcohol breathe.”

“Oh but it was okay for Drake and Savannah when they were kids to inhale it. Go away Bianca no one wants you here.”

****

Leo made the ceremony entertaining, with laughter echoing throughout the cathedral- the emotions soon changed the moment Liam and Riley said their vows to each other. There was tears throughout the cathedral, it truly was a fairytale love story.

“What’s up Evie? You’re pretty emotional- that could have been you.” Bianca asked as she lent forward, intentionally ready to cause trouble yet again.

“That would have never been me.”

“No you just prefer Dukes who cheat on you. Shame really, the Bruley name would have disappeared in a flash if you stayed in London and married him. Like your parents disappeared, they thought they could steal my children off me.”

“Don’t talk about my parents. They did a lot when you was absent along with Constantine, Regina and Bastien.”

“Bianca shut the fuck up because I’m going to do it for you if not. Leave my best friend alone.” Before Bianca could respond, Savannah squeezed in next to her mom after overhearing the conversation.

“Mom, you’re embarrassing me. Everyone helped myself and Drake- you need to make it up to these people. And please get some help.” Evie turned around, shocked that savannah had defended her, providing a half hearted smile- she turned back towards the happy couple.

“You ready to go?” Olivia whispered, with a smirk- as she pulled out the hip flask.

“I’m a Duchess, get me out of here- get me to the champagne that’s at the end of the bridge.”

****

Throughout the reception, everyone mingled with each other- The congratulations continued for the happy couple. Drake stood in a corner, his eyes focused on Evie- admiring her beauty, his heart just wanted to take her away from all of this. Liam had noticed what Drake had been doing ever since they arrived- giving his friend a nudge, he knew what to do. Feeling like he had to drag his feet forward, it was as if a magnet was pulling him away from her.

“Duchess Evangeline, may I have this dance?” Drake wasn’t aware about how many whiskeys he had consumed to pluck up the courage to speak to her.

“Sir Walker, thank you. But I have to decline. I promised a dance to Lord Maxwell.”

“He’s dancing with Hana.”

“I meant Leo.”

“He’s with Penelope.” Fuck.

“Rashad. This champagne has gone straight to my head. Rashad... I meant him.” Drake looked over towards Rashad, who was whispering into Kiara’s ear before leading her on to the balcony- Evie noticed too, knowing there were no other options apart from Toby and the mysterious man stood with him. But she wasn’t going to go down that route.

“Evie, please. I know my mom has caused trouble, I want to rectify it. I wasn’t thinking straight. I love you. I can see a future with you. Hate me all you want, I deserve it. I just want you to know that I love you, and I’ll carry on fighting for you. Even if it takes me another ten years....”

“Evie! Dance off?” Maxwell shouted as he bounced towards the two.

“Sure Maxi. See ya Drake.” Max jumped up and down like an excited puppy, Drakes heart sunk watching the Lord place a smile across her face. He was extremely disappointed that she couldn’t provide a bit of an inkling that she still cared for him.

“Give her time Drake, she’s not feeling well. She’s been sick three times today- once in my Prada bag, she’s lucky she’s still walking.” Drake wondered why she would be sick, why she was in fact still walking if anyone else had done that they’d be planning their funeral. Leaving Olivia, he went back over towards Liam- knowing full well he had failed Evie and was potentially going to get a lecture off of his best friend for not trying hard enough.

Evie had finished her dance with Maxwell, and noticed Bianca pestering the Queen. Making her way over, she grabbed another glass of champagne- hoping it would blank Bianca out of her mind- luckily for her Bianca created a distance.

“Congratulations Riley. Your vows were beautiful.”

“Thank you Evie. I’m glad you came.”

The two women spoke comfortably in other’s company, with Bianca lurking in the shadows. Evie informed Riley about Liam’s childhood- the times they shared together with the rest of their friends, all the embarrassing memories of Liam. Then the conversation turned into the future heir, Riley showed Evie the photo of the scan that they had. “Aw. Riley, I’m so happy for the two of you. I’m going to spoil him or her.”

“Myself and Liam were talking last night... I’m sure he won’t mind me telling you. But we wanted to ask you to be godmother. You’ve had my back, protected the baby before it’s even born.” Evie remained silent, not knowing how to respond at first. Wondering what people would think about her being her ex’s child’s godmother.

