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captainsspnanon · 3 years ago

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I just realized that this is my own tumblr and I can type up random reaction posts if I want. AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME.

I will tag these “CR C2 Rewatch” if you want to blacklist though.

SADLY I DIDN’T HAVE THIS REALIZATION UNTIL PARTWAY THROUGH EPISODE FIVE. ‘cause I am dumb.

THOUGHTS.

Sliding back into C2 felt SO GOOD. I MISSED THESE GUYS SO MUCH. I genuinely would want to run a poll, because it seems to be that people who watched C1 first think C1 is their favorite, while people who watch C2 first thing C2 is their favorite.

I totally forgot we heard Fjord’s real accent in episode five! But in episode four, Jester references that it’s not his real voice! SO MUCH SO EARLY AND WE NEVER KNEW!!!

Caleb seems oddly happy in these, ngl. Wonder if I’ve just forgotten much of his happier excited moments, because I know that he has them throughout the campaign, but it’s much easier to remember the drama. I love these adorable moments!

Seriously, I love the Nott&Caleb combo. It just works so so so well. ALL THE HEARTS. And with the knowledge now, I can definitely see the more mothering side of the relationship. I do miss how it really did feel almost like she was Caleb’s daughter at times though, just a cute protectiveness. ...which is a bit weird, because I do like the concept that Nott was secretly in love with Caleb for a bit. LOOK I LIKE THESE THOUGHTS IN DIFFERENT CONTEXTS, NOT OVERLAPPING.

(also glad the accent only lasted three episodes. ilu sam but I hated early Nott accent)

Going back but lolling forever at the talks with Marisha where they talk about the Beauyasha ship (like, the second talks I think?) and they’re like THEY’LL TOTALLY BE MARRIED AT THE END completely joking but GUESS WHAT IT’S TRUE

Molly’s not bothering me that much right now! I don’t remember when I started disliking him, so it’ll be interesting to see if he’s not going to bother me as much this rewatch or not. I wouldn’t mind growing to like him, or at least be neutral towards him. We shall see! I don’t think I started out hating him though.

Definitely loving Fjord a lot on the rewatch, I genuinely forgot how friggen responsible he seemed until Cad came around! ALSO THE ACCENT. I remember during my first watch midway through I read a youtube comment of someone rewatching and talking about how they forgot Fjord had the Texan accent and I was all ‘wtf how can you forget something like that’ and then of course by the end I forgot it as well. XD

So many rolled nines!! Oh, I can’t wait! They’re in Alfield now, which means group name within this batch of episodes! Also holy shit I can’t believe I forgot that they didn’t immediately go to Zadash. ALSO IT’S ZADAHSH. Matt pronounced it with a softer ah sound! And then they all said Zadash with the ash sound and it became Zadash by fifth episode. SO WEIRD.

SAM SAID THIS IS THE FIRST TIME HE HAD MAGIC. Okay, THIS is super a joke that I missed having not seen C1 first. YOU FUCKING TROLL never used magic my ass

Interesting how Sam really took Liam’s lead with the spells though and began to be very descriptive as well. A very nice touch for Caleb teaching Nott, now even more contrasted with how Scanlan cast.

Not a fan of Molly’s Vicious Mockery, but I think it’s just a combination of I don’t like the voice and it’s nasty violent comments. Iunno, “Vicious Mockery” always to me sounded like it should be more jeering/joking than just violent threats. Very personal opinion though, wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the world disagreed.

SPIRITUAL LOLLIPOP!!! As much as I love Pike, I REALLY love that Jester’s weapon remained a consistent form, versus Pike changing the form almost every time she cast it.

DEFLECT MISSILES!!! I fucking love Beau so much! She didn’t really do this much during the campaign, but I’m trying to remember if she really has the -opportunity- to do it much. I don’t remember if they got attacked by things like arrows and such a lot? I know she could (and forgot) to catch the bullet when Nott shot her in the ass, but it was such a great scene I’m glad she didn’t. XD

REGULAR GNOLL REGULAR GNOLL

Kinda sad that the NEIN running joke ended up dying out among the cast pretty quickly, it was fun while it lasted! At least we still have makin mah way and uk’otoa. *keeps watching* oh man, they really DO roll nine an absurd amount of times this episode. It just keeps happening!

Oh, I love scared!Caleb and thrifty!Caleb. Still my favorite, by far.

Divvying up the gold. You know, in hindsight, it makes complete sense that Vox Machina had a party fund, whereas the Nein always split their earnings. Even though both groups became family, it was such a different dynamic in so many different ways. I can’t really imagine the Nein doing a party fund.

Aaaand Molly “quietly has a nervous breakdown”. Yeaaahhh, sorry Tal. You need to stop SAYING your PC is doing something, and actually SHOW it. I had this issue with Percy and Cad as well as Molly, so it’s not a character choice. It’d be fine if it were once in a while, but it’s the majority of the time, and that’s what loses me.

Oh, I so miss how they would end the episode with a few seconds of silent video of the full table view. I hope they do that again for C3.

#critical role #the mighty nein #cr c2 rewatch #c2 spoilers

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angelwars11 · 4 years ago

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ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙

I have found myself getting more and more interested in roleplaying and I've been finding A LOT of roleplay and collab writing partners, so much so, that I’ve created this post just for searching for serious partners of any kind! So, let’s get started!!

About me:

I can RP almost anything—angst, fluff, AUs, NSFW, dark angst, mpreg, fandom stuff, OCs, you name it—for hours, and I am good at keeping them going for weeks. I can also do multiple RPs at once! I’ve mastered the skill XD

I’m in the Eastern time zone

Sometimes I might go MIA because of school, but I swear I'll always come back within that day or the next day to respond. Sometimes I have mental breaks—and that's okay—so if that happens, please be patient with me. It doesn't normally happen, but it happens right 😊

I can roleplay with any gender partner (I don't have a preference and I don't care if you are a boy, girl, or etc)

Requirements

Be literate. I get that English isn’t some people’s first language and that’s TOTALLY fine with me! 😊 Spelling and grammar mistakes happen guys! I make them too all the time! But I am starting to tell the difference between you just not caring to you actually making an honest mistake❤

Be able to write in multi-para! That means NO ONE-LINERS PLEASE!

Write in third person only! (Except in thoughts, which need to be made in ITALICS!)

Be active. Yes, I know you have a life outside of RP. So do I. Yes, I also know time differences are a bitch, loll. But don’t give me a one-sentence reply once a day, or go missing for days at a time with no warning. If you are the type of person to do that, please do not ask to roleplay with me if you'll just leave me hanging (that's happened to me enough times already dammit 😢)

I really prefer to use apps other than Tumblr because Tumblr’s DMs suck balls and we all know this (I can’t see when you are typing. You can’t see when I am typing. And I absolutely do not receive a notification when you have responded) so big no-no. I currently and only roleplay on Discord!

I also loveeee to copy and paste my roleplays into a google doc, share the doc with my roleplay partner via email, edit the roleplay into a story format, and post it online (Via Ao3). I will ask you in advance if you are interested in doing this IF and only IF you want to. ALL of my partners have all said yes to this interesting and very cool offer, so I assume everyone will, but I will ask if not anyway. (I only will roleplay with those who would like to do this or don't care if I don't credit them and I can post it anyway. I'd like to credit you, but if you tell me you don't care then I won't if that's your choice😊)

Edit: sksksk, almost forgot this important crap!! My personal indicator style that I use during roleplay are these two symbols // and @ my username or this >> Now this // with this @ (my username) next to it means that you are done with your response! (Send this after your response) sending this notifies me that you are finished much easier fashion!!

This >> means that you are continuing your response (because Discord has a word limit, so you might have to split your response into 2 or more sections, depending on how long it is)

All 'out of roleplay' conversation stays in parentheses! (Like this)

Please tell me ^ THIS ^ is understandable!! If you need a demonstration, just ask (especially if you are unfamiliar with Discord)

Minor do’s:

MxM relationships— male x male (platonic or romantic) I ONLY DO M X M relationships

Roleplay multi-characters!!

Roleplay genres I do

Any genre (except straight horror. I need to get back into that, I haven’t written straight horror for eons)

Story roleplays- detailed plot, fandom canon characters or self-made OC character bios, serious roleplay partner, roleplay continues for a while until it reaches the end)

Fantasy roleplays- I sometimes do this! This has to do with princes, princesses, royalty and whatnots!

Normal roleplay/modern - based on real life, so no magic, powers, or anything like that

War roleplay - I have wanted to do this for a while! I have an idea down already but will need a partner for it that really knows World War 2. Anyway, I am willing to do any IRL war from the past (American revolution, Civil war, WW1, WW2, Vietnam, or the Pacific War)

Action roleplay - are like action movies, with a mission and a certain goal (Spy stuff like James Bond, that would be fucking cool to write!)

Sci-Fi - fiction with imaginative, but is more or less plausible, such as settings in the future, futuristic science and technology, space travel, parallel universes, aliens, and paranormal abilities

Drama roleplays - contain drama, such as accidents (great angst or dark angst material) cheating, kidnapping, traumatic events (earthquakes, tsunamis, forest fires, makes great angst material)

School roleplays - This includes college, high school, or any level of school (I will only do high school or college, makes good romantic material)

Tropes I do

Baby fics, mpreg, enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, first kiss, mutual pining, slow burn, soulmate AU, ABO, canon divergence, established relationships, fix-it fics, hurt/comfort, sickfics, pregnancy fics

Minor do not’s: I am very tolerant, but I have learned over the past two years that there are some things I do not like. (It’s a shortlist, don’t worry)

This has happened A LOT to me lately and I needed to move this little pet peeve of mine to the very TOP of this list. PLEASE...please, please, please, do NOT ask to roleplay with me and completely not help or barely help come up with an idea or have me do most or all the work, and then ghost or never show up again to continue the roleplay. It makes me sad that people keep doing that to me😭 It's quite annoying and very rude, especially if you don't tell me beforehand, you just disappear!

I do not roleplay OC/Canon characters (sometimes it depends, but that's a big IF) I only do OC / OC characters or Canon/Canon. Again, NO OC/Canon characters.

