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riptide98 · 7 months ago

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title: wishin’ you were kind enough to be cruel about it (from cool about it by boygenius)

word count: 4437

desc: the riptide captains have some chats. gillion stops breathing. chip opens up. jay socializes. we think.

there’s always something new to find on islands you haven’t been on before, especially if they’re as tiny as honeydew isle. gentle clouds, forever blossoming trees, warm breezes that feel like soft kisses against rough skin, small-town population where almost everyone knows each other, sweet smells filling the air....what’s not to love? it’s cozy, it’s somewhere where you can feel at home no matter if you live here or not, it’s beautiful.

it’s hard to see it all, though, when you’re floating in a pond and thinking about how you nearly killed your best friend. or, at the very least, trying not to.

gillion stares through the pink-white petals of the trees above him, watching them cascade down around his body, some fluttering gently to rest upon his skin as he floats on the surface of the small pond. its waters are shockingly clear, the small fish swimming around and plant life that thrive in the freshwater completely visible underneath him. he doesn’t exactly know how long he’s been out here, but it’s likely the majority of the day since he came out at sunrise and it’s close to sunset at this point; the clouds are beginning to clear, which, as he’s learned over the two days he’s already been here, is a sure sign the day is coming to a close. he takes a deep breath, exhaling before dropping down into the water for a moment—sitting, breathing, composing. after a few beats, no more than a minute, he surfaces and climbs out of the small body of water. the warm wind catches his wet hair, the green strands gently blowing around his face. he grabs the towel jay had brought out to him a few hours ago for some ungodly reason, because who would the moisture master be without his moisture? he barely runs it over his mop of seaweed-green locks so they’re not dripping everywhere, for the sake of everyone else, and begins his, as always, barefoot trek back to the house.

it’s quite large, said house, considering that it was originally meant to house just three—five? the twins’ stories were unclear—people, but it’s cozy nonetheless. like a large wood cabin, it has vines creeping up its sides with small white flowers curled in on themselves growing off them. the decor is what one would likely think of if you said “remote cabin in the woods,” lots of scenery paintings and fairy lights and plants galore. apparently, it’d been like this since before the twins were born, but gillion can’t help but think wren had at least a minor influence over it. he hip-checks the double-action back door open, leaving it to swing lazily behind him as he steps, still dripping, despite his very halfhearted attempt to dry, into the kitchen. it’s almost shockingly empty. he’d grown used to everyone else bustling around the house, working on various projects, lounging around, all in all being very lively. it reminds him of his own crew.

“‘knew you were a fish, but damn, you like the water, don’t you?” a now familiar drawl mumbles from the couches not too far away. gillion perks his head up, slinging the towel over his shoulder and approaching the couches. he peeks over and is met with the dark gaze of one leon dawson, buried under at least five different blankets and using around three different pillows, all at various points around his body. gillion can barely even make out his face from under the cushiony pile.

“it’s nice out there,” gillion offers as a reply, mustering a small smile even though it feels like his face muscles forgot how to.

leon lets out a small, approving exhale. “this whole place is nice. way different from where i’m from.”

gillion nods.

the two awkwardly look at each other in silence for a beat. and then another. and another. and—

“hey, your buddy’s been holed up in his room all day, too. nobody’s really seen either of ‘ya today.” leon sits up from his mess of bedding, shaking out his braids. “at least you’ve come in to get food at mealtime; chipper up there hasn’t come down at all.”

gillion freezes. just slightly. “he hasn’t?”

“nope.”

more awkward staring.

“you wanna....check on ‘im?” leon licks his lips, rubbing the crust out of the corners of his eyes.

gillion swallows. “uh....uh, yeah. yeah. i’ll....do that. yeah.”

gillion has now come to the conclusion leon has very nice eyes.

“alrighty.”

“yep.”

silence. staring. still.

leon awkwardly nods. “i’ll be here.”

“o-kay.”

gillion does not, in fact, move to go upstairs. he, instead, stands behind the couch, still staring at leon.

“you....gonna go up?” awkward eye shifting.

“yep.”

he still does not move.

“....anytime soon?”

gillion feels his gaze begin to slightly unfocus. still standing.

some moments pass, the awkward staring contest gillion, for some reason, can’t bring himself to break, well, not breaking. after what feels like an eternity, gillion takes a breath and moves his gaze to the stairs. his lungs feel like they’re crying with joy as he takes deep gulps of air. apparently, if the screaming in his chest means anything, he hadn’t been fully breathing. great.

after a few deep breaths, gillion moves his hand to grab the back of the couch, squeezing it almost like his life depends on it, and then begins to, hesitantly, walk to the stairs.

“alright, man, good luck, i, uh....i guess,” leon says behind him, blankets audibly shifting. gillion attempts to say something coherent in reply but just kind of squeaks.

gillion tidestrider, champion of the undersea, hero of the deep, world’s best conversationalist.

it’s not that gillion doesn’t want to see chip; of course he does, he’s his best friend! it’s that he doesn’t want to face how chip’s dealing with what gillion did to him. he doesn’t want him to look at him with disgust and hatred because it’ll feel like his training all over again plus chip is one of his absolute best friends in the world and he never even wanted to almost rip his guts out and smite him a billion times and watch him let loose that slight tension that was still in his body and his hands would shake and he’d start bawling all over again because as much as everyone says it’s not his fault it really honestly is and he hates that everyone’s lying to him because he hates lying especially when it’s to him and he knows that if he was fully aware of what was going on he could’ve prevented that in the first place if he hadn’t followed an obviously off wren—literally anyone could have seen something was up even if they didn’t know her—into the basement and realized what fucked up shit was happening he could’ve stopped it all from happening and chip would just be doing regular post-revival recovery and it wouldn’t be his fault and everything would be fine but it’s really not fine no matter how much he says it and how much everyone says it is and how much he’s told it’s going to be because he knows it’s not going to be and it’s going to affect everyone for the rest of forever and it’ll be his fault forever and always.

you know?

so there’s some hesitation as his hand hovers over the handle that leads to the room chip has been staying in. understandably, right? it’s not like gillion doesn’t almost want to curl into a ball and sob every time he imagines seeing chip again. yeah, he was with him no matter what when he was out, but now that’s he’s up and about again? gillion can’t bring himself to face him. it almost hurts physically, like he’s the one getting his heart ripped out and eaten by some crazy spider lady.

and of course he shocks himself when he, almost on autopilot, grabs the handle and clicks it down, opening the door.

the scene gillion is greeted with is so serene but so heavy with some sort of sadness it makes his gut twist just a bit tighter. the window is open, casting the first slivers of golden light across the bed and the hunched figure sitting on it.

chip’s back is mostly to the door as he’s facing the window, but gillion can see the slightest peek of his brown eyes, glowing almost like molten bronze in the muted yellow glow of the sun. his mahogany hair shines slightly red in the soft light, quite visibly unkempt, like he’d just woken up as it curls around his sleepy face and down onto his shoulders. he’s shirtless, exposing the flame tattoos gillion is so familiar with but also ones he forgot about, like the small coral crown and bluebird, and ones he’s never even seen, i.e the familiar “nk” crescent moon gillion constantly looks down at his own wrist on chip’s lower back. scars litter chip’s exposed, tanned skin, and his arms cradle an unfamiliar guitar so gently it’s like he’s holding something fragile, something easily breakable. his fingers expertly move up and down the frets, playing a soft yet melancholy tune that makes gillion’s shoulders relax just a bit. chip stares out the window at the forever blooming trees, his hands moving almost on their own, like he’d played this tune a million times before. maybe he had.

chip doesn’t look over when gillion clicks the door open.

he doesn’t look over when gillion stands and watches him in silence for several minutes, listening to the gentle plucking and strumming of the strings.

he does look over, however, when gillion makes another involuntary squeak.

chip whips around, his hair falling around his face in a way that the light almost gives him a flaming halo around his head, fingers falling silent on the neck of the guitar. “fuck, gil, how long have you been standing there?” his voice is hoarse, either from disuse or maybe sleep. it’s hard to tell since gillion is too busy trying to make himself not shut the door, run away, and hide that he can’t figure it out, much less respond.

chip blinks at him. “gil?”

“that’s me,” gillion squeaks out. definitely playing it cool. yep.

chip shifts his body around to face gillion, running a hand down his face, and it’s only then gillion notices how bloodshot his eyes are and the shimmering streaks down his face. shit. he’d been crying.

“is everything okay? you’re turning bluer than usual.” chip’s tone is somewhat playful, but his concern is obvious. and what does he mean by—?

ah. there’s his lungs squeezing again.

fuck.

gillion takes a deep breath—stupid brain making him forget to breathe again. “yeah. yep. i’m. fine.” way to go, tidestrider, definitely smooth with it!

he takes another deep breath, trying to compose himself. “i just heard you hadn’t come out of here all day and i wanted to....” he trails off. what exactly is he doing here?

“what, check on me?” a small grin is etched on chip’s lips as he rubs his eyes again. “i’m fine, just havin’ an off day. am i allowed to have those?”

despite chip’s tone being lighthearted and joking, gillion can’t help the sinking in his gut at his words.

almost repeating the scene from earlier, the two of them stare at each other in silence.

“gil?”

gillion snaps out of it faster this time, blinking rapidly and finally fully entering the room, shutting the door behind him. “yeah, i came to check on you— sorry, am i being, like, weird? it’s an off day for me too, i was at a pond i found all day and i just kind of floated there for basically the whole day and really only left to eat— have you eaten today? i was told you hadn’t left here all day and that just hit, that you probably haven’t eaten, i mean—”

“gil, buddy, relax.” chip is suddenly in front of him, guitar strapped across his back, one of his hands on gillion’s shoulder and squeezing gently.

“when the fuck did you get there?” gillion whispers.

chip’s gaze is full of concern, those bloodshot brown eyes trying to meet gillion’s. gillion doesn’t let him. nuh uh. not. happening.

“gil. look at me.”

“why?” gillion’s voice begins to tremble, as do his hands.

“because i want you to?”

“i should be the one concerned about you, you’re the one i practically gutted and who hasn’t left his room all day, at least i was outside—”

“gil. gillion. gillion tidestrider.”

gillion’s gaze remains firmly locked on the ground. when did chip’s nails get painted? they look nice. black, but there’s this subtle red-orange glitter overtop that gives it a really cool fiery effect—

his shoulder is squeezed. “look at me. please.”

gillion keeps his head bent but flicks his eyes up to chip’s for less than a second before returning them to the ground.