“Id love to be its godmother. Thank you so much, Auntie Evie can’t wait to meet you little one.” Uncontrollably crying, she didn’t know what had come over her- maybe it was just the reason as to why they chose her out of everyone.

“I’m glad. I didn’t think you’d get this emotional though.. I’m the pregnant one.”

Before Evie could respond, Bianca knocked into Riley sending her straight to the floor- her head narrowly missing the vase that stood next to them.

“Oops! Did I hurt you, your Majesty.”

****

“Riley! Are you okay?” Evie helped the Queen to stand before providing Bianca with dagger eyes.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to get Liam for you?”

“Do you want me to get Liam for you... because I’m little miss perfect... why do you care about her?”

“Bianca shut the fuck up! I’m caring about my godchild too!”

“I’m glad my son humiliated you... he deserves better than you. You would put everyone first before him- are you jealous that she achieved the crown and not you. You’re abnormal Evangeline.”

“Drake deserves a better mother. I think you should leave. You wasn’t even invited.” Riley defended Evie, knowing that the woman had got under her skin.

“Trust me Evie, my little stumble with the Queen was nothing... I’m not going anywhere...”

Evie snatched the drink out of Biancas hand, if it was anyone else she would potentially have empathy towards them- try and help them battle their demons. But not Bianca Walker, the woman who for over a decade had caused trouble due to her alcoholism.

“What the hell do you think your doing?”

“You’ve had enough, and you are going to kill yourself.” Beginning to shake, Bianca watched Evie pour the liquid in the nearest plant pot. Anger began to build up, how dare she- she thought in her head on repeat. Seeing the man walk towards her- she knew his intentions, she was involved as well. Taking her opportunity, the original plan had changed- Bianca was after vengeance, not only on the crown but on the last remaining Bruley.

“How dare you humiliate me?” Pulling Evie’s hair, she dropped the glass- before being forcefully pushed into the man. Evie, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen. I was just needed to threaten the Queen with the knife not cause harm.

“EVIE!” The ballroom suddenly went silent, hearing the Queens voice. Liam and Drake immediately witnessed Evie fall to the ground.

“Bastien get the medics now!”

“Mom- Bianca what happened? Who the fuck are you?”

“Duke Tobias... he... he... I couldn’t stop him Drake... he came over to Evie and just stabbed her... for no reason.” Bianca smirked discreetly as Toby removed his balaclava- horror written all over his face.

“Evie, I didn’t mean to... she fell into me... your mother.... id never hurt her... I love her...”

“What happened?” Liam asked Riley as she stood shaking, whilst watching the guards remove Toby from the situation.

“She fell into me before- Evie defended me.... again...she was horrible to Evie....so she took the wine off her. Next minute he’s there with a knife, and Evie was pushed into him by Bianca. I thought you had security scrutinising the palace Liam! What if that was for me? Or you?”

“Bastien, take Mrs Walker to cells too! And get my Queen to safety. That’s your kings orders.” Bastien nodded, feeling like he had failed everyone- looking at Evie laying in a puddle of blood, he then focused his gaze onto Drake who was applying pressure to wound whilst cradling her.

“You better hope she survives Walker!”

“I know Liv, this is all my fault... and you’re gonna stab me for hurting her... I already know.”

“Well yes... but if she dies... the Bruleys wrote in their will that you will become heir to their Duchy.” What the fuck? “Savannah can’t do it because she’s soon going to be Duchess of Ramsford. I know you’re not into all this court shit- but you better get praying now.”

“Liv shut the fuck up! If you’re not going to help go away!” Looking at her friend, she tried to hold the tears back. Ready to kill Bianca and Toby herself. Leaving the crime scene, she assisted the majority of the guests outside to give Evie some privacy.

“Evie you can’t leave me, one reason- I don’t really want to be a Duke... unless I marry you. Two, I’m sorry for trying to protect you and finishing us. I love you so much... I’m a dickhead for letting you go. Please don’t leave me... I love you.”

Evie it’s time.

Mother?

My darling daughter, it’s time to come home to us. We’ve missed you. We love you.

Father? Both smiling softly at her, they held their hands out in the distance.

I’ve missed you both so much. I love you both.