No one-liner roleplay partners. That is a massive 'roleplay' pet peeve of mine and I can’t do it!! I am a very tolerant person, but please, if you want to roleplay with me, please be able to write multi-paras (multi-paragraphs) and/or are willing to at least TRY to write the latter. You can do short paragraphs, but give me something work with, that's all I ask😊

MxF- reason, I haven’t done it in forever and I’ve lost my touch with this specific romantic relationship. BUT I can do platonic stuff between male and female characters. And I can do background MxF characters. Some relationships I do go all out on shipping, but I probably won't roleplay. Just don’t ask me to do a romantic relationship, please

Character x reader- Don’t ask me to do this. (That’s it)

I DO NOT MIRROR ROLEPLAY!! Do not ask me to. The roleplay style is so annoying to me because it's repetitive! I can't do it. I only roleplay where one person continues after the other person! (Edit: OKAY OKAY, so I've decided to try and learn how to mirror roleplay and do a mix of mirror and the style that I am more comfortable with to see if I can do mirror roleplay too! I'll edit again after a while for an update on how that's going for me😂)

I do not roleplay with rude people (people who are very restrictive and aren't kind/understanding)

Like a mentioned before, and I have to repeat this because people don't seem to understand this: If you like the roleplay style where you are restrictive and only want to control ONE character the entire time and don't like it when other people write for them, even in the most minor way, like; opening a refrigerator or a simple head turn, then please don't roleplay with me. I can't do that because it makes my responses shorter and my responses are always long. It makes me feel bad if my writing partner makes long responses and I am restricted and can't.

My fandoms: (Will be updated as I remember them. Btw, these are just ships or fandoms I will roleplay, okay!) (If the fandom title is highlighted in green, this means I've watched it already and I understand the lore and stuff. If in yellow, this means I haven't finished it yet and I don't really remember the lore just yet. If in red, means I need to watch it again. Ships are highlighted in purple)

Star Wars: The Clone Wars ✨ (I am very lit in this😏)

Voltron: Legendary Defenders (*cough* Yeah I know… 😂) (Pairiings: Klance only. I also do platonic Lance and Keith as well with other characters!)

Marvel - freaking nerd in this fandom, so I know pretty much everything!🤩 (This also includes the X-Men)I have a lot of favorite characters in this fandom! That includes, but not limited to; Loki, Thor, Tony, StevexBucky, Peter Parker (bi or poly Peter💜💙💖) Miles Morales (bi Miles💜💙💖), T'Challa, Erik Killmonger, MagnetoxProfessorx)

DC - need to get back into it, but I know a lot (favorite ships in this is Jason x Dick Grayson, Batman x Superman, Dick x Wally, and Tim Drake x superboy)

Supernatural - ack!! How could I forget about you after posting this?! Lolllll😂 I'm sorry baby! *coughs* Yes, I would like to roleplay and write this with anyone (Destiel, Sambriel, etc)

Naruto - I've watched Naruto, Naruto Shippuden, and I am watching Boruto. (NarutoxSasuke, KakashixObito, KakashixIruka, BorutoxMitsuki, BorutoxSarada)

Yuri on Ice - already watched this (never roleplayed before)

Attack on Titan - ErenxLevi, JeanxMarco, ErwinxLevi, ReinerxBertold

Dragon Ball Z - GokuxVegeta (Gogeta), FutureGohanxFutureTrunks, OlderGotenxOlderTrunks

Haikyu - (there are multiple romantic pairings or platonic relationships I like here)(I need to watch the show again from season 2 and onward or even start from the very beginning, so give me time here!)

Free! - RinxHaruka (<< my favorite!!), SouxMako, SouxMako

(Future choice, coming soon) - My Hero Academia: BakugouxDeku, TodoxDeku, KirixBaku, TodorokixBakugou

Sherlock BBC - (favorite ships are: JohnLock, MycroftxLestrade, sherlockxMoriarty)

9-1-1 FOX - so much platonic and romantic material here, it's perfect! (Most favorite ship is EddiexBuck😍 romantic and natural disaster angst potential here)

9-1-1: Lone Star - (Favorite ship: TKxCarlos, beautiful natural disaster angst and romantic potential here!)

Avatar the Last Airbender (and Korra) - SokkaxZuko, sometimes AangxZuko, SukixTylee, SukixMai, KorraxAsami

Maybe Percy Jackson XD Might needa watch the movies again for that

The Arcana (Mobile video game) - This is the ONLY possible and must-do OC/Character thing I will friggin do, and with only Asra or maybe Julian! MxM only!!

Thank you so much for looking!!! Again, I only roleplay on Discord! If you are interested in roleplaying me, just DM me on Tumblr and we can get down to business on these things:

1. What's your timezone?

2. Are you able to do multi-para?

3. What is your roleplay style? (What is your indicator 'that you are done or continuing' style? If you even have one)

3. What genre/AU/prompt/trope do you want to roleplay?

4. OC characters or fandom? If fandom, which one?

5. Romantic or platonic?

6. Anything you don't like to roleplay?

7. Are you interested in posting this roleplay in story format with me as my co-author?

8. What's the story plan? (You need to contribute to this please and thank you❤)

9. What's your discord?

Extra stuff: (I need to add this now because people have shown me that I need to add new rules and whatnot)

1. Do not ask to roleplay with me without a detailed/semi-detailed plot in mind. I don't roleplay stories that don't have short plots (meant for One-shots/short stories) or detailed plots for long roleplay. Also, do not try and make me do all the work and think of the plot!

2. I do not roleplay OC roleplays where I am roleplaying someone else's pre-made OC character for many reasons. I want to make my OWN OC character. Okay.

3. Do not ask to roleplay with me if you aren't interested in editing and posting this story on Ao3 after it's finished. I like to post my roleplays as fanfics! You need to be at least interested in trying this method post-roleplay or you have done this before and like this method like me! I don't roleplay just to roleplay. I roleplay to write because I am a writer!

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otomeloversunite · 4 years ago

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Gideon, Episode 1

(Welcome to my fanfic, lol. I tried to write it as close to an actual episode as I could, down to the background and expression changes -- limited by Tumblr -- as well as the music for each scene. I even kept the word count the same. Committed to authenticity. 😤 At this point teaching is keeping me incredibly busy, so I thought I would at least post the first episode, in case I never get to continue it. Enjoy!)

Music: Everyday 1

ADARAEN: ��Hello and welcome! Can I get you a pint of ale?”

It’s another day at the tavern, and business is bustling as usual. I barely have time to greet a new group of customers before my co-worker Rosie catches my eye with a glance as she passes.

ROSIE: “Adaraen, the table in the corner is looking a little dry,” she says, wiping down a table with a wet rag.

I follow her gaze towards the back. It’s the same group of drunken hunters that comes to the inn every week. They’re a rowdy bunch, but nothing I can’t handle.

ADARAEN: “It’s okay, I’ve got them.”

They flirt with me as I refill their drinks, but it’s easy to ignore -- just another part of the job. I swat one of their hands away when he reaches out to pinch my backside, though.

“Ah, ah ah. Mind your manners.” I wag my finger at him, tsking. “I hope I’m getting a tip for all this trouble.”

The hunter at least has the decency to look sheepish. Another of them flips me a coin, and I pocket it before heading back behind the counter to catch my breath.

Rosie settles down beside me, leaning on her elbows on the bar. “How will we manage without you?” she asks with a sigh.

I give her a smile. “You are amazing, and you will do just fine."

It’s been a week now since I got a letter summoning me to Altadellys. I still don’t know why, but a carriage is supposed to be arriving for me today.

(Soon! Any minute, maybe!)

By Rosie’s smile I can tell that she’s as happy for me as I am.

Sometimes we can see the floating city on clear days, and travelers often bring stories. I’ve heard the city is separated into quarters representing all four seasons, instead being locked in eternal winter like the Wilds.

(What would another season even feel like?)

I’m excited to find out, but I have no time to let my thoughts wander further when there’s another call for drinks.

After a few hours the tavern crowd has thinned out, and that’s when I hear the whinnying of a horse as a carriage rolls to a stop outside.

(It’s here at last! For so many years I’ve dreamed of going to the capital, and now that dream is finally coming true!)

I’ll miss the village, and I’ll miss Rosie, but I can’t wait to know what my future holds.

ADARAEN: “Bye, Rosie! Take care!”

I grab my things and fling my arms around her for a final hug.

Music: Wilderness Magic

It’s flurrying lightly when I step outside into the snow. I look upwards through the trees at a sky full of gray clouds, and soft flakes fall onto my eyelashes. I blink them away, then smile gratefully at the footman waiting to help me into the carriage.

The horses’ hooves clop steadily along as we ride, and the village gradually fades to a dark speck among the trees.

As I watch it disappear from view, I think of all my memories there, both happy and sad -- the good times and the hard times.

(It was never easy being an orphan. But plenty of people treated me kindly. Maybe in Altadellys I’ll have the chance to look for my real family.)

The carriage rocks gently as we ride through the snow-covered forest. Eventually my eyes begin to droop, and I lean my head against the padded carriage seat.

PHONE EFFECT: VIBRATION

Music: Suspense 1

(What in the slush!)

My eyes fly open as I jolt awake, and I steady myself against the carriage’s sudden stop.

I can hear raised voices coming from outside. Blinking rapidly to clear my head of grogginess, I lurch forward to peer through the window.

It’s dark outside now, and the snow is falling so densely that I can barely see past the first line of trees. The wind gusts suddenly, sending up a swirl of thick flakes.

(Oh no. I know this kind of weather. This is going to turn bad quickly.)

One of the horses neighs in alarm, and I hear another angry exchange of words from outside. I can’t hear what’s being said, but it’s definitely an argument.

For a second I freeze, unsure of what to do since I don't know what’s happening. But then a sudden shout makes up my mind. Something thunks against the outside of the carriage.

(There’s no way I’m going to wait in here to find out what’s going on. Not when someone might need my help.)

Everyone raised in the Wilds knows how to defend themselves, and I’m no different. I slip my hunting knife from its sheath, and open the carriage door, scowling towards the sound of the voices as my boots sink into the snow.

Music: Dramatic 2

DEFINITELY NOT A FOOTMAN: “Her! She’s the one!”

I hear a voice coming from near the tree line, and can barely make out the shape of a man in dark colors. Others stand near him, and I can feel their attention snap towards me.

Then they start moving towards the carriage.

Something zips past me into the snow, and only too late I realize that what hit the carriage was an arrow.

My heart begins to pound.

(Highwaymen? Could it be the Silver Dagger?)

The famous outlaw has been seen often in these parts, but he isn’t known for hurting anyone.

FOOTMAN: “Run, miss!”