“gillion.”

at the sound of guitar strings being hit and then muted, gillion feels a hand, chip’s hand, leave his shoulder for a moment, come back to cup his face, and tilt it upward—sometimes he forgets how tall chip is. he finally meets chip’s eyes, brown sand crashing into blue waters.

“what’s wrong?” chip practically whispers. gillion feels a pressure akin to banging against the backs of his eyes as chip runs a thumb across his cheek, as gentle as the wind outside.

“i fucked up,” gillion breathes. “with you. didn’t i?”

chip looks genuinely taken aback. “how did you fuck up with me?

“i stabbed you.”

“okay, well, dude, that—”

“that wasn’t my fault, it was the ghost or whatever they’re calling it, everyone knows i didn’t want or mean to, blah blah blah, yeah, i know, you don’t think jay or wren or everyone says that to me, like, every two seconds?”

“i’m just trying to help—”

gillion almost laughs, but it comes out as more of a strangled snort. “you shouldn’t be helping me, chip, i should be helping you! that’s the whole reason i came up here! to make sure you were okay and to let you talk to me if you weren’t and i’d go downstairs and raid the kitchen for us and maybe find jay and bring her up here and we’d snack and chat and do the silly stuff we always do! but of course i had to go and make a mess of things and make it all about me, didn’t i?” he throws his hands up, choking back tears—when did he start crying?—and almost collapsing back toward the wall. his back crashes against it as he slides down, sobs and hiccups slipping from his lips as he buries his head in his arms, face dripping. “i could’ve fucking killed you. why the fuck are you still being so nice to me?”

“because, gil. hey, just relax for a second.” chip crouches in front of gillion, pushing the latter’s hair out of his face. gillion shakes, hiccuping back tears. “you’re my best friend. plus, and as much as everyone has said this already—” he holds up a finger before gillion can speak up as he lifts his head. “—it wasn’t your fault. you’d never have done it otherwise, right?”

gillion remains silent, sniffing.

“gil?”

“no. i wouldn’t.”

“i didn’t think so.” chip sighs, sitting down properly in front of gillion. “gil, you’re one of the best people i’ve ever met. you wouldn’t do that without your hand being forced, i know that. we all know you wouldn’t. you like to psych yourself up over the smallest of mistakes for absolutely no reason, even when nobody’s mad at you for them. so. it wasn’t your fault, nobody’s holding it against you, so why are you getting all worked up about it?”

gillion brings his head up, looking chip dead in his eyes, vision swimming with more tears threatening to brim over. “because you should be mad, and you should be pissed at me— gods, chip, why are you being so nice about it?”

chip exhales gently, a soft, sad smile on his lips. “i don’t think you realize that i honestly can’t imagine a world where i’m mad at you for this. i’ve said it so many times, and i’ll say it again, man, it’s not your fault.” he brushes stray hairs away from gillion’s face. “remember when we lost felipe?”

gillion nods, but his face contorts with confusion. “yeah, but what does that have to do with any of—”

“you blamed yourself for his disappearance even though you couldn’t have prevented it. it all happened because of something out of your control, yet you still tried to pin all of it on yourself.” chip raises his eyebrows. “are we seeing a pattern yet?”

gillion drops his gaze. oh, he sees a pattern, all right. a perfectly reasonable one, because despite both of these situations happening because of things out of his control they’re still, basically, entirely his fault. and for some reason nobody is willing to admit that.

a heavy sigh. “gil. c’mon, man, hey. look at me.”

gillion bites his lip as tears spill over his cheeks again. his chest feels constricted, squeezed, as he tries to take a deep breath to steady himself. “i’m sorry.”

“you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, gil,” chip says. “nothing, okay? i don’t want to have to make the same points over and over again, so let me just say this one more time so it’ll stick in that fishy brain of yours.” he flicks gillion’s forehead playfully, and gillion lets out a wet, genuine chuckle, but drops it when chip speaks again. “this wasn’t your fault. this was out of your control. you had no way of preventing any of this from happening. it’s. not. your. fault.”

the sun, at this point, has set enough that behind chip, through the window, the sun glows golden. rays peek out from the soft strands of his hair and show through onto his face. it’s such a gentle scene that gillion has to choke back another sob.

gillion takes a deep breath, exhaling shakily and wiping the tears off his face with a nod. “okay.”

chip gives him a soft smile. “okay?”

gillion returns it. “yeah.”

“alright.” chip squeezes gillion’s shoulder again, rubbing his thumb back and forth gently.

“now can we do what i came up here to do?” gillion asks with a sniff.

chip gives him a wider grin. “and that is?”

“making sure you’re okay.”

that grin slips off of chip’s face almost in an instant. “i’m fine, gil.”

gillion steels his jaw. “you haven’t left your room all day.”

“because i’m recovering? and i’m fucking exhausted?” chip runs a hand down his face. “i’ll be perfectly fine, gil. again, just relax.”

gillion wipes off the remainder of his tears and wraps his hand around the one chip has cradling his face, pulling it down and leading him to the bed. he gently moves the guitar out of the way, bringing his own free hand up to chip’s face. “you can talk to me. if you let me say whatever the fuck i just said to you, you can talk about how you’re doing to me.”

“i’m fine, gil. just tired.”

“the tears on your face when i came in say otherwise.”

“gillion. dude.”

“talk to me.”

“gil.”

“you did this same thing to me, didn’t you?”

“this is different, you were obviously in some fucked-up mental state— that’s a shitty thing to say, i’m sorry—”

“and you crying when i walked in? what’s that? not a fucked-up mental state?”

chip sighs, running a hand down his face and through his hair. “gil, all’s it is is that i’m hurting—physically—because this fucking revival makes me sore, like, all the time, plus i’m fucking exhausted, and i just need time to rest. okay? that’s all it is.”

gillion swallows. taking his hand off chip’s face and dropping it into his own lap. “are you sure? i’m not trying to force you to talk, i’m just....” he sighs trailing off and looking out the window at the golden sunset.

“giving me the option?” out of the corner of his eye, gillion sees chip give him a gentle smile.

“yeah. i just want you to know i’m here for you if you need me. since you were here for me. always.”

a gentle silence falls over the two of them. the quiet chirping of birds outside twirls through the air as the sun sinks lower, casting a molten orange light around the room.

“i just....feel useless, y’know?” chip says after a beat, biting at his cheek. “like everyone’s been treating me like i’m made of glass, like i’m fragile, like one small amount of pressure will break me just because i died and got brought back or what-the-fuck-ever.”

gillion blinks, shocked. “you’re not fragile! you’re just recovering and we’re just—”

chip bobs his head, basically nodding. “yeah, yeah. yeah. yeah, but you came in here—”

gillion reaches over and takes one of chip’s hands in his own. “i came in here worried you would be pissed at me and that i ruined everything, not worried i was going to break you, chip. okay? i wasn’t scared that i’d do anything to make it worse—that’s mostly because i honestly wasn’t even planning on getting close for fear i would hurt you again, but i do not think you’re fragile.”

chip sniffles, wiping his free hand down his face. “still, you guys are, like, walking on eggshells around me, like one wrong move and i’ll....” he chokes back a sob, almost aggressively wiping tears away. “fuck.”

“hey....” gillion swallows his own residual tears and takes his other hand to wipe away chip’s. “i’m sorry. especially for how i came in here, i was just anxious about how you felt about me after everything—”

chip exhales gently. “gil, you’re fine, seriously. i just hate feeling like i’m a liability now because—”

“you are not a liability, chip.” gillion rubs his thumb against chip’s cheekbone, wiping stray tears. “you’re one of the strongest of us! you’re incredibly far from a liability. you’re hurting. you were hurt. you’re not one hundred percent right now, and that’s okay. you don’t need to beat yourself up about it.”

“says you,” chip works out through soft sobs, laughing quietly.

gillion chuckles, rubbing away his own salty streaks. “it’s not wrong for you to feel fragile, but i just want you to know you aren’t.” gillion drops his hand on chip’s face down to his shoulder, squeezing. “right now, maybe. but always? of course not. we just need to give this time, give all three of us time, to recover and feel okay again. you’re not the only one who’s feeling shitty right now, and i’m not trying to override how you feel, but just know you’re not the only one upset and you don’t need to be alone, alright?”

chip nods, his smile having returned. “and you neither.” he pokes a finger into gillion’s arm playfully. “if you’re fucking yourself up over me being pissed at you or literally anything, man, come talk to me, okay?” he slings his arm around gillion’s shoulders, grin wide.

gillion laughs quietly, leaning his head against chip’s shoulder as the latter brings him closer. chip puts his own head on top of gillion’s as the two of them, shifting around to face it, watch the last dregs of the sun drop down below the horizon.

the door clicks open about maybe an hour later, gillion sleepily poking his head up from where it rests against chip’s shoulder. a sliver of red hair peeks through the door before all he sees is a wide grin and a blur of—

“where the fuck have you two been?” jay whisper-shouts as she slams onto the bed, her full weight pressing against gillion’s legs as chip groans behind him.

“sleeping, talking about our feelings, having breakdowns, what about you?” chip mumbles, lighthearted sarcasm dripping from his voice. jay peeks her head up from where she’d thrown it down, the smile that was wide on her face dropping down a bit.

“what d’you mean?” she says, sitting up with her legs crossed.

“just not feelin’ good today,” chip replies, a sleepy smile on his face. “i’m feelin’ better now, though.”

jay nods. “thats fair, it’s....a lot.” she looks over. “gil?”

gillion blinks, still half asleep. “wh.... oh! oh, i’m, yeah, i’m alright, just was a bit anxious.”

jay tilts her head slightly. “about....?”

“oh, you know, the usual ‘what if my best friend hates me because i almost killed him’ anxiousness.” gillion gives a playful smile, but drops it when jay’s doesn’t return.

“i’m here too, if either of you want to talk to me!” jay exclaims, that smile returning before she lightly tackles the both of them back down onto the bed.

“we would, if we had any clue where you are,” chip remarks, smirking. “you accuse us of going missing when nobody has any clue where you are, ms. jay ferin.”

jay rolls her eyes. “okay, first of all, shut the fuck up.” she lightly punches chip on the shoulder, eliciting a playful groan from him. “second of all, i’m literally just in town. you guys can come find me literally whenever; i’m just working on projects with quinni.”

“ah, made some friends while i was schnoozin’, i see.” chip smirks, yelping when jay reaches to muss his hair.