“Evie get that stubborn ass up. You’re a fighter! I can’t cope with Walker crying. I’m beginning to cry- and I don’t cry. Please...you’re my best friend.”

It’s time. Come with us. We will be together again- as a family.

I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.

You haven’t, you’re a fantastic caring friend to everyone. But it’s time to let go.

“Evie, come on. Wake up. Who’s going to cry over titanic with me? Come back jack. Come back Evie.”

I can’t leave my friends.

You will be reunited with them when their time comes. You saved Cordonias Queen and the heir.

I don’t know how much more I can fight. I’m going to be a godmother. I can’t fail it already.

“Evie, thank you for saving my wife and child- but you are going to survive this. We all love you. We need you to fight.”

Liam’s right, you need to fight.

“Walker?”

“She’s just said Walker... Drake talk to her again.” Olivia said as she dragged him down towards Evie’s body.

I’m surprised you didn’t call me Sir. You’re a fighter Evie Bruley. I love your parents, but they are incorrect. It’s not time.

I’ve got nothing left, I may as well give up.

You’ve got your friends. You have my son, Drake.

“Where are the fucking paramedics? Evie, I’ve known that I’ve loved you since I was probably about thirteen. I waited years to have you in my arms. You and I have a great future. Just us. I fucked up, please forgive me. Maybe in time we can have a little Gracie and a little Tommy. You can’t give up, I’m not leaving you...”

Drake doesn’t think, he was protecting you from my wife. She hates your family because you all looked after him and Sav when I passed. He gave you up out of love. I saw you both at my cabin, the whiskey you smelt was me, the door suddenly opening was me, the cold breeze after you two- you know what- that was me. Myself and your parents are always watching over you all.

He should have fought for me, not given up - even if Bianca is forever causing trouble.

“Your majesty, the paramedics are here. I’ll escort everyone into the back room. Who’s going with her?”

“Drake.” They all said in unison.

It’s time Evie. If you decide its time, we will wait for your spirit to leave. If not, we are so proud of you- keep making us proud. We love you.

Evangeline, don’t give up. I’ll keep an eye over you, my son, my daughter and my grandchildren.

Grandchildren?

Yes. My grandchildren. Bartie and.......

#trr #trr choices #trr we belong #drake x evie #drake x mc #drake walker #trr evie bruley #liam x riley #liam rhys #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont #duchess olivia #trr bianca walker #trr savannah #leo rhys #trr bastien #trr jackson walker

38 notes · View notes

memory-bees · 4 years

Text

Hanahaki

Parts: I II Warnings: Gore, Death, Vomiting, Suicide Mention, Body Horror, Hanahaki Disease Pairings: Original Characters Throughout Babey A/N: This is a two parter, the second part will be posted later today along with the ao3 link. Also, the hanahaki disease isn’t explained that well, so fair warning, also the start of me posting original writing on Tumblr!!

---

‘ Hanahaki Disease: A disease which is the effect of the patient’s romantic feelings being unrequited. This causes a flower to grow in the patient's lungs, which will grow until it renders breathing impossible. The disease can be cured with the roots being removed, but the operation renders the patient incapable of having romantic feelings. It can also be cured if the patient's feelings are returned.

Symptoms: Coughing/vomiting up blood and flower petals, difficulty breathing. ’

He swallowed and looked up at the doctor. He felt something rise in his throat and he quickly grabbed the trash bin to cough up whatever it was in his throat. He pulled away and grimaced when he saw the yellow, blood-covered. petals. He looked up at the doctor, and she shrugged helplessly.

“You’d still be able to feel platonic love and familial love, just not romantic feelings,” She reminded him, “nobody's really survived without the operation.”

He was quiet for a few minutes before saying, “You say that like people have before.”

She smiled sadly and nodded, she tucked some of her red hair behind her ear. She scratched her cheek as she spoke, “Well, yes, but there’s only about three hundred out of the millions who are affected every year.”

He nodded and swallowed, he could still taste the almost plastic of the flower petals.

There was an uneasy quietness that had settled in the room. A woman was crying down the hall, a man screaming in agony. Maybe they had just lost a child, or maybe they were siblings and they had just lost a parent.

