#also I struggled to find synonyms for warm so I gave up

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Ski Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

How could I possibly ignore it when you put “Gavin” and “spicy” in the same paragraph 😉

The date begins with MC and Gavin heading to a Snow Mountain Resort by car over the holidays.

I turn the camera towards Gavin and see his smiling profile on the display screen.

MC: You’ve been driving for so long. Are you very tired? You’ve worked hard.

Gavin: It isn’t hard work to be your personal chauffeur.

His eyes not leaving the road in front, his right hand reaches out to hold mine. His warm palm wraps around my fingers.

Gavin: Are you cold?

I smile and shake my head, but he still pulls my hand over to his lips gently and exhales on it. 

His warm breaths encase my fingertips, and even my heart starts to feel a little numb.

MC: I’m going to put this portion into the vlog, or make a separate compilation of Officer Bai’s heartwarming moments.

Gavin: Sure, I’d also like to see it.

Gavin lets out a laugh as he drives into the scenic area.

The weather is cold so MC starts coughing.

Gavin: Are you okay?

Gavin hurriedly pats my back, pressing me into his arms.

MC: … [coughs] I’m fine, I just choked on the cold wind. I’ll be fine in a while.

Gavin: …

I hear something that sounds like gentle laughter.

MC: Are you laughing at me…

Gavin: No. It’s the wind’s fault, so I’m apologizing to you on its behalf.

With a smile in his voice, the cold wind blowing against my back stops in an instant, and I can more clearly feel the warmth emanating from his hug.

I can’t help but laugh.

Gavin: Would you like to sit in the resting area? It’d be warmer. I’ll come look for you after renting the equipment.

MC: You’re going alone?

Even without thinking, I immediately shake my head and grab onto his hand.

MC: I want to go with you.

Gavin looks like he wants to say something, but seeing the resoluteness in my gaze, he smiles and relents. We board the cable car towards the mountain.

MC is incredibly happy to be surrounded by the gorgeous scenery.

The most important thing is that I’m holding the hand of the most important person in the world.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Hm?

Gavin: You keep holding onto my hand. Are you afraid?

MC: [pouting] Don’t look down on me, this isn’t something to be afraid of~

She starts taking pictures of the scenery and shows them to Gavin. Gavin compliments her photography skills:

Even before Gavin finishes speaking, I take his hand into mine once again, holding it very tightly.

Gavin goes silent. The corners of his lips hook into a smile, and he responds by clasping my fingers tightly.

They finally reach the top of the mountain, and MC is glad that she accompanied Gavin because there’s a lot of equipment to carry.

She also starts to feel uneasy after seeing other newbies struggling to walk with their ski boards.

But when she sees Gavin dressed in all his glory, her feelings of unease vanish.

He’s looking down the mountain for the best path to proceed. He finds a suitable one and smiles. MC swoons for a little while.

Gavin starts teaching her the basics of skiing and MC thinks she gets it.

MC: Gavin, can you go down the slope in one breath?

Gavin: Do you want to see it?

MC: Mm, I want to. I’ve never seen you ski before!

Gavin: Easy.

She watches Gavin ski like a professional and enjoying himself heartily. Thinking it looks simple, she decides to start skiing on her own.

Although she starts off having fun, she soon realises that she’s going faster and faster... and that she doesn’t know how to stop. She sees Gavin skiing towards her from the side.

MC: Gavin get out of the way! Hurry and get out of the way ahhh-

As she awaits her tragic demise, she crashes into Gavin’s arms.

Gavin: I’ve got you. Are you okay? Why did you come down on your own?

Sensing the concern in Gavin’s tone, I hurriedly dispel his worries.

MC: The snow is a huge buffer, so it wouldn’t hurt even if I fall.

She turns back to look at the tracks left by the ski boards and realizes she actually skied quite a distance – she can’t even see her starting point. And she’s really proud of herself.

Gavin: Mm, you’re very talented. But it’s very dangerous…

MC promises that she wouldn’t be so reckless again.

Gavin: But it’s okay. You can have as much fun as you want. With me here, you wouldn’t be in any danger.

Gavin asks why MC wanted to try skiing in the first place. Turns out MC noticed how focused Gavin was when watching a skiing competition, and that he even ordered a lot of magazines related to skiing. Minor also mentioned that Gavin was considering buying skiing equipment.

Gavin: But you don’t have to accommodate to my interests… I’ve told you before. To me, no matter what we do, the most important thing is that you’re here. The most important thing is that you’re happy. So you don’t need to do these things.

Seeing Gavin look conflicted and utterly solemn while saying this, MC doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

MC: Of course I need to!

I lift my hand so he can clearly see my most genuine emotions.

MC: Why is it that after all this time, you still haven’t understood...

MC: To me, no matter what we do, the most important thing is that you’re happy. To me, your smile is even more dazzling. Your happiness is equivalent to twice my happiness!

MC: I want to accompany you to do the things you want to do. I want to accomplish your hopes for the future together with you… This is what I want to do, and it’s what brings me most happiness!

Gavin’s conflicted expression turns into surprise. He looks at MC while wanting to avoid her gaze at the same time.

I close the distance between us, stepping through the snow on the snowboards with slight difficulty. I lift my head and give him a light peck on the chin.

Gavin: [quick inhale of breath]

Gavin asks if MC wants to continue with skiing or do anything else.

Gavin: [laughs] I’ve never been happier than right now.

[Note: Included his voice clip in the link above to enhance your reading pleasure with his happy voice]

MC finally gets the hang of skiing after an afternoon of practice, but she’s still having difficulty turning.

Gavin is gorgeous and cool so he unintentionally attracts the attention of a number of people nearby who start cheering and clapping for him. Some people even stop to watch him ski.

Gavin: Are you tired?

MC: Not at all! Gavin, I managed to maintain my balance and haven’t fallen for half an hour!

Gavin: Mm, I’ve seen it. You can make turns already.

MC: …not really. It wasn’t an actual turn, the snowboard just went out of control.

Gavin lets out a laugh and looks towards the dipping sun.

Gavin: It’s no problem, you’ll get it after a few more tries. But it’s getting late, so we should head back.

MC: Mm.

Her legs are numb from the strenuous activity so Gavin casually carries her on his back <3

I’m not a small child, how could I let someone carry me like this…

I lower my head in slight embarrassment and press my head onto the back of Gavin’s neck. My breath mingles with his unique scent. Without realizing it, the corners of my lips lift.

Gavin: What’s making you so happy?

MC: Hm?

Gavin: You’re smiling.

MC: I’m not! You can’t even see me…

Gavin: I can feel it.

MC: You’re smiling too, aren’t you? Even though I can’t see it, I can feel it.

Gavin: [laughs] Mm.

They finally reach the car.

As though it’s a natural thing, Sweetheart Gavin removes her snow boots and sweat-drenched socks before taking out new ones from his bag. MC is touched by how prepared he is.

MC: Gavin, your hands are very cold.

Gavin: Sorry, I…

While he’s speaking, I’ve already reached out to take both his hands in mine, bringing them into my arms.

My slender fingers and small palms obviously cannot cover his large hands entirely.

MC: Even though my hands are small, I can still warm you up.

Gavin doesn’t say a word, but he gives me a nice smile.

I rub his hands gently with my fingers. He leans forward, tugging on his cotton coat to cover us both.

MC: You’re not cold?

Gavin: I’m fine.

Just then, I hear the sound of a growling stomach.

Gavin: …we should head back.

I bury my head in his shoulder and let out a laugh, then take my bag from the seat. Under Gavin’s stare, I retrieve a thermal lunchbox.

The lunchbox contains Yuxiang shredded pork and stir-fried chicken gizzard. She also takes out a thermal flask with hot ginger tea.

Gavin: Why didn’t I… know you prepared these?

MC: I prepared it while you were renting the car. I can’t always let you be the only one busying yourself. Try it? I specially asked the chef to follow your favourite tastes, even though they are pretty homely…

I take out a pair of chopsticks from the lunchbox. After picking up some dishes with the chopsticks, I bring them to Gavin’s mouth. He chews for a while before revealing an unexpected expression:

Gavin: It’s delicious.

Hearing such a satisfactory answer, I hand the lunchbox over to him so he can concentrate on eating. While doing so, I retrieve a travel journal from my bag.

After finding a comfortable position to lean against Gavin, I start planning for the remainder of our trip.

MC: Day 3, skiing, done! This way, we can spend the next two days viewing the scenery~

If the weather remains this good, the view of the Grand Canyon would definitely be amazing.

Gavin turns his head to look at the travel journal, then feeds me a piece of chicken gizzard.  

Gavin: The Grand Canyon… was where I wanted to go. If you want to go to the town to walk around or to shop, it’s fine as well.

MC: Since you want to go, of course we’d go – sssss, it’s so spicy!

Gavin: Is it very spicy?

I nod, sticking out my tongue and gulping a few breaths, wanting to relieve the pain from the stimulation caused by the spiciness.

Gavin turns and leans towards me, his breath gradually coming closer until my cheeks feel their warmth.

His rough fingertips touch my lips, which have become slightly reddened from the spice. In a second, I can’t tell what is stimulating my senses...

I can only feel the weightlessness caused by my consciousness sinking along with the darkness around me.

After a brief rub, he chuckles against my lips.

Gavin: Is it still spicy?

In the dark space, I can feel the warmth of his breaths. I shake my head.

His fingertips brush my lips lightly, and he lifts the long hair that had blocked my vision.

Gavin: MC, you’re really not giving me a chance to accommodate to your wishes?

MC: [blushing] Not even one. You’re always accommodating to what I want. It’s so overbearing.

The sky has turned dark. I hear every single one of Gavin’s breaths, and feel their warmth on my cheek and the side of my neck.

He holds me in an embrace, and his low voice is mixed with his warmth and smile.

Gavin: Then I will make a correction now. Cancel our original plans for tonight... from this moment onwards, follow all of my commands.

[Note: Included his voice clip in the link above to enhance your reading pleasure]

[doriana-gray-games]

Collection of asks !

Hi! Don't want to clog up your dashboards so I am answering some asks that have piled up while I was a bit absent <3

(Game update status: both going good and bad. Stuck on this one scene, but I am starting to see the end in the tunnel lol. Have been trying a new approach where I don't edit while writing :0 it's hard but does increase productivity! I just hope the quality isn't too bad after it lol. You can tell me once the update is out haha!)

Bahaha Love that! W deserves all the love <3

😏😏😏 Watson likes all of Sherlock, tho I'm sure they are partial to some... parts hehe

But the reaction is not new!! Tho I know a lot of people miss it (there's a few easily missed things tbh haha, maybe not optimal, but I find it fun to hide little things). There's one reaction with small waist too !

lolol I see it. I have a scene in my notes where MC basically has to teach H to sit on (and touch) grass...

@jumpyhamster Maybe? Not sure yet, sorry!

Ah--was it so obvious i'm not english haha! Yeah, I might as well tell you all too (despite my best efforts of internet anonymity, I talk too much on discord lol) I am Swedish. So if I make some weird English mistake or miss some quintessential British thing the MC or NPCs would know plz let me know! <3

Aww I think I know who this is!!! 💛💛💛 hearts right back!!!!

@4332 <3<3<3 I'm so glad you liked it!! (I don't recommend it to 12 years old tho! might be too adult for that haha)

<3 <3 <3

I am for sandwich solidarity in all forms haha! XD

Hopefully MC will be able to get them a not-chewed on sandwich soon <3

It seems I can't paste more images sorry-- One similar question I got was what the elegant body type looks like:

Currently the body types won't assume a lot much more than the word and possibly synonyms to the word. That's because it's so subjective. So--if I were to make further content about it I probably will have to ask further questions about that setting <3 I do think it would be fun and interesting to do!

Elegant, is again, what you want it to mean. But generally I've heard it to mean semi-long limbs with "ideal" like proportions. And in mass perhaps somewhere between tall-athletic and lean. I personally think of grace kelly I think

Love this game and the new details you added <3 this is definitely a spoilery question but man, i gotta ask... what happened in Lestrade's life that to made him so... unhappy? Careless with his own wellbeing? :(

<3

A previous answer I have given: "Just a spiral of things. Life turning the wrong way, things looking bad on the horizon, failing to take care of themselves so they have poor chances of climbing out or realising they even can." In addition to this. This had not started when MC and L first met. And there was a catalyst event, that set it off, and in a way MC is involved in this.

💖💝💕💯💐

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

you deserve to go to jail for making me choose between two cute love interests... that aside, your game has helped me a lot while struggling with mental health problems. which sounds a little silly but genuinely it warms my heart when i don't feel well. so thank you for creating something so wonderful. + i know most asks here are RO-related but im also very excited to see how the story goes!

Gosh Anon, you gave me a heart-attack with those first few words haha-- but to the rest, thank you so much <3<3<3 That's very sweet. I'm really glad and honoured to help in anyway I can. There's a lot of plot coming anon! Don't you worry! :D

harrypotternerd934 asked:

I need to say that I'm absolutely amoured by your story. I really enjoy playing as Sherlock and I think you did a really great job at capturing the vibe of the setting.

Much love and further luck with your story 🤗

@harrypotternerd934 <3

Aww, thank you so much! <3<3<3

approxtwelveangrybees asked:

I need you to know that I had so much fun with the Victorian gazing in the first two chapters

@approxtwelveangrybees <3<3<3

Congratulations on the anniversary <3 the update was so good.. all the little reworked scenes... the love kernels... But wait, will there actually be a love triangle route!!!!?

Yeees <3 Lot's of them <3

phaedraismyusername asked:

My favourite line of the update - just a top tier IQ drop right there 😍 lol

The whole thing was so good! An absolute joy to read as always ❤️❤️❤️

@phaedraismyusername <3<3<3 You're a joy!!! <3<3<3 (I love how people are discovering the thigh line haha)

and to "The trio Lestrade/hungry tumblr anon" Thank you for your story <3

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

NURSE

Sam Bridges x reader

Warning: SMUT, fxm, few curse words, synonyms for penis (hehe)

Fair warning I wrote this while I'm on my period (still am, sorryTMI) so you know I'm a horny mess. Sorry about it.

Anon asked:Hello there! A bit strange, but I just want to give it a try! I was listening to Weeknd - After hours, and strangely it somehow really fits to Sam Bridges struggles/life in game etc.(minus the romantic interst). May I request a music imagine/smut with this song, if it is a thing for you? Please tell me what you think! Thank you for everything that you do🖤🖤🖤

Hey, anon, I used the lyrics but I didn't go step by step with the lyrics I used the one that suited the paragraph best. I hope that is okay.