I see the glint of metal as our attackers draw swords, and quickly realize my tiny dagger will be of no use.

I do the only thing I can. I turn towards the opposite side of the forest and run.

The wind whips against me as I sprint through the barren trees. Storms come quickly in the Wilds, and the snow storm has already started to worsen.

I can’t tell if I’ve escaped my pursuers until a tall figure suddenly blocks my path.

Before I can react, I see the flash of their weapon, and throw up a hand to protect myself. My vision flashes white with pain as the sword slashes into my skin.

As if from a distance, I hear myself screaming.

Then the attacker is upon me again, and I stab upwards with my own dagger, struggling with all my might to protect myself.

(No no no!)

The snow is red around us as I scramble away from the groaning bandit.

I fling myself headfirst into the storm, clutching my bloody fingers.

(Why is this happening? Why were they after me?)

The pain is almost too much to bear and I scream aloud in agony, before quickly remembering that there are other attackers still out there.

Biting down on my lip with a whimper, I grit my teeth and push onwards through the forest.

I don’t know where I’m going. It’s impossible to see more than a few feet in front of me in the raging storm. The wind cuts through my coat like a knife.

I’m so cold.

(I must be hours from my village. But I’ll die if I don’t find shelter soon.)

I stumble over a rock buried under the snow, and I shout again when I have to throw my hands out to catch myself.

As I raise my head I see another figure moving towards me, obscured by a field of white.

I fumble for my dagger with numb fingers, but as the figure gets closer I can finally see them clearly -- and he doesn’t look like a highwayman at all.

[FIRST CG: Gideon as seen from below, wearing a heavy coat and a look of surprise. Snow swirls around him.]

Music: Gideon Theme

He’s tall and broad shouldered, with a neatly trimmed beard, and a curious clockwork apparatus over one eye. And he looks absolutely shocked to see me.

PROBABLY A LITERAL LIFESAVER: “What is someone doing out in this storm?”

ADARAEN: “I wasn’t-- I didn’t mean to be. I--”

My tongue feels heavy, and I shudder. I clutch at my injured hand, struggling to put my thoughts together.

The man drops to one knee beside me, intelligent green eyes sweeping me over. They widen when they fall on my hand.

Only now do I notice that the snow is darkened with blood where I fell.

HANDSOME AND HELPFUL: “What happened to you?”

He shakes his head almost as soon as he speaks.

��Nevermind, don’t tell me now. Conserve your strength.”

“I’m going to get you somewhere safe. Can you walk?”

My legs wobble as I try to rise. The stranger throws out his hands to keep me from toppling over, and I stumble forward into him instead.

(I need to warn him. I don’t want to put him in danger.)

But I’m too tired to speak. Before I even realize what’s happening, I’m being scooped up by strong arms. My head lolls gently against his chest.

My eyelids flutter closed. I’m vaguely aware of a sense of motion and of snowflakes falling against my cheek, but my consciousness fades into a haze of white.

Music: Everyday 3

When I blink my eyes open again I’m somewhere I don’t recognize. I’m in a room with stone walls, tucked beneath a warm blanket.

(Wait, I was being attacked! What happened?)

I jolt upright in a strange bed. The motion sends pain shooting through my hand, but when I look down I see that it’s been wrapped in a clean bandage.

I push off the covers. From the floor above me I can hear something clattering across the floor, followed by a muffled curse.

ADARAEN: “Hello?”

I follow a winding staircase upwards, and emerge into what looks like some kind of laboratory.

The man who rescued me -- Gideon -- is wiping down a piece of glassware, and looks up with a friendly smile when I enter.

GIDEON: “Well, look who finally woke up.”

He’s working at a table laden with various tools and herbs and instruments, and seems preoccupied with a purplish mixture bubbling over a flame.

When he pours the mixture into the rescued glass, I notice that one of his arms is made from gleaming, golden clockwork.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His eyes briefly flicker away from his work.

CHOICE 1: I feel great.

CHOICE 2: Okay, I guess.

CHOICE 3: I’ve been better.

IF CHOICE 1:

I force a smile. If working at the inn taught me nothing else, it’s that sometimes you need to fake a mood to feel a mood.

ADARAEN: “I feel great. Just… great. I woke up feeling really rested.”

Gideon arches a brow.

GIDEON: “I didn’t realize you’d taken a bump to the head as well.”

My fingers throb with pain when I try to flex them, and I let out a hiss.

ADARAEN: “Okay, that may have been a slight exaggeration.”

(Or a big one.)

IF CHOICE 2:

ADARAEN: “I feel okay. You know, not bad, not great.”

I haven’t had the chance to think about it much yet. Everything happened so quickly last night, and I still feel disoriented.

GIDEON: “That’s better than I’d expect after you nearly bled out.”

Remembering the feeling of metal slicing across my palm, I look down at my hand and try to flex my fingers.

Even the small movement makes me wince.

IF CHOICE 3:

ADARAEN: “I feel…”

Woozy. Like I left a lot of blood in the snow and nearly froze to death.

“Like I have the worst hangover ever, without the fun of getting it.”

GIDEON: “Part of that might be from the medication I gave you.”

My hand is still throbbing faintly, and I try to move my fingers to test them. I gasp at the flare of pain that shoots through me.

CONTINUING AFTER CHOICE:

GIDEON: “I wouldn’t try to do much with that hand for a while if I were you. I did what I could for it, but…”

He grimaces as he fiddles with a contraption at his table, and I’m unsure if the expression is related to his work or his words.

ADARAEN: “But what?”

When he glances up again his eyes are sympathetic.

GIDEON: “Well. Let’s just say it required a lot of stitches.”

It feels best to not think about that more than I need to, so I decide to change the subject.

ADARAEN: “By the way, where are we?”

I’ve realized suddenly that I still don’t know.

Gideon makes a sweeping gesture towards the wide, open windows.

GIDEON: “You can see for yourself.”

He brushes his hands together as he finishes what he’s doing and comes to stand beside me at the rail.

The view leaves me nearly breathless. We’re high above a city, and beautiful buildings stretch out for as far as I can see.

It's easy to forget my pain when looking out at something so wondrous.

And there are trees with actual leaves! I see splashes of red and yellow and green. I can feel myself grinning like a fool.

(It’s not winter here!)

ADARAEN: “How did you get me all the way to Altadellys?”

GIDEON: “You’d be surprised how easy it is to cart someone around when they’re limp as a sack of potatoes.”

ADARAEN: “Surely not in that storm though?”

GIDEON: “No, we were only a short distance from my cabin. I took you there and cared for your wound first.”

ADARAEN: “And then I became the sack of potatoes.”

GIDEON: “Precisely.”

I chuckle, and hear him huff a small laugh in response. Standing this near to him, he seems even taller and broader than he did before.

(He’s actually quite attractive.)

(But this is hardly the time to be thinking about that, Adaraen!)

ADARAEN: “I was supposed to meet someone before my carriage was attacked. Do you know how I can get word to them?”

GIDEON: “No, but I know who you can ask.”

Music: Gideon Theme

He turns from the window and fixes me with an unreadable expression. His green eyes are sharp and curious, suddenly seeming to take me apart in their gaze.

GIDEON: “But what you should be asking yourself is… why was someone trying to kill you?”

TO BE CONTINUED... (maybe...)

-@redseptemberdream

#gideon #gideon of lysende #the royal alchemist #reigning passions #rp #rp gideon #lovestruck #fanfiction

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jarienn972 · 7 years ago

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The Right Place - Chapter 12

Finally getting to a point where my Tumblr posts are almost caught up to AO3 and FF.net. Only one chapter behind now. (Phew...!)

I'm calling this the transitional chapter as I'm going to start wrapping up this tale now that we know who was behind the robbery and a small portion of why. You'll see that Emma's focus is definitely going to be catching the bad guys and getting home.

Tumblr: Prologue/One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Wednesday afternoon, Portland Medical Center

Trying to be polite and to ensure she wasn't going to further impose on Regina, Emma sent a brief message advising that she and Deputy McCallen were on their way back, making it to the hospital's front entrance by noon. McCallen dropped her off with a promise to try to get some sleep himself before returning later that day for another overnight shift. He also assured her that he would contact her if he received any news from Sgt. Haviland or if the sketch artist called him back to schedule a time to work with Killian on a composite drawing – although Haviland's suggestion that they look into Leviant Construction employees first seemed a prefect place to start.

With a cordial smile directed toward the deputy assigned to guard duty, Emma pushed open the door to her husband's room to find that Regina and Henry had moved both of the chairs over to the window where they sat quietly conversing. A quick glance to her right revealed why as Killian lay soundly asleep on the bed. They must have been concerned that they'd wake him.

"Made it back in plenty of time," Emma announced in a soft voice aa she made her way around the bed. "If you hit the road now, you'll make your 2pm spa appointment easily."

"I already postponed it until 3 just to be safe," Regina replied curtly. "Henry, please get your things together."

"Everything's right here in my backpack," the teen responded.

"Fine. Why don't you say your goodbyes then and we'll be on our way back to Storybrooke. Doesn't look like your stepfather is going to wake up though." Looking up at Emma, the Queen continued with an explanation. "They brought him in about twenty minutes after you left but he hasn't even twitched. Didn't have to do much of anything to keep him company and in fact, I doubt he even knew I was here."

"I wouldn't have thought that X-rays would wear him out so much," Emma began, beginning to wonder if there was more to the story. "He did have a pretty active morning, so maybe everything just took its toll on him."

"Well, I've got to get back to town. Keep us posted on what's going on down here. When do you think you'll be back?"

"Not really sure," Emma replied. "No one's really discussed a release date but I'm hoping we'll get some answers today so I can figure out when I'm bringing him home, although I still might need to travel back here to help the investigation…"

"Because you don't have enough work on your plate in Storybrooke?" Regina asked snidely, her suddenly snippy question catching Emma off guard.

"Because I can help catch the people who attacked and tried to kill my husband," Emma replied, taking the defensive and nearly matching Regina's tone. "I intend to see this case through. Why is it all of a sudden such an issue?" Henry hung back silently as what had been a normal conversation between his moms escalated drastically and he wasn't about to get caught in the middle. It was an awkward, tense position for the young man so he was relieved when the Queen backed down with a loud, emphatic sigh.

"It's not an issue…," Regina relented. "I'm sorry – I just really, really dislike hospitals. There's a reason my curse put certain people into them… Just get back home when you can. I'd much rather have my regular, magic-wielding sheriff on duty…"

"I had no idea you were bothered by hospitals," Emma responded. "I wouldn't have asked you to stay if I had known."