The thought of lost love made more petals rise in his throat and he quickly spat them into the trash. He grimaced at the smell of stale blood that had settled there. He stared down at the petals and hesitantly grabbed one from the puddle of new and old blood. He stared at it and looked up at the doctor, she smiled slightly and grabbed it from him.

She wiped away the blood from the yellow petal, she glanced back up at the taller man, who was clearly weak from the illness.

“It’s a sunflower petal, you have a good chance that the person you love has feelings for you too.” The doctor said, trying to give her patient some hope.

He smiled at her and nodded, “I’ll think about the operation, and, uh, just a quick question, will I still be able to work?”

The doctor nodded, adjusting her shirt. “Yes, at least until the flower makes it too hard to breathe. What do you do for work?”

“I’m the manager at the local grocery store, I also bag items there too.” He explained, getting up from the table and walking to the door.

Before the doctor could say anything else, he walked out of the room and down the hall. He passed a few people before he had to cough again, he covered his mouth with his hand, sighing at the sight of the bloody flower petals sticking to his hand. Somebody passing him noticed and gasped.

The woman touched his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look, “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded and continued to walk on, grabbing a wet wipe and wiping off his hand. He couldn’t shake the look the woman had, or what she had said. It was almost as if she was saying sorry for a death, almost like he was already dead.

He went on to his car and quickly got in. He buckled his seat belt and started to drive. He was going to die, but he wasn’t going to die because of a car accident.

—

When he got home he was almost immediately surrounded by his friends. They pulled him to sit on the couch, staring at him intently.

“So?” His brother asked, tapping his foot rapidly. “What did the doctor say?”

He swallowed and looked down, he licked his lips. He couldn’t seem to get the taste of stale blood out of his mouth these days. What was he supposed to say? That he was fine? Tell them the truth?

He finally made his choice and took a deep breath, his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest as he made his confession.

“I was right. It’s Hanahaki Disease.”

The room went silent instantly, it was like a morgue. Or like a funeral room already full of mourners. He looked up and around at his friends. He didn’t want to die, not this young. His eyes finally landed on the one who had caused him his illness. They made eye contact for a second before he looked away.

“W-what’re you gonna do?”

He shrugged helplessly, patting his youngest brother on the shoulder.

“I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

They all watched as he stood up and left the room.

—

He sat in the living room and watched as the older man walked out. He looked around at his friends and they all looked down when they heard the horrible coughing come from his room.

He knew what he should do, but what if it wasn’t him causing it? He shook his head minutely and leaned his elbows on his knees. He was sat on the floor cross-legged. He didn’t know what to do, he felt horrible.

They all looked up when they heard rapid footsteps come out of the man’s room and into the bathroom. They all knew what was happening.

He swallowed and stood up, “I’ll go check on ‘im.”

And as he left the others dispersed out of the room. He sighed and slowly walked into the bathroom, frowning when he saw the other man was still vomiting. He walked over and kneeled down behind him, rubbing his back gently.

The touch almost instantly caused another wave of half-digested food, blood, and flower petals to spill out of his mouth. His frown deepened and he brushed his friend’s golden-brown hair away from his forehead.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He whispered, still rubbing his back.

The older man laughed softly and nodded, “I sure hope so.”

—

He didn’t want to die, but lord he sure felt like he was going to every time he breathed. The sickness was starting to take its hold on him, on certain parts of his arms you could see the stems start to poke out from underneath his skin. He felt tired all the time, out of breath. He could still hold down most food, that was good.

But he was vomiting and coughing up the petals and tiny flowers more often, that wasn’t good. But he had developed an odd sort of appreciation for sunflowers. He had looked for the meaning in an old gardening book the person who had caused this illness owned.

‘ Sunflowers are symbols of adoration, loyalty, and longevity. ’

He thought the longevity part of the meaning was funny, seeing as the flower was slowly killing him from the inside out. He had also become oddly at peace with the thought of death, the idea of it. The concept of just not living anymore.

He didn’t want it to happen though, obviously, nobody did. Who wanted to die? nobody. Unless you were suicidal, of course. But he wasn’t, he still wanted to live. He still wanted to be able to get married, to the person who was causing him his illness, of course.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, it hurt to breathe. He had gone in for an x-ray yesterday, the flower was occupying almost half of his lungs now. He’d need to stop the physical labor soon. Maybe even now, his boss would understand. He had said he’d still pay him the double wage while he was sick.