✨I recommend you listen to Weeknd's song After Hours as you read it for an experience.✨

I also have a similar lyric fic with Mako's song Breathe paired with Duncan Vizla (Polar) so if you want you can give it a read

-Where is she?

Thought I almost died in my dream again

Fightin' for my life, I couldn't breathe again

-Mama, where is she for fucks sakes?!!!

-Her com has been turned off 20 minutes ago.

-What was recorded?

-Just some static and...

-And fucking what?

-... A gunshot...

Sam feels his legs give in as he kneels dangerously on the floor thinking of every worst possible in the book. His arms thinking rationality as they pull Mama down with him on the harsh floor

-Give me the location of-of... The gunshot. I will find her.

Mama wanted to pull him up and lock him in the room knowing that the place where Y/n was last heard no one could easily survive that. His head gawked up and she saw how his ombre pupils cracked in half fearing that he lost his hope of survival in this crazy sphere.

I'm fallin' in too deep

Without you, don't wanna sleep

'Cause my heart belongs to you

-Please...

With a heavy sigh, she responded with

-Port Knot City.

He knew that Y/n was alive. His psyche told him of every possible scenario that could happen as his soul pulled him up and hurled him on the motorbike as he speeds onto the rocky routines. The wheels speed over the hills hitting his legs and balls that will surely punish him later on. The sky started to change into the ominous charcoal sky as he saw the empty streets his eyes catching wandering BTs as their wails echoed through the deserted buildings. Looking down onto his arm he sees on the small screen where was Y/n's last seen signal boost. Looking at the spot a glimmer of silver he rushes to it picking it as he remembers he bought them for her knowing that you had a fascination with his own as they always his toned chest.

Dog tags.

Y/n L/n

I just wanted to call you and say, and say

-What's your problem with my dog tags?

-No problem. Maybe a kink.

-Well, you are in luck little lady. I have something for you.

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

Clutching the tags in his hand he looked above and beyond feeling his soul battling every negative thought. Sam rears his head up feeling a rumble close by. Turning over his shoulder he sees the lion-shaped BTs walking past him in a slow stride as if on a leash walking a designated path. Throwing his luck in the air he drives to near it following in adequate silence. The beast stepped one last time as he halted in front of a heap of bouldering tar, as the bubbles around it fall showing a victim changed into it gasping for air as if never inhale the rotten air. A caped person declines from the sky down standing in front of the victim Sam only hearing their voices.

-Where is the package?

-In your ass, asshole.

Sam's eyes brightened as he heard the insult finding the silver lining. His girl. His badass girl.

I'd give it all just to hold you close.

The kidnapper removed his cap and Sam immediately knowing who it was... Higgs. Fucker Higgs. Sam waited for a opportunity as Higgs walked away as Sam started revving his bike with only one goal-saving his girl and getting her back. Letting go of the break the motorbike roared like a beast as he drove under the lion-like BT as Sam's left hand reached for his girl as he started to the right as he grabbed her by the waist as she held onto him for dear life leaving Higgs to take a second what just happened.

-Bridges!!!!!

Higgs yelled as he jumped on the beast tailing the two lovers. Sam felt the weak arm around his waist bare and cold but thankfully alive and conscious.

-Princess. Are you okay? Just hold on.

Y/n felt the warmth from his body as he drove away as her eyes found Higgs starting to lose speed and distance eventually giving up.

-This is not the end! I will get that package!

I know it's all my fault

Made you put down your guard

I know I made you fall

The engine roared down into silence as Sam grabbed this love into his arms carrying her into the HQ to get her healed. Her body stiff and bleak nearly like a washed corpse as Mama examined her.

-Her lungs are at its limit, a wonder she is alive.

-What do you mean?

-Her lungs were excessively deprived of air. Wonder how she managed that.

Sam chuckled down at his girl mumbling proudly

-Easy. She's too stubborn to die.

Didn't wanna wake up 'less you were beside me

Cause this house is not a home

Days passed and Y/n came back to life as Sam held her like a drop of water in his palm. Not letting her to grab or carry anything god forbid walk to the bathroom to pee. As much as she came back to life her hormones came as well to say hello. She became sexually frustrated but knowing Sam he will say

"You need to heal."

But she is stubborn and she will get what she wants. Grabbing a neat pager she presses the red button on it that Sam gave to her to call her when she needs help using it only this once. She remembered him saying.

-Press this button and I will do anything to help you.

As she pressed the button the doors slammed open as Sam asked out of breath

-What? What's wrong? What do you need?

Y/n put on a smile on her face as she patted the space near her.

-Sit down.

Seeing her in good shape he sat down as he said

-You seem fine.

Y/n shook her head to negate his words

-Oh, I'm most certainly not. I'm in pain.

-Where?

Y/n extends her legs over his lap sitting on him facing his face as she putting his hands on her waist.

-Sexually.

-Oh.

-You are wounded and you ca-

Y/n placed a finger on his lips to hush him as she replies proudly

-You said that when I press the button on the anger you will ANYTHING to help me. Right?

Sam shook his head up and down as her fingers stayed put.

-Then help me. I want to feel you. You surely want to feel me. Right???

He shook his head again as his hands dive under her shirt.

I want you next to me

This time, I'll never leave

-Help me, Bridges. Make me feel at ease.

She commanded and he obeyed as her hand flew to his har as their lips connected in the touch starved manner that clashed together. Tongue peaking out, saliva dribbling down their chins.

Cause I want you baby

It was definitely a blessing, wakin' beside you

Sam felt his cock aching against her clothes core pulsating to feel the warmth he craved at this moment

I'll be livin' in Heaven when I'm inside of you

-No foreplay today. I need you, Sam.

He needed nothing more as her hand removed the pants and underwear as her slick dropped her juices over his cock. The juice sliding down his erection as the puddle nestled itself on the bottom of his groin into his dark pubic hair. Her body melted at his soft touch as she slides down his shaft eating him up feeling her walls provide the tight passage for him. Sam let his head fall seeing his friend disappear in her warmness not wanting to get out like ever. His hips snapped back and slammed her onto him feeling the zing of pain and the heap of pleasure.

-More, Sam. Please me.

Sam obliged for his best girl as his hips found her center again and again and again and again as his climax reared close his veins waiting for the delicious moment of persecuting to course his veins one last epic time. Y/n felt her hips snap in place Sam's cock still in her as she felt the warm cum release around him. Sam's cock felt the warm ooze and he came as well in her womb mixing the two together. Her lungs gasped for air and her hips cursed at her for the position but nothing felt better than this. Sam watches her chest fill with air as his thighs gave her the hard cushion support she needed for now. His gleaming eyes found hers as he asked

-Feeling better now?

I'll hold you down and not let you go

I'd give it all just to hold you close

Y/n smiled as she answered

-No more pain.

Her lips found his once again thanking him for being the best nurse.

I hope you enjoyed it🌺

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 6

Characters: Edgar Bright, Iris Adley, Sean

Pairing: Edgar x Iris

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​

“You can’t blame them for being curious. No one knows what Sir Edgar is having you do as his second,” Sean said, lounging back on the perfectly made bed. He and all the others that were under the Jack of Hearts were hovering around me, asking an infinite amount of questions about the allusive and mysterious Edgar Bright…ever since he appointed me as his second.

I buttoned up my uniform shirt with visible annoyance. “I’m basically a glorified secretary, organizing documents, keeping notes about important dates and meetings, and pretending to be him when penning letters that he finds too boring while he sits on the sofa sipping tea.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t work. Soldiers came and went all day long with reports and documents. When he wasn’t in his quarters, he was in meetings with Jonah and Lancelot or officials in Central Quarter, on top of training his own troop of soldiers with a warm smile and steel fist. And yet, when we were alone, he turned into a candy gobbling child that enjoyed causing me a headache.

“Aren’t you tired? You don’t return from your duties until the early morning hours and then turn around and be up at first call at 7 like the rest of us.” He was just as intrigued by my new position as the others, but for more reasons. Every day he asked if we’d spoken about my predicament and the answer remained a stern no.

“Tired of his ridiculously idiot game? Yes.”

“Aw, that’s no way to speak about your adoring superior.”

The only slightly peaceful part of my day came crashing down at the presence of the Jack of Hearts. He’d let himself into the room without any warning, apparently a recurring trait of his. I can’t exactly complain, outwardly at least.

I rested against the bed to slip on my boots, tugging the laces extra tight while imaging the thin string to be around his neck. The whispers from the hallway not so quiet, nearly bringing a large commotion to the barrack hallway. “I’ll assume you’re here for business, sir.”

“Sean, you will be in Central Quarter today.” Edgar gave the order with a hint of edge to his voice. He received a salute and Sean scuttled off to leave us. One quick glance over his shoulder and the rest of the soldiers scattered before those mischievous jade irises were turned on me. “You will be accompanying to patrol the forest. Won’t that be fun, Iris?”

“Are you going to insist on calling me that when we’re alone?”

“It is your name. Besides, the expressions you make are worth any risk.”

I swiped my hat from the rack, settling it on my blonde locks, adjusting it with stiff movements. I made a silent vow to work on how I outwardly reacted to his taunts, if only to irritate him a fraction of how he irritated him.

Outside of his personal unit, the soldiers continued to treat me like an outsider. They glared when they thought none of the ranking officers were watching. They whispered in ear shot of me, insisting on being petty about my sudden rise in position. Only the ones within Edgar’s unit had begun to accept me, at least enough to not avoid me during meals and free time.

The leaves crunched beneath his boots, the Jack of Hearts strolling with a spring his step. His good mood almost contagious. It was strange, simultaneously keeping up my guard while also lowering it at times around him. He hadn’t broken his word and exposed my secret. “Iris, lost in thought, are we? I do hope it’s me on your mind.” 

Jade irises mischievously reflecting my own clear, blue ones. Edgar’s face mere inches.

I took a step back only to hit a tree. The pain dull but grounded me back in reality.

Quick to close the distance, like a wild cat slinking up to its cornered prey, Edgar’s grin grew wider. “You make a pretty boy, but I prefer the real Iris.” Gloved fingers expertly removing the earring and pocketing it in seconds. “I’ll hold onto this until it’s time to return.”

Without the magic, nothing hid the fact that I was a woman. It would be unlikely for the army to send multiple soldiers on this patrol, but not unheard of. And yet, winning an argument with a rock was more attainable than reasoning with the gentle demon. 

The forest was peaceful. Although not many ventured in due to the rumors surrounding it, bandits tended to gather on occasion. The town was abuzz with talk of some unsavory types moving between Central Quarter and the Forbidden Forest. Edgar had been tasked with uncovering and eliminating them.

“I did some digging, but there’s no record of where your brother disappeared to. Not even your parents have any inkling. I suspect that you have some idea.” He broke the silence as he adjusted his gait to fall in step with me. 

“I don’t. He never told me where he was going. Only that the girl he’d fallen obsessively in love with was the reason he wouldn’t take his position in the army.” The night he’d left still seared freshly in my mind. It made little sense. He had been handed the fourth highest rank in the Red Army and he abandoned it for a woman.

Edgar hummed in response, gaze lifting to the treetops above us. “Peculiar, but I hear that love makes one do crazy things.”

“He’s an absolute fool. Love is an abstract idea that is fleeting. He barely knew her, and yet he threw away his whole life, making a traitor of himself, of our family. For what?” He’d said that he might be gone for a while, years. At that time, it would be much too late. Our family would be ostracized, the position given by birthright erased and passed on to some distant blood relative.

“You’ve never been in love, have you, Iris?”

I gave him a disgusted glare before replying, “No. I’ll wager you haven’t either.”

He snickered from behind his palm, not making any attempts to avoid my slap to his arm. “You’re right. I’ve little time for dalliances with women. I have been approached, but taking a wife is not of importance to me.” For a second, the facade slipped, and I saw the flash of melancholy cross his features. Then it was gone, replaced with that empty smile. “I imagine you’ve had plenty of men throwing themselves at you.”

“You mean at my father.” I shivered in absolute revulsion. None of them had approached me directly. Whispers of how I could be harsh and hard to please were always circling me like rampant sharks. Negotiations went through my father, and I never accepted a single one. “I have no desire to be someone’s wife.”

“You’d rather be a solider?”

There was no judgement or ridicule in his question, as it had been with all the men previous in my life. Any time I trained with a sword or learned hand to hand combat, they all had a similar tone. It’s not for a woman. I would prove them all wrong. “Yes. Only the Red Army has rules against women joining. It seems obvious that after 500 years, perhaps a different perspective might be advantageous.”

“War is not made for the weak.”

“Weak and female are not synonymous.”

Jade eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. “Oh, I’m well aware of your strengths, Iris. And I, for one, have no qualms with you being in the army. It’s not simply a matter of changing laws.”

The politics. It’s always about the politics among the Red elites.

The scent of smoke drifted through the trees, silencing our discussion. The rumors were proving to be true. We both became silent, like ghosts leaving no trace of their existence as we neared the campsite. Only one man guarded the camp.

“We’ll wait until nightfall, and all of them are to be captured.” His whisper carried the weight of his position. The teasing superior vanished without a trace, replaced with the Jack of Hearts giving his soldier an unbreakable order. His gaze only flickered to me long enough to see my nod before returning to our targets.

They came and went, five of them in total. As the sun began to slide beyond the horizon. Once the light faded, the group all gathered around the fire, clinking dirty glasses of stolen booze, and rifling through their treasures. Edgar gave a signal, directing me to circle to the other side.

Blending in with the darkness was easy. The moon cast slivers of silver light between the leaves rustling in the wind. I crouched by a thick bush, waiting patiently for our moment to attack. I hadn’t, however, expected him to announce himself.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Edgar startled the whole lot of them, hand lightly gripping the hilt of his sword. The fire crackled as one choked on his drink at the sudden appearance of the officer. “You’ve caused quite the ruckus in town. It’s time to answer for your crimes.”

Swords and knives were drawn, all eyes focused solely on the single man in the crisp white uniform. Their bravery coupled with cowardice as they collectively moved the opposite direction with slow steps, save for their so-called leader. He alone faced the gentle demon with a scowl.

He gave a howl and lunged at Edgar, only to grab air and lose his breath as his torso connected with the Jack of Heart’s knee. 

Tension rose through the campsite. Some were frozen in their spot, watching the imminent defeat of their boss. But one... there’s always one, who decides to save themselves and run.

Unlucky for him.

The wheeze that passed his lips when I wrenched my elbow back into his throat divided the attention. He collapsed to the dirt, body curling up as he clutched his neck and struggled to catch his breath. “How pathetic,” I said, drawing my own sword from its sheath.

There’s two of them?