"It's fine. After all of the awful things I've done, the least I could do was suck it up and babysit your pirate for a few hours."

"Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I help put these guys behind bars."

"I gather you at least have a lead on who his assailants were?"

"We do."

"I suppose I could whip up some truth serum if you think that would help?" Regina offered.

"Not sure that would stand up in court, but I appreciate the offer," Emma smiled, thankful that the brewing tension had broken before Killian woke and got dragged into an argument. "You two better get on the road though. It was starting to cloud over like it was going to rain…"

"Better rain than snow, I guess," Regina sighed. "Come on, Henry. We've got to get going."

"Okay, Mom. I'll meet you at the elevator. Just want to have a moment…"

"Of course," Regina said as she collected her black wool coat from the back of her chair and started walking toward the door. Henry waited until she had stepped into the hallway before turning his attention back to Emma.

"I'm sorry I snuck into the Bug yesterday," he apologized.

"It's okay, Kid. You're still in trouble for not obeying me, but for now, you're forgiven. I'm kinda glad you did it because I'm not sure how I'd have held up if I'd have been here alone."

"Tell Killian I'll see him back at home in a few days and we'll work on getting the Jolly Roger back home too."

"Okay, I will," she snickered as she hugged her son. "Guess I'd better go track down the nurse to find out how things went this morning…"

"You'll let us know what you find out and when you're coming home?"

"As soon as I know anything, I promise to let everyone know. Now – you'd better go before Regina has another mini-meltdown. Sounds like she's anxious to get out of here."

"Okay, Mom. See you in a few days." He tossed his backpack up onto his shoulder and grabbed his own jacket off of the closet doorknob before disappearing out of the door, leaving his mother standing in the middle of the room wearing a lopsided grin. She didn't move right away – just stood there thinking about what she needed to do next, but her motivation had drained away. She finally dragged her chair back to Killian's bedside and let herself sink down into it as she watched him sleep.

"It's just you and me now, Pirate," she smiled as scooted as close to his side as she could get without actually disturbing him – close enough to hear the hiss of the oxygen passing through the narrow plastic tube stretched across his face and the slight whistle his lips made as he exhaled. His head lolled in her direction as his eyes barely opened to slits – just enough to acknowledge that his wife had returned. He managed to give her a very drowsy, fleeting smile before closing his eyes and drifting back into slumber. "It's okay. You just sleep. I'm going to go find Jackie…"

The updates Emma received from the redheaded nurse were decidedly mixed. His X-ray images – once they managed to get them done – showed significant improvement. Most of the fluid was gone which drastically decreased his chances of developing a severe bout of pneumonia but they'd had an awful time getting any clear images due to another coughing fit - one that led to him inevitably retching until he was physically exhausted. He'd been so miserable that he agreed to a sedative so he could sleep through the remainder of the procedure – which ultimately proved a success and also pinpointed the likely cause of his lingering fever – an abscess that had formed beneath the sutures on his back. With him already sedated, a surgeon was able to reopen the incision and drain the grape-sized abscess before it grew any larger. The wound had been sutured closed again and the doctor had ordered a more aggressive antibiotic in hopes of staving off any redevelopment but the prognosis was very positive.

The best news Jackie had provided was that if his fever broke and his temperature remained in the normal range for at least 24 hours, Dr. Wallace had advised that Killian could be discharged as early as Friday. He obviously wouldn't be permitted to return to deputy duties for a couple of weeks, but at least he could go home. Emma chuckled a bit at the minimum two week window he was being given to return to work since she knew it wouldn't be necessary at all as soon as they crossed the Storybrooke town line where she could properly heal him.

She couldn't wait to share the news with her husband once he woke, but for now, she was going to take advantage of this time to locate something to appease her growling stomach as she remembered she hadn't yet had breakfast. There must be something available downstairs in the cafeteria that she could grab and get back here before the sedative wore off… Killian was bound to be full of questions, not that she had a whole lot of new answers for him, but no matter what, she wasn't tackling it on an empty stomach.

Waking to a piercing bright light, Killian knew he was no longer in the darkened chamber where the ginger nurse had left him for the X-rays. He didn't remember much about the experience save for having another bloody fit of hacking until he vomited, but after that, events became a little fuzzy. He recalled feeling extremely tired and now as he awakened, there was a renewed ache in his back, almost as if he'd been stabbed once again. A small measure of relief came in seeing proof he hadn't imagined that Emma had returned to his side when he'd stirred briefly earlier, but he found himself now wondering precisely how much time he'd lost track of as he stretched out his legs and inadvertently startled his wife.

"Damnit, Killian…," she exclaimed with a breathless giggle when his sudden movement caught her unprepared. "You're going to give me a heart attack!"

"What time is it?" he asked, oblivious to her flustered response.

"It's after one. Heard you had a bit of a rough time down in Radiology…"

"It would appear that way – although I can't say I recall much after the bloody coughing returned with a vengeance. Did anything good come of it?"

"As a matter of fact, it did," she replied, moving from the chair to squeeze her hips next to him on the narrow bed. "They said your lungs look good for a man who nearly drowned a few days ago. Most of the fluid is gone so they're less concerned about pneumonia developing and they also found what's been causing your fever – you had an abscess forming beneath the sutures on your back. They were able to get it drained and stitched back up while you were unconscious."

"That would certainly explain why I feel as though I've been run through once again…"

"I'm sure we can get you some pain meds for that but at least the good news is – if your fever breaks and stays away, you might get to go home on Friday!"

"Another two days here?" he grumbled, clearly less enthusiastic than his wife over the prospect of being discharged.

"It's not that bad – and it will give us some time to work with McCallen and Haviland to take down the men who put you here."

"Then allow me to go after them…," he growled. "They won't get the best of me again…"

"That's not how it works and you know it," she warned. "At least we have one advantage at this point – Donleavy doesn't know you survived. I don't think he put two and two together to believe that you might be the John Doe found on that island beach. Like you told me – you were too far from shore. He believes you drowned and certainly wouldn't have had the slightest idea that you'd been rescued by a powerful witch who this realm doesn't even believe exists. It gives us a slight edge, but it won't for long. As soon as we start asking questions, it will start raising eyebrows which is why I'm taking you back to Storybrooke as soon as I can…"

"No," he replied firmly, almost surprising her with the degree of conviction in his voice. "I intend to be part of seeing this through and I won't be pushed aside. I know what one of the robbers looks like – the rest of you do not."

"And we're working on that. Sgt. Haviland is going to try getting photos of Leviant Construction employees for you to look at because we think it could be pretty likely that he hired someone he already knew for a little side job and both McCallen and Haviland are trying to get an available sketch artist to come work with you to develop a composite drawing. We're not trying to push you aside, but I want to make sure you're safe."

"I'm staying here – with you – until that man and his partners are captured."

"This isn't the time to be stubborn, Killian. Even if they release you, you still won't be completely healed. We don't know exactly how dangerous this man could be and I don't want you diving into the fray when you're still wounded and possibly might get hurt worse if something goes wrong…"

"Then you take me back to Storybrooke, heal all of this with your magic and we return – together."

"And how do we explain to McCallen and Haviland that you're suddenly showing no signs of injury?"

"I could feign enough discomfort to be convincing. Wouldn't be the first time… Either way, Love, it's for me to decide. I'll try to stay out of the main fracas, but I'm not leaving Portland until the man who attacked me is dealt with," he chided and she could tell from the steely cast to his blue eyes that his mind was made up and there would be no backing away. "Now, onto the next – what else have we learned since this morning?"

"Why do I even bother attempting to reason with you?" she lamented, shaking her head in mock disgust as he grinned, leaning in closer to her and nuzzling his nose into the nape of her neck, playfully nipping at her right ear as her unruly blonde locks tickled his skin. He somehow managed to find a method to break her resolve and no matter how much she wanted him to stay out of this, he'd won this battle – even if she couldn't actually see the smug, satisfied smirk he wore as he relished his victory. "Fine – but we play this by the book – got it?"

"Of course, Love," he grinned, planting a kiss against the exposed skin behind her ear.

"Then I guess you'd better listen up, Pirate. We've got a lot to cover."

She took approximately twenty minutes recapping her conversations with Sgt. Haviland and Jean Scott to bring her husband up to speed on what they knew of the ferry terminal project and Leviant Construction's pursuit of Ms. Scott's property and likely others in the area. (Intentionally omitting McCallen's confession as she felt it wasn't the time for that revelation nor did she feel it was pertinent to the investigation) Killian found the company's desire to purchase the property somewhat confusing as his understanding of a construction firm was that they built structures onto existing plots of land that they didn't necessarily own themselves. That anomaly was what Emma herself had been hung up on as well as she couldn't get beyond thinking that the new ferry terminal, being built on the same site as the existing one where the harbor had been properly dredged to accommodate the large vessel, wasn't adjacent to the sites that Leviant appeared interested in. The properties close to the existing terminal would seem to be the more valuable locations for development if this was solely about potentially selling the acquired land back to the city for any expansion projects. So then why were these more distant properties being targeted? Price?

She was even more eager now to learn what Haviland might uncover at City Hall because something just wasn't fitting. They had nearly all of their puzzle pieces laid out before them, but a few glaring omissions remained. Hopefully, Haviland would also come through with those employee photos so they could learn if the unmasked robber was amongst those ranks because she was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain her patience when they were so close…

So close…

Killian had been uncharacteristically quiet through lunch, eating the soup he'd been offered slowly as his brain pondered what their next move should be. She knew he was still harboring a little irritation that she'd wanted to exclude him from the rest of the investigation and not allow him to be involved in the capture of his assailant and she certainly reciprocated the emotion as she'd prefer he just stay out of the way so he wouldn't get hurt again, but it wasn't lost on her that were their positions reversed, she wouldn't be able to willingly back away either.

She'd taken a few minutes to think while venturing to the cafeteria to purchase her own lunch, automatically selecting her favorite comfort foods in attempt to clear her mind. She fought the temptation to just eat here where she wouldn't be distracted and wouldn't feel as though she were taunting him with the aroma of real food, but she was harboring just enough vindictiveness that she decided to eat her grilled cheese sandwich and golden fried onion rings right in front of him – not that he'd give her the satisfaction of jealousy. He didn't particularly care for her favorite foods so it wasn't near as enjoyable as it might have been when she flipped open the lid of the white foam takeout container and inhaled the savory scents of onion and cheddar – eliciting a surprising burst of laughter from her husband.

