Disishistory
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Summary
They are four years stronger. So is their bond.
It is clear love has been an easy affair between Cid and Clive, even if all else around them refuses to be. The Blight, the Mothercrystals, the would-be god that would take what isn't his, and now a civil war tearing the Empire of Sanbreque in two...
Yet what is all this before a fresh and inescapable realisation? I want to marry him.or
Cidolfus Telamon battles fate and his own foolishness, and fails a great many times proposing to Clive Rosfield.
[Sequel to "Trails of Fire and Lightning" & "Scars in Wind and Stone" - You don't necessarily need to have read the first two stories to get the main of the action here but I would recommend it nonetheless]
Series
- Part 3 of Trails of Fire and Lightning (Series)
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“Did I say something wrong?” he tries, knowing now that he most certainly must have. Being pinned to the bed by a solid and knightly bulk, however, tends to make a man lose track of foregone conclusions. The severity of those broad thighs framing his hips is nevertheless indisputable.
“Think hard,” comes the answer, the voice much coarser than anticipated, though warm, always warm. Embers hungry for a spark.
Ah.
(Cid makes a comment about his age, calling himself "uninspiring." Clive aims to prove him wrong.)
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"You can't sit still, can you?
It only tickled their minds at first, when Clive asked the question again a mere two days ago, in the shade of an unblighted forest canopy. Cid’s teasing response was plain this time. Once Clive got bold enough to reply to it with some of his own, that curiosity had grown into its own famished animal, stirring an appetite that made their skin feel too tight upon their flesh.
“I can sit still alright. Once I’m dead. Or once something gives me reason to do so.”
“Something.”
“Or someone.”
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Clive is being unmade, body and mind, yet one question endures through it all, ever returning, like the flesh sinking inside him. An unbreakable smile aims to leave a mark on his shoulder.
Did it all start there, at the edge of a forest-crowned meadow?
Or was it that first apple, those first steps inside that cave?
Seven hells, did it all begin when the levin-charged sands of the Nysa Defile had risen in great puffs to clothe the silhouette of the man that is now fucking him so diligently? -
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Summary
Clive is a wanderer who has lost too much and run for too long.
In Twinside, he finds a man who is on the run as well, a man who has lost the one thing that mattered the most. He might find it again with Clive's help, across waves and shadows.or
Mid is captured during Cid's flight from Waloed, and Barnabas's magic is dark enough to shroud even the brightest mind.
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Cid confronts death and the afterlife, or so he thinks. Once he trusts that he's survived his brush with death, he finds that learning to live may be his hardest challenge yet. But perhaps if he had a certain handsome lordling learning alongside him, the two of them might just figure out this whole "living on your own terms" business.
Bookmarked by Disishistory
02 Jul 2026
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”Stop fussing.” Clive commented dryly, not looking up once from his writings. The scratch of the quill unfaltering as Clive took on his newest challenge; begging for help without actually begging. His and Cid’s allies were a boon to their cause, but sometimes they were a rather fickle bunch.
Speaking of the other….
----
Birthday gift for Panda <3
Bookmarked by Disishistory
24 May 2026
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"I trust you," Clive says again, because there is no way he could not. Cid gave him everything he did not imagine he could have, and he remembers, vaguely, Ramuh looking down at him when he felt like he would boil out of his body.
The chains will not stop him if he loses control, not with an Eikon's power in him. But Ramuh will. Cid will. Cid would chain him up in a gaol if need be; Cid could put him down like a dog, and Cid will pick him up again.
- Language:
- English
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- 8,683
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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Bookmarked by Disishistory
03 Apr 2026
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"A boy from the Writers’ Guild? Really, son?"
Their mother's voice almost cracked at the final word. My, this must be bad. She couldn't hear Renoir, but her soft-spoken father was most likely beside Aline and holding her by the side right now. He would not intervene until Aline would relent, or explode."He is not a writer, Maman. How many times do I have to tell you? He's an engineer—"
Or: I can't help but wonder... what if there was a real Gustave outside the canvas?
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More years under his belt than Clive could truly comprehend had certainly made him think twice about long hikes or busywork, but his feet were steady and his remaining swordarm strong. Their quilts numbered almost a dozen and there were stacks of treated firewood by the modest fireplace.
With each other’s warmth, and enough tea – it sounded rather like paradise.
Bookmarked by Disishistory
05 Jan 2026