Who cares! Just take them out and let’s get out of here!

They were barely worth any effort. Their form sloppy and no coordination between them. Although it hadn’t been too long since being under Edgar’s guidance, I had picked up on some quirks of his. In the beginning, the soldiers in the unit avoided me, leaving Edgar to spar with me most of the time. I’d learned his movements quite well.

“I’m impressed. You’ve done so well,” Edgar praised with a pat on my shoulder. He chuckled as I brushed it off. 

I finished the knot on the last rope, creating a line of prisoners so they couldn’t try to escape. “I didn’t ask for your evaluation.”

“But that’s my job. Your hand to hand could use a little work. I’d be happy to teach you.” His eager grin disappeared at the voice of the leader of the bandits. I hadn’t witnessed the demon side of him until now.

Since when did the Red Army employ women?

I turned away, remembering that he still had my earring and no magic had shielded my features. Edgar slipped it into my palm without a word before slinking up to the angered prisoner.

“He is quite pretty for a boy, I’ll admit. You’d do well to keep your mouth shut.” The malice laced in his words paired perfectly with the dagger pressed a little too hard against his prey’s throat. His threat received with a silent nod.

I trailed behind, lost deeply in thought. It hadn’t been necessary. There was no reason for him to say anything. No one would have believed the word of a criminal over the Jack. There’s no logical reasoning behind why Edgar had protected me, nor why I can’t simply say thank you and move on.

My cheeks were unbearably hot.

Why did he confuse me so much?

[albakatrinaalexis]

Bittersweet Tea Parties: A Memoir

        There exist times where I wake from my slumber, disoriented, frazzled with a warm fuzzy swell in my chest. Moments like these takes me back to when I was younger, times I consider more carefree compared to the present. Where things seemed less complicated and I have fewer issues to heavily think about. When living was in no way considered as a hassle.

           At a young age most of us aren’t exposed to issues occurring within our families or society or even the government. Parents, often, take pride of their child’s innocence and tries to preserve it as much as possible. Although there still exist a number of younglings that are unfortunately exposed to sorts of things at an early stage of their lives, forcing them to mature rather quickly to be able to cope with such matters. Hindering them from appreciating their gift of youth.

           As a child I developed a love for the cliché playing with little tea sets and ceramics I got to collect, my mother was fortunately supportive of this hobby which I was thankful for. The soft clinks of miniature teacups and pots filled with nothing but plain tap water, I remember the sound of liquid being poured as my impressionable mind made effort to make myself believe that this stale water was indeed jasmine tea. Giggles would fill the room as I set the pot down with liquid dribbling from its spout. Allowing myself to loosen up and drift to places I've never been before creating whole new scenarios and stories. It was pleasant, to say the least.

           I’d play this by myself, even at a young age being alone wasn’t a new concept for me, it was not really considered lonely back then and I was contented with that set-up, often I find myself missing those days. Being able to shut my eyes and fall into utter bliss with being at peace. It never fails to amuse me how I managed to survive as a single player half into the game of life, choosing to be by myself and being fine with that but, of course, society disapproved and sneaked its way in every nook and cranny of my being, hand-in-hand with life as they push me off the gutter and down on the floor. Standards were forced down my throat along with a series of false truths and rights and wrongs set by society itself.

           I was overwhelmed, exhausted even.

           Suddenly playing with tea sets with myself aren’t fun anymore. Having the choice of being alone, to stand independently, is now considered weird. Not the good kind of weird, although synonymous with being unique, no, being different is bad and not holistically accepted by most people. And as a kid I struggled with this internal battle. A part of me wanted to go back to being able to enjoy the comfort of me having no other company that being alone does not equal to lonesomeness or the inability to make friends, none of these were negatives until toxic society deemed it so.

           Alas, I failed. The side glances, the harsh words spat directly at me, the shoves and pushes, the glares and bothered looks people gave got into me. For the reasons of choosing to be alone and being critical with who I choose to hang out with. I gave in, and forced myself to squeeze in groups I never really vibed with for the sake of not being considered weird, alone. Oh how I wish I am as knowledgeable as I am today compared to before, being able to not take offense when called out for being different taking it as a compliment rather an insult. But, oh boy, was I livid when called weird when I was younger. Treating the word somewhat like a curse, it shook my whole being making me want to explode.

           I was not able to enjoy days with myself alone anymore, and being an only child made it a little more challenging, worst even. No longer was I able to bask in the comfort of silence for silence has become deafening. Morphing into the monster under my bed, the boogeyman, a constant ringing in my ear a redundant reminder that my teacups and pots no longer misses me.

           Though I miss them.

           If it wasn’t for the saddening thoughts bouncing along the confines of my skull, I would have gladly returned to who I was before. But stubbornness clawed its way up to my head for integration and for a moment I was stuck in a loop of constant self-doubt to the point of unhappiness.

           “Would you die without having these people around you?” The voice of my mom echoed within the four walls I built, waking me. Realization slapped me right across the face lacking restraint. Suddenly the dam behind the windows to my soul broke and the river was freed, trailing down my face and tainting my cheeks with everything I have held back during these times. I have wasted a fraction of my lifetime trying to please people who couldn’t care less about my wellbeing, and that was one of my biggest regrets, up until today.

           I slept for a long period of time that night, the lightness of my shoulders was an obvious comfort for me after what I have been through. No longer was I discomfited of my habits and the things I like, I stopped restraining myself from the stuff I wanted to do and I was ecstatic with my new found glow. With that being said, I came running back to my hidden stash of teacups, saucers and pot and got lost in my sweet haven, a little worn and dusty but it still felt like the same happy place I have grown to love.

           From that I had gravitated to engaging with the actual habit of tea drinking, as a result of my constant search for peace, I guess. Something about holding a warm cup of tea between my palms sets my mind at peace. The soft plop of teabags sinking to the bottom of the cup to steep and the faint aroma of tealeaves brings me back home, I sigh with every gulp as warmth trails down my chest sitting down my stomach. As I savor my drink ‘til the last drop I remind myself that I am safe and that my life should also be savored ‘til my last breath.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, GREY! You’ve been accepted for the role of BENVOLIO with an FC change to FRANCISCO LACHOWSKI. Admin Rosey: Benvolio is a multi-faceted character who, in my opinion, is one of the most difficult to capture in a single application. There are so many different ways to pull him and he will cry out against all of them. Whether you wish to bloody his hands, have him save a Capulet, or send him away from the city again; all of them end in tragedy, all of them are never quite right. But Grey, in your application you managed to get to the very quick of his character. You gave him a distinct voice and an even more distinct heart. I can’t wait to have you ruin us all with him. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Grey

Age | 31

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | Currently I’m off work on extended medical leave (unknown end date), so mostly don’t have any major claims on my time and should be able to be around most days. With that said, medical issues and meds will crop up from time to time. Once I return to work, I work 3-4 days a week, so will still have multiple days a week free.

Timezone | Australian Eastern Standard Time (AEST/GMT +10)

How did you find the rp?  | Rogue seduced me over, so blame her for everything please

Current/Past RP Accounts | Bellavie (from a very short-lived rp) -  I’ve also played with Rogue in several places over the years.

In Character

Character | Benvolio / Bellamy Santa-Domingo. Preferred FC of Francisco Lachowski.

         ✧ Bellamy ⟶ What’s in a name? For Bellamy, a wealth of self-discovery, definitions laid out ahead of him at birth, a path his feet have never wavered from. Fine Friend his mother called him, and perhaps bought upon them all their disappointment in his gentility with a name bereft of the thorns they so coveted. Fine Friend he was named, and so he lives, a shoulder for everyone’s burden while he struggles solitary with his own.

         ✧ Santa-Domingo ⟶ Saint of the Lord, he is labelled; baptised in the blood of his family, the holy mandate by which his father demands respect. What is a saint, after all but someone to venerate, to esteem, graced by God? But Bellamy knows that that is but the least of what a saint is, for saints are pained and fragile things burned in holy fire, martyrs all; sacrificial lambs to the glory of God — and the truest god his family bends knee to is that known as Montague.

        ✧ Benvolio ⟶ Thrice he is named and the third feels like a lie, ashes on his brow. Well-wisher they call him, Benevolence — yet they would ask him to be anything but. He feels the hollowness of the name as Damiano settles it on his shoulders, the calculated sop to his reluctance and he wonders how long he will be allowed to keep the illusion of truth before he must sacrifice it on Damiano’s altar, how long before the name is nothing but mocking contempt of the perceived weakness of his dream ( he knows too well how often in war softness becomes synonymous with weakness ).

What drew you to this character? | Benvolio was the first of the open characters I read, and I think that reading is probably what tipped me from considering the rp for the future to immediately applying. Even as I read through the rest of the open characters, I kept returning to the tab with his bio in it. While I did briefly consider Halcyon instead, I think my choice was pre-determined from the start.

Bellamy touches a lot tropes that I love to play with; Rogue once summed up one of my main types as ‘Damaged boys with daddy issues’ and on that Bellamy is almost a solid bullseye, the tragic figure of Atlas carrying everyone else’s burdens. There are conflicts within him, conflicts and contradictions that pull him in different directions, forcing him to play a delicate, and exhausting, balancing act in order to keep himself whole. Criminal yet cop, loyal yet selfish, duty yet refusal, peaceful yet fighter, ideals yet realistic — the inability to reconcile the disparate portions of himself leaves him feeling hollow with self-loathing as he counts his sins ten times over and values his virtues at half their rate.  Bellamy has ever been thus, a duality at war with himself; as play-Mercutio says: “Nay, an there were two [of you], we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other!”

APatroclus saddled with two Achilles to save from their own divinity, Bellamy is irredeemably entangled with his closest friends, unfailingly loyal and dependable. Roman and Marcello are his heart and soul, his very being — and yet he left. Oh, he came back, and the texts and emails flew thick and fast in his absence, yet still, he left, leaving them bereft in the middle of war. An abandonment — necessary, yes, but ultimately selfish, running to save himself without those who he would gladly lay down his life for.

Yet Benvolio’s biggest contradictions, deepest complexities lie in the very area that most would dismiss as his simplest aspect: his kindness, his softness, his gentility. So often, these traits are those that people write off, dismiss as naïveté or innocence, chalk up to an ignorance or blindness of the darkness of the world. Bellamy is none of those things, was never given the luxury of being unaware. Even as a child, the war shaped his life; even as a youth he knew too much of blood and cruelness and the rotted heart of Verona.  

No, Bellamy is not kind out of some innate inability to see otherwise, some childlike artlessness that means he could never be aught else — he chooses to be kind, he chooses to trust; and he does it in the full and grim understanding that doing so is the emotional equivalent of sticking your hand in the fire and asking it not to burn you. He chooses it because it allows him to live with himself, wears it as an armour that keeps him from breaking, because whatever cost he pays in scars for that gentility, however much he kicks himself for an idiot when it blows up in his face… if he chose otherwise would he ever be able to find his way back?

Likewise many dismiss his voice when he raises it for peace — idealist they call him, young they scoff at him, yet sometimes Benvolio feels like he’s the only one at all who sees. They celebrate victory while he counts bodies, count winnings while he watches the city crumble. He wonders when they all stopped seeing people and started seeing gold instead, when costs stopped being about finance and were first paid in blood. Could they not see that this tragedy was leading nowhere, that this tit-for-tat, blood-for-blood would only end with all of them blind? Could they not see that they were past the point where a victory could be anything more than Pyrrhic?

A warrior for peace; an absurd idea really, almost hypocritical, almost oxymoronic in nature, and yet, and yet — Benvolio learned, as the war poets learned ( battered paperbacks of Owen and Sassoon accompany him around the world, the margins slowly filled with all manner of scrawled notes in different colours of ink ) that people will dismiss the words of a non-combatant as cowardly, that only by engaging in the very thing they wished to end could they earn the right to speak out against it, that only by speaking from alongside them would the war-torn hear his voice. And so he takes his place in the trenches, stands shoulder to shoulder with his comrades and tries not to think too much about what they do, so that, one day, he will be able to end it for all. If the cost for the whole of Verona is his own blood spilled, his own soul crushed, how can he refuse to pay it? And yet how can he survive its paying?

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

✘ dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori⟶  ( price of duty )

Sitting in that airport, staring down at his phone as it rang, Mama picked out on the screen, his thumb hovered over the red end call button as he fought with despair. He could go, he knew, could let the message go to voice mail and answer the boarding call for his flight instead, jump another flight at the other end and head to the Andes, the Sahara, the Australian Outback. Say he hadn’t gotten the message, had been out of signal range. It would be easy, simple.

He’d plead conscientious objector to get out four years ago, but now the piper has come due. He answers the phone ( had it always been this heavy? ) halfway through the final ring and allows himself to be conscripted.

Bellamy has always been dutiful, responsible, loyal. Innately, intrinsically, he puts his duties and friends ahead of himself time and again, often at the cost of his own self, his own soul. A soldier in a war he despises, fighting a battle he despairs of no matter the outcome, Bellamy is quickly approaching the point where duty and ideals will clash more and more heavily, where he will no longer be able to wiggle through loopholes or forge a middle path. One day, war and duty and loyalty will push him, without mercy or respite, to the moment he dreads most, will require him to do something he doesn’t know if he’s capable of living with.

His hands are going to get dirty, and he fears he’s too brittle to survive it ( he fears he may not have as much issue with it as he should ).

✘ i would know him in death, at the end of the world ⟶ ( friends )

They are many and yet one, together and undivided since a time of vague memories and impressions. Bellamy doesn’t remember meeting Roman or Marcello, can’t recall a time when they weren’t sashaying into trouble together. Their bond is inviolate, one of the surest things in Bellamy’s life and by far the most precious.

They have always been inseparable — and yet they separated.

Bellamy parted them, and when he came back there was a harshness to the light inside his friends, as though the warm light of the sun had turned to nuclear glow; the fires of war. ( He wonders if that will be him in a couple of years. ) There are cracks in all of them now, cracks in their souls and their bond, even as they pass the whiskey bottle between themselves and try to pretend that nothing has changed.

Bellamy blames himself. He left, he thinks, and that laid the first crack between them. Now, he struggles to deal with that betrayal as he sees it, trying to amend for it by taking more and more for his friends, his brothers, while squashing all his own needs ( pretends he is naught but the balm and bandage as he bleeds out himself ) — how could he ask them for aught, now?

Cracks can be fixed, but Bellamy needs to learn again to take as well as offer, before he subsumes himself under everyone else’s needs and is killed by his own gone unmet.

