#It could be hornet's. i forgot the arguments for and against that one but i also think this is timeline dependant | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emptywithout · 6 years

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The Way You Breathe (part 3)

Words: 2,555

Warnings: minor character death (mentioned), Abusive!John (not graphic),

Wincest Warning/Sam and Dean: forehead kisses, hand holding, heart eyes, flirting drinking, kidnapping

The Birthday Kidnapping - (5 years after The Hotel Thing)

This chapter includes quite a bit of a flashback, to give some backstory to our brothers and what they’ve done since that night in the hotel. Flashbacks are italicized.

It was quite possibly the best day of Sam’s life. He had just turned 22, and he was out celebrating his birthday with Dean. Just the two of them, out for a couple of drinks at the bar. Nothing special, really. Sam was laughing and having a wonderful time. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed when he felt his brother’s eyes on him. He turned and returned the soft smile he saw on Dean’s face.

“Like what you see, Dean?” Sam’s words slurred slightly.

Dean nodded silently, reaching up to stroke Sam’s chin. He laughed, shaking his head, still unsure of everything. This whole thing with Sam had unfolded so gradually. Ever since that night - that night in the hotel where everything came to light.

After that, there was the brushing up against each other in the hallway, fingers touching, that sort of thing. Then the lingering gazes…

Bobby tried to help. They researched, they asked questions, and they explored every possible avenue – and found nothing. A year passed and nothing. So they had to let it go. They just started to accept this new – relationship, or whatever it was.

So Bobby knew. He knew how they felt about each other. Never did tell John, either. (No reason to stir up that hornet’s nest, right?). And it was alright. Yeah, sure it was weird. But what wasn’t weird in his line of work?

They had never really acted on it. Not in that way, anyway. They didn’t really feel the need. They both decided that they were just drawn to each other and enjoyed each other’s company. They had held hands a few times and sat closely on the couch, knees pressed together, that sort of thing. But Dad was always around and Sam was very uncomfortable. Dean had kissed Sam on the head a few times, but Sam was always asleep when he did this, and Dean relished this little secret. He loved being around Sam, and Sam loved being around him.

But unfortunately, not everyone in the family got along as well.

At the end of Sam’s senior year, John and Sam butted heads so often that arguing became a constant. John was always telling Sam he should be more like Dean. John was rough with Sam, too. Physically and mentally. Of course, Sam rebelled. John just got worse. He drank more and more and one day, his anger exploded when Sam once again refused to follow orders, and he punched his youngest son in the face. Sam dropped to the ground, and John kicked him in the stomach.

“Why can’t you be more like Dean, you worthless shit!”

Dean had run into the room just then, right as Sam was starting to get up from the floor, blood dripping from his cut cheek. Dean grabbed his dad and pulled him away.

“Dad, stop! What are you doing, stop!”

John just left the room, flexing and unflexing his fist.

John hit him two more times after that. Dean was there to stop the second one, but was not there the third and final time.

John had hit him so hard he’d cracked his son’s ribs, giving him a black eye and a split lip as well. Dean got back after John had left. He found Sam in the bathroom, crying on the floor.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop him, Sammy.” He helped Sam to clean up, smoothing his hair back, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Sam looked up at that, his face softening. Through the sting on his lip, he smiled at his brother.

Dean held him close and Sam sagged into his brother’s arms.

Eventually Sam couldn’t take any more of his Dad’s abuse. He left. There was, of course, a large argument, but John didn’t hit Sam. Dean was right there, standing between them.

When they were alone again, Dean tried to get Sam to stay. He begged him. “What about us?” he asked quietly, right next to Sam’s ear.

“What us?” said Sam softly, not backing away. “That’s not a thing, Dean. You know it.” But he was fisting Dean’s shirt with tears in his eyes. Dean pushed away from his brother. He stared at him for a few seconds, his breathing becoming quick and shallow. But he said nothing and walked out, leaving Sam alone.

Sam didn’t see the tears in his brother’s eyes.

So he had gone off to Stanford with those being the last words he spoke to his brother. He didn’t mean it. It just sort of – came out. He’d hoped it would make leaving easier.

It didn’t.

Without Sam, Dean began training even harder with John. He didn’t know any other way. He knew he couldn’t get out of this life if he tried. So Dean dove into hunting. It became his everything. It was all-consuming. Dean quickly became a lethal hunter.

Even as young as 23, Dean was considered one of the best hunters in the country. Dean was proud of his accomplishments, but always felt like something was missing. He cried of course, when Sam left. A few times. But he did it privately. During the first year, he thought about how much he missed his brother often, and tried calling him, but was ignored. Eventually, hunting completely consumed him and he stopped thinking about Sam all the time.

Sam never stopped thinking about Dean, though. He went to college, regretting the last words he said to him. But he couldn’t go back. He knew he didn’t belong in that world. That hunting world. So he stayed. He ignored Dean’s calls until they stopped, about halfway through his second year. He had to. He knew it was for the best. (Right? It was for the best?) Every day he felt the loss of his brother – as if an arm had been removed from his body. In his junior year, he fell in love with Jess…but still something was off. Something wasn’t right. He knew what it was, but tried desperately to get rid of those feelings. He had Jess, she was amazing, and he truly loved her. He figured he’d eventually move on. But he never did. He never thought he’d see his brother again.

But then Dean came to Stanford.

Then of course, the whole thing with Azazel and losing Dad. It had been very difficult for both of them. Sam was quietly relieved John was gone, but still was upset at the loss of his father. It was very confusing. Dean had almost died in that car accident, and Sam felt his world being torn apart. He had lost Jess in the fire, and he lost his entire new path in his life. His plan to live life away from hunting – a life he wanted desperately – had fallen apart. He was forced back into hunting.

But it also brought him back to Dean.

So he dropped out of school and joined Dean. Even with all the changes and loss and heartache, Sam felt much more whole now. He knew his world was changing. They both did. They were entering new territory, and now that things had settled down, it was time to explore it.

Dean had forgotten how his brother made him feel. When he hugged him for the first time again, all the memories and feelings came flooding back to him. Sam held him like he was hanging on for his life. Dean knew then his brother never forgot. He realized how much he had actually missed Sam.

Sam fell right back into where they were before. He almost tingled with electricity when they were finally alone together, with no monsters currently on their back.

And now their dad was gone and they really had no reason to try and hide it anymore. And the pull was stronger than ever.

So they let it all unfold naturally. They never talked about it, it just…was.

Dean thought the whole thing was adorable, the way Sam looked at him. He remembered how they left things – angry, bitter, things unexplored, hanging – he remembered feeling empty. Why did he forget about these feelings, he wondered. But it no longer mattered. They were back together again and Sam said he was staying. Dean was overjoyed. He found himself wanting to just be around Sam more and more, in his presence, just touching his skin. He enjoyed Sam’s energy.

Sam’s energy was almost overwhelming.

So a few months passed, and they went out to celebrate Sam’s birthday. Dean was ready to see if they should try something new. He was terrified, too.