“yeah, no thanks to you—”

“all thanks to me, actually, we wouldn’t even be here without me.”

jay sticks her lip out in a pout but breaks into another grin. “alright, you guys are obviously ready to crash—” jay gestures to the two of them, still half curled around each other. “—and i’m liking the cuddle pile. may i?” she begins to climb around to chip’s other side, wrapping herself around his back and tucking her head in the divot in chip’s collarbone.

“guess you didn’t need permission,” gillion mumbles, smile wide on his face as he reaches over to muss jay’s fiery mess of hair. jay giggles, taking gillion’s hand and shaking it around lightly.

“bedtime, you weirdos. i said so.” jay smiles brightly before snuggling in, wrapping her arms around her co-captains and pulling them closer.

“g’night, jayjay.”

“good night.”

“i’m taking you guys around town tomorrow. no objections.”

“bet. sounds awesome.”

“are you being sarcastic?”

“genuinely, no—”

“good night, you both, i am tired, go to bed.”

#jrwi riptide #findingflowers #jrwi chip #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi fanfiction #jrwi au #FINDINGFLOWERS AU FIC TWO!!!!! BIG DAY!!!#this one is muuuuch softer and cozier not really angst more hurt/comfort :)#i love it when the gays are gay

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ioaezz · 1 month ago

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HOTD ♱ THE 30TH! 𝒟AEMON 𝒯HE 𝒞AT

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ YEARS UPON YEARS THE ELDER SISTER of rhaenyra targaryen wondered as to how her luck never seemed to run out, that is until her unfortunate death that left the valyrian family shaken. whether she was blessed or cursed was up to perception as rhaenyra gave birth to her first child whom shared an eerily similar appearance with the late princess. . .

𝒫AIRING. . . slight!erryk cargyll x fem!oc, platonic!targ!family x fem!oc

𝒲ORDCOUNT. . . 3.4k

𝒢ENRE. . . teeny tiny bit of romance, fluff, series

𝒲ARNINGS. . . mention of marriage with a minor?

ℐOAEZZ. . . don’t worry gwayne will appear in the next part! but unfortunately it’ll take a while before cregan will make an appearance ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა

𝓢treaks of sunlight fell upon Maedora Targaryen's carefully sculpted features. Her eyelashes fluttered against her rosy cheeks as she lay motionlessly on the moist grass. She quietly listened to the delicate breeze around her as spring graced the kingdom once again.

She curled her fingers around a couple of blades of grass, the moisture that rested on them tickling her warm skin. A contented sigh left her tinted lips, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards as she relished the early morning air.

"Princess!" A shrill voice pierced through the atmosphere, scaring off any animals that might have been near. Clamorous footsteps followed, stomping down any flower on the way toward the oldest princess who remained unbothered. Only when the figure of Susannah Vaughn loomed over her did she choose to open her eyelids, revealing a pair of lively lilac eyes.

Her handmaiden wore an expression of both exhaustion and aggravation as she looked down at her princess who gazed at her with a barely hidden amusement. The white-haired girl moved to sit upright as her friend quickly crouched down to rid the back of her gown of any remaining grass or grime. A huff left the older girl at the sight of the dirtied pink gown that she helped put on earlier that morning but said nothing of it as it was a rather common occurrence.

"It is only seven in the morrow and yet, you have already managed to escape my sight," Susannah complained before sitting down beside the princess who wishfully stared at the pond in front of them. Maedora narrowly tilted her head, her eyes flickering to her friend before speaking, "I apologise about the continuous worry that I seem to cause you Suzy, but I merely could not stand to listen to Septa Cantrell any longer."

"She is quite a bore," her handmaiden agreed with a nod, pressing her knees up to her chest as she rested her chin upon them. Maedora turned to the older girl who reciprocated her stare before they both burst into soft giggles that filled the empty clearing.

Once their laughter subdued they mutually decided to relish the quietness for a while more, both merely wishing to forget their duties and watch the captivating sunrise in a place where nobody could find them. It was not uncommon for the two girls to hide away like this and once, when Susannah had just started her job as the princess' handmaiden, she had nearly gotten fired by the king himself when Maedora had disappeared for an entire day. Had it not been for the white-haired girl pleading with her father to let her keep her, she would have had to become a septa like her parents initially had desired.

"What kind of flower would you be?" The inquiry snapped Susannah out of her daze as she glimpsed at her friend with wide eyes. She pondered for a second, deep in thought before clearing her throat.

"I suppose I'd like to be a poppy. What about you?" Only mere seconds passed before Maedora replied, evidently already knowing what she had wanted to say. "Peonies," Susannah mulled over it for a bit before nodding, visualizing her friend as a lone light pink peony in a meadow that had horses freely running around.

"A fine choice," were the only words she said as she kept her imagination to herself, feeling silly that she'd even think about something like that at the age that she was.

"Perhaps we should go back, your father would wish for you to break your fast with him and your family," Susannah proposed, already pushing herself off the ground. The princess nodded in reluctance before she got up with the assistance of her friend, her dress stained, but she paid it no mind as the two held hands while sauntering back towards the castle.

However, just before they could leave the clearing, Susannah felt a tug on her arm and when she looked back, she caught sight of Maedora leaning down to pluck numerous Daffodils. The girl smiled at the flowers in her hand before she placed one of them behind her friend's ear. Her handmaiden grinned at her before taking the others to put them between her braids, the yellow flowers harmonizing with her silvery-golden strands that were braided intricately.

"Now we can go," Maedora smiled softly at her friend before tugging her toward the castle where her family was already waiting for her, not minding her unpunctuality as it was a relatively standard affair. The stroll back was brisk, with no small talk as the two girls were lost in their minds. However, Maedora made sure to greet everyone she knew, so as to please her mother. Quickly enough they reached the dining chamber and once the guards had spotted them they opened the doors before announcing her arrival.

The two girls let go of one another, Susannah scurrying off where the other maids of the castle ate, while Maedora strode towards her family with a spring in her step. "Maedora," her mother beamed, delighted to see her daughter before kissing her on her cheek as the princess made her rounds around the table.

"You look beautiful this morning," her mother complimented as she gazed upon her daughter, who seemed put together for once in her life. Her hair wasn't falling out of her braid, her face wasn't smudged with something which was usually either food or soil, and the ends of her dress weren't ripped. The eldest daughter smiled at her mother, nodding her head before spinning to greet her father, and Aemma let out an exasperated sigh at the sight of the back of the dress that was stained from the damp grass.

"I am glad you could find time in your elaborate schedule to break your fast with your dear family," her father chuckled joyfully as he as well, placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, his eyes shifting to meet those of his wife who watched on in endearment. "I was thinking you would be swimming with the frogs by now," Rhaenyra teased before engulfing her older sister into a hug as she giggled, reminiscing the summer when she leaped into the pond to cool off while playing with the frogs.

Ser Harwin Strong was not exceptionally cheerful to be her temporary knight that day, seeing that he was the one who had to fish her out of the water.

"Perhaps in a few moons I could go for another swim," Maedora quipped before sitting down beside Rhaenyra, already reaching for the carrot cake. Her mother sent her a disapproving look, but the younger girl entirely ignored her as she stuffed her mouth with her favorite treat. "I like the flowers in your hair. Which ones are those again?" Viserys questioned, attempting to recall all those complicated flower names that his oldest daughter had divulged to him on multiple occasions.

"Those are Daffodils, father," the girl hummed while Rhaenyra scoffed at the way that her sister was eating, you'd think she was starved for weeks on end. "Ah yes! Lovely flowers, dear," he smiled heartily at his eldest who reciprocated the gesture enthusiastically. When she'd somewhat chewed through the massive chunk of cake in her mouth, she turned to her sister who was taking a sip from her goblet.

"Iz Alizend nof eafen gid uc?" Aemma scrunched her face up in disgust while Rhaenyra snorted making their mother sigh in utter disbelief, wondering whether she'd truly raised a pair of princesses or some commoner's sons. "Swallow your food before speaking, sister. I could not understand you," Maedora took a gulp of her water, to wash away any food before turning back to her sister who was eyeing her expectantly.

"I wondered whether Alicent would join us to break our fast," she recited, hoping to see the older girl around as she took a liking to her. "No, she decided to spend the morning with her family upon her father's request since her brothers are visiting from Old town," Rhaenyra seemed quite irked that her friend seemed to be elsewhere but Maedora merely hummed before resuming her breakfast.

"Maedora, dear, your six and tenth name day is the following week, and yet you have not found a husband," Aemma abruptly declared. The older princess nodded aimlessly while watching the birds fly around outside which made her mother feel desperate to understand her firstborn child who seemed to be prancing around through life without a single thought or worry in her mind.

She truly adored Maedora, but she was already passing the customary age of marriage and still indicated entirely no interest in anyone. At one point, she was even prepared to marry her daughter to someone of common background if that was what she deeply desired. Rhaenyra frowned at the words that hung in the air while their father sat at the head of the table in uncomfortable silence, choosing to remain silent for the time being. If she were to be honest, the younger princess did not wish to see her sister married off to some Lord that wouldn't understand her. Even though she herself could not find common ground with her sister occasionally, she loved her regardless. "Mother-" Rhaenyra began but was quickly interrupted by Maedora, who suddenly decided to respond.

"I'll wed the man of Rhaenyra's choosing," everyone at the table gaped at her with broad eyes, even the maids ceased in their movements for a second.

"What now?" Viserys spluttered as a wide Cheshire grin started spreading across Rhaenyra's face and dread began to fill their parents at the sight. "I have truly no interest in marriage, but I trust Rhaenyra to select a respectable man for me," Maedora heaved already becoming miserable about this marriage talk, not that she cared much, which was quite evident to her family members.

"Are you certain that-?"

"I accept! I shall find a fine husband sister," Rhaenyra excitedly interrupted her mother as she jumped up from her seat, rushing to find her friend to commence a search for a groom for her older sister. Aemma pursed her lips as she scrutinized how Rhaenyra practically skipped out of the dining chambers while Viserys offered her a sheepish smile as he, too, didn't know what to do in this situation. Their attention then turned towards their eldest, who was already pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Would you like some tea mother?" She offered, not looking up from her cup as if in deep thought. Aemma hummed, motioning for the maid to leave it be since it should usually be their job to pour the drinks in. "And you father?" Viserys nodded, handing her his cup while looking at her wistfully. His little girl was all grown now, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The three proceeded to sip their teas in silence as the two adults were still straining to deduce what to say to their daughter, who remained unbothered. "I shall take my leave, I believe I saw a cat on my way here," Maedora bid her parents goodbye before walking out, not paying Susannah any mind as she joined her side again. "Ser Erryk?" Viserys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as the knight stepped forward dutifully.