✘ forgive me father, for i am only fucking human ⟶ ( loyalty challenged )

Mark Twain once said “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?” and those words have always resonated for Bellamy, printed large on his heart. Odin has done appalling things, he knows, things that should maybe be unforgivable, but if he is trying to make amends then can Bellamy do aught but help him? Sinners need forgiveness far more than good men ( sinners are who forgiveness was made for ) and so he listens, and absolves him in his heart as they sit in a patrol car on a dark street sucking spilled take-out sauce off their fingers.

And yet in this day, when the merest of mercies to the other side raises cries of fraternisation and both sides lay pressure upon pressure on their soldiers to prove their loyalty he wonders if perhaps this will be the thing that causes them both to burn. They have no choice in who they share a car with but he wonders if that will matter before paranoia has run its course and they have done more than that, haven’t they? Drowned their sorrows together, doused themselves in the whiskey that may yet fuel their funeral pyre — and yet if Odin asks for help, can Bellamy do aught but hold a hand out to him? A lifeline, a hangman’s noose, rolled into one.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes - but not until I’m so attached that it will break my heart. GRRM says that you should mourn when a character dies, that you should care and that sort of attachment I feel is one that takes time to develop. But oh yes, I’m definitely okay with charactercide - just with an initial cooldown period please!

In Depth

What is your favourite place —

His favourite place? His mind swirls, an agitated snowstorm of images: the hot sun on his back as he sits on the ancient stairs in front of the Parthenon; the bright, airy, treasure-filled rooms of the British Museum; the serene weightlessness of floating in the Dead Sea; the sky shaded a brilliant sunset on a beach in Brazil, cocktail in hand…

— in Verona?

The rider on the question brings his thoughts to a sudden halt, leaves an echoing quiet in his brain. His favourite place in Verona? The city he’d run from as soon as he was able and had never wished to revisit?

As a child, Bellamy had fallen in love with Verona’s Library: the arching ceilings, the ornate decoration, the heavy books bound in rich and sometimes flaking leather, the dry and musty smell of ancient pages holding the words of worlds and centuries. It felt… reverent, almost Holy.

And then he’d learned of what lay upstairs, that above the rooms devoted to knowledge, to history, to making sure humans never forgot the mistakes of the past, Damiano and his court engaged in the deliberate repetition of humanity’s greatest fuck up. And then all it felt was tainted, sacrilegious.

As a teen, he’d come to love Castelveccio Bridge for the fragile peace that surrounded it. He’d perch on the edge with a book, back up against one of the buttresses, and let the river wind rustle his hair as he read or skimmed stones, or, later, passed around a bottle of jack with his friends.

But that too was marred now, stained in so much blood and death, and he wonders if there is anywhere in the city that has not been spoiled by this abominable feud.

“ To Tame A Soup, ” he says, eventually “ I guess. At least some good comes of it. But really, this whole city, it’s…” he shakes his head with a sigh, gesturing at the woman to continue.

What does your typical day look like?

He’s sprawled across the couch in the police therapist’s office; one leg dangles half-off, just enough for the toe of his boot to brush the floor, the other ankle resting on the armrest, one arm over the back of the couch. His sister always wondered why he was so neat and tidy in his living, books alphabetised, everything in its place, yet just threw himself in a pile where ever he landed ( he doesn’t tell her its because his books are actually worth taking care with ).

( He wonders what would happen if he deliberately failed this review, what Damiano would do if he got himself sent home on mental health leave — but then, he’s probably already bought out the shrink. )

“ Much the same as anyone else’s, probably. ” He tips his head back over the armrest to look at her, upside down. “ Work, food, sleep, a book here and there… I adopted a cat last week, so there’s that. ”

What has been your biggest mistake?

“ Coming back. ” The worlds fall out before he can stop them, almost tripping over the end of the question in their hurry to break free. For a moment he wonders if he should take it back, prevaricate, maybe say that leaving had been worse ( though nothing in his life had ever felt so right as that moment the plane had lifted from the ground ). But — no, there is no need. If she was in the Montague pocket then well… Damiano, the rest… they already knew how he felt about being back. And if she wasn’t reporting, what did it matter?

She watches him for a moment, as though expecting him to elaborate, but when he doesn’t she moves onto the next question with a faint sigh.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you thus far?

“ The same, ” he says, mussing up his hair with one hand. Uneasiness pricks him; it’s far too difficult to ignore the foreboding in the words thus far. He’s well aware that so far, he hasn’t been asked for anything completely outside his comfort zone, that, for whatever reason, the hardest of his boundaries have been respected. He thinks he might have Roman’s influence to thank for that, but he doubts it will last. No, more than that, he knows it won’t. And, as much as he wants to reassure himself that when it comes to it he will do what is right… some part of him, buried deep, knows that he’ll answer the call.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

There is a freedom in this answer, for as neither Bellamy nor Benvolio has he ever hidden his opinion on this front. “ It’s bloody fucking stupid, isn’t it. ” He snorts, then sighs and waves a hand. “ No one even remembers what started the whole thing off, and it’s well past the point where anyone can actually win anything… even if one side cleared up tomorrow, more has been lost than they’d ever get back so what’s the bloody point? At this point it’s just mutually assured destruction.” He sighs, and wilts a bit. “ Not that either side will ever admit that. ”

Extras: Pinterest board

[lilibug--xx]

Falling For You

This is a little bughead one shot that @a92vm​ (my new bff) gave me the idea for ;)

Betty would do anything for a chance to meet Jughead Jones. Which includes standing in the freezing cold rain with a wimpy umbrella she got at the gas station. It was worth it, the way he looked at her and said her name. Like she was the only girl in the world, even though millions knew his name.

Read on ao3 here

I don’t know anything about movie/show production or anything in terms of fans watching/standing around, so just don’t pay too much attention to those bits! 

I don’t have a beta reader/am a lazy editor so, all mistakes are my own.

Betty stared at her phone screen for what seemed like forever. Veronica’s text message going unanswered as she processed the words her best friend had sent her. Another ‘ping’ came from her phone and another message from her popped up on the screen.

V: are you in or not B?

Before she could reply another one popped in.

V: I can go without you..

Betty’s fingers flew across her phone at the thought of not being there, missing out, giving her more anxiety than being there might.

B: don’t worry, I’m in V.

She bit her lip, thinking about all the possible scenarios that could play out. She typed out another message.

B: can’t let you make a fool of yourself ;)

She grinned a little. Not that Veronica could ever do that, she was perfectly poised. But anyone could lose their shit around a celebrity. And this was Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews they were talking about.

They were both in New York shooting for a movie they has signed on for, together. Everyone was freaking out about it. They had both been in a show together as children, one that Betty grew up watching, Six Times Goodnight. It was her favorite show, and she loved Jughead’s character the most. When Veronica moved to Riverdale their freshman year they had bonded over the last season of the show.

Things had been quiet after the show for the two actors the girls admired. She supposed they each wanted to experience high school and college normally, having grown up on television and their childhood being quite different than most.  They were only a year older than Betty and Veronica, so they had graduated college at the end of last year. They had decided to make a return to acting and they were doing a movie together. It was no secret that they remained best friends from the show. So people were freaking out.

Including Betty and Veronica.

When they found out the movie would be shooting in New York, Veronica instantly took to social media to find out where they would be shooting. She proved to have some excellent connections from living there before her move.

Now they were going to drive upstate an hour to Mayweather Farm which was right next to an old amusement park they were using for the movie. They were hoping to catch a glimpse of Jughead and Archie and maybe get a photo and autograph. Her heart was beating fast and her palms were already sweaty. This was crazy.

Or was she crazy?

She had grown up watching these guys, they had lived normal lives for the better part of six years now. How would they feel getting swamped by a crazy fan?

Betty’s fists clenched, nails curling into the skin of her palms. The sharp bites of pain making her slow her breathing, able to focus on the pain. Her thoughts were cloudy, loud and overwhelming. She was being ridiculous.

She was also very, very attracted to Jughead Jones.

She groaned, falling back on her bed and putting her hands over her face. Veronica liked both the boys, but she had never proclaimed a profound attraction to either of them. Unlike Betty. She was probably going to be the one to make a fool of herself. She had just been kidding about Veronica.

Rolling over onto her side, she thought briefly about doing the homework for the class she would be skipping tomorrow. Quickly dismissing the thought, she decided she’d do it this weekend instead, before the next session on Monday.

She sighed, her eyes closing. How was she going to be able to sleep?

A bubble bath with scented oils and bath salts calmed her for the evening. The scent of vanilla and honeysuckle a cloying mixture that had become synonymous with her.  She breathed it in, letting the warm water and steam relax her.

She managed to fall asleep with the thoughts of the vanilla milkshake she was going to treat herself to, after their adventure tomorrow.

—-

They hadn’t expected the rain. It was normally chilly this time in October, but the rain had dropped the temperature even more. Plus, it hadn’t really been raining when Veronica had come to pick her up. It only seemed to rain harder the further away from Riverdale they got.

Betty was wearing dark jeans with ankle boots and a thick pale pink sweater with a white lace collar. She had thrown her tan, belted coat on overtop but it wasn’t very rain proof. Veronica was dressed in a black dress and high heeled chunky boots. They had stopped at a gas station for her to pull on a pair of thick stockings, Betty’s ‘I told you so’ making Veronica roll her eyes. They had grabbed some snacks and two umbrellas before continuing.

When they got to where the crew had set up shooting they were not the only ones who had ventured out to catch a glimpse. There were other cars and trailers parked in the lot of the park, there were tons of production crew members, with lights and tarps and umbrellas hanging around. It looked overwhelming and it always shocked her how many people were behind the camera of a show or a movie.

Veronica parked the car next to where a group of girls were huddled under their own umbrellas, no doubt with the same intentions.

They stayed in the car a little while, hoping the rain might die off. She was sure the production team was thinking the same. They looked like they were set up under an old shelter littered with picnic tables. But no sign of Jughead or Archie. Veronica was about to break out the binoculars when Betty stopped her and said maybe they should talk with the group of fans to see if they knew anything.

They pulled themselves from Veronica’s car, the cold misty air assaulting them immediately. Their little umbrellas did do much to stop the rain that seemed to be coming down sideways. They did learn however, that Archie and Jughead were in fact here, in their trailers. They had filmed a scene earlier before the rain got so heavy.

Time passed and passed. The girls huddled in a circle together, sharing stories, getting to know each other. Betty found they were actually really nice. They had been here a couple days ago and managed to meet Jughead by himself, so they were looking for Archie today. But so far the only ones that they had made contact with were a couple of extras in the movie and one lesser known actor who played Archie’s father in the movie.

They finally got to see Jughead and Archie when they came out to film about an hour after they arrived. The girls spent several hours watching Archie and Jughead film sections of a scene underneath the shelter. Their characters seemed to be arguing. It was so interesting to watch. She never realized how many times they had to do the same thing over and over and the many angles with which they filmed.

She was in awe. The way they were styling Jughead in the movie, leather jacket and jeans, black combat boots. Hair loose and curly, hanging down in front of his face only for his hands to push it all back. There was definitely no shortage of him playing with his hair. Betty thought about running her hands through the dark strands.

Betty sighed and looked around. She really had to pee. Had for the last hour. She should have went at the gas station.

The girls told her to use one of the portable restrooms over at the edge of the parking lot. It was over near the make up trailers. Apparently the production crew had said it was okay for them to use, since there was only a small group of people watching them today.

Betty walked beside the partition the crew had put up, boots splashing through the water slicked pavement. Her toes and socks were damp, boots probably ruined by now.

She didn’t run into anyone so she was thankful. She managed to use the restroom and wash her hands without incident. She pulled her phone out from the pocket in her jeans, glad that it wasn’t soaked with water. She opened the camera app up and used it to comb through her hair, sighing at her water logged appearance.

She was able to ring a little water out of her hair, and fix her make up with her finger. But she needed a blow dryer. She also needed a heater. And dry clothes.

Betty had stepped back outside, struggling with the cheap umbrella that seemed to have gotten stuck closed. She groaned, hands shaking as the rain pelted down on her as she tried to pry the umbrella open.

“Here, take mine for a sec, “ a smooth voice assaulted her ears and her blood suddenly rushed to her cold cheeks. She looked up, as the rain had stopped pounding down on her head.

Jughead Jones was holding his umbrella over her her head, eyebrows raised at her before flicking down to her umbrella that she was now clenching in her fists.

“Uh, sure..” It felt like she swallowed her tongue. She took the offered handle, their fingers brushing and he frowned as she winced. Her hands were like ice.  She held the umbrella up and stepped a little closer to him to hold it above him as well, having to lift her arm up higher to account for his height. He had taken her umbrella from her and was working on trying to get it open.

“So, I’m guessing you already know who I am,” he started, the ease of his voice and the fact that he was making conversation with her startling her. She looked up from where she was watching his hands to meet his eyes which were staring at her. She felt her cheeks color.

“Yeah, I do. I’m Betty Cooper. I came with my friend Veronica, we’re really big fans of you and Archie.” She said with a gentle smile, not wanting to overload him.

Jughead had reached a hand up, pushing back the strands of hair falling into his eyes from looking down. He smiled at her and her heart wanted to stop but she pinched the fingernails of her left hand into a fist to distract her thoughts.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Betty. I’m sorry it had to be raining when you came out here to see us.” He tipped his head at her, gesturing out to the pouring rain that surrounded them.

“And cold,” Betty added, scrunching her nose up. Jughead frowned at that, eyes drooping to her outfit. She couldn’t help the flush of heat that enveloped her when his gaze swept slowly over her body.

“Right, again, sorry. I can’t control the weather after all. But I think your umbrella is broken,” he held it out to her, guilty look on his face. It wasn’t as if he had broken it though. Maybe it’s for the fact that she’s still holding his umbrella.

Betty shrugged one shoulder, her smile still hadn’t dropped from when he first spoke to her. “That’s okay, not your fault.” She took it from him and hooked the end over her elbow. “It was really great meeting you. My 11 year old self is ridiculously happy,” she said, brushing some of her wet hair behind her ears.

Jughead laughed, ducking his head, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. The sound was like music to her ears. It was one thing hearing him laugh on a show, or in an interview, but in person? Wow. He stepped a little closer to her when a gust of wind sprayed his side with rain. He looked down at her and she could have sworn his eyes dipped down to her lips for a second.

She must have been seeing things. Surely.

“Well, I for one am glad I can appease your 11 year old self. But what about now?” was he flirting with her? Maybe she was dreaming or had developed a fever.

She stumbled over her words, cheeks flaming red. “I, well, yes. Now is good too. I mean, you’re you after all,”  what was she even saying right now?

“I’m.. what, exactly?” he questioned with a smirk down to her and she could feel her mouth going dry.