It was a calm, relaxed, fun evening. They kept drinking, laughing and talking about nothing at all. They casually played pool, a round of darts with some other guys in the bar, teasing the kid who snuck in who clearly wasn’t 21 yet. It felt good to leave monsters behind for a while.

Dean watched Sam out of the corner of his eye.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye.

They both enjoyed the teasing, or flirting, or whatever it was that they were doing. It was all in good fun.

After some time, Dean decided Sam had had enough to drink. He hadn’t been paying attention, and Dean had gotten his little brother a little too drunk, unfortunately. He had a plan. He really just wanted him a little bit tipsy, but it was far too late for that. He hoped he could still follow through on his plan.

He wanted to give Sam their first kiss tonight, under the stars.

“Time to go, alright, baby?” Dean had leaned over and whispered softly in Sam’s ear, his lips slightly grazing Sam’s earlobe. Sam shivered at the word. He liked it when Dean called him that. His eyes crinkled up as his smile took over his face, dimples showing wildly. Sam nodded, finished the last of his whiskey, and stood up. He wobbled with his drunkenness, but Dean caught him by the elbow.

“You alright there, Sammy?”

Sam blushed, leaning in to his brother for support.

“Yeah, hey…I’m…I’m okayyyyy…” Sam slurred his words and gave Dean a thumbs up and a wink. Dean just rolled his eyes and smiled back at his brother.

“OK. Well I think we’re gonna walk for a bit first, ok? I don’t think I’m quite ready to drive. I don’t think you’re ready to…well to do much of anything. You ok with that?” Sam, still hazy, nodded as the room spun around him. He closed his eyes and grabbed Dean’s arm for support, leaning in to him as they walked out. Dean put his arm around his waist and pulled him close. He smiled, knowing Sam was safe in his arms.

Sam just giggled, leaning on Dean.

They walked out of the bar into the cool crisp air, and Dean moved his arm from Sam’s shoulder to around Sam’s waist. “Hey, happy birthday, little brother,” breathed Dean, trying not to be too obvious. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible. Take his time with this. His heart was beating incredibly fast. He lowered his arm and their hands brushed up against each other. Without a word from either of them, they entwined their fingers together. They did not look at each other, just squeezed once lightly, wordlessly continuing through the parking lot.

“Yeah, my bir…my birfday! Let’s celebrate meee!” Sam still slurred his words, laughing as he walked beside his brother.

“Goofball.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna have to remember what a lightweight you are.”

“Hey!” Sam said in mock anger, raising his left hand and pointing at Dean. “I am soooo not a lightweight, ok?”

Dean grinned. “Ok dude, whatever. But you are a fun drunk.” Sam scoffed, but laughed right after.

As they walked, Dean could tell that Sam’s breathing was increasing, too. Was he nervous? Did he know what his plans were? But he quietly held his hand and kept walking through the parking lot. Suddenly Sam pulled on Dean’s arm, making him stop. Dean turned to him and smiled.

“What is it, Sammy?” Dean’s eyes twinkled in the gleam of the streetlight above. Sam giggled and swayed on his feet.

“Best birthday ever, Dean.” Sam was practically giddy.

Dean looked his brother in the eyes. “Yeah? You’re just drunk.”

Sam leaned in close and whispered, “You’ve mentioned that once or twice,” he nodded, adding, “Yep. Yes. I am. I am. Yepperoonie…” He poked his finger into Dean’s chest.

Dean laughed, tucking a stray hair behind Sam’s ear. “You’re cute. Seriously. But just wait, ok baby? I’ve got one more thing for you.” Dean raised Sam’s hand, kissed his knuckles, slowly let go of his hand, and walked backward a few paces.

“Wait here, ok?”

Sam reluctantly let go of Dean’s hand, watching him walk over a small mound of dirt near the tree line. He wobbled unsteadily on his feet. He waited a few moments, glancing around nervously. It was chilly and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. He looked around briefly but saw nothing. He brushed it off as his drunk imagination and took a deep breath. He couldn’t wait to see his birthday surprise. He had known Dean was planning something, but had no idea what to expect. He took another deep breath and waited for Dean to turn back towards him.

From somewhere behind Sam, came the sound of boots scuffling in the gravel. Neither brother heard them.

It only took seconds. Dean had walked ahead about 10 steps while Sam waited, trying to keep his drunken balance, wondering what was coming next. Dean walked to the edge of the parking lot near the tree line to see if his setup was still intact. It was. Dean smiled as he looked at the blanket spread out on the ground just past the blacktop. Everything was ready. He smiled and shivered with nervousness. He knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but there it was.

It was nothing that either brother expected, of course, out here in the middle of nowhere. (Well, not quite nowhere. But still.) They weren’t on high alert. There was no reason to be. They were on some down time. No monsters. No demons. Plus, they were close to Bobby’s and they knew the bar and the area well. There was no reason to have their guards up. None at all.

But they should have.

As Dean was surveying his surprise, a figure had quietly crept up behind Sam, quickly hitting him across the back of the head. In his inebriated state, Sam was easily and immediately knocked out. He fell silently, crumpling to the ground. In a flash, two men appeared literally out of nowhere, grabbed him, and pulled him into the shadows of the night. Just as they disappeared from the lit area, Dean turned around. He was smiling, ready to show his brother what he had planned for the two of them. He couldn’t wait. But his smile disappeared instantly.

Where was Sam?

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#emptywithout writes #The Way You Breathe #part 3 #Sam and Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #feedback is appreciated!

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yoongsify · 6 years

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Missing Ch 2

Wow so I forgot to post chapter 2 for like weeks, my b. Oh well here it is!!

Part(s): [1] [2]

Summary: All Prince Taehyung wanted to do was talk with the shy boy at his party. But danger lurks in every corner and Taehyung finds himself thrust into a web of deceit and murderous intent. Jungkook must now find a way to save the handsome Prince-the only one to show him affection-while also keeping himself and his friends from the dangers of the world.

Pairing(s): Taekook, eventual yoomin, joonjin?

Setting: Kingdom AU

Jungkook ran down the icy path, his footing slipping every once in a while but he kept on going, his chest rising and falling heavily with every breath he took. He couldn’t hear if anything was happening behind him, all he knew was that Prince Taehyung had told him to run...Taehyung.

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder and almost stopped. He should go back. He should have helped Taehyung. He should have done something. The image of Taehyung pressed against that man’s chest and a knife to his throat flashed in his mind’s eye. Taehyung looked so desperate as he croaked out that one word...“Run.”

Jungkook winced. Taehyung hadn’t looked scared though, he looked more worried than anything else. Jungkook shook his head and mentally chided himself for stopping to think. He couldn’t do this now. He had to keep running. If he was fast enough Jungkook could make it to the castle and send help before Taehyung disappeared forever.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Not by a long shot.

By the time Jungkook stumbled his way back to the castle his lungs were burning. He crashed through the back door of the kitchen, scaring a few servants who were preparing more deserts for the patrons.

He paused but didn’t stop even when the servants started shouting at him. Within seconds he stumbled into the ballroom still full of giddly dancing royal families and diplomats.