"Yes, my grace?"

"Follow her, will you? Make sure she stays out of trouble," the knight solemnly nodded, sharing a brief glance with his brother before pursuing the oldest princess who was known around the palace to put herself in rather unfortunate situations.

"Where are we going, princess?" Susannah questioned as she walked beside her friend who seemed to have a destination in mind. "The garden," her answer was short as she knew her friend wouldn't want her to go scouring for stray cats. Her handmaiden simply nodded, deciding not to pry as they wandered through familiar paths that they had taken earlier in the morning, but this time they turned left instead of right.

Nobles, maids, and knights alike bowed to the King's eldest daughter as they walked past one another, but Maedora paid them no mind, merely nodding her head at them out of courtesy until they reached the royal garden. The sun had now properly settled at the top of the sky, radiating warmth which was a stark contrast to the cool corridors of the castle. Maedora quickly started looking around while Susannah chose to take a seat on one of the benches while no guards were around to scrutinize her.

"What are you even looking for Dora?" Her friend sighed as she played with the ends of her hair. Many deemed the girl a lazy maid, and they weren't necessarily wrong, Susannah frequently complained about her ruined hair or how her feet hurt and often times dozed off during her hours of work, but Maedora liked her and knew she was faithful to her, so she stayed. "A cat," her reply was grunted as she was probing in the bushes while her handmaiden hummed.

Suddenly, a high-pitched sound captured the princess' attention as she vacated the rose bushes towards the large tree that she hadn't searched yet. "Meow!" The girl glimpsed upward only to discover a large pair of green eyes staring back at her. The cat helplessly swished its tail around, disheartened that it didn't manage to get down.

Maedora didn’t ponder much about it and decided to play hero that day, already climbing the tree clumsily. It wasn't her first time, but wearing a gown and heeled boots didn't make it any easier. Only after an extent of silence and discontented grunts did Susannah look up from her carefully manicured nails only to jump up in horror at the sight in front of her.

"Princess! That isn’t safe!" She surged towards the tree in terror, her eyes wide in both astonishment and disbelief. She then quickly spun around in the hopes of finding some guard or knight but huffed in frustration when she realized that they were truly alone. It was just in that moment that Maedora reached the sturdy branch where the cat had been stuck on and carefully sat down. She cradled the remote creature into her arms as she gazed down at her friend.

"Can you come down?!" Susannah called from below as she assessed the odd situation at hand which seemed to become a daily occurrence. "No! Not with the cat! Can you go fetch someone?" The white-haired girl replied, resolving to make herself at least a little more comfortable, as she figured it would take a while before her handmaiden would find someone who could help.

"I'll be right back!" Susannah answered before rushing away in a haste. Maedora looked down once more before resting her back against the trunk of the tree, relishing in the view that the height gave her. Her attention then diverted to the tiny cat in her arms that appeared to have settled down. It was supposed to be white, that much she could tell, but filth stained the cat's pristine fur. The princess gently moved her hand to pet its head with much care, and it only made the creature purr in satisfaction.

"What should I name you?" The girl wondered, turning her gaze back to the bustling city that seemed to come alive again after the remnants of the night had entirely faded away. "Perhaps Daemon. Your fur is the same shade as his hair," she hummed in thought, but her peace was yet again interrupted by someone who stood at the base of the tree.

Ser Erryk couldn't imagine how the princess managed to climb into a tree in the few minutes that he wasn't there. He stared up at the girl in a mix of amusement and concern as she looked down at the knight. "Princess, let me assist you down," he urged as Maedora recklessly shifted in her seat, which made his breath hitch.

"You should aid Daemon first!" The knight looked on in disarray as she presented him with a dirty white cat that simply meowed in dissatisfaction before he hesitantly nodded at her wishes. "I promise to catch uh- Daemon!" He vowed as the girl glanced at him doubtfully before choosing to trust the man and carefully letting go of the cat that quickly fell into his arms. Relief was etched on her face at the sight of Daemon safely back on the ground as Ser Erryk let go of the cat to turn his attention back to the princess.

"Can you climb down?" He surveyed, but the girl shook her head, thinking back to a past incident with Ser Harwin. "Then you'll have to jump." He started removing his silver armor, knowing it would be uncomfortable for both of them, while Maedora readied herself for the fall. Once Ser Erryk subtracted the upper half of the plates and only remained in his tunic, he nodded at her as she blindly chose to trust him not to let her fall before thrusting herself off the edge of the branch.

For a couple of seconds, she was pummeling down at a rather rapid speed, but she enjoyed the moments of free fall as she wondered whether this was how birds felt before she landed in Ser Erryk's arms. The man grunted at the sudden weight, straining to dismiss the tingles he felt in his neck where she was resting her hand to steady herself. Maedora turned to him with a grateful expression, sending him a captivating smile that could turn any man into putty, Ser Erryk being no exception.

"Thank you, Ser Erryk," she remained in his arms for a moment longer, taking no notice of the intimate proximity of their faces. "It was nothing, princess," he managed to utter, trying to commit each of her features into his mind as he was sure he'd never get an opportunity to be this close to her. As the silence hung between them, Ser Erryk realized that he was still holding her and quickly but carefully put her back down.

Maedora smiled at him but before anything else could be said, she took notice of Daemon hiding beneath a bench and rushed over to him, much to the man's astonishment. "Daemon," she cooed, and the creature required no further encouragement to leap into her awaiting arms while Ser Erryk put his armor back on. The sound of hurried footsteps approaching caught the duo's attention as they turned only to find a hysterical Susannah and Ser Harwin.

"Princess!" Her handmaiden cried out in relief before engulfing her in a hug, the two knights taking notice of the lack of professionalism of the older girl but paying no mind to it. "How did you get down?" She questioned her friend, who continued to pet the cat in her arms. "Ser Erryk assisted me," Maedora smiled at the knight in question in gratitude, who simply nodded, eyeing Ser Harwin cautiously.

"I am glad the princess is well. I shall take my leave if I am not needed," the older man grinned before departing swiftly to get back to his job. Ser Erryk hesitantly remained in place, glancing between the two girls before deciding to stay until commanded otherwise. Susannah looked the princess over in case she was injured somewhere but frowned at the sight of the animal in her arms. Daemon's bright-green eyes met hers and a hiss left the creature's small body as it inclined further into his savior who seemed to be looking at it with heart-shaped eyes.

"Isn't Daemon simply darling?" The white-haired girl seemed wholly taken by the cat, while both Susannah and Ser Erryk grimaced.

"... I am sure he'll look better after a good wash," her handmaiden weakly smiled and the princess nodded in agreement, abruptly turning on her heel to primp the cat.

"Ser Erryk would you mind helping me and my handmaiden groom Daemon? I'm certain it won't take too much of your time," Maedora requested, her feet already taking her toward her bathing chamber. "Of course, my princess," the knight's gruff voice sounded rather surprised, but he followed the duo, his hand resting on his sword that hung on his hip in case anything occurred as he thought about his princess' request.

Surely washing a cat couldn't be too difficult?

the 30TH © ioaezz, 2024.

#♱ 𝓣he 30th #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd series #hotd x oc #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf fanfic #erryk cargyll imagine #erryk cargyll x oc #rhaenyra x oc

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eleni-cherie · 2 years ago

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among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.8

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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The gang didn't waste any time.

With their climbing gear, they lowered themselves down and left the rock, making their way around the pond to the old pirate ship.

It looked impressive, an intimidating aura exuding from the giant builtand its historical value. Even if the signs of the time became visible from up close. It had surely lost the shiny glory it once had hundreds of years ago and the ship's back was partially underwater while a big whole on the side was gracing the front part of it. And yet, it remained a breathtaking view.

After a short dip into the water, they eventually reached it. The destructed side providing them with a good spot to climb up and get inside. Everything was inclining due to the ship's prone posture, making navigating through the old wooden space rather difficult.

"Alright, where's the treasure now?" "Let's simply devide since it's such a big area. And whoever finds anything, calls the others," Jimin suggested. It made sense covering more space in shorter time, especially since they somewhat in a hurry. And so they split, everyone going to seperate directions. Jimin went to the ship's bow towards crew's quaters, Arabella went to the back where the officer's quaters were located at, Yoongi upstairs to the main deck and Taehyung decided to go downstairs to the supply decks.

The deeper into the ship they proceeded, the stuffier the air became. The subtle smell of moisture and wood from centuries of being forgotten there, getting more and more distinguishable.

Shoving some wooden boxes aside which had probably fallen there when the whole thing tilted, Arabella reached a door to what looked like a small bedroom. Most furniture was decaying and covered by a thick layer of dust and dirt. The planks creaking underneath her feet and she slowed her steps, afraid of them collapsing right underneath her.

She reached inside her jacket then, fishing out her flashlight to illuminate the sparsely lit room. Letting the light wander over the shelves and drawers, eventually lending on a wooden box on the desk which quickly caught her interest due to its shiny material. She opened it carefully, afraid it might crumble into dust at a wrong move. And her eyes widened in glee when seeing its content. It wasn't exactly the kind of treasure she expected but she wouldn't decline the pearl necklace. Its golden pedant decorated with countless tiny diamonds. Carefully, she picked the necklace up to put it around her neck, before zipping her jacket back up to protect it from any commotion. She decided to roam around the rest of the quarters, in case there were any more jewelery or hints to the actual treasue but soon she had to realise there wasn't anything else of value besides diaries with mostly faded notes. She sighed, brushing off the dust from over her clothes when suddenly the distinct noise of a uncocking gun echoed behind her.

"Not so fast, Arabella."

She tensed. The blood in her vessels freezing when hearing this familiar voice again. It had been years, over a decade actually, but even so she'd never forget it. Not that she hadn't tried, pushing it into the furthest back of her mind. Yet she hadn't been able to, as much as she'd wished to.

Slowly raising her hands, she turned around. Facing the woman of her nightmares and earliest childhood memories with a blank expression.

"How did you even find this place?" She did her best to cover her seething emotions, keeping her voice stable.

"It wasn't too hard," Kir smirked with her gun pointing right at Arabella's head, at the space between her eyes, "While searching up the forest, we found the entrance to a tunnel and realised you and the thieves must've been there shortly before. So we simply followed your tracks, as you had also figured out the traps for us. Really, it wasn't hard to find this place."