She parted her lips but nothing came out, she had to clear her throat, managing to squeak out a “you’re ridiculously attractive” as she looked away from him.

Betty felt his finger come up to her chin, pulling her head back to look at him. Her heart was beating extremely fast, blood rushing in her ears. Jughead’s finger was tilting her chin up so she could look him in the eyes and she swore she was about to faint.

“Don’t be embarrassed. That’s a nice compliment coming from such a beautiful girl,” his voice was smooth and tender, lower tone than when he was speaking a minute ago. She swallowed thickly, her lips starting to tremble. She smiled at him though, because he had just called her beautiful.

“Thank you, Jughead,” she finally found her voice, his finger dropping from her chin. He shifted a little closer to her and she could smell the scent of leather and fresh pine.

“Would you take a selfie with me?” the words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. Thankfully he was already smiling at her and reaching his hand out. She pulled the phone from her pocket and opened the camera, handing it to him. Jughead took it from her hands, shifting to stand beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders. He ducked down slightly, fitting them both in the frame.

Betty could barely breathe, but she managed to smile as he snapped a couple of pictures, including a silly one where she was sticking her tongue out at him as he went cross eyed. They ended up taking several more and she was laughing by the time he handed the phone back to her. His arm hadn’t left her shoulder yet.

“Thank you so much,” she bit her lip, chewing on it a little. Her hand fiddled with the edge of her coat. “Could I get a hug? It’s the last thing, I promise.” She couldn’t believe the amount of courage she had scrapped up from the ground for that one. There wasn’t much left.

“Of course, Betty. I’m an amazing hugger,” See? It wasn’t anything special, people probably asked all the time.

Jughead pulled his arm from around her shoulders and turned to stand in front of her. Then she was in his arms. They were wrapped tightly around her, pulling her against his body, their chests pressing together. She tucked her head in against his shoulder, free arm curling up around his waist and squeezing him back tightly. She sighed against him, allowing her eyes to close for a moment.

“Okay, you weren’t kidding,” she murmured into his shoulder. He kept his arms around her as he chuckled, a hand rubbing against her back.

“Only for you, Betty.” He pulled back a little but didn’t detach from her. She lifted her head back to look at him. He was staring at her and she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. She wondered why he would say that. He leant down, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. Her skin burned when he pulled away and she shivered in his arms, from the electric tingle running down her spine.

He had noticed of course, eyes glancing down at her. “Are you okay?” She nodded against him and he stepped back, his hands gripping her upper arms. “Tag me in those photos on Instagram, I’ll message you.” She was a little shocked to say the least. She never knew he would be so pleasant, humble. He was just a person, like anyone else she would meet on the street. He took the umbrella from her hands, taking over holding it above them. His smile was something she would dream about, the way his eyes stared into hers.

“Of course, don’t want you to forget about me,” she gave a little nervous laugh.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be forgetting Betty Cooper any time soon,” he said it with such conviction that she believed him. He said her name like she was the only girl in the world, even though millions like her knew his. Didn’t have time to process his words fully before she realized his clothes must have gotten wet from hugging her.

“I’m so, so sorry for getting you all wet,” she bit her lip, looking down at where her soaked clothes had pressed against him, the dark patches where the wetness had transferred.

“I don’t mind.” His arm wrapped around her again, tightening on her waist as he tucked her against his side, huddling close under the umbrella he was still holding. His little smile and the way his fingertips pressed into her side, she was falling harder than the rain.

[jaeminlore]

Ribbons // Ji Hansol

-

the prompt: you hoped for a new life in france, but with no money, you stowed away in the closest freighter you could find. only, it wasn’t a freighter, it was a pirate ship.

words: 6514

category: pirate!au, fluff

author note: ayy thanks to marissa for the idea of pirate!hansol bc this came out of it :) as always i miss ji hansol and wish him all the love. also i need to stop writing novels and just write cute romance like wow destinee half of this is just worldbuilding.

-

Thinking back, jumping into the first barrel you could find was likely not the best decision. How were you to know that there would be water filling up half of it? How were you to know that the water would be freezing cold and simultaneously smell like rotten fish?

When you planned to run away, you had no idea it would turn out like this. Your plan was to hide in a simple freighter, amongst the boxes of exports being sent to Europe. You planned to start a new life, far away from the constant danger surrounding your small village. The port side town was fueled by fear of pirates. No one was safe, and everyone was willing to give up everything if a pirate asked them to. It was horrible.

You didn’t want to live in fear. You were just as bad as everyone else in that town: cowering in fear if a pirate spoke to you. You worked at your family’s inn, and if a pirate asked for a free room, you gave it to him. If the pirates said jump, the villagers asked how high. There was no thought of ever defying them. There was no though of fighting back.

You weren’t sure you had the courage to fight back. Pirates were mean and brutal men who loved taking people for slaves and ransom. If you tried to fight back, and lost, it was likely you would never see freedom again. So, after many anxious nights of wondering if you should just do it, you finally did. You ran away.

It was just your luck that you accidentally stowed away in a pirate ship. The ship began to move at dawn, and that’s when you realized something was wrong. Men were shouting above you in a mixture of languages and tones. They were speaking like sailors, with tongues of fire and crude insults. As you looked around the small hold you had holed up in, it dawned on you that a freighter should have more crates in it. Where you were, there were only a few barrels. The rest of the room was set up like a pantry, with shelves of fruit, herbs, and dried meat. Not many freighters would have those in their hold. A pirate’s ship, however, would.

As the ship was already moving, you had no option but to hide and hope they docked somewhere soon, where you could sneak out and find help. That plan seemingly the only option in your head, you shoved your carpetbag (filled with simple things like a notebook and some underwear) under a shelf, behind many flasks and bottles. Then, assuming the barrel was empty, you opened the top and climbed inside.

You had not anticipated the cold water at the bottom, nor the horrid smell. If you bothered to check the barrels, you would’ve found a better barrel to hide in.

“Hansol said that we have oranges but I can’t find them.”

“Seriously, Jaemin? Did you even look hard enough?”

At the sound of voices, you ducked into the barrel with a soft splash, and replaced the lid as accurately as you could without proper lighting or any real knowledge of how to properly lid a barrel. Through a slit in the barrel, you watched as two boys surprisingly close to your age walked in.

It wasn’t long before they disappeared again, having found the oranges they had been searching for. You refused to move, afraid that you might splash too loudly, or worse, knock over the whole barrel and be attacked by swords. So, curled up in the most uncomfortable fetal position, you closed your eyes and struggled to fall asleep.

They would stop somewhere in the morning, right?

-

The boat rocked back and forth through the night, and Hansol had a hard time keeping his crew’s heads on straight. The storm had come out of nowhere, and of course there was a leak on deck.

Hansol tied his hair back with a bandana and grabbed a hammer. “Check the rest of the deck for more leaks!” he yelled, unable to be heard above the roar of the rain.

His crew obeyed without a word of protest, as they always did. He was lucky to have a loyal crew that didn’t cry mutiny every time something went wrong. Truthfully, they were his best friends and only family. He couldn’t say he’d know what to do without them.

Ten stood behind the ship’s wheel, holding the entire ship steady against the torrents. He watched each member of the crew from there, his dark eyes trained as if for war. In storms like these, the winds and rain could sweep you right into the sea of you weren’t steady, so it was vital that the crew looked out for each other.

Yukhei stood tall in the crow’s nest, a sextant by his feet and a looking glass in his hands. He was in charge of making sure Ten was on the right track. He was also in charge of warning the crew of any dangers such as other storms, mermaids, or other pirates.

Kun was the cook, and one of the most trusted members of the crew. Every day he kept the stock and the rations, making sure that no food went missing, and that everyone had enough to eat. He knew how to time trips, so that they would never starve before reaching their next destination. He also practiced navigation, and helped make sure Ten knew where to steer the boat.

Jungwoo manned the canons and the guns whenever a fight arose, but mostly he kept the ship clean and repaired whenever it needed it. Unfortunately, the ship was getting old, and the wood and tin wasn’t all that they were when Hansol first stole his precious ship.

Jaemin was the youngest, but he had been on the crew almost as long as Hansol and Ten. He practiced medicine, and always took care of the other members if they got sick. For the most part, however, he was loud and playful, always skipping out on his responsibilities to play. He had a lot to learn, but Hansol could remember a time when he too had been to excited to simply pull in an anchor or man the sails. Jaemin would learn in time.

Hansol himself was the captain, though he didn’t find himself necessarily fond of the term when it first appeared out of Ten’s mouth. He didn’t want to be the one in control. He didn’t want his future crew to be afraid. After admitting his hesitation to his crew, they assured him that Hansol wasn’t like other pirates. They reminded him that while they looked for lost treasure and stole from time to time, they never took another man’s life if they could spare it. It was Kun who convinced Hansol to take the position as Captain. Soon, Hansol realized that “captain” was simply a synonym for “leader”, and he had nothing to worry about.

“Clear skies ahead! Ten, turn east!” Yukhei suddenly yelled, his deep voice somewhat startling to the focused Hansol.

“I can’t turn it!” Ten yelled back, his voice cracking against the salty air. “I need help!”

Warm rain trailing down his face, Hansol ran over to Ten and grabbed the wheel as well. Perhaps with the power of two men, it could be turned. After much groaning and toil, they succeeded in turning the ship’s course for the calmer waters, where they could perhaps anchor for the night and get some rest.

It took hours before the ship finally escaped the storm. The whole time, the entire crew had struggled to hold on against the winds. They took turns in threes, going below deck to sit at the oars and try to propel the ship further. When it was all said and done, the six boys were tired and worn. Soaked to the bone, everyone took off their clothes as quickly as they could and replaced them with warm nightshirts and wool blankets stolen from the last inn they had visited.

Everyone was tired, but no one wanted to sleep. It was like that after battle. No matter the enemy, whether man or storm, there was always that fear inside the heart of the victor. The fear that the battle might not be over, and that the second act was just shy of beginning. So, under the stars, they began to talk, as people do when they are afraid or nervous.

“Doesn’t it feel strange on the ship?” Jaemin asked, picking at a loose seam in his sleeve. He was leaning against Ten’s side for comfort. “Like, do you think we have a ghost?”

Yukhei’s eyes widened. “I did feel a presence below deck. Perhaps one of the items we took last week was cursed.”

Hansol chuckled. The younger ones always wanted to bring up curses and legends of old, but the more experienced side of the crew knew that curses just weren’t as common as the stories always said. “I highly doubt that. We spent all last week at your mother’s trade shop, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Yukhei bit his lip, “but you know, my mom definitely could’ve cursed us.”

“Why would your mom curse her own son?” Ten asked.

Yukhei shrugged. “I don’t know. She might’ve been mad that I didn’t do my laundry, or perhaps she just wanted our trip to be unforgettable.

Hansol snorted. "I’m sure this trip will be just as forgettable as the last. It’s amazing how much of our touch we seemed to have lost when it comes to treasure hunting.”

Kun smirked, “Well you’re the captain, aren’t you? Start leading us properly and we’ll find treasure.”

Hansol shoved the younger boy playfully. At that moment, Jaemin’s stomach growled.

Jungwoo sighed. “You know, I’m pretty hungry too. We haven’t eaten since lunch, and we missed dinner because of the storm.”

Hansol looked at Kun, “What’s on the menu?”

“Well, I believe there is still some haddock left in one of those barrels. Which reminds me, we need to go fishing as soon as we can.”

“Alright. So everyone save Ten and Yukhei will be on fishing duty,” Hansol decided.

“Great,” Ten said. “Then Yukhei and I will go get the fish. Can we grab some oranges too?”

“Go ahead,” Hansol answered nonchalantly. “We brought too much anyway.”

The two disappeared below deck, and the remaining four sat in silence, each now aware of how hungry fighting the storm had made them. Hansol lay on his back, his gaze tracing the stars as they began to appear. He found the North Star easily, as all sailors had been taught. He pointed it out to Jaemin, and was about to speak when a loud shout interrupted him.

It came from below, and Hansol shot up as soon as he recognized it as Yukhei’s voice. “Stay here,” he commanded the others, afraid that someone dangerous might’ve stowed away and tried to hurt his crew members. The more he thought about it, the more it terrified him. “In fact, go hide in the captain’s quarters until I say it’s okay to come out. Jungwoo, take out your gun. Don’t be afraid to shoot if someone tries to hurt you.”

“Got it, Cap.” Jungwoo said, allowing himself to be steered away along with Jaemin. Kun had a grip on both of them, and he definitely wasn’t going to let them out of his sight.

Hansol cocked the gunning his hand, and with his finger on the trigger, he ran downstairs to find Yukhei and Ten seemingly unharmed. “What happened?”

“There’s a girl in the barrel!” Ten answered in exasperation.

Hansol peered into the barrel, unsure of what he was going to see. He definitely didn’t expect to see you, cold and shivering, staring back at him with fear evident in your eyes. “Please…” you spoke, and your voice was cracked from lack of use. “Please don’t kill me.”

Hansol felt his heart break slightly. “We don’t want to kill you,” he said in the softest voice he could muster. “Here… let me help you out.”

Perhaps his change in tone had worked, for you lifted your arms weakly and allowed him to pull you out of the barrel. “I can’t feel my leg,” you whispered.

“That’s alright,” Hansol answered, pulling you out and setting you on your feet. You leaned into his side. “The feeling will return soon enough. Right now, we need to get you warmed up. How long have you been in that barrel?”

“Since the ship set out,” you answered meekly. “I… I thought it was a freighter.”

“That’s been almost two days…” Hansol frowned. “Wait. My ship looks like a freighter? I thought it looked menacing.”

“It was dark,” you said. “I couldn’t tell which ship was which.”

This thought settled Hansol, and he faced Ten and Yukhei, who were still there, recovering from shock. “Go inform everyone that we have company. Tell Kun to heat up some water. Tell Jaemin to get his extra nightshirt, and then we can have dinner.”

Your eyebrows rose, and you scurried away from Hansol, running into one of the shelves behind you. A few oranges fell off of the shelf and you hissed in pain as the splintered wood rammed into your back. Still, you wouldn’t get any closer to Hansol. “You’re going to boil and eat me for dinner? Isn’t that too cruel? Can’t I just walk the plank or something?”

Hansol paused for a moment, unsure of where you had drawn that conclusion. Finally, he let out an amused chuckle. “Heavens no, darling. The water is for a bath, and the dinner is just for the crew. We’re hungry for fish, not people.”

You nodded, but you wouldn’t come closer to Hansol.

He held his hand out for you to accept, and offered you a friendly smile. “Come on, darling, I can’t take care of you if you refuse to come near me.”