“HELP!” Jungkook shouting grabbing everyone’s attention. An entire room of disgruntled lords and ladies glared him down. “Prince Taehyung’s in danger! Somebody help!” He took a few teetering steps but his knees were starting to ache from the run and he couldn’t take a breath anymore. He collapsed to his hands and knees trying to catch air in his lungs but with every passing moment he felt them shrivel up tighter. The world around him turned dark.

“Slow down, kid. What’s happened?” An old man’s voice floated somewhere to his right.

“Jungkook!” A stern voice spoke up and he didn’t need to look to know who was yelling at him. “What is the meaning of this outburst?” His mother was glaring down at him, her hands on her hips with her lips pursed. Her long hair was tight in a beehive style but the expression on her face made him worried angry hornets might actually start flying out of her hair and stinging him.

Jungkook took some shaking breaths. “P-Prince Taehyung. We-we were walking...in the forest...We got attacked. Taehyung’s in danger!” He shouted finally getting the words out.

His mother’s expression turned to shock and the rest of the room seemed to distance themselves from him. Finally someone he recognized as the King came into his line of sight. He was still on his hands and knees. Jungkook’s whole body was shaking and he wasn’t sure he could stand up or support himself...his insides pounded painfully.

“Where is my son?” The King looked down on him with disdain. Jungkook managed to find the strength to kneel and he bowed his head.

“I-I’m not sure,” he winced and couldn’t meet the kings eyes.

Rumors erupted in the hall and Jungkook felt every eye on his back. Vaguely he heard the King shouting angrily for guards to go search for the prince. After a few moments a hand came down on his shoulder.

“Jungkookie…” his father’s deep voice said. The touch was warm and reassuring and Jungkook almost hiccuped a sob out but he held his breath. “Jungkookie, look at me.” Jungkook flitted his misty eyes upward and caught sight of his fathers wrinkled face. “Stand up my boy,” his father said.

Jungkook nodded, swallowed and forced himself to his feet. His father’s hand never left his shoulder and the presence kept him steady. Suddenly he became more aware of the world around him. The ballroom was in an uproar. Everyone in attendance was whispering rumors and pointing fingers while Taehyung’s parents shouted to try and keep order.

“What were you doing with the prince so far away from the ball?” Jungkook’s mother snapped.

His father chided her with a gentle look. “Let it be. It won’t help.” His mother didn’t look pleased but she held her tongue further. Suddenly Jungkook’s father pressed an arm around him and tried to steer him away. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Jungkook wasn’t entirely sure why but he shrugged his father off and shook his head in defiance. His father looked at him but Jungkook didn’t need to explain because in the next moment the King came back into his line of sight, angered and distraught.

“And you!” The King shouted, pointing a bony accusatory finger at Jungkook. “Cease that boy!” Before he finished his sentence guards were on his every side, closing his father in an isolated circle with him. The rest of the room spread out in surprised gasps some with looks of amusement like they were watching some sort of tournament.

“The boy’s done nothing wrong, Seonwoo-” Jungkook’s father started but the King bellowed out an interruption.

“That is ‘your majesty’ to you and you’re traitorous son!”

Before Jungkook could react his father was pushed away from him and he was grabbed from behind. Guards held his arms in locked positions behind him and forced him to his knees. Jungkook winced as one of them kicked the back of his leg in to make him kneel. He raised his head and looked at the king through rustled bangs.

The King stepped close to Jungkook now that he was safely contained. Jungkook struggled hard when he saw that glint of triumph in the king’s eyes. “This kid was the last person to see my son. Not only that but you say you were walking far away from the ball. Why is that?” The king leaned forward a little so he could make eye contact with Jungkook and squint suspiciously. “And how convenient it would be for you to dispose of him then play an innocent bystander.”

Jungkook tried to rip his shoulders away from the guards but they had a vice grip and the only thing he accomplished was making himself look mad and disheveled. His mother gasped and shouted a protest to the king’s accusation. His father was trying to get close to the king with an excuse for Jungkook on his lips but another guard held him back towards the crowd.

“Please, Seon-Your Majesty,” Jungkook’s father began. “You know my family has always been loyal to you, please reconsi-”

The king waved his hand vaguely at his father and a guard ended his argument swiftly pushing him back into the crowd. Jungkook had eyes only for the king. He glared him down savagely, more angry than ever for the course of actions being taken.

Prince Taehyung needs help dammit, and you’re wasting time accusing me?

The king matched Jungkook’s glare with authoritarian power. “I want this one questioned and thrown in a cell. An attack on the royal family is treason,” he narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “I hope you know well what that means…”

Jungkook knew exactly what that meant. He knew because he was accustomed to watching from afar as prisoners of war got dragged to jail cells or dungeons at his father’s order. What he didn’t know was how it felt.

He could barely walk on his own with two guards holding each of his arms painfully behind his back. He stumbled over the smallest cracks in the cobblestone floor of the dungeons. And when the guards finally stopped at his cell he could already feel the coldness radiating off the cell room floor.

One guard held the torch while the other unlocked the door with one hand. It happened quickly and together they tossed Jungkook in, slamming the door shut before he had a chance to catch himself from falling.

He heard the door lock. The last thing he saw was each of the guards sneering at him as they left him in the cell. The torch light faded out quickly as their footsteps carried down the hall. Soon everything was dark, darker than the night had been when he was outside.

Jungkook wrapped his fingers around the cold metal and shook but the rattle it made was as useless as he was. He swore under his breath. Suddenly a flood of emotion rose up inside of him. He had done nothing...nothing to save Prince Taehyung. Jungkook had been right there, he should be able to call himself a protector if he’s going to take on his father’s throne but he couldn’t even save one Prince?

Jungkook bit his lip trying to fight back the onslaught of tears threatening to fall. He slipped to his knees in defeat. There was no way he’d be able to make up for this. His mind whirled with thoughts. There was a moment where he almost let it consume him.

Where the memories like war flashbacks kept replaying and replaying. And it was all he could do just to try and get a hold of himself. Think, Jungkook think, he tried to tell himself.

This morning he had woken up in mild annoyance because he knew what today was and how his parents would force him out of the safety of their castle to a gods forsaken party. He was nearly floored when the dream like prince asked him to dance but happy too. Now...Jungkook was almost certain he would never see his Prince again.

It wasn’t as if they were close, Jungkook couldn’t fool himself like that. He had barely been able to spend an evening with the guy before everything went south. But he knew he would never forgive himself if he let this be the cause of Prince Taehyung’s death.

The young prince had been nothing but generous and welcoming to him. Jungkook had never had that kind of experience upon meeting someone for the first time before. He would have told himself that Prince Taehyung merely acts that way towards everyone to keep up a reputation...but then the prince dragged Jungkook out of the party. And once they were alone it was like all walls broke down.

It felt to him that they hadn’t just met that night, they had known each other for decades and this was a long awaited reunion. The way Taehyung had smiled at him all night still left butterflies in his stomach.

Then the image of Taehyung on the dirty ground, a knife to his throat tortured Jungkook’s eyes once more. No. He wasn’t going to rot away in here when a better prince than he could ever be was in mortal danger. Regardless of how he felt Jungkook knew that his neighboring kingdom, maybe even the rest of the world would never be the same without the life of that one boy.