Arabella pressed her jaw together. Yeah, 'searching up'. Rather blowing up the whole place until randomly finding something. She began weighing out her options. Frankl, it didn't look too good for her. She needed some kind of distraction to be able reaching for the berretta underneath her jacket. "I wonder if my men took care of your friends yet.." the older women wondered out then, earning her attention back. "They surely did."

Arabella's face remained stern, no sign of emotions. She knew Kir was simplyl trying to provoke her and force her to lose her focus, but she had to keep her cool and stay unfazed by her allusions if she wanted to get out there alive.

'Never show weakness in a job' had been one of the most important lessons she'd learned by them during her involuntary training. And she was determined to retain it and not let her mind get clouded in any way. Although it was hard not to think about the possibility that Kir's men did 'take care' of the guys. Of course Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi were skilled, she knew first hand, but Kir's men were in the majority and the risk remained. But she needed to suppress these kind of thoughts. She couldn't allow herself to think of Jimin and the possibility of him - No. She wouldn't think of that right now. "Anyway," Kir interrupted her thoughts and much to her surprise, lowered her gun. "I actually got a proposal for you."

Arabella arched a brow at her. "I doubt a good one," she snorted.

"Oh, I think it's a pretty good one," Kir countered with confidence, "I don't think you'll be able refusing it." "Try me." Clicking her tongue, the older woman shrugged non-chalantly. "What about you rejoining us? Would make all of our lives easier, don't you think? No hunting anymore, no attempts of eliminating you.. Doesn't that sound tempting?" "It'd be a cold day in hell if that ever happened." Kir scoffed at her expected retort, shaking her head in pretend disappointedment. "Not even if we told you your real name?" At this she saw a small sparkle in the young woman's eyes, taking it as a hint to continue. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I told you all about your parents, their names and where they lived.. How about that?" A smile filled with insincere sympathy spread over her thin lips. "It sounds nice, right? To finally know where you come from. Your origin. I know first hand how much you've always wanted that."

Arabella's mind went completely blank. It was true after all, she'd wished for an opportunity like this all her life. With the only remaining memory of her parents being the silver bracelet around her wrist, she'd forgotten everything about her past life, the lost of identity almost killing her at times. There had indeed been a time where she would've done anything to gain her memory and past life back. Perhaps if they'd offered her such a deal back then, she would've never left them in the first place. However, she knew it was too late for this now. Having this information would be useless. Perhaps it was the years that matured her, but she'd long found peace with the fact her past life would always remain in the past. After all, she'd spent the majority of her time as a thief and a spy, that was the only life she knew and was accustomed with. Knowing more about that short-lived life she couldn't even recall anmore, wouldn't change anything. It'd be pointless, especially if the price for the information was to rejoin the organisation that made her lose that life in the first place by forcefully ripping her out of it. Perhaps it was better this way. Arabella Valentine had become her true self, her true identity, by now. The one she'd carried for most part of her life, the only identity she ever knew. And besides, she had Jimin in this life. That was the only thing that truly mattered. "No, thanks."

Her answer caught the older woman off-guard, irritatin replacing the smugness on her face. And her gun quickly rose again. "Well, then. How about I don't kill your friends instead if you return? Think about it. Either all of you die or you all stay alive. And all you gotta do is join the organisation again." Taken aback by the persistence, Arabella blinked. Finally understanding. They were desperate. They needed her. Of course they did, she'd been one of their best trainees and they must've realised that it was smarter to lure her in again instead of killing her. But Kir had been careless in revealing this, she'd slipped.

And Arabella smirked internally, crossing her arms. "You know what, you must think I'm pretty dumb for believing anything that comes from your mouth," she simply said then, getting fed up with her lies. She knew Kir would kill the guys either way, no matter her choice. Only giving her false promises and hope to make her rejoin. "There's only one person in this world I trust and it sure as hell ain't you. So go ahead, shoot me! Let's get over with this. Because I'd rather die than having to work for you ever again."

A couple of shots were heard in the distance. Soon followed by the sudden tremor of a loud explosion, causing the ship to quake and Kir losing her balance, which Arabella immediately took advantage of. With a highkick she threw her opponent's gun into a corner. But Kir wasn't just letting her get away that easily. The two started fighting without their weapons and although Arabella had been trained by these people, Kir eventually managed to gain the upper hand. Pinning her down after all, her blond dishevelled hair sticking out as she bend her face over her.

She reached for her gun then, pressing it again Arabella's temple with the face of a mad woman. "Silly girl. You should've taken the offer." "Y-you can't kill me," Arabella argued, struggling to move, "Isn't that why you ordered Jimin to do it? They'll kick you out." Kir shrugged, her lips tucking into a devilish smile on her sharp features. "And who'd snitch me? You? You'll be de-" Another commotion, but Kir didn't move. Arabella swallowed. She had to play it smart of she was dead. "I see, I should feel flattered that I'm that important to you. Risking your career for an unimportant little traitor like me." Her conceited words seemed to have the wished effect, Kir's eyes twitched. She got riled up by it, about to start yelling when a much harder explosion shook the whole ship. Smoke entering the room as shouts and yells echoed from upstairs. "Fck, what's going on?" Kir muttered through gritted teeth, losing her balance which Arabella took advantage of. She raised her legs and twisted them around her waist, toppling her while her hands wrapped around the gun, snatching it away in a swift move. "Gun powder, you idiot," Arabella said then and got up while also taking out her berretta. Both guns aiming at Kir now as she started walking backwards towards the door. "The ship must still be full of it and your minions inflame it with their bullets." She decided to tie Kir with her rope to buy her some time to search for the guys and left her there, ignoring her angry shouts and empty threats. With a giggle, she stuffed the outraged woman's mouth with an old rag before disappearing into the smoke.

Unknown sillouettes were running through the corridors and she pressed herself against the wall to stay unnoticed. From the statures she could tell it was Kir's men. They seemed agitated, shouting and yelling. The word 'fire' falling then as they panickedly hurried upstairs.

A fire, of course, Arabella thought when the smell of burning wood made her cough. She quickly covered her airways with a cloth and got down on all fours to avoid breathing too much of the fume. Cautiously making her way to the main deck then when she heard another smaller explosion from the bow. The ship trembling underneath her.

Through the thick mist, she saw Kir's men jumping off the burning wreck and into the cold water in an attempt to escape. Her eyes began burning slightly and she looked around, not able spotting anything but flames in the further back. She bit her lip as a gleam of fear washed over her. Pull yourself together, she ordered herself and continued her way to the rear despite the fire.

She came across a hole which gaped in the wooden ground and as she looked down, she saw it reaching all the way down to the other thiers.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped down and landed on an uneven ground. Coughing as smoke hit her lungs. It was stronger down there. And she adjusted the cloth, taking a look around. There in its depth, behind the curtain of smoke in its depth, was a faint but certain gleaming. And Arabella gasped. Not able containing her awe at the sight of the objects around her.

The treasure. She found it.

The thing that brought them there in the first place. The thing that had kickstarted all this adventure. The whole ship's hold was filled with golden objects, artefacts, coins and jewels and she realised what she had landed on was also part of it. However, despite finally finding the main reason for the journey - from the document to the sapphire to the organisation hunting them again, the puzzles, Jimin getting shot, abducted and conditioned to kill her and them crossing the whole globe in search for it - depite all they had gone through, her heart sank when seeing it all now. What was the point if they didn't make it out in time?

Another cough escaped her lips and she propped herself up.

"Jimin? Guys?" she yelled into the smoke and began making her way deeper inside. Parts of the ground and walls being on fire between piles of gold, broken chests and cannons. She kept yelling their names when hearing dull noises from somewhere and she followed them, eventually reaching a big door with ornaments blocking her way. She coughed again. The oxygen levels were sinking quickly the more time passed and she feared she couldn't keep up much longer.

She attempted to open it, pushing it with all her body weight until the brittle wood finally caved in. "Guys?" she called out, waving with her hands to get the smoke from behind her out of her face. She never thought she'd be gladover the smell of damp wood, but it was surely better than the smell of burnt one. The room had been spared of the fire and smoke so far and she could finally take a deep breath.

The space contained more treasures and was decorated with golden statues, shining dully in the shadows. She could barely see anything there besides the golden surfaces which reflected the sparse light. And she walked further inside when something cold prickled her side and she tensed in alarm, ready to attack when a familar voice stopped her in time. "Bella?" The metallic tip instantly disappeared and Yoongi stepped out from the smoke. "Fck, Arabella. I almost sliced you," Yoongi groaned and slid and lowered his katana. Taehyung appearing behind him then, rubbing his wrists which Yoongi had just freed from the chains. "Nice way of welcoming your rescuer," she huffed to which the older guy onl chuckled innocently. "Thought you were one of these jerks," he defended himself before getting shoved to the side by Jimin who rushed to her. His tight hug startling her first, yet her arms quickly wrapped around him as well. Unbelievable relief washing over her as she eased into his tender embrace. And his arms tightend more around her.

He'd feared the worst with the ongoing explosions and the fire breaking out ouside. The feeling of seeing her alive inexpressible and alleviating.

Stepping back, he grabbed her shoulders then to inspect her carefully. Making sure she wasn't injured anywhere. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine, yeah," she calmed him with a smile, "But we should leave. The whole place will explode any minute." Jimin smiled shyly and scratched his neck. "Right, sorry." He peeked at Arabella then before giving him his waiting friends a nod. "Let's go." Since the direction she'd come from was impassable by the stretching fire and smoke, they decided to try the other way in hopes to find an exit and walked further inside.

"What happened to you anyway, why were you here?" "They chained us down and locked us in here. Probably thought it'd be funnier to just let us suffocate or burn to death," Taehyung mumbled with a scoff, pointing to Yoongi then, "Luckily they threw his katana in, too, so he could cut the chains." "What about you?" Jimin frowned then, "I was looking for you everywhere when these goons tackled me out of nowhere. I was worried sick they got you, too."

Swallowing, her gaze unintentionally fell to the side, avoiding his. "I.. well, they tried. I came across Kir.." She paused, meeting Jimin's worried eyes. He could tell how hard it must've been despite not knowing the details. And it reminded her that it okay now.

"It's fine, I gained the upper hand and could escape." She smiled and although the concern remained in his eyes, he offered her a soft smile as well.