Everybody acted like they were walking on eggshells around him since he had been diagnosed too. That was the worst part of the whole thing, he didn’t want people to think he was dying.

He sat at the table, a piece of paper in front of him and a pencil. He grabbed the pencil and started to write.

‘ Dear Quill,

I love you, ’

Before he could continue writing he had to cough up some more petals, he swallowed when he saw how many more petals were mixed into the blood. Was that normal?

He shook the thought off and started to write again

‘ I love you, please don’t blame yourself for the illness. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Please don’t hate me, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s your fault for me being sick. ’

More petals, that was barely a minute between coughs. That wasn’t normal, and he knew that. He also noticed how much harder it was to breathe, was the letter speeding the growth up? God, he hoped not. He just had to finish the letter, then he’d be okay with dying.

‘ I love you, please don’t blame yourself for the illness. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Please don’t hate me, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s your fault for me being sick. I love you unconditionally, hence the flower currently suffocating me. ’

More petals. More blood.

‘ Just know that I love you. ’

He coughed up more petals, an entire flower coming with it He was dying. He was dying right now. He’d surely die if he kept writing this letter. And in all honesty, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

‘ I love you. I love you. I l ’

He pushed the paper away from him, grabbing the trash can and heaving more and more petals, blood, and small sunflowers into it. He felt the vines start to make their way out of his mouth and around his neck. He started to panic and grabbed and pulled at the vines, but he couldn’t pull them loose.

He started to feel hot, he couldn’t breathe. Plant vines were wrapping themselves around his neck and squeezing, so that made sense. He didn’t want to die, he felt tears start fall down his face, but he couldn’t tell if they were water or blood.

He fell forward onto the table, reaching for his phone, it would be helpful if he could manage to talk. He brushed the screen with his fingertips, the cold glass the last thing he felt. He tried to scream as he felt the vines start to invade his body. He was suffocating. He tugged weakly at the vines at his neck. He choked out a final word, that no one except the walls and the table and flower would be able to hear.

“Quill..."

—

He and the rest of their friends all screamed when they saw the body lying limply at the table. He rushed forward to the older man, his heart-stopping when he saw the pale skin, still open eye and sunflower hanging out of the man’s mouth.

He was too late. The other man was gone. He was frozen in place, helpless to do anything else but stare at the corpse. He wanted to run, he wanted to run as far away as his legs could take him. But his legs were seemingly glued to the tile floor. Everything else was a blur, all he could do was stare at the corpse.

The body was covered with vines and flowers and blood. The flowers were sprouting out from his skin and underneath his clothes. The vines were wrapped tightly around his neck, blood spilling over them in some places. The sunflower in his mouth was covered in blood and there seemed to be a bit of his lungs. The thought made his stomach churn. The blood in his veins had been replaced with vines.

On his arms, the vines had forced themselves from out of his muscles and skin, blood pouring down his arms. His face was tinted a faint purple, the green vines more prominent under his eyes and on his cheeks. One of his eyes had been replaced with one of the bright yellow flowers. The blood dried to his face, but still pouring off his nose and dripping onto the wood of the table.

It could’ve been beautiful. It could’ve been if it hadn’t been so bloody. If it hadn’t been so disgustingly grotesque. If it hadn’t been a million more things. It would’ve been beautiful if it hadn’t been him.

He noticed the letter, that it had his name on it. He pulled it out from underneath the vine wrapped arm. He started to read it but couldn’t get past the first five words without wanting to vomit, the taste of acid stinging his tongue.

He was in shock, staring at the body of the man in front of him. It wasn’t just any man though, was it. It was him. It was Alden, it was his Alden. The man he met in the third grade, the man he had slowly fallen in love with in Junior year of high school.

His throat felt like sandpaper and he coughed into his hand, his blood running cold when he saw the flower petals. They were Anemone petals. ‘ Anemone: Forsaken, forgotten love, affection. ’

#Original Work #Original Writing #Original Story #Hanahaki Disease #Writing #My Writing #Tw Gore #Tw Body Horror #Tw Vomiting #Tw Suicide Mention #tw hanahaki #Tw Death

8 notes · View notes