But he couldn’t do anything in here. Sucking in his sobs through his teeth he tried to steady his breathing. Jungkook lifted one knee but he was shaking so much he wasn’t sure he could stand.

His insecurities festered inside him. Shame brought the blood to his face. Anger made his skin bubble. He was ready to explode but the more his fingers wrapped around the cold bars of this cell the more he felt trapped. Almost involuntarily he felt a scream rip the insides of his esophagus.

The castle had been chaos since King Jeon’s son had barged into the ballroom screaming that Prince Taehyung was in trouble. Jimin mentally groaned. How many years had he been trying to keep Prince Jungkook out of trouble yet the young master always seemed to find a way to undo all of Jimin’s work.

King Kim had been furious with everyone since the news came. Poor Namjoon got the full brunt of it, being the captain of the guard and all. The first order of action had been to search the castle grounds. Nothing. Then to search the dungeons, the secret passageways, question the party goers and the servants. Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok came up drier than a desert.

Jimin had to mentally hold himself back while he stood, stiffly, listening to Namjoon be blamed for doing a poor job of finding the Prince. Jimin bit down hard on his tongue and his hands made fists behind his back. It wasn’t Namjoon’s fault, he hadn’t been stationed to watch the Prince that night. Prince Taehyung also had ways of disappearing from sight. Not even the servants had seen him or Jungkook leave the castle.

“I want a search party for the prince on the ground now!” The King bellowed.

Namjoon bowed his head a little. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Make sure it’s taken care of. This is an attack on our Kingdom and will not be taken lightly.” King Kim leaned forward to narrow his eyes at Namjoon. “You two are coming with me.” King Kim turned and pointed at Jimin and Hoseok both by Namjoon’s side. “I want to interrogate the traitor once more.” He meant Prince Jungkook, in the hours it had taken for calamity to ensue King Kim hadn’t referred to Jungkook by any other name.

“Yes, sir!” Jimin and Hoseok replied in unison.

Oh, Jungkook what have you gotten yourself into…?

Jimin hated seeing the young prince in such horrible confines. He had known Jungkook most of his life, their kingdoms were long standing allies and once Jimin joined the royal guard as a young teen diplomats, lords and ladies became a part of his daily life. Which meant so had Prince Jungkook.

The very idea of Jungkook in a jail cell was purpostrous. Jimin knew in his heart that, while Jungkook may be a bit of a brat, he would never harm a soul. The young prince was curled up at the back of the cell his knees to his chest and his arms linked around himself.

His head was down, black hair falling easily over his ears in a state of dejection. Once Jimin, Hoseok and the King approached he perked up, his brow deeply creased with worry and fear.

Jungkook caught Jimin’s eye as Hoseok began unlocking the cell. Jimin swallowed a lump in his throat and had to look away. The cell door unlocked with a chink and Hoseok swung open the gate for the King.

King Kim set a torch on a sconce by the cell door and stepped in, his back swathed in royal robes lit up by the orange glow of the fire. The king’s form towered over Jungkook, keeping the boy in darkness.

“I’m growing impatient,” Kim began. “Where is my son?”

Jungkook’s eyes watered slightly as he looked up at the king. His face was pleading and Jimin had to tighten the clamp on his tongue to stop himself from blurting out in defense of Jungkook.

Jungkook slowly shook his head, his bottom lip quivering. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Enough lies!” King Kim bellowed. In a fit he reached down for Jungkook’s collar and lifted him by the dark fabric. There was a moment where Jungkook and Kim stared at each other, each glare a silent challenge to the other. “You were the last one to see him and yet you claim you were ‘attacked’? No one could get within a hundred miles of this castle. You must be working with someone.”

Whatever trepidation or fear Jungkook had had was lost when the King started getting physical. Jungkook met the king’s gaze with fury. “I swear I didn’t do anything!”

The king’s chest heaved and he raised a hand hitting Jungkook across the face, sending him to the ground. The young prince landed in a hunch, holding his cheek and not looking up.

Jimin couldn’t stand and watch this any longer. “My liege,” Jimin called out, cautiously at first. The King turned an angry glare over his shoulder. Jimin swallowed nervously but continued. “I’ve known Prince Jungkook for many years. I would stake my life on the fact that he would never hurt anyone. I believe him to be telling the truth.”

The King didn’t seem to like Jimin’s verification but he turned to Jungkook anyway and kicked him a little as he demanded, “Then why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Jungkook cast a desperate look to Jimin in thanks and Jimin gave him a nod of approval, mouthing ‘go ahead’.

Hesitantly Jungkook’s eyes shifted back to the King. “I told you, we were attacked-”

“By who, boy!” Kim was losing his patience but he refrained from raising another hand.

Jungkook winced and shook his head. “I-I don’t know. A man, he was huge- a-a warrior maybe? It was too dark to see anything.”

King Kim didn’t look pleased with the answer to say the least. He grumbled out, “There are none so blind as those who refuse to see. Not to worry, I'm going to teach you all about darkness. Perhaps then you will come to know the face shrouded in it.”

Without another word the King spun on his heel and out the cell door. Hoseok and Jimin had barely a moment to relock the cell and pull the torch from its sconce.

Jimin took one last look at Jungkook before better judgement moved his feet forward. “Wait!” Jungkook called, running to the bars and rattling them. “Jimin, please! Don’t let him do this, Prince Taehyung is in trouble!”

Jimin stopped short. Hoseok and King Kim quickly sped ahead of him with the torch light. Jimin looked over his shoulder, emotion tearing up his face. He wasted only a few seconds to say, “I swear I’ll fix this, my Prince,” Jimin whispered hoping Jungkook could hear him even when his back was turned. “Just wait for me a while.”

He didn’t have anymore time, the light was fading quickly and he had to run to catch up so the King wouldn’t notice his delay.

#bts #bangtan boys #my fanfic #taekook #WOO NEW CHAP #next one to come soon

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pastordorry-blog · 6 years

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Love Is Assertive

Matthew 18:15-20

Love Your Neighbor Week 4

September 30, 2018

I heard a story once about a husband and wife who had a huge fight because the husband forgot to stop at the store for lettuce on the way home from work one night. Tacos with no lettuce—no big deal to the husband. All he really liked was the meat and the cheese anyway! But his wife was so upset, they ended up going to a marriage counselor. The counselor said, “Dick and Jane, what brings you hear today?” The husband said, “I forgot to bring home the lettuce, and Jane completely lost it! I had no idea why she was so upset. It was only a head of lettuce!” The counselor stroked his beard and said thoughtfully, “Hmmm. I see. Jane, what do you say?”

As you can imagine, Jane had her own side of the story. She confirmed the facts of the argument. And to Dick’s surprise, she acknowledged that she got unreasonably mad about Dick forgetting to buy the lettuce. Again the counselor stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Why do you think that happened, Jane?” She said she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t just mad at Dick. She admitted that she was angry at herself for forgetting to buy the lettuce in the first place.