"Swan – I swear there are times when you look at a sandwich with more lust in your gaze than you bestow on me!"

"Food is love too, mister," she reminded him, trying to ignore his cajoling and simply enjoy her food now that it was clear her tease hadn't had the effect she'd intended. Damnit – he'd gotten under her skin again, she thought as she choked back a giggle. "Now quit it – you're going to make me laugh too hard to eat my food. You just enjoy your soup…"

They were both chucking like fools when Emma's phone chirped loudly to alert her of a newly received message. She set the foam container onto the nightstand before fishing for her cellphone.

"Duty calls?" he asked, pushing away what remained of his so-called soup which really was little more than chicken broth with a few spoonfuls of rice added. He was anxious to discover if it was an important message.

"It's from McCallen. I figured he'd probably still be asleep so something big must have come up…" She tapped on the electronic screen a few times, opening the text message the deputy had sent. "Says Haviland uncovered something interesting and wants us to meet him later this afternoon. They'll be here around four to discuss it."

"Good," Killian stated. "I hope it's something relevant enough to hang Donleavy."

"They don't hang people anymore," she reminded him, "but we'll soon find out." She tapped out a reply rapidly, acknowledging that they'd received the message. "Okay – I let him know that we got it and will see them in a couple of hours. Now – we wait…"

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fan fiction #captain swan ff #the right place

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eirabach · 7 years ago

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Heathens [8/14]

Summary: After the events of Renegades, Emma finds herself the reluctant monarch of a struggling Kingdom, her only advisors a mish mash of those who’ve betrayed her in the past, and her only comfort one very uncomfortable pirate.

Believing her long lost parents could still be alive, Emma and Killian set out to find them and reunite them with both their daughter and their throne.

Easy.

Right?

Thank you so much to everyone who’s commented so far, I hope you continue to enjoy! This chapter and the next are two of my favourite things I’ve written - so I hope you like them too! All my thanks and love as ever to @phiralovesloki and @katie-dub for their beta work and general amazingness, and to @seastarved for her incredible artwork!

Rated: E. Warnings for violence and corporal/capital punishment specifically in this chapter! @killian-whump this one’s going out to you.

This chapter 4.4k

Other Pairings: Snowing

Catch up on tumblr: Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six or here on AO3

Chapter Seven: Blood on the Floor

When he’d been dragged from the cell they’d thrown him into almost as soon as they’d arrived, and the guard had left David, bemused and enraged, behind, he’d assumed some sort of… personal treatment was in order. The rack, perhaps, or the whipping post. He was no stranger to either, after all.

He’d assumed the guard’s brutish manhandling of him as he practically threw his chained body down the courtyard steps had been due to frustration with the way Killian’s knees refused to buckle at the prospect, but then he’d seen the waiting crowd, heard the slam of the pillory being opened, and suddenly, he hadn’t been so sure.

“Is this is really necessary?” Killian asks as the prison guard as he’s bodily forced into the shackles of the pillory. “If I could just speak to the king, I’m sure he’d - ”

“King’s got nothing to do with this,” the guard spits as he slams the shackles down painfully hard on Killian’s bare wrist. “This is just a bit of fun, y’see.”

“Fun for who, exactly?” Killian chokes out as the collar tightens around his neck.

“Me, of course. Ain’t got a hangman’s stomach, so this is as good as I can get.”

“You’re taking this all very - very personally,” Killian gasps as the guard gives him a solid cuff around the back of his head and sets his ears ringing.

The man stands up straight and folds his arms.

“I had a lad, once. Brave he was. Stupid, perhaps. Joined the Navy didn’t he? Your lot got him on his first voyage.”

“My lot?”

“Pirates,” the man spits, “Dirty, filthy pirates. Scum of the Earth, every last one of you, and you, oh, you are going to feel it.”

“Marvel at the great pirate Captain Hook!” he bellows to the crowd. “Come see him in all his glory! Shall we thank him, one and all, for his years at sea? Shall we show him our gratitude for his treatment of our fine navy?”

The crowd snarls and jeers, seething with hatred, as someone pushes a large wicker basket before the pillory.

“You’ve made your point,” Killian grits out from between his teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your son.”

The man leans forward, his hands on his knees, and smiles.

“Too late.”

The sharp, wet smack of the first putrid vegetable sends his head reeling to the right and he grits his teeth against the sting of the laughter that follows.

“Good shot!” someone calls. “Get the stump, go on!”

A howl of agreement, and then the frame judders under the onslaught of half-black turnips and slime-coated lettuce. Killian struggles to keep his eyes open and his mouth closed as they rain down on him, acid sending his vision blurry and his head throbbing under the onslaught.

He thinks he sees, just for a moment, a young boy stood by the basket, a rotten apple in his hand as he seems to consider his shot, and over the cheers of the crows, over the thundering of his own blood, he thinks he can hear Liam calling his name.

“What you doing? Killian? Killian!”

The weight of the apple in his hand, the bruise blackened face of the man in the stocks, and Liam, Liam behind him, his hand on his shoulder, his guiding light.

“Why?” he asks, and Liam’s reply is as grim and as tight as his grip as he pulls him away.

“You can’t know another man’s story, Killian.”

Yes, brother, he thinks, his eyes closing as something harder, sharper, slashes his cheek. I can.

Killian’s only respite after the humiliation of the pillory is a barrel of icy water thrown over his head and thin prison-issue garb before he’s tossed back into the cell he shares with Dave, the promise of their looming execution on the guard’s gleeful lips.

That was three days ago, and this morning is to be the last they’ll ever see.

“Hung,” says David for the fifteenth time since dawn had risen and brought a breakfast of mackerel and eggs to the condemned men’s cell. “I’m going to be hung.”

“Hanged, actually,” says Killian with false cheer. “Thought a king might know that, but that’s royalty for you,” says Killian as he picks the bones out of his fillet. “Never appreciate their education, and all about the capital punishment until it’s their necks on the block. Perhaps if King Eric had been hugged more as a child we wouldn’t be in this position.”

“I’m a shepherd,” David says with a scowl, “About to be hung like a piece of mutton, and for what? Associating with a pirate? Perhaps if you hadn’t dragged me into this mess, I’d be at home!”

“With what, your sheep?”

“Do you have any idea,” David seethes, “what it feels like to give up? To lose everything you’ve ever loved in one fell swoop? Yes, I’d be at home with my sheep! My sheep are all I have!”

Guilt itches at the back of Killian’s neck, and he considers telling David right then, about the daughter who’d grown up to be the Saviour, the determination with which she’d set out to find her father. Her certainty that somewhere, somehow, this man’s True Love is still alive.

Waiting.

But that means telling him how Killian has failed them. How Killian watched this man’s daughter sink to the depths. How fate took her, in a way, as assuredly as it will take this man, this good-hearted shepherd King, for the sin of daring to bestow an ounce of kindness on the undeserving soul of Killian Jones.

Of admitting that Snow White will wait forever, and David is helpless to prevent it.

“Rather a desperate turn of events all around, if you ask me.” Killian says instead, shaking his head. “No. I’m sorry, your Majesty, I truly am, but I didn’t ask you to brain that bloke, did I? I wasn’t to know just being in my presence is a death sentence nowadays.”

“Your presence encourages poor choices,” says David, and shoves his plate away, “so I shouldn’t be surprised. How can you eat at a time like this?”

“Well, there’s not much else to be done about it,” Killian says with a shrug. “And it’s pretty good, you sure you don’t want any?”

“Am I sure - ” David sucks a breath between his teeth. “Do you even have a plan to get out of here?”

Killian drops his fork and any attempts at pretense, his expression darkening as he looks out of the barred window towards the shadow of the gallows.

“None whatsoever.”

“So what, you’re just going to die?”

“Maybe it’s time,” he says. “I’ve lived a long, long time, mate, and there’s more I love waiting for me there than there is remaining here.”

“Me, too,” says David, letting his head hang back against the stone wall. “I never thought I'd be scared, you know? I thought - I thought when it was time, I’d be ready. Ready to join Snow. And yet - ” He lets his head loll to the side. “Are you so sure they’re waiting for you?”

“I’m not a priest,” Killian says. “Far from it. But I’d like to think - what’s the alternative, eh? Nothing? Can’t be worse than here.”

“Can’t it?” asks David, and sighs. “I wish I knew, that’s all.”

Killian swallows hard and looks at his feet, bare apart from the chain around his ankles. He doesn't know if his next words are cruelty or comfort, but he knows he can't go to the gallows with them unsaid. Not when David’s desperation is so familiar to him.

He wishes he knew, too.

“Your daughter - Emma - ” he stops, pausing to swallow the ache that seems to follow her name. “What if I told you I know that she’s waiting for you?”

“How would you know that?” David laughs grimly, then his brow furrows. “How do you know her name?”

“Because,” Killian sighs. “I rather hope she’s waiting for me, too.”

“You know Emma?” David says, scrambling up onto his knees. “How? Why? Are you telling me she’s - ” His mouth works helplessly around the last word, his face bright red.

“Gone?” Killian winces at the word. “Aye. I loved her, but I couldn’t save her. Couldn’t save any of them.” He looks back out of the window. The clouds are gathering now, the wind picking up. It won’t be long. “Not even myself.”

“What do you mean, you loved her?” asks David, rearing back against the wall of the cell, his already pale face blanching to the colour of the stone behind him. “What happened - what did you do to her!”

“Nothing,” Killian insists, shaking his head against the implied accusation even as guilt makes his last meal sit unsteady in his stomach. “Nothing she didn’t ask me to! I was her - ” and it’s his turn to pause, the words tripping over themselves to escape and yet none of them quite right - lover, consort, captain - “friend!” His shoulders sink, the realisation stinging at the back of his eyes. “I was her best friend. And she was mine.”

“And she was alive,” David says softly, his eyes far away. “And you loved her.”

“I did. I do.” Killian shakes his head. “We were looking for you, you know. I don’t think this is quite the reunion she had in mind.”

“Looking for me?”

“Aye. You and the Lady Snow.” He smiles, a sad, wistful little thing, but genuine enough. “We were neither of us cut out to rule. Emma had the idea that the two of you may be better suited. I don’t think she was expecting - well.”

He gestures to David, but he’s too busy gaping to take any offence.