“I’m not sure I want to be taken care of,” you said. “Can’t you just drop me off whenever you dock somewhere?”

“I’m not sure it works like that,” Hansol said, “we won’t be docking for a long time. You’re welcome to stay with us until then, though.”

-

You stayed in your spot, rubbing your cold arms in the hopes of circulating some warmth into them. As much as you hated to admit it, the man’s torso had been like a warm furnace, and your body was already missing the heat. “I don’t trust pirates,” you spoke surely, holding your posture.

“Me neither,” he answered. Then, perhaps for your sake, the man unstrapped his sabier, along with his gun, and handed both of the weapons to you. “But you can trust me and my crew. I’m Hansol.”

You slowly walked forward, deciding you could trust him. If any pirate was willing to give up his weapons, then he must be serious. That’s what you thought anyway. “I’m Y/n. I was trying to get to France. I wanna start a new life far away from my hometown. Away from pirates and thieves,” you said the last part rather tentatively, in the hopes of not offending him.

Hansol didn’t seem surprised by your statement, and he only crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips in thought. “France, huh? I think that’s on our way. If you want, you can stay with us until we pass France. Then we’ll let you off. We have enough rations for you, I think.”

The thought of staying on a pirate ship any longer made you squeamish, but honestly what choice did you have? It wasn’t like you could just leave. You were in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. “Okay. I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”

Hansol shrugged, “Don’t worry about that. If anything, it might be nice to have a helping hand after the storm ruined a few of our sails. How did you do during the storm?”

You grimaced. “The barrel rocked a lot and all the shouting overhead scared me, but I managed to fall asleep. That other boy’s scream is what woke me up.” The two of you began to walk out of the pantry, you limping because of your poorly-circulated foot.

Hansol walked toward you awkwardly, and wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Is this okay? If I help you get up the steps?”

You nodded, accepting his warmth openly for someone who disliked pirates. For some reason, you couldn’t imagine Hansol being a pirate. You couldn’t imagine him ever hurting anyone.

When the two of you reached the top deck, the rest of the crew was already up and about, bustling around as quickly as they could. One of them, a boy close to your height, came running up with a nightshirt in his arms. “Hansol! Here’s my spare outfit. Kun said the bath is ready whenever you need it. I think he’s going to try and put dinner together.”

“Thanks, Jaemin,” Hansol answered, accepting the nightshirt.

Hansol led you into what you could only assume was the captain’s quarters, for it was furnished rather lavishly. The bed was huge, and half of it was covered with maps, pencils, compasses, and other navigation tools. “This is our map room. The bed is supposed to be for the captain but we only use it if someone is sick. The blankets are clean though!” he interjected himself, “We cleaned them when we stopped. You’re welcome to use the bed until we get to France.”

You eyed the piece of furniture. “Thanks.”

“Over here is the bath,” Hansol continued his tour, pulling you behind a dressing screen. There, what looked to be half of a barrel filled with water and… orange peels. “Kun says they make the water smell good. He also says that the acid will help clean us. I buy soap anyway because I don’t know how much I believe him. You can clean up and get dressed back here. When you’re done, we’ll be on the deck with dinner, if you would like to join us.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Hansol smiled. Then, as if he had just remembered something, “Oh! And if you get seasickness, come get one of us. We’ll make you a remedy.”

You agreed, satisfying the captain enough for him to leave. When he did, you undressed and washed up, letting the freshly boiled water heat up your shivering bones.

When you were done, you dressed and crawled into the uncovered side of the bed. You buried yourself under the blankets until you could barely breathe. Ignoring your grumbling stomach, you fell asleep, desperately hoping that these pirates were good; desperately hoping that this wasn’t some trick; desperately hoping that you might come out alive and unharmed.

-

Hansol hadn’t really expected you to join his crew for dinner, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. Unfortunately, he had to accept reality when you didn’t come out of the room.

“What do we do with her?” Ten asked before taking a bite of the fish Kun had prepared.

Hansol pulled on his earlobe nervously. “Well… she wants to go to France, so I thought we could take her on our way to Finland.”

“Isn’t that out of the way?” Jaemin brought up, “Do we have enough rations to make it that far?”

Everyone looked at Kun, who calculated the numbers in his head before answering, “I mean as long as we stock up in France we’ll have enough food to get to Finland.”

Hansol nodded, “We have to take her with us anyway, so we might as well drop her off where she wants to go.”

“What do we do with her, though?” Ten repeated, his words emphasized as he struggled to get his point across. “I mean, do we give her a job? Or do we just leave her in the captain’s quarters and pretend she isn’t there?”

“I don’t know,” Hansol said.

Jaemin yawned from beside him. “Can’t we just ask her in the morning? She’s probably scared right now.”

“Right,” Hansol said, “So be considerate. Also, Jungwoo, no firing the canons as a surprise morning call like you sometimes do.”

“Seriously? You’re no fun,” Jungwoo rolled his eyes playfully.

Hansol smiled and ruffled his hair, “Alright. Off to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Mend the sails, fish, figure out our course to France…”

The crew groaned. Yukhei leaned against Ten dramatically, “Oh why must we work? What kind of a pirate’s life is this?”

Hansol shoved them both gently, “Stop complaining or I’ll make you two walk the plank.”

Yukhei snorted. “You wouldn’t make a fly walk that plank, let alone your favorite crew members.”

“Just get to bed.”

-

Just as they lulled you to sleep, the rocking of the waves woke you up. You turned on your back, eyes pointed towards the wooden ceiling. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Were you supposed to go out to the deck? Were you supposed to stay here until someone came and got you?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the door to your quarters opening slightly. A head poked through. “Oh. I didn’t know you were awake. I’m Kun,” the man said, his eyes kind. “I wasn’t going to bother you but we’re having a hard time finding our coordinates after the storm. It doesn’t help that the sky is covered in clouds. I’ll grab some maps and get out of your way.”

“I can help you,” you offered shyly. “My father was a cartographer, so I learned a lot about navigation from him.”

Kun broke into a soft smile. “Great! The other boys aren’t up yet, except Yukhei, so I’d be nice to have some help.”

“What does Yukhei do?”

“He keeps a lookout for us. We like to try and avoid other pirates as best as we can, so if we see another ship we’ll go out of our way to stay away from a fight.”

“So you guys don’t battle?” You got out from under the covers and helped Kun spread out the map. Then the two of you began to light up the lanterns so you could see.

Kun grabbed a pencil from behind his ear, “Yeah, well, we’re really only here for the adventure and the treasure. We don’t plunder every town we stop at and we certainly don’t attack other ships.”

“I didn’t know there were pirates like that,” you commented.

“We aren’t the only ones.” Kun said. “We are friends with another crew, a bigger one. They’re over near Africa right now so we haven’t seen them in awhile. But Taeyong, the captain, is a lot like Hansol. They both put their crew before treasure.”

“That’s nice,” you said, feeling a little elated to know that there were some nice pirates out here. “I’m glad I stowed away on Hansol’s ship and not someone else’s.”

Kun smiled. “Luck is on your side, it seems.”

The two of you got to work then, working to find your longitude and latitude, as well as how long it might take to get to France. Kun was a silent worker, you noticed. Something else you noticed was when he pointed to the top of the map, and his sleeves fell below his wrists. The two ribbons tied onto his wrist, one yellow and one pink, made you curious. “Have you got two girls back home, then?”

Kun’s gaze snapped to his wrist and he blushed. “Not quite. That’s my girl and our daughter’s ribbons. They live back at the village.”

“You have a daughter? You seem young.”

Kun shrugged, “Well, when you’re drunk you sort of forget your age, don’t you?”

You eyed the ribbons again. “Do you love them?”

“I’d die for them,” Kun said. “The only reason I’m not with them now is because I’m hoping to get a piece of that treasure in Finland. I want to take it back and make sure me and my family have a good life, away from judgmental eyes.”

“I hope you guys find the treasure,” you said earnestly. “I can’t think of a crew who deserves it more.”

Kun was about to answer when the door burst open, and in walked the crew member you had seen last night. Jaemin, was it?

“Hi,” he said brightly. “Do you by any chance know how to sew?”

“Me?” you asked. “Of course I do.”

Jaemin looked relieved. “Great. Can you help me? I’m supposed to be mending the sails with Hansol but I don’t want him to know that I haven’t practiced sewing like he told me to.”

You chuckled. “I’ll help you. As long as Kun is okay with me leaving him.”

“I think I’m good now,” Kun mumbled. “I’ll bring our assessments to Ten and talk to him about it.”

As you followed Jaemin out of the room, Kun called after you, “Wait, what’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n,” you answered him with a smile before being pulled onto the deck by Jaemin.

The air was windy, filled with salt, and far different than any weather you had ever felt in your village. Somehow, though, it was comforting. It cleared the senses, and tossed your hair this way and that. You felt refreshed, which was definitely something you could get used to.

Before Jaemin led you to the sails, he brought you below deck and handed you a pair of pants. “Hansol would kill me if you caught a cold. Put these on and I’ll get you a vest.”

You obeyed and pulled the pants onto your legs. By the time you tucked the nightshirt into your waistband, Jaemin returned with a vest made of hide, similar to the one he was wearing. “Here, this’ll keep you warm.”

You put it on as the two of you walked back up to the deck. One of the sails had been taken off of the mast, as it was torn down the middle. Jaemin approached it with a grimace. “I’m supposed to sew this up but I have no idea how to do it.”

He gave you the needle and thread, and the two of you sat down and got to work. You showed him the proper way of mending the sail, thankful that your village was a fisherman’s village and many of the children had been taught these things at a young age. “It’s just a simple criss-cross pattern,” you explained to the younger boy.

After a few tries, Jaemin finally got the hang out it, and you let him take over the job he was to do.

“Hey… Y/n?”

You turned around, startled to see Hansol standing behind the two of you. “Yes?”

Hansol sighed. “I need to talk with you for a moment.”

You looked at Jaemin, but he didn’t seem interested in your conversation, as he was diligently mending the sail. Hesitantly, you got up and followed Hansol towards the other end of the deck, away from listening ears. Bracing yourself for a chiding, as perhaps your weren’t supposed to help Jaemin, you clenched your fists and squared your shoulders.

Hansol didn’t seem to notice as he bit his lip nervously, averting eye contact with you. “I want to, uh, thank you for helping the others. Kun already told me that you helped him with navigation. Then you helped Jaemin… Thank you for doing that, even though you should be resting.”

“I feel fine though,” you answered him. You wished he wasn’t so shy and curt. You wished he would look at you. Perhaps it was because he was the captain, or because he was the one who took care of you last night, but you wanted him to notice you. “Do you like my outfit? Jaemin gave it to me.” You twirled in place, as if you were wearing a flow dress.

Hansol gazed at your clothes before letting a small smile slip onto his face. “You look like one of us.”

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” you opened up to the captain, feeling your heartbeat speed up whenever he smiled.

“Yes. Very cool,” Hansol answered, unable to hide his amusement. “Anyway, you’re free to roam around as you please. Just stay away from the canons. Those are dangerous.”

You heeded his words as he walked away from you. Then, deciding what you wanted to do, you ran after him. Once you were matching his strides, you looked up at Hansol. “Can I follow you around all day? I want to see what a captain does.”

Hansol eyed you for a moment before letting out a breath, “If you want.”

-

It was like that for the next few days, even weeks. You found yourself getting closer to the crew, but more so Hansol. The shy captain was enthralling to you, and you wished to know more about him.

So that’s what you did. Every day, you followed him around, asking him questions in an effort to get him to open up to you. Eventually, although slowly, he did open up to you. He told you about his family back home. He spoke highly of his sister, who mended clothes for a living but wished to design them instead. “I can help her start a business with the treasure we collect,” he had said.

He told you about all the places he and his crew had visited. He told you about the icebergs near Greenland, and the mountains of New Zealand. He told you about nearly dying on several occasions. He told you about getting so drunk on rum that they accidentally docked in Indonesia for a weekend. He told you that they decided to stop bringing rum aboard after that.

Every night, after the crew went to bed, Hansol would stay up. The closer you got to him, the longer you would stay up just to see what he was doing. Usually, he was just checking things and making sure everything was ready for nighttime. Whether the anchor was dropped, the fishbones were thrown overboard, and the lanterns were put out were some things he liked to check.

Most nights, you discovered, he simply liked to lean against the side of the boat and watch the water beat against the walls of the ship.

One month into the trip, you asked Hansol if you could join him. You too had things on your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do when you arrived at France. In fact, at this point, you weren’t sure you wanted to leave the small misfit crew of pirates you had come to love. Especially Hansol, who you cared a great deal about, and wished to spend more time with.

Hansol agreed to you joining him. Your shoulder brushed against his as you leaned over the side. The flyaway hairs on your head tickled your cheeks as you observed the water. “Hansol… what do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I get to France. What am I to do there? How do I make a living for myself in a place where I don’t know anyone.”

Hansol shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to people. Make friends with strangers… you could even sing on the street for a few coins.”

You slouched against the captain, hugging his arm and you sighed dramatically. “What about you guys? I don’t want to lose my friends.”

Hansol stilled. “I nearly forgot that we wouldn’t see you every day like usual. You can write us can’t you?”

“How do I write to someone living in the middle of the ocean? Pigeons? Message in a bottle?”

“You could try the pigeons,” Hansol said in a soft voice. “We could get them in France.”

“Can a pigeon fly over open water?” you asked. “Maybe we should get a messenger albatross instead.”

Hansol chuckled. You felt him press his lips against your temple. “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “I don’t want to forget you.”

-

“Here you go,” Kun tossed you an orange.

You and the entire crew had taken a break in the middle of the day to have a snack. France was close by, and Kun estimated that everyone would be there within three days. As exciting as this could’ve been, none of you felt like celebrating. Instead, you all took to talking about ways to stay in touch, as no one really wanted to separate from you.

“What if it’s a few years before we see you again? How will we remember you?” Ten asked. Yukhei nodded from beside him.

Jaemin brightened. “Give us each a ribbon! That’s what girls do when they want a boy to remember them, right?”

“Not just any boy, Jaemin,” Jungwoo corrected him. “She has to give it to someone special. Like a lover or something.”

“Or something,” Yukhei snorted. “Can’t we be the ‘or something’?”

You giggled. “I don’t think it works like that, boys. Maybe I could get a mermaid to deliver my mail to you guys!”

Hansol cringed from beside you. He had been quietly peeling his orange the whole time. “Mermaids are evil, Y/n.”

“Oh. Nevermind.”

After everyone finished their snacks, they went below deck to take an afternoon nap, as a Hansol had given them the rest of the day off.