Dick was quick to catch on. “So this big fight we had about the lettuce wasn’t really about me forgetting the lettuce at all? It was about you feeling bad that YOU had forgotten the lettuce?” Jane said, “I guess so.” Dick was greatly relieved and started to get out the checkbook, thinking they could end this counseling session with the therapist who stroked his beard all the time, and go home! But before he could get the checkbook opened, the counselor, stroking his beard said, “That’s a good insight, Jane. But I wonder, is there something else?”

Despite Dick’s heavy sigh of disappointment, Jane thought about it for a minute and said it was the first weeknight Dick had been home for dinner in two weeks. The kids were really looking forward to this special dinner together and had done some of the meal preparation themselves. Jane was angry that Dick was gone so much of the time. The counselor looked over at Dick. Reluctantly he put the checkbook away, rolled his eyes and said, “Here we go again.”

The counselor again stroked his beard and waited patiently. Jane said, “It’s true, we’ve talked about this issue before. I hate that Dick is working so much right now. But I got laid off from my job, and Dick is taking on extra over-time so we can make ends meet. I’m thankful for those extra hours, but it’s really hard.” The counselor nodded, and after a few moments of silence Jane continued. “But I think there’s more. I know this shouldn’t matter, but a couple weeks ago it was my birthday, and Dick didn’t come home that night for dinner. He got offered some extra overtime, and he called to say he would be late, but he never once all day even said happy birthday. He didn’t get me a card of a present or anything…I feel like he completely forgot about me!”

Dick defended himself. “But I apologized for that!” Jane said, “I know you did, but I guess it’s still bothering me. I feel like you are always forgetting about me.” Dick groaned and asked, “What do we do now?” The counselor stopped stroking his beard and smiled. “What we do now is have lesson number 1: it is NEVER just about the lettuce!”

Does this story sound familiar to anyone? It is never just about the lettuce. In any conflict, this is lesson #1. There is more going on that meets the eye. That’s one of the reasons Jesus told us to get the log out of our own eye, which we talked about last week. We’ve got to get the log out of our eye so we can see clearly what is really going on! And it’s not until we see what’s really going on—the other stuff, besides the lettuce—that we can solve the problem.

In any kind of conflict, there are always two kinds of issues, material and personal. The material issue is usually easy to identify. It’s the presenting problem, the issue we think we are fighting about. In Dick and Jane’s case, forgetting to buy the lettuce, that is the material issue. But we know it’s never just about the lettuce. It’s never just about the material issues. There are deeper problems, personal issues intertwined in this conflict. What are the personal issues for Dick and Jane? A lot of them. Maybe Jane is ashamed to be out of work right now. Maybe she feels neglected and unimportant. Maybe she feels Dick doesn’t value family time like she does.

But Dick has personal issues going on, too. Maybe he feels like no matter how hard he tries, he can never satisfy Jane. Maybe he feels overloaded by their financial situation and working all those hours is taking a toll on him. Maybe he feels unappreciated for his efforts. Maybe he is angry that he apologized and tried to make up for the mistake of forgetting Jane’s birthday, but she is still stuck.

This is why conflict is so difficult to work through. It’s never just about the lettuce! What if, that night, when Dick found out he forgot the lettuce, what if ran next door and borrowed a head of lettuce. Dinner would be delayed by five minutes, maybe. Would that have solved it for this couple? Probably not! It might have smoothed things over for that evening, but it sounds to me like it’s just a matter of time until all those personal issues are triggered again. And the problem with personal issues is, they are often hard to name. Sometimes we ourselves can’t really say why we are so upset. There are issues below the surface that are driving our reactions.

I think this is why churches are filled with people who have read the Bible and have studied Jesus, but they have a very hard time following Jesus’ command to go and show their brother or sister their fault if they have been sinned against. Every congregation I have served, we have worked on this passage, and every time people tell me, “Pastor Dorry, there is no way I am going to go talk to so-and-so directly!” We are scared to do this. We are afraid of losing our own cool, we’re afraid of poking a hornet’s nest, we are afraid we are going to make things worse by having a direct conversation with the person who has hurt us.

So what do we do instead? Well, we know people leave churches when there’s conflict; if they don’t leave, they become disengaged. Jesus said the truth well set us free. When it’s not safe to tell the truth in church, the congregation begins to lose joy and becomes apathetic. They lose vitality. Truth telling is an important life skill for churches! But how and to whom we tell the truth is key. In our children’s sermon a little bit ago, we pointed out that speaking the truth in love is the way to go. It doesn’t mean we aren’t angry. But it does require us to be respectful and remember that the other person is God’s child, same as us.

Also, in our gospel lesson today, Jesus instructs us to tell the truth to the person who has offended us. What if, when Dick forget her birthday, Jane had called her best friend to complain? Or her mother or sister? Would any of those people have really been able to help? No. And how do you think Dick would have felt, knowing that his mistake had been broadcast to other people before he even had a chance to make it right?

We are not to go around telling our problem to other people unless we have first tried to work it out directly. When we get other people involved too soon, we are actually engaging in a destructive behavior called triangulation. We add a third point to the problem instead of keeping it a straight line of direct communication between the hurt person and the offender. Triangles are a very common phenomenon in churches. People think they are being “nice” by not talking to someone directly when they are hurt. But is it really “nice” to gossip instead? Is it really “nice” to let problems fester and never work responsibly to get them resolved?

For our key verse today, I put at the top of the bulletin something from the Beatitudes. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” There is a kind of peace, you may be familiar with it in your family or where you work or even at church, where we all get along—but we never talk about the hard stuff, and because of that, we can never move forward. Jesus shocks our systems by asking us to be direct. He even goes so far as to say, if someone sins against you, and they won’t listen to you, and they won’t listen to one or two others, and they won’t even listen to the whole church, to let them go! Wow. Like we said last week, love requires discernment. We cannot make those decisions easily. We have to stay on our knees and seek God’s wisdom. But I think the point Jesus is trying to make is, the church has a mission. This teaching is sandwiched between the parable of the lost sheep, and the parable of the unmerciful servant. The church has a mission of seeking and saving the lost, and spreading God’s grace and forgiveness. Jesus does not want anything to keep the church from fulfilling its mission. Love will not let the unhealthiness of a few weaken the whole rest of the body. Love is assertive and protective and dynamic.

A couple weeks ago, I said in my sermon, I am not perfect. If I am the one who has sinned against you, if I am the one who hurts your feelings or does something that upsets you. Wait, back up. Let’s be even more accurate. WHEN I am the one who upsets you, hurts your feelings, sins against you, if at all possible, please give me the benefit of the doubt, and extend the same grace to me you’d like have extended to you. If it’s minor, let it go. But if you can’t let it go, please come and see me. Please come speak to me directly. Speak the truth in love to me, and out of love, give me the chance to make it right. We don’t produce peace when we pretend everything is fine if it’s not fine. We need to cultivate a culture where it’s safe to tell the truth directly, even if that truth needs to be told to people we may have been taught to respect and never question.