They followed the corridor, clinging to beams and candle sockets on the walls not to slide or trip while navigating through the more and more inclining hull reaching reaching its end. Another concussion, this time rather harshly, more than the previous times, rocked the ship then, pressing them to the side. They had to dodged the heavy golden objects surrounding them not to get hit or worse, crush them. Smoke had reached their end now as well. It wasn't enough to cloud their vision yet, but they were forced to crouch and avoid breathing it in.

No, the actual bad thing was that more of the ramshackle built cracked and now sea walter was leaking in through split planks on top of everything else.

The convulsion hadn't been all terrible though. The way some of the wooden boxes and treasure had piled up mainly at one side provided a small hill that might allow them to reach the roof, where Yoongi could cut a hole so they could escape. But before he could proceed, gunshots were fired from the direction of the thicker becoming smoke. And the four quickly took cover behind the piles of gold.

"I know you're somewhere here, Arabella!" Kir's frantic yells echoed from inside the grey fume, followed by more clearly aimlessly shot gunshots. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

The bullets hitting the hull and objects spread around them in random sequences. She clearly hadn't spotted them yet but was just shooting blindly at any direction in hopes to strike lucky. But due to the obstructed view, none of them could spot Kir either, making shooting pointless unless to disclose their position. "This maniac will blow us all up," Taehyung whispered, glancing at Arabella over his shoulders, "She's too obsessed with you."

Clenching her jaw, her glance fell to the ground and she frowned. "You're right." She took a deep breath, attempting to stand up. "I'll try destracting her and buy you guys some ti-" "The hell are you talking about!" Jimin hissed, trying his best to keep his voice lownot to attract Kir's attention and grabbed her arm, pulling Arabella back down. "Don't you dare get out there!" More gunshots were heard and they all flinched as this time they'd been targeted towards their direction. He cursed under his breath, glancing at her with a scowl. "Please don't make me yell and take cover." "She won't let us go though," she argued, pulling her arm out of his grip, "I am the reason she's still here and hasn't fled like the rest of them. This ship will explode any minute, Jimin, either we all die or you let me buy you som-" "Bella, no! You know I won't let you, that'd be pure suicide!" Her eyes softened at his protests and she paused to look at him. His usual gentle face was set in a scowl, looking at her with appell and plead. Hs lips were parted, chest rising and falling fast.

A rueful smile flickered over Arabella's lips and she bent forward, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. It was one of those moments again. Those inescapable moments where they reached a standoff and the possibility of them not making it out alive was high. Not all of them at least. And Arabella knew this, even if Jimin was still in denial.

Pulling back, she came across his puzzled face. And he could tell, just by the way her slightly crooked lips curled up into a smirk that she was about to do something impetuous. "Call it love and devotion." And with that she pulled out her berretta and ran out, disappearing into the smoke before Jimin could even react. Reaching out his hand after her in vain, he failed to catch her.

Arabella was gone from his view. And his heart sank to the pits of his stomach.

The woman he loved had just decided to sacrifise herself for him and he'd just allowed it.

"She has the guts, I'll admit that," Yoongi said in an almost admiring tone, making Jimin frown. "That's not having guts, that's being irrational!" he yelled frustrated and pulled his walter ppk out. "I'll go after her, you two leave." "You know we won't do that," Taehyung said sternly before the wit returned to his voice. "Besides one against four is better than only two." Jimin wasn't able arguing with that. But he had to. Giving his friends a weak smile. "No, you gotta make it back safely to Cassandra." Taehyung's lips pressed into a thin line and he shook his head in objection. His girlfriend was someone who always put others before herself and helped anyone in need. How would he be able to ever look her in the eyes again if he bailed on his friends in a moment like this? "No. She wouldn't deserve a coward. And I surely won't send my best friend to his doom." But Jimin couldn't bring himself to agree. "Look, this is something between me, her and that damn organisation. You two have nothing to do with it and just got sucked into it." "Cut it out already," Yoongi scoffed then and got up. The grip around his sword firm "We won't leave, whether you like it or not. We chose to get sucked into it. So let's not waste any more time." Jimin was about to argue when another gunshot was heard, making him instantly jump up. It woke up his heart, making it now racing fast with fear. He could only hope Arabella had been the one firing that shot. "Come, let's save your girl," Taehyung patted his shoulder. The grip around his magnum tight. And Jimin simply nodded with a determined look, pressing his gun against his chest as they ran into the direction his girl had disappeared to.

The stuffy smell of burning material subdued from the leaking water extinguishing most fires down there. The blurry vision getting clear, but there was no sight of Arabella. Only when a far off gunshot was heard, they realised she must have lured Kir all the way back to the other side. And indeed, the reached the spot with thegaping hope where she'd jumped down. The light peeking from above them like a skylight and they eventually spotted Arabella in a close scuffle with her childhood despot.

The blonde was trying to point her hand at her when she pushed Kir's hand and instead the bullet hit the ship's wall, provoking another fire to break out at a cannon by igniting the gunpowder surrounding it only to bun out again by the puddles of water that had been created on the floor. With a strong grip, Arabella turned Kir's arm behind her back, causing the gun to land into a pile of coins. Jimin was about to run to her when Yoongi held him back, motioning with his chin to the space above the two fighting woman. A net full of gold dangled there, only held by a thin rope. "I got a plan," he said then, glancing over his shoulder to the other two, "Push her away and in that moment I'll cut the rope."

Taehyung and Jimin nodded at his plan when the ship inclined further with a thundering creak as more and more water began surrounding them and they all lost their balance for a moment. Kir slipped away from Arabella's grip, toppling right at the pile with her gun. But the brunette didn't notice as she'd fallen herself, trying to get up without slipping on the wet floor.

She grabbed the weapon and Jimin's eyes widened in alert, realising it was now or never. Before Kir could aim, Jimin had pushed Arabella away and crashed with her on the ground. In that moment Yoongi cut the rope. The net filled with precious, but most importntly, heavy golded objects dropped right on Kir, crushing her.

Arabella felt her head spinning, confused of what had just happened when her hazel irises met his brown ones. Growing round when realising Jimin was laying on top of her, propping his arms on each side of her face and shielding her body. Their noses almost touching.

They remained like this for a second more, holding her startled gaze with an intense glare. His eyes silently urging her to never do something as foolish as this ever again and she swallowed. Slowly, he began to lift himself and got up, his eyes never leaving hers as he offered her his hand, which she took without saying a word.

Her eyes then fell on the inanimate body of her enemy underneath the gold, an overwhelming feeling of liberation and devastation flowing in her chest before she quickly looked away, not baring to look at it again.

It seemed over, but the memories created by that woman would follow her for all her life and she'd to accept it.

Arabella faced Yoongi and Taehyung then, giving them a small nod. "Thanks." They gave her a small nod back. Nothing more being needed to say between them.

The water had reched their anklesby now and they hurried.

With the help of some supply boxes and chests, they managed climbing up to the higher level from where they could take the not-yet-broken stairs upstairs onto the main deck.

Taehyung was the first one climbing onto the ship's railing. Pinching his nose close, he jumped off it with no hesitation, contrary to Yoongi who grimaced. "Damn, I hate getting wet," the swordsman whined,holding his katana firmer. He squeezed his eyes shut then before taking a deep breath, eventually letting himself fall into the cold water with a splash and landing besides Taehyung. The two swimming towards the cave's opening. Jimin and Arabella climped the railing up as well and Jimin was about to follow his friends when Arabella quite unexpectedly took his hand and squeezed it firmly. "If we actually make it out alive.." she began, averting her eyes fromthe other two and finding his. ".. and we reach a point when we can't do this kind of job anymore.. let's give it another shot." "You mean.." He couldn't finish his sentence, being too taken aback by her suggestion. She simply nodded. And he smiled, squeezing her hand back and guiding it to his lips. Touching her knuckles with his plush lips. "I promise."

And they jumped with their intertwined fingers. Getting engulfed by the cold saltwater.

They swam out towards the setting sun, reaching the rocky shore where the other two were already waiting for them. Leaving the cave behind them and climbing up the cliff. Kir's men, or at least the ones who had managed escaping, were nowhere to be seen. Probably having left already, not minding whatever happened to their boss.

By now all four thieves were quite exhausted, dehydrated and covered by scratches and bruises, however, they couldn't just rest now. They needed to return to their car and get the hell out of there.

The forest was dense as they chopped their way through the undergrowth. Stamping through the foliage when a sudden vibration shook the whole underground, the dull sound of something big falling apart echoing in the distance. It caused swarms of birds fly out of the trees in alert.

It was most likely the ship, collapsing and getting wrecked completely now. Leaving it undiscovered for more decades or even centuries.

Taehyung's hand slid into his pocket then, taking out something and holding it between his fingers with a smirk. It ws a golden coin, shining against the warm light from among the leaves. "Got myself a small souvenire," he said proudly and observed it from all sides. The engravings dating it to 1708. "Oh, same," Yoongi chuckled, revealing a gold coin as well, "So this whole adventure wasn't totally for nothing." Jimin bursted out laughing, revealing a third gold coin. "I like how your minds work!" The three snickering happily over the coincidence, making Arabella roll her eyes. "Y'all just share the same brain cell, don't you?," she laughed under her breath. She zipped her jacked down then, revealing the pearl necklace she'd found for herself. And their laughter abrubtly died down, staring at her bewildered before Taehyung let out a snort. "Of course, why am I not surprise." "When did you even.." Shaking her head in fake dissappointment, she giggled. "Noobs."

They eventually reached their jeep, exhaling in relief since they wouldn't have to search for it in the dark and opened the doors, about to slide in when the clicking of unlocking guns behind them was heard. "Hands up, you're under arr- What the fck happened to you?"

Jimin groaned as exhaustion began taking a toll on him. He turned around with his hands up, seeing none other than Seokjin, Jungkook, Skylar and some other agents there. "Seriously, pops? Very bad timing." "No really, what happened to you? You look -" "Like crap?" Taehyung finished, glancing at his partners. Bruises, cuts, scratches and dirt covering torn and damp clothes and bodies, "Yeah, we also feel like that." Jungkook couldn't help but stifle a laugh at this, to which Seokjin only coughed annoyed. "I wanted to say 'beaten up' but I assume 'crap' also fits." "Oh, you know.. some traps here, some exploding pirate ship there.." Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. "So I assume those guys we caught earlier weren't total lunatics then," Skylar mumbled, peeking at Seokjin for confirmation. "Yeah, seems so.." Hearing this, the four thieves exchanged a look. "You caught some guys?" The older agent nodded as he put handcuffs on Jimin. "Yeah, we were here since city residants reported explosions and smoke across this area to local police. And we knew you guys had something to do with this. And then we saw those suspicious vehicles racing through the forest. So we obviously stopped them." "And arrested those men," Skylar added as she handcuffed Arabella with a joyous expression, In a way it was her revenge for Mexico City and Casablanca. Arabella only huffed at the younger woman's beaming grin. "Good. You know these guys -" "Where from that ominous crime organisation?" Seokjin interrupted Yoongi as he also added a pair of handcuffs to him. "Yeah, we figured that out. Kim and Jung from special victims and organised crime are taking care of them, while we take care of you guys. And Valentine? The two would also like to ask you some questions." Arabella just mumbled a 'whatever' as Skylar lightly pushed her to the direction of the van, the rest following behind.