A slice of an orange in his mouth, Hansol got up and went to drop the anchor. “I’ll probably take a nap, too, Y/n. Will you be fine alone out here?”

“I might sleep as well,” you said.

After dropping the anchor, Hansol bid you goodbye and began to walk off.

“Wait, Hansol.”

He turned around, his face as blank as it always was, so that you never really knew what he was thinking. “Yes?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what on earth made you think of doing this. However, Hansol was your closest friend on the ship. Out of everyone, he would be the one you missed the most. Even thinking about it, your heart dropped a bit.

You reached for your braid and untied the ribbon that held it in place. It was faded purple, worn by the sea air and the amount of times you had tied and untied it. Still, it was the only ribbon you had. “Here,” you held it out for him to take.

Hansol stared at the ribbon for a moment, and you could almost see all of the thoughts racing in his head. He suddenly quirked a small smile. “Am I your lover now?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he held out his wrist. As you tied the ribbon around it, you answered. “I just want you to know that you mean a lot to me. I’ll miss you the most when I leave.”

“Don’t tell Jaemin that,” Hansol said.

“I’ll miss the crew as well,” you justified. “In a different way than I’ll miss you.”

Hansol grinned. It was the first time you had ever seen him smile so carelessly, so that all his teeth were on full display. “I’m going to miss you too, Y/n. Shouldn’t I give you something in return? To remember me by?”

“Like what?” you asked, although you already knew the answer.

Hansol came closer, his hands reaching up to cup your face. The ribbon on his wrist tickled your neck. His nose bumped against yours clumsily, and you angled your head so that he had better access to your lips. He waited, perhaps unsure, right in front of them. It was agony for you: his hot breath fanning your lips but he himself never moving. Finally, you lost patience and leaned up, meeting him in the middle. He reacted immediately. His lips were plump and slightly chapped from the ocean air. You pressed your body closer to his, hoping for more contact. His hand trailed down your body slowly, as if he were memorizing every curve.

“Hansol, do you know where the — my eyes!” Jaemin suddenly shouted from behind you.

Hansol suddenly jumped away from you, his cheeks bright red as he refused to look at you.

You, out of breath, smoothed down your shirt awkwardly and cleared your throat. “What do you need Jaemin?”

Jaemin walked closer to the two of you. “Well eye cleaner for one, but I was actually going to ask for an extra blanket.” His eyes trailed down Hansol’s arms, “You gave him your ribbon? Ten! Kun! You’ll never guess what Y/n did!”

Suddenly the entire crew were running on deck, each disheveled and sleepy.

“What’s wrong?” Kun asked, his hand blindly searching for a gun even though he wasn’t wearing his holster.

“Y/n and Hansol love each other,” Jaemin clarified. “She gave him her ribbon.”

The crew groaned. Hansol hid behind you and hesitantly reached for your hand. You gave his a comforting squeeze.

“Jaemin, everyone knows that they like each other. Literally everyone,” Yukhei said. “They don’t hide their loving gazes very well. Now let’s go back to bed.”

Everyone agreed and shuffled back below deck, ignoring Jaemin’s apologies. “I still don’t have a blanket,” he complained, following the others.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you said once they were out of sight. “Right?”

Hansol bit his lip anxiously. “Can’t I just stay with you this afternoon? They’ll tease me if I go down there.”

You tugged on his hand, “Come on, Sol. Honestly for a captain you sure are afraid of your crew.”

“They’re mean to me, Y/n!”

“I’m sure they are,” you chuckled, balancing on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips.

-

You woke up a few mornings later to see Hansol already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, so that you could only see his bare back. “Hansol? What’s wrong?”

You got out of bed and walked in front of him, tilting his face towards yours. “Why are you crying?”

Hansol sniffed and reached for your waist. He pulled you against him in a tight hug. “We’ve arrived in France. I don’t want to lose you, Y/n.”

You ran your hands through his hair comfortingly and kissed his forehead. “You won’t lose me, Hansol. We’re just going our separate ways for awhile. You’ve got to go get the treasure for your sister, and for Kun’s family. Then, if you still miss me, come back to France and find me. I’ll wait for you to come. And if you do come back for me, I’ll gladly return to this ship and live with you for the rest of my days, okay?”

Hansol nodded against your skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “I’m going to miss you a lot. And whenever you miss me, you can look down at the ribbon and know that you’re the one who has my heart, okay?”

Hansol left a feather-like kiss on your neck. “I’ll return quickly, then. Goodbye Y/n.”

“Goodbye, Hansol.”

~the end~

[iswearonmarcuskane]

Kickin’ & Screamin’ // Chapter 4

Title: Kickin’ & Screamin’ Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Kabby Tag/Warnings: Modern AU Setting, Kicking and Screaming AU, Kid!Delinquents Chapter(s): 4/22 Read earlier chapters on: AO3

Chapter Summary: the chapter in which kabby makes "shit show" a synonym for "practice"

Chapter 4: If there is no struggle, there is no progress

Marcus wasn’t lying. It’s gonna be a long season.

When they had announced the merge to the team, immediately Cece and Roan complained. Jaha had said something along the lines of, “we’re more screwed than we were before, and we were in the last!” When they had dispersed for practice, Jackson pulled her to the side to ask her, “You okay?”

The only two who didn’t seem to have a problem with it was David Miller and Sinclair. Abby thinks she actually heard them discussing which snacks to bring after their first game. Abby had half a mind to tell them to bring her scotch. She was going to need a bottle on the sideline the way things were going.

The kids didn’t seem to care much. Only Bellamy, Clarke, and Wells seemed to take any interest in the news. Probably because they were the only ones who actually cared that much.

And Abby knew her and Marcus were going to clash at some point with their coaching style. She didn’t think it would happen with the first drill she tried to run, but boy was she wrong. She should’ve known, it was Marcus she was dealing with after all.

For the Lifesavers, every practice started with sharks and minnows, a simple drill to get the kids’ legs moving and get them interested in practice. When she brought up the idea to Marcus he instantly shut it down.

“A game?”

“For warm up, Marcus,” she snapped back, not missing the distasteful edge in his voice. He made it seem like it was a kid’s game, which it was because they were kids. She crossed her arms, being defiant. “We can do more serious things after warm up.”

“Everything should be serious,” he immediately replied. He shook his head, “That way you can improve and win games.”

Abby didn’t even bother pointing out that if that had been his plan every year, it sucked. His only win was against her and it wasn’t that hard to win against her. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone or stand for it if anyone told her that.

“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “What would you like to do for warm up, Marcus?”

“That sounds sarcastic,” he commented, watching her carefully.

She wanted to say, “No shit,” but all the kids were starting to come over to them. Instead, she smiled at him and said, “I have no idea what you mean.”

He watched her for a few more seconds before he grabbed one of his bags. He started to pull out blue like clothing and told her, “We always do possession for warm up. A good way to get their mind focused right away.”

Abby quickly grabbed one of the blue things and held it up, tilting her head to get a better look at it. “What the hell is this?”

Marcus finished getting them out of his bag and he looked up. He seemed confused by her question, stating like it was obvious, “It’s a penny.”

“This is a penny?” It certainly didn’t look like one. “Where did you get it? The dollar store?”

He looked offended and ripped it out of her hands. She looked to him, the dumbfounded look still on her face. “Hilarious,” was all he replied with.

“I’m serious!” She said, a little laugh mixed in. He gave her a pointed look and she held her hands up in defense. “Those seriously can’t be the only ones you have.”

He didn’t respond but opened the same bag he had just pulled the blue “pennies” from. He pulled out red, green, and yellow ones too. Abby wanted to laugh, really wanted to laugh. “Well,” she piped up, “at least you’re consistent.”

He rolled his eyes and began handing the blue pennies to five of the kids. He announced what they were doing to the kids, “We’re going to start off with a game of possession. The team who doesn’t have the ball after five minutes will have a punishment to do.”

Clarke looked to her mom, asking, “No sharks and minnows?”

Abby shook her head and said, “We’re going to switch it up today, okay? We’ll play it later, though, promise.”

Clarke smiled and nodded and walked off to the grid where they would be playing. Abby took in a mental note how Clarke was basically swimming in her “penny”. She also took a mental note to never let Marcus handle equipment again.

Marcus passed the ball into the grid and started his stop watch. Abby watched him as he watched the drill. He had his arms crossed his chest, eyes scanning the tiny grid.

Abby crossed her arms as well, asking him, “So, what will the punishment be if they lose? Five ‘I’m a star!’ jumps?”

He looked to her, his face portraying the phrase, “Are you serious?”

She nudged her head towards him, asking, “Well?”

He shook his head and told her, “They’ll be running.”

She looked to him in a bit of shock. “Running?” He nodded. “It’s a warm up drill, Marcus.”

“And they’ll learn to never to lose in any part of the game,” he responded, his eyes on the grid once again. “Move after you pass, Clarke. You’ll open up space for Octavia.”

Abby gave him a hard look for lecturing Clarke but when she watched the scene unfold, the anger in her boiled down a tiny fraction. Octavia did have more space to move into to find Jasper, who was open for a pass. Okay, maybe Marcus could coach a little. Still, he didn’t have to suck the fun out of everything to be a good coach.

“What part of this is supposed to be fun?” She asked.

He looked over to her now. He examined her for a bit and said sarcastically, “Wearing the pennies.”

She chuckled a bit. She examined him as well, noting that again his hair was gelled back perfectly. It was another humid day and she was surprised the gel didn’t melt off his hair. She wasn’t sure which bugged her more: his hair or the pennies.

She looked at the poor excuse of a penny Clarke was wearing and then back to his hair. She shrugged, telling him, “Well, maybe if you didn’t spend all your money on hair gel, maybe the kids could have real pennies.”

That smirk formed on his lips again, his hand moving up to scratch at his jaw. He looked over to her, mocking her, “Won’t that get rid of the fun?”

She had to give him that one, she walked into it. Didn’t mean she didn’t have a line to shoot back. She shrugged, telling him, “I don’t know. Maybe if you let your hair breathe, you won’t be so uptight.”

He looked over to her, the smirk growing the tiniest bit. She also noticed his face was perfectly shaven too, no sign of stubble, five o’clock shadow, or cuts from his razor blade. She reached up and patted his left cheek. “Loosen up the tight schedule on your shaving too. The world won’t end if you forget to shave one morning. Might take away some stress.”

Plus, she liked stubble on a man.

+

“Coach, it doesn’t look you’re in total control of this situation.”

“I know, Jaha,” Abby responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. It wasn’t like Abby couldn’t tell that for herself.

Marcus had completely taken over practice, not letting her have a word. Right now, she was sitting on the bench, sneaking a shot from Cece’s flask. If she didn’t have to drive and try to coach these kids, she would down the thing in a few seconds.

Abby tried getting the kids to play shark and minnows after a way too serious shooting drill. Poor Wells was being pelted with shots. The boy got hit in the face more than once and when Abby tried to check him out, Marcus told her to wait till the round was over. He had told her, “It builds strength.”

Abby told him it builds concussions. He ignored her.

So in response, when the kids were taken their first water break of the practice, Abby started setting up the grid for sharks and minnows. Marcus was picking up his cones when he noticed and immediately came over. He demanded to know what drill she was setting up.

So, she told him. You could say his unhappy with her response. His exact response was, “You are not dumbing down the tone I’ve set for this practice.”

You can say Abby was also unhappy with his response. So she ignored him back and kept setting the cones up. He picked up every one she laid down. When she noticed she chucked the cones at him, making a mess.

They glared at each other before Abby finally stormed off to where she was now. This situation wasn’t any better, Jaha again- like usual- was telling her what a horrible job she was doing. He always seemed to be paying attention when things were going wrong. He never noticed the good things.

Currently, Marcus had the kids doing a 1v1 drill. There were three boxes lined up. In each box, Raven, Murphy, and Miller stood in their own in that order. The other seven kids had to try and beat all three. First, they had to stay in the boundaries and get past Raven. If they succeed, they tried to get past Murphy. If they succeed, then they tried to get past Miller. If they got through all three boxes without getting knocked out, then they’d get a point.

It was Clarke’s turn and she watched as Raven immediately stuck her foot out, diving in. Clarke easily dribbled by her and into Murphy’s square. Murphy ran up, making his presence immediately known. He had too much momentum going forward however and Clarke easily spun around him. She entered the last square where Miller just stood there, watching her.

Clarke carefully approached him but Miller didn’t budge. He looked upset and angry. He wasn’t even watching her anymore, he was busy glaring at where Murhpy and Raven were paying attention to the next player, Octavia.

Clarke easily dribbled by him, Miller not trying to stop her at all. Marcus immediately stopped the drill, walking up to Miller. He asked him, “Why didn’t you tackle, Clarke? You let her dribble right by!”

He looked to Marcus unphased by the anger in his tone. He looked to where Murphy and Raven were watching him. He said, “Maybe they shouldn’t have let her pass them either.”

Both Murphy and Raven immediately looked offended and Marcus looked to them and then back to Miller. He told him, “The difference between Clarke passing them and Clarke passing you was that they put effort into it. You didn’t move.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring up back to Marcus. “The difference was they sucked.”

“Talk for yourself, Miller,” Raven spat at him.

Miller looked around Marcus, rising an eyebrow at her. “Me?” He asked, “I’m pretty sure I didn’t dive in. I remember that clearly every time we versed you. Made it easy for Bellamy to beat you.”

Raven crossed her arms this time, tilting her head. “And like it wasn’t easy for Clarke to beat you every time? You never move.”

He shrugged, telling her, “At least I don’t fail every time I try.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Raven mumbled and started to walk over, face showing her anger. Murphy had to hold her back while Marcus looked back to Miller.

He pointed at the end of the field and told him, “You have three full field suicides.”

Miller looked aghast and repeated him, “Three?”

Marcus nodded and turned around, leaving no room for argument. He told Miller while walking back to the beginning of the grid, “If you haven’t started by the time I tell Octavia to start, you have three more.”

Abby doesn’t think she’s ever seen Miller move so fast. Raven wasn’t exaggerating when she said Miller never moves. She’s pretty she he holds a grudge for whoever lost the ball and never helps his teammates out when they come at him. She isn’t sure what causes it but he does a damn good job at it.

Marcus had reached the beginning of the grid, where the kids were lined up. He looked at the grid and said, “Let’s switch you guys out. Let’s see…Harper, Wells, and Clarke- you guys go in the grid.”

That got Abby’s attention again. Clarke going into a defensive position? That was absurd, Clarke only played forward. Jaha commented the same, “Clarke is going to play defense? Let’s hope she’s better at that than she is at forward.”