Last week I preached on the United Methodist Church and our effort to cultivate true peace and find a way forward. I openly stated my views, that I am hopeful we will make changes to our polity and become a more inclusive church. One person came to me directly and said they were upset with my position. I am so glad that person came to me! We need to talk to each other about these things. I know it is not easy to be direct with people. But we have some rules that can help us. Number 1: it’s never just about the lettuce! Take some time to think about what personal issues might be at work as well as the material ones. In our denomination’s struggle with human sexuality, the material issue is, what does the Bible say? But underneath that issue are all kinds of personal issues. There are all kinds of deep wonderings about what it means to be a sexual person, and what is “normal”—and am I normal?, and the mystery of two people becoming one flesh, and why would God add this dimension to our personhood, and how do we accept people who are different, and what to do with the shame many of us feel for being sexual creatures…

It’s complicated. There is more going on than just forgetting the lettuce! That is why we must remember the attitude of humble conviction. Remember Rule Number 6: don’t take yourself so seriously. Confrontation does not have to be overly intense. See if you can shave about 20% off what you want to say to the other person, and start with that. Admit this is tricky. Acknowledge the complexity. But give it a shot! We can always ask for help from a third party. We can always agree to disagree and allow some time to pass. We can always remember our baptism and join together for communion.

Telling the truth to each other is NOT going to break the church! I believe Jesus gave us this teaching to preserve the church. Will we trust him enough to obey him? Amen.

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maedarakat · 7 years

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3rd Nov: Fighting/ Arguing // “There’s a difference between being brave and being stupid!”

(Dagur/Tuffnut - for @httydrarepair week) ——

It was an uphill climb all the way, in the attempt to evade the Hunters.

They had lost badly - well, at least their little team had. Dagur wondered how Hiccup, Heather, Astrid and Fishlegs were doing. Whatever had befallen them on their half of this mission, it had to be better than this.

Ruff and Snotlout had been captured, along with the twins’ Zippleback and Hookfang. Sleuther was travelling behind them, grounded with an injured wing. He still crashed through the brush to flank and protect them, tail ready to kill anyone that might ambush.

Which was good, because Dagur’s arms were currently too full to properly defend himself.

The boy twin had first nearly killed the man who’d taken down his sister, and then had recklessly tried to take on Krogan himself. The results of that terrible decision were clearly evident on Tuff’s body.

It had taken Dagur’s Berserker rage and Sleuther’s fire to get Krogan to back off long enough to grab Tuff, but they’d been cut off from the others and forced to retreat.

He stopped finally, at a raised stone formation surrounded by plenty brush and hidden by trees. Krogan’s Singetail would have a hard time spotting them through the thick canopy. It was a good place to rest for now, and regroup.

Dagur set Tuff’s back against the smooth part of the stone and sat down to look him over intensely. Absently he reached up to pat Sleuther reassuringly. The Triplestryke nuzzled his name-giver anxiously as the boy stirred, managing a feeble moan.

“It’s okay, buddy, he’s coming around.”

Though he tried to sound calm, inwardly Dagur’s head felt full of angry hornets. He wanted to shake Tuff and yell at him for taking such a stupid risk. Tuff wasn’t a half-bad fighter for a Berkian, but attacking Krogan?

Fury was all he had to cling to, since the other option was to give into the stinging behind his eyes.

He had almost lost him.

Tuff opened his eyes, to find Dagur and his dragon peering down at him. He ignored the stormy expression on the Berserker’s face, concerned with one thing only.

“Ruff?!” He looked around wildly, scrambling to his feet. Considering he probably had a concussion, it was neither a successful not brilliant move.

Still sitting, Dagur grabbed him by the hips, first to steady his swaying body, then to forcibly pull him down into his lap - perhaps a little rougher than necessary.

He put a hand over Tuff’s mouth before the boy could argue. “Keep it down. We’re not safe,” he hissed. “Those hunters are looking for us, so we need to stay still and be quiet.”

“But -“

Dagur was inches from losing his temper, and he wrapped Tuff in his arms, pinning him against his chest and half-hugging the breath out of him. It wasn’t a great reaction to his current state of emotions, but it was the best he could do.

Especially given that his mind was oh-so-helpfully replaying the butt of Krogan’s weapon slamming into Tuff’s temple with a sickening crack. Thank the Gods his skull was so thick.

Then again . . .

“So, um, I’m sensing a little tension . . .” Tuff wheezed after a moment.

“Oh, really?” Dagur snarked, squeezing even tighter. “I can’t imagine why I would be tense. Can you?”

“Ow,” Tuff whined, squirming. “Uh, is it because you forgot to meditate before battle? You always get a little cranky when you don’t - gotta have a clear head to bash heads, am I right?”

Dagur quite suddenly wanted to bite him. Not even in the fun way.

“You. Nearly. Got. Killed.” He bit out instead, every word laced with a deep anger he normally never let surface. At least, not any more.

Tuff scowled, no longer able to justify glossing over the issue - not if Dagur was this upset. Being purposefully obtuse might have gotten him out of arguments with his friends, but Dagur was wise to his tricks.

“He hurt my sister. You would have done the same exact thing if he’d hurt Heather.”

“And I trust you would have also dragged me away after I got beaten unconscious and then berated me for being so stupid. Right?”

“Hey! I’m not stupid!” Angry, Tuff tried to break Dagur’s hold on him, but the Berserkers arms were like a vise.

“I didn’t say you were. But what you did was, Tuff. You might have thought you were brave, but you can’t help your sister or Snotlout or anybody else if you wind up dead.”

Tuffnut went quiet and finally stopped struggling against him. It gave Dagur a chance to calm himself, now that Tuff seemed to understand what a risk he’d taken. He let out his breath slowly, loosening his Berserker death grip on the boy.

“I’m sorry,” the blond muttered shakily. “When Ruff fell - I saw red and I . . . it was like I couldn’t think.”

Dagur relented, understanding all too well what that was like. He kissed Tuff’s throat gently and unpinned him, reaching up to caress and examine the twin’s injured face.

There would be some awful mottled bruising all the way from his temple to his collarbone. It was a miracle Tuff’s skull wasn’t cracked or even soft. He’d honestly been surprised the boy was breathing at all when he’d picked up Tuff’s limp form.

“We’ll get her back, and your dragon. Snothat and his dragon too, I guess.” Dagur smirked, trying to lighten the mood. Tuff didn’t smile, just turning to bury his face in the crook of Dagur’s neck. He knew what the unspoken question was without needing to ask.

Tuff might have buried his insecurities beneath a mountain of humor and trickery, but they were all nearly identical to Dagur’s - one of the reasons they got along as well as they did.

He hugged Tuff close, kissing tenderly along the unmarked side of his face. “Don’t worry. I still think you’re smart. How many times have you outfoxed all your other enemies, hmm?”

Tuff grinned against his shoulder. “Outfoxed ‘em like a badger.”

Dagur sighed fondly, rolling his eyes. Whatever that meant, it was still cute. “Okay, lets do this. Without trying to die this time.”

He got up and held his hand out to Tuff, who grinned up at him and took it.

They had a lot of work to do, and they were two dragon riders down, but between them both? Krogan wasn’t going to know what hit him.