“But Snow’s - and Regina, is she - ”

“Dead, mate?” Through the window they hear the sound of a hundred or more feet skittering over the cobbles, voices raised in excitement, as the dark figure of the hangman strides past their cell door. “Aren’t we all?”

The crowd that forces its way through the prison gates and into the courtyard ebbs and flows like a sea of humanity baying for blood, small children propped on their father’s shoulders, young girls shrieking with laughter at their friends.

Emma spits bile over the parapet above their heads, and hopes it lands in their eyes.

“This is entertainment?” she hisses. Ariel wrings her hands, her long red locks covered in a heavy cloak.

“It’s been a hard winter,” she says. “The suffering - ”

“Clearly wasn’t enough,” Emma growls.

“Emma, please,” Ariel pleads, “you must remember that this is a seafaring nation - these people have lost many loved ones to pirates - and your Killian Jones is no innocent man.”

“I told you,” Emma says, her eyes flicking over the crowd, searching for something, anything, that might act as an escape route. “He’s changed.”

“And I believe that,” says Ariel. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I know.” Emma reaches out and squeezes Ariel’s hand. “I know what you’re risking for us. Thank you.”

“As I said, I’m an old romantic,” Ariel says, and then adds wryly, “and completely mad.”

She pulls a steel hook from the confines of her cloak, handing it over to Emma with a wink and a smile.

“Please don't ask what I had to do to get that.”

Emma squeezes the metal tightly, and tucks it into the waist of her breeches.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Ariel shakes her head. “Don't thank me yet.”

There’s a last push from the rear of the crowd, and then the iron gates are drawn shut behind them with an ominous creak, a hush falling over the crowd as the hangman strides out onto the gallows.

“I’ll spare you as much time as I can,” whispers Ariel, “but the rest of it’s up to you. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t,” Emma says, watching the loop and the turn of the ropes as they’re attached. Two of them. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Easier said than done,” mutters Ariel, and she turns to scurry down a staircase to join the masses below leaving Emma alone with nothing but her roiling stomach for company.

She hasn’t got a clue what she’s doing. No plan, no resources, just a view of a gallows, and the sure and certain knowledge that she won’t survive watching him die, and someway, somehow, that’s going to have to be enough.

She’s still got her sword, and her dagger tucked into her breeches, she’s still got her wits - such as they are right now - and she’s got Ariel’s sworn promise of distraction. At her feet are a couple of half barrels, mainly empty after a rainless few days - and the flag of the Maritime Kingdom flutters in the breeze from a flagpole that juts up beneath her.

She sees more than hears the frisson of excitement that runs through the crowd as the metal doors of the prison grind open, people standing on their tiptoes and elbowing each other for a better view of the damned men as they're dragged out onto the dais.

There's an older man with graying curls and a mutinous expression who shakes his captors' hands from his shoulders and stands surveying the crowd like a man who’s found himself in a terrible dream, his bearing almost regal despite the way his hands are tied behind his back, and then - and then - there's Killian.

If the other man looks mutinous, then Killian's expression can only be described as - well, cheerful. He nods to the crowd, throws a wink to the young girls who've pushed their way to the front of the crowd, and practically swaggers his way to his own death.

She wouldn't have expected anything else, not really. Once a showman, always a showman, but this isn't a swan song she's prepared to witness.

The barrel wobbles beneath her as she tests her weight against it, her focus split between where the older man appears to have chosen to berate Killian with his last words and the gentle sway of the flagpole.

If she misses this, she isn’t going to be witnessing anything. Ever again.

No pressure.

She waits for the moment Ariel mounts the dais, the little hand gesture the two of them had agreed upon the only hint that the queen isn’t truly there to pass final judgement on the ne’er do wells alongside her, leans forward, and jumps.

She hits the flagpole with a clatter, tangling herself helplessly in the flag as she scrambles for grip before clinging on to the wooden pole like an infant chimera to its mother’s back. The crowd at the base of the flagpole looks up in shock as the pole begins to sway alarmingly beneath her sudden weight, and she sort of grimaces down at them in a way she hopes is reassuring. A small child opens her mouth as though to scream and Emma shakes her head furiously, struggling to press a finger against her lips. Luckily, Ariel takes the opportunity to clear her throat, and their attention is drawn back to the gallows.

“Citizens of the Marine Kingdom,” she begins in her bell-like voice as Emma begins to shimmy indelicately down the pole. “It is always a sorrow for my husband and I to proceed with events such as these, but it is our duty to see that justice is done for the - ” Emma slips, only her right elbow catching in the rope stopping her from falling the fifteen feet to the ground below, and Ariel stumbles. “For the good - and the - the glory - ” Emma untangles herself enough to slide another five feet, and is judging the remaining drop when the hangman moves to cover Killian and the other man’s faces with the rough sacking hood they’re to die in. Killian’s mouth is moving, she can see it from here even though she’s no hope of hearing him, and gods help her but it looks like Emma.

“I’m coming,” she says, all air and fear leaving her in a single breath, and falls.

He remembers the queen, not like this - oddly nervous, her hands twisting in the silk of her cloak as she condemns the already dead - but younger, bolder, with a tail made of shining scales and a passion beyond his tormented understanding. He wonders for half a moment if he shouldn’t appeal directly to her, for Dave’s sake if not his own, but her eyes are fixed firmly on the crowd, her back forever turned to him, as David continues to mutter pointless threats beneath his breath.

“If there is an afterlife,” David hisses, “I will kill you in it, be sure of that.”

“That would be more frightening if it weren’t for the noose,” Killian mutters out of the side of his mouth. “It rather takes priority.”

“I can make it frightening,” David assures him. “You wait.”

“You’re assuming I’ll see you there,” Killian adds. “Rather hopeful of you, but thanks anyway.”

“That’s enough,” spits the hangman. “Her Majesty is speaking and your breaths are numbered. Save ‘em.”

“For what?” snipes David, and his head is covered by the hanged man’s hood.

Killian swallows hard, and for a moment lets his eyes close, runs through the faces he can only hope are waiting for him on the other side. His mother, Liam, Milah.

Emma.

He opens his eyes one last time as the hood descends, and for one moment he thinks he can see her, a vision floating above the crowd, her golden hair wild in the breeze, and then he sees no more.

She scrabbles to her feet as the drums begin to roll, their thunder rolling out as the crowd surge onto their tiptoes, all desperate for a glimpse of death at work. Elbowing her way through them, hand tight on her sword’s pommel, she finds herself fervently muttering aloud, her breaths cut short and quick in desperation as though she's willing him to hear her somehow even if it's the last thing he ever hears.

I love you I love you I love you I love you.

She's never told him. Never. And the drums reach a crescendo, the crowd surges forward, tears running hot down her cheeks, Ariel’s frightened face blurred and distorted.

The hangman pulls.

The trapdoor drops.

The world stops.

She doesn’t know how she gets from twelve feet away to the gallows in less than a breath, nor why the hangman is bleeding at her feet, only that the ropes are swinging and their feet are twitching and her sword is sharp, sharp sharp as she slashes the first man down. Somebody’s screaming, several somebodies, the whole world, probably, but it’s far away - only I love you on her white, cracked lips as she rips off the hood.

The man stares up at her through bloodshot, watery eyes, as she throws him aside.

“Not you,” she hisses, and maybe he balks at that - she feels like he balks at it, his rheumy gaze fixed on her - but she hasn’t time to care. Another swipe, another clatter of bone against wood, and she’s dragging him to her, her tears wet against his sackcloth skin. She rips off the hood only to realise that beneath he’s too pale, blueish lips and still lashes, a violent, livid mark at his throat where the rope has tightened.

“Don’t be dead,” she whisper-sobs, her sword abandoned as her hands rove over his too still chest. “Don’t be dead. I’ll kill you.”

“Emma?” The other man is behind her now, her sword in his hand. “Emma, is that you?”

“Don’t be dead,” is all she can manage, and he shakes his head, the movement jerky like a man rising from a dream.

“You need to go!” Ariel, still stood at the front of the gallows, her arms held out placatingly towards them as though warding off enemies of the crown, speaks through gritted teeth, her eyes wild. “The guards!”

And sure enough over the echoing screams and gasps of the crowd and her own panicked breath, Emma can hear the approach of chainmail and hooves.

“I can’t,” she says, her fingers tight in the worn fabric of Killian’s shirt, “I can’t leave him.”

“Then you’ll die with him!”

“Emma, please,” entreats the stranger, “it’s too late.”

“No.” The guards are upon them she imagines, Ariel frantically thinking of a way to keep them back a moment or two longer, but it doesn’t matter. “No,” she mumbles, “I just got him back.”

She squeezes her eyes tight against the tears that keep falling, takes a deep breath, and presses her lips to his cold ones to breathe life into his lungs - once, twice, three times.

“Don’t you dare,” she pleads, and behind her heavy footsteps mount the gallows, loud voices, large hands that reach out and grab at her clothes.

She has no idea how she does it, only that she does, her hands thrown out in front of her as she twists around and lightning streaking through the air. The crowd scream as one, the sound of a hundred frightened pairs of feet thundering through the wood beneath her as she scrunches her face up in concentration, the white light from her fingertips sending the guards wincing backwards.

“No,” she pants out. “I don’t think so.”

The swords that the guards had been holding are ripped free and arc towards her, the men’s astonished expressions the last thing she sees before she grabs hold of Killian’s sleeve with one hand and hooks her ankle around his companion’s leg, closing her eyes and willing the fire within her to get us out of here, get us out of here please!

The screaming stops, suddenly, replaced by the sound of bird call and the drip, drip, drip of rain falling softly through the canopy.

Her sword drops to the floor with a dull thud, the man who had been holding it staring around himself in bemused wonder, but she only has eyes for Killian, only cares for the slight pink plush returning to his cheeks, the flutter of his eyelids as he draws first one rasping breath and then another.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” she hisses again, “not ever, do you hear?”

He smiles, a small uptick at the corner of his mouth.

“Never, love. Never.”

“Good,” she snaps, and thumps him hard enough in the shoulder to send him roiling and wretching against the forest floor.

“Oh, shit, shit I didn’t mean - “

“It’s quite alright, love,” he gasps out once his stomach is empty. “No doubt I deserve it.”

“No doubt you do,” grumbles the other man. “Are you always this much of a drama queen?”

“It’s a habit that doesn’t only apply when at death’s door, I’m afraid. Why, does that put you off wanting to kill me?” he manages, before coughs wrack his body. Emma rests her hand on his back and scowls up at the other man.

