Now That We're Broken, We Have Been Chosen

by Darling_JustCallMeV

Summary:

Rocky: Grace's birthday! Due to comparatively shorter Eridian years, this happens much more often than it did on Earth. But this time Rocky is extra extra extra excite, because he got Grace a super special present!

Grace: Always happy when Rocky's excited, but sorta hopes that the "special present" is the cancellation of all future birthday celebrations.

Simon: Is the special present. Is Not Having A Good Time About It.

Adrian: At wits end.

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Or: This author's cheeky response to the fics with throwaway lines tying Simon's fate to Grace's happiness. I cringe every time.

(Warning: In this AU, Rocky has lost all good sense and decency.)

Notes:

So yeah I mean we're all reading the explosion of BloodyMary fics. Here's mine! I've read a bunch of the Iron Lung wiki and watched some fan edits, but have not watched the movie or played the game. Have watched PHM twice but have not read the book and tbqh the science sort of washes past me without sticking.

Fair warning, BloodWeave got me into fanfics and still runs through my veins like I guzzled it down on AT-5. So if Simon's trauma seems a little weirdly Astarion-coded.... yeah, that's probably fair.

Title is from the Fish in a Birdcage song, #43 - Chosen. I don't think imma make this a song fic, but I do think the song fits the ship pretty well.

Chapter 1: Mining in dark pits made us resilient

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I should be happy. 

The pendant cracks open. The sapling rips through my body. 

I should be happy. 

My flesh fulfills the purpose ordained by Father so long ago. Can any other of Eden say the same? Doubtful. 

I should be happy. 

With my dying gasps, I am gifted a final boon. The tree, the tree born of me, the tree nurtured by the ichor flowing through my veins; the tree hungers, yearns, hunts for ever more fertilizer. I am but one man, with so little poundage to offer. But the tree, my tree, my gift to the world - the tree finds The Creature. We find that damned fucking alien corpse eel and We Feed. 

I should be happy. 

But I just want to live.

Why doesn’t anybody else want that?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And if I have to die, it would be fan-fucking-tastic if the universe could GET ON WITH IT ALREADY. 

Every shift of the newborn Blood Tree reverberates through me, shrieking along nerve pathways that should be long since burned out, overwhelming pain receptors that have no right to continue receiving. 

WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME? I scream. I don’t know how. Apparently the dead can still scream. 

            JUST LET ME GO. 

                               I DID WHAT I WAS FUCKING TOLD.

                                                                THE DEAL WAS FREEDOM!

                                                                                  ...I just want to live...

The giant eyeball focuses. I thought it was looking at me before - I was wrong. I was nothing, before. Now I’m... something. 

Ȁ̴̩̭̘̋ ̵̱̊D̵͓̭̭͛E̷̹̊Ȧ̶͈̥̓̚L̶͔͓̘̈ ̶͙̱̇̿͘W̴͖̜͛̒͜Á̵̢̬̖͜S̸̖͍̪̦͑̀̊͝ ̵̡̱̘͚̉̓S̶̡̡͖̞̉̚T̴̩͙͎̃R̶̨̮̈́̈͑U̴̇͜C̷̩̫͙͚͑K̵̩̙̓́͒̍?̶̭̭̳̈́

Please. Please, I have nothing more to give. Please…

Unearthly shrieks fill my mind, or what I think of as my mind. I suppose I’m a tree now. Trees don’t… But how the fuck am I still screaming?

Ǐ̸͎̲͍N̸̖̱͕͋̈́͐͘C̵̨͍̩̬̈́͠͝Ǒ̴̫͖͕͔̏Ř̵̗̳̆̔͝Ŕ̸̻̬Ë̷͇͎̑͝ͅC̷͉͖͖̟͂͑̊T̷̢̳̕͝

What?

Y̸͉̍͛̄O̴͇̲̒͂̚U̶̦̱͙̓ ̵̖͘̕Ḧ̸̗̼́̈A̷̰̦̝̹͛̔V̵̰̙̊̉͊͘E̵̹͕̻̋̋̿͌ ̵̨̝̼̥́̔͋̇M̸͖͛Ǒ̴̦̩̥̟̃̎͌R̶̥̪̟̹̆̅̄͝Ḙ̴̩̙̋̋

The words sink in faster than I might’ve wished. But before I have time for further despair-

Light, brighter than any I’ve seen in my sorry excuse for a life, light filling every crevice, for a moment illuminating the bulbous clots of rotting viscera, but only a moment. Then it’s blinding me, searing, burning my eyes clear out of my… wait… 

It makes no matter what I am anymore, human, tree, dead, alive, convict, brother, a sack of blood and tears in a doomed universe. Because that’s all I am. Blood, tears, loss, pain. 

The screams echo in my head. 

Goddamn do I need to shut the fuck up already. 

Ŷ̴͔Ǒ̶̮̣̘̔̓͠Ụ̶̦̇̾̍ ̸̥̋͑̏̿S̶̀̒ͅH̷̻͓͋͐̀Ơ̷̺̺̼͙̄̾͒Ụ̷̆̔̿̂L̴̨̛̅̅Ḓ̵̢̔̎̓͘ ̸̧͓̎̂̽B̸̝̹̭̽́̕E̶̪̤͇̎͝ ̸̛͓͈͋͝H̶̳͑A̴͓̠͑P̷̡̦̼͔̈́̓P̵̛͖̈́̐̏Ẏ̶̙͖̍̈́͘

 

 

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