#rtte #tuffgur #httyd rarepair

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kwa-mii · 7 years

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Mine, Not Yours

Swooping in to @thinkoutsidethelovesquare‘s third week (polyamory) on the very end of the deadline and without a care in the world ~

I decided to write a Chat Noir/Ladybug/Queen Bee because there are two different love triangles actually involved (tho this fic does reconcile that into a real polyamorous relationship) aka their super selves and also their regular selves SO it’s spicy. Also I envision Chat Noir and Queen Bee as getting along very poorly and that makes for extra spice

(like holy cow this was a cahoot to write tbh)

The full fic is up on ao3, but here’s the first part for a bit of a tasteee

Mine, Not Yours - a LadyNoirBee (?) fic (1264 words, up to the cut)

Warnings: language

The Miraculous Wielders; heroes of Paris, defenders of Justice, guardians of Peace. The masked heroes were looked to with adoration by all. Ladybug, with her determination and the life that bloomed from her; Chat, with his limitless charm and smile that never slipped; and their new teammate, Queen Bee, who was glamorous and cool, but with such compassion beneath. As symbols of the city, they were perfect, represented everything which France held dear. Not only were they Parisian icons, but their endless war against Hawkmoth made them victors, despite it not being quite yet won.

What the people of Paris did not know was that there was a second, secret war going on in their city.

Heart racing, lips panting, Chat Noir leaped from rooftop to rooftop, steadying himself with his staff whenever the walls loomed too close. The pads of his feet burned with the repeated heavy contact of his frenzied footfall, his fingertips raw from dragging himself up onto the eaves of the buildings around him. There was hair in his eyes, and he almost scratched himself with his own claws when pushing the strands away. His whole body felt messy, wrong; stomach groaning, lungs howling, veins screeching. He was hurting himself in his haste. But he had to be fast.

He clambered up onto a spire, eyes narrowing to scry for their target. In an instant his heart plummeted from his chest, and blank despair surged to fill the cavern it left. He was too late.

Queen Bee was there talking to Ladybug.

He had no idea how the striped superhero had found her so fast; as soon as Chat had heard rumours that Ladybug had been sighted around the city, he had been out and transformed in a flash. And yet, somehow, he had been beaten - but, as he reminded himself, only in the battle, not the war.

The truth of it was that Chat Noir and Queen Bee were fighting (some might say squabbling) over the lady in red. This, among other things, had led to his dislike of his new partner. He could not put out of his head that unfavourable first impression; Queen Bee had acted bratty, stand-offish, entitled. She was vain, believed herself better than all except Ladybug. She sniffed, scoffed, and scorned. She loved attention, and she hated Chat.

Maybe that was mutual. Although Queen Bee had certainly mellowed - she embraced crowds with enthusiasm now rather than imperious disdain - Chat could not shake his distaste. He found her rude, and frankly unnecessary; her signature move, Pollination, was no more than a glorified skill buff (Chat, as an avid RPG player, and already plenty powerful, didn't see much point). It was a good thing she was hot, since she didn't have much else going for her in his book.

Her flirting with Ladybug had been the last straw to topple their relationship. Chat and Bee fought together with gritted teeth in the daytime, and fought each other snarling in the night.

He hopped from his perch into the glow of moonlight where the girls stood, "A midnight rendezvous and I wasn't invited? How un-furr."

Queen Bee shrugged and gave him her signature assertive grin, "Well, while the cat's away, the mice can play."

He was supposed to be the one that slipped these sorts of things into his sentences; it was cool when he did it, but Queen Bee just made his cute quirk annoying.

Ladybug groaned, "No, I can't deal with this from both of you."

"Is she bugging you, milady?"

It was Bee that answered the question, "I don't think so. We bugs have a special friendship. I don't think a dirty alleycat like you would understand."

If he had fur, it would be bristling, and his hackles would be raised. Even so, he couldn't help but hiss lowly. Chat had never really thought of himself as a jealous person, but... he was definitely a jealous person. It certainly wasn't helping that Queen Bee had her arm around Ladybug's shoulder, and was staring him down with gloating defiance.

Chat beat down the rising resentment. She was only doing that because she was insecure. Obviously, she knew Ladybug was destined to be his. She was constantly doing things for Ladybug to get on her good side - she bought her flowers (over which the girls enthused together), she lade her with jewellery (over which she boasted her wealth), she released doves from rooftops (over which Chat got more frustrated than he should - his allergies prevented him from making such sweeping statements of affection). He told himself now, as he often did, that she performed these extravagant gestures because her obnoxious personality gave her no chance. She wasn't making any leeway in her pursuit of Ladybug, and Ladybug wasn't currently giggling into her shoulder because she liked her or anything.

Wait. Damn. Giggling? Chat had missed the joke. He'd lost the opportunity to make an even wittier comeback and charm his lady.

He cut in, "Anyway, why are you guys out? I was worried there had been some sort of cat-astrophe."

"Actually, we're on a date."

Ladybug looked flustered, "Well, no, it's not a date, per se, more like a meeting? Bee just told me she had something to say to me. And here I am."

"Oh?" he noticed his hands were balled into fists and forced himself to unfurl them, "That sounds im-purr-tant."

Queen Bee glowered at him, "I swear to god, I lose a little bit more of my sanity every time you open your mouth."

"Oh yeah? I lose a brain cell every second I'm in your company."

"Oh, is that right? Well, I lose a year from my life expectancy whenever you - "

"Stop it you two!" Ladybug yanked Queen Bee back - neither of them had noticed how close their argument had brought them. But all that Chat Noir was able to process was that Ladybug had pulled Bee back instead of him. Why? Was it because she thought of her as the more aggressive party? Was it because she was the one she'd rather touch?

The yellow hero seemed to think the latter, leaning ever so slightly into her teammate to showcase their established proximity. Chat seethed, saw red.

Ladybug snapped him to attention, "Will you two ever grow up? I know you don't get along but this is embarrassing."

Obstinately, they both stayed silent, neither willing to apologise.

She sighed, "Anyway, Bee, you had something to say?"

"What? Oh, right, yeah. Well, I forgot," she grumbled, "It's hard to think with that alley cat breathing down my neck."

"I'm only breathing down your neck because you smell so bad I-"

"Goodnight!"

They whipped around in one motion, looked at Ladybug's retreating figure, "Goodnight...?"

"I'm going to give you some time to simmer down. We can try this again when you figure out that in-fighting isn't going to get us anywhere. The most important thing is to stay united and you're really not doing a very good job of that. So goodnight."

And with that, she was gone, yo-yo-ing across the Parisian skyline.

Chat gave thought to her words. He supposed she was right. Arguing with Queen Bee was such a waste, and it certainly wasn't going to win him any favours with the girl in red. So, with a deep breath, he resigned himself to being cordial. He could do that.

"You only called her to flirt with her, didn't you?"

"I wouldn't have to if you were any good at it."

He wanted to claw her eyes out. Screw cordiality. That could wait.

"You malicious hornet," he hissed.

"Oh, fuck off and scratch your fleas you filthy tom."