It took everything Abby had to not punch Jaha right then and there. Wouldn’t have been the first time she’s done it. With the look Jackson was giving her, he was already mentally preparing the med kit he would have to pull out if she did hit him.

She ignored Jaha even though she really wanted to reply to him. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that everyone heard him. Or, he didn’t give a shit.

Looking back to the drill, Harper was in the first box, then Clarke, and Wells in the last. Abby had a bad feeling in her gut about this as Marcus told Octavia to go. She slowly dribbled into the box, looking very uncertain what to do. Harper easily won the ball and knocked it out of the grid.

Next up was Bellamy who easily flew past Harper. It was like a battle of the two best players on each team when Bellamy entered Clarke’s box. Clarke took her defensive position as Bellamy charged forward.

The two immediately clashed, Clarke swinging her leg into for a tackle. The ball got stuck in between them as they fought for one to be victorious. Bellamy soon pulled the ball back and tried to use his body to brush by, but Clarke held firm, keeping him in front of her.

The two spurred for a good minute before Bellamy finally forced himself over the line, entering Wells’ box, who he easily nutmegged and ran past to catch up to the ball.

Abby looked back to her daughter to see her annoyed and upset. See, Abby knew Clarke wouldn’t like it. She knew her daughter enjoyed being up top and in charge.

Abby looked over to where Marcus stood, smirking in her direction. His eyes flickered to Bellamy and then back to her. Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it.

Just because Bellamy got by Clarke once did not mean his team was superior. Sure, the standings clearly stated that, but it was Clarke’s first time ever trying defense out. Bellamy wouldn’t get past her next time.

Next up was Monty, who was the shyest player of Arkadia. He slowly dribbled into the box, looking up to Harper. She immediately smiled at him, telling him, “You can do it, Monty!”

Monty didn’t seem to think Monty could. He looked back to his brother, Jasper, for confirmation. Jasper grinned big, nodding his head. Monty looked back to Harper and went forward.

It was very evident that Harper let Monty pass. Everyone could see it. Marcus immediately stopped the drill and walked up to the duo. Harper looked guilty before Marcus even spoke. He asked, “Why did you let him pass?”

She looked down to her cleats and said, “Because I wanted him to believe he could do it…”

He crouched down to meet her eye level, waiting till she looked at him to reply. “We’ve been over this before Harper,” he pointed at Monty, “he won’t get better unless you push him to do his best. Giving him the easiest way out won’t help him in the end.”

All she did was nod in response. He stood up, saying, “Perfect. Monty, start over. And Harper,” she looked to Marcus, who pointed to the poor boy who was currently dying while running his suicides, “if you don’t give 100%, then you’ll be joining him for your own set of three.”

It was easy to conclude that Monty didn’t advance to Clarke’s box. Jasper gave him a supportive pat on the back as he walked by to go to the back of the line. Jasper looked to where Harper stood and told her, “See you on the other side.”

He went before Marcus told him to go and before Harper could get ready. In a panic, she stuck her foot out and caught the ball at the right time. It stopped from her foot and Jasper tripped over it, falling to the ground.

“HEY! KEEP IT CLEAN!”

The scream caught everyone off guard. Heads whipped around to find Cece suddenly standing, her lawn chair thrown a few feet behind her. Saying she was pissed was an understatement.

“Keep what clean?” Oh no. “That was a clean tackle.” Dear God, no.

Cece’s head and everyone else’s turned to see Roan, chilling on the picnic table. He seemed unbothered by the tackle but agitated by her.

She put her hands on her hips. “Clean? She tripped him!”

“She got the ball.”

“No, she didn’t.”

It was the first practice. They had many more weeks to go.

“Yes, she did.”

“No, she didn’t.”

Many practices, games, and team activities where she’d have to be with these people in the same place.

“What the hell were you watching, Cece? It’s soccer, your kid is going to fall once in a while.” Roan was now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he watched her.

“Which is fine,” she said as she was stepping closer to him. Sinclair was trying his best to keep her back, David Miller doing the same to Roan. “But,” she continued, “only when it’s a clean tackle.”

Abby wasn’t sure how she was going to survive.

“Maybe you should stop worrying about my daughter’s ‘dirty tackles’ and maybe focus on your kid,” Roan shot back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t teach your daughter those ‘dirty’ moves,” Cece fired back.

Abby tipped the flask back up to her lips but nothing came out. She looked down into the dark opening. It represented their future: bleak.

She saw Jackson coming over to her with a water bottle. She needed something a lot stronger but she would take what she could get. He asked the question she’s heard every day since she became the coach of the Lifesavers, “You okay?”

Abby looked to where Cece and Roan were now in a full blown out argument again. David Miller and Sinclair were unfortunately stuck in the middle, just like always. Jaha was mumbling under his breath on how they were screwed. Jackson was over worrying (rightfully so) again.

And then there was Marcus. He had lost control of the kids. Harper had run over to Monty, trying to apologize for earlier, accompanied by Jasper. Octavia and Raven were pulling Miller’s penny over his head so he couldn’t see. Murphy sat by his brother, Wells, covering his cleats with grass he was pulling from the ground. Finally, Wells, Bellamy, and Clarke were watching the chaos all go down.

Marcus was frantically chasing the duo who was messing with Miller. He was yelling at Murphy to stop ruining the field and asking for the trio’s help. He was also trying to see of Jasper was okay but none of them would listen to him for he had done to Monty and Harper. He finally stopped chasing them and stood in the middle of the chaos.

They made eye contact in the midst of it. He looked lost and defeated. She shrugged, tipped the water bottle to him and winked. It was hilarious if you had a twisted sense of humor.

Two terrible teams, always have been destined to fail, now combined and destined to fail together. Ironic really, considering in the movies and novels where this happens, the two teams somehow manage to overcome their differences and become successful.

The Lifesavers and the Assassins though? That was a disaster waiting to happen.

Was Abby okay? Sure she was.

Abby had never experienced winning, she had always been at the bottom. She had always lost and yeah, it sucked, but now she has nothing to lose. She can’t lose to Marcus anymore, the only thing she ever cared about when she learned her team was hopeless.

Would beating Mount Weather be amazing? Hell yeah. Would getting Cage to finally shut up and stop his bragging be worth it? Definitely.

But let’s be realistic. This is real life, not some novel or movie. That isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

But you know what can happen? Marcus can experience everything she has. He can experience what it’s like to lose every game and never win a game. He can experience the brunt of embarrassment she faces each year at the league parties. He can lose.

And Abby would be damned if she wasn’t okay with that.

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Why people Love Blogging

People weblog for lots motives. Originally, I started my weblog the cease of 2013 as a creator platform.

  But as time passed, I realized my weblog furnished tons extra than a creator platform and it wasn’t all about the numbers. Blogging served a distinct and extra profound reason. I might even say that it’s modified the way I have a look at and live my lifestyles.

That’s why in case you’re considering starting a elementary reading blog, I’d distinctly advocate it. That is, in case you’re blogging for the proper motives.

  If you’re starting a blog spot to get wealthy or even to eke out a living, well, don’t assume it. Monetizing a weblog is fantastic difficult these days. In truth, after three years, I’m nevertheless not making a living from my blog. By the way, don’t consider all the hype from human beings promoting online guides that try and persuade you blogging is an excellent way to make passive income. Make no mistake, writing and selling a blogosphere is a ton of work. There is nothing passive about it.

  In reality, it’s so easy to get pissed off when you first create a blog on blogspot. As a technically-challenged person, I had to analyze WordPress. Then, I spent quite a few time selling my weblog and searching for a target audience. Something else I knew little about. As with most bloggers, I quickly have become obsessed – and depressed – with the numbers and what number of traffic, subscribers, and Facebook followers I had on any given day. Turns out building up readership for reading blogs takes a LOT of time, effort, and endurance.

  So Why Blog?

  Some people may additionally disagree with me, however, I think running a book reading blog should not simply be approximately being profitable, drumming up the commercial enterprise, gathering a massive following, chasing reputation, or looking to promote books.

blogging

Blogging can function an innovative channel to voice ideas, mind, evaluations, ideas, and feelings. On top of that, writing a blog gives a remarkable possibility to encourage and contact the lives of different humans in a fantastic manner.

  How Blogging Changed My Life

  My weblog has honestly seen me thru many America and downs those beyond few years. I’ve written about happy moments like a ride to Chicago with my husband to have a good time our anniversary, an afternoon spent playing in the snow with my grandchildren, watching Paul McCartney and the Rolling Stones at Desert Trip, and a quick weekend trip with my youngsters to San Francisco.

  I’ve also poured my coronary heart out even as caregiving for my Mom who suffered from Lewy Body dementia and wrote approximately her eventual dying. I shared my angst while my mom-in-law died from ovarian most cancers and my son went through a painful divorce and custody struggle that same 12 months. (Ironically, quickly once I started out writing a blog approximately happiness, I had the worst 12 months of my existence.)

  Yes, I love reading, which affords a welcome respite from my troubles, but writing is my real escape, outlet, and ardor. When I write, I become so targeted, my problems fade away for awhile, giving me a far wished spoil. In fact, if you’re truly an author, trust me, it’s far a lifestyles-long dependancy!

  The technique of placing my thoughts and emotions into writing has delivered me consolation, in addition, to assist me to relive happy moments.

  As I’ve written about my existence, my blogosphere helped me reflect consideration of what is vital to me and decide if my lifestyles are headed within the right route.

people

Since I cannot write approximately each event, idea, notion, and feeling, blogging affords a type of filter out, clarifying my lifestyles. My blog sites for beginners have helped me recognize what is most meaningful to me. I’ve observed alongside the manner that every now and then it is the only moments that make me the happiest.

  Embracing Creativity

  As a professional author, my weblog gives me the exquisite innovative freedom to specific myself. Not to pop anybody’s balloon, however, writing sounds more glamorous than it’s far in fact. For the maximum of the beyond 25 years, I’ve written articles on topics that magazines, newspapers, publishers and customers select for me.

  True, I’ve written two young grownup books, tour articles, humorous pieces, and function stories on charming funny fat people that were a laugh. On the opposite hand, in order to make a living, I’ve also written articles that bored me to tears. I’ve tackled technical articles – and one technical e-book – that gave me an Excedrin a headache and drove me nuts. I’ve written on demand, meeting other human beings’ cut-off dates, writing late into the night as my mind is desperately attempting to name it quits.

  Don’t get me wrong. I may also sound whiny, however, I completely comprehend that I’m darn fortunate to have made a living at something I love. I would not have had it some other way.

  The point is, my blogosphere magazine is my toddler. I write on subjects I’m inquisitive about and feel enthusiastic about and desire my audience will experience as properly. My weblog lets in me to stretch as a creator, discover, test, and strive new things on every occasion the inspiration hits. Writing professionally has given me the discipline to submit a weblog each week, but I write my blogs after I pick. And accept as true with me, that’s now not on the crack of sunrise or 10:00 at night! That is steeply-priced.

  So, the ones are a number of the approaches blogging has changed my life. But, as I stated earlier, the huge bonus is that running a blog can change other people online’s lives as properly.

love

Some people have left remarks letting me realize that I even have in a few small way stimulated them or supplied beneficial information and that constantly brings me such joy. Writing a blog has supplied a possibility to connect with readers and other bloggers, which has been so profitable.

  What type of blogs has validated to be maximum popular? It’s usually interesting to peer what resonates and hits domestic. My top ten blogs in order of recognition:

  1. Five Ways to Become a Happy-Go-Lucky Person

  Every 12 months, that is my pinnacle-performing weblog by using ways. Merriam-Webster defines glad-cross-lucky as blithely unconcerned and carefree. Synonyms include affable, laid lower back, low-stress, and mellow. I wager we all need a number of that!

  2. Golden Boys in Concert: Bobby Rydell, Frankie Avalon, and Fabian

  I changed into asked to do a book review of Bobby Rydell’s autobiography. This brought about an interview, unfastened tickets to his Golden Boys live performance with Frankie Avalon and Fabian, and a backstage bypass to meet Rydell in man or woman. This become a nice perk that got here from running a blog! The day they posted my live performance evaluate on Rydell’s Facebook page, my site visitors elevated by using 3000% for the day. No joke!

  3. Keep Laughing with the Seven Dwarfs of Menopause

  This blog has held a top-3 spot because I began running a blog. Hey, it is either laugh or cry via menopause, and would not we all choose to laugh?

  4. Staying Positive Despite Problems

  Everyone has problems that make us experience powerless and defeated, so I’m not surprised this weblog made the pinnacle ten. I provide 3 easy tips on how we are able to manipulate our outlook and still pick to be satisfied notwithstanding our troubles.

  5. What Are Your Life’s Happiest Moments?

  If your appearance back to your existence, which moments would you rely upon as your happiest? What would be your largest regrets? That’s the question one examine requested contributors elderly 70 and older. I proportion the consequences of their insightful answers on this weblog.

  6. Why Older People Are Happier Than Baby Boomers

  Aww, my first actual blog that got my blog off the floor. The concept for this blog was based on research that display, in popular, older human beings – or even the more youthful technology – are happier than us baby boomers. One examines confirmed there is a U-formed happiness curve with the early 50’s as the lowest factor of well-being.

  7. Happy as Easy as 1-2-3

  “I need my day to experience like there are boundless splendor and possibilities and joy to be felt, found, explored, and expressed. And you already know what? I can and so can you,” I wrote. This article was given observed on Stumble Upon, bringing me my 2d (after the Rydell live performance overview) all-time report the high quantity of visitors for in the future.

  8. Staying Happy Through Menopause

  I wrote this article after Hot Flash Daily hired me to write funny articles approximately menopause to release their new website. I had never written humor before, but had a blast doing it for them! I fortuitously shared all of it – the sizzling warm flashes, insane insomnia, demanding forgetfulness, and loopy panic assaults that ensued for years. Yes, YEARS!

  9. Finding Happiness with Grandchildren

  This blog becomes a clean one to jot down. To be wished and wanted with the aid of those pleasant little beings is an outstanding deal with and privilege. Like many humans, I find that the rewards of a circle of relatives life best grew richer and greater fulfilling as every new grandchild changed into the bearing.

  10. Five Happy Snoopy Quotes

  Okay, this one amazed me a bit. But hi there, do not we all still love Snoopy? Now that I write a happiness blog, I’m impressed with how a whole lot knowledge Charles M. Schultz cartoons contain on the situation.

  I cherished writing a majority of these articles that proved to be popular with readers. With that during my mind, what’s my primary recommendation to all of you who’re thinking about running a blog? Write approximately your passions. Let your blog educate you lifestyles training. And, finally, experience the process. Then you could love running a blog as lots as I do!