“Who are you?” she asks sharply, rubbing firmly between Killian’s shoulder blades as he hacks into the grass. “And how the fuck did we get here? Was that me? How - ”

The man’s jaw twitches, and he shrugs in a poor showing of nonchalance.

“Damned if I know. There was smoke - and this bright light - and then,” he gestures around them, “we were here. Wherever here is.”

“Magic,” Killian says, smiling up at Emma between coughs. “That’s my girl.”

She shakes her head, but he nods, wincing at the action.

“You might not know how you did it, Swan, but you saved us all. Again.”

“The Saviour,” says the other man, the word falling out on a long breath, his eyes wide. “It’s true.”

“I don’t do autographs,” she says sharply, “but you’re welcome, I guess.”

“No, I - ”

“Swan,” says Killian, something bright and cheeky and delightfully comforting flickering to life in his gaze, “I’d like you to meet my new mate.”

“I’m not your - ”

“Dave, meet your daughter. Swan, King David of Misthaven.”

“Wait, what?” Emma's jaw drops, the blood draining from her face as she stares up at the man she rescued entirely by accident. The man with long, grey blond hair and a set to his shoulders that makes her muscles twinge in recognition. “You're the King of Misthaven?”

“No,” he says, his voice cracking, “not for a lifetime - but Emma, oh Emma, I thought you were dead.”

He scoops her up from the floor and into his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head as though she's an infant, and she stiffens instantly, the feeling both awkwardly unfamiliar and strangely right. He holds on regardless, his arms shaking slightly as he holds her tight.

“Where did you go?” he asks, the words pressed into the crown of her head. “Where have you been?”

“I rather think that's a question she's been planning to ask you, mate,” Killian says, still crumpled forward on the forest floor, and Emma forces herself to pull back from the embrace.

“Something like that,” she says. “You never found me.”

“I didn't know I could,” David says, and she can see the truth in his eyes, hear it in the gaps between his staggered breaths. “If I'd known, Emma, if I'd known - ”

She steps back, her palm held up between them, and shakes her head. It hurts, the thought of him wondering, looking, wanting her, hurts deep in a part of her soul that she'd thought she'd buried long ago, and she can't face it. Not now, lost in the wilds with this man who claims to be her father and Killian wheezing at her feet.

“Not now,” she says as his eyes widen in disappointment. “Not - not never, but not now.”

“Alright,” he says, and reaches down to pick up her sword, handing it back to her with a bow of his head. He lifts the two guardsmen’s swords that have accompanied them to wherever the hell they are, testing the weight of them and smiling slightly. “Where to?”

“Anywhere,” she says, and heaves Killian to his feet, shifting her weight as he leans heavily against her. “Literally, anywhere.”

“Together?” he asks hopefully, swinging Killians other arm over his shoulder, and she manages a smile.

“Together.”

#cs ff #cs fic #csbb #cs crew #captain swan #clare vs heathens #clare vs writers block #the chapter that made killiancygus attempt to blow her nose on a cat #my lifetime achievement

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kidolegend · 8 years ago

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Interference (PromptoXOC)

Summary: With the 10-year night upon Eos and Noctis absorbed into the crystal, the protective runes at havens are losing power rapidly, and soon there will be no place for people to take shelter from daemons. Aylin Noctua is a woman who chosen by the late Lunafreya to renew the runes at the havens through musical rituals (see the awakening of Leviathan). After a series of events that began with Prompto and Aylin teaming up to take down a Niflheim blockade, Aylin travels the continent with Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis on a pilgrimage to restore light to the dying world for their king.

Prompto/OC, this is still relatively early in the story before Prompto confesses his feelings for her :3 Uhh… please feel free to comment, reblog, or give feedback; I’d like to get a gauge if people actually want to read this or if I should just sink back into anonymity and stick to reading others’ works…

For those on mobile, you’ll have to open tumblr on your internet browser and open the ‘read more’ from there… I’m sorry for the hassle, but the post is quite long and I don’t want to bother people with all the text. If it helps, search up my blog ‘kidolegend’ and then look up the tag ‘aylin test’ and you’ll find the post pretty easily~

(also tagging @nifwrites, who is awesome and is willing to put up with this crap…)

Aylin’s voice lifted into a gentle aria and engulfed the haven in her clear, simple melody. Prompto felt the tension in his muscles ease at the sound, soothed by the way her singing weaved through the air. He looked over his shoulder to watch as Aylin’s steps glided over the shining runestone and her body swayed elegantly, completely unaware of his gaze.

“Hey, pay attention.” Gladio cuffed Prompto on the shoulder and the blonde made a small noise, not noticing how long he had been staring at the woman he was supposed to be guarding.

“S-sorry.” The gunner shook his head and trained his eyes on the forest surrounding them. He needed to focus–any daemons nearby would be enraged by the their darkness being purged from the haven. He had to made sure that Aylin was safe until the runestones reactivated. He just had to.

The ritual continued and Prompto frowned. It was abnormally quiet for a place that was supposedly ‘littered with daemons’. He exchanged glances with Gladio, who also looked bewildered by the surrounding silence. He was about ask Ignis about it, when Aylin’s singing stopped with a muted gasp and the rune’s light vanished.

He hated being right.

“H-huh?” Prompto glanced over his shoulder, freezing as he comprehended what he was seeing.

Aylin was floating horizontally in midair, her head lolling towards the ground and her entire body limp.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” Ignis had conjured his weapons, deep concern on his face.

“Aylin!” Gladio’s spotlight illuminated Aylin’s prone form and Prompto blinked in confusion as he struggled to see the dark shapes that were suspending the woman in the air. They weren’t daemons… It was almost as if… the darkness itself had claimed Aylin as a hostage.

“…The hell…?” Prompto made to climb up onto the runestone, but he was interrupted by a hauntingly familiar voice.

“Now, now… My dear Prompto, I thought after all we’d been through you’d know better than to disappoint me. And alas, you’ve even involved another person? You really haven’t learned a thing.”

Prompto felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. ‘No,’ he thought, his blood ran cold. ‘No, it can’t be…’ His gun materialized in his hand in what he knew to be a vain attempt at protecting himself.

Ignis was the first to speak, anger barely concealed beneath his ever-steady voice.

“…Chancellor Izunia.”

[where I would normally stick a cruel chapter break, but for you reading, I shall continue!!]

“Yes, it is I. The one and only,” Ardyn’s chuckle seemed to echo in the pressing darkness and Prompto shuddered, unable to tell which direction it was coming from.

“What the hell do you want?” Gladio growled out, his greatsword shimmering into view as he hefted it onto his shoulder.

“Oh, Gladio…” Ardyn’s voice was practically dripping with honey.

“Don’t talk to me like you’re an old friend.”

“My, my. What a temper… I’m here for very obvious reasons.”

“To stop the ritual.” It wasn’t a question. Ignis had turned to his right as he spoke and Prompto followed suit, trusting Ignis’ ability to pinpoint Ardyn’s location more than his own.

“Indeed. You see, I spent a tremendous amount of time engulfing these lands in darkness, and I don’t appreciate your efforts at ruining my handiwork.”

The plants nearby rustled and the three men jumped, startled to find Ardyn emerging from the opposite side of the clearing than they had expected. He had a smug grin on his face as he sauntered forward. “Simply put, I am here to put a stop to,” he gestured at the runestone, where Aylin was still suspended by shadowy tendrils. “All this.”

Prompto immediately lifted his arms, holding his gun level with Ardyn’s eyes. “Like hell you will.” Prompto stepped between the chancellor and Aylin, his normal, congenial expression hardened into a mask of unbridled hatred.

Ardyn held up a hand. “Ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you… We wouldn’t want anything happening to your precious pseudo-Oracle, now would we?” His tone darkened, abruptly menacing.

Prompto’s hands jerked reflexively, betraying the terror bubbling in the gunner’s stomach.

“If you’re putting a stop to ‘all this’ anyways, why the hell should we trust you to keep her safe now?” Gladio huffed angrily, not falling for the chancellor’s ruse.

“Hmm, too true. Then, shall I end this here?” Ardyn’s grin broadened into a more sinister expression, and he curled the hand he was holding up into a fist.

A blood-chilling scream ripped into the night air and Prompto whipped around, his face drained of all color.

Aylin’s body had stiffened, her back arched and her fingers splayed out as Ardyn coaxed tormented screeches out of her mouth. Prompto could see the veins in her neck and arms standing out against her pale skin, the agony rippling through her almost palpable.

“N-no!!” Prompto vaulted onto the rock but was thrown backwards off his feet and left helpless at the shadow’s edge. There was no way to reach her. “Aylin!!”

“Son of a bitch,” Gladio’s typically fearless expression had melted into one of horror, and Ignis gritted his teeth, vainly trying to figure out some plan of escape. They wouldn’t be able to fight their way out��so he had to outwit the chancellor somehow.

Ardyn didn’t bother trying to hide the mirth on his face as Aylin’s screams continued. “Ah, such a sound… You can feel it in your bones.” He laughed merrily, raising his voice just enough to be heard. “I almost prefer it over the singing.”

“A-Aylin…” Prompto struggled to his feet, ignoring the burning sensation the shadows left on his skin. Aylin was writhing against her bonds, her cries weakening into choked gasps as the shadows tightened around her neck.

“Such beautiful noises…” Ardyn flexed his hand and Aylin was cut off with a strangled gurgle. Gladio swore when he saw a dark liquid leaking from the corner of Aylin’s mouth, dripping onto the runes below.

“No, stop…” Prompto turned back towards the chancellor. He hated having to beg, but it didn’t seem Ardyn would be pacified any other way. At the rate they were going, Aylin would be dead within minutes. “P-please let her go,” He breathed. “Please…”

Ardyn gave a low hum, locking his gaze with the blonde. Prompto felt a chill run through him and he averted his eyes, ashamed at his fear and weakness. After a few more tense moments, the chancellor gave a short wave of his hand. All the tension left Aylin’s body as her head fell back, and horribly wet-sounding coughs tore through her prone form.

Prompto’s body was shaking violently as he forced his gaze away from Aylin’s painstriken expression back to Ardyn. The chancellor had the nerve to look empathetic as he gave a melodramatic sigh, pushing his humiliating taunts even farther. “Now, are you all going to behave, or shall I continue to dole out punishment to your lovely friend?”

“What do you want?” There was a long silence before Gladio spoke up.