#think outside the love square #week 3 #queen bee #ladybug #chat noir #ml fanfic #kwa-mine #everyone is bi

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madpicks · 8 years

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New Post has been published on https://www.madpicks.com/sports/nba/nba-scores-2017-russell-westbrook-still-threat-like-weve-never-seen/

NBA scores 2017: Russell Westbrook is still a threat like we’ve never seen before

He posted his 29th triple-double, and his third one with 40 points. Averaging it for a year looks entirely possible.

We all thought Russell Westbrook would stop, right? That he would slow down? That the weight of an 82-game season would wear on him? That teammates wouldn’t hit as many shots, or rebounds wouldn’t come as easily?

I’m sure, of course, that some Westbrook fans must have been true believers, people who have been ready to edit the sentence on Oscar Robertson’s Wikipedia page that says he’s the “only player in NBA history to average a triple-double for a season” ever since it even looked possible Westbrook might do it. I was not. I always expected that Westbrook would come back to life to some small extent this season.

Well, damn. I think it’s time to say I was wrong.

Westbrook dropped his third 40-point triple-double of the season on Sunday, notching 41 points, 11 rebounds and 11 assists plus nine turnovers that we’ll ignore for the moment. (His turnovers are another issue entirely that we don’t have nearly enough time to dive into.) He has 29 triple-doubles now, and it seems more likely that he’ll meet the requirements than not at this point.

His fourth quarter on Sunday was nuts, scoring 21 points as Oklahoma City fended off the Pelicans.

https://twitter.com/okcthunder/status/836060906652057602

His huge showings in fourth quarters all season when he has been needed are an effective counterargument against anyone saying some of his stats are empty. Sure, Westbrook is the team’s designated ‘free throw rebounder,’ but that’s because Oklahoma City wants him taking off in the fast break as soon as possible. Westbrook shows up in clutch moments as often as he does normal ones, and the win helped push the Thunder up to a season-best nine games over .500. He’ll even dunk on people when the game gets tight.

https://twitter.com/NBA/status/836039566113013761

See?

Players go careers without recording triple-doubles. Westbrook has 29 in a single year. If you didn’t expect this, don’t worry — no one could have. But as the Thunder keep winning, and when Oklahoma City is a better team with Westbrook triple-doubling, then no one can really say anything. This is how good he is, and this is what Westbrook does. We’re still a few weeks away, but all those Wikipedia entires about Oscar Robertson may be needing an edit before we know it.

The Pelicans are winless since the DeMarcus Cousins trade

New Orleans is 0-3 now since the trade deadline, and since they dealt for the NBA’s best big man to put next to the league’s other best big man. They lost by 30 points on Thursday, 13 on Saturday and eight on Sunday. If you’re really an optimistic, then they’ve technically improved with each game.

That argument doesn’t really hold up when the Pelicans are in a race for the playoffs and only have 22 games left.

The problem is pretty obvious: DeMarcus Cousins and Anthony Davis combined for 69 points, 17 rebounds and seven assists while shooting 23-of-43 from the field. Only one other Pelican scored double figures (E’Twaun Moore with 10) and the rest of the team had 41 points combined on 13-of-37 shooting (35 percent).

Facing another team that has “no help” around Russell Westbrook, and is a “one-man team,” you really realize how desolate the Pelicans’ roster is now. They played three players on 10-day contracts this weekend out of necessity.

There are still signs of awkwardness even with the big two. Jrue Holiday had to awkwardly end a pick-and-roll with Anthony Davis because Cousins was occupying the space in the low block directly in their way. In another instance, with Davis out of the game, Cousins hung out as a wing shooter for an entire possession while New Orleans ended up with a mediocre shot attempt — simply a poor use of his talents all around.

This isn’t a referendum on the Pelicans. Those two alone can win the team games. An offseason putting shooters around them may help them even more. And the trade was one that needed to be made no matter what, given New Orleans’ direction of late and the price that Cousins could be had for.

Still, that playoff push we thought might happen isn’t going to if this team doesn’t turn it around fast. And with Cousins picking up another technical, barring it being rescinded, they won’t have him in the team’s next game.

When being lumped in with Shaq and Wilt isn’t a good thing …

https://twitter.com/Stareagle/status/836032417022509056

Whoops.

Rip Hamilton’s jersey was retired on Sunday, but they forgot one thing …

https://twitter.com/SBNationNBA/status/836037172553781249

We had to.

Sunday’s top sequence

https://twitter.com/SBNationNBA/status/835991576753090562

Dante Exum is gonna see John Wall in his nightmares after this one.

Sunday’s final scores

Spurs 119, Lakers 98 (Pounding the Rock recap | Silver Screen & Roll recap)

Bucks 100, Suns 96 (Brew Hoop recap | Bright Side of the Sun recap)

Grizzlies 105, Nuggets 98 (Grizzly Bear Blues recap | Denver Stiffs recap)

Jazz 102, Wizards 92 (SLC Dunk recap | Bullets Forever recap)

Raptors 112, Trail Blazers 106 (Raptors HQ recap | Blazer’s Edge recap)

Celtics 104, Pistons 98 (Celtics Blog recap | Detroit Bad Boys recap)

Thunder 118, Pelicans 110 (Welcome to Loud City recap | The Bird Writes recap)

Clippers 124, Hornets 121, OT (Clips Nation recap | At the Hive recap)

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junker-town · 8 years

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NBA scores 2017: Russell Westbrook is still a threat like we’ve never seen before

He posted his 29th triple-double, and his third one with 40 points. Averaging it for a year looks entirely possible.

Well, damn. I think it’s time to say I was wrong.

His fourth quarter on Sunday was nuts, scoring 21 points as Oklahoma City fended off the Pelicans.

ICYMI and in case you're wondering...Russ dropped 21 points in the 4th quarter. #ThunderUp. http://pic.twitter.com/gCMLElHQKj

— OKC THUNDER (@okcthunder) February 27, 2017

Brodie. #ThunderUp http://pic.twitter.com/5BHRvsx24E

— NBA (@NBA) February 27, 2017

See?

The Pelicans are winless since the DeMarcus Cousins trade

That argument doesn’t really hold up when the Pelicans are in a race for the playoffs and only have 22 games left.

When being lumped in with Shaq and Wilt isn’t a good thing ...

Most career games with 10-plus FTA and 0 or 1 FTM: 1) Wilt Chamberlain, 6. 2) Andre Drummond, 3. 3) Shaquille O'Neal, 2.

— Dave Hogg (@Stareagle) February 27, 2017

Whoops.

Rip Hamilton’s jersey was retired on Sunday, but they forgot one thing ...

Forgot one thing, @DetroitPistons! http://pic.twitter.com/WV1E6EjDdh

— SB Nation NBA (@SBNationNBA) February 27, 2017

We had to.

Sunday’s top sequence

John Wall in 30 seconds ✔️️ filthy crossover ✔️️ layup ✔️️ steal ✔️️ throws down alley oop dunk (via @NBA) http://pic.twitter.com/WgOmYJgyQS

— SB Nation NBA (@SBNationNBA) February 26, 2017