"Seriously, pops.." Jimin sighed then as Seokjin led him to the van, "You know we'll just escape anyway. Why not skipping the whole 'arresting' part?" Seokjin pouted, feeling actually sympathetic for their state. "Oh, c'mon. What kind of interpol agent would I be if I'd make it so easy for you guys? I gotta do my job, too, after all." "Today was really tiring though. Just make an exception." "Oh don't worry, you can rest as much as you want in your detention cells," Jungkook nodded firmly. Not the hint of sarcasm in his voice.. "Will we at least get some food?" Taehyung asked then, feeling his stomach growling, "I'm starving." "Yeah, yeah. You'll also get food. Don't worry," Seokjin ensured him as they got pushed inside the van.

The doors closed and the vehicle began moving.

The four sat there, handcuffed, drained and probably injured.

And they laughed.

What an ironically lame ending to such an adventure.

They knew though that the next one was right around the corner, waiting for them already.

»»»

next chapter: epilogue here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

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skywalking-through-life · 3 months ago

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Hi, how are you today?

I was wondering wether you could show a snippet of conduct.

I love your fics, they are all fantastic.

Have a lovely day!!

Hello sweet anonymous friend! I'm tired today, but otherwise quite well - thank you for asking!

And thank you specifically for asking about 'conduct'. 💙 I know. It's been forever since I updated. I never thought I'd be that person who took a year to update a fic, but here I am, 10 months from my last update, still fighting with the next chapter. Tbh, I may end up taking some things out and moving them to another chapter, which will make this one shorter, but might help get me unstuck from the one or two plot points that I've really been fighting with. So there's a chance this little snippet won't be in this chapter, but will be in a later chapter! But I'm always happy to give one, so always feel free to ask. 💙 Enjoy!

"There were very few things that Sarah Lafayette missed about the ramshackle little town that had once been her home, but the coming of spring was one of them.

Up in the mountains, spring had been a process, predictable and steady. Icy patches of snow in isolated meadows slowly melted into equally pale patches of bluets and bloodroot, and the ever-present smell of woodsmoke became less heavy as the sharp, green scent of moss and mud filled the air. Sudden cloudbursts made water pour down the sides of the mountains, turning back roads into creeks and frozen cow ponds into bubbling, roiling cauldrons of algae and tadpoles. And when the sun re-emerged, hot fingers lazily weaving crowns of leaves to drape over the naked trees, people stood in fields and streets, tipping their faces up to try and catch a caress of their own.

There was nothing nearly so idyllic about March in New York City.

The concrete and steel buildings that the city was known for struck her as cold and stark and impersonal in every season, but even the charming brownstones, colorful murals, and glittering, flashing lights that brightened the streets seemed dull and muted in the gloom of heavy clouds and near-constant, biting rain. Instead of welcoming the moisture they needed to thrive, lone plants seemed to shrivel back into the ground, trying to escape the acrid gray water that drove into the hard soil. It seemed to take so much longer for life to re-emerge here than it had at home, and while it huddled beneath bark and branch, the city remained stuck in the grip of winter.

Even native New Yorkers, who took so much pride in their city that it bordered on delusion, could admit that March was probably the worst month of the year.

And though that had been true every one of the ten years she had spent here, it seemed especially so this year.

Meteorologists had been puzzling over the bitter cold, howling rain, and the even-more-noticeable-than-usual lack of light for months. Quips about the sun going missing had become common as the newscasters tried to think of more and more creative ways to say what they all already knew: that it was still raining - still storming, really - with no sign of any let up.

But they also continued to repeat an important dictum to their wet and weary watchers: there are a thousand meteorological explanations for why storms form, why they build, and why they devastate - but they do all dissipate in time."

#i hope you enjoyed this little snippet dear one!#percy jackson fanfic #pjo fic #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa cotg #'[conduct] not unbecoming men that [strive] with gods'#percy's senior year mis(adventures)

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sleeplittleearth · 2 years ago

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for @domaystic day 6: under the same umbrella

Clover and Fescue | Hob/Dream | 900 words | G

Rain fell heavily in the garden, loud on the crown of the apple tree and the surface of the pond, and softer on the lawn and garden beds. New plants, perennials fresh from the soil and annuals from the nursery, glistened with beaded moisture that pooled and dripped into topsoil and compost, saturating the ground. Crocuses and daffodils bounced and sprang under the weight of the rainfall, and the grass danced as though stirred by an army of inch-high men, a Birnam Wood of clover and fescue marching on the cobble path. It was nearly too early to see, the murky light of dawn and dark clouds dampening the view, but everything was the vibrant green that only came from a spring storm.

Dream, utterly still and soaked to the bone, sat in the midst of it on the garden bench.

His dark hair was plastered to his neck, though still stood up in extravagant cowlicks in the back where he'd slept on it. His t-shirt (technically Hob's) was translucent and clinging to his shoulders, in a way that would be distracting in any other circumstance, and he had his bare feet planted in the grass. Air plumed from his nose in grey clouds of mist in time with the slow expansion and contraction of his ribcage.

"You're going to catch your death out here, love."

Hob did his best to drape the wool blanket he held around Dream's shoulders while juggling the handle of his umbrella, dripping a great deal of water on his own head in the process. When he finally had both blanket and umbrella mostly under control, he settled beside Dream on the bench, umbrella held between them to attempt to keep the rain off them both.

Dream remained silent, the only acknowledgement of Hob's presence being a subtle lean against his shoulder. From this angle, Hob could see the way rain had gathered in his eyelashes, darkened and clumping like he'd been crying.

He hadn't been, at least not recently. Dream was not one for an inconspicuous cry—his eyes went red-rimmed at the barest provocation, and retirement had made him susceptible to blotchy cheeks and congestion as well. His nose and cheeks were pink with chill now, but his eyes were clear, his breathing even. And Hob liked to think he had developed a good sense of Dream's expressions by now—he did not seem sorrowful so much as pensive, lost in thought and perhaps not fully emerged from the stillness of sleep.

They sat together in silence for a while, gazing out into the garden as the sun rose behind the clouds.

Eventually, the weight of the umbrella began to wear on Hob (even being in permanent fighting trim, fatigue was inescapable), and he broke the quiet as softly as he could.

"What's on your mind, my friend?"

A long pause followed, and for a moment, he thought Dream would not answer, that they would remain blanketed in only the shushing sound of rain until his arm fell clean off.

"The rain," Dream finally said. His voice was startlingly clear, steady, for so early in the morning.

Hob only nodded. He was learning that sometimes all it took to get Dream to open up was the space for him to speak. So he waited. He made space.

"In the Dreaming, the rain was always part of some larger emotional overture." Dream frowned. "It was part of me. When I looked upon it, it was like looking upon ones own tears in the mirror. I came out here this morning because I wanted to experience it as it is, removed from the trappings of my own emotions. As the waking world does. But it still feels curiously melancholy."

Hob tried to imagine what it would be like to have the very air around him bend to his emotions, every thunderstorm and ray of sunshine a well-timed bit of atmospheric storytelling. He thought about what it would be like, if he had spent all of his lowest moments surrounded by the chill and damp of the rain, could never be pulled from dark thoughts by cheerful sunshine on his skin. But then, that was just it, wasn't it?

Hob looked at Dream earnestly.

"Tell me, love, how were you feeling when the rain began last night?"

"I… do not know. I was asleep. The rain was there when I woke."

"Okay," Hob said, soft as the rain. "Do you think perhaps that it might not be you who has summoned the rain, then, but the rain that weighs on your heart?"

Dream seemed loath to agree, but he nodded.

Hob placed his free hand on Dream's knee, awkward though it was, and gave it a squeeze.

"Probably experiencing it just right, then. Plenty of people get a bit sad when it rains. Though you don't have to."

Dream, face cast in the red light filtering through the umbrella, looked at Hob like he'd nonchalantly offered to slay several dragons on his behalf.

Hob stood and offered a hand to Dream.

"Why don't we go find some dry clothes, and I can show you the wonders of staying in on a rainy day?"

#domaystic2023 #the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob #hob gadling #dream of the endless #retired dream #littleearth writes

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depressedhatakekakashi · 10 months ago

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What in the world does kakashi do once he’s a god again? There’s so MUCH that needs fixing, so many places that need rain

It has to be a slow process unfortunately. Nothing good will happen out if a torrential down pour.

He lets it rain all over the world for a good week. Light, celebratory rains that refill the river’s and ponds and start to bring some moisture back.

After that week it returns to a more normal routine. He reognizes the hounds, places storms into them once again, and sends them out all around the workd to deliver those storms.

This is part of why it takes him a bit to get back to visit his parents. He has some damage control to do before he gets to even think about himself and what he wants again. For about two weeks he’s focused on trying to get the world back into balance with rain again.

#Hatake Kakashi #GOS AU #God of Storms au

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semperintrepida · 1 year ago

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I’m behind on tumblr but if you’re still taking writing qs, 5&6 please. Also, 15 fascinates me because I have learned recently of myself that absolutely font matters when writing (work) stuff and i get distracted if it’s not “right”, so if you have thoughts on how font affects your (creative) writing process I’d be interested in hearing! Also, not on the list: do you outline with pen & paper or is it all on the computer?

My deepest apologies, I somehow missed this ask in my inbox and found it yesterday while doing that tarot ask meme.

5. What is an image/set of images that you're particularly proud of?

I've been thinking about my older work lately, so I'll highlight a deep cut that only my OG readers will remember: ALL of the formal Japanese garden imagery in Kunoichi. Yeah, I'm proud of that.