“I want you all to behave,” Ardyn said simply. “Traveling the lands, rampaging about and slaying my poor daemons–destroying all my arduous efforts at establishing a world that our dear Noctis can fight for… And purifying the grounds my creatures have worked so hard on defiling? Tsk, tsk…”

“You want us to sit around and let people die?” Gladio clarified, incredulous.

“Now, now, how very small-minded of you.” Ardyn waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever will the point be if Noct spends all that time in the crystal, just to come back to a cheery, hope-filled Eos? Not very motivating, if you ask me. I’m just ensuring that our dear prince’s efforts aren’t wasted on a world that will no longer need his aid upon his return.”

Ignis saw his opening and rushed to take it. “If that’s truly the case, then isn’t it in your best interest to let us continue the rituals, Chancellor?”

Ardyn seemed genuinely surprised that Ignis has spoken. “Oh? Pray tell.”

“At the rate this world is progressing, the daemons will extinguish all light and life within a matter of months. Assuming Noct doesn’t return before that,” Ignis paused, choosing his words carefully so Aylin wouldn’t be on the receiving end of any potential backlash. “If everything dies, your efforts will all be for naught.”

Ardyn–for once–didn’t reply.

“I doubt Noctis will be willing to play a part of your game if he has nothing left to fight for.” Ignis elaborated. He couldn’t see Ardyn, but he knew the chancellor was watching him and remained as still as possible. It was like being under the gaze of a predator–a sadistic, psychopathic predator who had one of his friends in his jaws.

“He’s right.” Gladio added. “Even if Noct wants to beat the shit out of you for killing everyone, he won’t do it if there’s nothing else at stake. His Highness might not be the smartest, but he’s not that stupid.”

Ardyn pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. “Hmm, you do make a fair point. Touche, my dear Ignis. I can see why you were appointed as Noct’s advisor.”

Ignis remained stone-faced, choosing to ignore the facetious compliment.

After several moments of silence that was only broken by the occasional groan from Aylin, the chancellor shrugged. With a simple flick of his wrist, the shadows dissipated and Aylin was lowered to the ground, where she curled in on herself, shuddering.

“Very well. I will step down for today and let you continue playing hero. You may continue renewing the runes and even murdering my precious pets,” Ardyn made a pained expression at his concession. “All to your heart’s content. After all, I am a generous man.”

He paused, waiting to see if there would be any reply. When there was none, he clicked his tongue.

“Well, it appears my role here has come to an unexpected close. Alas, I shall take my leave, as painful as our parting must be.” Ardyn swept his arms around and gave a low bow, holding his hat in place as he rose. “I know you have all been rendered speechless by my overwhelming show of mercy, but perhaps next time a ‘thank you’ would be in order?“

He was met with another prolonged silence. “…No? Hm, very well then. Oh, I would recommend seeing to your companion’s wounds soon,” He gestured one more time at Aylin before turning on his heel to leave, tossing his last comment flippantly over his shoulder. “The poison in her blood tends to cause lasting damage if it is not cured quickly.”

#aylin test #ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #prompto argentum #prompto #prompto x oc #aaaaah i did it im so nervous

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hdawg1995 · 5 years ago

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Death isn’t pretty nor is it peaceful. its load, startling, and slow. you feel useless and yet you’re doing everything you can at the same time. you’re scared but everyone is. you’re load too and its hard to be quiet but you’re trying so hard cause she isn’t having a good time and you don’t want to stress her out while shes already laying in a puddle of mucus, saliva, and you think stomach acid. all you can do is pet her face and tell her shes a good girl and she’ll be okay. your mom isn’t helping and almost antagonizes you but you have to be there for her cause shes scared- who wouldn’t be scared? Shes a dog, she already doesn’t know whats going on or how to tell you, let alone why or what is actually happening. shes fighting something- she snarls and growls and screams, her lips curl up in such a way you only saw once and it was right before she attacked that bird right out of the sky. Dad comes home and gives you a hug but you’re so numb you can’t feel it. he doesnt want you getting too close because he doesnt think she knows what shes doing and later you’ll learn he was right. it takes hours to find a vet and than it turns out they are booked so your mom is on hold for thirty minutes with the humain society. the entire time shes moaning when she isnt sleeping- you think shes sleeping, shes breathing like shes sleeping and snores but it could have been the foam in her mouth muffling the snarls she makes at Death or her imagination or her situation. She growled at siturations- your sister not being home, being told she can’t go outside, being put in the wheel chair. She slowly throws her head back and for a moment you pray to God its a nightmare because the sounds she makes and the way her eyes roll back and the foam and the smell all make movies like The Grudge or The Conjuring look tame or even heart warming. She moves her legs as if to stand up and you ask if it would be a good idea to move her off her side and onto her belly. its decided this could be dangerous so you sit and pet her back. this goes on and on and on like a broken record or a video on loop. the silence, the moaning, the snarling, the head roll. you clean up the puddle as best you can and you rush to the toilet to vomit. you’re sure its not just mucus, stomach acid, and saliva now. a dark and twisted- no, terrifying!- thought enters your mind: you don’t want her to survive this. This is suffering. the damage will be too much. your mom says you’re not being realistic because you want her to describe the situation to the people on the phone instead of just saying “Our dog is dying.” so you scream. you scream and wail and hug yourself because your dog is suffering and you can’t help her. you dog is suffering and you can’t help her. your dog is suffering. and you can’t help her. she cries and screams and snarls all at once and you’re sure that sound will haunt you forever. you go back to petting her and cleaning the fluids away from her mouth. theres bits of flesh. you don’t acknowledge them since no one else did and the silence explains that every did indeed see them. mom gets though and she says two people are coming. you tell Bear she is going to be okay, that there are people she isn’t going to like because they are strangers coming to help her. she barks a sad bark that gets cut off by her gargling on foam you wipe away. shes quiet after that, but the head rolls continue and at one point she puts her paw on you. you think she wants you to hold it so you do. you’ll find out soon she wasn’t aware you were there or that you were holding her paw. you don’t know what to do so you trim her nails; she never let you trim the ones on her back leg so you do that. the others are fine. she has a matted chunk of fur you never saw on this paw. you trim it up and hear the sound of a truck stopping near the house. you go outside and two women in MHS uniform walk up: they see you crying and understand, one of them had a pet die recently. they ask dad if its okay to go inside, if theres other pets, what the situation is besides “the dog is dying”. when they come in your sister tells Bear “Bear, i know you’re not gonna like this, but there are TWO strangers here!” and she doesn’t react. the one lady speaks to dad while the other speaks to you and your sister. its explained they are going strait to the humain society with Bear because of her condition. Bear doesn’t loll her head, but she is pressing into Haley’s knee. Its explain she will be put down at the society. Its explained since they are taking her you can’t be with Bear in the room when they euthanize her. you remember how angry you got at a class mate when they said they hated these people for euthanizing dogs and you want to show him Bear. you want to scream at him “You think she can survive this?”. the lady says something about a paw print and it is explained unless we want to Take The Body Back you can’t have the ashes. you think about that and almost vomit right there in the living room while you pet Bear. Haley breaths out “fuck” and shes crying just as much as you. Haley says we can’t wait to take her some place else and the ladies agree. you want to go with them but you can’t, its not allowed. you want Bear’s ashes but the thought of going in, getting Her Body, and Holding On To It Until You Or Your Parents Or Sister Find A Cremation Service horrifies you and one of the ladies expresses she herself could never do that- she would break. Bear is going to be cremated with all the other dogs that need to be cremated At The End Of The Month. They have a guy that comes by. they’re going to send you a paw print- they were going to do that if you wanted it or not. Bear lolls her head and presses into Haley’s knee again. Dad asks how much this will all cost and the second lady leaves. “we don’t charge”. the lady comes back with a blanket and a rope leash you’ve seen on that Animal Planet show where they follow around Humaine society members and film them working. you tell Bear they have a blanket, just for her! the lady loops the rope leash around Bear’s neck and mom finally sees Bear. she asks all these questions that haley answers “thats how its been all morning.” Bear gets muzzled and the two women hoist her up onto the blanket and wrap her up. her nose sticks out and you reach out to wipe the foam from her chin but they move away and take her to the van. you follow them out and your legs are trembling. Haley says good bye first and thats when you learn Bear Had A Stroke. A very bad Stroke. Shes seen it lots of times. her own dog died of it. seeing a dog go though a stroke is terrifying. when they survive its heartwarming but they never survive ones this bad. mom says she wants to give Bear a treat. “She wouldn’t eat it. shes checked out up here.” she taps her head. “She doesn’t even know shes been moved. She probably doesn’t even hear your daughter, ma’am.” Haley gets out of the van and you climb in. you rest your head on Bear’s neck and tell her how much you lover her, how she was always a good girl. How you’ll see her again. “not soon” you assure her because you know Bear was always worried about you. she did everything she could to be by your side. “I’ll be okay. You’re going to be okay too!” you tell her and you’re positive she isn’t breathing anymore. you pet her again and climb you. the humanie society lady gives you a hug and it takes you a minute but you hug her back. she has good advice and assures your family you took great care of Bear. they say if you need anything to call them, and they remind you that if you get mail from them not to throw it out- it’s Bear’s paw print. the van leaves and you wail into your dad’s chest. mom ushers everyone inside and you stare at Bear’s food bowl. She didn’t get to eat breakfast. you and your sister sit in her room. you cry and shutter as you watch youtube on the xbox. it hits you that you should eat something but the thought of going into the living room rips a scream from you. your sister gets yo some water- she gets you three glasses of water- and she makes parsnip chips. you can barely sip the water and you eat the chips because you havn’t eaten all day since 9am and its 4pm now. you realize how long Bear suffered and you want to vomit. you realize how long Bear suffered. and you want to vomit. eventually Haley wants to go to bed, so you get up. you don’t want to be alone, you don’t want to be alone, she didn’t get to have breakfast she isn’t here anymore she wasn’t even aware you were comforting her you were useless and powerless you decide to stare at the ceiling as you walk into the living room and notice how quiet it is now that Bear isn’t barking you pawing at the standing fan trying to knock it down because she didn’t like it. you make yourself some chicken nuggets and fall to your knees in a silent scream. you go non verbal as your sister comes in to give you the water you left in her room and she hugs you. you eat your nuggets. you stare at Bear’s bed. you decide to make a tumblr post.

Death isn’t quiet and peaceful. Death is hearing your dog scream as she has a stroke.

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