They kept walking, until the path rounded back toward the entrance gate, but Britt stopped Santana before she'd gotten too far ahead. "Over here," she said, and she led Santana to a small, unobtrusive path that headed deeper into the corner of the garden, easily missed if one didn't know to look for it. It led them through a grove of green foliage, the air cool with the promise of moisture, and as they walked further the promise was revealed: a small pond with an island, accessible by two narrow stone bridges. Sunlight filtered down through the pines that ringed the pond and cast the space with a milky glow the color of undyed silk. It wasn't quiet, not with the metropolis around them, but it was peaceful, and the light and the feeling of being surrounded by something sacred made it the kind of place where voices automatically lowered to whispers, where possibilities seemed endless. Santana stood like a stone statue, as still as the waters of the pond, taking it all in. She breathed softly and slowly. They stood there for a long time, saying nothing.

In the beginning of Kuno, Britt is a dead woman walking, surrounded by a sterile, hyper-urban world. But every garden in this story is very much alive, and a long-dormant seed, given the right care, can sprout and blossom again.

6. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?

Hoo boy. Yeah, I've got an idea, one I've been kicking around for about a decade now, for an original science fiction book (novelette? novella? who knows?). The protagonist is a woman who's a drill sergeant in a military belonging to an empire involved in an endless war with another empire at a scale where after battles, entire planets are stripped for natural resources, mineral and organic. The protag's recruits are all clones of dead soldiers, who retain traces of their original personality but need to be taught fighting skills, and she forms a connection with one clone soldier, a headstrong woman who has an innate knack for the fighting arts.

The protag trains her clone squad, then sends them off to battle, where they all die and their organic matter is scraped off the barren rocks so it can be used to make more clone soldiers.

Protag is assigned a new squad of clones, same as the first. Forms a connection with the same clone soldier, who is not an exact copy of the previous, but clone personalities never are...

The clones go to battle and die. The cycle repeats, and each time, more of the protag's backstory is revealed, until we find out that the protagonist was once an admiral of the fleet, and the headstrong clone soldier was her wife who died in battle, after which the protag asked to be demoted to the drill sergeant for the clone squad where her (dead) wife's clone would be assigned. It's the only way for them to be together again.

I've never been able to write this thing due to other obsessions getting in the way (*cough*kyssandra*cough*) and the fact that I fucking hate worldbuilding, and unfortunately, expectations around hard science fiction demand worldbuilding to an absurd degree of accuracy. I'm sorry, I'm not going to learn astrophysics so I can write this story.

15. Does font matter to you when you're writing a draft?

Yes, but not in the usual way—at least, not using typical fonts like Times New Roman or Helvetica. I use the same font that I use when writing code: Droid Sans Mono Dotted for Powerline. I've been ruined for anything else.

Bonus Question: do you outline with pen & paper or is it all on the computer?

All on the computer. I used to do a thing where I'd keep track of scenes on bundles of index cards, but these days I find digital notes easier to deal with.

[fic writing questions meme]

#i'm glad you asked #confusedanon #sorry this took so long to answer!#tmi

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mythrilpencil · 2 years ago

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Petrichor (for prompt “Overgrown”)

Once again, for perhaps the fifth time this quarter, Acenath finds herself lost. After following her nose along a lovely trail of rumors and urban legends…she’s stranded.

At least it’s a nice planet this time, if a bit humid. SAIL claimed it’s a warm planet in the star’s Goldilocks Zone, and that the part of the world Acenath decided to beam to is in its dry season, but the moisture in the air is still more than a desert native like herself is used to. Not that she’s complaining—thicker, moist air makes it easier to smell things. Just makes her fur feel a bit damp.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea after all to follow those admittedly shady Humans’ claim about a signal booster over the hill. But they had been incredibly eager to help her out after her warp got thrown off-course by some weird signals…if only after she handed over a compact of Pixels she was planning on using to barter for something later on. At gunpoint. Yeah…probably not the best idea. Acenath can practically hear the Grand Archivist nagging her over her lack of foresight again.

No matter, though. Acenath shakes her head, itches the premonition of the Grand Archivist’s voice out of her long ears, and takes a good look and sniff around. It’s nighttime currently, but the local star clusters above and glittering puddles of healing water below more than make up for the planet’s lack of natural satellites. So with her own flashlight and her natural low-light vision, navigation isn’t much of a chore.

The ecosystem she finds herself in as she crests the hill is lovely: rolling plains absolutely covered in flowers still displaying their vibrant colors, even in the starlight; spiraling vines reaching to the stars with their leaves; the odd tree here and there standing like shepherds over their flocks of thriving shrubbery. All the pollen and scents of grass almost makes her sneeze, while the aroma of the healing water reminds her of the oases of home and almost draws her into a nostalgic lull. But beneath the fragrances is the scent she’s been looking for: a musty whiff, the smell of old stone and petrichor from eons past. To most it might be an unpleasant smell, or perhaps just dusty and uninteresting. But to Acenath, it’s a perfume most alluring.

Her ears perk as she swells with excitement, but she adjusts her large glasses and focuses on the whiff before the thrill can make her lose composure too much. It’s incredibly faint from where she is, but…

There! She finds the direction the whiff is strongest: just upwind and beyond the next hill. Like a silken thread, Acenath follows it, taking extra care to not step on the fragile flowers nor disturb the sleeping hypnares in the process. It takes more time than she would like to crest this next hill, particularly as the overpowering scent of ripe sugarcane nearly throws her off her desired musty trail, but finally she crests it.

And just past the hill is a strange tower. It’s not entirely unusual to find towers or other buildings on planets like this: the climate is conducive to many dominant species’ survival in most places, so it’s not uncommon to find dirt, wood, or even stone dwellings erected by a dwindled endemic civilization or even the passing interstellar traveler.

But this tower is distinctively none of those. Acenath can tell that even from this far away. The stone that forms its walls, despite being a climbing surface for ages’ worth of local ivy and grasses, still absorbs and reflects the glow of the surrounding pond of healing water strangely. The tower’s structure is too square. Its angles are too perfect. And the blocks of stone are impeccably uniform save for the occasional engraving.

It’s not the biggest of towers. It doesn’t even reach higher than the hill. But it still has an imposing presence bigger than itself, especially when Acenath climbs down the hill and circles the tower’s base. Rubbles of a relatively newer structure—a mound of sorts supported by a few crumbling stone pillar; a ritualistic construction, or perhaps a burial site—flank the tower’s side. Normally the newer structures in an archaeological site are more preserved than the older ones. Here it’s the opposite. The tower stands as if untouched by time while rubble collects around it and nature grows atop it.

But despite its perfection, the building is not symmetrical: the south end of the building has a lower overhang like a balcony open to the air while the north end’s overhang is higher overhead and is enclosed. Two obelisks stand guard in front of either entrance, radiating a light from their peaks as warm as the noonday sun. It’s a small comfort, but it reminds Acenath of her home desert and that reminder isn’t one she finds often. She finds herself smiling a thank-you and bowing to the obelisks before moving past them to inspect the interior.

Inside the tower, strips of cold blue light, partially obscured by the overgrowth, run up the walls, paralleling the angular windows and framework in the corners. Acenath hovers her hand over the end of the light strip, but does not touch. Not that she needs to: the strips radiate a scent of ethereal ozone as much as they radiate a cracking, yet harmless atmosphere that makes her fur tingle and her breath catch in her throat. It’s an aura of mysterious arcane magics that not even the greatest Thaumaturges the Arcanians have to offer have been able to harness.

Plenty of civilizations favor blue-ish lights—her own people included—but this kind of blue light, powered by this energy, is one she’s only identified one other place: the Ark, framing those ancient stairs and tracing that ancient dais. That alone, not even including the mysterious yet iconic engravings or distinctive architecture, identifies the creators of this tower beyond question:

The Ancients.

The Grand Archivist and some of Acenath’s peers often questioned her nigh-exclusive fascination with the Ancients. These structures seemingly from beyond time—from beyond space perhaps, given the Ancients’ apparent mastery over dimensional manipulation—are so unknowable that even decades of study may never be enough to decipher their secrets. But Acenath’s an archaeologist: adding her years of curiosity and drive to her people’s gradual study of the Ancients is her dream. She’s already uncovered more secrets and identified more trends about the Ancients and their culture than any of her peers and predecessors have ever managed; imagine what discoveries can be built upon hers going forward!

And despite her misgivings, even the Grand Archivist would have to admit the value in what Acenath is discovering, surely. The slit in the roof northward, an air vent, perhaps? Even the Ancients needed good air to breathe. And the writing on the walls, although not any of the symbols Acenath has come to recognize, perhaps are claims to the Ancient’s history? Or marks left by the builders to identify themselves? It’s an incredibly common practice, she’s found, for the Ancients to leave uncountable engravings on their walls. Not the graffiti sort of mark, nor a tribal patterning like the Floran’s.

Acenath makes sure to scan the unique markings and save them to her ever-growing database before moving on.

And these pots, tucked away in the corners. Oh, if only Acenath could take them home to her museum for study! But she is afraid to even touch them for fear of damaging these precious artifacts; even cupping her hands around the smallest is enough to make her bite her lip and wish she could will her heart to stop racing so much—she’s almost shaking the tiny pot. Taking them with her isn’t an option here. But the fact that the Ancients even had such pots, in a number of intricate styles that Acenath has been able to map like anyone else would map out styles by period, shows they had a thriving culture. A history. Needs and wants. Art.

Things worth preserving and studying.

And that’s not even considering the raw power the Ancients had access to. Even the Grand Archivist has to admit that studying the Ancients and their mastery over what their people deemed the arcane is vastly important. Any discovery Acenath makes in that sphere can have massive implications. It already has. Connecting the Ancients’ essence to the Astral essence suffusing the Arcanians’ home worlds…

Acenath shivers from the thrill at the thought.

Or…perhaps from the chill in the air.

A few droplets of water peck her head and make her ear twitch while she’s studying the triangular windows, thoroughly derailing her train of thought and making her blink at the sky.

The sun is rising, its light tinted a deep scarlet by the gathering clouds. What few rays of dawn manage to pierce the clouds, however briefly, disperse into streaks in the rain.

Looks like Acenath is stuck here until the rain passes.

Sure, she’s in her field outfit, complete with a Havencrest-peach jumper and faux-leather boots specifically treated to be hydrophobic and easy to clean. And the rain gifts the lush environment around her with the delightful scent of life and water…

But Acenath really doesn’t favor getting soaked at the moment.

So instead she sits under the northern overhang, just past the threshold, near the obelisk shining outwards. She’s in no hurry to get home right now. The more she studies the Ancients, the more they feel like home, anyways.

…Although she still has to figure out how to warp back to her ship. Ah, she’ll get to that later.

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